#lastly* good lord

[stingyslegslookweird]

Curvier - a short essay-type thing

Okay, it's been 11 years, I have to share a theory. I'm fully aware that basically no one who currently follows me and/or pays attention to the things I post about will understand anything I'm about to say, but tbh I've put way too much into this to really care.

Anyway, you guys ever heard of TOME? :D

If not, it's this neat little 15-episode (technically 16 if you count /FILE:ZERO, 25 if you also count the Season 1 shorts, and 26 if you count all of those plus AvZ, the 5-year anniversary short) animated web series about two teenagers, an imp, a dragon-man, and a [REDACTED] who get together and fight criminals in VRchat.

Jokes aside, it's really good and you can watch it here. Seriously, go do that. It's so damn good. Today's the 11th anniversary, you literally have no excuse. At least watch episode one, otherwise the rest of this post will make absolutely no sense beyond the most surface-level of details.

Okay, done? You've watched Episode 1? Good, good. So...

In the first episode, specifically around 3:06, Nylocke pronounces Kirb's username wrong, to which he replies "It's Kirbopher. It's like Christopher except curvier." But... it isn't, though, is it? Merriam-Webster Dictionary (the most official dictionary, as we all know) defines a curve as "to have or take a turn, change, or deviation from a straight line or plane surface without sharp breaks or angularity", its synonyms including bend, curvature, arc, bow, and crook. Basically, any circle, half-circle, quarter-circle, oval, etc.

To be fair, assuming the onscreen textboxes are actually a "thing" in TOME itself, as opposed to a visual effect only used to tell the story, one could claim that the font Kirb's player uses is rather curvy itself (and they'd be right), but is it curvier?

After checking Google, I quickly found a list of every font used in the show, gathered in this here Google Doc by one unicornfoal (their username didn't pop up in the menu thing when I tried to @ them so idk if they still go by that), which tells us that the font Kirb uses is "Spicy Sushi Roll".

With the font determined, we can compare the curviness of the names. To do this, I typed each of them out in a word document, took a screenshot, and pasted it into my photo-editing software of choice. There, I created this handy diagram detailing every curve in the letters, in addition to offering brief definitions of my terminology and method for determining what counts as a curve.

Also, as an aside, I'm really proud of how this turned out, especially with the lines and colors and the grid in the background. Like... man. Not to suck myself off or anything, but holy hell am I good at this.

Anyway, as you can see, the name "Kirbopher" has 7 inner (convex) curves and 8 outer (concave) curves, adding up to a total of 15 curves, which, assuming I'm correct about all this, had to be intentional. "Christopher", on the other hand, has 10 inner curves and 11 outer curves, which adds up to 21 total curves. Therefore, "Kirbopher" is not only not "like Christopher except curvier", but is in fact less curvy. This revelation, while shocking, isn't my final point. No, no. Because this rabbit hole goes deeper, dear reader. First, though, we must talk about parallel universes a long-defunct 2000s internet forum.

Long before TOME was a 15-episode web series, its world and characters were conceptualized in a 70-something long series of sprite animations on Newgrounds, known as TvTome Adventures, or TTA for short. Based on the forums of the TvTome website, which now redirects to tv.com, the series featured characters based largely on the forum's users, including one white sword-wielding marshmallow-thing by the name of Kirbopher15, pictured below.

Yeah. That's... more or less Kirby in a hat. Somewhat Kirby-like. Kirbyish? Though, to be fair, it could probably be... kirbyer?

And that's where my theory kicks in. Buckle your fuckle because this is gonna blow your damn mind.

What if, and hear me out here, the original line wasn't "curvier", but instead "kirbyer", as in "more Kirby"? It'd certainly make more sense, seeing as, one, the character was originally just a Kirby recolor in a hat, and two, the name Kirbopher is literally just "Christopher" but with "Chris" replaced with "Kirby", minus the y.

Why was it changed, then? Seeing as it's so early on in the show, which has been stated to have had somewhat of a rough production, almost not making it past four episodes, it could be out of concern over copyrights, trademarks, or other legal issues possibly arising, were the show to be, say, picked up by a TV network or something. Even though Kirby is an actual name that real people have, when you factor in the character's previous incarnation, it could definitely be taken to mean the Nintendo character, instead of a regular person's name.

Oh, and one more thing. Tumblr, being very art-driven by design, is home to tons and tons of artists, writers, voice actors, etc., both amateur and professional. Plus, because Tumblr lets you @ blogs you know the names of, someone with an insane theory about a single throwaway line of dialogue in an episode of a somewhat niche web animation could, say... @ the creator of said animation, assuming they're on tumblr in the first place, and ask if they're correct in their long-winded assertions, or are simply talking out of their ass. So, with that in mind...

@kirbopher How'd I do?

[dex0s]

—♡DOUMA X MALE READER WARNING: smut, non-con, cannibalism?, douma, reader having a huge chest, thoracic area called boobs/tits, daddy kink, face sitting, breeding kink, semi-public?, incest?, cliffhanger ending (only because I’m lazy), not proof read

A/N— okay I know I was gone for like 2 months but um— yeah

You were a member of his cult and your older sister got sick to the point she had to stay in bed instead of praying to your demon lord. For the past couple days you had been asking your lord to heal your sister. And at first DOUMA was uninterested or just ignored you but then he got a full look at you. (H/c) hair, beautiful bright (e/c) eyes, nice face, well shaped body, and lastly YOUR CHEST. Oh and how he was so in love.

“Oh look a new play thing. Just. For. Me~ and ONLY me~”

After that you notice changes. One, Douma would ONLY look at you if you in the room but the moment you leave his face becomes disinterested (even if he doesn’t have emotions he feels like his life just decrease by a life time). Two, you ALWAYS feel like you’re being watched no matter what you doing or where you are, there are always RAINBOW EYES watching. And three, when you go and pray to your lord you can notice the lust in his eyes like a predator eyeing their next meal.

“I can’t believe I haven’t noticed you sooner… I wonder if that man will let me keep you~ who know maybe I will quit bugging him~”

Knowing damn well that man can hear him

One time you went to douma and asked for his blessing so your sister could get better and by pure coincidence your sister gotten better and could move around better then before. You thanked douma for the blessing but even tho it was a complete coincidence douma wanted more than just a thanks. He gave you his blessing and healed your sister. He wants more and he will get want he wants whether you want it or not .

HaAh~ Oh you tastes Sooo~ good~ Your so good—Fuck! for daddy~

Grinding your hips into the pillow while Douma is thrusting in and out your ass. “Ahh~ you look like dog when you do that~” Douma said, moving his hand up your body and stopping at your chest. “W-wait~AH!” Slamming his cock back in he starts to grope your chest. “Hmm! What a— good boy you are, so good— for daddy” you start to feel yourself about to release and you try to warn your lord but all that came out was babbles. Douma seem to notice this and started to go even harder on you hearing your gummy walls take him in and out and all the noise you were making made him even more hard then white sticky cum came out your dick but that didn’t stop Douma in fact he decided to switch it up a lot bit.

He lifts you over his face, your legs are shaking then slams you down on his face. Taking his long slimy tongue starting with kitty licks, suddenly roughly gripping your thighs and full on eating your ass like there’s no tomorrow. When the door opens (you didn’t even notice at first) it reveals your sister. Your sister was in shock, she didn’t know you had a side like this. Hearing your moans and the licks your sister can feel a wet spot in her undergarment. While your sister was standing there Douma could smell her wetness and started to get upset.

“Why is she here.”

“She needs to leave can’t she see I’m playing with my plaything.”

“It’s her fault he’s in this situation”

“She shouldn’t be so selfish and get sick”

“You know what… It’s show time”

Taking out his tongue from your ass, he moves you to his lap. Picking you up with your legs wrapped around his waist Douma starts to walk to your sister. “You know it’s rude to stare” using one of his free hands and roughly grabbing your sister’s chin forcing her to look at his rainbow eyes. “W-what are you doing to my brother!” Yelled out your sister that was trying to force Douma’s hand off of her and trying to reach for you, when Douma grabs the hand that was reaching for you and pulling it off her body. Finally snapping out the trance you hear a bloody cuddling scream. Turning your head around to see your sister on the ground clutching her shoulder but before you can say anything you were placed on the ground on all fours in front of your sister.

“Why don’t we put a show on for your sister~ hmm dear~”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.

Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.

His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.

He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.

In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.

His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.

And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.

Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.

He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).

Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.

Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.

Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.

Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)

No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.

Tim was a villain!

At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.

Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.

[regulusrules]

Fics that you should read before Arthur comes back: clown edition

Now I know we might all be clowns, and that they're probably playing with us as usual, but honest to God I don't care. I am going to get my hopes up because I have been doing exactly that for the past lord knows how long. So better stay consistent, ok? Better remain true to the cause.

Now here are some post-canon fics that the writers should put into consideration if they know what's good for them.

1. These Ghosts Might Be Mine by @peaceheather. 68K, G.

The only thing I wrote in my bookmarks over this was that it's "the ending we deserved". Pretty sure that sums up exactly what I want to say. It's not just your ordinary time travel fix-it fic, but one that is done with such brilliance that it leaves you marvelling in awe at times. You must do yourself a favour and read for this author if you actually want to get a good understanding of the characters past canon.

2. Seo Gaestlufe/The Soul's Love series by flowerofnettles. 180K, T/E.

I know how hesitant some are when it comes to series, but listen. This one is simply not long enough from how GOOD it is! I rarely read wip fics, (it's now complete) but I genuinely loved living a journey with the author while it was being written, and I felt the amount of love and passion the author spent on it. What a creation, honestly. It's one of the very best out there.

3. I will turn your fear into a handful of dust by @regulusrules. 1K, G.

I am biased, ok? I want my own happy ending for them. I want to see them grow old and weary together. I want them alive. And if what it takes is a 1k drabble of them lying together by the sea, then I'll take it. I'll take it every single time you guys.

4. Albion's last bulwark by Saturne. 92K, E.

You know when there's a halo around a fic that you intensely remember a scene from but never the whole? And the scene alone is more than enough to remind you how good of a fic it is? Yeah. Yeah it's definitely the case here. I vividly feel its effect still. Absolutely planning on rereading soon because of how brilliant it was.

5. And like the cycle of the year, we begin again by @katherynefromphilly. 207K, M.

And lastly, the fandom requirement. The one that we will throw fists for if we don't see a scene or two from. As much as I am always more into canon deviations than accepting the idea of immortality and Arthur rising after millennia, this fic was definitely a pro in trying to make me less in denial. It certainly set the expectations high for any adaptation they might make now, and for good reason.

ARTHUR WILL RISE AGAIN.

[schwarzkatje]

dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader

disclaimer: i don't ever write notes but this smells like too much blasphemy not to put some warnings and disclaimers. so, this contains ellie being still in an orphanage BUT i obviously changed the age so that she is of age because it goes without saying that p*dophilia is not contemplated here. also, "sister" is used as a synonym for "nun", not with the meaning of "family member". lastly, it does contain smut even though it's not so detailed.

> for part 2 click here

ellie didn't wake up one day choosing to be mean. in fact, if you ever asked her why the rude behaviour, she would simply laugh it off and tell you to shut the fuck up with a bitterness so unlikely for such a young girl.

ellie thought it was her god given right to do whatever she wanted, having being already stripped enough of the pillars of her life, namely a happy family and a place her heart could call home. that resulted in her receiving reprimands and punishments from the nuns more than any other kid in the orphanage.

and you, the youngest of the nuns tasked with the upbringing of the kids and the newest addition to the orphanage, seeing how ellie behaved, decided it was the perfect opportunity to enact the knowledge you had acquired during your noviciate by devouring books about dysfunctional behaviour, specifically in orphans. you were positive people could change if showed how.

what you would invoke the lord's name for to swear was your entire and firmly believed doctrine, came to a brutal halt the very moment you came to the realisation of what ellie's bad reputation really was about.

it wasn't just a typical scenographic display of childish behaviours like refusing to attend class or the occasional smuggling of cigarettes that concurred to tear apart your good intentions. these were merely common patterns studied throughout the years by psychologists and educators, and the main topics in all of your books.

no, what made you falter was the fact that ellie seemed to relish being mean. if others acting the same way sported an inconsolable sorrow in their eyes, ellie's green ones would glow with the eagerness that came with the raising of the voices of the nuns, the laughable detentions and the yet unexplored range of just how far was too far.

it didn't help that ellie had learnt from the older kids all the gross vocabulary she has now assimilated, repeating the filthy words as a sort of statement to maintain the hierarchical status she has fought for and ultimately achieved among the majority of the orphans.

so it caught you off guard only the first time ellie fiercely exclaimed that "if you care so much about me maybe you should suck my dick tonight," as you apprehended over time that this wasn't and wouldn't have been an isolated incident, rather an infuriating routine that seemed only to increase the more you showed ellie how much it pissed you off.

of course, that time your cheeks were burning red and your brain was at war with the mortification of having received such a vulgarity in front of other pupils, alongside the humiliation that ticked with each second you spent silent, at a loss for words to properly tackle the problem at hand.

the best thing you managed to come up with was the most generic and fruitless "go out," pointing at the class door.

before ellie could walk through the door, she turned to you, smirking like you had just made her day, and slurring a sultry "don't get so wet when you scold me," after which she left, winking at you.

your hands were tied. you understood that you could inform the other sisters of what ellie was making you go through, but you understood just as well that it would be no to avail since the other nuns were there way before you and knew to a greater extent the amount of work needed to be implemented when dealing with ellie.

after the heat of the moment had died down, you gathered all of your strength, prayed hoping to receive some mercy, and recited like a mantra that you were the bigger person and couldn't possibly let your purpose go to waste.

the fact was that you realised too late that the presence of what you called the devil had certainly been lurking around and now manifested itself in the obscene form of ellie fucking two of her fingers inside of you from behind in the scriptorium, something that dealt the final blow to any hope of creating the optimal conditions to demonstrate the good of your heart.

ellie and her breath, together with her hands, were four fiends cooperating under the same objectives, being disrupting you, disrupting everything you represented and disrupting everything you stood for.

"no one has ever made you feel so good," ellie was insane herself for needing to hear you say it "otherwise, you wouldn't be needing to play the part of the perfect little sister who thinks she can fix everyone to compensate how empty she is," and no matter how desperately you tried and tried and cried out while doing so, your pussy was glistening with slick, feeling euphoric and on the brink of madness with how enticing the sensation and the blasphemous words that left ellie's mouth were. "you would be too cock drunk and stuffed with cum to care about anything else".

the ink and quill you were previously using laid on your desk where they shouldn't, spilling the black liquid and dirtying everything they touched. ellie could be compared to the two items, given how many times the sisters told her how harmful her tainting existence was. and maybe that was the reason her brain clicked and gave the command to her right hand to gather some of the ink and write "ellie's cum dump" on your ass.

as soon as your breathing quickened, ellie grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanked it throwing your head impossibly backwards and let you ride out the hardest orgasm of your life. the gesture wasn't just a display of dominance but it served as a lever to push you flat against the desk, treating you like a discarded toy.

"next time you come for me, expect me to fuck your ass. and it won't be with my fingers only"

[musicalslugs]

Grace and the Lords in Black: an analysis.

Okay, so, this may be obvious; although I haven’t seen anyone mention this as of yet. The link between Grace Chastity and the Lords in Black is clear, I mean we’ve all agreed that she seems to be like that, and Dirty Dudes must Die highlights her “corruption” plainly.

That being said! I think there may be more.

Firstly, the Lords in Black mention/talk to Grace first, before Peter and Stephanie (the arguable proper protagonists of this story).

Sure, Blinky’s motif is obvious, it’s of eyes, of watching and of observation. But to speak to Grace first, even if it seems (on the surface level) that it’s just to flex their omniscience and make her uncomfortable, is a little strange. Especially since they then speak mostly (only) to Steph for the rest of the song [The Summoning].

Secondly, because if that were all this wouldn’t be a very good analysis, we have her (Grace) and Nibbly being echoes of eachother.

“Swallow” and “devour” are synonymous. Both fit into Nibbly’s motif of consumption. Now, Grace could’ve said anything. Absorb, harness, control etc. I think the wording here is particular. Not exactly the same, but clearly within the same ball park.

What is exactly the same though, is Grace Chastity and Wiggly.

This may seem a bit out of left field at first, but hear me out.

In The Summoning, it is said that “Wiggly wants his Wrath”, Wrath is a vice, a sin. It may not be the exact opposite of Chastity, however Chastity is to do with restraint, whereas Wrath is very much, not so. Moreover, Wrath can be defined as ‘a great anger that expresses itself in a desire to punish someone’. Now… who else could be described as wrathful? Obviously Max. And Grace. I mean, her song is called Dirty Dudes must Die. As well as being a direct reflection of Max, it implies that she wants to harm someone. Punish someone though? Well, yes. Grace says “This is the consequence of what you’ve done!” - she must believe that death is a worthy punishment for their actions (being ‘pervs’). Thus, Wrath.

Lastly, and this is where the exactly comes in, Grace and Wiggly both say the same things. (Again, of course, I could write another analysis on how Grace and Max reflect each other beautifully by also saying the same/extremely similar things) The difference between Grace saying similar things to Max, is that she and Wiggly aren’t similar. It’s the same.

Example A) Stephy / Stephie.

Upon rewatching Nerdy Prudes Must Die and listening to the album on repeat, I noticed that no one bar these two call Stephanie: Stephie. I know Grace calls Ruth, Ruthy and Peter, Petey- so her calling Stephanie, Stephie, makes sense linguistically. That doesn’t take from the fact that Wiggly is the only other ‘person’ to use that particular moniker.

Example B) “bloody bits”

A particularly strange phrase that these two say. However, not really. The point of this analysis is to point out the links between the Lords in Black and Grace Chastity, specifically Wiggly and Grace. By pointing out the parallels in their idiolects, I have come to the conclusion that they are not only linked but INCREDIBLY similar.

Both are characters that use cutesy, almost childish language (“mommy spot” / “belly-well”) to disguise the violence, the wrath that lays beneath the surface. Wiggly (as shown in Black Friday) uses it as a facade. Throughout Black Friday and throughout The Summoning, he expresses himself as non-threatening (“We’re all pally-wals.” etc) before eventually showing what’s beneath the surface (“..deck the fucking halls!” / “We don’t give a shit about your phone!”). Both times are as abrupt as each other, showing that Wiggly has a fairly short temper. Grace doesn’t necessarily have a short temper, instead she has periods of ‘sin’, when stressed: Dirty Girl, calling “God a son of a B-Word”, smoking (after), having sex with Max, the scene of her ordering hot water etc etc. The visage, her carefully constructed facade, slips. Wether it’s because deep down she doesn’t believe in God (possibly shown in her “are you religious?” conversation with Shapiro), or that due to her upbringing she’s being confined, restrained, controlled, and this is when her ‘true self’ begins to peer through the cracks.

Either way, these are two characters who use similar themes (one of childishness, the other of purity/innocence (which can also be linked to childishness)) to cover their violence, their real selves.

Uhhh- anyway, watch Nerdy Prudes must Die on Youtube- it gave me brain worms.

[teaboot]

Thoughts on Lord of the rings??

Do you have any tips on protected sex between two afab

Lord of the Rings kicks ass, we need more deep and meaningful platonic friendships and healthy male characters in media that don't resort to romance or toxic masculinity to emulate affection and strength, the movies were groundbreaking and remain as incredible accomplishments and a love note to innovation and practical effects

2. For sex between parties with vaginas there are a few things:

If using toys, keep in mind that toy material can be affected by the kind of lube you use. Jelly toys are safe with water-based lube and NOTHING ELSE, or they will start dissolving, and they must not be stored touching other jellies or they will melt together. Jellies are also porous and cannot be used for anal, then vaginal penetration unless a condom is used and swapped- washing will never get all bacteria out. Once used anally, a jelly toy should ONLY be used for anal.

Silicone toys can ONLY be used with water-based lube or specialized hybrid lubes- again, silicone or oil lubes will cause them to dissolve and become porous, but they CAN be used interchangeably for anal and vaginal penitration providing you wash them before vaginal use. Silicone cal also be boiled clean and totally sterilized, whereas jelly cannot be boiled.

Glass and metal can be used with absolutely any lube you want, and can also be boiled clean.

For oral sex, keep in mind that oral diseases such as herpes can be passed on back and forth through genital contact- you can get genital herpes from oral herpes and vice-versa. If this is a concern, I recommend using a dental dam, or if that is not available then you can cut the tip off a condom and then cut it lengthwise to make one fast. Both condoms and dental dams come in flavored options, but with all contraceptives, lubes, and barriers you should check that glycerin is not a high ingredient, because that can throw off PH balance in a vagina.

If you experience any itching, burning, or discomfort when using lube, it is likely you have a sensitivity to the lube you use. Durex I know is especially popular for that. I recommend Water Slide or Fuck Water.

And on the topic of water-based lubes, you can add spit or water to rehydrate if it starts to dry out during, so don't worry about dropping a little cash for the good stuff.

And for fingering a partner, go with what's comfortable, but your hand won't cramp up as fast if you use ring finger-middle finger instead of middle-index.

Lastly, you can buy topical stimulants for clitoral or nipple stimulation- I happen to have a tingling peach flavour nipple balm that I use as a chapstick. Though always read the ingredients- cooling products usually use menthol, and warming products like cinnamon, both in very low amounts, but good to know if you have an allergy.

Oh, and lots of massage oils use almond oil as well, so again, allergies.

And it's perfectly normal to have a small vagina- if you choose to, you can purchase dilator sets for not too much cash, just take things slow- but it's not necessary, obviously. All bodies are good bodies and if your partner is a dick about it you deserve better.

Great question, by the way. Hope I could help!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

-

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

-

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

-

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

-

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

-

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

-

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

-

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

-

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

-

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

-

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

-

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

@hb8301 @that-girl-named-alex @bat-revival @dahlias-and-marigolds @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @padfooteyes @missusnora @bluebirdonafencepost @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @sarahkimtae @imjustboredso @howdoichangemynameto @hopebaker @yelenabeleovapocket @let-love-bleeds-red @maximizedrhythms @xideshiz @siriusdumblittlepuppy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @lemonivall @anisa269 @flavorofsalt @queenofshinigamis @elles-mind-palace @dragonfireandpixiedust @glitterandgoldfinds @daydreamerblues @tswiftsthings @kitkat-writes-stuff @miraclealignertlsp369 @cryztalline @im-obsessed-with-marvel @fluffiy @kotonei-molyneux @natie335 @killjoynotes @mariahossain @bellstwd

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Hermione Gingold (Gigi, Around the World in 80 Days, The Music Man)—A late addition to the Hollywood scene, but good lord what a mark she made. With a voice absolutely dripping with allure, she turned every film she was in into a romp her autobiography is racy and hilarious. I adore her.

Agnes Moorehead (Dark Passage, Mrs. Parkington)—i'm just submitting all the milfs at this point

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Hermione Gingold:

Agnes Moorehead:

“Daughter of a minister, she’s incredibly religious. Would arrive on the bewitched set with “the bible in one hand and the script in the other.” And once during an earthquake, she refused to run to safety and said, “God will protect me.” - Her father prohibited her from attending an acting school until she had a formal education so she got a degree in biology. She taught at english, speech and history a high school while also getting degrees in English and Public Speaking. Entered AADA at 25. - Her film debut was in Citizen Kane when she was about 40 - She had a lovely singing voice. - Despite her religiosity, her privateness and close relationships with female friends fueled rumors even during her lifetime that she liked women. In her rather emotional interview with Boze Hadleigh, she expressed her desire to not have her private life be reduced to a few paragraphs of sensationalism. It is not really possible to know with certainty. - She had a farm with cows and donkeys. Lastly, I am aware that Agnes was not considered a leading lady and I’d like to campaign for her inclusion as we have reason to believe that this might have been due to the prejudices of ageism, her unusual (but stunning) features and a number of other factors: 'To classify her roles so as to discover her closeted lesbianism, although productive in the exploratory sense, runs the risk of imposing another set of stereotypes upon Moorehead. Linking character actresses and lesbians confirms marginalization, and while Moorehead played marginal characters in most of her plays and films, she could have played the leads had she so been cast, and she did play supporting roles brilliantly. That New York and Hollywood directors cast her as the outsider may be as much a statement about ageism and sexism as about sexual identity. It is probable, however, that her sexual identity figured and figured prominently, and if as an overlay to the other issues, we are left to interrogate the entertainment industry that forced her into exaggeration because she could not express whom she really was. Endora and Moorehead, one and the same, finally achieved supporting star status, with all the ambiguous meanings implied by the ''Bewitched'' narrative; however, Moorehead might have achieved diva status within legitimate classical theatre had she sought unambiguous sexual leads. Because she did not, or could not, we can conclude, using the soft evidence of innuendo and intuition, that her sexual identity clearly affected the direction of her career.' From a paper called ‘The Witching of Agnes Moorehead’ by Lynne Greeley”

[thelampisaflashlight]

Thinkin' 'bout ghoul teeth. Let's go.

-Aether has some serious chompers. His teeth are designed to crush and crack bone, but since he doesn't do a lot of that on the surface, he mostly gnaws on sticks or, well... bones.

The ghouls need their enrichment toys, and in Aeth's case, he needs something to wear down those saw blades of his.

If he doesn't blunt his teeth, his canines grow out of control and he winds up with little tusks, which isn't really an issue aesthetically, but it can make his mouth feel crowded and impede his ability to speak.

Also, it hurts, so... Yeah.

-Dew's teeth are the closest to human teeth than the other ghouls', which is largely because fire ghouls tend to be closer in likeness to humans in general.

Something about their biology aligns more with humanity's quirks, it's what makes them such good servants to the lord below, so good at mimicking the inhabitants of the surface...

Anyway, Dew's teeth are ever so slightly sharper around the canines, but that's about it.

Even pure fire ghouls like Alpha or Ifrit have more "human smiles" about their features, so it's not exclusive to Dew.

Funnily enough, this has resulted in an odd habit among fire ghouls; Their bites don't really hurt, so they nip at each other a lot, and biting is a pretty common form of greeting amongst pack members.

Fire ghoul parents also tend to carry their kits around in a similar fashion to cats or dogs, so their teeth being blunt helps prevent harming their babies.

-Rain's teeth are serrated and sharp.

They're made to rip and tear, but also to trap and pin prey.

The edges dig into flesh indiscriminately and cannot be pulled free from without causing serious damage; The serrations run opposite the tip of his fans, so they hook into the skin when he bites.

These types of teeth are more common in the salt water variant of water ghouls, who spend most of their time in deep water and have to latch onto their prey and prevent it from floating/swimming away.

Usually, if Rain bites someone on he surface, that's his way of asserting dominance, because no one, absolutely no one, is stupid enough to pull free or struggle when he sinks his teeth into them.

-Mountain's teeth are rather long and sharp, and made to pierce.

For some reason, earth ghouls' teeth are designed to draw blood, and some speculate -mostly easily frightened siblings of sin- that this is partially where some of the legends of vampires come from, because they certainly do have an interest in blood.

Mountain usually doesn't show off his teeth, but it is known that, compared to other earth ghouls, his are a bit duller, if only because he's needed some corrective work done due to a couple of his fangs growing in a little crooked and making it hard for him to eat and drink properly.

-Cumulus' teeth are little, needlelike things and so sharp you wouldn't know she'd bit you until the pin pricks of blood showed up a moment later.

Air ghouls seem to carry a sort of venom within their bodies that can be transferred via bite, and it leaves the victim feeling light and floaty.

Cumulus tends to avoid biting people.

And lastly;

-Multi ghouls usually have the teeth of whichever element is their dominant one; Water wins over fire, fire wins over earth, etc...

However, as is the case with most -if not all- human/ghoul hybrids, Swiss has a full set of human teeth, and it is haunting.

There's no subtle sharpness to them, they're uncannily human simply because they are.

Swiss' smile, unlike the mimicry of fire ghouls, IS human.

[redheadspark]

Hello could i request azriel with prompt #16 please?

A/N- I love this for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Anytime

Summary- Rhysand gives the Shadowsinger some sound advice: to follow his heart

Warnings - Mostly fluff :)

“So, when did your crush on her start, Az?”

Az nearly choked on his whiskey drink, looking over at Rhysand who was perched at his office chair, and his hands were folded in front of him with a smirk on his face as Azriel looked at him in shock.

“W-what do you mean?” He asked, though his old friend and High Lord’s smile went a bit bigger as he gestured to the open door that led out of his office.  A corral of laughter was heard on the other side of the hallway towards Feyre’s private studio as if on cue.  Azriel heard Feyre’s laughter, a lighter tone that was the sound of bells and was infectious in its own right.  But the second one, a hearty laugh that was also light, made Azriel’s heartbeat go a bit faster.  It reminded him of the chimes his mother would hang outside their little cottage when he was wrong, a small chorus of notes that turned into a beautiful melody.  

It belonged to you, and your laugh was one of Azriel’s favorite things. 

“You’re not one to be subtle with your feelings,” Rhysand explained as Azriel placed his now empty glass on the side table, shifting a bit in the chair.  He was never one to be in the limelight or have all the attention on him.  It was why he was the Spymaster, hiding away in the shadows and gathering information.  Azriel was good at it, Hell it was his forte.  He would use it against anyone who was against Night Court, his Truth Teller in hand, and his own sense of intimidation.  But when it came to himself, he would rather spend all day with the new recruits at the Illyrian camp than be questioned about his love life.

He never had one, nor did he think he would have one.

“Talk has gone around here, Az,” Rhysand explained as he eyed his friend, Azriel’s own hazel orbs were watching him in both intrigue and confusion, “Talk of you have been spending plenty of time down at the Community Center to talk to a certain Director.”

“She was asking for some advice when it came to negotiations,” Azirel replied in a shrug, not thinking about it much.  You require some advice, Azriel was willing to talk to you and give you winter in negotiating with clients and future contracts that were willing to add onto the building.  It wasn’t that you were a pushover, but you knew you had to toughen up in that department.  Leave it to the Spymaster to get your spine a bit straighter and your skin thicker.  

Azriel admired that about you, your willingness to grow and change for the better.  

“Apart from that, you two have been spending far more time together outside of work.  Especially out near the community gardens,” Rhsyand went on as Azriel huffed in annoyance.

“She wanted to ask me which vegetables Elaine wanted to use in her family dinner!” Azriel reasoned, but Rhsyand was not batting an eye at that as he spoke once more.

“Lastly, I heard from a certain someone you were thinking of asking her on a date,” 

Now that got Azriel’s attention.  He gave Rhsyand a sharp look, though the High Lord himself was remaining composed at his desk as Azriel flew more exposed than ever before.  He never thought someone else knew about his intentions with you, trying to muster up the confidence and the composure to ask you on a proper date.  Something inside of him always stopped him though, holding him back from taking the risk of asking you.  Perhaps he was afraid that you would say no, that you were the one afraid of him.  Cauldron, he was the one who was afraid of you for the longest time simply because you two are so opposite.  

You were light to his darkness, you were calm to his rage, you were affection to his hesitance.  

“That’s not true, where did you hear that from?” Azriel asked, Rhysand cocking his head at him and almost sensing that he was lying.  Azriel didn’t mean to, but he would rather lie at this point to simply not talk about it anymore.  But Rhysand’s playfulness was slipping away in sincerity, his cocky smile was replaced with a softer one that seem to simply ponder at his brother and close friend.

“Who do you think?” He challenged back at Azriel.  Ariel instantly knew, which made him get up from his chair and rub his face in frustration.  He already knew himself, and the cocky smile that was in his mind was enough for him to find the Illriyian Commander.

“Sone of a bitch,” He huffed, though Rhsyand laughed and got up from his own chair too.

“Cassian is a lot of things, especially that.  But we both knew he means well when it comes to us and how we feel with our heart….and who our hearts belong to,” Rhysand explained calmly as Azriel looked at him with wide eyes.  From what Azriel knew, Cassian told Rhysand to go after Feyre since he saw the connection they both had for one another.  But now Rhysand was claiming that Cassian was seeing the same thing with both yourself and Azriel?

Leave it to the Commander to have a better intuition.

“Azriel, even with our immortal lives, it can still be short at any given moment.  I realized that with Feyre, and all the more when we had Nyx.  You, out of all of us with all you went through, deserve to have a long happy life with someone at your side,” Rhysand explained as he walked around the desk with his hands shoved in his pants pockets, giving Azriel a kind stare.  Azriel did feel it, down to his bones, Rhysand was speaking the truth.  He could hide in the shadows for so long, but deep down he wanted someone at his side.  He saw the love between Rhysand and Feyre, then with Cassian and Nesta, and even with Lucien and Elaine.  He must have thought he wouldn’t have it himself, but the rest of his friends around him knew he did need it.  

“I say you ask her before you talk yourself out of it,” Rhysand said to him with a smirk, though Azriel snorted and rolled his shoulders.  

“Maybe I should, just to shut you and Cassian up,” He replied in a snort, Rhysand chuckling as Azriel gave him a warm smile, “But….thanks, Rhys.”

“Anytime, brother,” Rhysand said happily, clasping his shoulder, “Come on, let’s see what they’re up to and if they’re gossiping about us.  If there’s one thing you’re going to need to get used to, is your better half gossiping with the other ladies,”

Azriel had to laugh as Rhysand led the both of them over in the direction where you and Feyre were.  Azriel did take his advice, and he was thankful he did in the end.  One date led to you two becoming mates and getting married a year later at the River House.

The End

January Prompt Session

[fiery-emblems]

Like a lot of people I sometimes ponder what my favorite characters might look like if they were allowed to grow older. I've been seeing a lot of good designs for older Soren specifically so of course I got to thinkin' about my own take!

Some notes on design process under the cut cause I think we should all share our thought process once in a while:

So, for this I didn't want to just want to go with "Soren, exactly the same but older". My thought was "if I was actually in charge of designing for a fire emblem game, one that takes place in a future Tellius perhaps and featuring this character as a guest (a la Tiki or the Awakening trio, which they should keep doing BTW) how would I go about doing that".

You have to think of course, about what the character is actually doing and what their role is. It seems pretty likely that after RD Soren is either traveling the world with Ike or wandering around (probably the former) so "traveler" was the theme. As far as the overall shape and the outer layer especially it seemed obvious to reference the dragons, who are also travelers:

I don't want to just straight up copy the look of the robes though for a couple of reasons. 1) that's boring and the idea here is for an updated visual style 2) I wanted to combine different elements to evoke a feeling of mixing cultures. I figure if this scenario takes place say, 80 years in the future or something, fashions will have moved forward and perhaps you would see elements of beorc and laguz fashions mixed together. Especially for Soren given what he is. So I went with an inner layer that looks more Victorian puffy sleeves (which you don't actually see a lot of in PoR or RD since the characters favor more stiff looking tunics, but they are there and I figured its the future and maybe Crimea has entered its puffy shirt era) with the outer layer looking more like what the dragons wear. 3) Staying with robes seems kind of stagnant. I imagine that a much older Soren who's lived a good life along side his love has probably chilled out a little bit. A little bit. 4) I think having more leg visible gives a more adult silhouette.

The other consideration is the hairstyle. As much as I love Soren being a carbon copy of Rajaion, it wouldn't be the most interesting design choice if I was the character designer of a game to just copy a past design 1 for 1. So I decided to just lengthen his hair a little bit and give it a look like its been blown around in the wind. Soren is the windy guy and I'm assuming he would be more chill here so why not let it be loose and free? This also helps avoid him just looking like Sephiran cause I see that a lot too lol.

Yes I also changed the shape of his brand. I've always been fascinated by the fact that it changed shape between games. I know it was likely just a design oversight but what if it changed because he isn't an adult yet and it changes more as he ages?

Lastly there's the why. Why would your fav show up as a guest character? What would he even do?? Well I think Soren could be really fun actually if we assume he went with Ike and that Ike kept Ragnell with him. I'm picturing a situation where Ike has lived out his natural life and died, leaving Soren to return to Tellius alone in order to tell Mist's family what happened (cause Ike just left without telling anyone anything lol), and to return Ragnell to them. Instead some conflict breaks out, you know how it is, and the more chilled out Soren is convinced to bestow the sword onto the new starry-eyed lord who reminds him of his beloved.

Oh yeah. I can see it now.

[the-punforgiven]

I mentioned at some point I was gonna talk about how Gideon Ofnir's helmet is probably one of my favourite pieces of Fromsoft character design a little while ago, so I figured I should talk about it before I forget to again

I really like this helmet because it serves as an excellent crystallization of Gideon as a character, so I figured I'd break it down and go step by step as to why I like it so much

Firstly, its design is clearly based off the Greek Corinthian helm, which sticks out a fair amount when compared to Elden Ring's generally 13-16th century European fantasy aesthetic, doing a good job communicating that he is, effectively, much older than most of the other characters present, and conveys a sense of seniority that even he himself comments on when you first visit the Roundtable Hold. (There is an argument that it could also be based off a barbute helm, but I feel like the sharper shape language and closer-to-bronze coloration swing it more towards the Corinthian helm for me)

Secondly, and quite possibly more obviously, the ears. Viewed from a distance they give a vibe closer to a sort of scholarly beard almost reminiscent of greek philosopher statues, again tying in to his aged academic vibe, but being ears instead of a beard also hints at his deceptive nature as even his character design is somewhat misleading, but also hints at his more insidious habit of watching and especially listening to everything you do. He is called the All-Hearing for a reason, after all

The spikes on his helm mirror the shape of a crown, symbolizing both his lordship over the Roundtable Hold, but also his desire to become Elden Lord. Given how simplistic the points are, as well as how some of them (in the icon at least) appear almost bent or dented, I feel could also demonstrate how worthy of a lord one like Gideon may actually be, worn, out-of-shape, thin to the point of frail-looking and remarkably plain compared to the meticulous engravings and stalwart construction of a crown like Godfrey's, but that might be a bit of a stretch so take it with a grain of salt lmao

The eyes across the forehead lock in the crown aesthetic for him (as well as touching slightly on the double helix pattern that is literally everywhere in this game), while also further punctuating his motif of eyes and ears; always watching, always listening to what you do. Curious that the eyes are notably less detailed than his ears though, I wonder if that's relevant

Lastly, the "face". It's a fairly common trope out there that people tend to use masks in character design to portray an air of distrust about a character, in a sort of "If they were trustworthy why would they conceal their face" sort of way. This feels incredibly deliberate on Gideon's part, since a helm like that by all accounts should let you see a good portion of the wearer's face, and is indeed why barbute helms have been a staple of good guy knights throughout the fantasy genre for years, Gideon's quite clearly does not, preferring to cast his face in impenetrable shadow. and That, I think, is a pretty blatant and in-your-face indicator that you definitely should not trust him

Anyway character design is really cool have fun out there 👍

[regulusrules]

FIC RECS: Tore apart my sanity edition

Missed doing those, especially that the brilliance of this fandom is quite endless. You'd think you've read everything, then a fic comes and makes you stare two ceilings above. I think we all have PhDs in ceiling reading at this point.

1. through storm and hellfire by @prattery.

Look, I know I scream a lot about fics, but this time it's so rightfully, I swear. There is something about this one that just unravels you so fully, so reverently. It was a spiritual experience; reading this fic. Anything written by this author is a spiritual experience. If you're new to my blog, you will soon know that I fall apart for such beautiful prose so easily. And the way Arthur was written here.. holy lord in the sky. I haven't survived this fic as of yet (weeks later). It was not Merlin who got kidnapped here; it's our literal hearts.

2. you hold a knife at my throat (i tell you exactly where to cut) by @nextstopparis.

All I can say is that I found this one on the night of my final MA exam and risked failing because I stayed up till dawn reading it. And guess what? I'd do it a hundred times over. Because this fic killed me 🤩 With a knife knowing exactly where to cut 🤩

Whenever it's Protective!Arthur that is as much consumed by Merlin's safety as Merlin was with his, then know I am absolutely and utterly gone. And everything that comes with Arthur teaching Merlin how to wield weapons and its close proximity trope. Oh boy. I was literally killed, I'm telling you.

3. Of Course Falling in Love is Awful. Why Else Would They Call It a Crush? by watchriverdale.

Respectfully, how does this marvel of a fic have less than a thousand reads?? If I may, it's one of the best AU - Canon Divergence that I've read in so long! Merlin being an actual physician, Arthur making silly excuses to go visit Merlin and it ending up for him falling head over heels, BAMF elements of both, just everything! Absolutely AMAZING. And the full circle at the end; what an icon.

4. The Walls of Camelot by spqr. (@andthepeople)

I'm literally not joking when I say my brain function grew and developed more after reading this fic. It was so fully-fledged in a way you don't find in literal published books. The amount of creativity and research combined in this fic.. WOW! You just literally live the war with them, all emotions entangled, all thoughts experienced. I think I had the hardest time processing that the fic ended more than anything else because of how invested I was in the story. I didn't want it to end. It was a wonderful, wonderful ride.

5. I suppose that I look different (without the robes and crown) by WingedWolf121. (@lancelotofthelake)

You know when fic writers begin to narrate Arthur through Merlin's eyes and describe him as golden? That is what I would say as the overall feel of this fic. I felt it radiating gold and beauty. It was unmatched, truly. From the AU idea to its execution.. I was hooked all 18K. I'd give it 18K kudos of my own alone. And the way it was written !!! Please. Any Arthur who just loves Merlin a tad too much is unparalleled. And when the same energy is returned by Merlin >>>

Oh and lastly: “Ask me who you were there to me, Merlin.” I'll leave you at that.

+ 1: My heart is readily yours by yours truly.

Have I mentioned how much this one tore my own sanity apart while writing it? (yes. yes I already have like a thousand times, tell me to shut up about it already). But it's for good reason. I am a changed human being after this fic. For better or for worse, I'm still not sure about that.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

the oscars

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

summary: pedro pascal and his wife take on the oscar’s as she is nominated for her new movie

a/n: this was my first time writing fan fiction bitchessss obviously it’s not the best

PART 2 is up now bbs <3

the night was young, you were in the living room of your shared home with Pedro getting glammed up by your team for the Oscars. As they finished up the last touches of your makeup and hair, you went into the bedroom to get into your dress, looking into the mirror "damn I look good." you said "fucking right you do" the voice of your husband Pedro said behind you "mami you look breathtaking." he says as he grabs you from behind staring at you lovingly in the mirror, he lightly kisses your temple just as, "CARS HERE!" your assistant yelled. "let's go bebe" you say grabbing his hand and walking to the car.

As you guys pulled up to the Oscars red carpet, you could hear the fans screaming along with the paparazzi. you two stepped out of the vehicle hand in hand, everyone was going crazy, as you made your way down the red carpet taking photos with your Pedro you heard one of the paparazzi guys say " Y/N are you excited to be nominated for your new movie ?" "I am beyond thrilled to be nominated for the movie "No Hard Feelings", my castmates and I worked so hard on this movie, and I'm so glad people really enjoyed it" Pedro gave your ass a squeeze while taking pictures, with that all you could do was laugh. you didn't think you were that nervous for the Oscars. Making your way inside, you head STRAIGHT to the bar "I need a drink before this shit starts, I don't think I can go up there without liquid courage" Downing your drink in one go, Pedro laughed.. he grabbed your hand and walked towards your reserved seats.

while sitting there fidgeting with your husbands wedding band on his finger you thought going through the list of awards is gonna take forever. That was until your name was called and your character Maddie from the movie was displayed across the big screen. "why does my head look so big? i mean seriously out of all clips from the movie”you leaned over giggling at Pedro all he could do was shake his head and laugh. "your overreacting, your head is a perfect shape baby, you will always be beautiful to me." " AND THE AWARD FOR BEST FEMALE ACTRESS GOES TO..." you legit felt like you were gonna throw up. "Y/N L/N for Maddie in no hard feelings!" you looked at Pedro with your jaw dropped, he was smiling cheek to cheek

“i’m so proud of you, go baby go accept your award!" as he gave you a steamy quick kiss

the song from your movie "Maneater (live) by Andrew Barth Feldman played at 1:24" played in the background. holding onto your long dress you walked up the stairs to the stage, thank the lord you didn't trip and eat the ground. is all you can think in your head. "congratulations y/n, do you have anything you would like to say" smiling you take your award and start speaking into the podium mic "fuck, IM IN SHOCK.. am i allowed to say that?” the people back stage shake their head no. “no? wow okay, well first I would like to thank my husband pedro pascal, and my kids alexis and antonio without them I wouldn't be where I am today, I would like to thank the cast and all of the crew it took to make this movie, I would also like to thank my manager, publicist, and my assistant, lastly i would like to thank my fans, you guys are my everything i love you all so much. WHEW now i'm ready to get drunk and shake ass at the afterparty" The whole crowd laughed and cheered as you made your way down the stairs with your award heading back to your seat. "i love you cariño" pedro says as he grabs your face and kisses you deeply.

[crevicedwelling]

Here's some pictures of my crevice-dwellers for your enjoyment. This one is named Zuko!

Here's another one, I named this shy guy Zuko, and the chunkster in the foreground is Zuko.

This cutie pie is Zuko! Look at those big ol' eyes.

Another shot of Zuko. This one is pretty confident.

My first one, Fire Lord Zuko. On feeding nights he sometimes allows the nymphs to take his first kill, but he won't share after that.

The nymph on the left is Zuko, the upper right is Zuko, and the older nymph with long ass legs below that one is Zuko. Took this when I first brought these three as well as 2 other older nymphs home. I added them after Zuko became Fire Lord.

Here's Jolene looking mighty handsome.

Zuko being cheeky.

And lastly, a contemplative Zuko.

Hope they made you smile!

good flat beasts