#coronation peak

[geofflewriter]

Kia Ora days 17 and 18: Darting about and Sounding Off

Kia Ora days 17 and 18: Darting about and Sounding Off

Queenstown has been sunny and sparkling. After a joyful day in the woods we caught a coach to the Dart River at Glenorchy. Glenorchy is a small township that nestles in Maori land. It is surrounded by a few farms and a lot of film sets. We were shown stills from, inevitably the Tolkien franchise and Wolverine as well as adverts for Coors beer and Milka chocolate and then pointed out the tree or…

[aviatrix-ash]

New favorite Starscream, he's both adorable and can be armed with targetmaster Rung

To transform he holds his arms out like "am plen now"

[albanyroyals]

Can we have a lil sneak peak on the coronation? Can’t wait for it! I’m super excited for the event!

Hi! Currently I’m at school, but maybe (don’t take my word for it lol) later I can share more sneak peaks on the coronation, but for now here is Anthony and Felicity arriving for the event!

[eggmeralda]

also throwback to early 2022 when I was becoming Obsessed with truffula flu but the tag hadn't been updated for like a year and was already very very sparse anyway

but by mid 2022 it was starting to become more active and now when I go through it there's so much new stuff in there :') obscure fandom success story tbh

[themaynard]

Join us on Sunday 7th May for our King’s Coronation garden party.  A celebratory day filled with family fun! Including music throughout the day from Outibridge Brass Band.

Come and celebrate with us in our newly renovated gardens. FREE entry. To book your table- 01433424110

[convertgrapeling]

Apparently the numbers watching the coronation peaked at 20.4 million, which means over two thirds of the population did not watch, despite it being broadcast on the main 3 channels. It's less than the 27 million who watched the Queen's coronation in 1953, even though the UK population was 16 million less then than it is now.

It does make me feel vaguely hopeful that so many people knew they had better things to do than watch some woman had an old guy a sword.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

The Only Place I Want to Die

aegon x sister!wife!reader 

Summary: Aegon turns to you for comfort in the following weeks of his coronation. Pleasure and tears seem to be the only way you both can find solace during these troubling times. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, alicent hitting her child, wine, depression, thoughts of wanting to die, crying, face riding, p in v, fingering, overstimulation

Authors Note: i fear i have too many feelings so this tragically pretty and broken man 🙂, the targtower children have actually been ripping my heart apart!!, u can’t convince me this man doesn’t whimper

Word Count: 3.5k 

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I woke during the hour of the wolf to a cold bed and the fire flickering out. I sigh and push the blankets off of me and go to try and revive the embers. The fire slowly comes back to life with a crackle and I kneel on the stone to hover my hands near the flame. After countless minutes I rise and take in the state of our chambers. 

Empty wine glasses litter almost every surface and what’s left is covered by our clothes. I reach for the robe closest to me and wrap it around my body. I settle for mismatched slippers at this hour and pad over to the doors. I slowly crack it open and see our guard ever faithfully standing at attention. 

“Where is Aegon?” I ask softly and the guard turns to me. 

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. The King didn’t say.” the guards eyes look at me nervously and try to focus his attention anywhere else. 

“Then I’ll find him myself.” I push the door the rest of the way open and click it shut behind me. 

“My Queen-“ I raise my hand and wave him off as I start down the dark hallway. 

I can’t stand when they use our new titles. I don’t feel like the Queen and I know Aegon shares my sentiments. The past fortnight after his coronation has been chaos and our mother offers us no comfort or guidance. They simply placed crowns on our head and continue to move us about as they please. 

I walk down the stairs and head to the cellar to see if he’s drowning himself in his cups again. I enter the cold and damp room and there’s no candles or torches lit as I slink between the aisles of bottles. I hear and see no sign of Aegon, but I do spot our favorite wine. I grab the bottle by its neck and start up the stairs once more. 

I walk to the main hall and take in the guards standing sentry at the doors. No one looks twice at me as I ghost through the hall with my robe swishing behind me. I stop when I see the throne room doors cracked open. I peak inside and sigh in relief that I’ve finally found him. 

I push the doors open to let me in and then seal us inside. As I walk up to him he is standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at the throne gripping the crown in his hand. As I make it to his side I see the tears streaming down his face. I place the bottle of wine on the ground and stand in front of him. His puffy eyes look down to me as he sniffles. 

“Why do you cry, my love?” I whisper wiping his tears away. 

“I never wanted this.” his voice breaks along with my heart as the conquerors crown falls to the stone beside us. 

“I know,” my voice a whisper as I pull him down into a tight embrace. 

His arms wrap around me tightly as he lets out soft sobs into my neck. I rub his back soothingly hoping I can calm his breathing. His tears seep onto my neck as they continue to fall from his eyes. He pulls back and his normally bright violet eyes seem sunken and dull. 

“I wish Rhaenyra would come and kill me already.” he hiccups as his sobs start anew. 

Tears fall from my own eyes at his words. I knew his hurt was deep, but I didn’t know it went this far. We stand there for what feels like hours in each other’s embrace while taking turns wiping each other’s tears away. Through the windows I can see the dawn on the horizon and slowly pull back. 

“Come, I’ve found us our favorite wine.” I dip down to pick up the bottle. 

His hand slips into mine leading me out of the throne room, leaving the crown on the stone floor. The main hall of the castle seems to be slowly waking up as we walk out the main doors ignoring the guards calling after us. We make our way to the back of the castle to sit in the grass as we watch the sunrise over the bay with our wine. 

“Do you think she hates me?” Aegon murmurs while opening the bottle. 

“Who?” I tilt my head. 

“Rhaenrya. Mother. All of them. Everyone.” he sighs before taking a long drink of wine. 

“Rhaenyra probably hates mother more than we do.” I take the bottle and bring it to my lips. 

“Why would mother force this upon us? Father only ever talked about Rhaenyra. He never cared for us. He never wanted me to succeed him.” he buries his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know why we were placed on this path.” I rest my head on his shoulder as I pass the bottle back to him. 

The sun slowly rises into the sky and our empty bottle is discarded on the grass next to us. We lay back and look at the clouds simply enjoying the silence and company of each other. Our eyes slowly close as we curl into each other and allow sleep to take over as we soak in the morning sun. 

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“Get up. Both of you.” I crack my eyes open and see Alicent and Cole standing above us. I pull Aegon to his feet beside me and we try to avoid our mother’s harsh gaze. 

“It seems as if we found the wine thief.” Cole says grabbing the empty bottle discarded on the grass. 

“Why must you both cause me so much trouble. Leaving your crown on the ground like it’s some toy. Sneaking into the cellars to steal wine. Gods I can’t take it anymore.” she seethes, throwing her hands into the air as she turns to Cole. 

“I didn’t ask for any of this.” Aegons words wobbly as his hand holds mine. 

“I assumed you both would rise to your new titles. Hoping you would sober up and become respectable. You both never cease to prove me wrong and embarrass me at every turn.” she looks us over with disgust as her words continue to slice into us. 

“You should’ve seized the crown for yourself if you wanted it so badly.” the words make it out of my mouth before I can even process them and she slaps me across the face. 

“Strike her again and I will have your hand. I may not want the crown but it will allow me to protect her.” Aegon looks to me before looking back to our mother who stands there shocked at his words. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” she scoffs shaking her head at us. 

“Ser Criston, escort the Queen Dowager back to her chambers. I fear she’s having a fit of hysteria.” Aegon stands taller and his words baffle me. 

“Aegon,” Alicent looks to him unamused.

“At once, Your Grace.” Cole nods to Aegon and starts to pull our mother back to the main doors of the castle. 

At their absence he turns to me and softly ghosts his fingertips across my red cheek. I look up to him and see the anger in his eyes as he continues to stroke my cheek. I feel the rest of my body heat at his soft touch. He’s not always so soft and delicate but I’ve never really minded. 

“Thank you,” I lean into his touch as his eyes slowly slide to mine. 

“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you anymore. We must come up with a plan.” he places a kiss on my forehead before leading me back into the Keep. 

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The past couple of days have consisted of us trying to conjure up a plan to run away or somehow receive an audience with Rhaenyra. We’ve wrote countless letters but none of them seem good enough. Entertaining the idea of running away was all we did the entirety of the first day, but we don’t want to run anymore. We don’t want to be alone, we just want to be loved or die loving each other.

“Let us just send this one and be done with it.” Aegon sighs pushing his chair back from the table in our chambers. 

Sister

I never wanted this and I know father never wanted this. Please, can we meet on the shores and find common ground. I have no wish for the crown, you can have it. Please.

Aegon and Y/n

“I think this one will do what we need it to. She’ll either meet us on the beach or The Stranger will.” I sigh folding the parchment and sealing it with wax. 

“As long as we’re together.” he says softly looking up to me. 

“As long as we’re together.” I hum nodding my head. 

We leave our chambers as we walk to the tower where the ravens are kept. We send off the raven and watch as its wings carry our plea into the horizon. We walk down to the dining hall where we see the table empty and dusty. The Red Keep has been a shell since our father passed and our mother usurped the throne. 

“It seems as if we’ll be dining in our chambers again.” I sigh going to turn out of the hall. 

“No, have a seat and I’ll call the servants. We can dine here.” Aegon shakes his head and goes to pull out a chair for me. 

He pushes my chair in for me before leaving the hall and returns with a herd of servants trailing behind him. They quickly place and light candles around the hall helping bring some of the life back. Aegon slips into the chair next to mine as a servant comes and fills up our cups with wine. A smile spreads across my face as I recognize our favorite summer wine.

“Did you really take another bottle?” I turn to him and see him offering me a genuine smile. 

“We deserve our favorite wine with dinner,” he hums licking his lips. 

“Indeed,” I raise my glass to him and sigh as the sweet wine trickles down my throat.

The servants fill our plates and continue to bring out different dishes. Once we’re fully sated we retire back to our chambers. The heaviness of our disastrous apartments weighs us down as we seal the doors behind us. He pushes clothes and other miscellaneous items out of our path before he lets out a deep sigh and falls back on the bed. 

“Do you think Rhaenyra will listen to us?” he mumbles wiping his eyes. 

“We can only hope.” I hum as I crawl on the bed next to him. 

“If she doesn’t then this is our last night.” he turns to me with sad eyes but I can see the underlying relief that I know is mirrored in my own.

I press my lips to his softly. It starts off slow and innocent but soon he’s pulling me on top of him. He pulls my dress up around my waist and digs his fingers into my hips. His fingers find my wetness quickly and I’m gasping into his mouth. 

“Only place I want to die is between your thighs.” he breaks our kiss breathing heavily. 

He pulls me up his body and I know his desire. I slide off of him and lift my skirts to straddle his face. His hands grab my hips and places me on his lips. He places wet kisses along my thighs before licking my slit. I sigh in pleasure as he begins to swirl around my bud. My hips start to move against him and his responding groan sends vibrations straight to my core. 

“Aegon,” I breathlessly whine as his hands begin to slide me across his mouth. 

His tongue flicks against me relentlessly as my hips start moving on their own. His fingers dig into my thighs roughly as he feasts upon me. My body goes taught as I pulse around his tongue with his name falling from my lips. 

“Fuck, my King,” his tittle slips out before I can stop it. 

He seals his lips around my sensitive bud and my hips shutter from the pleasure he keeps offering me. I’m moaning loudly as he continues to rock me against his mouth. His tongue slips down to my core as his nose brushes against my bud. Pleasure starts to ripple through me as I toss my head back grinding down on to him. 

“Aegon, I-“ my voice breaks into a cry as he continues with his tongue. 

He chuckles into my wetness causing shockwaves to travel throughout my body. I’m babbling above him as he coaxes me through a third climax. My hands grab his to try and pry them from my hips. I finally collapse next to him on the bed and try to catch my breath. He starts to pull my dress off of me and once I’m bare his hands grab for my breasts. 

I start to lift his shirt off and he finishes removing it quickly following with his trousers. His hard length bounces against his stomach before he dips down to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I whimper as he bites down, pulling it between his teeth while he looks up to me through his thick lashes. He makes his way to my other peak to tease it with his teeth. 

My fingers thread through his hair before they go to the expanse of his back. I bring one of my hands between us to slowly start pumping him. He grunts as he continues to pull and tease my nipples. I swipe against his leaking tip and he whines against my chest. He removes himself from my breasts and watches my hand stroke him. 

“Fuck,” he pants as I start to pump him faster. 

He starts to jerk his hips into my hand as his head falls to my shoulder. He whimpers as he gets lost in his pleasure while sucking on my neck. His hand grabs mine and stops my movements. He trails his tip through my wetness causing a shiver to trail through me. 

He pushes into me and watches as my face relaxes in pleasure at his stretch. Once he’s fully bottomed out he grinds his hips into me slowly. I moan as my fingers dig into his shoulders as he keeps up his slow, deep movements as his hair falls into my face. I clench around him and his forehead falls to mine as his breaths come out heavier. 

He starts to rock his hips and I whine as he finally begins to move faster. His breath starts to come out in pants again as his hips start to snap into mine. I cling on to him as his pace quickens while moans pour from my mouth. He wraps one of my legs around his waist and I sob at the new angle. 

“Yes, Aegon,” I pant as I throw my head back into the pillow. 

He continues to rut into me and I bring my other leg to wrap around him and his hips falter at the deeper angle. My hips meet his as we chase our pleasure together. Our breath mingles while we whimper out each other’s names. 

“Love you so fucking much,” his words slurred from pleasure as he slams his hips into mine. 

Pleasure courses through me at his words as my walls contract around him. I feel him start to fill me as he continues to rock into me. His hips still and he leans down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss. I moan into his mouth as he grinds his hips into mine once more before slowly pulling out. 

“Just gimme a couple minutes,” he pants laying next to me. 

His hands trail all over my body as I try to catch my breath. His hands travel down to my soaked core as he slips his fingers in and begins to pump his seed back into me. My legs close around his hand as he curls his fingers wringing more pleasure from my body. I cry out his name as I flutter around his fingers and he pulls them out and brings them to his mouth. 

He groans and rolls on top of me to kiss me. I moan into his mouth at the taste of myself on him. He licks my lips and travels down my neck and stops at my breasts again. He attaches to one of my hardened nipples and roughly grabs my other breast. I arch my chest up into his mouth as his roughness causes more wetness to pool between my thighs. 

“Aegon, I need you,” I mewl trying to buck my hips into him but I end up just sliding myself on his thigh. 

He grunts from my chest and bends his knee so I can grind against his thigh. I have one hand buried in his silver locks while the other grips his shoulder as he peppers my chest with attention. My hips are feverishly grinding against his thigh looking for any friction they can find. I pull his hair to get his attention that I want him to move lower and he releases the nipple he’s been holding hostage. 

“Always so fucking needy.” he chuckles but kisses down my torso nonetheless. 

The second his tongue laps against my bud my hand is flying to his hair pulling him closer to me. I’m grinding against his face as sobs rack through me. He slams two fingers into me pulling pleasure from me. He pushes a third finger in and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head and moans fall from my mouth. My orgasm slams through me stealing my breath as I try to pull his face away from me. I get him about an inch away before his hand grabs my wrist. 

“Oh no no, my sweet girl this is what you wanted.” he chuckles lowly as his grip on my wrist tightens before he dips back down to continue licking at me. 

My whole body is shaking as his tongue zeros in on my clit. My thighs squeeze around his head as my chest heaves. My back arches off the bed as my fingers continue to pull at his hair. 

“Aegon, fuck Aegon, please,” I whine bucking my hips as pleasure bursts through me all over his face. He pulls away from my core with a wet face and a wide smile.

“Love when you do that,” he licks his lips before he shoves his tongue into my mouth. 

I moan into our kiss as I feel his length press against me. He humps against me and my legs quake in anticipation. He slips into my core and my eyes shut. His hands grab mine to hold them above my head as he pounds into me. 

“Gunna come again for me? Taking me so fucking good,” his pelvis grinds into my clit and I sob as pleasure ripples through me and I feel as if it’s never ending. 

He rolls his hips as pleasure begins to wash through him. I come clenching around him once more as my vision blurs. When my eyes open again he’s peppering kisses all around my face. As he moves I can still feel him buried deep in me and I whine squirming.

“I always think you’re the most perfect when you’re thoroughly fucked, flushed cheeks, still squeezing my cock.” he groans grinding into me. 

“Aegon,” tears prick at the edges of my eyes as he still pushes into me. 

He slowly pumps in and out chuckling at my whimpers. He pulls out which leaves me feeling empty. He slides down and lays between my thighs resting his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair as we both come down from our highs. I shut my eyes as I keep my fingers tangled in his hair as his arms wrap around me tightly. 

“Do you love me?” he mumbles against my skin.

“You know I do, very much.” I hum still petting his hair. He snuggles into me as we drift off not caring what tomorrow holds as long as we’re together. 

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masterlist 🔌 

this was super self indulgent 🫣😅 

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @anaviieiraaa @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk

[persephryne]

Making Aegon a rapist was straight up bad and lazy writing.

Let me elaborate.

In the show, the first thing we learn about Aegon as an adult is that he is a rapist. We haven’t seen him yet but still we already know that he is an horrible despicable rapist, especially since Dyana is so young, which pretty much makes him a pedophile too. How could anyone root for a man like that ? And that’s where the problem begins.

Rhaenyra had already been established many times as the rightful heir to the throne in season 1. It has been made obvious that she would make a decent Queen too. In the meantime, it had already been shown that Aegon is not even a good person. He’s selfish, inconsiderate, a bully, and does not act like a prince at all. To put it plainly, he sucks big time and we as viewers already know it. Add what we saw in season 2, how reckless he gets, how he’s an alcoholic immature asshole, how he obviously knows nothing about strategics nor how to rule efficiently, or even how bad he is at high valyrian, and you can’t have anyone tell you in good faith that he would’ve been a better ruler than Rhaenyra.

However, had Aegon not been made a rapist, you would still feel for him even though he is not cut out to rule. Because he knows it too and tried to escape it and he was forced to attend his own coronation . Because this crown that he did not want does not fit him, even though he really tries to show that he is not as worthless as everyone seems to think and he just keeps failing. You would feel for him because the war ,that he has started when he was made an usurper by the people around him, has cost him his son’s life. Because the brother, who is partially responsible for his son’s death has now betrayed him and tried to kill him with dragonfire. Because the injuries he suffered make him look more and more like his father who never cared for him, never loved him and that he definitely hates. Which also probably why he tries so hard to make his mother proud of him and love him but he can’t and his main attempt has left him half-dead, half-burn. Not only that but his dragon, with whom he has the strongest bond known in Targaryen’s, history probably died during this futile attempt to prove himself. The only thing about his Targaryen’s heritage that he seems to care about has been destroyed all because he wanted to prove himself. Because he truly resents his Targaryen’s, his father’s heritage, it’s obvious, just as it is obvious that he didn’t want to marry his own sister but was forced to. It’s completely legitimate of him to want to distance himself as much as possible from everything that is Targaryen related. He is indeed more of an Hightower than a Targaryen, but can you really blame him for that ? Would you not try to fit somewhere else too, if you were in his place ? It’s all absolutely and undeniably tragic.

I wholeheartdely believe that, even if you would’ve root for Rheanyra to be Queen, you woud’ve probably still thought that Aegon, as bad as he is, did not deserves this much pain.

But because he is a rapist, well, he honestly does.

By not trusting the audience to see that Aegon is not a good person, nor a good a king, without having him comitting a literal crime, by making Aegon a rapist, the writers have annihilated any possibilities for an internal conflict regarding Aegon and Rhaenyra. The whole concept of « teams » just goes down the drain because of this lazy, manichaean, writing. And that, my friends, is bad writing at its peak.

[aphcardverse-week]

Cardverse Week 2024

28 July - 3 August

Day 1: You Can't Fight Fate oracle | prophecy | "I'm not supposed to be here."

Day 2: You Should See Me In a Crown coronation | celebration | chosen one

Day 3: Someone Bless These Seeds I Sow garden | fairies | rot

Day 4: Free Day!

Day 5: You Are the Peak and Art of My Universe true love | hidden talents | "We can't always get what we want."

Day 6: Baby, We Were Born to Run chains | ritual | failure

Day 7: Don't Tell Me 'Cause It Hurts torn apart | heartbreak | "It was supposed to be you."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Rules/Guidelines

Many thanks to @transparentalia for the transparent edits!

[cahootings]

Aurora Borealis from southern Wisconsin, May 10, 2024. Photos by me!

The colors of the aurora are caused by the atoms in Earth's atmosphere getting excited by the sun's charged particles slamming into them. Green tends to be the most common, showing excited oxygen particles 60-150 miles in altitude. It's also the easiest for our human eyes to detect. Red occurs higher up, above 150 miles, and because there's less oxygen, it takes a stronger stream to show up. Purple is also uncommon, and comes from excited nitrogen atoms below 60 miles. The fact that this display was so colorful was due to its immense strength from the five(!) coronal mass ejections that were belched out in our direction on Friday. The sun might yet serve up some more action as it's still in the peak of its 11-year cycle.

We were so lucky to get to observe such a rare event but also holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit

[solomon-revisited]

my copy has finally arrived... sixteen old songs from my earnest friends

THE CORONER'S GAMBIT LINER NOTES

TRANSCRIPT:

HE was a guy from California who'd fallen in love with a woman from Iowa. She was working at a water testing lab. They lived in a very small house whose pipes froze every winter. The landlord would come by and put space heaters under the sink. Years later, they retained the memory of the water coming back on - the sudden sound of the shower, the rush from the sink. They slept on a foam mattress in the bedroom in the summer, and on the couch in the living room in the winter, since the house did not have central heating, rendering the bedroom essentially uninhabitable from December through March.

They were not really the kind of people to plan things: they had fun when and where they could on an austere budget. The ice skates they bought used from Play It Again Sports made for fun Christmas mornings on West Indian Creek in Nevada, one town over from where they lived. He learned to cook, and to bake: they didn't go out to eat, because there really wasn't any place to go out and eat, though on occasion they would get a pizza from Casey's, because their town had a Casey's. Under the right circumstances a gas station pizza can be just the thing, and they sometimes found themselves in those circumstances.

He made music which was slowly reaching a wider audience. If he played in New York or Chicago as many as a hundred people might show up. He was idly entertaining the idea of becoming ambitious about it: as a child, he'd been pretty pretentious, and although he was working hard to shake most of that off, a little pretension isn't a bad thing in an artist. Just as a seasoning, as a little extra flavor here or there.

One summer he took a job as a harvest help at the Farmers Cooperative Exchange down the street from the very small house where the pipes froze in winter: getting the corn and soybeans into the grain elevator and into a big Morton building where the beans formed giant mountains, which he sometimes had to climb to knock down the peaks. If you don't knock down the peaks the beans get too hot and might rot. The job didn't pay much, and he wasn't good at it, but during slow stretches he would write song lyrics on scraps of paper or in a small notebook, and when he got home from work and washed off the crop dust, he'd set the lyrics to music. "Elijah" was written like this. So was "The Alphonse Mambo."

He took a Greyhound bus to Omaha to record some of the songs, so that the album would have a nice varied feel to it, but he got very sick, which is not an uncommon thing to have happen after a Greyhound ride, and only a few songs came out the way he wanted. He kept those, and then they got married and moved to Ames because the City of Colo had purchased their home from that landlord and intended to knock it down, which they did do, he affirmed years later: and in Ames he put the album together, and then later they moved to North Carolina and a whole lot of other things happened, too, but the main thing is that this album is a document of a time when two young people in love hadn't yet located the spot on the current that would carry them to their destination, twenty-five years later, parents of two beautiful children, worlds away from Colo, the place where, for better or worse, as the saying goes, all this really began.

Dedicated to my wife, Lalitree, and to the City of Colo, Iowa.

This is the original text of the paper bag that housed the first edition of this album. I am leaving it intact rather than revising it. Stage Bidet's moment comes ever closer: let the people tremble in fear.

Elijah, Baboon, Horseradish Road, Onions, and the Alphonse Mambo recorded in Omaha with Simon Joyner, Chris Deden, Lonnie Methe, Brad Smith, John Kotchen, Steve Micek, and Pat Oakes. All of them are owed money and are to be treated with deference and respect. Five of the remaining songs were recorded at Main St. in Colo, which is a small town in Iowa, and the rest were recorded two blocks north of Emma McCarthy Lee Park in Ames, which is a considerably larger town half and hour west of Colo. Though happy circumstances currently have the Mountain Goats claiming Ames, we continue to straight up represent Colo and will put the slap down on anyone who disrespects it. Transfer and levels by Bob Durkee at FBE in Pomona, California, with Joel Huschle attending. As a result of some regrettable but inevitable conversations that took place during the transfer, Bob, Joel, and the Mountain Goats have formed a new, super-powerful punk rock machine called Stage Bidet, and we urge you to watch for us and clear us a wide berth whenever we're in your town. Instead of thanking all the people I always thank to whom I say, collectively and with no less sincerity: thanks. I am just going to spend the time left us here addressing an absent friend. Rozz: I wish you hadn't've gone and killed yourself. Though I hadn't seen or spoken with you in eight years since that night when, as far as I can tell from the reports I was later able to piece together, you tried, not without reason, to strangle the life out of me out there on the landing of Damien's apartment and I probably never would have ever seen you again anyway, it was still hard to hear that you were gone. All your friends had been predicting your death since the early eighties, and no-one could bear the thought of you growing old, but none of that did anything to soften the blow when I heard. I don't really believe that the dead see or hear what we do out here in the realm of corruptible things and I don't imagine that the anyone reads the scribblings on the backs of album jackets to them, either, so I am really only addressing a memory. To that memory I say: I thought of you now and then when I was writing these songs. I don't suppose they'd do much for you, but I thought of you all the same. All your friends miss you in some way, a little or a lot. The rumors about your final hours are dismal and tawdry: I am sure they would please you immensely. For your sake, I hope that the Christians were wrong and that you were right about whether the faithless are destined for eternal torment. In the event that you are a ghost and are wandering the earth moaning and rattling chains, I moved to Iowa from California four or five years ago, stop by any time. Have a seat on the couch until I get home from work. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator, or to the whiskey and sake on top of it. Make yourself right at home.

Album cover design by Tom Hart

[lullaebies]

Request: Aegon really trying to get along or at least be in good terms with Jaehaera but she's still grieving for Jaehaerys and her mother too much (and the years don't seem to ease the pain) that she can't fully accept him yet

a/n: ok so this ended up a bit longer that i expected! i was trying hard to think how to go about this. hopefully this will read well <3 tomorrow i will continue with the rest of the reqs sent!

He sits quietly by his wife during the feast, their lips both red with the dark of wine.

It is a celebratory night, The Feast of The Father Above demanding grandness, lest the septons decide it a fair night to accuse the Crown of not being pious enough. It mattered little to Aegon, but it mattered to his subjects; meaning he had little ways to object.

The septons say this holy day to commemorate the Father is a day of just rulings, a day of auspicious decisions. Perhaps if he had been more pious he would’ve trusted his judgement auspicious enough to shut their mouth with some coin and tell them to celebrate down their streets instead of his halls, but alas. 

He looks at Jaehaera. As of two days prior, she is six and ten. The spring of youth, if one is to go by how the singers describe maidens of similar ages. Girls that age absorb the sun and hold its beam in their smiles, warming the room around them in cheer and dance. 

You wouldn’t be able to tell so, with his wife. She looks a painted doll, with an even line to her red lips that refuses to bend. Jaehaera doesn’t celebrate her nameday; when it comes, she usually refuses to leave her rooms for days after. Her ladies-in-waiting had once tried to prepare her a surprise, and in return, she had raged.

The court never quite understood her. He still remembers Myrielle Peake weeping at Jaehaera banishing her from her rooms. Her father never quieted about it since, he thinks grumpily. But when he was told of this great injustice the Queen has inflicted on her well-meaning ladies, he had to hold himself from laughing at the complainers in their face.

As if she would like to celebrate the day she remembered her own twin is lost to the afterlife, while she is lost here. 

He dismissed the complaints with some platitudes. He had felt similar enough when his regents assumed him to be ever thankful for them sitting him on the Throne, as if the death of his mother and older brothers hadn’t been the sole reason a crown is on his head. Let us celebrate your coronation and our hard work, your Grace, the dimwits had said. It is a joyful occasion. 

They wouldn’t know how to make him joyful if they tried, and his wife even more so. 

Yet still, there is a pang in him, seeing her so muted. There are rare days, where they align in their routes, and her words are reminiscent of his. Where they walk down the same route silently and it feels more natural than the forced conversations he is met with from anybody else. She always scurries away after, avoids him after, but...

She is his wife, and as much as they were sewn together, they are of similar enough cloth. Smiling like the sun is not something he’d expect of her, but he doesn’t wish she’d never at least feel its rays. 

He may have drank too much today. Her wintry form had been much on his mind. He supposes he finds ways to be melancholic no matter what, but he looks at her and sees himself, from a long while back; from before Viserys came back, before he could hold onto his sisters again to cry.

The dance floor had been filled with duos dancing to string instruments gracefully. It is not something he does often, but had seen her dancing before. As a child, granted, before it all, but she had seemed happy to do so before. And who would ask her to dance again, but her husband?

“Jaehaera,” he mumbles her name before he can regret it. She turns to him, heavy brows lifting in wonder. “Should we dance too?”

It should help, in more ways than one. Seeing them being amiable would calm the many lords here, he thinks. Or spring some hope to their souls, or more importantly, some respect for Jaehaera’s being. Wouldn’t that help, having the world know she is no jilted girl? It would do her good. It would do them good. 

He never wanted a divide between them to haunt them. They have enough things haunting them. Is this a good decision? He knows not, but The Father may as well sanction it auspicious, after all the hard work put into this damn feast.

Jaehaera’s tentative fingers fiddle with her wine cup. She puts it down softly. “If his Grace should like that,” she answers, building her wall from him again as her eyes shy away from direct eye contact. The rings on her fingers drag across the marble table, clinging to the cold of stone as they approach him. 

Aegon notes her offering. He doesn’t quite like that it's simply complacency, but then again, he had been simply complacent when everyone else goaded him to do anything, even if he did find enjoyment in it in the end. And if she doesn’t find enjoyment in it, at least she would have a spring in her step for the singers to sing about, and mayhaps that will soothe her.

He reaches for her offered hand, picking it up gently from the fingers. The table, her rings, they’re cold, but her bony fingers are warm. It is almost surprising, with how distant she seems at the moment. They rise from their chairs to the surprise of the people around their table. Viserys looks at him crookedly, but he pays it no mind - Jaehaera seems to go along with him well.

His thumbs fiddle with her knuckles nervously as he attempts a squeeze of reassurance. He truly doesn’t dance often; Baela sometimes forces him and he looks a fool, Rhaena sometimes does so too and becomes his harsh, smiling critic. He shouldn’t be able to reassure his wife in regards to dancing, he has little talent in his lanky limbs, but he has to try, he thinks.

A spot is cleared for them in the center of the floor. She thanks the lord and ladies who move in a mannerly way while he simply nods. The musicians switch a song, and he vaguely remembers the form for it, reaching for Jaehaera’s waist. After confirming from those nearby he remembered correctly, of course. 

As for Jaehaera, the form they should be in dawns on her quickly, and her fingers curl over the peak of his shoulder easily. She looks at their feet when the song begins. He does too, to see his are well placed. He wants to brighten this night some, but he doesn’t want to look like an oaf doing so.

Despite that, however, he can’t imagine he doesn’t look like one. He is unsurprisingly rusty, and the length of his limbs lend to a taut gait and especially dance. Jaehaera is surprisingly fluid in her movements, on the other hand. He nearly steps on her foot once, but she evades it simply. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

When he hears a soft snort coming for her, he almost thinks it had been for the better.

She is not without faults — she does step on his foot. He huffs at her in some vindication he is not the only one with two left feet. She finally lifts her eyes to him, supposedly to apologize too, but then the dance calls for her twirl. She holds his elevated hand throughout it. He does notice a hint of a crinkle to her eyes, and he even meets it with his own one.

When he stops her, hand finding her waist again to hold her in a secure manner, he thinks he shook off that rustiness. But then Jaehaera’s eyes land on him in a strange gaze, and her limbs suddenly feel tense.

Jaehaera swallows, and looks down again, her grip on his shoulder digging into his bone. “I think…” she stops them from moving. “I feel ill,” she says abruptly. “I think I should retire for this night, Your Grace.”

He blinks at her. He is not convinced; her face only gained some warmth to it as they danced. Still, he draws her away from the dance floor to its side, knowing here too, there is little to object to. She feels all too rigid in his hold, and something had her gaze become cloudy.

Most of the room seemed to cheer at them joining the dance floor, so that couldn’t be it. The taste on his tongue is sour, feeling somewhat jilted himself. Perhaps because he himself hadn’t hated the dance all that much. He offered this for her and still… Fine.

“Then go rest,” he allows, trying to keep the bitterness behind lock and key. She says her farewell to some key courtiers and leaves, quickly disappearing to the dark, gloomy parts of the castle. 

For a while, he returns to his spot at the table. When they strike a conversation, they ask of the Queen; some of them deem her rude for her abrupt departure. He finds their voices offensive, for he would rather like to retire to his apartments himself at the moment.

“‘Tis a holy day, for us all. Ill or not, even a Queen must be respectful—” Lord Peake grumbles by his ear, and he wonders why he hadn’t let him go ages ago.

Irritated, he decides that it wasn’t quite fair for her to leave him this way. Especially with everyone around looking at him like this in pitiful wonder. And with these halfwits, surrounding him around the table and offering their daughters as dance partners instead.

“Pay my respects to The Father and preside over the rest of the feast, Lord Peake,” he says, and comes up again from his place. “I should see how the Queen fares.”

He gets up and walks in long strides out to the dark, gloomy hallways himself.

—

As he approaches Jaehaera’s apartments, he finds himself hesitating to actually come in. 

His wife hasn’t asked for any kindness, even if he had attempted to offer it. He does think the wine had made him rather rash if not overtly sentimental; he wouldn’t have asked her to dance in the first place without it, and he certainly wouldn't have come by her door.

The Father Above might be laughing at him from the dark skies. Auspicious decisions, my arse. 

And he is about to turn on his heel, when he hears a sob from the inside of her room. 

He reaches for the knob of the door and twists it open. 

Jaehaera is by the window, too close to the damn window, the dying light of the fireplace showing bloodshot eyes and tears trailing down her rounded cheeks. She is frantic in her movements until she stops in place when she sees him, holding a quivering lip from saying a thing. 

“Why are you…?” he tries to ask, but some anxiety spikes in him and he can’t find a way to articulate himself. 

“Your Grace, please leave,” she manages out of her system. That lights a visceral feeling of rage within him. 

“You will not order me to leave,” he says plainly. Your Grace, your Grace, she tells him the entire day, but she won’t force that distance upon him when he plainly sees there is something foul at play. “I don’t know what I have done, but I did not mean harm to you and you know this.”

“I know,” she answers, the glisten on her lash line more noticeable. She’s shaking like a leaf; what has rattled her so? “But you more than all know that matters little.”

Fuck. He had been irritated, but now he is properly upset. All had been well, what has he done wrong? 

“If you tell me what it is I can fix it,” he says. It is the wrong choice; she turns to look at him with a sharper gaze, even with her tears. 

“I used to dance to that song with Jaehaerys,” she says, and Aegon already understands he has lost here. Of course, the times he remembered her dance as a child, it had been with her brother. “Mother taught us the steps. It was her favourite. Jaehaerys was determined to learn it well, even though I always had to escape his clumsy steps. He wanted to show mother he listened to her.” 

She wipes her cheeks with her hands, holding herself. 

“We never had the chance to complete the dance without missteps.”

Aegon shuts his eyes. “If I had known I wouldn’t have…” he begins. What is the point in saying what she knows already? “I’m sorry. I thought it would make you happy.”

He foolishly assumed he would know any better than anyone else in the Keep how to do so. They are adjacent to one another in pain when the court already assumes it knows everything about them. And he thinks, there had always been some truce between them, in regards to that — perhaps that had all been in his head, too.

That dance felt like a moment of peace to him. He wanted it to be a moment of peace for her, too, for them all. He is so tired of fighting and guarding his own self; he simply wants to relent to the calm that he feels could exist between them.

Jaehaera’s hand reaches for the seven-starred necklace upon her, swallowing. “It had, for a moment,” she sniffles, shame in her voice. “It made me happy. But my brother can’t be, and my mother can’t see it, and I…”

That he does know, the guilt of being alive. The guilt of continuing on despite having the world shattered, despite witnessing so much death. And Viserys returned from the dead, and when he confessed it all, his brother had told him simply one thing.

“You’re not at fault for that.”

And if Jaehaera has resentment on her tongue, any hatred she wants to spit out about those who were at fault — she doesn’t say it. Simply looks at him with guarded eyes, keeping her distance. 

He can’t ask her to close it, just for the sake of his own peace. He wouldn’t ask her to, either. The ghosts that plague her on her namedays, day to day, they are there, he knows what they whisper — plenty had whispered to him day to day.

“You need not to dance, but you need not hide what plagues you, and what would make you at ease,” he says. “Her Grace the Queen has her voice in court, and if she’d like it, the King’s ear.”

Jaehaera looks at the floor, as she does, and let all the tears that had been unshed out. She needn’t close the distance, but she does need to know she can, if she’d like. He lets her sob until she tires herself out, helping her to the bed and tucks her in. 

Even if winter plagues them, forever piercing cold, as long as her skin is warm on this earth, she should have her own dream of spring. 

If one day she should choose it, he’d be willing to help her find it.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 3,348

Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.

In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.

They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.

Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right. 

“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”

“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.

“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”

“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”

“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”

You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.

“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”

You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.

You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”

Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.

“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.

You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.

“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”

Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”

Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”

You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”

“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.

Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement. 

“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”

You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”

Steven nods. 

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”

“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.

“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”

Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"

You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep. 

“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.

You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.

“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.

As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.

“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”

“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.

“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”

“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”

“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”

“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”

We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.

“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater. 

“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”

Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.

“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.

“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."

Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.

“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.

“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”

You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.

“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”

He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.

“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”

Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.

“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.

“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”

“Play along,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”

“Or I wanted to show you off.”

“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”

“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”

Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.

“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”

A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.

“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”

“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”

“Oh no, not Debbie.”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”

He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”

“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”

“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”

“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.

Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor. 

“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”

In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.

“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”

“Baby . . .”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs. 

“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.

“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”

“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.

“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.

“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.

“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”

“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”

You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.

“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”

As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.

“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.

“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”

Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks. 

“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”

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Marc Spector/Steven Grant Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @later-gators12​

[beauty-funny-trippy]

Heightened solar activity has prompted the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Space Weather Prediction Center to issue a geomagnetic storm watch for Aug. 9 and Aug. 10, 2024, coinciding more or less with the peak of the Perseid meteor shower (Aug. 11 and before dawn on Aug. 12).

If the predicted conditions are met, auroras might be visible as low as New York and Idaho, according to NOAA.

The reason for the storm watch are two plumes of plasma known as Coronal Mass Ejections (CMEs) that erupted from the sun on Aug. 7 and are now barreling toward Earth.

(picture info: to get an idea of the massive scale of a CME, the white circle represents the size of the Sun hidden behind the round orange-red light shield)

Keep in mind that even if a CME hits Earth, the likelihood of auroras depends on the CME's magnetic field alignment with the Earth's magnetosphere.

The Perseid meteor shower peaks overnight on Aug. 11 and Aug. 12. The best time to look for Perseids is in the predawn hours. You can see the Perseid meteor shower best in the Northern Hemisphere, away from city lights, where the night sky is dark. Look toward the north-east, near the constellation of Cassiopeia.

If you're unable to hunt for Perseids in person you can watch the Perseid meteor shower online for free this weekend.

[the-heartlines]

selfishly & selflessly

helaemond | dd:dne | explicit. 3k.

hotd au set after rook's rest in which aemond succeeds at committing fratricide, killing aegon, his king. all to claim everything he owns...including his brother's sisterwife he's yearned for, lusted after, loved for years.

helaena and aemond have a sweet past, but there is only so much she can take before she breaks.

for helaena is brave, bold, tired of being used by men, by everyone. and her defiance, the fight in her, blazes and ignites aemond's insides, the fire in his blood, only making him want her, desire her more.

cw: rape/noncon elements, extremely dubcon/dubcon, possessive behavior, choking, biting, slapping, blood kink, rough sex, dacryphilia, breeding kink (all the good dead dove stuff we love for peak brosisism 😏 )

“You have blood on your hands, brother.” Helaena voices to him, a boldness in her tone he had never once heard directed at him. “Blood as dark as a heart tree’s leaves. Blood that runs deep like the weirwood roots in the grounds of the godswood.” 

A sweet memory flashes across Aemond’s mind. One where Aemond is climbing the heart tree in the courtyard under the light of the full moon. Helaena is watching him, her hands holding a firefly carefully. And she’s smiling watching it light up, laughing joyfully. Her incandescence is infectious and it makes Aemond smile too. The fresh scar across his eye, still healing, stretched taut, but not paining him at that precise moment, for the first time. For who could ever feel any amount of pain seeing her smile? Her lilac eyes light up brighter than ten thousand fireflies?  

He wishes she would smile for him; that her lilac eyes would burn brighter than a hundred thousand fireflies for him.

He needs her to see, to truly see.

“Too much blood spilt. Your hands will never be clean, no matter how many times you wash them. They will always be stained with crimson, with our blood.” Aemond reaches out to cup Helaena’s cheek through her mourning veil, but she recoils from his hand, pulling from his touch for the first time in her life. “You have cursed me. You have cursed us, brother.”

Tears of anger, of grief pool in Helaena’s beautiful eyes and Aemond’s hand itches to wipe them away. But instead he grips the hilt of Blackfyre with one and the catspaw dagger with the other hand, thinking of the sacrifices, the blood he’s spilt—all for her. For them. So they could be free of their brother. So Aemond may finally be hers and Helaena, finally, his.

“His son’s blood,” Aemond breathes out through his flared nostrils deeply, anger swirling inside him thinking of his nephew, of his brother’s dead son. A son that should have been theirs. “Jaehaerys’ blood may be on my hands. But Aegon’s—our brother’s, your husband’s.” Aemond spits the word husbandseeing Helaena’s nostrils flare, angry tears fall down her lovely face. “His blood is on both our hands, sister. I killed him for you, for us. We are both unclean, but we may atone for our sins, together. As one. As husband and wife, Helaena.” Aemond pleads with her, his holy words, his prayer, thinking he would get on his knees for her. Worship her everyday for the rest of his days, but his pride, his blood is burning hotly, with dragonfire, having finally achieved his worth as a second son. And all it took was one word, one stab to his brother’s heart with their father’s prized dagger.

Aemond can still recall Aegon’s raspy voice, his last shallow breath, the word brother upon his lips, light as Helaena’s kisses peppering his. And he shall have more of those kisses, her lips, her tongue, her body, her cunt, her heart and soul. Her. For she owes him all of her, for he’s given all of himself to her. 

“We shall marry under the eyes of the Seven, sister. After my coronation, when the Septon anoints and places the conqueror’s crown on my head, you shall proclaim your loyalty, your love, for all to see that you are mine. For mother to see that I should have always been your husband.” Aemond smiles, his lone eye sparkling with triumph, matching the gleam in his sapphire eye, but it’s gone the moment Helaena’s open hand collides with his cheek, his bottom lip splitting open on his teeth.

“I belong to no one.” Helaena hisses and Aemond touches his lip, his tongue tasting coppery iron, shocked that she would strike him so, fight back. Her wrath and defiance, resentment, towards him should wake the feral dragon in him, but it does something else; stoking the embers of desire, of lust deep within. He wants this version of Helaena. His sister who matches the violence simmering under his skin. Someone with the same strength, fire and blood. 

He wants her to spill more of his blood, for she’s the only one allowed to do so.

“Yes you do, Helaena. You are mine. All of you. Your body and soul, your heart and spirit, your cunt.” Aemond licks his lips, his eye greedily traversing over her curves hidden beneath the dark green gown, itching to rip it, to cut it from her body with his dagger. Maybe draw her blood, wound her, savor and lick it clean. 

“No!” Helaena proclaims, gritting her teeth, her fist now colliding with the side of his scarred cheek. And Aemond laughs deep and the sound echoes off the walls of her bedchambers. “I belong to me alone, Aemond Targaryen!” She screams at him, hot tears spilling from her eyes like the blood from the wounds Aemond inflicted upon their brother. 

Aemond’s cock swells, longing to taste her tears, to taste all of her. Helaena bares her teeth at him, her hands begin to reach for his throat and he growls, deep and feral in his chest, when they tighten, constricting around him. 

“Kill me, sister.” Aemond rasps, her small hands not large enough to do so, but he wants her to try. He wants her to see that they are the same, for she has the same murderous look in her eyes mirrored in his own eye this very moment. “Kill me and then we will both be kinslayers, with our blood stained upon our bare hands. Take my life for your son’s, your husband’s. Our brother’s.”

Helaena lets out a feral cry releasing her hold from his throat and Aemond’s inhales and exhales deeply, oxygen filling his lungs, his cock throbbing with urgency. 

He stares deeply into her pained eyes once more and she slaps him across the face, again and again, harder each time before his fire is a raging beast, one untamed, as feral as she is. 

“Enough fighting me!” He grunts, his face burning with her burst of anger, her prints imbedded into his skin, grabbing her wrist, but this only encourages her to struggle against him, to attempt to fly away far from him. Hel's fire just as bright, brutally blazing beneath her pale flesh. But Aemond is stronger, bigger, faster. 

And he needs to fuck her, have her tight little cunt wrapped around him like her small fingers, until he’s spilling his blinding rage inside her, succumbing to the sweetness of his sister.

“You are mine and I will have you, Hel!” Aemond says, possessiveness dripping from his gritted teeth. He tears the dark green veil from her face, her braided hair, and a lovely look of shock and outrage wash over her features. He kisses her fully on the mouth, hard, rough, no sweetness to be found in this kiss. Because this is about control, about his claim. His claim to what is rightfully his. 

But his sister’s teeth are as sharp dragon claws and she bites him, in the same place his lip is split and Aemond hisses angrily, beyond aroused for her.

“N-no! I will never be yours!” She cries out and Aemond grabs her other wrist, spinning them around until her back is facing the wall. He presses her against it, his fingers constricting around her wrists, a tight shackle upon them. 

“Never, Helaena? Are you so sure about that, sister?"  She is trapped, caught in the maws of a predator now, forever entangled in her brother’s web. Aemond rubs his erect cock against her stomach, letting her feel what her delicious volatility does to him, before he drags it downward to the apex of her thighs. Helaena gasps, staring wide eyed at him, her eyes pleading with him. “No. Please.” She begs, fresh tears falling down her face, terrified. Aemond wonders if she ever begged their brother like this? The thought alone makes his cock ache with intense lust, a need so vast to empty inside her.

“Yes, sister,” Aemond laps up her tears with his tongue, leaving his blood streaked in their place across her cheeks. “I need an heir and you need a son.” He towers over her, encompassing her petite frame wholly, removing one of his hands from around her wrist, but keeps the other one around both her delicate wrists in a bruising grip. His immense veined hand, threatening to break her entirely. 

“A king must have a son and the Seven will bless this holy union with one.” Aemond bunches up Helaena’s skirts prudently, desperate to feel her naked folds against his calloused fingertips, his hands forever stained in their kin's blood shall now be stained anew with her sweet elixir, her honeyed juices.

Aemond’s hand travels over her stocking covered thighs, searching for naked flesh, but Helaena isn’t done begging him, defying him when she clenches her inner thighs together, denying his fingers access to her sacred center.

“Please, do not, Aemond.” She pleads with her pretty voice, her eyes shining with more tears. Aemond’s patience is running thin, “spread your thighs apart, sister, or I will show you the same mercy I showed our brother,” he whispers low in her ear, feeling her shiver, “towards his daughter.” 

“You wouldn’t!” Helaena panics, trying to pull from Aemond, no doubt trying to flee to her daughter. To keep her safe from suffering the same fate her brother and father have. “Jaehaera is blameless! She has done nothing!”

“And you must keep her safe, sister. Now behave for me and I promise that no harm will befall your sweet, innocent princess.” 

Aemond’s lips once again lock onto hers and he swallows down her soft sob, his hand insistently pressing against her core. Helaena parts her thighs allowing him access to that intimate part of her he’s coveted ever since his brother was allowed to sample her first.

“Helaena,” Aemond gasps when he cups her cunt, feeling how utterly drenched her small clothes are. “You’re soaked, sweet girl.” His mouth waters, wanting to see, to smell, to taste all of her sweet musk for himself. But his cock demands her cunt and he can no longer deny himself the feeling of it pressed against her, her wrapped around all of him.

Aemond’s impatient, ripping her small clothes from her body, unlacing his leather breeches fiercely, freeing his cock. “Were you ever this wet for our brother, sweet sister?”

Aemond doesn’t give Helaena time to answer, grasping his cock, pushing her legs apart wide and pressing himself inside her, from crown to root, in one swift, harsh thrust. He hisses loudly, gutturally watching her beautiful, stunning, flushed face; the way she gasps quietly, biting her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes fluttering shut. 

Aemond wonders if it is from pain or pleasure? Both?

Because he’s never experienced such an exquisite fiery heat, a tightness almost too unbearable to encapsulate, comprehend. He never wants to leave; never wishes to part from her sweet body, ever.

A body he longs to see, coveting the dark green gown covering it entirely from his wandering eye.

Aemond unsheathes his father’s dagger from its sleeve, keeping his cock still sheathed inside his sister, heart skipping a beat. She opens her eyes suddenly, gasping, concern shadowing her face. “W-What are you doing?” She questions him, squeezing him tightly for a moment, her hands clenched into tight fists, not daring to touch him, but threatening to do worse.

“Fuck, stay still before I cut you!” Aemond grunts, imagining her milky skin painted with blood; licking, cleaning it up. Her chest expands with air as she breathes in deeply in and out of her lungs before staying completely frozen watching him with worried eyes as he slices through her silk dress easier than flesh. She gasps again, shivering, the fabric falling away like a second skin, until he’s cutting through the front of her bodice, leaving her in just her shift. 

He eyes a speckle of blood just above her right breast, near her heart, dripping down towards her peaked rosy nipple. And his veins roar with dragonfire, hungering, longing to taste, to satiate his inner predator.

The dagger clatters to the stone, and Aemond undoes his sword belt letting it fall to the floor next to her tattered gown. He grips Helaena by her ass, his fingers digging into the plump flesh, finally making her moan. “Wrap your legs around me, Hel.” Aemond whispers against the crook of her neck and she heeds his command, her legs winding tightly around his torso, at the same time he latches on her pulse with his lips, directly onto the slight scar left behind, marking the spot her blood was spilt that fateful night her son was slain. He groans against her flesh, his tongue gliding down to suck at the slice just above the roundness of her breast.

“Aemond,” Helaena speaks sweetly, breathless, without disgrace, disgust or shame; shuddering against him now, her hands touching him of their own accord. And it makes him wickedly wanton, when her fingers begin threading into his hair, tugging desperately onto his silver strands. 

“Helaena,” he hisses, his lips kissing the top of her breast, her heartbeat thundering underneath him staggeringly. “Helaena,” he says again, repeating it, needing her to hear him, “my sweet, sweet sister.” He thrusts in and out of her cunt shallowly, sucking her hardened nipple into his mouth through the sheer shift. Helaena’s fingernails dig half moon indents into his scalp, and he hisses, biting down onto her sensitive nub. 

“More, harder,” Helaena hisses back, her nails scraping against his scalp, and this time she draws blood; his blood now staining her hands. “Fuck me, Aemond,” her walls flutter around his cock menacingly, choking him. And he’s a slave to her demands, craves it more than he can fathom. 

But he needs to hear the words he craves, cannot live without, before he succumbs to her, his sister, his future wife and queen—the mother of his children.

“Say it, Helaena,” Aemond rasps against her breast, throat thick with emotion, head pounding with the overwhelming lust that storms inside him. “Say it,” he murmurs against her skin, his tongue trailing upwards, traveling the familiar path towards her plump, pomegranate red lips. “Say it, sister. Say the words and I will fuck you.” He kisses her lips gingerly, then her fevered cheek, finally sucking her ear lobe into his mouth seductively. Helaena whimpers, her grip on his silky hair softening, as she melts against him like molten gold. The sun curving against the crescent of the most lustrous, resplendent silver, slivered moon.

“Yours, brother, I am yours.” She confesses and there is nothing but verity, vulnerable honesty, in her honeyed voice and Aemond growls, slamming her back against the wall of his bedchambers, his hands tearing the shift from her body, fondling, groping every inch of her nakedness selfishly. Her teats, her ass, her hips, the curve of her belly. “Mine, mine, mine.” He chants over and over again, afraid he’ll wake up from this dream to the nightmare of Helaena, his sister, belonging to their fool of a brother. A whoring brother who could never please his sister—not like Aemond can, always will.

“Time to fuck you, sweet Helaena. Time to show you what it’s like for a king to fuck his queen.” Aemond lifts one of Helaena’s plush thighs over his shoulder hearing her yelp, his other hand gripping onto the front of her neck, with a gentleness Aemond didn’t know still resided in him. 

His eye follows to where they’re conjoined, cock connected to cunt, and he withdraws half way before thrusting inside her, watching, hypnotized by how selfishly her orifice swallows him whole, devours him so. “I am yours, Helaena. Yours, sister.” Aemond kisses her lips hungrily, his tongue penetrating her mouth while he penetrates her body. Over and over again. Both siblings’ breaths growing shallower, his cock fucking into her at a maddening pace.

“More, please, harder,” Helaena pleads, seizing a hold of his wrist that’s just holding her throat. “You promised, my king,” Helaena sucks his bottom lip between her teeth soothing over her tongue and Aemond understands her meaning, that she needs the pained pleasure, everything that he can offer. 

“You’re so tight, Hel, so feverish and wet. All for me, mine, until death parts us.” Aemond promises, meaning every word with a volatile thrust, his adrenaline threatening to burn him hotter than dragon fire, consume him from the inside out. His fingers curl around her throat tighter, threatening to leave a beautiful array of blossoming bruises, as he bottoms out into her cunt roughly, brutally, hearing her growl low in her throat. His dragon goddess through and through.

"I'm going to come inside you, sweet wife. I'm going to give you a son, my son, our son." Aemond rasps, sweating, feeling feverish, like he might collapse with how badly he needs this. Every muscle, bone, and vein aching wearily, but he fights through the pain, the exertion, needing to experience her pleasure, her entire being coming undone around him.

So he clutches onto her throat tighter, choking her, demanding her climax, her cunt to choke him tighter, cling onto and milk his seed from his body.

"Our son." Helaena's shaking her head yes, her small breaths labored; little moans and broken gasps escaping her lips. "Choke me, my queen, take my seed!" Aemond cries, his body beginning to shake, to tremble, his knees threatening to crumble into dust, burnt to ash. "Take all of me, selfishly, for yourself, sister. For I am selflessly yours, H-Helaena!" Aemond swears, groaning loudly, when he watches her eyes roll back into her skull, her cunt extravagantly vice tight around him, stealing his seed, his intense pleasure form him. "Gods! Fuck, Helaena! Give me everything!" He curses, his flames bursting at the seams, unspooling and unraveling aggressively, as he filthily fucks into her sopping, squelching cunt through her climax, until Helaena's putting her hands back around his neck, luring her towards him with her sweet, plump lips near his.

"Yes, yes, Aemond, everything...my brother. Myhusband." she rasps out feral, her throat parched, and Aemond quenches her thirst, feeds her his festering fire, let's her drink of his sweet possessive poison, giving her everything. All of him, for eternity. 

Helaena kisses him passionately, profoundly, blistering vehemence and viciousness lingering on her teeth and tongue.

Aemond hisses, both dragons devouring, consuming the other selfishly, collapsing onto the floor, conjoined, two bodies as one.

A brother and a sister tangled in one another, broken and bruised by the other, sewing and stitching the other together...selflessly.

[randomguy0ntumbir]

Reasons the Tears of the Kingdom Zora Quest is hands down the best of the four "Regional Phenomena" quests (moderate spoilers):

-Sidon

-the Zora's domain is gorgeous

-the sludge is genuinely annoying and makes you want to get rid of it

-the whole quest is an multi-layered, befuddling puzzle that takes time and head-scratching to figure out

-the childrens' game is very funny

-the "missing" tablet piece being like four feet away from the rest is very funny

-the Sludge Like that appears at one point being titled "The Ambusher of Mipha's Court" is very funny

-Sidon

-swimming up a waterfall and flying out the top wheeeeeee

-the sky fish literally being just a regular island shaped like a fish is very funny

-Dorephan's hideout being behind a waterfall, the most cliche videogame trope, somehow works because

-A. the Zora domain having like 20 waterfalls makes you either not register to check them or get bored after the 5th one

-B. the Zora armour makes you not realise that there might be something behind waterfalls because you now expect their gameplay purpose to be wheeeeeee

-it's already funny how short Link is but seeing him next to Sidon is just that much more funny

-I swear the quest has a lot more cutscenes and setpieces than the other ones

-Sidon

-the water temple being in the sky makes no fucking sense and yet it does

-the journey to and the water temple being isolated in the sky makes it feel more like a Prominent Location and less like just another point of interest

-the trek to the water temple is long and complex and obtuse and has many enemies and is dramatic as fuck

-low gravity wheeeeeee

-the water temple is gorgeous

-the water temple's puzzles feel more like puzzles and less like "find seven things" (looking at you, fire and wind temples)

-the water temple's two left puzzles fking rock

-SIDON LITERALLY PROPOSES TO LINK

-Sidon's ability in combat is somewhat more nuanced than "big rock man go boom" or "big lightning lady go boom"

-Sidon's regular weapon is a spear, giving him both speed, range, defense, and utility

-Sidon's wink face is peak character design

-everyone in the kingdom coming to see Sidon's coronation and it's like 20 people is very funny

-Sidon actually figured out that Zelda is in to the past and the current one is an identity thief, unlike most other sages

-Sidon