#Currency nicknames

[forextrendicator]

Worth-Knowing Attributes About Forex Trading

Worth-Knowing Attributes About Forex Trading

FX trading is the buying and selling of currencies, each of which has its own value and is referred to as the foreign exchange. This process has been around for centuries and is now the largest financial market in the world. Many people assume that the US is the hub for foreign currency exchange, but the truth is that about 40% of all forex transactions take place in the UK and 19% take place in…

[glxthoughts]

tbf if i was named rupert i think i’d turn into a fucked up vicious little hunt baby too

[rintoki]

why don’t they give a disclaimer when asking for a name what it’s used for??? bc why are you asking for my first AND last name and a nickname and then not telling me which is gonna be shown to people ☠️

[seonghwaddict]

the best of the best — jeong yunho

in which yunho didn’t expect his tiring shift to end with fucking the prettiest girl who’s ever walked into the clinic.

ripperdoc!jeong yunho x fem!reader. genre. smut. cyberpunk 2077 au. warnings. non-sexual use of daddy, explicit sexual content mdni, big dick!yunho but what else is new, fingering, BACKSHOTS, yunho is a tease, implied voice kink, creampie, he gets a little rough, nicknames (pretty, baby, princess). wc. 2.5k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this is really REALLY rushed because i was hit with inspiration and started writing without actually stopping so like sorry if it’s ass lol. her cyberware is based on this.

DEFINITIONS. ripperdoc; medical practitioners that can install cybernetic prostheses, called cyberware // eddies; game currency. feel free to ask for any clarifications.

listening to. cyberpunk, ateez (duh).

masterlist.

yunho sighed as he threw a bloodied towel into the sink, hands finally clean after having installed some new cyberware on a customer. his day was spent operating edgerunners, never quite seeming to catch a break. but what else could he do as the best ripperdoc in the district, let alone this shithole of a clinic? besides, he somewhat liked his job and the pay was good, his way with words getting customers to give him a few more eddies than they were obliged to.

but, alas, it was finally closing time and he’d no longer have to deal with people until the next day. or at least that’s what he hoped.

the familiar sound of the clinic’s door rang through the lobby, singaling someone had entered before he could lock up and making him sigh in exasperation. he pinched the bride of his nose, calling out over his shoulder from the backroom, knowing whoever it was would still be able to hear him. “we’re closed, come back tomorrow!”

“please, it’s an emergency!” the person replied and he froze.

a desperate, feminine plea. yunho can’t say he’s used to hearing that tone in the clinic. with furrowed brows, he emerged from the backroom to the lobby, right behind the counter as he laid his eyes on you. he was obviously much taller than you, looking up at him with round doe eyes and softly flushed cheeks. you wore a short black skirt and a loose sweater; not a sight he was used to here either, not that he was complaining as his eyes momentarily flickered to the sliver of cleavage exposed by the low neckline. maybe he could make an exception… no. he wanted nothing more than to go home, and a pretty little thing like you couldn’t just magically change his mood.

“my ‘ware has been acting up and i heard this is the best clinic in the area,” you walked closer to the counter, one of the steps looking particularly painful as you winced mid-sentence and stumbled before continuing, “please, sir, i promise i’ll pay you well.”

he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, letting a beat of silence wash over you before he finally answered with a sigh, “fine. go through that curtain and wait on the table. the metal one.”

you followed his hand to see him pointing at a curtain much like the ones separating beds in hospitals. with a quiet nod, you shuffled over as he ducked through the door he previously came out of. there was a small space behind the curtain and it reeked of hand sanitiser as you sat down, the table cold against your thighs. you smoothed your skirt down as he walked through the curtain and set down a tray of tools on a desk pushed against the wall.

“so, where’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his arms and giving you a once-over that had you feeling a little nervous.

“my back,” you muttered, looking down at your hands shyly as they played with the hem of your sweater, “i’ll have to take this off, if that’s okay.”

“oh, um…” he blinked before nodding and clearing his throat, moving to stand behind you. “yeah, it’s fine, go ahead.”

after a moment of hesitation, your body stretched lightly as you pulled the shirt over your head, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight. an intricately designed thin silver chrome spine merged with your skin and extending from between your shoulderblades down to just above your ass. instinctively, he reached out and brushed his fingers down the length of it, biting his bottom lip as he caught the way your back arched slightly.

“god, you’re a masterpiece.” he couldn’t help but sigh out as he let his fingertips explore the metal and the skin surrounding it. the clasp of your bra covered up just a little bit of it, but there was plenty more to see. after a moment, he caught a glimpse of a little spark in the metal on the small of your back, humming. “i see the problem… must be some sloppy wiring. i’ll take care of you, baby, just relax and stay still. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

“y-yeah.” you practically squeaked out, mentally slapping yourself for making it obvious how his words and touches made you feel.

he grinned but didn’t say anything, reaching for his tools and beginning to work. as he did, he deliberately brushed his fingertips or his wrist against your skin, against anywhere he could reach while fixing the wiring between the blades of the metal spine, just because he enjoyed messing wiht you. your waist seemed to get the most reactions out of you, unable to hold back your hitched breaths and your thighs pressing together. you were so sensitive and sweet, trying to hold back all your sounds as he riled you up with teasingly calculated touches.

“how’d you pay for this, anyway? a mod like this must’ve cost a fortune.”

“my daddy paid for it,” you explained with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting something like this for forever, so he let me get it done on my 18th birthday.”

he raised his eyebrows in surprise, nodding with a soft smile. “well, baby, you must be daddy’s pride and joy if he’s willing to drop so much on an implant like this that does nothing but make you look that much more appealing.”

“appealing?” you echoed his description of you, glancing back at him over your shoulder, “you think so?”

“of course, i’m not blind,” he roles his eyes playfully, licking eyes with you before going back to work, “in fact, i’m jealous i wasn’t the one to install all this ‘ware.”

it didn’t help that as he talked, his breath fanned over the back of your neck since he adjusted the table to raise you higher for him to work more comfortably. you learned each other’s names as he talked you through the procedure, trying to distract you from the occasional prods of a needle and sparks of the wires. he also liked to watch goosebumps form on your skin and the way your back arched just a little more as he responded to your words with low hums or muttered acknowledgments.

his hands feel a little colder than your skin as he barely runs them down your back, eyes trained on the gleaming metal. the tips of his fingers momentarily dipped below the back of your bra before slipping out again.

“does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, in a tone he noticed always made you stutter a little.

“n-no.” you shook your head before holding your breath, feeling his hands covers your waist and move down slowly, holding your hips lightly.

“good.” he hummed, nodding and removing his hands before stepping away from you completely.

the loss of his hands made your brows furrow as you looked at him, stepping into your line of vision with his back turned to you as he put away his tools.

“did you need something, princess?” he tilted his head at the sight of the pout you were trying so hard to hide, voice taking on a mocking tone.

your cheeks warmed and your brain short-circuited as he took a step toward the metal table he sat you on, standing a breath away from your knees and leaning down to your eye level. his hands braced on the table of either sides of your hips. if he wanted to, he could lean forward just a few inches and his lips would finally press against yours.

“you.” you blurted out without thinking, unable to process any thoughts in the flustered state he put you in.

“me, huh?” yunho chuckled, silky and low, fingertips brushing against the hem of your skirt as he pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at you. “a ripperdoc like me who works in heywood fixing cyberware? you need me, baby?”

flustered and a little speechless, you could only nod, lips parted as you left out soft breaths and looked up at him with eyes that begged him to kiss you. his hands left your skirt but found you again quickly, one on your waist and the other cupping the side of your face, half of his hand buried in your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips against yours.

a whimper made it past you as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, mingling with yours and exploring. you felt him smile against your lips as you let out that sound, his fingers in your hair holding you a little tighter as his hand on your waist slid down your thigh. you, however, didn’t feel that hand moving until his fingers pressed against your soaked panties, somehow easily finding your clit through the fabric and eliciting a whine as he pulled his lips away from you.

“so wet and i’ve barely done anything.” he whispered, kissing you again as he nudged the fabric aside to run two digits through your folds, quiet squelching sounds mixing with your little moans and whimpers as he circled your clit excruciatingly slowly.

not expecting his hands to feel so good, you couldn’t stop your hips from squirming, unable to kiss back very skilfully. he circled your clit with just the right speed and pressure, keeping you restless as your pussy clenched around nothing and click slowly dripped out to smear against the table and inner thighs.

yunho gave your swollen nub a sudden pinch and you winced, your hands on his biceps clenching as he pulled away from you with a click of his tongue. “didn’t i tell you to stay still, princess?”

you parted your lips to respond but could only moan languidly as his fingers easily pushed themselves into you, crooking and perfectly prodding against your sweet spot.

“do my fingers feel too good? is it too much for you, pretty?” he mocked with a fake pout, drawing his fingers out before pushing back in. you felt his hand drop from your hair to reach for something and with a push of a button, the table lowered itself smoothly.

moments later you were on your knees, facing away from him, hips pulled up and chest pushed down. some time while he moved you to this position, he managed to remove your skirt and bra. your nipples brushed against the cold surface of the table, shuddering at the feeling combined with one of his hands kneading your ass intently while the other ran down the length of your spine. as he got to the small of your back, he pushed down a little harder, making your back arch.

“hm, so pretty and perfect,” he hummed as his clothes and very much erected cock pressed against your flushed core. you let out a broken whine, burying your face into your forearm comfortably, his fingers sliding through your folds again and spreading them apart. he groaned at the sight, your wetness glistening in the neon lighting of the clinic, spread between your thighs messily, needy hole fluttering.

when he finally pressed his tip into you and eased his way in, your breath hitched followed by a moan of his name, hands clenching as you pushed back against him. he steadied your hips with his hands, eyes rolling back from your tightness as he bottomed out and stilled to revel in the feeling if you wrapped around him for a moment.

butterflies roared in your stomach as he leaned down and kissed the top of your spine sloppily, pulling out before rolling his hips against yours. you weren’t used to this angle, especially not with someone as huge as him, but your embarrassing amount of arousal made it easy for him to move. you cursed softly, a string of whines and moans falling from your swollen lips as his fingers dug into your hips and his teeth explored your upper back, licking and sucking and biting marks into your skin.

“f-fuck, you feel s-so good.” he moaned, forehead dropped between your shoulder blades for a moment before he straightened up again, pulling your hips against his harshly as he thrusted into you, teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

not long after that you felt a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen, feeling your breath knocked out of your lungs with each snap of his hips. one of his arms wrapped around your waist before venturing lowers so he could rub at your clit quickly, the knot drawing tighter and tighter until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“y-yunho- i’m g-gonna-“

“let go, baby. go on, be a good girl and cum for me,” he cut you off, voice gentle despite his rough movements, snapping the waistband of your panties against you, “you’ll cum for me, won’t you? i’m making you– fuck, i’m making you feel so good, right? p-please cum, baby, just let go.”

his words egged you on and soon enough you did as he said, shuddering and clenching and squealing as you came all over his cock, your juices drooling down his length as he continued pounding into you. his hand left your clit to grab your hips tightly, chasing his own high now that you finished. knowing what he needed, you clenched around him rhythmically, whimpering softly because you knew he liked the sound.

without warning, he spilled himself inside you, filling you up with his hot release. your combined panting and shivers filled the area as he emptied himself. once he collected himself, he pulled out slowly, shuddering as he did so before tucking your panties back into place before his cum could seep out of you. he flipped you around easily and found your lips.

you kissed each other lazily for a while, mind foggy after your orgasms. you gasped against his lips softly as you felt his fingers press right on the fabric covering your hole.

“if you can keep everything in while i close up, i’ll take you to my place for another round… or maybe a few more,” he kissed your cheek, reaching to the side and giving you your clothes before tucking himself back into his pants, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

you giggled, also kissing his cheek in return. “i’d like that, actually. you have a really good dick.”

“is that so? good thing a pretty girl like you only deserves the best.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[queers-gambit]

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

title citation: Hamlet

prompt: similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: The Truth Will Out - coming soon collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 18.3k+

note: SLUTTY ANGST CLUB, COME GET Y'ALL JUICE!

warnings: not edited. heapings of angst, hurt and no comfort, fuck your feelings. tweaked timeline, cursing, Bridgerton influenced, Aemond's both a bestie and an outstanding, fucking asshole - so is this vilified Aemond? eavesdropping trope, nicknamed reader, insecurity, insults, betrayl, abundance of ye ol' misogyny, self destructive tendencies; a single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure. there's men being men, men being gossipy little bitches, and the most random Lord of the Rings quote that kinda breaks the fourth wall?

Bridgerton - available to watch on Netflix 🍒 this fic was written before season three premiered

Jacaerys Velaryon version: coming soon

Tonight was a celebration that echoed across the entire Realm. Lords and Ladies alike with their service maids, House guards, any available singletons flocked to King's Landing for the courting season. They did this annually. Three solid months for eligible singles to make a match and attempt to secure their bond in matrimony.

Ladies wore layers of multicolored fabrics. Lords dressed in embellished tunics. Ladies tied on tight corsets to push their breasts to their necks. Lords shaved their facial hair, appearing "cleaned up". Ladies smelt of exotic perfume and Lords stood in shiny boots. All wore sparkling, gaudy jewelry.

While the Starks of Winterfell and the Umbers of Last Hearth traveled over a month to reach the capital, your family, the Tyrells from Highgarden, had a much more comfortable commute. Greyjoys and Mormonts sailed in from the Iron Islands and Bear Island, Tullys from Riverrun, Royces and Arryns from the Eyrie. Single, available, eligible Hightowers returned under Queen Alicent's sponsorship, Lannisters prowled in from Lannisport, and select few Martells arrived in gorgeous, gloriously golden carriages from Dorne.

Everyone who was anyone descended onto the Red Keep, eager to earn King Viserys' stamp of approval - being that he only granted one couple his presence at their ceremony. It was the highest of honors, a prize to be won, a chance to show off and show out; giving the two bonded families bragging rights until the next season. Plus there's a superstition that all weddings the King attended were prosperous, healthy, and long lasting marriages. There was a buzz in the air, a static of excitement and mystery; tension brewing when the members of court arrived and sized each other up for that first week. You thought they were silly for this energy, akin to strutting peacocks, treating their own like competition, treating bloodlines like currency.

You never realized how many purists there were.

While the other Houses had to travel, you were most lucky to already host residence in the Red Keep. Your uncle, Evin Tyrell, had once been in line to assume lordship over Highgarden, but after losing his son to the War of the Stepstones, Evin turned away from his inherited responsibilities; forcing it onto your father's shoulders. You had several siblings, both younger and older, and eventually got lost in your bustling, busy, arguably large family. Evin had no more children, wife long departed from this life, and was excited by the prospect of being a guardian; insisting you come with him to King's Landing, where he accepted a tutoring position for the King's children and grandchildren.

You were absolutely romanced by the idea of existing among the royal family, telling your father it was your one chance at a decent, higher education - an opportunity to study under the Targaryens being once in a lifetime. Truth be told, you're not entirely sure Lord Tyrell even processed your words, approving with a distracted grunt and a wave; gone by the next morning without even breaking your fast with your family. Evin hooked both your beloved horse and one of your father's young stallions to a wooden cart you shared, using the journey to King's Landing to prepare you for the life you were soon to live.

You had always been a little wild child, so, Evin felt it necessary to remind you of your manners; brushing up on your etiquette, quizzing you on members of the Royal Family, explaining what would be expected of you now that you were a guest to the royals.

For well over a decade, you were the single wildflower blooming through dragon fire, earning the moniker Rose of the Realm; living under Queen Alicent's good grace. She seemed to like you well enough, going as far as to invite you to family events after noticing the bond between you and her openly favorite son, Prince Aemond. Years ago, when you were fresh and new to the Capital City, your uncle brought you to attend Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral on Driftmark at the King's invitation. You already had a friendship with the young royals; keeping Helaena company, trying to sneak Aegon's chalices of wine out of his grip, and when the time came, rushed off over the sandy dunes with your best mate after he told you his plan to lay claim on Lady Laena's dragon, Vhagar.

After the King's heir, Princess Rhaenyra's (rumored) bastard son, Lucerys, slashed Aemond's eye from his socket, you became incredibly close. Impossible close. Like unbelievably close; being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, magnetically pulled towards one another before clicking into tight place. You were his pillar of support, his anchor to reality; and he was your salvation.

You realized you were in love with him when you turned ten-and-six. It was something strange, the two of you studying together in the library and when you looked up from your book to meet his eyes, you just understood. Something in your brain clicked, heart cemented in knowing, guts twisting in sudden realization, words caught in your throat and only letting out an inaudible gasp. Ever since that day, you were acutely aware of anything the Prince did; from the way he would caress the back of your head at each embrace, to his eye darting to look at your lips during conversations. From how he took almost every meal with you, to the way he insisted upon your invitation to family, public, and / or royal events. From the way he absorbed your secrets and opinions, to the way he shared his own - getting back what you put forth, forever mutual.

Being friends - best mates, even - with Aemond was easy. So easy, in fact, that nobody ever batted an eye when they saw the two of you unchaperoned. Your friendship was wholesome, endearing, supportive, enlightening, and pleasurably challenging in the sense that Aemond liked pushing your envelope; testing your boundaries. He set new standards and helped lift you to meet those goals, made you think harder, consider new points of view, expand your humanity.

What more could anyone ask for?

About half way through the current season, your uncle sent for you to join him for afternoon tea in the gardens. "Do you recognize these?" He asked when you arrived at the pavilion he sought shade under, admiring the bushes of florals surrounding the bannister.

"Of course," you smirked, hands behind your back as you stood at his shoulder, "they're honeysuckle."

"Native to only Highgarden, just like I called you in your youth," Evin added, plucking a bloom to admire. "Do you know why they're planted here?"

"I imagine through pollination?"

"A sound guess, but no," your uncle handed you the flower. "These were imported years ago, but have only bloomed now."

You nodded, sucking the bud to extract its honey-sweet taste, asking through puckered lips, "Imported by whom?"

"Do you remember your 17th nameday?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess, it was only a few years ago. You weren't here, you were on some diplomatic matter, right?"

"Inna way. After I concluded my affairs, I returned to Highgarden. You see, Prince Aemond confided in me how he wished to do something special for your birthday and knew you missed home. He asked me to bring these seeds back."

"Aemond asked you to plant honeysuckle?"

"Specifically here," Elvin grinned, "so they were within easy reach."

"So why have they only just now bloomed?" You tried to keep the jittery excitement out of your voice; baffled yet giddy from hearing about Aemond's kind gesture.

"There's an old legend," Evin gestured you to the patio table and chairs that was dressed for your social visit. "It's said, when the honeysuckle is gifted from lover to lover, they will only bloom when love surrounds them. I believe they have come to life this season as a portent to an impending match to be made."

"You spend too much time with Otto, Uncle, you're starting to sound like him - veiling your words and talking in riddles. Tell me why you called me here, Uncle, I know it's not for a botany lesson. Out with it, please, for the sake of my sanity."

Evin chuckled, watching you lean forward to pour two mugs of tea. "I was wondering, sweet niece, what the nature of your relationship is to the Prince Aemond?"

"Oh," you blinked, adding a sugar cube to your brew before stirring in a bit of milk, "well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't know what to tell you, Uncle. We're friends, nothing more or less."

"You seem real chummy."

"We're close, yes."

"Romantic?"

You scoffed, "Uncle, please - "

"Tell me the truth of it."

"Nothing inappropriate or unseemly nor nefarious has occurred between us, Uncle, I promise you. The Prince and I are just friends."

Evin sipped his tea, nodding slowly, "Well, humor me. If I asked who you would marry, who would you choose?"

"Well, as of right now, I'd choose myself since I don't know the men at court yet, only rumors and whispers."

"And if the offer of marriage presented itself, would you marry the Prince?"

"I would do my duty to our House, no matter the suitor."

Evin nodded slowly, "If I said I had struck a pact with the Queen and Hand, what would you say?"

"That despite what I've just said, if you marry me off to Aegon, I'll pitch myself from a window."

Your uncle's head tilted back as he belted short laughter. "I would never condemn you to such a fate, honey girl! Have more faith in me. I speak of Prince Aemond - it's why I asked about him."

"Uncle, speak plainly. Have you attempted to make such a match between the Prince and I?"

"Pending a few logistics, the Crown's interested in the match."

The words echoed in your mind on an obnoxious repeat for the weeks to come, surely living a dream. The longer you dwelled on the impending match, the giddier you felt; a secret smile brightening your features, small spring in your step, an air of positivity hanging around you that even the tiresome Rogue Prince wouldn't be able to taint. The One-Eyed Prince has long been your best mate for a decade, surely, this match would've been offered sooner or later; it was a smart choice, the definition of compatibility.

Some might've referred to this elation as "cloud nine", though you'd say it was cloud 10, 11, 12, 100! You were flying high, feeling good, and mistakenly allowing your hopes to heighten while imagining what marrying your best friend would be like.

You prepared for that evening's courting session with a dreamy, dazed look in your eyes. Even your ladies-maid picked up on your joyful spirit; questioning through her smile, "What's got you so distracted, my Lady? You've been staring off into nothing with that smile for an hour now."

"Huh?" You met her eyes through the vanity mirror, the woman standing behind you to intricately braid your hair. "Oh, no, no, nothing, I'm only lost in thought."

"Which thought?"

"It doesn't matter, it's just a thought. When it becomes a notion, I'll tell you, my friend."

She repeated with a grin, "'Yeah? When's that? Are you expecting good news?"

"Perhaps."

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," she playfully tugged your hair. "Do you know which dress you'd like to wear tonight?"

"The lilac one," you answered, lips stretching your smile.

"You mean the dress that matches Prince Aemond's eye perfectly?"

You both giggled girlishly.

When you arrived at the Throne Room, there was already more than 75% of guests in attendance; getting a jump on their mingling. You greeted several familiar faces, locating your best mate standing at the side with his arms crossed and shoulder leaning on a pillar. "Well, you certainly look happy to be here," you teased when at his side, leaning on the other side of the intricate column.

"It was Mother's idea, Rosie, you know I do not dance," he frowned. "She's not given up the hunt to make me a match. She's adamant this is the year."

"Perhaps if you participate, you could organically meet your future wife."

"Hmm," his eye rolled, thin lips quirking in a smirk; gaze turned on you, watching you scan the room.

There was another 20 minutes of mingling before dinner was called, laid out on tables that stretched the entire length of the Throne Room. Naturally, like every single day, you and Aemond took side-by-side seats together at a risen table that hosted the royal family which provided an incredible view of those in attendance this eve. With your elbow, you nudged Aemond's bicep, making him lean over instantly so you could speak in his ear quietly. "Looks like Lady Fell and Lord Blackwood are gonna jump each other's bones," you mused, smirking, adding, "though I heard she's already hiding a growing belly and is trying to nab herself someone more mature in age with the intent to trick the Lord into thinking she's having his baby."

"No," he scoffed in amusement.

"Yes!"

"That's diabolical. Blackwood's the father? Truly?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Good for him, good for Blackwood - didn't know he had it in him." He paused to take a pull from his goblet of wine, continuing, "Hm! Look, look," he grinned coyly, "do you see what I see?"

"It's packed in here, so... No, I don't see whatever you're seeing."

He snickered, "Lady Mormont looks smitten with Lord Greyjoy, looks like she wants to eat him."

"I thought he was romancing Lady Redwyne?"

Aemond hummed in amusement, "Perhaps he is considering options, courting more than one lady. Are we taking bets this season, again?"

You grinned, "Of course."

"Lay out the criteria, what're the parameters?"

After thinking a moment, you answered, "The pairing and timeline of impending weddings?"

"The stakes?"

You just shrugged, "Bragging rights?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie," he tisked.

"Fine, uh, how about... 10 Gold Dragons?"

"Both our families have enough money."

"Then you decide the rewards."

He lowered his voice, ensuring his family couldn't eavesdrop, "If you win, I'll go to Highgarden with you next time you visit. But if I win, you have to come flying with me on Vha - "

"No," you snapped instantly.

Aemond smirked, "Those are the terms, my Lady. Do you accept? Or will the Rose of the Realm shy away from challenge?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"Fine," you relented. "You're eager to lose so bad, let's do it. Who do you think will couple first?"

"Does it count if I get at least one correct? Such as, if I predict Lord Umber and Lady Lannister, but Umber marries Lady Tully, does it count that I still predicted Umber?"

You mulled his idea over, humming, stabbing a piece of roast goose from your plate to place in your mouth and chew thoughtfully. "Hmm, no, no, you gotta get the couple completely correct."

Aemond nodded, accepting your terms, "You really don't wish to go flying, do you?"

"What gave me away?"

Sharing a chuckle, Aemond finished, "All right, Rosie, bring it on."

When dinner concluded, once more, patrons were allowed to mix and mingle; dancing to the live band, drink spiced wine to their heart's desires. Like the common wallflowers you were, you posted at the side of the room with Aemond, content to watch the sea of vying adults trying to establish and rush courtship. It was the most comfortable you could be at these events, being anxious in judgmental crowds and seeking salvation from Aemond's domineering aura.

"Lady Tyrell," Jason Lannister purred as he approached you with his chest puffed out, "I was hoping to hold your ear tonight. Your father was telling me about your love to ride horses."

"Oh, my father said that?"

"That's who he said he was - "

"My father's in Highgarden, my Lord," you corrected, knowing for fact that Evin always described himself as your uncle.

"Ah, well, right," Jason cleared his throat in embarrassment. Did this pompous arsehole just lie about talking to your father to give the illusion he was an honorable man? That your father approved of the golden headed Lannister? "Perhaps you would honor me with a dance?"

"Perhaps not," Aemond cut in sharply, bringing the tension to focus.

"My Lord," you distracted, on behalf of Aemond's anger, "uh, thank you for asking, that's very kind of you. Though I'm afraid, I'm all, uh, danced out. I won't be on my feet much longer."

"Means fuck off, Lannister," Aemond growled, appearing positively murderous at the honey blonde's audacity.

Jason eyed Aemond, stiffly bidding, "I see. My Prince, my Lady, enjoy your evening."

You bid the older widower the same, Aemond chuckling the moment the lion was swallowed by the crowd. "As if you'd ever dance with a Lannister, let alone court him," he mused, looking down at you. "But he had the right idea, you need to dance at least once. Shouldn't waste this dress standing on the side with me."

"I'm quite comfortable here with you," you shrugged off, seeing your uncle at the royal banquet table exchanging hushed words with King Viserys and his Queen, Alicent.

"C'mon," he held his hand in offer, palm up.

"What? No, no, Aemond, I'm not dancing - I've two left feet!"

"You can break every toe on my feet and I'd still ask you. Just one dance. With me, Lady Tyrell."

"You don't dance!"

"Perhaps the mood has taken me. C'mon, petal."

Your head turned from left to right as if looking for someone spying on you. The moment your hand laid daintily in his, you melted right there on the spot, not having any coherent recollection about how you ended up in the middle of the overzealous contenders. You realized you'd follow this man anywhere.

Beating off your immense anticipation and overwhelming excitement to join The One-Eyed Prince for an intimate activity, you kept your composure amongst everyone else. But, my Gods, did you want to scream in delight the moment he placed one hand on your waist and the other clasping yours to raise in the air at your side. But in this position, you could feel the ridges of his stomach - making you briefly feel embarrassed, wondering how you must've looked to the members of court.

"You sure about this?" You whispered nervously, but you had a feeling that was due to the intense concentration he pinned you with.

"We'll be fine, Rosie, just breathe and follow my lead. I got you."

So launched your dance with Prince Aemond Trgaryen, second son of King Viserys. You couldn't divert your gaze from his porcelain, angled face to save you from overthinking your dancing skill - or lack there of. A few times, he'd smirk and whisper how good you were doing, mind flashing to an image of you and he, married, tumbling in bed sheets together while he praises you. Everything he did became sinful to you; every touch, every glance, every smile, every private studying session setting your skin on fire and heart to beat rapidly.

It was a longer song, string instruments creating a pleasant, ideal, slow-paced, soft environment. Yet you couldn't hear the music, too focused on Aemond's single piercing eye and quirked lips. It was as if the two of you existed outside of time and reality, forgetting the people packed in the stuffy room. Aemond told you softly, "See? You're not so bad at dancing - you just need the right partner."

You wanted to be partnered every single dance from now until your death with Aemond.

"I thought you couldn't dance?" You coyly questioned.

"I said I don't dance, not that I couldn't."

To your idle shock, Aemond gave you a few twirls that made your hair and dress fan around you in an angelic motion. Dare you say it, you even laughed with mirth when you found yourself enjoying the courting season more than ever before - all thanks to your best friend and hopefully, soon-to-be intended. You were acutely aware of his hot and heavy hands holding your flesh, knowing this feeling would burn into your skin to remind you of his closer-than-close proximity. To remind you of his gentleness, to remind you of this dance and the way he gave you his complete and undivided attention.

When the musicians concluded the song, you were grinning authentically while joining in the applause to show appreciation towards the artists.

"Gods," you panted, "that nearly winded me. Think I'm out of shape."

"And you said you had two left feet," he mocked with a scoff, head shaking, but the smirk on his lips told you he wasn't serious. "You're a natural, Rosie."

"You're not such a bad dancer yourself, my Prince," you complimented, the applause subsiding as a new song began. "Though you'll have to excuse me while I get a drink."

You parted way in search of two empty goblets and one of the servants carrying decanters of spiced wine. After being served, you rocked on your toes to try and gaze over the heads populating the room. You were unsuccessful, so, you backed up to the edge of the crowd and moved around the involuntary empty loop along the wall, behind the pillars. There was no reason finding the white haired prince with an eyepatch would be this difficult, yet, you got more than halfway around the room before finally locating him.

Once again, he was leaning on a column, but he wasn't alone. No, there was a gaggle of Lords around him, all exchanging chatter about the Ladies they had to choose from this season.

"Well, c'mon, what about you, Aemond?" Cregan Stark pondered. "Things with The Rose look like they're escalating - congrats. Are wedding bells on the horizon?"

Hearing your name, you quickly scurried behind the same pillar, just out of sight but able to still listen. Look, eavesdropping was highly frowned upon, you knew it was bad manners, but if you heard men gossiping about your name, you would've done the exact same!

Aemond scoffed in pure amusement, "Come off it, Stark."

"No, c'mon, mate, I saw you two," Cregan continued, "dancing together, pressed all close."

"You two make a handsome match, logistically speaking," Paxtan Florant labeled. "Could marry someone abundantly worse, I think you two are quite the pair."

"Handsome and logical as it may look, there's no possibility I'd court the Lady Tyrell, let alone marry her," Aemond declared with a chuckle, your heart stalling and brows wrinkling together. "The Tyrells only just obtained their name in court, they're still too low born for a prince to entertain. Peasants like that are uneducated, prominently not intelligent enough to be my counterpart; uncultured, unwise, unable to retain most information we study during lessons."

You blinked in shock. If anything, you were Aemond's ONLY intellectual counterpart!

"So, she's not as smart as you, mate, so what?" Cregan cocked his head. "You don't need smart, you need fertile and capable."

Though he was attempting to defend you, Cregan's words made your skin prickle. How could they think you weren't intellectually on their level? Was it because you were a woman? You read the same books, attended the same tutoring sessions, was questioned on the same material they were and hardly ever answering incorrectly! And yet now you're reduced to your reproduction system?

The Prince scoffed, "Think about it, if I married a Tyrell, their lowly standing would taint the Targaryen bloodline."

"So, it was all an act?" Paxtan snickered, "C'mon, mate, you two looked dazed, all enamored with each other. Can't convince us there's nothing there, not after that."

Aemond chuckled, "You want the truth?"

"Lay it on us."

"I shared a single dance with her because I pity her. Don't any of you? The way she all but repels suitors? Surely, you've noted her dresses as well? They're terribly revealing, unlike anything a proper lady would don. No self respecting woman nor future princess of mine would wear something like that. It's as if she's so desperate for attention that she has to flaunt her flesh just to get a man to look at her since her personality surely doesn't reel suitors to her."

The men laughed, your mouth dropping open in offense. You're not chasing men away - look what happened with Jason Lannister! It was Aemond who told him to fuck off! After years of friendship, was this truly what Aemond thought of you? How did it come to this - the man you loved, the man you considered your best mate, slandering your name to any able ear willing to listen? How could he speak such calamities about you? Was this entire friendship a folly, just a cover for his pity? Was he only your 'friend' to entertain his own selfish boredom?

Was everything just in your head?

"I don't know, I like how she dresses," Tyler Lannister mused, the teenaged son of Tyland Lannister, Jason's twin brother.

"None the less, I find desperation unattractive in a woman," Aemond rejected, tears gathering in your eyes to silently stream down your cheeks. "Besides, Lady Tyrell isn't my type, she talks far too much. Truly, there's never a moment of silence, I cannot even hear my own thoughts when she's prattling - and it's never anything of substance, just useless nonsense. It's as I said, it was a pity dance, I felt sorry that she has little to no suitors."

"Seriously, mate, have you considered the reason she has no suitors might be because of her proximity to you? They might stay away because they feel threatened by your friendship, thinking she's spoken for - and trust me, no man here would dare compete against a prince for a lady's affection," Cregan scoffed, mildly disgusted by Aemond's choice words.

"The courts know there's no affection shared between Lady Tyrell and I. We are simply friends - no more or less - and that's as far as our relationship will ever progress."

Cregan hummed, nodding his head sarcastically. Then his curiosity questioned, "Answer this: are you attracted to her?"

"Truthfully, I just don't think she's... Attractive enough to be my wife. She's a pretty lass, I'll admit, but if she's called the Rose of the Realm, I fear to learn the appearance of other ladies from Highgarden." A few lads chuckled. "Additionally, there will be public outings I must attend, and as my wife, the people will expect to see someone alluring - someone qualified and fit for the position as a princess of the Realm. Someone stunning and worthy of the title, able to fulfill royal responsibilities."

"Gods, why're you so against this match? You're being terribly superficial, judgmental, and defensive - she's your friend, after all. Wouldn't this be a love-match? Do you know how rare those are?" Luras Arryn snarled, sounding genuinely distraught and jealous.

"And if you're so against her, why do you constantly escort her to formal events?" Arnas Blackwood tacked on. "It creates the illusion that you're courting, my Prince, surely you're aware of that."

"As I stated, her blood isn't pure, but she's also criminally clingy. She's always lingering around and I feel awkward not inviting her to royal events - since she's right there, all alone, in front of me. I only invite her out of obligation. Again, I take pity on the girl, knowing when she leaves the Red Keep, she'll never experience this life again."

"Well, if not the Rose of the Realm, who do you have your sights on?" Luras Arryn asked stiffly.

Aemond's smirk was clear as day, answering swiftly, "The Lady Floris Baratheon is appealing enough."

The lads obnoxiously cheered in supportive approval, directing the conversation in a new direction about how bloody gorgeous Floris was - one of them even mentioning she deserved the nickname, Rose of the Realm.

You heard enough, more than enough, more than you ever wanted to know in an entire lifetime; rightfully insulted past belief and violently nauseated, feeling cold and mechanical. As swiftly as you could, you rushed to set the goblets down and speed walk towards the doors, shoving past both individuals and couples; not wanting to linger where you're clearly not wanted. Where you were apparently not welcome. After making your inconspicuous getaway, tears fell faster than earlier, mind replaying Aemond's words while sprinting to your chambers.

Describing you as clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Dubbing you an improper lady who lacked self respect. Thinking you talk too much - that you prattle nonsense. Labeling you unworthy and unqualified to be his wife or assume the title princess with all the relating responsibilities. How he pities you and doesn't ever want to be more than your friend; thinking you're uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Declaring House Tyrell peasants who would taint his family's pure bloodline. How you 'have' to flaunt your flesh to attract suitors - since your personality did you no favors. Marking you a friend out of obligation...

Were you even friends? Did you even understand the definition of a friend? Have you been operating in a delusion this whole time?

In the words of King Théoden: how did it come to this?

Feeling utterly humiliated, you ran away from your peers; lungs heaving, huffing and puffing, panic ready to overflow. You burst through the wooden door, fully sobbing by now, engaging the iron lock and dropping to lean your weight against it.

Most, if not all, of your insecurities were aired out like soiled bedsheets for all eligible bachelors to know. Aemond might as well have hung a painted wooden sign around your neck: DESPERATE AND CLINGY LOSER - DO NOT ENGAGE.

Nothing about this situation felt normal, it all felt terribly impossible; absolutely heartbreaking and vile, like it was some kind of bad dream. But everyone woke up from dreams. You'd never wake up from this, you'd be forced to remember and relive it day after day. Tonight would haunt you, cast a dark shadow around you as if a thick, temperamental, torrential storm. Yet every storm eventually breaks, but tonight, there was no remedy, no shelter, no protection - you had to weather this alone.

It felt foreign, enduring anything by yourself. For years, Aemond was your partner, always at your side, level headed, insightful and wise; supportive, protective, calming, and something like a safety net when you faced trouble. Now, he's left you devastatingly alone; where after tonight, the very idea of being in the same room as him made you nauseated and anxious, fearful and small.

In that moment, your brain screamed that you were no longer welcome in the Red Keep - Uncle Evin's position be damned.

You sat on the stone cold floor for the better part of half an hour before your bottom turned painfully numb. After sluggishly hiking up your dress skirt, you removed your shoes and tossed them aside, standing to swollen feet to unhook your jewelry and place everything in their safe and proper place. Then, a particular necklace made of red rubies set in a thinly crafted Valyrian Steel chain caught your eye and mocked you. It was Aemond's gift on your ten-and-eighth nameday, laid in a plush velvet case for adequate preservation. This simple piece of jewelry was your absolute favorite in your collection, a treasure beyond words of appreciation that you greatly admired, now rusting in salty tears.

Being gifted this necklace had once convinced you Aemond might've felt the same for you as you do him. You remember even trying to rationalize it as a sign that the One-Eyed Prince was at a loss and didn't know how to confess his feelings. That he was shy, perhaps afraid to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Angry tears of betrayal fell like acid over your cheeks, gritting your teeth, clenching your jaw as you snapped the velvet box closed and with a barbaric grunt, hurled it (with impressive strength) across the room. You felt so confused, so lost; deceived, lied to, and puppeted - and then the anger flared again when you realized what family you were angry with.

Why bother being upset, emotional, distressed? You had no right because your feelings truly didn't matter - not in the grand scheme of things. Nobody cared about your trivial feelings! You were just a Tyrell and by comparison, a peasant nobody who never deserved, earned, warranted, or was bestowed respect. In fact, to the Targaryens up on their mounted pedestals, none of you mattered - not a citizen in all Seven Kingdoms.

In fact, it was almost treated as a curse to not be a Targaryen. Some kind of punishment for daring to exist amongst the privileged royals as a lowborn - which, despite your family's newly established status in court, you were still characterized as. In their eyes, anyone NOT a Targaryen was lowborn; deemed unworthy to the white haired bloodline, being merely tolerated for the sake of politics, strategy, and reproduction. It was a sick game, and the Targaryens always won.

They do what they want, when they want, with no consideration towards other people's safety, emotions, wellbeing, stability, or comfort. The Targaryens were always stationed above everyone because, after all, they were closer to Gods than men; entire family spoiled, entitled, narcissistic, holier than thou, avoidant of any and all consequence.

They're legendary. Untouchable and worshipped.

And you? You're just a Tyrell, the tiny beetle trampled under the God's boot. Beetles were essential to any ecosystem, similar to the Tyrell's providing to the Realm productions of wheat, grain, barley, and corn. Similar to your family, beetles are also disposable - meaning the Targaryens might tolerate you, but they never need respect you. They could stomp you into the ground whenever they wanted because where one beetle died, three more takes place. Where one House might falter and fall, become doomed, eradicated, or subcomes to tragedy, others step up in an effort to establish their usefulness; prove their House's necessity to the Realm's ecosystem, attempt to diminish the threat of being razed to the ground by dragon fire.

Why be so upset with the Targaryens when they can do no wrong? What right did you have? And how could you ever think a Prince of the Realm would remotely be romantically interested in you?

You felt delusional and pathetic, crying over a man who was never in your league. Yet betrayal gutted you like a fish, a bright reminder that your friend would expose you like that; offer loud disrespect, speaking hatefully, to finally voice hidden malcontent. It felt impossible to stomach that your first friend, your favorite person, secretly hated you.

Because how could he not? You did not love anyone you could speak so lowly of.

Sobbing harder, you yanked pins out of your hair, working at break-neck speed to strip from your gown, then freezing when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looked distraught with exhausted red eyes; glowing in defeat, in a desperate need for a long, hot soak in the washtub. With shaking hands, you tossed a spare blanket over the mirror, despising the sight of yourself as Aemond's words continued to ring on a loop in your ears.

Clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Improper, lacks self respect, talks too much, lacks suitors. Unworthy, unqualified, pitiful, never desiring to bloom past friendship - which is constructed around obligation. Uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Unfit, tainted, lowborn blood with a lowly personality. Revealing, tempting dresses.

Your mind, heart, and head screamed that no matter how hard you hoped, prayed, and tried, you'd never have a place among the Targaryens. Yelled that Aemond's right: you're ugly on the inside and out; damaged goods, undesirable - all because you were not born amongst fire and blood. Bellowed about your lack of quality, purpose, contribution. Reminded you that the one person you trusted unconditionally never truly wanted to be your friend; that he spoke horrendously on your name when absent, didn't value who you were - and never did.

He took every insecurity you confided in him and weaponized it; used it against you, made it into a joke with people you didn't trust nor want to know about you...

You sunk into the bath water, submerging as if to hide from your own thoughts.

The knock at your chamber door didn't surprise you. Servants and your uncle had been coming and going since you first refused to leave the morning after the ball. You figured Aemond would come around eventually, too curious for his own good and still under the impression he had to play "friend", thinking his deceit was unknown to you.

Aemond called your name through the door, asking, "You awake? Could I come in?"

You didn't answer.

He sighed, "C'mon, I know you're there. You haven't been seen in four days, you have to eat. You should get some air, feel the sunshine."

Silence.

Aemond frowned, "When you're ready, come find me, petal. I'm worried about you."

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, pulling your knees to your chest. For four days, you couldn't stomach the idea of running into the Prince, just wanting to avoid anyone or anything that would remind you of what Aemond said. You understood there were several decisions left to be settled, lost in an endless rampage of confusing emotions, maids bring you full trays of food and removing them with more than half still left.

Humiliation knotted in your chest, the harrowing thought of punishing yourself for being so stupid something you couldn't fight. All you registered was the feeling of betrayal, something that inked into every single thought you had, but with it came sinking realization that you were done. Simple as that.

On the sixth night, you sat with Uncle Evin, forking through your full plate and blurting, "Don't do it."

He paused to finish the bite in his mouth, "Do what, honey girl?"

"Don't - Don't make a match with Alicent and Otto. Don't make the arrangement with Prince Aemond."

Evin nodded slowly, washing his bite down with a mouthful of wine. "There a reason for your change of heart, love? The Queen thinks it's a handsome pairing. Just before, you seemed content with the match - dare I say, you seemed pleased?"

"Things change, Uncle," you spoke evenly, "and I can't shoulder this responsibility. In fact, I... I do not think I'm capable of making my own match. I will be stepping away from courting for the time being."

Your eyes seemed distant and dark, proving serious. So Elvin agreed easily, allowing you to withdrawal from the current season officially. He understood something was deeply amiss and didn't want to make worse whatever turmoil you teetered in. He didn't want to upset you and make things worse - you obviously had enough going on.

Aemond knocked again the next day, "Petal? You awake?" But you didn't answer. He sighed, "You've been missing lessons, love, and I just... I brought you some books. Thought maybe you'd like to catch up?" When there was no answer, he ended, "I'll just leave them here for you, petal... I'm not sure what's wrong, but I hope you're all right in there... I miss you."

You scoffed quietly, wiping your tears.

Ten days after withdrawing from the courting season, you left your chambers for the first time. But it wasn't like anything changed - it was still as if you were invisible, like a ghost. Losing your best mate turned you silent, refusing to attend lessons and since Aemond was your source for solace, had turned to seeking shelter at the Sept. It was the easiest way to avoid everyone - mostly Aemond.

He had shunned the religion the older he got, though respected his mother's devotion to it in trying times. He couldn't remember the last time he was in the Sept... So, it was perfect for you; a safe space.

You were no longer seen in the library - a once daily occurrence. If you ever wanted to read, you sent your ladies maid to collect content for you; but the drive to learn and read had abandoned you as swiftly as Aemond's loyalty. The stables grew cold in your absence, refusing to ride; something that troubled your uncle gravely. No longer did you take meals with family or Aemond, always seeking solitude to eat alone in your room or the physical kitchens; the Red Keep growing dark over your lack of sunshine - that had shone so brightly in the previous weeks. Even then, when you ate, it was in small quantities to only sustain yourself; mostly feeling nauseous when food was put on your stomach.

The first time Aemond saw you, you were returning from the Sept in a dress that reached close to your pulse point of your neck. He tried to get to you, but you slipped through the cracks of the Keep and disappeared when he dodged around a set of Kingsguard. Yet it was still a comfort to him to know you had left your room finally.

He knocked on your door about half an hour later, but like usual, you didn't answer.

"Rosie?" Aemond called, sighing. "I know you've not been feeling yourself, but, uh, tomorrow's Helaena's nameday. We're having dinner for her on the terrace..." He waisted, not hearing a single thing from within your chamber. "You're invited, as usual, petal. Your uncle said he'd attend, wanted you to know you're always welcome at our table."

But you didn't show up, you couldn't bear to see any of them.

You didn't eat that night, you were far too anxious and spiteful against yourself that you refused to allow yourself to indulge in celebrating your companion.

Despite withdrawing, you still heard rumor of all the matches being made and the courtships established through your ladies maid. A cord struck in your gut when you heard the couples you had bet upon were public and engaged, but so were Aemonds... Which meant you both won; and if things were different, would mean a flight on Vhagar to visit Highgarden. On nights of merriment, you would sit alone in the Godswood sometimes; attempting to connect to the Old Gods, but they never spoke back. They never connected with you.

Tonight, you were under the blood red leaves in earnest curiosity; quiet, just as you had been since the day you found out Aemond's betrayal and discouraged your uncle from making a match. It was there Elvin found you, frowning as he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"The Old Gods do not speak to me," Elvin offered softly.

"Nor I," you whispered.

"Yet I always feel at peace here," he nodded, sighing deeply. "I must ask you something, honey girl."

"Hmm?"

"Do you... Do you wish to depart? From King's Landing, I mean?" He questioned. "I ask because I intend to ride for Highgarden, your father's nameday nears. Your mother intends to throw him a grand celebration, since turning 50 seems such a milestone."

"You ride for home?"

"Tomorrow morning."

You paused, then answered, "I would like that... There's nothing left for me here."

Aemond's words had done irreparable damage, making you feel worthless and alone. Bitter. Damaged and unworthy of any such match; forever worrying if your best friend could harbor such ill will and hatred for you, surely, a husband would as well. Yet you were not new to being a woman; you knew the role you were to play, how marriage was strategic and calculated. Political. You could be a wife, you were so sure of it; but would you ever feel worthy of love? You feared you never would.

"We will stay a few weeks."

"I don't know if I would like to return, Uncle."

He offered a sad smile, "I figured as much. But should you want to, feel able to, you may return. You, my sweetling, are always welcome at my side."

You leaned into his shoulder, sighing softly. "I should thank you," you whispered in the wind.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me all these years," you lifted off him to meet his eyes. "You didn't have to, but you wanted to... And you've shown me a father's love when I thought it gone from my life. Thank you, Uncle."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, humming, "Don't tell the others but you were always my favorite. I consider it a great pleasure to raise such a gorgeous young lady - and I mean that, honey girl. Inside and out. Now," he pulled back and found his feet, offering his hand to you, "come, we've packing to complete."

"Of course."

However, while in the midst of packing, you felt a jolt in your heart. This had been your home of a decade or more; these people were who you grew and learned with. Who influenced your life in the best and worst of ways; they did not deserve to read your praise and thanks for friendship in a letter... So, you swung a cloak on and ventured out of your room.

Otto was first since he was the easiest to say goodbye to. He was gracious of your parting words of thanks; telling him how much you appreciated his wisdom and riddles.

Aegon was next. He insisted you share a last goblet of wine together - since you did not intend to delay your parting. It turned into a bit of a drinking game with his mates, but you didn't mind; far too used to the company of these debaucherous lechers. Dare you say, you enjoyed yourself.

Helaena was after, your words harder to say as your emotions strangled you. She was a sweet girl, an endearing companion, constant and dependable, albeit a bit strange and unorthodox. But you loved her all the same and cried tears of sadness when hugging her tightly as a last ditch effort to convey your gratitude for her authentic and generous friendship.

You only offered Ser Criston Cole a soft, "Farewell."

Alicent was perhaps hardest to say goodbye to. After Aemond, you were probably closest with the matriarch and found her wisdom and lessons a privilege to learn. She was kind to you; usually with a stern hand, but that was because she could recognize the little girl you once were who missed her mother tremendously. She introduced you to religion, another common bond. She encouraged you, supportive and curious; sharing affinity for the histories, often reading to one another for moments of peace.

Saying goodbye to Alicent hurt. You both shed tears of sorrow, the Queen wishing you the very best and insisting you return for her nameday and other celebratory events. She told you to write, told you to keep in touch; insisting if and when a match was made, to invite her since she would love to attend your wedding. Truly, Alicent considered you one of her own and to know you were departing in pain wounded her.

King Viserys was last. He was already in bed, half-asleep, a Maester at his side; but still, he accepted your audience. You thanked him for his hospitality and kindness - especially to your uncle. You thanked him for hosting you, for allowing you residence at the Keep and the for the years living under royal privilege. You told him you'd not forget his generosity.

You returned to your chambers after that and finished packing. You didn't sleep.

When morning broke, you stood in the courtyard with Elvin; packing the wagon you would use, your horse tacked and waiting as you both intended to ride. Alicent and Helaena came to see you off, hugging you tightly one last time before the Queen offered you a handheld velveteen case. "Just a little something to remember us by," she smiled lightly.

"Oh, as if I'm in a hurry to forget you?" You mused. "My Queen, this is too much, I cannot accept."

"You have not opened it."

"I do not need to, I know you," you smirked. "Your leadership these years is enough gift, my Queen."

"I'm not taking it back, you might as well accept it," she insisted. "Helaena and I picked it out together..."

You lifted the case lid, blinking in shock and gasping lightly. There laid a gorgeous chain necklace of Valyrian Steel, a dragon pendant dangling from front with gems of bright emerald - surely a representation of the Hightower side.

"Thank you, Your Grace, my Princess," you breathed, closing the case and caressing it to your chest. "It's more generous than I deserve but will treasure for the decades to come."

Queen Alicent nodded and pecked your forehead, leaving you alone with Helaena to speak with Elvin. The moment her mother was gone, the Princess asked, "Did you say goodbye to Aemond? I'm surprised he's not here."

"No," you spoke softly, "I cannot, Helaena, it is too painful to even look at him - let alone share words of parting. I have nothing left to say, no more words for him."

She frowned, "You know... I don't think he meant what he said. He says things he does not mean when anxious or feeling as if he's cornered."

Your head cocked, "What? H-How do you know what's been said?"

"I saw it - in one of my dreams."

You sighed, "I know you mean well - "

"I just do not wish for you to think that is his honest opinion about you."

"If it wasn't, he would not have spoken so loudly for so many to hear. Your brother has never sounded so sure, Helaena, I do not wish to relive it."

She sighed and nodded, "Will you write?"

"Every week," you promised, the two of you meeting foreheads and breathing as one. "Take care of yourself, Helaena."

"You, too, Rosie," she smiled, letting you depart. Alicent clipped your new necklace in place and gvae you a final hug, watching you mount your horse, stare at the pair for a moment longer, then follow your Uncle Elvin out of the courtyard.

As you rode down the streets, Aemond came sprinting out of the Keep in a blind panic after running into Aegon in the hall. Normally, Aemond wouldn't have bat an eye at his hungover brother, but he had said something about you drinking him under the table and demanded to know what Aegon meant. Upon hearing you had "left", Aemond sprinted to your bed chambers and didn't even knock - just burst in.

Never before had the Prince felt such anger as when he learned you had left King's Landing without saying goodbye. Without a single word to him - as if the past decade+ hadn't meant anything! He needed to know, Aemond needed to see for himself the truth because surely, someone was mistaken. His brother, surely still drunk and misremembering because there was no possible way you could've left! Not without Aemond! Not without a word! He refused to believe it.

He panted, tears gathering in his eye, finding your room bare and stripped. Aemond's breathing picked up in panic, hands shaking as he stepped into your room; looking, desperately, for any sign of life. But there was nothing... Nothing, save for a letter addressed to him left on your table with the ruby necklace he gifted you for your 18th nameday.

Gingerly, Aemond reached out and plucked up the necklace. He frowned, petting the jewels in disbelief; noting the way a few were missing, some loose - evidence of your anger. Slowly, Aemond sunk into a chair and with the necklace still in hand and his heart hammering in his chest in a rattle, opened your letter.

Aemond ― I know you'll be the one to find this, of that, there's no doubt. Sooner or later, you will learn of my departure and come looking, and for that, for being unable to say anything in person, I am sorry. Though this might come as a shock, it shouldn't as I would hate to give you the satisfaction of being right by burdening you with a desperate goodbye. I would hate for you to think I am clingy, even after our friendship died. So, I figure a letter is better than nothing. Goodbye, Aemond. Though all a lie and dedicated ruse, thank you for the years of friendship. You made time in the Red Keep pleasant enough. ― Rosie

Aemond sprinted to the courtyard, flinging open doors and shoving past patrons; desperate to find you, understanding you overheard him all those weeks ago and needing to apologize. He needed to explain himself, the confirmation now that Aemond was the cause of your pain and reclusion? His heart was about to burst. He skidded to a halt in the dirt, turning left and right and in a circle as he realized the gates were open and you were not in sight.

"Aemond?" Helaena questioned softly, Alicent taking to her side. "Brother?"

"Wh-Where is she?" He panted. "Rose - Rose - Rosie, where is she? Where is she!?"

"She's gone, Aemond," Alicent frowned, shaking her head slowly; startled by his desperate tone, "gone with her uncle back to Highgarden."

"When? When? When did they leave!?"

"She's gone, brother," Helaena snipped, sending him a look of disappointment; ears ringing from her dream, repeating what he had said to you.

Aemond swallowed harshly, asking his sister, "She heard me, didn't she? I know you know, Helaena, please, tell me. She heard me?"

The Princess nodded and walked away, the One Eyed Prince turning to his mother in desperation and for the first time in 10 years, perhaps more, he collapsed in her arms. Emotion clawed at his chest and into his throat, starting to tremble, sniffing heatedly; his mother's arms tight and comforting.

"I love her," he whispered.

"I know," Alicent answered, "but she should've been the one you told." A pause and her hand lifted to caress the back of his head, just like when he was a child. "It's too late now, Aemond. She's gone."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

does this count towards the Clingy Baby collection? since Aemond technically calls her clingy amongst other things?

[peachdues]

COMPASS — TEASER

Bad boy!Sanemi x Reader • Gang AU

A/N: was this supposed to be limited to a “bad boy Sanemi takes your virginity” prompt? Yes. But y’all should know by now I don’t know how to control myself. And I’m going to a show tonight so I figured I’d feed y’all before I left.

Legit hyped for this one because gang member Sanemi is 🤤

Before anyone asks, yes this will end up being a multi-part fic. I don’t wanna hear a THING.

CW: Sanemi being a huge fucking flirt • this fic will be HELLA nsfw so MDNI • like super fucking explicit lmao • Reader runs a bookstore

You’re in the process of double checking delivery logs to ensure all your new inventory has arrived when a large thud against the clerk’s counter startles you.

It’s him again — all ivory hair and silvery facial scars that somehow are less imposing than the irritated sneer he wears.

“This book was shit,” he scoots the novel across the counter to you with distaste. “I want a refund.”

You level his pout with a frosty glare of your own. Wordlessly, you lean over the counter and tap a single finger against a laminated sign duck-taped to its edge.

Return-exchange only. No refunds.

“But it was shit,” he repeats, as though that will somehow spur you to change a policy you didn’t create. “You let me waste twenty bucks.”

“I did nothing,” you rustle the pages of your delivery log in pointed dismissal. “You’re the one who decided to buy a book before checking it out.”

You glance down at the discarded novel. “Figures,” you scoff. “He’s not even an author. He uses ghost writers and takes all the credit.”

“Woulda been nice if you’d told me that before you let me give him my money.”

You hum idly as you cross off the log’s boxes for new releases. “I suppose I was too stunned that you even knew how to read. Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to your shit choices.”

“Oh?” And you glance up to see Sanemi smirking at you. “The Princess has claws, does she?” He leans against the counter, propping his cheek under a loose fist. “So, what are your recommendations, gorgeous?”

“I’m not your Princess,” you snap imbuing the nickname with as much venom as you can muster. “Call me by my name or call me nothing at all.”

His eyes drop to your name-tag, pinned neatly on the front of your sweater. That insufferable smirk of his only widens. “Alright, alright. What are your recommendations, Y/N?”

The syllables sound rich and honeyed and suddenly, you wish you’d let him stick with Princess, grating as it was.

Because your name should not sound so sweet, should not roll off his tongue so seamlessly, as it just did.

You’ve never been one to indulge in rumors. But in this city, as economically fractured as it is, gossip is a currency everyone keeps in their back pocket. And though you keep your head down and mind your own business, even you have heard the rumors swirling around town about the eldest Shinazugawa child.

Rumors that he has ascended the ranks of the same Mob that claimed the life of his deadbeat father long before the bastard was shived in the back for a debt he’d owed (their words, never yours).

Rumors that he holds a unique position within the gang, known clandestinely only as the Corps, and that position requires him to do things most won’t speak about.

But the rumor that screeches to the forefront of your mind has nothing to do with his alleged status with the Corps. It’s his reputation as a flirt; a rumored womanizer, through and through, that is a splinter under your skin.

Determined to pick him out, a wicked idea blossoms. “Fine, here.” You stalk purposefully to the section marked Literature. Your finger drags down a line of titles before finally settling on one. You pull it free with a soft grunt, the book sitting thick and heavy in your hand as you dump it into Sanemi’s.

“Read that.”

His eyes flick between its cover and you, incredulous. “This ain’t a book; it’s a brick.”

“It’s a classic,” you counter. “One that examines age-old question of destiny versus free will, generational curses.” Your head cocks to the side, a challenging smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Love and lust.”

His eyebrow raises and you cross your fingers. If he falls for it and ultimately ends up hating the book, then perhaps he’ll decide your taste in reading material is indeed shit, and maybe then he’ll leave you alone.

Sanemi considers you for a moment but then he takes the bait. “If you say so,” he sighs. “But if it’s shit, I’m taking my refund.” And then he leans in close, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His breath is hot against your ear. “Regardless of your shitty little policy.”

You refuse to let him see how much he’s knocked you off-kilter. “So I can expect to be robbed? Will it be at gun or knifepoint? Just so I’m prepared.”

His chuckle, low and dark sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Worse,” he promises before he draws back. His grin is wolfish, all teeth and feral hunger. “You’ll owe me a date.”

He looses a low, appreciative whistle as he steps back and rakes his eyes over your rigid form. “Though, I might just take you out anyway.”

“You assume I’ll say yes — or are you planning on kidnapping me? I’m sure you’re rather proficient at it, given your occupation.”

Something dark flashes across his face, and it’s enough to make you step back, a sudden fear creeping up the back of your spine.

Stupid, you chastise yourself. You never know when to keep your mouth shut.

But the shadows in his features recede as quickly as they appeared, and Sanemi’s mouth eases back into that same, cocky smile.

“You’ll say yes, Princess. You won’t be able to resist the temptation.”

“Temptation?” You force out a laugh. “And what makes you think I can’t?”

Sanemi’s eyes find your current read, open flipped over on the counter, marking your current page.

It’s a mystery novel. Your third of the month, born of a new hyperfixation on the genre.

You want nothing more than to wipe that smug grin of his clean from his face. He gives an affectionate shake of his head as he turns and makes his way toward the door. “Habits, Y/N. It all comes down to habits.”

You should throw it at his head, but Sanemi exits the store before your hand can find its spine.

[xixovart]

lost trio headcanons because theyre my mini fixation for the day

for starters i’d like to remind you that the first time jason felt like a person and not a soldier was when he was with leo and piper

ok now actual headcsnons

jason’s hair grew out after a bit and ended up covering the scar (“undercut”) he has on the side of his head from that one bullet. leo likes to surprise people by putting jason’s hair up bc its funny to see their reactions

l: “and look—secret undercut!!”

j: “it’s not an undercut leo, it’s a scar”

p: “the bullet didn’t even touch your skin drama queen”

j: “might’ve. my head could’ve exploded and—“

[groaning and arguing and leo laughing]

—canon convo guys rick told me

leo knows a lot of car games which is very beneficial for long days on the argo ii

piper always has a lollipop in her mouth and no one knows where they come from

leo comes up with the oddest nicknames and piper and jason are just. so used to it? jason could be talking to like reyna or smth and leo will come up to him and say

l: “oh hey jason gracer razor blazer”

j: “hi leo”

r: “what the fuck”

leo is really bad at picking up social clues so jason does it for him

the wildnerness school had a really early curfew that piper and leo blatantly ignored

they would stay out and wander the halls and hide in classrooms whenever a teacher was nearby

leo was poor and homeless, jason was raised with no regards to currency, spending, or finances, and piper is a nepo baby. the ultimate trio dynamic. arguing for hours about whether $50 is a lot or not (it is.)

leo shares food as a love language

jason loves video games, surprisingly enough (mario kart. MARIO KART.)

piper is constantly taking leo’s and jason’s stuff. hair ties, jewelry, mostly clothes, also mostly food, leo’s homework,

the trio has a movie marathon every friday night. there’s blanket forts, gummy worms, matching pjs, and fairy lights involved. they borrow rachel’s cave, since cabin 1 is too depressing and the aphrodite and hephaestus cabins are way too packed (sometimes rachel hangs around for a bit :D)

picture me this. it’s winter, the lake is frozen over. they somehow find ice skates. utter chaos. leo fancies himself a figure skater, jason is on all fours because he keeps falling, and piper actually did figure skating as a kid

GUYS GUYS THE TRIO GOING ON A QUEST AND HAVING TO HIJACK AN UPPER-CLASS PARTY/GATHERING IM LOSING MY SHIT IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES

im gonna have to draw this but like

piper giving them very strict instructions on what to do and what not to do (they end up forgetting half of it)

yk that one quote from new girl?

“where are you piper?? this place is fancy and i don’t know which fork to kms with”

that’s leo

jason just hanging around quietly and not engaging in conversation and keeping everyone under close radar like the little fucking wolf he is

everyone ends up thinking he’s a bodyguard

the trio just goes along with it

YH THATS IT I HAVE MORE I THINK BUT THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO LONG SOOO BYE LOSERS GOODNIGHT AND DONR FORGET RO SLEEP EAT AND DRINK WATER (you hear that, @kindred-spirit-93? water. not pink milk. water./j)

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!      

a/n: I know NOTHING about the movie or it’s plot, other than I want to marry Margot and her portrayal of Barbie is bringing so much nostalgia

Warnings: nothing, because in ... Barbie world there’s no hatred, no homophobia, no gender norms etc. It’s perfect...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

ENFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Taurus Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・First and foremost Barbie is a very independent woman

・She doesn’t need a partner, which makes your relationship all the more special

・She’s chosen you because she genuinely loves you, rather than doing it because ... she has to 

・And it was a big shock to many when they found out that Barbie had chosen a woman to be her partner

・But she wouldn’t hear anything against it: she loved you and that was the end of it 

・Your relationship seems pretty perfect. Because it is. 

・Life with her is perfect 

・All the annoyances of normal daily life don’t occur during life with her

・Even if you don’t live in Barblie World, she still has this magical energy that brightens everywhere she goes

・She isn’t someone who has many flaws; physically, mentally or emotionally 

・Maybe she does act before thinking though, and that can cause a bit of trouble 

・And she’s very specific with both her outfits and yours 

・Her wardrobe is endless

・A lot of pastels, as well as endless pinks 

・She always makes sure your hair and nails are done (you usually have something matching with your nails...and outfits...)

・Always gives you compliments throughout the day; “god you look radiant honey!” “you’re glowing!” “I can’t believe we’re in love!”

・Being around the other Barbie’s and always having light-hearted conversations (dark thoughts don’t bother you here)

・There are mermaids in the ocean, fairies in the trees, princesses in castles and magic around every corner 

・Her nicknames for you are “honey,” “sweetheart,” “my love,” and “bunny.” 

・Barbie’s love language is ... all of them. She loves ‘buying’ you gifts (there is no money currency), she loves spending time with you; exploring, dancing, adventuring. 

・She always wants to hold your hand or have your arm linked in hers. Her words of affirmation are almost constant. With acts of service, she likes to clean and redecorate for you (even if you don’t need her to). 

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔  

Overthinking This x Not Thinking At All

Acts Then Thinks x Thinks Before They Act

Chaotic Dumbass Duo

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Forever In Their Honeymoon Stage

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:  

Romantic Flight by John Powell

[zvaigzdelasas]

[BBC is UK State Media]

Months in jail alongside ally and kingmaker Ousmane Sonko ended suddenly, with the pair released the week before the presidential election.

Now Mr Clean, as he's nicknamed, must get to work on the sweeping reforms he has promised.[...]

Fighting poverty, injustice and corruption are top of Mr Faye's agenda. While working at the Treasury, he and Mr Sonko created a union taskforce to tackle graft.

Gas, oil, fishing and defence deals must all be negotiated to better serve the Senegalese people, says Mr Faye.

He is ushering in an era of "sovereignty" and "rupture" as opposed to more of the same, he told voters, and that is especially true of ties to France.

Senegal's president-elect says he will drop the much-criticised CFA franc currency, which is pegged to the euro and backed by former colonial power France.

Mr Faye wants to replace it with a new Senegalese, or regional West African, currency[...]

Strengthening judicial independence and creating jobs for Senegal's large young population are also key priorities for Mr Faye[...]

One of Mr Faye's heroes is the late Senegalese historian Cheikh Anta Diop - whose work is seen as a precursor to Afrocentrism. Both are seen as left-wing cheerleaders for pan-Africanism.

As early results came in on Monday showing Mr Faye was set for victory, people in the capital, Dakar, celebrated by honking car horns and singing to loud music.

The reaction from international markets was less jubilant, with Senegal's dollar bonds falling to their lowest level in five months. Reuters news agency reports that investors are concerned Mr Faye's presidency may wind down the country's business-friendly policies.

25 Mar 24

[justananxiousweirdo]

CAN YOU DO JOOST X AGGU X READER FLUFF HC / IMAGES?? PLEASE IM OBSESSED

YESSS OFC I CAN (hopefully)

Side note: I appreciate everyone who’s been interacting with my channel. I love you guys :)

Joost x Aggu x Reader HC

Joost absolutely loves cuddle time. Anytime you or Aggu are laying or sitting back Joost always jumps at the chance to lay with you. Your and Aggu’s camera rolls are filled with pictures of Joost snuggled into either of your sides. He loves to lay his head on your or Aggu’s chests. Whenever he lays on Aggu Aggu will play with his hair soothing Joost to sleep.

Aggu’s the type to play a claw machine or carnival game a thousand times if you or Joost see a prize you like. That man will be concentrated as fuck trying his hardest to get you or Joost some stuffed animal that probably costs five bucks but Aggu spent thirty just playing the damn game over and over again.

After begging the boys to bake with you over and over they eventually gave in. You cheered as the three of you headed out to grab a few missing ingredients. As soon as you got back home you raced to preheat the oven and get started. Within five minutes all hell broke loose. The kitchen was an absolute mess, they’re was flour everywhere, Joost had dumped a bowl of dry ingredients over top of Aggu’s head because he thought it would be funny. In retaliation Aggu poured the rest of the bag of flour on Joost, but the second you tried to scold them they both declined to team up against you. Both boys decided to grab the closet dry ingredient to them and completely covered you. For the rest of the night the three of you had a food fight and got no baking done.

They both have a million pet names they use. They have nicknames both in English and their native languages. Aggu usually calls you shantz, liebe, Prinzessin, Shöne, or mein leben. He usually calls Joost babe, prinz, Süße, Kuschelwanze, or liebling. Joost usually calls you perziken, liefde, or Schatje. He usually calls Aggu Aggie, honing, or knap. If you don’t speak German or Dutch it took a lot of begging from you for them to tell you what the nicknames meant, obviously you had an idea but you were never certain until they finally told you.

They’ve both made songs for you and each other that they’ll never release because they like to keep some things private and they think it’s more meaningful that way. And if you make music as well you do the same for them.

They’re both the type to ask for five more minutes. You’ll wake up and not want to just lie in bed all day so you’ll try to stand up just for both men to hold you down muttering something along the lines of “five more minutes” or “its too early”.

You three have a lot of movie and game nights. Either you three cuddle up on the couch watching a movie (that took twenty minutes for the three of you to agree on) with blankets and snacks. Or you all let out your competitive sides and get out some cards and poker chips, kisses are also accepted as a form of currency in your guys’ game nights. After all it isn’t about the money it’s about totally destroying your boyfriends in every game you play. They always accuse you of cheating, but that’s never the case, esp when Joost runs out of Monopoly money fifteen minutes in and pays rent with small kisses. Who are you and Aggu to disqualify the blonde from playing?

You three always have the most fun on dates, you go to a fancy dinner, a walk in the park, get some ice cream, that sort of thing. It’s almost always a simple date but you three somehow always manage to make it the funnest night ever. Every date tops the one before it.

Haters definitely get to Joost, he doesn’t like seeing comments talking about how much people don’t like him so sometimes after Joost has been scrolling through those kinds of comments he goes to you and Aggu for comfort, after all you two are the only two who make him feel truly loved and safe.

After Joost got disqualified from Eurovision he made it your three’s hotel room as fast as possible and just collapsed on the floor crying. When you and Aggu made it home to see a puffy eyed and red faced Joost you both knelt on the floor next to him doing your best to soothe him until he could speak. As soon as he said what happened Aggu threatens to march down there and beat the shit out of the people who hurt his boyfriend.

The last two are a little sad but I hope I did good. I don’t get to write a lot of fluff because I don’t think I can do it very well but I’m such a sappy person, a true hopeless romantic.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Separated masterlist for all Lore-related asks!

The current masterpost has reached it's limits, therefore: I'm making this one! May make ones for other aspects too lmao

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

Is this AU a showtime slowburn? |•| Main premise? |•| About Jax's alliance... |•| The Support Puppets! |•| Puppet classifications! |•| Pesky Marionettes! |•| Mogu, Richard and Maxwell, Bandits of the Confectionary Highlands |•| A Puppet's power source? |•| Gangle's issue... |•| Jax's weapon? |•| Trauma-list of everyone lol |•| Pomni's name |•| How does Caine get drunk? |•| Gangle's special attacks |•| Humans? |•| Magic system? |•| Circuit City (and more) concept art! |•| Pomni and Ragatha's relationship... |•| Pomni's live reaction to a drunken Caine |•| Caine's tongue, Concept of Pain, Pomni's "hobbies" & nicknames |•| Everyone's alcohol tolerance |•| How battle smart is everyone? |•| Kaufmo and Queenie's classifications... |•| Fears... |•| Boss vs Allies sizes! |•| Pomni, "The Last Harlequin"? |•| Saving crazed Puppets is funny |•| Jax's Toy.... |•| Interesting Team ups? |•| Abel |•| Jax's friend? |•| The Gang's honest opinion on Caine? |•| Is someone still making Puppets?? |•| Sneaky Gangle |•| Caine's feelings |•| Puppet hearts |•| Can you stop Caine's drinking habits? |•| Waterproof Ragdoll Mannequins? |•| Books the gang likes to read? |•| paranormal abilities? |•| who's quick to be angered |•| Are exposed hearts normal? |•| Puppet Heart barriers |•| Can they eat |•| Jax, Gangle, Kingr and Z's hobbies |•| workshop for repairs? |•| Damaged Pomni thingz |•| knock-off Puppets? |•| Dresses?? |•|

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

More than six classifications? |•| What does Z and Kingr do? |•| Pomni's annoyance meter |•| Puppetry 101, the concept of Enlightenment! |•| Danger zones? |•| Die hearts, and ghosts |•| Fastest? |•| Textures |•| The stages of Enlightenment (& Madness) |•| abridged timeline lol |•| Hey what if you stole Jax's teddy bear |•| Z's pronouns |•| How did Caine get the gold tooth |•| Animal puppets? |•| past Caine's getup on current Caine? |•| Are Caine and Pomni kissing or killing each other LMFAO |•| Him. |•| currency? |•| Raid boss |•| Puppet animal zoos? |•| Can Caine modify? |•| Is everyone a boss? |•| Jax's hammer SPIKES |•| Pomni's directive |•| Caine's wanted poster |•| Pomni's respect for Caine, then love?? |•| how to make everyone mad at you lol |•| switch up team tactics |•| Ragatha's Artifacts, Z's arms and HIM. |•| Just silly facts!!! |•| Gangle's lost ribbon |•| Jax character development arc |•| CANONICAL HEIGHTS!!!! |•| Puppet sentience |•| Enlightenment & Madness graph |•|

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

[makeandshift]

Hasan S/O // foreign!gf

some self-indulgence because it came third in the poll 🤭 also this took forever and i am sorry

Met at some international event like TwitchCon Europe and they are both just instantly smitten.

Her visiting L.A. and just instantly ✨hating it✨ because why the hell is traffic this bad. The weather is nice though.

Regardless, she wants to do all the dumb tourist stuff she can think off.

Doing the classic american supermarket visit for tourist and just being blown away at the variety of Oreo's or something dumb. Won't shut up about it.

Always calculating the price of something in 'her' currency and then being amazed/shocked at how expensive or cheap something is.

Teaching Hasan to say stupid shit in her native language 🤭 and telling it means something completely different

The first thing he learns is definitely a swear word because it is what she yells when she stubs her toe.

Silly little nicknames for Hasan and Kaya in her native language.

[Insert Austin asking her if she took ESL in high school here]

Cooking food from her home country for Hasan and making a tierlist. Probably the biggest argument they've ever had.

95% of Will's sports and pop culture references just go completely over her head.

Forcing Taking Hasan on vacation to her home country 🥰

Long, loud phone calls with her family at impossible hours because of the time difference.

Sharing different holiday traditions 🥹

The language barrier between their families meaning the both of them have to just be translators whenever they are around.

[thatswhywelovegermany]

Rübezahl

Rübezahl is the mountain spirit and forest demon of the Giant Mountains between Silesia and Bohemia. Numerous legends and folk tales are associated with him.

The origin of the name Rübezahl is not clear. Some sources say that it is a compound of the ancient personal name Riebe and the Middle High German word Zagel (tail), which could explain depictions of Rübezahl as a caudate demon.

A legend tells a different story how Rübezahl got his name: According to this story, Rübezahl kidnaps the king's daughter Emma, ​​whom he wants to marry, into his underground kingdom. He tries to satisfy her longing for her home with turnips that she can transform into any shape she wants. But the turnips wither. Finally, the woman promises him her hand if he tells her the number of turnips in the field. If he fails, he has to let her go. The mountain spirit immediately sets to work. To be sure that the number is correct, he counts again and again, but comes to a different result every time. Meanwhile, the prisoner flees to her fiancé prince Ratibor on a magic turnip that has been transformed into a horse and mocks the demon by addressing him as Rübezahl. Therefore, he becomes very angry when he is called by this nickname. The correct form of address is “Lord of the Mountains”. Another respectful term is “Herr Johannes”. (“Mr. John”).

According to legend, Rübezahl is a giant moody mountain demon. The first collector of Rübezahl legends, Johannes Praetorius, described Rübezahl as a very ambivalent "spirit of contradiction" who could appear fair and helpful one moment, and deceitful and capricious the next. Writer, critic, and folk tale collector Johann Karl August Musäus wrote: "For friend Rübezahl, you should know, is of the nature of a genius, capricious, impetuous, strange; mischievous, rude, immodest; proud, vain, fickle, today the warmest friend, tomorrow strange and cold; at times good-natured, noble, and sensitive; but in constant contradiction with himself; silly and wise, often soft and hard in two moments, like an egg that falls into boiling water; mischievous and honest, stubborn and pliable; according to the mood, how humor and inner urge make him feel at first sight of every thing."

The mountain demon appears to people in various forms. In particular, he appears as a monk in an ash-grey robe, but also as a miner, squire, craftsman and in similar shapes and disguises, but also in the shape of an animal or as an object (tree stump, stone, cloud).

Rübezahl is the weather lord of the Giant Mountains. He unexpectedly sends lightning and thunder, fog, rain and snow down from the mountain, while everything was still bathed in sunshine a moment ago.

He is generally friendly to good people, teaches them remedies and gives gifts especially to the poor; but if he is mocked, he takes severe revenge, for example by bringing on storms. Sometimes hikers are led astray by him. He is said to have a garden of miraculous herbs, which he defends against intruders. Humble gifts from the mountain spirit, such as apples or leaves, can be turned into gold through his power, just as he can occasionally turn money paid to him into worthless currency.

The oldest records of the figure of Rübezahl are from the 16th century, but it is thought that the legend is at least a century older. At first he was just a local legendary figure who only later became known nationwide.

[nerdieforpedro]

Sard’ika Sessions

Session One

Fanfiction 18+

Main Masterlist | Sard’ika Sessions Masterlist I Din Djarin/The Mandalorian Masterlist

Summary: Your first session with The Mandalorian test both of your boundaries.

Warnings: Din Djarin in his own warning, currency for sexual services, HANDS, slight body worship, thigh-riding, temperature play, beskar use, body insecurity, limited eye contact, fingering, overstimulation, angst (always), liberties taken with The Way and Creed, discussion of pregnancy prevention, no name use (Din will call reader by nicknames)

Notes: I’ve wanted to write for Din for a while. He’s one of my favorite Pedro Boys I hadn’t written any fics for until now. The Star Wars world is huge and has such a significance for pop culture in general. It’s all intimidating, but this idea wouldn’t let my brain go. So I had to write it to get it out. This is The Way.

I did use some Mando’a in this fic. Kept it limited to a few words because despite researching I still found it confusing and didn’t want to mess up too badly:

The suffix of (‘ika) denotes turning a word into a nickname but should only be used in private.

Sard’ika = flower (reasoning behind this nickname is explained in later sessions)

Mesh’la = beautiful

Word Count: 2,384

The Mandalorian is aware that you listen for his heavy footsteps. Always ready at your door in what he requests, a simple green slip. Depending on his tastes for the time spent with you, he may want simple cotton or a more decadent silk. He is well aware that he is using you for his own desires. He tells himself that this is what you’ve agreed to and it is mutual use. He pays you in credits after all.

His idle thoughts concern him.

Half of them are of his charge - his son who is training with a Jedi. He misses him dearly, the little whomp rat troublemaker changed his life, if asked, the Mandalorian may admit that his son led his beskar clad body to you.

The other half are reminiscing of what he has done with you and planning when he can do it again. Possibly with new accessories.

While he was talking to Greef about yet another bounty payout, Grogu had wandered over to you, poking your calf. He allowed you to pick him up and talk to him, hold him. This intrigued Mando. After he finished with Greef, he was walking over to you to reclaim his son when he heard you tell the child, “What I wouldn’t do for some more credits? Honest work doesn’t pay much little one. I’m only good at hunting numbers.”

An offhand remark. You may have been joking, but he remembered meeting you before, a few times. On a few occasions, if Greef was busy in some meeting or whatever that man did, you’d be the one to confirm his bounty objective was met and issue his credits. Mando did attempt to control more carnal desires with self-sessions while the child was asleep and with visits to the pleasure house, though due to his beskar, he drew attention.

Your soft curves, delicate looking skin and wide hips enticed him. Not soft spoken, he enjoyed the way your voice echoes in his helmet when you speak, he may have recorded your short greetings to listen to at later times. Eyes that betray your interest in the enigma that the Mandalorian knows he is. It’s one of his largest advantages. He wonders what exactly you want to know about him and is it the same bodily knowledge he seeks. After hearing your comment, he eagerly awaits when Greef either cannot or will not meet with him. The reason matters not. It means he’ll be able to speak to you directly again.

The day comes. The shock on your face is adorable, the warrior wonders what other faces you are capable of making and what actions will inspire them. He was ready to appeal to your expressed need for money to his son and possibly a deeper interest you may have held in him. He wasn’t sure about the second part. You inform him of the location of your home, to come after you finish your shift. Already knowing when your shift ends, the bounty hunter arrives ten minutes before you do. Explaining that the oncoming person was later, you apologize, there was no need, but he thanks you anyway, grateful that your curiosity aligned with his.

Entering your home, it’s simple, but decorated with pictures of plants and planets. It appears lived in and he finds that cute like you. The Mandalorian wants to break you in slowly, no need to rush things. He finally has you to himself in private.

“The only items I will remove are my gloves. Understood?”

Your compliance is appreciated with his boundary and with your clothes. Erect nipples speak to him, gloves are off and his large hands each hold a breast. Massaging them is its own reward for his patience, months have passed since he’s felt another person’s flesh. The low hum from his helmet as his hands begin to roam your body is palpable, he watches as you shudder from his touch.

Leading you over to your small loveseat, he sits, hands running down to your thighs. Pushing them apart, observing your slick, curious about its taste. The visor turns upward to you, “Sit on my thigh. Make yourself come Sard’ika.” (flower - nickname) Watching you hesitate, the hunter taps his right thigh and holds your hands, placing them on his shoulders. “Use my armor to show me the sounds you are capable of sard’ika. I chose you for your plush body. Do not delay, no credits if I am not satisfied.” His tone is stern with a hint of desperation. He’s close to having you in the first position he wants.

Nodding, your knees place themselves on both sides of his armored thigh, their cool surface has you let out a soft, “Ahh. Mmm.” Your hum as he feels your body start to relax has his calloused hands run across your skin from your thighs to your hips. The Mandalorian had wanted to hold the jiggly flesh since the first time he saw you get up from your desk to go wherever the credits are held. His helmet had hid each time he licked his lips, and undressed you with his eyes, your hips wigged, still easing yourself down on his thigh. The warrior is finding himself impatient, and lifts his thigh to finally touch your wetness. A soft chuckle is heard as you gasp from the temperature change, but it feels wonderful. You hadn’t realized how hot you were, your continued hums you made, biting on your bottom lip to not scream in front of him. Sliding up and down this man’s precious beskar. Protection that he wore and used day in and day out being used now for pleasure, specifically yours was swelling your chest with pride. A sudden slap to your ass, interrupting the squelching sounds of your cunt against the metal finally made you yell out. This pleased him greatly, he did not want you to be quiet, but he would tell you later, he wanted you to focus on continuing to drip on his beskar so he would smell it when he went on his next bounty. “M-Mando, what else do you want me to do?” You asked meekly, your core was starting to clench against nothing, desperate to have something to press against. His helmet tilted.

“You haven’t soaked my thigh yet Sard’ika. Do you require my help to do so?” His voice was amused seeing your face, watching you try to not only keep yourself quiet but appeared to be looking away from his helmet. “You can ask for my help. In return, you must climax and look at my visor.” Your nod did not move him, grinding your wet cunt on his metal only gave you so much, just a little push, any added stimulation. You decided since he hadn’t moved, you would, pulling on his shoulders afford a new angle forward so your nipples would brush across his breastplate as now not only was your slit in contact with his beskar but so was your clit.

“I-I can do-do it. M-Mando.” Through staggered breaths you informed him that you would finish your task he had given you. The Mandalorian felt himself throb under his armor and flight suit. He had already been half swollen when he arrived to your doorstep, the friction was driving him mad, but he kept telling himself he had a plan. He would stick to it. Now, looking right into his T-visor made you whimper his name as you finally soaked his beskar, your mouth agape, falling forward with your head on his shoulder, panting.

“Such a sight Sard’ika. I will take more from you,” The bounty hunter softly ran a hand up your back, pulling your slip up, exposing more of your skin. “This is no longer needed. You’ll be on the couch, you must continue to focus on my visor.” After your slip was thrown to the floor, his forearms were suddenly under each one of your legs as you were lifted in the air, holding on to him in a panic, your hand touched his helmet before pulling itself back to his shoulder. As he turned toward the couch he stopped, still holding by your legs.

“Sorry Mando. I didn’t mean to. You picked me up. I panicked. Please put me on the couch.” Your eyes turned away from his visor, he cleared his throat.

“Your legs were too weak so I had to lift you. What was surprising about that silly Sard’ika? Do I need to tell you again why I chose you?” Laying you gently on your back, his hands ran up the sides of your body, touching your face. You closed your eyes, unsure if you should look at his ungloved hands. “I told you. Look at my visor. I think I’ll change what I was planning then.”

“What do you mean?” You heard a small snort as Mando rolled himself down your body, between your legs. You propped yourself on your elbows, curious what he was going to do. “Mando?” Your voice was unsure, but you soon covered your mouth, feeling a single rough finger touching your clit. The instinct to close your legs was thwarted by the hunter’s broad shoulders and beskar.

“You’ll keep your self open and let me explore you Sard’ika. If you won’t follow directions to look at my visor, then I won’t be able to enjoy watching your face as I learn your swollen cunt. It is….” The finger circled your clit before trailing down to your opening and entered smoothly. Finally having something to clench, the wet sounds from your core made Mando quicken his breathing. His free hand had to adjust his flight suit under his armor for his precum was soaking them. He wanted to free himself and plunge into you, but he kept telling himself that there would be a next time. “...perfect for a flower such as yourself. Will you cry for me mesh’la?”

You wanted to ask him what he meant by the word he used, but your mind was muddled. He was commanding you, but didn’t appear to want you to touch him, instead he was set on you having orgasms. One of his hands reached up and took your from your mouth. “I will hear you cry Sard’ika. No more hiding.” Another finger was inserted and you felt a stretch, it burned slightly but your juices soon took that away with the pleasure from their thickness and abrasive skin grating your insides as they clamped around them.

“M-Mando, please, slow down…I-It’s too much…” Tears formed at the edges of your eyes. The continued stimulation was overwhelming, your hips pushed forward as your came a second time, screaming before becoming flaccid on the couch. The warrior’s fingers soon came to a stop as he sat you up, covering you with a throw blanket he found on the other end of the couch.

“You did well Sard’ika. I am satisfied. I shall leave the credits on your table. Taste this and describe it to me.” He brought his two fingers soaked with your nectar as you parted your lips, not questioning him. Your viscous fluids were tangy and slightly sweet, you told him. A low rumble came from his chest before he put an arm around you and put the area above his visor on his helmet on your forehead. You’re sure that means something, just not what, just like the words he used. There were questions he had about why he chose you, why he appeared to be intimate with you on top of the acts you were performing with him. Once able to move, you reached and held one of his hands, he hadn’t put his gloves back on yet.

“Is this alright? I just wanted to touch them once. You’re much more gentle than I thought you’d be Mando.”

The Mandalorian pasused. It was only supposed to be an exchange. Credits for sexual release. He didn’t anticipate such a longing for intimacy. Maybe it wasn’t only carnal desires he had for her. After all, he had given you a nickname in his language, two actually.

“Call me Din Sard’ika. The next time we meet, you’ll call me by name, but only when we are alone like this.” Your nod earned another soft headbutt, then he rose to put his gloves back on. “Can you wear the emerald again next time? It complements your caramel skin mesh’la.”

“Yes I can. Din. Um, what does that word mean? And the other one? Shad-Sar’ka? I think. You called me by them a few times.” You stood and wobbled a bit, following him to the table where he removed the credits from his bag that he had left on the table when he came in. He strapped it to his back again under his cape.

“I will inform you as we continue our,” Din paused for a moment. What would one call these? Meetings sound formal, this was not a date, “our sessions together.” He was not ready to tell her what they meant. It would involve other questions. More pressing matters were to be spoken of. “Are you on any methods to prevent pregnancy? Future sessions will involve penetration.”

Your eyes widened at his question, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. “I’m not but I can start. I haven’t need to for - I just haven’t need to.” You settled on. He didn’t ask about any of that, how long it had been and why. Mando nodded and put a hand on your shoulder.

“You do not need to start. As part of The Way, men are sterilized until certain life events are met. Mine have not been, but if it would make you feel safer, you’re welcome to. I thought it best we spoke about it first.” His explanation was sound and quelled some of your anxiety, though you had more questions about how sex with a Mandalorian would go exactly. The two of you agreed to next week, he did get a new bounty from you earlier in the day. Anticipating the week to follow, the remaining days we agonizingly slow. You ended up buying three different jade slips, each with different fabric for those hands of his to remove from you as he saw fit.

Next: Session Two

Space buddy tag list: @rhoorl @for-a-longlongtime @trulybetty @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maggiemayhemnj @missladym1981 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @beabliss @daddy-dins-girl @mandoisapunk @saturn-rings-writes @magpiepills @mrsmando @djarins-cyare @goodwithcheese @fhatbhabie @beefrobeefcal @sp00kymulderr @laurfilijames @legendary-pink-dot @undercoverpena @secretelephanttattoo @megamindsecretlair @alltheglitterandtheroar @gwendibleywrites @iamasaddie @perotovar @legendary-pink-dot @soapjay @joels-shitty-puns @linzels-blog @i-own-loki @dindjarindiaries @sin-djarin @djarinsimp @iamafadedmoon @drawingdroid @pedrodascal @anoverwhelmingdin @theywhowriteandknowthings

[yuurei20]

Glorious Masquerade Dialogue Comparison

Originally Rollo refers to Trein as “Mozus-sensei,” using Trein’s first name, but this was changed in the English-language adaptation to “Professor Trein” instead.

Both Sebek and Malleus had the word “humans” removed from their dialogue in two different places, changed to “people” for Sebek and dropped from Malleus’ dialogue entirely.

The English-language adaptation has a history of removing the word “egg” from the game.

Rather than dropping it completely (as in the main story) it was changed to “fledgling" here, much like Spectral Soiree. (More here: The EN Server's Missing Eggs)

While EN has technically localized the in-game currency "madol" into “thaumarks,” with the Port Fest event EN received an all-new form of currency that doesn’t exist in the original game: sorcents!

They returned in Glorious Masquerade (More here: Port Fest Dialogue Comparison)

Malleus never refers to the prefect as a friend, which may be significant, as the word seems to be of some importance at NRC.

If you were curious if Idia really did refer to Riddle as “Tiny Titan” in the original game, he did!

He also used his nickname for Riddle, which EN will sometimes translate as “Instructor” and sometimes as “Taskmaster,” but this time it was dropped.

Rollo’s Unique Magic

Pronunciation: Dark Fire Meaning: Smoldering Desire EN: Darkfire

(More here: Unique Magic (Signature Spell) Compilation: Pronunciation vs. Meaning vs. EN Adaptation)

Idia generally talks with a stutter in the original game, which was removed from the English-language adaptation of Glorious Masquerade.

I thought this might just be a language limitation, but his stutter has been accurately recreated on EN in other places.

This resulted in lines like “Blue handkerchiefs…ah, ah, th-th-the glass movies seem to be less simple than these…” becoming “Plain blue handkerchiefs? Um, no offense, but these look way more basic than those glass mobiles…” and “B-b-b-but then…” becoming “Okay, but, like…,” making the EN adaptation of Idia maybe sound more assertive than the original?

I have recently seen theories that English-language translation for the game might be separated into multiple teams, which seems logical.

It is possible that the localization team assigned to events like Glorious Masquerade is different from the team that did Idia’s vignettes, which would explain the inconsistency in his speech patterns.

It would also explain what happened to Deuce’s unique magic:

In the original game Azul recites the exact same spell Deuce did in Book 5 in order to summon Deuce's magic, but the spell used by EN- Deuce is not the same as the one used by EN-Azul.

The meaning is the same—there is no big difference between “It’s payback time” and “It’s time to pay up!”—it is just different phrasing, which makes sense if the translation team assigned to Book 5 of the main story is different from the team who did Glorious Masquerade.

If the teams are separated by vignettes / events / main story it would also explain why the egg references are getting removed from the main story while being translated into “fledgling” in Halloween events.

But this is all just conjecture based on the curious continuity :>

An interesting language hurdle arose at the end of the game when Malleus addressed the gathered visitors at the ball by the “omae” form of “you”.

The audience responds with discomfort and Jamil explains, “Ordinary students don’t address peers they are meeting for the first time as ‘omae-tachi’…”

(Being sensitive to social situations is a part of Jamil’s character, explained in more depth in his third birthday vignette).

Since the English language doesn’t have varying forms of “you,” this comment was removed.

Much like how the lyrics to the song “Piece of My World” were removed from Book 5, the lyrics to Malleus’ song “Wish Resound” were also removed from the English-adaptation of the game.

But whereas Book 5 is voiced Glorious Masquerade is not, so removing the text box entirely would have resulted in Malleus simply standing and staring in silence.

To compensate, EN has put “*singing*” in the text box.

While likely a licensing issue and therefore inevitable, it is kind of unfortunate as, during the song, there are repeated cuts back to Rollo’s reactions (Lyric translation can be very complex, this is just one possible interpretation of what the lyrics might sound like in English!)

And Malleus makes a point of commenting on the importance of the lyrics (that EN cannot see) that seem to be resonating with Rollo.

[puripurin]

— There was something you could never understand even after spending a two years in this world. The first thing you experienced was when you were suddenly aware that you were in another world, was someone trying to kill you after they accused you of stealing their beloved.

All you had done was look around in the area you were dropped in, which was an allyway, before a man tripped on some rubbish before falling on you, to which their "yandere" screeched in horror before trying to rip out your windpipe.

By some miracle, someone had saved you both by shooting them in the head, and that was how you got introduced to AFHD, Assassins For Hire by Darlings. It was just a hitman agency created by various darlings who got sick and tired of yanderes breaking into their homes and killing several of their friends.

You and the man, named Cain, had almost immediately joined and started your training, and after you both finished, you rose through the ranks at lightning speed with Cain and you being nicknamed "Killer Duo", which admittedly made you flustered. But you can say that your quick rise up the ranks created this situation.

"Are you done with that blasted monolog?" The man said curtly. You huffed and rolled your eyes before continuing.

This man was the--

"Okay, that's enough. I'm done with your shenanigans because I know you're going to just complain." The man shook his head before speaking once more. "Now, as I was trying you say earlier, I don't want you to be in the organization anymore because these delicate fingers are to be welding daggers and guns, ratger they should be wrapped around my hard cock—"

"WHATTTT—"

Srry for not posting the laziness was kicking innnnn, plus im starting to get into sewing because getting shit over seas is expensive and my style of clothes (lolita), it EXPENSIVE. All the shit i want is all in USD which i want 2 kill myself because the exchange rates are crazy, like "oh you want a $341 ball jointed doll base?" TOO BAD 2.3K IN MY CURRENCY >>>:((((((

Anyways enough ranting im tired like a horse. 😮‍💨😫

Edit: tags.