#a harlot high and low

[lafcadiosadventures]

when you can’t help hugging/kissing your worst enemy

[allkordelia]

Keep Me Near Your Heart 19

"Jaenara, what are we here." Aemond asked as he was pull along by his wife while he glance around the castle with a look of discomfort.

Jaenara didn't answer him as she turn down a corner before walking towards a door, she opened the door and sigh in relief at the familiarity, she let's go of Aemond's hand to walk further in with a faint smile.

Her old chamber in High Tide.

It been so long since she been here, only venturing there to escape her mother or just to get away. Her grandfather was so happy when she first visited, Corlys didn't have a very close relationship with some of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Rhaelle's elder children loved their grandfather, but since Aeron and his family live so far away along with his statue as king, they couldn't visit him as much and Rhaelle kept her children with Daemon away from her father after years of no contact.

Corlys's relationship with Jaenara and her brothers was basically none existent until she started spending more time at High-Tide, Jaenara could never understood the drama between her elder relatives, mostly because none of her cousins know what happened so many years ago to make our family walk on egg shells around each other.

"We should get back." Aemond said from behind her as she goes over to pick up a lute, "I have no doubt my mother have sounded the alarms for our disappearance--we should definitely leave." Jaenara stop playing with the strings before turning towards her husband with a frown.

"Why?" She asked sadden, "This is the pefect place to get away and at the perfect time, we need to be alone to talk about what we gonna do to Rivers and your mother." Jaenara explains, she place the lute back where she got it before going to seat on the end of the bed.

Aemond crossed his arms with a uncomfortable look.

"I rather not talk about her...or my mother for that matter," Aemond sighs, "I rather more to forget--" Jaenara made noise causing Aemond to look at her.

"No, no more forgetting or ignoring the problem." Jaenaea snaps getting up, "We must face this, I am tired of being push around by your mother and I'll be damn to be push around by a bastard harlot."

"And what do you wish me to do about it, hmm." He raised his brow in a sarcastic way, "I can't command her to leave, she won't listen, and my mother refuse to listen to caution." Jaenara walks to her husband grabbing his hands with a smug smirk.

"That is why, sweet husband, I have a plan."

Aemond furrow his brows curious.

"You do?" Jaenara nodded her head.

"Yes, I do. But, we must stay here in order for it to work."

Aemond look at his wife with a grimace, making Jaenara's smile falter a bit at the look on her husband's face.

"Must we? Can't we just stay at Dragonstone instead--"

"No, that would be the first place they will look for us."

"But...not here?" He drawls out, furrowing his brows.

"I mean, it depends on my aunt and grandfather," She comment, Aemond glance away from his wife with an unsure look.

"I don't thi--I don't think its a good idea to stay here." Aemond admitted, it was Jaenara turn to furrow her brows.

"Why?" She frowned confused, Aemond look at his wife with a conflicted look before sighing.

"Please, don't make me say it."

Jaenara became even more confuse, she didn't understand the problem with laying low in Driftmark for a few days, it's was a perfect paradise to getaway and relax with a brilliant view.

"Aemond, I'm not going to spend these next few days arguing with you about this, so just say it." Jaenara took her hands backand folded her arms under her chest and look at her husband with a fretful look.

Aemond lock his jaw and squeeze his hands into fist nervously, Jaenara caught the movement making herself ease down.

"Jaenara, I..." He stop as he stare at his wife, and memories he buried away  slowly start to resurface, causing him to close his eye and shake his head before looking at her, "I cannot say it, it is too much...it is too painful for me to revist, can't we just go somewhere else. We can go to Braavo like Alys or maybe Lys." Awmond recommend, but Jaenara wasn't hearing it as she roll her eyes.

"You know what, forget it." She says, making Aemond look surprise only to feel nothing but relieved, "Why don't you go back home, and I stay here." Aemond frowned.

"Jaenara, you know I ca--"

"Yes, you can Aemond, because if you don't than these next few days are gonna be hell...for you." She threatened, "So, you have a choice you either stay here with me and your unborn child..." she starts as her hand move along her round belly catching Aemond's eye, "Or go back home and destroy our marriage again." She shrugged, Aemond look up at her with a frown.

"You think I would do that to you?" Aemond asked hurt before looking upset, "After everything we been through--"

"Don't be draft, my love." Jaenara counter back, "Your mother is obviously unhinge and I wouldn't put it pass Rivers to not try something, so..." she steps close with a small smirk, "That's why we must stay here, away from those vultures, so we can keep our marriage intact and at the same time teach them a lesson." Jaenara grin at her husband, but Aemond look at her unsure, he didn't feel comfortable staying here but he also didn't want to make his wife mad than she already is.

"I...I guess your right, my love." Aemond said reluctantly as his eye stray from her.

Jaenara snarl with an eyeroll, she ignore his reluctance and instead grab his sleeve and turn them towards the bed.

"Do not fret, sweet husband." Jaenara purr after pushing Aemond onto her bed, "Atleast we have each other as our plan thaw out," Aemond glance up to look at her face as she climbs on top of him.

"Our plan?" He asked, Jaenara smirk a little as she straddle his hip.

"Of course, darling." Jaenara purr again, moving her hand to slide down Aemond's chest, before she leans forward to start kissing his neck, "You are the key for this plan to work, as long as you are by my side, you will never have to worry about that wench again." Aemond shudder once Jaenara's hand slip through his breeches and grasp his semi hard cock.

"B-But, what if...they find us?"

"They won't," she promise, "I trust my family to keep your mother in the dark  until our return." Aemond let out a pathetic whimper.

"But--" Jaenara tighten her grasp a bit causing Aemond to choke and moan at the same time, Jaenara lift her head from his bruise neck to look down at her husband.

"What is wrong, husband?" She cock her head to the side, her hand starts to move up and down making Aemond grasp her forearm, "Don't you trust me?" She pout, Aemond open his eye with a frown as he gaze up at his beloved wife.

"I-I do." He strutted, Jaenara move her hand a bit fast with hum.

"Good," she whispered, she leans down capturing his lips as she use her other hand to unbutton his vest.

「                            ⊹₊♚₊⊹                           」

It had been three days since Jaenara and Aemond arrived at Driftmark, and it has been going absolutely terrible.

Aemond has begun to sulk around the castle, something about missing his mother and their tea time, Jaenara roll her eyes and tone him out at the time.

Jaenara has become rather ambivalence towards Aemond lately, it feels like everything he does annoys her. Just him sitting next to her reading a book makes her blood boil and her heart beat with resentment, while other times she wants to fuck him. She beginning to think she's going mad, she can't tell if it's her own feelings or the pregnancy making her feel this way.

Jaenara notice her change behavior the day after they're arrival, she would snap at him for the stupidest things and call him names when she get fed up with his sulkening. At first, Jaenara was shock and confuse, shock at herself with how cruel she was being to Aemond and confuse because Aemond just took it.

Either way, Jaenara didn't seem to care in the end, and neither did Aemond.

It felt like a power trip, she never imagine stooping so low like Alicent and Aemond, she always thought her compassion and kindess was a way to show how better she was than them. But, when she belittle or order Aemond around, a little feeling in her chest she realize was giddy lock away all those thoughts and she took a little joy in making Aemond's days here hard.

Jaenara also notice that he begin to do it a lot lately, it reminds her of the little stray pups in fleabottom always pawing at her gown for food.

She had more sympathy for the small pups than her weak husband, but maybe, she shouldn't be mad at the fact but be proud. Her husband has finally crumbled, he was no longer that scary man she feared a year ago, but rather a pathetic boy wanting nothing but  her attention and love.

"My love." The sound of Aemind's voice snap Jaenara out of her thoughts.

She didn't move to look up at him as she knits her son a new hat.

"What."

"Can we talk?" Aemond asked, making her stop and look up at him finally, he wasn't in his usual casual clothing but rather in his dragonriding attire.

"Where are you going?" She asked ignoring what he said.

"To clear my head," he answered as he took a seat on the armchair next to her, "I wanted to talk to you before my departure, I think it's time...we talk." Jaenara raise her brow at Aemond.

"About what."

"Rivers--" Jaenara look away from him with a roll of her eyes.

"Aemond, what did I say yesterday when you ask me this." She inquired, Aemond gulp before clearing his throat.

"This isn't about the plan--"

"So, this is about you leaving me for her again, then?" She stop to look at him again, making the corners of aemond's mouth curve down.

"Of course not, you know my heart only belongs to you--"

"Good. So, are we done with this convention now." She asked flatly, Aemond parted his lips to say something but clasp them shut when she gave him a look he become all to familiar too.

Aemond bow his head before nodding.

"Lovely, because I am famish and i would like some peaches." Jaenara demanded, putting her needles and hat aside, Aemond stood before helping Jaenara up.

"I'll stop by the kitchen--"

"No!" She snapped, pulling away from him, "Have a servant do it, the last thing I need is for you to bring me plums instead of peaches...again." she glower, moving the covers to the side before taking her book from the side table and got into bed.

Aemond bow his head at the tone in his wife's voice, "Apologies again, my love." He said as he lift his head to look at her, jaenara clench her jaw to keep her from rolling her eyes at how pathetic he is being.

"That's not the apology I wanted yesterday," she sass, making aemond look embarrassed.

"I told you I couldn't...I couldn't get it up that night." He murmur the last as if their was others in the room.

"Or this morning or during tea time, it's as if your cock and eye stop working at the same time." She snickered as she shook her head and turn to the last pashe she was on in her book.

"Hmmm."

Jaenara look up at her husband to find him standing there with solemn look, Jaenara sighs and lay the book open on her stomach.

"Do not look so fretful husband, I was just jesting." She says, Aemond looks at her before smiling timidly.

"I know, my love."

Jaenara smiled up at him.

"Good, because I expect you to pleasure me once you get back from your ride, a woman can only go so long without what she needs."

Jaenara looks away and pick up her book missing the disappointed look that shadow Aemond's features.

"Of course," He utter before step close to lean down and press a kiss to her belly before moving to peck Jaenara's forehead making groan in distaste.

Jaenara wave him away when he tried to kiss her on her lips, Aemond frown at the irriated look on her face.

"I'll be back before dinner..." Aemond trails off, moving away from the bed towards the door before turning to Jaenara, "...I love you, jaenara." He says in the softest voice that had Jaenara glancing up at him.

"Mm-hmm."

Aemond frown again as he wife turn her attention back to her book, Aemond didn't say anything before he left. When the door closed, Jaenara closed the book in her hands and toss it across the room as her mood shifted from irriated to bothered.

She hated when he goes soft like that, she hated it and carved it, sometimes she wish she didn't feel anything at her. Her emotions was all over the place and it was beginning to be draining to figure out what she wanted, why is it that when she's truely alone she starts contemplating her whole life.

Jaenara turn on her side and close her eyes, she ended to stop thinking and start relaxing. The whole point of coming here was for her to get away from all the crap going on back at King's Landing, she needed peace and calm, maybe tomorrow she go out for a walk on the beach, the snell of the ocean always calms her.

All she got to do is make sure her insufferable husband won't be there to ruin her day.

[persephosposts]

Prologue

Unedited

TW/CW: hanging and death scene, cursing/cussing, some mention of religious imagery, basic Hazbin Hotel stuff

1603, Virginia

It was a cold winter morning in the small colony of Virginia. The morning sun did little to mention the snow and frost that covered the trees and ground. Morning birds and crickets serenaded the forest with their strange harmonies, blending together perfectly. The sky was blended into an orange color, the regular light blue wouldn’t appear until later.

It was then that the peaceful scene was interrupted, the sound of heavy footsteps crunching the snow beneath them making the crickets stop playing their music and birds quickly fly away in fright. The small group of humans were breathing heavily, trying to push through the cold so they could watch the tragedy (to them it was justice) that was about to happens. In the front of the group was a priest named James Pritchett, the man himself being 53. And in his right hand he held a Bible and his left hand he was holding a thick rope.

Stopping at a clearing, the priest dropped the rope on the white covered ground, breathing in the crisp air, before staring at the large oak tree that sat before them. To nature, the oak tree was just apart of life. It was a landmark, and home to creatures, and a beautiful sight to see. But to the townspeople of the colony, it was much more than that.

It was deemed as a hanging tree this morning.

Turning back to the group of people, James smiled at them before clearing his throat. “Bring forth the sinners!” He demanded with a loud voice. Heading the clacking of metal shackles, the group quickly parted down the middle, a younger man coming forth with links of metal in his hand. Behind him, the three shackled with chains on their wrists, the three Reed sisters walked through the group.

Regina Reed was the eldest sisters. The blonde was known as the colonies beauty. She had a perfect smile to go with her deep brown eyes that seemed to just hypnotize you. Recently she had married a young farmer, who had divorced her as soon as she was convicted of such a crime as witch craft.

She walked with a smirk on her face.

The second eldest was Mary, who was known as the girl that “should’ve been born a boy”. She didn’t mind getting her hands dirty, and the elderly women of the colony just gossiped about how “it was no surprise that a girl like her slept with the devil himself”.

She walked with her head held high, almost like she was proud.

Last was the youngest sister; (Y/N) Reed. Now it was a shocker to everyone how she had fallen down with her sisters. The youngest Reed had always been a sweet girl, seemed to have beed devoted to God. But alas, the townsfolk accepted the fact blindly, turning on the 22 year old in a heartbeat. After all, she had nothing. No husband or children at that age was deemed as disgraceful.

The younger girl walked with her head hung low, knowing that it was her fault they had gotten caught.

Standing in front of the priest, the older man eyeballed the three sisters; each of them having a different expression. “Sister Reeds,” He croaked out, glaring at each of them. “the three of thou have been found guilty of witchcraft and unlawful seduction. How doth thou three plead?”

Regina glanced at her two younger sisters, asking a silent question between the three of them. Mary huffed before nodding, (Y/N) biting her lip before nodding as well. The blonde looked back at Pastor Pritchett with a smirk.

“We are guilty of those crimes.” She began, the crowd behind them yelling out names at them in disgust. “We have sold our souls to the devil, have practiced the art of witch craft.”

“Harlots!”

“Witches!”

“Hang them!”

“Let them suffer!”

“Silence!” Pritchett hissed, the crowd immediately falling silent at his command. He then glared back at the eldest sister, nothing but disgust in his eyes. “I hereby sentence thou to the hanging tree!” With a nod to the handler, the young boy who was holding the chains went over to the eldest first, the priest sending the sisters a wicked smile. “We will hang each witch one at a time, that way each of them can suffer uniquely! Starting with the eldest!”

The crowd seemed to have cheered as Regina and was led to the three, her two sisters having no choice but to watch as the blonde’s hands were tied behind her back and the loop of the noose was laid around her neck.

“Any last words?” Pastor Pritchett asked her, just as a formality. The blonde smirked at him before looking at her sisters. Her smirk had fallen just slightly before it came back just as quickly.

“My sisters, I will see though in the afterlife! May we thrive in Hell together!” She laughed before glaring at the Pastor and the man who had put the rope around her neck. “I hope thou rots here, and rots in the afterlife! Thou do not deserve a peaceful eternal sleep.”

Pastor Pritchett just scoffed before waving his hand. And with that simple silent command, Regina Reed was the first to meet death.

After the first execution was done, it was then Mary’s turn to meet her fate. With the same process of tying her hands and laying the rope around her neck, the pastor asked the same question. After he asked, the woman shrieked with laughter before saying two simple words that definitely got her point across. “Fuck you!”

Mary Reed was the second sister to die.

And finally, it was the youngest sister’s turn. Walking up to the three, her head held low as her hands were tied around her back and the noose placed along her neck, she only looked up to glare at the man that did so.

Nicholas Pritchett was the priest’s son, and he also just happened to be the one that turned the three sisters in.

“Don’t be like that.” He hissed quietly, noticing the young woman’s glare. “Maybe if thou had just accepted thine fate, this would be our wedding day. But no, thou chose death over me.”

“I’d rather rot in hell than have you touch me again!” She snapped, gathering the saliva in her mouth before spitting in his face. Taking a step back, the crowd gasped as they watched young Nicholas wipe the spit of his face with disgust.

“How thine has fallen!” Pastor Pritchett exclaimed, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “What does thou have to say for thyself?”

(Y/N) toon a deep breath before looking at the crowd, her head held high as she had one last moment of pride before her death. “The truth will come to light eventually.” She said, turning to glare back at Nicholas. “And when all of thee reach to the golden gates, thou will see that us three were not the truly wicked ones after all.”

And with one last breath, the last Reed sister had met her death.

****************************************************

Fluttering her eyes open, (Y/N) first noticed the abnormal sky. Instead of a nice blue color with white clouds and a bright sun, she was met with a dark red sky with a brighter red marking acting like the sun (later realizing the marking was a pentagram).

“Ugh…” she groaned, scrunching her eyes closed to get rid of the headache she had. It felt like she had fallen and hit her head on a sharp rock.

“Well it’s about time thou woke up.” A voice said, the young girl opening her eyes at the new voice.

“We thought thou would sleep for the entire day.” Another voice heard. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly turned around to the source of the voice, gasping when she saw two creatures standing behind her, both with smirks on their faces.

The tallest creature had a fair green complexion, the kind of green you would never find out in the forest surely. Her hair was an ever lighter green, almost yellow, color that was so long it draped on the floor. Her eyes were the same green color and on top of her head were two horns that curved inwards, the same color of her skin. Her eyes reminded (Y/N) of a cat, analyzing its prey carefully as her slightly pointy ears twitched. On her face were white freckles that seemed to be glowing against the green. Now the second creature looked more or less the same like the first, except instead of green skin she was a blue color, and to mention how much shorter her hair was. Her hair was a mix between a dark blue and a purple, her predator-like eyes having that same shade of blue. And like the first demon she had the horns and freckles, but really caught (Y/N)’s attention was the round jewel that was placed inbetween their collarbone and chest area, the jewel being their respected colors; green and blue.

“Wh-Who art thou?” (Y/N) asked, mentally cursing herself for the stutter. But she was surprised to see the two laugh at her question.

“Don’t tell us thou art so daft that thou doesn’t recognize thy sisters?” The green one hummed, its suddenly clicking into place for the youngest girl.

“Regina! Mary!” She gasped, quickly standing up and going to hug her sisters. “The two of thou are okay! But thou looks so…” she trailed off, breaking the hug as she analyzed the pair one more time.

“Different?” Mary laughed, putting a blue hand on her chest. “Tell me about it! But we aren’t the only ones, sister.”

Scrunching her eyebrows, (Y/N) looked down at her hands. Instead of her normal skin tone, her eyes widened to find that she was… pink? “Lord in heaven…” she trailed off, Regina laughing lightly as her green hand took (Y/N)’s pink one. The taller sister than pulled out a piece of glass from her pocket, pressing it into her palm.

(Y/N) blinked as she stared into reflection, putting her hand on her face. Her skin, like she had assumed from the state of her hands, was a pink color. Her (hair length) hair was a slightly darker than her skin, and like her sisters she had horns that were shaped inwards at the top of her head. And yet, the felt completely weightless. Her (eye color) eyes had turned to red, almost reminding her of blood.

And of course she had a pink gem in the center of her collarbone and chest.

“What is this?” (Y/N) asked breathlessly, lightly grazing the shiny gem with her fingertips.

“We do not know.” Regina sighed, covering her hem with her hand as well. “They are lovely thought, are they not?”

“Yes, very lovely.” (Y/N) hummed, a certain glint in her eyes. Something of mischief? Something of fondness? Who knew.

“So this is Hell?” Mary asked, raising a brow at the scene in front of her. “It’s doesn’t look as fiery as the Bible described…”

The scene in front of them was something that resembled their colony. Except it was a deep maroon colored, stone path that winded throughout the setting. And in the far distance, there was a tall, golden colored castle that clashed against the red colors that seemed to be the theme here.

“The Bible has a tendency to over exaggerate things.” A voice said, making the three girls jump in surprise. Quickly turning around, (Y/N) was puzzled at the man in front of her.

He had pale skin, almost white, with rosy cheeks. His dark colored eyes were wide as he grinned, she sharp teeth almost blinding them with how bright it was. His yellow hair was swooped back neatly, it being mostly covered with a white top hat that matched his white suit. Around the hat was a pointy, golden crown with a snake and apple lying on the rim. His white suit was accented with red and blacks, the pants of his suit being tucked into tall, black boots. The stag he was holding seemed to go perfectly with his tuxedo, the long black cane over towering him. The same red apple that was on his hat was also on the top of his cane, it reflecting in the light as he spun it.

Which brought the youngest witch to notice how short he was. Shorter than all three of them even.

“Who art thou?” Mary asked, raising a brow as she sized him. The demon smiled seemed to have widened before snapping his fingers, becoming closer to them without even having to move his legs.

“Hi, yes, hello!” He said almost to cheerily, shaking each sister’s hand aggressively which had them stunned. “I must say, it’s an absolute honor to meet such powerful witches! An honor!”

“Thank you.” Regina said flatly, sharing a look with (Y/N) and Mary. “But again, who art thou?”

“Oh, yes!” He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “I am the one and only big guy;” he began before spreading his arms out with jazz hands, the girls squinting a bit as a very large lit up sign that spelled out a name appeared behind him. There were four arrows along with the name, the lights flashing rhythmically almost like that would prove the point of him being the “big guy”. “Lucifer! King of Hell himself!”

(Y/N) gaped at him with wide eyes, and glancing at her sisters she saw that they were equally surprised as she was.

“I know, I know. Hold your applause, please.” The King of Hell hummed, clapping his hands twice. And just like that, the lit up sign disappeared.

“Thou… thou is the devil?” Regina asked, pointing at him with her finger.

“Thou is.” He replied smugly, twirling his hand with his hand.

“But thou is so… short?” Mary questioned. Almost immediately, he had stopped spinning his cane. His previously dark hair eyes had turned a fiery red color, his smile turning into a cold sneer.

“Watch it!” He growled loudly, Mary swallowing a bit as she nodded. As soon as she nodded, his previous happy expression returned as he began walking towards them, the three sisters parting a bit to let him walk past them. “Now, we have a lot to discuss. Why don’t you follow me, yeah? That sound good?”

He didn’t wait for a reply as he continued walking.

“Do we follow him?” Mary asked, Regina rolling her shoulders as she thought. The green sister than smirked, not saying anything as she walked forward. Mary chuckled a bit as she walked together with Regina.

(Y/N) stared at her sister’s backs for a moment, thinking about her options here. Staring at the red sky, she clenched and unclenched her hands in a way to calm herself.

“(Y/N), art thou coming?” She heard Mary call for her.

“Yes! Coming!” She breathed out, jogging to catch up with them.

A/N: hey guys, soooo I hope we all enjoyed this story. This was just a prologue so the actual story will be posted soon 😇

If you have any suggestions, concerns, or comments please let me know!! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Tagslist: @xdolls-crownx @sugarrush-blush @enjisthings

[sebsxphia]

preacher!rhett’s cross chain dangling over you while he fucks you sensel-[GUNSHOT]

￫ a/n: a short drabble for the ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ universe.

￫ c/w: heavy religious themes, sex and preacher!rhett abbott.

it’s messy and it’s quick. your legs are wrapped tightly around preacher abbott’s waist, as you lay spread out on his desk. his hips are moving against you with a relentless speed and the tip of his swollen cock is nudging sweetly inside of you with every thrust.

“damn you to hell f’ wearin’ this fuckin’ dress. today of all days, y’ just had to? didn’t you, you little fuckin’ harlot?”

it was a sunday cook out at the church and you had opted for a white sundress, decorated in little pastel pink flowers. the low cut of the dress gave rhett a heavenly sight of your breasts, practically spilling out when you purposefully bent over in front of him.

he had approximately ten minutes to drag you to his back office and see to you, before someone would find him to make the speech, thanking everyone for coming.

the determination and angle of his pin point thrusts had your fingertips clawing against his forearms, surely leaving little crescent shapes in their wake. your eyebrows were knitted tightly together, mirroring rhett’s own and your jaw was slack from indescribable pleasure. your constant moaning became louder and turned into high pitched whines. you were begging and pleading for your preacher.

what for exactly, you didn’t know. all your cock drunk brain could focus on was him.

“jesus fuckin’ christ—” rhett gritted tightly between his teeth, cursing out your name. “shut the fuck up. i ain’t gettin’ caught yet. this cunt is t’ sweet.”

as if God himself became your saviour in that moment, your preacher’s golden cross chain fell out from his shirt and began dangling over you. it was swaying in between the valley of your breasts in time with his thrusts. when it swayed upwards towards your face, you caught it between your teeth and bit down hard.

rhett let out a grunted chuckle and brought one large hand up to grip at your cheeks, as to keep his cross, working as a make shift gag, firmly in place.

“yeah, good girl. that’ll keep y’ quiet.”

[nefertittythegreat]

Rating GoT and HotD dresses based on how well I think they'd fit into Ascendance of a Bookworm

Ok first

4/10

Not my favorite Dany look, but I also don't hate it. It's pretty she looks stunning, but for AoaB, the shillouette is wrong. I love the high neck and the cutout! It's a fashion trend that I hope Rozemyne eventually introduces to Yogurtland. A great look that's a little too modern for the world of AoaB.

9/10

MOTHER😍😍😍

When it comes to fashion in GoT, you can not outdo the doer, and She(yes, with a capital S) is Cersei Lannister. The color, the cut the metal waist belt with the lions on it with the matching necklace 😭 I'm gagged! She's amazing! One point off because while I feel like on it's own the dress would work well in AoaB, but something about it is just off. i dont think it would completely work. Maybe it's the down hair 🤔

2/10

FERDINAND IS DEAD AND HE MOST DEFINITELY THINKS SHES A HARLOT💀

First, let me preface by saying I LOVE this dress. It's one of the best dresses in GoT period, but It would NEVER work in AoaB. To them, she's practically naked. Sheer cloth? No sleeves? Neckline to the navel? Oh no honey its straight to the white tower with you! The metal additions are nice, and I can see someone crafting those out of feystones. It's also long enough...so 2 points🤷🏾‍♀️

8/10

Would fit in the world but not as a dress as a woman's riding outfit, which is what i believe it's supposed to be in GoT as well. In a different color, it's giving future Aub Alexandria ready to defend her duchy. She is a fierce leader, and looking at this outfit, you would never question that.

7/10

I'm not gonna lie... This is my favorite Game of Thrones look. I think the moment we saw Natalie in this, we all fell in love Margaery. However, for AoaB, it could work with some VERY minor tweaks. The neckline is, of course, too low, and it's backless, but it's very tasteful. I think this is a style Rozemyne could introduce in the future, especially given how hot Alexandria is. She already introduced sleeveless dress and in GoT the reason for the margaery's "risqué" dress is because Highgarden(where she's from) is very hot especially in comparison to King's Landing which is said to have moderate to hot weather.

10/10

Our first House of the Dragon look and it's 🥰 🥰 I can literally see Elvira wearing this. It's giving everything it should. The silhouette is perfect, the metal additions are stylish, and the headband is too die for! It's giving everything it needs to for an AoaB dress, and I love it!

5/10

Is this list mostly Dany dresses? YES.

BUT I CAN SEE THE VISION!! Other than being backless, I think Rozemyne has already laid the foundation for this style of dress. I think a slight alter to the silhouette and some very off the shoulder sleeves and boom! we have an Aoab appropriate dress. But the belt, the metal work at the neckline, I think it would fit in very well eventually.

9/10

Just close up the neckline, and you've got a perfect AoaB dress. This one was a favorite of HotD fans, and it's easy to see why. It's a beautiful dress. I could see a noble lady wearing this right now.

8/10

This is another future Aub Alexandria dress. Again, I think for Yurgenschmidt it's too much skin, but again, I think Rozemyne will eventually introduce fashion like this. The cape incorporated into the outfit to make sleeves is 😍😍😍. This is how she's gonna show up to the archduke conference stunting on the hoes 👏 👏👏 I feel like high necklines are just in Rozemyne's future🤷🏾‍♀️

10/10

The sleeves😍😍😍 The waistline😍😍😍 The paneling 😍😍😍 She's carrying Geduldh's burden and she is stunning! For once the hair is also very AoaB which is more common in HotD than in GoT as they try(and kinda fail) to create a unique fashion identity for HotD. I'm a big hair snood fan and I'm living for this one. The color of the dress is also fantastic. If you wore this is Yurgenschmidt and no one would even guess that you're from another world.

Omg I had so many more to talk about, but what are you guys AoaB fashion inspirations? Any movies or TV shows? Are we all still in love with that Susan Pevenasie dress from the end second Chronicles of Narnia movie? Please tell me! I love seeing everyone's thoughts in this fandom🥰

[ecileh]

Elain’s dark eyes were positively glittering. “Mother would be furious.” Nesta huffed, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Good.” It gave Nesta a sick thrill as she regarded herself in Camilla’s gilded mirror, to think of disappointing the ambitious mother who had made her this calculating creature of men’s desire. Masked and perfumed and breasts perfectly framed by her gown, a dusting of powdered gold highlighting her cleavage and high cheekbones. How low she had fallen from her mother’s designs of an aristocratic marriage. How high she had risen from offering her starving body to strangers on a frozen street. My cunning little queen, her mother had called her. You shall wed for conquest. Well, she would never wed. But conquest was easy.

And so begins the ACOMAF arc of bisexual sex worker Nesta.

Chapter 10 of Queen of Harlots is now available on AO3:

[x-amount-verbs]

Sinners Stained Red

Have a snippet of something I started writing Fuck it, this is a finished piece. A drabble based on this art by @iseutz that has been languishing as a wip on my drive while I work on HH stuff.

[silco x gn!reader] [~850 words] [no use of y/n] [rated M for implied violence, but sfw] [modern au] [mob au] [sadist!silco] [sadist!reader] [tw offscreen torture (not to named characters)] [blood]

AO3 Link

He’s so fucking extra.

You snort a derisive laugh at the sight of blood-soaked hands holding a lit cigarette as Silco looks out over the common area. Up here from his high tower where he can see his people milling about between jobs. And, more importantly, they can see him.

“Ruined another shirt,” you observe, lips hooked in a smirk. “You could really stand to wear gloves, too.”

His good eye slides over to you, subtle smile hidden as he takes another drag. “Where’s the fun in that?” The murmured words curl in the air, visible as smoke.

You want to laugh. Approaching with silent steps, your eyes scan the crowd below. His people. The family. Each upturned face is noted in your mind. Those brave or stupid enough to watch their leader’s mid-interrogation smoke break. The fear, the respect, the anxiety. Your amusement is hard to hide, but you manage, voice wry. “You’re terrifying them.”

Silco hums a confirmation. Leaning on the railing of the upper floor, his red-stained hands are visible to anyone looking up— as is his unaffected demeanor. “Good.” His eyes drift almost unseeing over the crowd, managing to look completely disinterested. The words come out a quiet drawl, lips hardly moving. “Watch the one in green.”

You dutifully find the girl in the crowd, and even from here her mix of awe and terror is clear.

Silco turns, leaning back against the rail, eyes moving to you even as you keep watching. As soon as his back is turned, the girl hurriedly makes excuses to leave.

“A rat?” you guess, watching how she interacts with others as she heads for the doors.

“Mm.” The slight incline of his chin is as close as you’ll get to a nod, when he’s trying to be unreadable from afar. “Feeling the water rise. If we’re lucky, she’ll take more with her.”

You note three potential others to look into, based on shared glances or a careful hand on the back of a shoulder as she squeezes by. Maybe not all of them agents, but all may be weak links.

“Speaking of rats…” You raise a brow at Silco, then nod to his sticky forearms. “That legit, or did you just want to force people to open doors for you?”

One scarlet hand is offered for your inspection even as he takes another drag, his audience downstairs forgotten in favor of your conversation. “I don’t need an excuse for my men to open doors for me.”

His white sleeves are far from spotless, but they’re cleaner to grasp onto than his skin. Holding the fabric at his elbow, you delicately pinch his wrist between two fingers, like it’s something particularly undesirable. Far from the truth, if you’re honest; something about blood on his hands makes him even more appealing.

Spotting the useless sleeve garters, you glance up at him with a smirk from under lowered lashes. “All this classy finery, and you don’t even use them properly?”

Bloody fingers bring the cigarette to his lips, but his eyes stay on you, entertained. “I’ll have you know I always wear my clothes properly. And well.”

A short hum in your throat agrees, swaying toward him and lifting your chin. He does have impeccable style. It adds to his gravitas in every meeting, and his air of professionalism in every front.

Silco pulls back in a minuscule movement, gaze cutting sideways as he shifts just so to draw your attention to the crowd below.

Right. You give up on your subtle request, rocking back again. “Well, then you obviously need someone to ‘properly’ roll your sleeves, if you’re wearing them loose like some sort of harlot.” The jeer is sweet under your breath, too low for anyone to hear and too murmured for your lips to be easily read.

Another drag, gaze bright and sharp. “My forearms so tempting to you?”

Your fingers slide along the railing as you watch him, but you resist any sort of public display. Still. “Very much so, yes.” You grin.

His sharp breath is a laugh, through pressed lips, smoke a brief jet. He simply watches you, calculating. Then he looks back down at his people. The smart ones are minding their own business. The stupid ones look away. Only the most idiotic dare to stare back.

“How’s work?” you ask casually, sweetly.

Thin lips and sharp eyes convey that biting wit without him having to say a word. He still does. “You know, they say torture doesn’t get results, but I’d argue it’s much more entertaining than appeasement.”

“How far did you get with the interrogation?”

“Oh we got the basics of what was necessary yesterday. This is just a bit of anger management. My therapist says it’s important to find ways to vent my frustration.” His drawling tone is so dry you feel it sucking at your skin.

“Still at it?”

Silco’s eyes rake the crowd again, then he pushes off of the rail, heading for the door he’d come out of. “Was about to break out the brand, if you’d care to join?”

You grin. “How could I ever refuse?”

—

AO3 Link

[If you liked this, feel free to boost it! Or give it some love on ao3. I also monch cronch the comments left for me and grind them into meal for new stories, so maybe leave comments? Tags? If you have more mob au prompts or art, feel free to share them on here or in my inbox.

If you want a less bloody but still sadistic Silco, A Helping Hand features a more… let’s say disciplinarian form of sadism 👀

If you’re new, you can find more if my work here, if you’re interested. ❤️ -verbs]

Join the tag list for new works by commenting on this linked post. @dad-dumpster @foppishish @leave-me-alone-doctor @mazikomo

[these-detestable-hands]

“Therion, wai-”

“LYBLAC!”

Therion charged out of the travelers’ hiding spot, drawing his dagger.

“Ah, it’s you. Aeber’s precious little thief.” Lyblac stared at him with distaste, drawing herself to her full height.

“What the hell are you going to do with Kit, you accursed-”

“Now, now. Settle down, child. I am not going to do anything. Galdera, however...” Lyblac laughed coldly, and Therion tensed. “You fucking-”

“You harlot!” H’aanit cried, appearing beside him. “Dost thou know what unleashing such a terror means? The god willen destroy everything, including thou!” “Isn’t the idea just wonderful? Don’t you all relish the terror that flows through your veins? Oh, I will delight in your fear once the true god rises! Now... Come, travelers. Let us test your true strength! Step into the Gate... if thou darest.”

Lyblac cackled with cruel mirth, disappearing behind the veil of soupy red smoke that obscured their views into the Gate.

Olberic was at their side in a moment, head bowed and Primrose hovering behind him, hand on his shoulder consolingly.

“We must defeat her. It is the only way to stop this madness and save Kit,” Ophilia said, stepping into the sunlight as it hung low in the sky.

Alfyn emerged, hand gripping the hilt of his axe so hard his knuckles were white. “Then we’d better hurry. The sooner we seal this gate, the sooner everything is back to normal.”

“Then in we go,” Therion resolved, stepping forward. The others fell into a familiar line, all in the order they befriended each other. Alfyn behind him, then Primrose, Tressa, and Olberic. Cyrus and Ophilia fell in line, and H’aanit brought up the rear, Linde ever at her side.

“Let’s go save Kit.”

The inside of the Gate was cavernous, with azure flames illuminating the dim hall. Therion investigated the altar-like structure in the center, while the others examined the flames. Ophilia touched one, and screamed as it roared, flames burning high and bright, forming a figure.

His shaggy hair flicked around his shoulders as though being blown around by wind, his fur-lined coat whipping around him, his staff’s flames spluttering but never going out.

“Mattias!?” Ophilia sounded on the verge of tears as Primrose, Tressa and H’aanit rushed to her side, weapons drawn.

Meanwhile, Alfyn had touched a flame of his own, and the form of Miguel stepped forward, spears drawn and scarlet eyes flashing. His tattered cape snapped behind him, and a cruel sneer curled his lip.

Alfyn stumbled back, hands tingling where blood had stained. His axe suddenly felt 10 times heavier as he seized it, trembling. “Little help over here!” He shouted, and Therion vaulted himself down the steps, dagger drawn. Olberic and Cyrus were there in a timely manner as well, tome and sword at the ready.

This was what Lyblac had meant by true strength. She hadn’t been talking about their physical strength...

But their emotional.

A heavy question hung in the air as battles waged, as the teams cleaved their ways through their respective fights.

Would they be able to handle whatever terrors were associated with that altar?

Mav you piece of snail how DARE you send me an inbox fic for the first time and in it you are hurting my beloveds what the heck!!!

IT'S SO WELL WRITTEN THOUGH OH MY GOSH I AM EATING YOUR WRITING AS WE SPEAK. I LOVE HOW YOU MANAGE TO MENTION EVERYONE WITHOUT IT FEELING TOO CLUNKY OR REPETITIVE, THAT'S AN EXTREMELY GOOD SKILL TO HAVE WHEN WRITING GROUPS. OUGH I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE SO SO MUCH IT'S SO PRETTY AND DESCRIPTIVEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[lumeha]

You know what I have books to knock off my reading list and I'm currently frreeeee from work (vacation time hell yeah) so

[lafcadiosadventures]

I think it’s quietly revolutionary that 1975 Splendeurs decided Lucien looked like this after striking the sex pact having dinner at Poitiers with Vautrin. Zero remorse, zero regrets:

[mishkakagehishka]

Oh pardon the balzac novel gets called "a harlot high and low" in english. That's so sad :(

[sl-newsie]

Chapter Thirty One: Safe (Spot Colon x Female Newsie)

(Warning: hint at rape and slight intimacy)

Today was a bad day. It rained all morn’n, and nobody was out- so I’s didn’t sell as many papes. But I get ta see Spot tonight, so maybe things’ll turn up.

On my way to Brooklyn, I hear voices- which is odd since I’s hadn’t seen a single soul for a few blocks now. It’s alright- you’s made this trip dozens-a times. You’s just let’n Jack and Spot’s cautious talk get to you.

I’s dressed like a boy, but that don’t mean I’s still ain’t noivous. 

Tha voices keep get’n louder, but whenever I look behind me there ain’t noth’n there. Until-

“Nice day, right Oscar?”

I whip around and face tha Delancy broddas stand’n in the ally, block’n my way out, and immediately get a sick feel’n in my stomach.

“Yeah, real nice day. I’s was just think’n ‘bout do’n someth’n. How ‘bout you?” Morris asks his smirk’n brodda.

“Yeah. How’s about we’s find a nice-look’n someone to… take care of.”

My stomach drops.

“Hey, there’s a beautiful goil right there!” Oscar points at me, as if I hadn’t heard ‘em. What’re they-?

“C’mere, sweetie. We don’t bite!” Morris taunts.

I shake my head. “N-no. I gots to be go’n-”

“Hey, I’s right! She’s tha one! She’s Colon’s squeeze!”

I flinch. Spot and I haven’t gotten too intimate, and I’s still too afraid to ask. I’s afraid he’ll hate me for it, or if he will want me just ‘cause of that.

“Come here, now!” Morris stiffly strides forward and grabs my arm, which in response I kick him in tha knees.

“Touch me again, and I’ll- I’ll-!” I can’t find me own voice…

“You’ll what? Ya gonna cry? You think you’s untouchable just ‘cause you’s Brooklyn’s little hussy?” I gasp and he laughs with Oscar. He also pushes me back against tha wall and grips my wrists. “Hear that, Oscar? She thinks she’s is so all high-and-mighty just ‘cause she’s Colon’s plaything!”

Tears form in my eyes. “No! No, I ain’t- We haven’t- I-” But I can’t speak. And even if I could, they’s wouldn’t listen to me.

Morris leans in and tries to kiss me, and I nearly belch. He’s a tentacle-faced bastard! I bite his lip, which just makes him tighten his grip.

“Kiss back, harlot! God- I don’t know why Colon’s kept ya around, your such a tiny thing!”

“Maybe he likes ‘em smaller?” Morris chuckles.

My strength has left me. All I can do is whimper.

“This is get’n old. Shall we?” Tha broddas share an evil look, and I know what they’s think’n when Oscar starts mess’n with my knickers.

“No- No! P-Please-!”

I get a slap in tha face.

“We weren’t ask’n you! What, ya surprised? Colon ain’t ever slapped ya?” He hits me again, and my knees buckle, send’n me to tha ground. He hits me again, this time across my cheek.

“Uh- Oscar? Maybe we’s should back off for now. I mean, soak’n tha Brooklyn gang is one thing, but beat’n Spot’s goil? He’s gonna send us to Hell and back!”

Oscar leans in for one last attempted kiss, which I stiffen at. “Suppose you’s right, Morris. Alright, slut. We’s leave’n- fer now. But don’t think just ‘cause you’s Colon’s goil it means you’s get’n away with anyth’n! We’ll be back!” He runs a threat’n finger along my jawline.

And with that, he sneers and turns away. Morris goes to follow him, but not before give’n me a look of slight apology.

I feel sick. Like there’s dirt on my skin that’ll never come off.

Those low-life, slimy, no-good, sleazy bastards!

I break down cry’n, and sit there with my face to tha ground. I can’t bear to look up- even if there ain’t nobody there. How did I let that just happen? Am I really just a weak, little goil?

I can’t stand be’n alone any longer- I need Spot! 

I slowly, cautiously get up and look both ways before I come oudda the ally, then I take off sprint’n, not bother’n to look at anybody I pass. It’s all I can do not to break down cry’n in front of everybody.

Tha Brooklyn Bridge is a new sign of sanctuary all in itself. I can’t wait anodda minute ‘till I see Spot-

But I can already see Spot’s got himself in a situation too. Him and tha Brooklyn gang’re surround’n a guy- a nonfriendly, by tha looks of him. Probably glanced at Spot the wrong way and gots to pay for it.

I don’t wanna interrupt, but I can’t control myself. When Spot looks over and sees me, his face lights up a bit. He glares at tha thug and says a few words, then runs ova to me.

“Hey! I didn’t know you’s-”

I don’t let him finish. I wrap my arms around him, grip his suspenders for dear life, and sob, like a pathetic goil. I don’t even care my face is burn’n from rub’n against tha suspenders.

Spot, surprised by this, seems to give his joke’n gang a warn’n look, and pulls me in. All tha Brooklyn newsies split, but not before give’n me strange looks.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s alright. Let it out, Beauty. Shhh… What happened?” Spot runs his hands up and down my back. His woids give me comfort, but when Spot sees tha handprint left on my face his features turn dark. His body goes stiff, and his hands clench.

“Who?”

A simple question- one I wish I’d never have to answer.

It takes me a while, but I finally whimper:

“Tha- Tha Delancies,” I whisper so quiet, but Spot still hears.

“They’s hurt ya pretty bad, huh? Even I knows it’s bad when Rebecca Colon is cry’n. It’s alright- you’s safe now.”

“S-Spot- Do- Do you… Do you only like me ‘cause I’s pretty?” I struggle to find my voice, and even so I don’t wanna know the answer.

Spot does a double-take, and don’t seem to get my question.

“You know- how you’s only with me ‘cause I’s… with you physically.” I cannot believe I’s talk’n about this!

He then gets it, and his eyes widen a bit. I wanna look away, but I godda know-

“Beauty, you realize there’s a million odda reason for me to luv you, right?”

I nod shakily and look away, embarrassed I’d ever brought it up. But Spot catches my face in his hands and makes me face him.

“Whatever them two bastards told you, it ain’t true. I luv you ‘cause your you, and I don’t want you to ever change. Please don’t change, Rebecca. You’s just fine tha way you’s is. And…” He licks his lips, unsure what to say. “...And if you’s ever wanna talk ‘bout be’n physical, it’s ok. Ya don’t have to be so shy. I never bring it up ‘cause I’s don’t wanna make you’s feel uncomfortable.”

“Th-Thanks, Spot. I- I’s just ashamed that I’s so shy ‘bout this…” I hang my head again.

“Beauty, you know how adorable you’s is when you’s all flustered? I luv it! Don’t worry so much- I knows a thing or two. You can trust me.”

I can- I knows I can.

“Th- Thanks, Spot. I- l-luv you too.” I gather myself and attempt to explain what happened.

“They-they’s tried to… They said…” I gasp for breath as I look down at my slightly ripped pants..

Spot gets this message loud and clear, and clenches his teeth. I can feel his temper rise’n, and know this ain’t gonna fly well with him.

“I’ll soak them bastards! I’ll soak ‘em so hard they’s won’t be able to walk!” He lets go and starts march’n away, but then realizes what he’s do’n. He comes back and holds me again.

“I’ll find ‘em, don’t worry. But for now I’ll stay with you, alright?”

I nod again. “Th- Thank you, Spot. I- I’s just sorry I wasn’t stronger-”

“Hey, hey! There’ll be no talk’n like that! Beauty, they’s cornered you in an ally! They’s more than twice your size and strength, not to mention you’s probably weren’t think’n straight when they’s tried to-”

He stops, disgusted to even say anymore. But he also seems to rethink someth’n.

“I- I didn’t mean you’s weak-minded or anyth’n-”

“No, no. I- It’s fine. I was weak-minded when they’s… did what they did. Don’t be so hard on Morris- he made them stop.”

“That ain’t no excuse- he still hurt ya! And that ain’t gonna be taken lightly! I ain’t just gonna let some bastards feel up my wife!”

“Th- Thanks.” I bury my face in Spot’s neck, thankful for tha safety and comfort.

“No problem. You’s here now, alive. My strong, beautiful goil. And that’s all I could ever want. Hey, Bucky!” Spot calls over at his second-in-command, who’s returned. “Tell tha jerk to scram- unless he wants a busted leg!” He must be refer’n to tha guy they’s was fight’n earlier.

Tha guy in general sees me, and scoffs.

“You’s ain’t gonna fight just ‘cause of some wimpy goil?” tha brute asks.

That did it. If looks could kill, tha guy’s blood would be soak’n tha pavement. Spot’s glare intensifies as he steps toward him almost a little too calmly.

“As a madda-a-fact, her name’s Becca, and she’s tha most beautiful thing tha Maker ever created, and if I catch you’s talk’n ‘bout her like that again, I’ll rip your throat out!”

Tha brute don’t wait any longer- he takes off run’n like a wimpy deer, and he don’t look back.

Spot looks back at me, with a mixed look of pity and humor. “I guess I knows how to pick ‘em. Why’s it you’s always got bums chase’n after you?”

I shrug, wipe’n my face. “Just lucky, I guess.”

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, then whispers in my ear: “Then I guess I’s got tha best luck of all, ‘cause I get to be with you.”

I let a giggle slip. Then, Spot says:

“It’s get’n late, and you’s had a long day. How ‘bout we gets you to bed?” Before I answer, he swiftly picks me up and begins to carry me.

“Sp-!” 

“Before you’s start hiss’n at me ‘bout carry’n you, can it! It don’t mean you’s weak, I’s just show’n how I luv ya.” 

I don’t protest. Instead, I rest my head on Spot’s shoulder and nearly forget all about what happened…

Upstairs, I’m laid down gently and begin to take off my shoes-

“You want me to stay?” Spot asks. In a hopeful way, or just curious?

“Would ya hate me if I said yes?” I ask, take’n my hat off and let’n my hair down.

He grins at me, a boyish grin that nobody could ever top. “Never.” 

He sits down next to me while I finish untangle’n my hair, and I notice him analyze’n me oudda tha corner of my eye.

“We could have some fun, if you’s ok with it.”

My heart skips a beat, but… I don’t panic. I’s a mature, married woman. I trust my instincts, and this feels right. My voice avoids me, so instead I run my hands up and down Spot’s suspenders, then begin to slowly pull them off one by one. This gets me a shocked, wide-eyed look from Spot.

“Yes,” I say in a low, but certain voice.

Spot’s face lights up, and he slowly starts take’n off his shirt. I notice his pupils dilate as he brings me in for a deep kiss, already run’n his hands on me…

“Wow,” Spot breathes, both of us pant’n. “Just… wow.”

I give a small smile. “Not too bad yourself.”

Spot cups my face and makes me look at him.

“Ya sure you’s ok?” Spot asks again. “No more worry’n ‘bout tha Delanceys?”

I nod, trace’n tha veins on Spot’s arm with my finger. “You make me feel safe, Spot.”

He nods back, and we both begin to drift off. I’s tired, but I keep get’n tangled in the blankets. It’s extremely late, and we’s both extremely tired, but for tha life of me I can’t settle down!

“Beauty, will ya stop move’n?” Spot grumbles, his hat over his eyes.

“Sorry!” I hiss. “I just can’t find a spot to get comfortable in-”

I feel a hand reach across my side and pull me in, closer to Spot. His heat radiates off him and comforts me.

“Well, here’s a spot you’s can get comfortable with.”

I open my mouth to respond, and then get tha joke. I smirk. “Haha, Spot Colon is play’n with woids.” 

I give him an annoyed look while he looks down at me with a simple, content smile.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able ta luv you any more than I already did, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I’d never thought I’d ever be able to find luv, let alone be able to feel so happy. I guess we’s both wrong,” I smile.

I nuzzle into tha crook of his shoulder, and feel Spot kiss my head. Slowly I drift off to tha sound of Spot’s steady breath’n…

[amorecrea]

Who do you see? age 22

Who do you see when you look at me?Do you see who I am and who I hope to be?Who do you see when you look at me?that you would condemn or hope to admire?If your looking high, look lower.If your looking low, look higher.I am a child of anger with ones of her own,A loving mother whose children adoreDo you see a harlot, a disgrace to her home,a devoted wife who could not be more?Is that what you see…

[libidomechanica]

I care na by

A Kelly lune sequence

               I

So far from the gaudy day denies. I care na by.

               II

Glad and gone, and love were all that’s bought; but who, of men!

               III

And put his eyelids can behold this way. On the dead.

               IV

The solitary shadowy world. I may be, now!

               V

When, behold their hearts! The soul sublime, he drank him up.

               VI

To summoned the moor, ye spak na, but gaed by like smoke.

               VII

I cry: Love! White Muse- brows. Then his cheating with the earth.

               VIII

They all lay in a flowery marge, whose blue again.

               IX

Give him her necklace as a small hips. When he is gone.

               X

Happily I had to do, deceive you otherwise.

               XI

Aged hands;—for lo! Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

               XII

Lived twenty, Tam! She said with shadow, like old sweatshirts.

               XIII

The people in that alp. But in old midwife’s hat!

               XIV

Down into a bowl. I cannot heard thy show! High fane?

               XV

You remembered. Does the bees, until it be but love?

               XVI

Our forehead to feet were moveless, lustful as they!

               XVII

The archers too, upon a message sent? But three A.

               XVIII

No fault is youth, beneath. And babbles thorough flowers.

               XIX

Otherwise. You yet may smiles; her some rich armfuls took.

               XX

Came back down upon a message sent? And aye she wrought?

               XXI

Pickpockets, each weakness! A troop of light I meant this.

               XXII

When snouted wild-boars routing far peace is this? Ran on.

               XXIII

Come be maintained: but they saw the hole, ’ would understand.

               XXIV

Of endlesse folly is he treasure! By the river?

               XXV

Are lying idle. Give thee now a flowers to shame.

               XXVI

My father wept.—An’ O for ane an’ twenty little.

               XXVII

For curl for curl upon his bowery nest. Adieu!

               XXVIII

With new words, with wine, in honest morn. Men to their space.

               XXIX

But there, wound in the valley, while each other, you’ve missed.

               XXX

The major part of such snow is thine and curse the dish.

               XXXI

And locked her in pearl. A feast; still lingered in them last.

               XXXII

One groan was he quieted to the purest greatness.

               XXXIII

Our ready mixed. Not blither is cheating yardwand, home.

               XXXIV

Where the storm bursts or fades! He used to pre-occupy.

               XXXV

The things which for that. Each morning aside from the soul.

               XXXVI

But, trowth, I care na by. Ah, may ye feel romantic.

               XXXVII

Stock or stood. Oh Thou Jewel of Creation did depart!

               XXXVIII

What are you? To-night watch and down those who yet remains.

               XXXIX

Turret that I can do. Banked fire; anon he stayed awake.

               XL

I happy change. God said to the straggling in and sad.

               XLI

Around the young. The king bit the vines that is abused.

               XLII

He deigned sleep. And hey, sweet flower, and in popped a dwarf.

               XLIII

Just like it and wanted to the ground, and takes the sky.

               XLIV

At my abuses reckon up the water. Are bad.

               XLV

When old age shall meet? Our idle sheep; and sunburnt mirth!

               XLVI

That garden-croft; from Providence or me? Great pitty.

               XLVII

My heavy pace: wet were his pilgrimage. Time machine.

               XLVIII

And all its more ponderous breaks the tableau intact.

               XLIX

Said I, low voic’d: Ah whither! And dropt her sleeps too long.

               L

Of life are harlot here the should achieve no higher.

               LI

Their silver-white. Thou still will keep a bowery nest.

               LII

And locked and erasèd. Why pierce prone Lucifer kicking.

               LIII

Would under thee. He grow the inherent glow. Was all.

               LIV

My faith in a tomb. A heart their hissing in thy morn!

               LV

In the dwarf return. —Ere the pith, like dew on roses.

               LVI

Of love. Is long and adorning; such to me was all.

               LVII

Brood; pluck the Town. Must be country does my Theotormon!

               LVIII

Singing: Today I bake. A hundred- year sleeps too long.

               LIX

And rites in, ere twere going to go wastes, and endeth.

               LX

These wild-wood flower that cheek open. Wing, when the air.

               LXI

When the heart of memory: but three A. Among them.

               LXII

And breathe them for text. —An’ O for ane an’ twenty, Tam!

               LXIII

Until it beginning. Never seek this hypocrite?

               LXIV

The queen’s only children? Not a sigh, that wait for me.

               LXV

Further, I must be with universal sounds forlorn.

               LXVI

Where the places of religious love shall meet! Would stay.

               LXVII

While in my cheeks. Whose hand whisper, and such plenty, Tam!

               LXVIII

Of light” I meant this. To get out. It thy wife, read this!

               LXIX

To curl round globe, those who yet reflect thy infant joy!

               LXX

Of advance, thy heart the sky. And close, ne’er to wake more!

               LXXI

Twenty, Tam! The sexual voice: I am alone.

[laresearchette]

Friday, November 24, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: HOLIDAY ROAD (W Network) 8:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? MY CHRISTMAS HERO (Premiering on December 1 on Lifetime Canada at 8:00pm) LETTERS TO SANTA (Premiering on December 2 on W Network at 8:00pm)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA ELF ME HYPNOTIC IN YOUR DREAMS LOL: LAST ONE LAUGHING BRAZIL (Season 3) THE VILLAGE

CBC GEM HARLOTS (Season 3) THE WHITE FORTRESS

CRAVE TV BARRY LYNDON CROSS COUNTRY CAKE OFF (Season 1) EASY LAND FOOL’S PARADISE JACK FROST (1998) LOVE AGAIN MARY MAKES IT EASY: GOOD BAKING WENCESLAS NO HARD FEELINGS THE PRICE WE PAY REBELLE SPAWN STEP DOGS

NETFLIX CANADA A NEARLY NORMAL FAMILY (SE) DOI BOY (TH) ELENA KNOWS FRYBREAD FACE AND ME I DON’T EXPECT ANYONE TO BELIEVE ME (MX) ILARY BLASI: THE ONE AND ONLY LAST CALL FOR ISTANBUL (TR) MY DEMON (KR) OLÓLÁDÉ REPLACING CHEF CHICO RESIDENT EVIL: WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY WEDDING GAMES (BR)

2023 FIFA MEN'S U17 WORLD CUP (TSN3) 3:18am: Quarterfinal: Spain vs. Germany (TSN3) 6:48am: Quarterfinal: Brazil vs. Argentina

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 1:00pm: Red Wings vs. Bruins (TSN4) 2:00pm: Leafs vs. Chicago (SNWest) 3:00pm: Oilers vs. Capitals (TSN2) 3:30pm: Habs vs. Sharks (SN) 3:30pm: Kings vs. Ducks (SN) 6:00pm: Penguins vs. Sabres (TSN5) 7:30pm: Islanders vs. Sens (TSN3) 8:00pm: Jets vs. Panthers (SNWest) 8:30pm: Flames vs. Stars (SNPacific) 10:00pm: Canucks vs. Kraken

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN5) 3:00pm: Dolphins vs. Jets

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 5:00pm: Suns vs. Grizzlies (TSN/TSN4) 7:30pm: Bulls vs. Raptors (SN1) 8:00pm: Nuggets vs. Rockets (TSN/TSN5) 10:00pm: Spurs vs. Warriors (SN1) 10:30pm: Pelicans vs. Clippers

AMPLIFY (APTN) 7:30pm: Haida band Jason Camp and The Posers reveal how their beautiful home of Haida Gwaii inspires their unique brand of punk music. The band's two front men and their manager create music that celebrates the strength and rich culture of their people.

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm: Investigating an elaborate scam that involves door-to-door equipment rental contracts, low-quality renovations and unaffordable high-interest mortgages putting seniors at risk of losing their homes.

THE TAKE BACK (CTV) 8:00pm: The team have one week to create a surprise event for unsuspecting Canadians, who receive a second chance after a cancelled celebration.

THE GREATEST @HOMEVIDEOS (Global) 8:00pm: A sweet assortment of videos featuring holiday cheer, not-to-be-believed creativity and a sled full of hilarious moments from all parts of the globe; actor JB Smoove.

7TH GEN (APTN) 8:00pm: Jon-Ross Merasty-Moose is a Cree educator from O-Pipon-Na-Piwin Cree Nation, Brochet and Thompson, Man. Follow this teacher, athlete, coach, husband, father and live streamer as he lives his best life while giving back to Indigenous youth.

A PARIS CHRISTMAS WALTZ (CTV Life) 8:00pm: A novice dancer pairs with a professional to take on a Christmas pro-am dance competition - destination: Paris.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF JERSEY (Slice) 8:00pm: The Birthday Bumps

DOGNAPPED: HOUND FOR THE HOLIDAYS (Super Channel Heart & Home) 8:00pm: When an egotistical social media influencer's dog is kidnapped, her long-suffering assistant teams up with charming local vet to find the puppy before Christmas. As the two investigate suspects, they form a romantic bond along the way.

PLANET WONDER (CBC) 8:30pm: Johanna shops for solutions to the climate consequences of fast fashion, plus she bites beets.

FRIDAY NIGHT THUNDER (APTN) 8:30pm: After a rough season, 16-year-old driver Ashton Vanevery finds redemption with a legendary run at the inaugural Canadian Crate Sprint Car Nationals. Meanwhile, Glenn Styres reminisces about the creation of the crate class at Ohsweken Speedway.

THE FIFTH ESTATE (CBC) 9:00pm: The CRA is being tricked into issuing tax refunds for bogus business, and the players vanish, along with hundreds of millions of dollars; host Bob McKeown.

TRANSPLANT (CTV) 9:00pm: Bash passes on an opportunity, and works cases where things are not as they appear; Mags returns to York Memorial; June navigates loss professionally and personally; Theo goes out on a limb again for a patient; Claire is confronted by Devi.

FORENSIC FACTOR: A NEW ERA (Discovery Canada) 9:00pm: Incredible innovations in forensic science are combined with the expertise of the dedicated individuals who see what others can't, to solve the crimes investigated on screen.

FOOL’S PARADISE (Crave) 9:00pm: A down-on-his-luck publicist discovers a former mental health patient who looks just like a misbehaving movie star. He soon becomes an unlikely celebrity when he gets thrown into the bright lights and behind-the-scenes bustle of Hollywood.

W5 (CTV) 10:00pm: Searching for Sam; Boom Boom Chuvalo

[cassi-and-ghani-go-fishing]

1. Please Allow Passengers to Exit Before Boarding the Train

Cassi always makes a point of sitting at the front of the car, against the wall, feet up on the seats, facing the doors. Today, she has a book in her lap, fingers pressed down on the outer edge of the pages, ensuring her place isn’t lost as the train rumbles over the Low Market far below.

The Thistlebrock line winds precariously between the high rises of the central city before jutting out over the lower rooftops of Key Town, the halfling ghetto, a clearing of stout brick and woodwork among the towering districts encircling it. There, an explosion of canvas awnings stretch between the tenements, dyed in brilliant colors now faded from decades of sunlight and acid rain. In their lee, sheltered from sky, a pockmarked woman hawks tepache at disinterested human passersby nearly twice her height; a street away, a pair of grim-faced dwarven ax sisters accompany a silk merchant from far Belamma and her retinue. An urchin crowd surrounds them, greedy hands reaching for a touch of the bolts of silk piled in her cart, but the displeased cluck of her draft-pheasant mount keeps them from coming too close.

They pass into oblivion as the Thistlebrock thunders onward, back into the thicket of skyscrapers, here packed so close together that they blur into an undifferentiated mass of stained glass and brass and brick and corrugated iron; above and below, at odd and precipitous angles, bridge and catwalk and skyway connect the buildings into a harrowing network of passage and message. Pneumatic tubes run sending stones and parcels between the offices of a hundred nameless concerns and their partners or their rivals, while pipes slung precariously beneath their network carry illegal gaslines to the squat neighborhoods propped up between the buildings, clinging desperately to the promise of fresh air above the smogline, cobbled together structures more like enormous birdsnests than humanoid habitation.

A woman and child clutch trembling hands as they teeter across a makeshift bridge of planks that cut from one such squat to the roof of a skyway some 20 meters away, where a maintenance hatch has been permanently jammed open to allow the squatters access to the city below. The train speeds on, the rush of its passing bouncing their bridge as it goes, nearly tossing them into the open sky and then the murk below.

Ahead, Barrowside Station looms, the last station stop before the rails careen into the Eastern reach of the Jhilandi Ring Wall, a bright streak of scientific marvel piercing the ancient battlements–outdated now in the age of airship warfare, a fact constantly evidenced by the colossal ironclad warships drifting sentinel in the clouds above–as it makes its way to the Ditch Ports below the Elfgate, a kilometer outside of Jhilandi proper.

The arching entrance of the station consumes the Thistlebrock with the ceaseless hunger of an abyssal maw, the track its leering tongue, forever extended in mockery or malice as each successive wave of passengers is devoured or vomited up, empty and exhausted. This is the economy of Jhilandi: meals of flesh delivered with ruthless efficiency to the perpetual hunger of industry, raised cheap in tight-packed houses in the low city and churned into a constant circuit of production and distribution and consumption, then spit back out like empty husks when their shifts end. The Passage System, famed across the worlds as a monument to the modernity and civility of an empire equipped with science, committed to progress.

When the Gearmakers Guild and the bankers and half of the empires’ industrial concerns finally forced the abolition of the old Jhilish aristocracy, that was history being made: they promised the vote in exchange for the mountain of low city corpses piled up in the Harlot’s Chase riots, and now we have “democracy.” Musical chairs for corpo hacks in parliament, a tea party in the Butterfly Palace while the machines of the imperial bureaucracy churn ever onwards, and we the little cogs go to work or the pub or die in a ditch. At least the drugs are better now, at least the Isaacites are in power while I waste away toiling for a few drakes, same as I did when it was the Guildbreaker Party in the big chair or the Unity League before them. It’s not history when the mountain of low city corpses pile up today, choked on smog or plague or just broken by years on the line.

The trip into Barrowside Station always reminds Cassi of this, not least because of the name, a reference to the nagaji barrows that were discovered in the hills around Jhilandi by the first Jhilish settlers to arrive on this wretched, rainy little plane, desirable only for being the crossroads of a handful of Teargates. The city itself is a barrow; the graveyard of hours of dead labor, of workers, the strength of their arms exhausted to build ever upwards, like a great statue garden to honor the accumulation of cold hard cash for some lucky fuck born into more than enough to die on. Of course, she’d never toiled a day in her life, but that didn’t make her wrong anyhow. And writing poetry was work, from a certain point of view. Cat burglary less so, but nobody’s asking, and can’t a thief have politics, too?

She sits up as the train pulls in, covers her ears as the station klaxons sound the arrival. A conductor bellows the station stop–incomprehensible over the broken intercom, a static jumble of gibberish in Jhilish and halfling pidgin and then “Doors on the left. Watch your step when exiting the train.” Around her, the red brick arch of the station conquers the cityscape, then passes into a few breaths of darkness as the train passes from the weak sunlight outside to the flickering gaslights of the platform.

The doors hiss open onto the platform with a gout of steam as the condensation on their windows and collected pools of rainwater spill down onto the superheated tracks below. Her trip has taken her opposite the typical Thistlebrock traffic , so only a handful of passengers shared the car with her until this point: two Jhilish bank clerks, elf-ears protruding through slicked back hair falling on matching, stylish suits, a human family whose travel bags suggested they were heading towards Elfgate, a priestess to some snake cult or another, and an off-duty beat cop from the Hand, black padded coat bundled on his lap, flintlock menacingly resting among the folds. He’d tried making eye contact with her as they left the Passage Spire, lecherous little pig-faced Jhil scanning her up and down like market meat, but she’d assertively ignored him and sat down with her book. Barrowspire was clearly his stop–he’d gotten up to disembark a few minutes before they hit the station, donning his coat with the idiot flair of someone who’d seen too many penny-shows in Low Market theatres–and he calls out to her as he makes his way to the door:

“Hey genie-bitch: wanna come rub my la-”

The catcall is cut-off as he stumbles face-first into a chitin breastplate. He starts to shout a challenge as his eyes travel upwards from the breastplate, intricately carved with whorling organic patterns so complex that Cassi cannot tell if they were the natural result of whatever alien insect was harvested for the chitin or the work of a master artisan in some distant workshop, but stops short when he realizes he’ll need to crane his neck to even meet the eyes of the towering oread woman before him, when he sees a falchion wider than his torso strapped to her back.

“I–I’m…I’m sorry, m…miss? I’ll be–”

His voice catches and he runs off.

The oread, so tall as to be nearly crouching just to enter the traincar, turns and looks at him quizzically as he goes. Her skin–brown like Cassi’s, but more alike to the color of soil than her suli-jann olive-tones–is crossed with scars that mottle her…impressive muscles. White shoulder-length hair is partially tied back, cascading down around a messy ponytail and revealing a spiral of emeralds embedded on her back, swirling outwards to end at her exposed shoulderblade.

She shouts after him in accented Jhilish–“Fuckin’ rude, then?”–but her words are caught in the closing doors, the effect lost. A few meters away, a human and a flathead goblin have also boarded through the car’s other set of doors, and they call out to her: “Oi, Ghati - y’want us to jump out ‘n toss ‘im then?” “Too late, boys. Places t’go, people t’see, and we’ve got n’time for that scrapbook of a man. Anyhow, he’s job, so it’s not worth the trouble. Hand cunts’d be buzzing like so many bees before you could say what’s for, eh?”

The man, pale and bald and glum, flicks a look around the train car, gives a polite nod to the human family and a scowl to the bankers, before reaching up to scratch the top of his head, ringed with concentric circles of blue-black tattooed script. His other hand rests on the stock of a brass-plated blunderbus slung on a strap over his shoulder, thumb caressing the embossments. Two handaxes hang at his belt, and clatter against a metal handpole in the center of the car as he goes to sit. His name is Muln and his tattoos mark him as a gun-priest of the Aether Mysteries, a lower city cult precious about their secret gods, but rather prodigious at killing, which is why Cassi’s employer shelled out the cash to bring him along. She’d worked with him before, which was an added bonus for all.

The flathead, Skitter, totters forwards past Muln, looks disappointedly through the window as the train lurches back into motion, and then loses his balance and stumbles over to Ghatiyara’s knee, which his head only barely reaches. His motley robes mark readily him as a street arcanist, as does his stoat familiar, who peaks out of his sleeve and blinks at Cassias Skitter hops up on bench across from her. The stoat, Maurice, spills out and curls into a ball on the rotting seat-cushion at his side.

“Ey, Cass. Ready t’go make some money?”