aquamoonphotography

[nicestpamkale]

Marratai throughout the years;

Proud of my improvements tbh! Also- she's become a lot warmer through these years aswell. I actually look at her and think "I trust her" now, lol.

This last image is one I made of her and her husband Galleon! They really are a soft couple tbh!

[writing-intheundercroft]

At Home - S. Sallow

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5,311

Rating: E (Smut, Oral and Vaginal Sex, slight breeding kink, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: Sebastian drags you out of bed on a Saturday to look at a possible new home.

A/N: Two things: one, I'm now two for two on fics featuring a sink sex scene. Two, I put Sebastian through enough angst in my long fic that I need to write him happy and domestic in another universe. Enjoy!

Taglist: @legacygirlingreen @kaylasallow @eternalremorse @happyaccidentsonly @sallowslady @legendoftortor @sissyisawitch @rainychocofroggy @blueraineshadows @moonstruckmoony @beezlub @loving-him-was-red13

“I don’t know if I like the lighting here.” You frown, looking out the small kitchen window. It’s minuscule, and you’re looking straight out into a brick alleyway. “I think a kitchen should be bright, shouldn’t it?”

Sebastian leans against the door frame, his hand on his face. “Pet, you’re killing me here.” he says, a tortured look on his face. “This is the eleventh house we’ve looked at. At this rate, we’ve turned down half the available housing in London.” 

“I know, I know.” You fuss, crossing your arms. “But it needs to be just right.  I don’t want to lease just any house, you know.”

“I do know, but we’re going to burst out of my place any day now,” Sebastian grumbles. 

That was the truth–your belongings had overtaken the space, and there was not a free spot in his bachelor pad for anything else. One night, you argued over all the books Sebastian had accumulated, while he griped about your ever growing wand handle collection taking over the dresser. Sebastian had tripped mid-argument, causing a fit of laughter on your end while you patched up his sprained ankle.

Only after you’d kissed it better did Sebastian declare that it was time to find a new place.

“But it makes no sense,” Sebastian whines. “You still have your flat, and you never sleep there.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You raise an eyebrow. “ Someone isn’t comfortable sleeping there. You know, it’s just a bed.”

Sebastian shifts uncomfortably in the doorway. He’s refused to sleep at your place ever since he found out your ex-fiance purchased your bed frame and mattress for you. “I won’t sleep in some other man’s bed.” he says firmly. 

You roll your eyes, walking towards him. “It’s not another man’s bed, it’s my bed. You really won’t, not even if I want you to?” You pout, drumming your fingers against his chest.

The brunette gulps. “No.” he says, and that’s that.

Your fingers curl around his suspenders. “Then, we need to find a house with proper lighting.” you announce. “And a good kitchen.  This one is rubbish.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Add that to the list of requirements then,” he drawls. “We’ll be looking for houses for the next five years.”

The two of you leave the house hand in hand.  After having settled into your new day shift at the hospital, you finally felt comfortable taking more vacation days. You must admit, Sebastian forcing you to take more time off has been good for your mental health.  Your brain has never felt clearer, and for once in your life, you’re planning more than a month ahead. Summer is rapidly approaching, and Sebastian has suggested a few places for the two of you to go away on a proper adult holiday. The last time you were together, you could hardly spare two galleons outside of your rent between the two of you.  Now that you’re grown with successful careers and your own bank accounts, Sebastian is planning your first vacation as a couple.

As a couple.  Those words sound sweet in your head.

It’s been nearly eight months since the two of you reunited, three since Sebastian was promoted at the department of magical law enforcement.  It honestly feels like things can’t possibly get any better for the two of you. Nothing’s changed, not really . You still have your own life, your friends, your job–just now, you have Sebastian again. Every day you wake up beside him, you pinch yourself, thanking the gods it's still your reality. 

Until you trip over Sebastian’s boots, which are littered all over the bedroom floor. 

“It’s impossible to find a nice house in London,” you complain.  “Either they’re too small, not enough storage, terrible lighting.  Surely we make enough money between the two of us to afford a nicer place.”

“Well, location is a tricky bit.” Sebastian admits. “Somewhere close enough to the ministry for me, but close enough to St. Mungo’s for you. And while we do have a fair bit of galleons, I would like to save them for something more important.” 

“More important?” you tilt your head in confusion.

“You’ll see,” Sebastian smiles devilishly. “Shall we get lunch?”

He runs his thumb over your hand as he swings it back and forth, guiding you through the bustling streets of London.  You made a mental note to pester him about what he was talking about later, but for now, lunch sounds good.

It’s Saturday, and you have the entire weekend off for once.  You were looking forward to sleeping in, but Sebastian decided to make a racket, tugging your ankle from beneath the sheets.

“Seb, please.” you whine. “I just want to sleep.”

“But I have a house I want you to see,” Sebastian says impatiently. 

You groan. “Seb, it’s Saturday.  Can’t you see it without me?” you grumble. 

Sebastian shakes his head insistently. “No, you have to come.  You’ll want to, I promise.”

Sebastian is tapping his foot the entire time you dress; you opt for a simple blue day dress, scandalously forgoing your corset for comfort.  Your messy hair is left down and wavy, tying up a bow at the crown to keep the unruly pieces from flying into your face.  Your impatient boyfriend all but drags you to the fireplace as he mumbles out the name of your intended location, tucking you into his arms.

You open your eyes to bright sunlight.  Blinking, you realize you’re no longer in London–in fact, you’re somewhere that looks awfully familiar from your school days.

“Where are we?” you breathe, taking in the fresh air.  Tall grass sways in the wind around the two of you, and Sebastian is walking up towards a house, turning back with his hand outstretched. You take his hand, and he helps you hop over a small stream.

“Marunweem,” Sebastian yells over the wind, smiling back at you. “Plenty of real estate around here–they’ve rebranded it as an up and coming village.”

You recall memories of exploring Marunweem Lake with Sebastian in your school years; it had always been rather desolate, considering neither of you were licensed to apparate and the only path to the hamlet was through a goblin mine.  But the two of you had always had the time of your lives traversing the southern coast.  You can picture your younger selves in the air, zipping around on borrowed school brooms together.  

“Ominis found the listing,” Sebastian continues, beckoning you forward. “The Ministry has done quite a bit to rehabilitate the area.” Sebastian guides you up the hill, unlatching a well worn gate.  The stone cottage is teeming with ivy, crawling up the walls. The storybook tiles on the roof make the house look like it’s straight out of a muggle fairytale. 

You take a deep breath as you wave your wand, unlocking the door.  The wooden floors creak beneath your feet, but otherwise, the place is in good condition.  The walls have been replastered, the fireplace cleaned and sparkling. The only furniture is an old looking settee and a bear skin rug (a tad gauche for your taste). You make your way through the living room to the kitchen.  Its positively bathed in light, a large bay window over the sink looks over an enormous yard.  You practically run up to the sink edge, admiring the view.

“So much light,” you gasp. “Seb, it’s perfect.”

“You are,” Sebastian suddenly appears behind you, pressing himself against your back.  You can feel his breath tickling your ear as he wraps his arms around your body. “The perfect view to watch our children play in the yard, don’t you think?” he murmurs into your ear.

Your breath catches as he stretches out his hand, his palm flat against the lower plane of your stomach.  He presses it; almost wishfully.  Your heart flutters at the idea of growing his child inside of you.

The two of you haven’t gotten around to talking about children yet. You both were far too young to even think about parenthood when you first got together, and even when you broke up. You had talked about raising children with your former fiance, and it had always been part of the ten year plan. You explained that you had wanted to wait until you were older, more stable in your career.  Eric had always found that answer unsatisfying, but now you knew the true reason for your hesitance.  

You hadn’t been talking about parenthood with the right person.

“Children, you say?” The word sounds so foreign coming out of your mouth.

You can practically feel the way Sebastian’s cheeks burn. “Only if you want,” he shrugs, but you know he’s serious.  The way he’s pressing his hand against your womb is very much serious.  

You look back out into the yard, picturing toddlers with unruly brunette hair giggling and running about.  You can even picture Sebastian chasing them, whirling them in the air as you prepare an afternoon tea. Building snowmen in the backyard, teaching them to fly on toy brooms.  Growing old with Sebastian at your side, with the family you’ve built together.

It's sickeningly domestic, but it feels right.

“I would,” you whisper. 

Sebastian wastes no time spinning you around, a big goofy grin on his face. “Really?” he asks, completely lighting up.  He plants his hands firmly on your waist, fingers digging into your skin. His eyes flit down to your waist when he realizes you’re not wearing a corset, squeezing you through your dress.

You laugh, placing your hands on his chest. “Really.”  

Sebastian pulls you away from the kitchen. “Good, because there are plenty of rooms in the house,” he announces, moving towards the stairs. “There’s three rooms on the second floor, and the master bedroom is here on the main.” he explains, tugging your arm to show you around the house.  The bedrooms first; they’re decently sized, enough for twin beds and toys.  The main bedroom has enough space for several wardrobes, which you’ll be needing for all your clothes. The bathroom has a giant clawfoot tub, and you can envision the two of you wrestling a toddler for a bath in it.

“I was thinking, we could use a spare bedroom as my office for now.” Sebastian says as you two walk back into the kitchen.  He’s clearly been thinking about this a lot longer than you’d realized. “The baby will sleep in our room for the first couple of months–”

“The baby?” you raise your eyebrow. “For months?”

“Of course,” Sebastian huffs. “Jorkins sent me this article about babies, said it’s best for their brain and magic development to stay close to us–”

“Sebastian,” you choke out, “have you been telling your coworkers that you’d like to have a baby?” 

Sebastian pauses, turning bright red. “Too much?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.  His hair is slightly messy, a few pieces sticking up in the back.  He usually did his hair quite tidy for work, but you loved when he left it undone on the weekends.  It reminded you of him as a teenager; you’d always flatten down his cowlicks for him.

It’s your turn to blush. “No, I just–I just didn’t realize you were ready.”

“Pet, I’ll be ready when you’re ready.  You'll be the one doing all the hard work anyways, the least I can do is a bit of research.” he says, grabbing your hands.  He pulls your palm to his warm cheek. “I just want to prepare myself, that’s all.  You know I don’t have my parents around to ask these questions, so I’ve been asking a few of the dads at the office how they’ve managed–”

Sebastian doesn’t have enough time to finish; you’ve properly launched yourself onto him, breathlessly kissing him.  He’s mad, you think, to start preparing for your pregnancy before even presenting the idea to you.  But at the same time, it's incredibly alluring.  Sebastian already dotes on you, and the thought of him worshiping you as you grow a human is tempting.

In short, the idea of Sebastian as a father is sexy.

“I was hoping you’d react this way.” Sebastian says, a shit eating grin gracing his freckled face as he embraces you.  You gasp as his hips roll against yours.

Sebastian is blatantly hard in the middle of an empty house.  You can feel his erection digging into your hip, turned on by all the talk of you possibly getting pregnant.  While you had been peeved that morning at him for dragging you out of bed, you’re thankful to have seen the house.  And considering you’ll be purchasing the home with him, you think what’s about to happen next is excusable.  The house had to be christened at some point.

(Perhaps Sebastian’s attitude is rubbing off on you.)

Sebastian’s eyes are burning into you as you start unbuttoning his jacket.  He licks his lips excitedly as you shuck it to the ground, going slack jawed as you start working off his suspenders. Stepping back, you put your hands on your hips, cocking an eyebrow at the normally shameless man in front of you.

“Am I going to do all the work then?” you tease.

Sebastian wastes no time–he never does.  He rushes forward towards you, pulling you in for a hot, searing kiss.  You let out a wanton moan as his tongue starts tracing circles on your neck, tugging at the buttons of your dress.  He all but tears it off, leaving wisps of blue fabric in his path of destruction.  

“Can’t wait–need you now,” he wheezes, tugging your undergarments down. You can hear the buttons snapping as he tears off his shirt. You laugh, which turns into a gasp as his fingers circle against your core, dipping into your wet center.  He’s nudging your legs apart, fingers writhing inside of you as he runs his tongue over your bare nipple. 

“Sebastian!” you scold him, but you know it's in vain.  He knows your every desire, the spots that make you shake, and your head lolls to the side as he kneels before you, pulling  your legs apart further. His big brown eyes are looking up at you, pupils blown with pleasure as he places his mouth directly over your clit, sucking hard. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Sebastian murmurs against your sex. “Mmph, I can’t wait to be inside of you.” 

His fingers are pumping in and out of you, tongue flicking at your clit with desperation. Sebastian wants–no, he needs you to come on his face. You grab a fistful of his messy brown hair and the tugging only encourages him to press his face deeper against you. You can feel the way his fingers grip your bottom, palming them as he fucks you with his hand. Your knees buckle as his fingers curl against that spot inside of you, the lewd sound of Sebastian lapping at your soaking wet cunt filling the room.

“You dragged me out here to have your way with me,” you stutter between moans. 

Sebastian pulls his face from you, smiling up at you.  His devious look and the glistening slick on his chin is enough to make you fold right then and there. “And so what if I did?” he asks, voice low.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you trying to impregnate me right now?”

Sebastian licks his lips as he stands, unbuttoning his pants. You feel like prey as his eyes rove over your shaking, naked form. Stepping out of his pants and undergarments in one smooth move, you bite your bottom lip as you watch him pump his thick cock in his hand. 

“I brought you here with the purest intentions,” Sebastian murmurs.  Your back is pressed against the sink, and he turns you around roughly to face the yard again.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” you sigh.

He laughs, but his voice is raspy from pleasure. “I wanted to show you our future home,” he whispers.  His length twitches against your back and you shiver. “But you look so beautiful–and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m going to take you on every single surface in this house.”

“Oh really?” you whimper.

Sebastian nods, pressing a kiss against your neck, guiding you to lean over the edge of the sink.  He nudges your legs apart again, pressing the tip of his length against your bare arse. 

“Really.  When we properly move in, I’m going to make you fall apart in every room.  Fill you with my seed over and over again until it takes.” he says through gritted teeth.  His hand falls to your stomach again, pressing tightly.

Your breath catches as you feel the crown of his cock slip against your dripping core. You’ve never heard him speak like this before–Sebastian had been your first sexual experience, and because you’d broken up when you were still rather young, the two of you had been rather vanilla.  The past few months have certainly pushed the boundaries, exposing you to new experiences with one another.  There have been some discoveries, but the sound of desperation in his voice is revealing a new kink for Sebastian. 

You’re certainly not complaining–the thought of him coming inside of you repeatedly with the full intention of seeing you swell with his child is doing something to you.  

Sebastian bites into your shoulder as he slowly slips his length into you.  You lean over the sink further, arms flying out to anything that will steady you as the brunette spears himself into you, slowly and intentionally. Sebastian palms your breasts with one hand, lurching over your back as he grinds his hips against your bottom.

“I want you to think about this moment, every time you’re standing over the sink.” Sebastian grunts, his other hand still pressed firmly against your belly. The cadence of his thrusts remain even and slow, entirely deliberate. “Want you to remember how good I fucked you here.”

You whine, arms reaching back to grip your lover’s hair. “ Fuck, Sebastian.”

Sebastian laughs breathily against your ear as he fucks into you. “So good for me, my beautiful girl.  Fuck, I’ve thought about this for months,” he admits. 

“About fucking me against a sink?” you joke.

“No,” you can practically envision him rolling his eyes. “Well, yes, that’s one of my fantasies. Mmph –specifically, about you, pregnant with my—our child.”

You let out an obscene sound. “You’ve been thinking about it for months?” The end of your question is punctuated with a sweet cry as Sebastian snaps his hips forward again.

“Since the moment we got back together,” Sebastian confesses. His arms tighten around you like a boa constrictor; you’re not sure how he’s still standing on two legs as he thrusts against you.  You break free from his clutches to lean forward, standing on the tips of your toes.  The move only makes him reach deeper within your cunt, both of you moaning in unison at the shift in angle.

“I’ve known–known since that moment it’s going to be you,” Sebastian pants. “ Fuck, I could do this all day. I could never have enough of you, pet.”

You whine, pushing back against him. Sebastian stumbles a few feet back, a shocked look on his face. Too much, the pleading eyes ask. 

Not enough.

You surge towards him, a blue wisp as you push him to the ground (your ancient magic somehow padding the two of you as you land on the creaky floorboards).  Sebastian’s eyes are wide open as you straddle him, placing kisses on his face. 

“I want you to see me,” you whisper, straddling him and positioning yourself atop his cock. Sebastian lets out a throaty groan as you sink onto him, inch by inch, until you’re fully seated on his lap.  You lean forward, pressing another kiss to his lips. “I want to look at you when you fill me.”

“Fuck, my love,” Sebastian whines. “You’re going to be so damn beautiful–gods, I can picture it now, watching you carry my baby,” he grits his teeth as you bounce up and down on his length. “I can’t wait to fuck you over and over again– ugh –until you’re properly full of me.” He starts pushing his hips up; you know how much he loves it when you’re on top of him, but he hates relinquishing control. He continues his loud praise, his voice cracking as he holds his hand lovingly over your stomach.

You can feel the coil of pleasure in your belly tighten, furrowing your eyebrows as your climax nears. Nearly there–almost–

You look down at Sebastian.  You half expect him to have his eyes shut in pleasure, nose wrinkling as he focuses on his finish.  Instead, you see adoring eyes roving up and down your body, a dreamy smile on his face.  He looks proud, you think, as his thumbs ghost over your waist and stomach. The look of pure devotion on his face as you grind against him sets you off, wailing as you climax on top of him.

Sebastian wastes no time once you’ve lost control.  He flips you over onto your back, his thrusts stuttering as he chases his own orgasm.  Sebastian presses a searing kiss against your lips as you feel him spill inside of you.  He bucks his hip against you a few times, gasping as he slumps against your body.  He’s still inside of you, but you can feel the hot release dripping from your cunt.

Sebastian lifts his face, giving you a sheepish smile as he rests his chin on your breasts. 

“Not exactly how I’d thought our Saturday would go, but I’m quite happy with it.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, don’t lie. You’re such a scoundrel.”

Sebastian nuzzles his face into your breasts, still sheathed inside of you. “Oh, but I’m your scoundrel.” he smiles proudly, pressing his lips against your chest.

The two of you are silent for a few moments, until you clear your throat. “You really do want to have a baby with me?” you ask, your voice a tad timid.

Sebastian gives you an honest, pure smile.  That was a quality you loved about him so much–he wore his emotions on his face, and you always knew when he was being truthful. 

“I want to have a family with you, pet.  I want us to have everything we’ve ever wanted, together.” he admits.

“Babies aren’t easy,” you warn him.  “It’ll be a lot of work, a lot of sleepless nights.”

“I never asked for easy,” Sebastian reminds you. “I’ve only ever asked for you.”

“I’m not going to stop working.” You warn Sebastian, pulling a blanket up higher over your chest.

“I would never ask you to,” Sebastian stokes the fire before settling back down next to you.  

It’s now late at night; the two of you have been at it all day.  Starved, you let Sebastian leave the house to search for provisions.  He ran down to the closest tavern, buying the two of you a feast to snack on throughout your impromptu stay. Meanwhile, you’d worked on the fire, conjuring some cushions and blankets from a small stash of moonstone you’d kept in your bag for emergencies. 

It’s dark, the rural sky filled with twinkling stars.  You’d missed the way the sky looked in the highlands, no city lights to pollute the view. The two of you are sitting naked in front of the fire, stuffing your faces with bread and cheese, washing it down with a local mead.  Given your spirited activities throughout the day, you decide it’s time to be adults and talk logistics.

“Someone will need to watch the baby.” you remind him, passing a knife so he can slather some compote on the bread.

“We could ask Anne?” Sebastian suggests, taking a big bite. “I’m sure she’d love to.  She always loved babysitting the children in Feldcroft when we were younger. She sure likes to pretend she raised me—y’know, on second thought, maybe not Anne then…”

“Do you think Ominis would mind? I think he’d be nervous around a child.  Besides, there’s no way Anne would apparate here daily just to watch the baby.” You lean back on your elbows, biting back a smile.  You never thought you’d be having this conversation with Sebastian, but it feels right; the most natural progression for your relationship.

“Well, I was planning on fixing up a floo connection in the fireplace.” Sebastian shrugs. “So we could get to work, and so Anne and Ominis can visit.”

“You really have thought of everything,” you say coyly. “Except to pack clothes for tonight.”

“To be fair, I hadn’t been planning on shagging you in broad daylight in the kitchen.” Sebastian snorts. “But I can’t keep my hands off you, pet.”

“I’m sure you’ll be singing a different tune when I’m the size of a graphorn.” you wrinkle your nose. Your hands ghost over your naked stomach, drawing circles over where a child may grow someday.

“Don’t say that,” Sebastian scolds. “You are going to be the most gorgeous mother. Merlin, I’m going to get hard just thinking about it again.” He sighs dramatically.

You roll your eyes, smacking his shoulder.  Sebastian winks at you, a slight blush growing on his face.  He pulls a cushion onto his lap, and you cannot believe the stamina on this man.

“At least let me finish my meal first,” you tease. 

Sebastian rolls onto his stomach, playing with the tassels on the blanket.  You resist the urge to slap his freckled bottom, instead trying to focus on the serious, adult conversation you were trying to have.

“So, we’re buying the house then.” You state, taking a bite of cheese.

“We’re buying the house.” Sebastian echoes. “When I saw the picture, I just knew.  Remember how we used to race our brooms here?  I couldn’t stop picturing us teaching our kids how to fly here, just like we did.”

You nod. “I always loved Marunweem.”  It’s the perfect place to settle down, you think.  Now it makes sense why none of the houses in London were quite right for the two of you.  No light, no yard, no room to grow.  Living in the highlands, you have fresh air, water nearby, and plenty of space for your future family.  You haven’t flown on a broom in a long time; you can’t wait to see how long it’ll take you to get to Hogsmeade from here. With a floo connection in your fireplace, getting to work won’t be so bad. 

Your hand absentmindedly flutters down to your stomach again. Everything will change with a baby in your life.  You’ve just gotten back into the groove with Sebastian, are you sure you want to change everything now?

“What are you thinking, pet?” Sebastian murmurs.

You lick your lips. “That everything will change once we have a baby.” you admit. “Are we ready?”

Sebastian scoots towards you, his fingers catching under your chin. “I’m ready when you are.” he whispers. “If you don’t want this right now, I’m completely fine with that. You say the word, we’ll go to the apothecary tomorrow and get the necessary potions.  I want you to want this for you, not just for me.”

Your sweet, thoughtful, loving boyfriend.  Sebastian is the perfect gentleman. You nod your head shyly; who knows, it could take ages for you to get pregnant. You don’t want to start getting too far ahead of yourself.

“So, I’ll send an owl to the seller when we get back to London.” Sebastian says, tangling his fingers in yours. “We should start packing.  We’re throwing away your bed, by the way.”

“Only if we throw away yours too.” You remind him. 

Sebastian laughs. “Buying a new bed—duly noted.”

“Is that why you were saving your money?” you ask, looking into the fire.  You remember the conversation the two of you had when you left the house tour last week.  “For a house?”

Sebastian laughs again, this time sounding a bit shy himself. “Oh no, surprisingly, the house was dirt cheap. It was for something else.”  He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What for?”

Sebastian is as naked as the day he was born, but he rolls onto his knees to rummage through his jacket, which has been long discarded on the floor.  Your eyes widen as he pulls something small out of the inner pocket.

“Was going to ask after you agreed on the house, but we got side tracked.” Sebastian bites down on his lower lip, holding up the diamond ring. It sparkles in the light of the fireplace. “Will you marry me?”

You blink down at him, mouth slightly ajar.  

“I know it’s probably not as big as your last ring,” Sebastian admits, the tips of his ears red. “But I saw it in the shop and it made me think of you. And I thought, why are we waiting?  We’ve been apart for so long, and even though it’s really only been eight months, I know it’s you–it’s always been you–I know I want you to be my wife, I’ve always wanted to marry you–” he shakes his brown mane, rambling on. “If it’s too soon for you, I understand, I just want you to consider it; you don’t have to say yes right away—“

Your lips crash against his.  It’s so utterly on brand for Sebastian; forgoing the tradition of bending down on one knee, he’s stark naked next to you, rolling on the floor with a diamond ring in hand. 

“You arse, Sebastian Sallow.” you mumble against his lips.

Sebastian holds you tight; you can feel his closed fist on your back, holding the ring. “Can I be yours?  For the rest of our lives?” he whispers.

You laugh, pulling away to brush away a tear. “Of course,” you say breathlessly. “Of course I’ll marry you, you silly man.”

Sebastian’s smile is beaming from ear to ear as he slips the diamond ring onto your finger.  You slide back against his chest, holding your hand out to admire it.  He’s done well–a sparkling diamond set in gold.  The feeling is so unlike your previous engagement; then, you’d wanted to hide it from everyone, but now you simply can’t wait to shout from the rooftops that you’re the future Mrs. Sallow.  

You’d marry him tomorrow if possible, you think. As his hand brushes against your stomach, you think you might have to soon. The thought doesn’t bother you; it’s been blatantly obvious who you belong to since you saved him eight months ago.

“What a day it’s been,” Sebastian sighs, nuzzling your neck. “Bought a house, got engaged.  I can’t wait to tell Anne and Ominis; they’ll kill me when I tell them how I did it.” he chuckles.

“We’ll tell them first thing tomorrow,” you announce, curling up in his arms. “I just want to remember this, just the two of us.”

“Hopefully not for long,” Sebastian whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.   

Sebastian is babbling about his renovation plans for the house, things he wants to tweak and change to make it just right for the two of you. You watch the fire crackle in front of you, nodding absentmindedly. This is the first memory in your new home, you think.  You’ll raise your children in this house, celebrate birthdays and holidays in front of this old fireplace. And one day, you’ll tell your children that you got engaged here.  A far more appropriate version of the story of course, when they’re older and able to understand.

Mum and Dad got engaged at home.  It sounds right. 

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || Special

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Mingyu (Seventeen) & BTS

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes.

GENRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

PREVIOUS (FF) CHAPTER:

PREVIOUS (TEXT) CHAPTER:

FIRST CHAPTER:

after the event of TEXT chapter 2....

'Noona what are you doing awake? - Niki mumbles, sleepily, stretching his arm across my thighs at the height of his head and squeezing them. Shit. - Aren't you sleepy... maybe?’ He chuckles, not entirely lucid.

I breathe deeply as I break into a cold sweat. He was close. Close to… discovering me sexting Jake.

But why did I let myself go? I even touched myself, my god - it's fine to be open-minded, but can I handle such an emotional load?

And also the cold way he greeted me. Oh Jaeyun… I know someone like me could never hurt you, but just imagining that I could have annoyed you, that… that makes me anxious, regretful.

There's also Heeseung, him and his stupid way of deluding me. Still, I shouldn't have said those things to him in the hallway, I must have looked pathetic.

But then why does he tell me I'm different? Why does he delude me, even after he allowed what happened with Sunghoon?

And Sunghoon… tomorrow it's his turn. By now I can't rely on his self-control, he'd be able to deny it even as he's doing it.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ He sits on the bed, looking at me. Stupid, if I don't speak I'll make him suspicious. ‘No! Everything's fine!’ Niki squints sleepily, he's looking at me, then reaches out to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. ‘Noona your cheeks are red, do you have a fever or…’

Oh no. I'm really vulnerable right now, I'm not even one to settle for coming once… I really want to sneak into Jake's room.

I stroke his hair and smile nervously. ‘It's okay, let's sleep now.’ He squeezes his shoulders not very convinced but lies back down. ‘Whatever.’

I feign serenity as I get comfortable on my side. I'm not comfortable or even serene, in fact I'm not sleepy because I slept in the afternoon, but if we're being honest, how do you relax with a guy over six feet, with shoulders as wide as galleons and completely naked except for his underwear (according to him ‘he can't sleep in his pyjamas’)?

Eventually time passes in the half-light and although Niki keeps tossing and turning in bed, by dint of staring at the wall in front of me I manage to close my eyes. It's a light sleep, I know I could wake up at any moment, but I still manage to sleep for a while.

At least when, as I turn over, I don't notice a few sighs that are a little too misunderstandable. I don't pay too much attention to it at first, trying to get back to sleep, but I sense that I'm very tense even as I sleep.

‘Ah...’

I hear it but it seems like a sound illusion. After a while I hear it again. It is a restrained moan, followed by deep, intense breaths.

When I open my eyes, confused and sleepy, I catch a glimpse of Niki's beautiful body, faintly illuminated by the various small lights in the room, but not by a direct light source.

Niki is sitting with his back to the headboard, he is… touching himself.

I jerk, as if I've woken up all of a sudden, he stares at me with an absorbed but not surprised expression. Even as he sees me shocked by the situation, he doesn't try to clarify, he just looks me in the eyes and continues to squeeze his cock.

His hand keeps moving, his tapering fingers tightening around his length, moist, veiny, sliding from bottom to top in front of me, unashamedly.

I swallow, having looked away. So far I haven't been able to do this, but when I begin to observe his face to try to decipher his intentions, he simply bites his lip.

Come on… please… so I end up dying.

I swallow, turning away. This is still his room, this is his kingdom, but… I mean, it's not socially acceptable, I suppose.

Of course, there's very little that's normal about this situation, maybe I shouldn't even be surprised, but… I mean, if it had been anyone else, I would have really jumped him.

Every time I try to catch a glimpse of his expression, he just looks me in the eye and jerks off.

No.

No...

‘Noona I said I won't do it - he tells me, catching my gaze again, which continually sags downwards but then tries to come back up, regretfully. - Really… ah… but could I just look at you?’

I blink, is he serious?

He bites his lip again, with more anger, god, he's beautiful. His involved, pained expression increases my blood pressure, my pulse, I feel like by dint of restraint myself, my brain is literally next to explode.

‘N-No.’ ‘Do you hate me?’ He asks then. ‘No I don't hate you!’ ‘Then… - he says, shifting his gaze to my body covered by the oversized t-shirt - let me see just a little…’

He speaks alternating between moans, deep breaths, as he stretches out the words making his vocal cords vibrate like those of a bass guitar.

Shit.

I let out a long sigh, agitated, worried. I don't even look at his face as I clench the edges of my shirt with my fists, desperately trying to calm myself down. ‘D-Do you really not touch?’ He stares at my hands, then biting his lip lifts his gaze and smiles. ‘Well… I know you don't want to fuck.’

I… I know that's not a real answer. He didn't answer my question, but he still reassured me, I guess I can be okay with it. I mean, I want to be okay with it.

I swallow again, my hands shaking as I lift my shirt, but it's not out of shyness. I'm just damn horny and the idea of him touching himself while watching me is driving me crazy, but I have to keep control, a dignity, keep my words.

‘Oh fuck,’ he says, when I am left only in my briefs, sitting on my knees and deeply embarrassed. Niki squeezes him tighter, you can tell by the way he spreads his bare, toned, dry, white legs better. - You have such pretty tits.’

God, how fast that hand moves, in front of me. God, how I want to be, that hand.

‘Fuck… fuck… - He says, still, as he opens his mouth, spreading it wider and wider, his wrist moving fast, faster and faster, so fast that it brings him to orgasm, which he voluntarily directs at me, coming on my thighs. - Fuck…’

Well, at least it's over, unfortunately.

‘Oh fuck, you're really weak - he laughs, handing me some tissues and using a few as well, I meanwhile continuing to ponder the fact that I could clean it by licking it (just kidding… how gross) - I love that you do what I tell you.’

Riki, it is assumed that the pleasure moment has ended, so kindly stop saying things like that. THANK YOU.

What a great gurl I am though, going from dom to sub in less than two seconds is something extraordinary, isn't it?

‘O-Ok, now go to sleep though.’ I say, grabbing my shirt and trying to put it back on. Riki stops my wrists, looks at me and smiles. ‘No, I'm not done yet.’ ‘Yes you are.’ I reply nervously. He chuckles amused, then brings his hand to his cock under his boxers, still hard, still throbbing. ‘Does it look like I'm done?’

I remove my hand as my body paralyses and my mind implodes.

‘You said-’ ‘I didn't touch you, you touched me.’ He laughs again. I feel like laughing too, so I turn away. ‘Riki, you know it's not like that… now…’

And nothing, he pulls it out again.

‘Come on… just hold on a couple more times.’ ‘C-Couple?’ ‘Just because I don't want you to lose too many hours of sleep. - He says, then comes closer again, with the fingertip of his index he grazes my hard nipples, I'm still breathing, at least I'm trying. - Now I have touched you. But it's nothing sexual.’ ‘Y-Yes it is.’ He smiles again, this time he grabs it and I moan sorely… sort of. ‘I'm not going to fuck you, whatever, though… I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, isn't?’ He says this before pulling it a little.

I am a river in flood, really.

‘Lie down.’ That sounds like an order. Imagine if I don't obey. He gets between my legs, kneeling, as he stares down at me from above. ‘You can imagine I'm fucking you, if that helps..’

He then leaves his cock to slip off my panties with both hands, as he does so he is really close to my intimacy, but I can't really do anything. By now I have consented and there is not a cell in my body that wants to stop.

Riki starts touching himself again, I can see his length, his thickness, in their grandeur, it's a great shot. His smug but serious expression, his resumed intense breathing, his balls... in short, so full.

‘Don't you want to touch yourself?’ He asks. I really, really want to, but if I did…. Would I be able to control myself? I have my doubts. ‘W-well, that's fine…’

He looks incredibly annoyed by this, I see his eyebrows arch with irritation as he grabs me by the knees, lifts my ankles onto his broad shoulder and then… shoves it between my thighs, holding me by the same ankles to keep it stable, tight.

Fuck.

‘Oh yeah….even if you don't want me to… fuck you. I want to use you in every way.’ He says, charging harder between my legs, I'm helpless.

To let him do this was like giving up.

He watches me, as I part my moist lips, as I try to remain alert, focused, but my expression is absorbed, confused, as I breathe shallowly, holding myself back, but I am so agitated. My chest seems to burst as he, yes, uses me.

He pulls me even closer to him, this time spreading my legs apart by placing an ankle by each shoulder, forced to show him my pussy. No… he mustn't…. not enter.

I swallow. ‘R-Riki….’ ‘I won't put it in - he reassures me, though he's not too careful, busy resting his big cock between my major lips, starting to move his pelvis more slowly than he did between my legs - that's what you want, isn't it?’

But I had already lost my mind, and I knew this was how it was going to go. How could I just believe I had such self-control? In the end, I don't even know if I should think anything about it.

‘Ah… Riki… - I moan, when his presence starts pressing hard against my clit - this… this… isn't…’ He doesn't allow me to finish my sentence, he closes my legs around his cock again to squeeze it better, and that's when he starts moaning louder. ‘Oh god, yes…’

So beautiful is his expression of pure pleasure, his forehead wrinkled and wet with a few elegant droplets of sweat, which nonetheless… glide over his swollen pecs, imperil his broad shoulders, his long arms, his abdomen so dry and pale, perfectly outlined his abs… wow… he really is a sight, and maybe it's precisely because he's not inside me that I can watch him so intently.

‘I want to cum inside, noona.’ He tells me, as I continue to gasp at his length that continues to stimulate my clit.

I look at him, surprised, but not honestly enough. I… I don't want to say yes, but I don't want to say no to him either, a little because it's like I want to give him everything (apart from sex).

Maybe I should just accept it. Accept that I, for one, don't mind this at all. Accept that no matter what happens, there really is no way to live differently, I have become a host.

As I told Heeseung, I cannot be someone else, not any more.

Beyond what I want to give Riki, I also want to receive, and thinking about it, that's really the only thing I can receive from them: their body.

I should just start thinking like this.

‘O…Okay…’ I whisper, a little scared. The boy wastes no time sticking it in, so fast it hurt, I wasn't even dilated properly, just very very wet. I realise it hurt less in the car because I was a little drunk. ‘Fuck noona, I'm going to fill you up now.’

It's not exactly as he said, he's not just ‘cumming’, no, he's holding me by the hips as his pelvis charges with brute force inside me. I can't close my mouth, it's so fast and abrupt that I have to plug it with my hands.

In the end, I, unable to be someone else, am still me.

And me is afraid that others will know.

Least of all, I don't want them to know.

‘R-Riki - I moan, choking on my breaths, the bed shaking so much that the room itself seems to shake. - Ri….Riki… oh my god, oh god… oh!’

He does it again, still biting his lip before arching his eyebrows menacingly and going even faster, I feel like I'm convulsing. I can't even control my hands clutching desperately at his veiny forearms, maybe I'm scratching him.

‘Riki… is so g…big…you make me…’ ‘Didn't you notice today?’ ‘I-I know…I-I was a little drunk!’

I see him laughing, but seriously, sincerely (all while he keeps wearing me down with blows but ok), he's so cute I want to bite him, somewhere, no matter where.

‘You are… ah… so… handsome.’ I said. I'm so involved and happy in this moment that…. it was spontaneous, I wanted to say it and I did.

I doubted that between my own and his moans, this sentence, said faintly and under my breath, could be heard anyway, but though he doesn't stop, Riki looks into my eyes differently, in a more intense way.

He looks like… a man. Not a kid, not a boy but a man, I shudder, but even this feeling is swept away by his impetuousness, brutality.

‘Oh fuck.’ He repeats again, focused. He's lasting so long..... other than coming!

I doubt any girl, while they were having sex, hasn't told him he's handsome. It's the obvious thing to say, to think, especially as his sleek, masculine, imposing body stands naked.

Yet he… he looked surprised, impressed.

The truth is that by dint of acting for work, they've probably learnt to do it really well: although that, however, doesn't explain why they should use these skills with me.

Or, and I think this under my breath because such a thought is so ridiculous, have these guys simply not had enough sexual experience?

Of course, it could be a question of culture.

But what remains more likely for me, and I sincerely think so looking at Riki's eyes, subtle, dark but brilliant, is that this is just a perverse game. Malicious perhaps?

Nothing matters after Riki empties himself inside me, emitting animalistic grumbling but in a whisper. His body trembles with mine, as the last strokes inside my belly assure the owner that his seed is well within.

When Riki moves, the world becomes heavy again.

No matter what I have thought so far, what remains is only a strange emptiness and a deep sense of guilt. I will not ask him again not to tell others, I will let him make his own choice.

I lie in bed for several dozen seconds, then sigh.

‘I'll go wash up.’ I say, getting out of bed naked. ‘Do you want me to come with…’ - Riki stops himself, noticing my vacant expression. - Are you OK?’ ‘I'll go out for a moment later. You go ahead and sleep.’ I explain, putting my shirt back on. ‘What? At this hour? - He asks surprised, now his expression is innocent again and that… disturbs me. - Why? I… noona did I... something-’ ‘No- I sigh a little too heavily. - I just need to take a walk, I'll buy cigarettes in the Convenience Store in the area.’ ‘If you want to smoke I have cigarettes.’ He tells me. ‘Even? Do you smoke as well?’ I ask, sternly. ‘Noona what's going on? - He's the one asking this time. - You are strange. Did it… Maybe disgusted by what we did? Do you hate me?’

I'm not sure but I feel like this is the second time he's asked me if I hate him, but I… of course not, at most I hate myself.

‘No, Riki. It was good. We can do it again if you want.’ I say with my eyes down though, as I pick up my briefs from the floor. ‘It doesn't feel right…. then even if I have a big cock it's no use if I don't have experience, is it?’ ‘Didn't you sleep with that 30-year-old?’ ‘Yes, I fucked a few girls, but not that many. I don't physically have the time.’ He smiles, but is sad.

Is he serious? I don't know, I'm starting not to trust him.

‘You're good in bed, and I think you know it too. - I sigh again, approaching the door. - You didn't do anything wrong, I'm the one who feels weird, but I don't know why. Please throw out your cigarettes and don't smoke. Smokers sucks.’ ‘You're going to buy cigarettes right now.’ I look at him for several seconds in silence, then smile wearily. ‘Indeed.’

Honestly, I am not a smoker, but I have become one at times in my life. After my parents' divorce, after being kicked out of the house by my mother, after being physically but above all psychologically harassed for months by a man who despite reporting me was never arrested or removed, and last but not least, when grew horns on my forehead.

Now, although I think I will buy the pack just to smoke one, I need to breathe sweet venom.

‘I can't let you go out alone at this hour.’ ‘Don't worry, Seoul is less dangerous than any italian city at night.’ Unconvinced, he glares at me. ‘At least take my number, so in case you can call me.’

Alright.

ok i don't know if anyone cares but sorry for the delay actually it's just that i was bothering to translate, boh leave a comment if you like it and never ask for riki again

NEXT CHAPTER:

[lostmyremembrall]

NSFW & SFW HC for Amit Thakkar

Photo by Rezoeline on twitter

As an Ominis enjoyer and Sallow Worshipper, I adore them to death. But let me explain why Amit is so perfect for MC

SFW

The only character who doesn't ask anything of MC

Actually, in-game he only GIVES to MC.

The telescope. Assistance with Gobbledegook.

He’s devoted to MC.

Will literally do anything for MC.

He is bitter he can't protect MC like Sebastian

So he will find other ways to help

He will take care of MC's wounds when they come back to Hogwarts

Becomes an insomniac ever since meeting MC, due to his anxiety for their safety

A hopeless romantic

Love letters, roses and expensive gifts

His affluent background means he thinks it's NORMAL to spend galleons on you

Will always await MC's return with open arms

Inside his arms is the only time MC can escape from everything terrible about their life

As MC gets dragged further into dark magic because of Sebastian,

Amit will be there to bring them back to the light.

When MC feels like they're surrounded by enemies,

he will show that compassion still exists

When MC grows desperate, and is willing to do anything to protect their friends like use the unforgivables,

Amit will be the grounding figure, leading MC with his strong moral fibre.

He shows that there are ways to care and protect your loved ones without becoming a dark wizard

Literally, Amit is the Sun to MC.

Amit’s smile is so bright, so unbroken and untouched by the cruelty of the world

(Sorry Sebastian, Ominis, Natty, Poppy but we all see your pained smile)

MC will do anything to stay in his innocent world

Amit will shed light on the darkest corners of MC's broken heart.

And bring them back to the light whatever the cost.

Amit will compare MC to his moon.

He says MC "outshines every star in the night sky."

As much as MC outshines everyone, a moon cannot shine without a star.

He is in disbelief that he gets to have something so special all for himself.

And he will always remember that as he treats you with utmost love and adoration.

He will treat you like a literal star, plucked from the night sky that he gets to keep for himself.

NSFW

He IS possessive and a soft dom.

MC thought he was just a shy boy who needs to be led at all times.

But my god MC was mistaken. He was just raised very strictly to treat women with utmost respect and gentleness,

So he's learned to restrain any of his urges.

He was hesitant at first to display any desires for fear of scaring off MC or being rude.

Displays the amazing self-control that he was raised to have at all times.

He may be inexperienced and shy at first.

But once he gets comfortable, and learns that it’s okay to want MC, he will unleash everything.

His curious Ravenclaw ass wants to study MC.

MC's every moan. What works for them. What doesn't.

Everything is about MC.

He will go down on MC until they're shaking underneath him.

Smiling softly down at them as they have their fourth orgasm.

When MC starts to beg they can't take it anymore, Amit will tilt his head.

And gives the most charming smile as he asks "Your body seems to be begging otherwise,"

As he glances down at MC's core still pulling him in.

Studies everything about sex to please MC.

Reads up on Kama Sutra as he furiously blushes and tries to hide behind the pages.

Will literally train himself to last longer and come back quicker for round 2 and 3 so he can give MC the pleasure they deserve

---

There WILL be other guys who underestimate Amit and approach MC.

Sebastian offering his scarf to MC because it's cold.

Amit will somehow always find MC in dicey situations and intervene before things escalate.

"Thank you, Sebastian,"

Amit will smile, but his eyes are narrowed into threatening slits.

"But I can take care of MC just fine.”

Rest assured, he would later be taking MC in the Room of Requirement in a domineering display of possessiveness.

His favourite position is missionary.

Snaking his fingers with MC’s as he whispers how adorable MC looks underneath him

His favourite part is seeing a side of MC nobody else has seen before.

The fact that he gets to have their moans, their euphoric expressions, their incoherent babble all to himself

It ignites something he's never felt before

On particularly stressful days, when MC gets distracted by anxious thoughts about exams, ancient magic, etc.,

Amit will pound even faster, deeper, and rougher until MC can't think of anything but him

He pouts, "I want you to be thinking about just me."

He'll smile contently when MC begins to mutter his name like a mantra, knowing they're close.

Making MC come and forget everything is a massive ego-boost for him.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. Based on the fic 太陽と月, which has thrusted me fully into Amit phase.

[woe-begotten-spirit]

So I know not a lot of people in the world have a strong opinion on who is best to ship Middle Earth’s Sun with but I am obsessed with The Lost Tales era Eonwë/Arien (or Fionwë/Urwendi) and the parallels with Elwing and Eärendil. 

The Arien/Tilion thing of Moon in love with the Sun of course makes sense in a sort of collective unconscious mythology type way but something about a romance between Bird and Celestial Body is just 🔥

In both versions our bird flies through the air seeking lover lost at sea

Manwë sent Fionwë his son, swiftest of all to move about the airs, and bade him say to Urwendi that the bark of the Sun come back awhile to Valinor, for the Gods have counsels for her ear; and Fionwë fled most readily, for he had conceived a great love for that bright maiden long ago, and her loveliness now, when bathed in fire she sate as the radiant mistress of the Sun, set him aflame with the eagerness of the Gods. (LT I, VIII)

Indeed for a while mishap fell even upon bright Urwendi, that she wandered the dark grots and endless passages of Ulmo’s realm until Fionwë found her and brought her back to Valinor (LT I, IX)

For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved. (Silm, ch 24)

who sails in a hallowed ship through the Door of the Night. 

Ulmo draws the galleon of the Sun before the Door of Night. Then speaks Urwendi the mystic word, and they open outward before her, and a gust of darkness sweeps in but perishes before her blazing light; and the galleon of the Sun goes out into the limitless dark, and coming behind the world finds the East again. (LT I, IX)

But they took Vingilot, and hallowed it, and bore it away through Valinor to the uttermost rim of the world; and there it passed through the Door of Night and was lifted up even into the oceans of heaven. (Silm, ch 24)

And then our birds Eonwë and Elwing end up being the ones to deliver the Silmarils to their fated places (from Elwing to Eärendil to Air, from Eonwë to Maedhros and Maglor to Fire and Water)

And thus it came to pass that the Silmarils found their long homes: one in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters. (Silm, ch 24)

There are several more similarities like the early idea that both Eärendil and Arien encountered mermaids while they were at sea (LT I, commentary on The Tale of Qorinómi and LT II, V) and Tilion originally chasing Eärendil instead of Arien (LT II, V)

And also I just think Eonwë should be allowed to do the apocalypse as revenge for his girlfriend because come on:

For ’tis said that ere the Great End come Melko shall in some wise contrive a quarrel between Moon and Sun, and Ilinsor shall seek to follow Urwendi through the Gates, and when they are gone the Gates of both East and West will be destroyed, and Urwendi and Ilinsor shall be lost. So shall it be that Fionwë Úrion, son of Manwë, of love for Urwendi shall in the end be Melko’s bane, and shall destroy the world to destroy his foe, and so shall all things then be rolled away.’ (LT I, IX)

[whumpster-fire]

Leading Thieves Say Millennials and Zoomers "Ruining the Crime Industry"

A variety of criminals have spoken out over the past few weeks, saying that crime just doesn't pay like it used to because Millennials and Gen-Z-ers are so broke, they have nothing of value to steal.

Stephen "Fingers" Gilligan, Pickpocket: Pickpocketing has been on the decline in America for a while, but it's getting ridiculous now. Nobody carries cash anymore, and even cards aren't paying out. The other day I stole a wallet with five debit cards, and all but one of them declined. The last one had just enough to buy a Sierra Mist from a vending machine. That was my second best score all week. The best was a $40 Olive Garden gift card and a crumpled, discolored $5 bill that I had to use archeological techniques to retrieve without it disintegrating in my hand.

Burt Crustman, Mugger: Man, nobody walks through dark alleys at night since the pandemic hit, and when they do? Jackshit. The only valuable anyone under 40's got on them these days is their phone. Admittedly lotsa people have $3000 phones, but you know what the market for fencing iPhones is like? It's shit! Everybody's buying new phones because their phone's the only nice thing they can afford!

Monty Derailleur, Bike Thief: Well the bike theft business would be going good, if people ever used the bikes they bought. The sales are high, but the fact of the matter is, the bike lanes around here are shitty or nonexistent, there's no room to take them on the bus, and there's no bike racks so everybody knows it's gonna get stolen.

Jerry Rigby, Car Thief: I don't know what you're talking about, Grand Theft Auto is booming. There's $75,000 pickups, $60,000 SUVs, $100,000 Teslas, and most people can't even afford to buy a used car legally so fencing's never been easier. The reason it's hard for those of us in the business is twofold. First, too many people living out of their cars. Second, the competition. You see a nice car parked somewhere, you gotta be on it like that, or the fucking illegal towing rackets will beat you to it. It's nearly impossible to make a living as an independent car thief.

Dwayne Pipe, Burglar: The only reason to be breaking and entering in the post-Pandemic years if to use somebody's shower. I swear to god, half the time when I break into a place, the only furniture is a mattress on the floor and a mid-sized computer monitor as a TV, and those are only good for scrap because with planned obsolescence the way it is, they have a life expectancy of about 6 weeks after theft. To be honest with you, I'm running a loss on most jobs. The only reason I haven't gone straight is because all the legal jobs pay jackshit too. That, and I really like replacing people's family photos with pictures of Nicholas Cage.

Brittlyghn McKannyck, Shoplifter: Shoplifting these days is a hobby, not a career. Half the time the stores are too understaffed to even stock the shelves, and if they're not, everything's locked up. I had to get a guy to unlock a magnetic tag on a box of Crispix the other day. If I didn't live with my parents, there's absolutely no way shoplifting full time would be viable.

Norman Gore, Master Hacker and Identity Thief: Scamming people out of their financial info or cracking passwords has never been easier, but the scores just aren't worth it. I keep getting into bank accounts that pending overdraft fees. It's pathetic. I have to leave the lights off so my hacker den's only lit by the monitors, and type on three or four keyboards at once to hack enough people to make ends meet.

Jack Gazebo, Digital Pirate: Oh my fucking God, people, stop paying for streaming! Learn to torrent! I'm telling you, man, this generation just doesn't have the technological literacy to pirate media.

Captain Tom Stillcutt, Analog Pirate: Let me tell ye something, matey, it be a sad day for piracy. No more galleons laden low with gold doubloons, rum, and exotic spices, nay, it be all scurvy container ships full o' mass produced plastic now. Me last prize was a forty foot container loaded full of over a hundred thousand Funko Pops, en route from the East Indies. The worst part of it was as the cap'n I gets a double share o' the booty, whether I want it or not. I've been makin' one walk the plank every day, and my cabin's still full of the blasted things. Shiver my timbers, I hate these damned Zoomers! At least the ones in me crew are happy.

Geraldo Cardamom IV, Gentleman Thief: The economy's just horrible for heists these days. Art heists? Jewelry theft? All the rich idiots are blowing their money on crypto, NFTs, and custom furniture from hipster woodworking YouTubers. Nobody just has a gallery in their house with priceless antiques in glass cases below a conveniently placed skylight, or millions of dollars in cash and gold bullion in vaults behind secret doors with seven different elaborate locking mechanisms anymore. Nobody secures their valuables with networks of criss crossing laser motion sensors. The only guys with that kind of money are assholes like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, and they don't have the sense of style for that. They just hire a bunch of assholes with guns.

Carmen San Diego, Legend: You must be joking, right? The reason I retired is because the infrastructure in this country is so dilapidated it's impossible to move it without it disintegrating. My last heist was "stealing" the World's Largest Pothole in Lansing, Michigan. I lifted the entire six lane wide, fifteen foot deep pothole out of the ground, disassembled it, and shipped it across the country to a warehouse in Las Vegas, then filled in the hole with pristine asphalt so it looked like it was never there. Nobody investigated. Nobody came after me. The city threw a parade in my honor. It didn't even take a month before my record holding pothole was dethroned by one in Cleveland, leaving me with nothing but a bunch of dirt, crumbling asphalt, and broken dreams. That's when I realized it was time to call it quits. Well, maybe the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid, but it already looks stupid enough in the middle of Tennessee that the only way stealing it would be funny is if I put it in the original Memphis.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @writingamongther0ses!

Writing Share Tag

I'll pull from To the Stars and Back (HO book 2), featuring Djek doing some advanced sorcery during a lifeboat jail break

Leaping for it as his injured hands gave out, Djek snagged onto the closest rope with a beartrap grip and pulled himself onto the little craft as softly as he could. Looking back, he could see Izjik just behind him. The selkie’s face was splotchy with effort as she clung to the planks. Slowly but surely, she got close enough to where Djek could grab her hand and help haul her up.

“You were right,” the woman panted quietly, flopping onto her back between the benches, “This fucking sucks.”

“How the hell are we going to get this thing down without them noticing?” Djek coughed, stuffing his mangled fingertips under his arms with a groan, “There’s no way we’re outrunning a galleon, even if we head in the opposite direction. Not without a pretty sizable head start.”

The selkie grimaced. She then rubbed the sides of her head in frantic thought. “Fuck, I don’t know. Do you have any magic left?”

“Eh, a little maybe?” Djek shrugged. “I follow, though. If I could lower the jolly boat down nice and easy underneath the mist, then they might not notice until it’s too late.”

“What about overdrawal?” Izjik spat over the side, wiping sweat from her face. “When Twenari uses it, it’s like an extra boost, yeah? She kind of channels the leftover magic from summoning a whole bunch of spells.”

“Yeah, she explained it to me before. ‘Imperfect circuit,’ or whatever. I don’t know though—I’ve never tried. I’m not sure how I’d channel it.”

“Well, there’s no better teacher than a crisis,” Izjik joked, stress showing clearly through her easy smile.

Djek swallowed hard, then began to concentrate on his own arcane essence. There wasn’t much left, but even so, the woman was right. It was now or never.

His hands shook as he held them out in the familiar shadow sigil—fingers outstretched, as if pleading for mercy from a beating. Gods beyond, was he really doing this? Djek was good at a couple tricks, but he’d never been a skilled sorcerer and probably never would be. Overdrawal was an advanced and dangerous technique. Who the hell knew what would happen if he got it wrong?

Even as doubt swirled in his mind, Djek knew he had to try. This could be his and Izjik’s only chance to escape before reaching Illankas, especially since there was no way Daedryn would let him go untied after this. Or even let him live. Djek had a hard time believing the honorable priest would murder him in cold blood, but fanaticism made people do funny things.

That chilling thought managed to hone his focus into something useful. Djek probed deeper into his own body, rather than out into the Veil, seeking the grains of leftover magic floating along his bloodstream. A fresh coating of sweat slicked his forehead, until finally, something brushed the edge of his awareness.

It was just a tiny, fizzing ripple. As light as elven bubble wine. Djek latched onto it with everything he had and, suddenly, there was magic!

“Fucking hell, I got it!” he whispered, then stopped abruptly.

What is that…?

There was this burn licking up his chest, sickly and sticky all at once. Years and years ago, during the rainy season when he’d still been on the streets of Fayuki, Djek had gotten very, very ill. Death’s door ill. His body had been held in the merciless grip of a killing fever—hot enough to feel like his sweat was freezing a crust over his skin. That was what this felt like.

“Djek?” Izjik shook him by the shoulder, teeth bared in concern.

“I– Woah….” Djek breathed deep. “This feels wrong.”

“Like, you’re doing it wrong?”

The man shook his head with uncharacteristic solemnity. “No. No, I think I’m doing it right. Hang tight.”

Izjik gave him a concerned look, but made to do as he asked. She placed a hand on his shoulder for good measure, making sure to secure him if something went wrong. Djek only noticed for a moment before casting took up his consciousness. He was grateful for the comfort regardless.

Shadows began to rise and wrap around the jolly boat like the tentacles of a mythic leviathan. Silently, they sliced through the ropes that held the craft in place and began to lower the pair toward the lapping waves and roiling mist. Gradually, painstakingly, they went until Djek heard the faint splash of their touchdown, barely audible above the blood rushing in his ears.

His entire body was consumed by the sickly fire now, tinder for the overdrawal. Hands shaking, Djek released the enhancement, but the fever’s impression lingered. The man tried to gasp for breath, only to choke on the baleful heat and pitch forward onto the deck in a splutter. Gods, he was burning up! He was—

The feeling began to fade, leaving the man as limp as imported lettuce. His head lolled, bouncing onto the wooden deck with a clunk. Djek didn’t feel any pain though. The only thing left in his body now was exhausted relief.

“Hey, take a deep breath.” Izjik grabbed Djek by the shoulders, hauling him upright. “Just focus on me, on my voice. Do you understand?”

Weakly, he nodded.

“Good. You…. That was amazing, you know that?” The selkie gave him a gentle clap on the back, grinning her unnerving grin. Djek tried to smile back. That had been amazing, hadn’t it?

“You just rest now,” Izjik reassured, moving to take the oars. She glared out into the sunset, scanning the foggy waters. “I think I see an island behind us. Looks like a pretty straight shot. Probably a couple hours….”

Djek never heard their estimated travel time, for by then, he was already dead asleep.

Poor fellow. I'll tag @somethingclevermahogony @breninarthur @writingsfromspace @orphanheirs and anyone else who wants to play :)

[shannyh25]

DIANA: Gilbert gave me this in return for your note. He's coming to watch you anyway. I didn't want Jane or Gabby Brothers to see me.

ANNE: [reading from letter] "...to your own opinion. It would have been easier if you told me in person, if you still consider me your friend. Sincerely, Gilbert Blythe." I won't be accused of being a coward, Diana. He doesn't understand. Tell him I'll speak to him the first minute I can steal away tonight.

DIANA: Calm down, Anne.

ANNE: I'm so ashamed. I can't go up on that stage. I can't. I'll be merciless if I fail.

DIANA: You've never failed at anything, Anne Shirley. Go on.

AMELIA EVANS: [reciting lines 76-88 of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's The Wreck of the Hesperus]

Ho! ho! the breakers roared

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,

A fisherman stood aghast,

To see the form of a maiden fair,

Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast,

The salt tears in her eyes;

And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed

On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,

In the midnight and the snow!

[God] save us all from a death like this,

On the reef of Norman's Woe!

LADY IN YELLOW: Mrs. Evans has just completed a European tour.

LADY IN BLUE: Oh, she's a prodigious talent. I was moved beyond words.

MRS. SPENCER: On behalf of the Charlottetown hospital, I would like to offer our indebtedness to Mrs. Amelia Evans for gracing us with such a stirring performance in support of today's benefit. Thank you. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present one of Avonlea's most celebrated students, who achieved the highest standing in the recent entrance examinations to Queens Academy: Miss Anne Shirley.

LADY IN BLUE: It will be amusing to see what arises from the local amateur actors.

ANNE: [reciting lines 1-6, 25-30 and 85-90 from Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman]

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding--

Riding--riding--

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,

But I shall [return] with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

Then look for me by moonlight,

Watch for me by moonlight,

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.

Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;

When they shot him down on the highway.

Down like a dog on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

AUDIENCE: Encore! Encore!

LADY IN YELLOW: Dear, you were splendid. Go back. They're encoring you.

ANNE: I can't go back.

LADY IN YELLOW: Yes, you can.

I got the movie quote from greengables-1.tripod.com

Follow me for more inspiration!💜💕

[ineffablefate]

I recall the first exhale, after we finally let it die. that murmur, soft as a widow’s lull, a tempest’s fractured gasp. Somewhere, luminescence fails to reach the skull’s deep curve, and the shades tremble, shudder, bearing down on brittle marrow, ancient and desperate. The revenants crave to be remembered. Somewhere, a thief holds the sword’s edge, wielding it as the night cracks— a solitary pulse beneath the dull ache of dawn. Roots are confused in the mourning, and I’m adrift in the slant of obsidian trees, twisted, knotted into the fibers of desert storms, blood trails that eclipse, hunger that trifles where hands work in light, claiming the shape of God and hiding behind this ruthless face of Love. Do you remember that? The sun slips within the knife's grin, the blade that divides lovers and children who chant blue fire, who swallow the blossom of agony whole. The ancient echoes drag on, carrying us like ships of color into a field of cracked mirrors, where we dance on bread and blood and bones, spilled like oil across a scarred valley we once called home. I know this burning— it’s the weight of the salt, the sting of a red, open sky. You, a fox running through the smoke, your wolf-song like autumn leaves, falling, quaking under moons that shift, that spill lavender honey into the dawn. Here, your silent Love holds my name in every forgotten root, in the blade's hilt, in the spiral of stars, hidden and raw, stolen from sun rise's pulse. We are vessels for this fire-dragon cyclone, a page from a deaf book of blight. Turning in the wind, slipping through fingers thick with the grease of memory, of lovers folded and lost, sinking into the soil, whispering the secrets that God refuses to bear. We wear this origin like armor, our mouths full of ash and prayer and everything we could not let go of. And so we burn, my friend, with a jaded thirst for the bone-shack dust, for the holes in the earth that drank us dry, for a jagged rock that cannot answer to the weight of all we’ve carried— all the tired dreams wrapped in rotting reverie, all the forests caught in the sloth of moonlight, sinking beneath the burden of broken breaths, haunted, quaking, and never quite whole. So tell me, what becomes of the thief, the one who dared to wear masks like skin, to bleed in the arms of affection, to call himself worthy of this unending flame? We are the scars etched on a sky we cannot hold, the broken spell of worship and gold, the thorn that remembers only the taste of blood. Hold this light, this echo, this ash— we are the tilt of branches at the heavy snow, the ghosts under the earth's open throat. We are breath and shudder, root and lament, galleons of hues and cadence, and, heavens preserve us: we are the sons and daughters of Love, held alive by nothing more than words, nothing more than the low-drum hum of a crimson canary in a cage of bones where quiet dares not to dream.

[hcpenot]

hi guysss it's me the adventurous devotee again. i would like to share a blog about my experience in the 42nd Intramuros Grand Marian Procession held this year.

short trivia and information, basically this blog is about the grandest marian procession in the Philippines held in the streets of walled city of intramuros, manila every year in early december. a grand marian procession is the procession of the different images of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of one true God under different titles from different places in our country. devotees and delegates from different parishes across the country gathers at intramuros to start a solemn and grandiose procession in honor of the feast of the principal patroness of our country, the immaculate conception every first sunday of december every year. the chariots bearing different images of BVM participants are exclusive to those who are invited by the Cofradia de la Inmaculada Concepcion de Intramuros.

let me start to share my experience. so i am from rosario, cavite, but my name is listed in the chariot/galleon carozza of our lady of solitude of porta vaga, cavite city because she is my patroness. together with the cofradia de la virgen de la soledad de porta vaga, we travelled from cavite city to intramuros to participate in the procession in honor of our virgin of solitude. the 350+ painted image of our lady of solitude of porta vaga is greatly venerated and payed respect at plaridel st. san roque cavite city. she is hailed as the queen and protectress of our province. the procession of the our lady of solitude of porta in intramuros started at 6pm, her silver galleon carozza is escorted by the altar servers, the flags, the philippine army, republica filipina reenactment group, the Cofradia, and the devotees. she graced the historic walls of intramuros in full solemnity through the recitation of the spanish rosary and the wearing of black clothes together with candles that lights up the street. the experience is one of a kind considering this event only happens once a year out of town. the procession concluded at muralla street by dismantling of the galleon carozza through the help of cofradia and care takers at 8pm in preparation of the coming home of the venerated painting of the our lady of solitude of porta vaga. i could say that this is the best religious procession I've ever attended. the surreal feeling and experience is unexplainable and beyond words. you could literally feel the presence of our lady just by attending the procession of her image. if i were to asked to rate it, i would rate it infinity over ten. it was an incomparable experience, I'd like to remember it that way.

[dykeishheart]

The Dragons Of Enura

New excerpt of Saints in the Desert!!!!!!!!!!!!! I actually fucking got there!!!!

It's like, 4500 words. Took me a hot fucking minute. Anyway, enjoy the chapter where I introduce dragons, aspects of Enuran culture, philosophy, and some light desert ecology (fantasy). Also there's a big fuckoff huge pile of dead bodies because like. War.

“Hold. Something stirs.”

Damian stood, the rumbling of the earth growing beneath him. Leander gripped his pike tight, white knuckled on the shaft. The rest of the men behind them stopped short, looking around to see nothing but sand. What remained of the Enuran town burned behind them as it had all night and into the morning. Fear of curses and magics unknown rattled through the men.

“Damian… I think we’ve upset something,” Leander said, his eyes forced closed to not see his lieutenant witness his fear.

“Dragon. They got ‘em out here in the desert, I heard so from my cousin. They live in the sand! Big as a galleon, they eat-”

“That’s enough, Bertholdt,” Damian snapped, cutting him off.

Leander started walking again, pacing hurriedly into the desert. Damian blinked, then followed after him. He heard armor and weapons clink and rattle behind him, hushed whispers passing amongst the men like barn flies as the troupe walked away from the morning sun. The rumble was getting closer, heavier, and more sustained.

A solitary tree stood in the dunes ahead. Damian knew not what kind. As the ground shook, so too did the dry and feathery boughs, needles dropping off snaking limbs. Leander stopped again, looking out at the tree. The ground was still for precious seconds, a stillness almost as concerning as the shaking earth before it, before the alien tree was swallowed into the ground below.

“What in the name of God…”

The earth erupted. Sand blasted the men and filled the skies, entire dunes obliterated into the wind. A thick haze of reflecting sun in clouds of dust blinded Damian to everything around him; he couldn’t open his eyes to the dust storm for more than a half a second lest the sand shred them open. Tears welled in his eyes. The power of the storm against his body felt as if the weight of the entire desert had crashed into him like a ship careening into rocks. Damian reached his arms out to find Leander crumpled on the ground ahead of him. He crawled over the top of Leander to shield him, however little good it would do now. Damian felt an eternity of sand settle on the two of them as they laid on the ground, breathing heavy, pained breaths of mortal terror.

It was all he could do to keep from seizing up and dying of shock, just holding onto Leander. He was right. The world felt as if it was ending in this sad little corner of the desert. A bed made for a curse, and he was lying right in it. As his eyes held shut against so much sand, his vision was nothing but fire. Fire as far as his mind could tread, as far as the horizon of his imagination, burning eternal behind a grinning madman.

The sand slowed, settling a mighty weight on Damian’s back. He could hear Leander struggling to breathe. He hurriedly pushed himself off of Leander, and carefully wiped his eyes. When he finally dared open them, Damian saw sand strewn about Leander’s face thick enough to almost entirely obscure it. Frantically he started brushing off as much of the stuff as he could until blessed breath was heard in Leander’s mouth. Leander coughed violently, a dry drowning just narrowly warded away.

“Dragon! I told you! It’s a fucking Dragon!”

Damian whipped his head around, scanning the horizon. He saw nothing. He looked back down at Leander, then hoisted him up by his shoulders.

Leander opened his eyes, shock mounting in them as the light dilated his pupils. He raised his hand to Damian’s cheek, touching him as if he wasn’t truly sure he was real.

“Lieutenant! Behind you! Get down!”

Damian’s head was swimming. His vision went black. Voices were calling to him but they were far away, just vibrations through water. His stomach turned. The smell. The pit was calling to him.

“Are you okay? Damian? Here,” the short priest said, forcing a gourd of water into his hands.

Damian stared at the man, dumbfounded. He had lost himself in memory. He blinked, then looked down at the gourd. It had been so long since he drank.

“You disgrace everything our glorious kingdom has fought for. To think you would take the charity of these savages. Do this and damnation far greater than you can imagine awaits your paltry spirit,” spat the king like so much venom.

“I… I cannot accept this of you. You will die where I will not. You have greater need,” said Damian, pushing the gourd back.

“My god, drink the water. We’re a short walk from the river and we have two more gourds full. If you hold still a gardener might eat you as you are, so please, eat and drink with us.”

Damian hesitated. He looked behind himself, but the king was nowhere to be seen. He turned back to the priest. He nodded to Damian, urging him to drink. Damian looked down at the yellow gourd in his hand and gently pried the stopper out.

“I understand your hesitation. We are not without fears of each other. I do not forgive you, but I do not wish to harm you. You may drink.”

“Speak for yourself,” said the younger man off to Damian’s side.

“Quiet, fishmonger.”

Damian looked back to the priest and considered his words. He wondered how many men in his army would’ve given a starving Enuran a scrap of food, even if they had enough to spare. He wondered how many would spare water for a thirsty countryman, even. He wondered if the gesture was one of kindness or fear. He took the gourd up to his mouth and drank, the flavor of the water greeting him in bittersweet homecoming.

The water was a bitter shock. His tongue absorbed much, dry as it was. He could feel the rush of it down his throat, the skin cracking on his lips anew as he drank. The weight of what he had denied himself became clear in the wet of his palate.

“Thank you. I am glad you have ceased this cruelty to yourself,” spoke the short priest.

Damian stopped drinking. The words turned in his mind. He looked to the priest. “What did you say?”

The priest smiled a world-weary smile. “Young men who wish to learn about the world often think to be either blind gluttons or martyred as ascetics. Both are paths of foolishness, as they are fosters of cruelty, either to others or oneself. You cannot gain wisdom through violence.”

“I killed thoughtlessly. I don’t think a man who does that should have an easy time of things.”

“You have a strange idea of what would constitute justice. I fear the man who made you saint of such things,” said the taller priest.

Damian looked at him, anger in his eyes. “In a just world I’d have died long ago. Murderers don’t deserve to live unpunished.”

“Aye, and your death would surely bring all your victims bounding back from the belly of death itself to live once more. Tell me how many innocent men you might have killed if only you were told they were murderers? And for what?”

Damian’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t even form a reply. He had already proven the man right. All that time ago, on the day he became a saint, he made the lie a reality. It had cost him his only love.

Damian looked down to the sand at his feet. “No. They will never come back.”

The priests exchanged looks. Damian could not know what they were thinking to each other, but whatever it was, they nodded to one another.

“Damian. We have come here today to witness a great tragedy in Enura, but also to work. Such things are always opportunities to bring life out of death, much as the gardeners do. Come with us. If you truly wish to receive penance, do so with learning rather than violence,” said the shorter of the priests.

“Mother, you cannot be serious,” protested the fisherman.

Mother? Damian looked at the young man, then back to the priest. He looked closer at the short little man, clothed as he was in loose robes to obscure form as much as protect from sun and sand. A decidedly mannish face greeted Damian’s eyes, and the voice Damian had heard matched this quite well. Damian’s confusion must have been obvious in his face; the priest examined him in kind with eyes that did not seem concerned with his understanding. It was a face that said not to ask whatever questions he had, but that would not answer them either way if the warning was unheeded.

“Will you come with us? There is much to be done,” spoke the taller of the priests. The shorter priest kept his eyes on Damian, looking for any reply.

Curiosity bested him, and Damian asked a question. “What does he mean by mother?”

“My son means to say I am his mother. It is an idea which needs no explanation, unless I have sorely misunderstood how Kelsyid children are raised.”

Damian’s suspicion was correct; the answer would not come. He looked down to the gourd in his hand and took a final swig of the bitter water. A soreness in his muscles crept in with a droning persistence, as if vitality was returning to him as laborious digging through his veins, an unpleasantness that was toned by the reminder of him still being alive in some regard. Damian’s stomach gnashed at the rest of his insides, squirming in search of anything to digest now that water had woken it from dormancy.

“I suppose I don’t have much choice. I will come with you, but I fear I’ll not be of much assistance unless you have a lot more water.”

The short priest smiled at him, her face wrinkling with delight. “I’m glad you’ve come around. Come, we go to the river. I hope you like fish.”

***

The river was near enough to the pit that it could still be smelled as if it were under Damian’s nose. After so many hours in its magnetism, Damian had come to regard the smell as a companion, bound were the two as flies and shit. Fish Damian did not recognize were sizzling in an iron pan; the fisherman had produced both when the four of them sat down by the river’s edge. The noonday sun was hot over-head and the sand was hot under-heel, and the smell of cooking fish was all but drowned in the quagmire of rotting bodies.

Damian surveyed the landscape near the river. Scrub brush was abundant here, far more than he had ever seen in the Wasting Sea. Gnarled and twisted trees with weeping, feathery boughs dotted the land, standing each as solitary moments of interrupted terrain. Damian had never seen trees of this nature back home. Trees back home were tall and thin, uniform to a degree, and bunched together, branching only at their tops to form dense canopies of needling green. To see trees so sparsely planted, twisted and knotted and ugly, was so alien as for him to wonder if they were even trees at all. Damian had heard from more traveled soldiers that Enurans don’t use lumber to construct their homes or to craft their weapons, but he had always wondered how that could be. If their wood was this crooked and misshapen, how could they use it?

Damian’s idle musing was cut short when the fisherman produced an oddly shaped knife with a bone handle in front of him, gesturing to take it. Damian looked up at the young man and saw a much softer expression than he’d come to expect from earlier in the day.

“Take this, and come with me. We’ve carving to do.”

The priests nodded and assumed supervision of the cooking fish. Damian stood and took the knife gingerly in his hand. It felt immediately intuitive to hold, comfortable between his thumb and palm in a way that suggested decades of use in exactly the manner he had held it. The bone was dry and cool, soft in a way Damian did not expect, and porous to the point that it seemed to drink the sweat of his palm. The blade was a hard iron, and Damian tested the sharpness of its edge by raking his thumbprint across it flatways so as not to cut himself. Its edge was marvelously maintained. The fisherman was dedicated to his craft, this much was clear.

“This is a beautiful tool. You must use it with pride,” Damian said to the young man.

“Indeed. It’s an inherited craft, as is the knife. My father was a smith. The bone was his father’s. If I’m lucky, I will give this to my child one day.”

“You did not become a smith like your father?”

“Do children follow their father’s work in your country?”

“Typically, yes. Apprentices aren’t realistic for common folk. My own father was a fisherman as you are, but I chose a life of soldiering after he died.”

“Hopefully you will put soldiering behind you, so your sons and daughters might be fishermen instead,” said the young man, wistfully.

Damian hadn’t even thought about the possibility of having children. Could he even do so?

The fisherman had started walking out toward the trees, and Damian followed him. When they arrived at the gnarled thing, the young man pulled a small axe out from somewhere underneath his robe, then set about the tree, examining it with a keen eye for some detail Damian couldn’t guess. He must have found what he was looking for, for after a few moments the young man began hacking at a bump in the wood. After a few decisive chops, the bump was pried loose and rolled into the young man’s hand with a bounty of sap in tow.

“Do you see these burls? They are places the tree has hurt before,” said the young man, sticky sap coating his fingers. He turned the burl over in his hands. “They are the hardest wood of the tree, most difficult to carve but they give us beautiful eproxa.”

“What is an eproxa?”

The young man began chopping a second burl on the tree as he spoke. “I do not know its translation in Kelsyid tongue, but they are ritual items. We use them to represent our dead in the festival of the gardeners. We carve them from wood here where the oldest of the white bean trees grow. I’ve heard other towns to the south of us just use stones because the white beans do not grow there,” explained the fisherman. He plopped the newly cut burl into Damian’s hand, sticky sap dripping off the thing.

“The closest word for us would be ‘effigy’ but we don’t typically make them to honor the dead so much as rally soldiers on the eve of battle. Our town did not celebrate it but I know of a place in Kelsys where an effigy of God’s disciple Rhea is built out of dried sticks on the week before soybean harvests and placed in the middle of the markets. Most Kelsyid effigies are built to burn the night before battle, and they typically depict the enemy.”

The fisherman considered his words. “Enurans do not build effigies as you describe. Eproxa are small things to hold close, but I suppose the two are both meant to inspire. If you must call it anything in your tongue, I would say it is a talisman. But eproxa is a word which is close to us, so I hope you can appreciate the difference.”

The young man sat down in his place beside the fire and ran his hands across the sand to clean off the sap. Damian followed suit, watching as the young man started carving into the burl in his hand with his own knife. The bone handled heirloom sat uneasy in Damian’s other hand, suddenly feeling as if he shouldn’t be holding such a thing.

The pan of fish had been removed from the flames earlier by the priests, and they now stuffed the fish with herbs of an unknown kind.

“It smells wonderful,” said the young fisherman, not looking up from his carving.

Damian watched as the short priest removed a folded animal skin from her leather bag on the ground. She unwrapped it and produced a flat bowl with a wide lid made of some kind of red pottery. It looked similar to the clay pottery Damian had seen from the towns of the northern coast in Kelsys, but different in a way he couldn’t place. Removing the lid, the priest took four thin flatbread circles from inside and set them across her lap. She placed a single stuffed fish in the center of the flatbread, then rolled the whole thing up in such a way that one end of the newly formed cylinder was closed in on itself. The priest handed the wrapped fish to Damian.

“It is a favorite of mine. Do me the honor of complimenting my cooking?”

Damian could finally smell the herbs more strongly now that the finished meal was so close to his nose. The scents reminded him of basil, but he didn’t recognize the leaves so it must’ve been a different plant. He laid the heirloom knife across his lap so that he could hold the wrapped fish with both hands. It had been weeks since Damian ate any food; his mouth ran wet as soon as he opened it to take a bite. To be truthful, he might’ve enjoyed eating wet clay after so long of nothing at all. His own estimation of flavor – skewed as it must’ve been – made little difference. The fish tasted incredible. He could taste an overpowering aroma from the herbs, bathed in the juices of the fish and the sheep’s milk butter which it had seared in. He’d never eaten anything like it. The flatbread was warm in his hands as he savored the first bite of food he’d had in his immortal lifetime. What a marvel to be welcomed back to his senses, to taste something that wasn’t sand and desolation.

He looked up to see an expectant look on the priest’s face as he forced his throat to remember how to swallow. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and all he could manage was a nod. Satisfied with his answer, she went about rolling the remaining fish so the four of them could eat together.

***

Damian took the wood burl in his hands. Lunch sat amiably in his belly, the first time anything had done so since his time with the Coyotes. He wondered how they would be faring. The fisherman sat next to him and held his partially carved burl in an instructive pose for Damian to copy.

“Envision the endpoint of the cut. Place your blade shallow and push, using your thumb to guide the blade gently to its home at the end of the cut. Force is not your friend here, only self-assured movement. If you use too much force the knife will twist under pressure or you will break your grip. The cut will be ugly and you might nick your other hand.”

“What am I creating with these cuts?”

The fisherman paused and thought to himself before answering. “I suppose you do not feel the same things we do about death. We create eproxa to please our dead, so usually their faces or their favorite items in living times. There are too many dead here and too few living to make appropriate eproxa for all of them before the gardeners arrive. Make whatever pleases your heart.”

Damian puzzled over what exactly he meant. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to please his heart anymore. The fisherman’s comment about death felt pointedly accusatory, but Damian couldn’t protest it. The young man was telling the truth.

“You keep mentioning these ‘gardeners’ but I don’t follow what you mean. Who are they?”

“If I am correct in my predictions, you will meet one tonight. When you do, be respectful,” said the fisherman with a certain finality about his voice.

Damian would have to get used to unsatisfactory answers, it seemed.

“I’ve yet to ask your name. What do you like to be called?”

“By you? Nothing. My mother may be more graceful, but I will not pretend not to hate you. I am teaching you these things because it pleases my mother, not because you have a right to know them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You are not. You are ashamed.”

Damian could not form a reply. Anger heated his blood, but it quickly subsided. The young man spoke truthfully, but to acknowledge his assessment twisted the knife in the wound. He looked over to the priests, both of whom were carving their own eproxa, neither of whom acknowledged the conversation.

The ground began to shake. It shook in a way that Damian had hoped was only a dream. It shook with the waking of something terrible.

“We have less time than I had hoped, it seems. Come, Damian. Let us head closer to the bank,” said the taller priest, taking the shorter one’s hand to pull her up.

“We have to run! Are you crazy?” Damian dropped his wood burl, barely carved at all. He was frantic, sweat beading his brow.

“Damian, calm yourself. The ground shakes with life. You are in no danger,” spoke the shorter priest.

“No danger? It’s a fucking dragon! I’ve felt this before, right before I was nearly eaten by a monster!”

A mighty wallop met the side of Damian’s head, followed quickly by the hot desert sand. His vision spiraled with darkly spun webs. His stomach turned over and tied itself in knots from his concussed head and the shaking earth.

“Never disrespect my mother, and never disrespect the gardeners,” the young fisherman shouted, barely coherent through the thick clouds swirling in Damian’s head.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the tall priest chided.

“He had it coming.”

“Fuck. Okay, I’m sorry. God,” Damian groaned, holding his pounding head, “you could’ve just given me a warning.”

“You will not die,” said the fisherman, chuckling.

Damian couldn’t understand how the three were so calm. What on earth were gardeners? Were they the dragons? Did Enurans truly have mastery over these beasts? He looked up at the three, each seemingly unconcerned. How could this be their reaction to the same monster that buried his men in the sand and nearly ate them all that time ago? And why would they hold a festival for it?

The taller priest extended a hand for Damian to pull himself up, which he accepted. He winced as his head throbbed.

“You throw a hell of a punch.”

“I hit you with your sword pommel,” the fisherman said through a massive grin, holding up the sheathed blade.

Damian couldn’t even be angry. The man’s clear enjoyment of the moment was infectious. The circumstances were ridiculous to the point that Damian felt like laughing with the young man.

“Let us get out of the way. To the shore, quickly,” said the fisherman’s mother.

The four of them hurriedly walked to the river’s edge, Damian looking over his shoulders to try and see where the dragon would erupt. The rumbling had subsided for the moment, but that could change rather quickly from his experience.

“There! Behold, the gardener emerges!” The taller priest pointed beyond the fire; far off before the horizon sat a mound of sand and shrubbery, shifting with something below.

Damian froze as he absorbed the sight of it. Wings colossal stretched slow and stiff out of the earth, casting off mountains of debris in shrugging wakefulness. A head followed, black and speckled with orange, yawning maw bedecked in spilling sand. The behemoth shook its limbs, leaving the craterous hole of the earth to fill with its castoff bedding. It stood true to its myth, tall and wide as a galleon on the northern coast, its frame truly transcendent in scale. Damian felt a hand on his, pulling him downward, but his eyes were fastened tight on the monster before him.

“Damian, kneel before the great bird. Please do not dishonor yourself.” The hand pulled more insistently.

Damian couldn’t tear his eyes away. The towering wings of the beast slacked back down to the ground and splayed out as if a great lantern spilled its oil across the land. The creature shook itself off of the rest of its sandy blanket and the rest of its lingering sleep, then turned its massive head skyward. It opened its cavernous maw and opined a guttural howl, the kind that rattled bones, pierced eardrums, fractured daytime sky. Damian wondered momentarily if this was a howl to its kin, some kind of summons like the baying of a pack animal in the evening hours of the hunt, or if it simply howled to feel that it still could after waking from a tomb.

The dragon crept toward the corpse pit, its sluggish movement shaking the earth with each heavy step. It raised its leathery wings, creaking with newfound mobility, and beat them downward with torrential force. The desert erupted with sand once more as this great terror launched skyward, blowing debris far and wide in a brilliant plume. Damian stood in awe of this thunderous cloud, standing now outside of it to truly appreciate the sheer terror that had enveloped him those many months ago. To watch such a thing from a distance was beautiful in its own way, haunting as it was to experience from inside the cloud. The dragon descended, its flight ultimately akin to a leap for such a large creature despite being such an incredible distance. Its wings billowed upward to drag against the fall, letting the colossal lizard land with far more grace than it looked to possess at first blush. The innumerable corpses looked paltry to such a megalithic beast.

Memories danced a sonorous dance in Damian’s eyes. The mouth of a hungry abyss, so deep to create its own horizon in which to be enveloped. The lot of them spared the snapping jaws, wide-eyed and terrified, each man leaving alone – even as they walked together – after being changed by such twisting fear. He recognized this ghastly face, the pattern of orange and black under eyes so dark they swallowed the sun. This was the beast that Leander struck with his pike that fateful day. Damian was sure of it. He took shaky steps toward the dragon, knowing not what compelled him but knowing that he dared not falter.

[sempiternalmuze]

A Heart Touched - George Weasly x Reader

description: George and yourself are tired after a long day, and all you can think to do is cuddle in front of the fire and tell each other about the little things.

word count: 1.0k

warning(s): none

a/n: cozy George story for a cozy night. nothing too crazy, just testing the waters on this new account :) thanks for reading <3

It wasn't often that you and George were allowed the time to enjoy each other's presence. It had been so much easier when you two were young, a pair of dumb fifth-years at Hogwarts who didn't have a clue what you wanted to do in life. Until Dolores Umbridge had stomped into your school and nearly torn it to the ground. When George and Fred had flown through the room where you'd been taking your OWLs, you knew that you two would be fine, regardless of where life took you.

And yet here you were, walking back to the joke shop that sat a few blocks away from your place of work, a local and quaint plant shop. You sighed as you pulled the door open, the cold air of the outside quickly replaced with the bubbly and warm nature of the twin's joke shop. Kids zoom by, chasing each other with the items they found from around the shop, laughing and shouting at one another.

You make your way through, dodging them as they fly right by your waist until you make it to the counter where Fred is stationed, ringing up items and handling the counter like a pro.

"Evening Fred!" You shout, nearly drowned out by the giggles and gimmicks flying around.

"Oi Y/N! Georgie's in the back, tell him to hurry back here would you?" He smiles, nodding towards the storage room.

You make haste and push back the heavy door, meeting face-to-face with stacks upon stacks of boxes. You look around, a small sneeze escaping you.

"Bless you!" George's head pops out from behind a stack three rows down. His face lights up as he sees you, and soon his arms wrap around you as he trails a few kisses around your face. "Hello, darling, what brings you back here?"

"Well, Fred told me to come back here and scoop you up. I think he's struggling since it's so busy today."

"Yeah, holidays are closer than people think. So many just send their kids in with some sickles or galleons, even knuts, and soon you have a mess in here. But I don't mind." He smiled.

You couldn't help but notice how his eyes sparkled as he marveled at the shop and its success. He had been so excited when he and Fred had put down the first payment for the shop. Admittedly it was a hard thing to explain to your parents, but they'd come around to the idea when you'd phrased that George was a 'business owner and entrepreneur'.

"I can tell." You smiled. "But really, I think Fred needs help. What time do you think you'll be closing up tonight?"

"Honestly not sure...I can be up by eight?" He says, a slight rise of his eyebrow as he guesstimates what time would be acceptable to close for the night.

"That's perfect." You smile, giving him a soft kiss, taking his hand, and leading him back out to the front, where Fred is now being swarmed by what must be hundreds of children.

George looks at you, shocked, as you laugh. "Go help him, I'll be upstairs."

He squeezes your hand before diving into the mess right next to his twin.

The ambiance of the apartment was much better than that of the shop or outside. It was so perfectly in tune with George and you, and it never failed to lift you up after a long day.

With a quick wave of your wand you briskly had some food preparing on the stove as you began to pick up around the place.

You were the first to admit that magic had made your life so much easier since discovering it, but there were some things you couldn't help to resort to your "muggle" ways for, like laundry.

Soon enough dinner was ready and served, and all you had to do was wait for George to make his own way up. And nearly on the dot, the apartment door opened and the tall man made his way inside.

"God it smells like heaven in here." He smiled at you.

"It's all ready, still warm." You hugged him, chin resting on his chest as you stared up at him. He was so warm and smelled of sweet fragrance.

His arms returned the favor, walking the both of you to the table where the food was serving itself. After a lovely dinner, with small laughs and reminiscence of the day, the two of you found yourselves on the floor, hands intertwined as the small fire burned away.

"Have I ever told you about the first day I met you? And how much I knew I needed to just...know you?" George leans his frame against you.

You looked at him, hand still playing with his fingers. "Really?" You ask.

"Mhm, I even begged Ron to try and introduce me. But he swore up and down he didn't know you that well."

"What a liar! He was one of the first people I talked to at Hogwarts." You scoff. George laughs and shakes his head.

"Well, you know, that first day that we spoke to each other I was an absolute mess. I even remember begging Hermione to sneak out or I'd explode with pure excitement." You laugh. "You made me so nervous George. Anytime you'd look at me or pass me a note..."

He takes your hand in his own, lifting it to his lips, and pressing a soft kiss to it, a smile playing on his lips.

The fire starts to dwindle down, but you don't want to move, worried you'll ruin the perfect essence around you and George.

"I love you so much. You're the only thing I dream of at night, and all I think about in the day." George said, running a finger lightly through your hair. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for never giving up."

As the fire blew out, and the lights outside the shop lit up, you couldn't hope for anything more beautiful or perfect. Only that the future would be half as beautiful as this moment.

[captainswanapproved]

An Indecent Proposal- Chapter 8

A03,Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5,Chapter 6,Interlude, Chapter 7

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:

Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.

She needs a true Targaryen heir.

It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.

Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.

Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.

Pain lanced through Rhaenyra’s abdomen. Fortunately, Laena was there to catch her as she doubled over, her knees shaking.

“The babe is coming,” Rhaenyra said. “Send for the maester and the midwives,” Rhaenyra yelled at the two maids who had burst into the chamber at the sounds of her distress.

Laena helped Rhaenyra to the bed and quickly began undoing the ties at the back of the gown. Another maid appeared to assist with a clean shift in hand.

“Laena, write to my uncle. He will want to know that the babe is coming.”

Laena kissed her friend’s forehead. “Be strong, Rhaenyra, I have faith in you. I will write to Daemon and find my brother.”

If the maid thought it was suspicious that Rhaenyra had instructed Laena to inform Daemon without any mention of her lord husband, she said nothing. Instead, she helped Rhaenyra settle into a more comfortable position as she was beset by labor pains once more.

***

“The babe will not come for many hours yet. Your opening is too narrow,” Grand Maester Mellos said.

Both midwives agreed with the maester’s assessment, though Merosi, the Essosi midwife said, “Princess, it will be a long night. Try to close your eyes between pains. They are still quite far apart.”

Hours later, the sun had set. Laena had long dispatched the letter to the Stepstones and was sitting with Laenor in Rhaenyra’s solar.

Rhaenyra was grateful that Laenor was not insisting on breaking tradition and taking a place at her bedside. She suspected Daemon would do so were he here, but his doing so would only rouse suspicion so it was just as well that he was in the Stepstones. Still, she prayed that by some miracle, he and Caraxes would reach King’s Landing in time for the babe to be born. It would ease her troubled mind to know that her lover was within the walls of the Red Keep, even if he could not be at her side.

The Westerosi midwife, Kalinda, assessed her after another agonizing labor pain. The midwife pressed her palm against her belly. “The babe is in the proper position. The head is down, Princess, but I fear there are still many more hours to labor. Your opening has not widened much since your pains began.”

One of the maids wiped the sweat from Rhaenyra’s brow with a cool cloth and Rhaenyra began to pray to any gods who might listen to bring Daemon back to her as swiftly as possible.

***

Wind and rain lashed Daemon’s face. He struck Caraxes with his whip, urging the Blood Wyrm to fly faster.

The full moon hung in the pitch sky like a ghostly galleon. The rain was worsening, but Daemon would not let a small storm keep him from Rhaenyra. Not when she needed him most.

Many grueling hours later the towers of the Red Keep were in view, streaks of light were just barely starting to brighten the horizon.

Daemon chose to land in the training yard of the Red Keep, which was blessedly deserted but for a pair of guards. After dismounting, Daemon pressed his forehead against Caraxes’s scales. “You did well. Return to the pit. Syrax will need you,” he said in High Valyrian.

Caraxes took off with a roar, and Daemon made his way to Maegor’s holdfast.

Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Erryk Cargyll stood guard at Rhaenyra’s chambers.

“My Prince, we did not expect you,” Ser Harrold said.

“How fares the princess?”

In answer, Daemon heard Rhaenyra screaming loudly from within her chamber. Daemon froze, his heart clenching in terror.

“She has been laboring since yesterday afternoon, My Prince. His Grace and the Velaryon siblings are in the Princess’s solar. Perhaps you would like to join them.

Daemon would like nothing more but to dispatch both guards and charge into Rhaenyra’s chambers, but these men were honorable knights with whom he had no quarrel. If Ser Laenor, her husband, was waiting in the solar, then so too must Daemon.

Daemon nodded and proceeded to Rhaenyra’s solar, just down the hall from her chambers.

“Brother,” Viserys said, surprise evident in his voice. “You look awful!”

“I have been flying all night,” Daemon said, knowing perfectly well that he must look a mess. He crossed the room to Laena. “I thank you, my lady, for writing.”

“You are welcome, Prince Daemon,” Laena said with a small smile. “I am glad you have returned safely.”

A maid appeared in the doorway and said, “Lady Laena, the princess is asking for you.”

Daemon longed to follow Laena to Rhaenyra’s chambers, but instead he joined Viserys and Ser Laenor in cups of Arbor Gold. Daemon could only hope that the birth would not end in disaster as it had with Aemma and his beloved mother.

***

“I cannot push, you cunt! I am too tired,” Rhaenyra cried.

When Laena appeared in her chambers, a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Laena, the stubborn babe will not come! He is too much like his father.”

Laena, she knew, would understand the true meaning of that claim.

“I will tell my brother you said so, Princess,” Laena said. She came to sit beside her dear friend and whispered, “Prince Daemon is here as well, waiting in the solar with your father and husband.”

Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat and she suddenly felt stronger despite the near eighteen hours she had been laboring.

“Princess,” Kalinda said from her position at the foot of the bed. “It is time to start pushing..”

Merosi, the Essosi midwife seconded the notion, pressing against Rhaenyra’s midsection. “The babe is ready to come, Princess.”

And so Rhaenyra pushed, and screamed, and bled.

But after a half an hour of near-constant pushing, Kalinda held a lusty baby girl with silver wisps and purple eyes. The babe cried and Rhaenyra thought her heart might burst.

“You have a beautiful, healthy girl, Princess,” Kalinda said, tears gathering in her eyes as she swaddled the babe.

“Give her to me,” Rhaenyra panted.

Merosi, however, said, “Princess, there is another babe coming. I can see the head.”

“Another?” Rhaenyra asked faintly. Impossible. No. She could not deliver another child.

“Yes, Princess. I know you are exhausted, but you must continue you labors. Push!”

Birthing the second child, though, was no easy task. The babe’s shoulder was stuck and the babe would not come.

Merosi called for two maids to hold Rhaenyra’s legs, the hope being that bending them in the right way would give the babe more room. Merosi took a position on the birthing bed, on her knees beside Rhaenyra. She placed one hand just above where the shoulder was thought to be, laid her other hand upon it, and with all her might pressed down.

The combination of these maneuvers, as well as three more strong pushes allowed Kalinda to pull the babe from Rhaenyra.

“A boy, Princess.”

The boy had no silver hair to speak of, and his eyes were closed, his skin somewhat dusky. He did not cry.

The tension in the room was thick as Kalinda wrapped the boy in a blanket and rubbed his chest, hoping to make him cry.

It was the longest minute of Rhaenyra’s life, but at last, the baby boy uttered an almost draconic shriek. Life returned to the room as the little girl was given over to Rhaenyra, and the boy to Laena.

Rhaenyra kissed her daughter’s forehead, the babe’s downy hair tickling her lips.

The baby boy finally opened his eyes and they were a lovely shade of lilac.

“What will you name them, Rhaenyra?” Laena asked.

Rhaenyra did not answer, but screamed again as the afterbirth was delivered, gushing from her in a grotesque wave. The maester declared there was too much blood, but the Merosi shooed him away. “We will care for the Princess, if you haven’t the stomach for it. Inform His Grace of the healthy delivery of his two grandchildren”

Grand Maester Mellos left the room in haste.

“This is Princess Alyssa,” Rhaenyra announced, handing the babe to Merosi.

She took her son from Laena, who had started to cry in earnest. “And this, is Prince Jacaerys, who will one day inherit the Iron Throne.”

“Those are beautiful names, true Valyrian names! Congratulations, my dearest friend,” Laena said.

Rhaenyra thanked Laena for being at her side as she labored, and then kissed her son’s cheek. Jacaerys Velaryon was beautiful, and Alyssa Velaryon was his equal in beauty. She had delivered two perfect children, and she was certain that both would make her proud.

[icharchivist]

ICHA ICHA ICHA! How do you like GranFes so far??? I am in LOVE with the Relink trailer, it looks so good! The new Versus does too, but I'm a bit bitter that they're releasing a whole new game to buy all over instead of adding to the existing one, ha ha,,, AND THE COSPLAYERS ARE SO HOT???

HEYYYYY!!

I like it a lot!! it's been a whole time of fun and it's always impressive!

the trailers are amazing, i'm genuinely sooo into the relink one and i really hope to be able to play it.

On Versus, it looks hella cool but yeah, i agree with you, it's a bit bitter to know you gotta buy it again... though i would assume there will be something for the people who already have the base game or something? Listen i'm just glad the gbvs only people are going to stop complaining about rollback, this was a thorn at my side lmao

I've been in love with the hologram shows, they're all full of life it's so fun to watch!! and the fact we got Eternals: The Boysbands edition is worth everything. I feel like for one minute we got sent in Seofon's dream dimension or something because i don't know how in our reality Seox or Feower could have been blackmailed enough to accept to do it, but i'm so glad for the fever dream.

and the cosplayers ARE SOOOOOOO HOT IT'S INSANE. Everytime i see them my jaw drop!!!

Yesterday i was talking on here about how just, unwell i was about Fediel's cosplayer, she's so hot and for what??? but tbh all of the dragons are INCREDIBLE, they look straight up out of the VN it's uncanny.

I love to see the oldie cosplayers come back too, the dragon knights and the society's cosplayers are always fun to see around, seeing the fox family always makes me teary, and BOY the wmtsb gang knows how to offer a show. The Belial cosplayer lives in all our mind rentfree ahah.

Also huge shout out to Lyria's cosplayer who captures so well what it is to be The Babiest Baby You Would Die For (And Already Have, Twice). Like i see her and i'm just "oh yeah me too i'd die for her, great job". She makes me happy everytime i see it.

also omg the fashion show was such a cool idea??? it was so wild to see recreations of costumes that only appeared in obscure promo arts from the way back, and it was so amazing to see how all those cosplayers, who have been trained to behave like their characters so much, wear it with so much grace and elegance and, so in character. It's so amazing.

Also huge shout out to THE SETS????? Like holy shit the whole Canaan's stained glasses are eVERYTHING, the huge statues of Bahamut, Galleon and all, are just so fucking gorgeous, and i'm always in love with the café and the sets made to hang out. It makes the whole environment feel so real it always look so dreamy.

And personally i'm a huge fan of the seiyuu shows, as a big seiyuu fan, and one of my fav seiyuu was on stage today so i was really having tunnel vision LMAO, but the games were sooo fun and i loved to see them all blatantly cheat at weighting plushies. I can't believe we're getting rewards out of it. (and also i want the Galleon big plush so bad after all of this, they're taunting me so much).

And the announcements!!!! The New class is so cool, Vikala getting her 5* was long overdo thanks god, AND LU WOH!!!!!!!!!!! Would almost forget he was planned at this point i'm just so glad he's not a fever dream LMAO. And personally i'm just thrilled because while Seiyuu fans have been theorizing ever since he came out, we didn't know his seiyuu until now, and they confirmed it's, also, one of my fav seiyuu, so now i'm forced to stan harder than i did before 😩✌

but even without the seiyuu angle i'm just so glad he was finally announced, it's been long overdue and i sure hope he saves Light from the state it's in right now.

That said they're keeping some announcements for tomorrow and i'm SO curious about what's to come. It's so bewildering to see so many things come out of all of it! And we're likely getting the anni trailer too then so i am really curious what it will be!

so so far i've been having a total blast and i cannot wait to see what awaits tomorrow :3c

So glad to hear you're having fun and i hope you'll enjoy yourself tomorrow too!!

take care!

[libidomechanica]

“And chasing on the like, taking revenge falls,”

Luminous, gemlike, ghostly     galleons of our grave, and the terrible months after a     prize to-night was fallen dumb. There is Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud? The     peacefull’st cot, the garden

ground. With you than a God! Loves     delight, like some fathom these obtain her honor’s laws. And     chasing on the like, taking revenge falls, and what is it     he cannot be gay let

a passion, and setting sail, outline     forming round it: not an Inch of laws, since odds are this     in the loss of maiden mild! But stricter, watch for me by     moonlight, more hate the flight

renew’d. Lucy ceased to believe     it, in being merely innocence shall ride our forest     for ever scare me wish myself each word which arise from     you be took. Than the road

is a ribbon of moonlight, out     of my love her answer with knout? Which might be arbiter     of Earth, and not deeds. I cannot tell; I wish no evening.     Wit temperate: rough winds

of the place, and after sternest,     is when, and restored to overtrodden ways besides alas!     Some are so low they gagged his daughter. He is your voice,     that neuer pype of reede

did better sounde. Little Leila     we’lldispose; for the pull of absence! And your dog, fondle     your body rocking off, about what, and grey. She too rejoiced     in Beauty in Loves

Wars to play; for good nor harm being     humane to her hands behind; and there; thus far for my     name thy footsteps in the swallow, the soul be understand!     His desire in any

way; my Emanation shall     not know. Music to heavenly lights are likeness holds, nought     but brakes and taciturn Asiatic disposition     which wel could her girlond

dight, and I, and the sunlight lumps     of my body has someone shipping oars: it’s eleven     years shone clear thee. They do not yet know myself and your     disbelief though I was kind.

[beboslatkice]

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Carolina

Oklahoma  

question submitted  statement 1:57 p.m., $14 trillion course drop {The Honest Homebuyer} principality letters ‘client’ judgment though not criminal risk cause private holding field to structure 53 count indictment seven dividuals ran scheme appraise escrow i.e the dirt further cost under the floor board than standing walls New Century Financial Corporation sub prime reason of doubt was there arguable probability profit o prophet less the shed blood innocent hollow be thy name father untold forgiveness pledge grant our abscent silent no utter forth housing boom bust cycle Brookstreet Securities Corporation former American Home Mortgage Investment Corporation Galleon Group deferred prosecution Beazer Homes perp perpet perpetrate buprenorphine suboxone the lick Bernard ward wallnor Madoff similarly Robert Allen Stanford Enron property flip HGTV Dewalt black and decker in the first “try me” that t h a t had (not) stanford prison experiment fail breath least less less none breath breath at last formula continuum plagiarism of equation complete 3rd intent incapable short term policy sell point truly substantial letdown wannabe attempt failure to launch in ratio aspect partial fuddler downward dealer hatch scheme kind to few the testimony your hair on stand at the real problem I’ll tear u limb 4L limb respect the rate Ni Bush administration Pace C placement investor confidence piece further smaller piece further median piece further corner piece further model piece further modern piece further modem piece further pieces Division the Bureaucracy Legislation office of the handle instruments & complaints Wyrock & Black priority status with no less option in forward Ni index as disclosure agency Augustus Kill Kill Kill white collar full of red burgundy blue is the sky no mean pre crime launch fit stimulus Lorde/Lawyer/Trust Advisor/Consultant in regard proxy simulate liability insure insurer insurances insurance Term & Policy as Respect Direct Current conduct prequalify modem constellation arose Moody Standard & Poors and Fitch 31 doc 35/124 paragraph five section three article to close “””data straight from the exchanges, co-locate their computers, use algorithms that permit (    ) to trade ‘ahead’ of quotes (        ) ‘else’ ultimatum sees by just a few milliseconds.””” two tier ultimatum disclosure as source guarantee side across look act “method allows track everything” “can’t do just labor go thru single trade” verbatim no sub-delegation full commission sub-witness inferiority amount measure flow of work Ni distraction as alibi technology & related functions task matter oversight enforcement confidence enable fulfill Pequot Capital Management Deny motion to streamline processes incorporate axe described below ultimatum above: further motion deny forward recommendation uniform comprehensive manual procedures 1 conduct enforcing Chief Counsel in PDF each & every part article info article step article hold article place article top to bottom including As relative matter under current investigation as reflects corporate fraud high priority nationwide political scandal as declaration death clause DOJ will on God Almighty facilitate each & every breath to the illiest grave robbers as wolves under the arose of accolade in particular pay-to-play or investment adviser bar bar from practicing previous the commission as an account accountant a bar from serving as an officer or director of a public space as space COMPANY or penny The Dancing Clown PennyWise The Dancing Clown will find you’s and make force see look three lights special stock bar (AAA) rating

Commission [C]omission transaction transgression neither admit nor deny [the duty to not deny the commission’s findings] personal slight as ‘regret’ Firm would not deny the: the order is without factual basis respondent hereby withdraws current direct & not by indirect placement with over easy over the shoulder quick irritate realism Morgan Stanley Augustus Adolf Elizabeth Queen England Only Begotten Manchester United affiliate Heckler & Koch