#see the severe drop in my gems

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.

You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.

If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.

The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.

“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”

Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”

His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”

You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”

“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”

To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”

He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”

Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—

You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

This makes me incredibly angry.

[ID: Screenshots of a Facebook post from user Advocatus Peregrini, which reads:

I was conversing with a fully-grown adult a few days ago, born and educated in the USA, who let this little gem drop:

"Well, it's like Shakespeare said, "Love conquers all!""

I pointed out that Shakespeare never said that, Virgil did, (Eclogues X) and Chaucer after him (Canterbury Tales.)

She said, "Oh I'm sure Shakespeare said that. In Romeo and Juliet!"

I sighed. I've been in that play several times, in different roles, and even directed it. That text does not occur in it.

But the real grind-my-teeth moment here was that if Romeo and Juliet can be said to have a message, it is most certainly not "Love conquers all," seeing as the lovers die by their own hands with a trail of their friends and relations' corpses in their wake.

Neither this fact, nor the fact that I knew the play, nor my explanation that Virgil and Chaucer used the phrase long before Shakespeare's birth dented her determination that "Love conquers all" came from Shakespeare.

"You don't know ALL the versions!" she protested.

All the versions?

Alternative Bard?

With every instinct screaming at me to let the matter drop, warning me that some horror that will not soon be absent from my nightmares waited around the next corner of this conversation. I pressed on.

It was a decision I was soon to regret.

I asked when she had first read "Romeo and Juliet." She said she had only read it once, when she was in Junior High. In the version she was taught, Romeo and Juliet survive, are reconciled with their parents, and are married in the church with their friends Mercutio and Tybalt arm in arm in the wedding party.

"Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint."

It turned out that her school had their own "version" of Romeo and Juliet, with an "uplifting" ending. This was printed and distributed by a religious education publisher. And it was the only version of the story that she had ever read. Of course she had HEARD other people say that the story was a tragedy, but she just assumed they were wrong.

And she did not see why MY version of Shakespeare should be considered better than HER Shakespeare, which, after all, had a much more wholesome ending.

I explained, in vain, that "my" version is definitive because Shakespeare actually wrote it (quiet, you Oxfordians. Don't make me stop this car) and the message of the play - that when adult stubbornness meets youthful impulsiveness tragedy ensues - is lost in the ersatz, happy-clappy ending.

She said the ending that had been Frankensteined onto Shakespeare's play by the "Christian Education" publisher was better than the original ending, "if the ending is as sad as you say it is."

At this point, I concluded that this was a person who deserved to go through the rest of her life "...safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!" I bid her adieu.

After the conversation, I wondered, darkly, if that was to be the fate of Shakespeare, and all other literature if the happy-clappy people get their way - as harmless and "uplifiting" as a cheerleader's chant.

I wondered what these bowdlerizers would do with "Hamlet?" or worse, "Titus Andronicus" or "MacB-" Nothing wholesome, I'm sure. Oh, that's right, what they can't appropriate, they ban. Or burn.

In trying to protect children, we leave them undefended from "...the slings and arrows" that life will no doubt throw their way. Shakespeare raises the issues of tragedy - the fatal flaw, the last turning, the role of fate, as well or better than any author before or since. He is a gentle tutor, much to be preferred over that stern and dangerous teacher, Experientia Inopinatum.

But, as ever, it really isn't about the children. It's about the adults, and their desire to avoid answering difficult questions from agile young minds, who know no fear and swarm like eager flies around questions that have been boggling our best minds for millenia. To answer the questions that literature raises, you have to have thought deeply about them yourself. And that is something that few dare to do.]  end id

[littlejuicebox]

Handmade

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: Nine years post BG3 / You and Astarion are married; you now work as a Counsellor, Astarion handles your business investments. After a lot of hard work, the two of you have established quite a wealthy, wholesome life for yourselves. / If you're looking for more backstory and HCs for this version of AstarionxTav, check out my Highharvestide fics. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / Holiday fluff / Sexual references / Maybe some mild in game spoilers Word Count: Notes: This is 4/5 "Days of Star-mas!"

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "gifts."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

Gift giving was, without a doubt, Astarion’s love language. He truly adored spoiling you with the most opulent things money could buy. A plethora of rare night blooming plants, ridiculously ornate gowns, a cabinet full of gem-encrusted jewelry, first editions of your favorite books (more than a few signed by the authors)… in truth, you’d been given it all. 

But well before this year’s Midwinter Banquet, just as the summer turned to autumn and the leaves in your back orchard were beginning to drop and kiss the earth, you explicitly told your husband you wanted something handmade this year. Something from the heart.

The vampire groaned at this stipulation. “Darling, I’ve got so many wonderful ideas. I’ve seen some beautiful dresses in the shops that would look wonderful on you. And a pair of earrings that would go beautifully with your eyes; just this morning I was in discussions with a horse breeder about purchasing you your very own riding horse since you seem to abhor the carriage… you just can’t be serious about this, my sweet.” 

“I am.” You’d responded, tone matter-of-fact, arms crossed, brow furrowed as you address your husband, “My love, we have everything. Everything we could possibly want and money to buy anything else we want or need, too. I’ve been given the most luxurious gifts for nine years straight… but I want something from the heart. I want something from my rogue. From the man that used to leave me flowers on my pillow at camp and steal me sweet rolls from the merchants. I know he’s in there, somewhere.” 

You step closer to your husband, peering deeply into his eyes like you’re searching for something lost deep within the pupil. Then you place your ear to Astarion’s chest and bring your hand up to knock on it. “Hellllooo? Rogue Astarion? Can you hear me in there?” 

Your love chuckles at your antics and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly before planting a kiss on the knuckle. “Very well darling, have it your way. How could I say no?” 

You beam, overjoyed to have won this little debate. Then, for the next few months, the two of you sneak off to prepare your individual gifts for one another whenever you have a spare moment.

More than once in those few months, Astarion had rattled the door to your bedroom, threatening to pick the lock if you didn’t let him in that instant. You’d groan in frustration every time, quickly stow away your gift, and then rip open the door to roll your eyes at the pale elf. 

“It’s only been a few hours, Astarion. You interrupted me right when I was actually getting somewhere, do you know that?” You’d scolded, more than once. 

“Darling, it’s been several hours, not just a few. Why is it not possible for you work on your gift somewhere else? I need use of this room, too, you know. Unless this is somehow your way of telling me you’d like to sleep in separate rooms from now on, my sweet?” He’d challenged more than once, quirking his white eyebrow at you with a rakish smirk. Then he'd sweep into the room with a brief kiss to your temple and ready himself for bed or a bath.

“If I could work on it elsewhere, I would! But I can’t. You’ll see why.” You would always huff in response, wrinkling your nose impatiently at your husband. “And don’t pretend you’d be able to sleep a wink if you were made to lay in the guest chambers, Lord Ancunin. Don’t tempt me with any ideas.”

Astarion would sigh and dramatically roll his eyes at you, but continue to oblige your long stints alone in the bedchamber, nonetheless. He never mentioned that he only ever interrupted you when you exceeded more than six hours holed up in the bedchamber alone; even a vampire had to bathe and sleep at some point, after all. 

As for Astarion? He was regularly in the middle of meetings or reviewing contracts when you were working on your project, so his time had been allocated a bit differently. He would often prepare his gift while you slept… you’d always needed more sleep than he did. The vampire would slip out of bed and down into the parlor, where he would spend a few hours curled up in the sofa at work before cozying back up to you before you woke. 

Soon enough, it was time for the Midwinter Banquet. It was the Ancunin’s turn to host a dinner party; the Ravengards had just done Highharvestide, the Dekarioses had hosted Midwinter the year prior, and Lae’zel and Shadowheart lived a rather nomadic lifestyle that didn’t allow hosting parties. Technically, it should have been Karlach and Dammon’s first year to host, but as they were fresh newlyweds that had barely purchased a property that same month, you’d kindly offered them a pass.

As was typical for an Ancunin dinner party, the dining hall had been completely decked out by the staff. No surface was left untouched from the beautiful combination of candles, pine trimmings, and bunting you’d roped a reluctant Astarion into helping you string. You were quite proud of the bunting, which was handmade with dried oranges, cranberries, and touches of greenery. 

You were, as always, meandering about the dining room, far too fixated on the most minute details of the table settings. Astarion made his way over to you, as he did every time you hosted a party, to force you from your nervous habit of hyperfixation.

This year you were saddened to immediately notice the absence of Scratch as your husband entered the large wooden doors of the dining hall; the dog had passed that summer. Astarion, out of habit, flexed his fingers downward to make contact with the dog’s scruff, only to drag his fingers through the empty air. You’d seen this maneuver from your husband more than once, and as you watched him enter the dining hall, you made a mental note to find another furry companion soon. He’d never admit he was taking the loss quite hard. 

“Darling, it’s time for you to dress. And, it’s time for us to exchange presents before everyone arrives.” The vampire murmurs, taking your hand and pulling you from the dining hall and into the adjacent parlor, where your presents are sat underneath a tree adorned with baubles and more of that fruit-filled bunting you two spent an entire day crafting. 

You grab the small red and gold package sitting under the pine tree and grin, handing it to your husband. “Here, open mine first.” 

Astarion raises his eyebrow as he examines the package, giving it a little shake as he holds it to his ear. The package doesn’t make a sound, and he hums in idle curiosity as he undoes the red ribbon tied around the gift. You’re practically bouncing with excitement and anticipation as you watch him carefully undo the wrapping. 

“Just tear it!” You exclaim impatiently, and the pale elf chuckles at you and rolls his eyes before obeying your command and tearing the paper off the gift. 

Astarion is speechless as he stares down at the labor of your love. It’s a small painting, roughly the length and width of a book. The painting depicts you and… well, it must be him, cuddled in bed together. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, and your hand is gripping the fingers dangling from that same arm. The two of you are laughing underneath the familiar maroon and gold bedspread always located on your four-poster bed. He’s in awe of the details: the little fangs in his mouth, his scarlet eyes and the glint within them, the pinprick scars on your neck, and the freckles along your arm. 

“Turn it over.” You whisper, watching as the vampire obliges with wet eyes.

On the back you’ve written: “My Favorite Place” in your delicate, flowing script. And as his scarlet eyes read the words, your husband loses his barely held composure, cold lower lip trembling as salty tears fall over his waterline. He tugs you into a crushing hug, placing repeated kisses in your hair, and you’re beaming because for once you’ve rendered the loquacious vampire speechless.

You’re teary eyed as well when you sniffle and pull away from Astarion. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to get it right. It’s taken me years, my love. I even snuck in lessons on my trips further into the city to meet with the other Counsellors or Wyll. But I hope you can see us how I see us, now.” 

Astarion nods slowly before placing the gift down on the end table, still overcome with sentimentality. He gives a soft chuckle as he wipes his own eyes and then yours. “Well, darling… now I’m quite worried my gift will pale in comparison, to be honest.” 

“Nonsense!” You promise, as you sit down on the sofa and hold your hands out expectantly. You’re bearing a child-like grin as you wiggle your fingers, bidding the vampire to continue on.

Astarion is nervous. You can see it in his crimson eyes and the twitching of his hands as he grabs the silvery package and gives it to you. His ears are flushed in that subtle way that only appears when he’s extremely embarrassed or aroused… though in this case, you’re quite sure it’s embarrassed. 

As you’re unwrapping the gift with much less care than your husband had unwrapped his, the elf in the midst of explaining himself away, “Darling if you end up not liking it, I’m more than happy to—“ 

But he’s interrupted by a thrilled gasp and ecstatic squeals as you lift a heavily embroidered blanket out of the plain wrapping box. 

“Astarion, how could I not love this? This is beautiful!” You exclaim, quickly opening the blanket and draping it over the couch to admire your husband’s stitch work, “I knew you were talented, my love… but I am blown away.” 

Astarion is beaming now, his ears completely red with some combination of embarrassment and excitement at your praise. He comes to your side and places a hand on your waist as the other one points to the bottom corner of the blanket before tracing up the width and then down the length in a repeated clockwise motion. 

“It’s… it’s symbolism, my darling. Of our love story.” He explains in a still-nervous whisper. 

You move closer to examine the piece and your eyes pick out bits of embroidered details between the floral filigree; you notice you recognize many of the plants from your own night blooming garden. As you move in the direction Astarion pointed, you note several obvious points of symbolism: a dagger, stars and a campfire, glasses of wine, that familiar forest clearing lit up by the moon, his old hand mirror, Lathander’s Mace (he’d conveniently left out the fallen crèche he’d saved you from), Moonrise Towers, the Warding Bond rings you two now kept in a jewelry box upstairs… on and on and on.

You follow the story all the way to the center, where there is a beautiful design of the sun, moon, and stars. At first, you think this is in reference to his proposal, but then you realize it would be in the wrong order. You can't quite figure out the meaning.

Your fingers stroke those center celestial stitches, the only pieces done in shimmering gold and silver thread. “And what does this symbolize, my love?” 

Astarion shifts slightly on his feet, fingers still flexing with anxiety. Your brows furrow as you look from the piece to your husband, wondering why he’s still so nervous when you clearly love the gift. He inhales sharply and bends down, putting his hand in the forgotten gift box that you’d all but tossed aside in your excitement. He pulls out a smaller piece of fabric. It's an infant’s blanket. 

You feel your heart stop in your chest as the vampire slowly unfolds the tiny blanket to reveal a beautiful scene of the sun, moon, and stars all done in that same gorgeous, shimmery thread. 

“My love, I… well, I think it might be time that we consider expanding the family. And Gale seems to be making great strides with the Wish Spell preparations and it seems that might be a real possibility soon and—“

You interrupt your husband’s explanation, crashing your warm lips into his cold ones, and he’s knocked off balance, forced to collapse into the sofa by the weight of your body careening into his. When you pull away from him, both of you are grinning like idiots and slightly flushed at the mere thought of such an impossible possibility. You simply give the vampire a little nod, and then break into delighted laughter, soon joined by him. 

Your husband kisses you softly, and then leans towards your ear, voice dropping into that devilish murmur. “How much time do we have before the party, darling? Perhaps we’ll do a test round before we dress. I would like the two of us to be well practiced when the time comes.” 

You smirk at the vampire when he pulls away from you, his face wearing that irresistible cocked eyebrow and a glimmer of playfulness in his scarlet eyes. You press a finger to your lips and feign humming as if in thought. “I think we might have time for one practice round… if you can catch me, that is.” 

“Why you little—” 

You don’t hear the rest of Astarion’s scolding, but you feel his fingers narrowly miss the curve of your hip as he tries and fails to grasp you. You’re off like a bow shot from an arrow, speeding out of the parlor and down the hall toward your bedchamber, swerving around the poor maid with a shouted apology. You’re grinning as you run down the hallway, thinking that for once you won this little game you liked to play with your love. But then Astarion is snapping his arms around your waist just as your hand reaches for the bedroom doorknob, and you’re laughing boisterously as the two of you crash into the bedroom and onto the bed. 

It isn’t until the maid is knocking on the door roughly thirty minutes later, announcing the arrival of the ever-timely Duke Ravengard, that the two of you hurriedly dress and rush out to greet your guests. Your friends would have been none the wiser, too, if it hadn’t been for the little love bites slowly blooming across your chest throughout dinner. Astarion brimmed with hedonistic delight, and perhaps a bit of subtle pride, as everyone slowly realized what you two had been doing moments before the party and tried with all their might to politely avert their eyes.

Sure, you two had been a bit naughty just before everyone arrived… but hells, if it hadn’t been exceptionally nice.  

[fredwkong]

Alphaworld File 3: Diary of an Alpha Transformation (1 of ?)

Click here to read Alphaworld in posting order.

X

An undated journal. It is heavily bedazzled on the covers, though many of the gems appear to have been scraped off or stepped on. There are several stains yellowing the coloured paper of the cover, mostly sweat.

Inside the front cover, there is a space where the owner is encouraged to write their name. Two names occupy the space, one on top of the other. The lower layer is written with a purple marker, neatly spelling the name “Ronaldo Herrera.” There are multicoloured sparkles drawn around the name, and glitter has been sprinkled over it. Some of the glitter appears to have been scraped off with a knife, and there is a 3 centimetre tear at the top interior of the page, as if someone was about to rip it out. On top of the first name, the name “RONNIE H” is scrawled in crude capitals using a pencil. The pencil was applied with sufficient force that graphite scrapes are visible from where they were brushed off the page.

Journal entries flow into each other without dating, but editors have split entries based on context and labelled them “Day One, Day Two, Day Three…” despite the fact that more than one day clearly proceeds between some entries. From this point onward, journal entries are transliterated directly, with marginalia and other notes on the text rendered in square brackets [] to distinguish them from the main body.

[Day One]

OMG, I’m soooo happy to be back on campus! Staying with my parents is such a bore! They don’t let me stream any of my shows, they say drag race is of the devil, and the town is so small that I’m, like, the only twink there. I can’t even get any dl dick all holiday because country guys are all totally masc for masc. My hole is toooootally desperate.

I’m so happy that Ollie across the hall got me this journal! He made it look soooo cute with all the stones! He’s, like, okay for a fellow bottom, even tho his massive crush on me is, like, totally obvious. Sorry babe, this dick is for decoration only lmao! Maybe we could get tag teamed by a big dick boy sometime, that’d be pretty hot. I've never bottomed alongside a transmasc dude.

Anyway, I just stopped at the dorm to drop off my suitcase and get out of my het drag, there’s a whole lotta frat parties starting tonight and if I wanna end my dry spell I’ve gotta be there! I just had to live my Sex and the City fantasy by putting down a few lines in the diary first!

[a doodle of an open-faced journal with scribbly lines on the page in rainbow colours]

[Day Two]

ZOMGGGGGGG [written in double-tall bubble letters across a quarter of the page, filled in with pink highlighter]

This term is gonna be SO AWESOME.

Campus is suddenly full of massive muscle men who are totally desperate for me! I was, like, totally the target of a dominance contest at the party last night, and it was SO HOT.

So I walk in, right? And I’m dressed in my usual, my lil slutty crop and my littlest shorts. Here, I took a pic before I left so you can see how cute I was.

Anyway, I’m cute, I’m obvious, I’m ready to have any guy absolutely wreck me. Like, last night, I would have taken a bicurious frat bro fucking me raw, my hole was so neglected. So I am a blaring neon sign: I’M A FAG [written in rainbow marker colours]

And as soon as I walk in, this GOD [a doodle of a massive man is in the margin, a perfect X shape covered in cartoonishly bulging muscles] comes up to me and is all, “Hey boy, I’m Nate.” He. Is. PERFECT. Gorgeous grey eyes, windswept dirty blond hair, a tank top hugging pecs the size of my HEAD. And his voice gets me tooootally weak in the knees. I can't believe he's LOOKING at lil ol me, even if I do look like a twinky slut.

But before I can even say anything to Nate, there’s another MASSIVE arm draped over my shoulder, and ANOTHER massive guy is whispering in my ear, like, “Name’s Lee. Want a drink?” I look over, and he’s just as hot as Nate, with shiny black hair and this perfect sexy smile like a J-pop star. But, like, if a J-pop star was 250 pounds of pure muscle and sex.

I swear all the air went out of the room. Suddenly, Nate and Lee were glaring at each other over me, and all these frat bros were staring.

BTW, when did all the frat bros get so cuuuute? Like, not as sexy as Nate and Lee, but they’re all totally cut this term and I think they’ve got some skincare going? Like I wanna go back sometime lmao.

Lee, like, GROWLED as he glared across me. I felt a li-ter-al rumble from his chest. Nate started totally flexing his big pecs, I thought his shirt was gonna shred in the middle. They didn’t even SAY anything, it was so totally primal. I think I got a whiff of Lee as he tucked me closer to his chest, and I realised he totally doesn’t use deodorant. He smelled totally HAWT.

Anyway, I have two perfect men fighting over me, and I’m not letting either of them go, so I go, “Boys, I promise my holes are big enough to share.” I totes flashed my dimples at them. [doodle of a smiley face]

They kept glaring at each other, but finally Lee was like, “I get his hole.” Maybe he, like, won the contest or whatever? Because Nate looked down at the floor and said, “Fine.” And I mean, fine with me! I love getting stuffed from both ends! What a way to come back from vacay!

We didn’t stay at the party long, just long enough for Lee to get me a drink and Nate to carry me around the dance floor a bit. I checked on Lee while we were dancing, and he was, like, totally making out with one of the frat bros. Like, a guy I knew was straight. I blew him freshman year when his gf was away. I guess Lee’s just like that, lmao.

We ended up upstairs. I think Lee’s in the frat? But we weren’t in his room, which was kinda hot. Lee and Nate sandwiched me between them as soon as we were through the door. I was tooootally surrounded by massive muscle as Nate made out with me and Lee sucked on my neck. I felt, like, high, with Nate’s big cock grinding into my belly through his jeans while Lee felt up my cute ass.

“You guys kissing would be so hot,” I gasped as Nate pulled off my shirt and Lee took off my shorts.

They both hesitated, I could feel it. “Oh c’mon,” I moaned, “you’re both tooootally hot, and you haven’t touched at allllll.”

Suddenly, Lee picked me up and threw me on a random frat bro’s bed. “I guess your mouth IS gonna be busy,” he said, which was SOOO hot, and then he started slicking up my hole.

Pretty soon, both hunks were balls deep in me. They were SOOOOOO big [doodles of massive, soft cocks cover the margins of this page] and I took ALL of them. Lee filled me up SO good, rubbing my prostate like he was fingering me. And Nate tasted, like, perfect. And the whole time, Nate kept pulling back just far enough that I could watch him and Lee kissing over me.

FUCK, they made me look like a little doll between them! I think once they were in me, all the dominance stuff went away, because they were TOTALLY making out. Nate’s, like, SO noisy, and Lee kept on doing that growl thing like he’d done before, which made me moan around Nate’s cock, which made him even noisier.

I came handsfree right before Lee flooded my ass and Nate filled my mouth with cum.

By the time our clothes were back on, Lee and Nate were back to playing their weird dick measuring game, keeping me between them as we went back to the party. I think Nate left pretty soon, but I danced for a bit longer and made out with a few frat bros. They really ARE super cute now, and they all seemed totally into me. Guess they finally got over being raging fucking homophobes lmao.

Anyway, I got home and crashed as soon as I’d cleaned all the cum and sweat off. Now my hand’s all crampy from writing for so long lol. Oooh, I should go tell Ollie all about it!

[Day Three]

I was, like, SO right.

The last few days have been AWESOME!!!! [jagged star doodles all around the word] I swear there are soooo many hunks on campus all of a sudden! One of my profs this term is a tooootal musclestud.

So I’m taking this class on fashion history, and when I looked it up, this Prof. Romano guy was listed for it. He was cute, one of those cute tweed aesthetic guys. You know, a fag who studies fashion. Like, OMG, that picture must be SO OLD.

I show up for class all ready to sit in the back row, but then I see this MAN standing at the podium. Like, total Italian stallion, with the dark waves and the stubbly jaw. He was, like, BURSTING out of his blazer. I could watch his pec bounce through three layers of fabric.

So obv I run down and sit in the front row. I’m not the first fag to have the idea, there’s already like 3 other twinks down there, but I’m totally the cutest. As the rest of the class comes in and sits down, these two GORGEOUS boys walk in and go up to the prof. They’re totally shredded, and dressed in complementary button-ups. And the muscle-god prof pats each of them on the head! Then they go sit down in some chairs behind the podium, and I can see their boners in their cute slacks.

The prof clears his throat, and it’s this DEEP, RESONANT sound. I got a total eargasm just listening to the rumble. “Good morning, class,” he says. And then his next words are TOTALLY burned into my brain:

[written in shaky block letters across a whole page] “You will call me Alpha Mario.”

And then he says, “I am your professor, and I will see you all for extra credit,” while rubbing himself through his pants, like half the class isn’t ready to have his babies. My cock was ROCK FUCKING HARD in my jeans. [doodle of a leaking penis]

He introduces his TAs as Beta Max and Beta Owen. IDK, maybe it’s a kink thing? He’s clearly their dom or something, they were totally devoted to him all class. I’d happily be Alpha Mario’s Beta if he’s hiring, lmao! [hearts are doodled around “Alpha Mario”]

Anyway, that’s just one ep in the PORN SHOW that is my life these days! Ollie’s room has been, like, a revolving door of cock since we got back, and I usually take two or three loads a day out on campus. This group of straight computer science geeks actually begged to fuck me yesterday, so I was dripping all the way home.

They were surprisingly buff for nerds, too! I should point out to Ollie that we gotta hit the gym if we wanna keep up with all the boys on campus this term. Can you imagine? Us at the gym! [The rest of the page is covered in stickers of the laughing emoji]

[Day Four]

Went to the gym today! Not to workout, but I had this new outfit idea and I thought it might get me noticed if I just hung out in the locker room. OH BOY, was I right!

Last few days all my clothes have been feeling super tight, so I’ve been doing a lot of [scribbled in rainbow marker] SHOPPING. It’s too bad, all my old clothes were suuuuper cute, but I’ve started giving some of my old faves to repeat fuckbuddies. One of the guys who used to push me around for being faggy, this guy called Brendan, has been coming over for the last few nights. I never realised how cute he is before!

Anyway, the first night Brendan came over he throatfucked me, but last night he told me he really wanted to feel my fingers in his hole, so I started fingering him! It was soooo hot that my cock ended up totally hard and before I knew it HE was blowing ME while I rubbed his prostate. He’s been texting me all day, begging to service my cock again. Lol, he just sent a voice message all like, “Please, Ronaldo, I’ll do anything to make you cum again!”

My point is I gave him a pair of my old booty shorts. They fit him perfectly, even though he NEVER had an ass as nice as mine before. He’s been wearing them all day today, just like I told him. It’s so hot, knowing he’s showing off like a fag even though he used to be a straight homophobe.

Fuck, I was writing about MY clothes! I’ve been so distracted by hot beta boys the last few days. I thought it was kinda time to change up my style, plus I looked super hot trying on some more dude-type clothes, so here’s the pic of me I took while I was hanging out at the gym.

I had guys HANGING OFF OF ME after a few minutes. It was totally hot, they wanted to do anything I said. Before long, I had a bunch of hot guys kissing me all over and all the cocks I could want to suck. Guys kept running out to grab their hot friends to join us, and all these guys were focussed on me.

At one point one of the staff came in, and I could tell it was to tell us to stop. He was a cute guy, really filled out his work polo, you know how gyms always hire swole dudes and curvy gurls to work at the front desk. I just gave him this LOOK from the middle of my pile of dudes, and I could feel his straightness melt away as his cock started leaking in his preppy shorts.

But just as I was about to cum, my cap got ripped off my head and I was dragged out of the pile by Nate, the guy from that frat party. I swear, he got even BIGGER since last time, he held me up by my shoulders like I was a paperweight. He was totally growling at me, too. He said something like, “I hate when they’re half done,” whatever that means, and then he yelled at all the other boys to get back to work.

Once we were along in the locker room, Nate shook me like a doll. “All the ex-het Betas can treat my gym as neutral ground, but it’s MY territory to you and the other half-done Alphas, you got it?” [note: Alpha and Beta are capitalised in the original text, although Ronnie does not seem to have been aware of the Alpha Phenomenon]

I was like “What are you talking about?”

Nate said, “You’ll get it.” Then I started smelling this INCREDIBLE smell. It was like really sharp cedar cologne mixed with fresh sweat. There was something else too, and it made me feel totally out of it.

Next thing I knew, I was on my knees swallowing Nate’s cock again. “Yeah,” he was saying while he fucked my throat, “this’ll speed you up. You’ll probably never submit again after this, so I’m gonna enjoy it.”

I just stayed there, taking him all the way into my throat. I feel like a week ago it would’ve been totally hot, but today it felt different. Nate using me made me MAD [underlined several times]. I felt like I should do something about it, like punch him or steal one of his boys, but the smell coming off of him kept me docile.

Nate came really quietly, which made me madder. My throat is an incredible tool, okay? Any guy should be screaming when I blow him, especially a noisy top like Nate. Then he patted me on the head like I was a little boy and said, “Head home. Drop a load in that guy who lives across from you, he should be progressing well too.” Then he just. Walked away.

I was gonna stay here all night just to spite the asshole, but I’m super horny again and I don’t wanna go back out. Maybe I’ll go see if Ollie’s got any visitors tonight or if he wants me to fill his holes for him.

[Day Five]

[From this point, entries are written in a noticeably heavier hand. Lowercase Es and Os become jagged.] Fuck, last night was fucking awesome. I knocked on Ollie’s door, and he answered in nothing but a thong, showing his bottom growth right through the fabric. His legs have been getting so hairy and thick, he looked super slutty. Plus his room smelled like sex and cum. I’ve been sleeping out, but seems like Ollie’s been taking house calls.

“Ronaldo?” he said, blinking up at me in surprise. I think we used to be a matching pair of little twinks, but guess I’ve had a growth spurt.

I shoved through the door. What was he gonna do, stop me? I was like, “Where’s your lube?” It came out of my mouth so deep, in a crazy manly register. “I wanna finger you.”

Ollie fuckin’ moaned when I said that, and stumbled over to his night table to grab it. He keeps his lube right out in the open, proud of how much cock he takes. I was already dropping my jeans, my cock was getting super hard and I hate feeling it strain. It deserves to be seen anyway.

Once I grabbed Ollie’s lube, he stood against the wall and presented his ass for me. Fuck, just remembering the look of all that hair on his fat ass is making me leak again. Okay I jerked a bit, should be able to write. [there is a stain on the page here]

Ollie’s hole was still loose from his last dick appointment, so I pushed three fingers in nice and easy. Ollie was moaning, all, “When did your fingers get so thick,” and “What’s happening to us, Ronaldo?” so I roughed up his G-spot a bit until he wasn’t being so articulate anymore.

“What’s happening to us is we’re gonna rule this school,” I hissed at him. I’d realised that it wasn’t gonna be enough to finger him and make him blow me. I needed to shoot inside his ass right fucking now. “Fags are in fucking charge here now.”

Fuck, wait, I need to text Brendan and get him over here. I need him milking my cock so I can focus on writing.

[There are several crude doodles of dicks, asses, and cum splatters in various marker colours before the entry continues on the facing page]

So anyway I slammed Ollie against the wall and shoved my cock into him. My cock’s so much fucking bigger now, too. Like it’s really filling up Brendan’s mouth while he sucks on me. I had enough cock to really saw at Ollie's asshole, and I felt him cum handsfree onto the wall.

“That’s it,” I growled in his ear as I had to hold him up. “This is what you’ve wanted ever since we became neighbours, right? Ollie wanted to get Ronnie’s big alpha dick in his hole.” It felt good to call myself a

[in massive letters on its own line] ALPHA

Ollie didn’t really say words at that point, just lots of “Yes” and “More.” I could hear his voice getting deeper with every thrust, too.

By the time I was getting close, Ollie’s room reeked like ME. It wasn’t a bad smell, but I knew any boy who came in here would be able to tell that all this musk and spice wasn’t just Ollie. It would take weeks for this to be really Ollie’s territory again now that I had marked it. “Fuck, show me that man pussy,” I ordered him, and threw him down in his bed.

Switching holes felt like the most natural thing in the world. I’m fucking built for topping, I can’t believe I thought I hated it. I fucked Ollie through a couple more orgasms and then let myself fill up his man pussy with what felt like 3 loads.

I fell asleep still inside him.

FUCK. I just came in Brendan’s mouth, and it felt totally different. Like, I marked Ollie’s room, but I didn’t mark HIM. His holes are open for anyone to fill. He can own other boys for all I care. But Brendan? Brendan’s fucking MINE. He’s mine he’s mine he’s mine. MY Brendan. [scribbled hastily] I need his hole NOW.

[written later]

I took a pic of Ollie before I started fingering him. I bet he looks totally different now, like me. Gotta go, MY Brendan’s gonna show me how to do a gym session.

To Be Continued...

[melbatron5000]

Two Crowleys

A while ago, the wonderful mind of @noneorother posted this meta about the puppets in the magic shop.

The observation that there appear to be two Crowleys in the shot of the puppet arrangement had me absolutely scratching my head and thinking they must be mistaken somehow.

(pic from @noneorother)

But then I got my hands on some of the Amazon X-ray extras, and discovered these little gems from the album covers in Maggie's record shop:

Now, going back to our color-coding for a moment, we may not know what all the colors in Good Omens mean, and we may not have all the colors down. But we do know a few, and we know that color-coding in Good Omens does exist, and that it matters.

Auburn and vavoom yellow are Crowley's colors. They are the colors of his hair and eyes. Black and scarlet red are the colors he wears. So those four colors are Crowley-coded colors. Okay.

Thus, these two record albums from Maggie's shop are Crowley-colored. Now, notice something important? Well, two things. The first -- Raga Koboj has TWO little sharp-clawed critters peering out at us from behind blinds. I daresay they are meant to be little cartoon demons, yes? And CT Bazz: Dank Balaclava features a face in a red ski mask. People usually wear ski masks if A. it's cold as tits outside, or B. if they're trying to hide their identity. So both albums feature Crowley colors AND images of hiding -- plus one features an image of twinsies.

The other important thing takes us back to color-coding. What other color do we see here besides our well-known Crowley colors? On Raga Koboj, the auburn and vavoom yellow blend into each other -- creating orange between them. And Dank Balaclava features a cigarette being lit -- with a little flair of orange fire.

(Edit to add: The name of that first album is Raga Koboj, which is a style of Indian music. A very famous tale in India is of the Warrior Goddess Kahli fighting demons who kept replicating themselves. Every time a drop of blood would hit the ground, a new demon would spring up. She went on a rampage trying to destroy them all, and her husband had to throw himself in her path to stop her. Hmm . . .)

This leads me to believe two things: Yes, TWO Crowleys. One Crowley in hiding, the other a twin. And that orange is Crowley's secret color.

Where else do we see orange?

Yep, the pillars in Aziraphale's shop. Which we also know is painted Crowley Auburn on the outside and Vavoom Yellow on the inside. With accents of this nice saffron orange on the pillars.

Want more proof? Okay.

Several people have noted that Aziraphale and Crowley keep to each other's right and left, respectively. Aziraphale on the right, Crowley on the left. In season 1, whenever they are on the opposite sides of each other, something's up. Not wrong, necessarily, but not in proper order. As in the image-swap/body-swap. Several people have also noted that Crowley is on Aziraphale's right far more frequently in season 2. And look here:

Aziraphale looks instinctively to his left when Crowley approaches -- only this Crowley, the twin, is not approaching on Aziraphale's left. This happens in more than one scene.

And when Aziraphale introduces Crowley to Nina in the coffee shop in episode one, he says, "This is, um, Crowley." As if he's quickly deciding how to name this individual who looks like his demon but approached on his right. Aziraphale "ums" and hesitates a lot this season, but he's also lying a lot. Hesitation and "um" is one of his tells.

I believe Aziraphale knows this isn't Crowley 1.0. But he acts and talks to this Crowley as if it's Crowley 1.0, so I don't think it's an imposter or someone pretending to be Crowley who isn't. I think Crowley's split himself in two. Am I sure about that? No. But it's where I'm leaning at this moment.

But Crowley 1.0 isn't missing entirely. Look here:

Aziraphale is looking over his left shoulder for his demon, and Crowley's right there, where he should be.

So yeah, TWO Crowleys.

Now where the heck is Crowley while his twin is out walking around on Aziraphale's right side? I really don't know what he might be up to, but I think he's in contact. Reachable, at least.

Let's look at this one again. Who's this?

No, not the guy in the foreground. The guy in the back. No, not the dude wearing tartan, the other guy. The guy in front of the ORANGE pillar, the guy on Crowley-twin's LEFT shoulder.

Is that Crowley 1.0? Or at least, a way for Crowley to be in touch while he's off doing whatever the heck he's doing? I think it is.

Would you like some more proof?

Okay. How about another record album from Maggie's shop?

Back to color-coding again. That baby-blue/red combo seems to indicate Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship together. The baby-blue is the color of Aziraphale's shirt, while the red is one that Crowley wears, mostly around his neck, although it also appears elsewhere in his costuming.

Au Revoir, Fingers! Crowley's just a head now. But a head has ears and eyes, so Aziraphale can communicate with it. As I suspect he tries to here, before Jim interrupts:

But wait. Back to Au Revoir Fingers for a moment. Red Eye Smile?

And red eyes? Fuck me.

A very few people have pointed out that there are lots of dual red taillights in multiple shots, frequently framed rather carefully. I had dismissed it, as I usually do when something turns out to be freaking important.

Someone's watching. I think it might be Crowley 1.0.

Then there's that bit where he's driving back to Whickber street, after coming back from Hell, and he first zooms around a bus with red taillights and says, "There's only room for one of us in this lane and it's not you," then he changes a pair of red stop lights to green and says "Don't you even think about it. There, that's better." Is he arguing with himself?? Telling the Other Crowley that it's his turn right now, not his? Of course I can't find a GIF or picture of that right now, but you know what I mean, right? Neil had to cut a bunch of material out of the finished show to fit Amazon's time limit requirements. That scene would seem to be an easy cut to make -- unless the scene matters to the overall plot too much to cut.

I also suspect that Crowley might be talking to himself in the book shop at the end of season 2. You know, when he turns Aziraphale's chair around to face the right way, but when Maggie and Nina come in it's facing the center of the room again? I suspect Crowley 1.0 and 2.0 had a chat. I do not know about what. Just sharing information?

I also wonder if Crowley 2.0 might have his own POV scenes -- thus confusing the already complicated POV situation even more. The white head statue sure gets several shots where it's in center frame, as if it is the POV character in that scene.

That's what I got, my fellow brain rotters. There's my evidence.

In conclusion: Two Crowleys. Yeah, I think so. Now, for the big question:

WHY???

What is Crowley doing that there needs to be two of him? And is it just twinsies, or is that someone else pretending to be Crowley and I'm wrong? Aziraphale definitely seems to know that's NOT his original Crowley, but tells the demon important information without hesitation, so I'm still suspecting Crowley twinned himself. But what if I'm wrong? Who is it then? And why are they pretending to be Crowley? And why does Aziraphale seem to know it's not Crowley, but still talk to him like it is?

I have no answers.

Thanks for crackpotting and going nuts with me, yet again. I hope this keeps you up at night like it's done me.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Heyyy!! I’m so sorry about your health issues, I’ve been experiencing similar lately and they suck :( so I hope that Friday goes well for you!! I wanted to ask if u have any thoughts about toby and/or LJ, either works :)

Thank you very much!! I hope you like your rambles :)

For Toby, I have the idea in my mind that he's gotten into origami recently. It's something fun he can do to distract himself and try to be creative, and focusing on the origami helps calm down his tics, so he doesn't feel as stressed out while he's working on it. I think he probably makes different things from origami for everyone in the mansion (and he'd definitely make origami for you as well), and he buys a bunch of different colors and patterns of paper so that they can all look different. I think it would be cute if he had a little shelf in his room where he puts all of his favorites that he's made.

Adding onto that, I feel like he’s totally into friendship bracelets. Whether it’s beads or making those rainbow loom bracelets, I can absolutely see him doing that as a way to focus and destress as well, and he absolutely makes at least SEVERAL for everyone in the mansion. If you’re his partner I feel like he’d make one for you on a regular basis, and they always match his and he likes wearing them with you and it just makes him so happy. If you make him a friendship bracelet in return he will be ECSTATIC and never take it off. It’s now a permanent part of his body, you will not get it off of him.

I’m now also making it a thing that LJ is into bedazzling. Like listen okay listen, LJ can take the most over the top conflicting clownish outfit in the entire world and slay, so now imagine that outfit but covered in gems. DOUBLE slay. This man will sit there for hours talking to people or watching something just hand placing gems on his clothes and his shoes and they always turn out so nice. If you’re his partner, I feel like he’d offer to do something for you if you want him to (and he can go subtle if you’d like, he’s just That Bitch for his own stuff), but even just having you there makes the experience more enjoyable. Having you cuddled up by his side while he does it makes the experience way better.

I think his other knew this is his devotion to learning slang. Like I’ve mentioned before that sometimes he picks up on stuff but no, now he is DEVOTED to it. I don’t think he’s a tech guy but they all have to have phones for work and I think LJ got like tiktok or something JUST so he could pick up on new slang, and he will just randomly drop new slang he’s learned at the most random times. He made several people choke on their food at dinner one night by saying what the sigma. He cannot and will not be stopped. Whenever someone says they need to use the bathroom he always says go piss girl. It’s just so strange seeing this incredibly old clown man that is anything but modern saying things like this but he will not be stopped. If he’s dating you, by the way, you’re also his informant. If you learn a trend or a new thing before he does you are 100% required to explain it to him so he can start doing it. Nobody knows where he’s getting all this information but it’s you and tiktok.

[solargeist]

What the relationships between different Hermits and Kid Xelqua are like:

POSITIVE!

Mumbo - Pretty positive all things considered. He manages to entertain him, and generally is a good uncle figure.

Scar - The favourite. Scar gives him unlimited access to snacks and all sorts of unhealthy food (much to Grian’s chagrin). Once gave him so much sugar, Xelqua entered a 5 hour long sugar rush. Grian still hasn’t forgiven him yet because it was an absolute nightmare.

Doc - Surprisingly positive. Despite Doc’s turbulent relationship with Grian, Doc has a soft spot for kids. He’ll drop any kind of tension when Xelqua’s around to not worry him. He’ll still absolutely body Grian, but usually when Xelqua isn’t looking.

Pearl - Due to her leniency, Xelqua likes her. He can get away with anything when she’s around and generally doesn’t impose any harsh rule of punishment on him

Etho - He just thinks Etho is cool (usually because he keeps maple candies in his pockets). An Ethogirl in the making.

NEUTRAL!

Joe Hills - He’s a living Sesame Street styled puppet and Xelqua keeps mistaking him for a normal puppet toy. He once nearly suffocated poor Joe by hugging him a little too tight around his neck.

Xisuma - Barely sees him and for good reason. Xisuma has enough on his plate as admin, he doesn’t need to have to add “babysitting a god” on his plate as well.

Impulse & Skizz - They help Grian out occasionally to watch over Xelqua. Typical fun uncles you can find, but Xelqua doesn’t know much about them or why Skizz gives him the heebie jeebies when he unfurls his Angel wings or when Impulse reveals his full demon form.

Gem - Like Impulse and Skizz, generally friendly with Xelqua, but he’s unsettled by her, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe he senses that Gem isn’t truly a deer satyr and something to do with the rustling in the forests and night and the lingering smell of blood on her.

NEGATIVE…

Cleo - She’s scary to him. Like how you would be scared of the principal when you were a kid in elementary school.

Cub - All the fireworks he uses this season are too loud for him. He has to cover his ears everytime he has to go near the shop.

Joel - Xelqua keeps walking in in Joel in the most embarrassing moments. Like seeing him cry in front of the statue of his wife because she isn’t in the server, falling down an entire flight of stairs, reading Iskall’s creepy Yandere letters, etc. There were several moments where Joel had to cover Xelqua’s mouth because he was about to air all his dirty laundry.

AKDNDJSKAK

of course Scar is the favourite, Xelqua would love his builds, he’d like the animals and Scars silly voices and rambles. He’d also love Scar’s off road wheelchair/ATV, it’s so fast ! He’d absolutely eat all of Scar’s snacks, he’d be talking a mile a minute when Grian shows to pick him up, he just silently glares at Scar.

I love when people draw Doc with Doccy on the server, just a big scary goat and his little goat kid, it’s why he has a soft spot around Xelqua, he’s so tiny. Tho I can only see them interacting if Xelqua accidentally ends up in his base area, got lost maybe. I think Xelqua wouldn’t be scared of Doc despite his looks bc 1) he looks like Scar’s zoo animals (big Goat) and 2) Doc has a kid too, so he’s gotta be safe. Grian is very confused when he sees Doc calling him.

The Joe Hills part almost made me choke AKDNDKSK Joe being a puppet is my favourite design it’s so silly. Xelqua watches a lot of TV, he’d be in awe… so happy to see a real life puppet… Grian has to grab his hands to stop him from choking Joe out.

I think Xelqua would just be intimidated by Cleo at first, he’d warm up to her ! Him being scared of Cub bc of the fireworks is so true tho, Xelqua very much hates the noise and is actively afraid of thunder, he’ll wake Grian up if a storm rolls in at night, and probably hide behind him if a firework went off and no one told him it’d be so loud !

poor Joel 😭😭⁉️⁉️ tho if Joel grabbed Xelqua and covered his mouth like that, Grian is immediately there, he crosses the room so quickly man Watchers don’t play around abt their kids 😭💥 Grian doesn’t even realize he moved or separated them, for a split second his brain didn’t see this as a joke or playing around. Joel gets to see those purple eyes up closeeee and shouts

this was very cute and silly to read ehehehe, also for some reason I think Xelqua would think that Xisuma is Grian’s uncle, no idea how he came to this conclusion.

[queers-gambit]

It Feels Like (the Very) First Time

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: your husband's nameday nears and you're determined to make him feel comfortable enough to show you all of him.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.3k+

note: i don't know about y'all but i can fix him.

warnings: cursing, smut, 100% author's imagination and simple filler. got a bit tired of myself and only edited once - Father, forgive me.

You didn't broach the subject of Aemond's eyepatch again for several more months. Your curiosity ran deeper than that of Blackwater Bay, and though you'd caught glimpses during the early mornings when he rose before you, or late evenings when he settled beside you in the dark, you hadn't seen the injury in full.

In fact, you did your best to avoid getting any look at the injury you could since it made your husband vastly uncomfortable. It was a big step for you both to finally lay together after he was left shaken from his first (and only) sexual experience, so you didn't want to push him beyond what he allowed already. Plus, you wanted him to show you, to feel comfortable and confident enough to confide in you.

However, you nearly ran to him and ripped the bloody leather eyepatch off his face when you heard the first rumblings of court after your union. Given you were married now, it wasn't paramount that you attended these events, but as a member of the royal family, you were obligated to. Yet, Aemond was always stiff upon these events, and you often would wonder to fetch him a new drink - like a good wife.

It was where you heard the Ladies of the court snickering quietly with their backs turned to you - unaware that you lurked.

"And you saw them, didn't you?"

"Who?"

"The Prince and Princess, of course! Who else?"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific, Tabitha."

This Tabitha character sighed, "I was at Prince Aemond's wedding. She looked ready to cry and he looked like he was going to take his own dagger to his neck."

"Might be doin' the lass a favor," another woman sneered. "I feel bad for her, she has to see what's under that patch everyday. If he was half decent, he would keep it covered at all times."

"It's not all that bad," another woman defended lightly. "Once he started using that sapphire, it's actually kinda pretty."

"It's disturbing," Tabitha snapped. "Honestly, we're lucky he even wears that bloody gem and patch - nobody wants to see what's underneath. It's horrifying. It's disgusting, the wound."

"You've seen it?"

"Once," Tabitha nodded, "when he was young and the flesh only just healing. It's a real shame, you know? Prince Aemond would be terribly handsome if not for that nasty injury ruining his face. Though, I do agree with Mildrith, and feel bad that the Princess has to see it everyday. Could you imagine?"

You let the pitcher of wine you were holding to pour into Aemond's cup set with a distinct thump to the table, making the five or six gossiping women turn with gasps. "And what an honor it is, to be Prince Aemond's wife. Tread carefully, Ladies," you advised, "I don't take kindly towards insults against my husband."

"Yes, but Princess, be reasonable," Tabitha tried, nervously glancing at the others, "we were merely sharing our opinions on the Prince's state - "

"The Prince's state isn't of your concern nor is your opinion warranted," you snapped. "I'd mind my manners and hold my tongue if I was you, Lady Tabitha Tarly." She gulped when she realized you knew her name. "Don't let me overhear this kind of slanderous insult again. You thought my husband had a temper?" You smirked slightly, "You've seen nothing yet." But your smirked of amusement dropped, "Now, mind your tongues before I have them removed."

When you returned to the royal banquet table, where you and Aemond had sat the entirety of the night, he noticed your tense posture as you set his goblet to the table before him. His brow crinkled with worry and lifted a hand to your back, guiding you to your seat, "All right there, sweet girl?"

"Mhm," you hummed, sending one last glare to the women across the hall. "Just fine, love."

"What happened?" He asked, making you sigh and let him pull you into his side, his arm slithering around your waist. "C'mon, pretty girl, tell your husband what happened."

You frowned and spared a glance up the table as you organized your thoughts. Finding the table's occupants either out of their seats or distracted, you turned your head a bit and bowed to keep the words between you and your husband. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Tell you what, my sweet?" He took advantage of your position and proximity, letting his lips pucker to press into your neck slowly.

"What they have said to you? About you?" You worried, letting both hands clasp his one; feeling his mouth still. "You only told me the bare minimum, yet, just now, I overhear what I can only assume is a toned down version to what you've heard before. Women of the court sneering about your injury, your appearance. Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed, nodding as he lifted his head before pecking your forehead, "Don't worry over that."

"I'm not worried over it, I'm terribly annoyed," you argued quietly, leaning back in your chair - but still snug under his arm. "Bordering on angry, actually."

"Do not waste energy and emotion on this, sweet girl, it's over, 's done," he assured, both surveying the courtroom together. Couples who judge others together, stay together. "Hear me? You and I don't have to worry about that shit anymore."

"Yet you still endure it without me," you sighed, "and they still feel the need to ridicule you for something far beyond your control."

"Sweetheart - "

"No," you huffed gently. "It's ridiculously unfair what you've endured and I'd like to take my irritation out on those women who mean you harm."

"Why do we care for the opinions of sheep?" He smirked gently. "We are dragons, my love, and we do not worry about the likes of them."

"No, but when it's forced in my ears..." You frowned, letting your forehead meet his temple as your one hand rose to his opposite cheek to pet it. "I am sorry for what you've had to go through, my love. Say the word and I'll feed them to Kasta."

Aemond chuckled dryly, "Not necessary, my love. Maybe now you can understand why I am not good at this," he chuckled a bit. "Never been a ladies man, myself."

You sighed, "I love you exactly the way you are, Aemond, and I like that you're relatively untainted by other women."

"Only relatively?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who fucked a whore," you teased, looking up at him as he chuckled.

"Fair point," he relented, nodding after.

"I've never been a wife," you reminded. "But we get to figure this out together, right?"

"Of course," he whispered, pecking your temple. "Do not listen to those women, pet, it's not worth our time."

Yet, those words lingered in your mind. You knew his injury was striking but you only ever saw it in full the night he sustained it; with a few, scattered, fleeting, half-lidded glimpses the past few months. You worried he was too far gone to trust you with the sight of him now, and knew it was up to you to reassure him enough to reveal himself to you.

So, after stuffing down the want to just tear his patch off and take him in front of the whole court, where you could scream and moan your admiration and praise for them all to hear, you planned.

And when his nameday drew closer, you let your mind wonder with slight mischief over ways to celebrate the occasion. No doubt, your husband wasn't anticipating anything, but you simply couldn't let that be. You visited his mother first, and the Queen Alicent assured you that she would book the private dining balcony for dinner that evening and she would get him a gift from both herself and the King, then you were off to Helaena.

The Princess was overly ecstatic by your idea and agreed to get Aemond something. She giggled that she'd also get something "from the Twins" to really up the ante and promised to see you at dinner. After visiting Otto with the same idea, he agreed easily, and then, you were off to Aegon's chambers.

And he was less than impressed by your idea. Finally, you huffed, "If I got something, would you please just sign your name on it?"

He considered the idea and nodded, "Fine."

"And you'll come to dinner tonight."

"All right, yes, fine, whatever - "

"And you'll behave," you glared with a pointed finger. "I won't let you upset him on his day, you hear me, Aegon? Clean up for this dinner, please, and just fucking behave yourself."

"You're not my mother, watch your tone."

"Stop acting like a child and perhaps you would not always be treated as one," you snapped, turning for his door and slamming it after your retreating form before he could even respond.

It was well known that you and Aegon did not get along, but mostly because you didn't put up with his bullshit - constantly calling him out on his worst behavior. However, you refused to let that get to you right now.

After stopping off at your rooms to drag a hooded cloak and your boots on, you met Amira at the front foyer with Ser Arryk set as your personal guard. He had an easy enough job following behind you two because you knew exactly where to go and what to get Aemond for his birthday, navigating the city swiftly; saving time on pandering and meandering.

Amira picked Aemond up a new hairbrush after noting his had seen better days. She was a big fan of personal pampering, so, she chose the most beautiful, intricately carved silver brush and you were happy to pay for it. Mira protested, but you promised her it was more affordable for you to pay then she - and she had to silently agree.

Then, you stopped at a book store to pluck an armful for selection. There was more you wanted to get him, but was forced to narrow it down after being reminded there was still two more stops and only one guard to help carry things. You settled and paid for only five.

Then, second to last, but definitely not least, you stopped at a well-kept building that housed one of the Royal Jewelers. Madam Parne was well known in the city after immigrating from Pentos with a rucksack brimming with exotic gems and metals. You never knew if they were stolen or not, but in this moment, you did not care. Madam Parne was expecting your visit and had cleared the shop out of any common customers.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the door was locked to prevent anyone from entering; books set down to a bench and Arryk watching the entire exchange with a hand on his sword's hilt.

Madam Parne was a pleasant enough woman who was happy to show you the ideas she had curated for the Prince's nameday present. You were particular in what you wanted, nixing and refusing several gifts before something golden caught your eye.

"And these?" You asked softly, pulling the velveteen case closer.

"They're pendents, Princess," Parne explained. "Each depict the Gods." She pointed to each necklace set on a gold chain, explaining, "The Father, who represents divine justice and judges the souls of the dead. The Mother, who represents mercy, peace, fertility, and childbirth. The Maiden shows us purity, innocence, love, and beauty. The Crone represents wisdom and foresight. The Warrior shows us our strength, and courage in both life and battle. The Smith, representing creation and craftsmanship. And then," her manicured finger pet over the pendent, "The Stranger, who represents death and the unknown... And of course, you see the Seven Point Star," she showed you the final necklace, "to represent all the Seven."

"Does the Prince even wear chains?" Amira wondered quietly from beside you, looking at the selection.

"He doesn't have one," you sighed, elbow to the showing table to keep your chin propped up. "What do you think?"

"I think he'd like anything you got him," Amira shrugged some, but her eyes cast over your shoulders. "Woah," she gasped lightly, perking up. You did the same and turned to view a glass case latched to the wall, showing off the perfectly rounded array of gems.

"Ah," Parne nodded, "the Precious Gems, good eye."

"They're cut interestingly," you noted.

"All rounded," she agreed with a knowing smirk.

"And large," you cocked your head slightly. "Mira, you would know better than I..."

Amira caught onto your words, lowering her tone to mutter, "He's a sapphire, Princess, but it's smaller... Bit dull and jagged from the years."

"Hmm," you considered, nodding. Then, to Parne, you asked, "Might I see the sapphire, please, Madam Parne?"

"Of course, Princess."

By the end of the long visit, you left with two carefully wrapped parcels. You let Ser Arryk carry the jeweler's packages for protection, leaving Amira and you to carry the weight of the books and silver hairbrush. However, you had one more stop.

The local livestock breeder smiled when he saw you three approach, and laughed happily when you knew immediately what horse you wanted. When you made your request, the breeder offered you a small look, "Are you sure, Princess? He's a bit wild, that one."

Your shoulders shrugged, "No worries. He's perfect for us."

"Very well," he agreed, "then, how's about only seven Gold Dragons?"

"What about the agreed-upon ten?"

"Thought I could convince yah to take a different stallion. Only seven 'cause that boy's out his Gods-given mind."

"He'll do fine," you assured. You paid the man, and gave the instruction, "Have him brought the the Royal Stables, please. Within the Keep." You signed the two parchments that showed ownership, leaving one with the man, "Use this if they do not let you pass."

You scribbled in the margin, 'For Prince Aemond's nameday!' and hoped it was enough for the guards.

"Thank you, Lady," the breeder thanked, bowing. "We'll move 'im tonight."

"Good, thank you," you smiled, nodding to the others, and finally left the inner city.

When you were back in the Keep, you had to sneak around the corners of the halls near your room; cautious to run into Aemond.

"Come on," you waved the two into your room after checking it was empty. Arryk and Mira both darted quickly into the room and deposited the presents on the bed to let you sort through before bidding you a good day.

You were left alone to hand-wrap the presents, barely finishing in time for the mechanics of the secret passage door in your room to whirl to life. You squeaked and turned, keeping the presents behind you, and smiling when your husband's head popped in.

"Anyone here?" He checked.

"Nope. Just us," you promised, watching him sigh in relief and step out from the secret passage. "What's wrong? Why're you creeping around?"

"Helaena and Mother want tea, or something," he sighed as the door shut. He eyed you for a moment. "And you, pet? What're you up to?"

"Nothing..."

"That's suspicious," he noted with a smirk, yanking his weapons belt free.

"None more than you sneaking back into our room," you pointed out, rocking on your toes to approach him with a dramatic pout. "Is spending time with your mother and sister all that bad? Truly?"

"Well, no," he sighed, letting you assist him in undressing for the day. You reached for his buckles.

"Then why avoid them?"

"Just tired, pet," he sighed, and dare you say it, sadly.

"Hmm," you considered, "that's all? Nothing to do with, oh, I don't know, tomorrow?"

He groaned lightly and pulled his arms from the leather jerkin. "Do not remind me, 's why they want tea."

"You know, some people might actually like spending time with their family for their nameday," you teased as he focused on pouring a goblet of wine. "What if I went with you?"

"Hmm?"

"To tea," you smiled softly.

"'S all right, pet," he nodded.

"Well... I might have a confession."

"Oh?"

You winced lightly, "We have dinner arrangements for tonight."

"For what?"

You smiled, "For you, love."

He sighed, "Sweetheart, it's nice to try, but it's not necessary."

"Well, I've already - "

"I don't celebrate my nameday, pet. Hence me taking the back passages to avoid everyone, hmm?"

"Well, yes, I noted that, but it's your first nameday as a married couple," you pouted up at him. "Please? I have a bunch of surprises I think you'll really like."

"Oh?"

You nodded with vigor, a grin creeping over your lips. "Tell you what, if it's really not something you like, we won't continue. But let me at least try, please."

Aemond sighed and let a hand raise to caress your cheek, "Why's this so important, sweet girl?"

"It's your nameday, so, you can't fight me when I spoil you. And you went all out for mine."

"Oh, I can't fight you, can I?" He smirked, making you go rigid.

"Don't. You. Dare," You warned, but it was too late. Aemond chuckled as he lunged, hands clamping tight over your ribs and wiggling to make you almost drop to the floor with shrill laughter. "AEMOND! OKAY! OKAY!" You begged. "TRUCE! TRUCE! PLEASE!"

He chuckled still but relented, making you stumble a bit into his chest from the aftershocks of being tickled. Your husband grinned and let his arms wrap around you tightly, sighing, "All right, pretty girl, I'll play along. What's going on tonight?"

"Dinner with your family," you nodded. "And tomorrow, it's just us."

"Yeah?" He smirked.

"Mhm, thought you'd like that," you teased gently.

"Sounds good by me, love," he nodded, pecking your forehead. But his eyes drifted towards the bed, "Is that what you were hiding?"

You shrugged a little, "Maybe... Now, change for dinner, please."

He glanced out the window to note the position of the sun, wondering, "Now?"

"Mhm," you smiled, part of another surprise. "C'mon."

Aemond was a good sport and let you leave his gifts on the table. They were all wrapped, so, you didn't worry about him finding out what they were, and picked up a few books to give to Aegon to give to Aemond. You were annoyed by his lack of want to celebrate his brother, but knew, not all siblings were as sweet or supportive or loving as your own.

When there was a knock at the door, you peaked out to spy Amira, who whispered, "It's all in place, Princess. King's on his way there now."

"Thank you," you winked, handing her the books through the door, and shutting it after.

"Who was that, love?" Aemond asked, tucking his tunic into his trousers before settling a new jerkin over it.

"Amira, she was just checking on us. I told her we were going to dinner," you smiled lightly, eyeing him up and down. "But now that I'm getting a full look, I don't know if we'll make it on time."

"Behave yourself," he teased lightly, chuckling after.

He smiled when your arms wrapped around his middle from behind. You pushed onto your toes to nuzzle at his neck, "You look very handsome."

"Thank you, sweet girl," he whispered, hand over your own on his chest.

"C'mon," you grinned, letting him go. "I have gifts for you but that's kinda between us... So, you'll get them later."

He chuckled, shaking his head, "You should not have bothered."

Your eyes rolled, "You spoil me often enough, you can let me return the favor. Please."

He nodded and let his arm come around your shoulders as you both finally stepped from your bedroom. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna complain about it," he teased as your hand rose to hold onto the hand dangling off your shoulder. He eyed you with a smirk, "I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Only about every other minute when we were getting ready," you smirked up at him. "But thank you, sweetheart," your hand squeezed his, glancing at the black gown you wore.

Naturally, you matched Aemond in color scheme and dressed in something he had bought you weeks ago. You've yet to have a chance to wear it, so, tonight was perfect. When you lead Aemond to a private balcony, he offered a confused look.

"Trust me," you whispered, knocking gently and the next moment, the door was opening widely. "Oh, wow," you chuckled, leading Aemond in. "Oh, this looks great!"

"Gods," he whispered, looking around in shock. "You did this?"

"Well, technically your mother did," you chuckled, pausing to let him get a look at the balcony that was dripping in florals. "Like it?"

"'S beautiful, love," he smirked, "but why the flowers?"

You shrugged, "They're pretty and set a nice scene." A servant approached you, making you chirp, "Ah, thank you." They handed over a bouquet of flowers, a sample of what was decorating the balcony now. You turned to Aemond, "And I'm willing to bet nobody's ever given you flowers before."

"I give you flowers, pretty girl," he gently refused. "Keep 'em."

"You're telling me you don't like it when we've flowers in the room?" You asked quietly, aware of his family watching you linger in the double-doorway. "Why else get them so often 'for me'?"

He paused, and then rolled his eyes begrudgingly, "Perhaps I do."

"I knew it," you grinned, "but for the sake of your reputation, I'll hold onto these."

"Thank you," he chuckled, still glancing around and noting his family waiting on you two. "What's this?"

"I told you," you smiled softly at him, "family dinner."

He smiled softly before letting his usual mask of indifference take over. You chuckled and laced your hands together, leading him up the stone steps to the platform the table rested on.

You were greeted happily by his family, all of whom all but instantly wished Aemond a happy nameday. Judging by his reaction of silence and stony contemplation with only grateful nods of thanks, you figured it's been quite some time since anyone had even acknowledged his nameday. You had a word with the kitchen staff and organized the menu, and Aemond had to chuckle lightly when the main course was served.

"You did this, huh?" He smirked into the rim of his goblet of wine.

"Duh," you whispered with a wink. "You've no idea how fucking expensive this pork is."

"What makes it special?" He wondered.

"Oh, absolutely no idea, but apparently, it's really good," you smiled softly at him.

As dinner faded with laughter and easy-going conversation, everyone began presenting their gifts. Aemond cleared his throat and shifted with discomfort, not liking being the center of attention, and you made a mental note to not pursue a family dinner next year.

Viserys was first, presenting his son with a new blade. It wasn't Valyrian Steel, but it was still a handsome weapon, and your husband was shocked to receive such a gift. When his wide eyes turned to you, you whispered, "That was not my doing, love." When his brows slowly perked, you assured, "That was all your father."

You smiled softly as Alicent presented her son with an entire collection of Encyclopedias of the Known World. He blinked a few times before thanking her and you chuckled, waving a servant forward to take the ten, thick, heavy books with the freshly forged sword to your room.

You'd have to clear an entire shelf on the bookshelf from today alone.

Otto was next and smirked when he nudged a certificate closer. "What's this?" Aemond wondered, picking up the parchment to show you, too.

"I've already paid," Otto nodded, "all you need to do is show up and present that. Your Lady wife might've mentioned your need for new boots and tunics."

You shrugged when Aemond offered you a playfully reprimanding look. "Yours are falling apart," you mused into a sip of wine.

"They're fine," he chuckled, nodding at Otto. "Thank you, Grandfather."

"Of course," he smiled fully.

Aegon gave Aemond the books before slumping in his chair and pouring his (surprisingly) first goblet of wine. You didn't comment as Aemond seemed more pleasantly shocked than anything by the gift, and he chuckled lightly as he pet the spines of the books.

After handing them over to the servant, he leaned closer to mutter in your ear, "Now, I know that one was you, love."

"Shh," you hushed gently.

Before the night was over, the cooks brought out a cake you had spent the previous day (trying to) help bake. Aemond shook his head with a laugh when Alicent asked how the excursion went, and the chef even chuckled.

"It went fine," you assured, sending a pointed look to the kitchen staff. "I didn't burn anything down, now did I?"

"Not this time, Princess, though you did burn the first few attempts," Chef Uller teased lightly. "But it was an honor, you're welcome in the kitchens any time, Princess."

You smiled in thanks, leaving Helaena to present her own gift. She had caught wind of your plans and got him new dragon-hide gloves, knowing his own were wearing out terribly thin. Prince Aemond had a terrible habit of using things until falling part - and then still using them. Sometimes, he needed reminded to replace certain things.

From her children, the Twins, she let Prince Jaehaerys toddle closer with his gift clutched tightly. You cooed and both pushed your chairs back, letting the gurgling toddler waddle closer, all but falling into your arms when he reached you.

Aemond smiled softly as he watched you pull the child into your lap, easily cradling him. "What's that, love?" You cooed gently, tickling his sides - making him laugh shrilly. "Hey? Got something for your uncle, is it?"

The Prince was happy to wave the present in his hands, seemingly offering it to Aemond, and making your husband slowly reach for the gift. "Thank you, lad," he whispered when the kid let go, clapping happily and babbling to you as if in conversation.

"Oh, really? You picked it out?" You teased softly, the babe babbling again. "Oh, good choice, love, yes, yes," you approved with a nod, smirking at Aemond. "He says his sister approved."

"Oh, yeah?" Aemond chuckled, opening the small case. "Look at this, pretty girl," he smirked at you, showing the dragon broach with red ruby eyes.

"That's handsome," you smiled, gently leaning into his shoulder as you both looked at Prince Jaehaerys when he babbled again. "Hmm, yes, you're right," you nodded, "it would look really nice on a pale colored tunic. Maybe even white."

"I don't own any," Aemond chuckled.

"We'll fix that," you smirked with a quick wink, tapping the certificate Otto presented him - making him snicker quietly.

Unknown to you, Viserys, Alicent, and Otto all shared fond looks while watching you and your husband interact with the child on your lap. It was different, seeing Aemond so soft-spoken and at-ease; almost being a foreign sight that made most do a double take.

He was smiling - not smirking.

His eyes all but remained on you, softening his expression.

Aemond looked relaxed for the first time in years, and Alicent's heart burst in her chest when her eyes skated over you - who was leaning into Aemond's side with Jaehaerys sitting on your lap still, child's hands grabbing at your hair playfully. She never thought she'd see the day, but given both your hands were occupied by the wriggling, giggling child, Alicent was pleasantly surprised to watch Aemond fork a bit of cake into your mouth with a small chuckle.

She almost passed out and fell from her chair when she watched Aemond swiftly swoop in to kiss a bit of icing off your lip. Your grin was blinding, making your husband flush slightly from embarrassment. It was a nice breath of fresh air, to witness her son so happy and carefree - if only for a few, fleeting moments.

The dinner lasted only an hour later before Viserys was being escorted to bed - and Aegon wasted no time in surging from his seat to charge out of the dining quarters right after.

You sighed gently and finished off your wine, letting Alicent take her grandson from your lap as Helaena had hold of her daughter. The servants had brought all Aemond's new gifts to your room, leaving you to bid Otto a goodnight, lace hands, and move for your shared chamber.

Before you made it to the door, you ran into Amira, who cheered, "Lord! Lady!"

"Mira," you smiled at the cheerful older woman.

"Here," she presented a thin box to Aemond with excitement. "Your Lady wife helped me pick it out, but I know you needed this. I hope it's acceptable."

Aemond had to let go of any hold on you to accept the gift, looking almost nervous. But when he saw your encouraging smile, he lifted the lid and breathed in slight relief. "Wow, Amira," he complimented, fingering the brush delicately, "this is too much."

"No, nonsense," she assured, "you needed a new one and we were happy to help! Is it to your liking, my Prince?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Thank you," he smirked at her with a head nod. "This was very thoughtful."

"Oh, you're so welcome," she hummed, looking really pleased with herself. It made you smile fondly. "Thank you for keeping this one out of trouble," she teased, pointing at you; smile dropping.

"Hey," you snipped, "he does no such thing."

Aemond chuckled, offering his hand to Mira. When hers laid in his, he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, thanking her again, but then apologizing as you two needed to take leave. She understood and after another wish for a happy nameday, hustled down the hall to continue her own chores as you and Aemond finally approached your room.

When you got in, you both breathed small sighs of relief.

"Well?" You asked gently, leaning on the wooden door as your eyes followed your husband. He first paused to deposit the new hairbrush on the table.

"Hmm?" Aemond then sat to the edge of the bed, leaning down to unlace his boots; sparing you a confused glance.

"How was tonight?"

He chuckled when you approached, swatting his hands away to pull the leather shoes from his feet. "Yeah, it was nice, pet..."

"Yeah?" You beamed.

"Yeah," he chuckled again. After depositing the boots to the side, Aemond reached for your hands so you stood between his opened legs with your fingers lacing together. "It was a nice change of pace... Though, I don't know if we should make it regular."

You hummed, "Fair point, I'll keep that in mind, love. Tomorrow will be better, I promise."

"You sound very confident in that," he teased.

"I am," you winked, leaning in to peck his lips. "I think you'll like what I have planned."

"I might," he nodded. "If it's with you, I think I'll enjoy myself."

"Good," you chirped. "Now, c'mon, I'm tired. Unlace me, please."

He nodded and let you turn in his arms to undo the back laces of your dress. Calloused fingertips occasionally drug over your skin, creating a legion of goose flesh. When done, he helped pull the laces free; making your arms press to your chest to keep the garment on your body. Your entire back was bare for him to stare at as you selected a short singlet for the night, dropping the material of your gown to shimmy into your silk slip.

When you turned, you weren't surprised to find your husband leaning back on a hand, watching you intently. His free hand rested almost completely over his crotch, just slightly to the side, and drawing your eyes exactly where he wanted.

"Aemond," you reprimanded softly.

"Carry on, love," he smirked, letting his free hand now fully palm himself. He gave a squeeze, making his voice deepen, "Let me watch you."

"Show's over, pretty boy," you laughed lightly, pulling your jewelry from your ears, neck, fingers, and wrists. "Are you going to get ready for bed?"

Yet, his smirk didn't falter and his hand gave another squeeze to his swelling cock hidden beneath the tight trousers he wore. "I'm enjoying my view," he teased, "and I thought I'd let my beautiful wife help me with that."

"With undressing?"

"You'd rather I ask someone else?"

Your mouth hung open as he snickered, "You're not funny!"

"Then why am I laughing, love?"

"Well, I am not," you let your back turn to him, feigning irritation as your own lips pulled in a smirk; forgetting about the mirror you faced, which gave view to your husband. Your fingers organized your gems in a soft velvet box on your vanity, preparing your nightly routine just as you felt arms slither around your waist - like you wanted.

"You think I do not notice you teasing me, my love?" He mused in your ear, tightening his arms as your own moved to lay over his.

"Perhaps," you smirked. "Are you going to be useful and help me fix my hair?"

"Are you going to do the same?"

"Of course," you chuckled, giving his arms a squeeze that he reciprocated instantly; crowding your hips into the edge of the vanity that made your throat constrict with a gulp.

"Then let me mess it up first," he whispered, and before you could respond, you were whining when his lips parted to let his teeth scrape over the meat of your neck.

He was instantly drawn to that sweetest spot on your neck, knees buckling gently to make the table wobble as one hand aided in keeping you upright and the other rose to hold the back of your husband's neck. He breathed heavily against you, sloppily kissing over flesh and taking your earlobe between his teeth; grinding his hips forward to press his defined cock into the swell of your arse.

You were trapped between him and the vanity, holding onto him as if it would give you strength. Aemond let his hands move from holding your hips in a bruising grip to then surge upward and grope both your breasts at the same time. Your eyes fluttered and lips parted in a strangled gasp at the sensation of his hands, lips, and hips working in tandem, the vanity gently rocking with your movements.

Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, your husband was a big fan of dry humping, and though you weren't sure about it before, you knew now that you'd never tire of the feeling.

You breathlessly cursed the Gods - it just all felt so good; so overwhelming; so overpowering. Your shrill tone even praised your husband's name like a prayer, making him rut into you faster, harder.

"C'mere," he growled, turning you to face him swiftly and reaching behind you to easily sweep his arm and clear the tabletop of your belongings.

"Aemond," you groaned, watching your items clatter to the floor and frowning at him with a small glare. A bottle of perfume might've even cracked but there was no time to check.

"I'll clean it up later," he assured, pressing his lips to yours for a breath-stealing, mind-numbing kiss. His hands held the center of your ribcage, thumbs rubbing into the meat of your breasts and making your breath stagger slightly; humming with pleasure. He pulled away only to lean in for your neck again, making your head tilt to the side as all argument died on your tongue. He relished in the sounds of your sharp intakes of breath. "Hold onto me," Aemond whispered, and the moment your hands seized his upper arms, he was gripping your hips and heaving you back onto the vanity's tabletop with a thigh between both of yours for extra support.

"Aemond - fuck," You moaned against his lips after guiding his face back to yours. Holding him against you with legs spread to accommodate his body, his hands traveled to your thighs to push your singlet up to settle around your hips. "You don't," you paused when his lips pushed back onto yours, moaning faintly before pulling back again, "you don't want to move for the bed, love?"

"Not yet," he purred with a smirk, easily slipping his fingers under the thin strap of your singlet to pull off your shoulder. "Love," he chuckled when your arms didn't move, preventing him from revealing your bare chest. You only cocked your head in challenge, and your husband was eager to meet it.

"Aemond!" You scolded with a gasp when he easily tore the strap off, doing the same to the other so the material was fully pooled around your waist and hips.

His eye rolled, leaning in to peck your lips, "I'll buy you five more, pet."

"That was expensive silk, imported from Braavos," you pouted lightly, hands held to the side of you to help keep balance as one of his hands rose to grab your tit once more; giving an appreciative squeeze to the supple flesh.

"Like I said," he nodded, letting his mouth descend onto yours while his fingers tweaked your nipple, only pulling back to whisper, "I'll buy you five new ones."

You hummed as his tongue swept into your mouth, reaching for his trousers and yanking them open. You felt his mouth pull from yours to kiss down your neck, sweep over your collarbones, lick across your chest, and then settle at your breast; tilting his body at an odd angle to take your nipple in his mouth and let you work at the same time.

However, when one of your hands rose to gently pet over the strap of his eyepatch, he tensed up and reared back slightly. "Not tonight," he whispered as he took hold of your hands but did not else move, making you nod in understanding.

It was a long shot, but you had to test the waters.

"Okay," you relented gently, slowly caressing his cheeks in surrender to guide him back to your lips. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

Eyepatch stays on during sex, noted.

"Don't apologize," he hummed, shaking his head as if to rid his thoughts. "Soon, pet," he promised, licking into your mouth as you both moaned. Your hands brought his back to your breasts, aiding them in squeezing and massaging; letting go with a gasp when he moved to tweak your nipples between thumb and pointer fingers.

Your moans encouraged him further, but the feeling of your groin moving against his spurred him onward. You had to pause your own ministrations when his hips started to move; pinning yourself to his mercy to let him thrust dryly into you, fingers still working, and tongue swirling around yours.

His rutting became frantic, tugging you to the edge of the vanity so he could grind into your bare, glistening cunt; eagerly pushing the material of his pants down so they rested around his thighs. Just enough to free his leaking cock and for you to take him in hand.

You both moaned at the feeling of him in your palm, his teeth clenching when your fingers wrapped in a secure grip. You gave a few tugs with a roll of your wrist, but Aemond's plea stopped you, "Don't tease me, pretty girl. C'mon."

"You don't want my mouth?"

He chuckled breathlessly and needed to hold the top of the mirror over you to keep his balance while you stroked him until the tip of his cock was a leaking, angry red. "Always want that, pet, but I need to be inside you - now."

Your one foot moved to the top of the table to hold your position, the other wrapping around Aemond's leg to encourage him forward. "Then don't waste any time, husband," you breathed in response, and in the next moment, Aemond surged forward with both lips and hips.

His mouth devoured your wanton moan when he took no time to line himself up and sheath himself fully in the sopping wetness of your cunt. His one hand held your hip and raised leg, alternating between squeezes and caresses; the other laying over yours, keeping his strength upright as his hips humped ferociously into you.

Your mouth could only form helpless moans as the folded position of your body made it feel as if Aemond was thrusting through you before he adjusted his tempo and let his hips push upwards. Your head fell back to the mirror of your vanity and the entire table rocked with Aemond's frantic motions, briefly worrying you'd break the furniture before your climax.

Yet, Aemond was wound tighter than you realized and his hand abandoned yours in favor of thumbing around your pearl.

With another whine, your eyes screwed shut as your husband took you as he saw fit; only a few strokes in before your tightening belt of pleasure released. Your own hips humped into Aemond's as you clung to him; both his arms around you as your mind focused only on prolonging your orgasm.

"Fuck, Princess, that's it, hold onto me, yeah, good girl," Aemond growled, holding your hips to his as your back was pushed to the table until you were hanging off - hanging on only by your legs wrapped around his hips. It was a terrible position for you, but your husband was focused on his orgasm; and the aftermath of your own made the pleasure prolong as your core flexed to keep your balance. "My good girl, fuck, that's it. Always willing to listen and do as she's told, mmh, makes this cunt so fuckin' tight, ah, fuck, fuck, fuck," Aemond hissed breathlessly, balls slapping to the wetness of your cunt as he finally met his end with a shout.

With one final thrust that sent the table back into the wall, one of your hands slapped backwards to hold the mirror from falling over you as the other clung to Aemond's shoulders. He panted into your neck as his balls contracted to empty his load, painting your insides sticky white while trying to catch his breath.

"Love," you warned, glancing up, "mirror's gonna fall. Help me, please."

"Shit," he looked up, quickly rightening his damp body to balance you with his softening cock still inside and reach for the mirror. "Let go, I got it, love, go ahead," He trusted you to not move as he readjusted the glass so it was no longer in jeopardy of falling. "You all right?" He checked, both hands moving back to the flesh of your waist as you both still caught your breath.

"Mhm," you panted, letting him help you back into a sitting position.

You breathed heavily as he slowly retracted his hips to free himself, pausing only to use his fingers and stuff any escaping cum back inside - your breathing staggering again. "Hold it there, pretty girl," he whispered with a taunting smirk. You sighed through the pleasure with fluttering lashes as he worked, feeling his fingertips stroking that spongey-good spot of your inner walls and only offered him a glare. "What?" He smirked, entire arm flexing to accommodate his ministrations. "Can't handle it?"

"You're playing a dangerous game, my Prince," you warned, knowing he was working you back up to a new height.

"Maybe it's my intention to fuck you all night," he teased, smirking at you as if he won.

"Maybe that was my plan for tomorrow."

"Why not both?" He perked a brow, yanking you to your wobbly feet to trap your lips back to his. His arms were used to support most of your weight, both hands gripping the meat of your arse; moving backwards towards the bed and leaving the scattered remains of your vanity behind.

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

[notscarsafe]

Okay, so in honor of all the Hermits stirring things up on Twitter today, let's REALISTICALLY consider Season Ten. What do we know, what are our clues, actually???

(Speculating and overanalyzing are really fun so I'm just going to embrace my tendency to Listify Everything and spill my thoughts on Season Ten under the cut!)

First Evidence: The Words of the Hermits.

Nine Days ago Scar said in his Jellie tribute video that Season Ten was “Just around the corner”. Five days ago on the 18th, right after the Hermit meeting that probably finalized their start of the season plans, Cub posted his cryptic tweet whose incorrect capitalizations spelled out “SEASON TEN SOON”. I can't imagine either of those hermits using that phrasing if the season start was more than a month away.

What's more, Gem posted yesterday the 23 that “If hermitcraft s10 doesn’t start soon I’m gonna explode!!!” I can't imagine Gem being that impatient unless there was only a couple of weeks or maybe just one week left before filming.

Second Point to Consider: Hermit Conscientiousness.

The Hermits sre generally really kind to each other and have known when the Hermitcraft Vault Hunters challenge was going to end (Jan 31st, midnight) for months. Per Iskall, the videos of the Herald Vault will drop February 1rst and I can't imagine they'd want video competition between that content and the new season.

Clue Three: The Streaming Activities of the Hermits.

The sheer amount of time Joe has spent playing Vault Hunters lead me to believe they can't have started filming for Season 10 yet. Seriously, when Joe finally has a day without a bonus Vault Hunters stream I'm gonna get mighty suspicious. Joe has streamed more than three hours of Vault Hunters every single day for a week. There was Wednesday when he did his art stream, but I wouldn't expect that to have been a launch day because:

Fact Four: Editing turn around times are so grindy.

The traffic series always has a several day turn around for editing time (IE film Monday post Friday) and several Hermits still struggle to get them out on those days. Even if the hermits were going to ignore the Vault Hunters conflict and start filming season ten this week, tomorrow even, they'd just barely have enough time to squeeze those videos out before the Herald Vault videos. As I'm editing this post Impulse just said he's trying to finish his office reorg this week and have a tour out next week. That does not sound like 'filming this week and editing the new season opener' behavior.

If it goes as Iskall indicated on stream, the Vault Hunter hermits will film the Herald Vault and post as soon as possible on February 1st, meaning the earliest they could kick off season ten would be Friday the 2nd. Even if they film on then I can't imagine them dropping new season videos/having them edited any earlier than Monday the 5th. Furthermore:

Clue Five: A lot of Hermits are very protective of their weekends.

Pearl for example almost didn't join the Decked Out visitor day because it was a weekend. It may be that Monday the 5th would be the more likely earliest useable day for filming after Vault Hunters ended. With editing turn around, we'd guess the start date to be Friday at least.

In Conclusion:

My totally bullshit overanalyzed but still blind guess is that the Hermits will film season ten starting February 5th and will drop videos sometime between February 7th and 9th.

That being said, Cub's cypher today that may have just been trolling said season ten would be “sooner than we'd think” so they may surprise me yet.

Keep an eye out for days where no hermits stream or days where Joe does a brief “1 hour chill stream” to see when the Hermits might be suspiciously behind the scenes. I won't be mad if I'm wrong, overthinking is fun. Either way I hope you join me in hypong up the new season and the new Hermits joining the Hermit Fam. I can't wait!

(Note: this post originally reported the herald vault videos as dropping the 2nd which was an estimate from a stream, but Iskalls video today reported they'd drop the first and this post has been edited to reflect that ❤️)

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence, human trafficking.

Word Count: 949

Previously On...: You watched some home movies of Jade in her Hydra facility. It was... disturbing, to say the least.

A/N: Rock me, rock me, rock me, Sexy Jesus! He died for our sins, you gotta believe us! Seriously, Hamlet 2 is a gem, and now this song is stuck in my head forever.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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You and Bucky were silent as you closed your laptop. What could one say after watching a person you knew, personally, rip through a group of people as though they were wrapping paper on Christmas morning? There were no words.

After several long minutes, Bucky finally spoke. “After seeing that,” he said, “I think it’s all the more reason to make sure you don’t leave this safehouse unless you absolutely have to.”

“Yeah,” you said, devoid of all your previous fight. How could you argue with him about your safety after having seen that?

Bucky looked at you in surprise, as though he had expected you to challenge him. He nodded curtly. “Good,” he said. “Alright. We need a game plan. Did you come up with any leads about that Chloe girl that we can follow up on?”

You sighed. “Yeah,” you said, opening up a new tab in your browser. “So, Chloe mentioned her family was having money problems. I was able to figure out where her mom and step father do their banking; I thought we could take a look at their accounts, see if there’s any unusual activity that might point to them getting a share of her auction price. Then maybe we could trace the deposit back to whoever did the sale.”

“You think her parents knowingly participated in trafficking their own kid?” Bucky asked in horror. “Pocket, that’s dark.”

You avoided looking at him as you opened up a backdoor into the accounts in question. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to do when money gets involved. Not even a mother/daughter bond is immune from that kind of greed.”

 Bucky’s gaze on you was almost tangible in its intensity. “I’m sorry. It’s so hard for me to envision a mother betraying her child like that; sometimes I forget you had to live it.”

“But you told Carthage about it,” you said softly. “At the mission debrief. When she said trafficking was below our paygrade.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky turned your chin so you were facing him. “I told her that human trafficking was something you and Nat both cared very deeply about stopping; that’s it.” He frowned. “I don’t expect you to believe me and that’s okay, but I would never divulge your past to anyone. Not when I know how few people you trusted with that information. I just wanted her to stop acting like it was some kinda game and to treat it as seriously as it deserved to be treated.”

“Oh,” you said after a moment. Something in his words rang true, but there was still the lingering doubt that he was being honest. “Don’t worry about, Barnes,” you said, studiously avoiding eye contact as you breached the bank’s security system. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

You could feel him staring at you, and you didn’t need to be looking back to envision the look he was giving you— the one that let you know he thought you were full of shit. Fortunately, he allowed your lie to pass without another word while you continued to breach the bank’s system. 

“Okay, I’m in,” you said after a moment. Bucky got up and came to stand behind you, looking at your monitor over your shoulder.

“Anything?” he asked.

You scrolled through Chloe’s stepfather’s transaction history. Liquor stores, smoke shops, some escort services. “Real classy guy,” you murmured. And then, you hit it: the night Chloe had left the club for good, there was a substantial deposit made to the account in the amount of $250,000.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. “I figured he might get a cut, but I had no idea it would be that much.”

Bucky let out a long, low whistle. “If that’s their finder’s fee, I can’t imagine what the final sale was for.” 

You were furiously copying down the depositing account’s information. “I’m going to send this info back to Nat,” you told him. “See if they can reverse-search it and find out where the money came from. Once we know the source, we might be able to break into their systems, get info on who won the auctions. Maybe some of the other girls are still alive…” Your voice trailed off. You were too jaded to allow yourself to hope you could save all of them, but if you could save even one…

Bucky began moving toward the apartment’s front door, grabbing his leather jacket from where he’d hung it on a hook.

“Where are we going?” You asked him, closing your laptop and standing up.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” he informed you as he put the jacket on. “I’m going to go have a little chat with Chloe’s stepfather, see if there’s any additional information he’d like to generously offer us. You are going to stay here, locked securely behind the door and not opening it for any reason until I get back.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the images of Jade moving through the Hydra compound, slaughtering everyone in her path rose to your mind. You nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you.” Bucky released a relieved sigh, then walked over to you, kissing the top of your head. “If anything happens, call me, and I’ll head straight back. If Carthage shows up, there’s a gun in the bedside table. Aim to kill.”

“Obviously,” you told him. “I’ve only been fantasizing about it since I found out about Russia.”

“I’m being serious, doll,” Bucky said. “Now that we’ve seen what she’s capable of, I don’t want you taking any chances.”

“Yeah,” you said as you walked him to the door and opened it for him, “I was being 100% serious, too.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[sgiandubh]

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

[veinsfullofstars]

-trips and drops all my eggs on the ground-

(ID: A small compilation of Kirby series fanart featuring Magolor in various silly and disconnected scenarios, with guest appearances by Marx, Kirby, and the rest of the RtDL team as well. More detailed descriptions and transcripts under the cut. END ID.)

I sketched out most of these months ago while I was playing through KRtDLDX for the first time. The Epilogue was giving me thoughts and the brainworms were feeding. Still, I didn’t really have any big piece ideas for these, so I figured I’d just slap them all into a comp, throw some lines and color on, and call it done. A little loose on context, I admit, but I think they came out okay in the end. I just love drawing this wretched man (and the clown that bothers him).

Sketches started 02/28/23, render started 11/02/23, finished 11/04/23. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 11/04/23.

---

Image desc. & transcripts (in no particular order):

-Magolor points to a barrel, smiling pleasantly, and says “Trust me, it’s foolproof! Now get in~” Marx looks on unimpressed.

-Magolor (in his tattered gray outfit) grabs his head with a look of fear on his face, saying “No one told me there’d be consequences to my actions!”

-Magolor (in his Tome Trackers outfit) winks and twirls his mustache, saying “Of course I’m trustworthy! You can tell by my mustache and ridiculously high IQ!”

-Shopkeeper Magolor holding the Gem Apple sapling and giving the viewer a thumbs-up, saying “That’s right! Spin-off games have canon in ‘em! It’s all over for you lore bitches!”

-Magolor happily lifting Kirby by the hands via Helper mode

-a large human hand squeezing a frightened and very unhappy-looking Magolor

-Magolor smiling smugly while the RtDL gang (off-screen save for their hands) all point their weapons at him (see the Knife Cat meme)

-Magolor showing Marx a Gem Apple, a look of wonder in the jester’s eyes

-Magolor weeping and clutching his head as a pair of large hands reminiscent of his Soul form loom around him, ready to grab

-Shopkeeper Magolor smiling with his hands together, an arrow pointing at him reading “no longer evil :)”

-Magolor (in his tattered gray outfit), first standing neutrally, then looking down at his hands, then shrugging with his eyes shut, saying “Oh, well. Time to learn nothing.”

-Shopkeeper Magolor showing off a Gem Apple to the viewer, saying “This apple cured my sociopathy! Imagine what it could do for you!”

-Magolor and Marx sitting back-to-back on the floor, the former fixing a pocket watch with a screwdriver, the latter propped up on his side watching a Minecraft let’s play on a purple childproof tablet; Mags says, “So, anyway, that’s how I lost everything to a baby, went to hell, fought my demons, and ultimately grew as a person.” Marx responds in disinterest, “Uh huh, sure, buddy.”

-Magolor winking at the viewer with a hand on his chest, saying “Of course I have a heart. Several, in fact! In really nice glass jars.”

-Magolor and Marx holding hands (er, well, Mags holding the end of Marx’s hat like a hand), facing away from each other, looking flustered and nervous; an arrow points at them reading “Shhh… they’re on their first date

-Marx smiling innocently at the viewer, eyes shut, one tooth peeking out, waving the end of his hat; an arrow points at him reading “causes problems on purpose”

-Magolor looking at something off-screen, a hand over his eyes as if to block the sun

-a tear in the background shaped eerily like a smile, a goopy drip connecting top and bottom, a blank red eye in the center peering out from within

[stellocchia]

Alright, first episodes are out, I'm gonna start with some:

FUN PREDICTIONS

Top 3 (In no particular order):

Gonna be placing Scott in Top 3 for purely statistical reasons. The only time he wasn't in the top 3 was when his ally was literally Mr. Gaming, so, like, it takes the Canary Curse to nerf him. Besides, he was one of the 3 people who finished the first session in full health, so that already bodes well for him.

Gem is gonna be my next bet for top 3. I know she's new, but she already made a good alliance, she's clever, she's good at pvp, I genuinely think she's got a good chance to get to the finale. Besides, again, 3/4 times, at least one of Scott's allies made it far. And, while I adore Impulse, he has a tendency to get himself killed by Bdubs...

My last one is BigB. Something is going on with him this season and I'm intrigued, so this is, admittedly, pure wish fulfillment on my part, but, fuck it! My predictions, and I say he finally makes it to the top.

Bottom 3 (In no particular order):

Obvious one out of the way, Mr. Jimmy Solidarity Gaming. 4 times out first does not bode well for him I'm afraid. And, while it would be fun if he did break the curse... I'm not gonna bet on that happening this time, or any time soon. He even finished the first session with the second-lowest amount of hearts...

Joel is my next pick. My guy is so reckless all the time, I'm genuinely only putting him down here for that reason. I'm not confident he won't jump out of the water into a several blocks drop and lose half his hearts again next session because I don't think any amount of mistakes can teach him caution. He is a menace, both to society and himself.

For the last one I was undecided, but ultimately I would say probably Mumbo. He was the second out in the only other season he played in. And, while he fared rather well I'd say in the first session, he can get stuck overthinking things and that's just never good for a life series, is it?

We'll see by the end how many I actually got right!

[curetapwater]

Madoka Magica is a very dark show but I think it often gets kinda blown outta proportion, as if it's some bloodbath just because it has onscreen deaths and dark subject matter. I'd say the violence itself is rather on par with darker episodes of Sailor Moon. Deaths happen, but it's far from a gore fest. Mami's death in episode 3, one of the most gruesome scenes in the show, is carefully framed to show no blood, no gore. The image of her body going limp and detransforming, the ribbons she'd tied up Homura with dissolving, the wide shot so far from her body that you can hardly make it out as it falls to the ground for Charlotte to finish. The focus is not "ouuuuuuu teenage girl death SCARY SCARY" but on the weight of the events unfolding. And her death is not there just for shock value, but to drop a sudden, crushing weight upon the characters she is survived by. The scene where Madoka visits Mami's apartment one last time in particular is so effective. A sink filled with dishes that will never be washed. A half-full teacup that will never be emptied. Her absence is a gaping hole in the characters' lives as much as it is a reminder of the stakes of the situation.

And other onscreen deaths are as clean as possible. The Soul Gem thing is existentially terrifying but it also lends itself to something about how PMMM handles its darkest scenes with a certain tastefullness. We don't need to watch a 14-year-old girl get ripped apart in order to understand how fucked things are. We just need to see her soul itself shatter, the light leave her eyes, her body go limp. The lack of traditionally graphic imagery allows weight to be shifted from what we are seeing to what the events unfolding mean.

One of the most visceral scenes for me is the one where Kyubey just dumps his reasoning for the magical girl system on her. On its surface, it's just a girl sitting in bed, being spoken to by an alien creature. But it's the shit he says to her. The way he talks about commodifying, using, tormenting teenage girls across human history as if it's a perfectly reasonable, pleasant conversation. The way he compares humans to livestock. The way his cheerful tone never falters as Madoka's emotional state deteriorates further and further. And GOD, the shot where she slowly grabs her head, curls in on herself before bending backwards. Just trying to process the weight of a system that extends far beyond her, across the whole world, across human history. The helplessness of it all. The way it all culminates, as the audience and Madoka herself finally understand Kyubey to be a microcosm of the way the world is stacked against young girls. That single shot rocks me to my core.

I think people who label this show "torture porn" severely miss the point. We aren't supposed to root for all the bad things happening to these characters. We aren't supposed to point and go "Haha! Foolish girls and their frivolous dreams!!" nor are we supposed to wallow in misery and cry out "Woe! The dreams of young girls are all for naught!! Hope is lost!!!" We're supposed to sympathize and connect with them. And hell if I do. I'm so glad I first watched this show when I was the same age as the characters, because this show just really speaks to me. There is a great catharsis, to me, in things like Mami's veneer of being the cool perfect girl that she desperately doesn't want to fall to reveal the vulnerable girl beneath, the way Sayaka desperately wants to save the world but jumps into things without thinking and pours from an empty cup, the way Kyoko has seemingly given up entirely on being a good person but deep down still believes that something good must exist out there, Homura's determination to try again. And again. And again. Until her love consumes her and everyone around her. And Madoka's crushing sense of helplessness, of guilt, of wanting to make the world a better place, of wanting everyone to just!!!! Get along!!!!! Please!!!!!!! And the way she overcomes this sense of helplessness with the main theme that the magical girl genre was built upon to begin with: hope.

To me, Madoka Magica is a show about how much it can absolutely suck to be a teenage girl, but in a respectful way, y'know? It's about how the world is stacked against young girls, how it uses and objectifies them and kicks them into the dirt, and how because they're still young, they often don't respond to the hand dealt to them in perfect ways. But that doesn't mean their feelings, their hopes and dreams and very souls, do not matter. If anything, I'd say Madoka Magica is about how the world isn't going to go easy on you, and your feelings about that fact are real, even if you don't respond to them perfectly. But despite it all, you have to keep going.

So yeah PMMM is a dark show but I feel like its discussion is often like "this show KILLED the magical girl genre by being DARK and VIOLENT" like. Siigh. Especially frustrating because I see this sentiment both from magical girl fans who resent the show and non-magical girl fans who laud the show because they think it's "better" than its predecessors. Maybe it had an impact on the genre in the same way that Shrek was an excellent movie whose success unfortunately gave way to trends in animated films that didn't quite get what made Shrek work. But I find it unfair to say PMMM "ruined" or even "killed" the magical girl genre. I'm unsure if I'd even call it a deconstruction, it's just its own neat thing to me. I can go back and watch Sailor Moon or Pretty Cure without feeling they've been tainted or taken down a peg. If anything, I think PMMM complements more traditional magical girl shows very nicely. I think Madoka and Usagi would love each other. I don't think a magical girl show where very bad things happen is that big a deal. What is a big deal, to me, is how excellent it is in its execution.

[salllzy]

The consort #4

Sarah was no fool and she knew that the King and Queen would try and corner her papa and she wasn't going to let them, they had their chance years ago. She wasn't going to let them. They had already hurt him once and she refused to let them do so again. They had seven years to ask any questions that they wanted, but they hadn't.

She wasn't above being petty and spent what free time that she had, hogging her papa's attention. It didn't matter if he was in the middle of doing something, the moment she asked if he wanted to do something? He dropped everything that he was doing and joined her. She didn't interrupt when he was doing actual work, she knew better, but when he was doing those silly gatherings and trust exercises? That was when she interrupted. The look on the princess's face was also a bonus, she didn't have time for silly daydreamers who thought that everyone in Hell had some good in them and that they all deserved a chance to be a better person. It was the biggest load of bullshit that Sarah had ever heard. There were those in Hell who deserved everything that they got, she had no sympathy for rapists or child molesters, who stood on the street and cried 'Woe is me'. They knew what they did, even in Hell they didn't stop, despite them not being the biggest fishes in the pond. She always enjoyed a good hunt. "Dad, there you are. Ready for tonight?" Once again she had interrupted yet another meeting and she didn't even feel sorry for doing it. "You did promise that we were going out." She watched as he stood from the chair, the looks that she was being sent would have sent a lesser demon running. "Indeed, I take it the rest of the motley crew will be meeting us?" Just as he finished speaking the door opened and Stolas came wandering in, Octavia followed behind. The teen's eyes brightened as soon as she realised just who they were visiting. "Auntie, gramps." Sarah chuckled and spun her cane as she walked, the owl demoness didn't even flinch as the doe demon got close.

"How is my favourite niece?" Octavia scoffed and pulled the doe demon in for a hug, many of the hotel residents stiffened until the realised that the owl demoness was allowed to touch the prickly doe demon. "Alastor." Stolas looked at the elder deer demon and could see the lines of tension in him, no wonder Sarah had called him and arranged for them to go out. Stolas reached out and pulled the elder deer demon in for a hug, his red eyes scanned over the room. It didn't escape his notice that almost everyone was looking at the four of them. "Right, we have plans and a lot of them." She gestured to the door with her cane, Stolas released Alastor and Paimon made an appearance. "Wonderful, I am not late." The King of the Ars Goetia made his way to Alastor, he bowed at the waist and offered a bouquet of Hell roses to Alastor. Alastor blinked several times before he accepted the bouquet, Sarah groaned and scrubbed her face with her hands. "You are a massive flirt and kindly stop flirting with my dad." Piamon straightened up and offered his arm to Alastor. "My dear Sarah, with a gem as fine as this? How could I not?" Paimon escorted Alastor out of the hotel as the residents looked on in shock. "Ah, well, you two ready to go?" The two owl demons nodded their heads and soon the three of them left the hotel, they could hear Paimon talk to Alastor asking him questions as they walked. Inside the hotel, two royals burned with jealousy and they began to plot, they would not allow Paimon to take what rightfully belonged to them.

[desultory-novice]

Marionettes' Pavane, Chapter 5 Part 2

"The Sweet Taste of Home" (conclusion, 10 pgs)

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"MariPav" is a strangers to friends to......... fan comic about Marx and Magolor's meeting and their zany adventures in the days before Return to Dream Land. It was written before RtDL DX came out, so expect inconsistencies with current game lore!

[Previous] [Main]

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...After :cough: over a year of real-world time :cough: Magolor finally got a teeny, ti~ny taste of delicious, homemade cake - and a large taste of what his life of withered dreams was missing all this time.

Could his inescapably annoying jester companion be bringing something more than just chaos into Magolor's world...?

Up Next: Chapter 6 Part 1 "Let Me Play Amongst the Stars" ...Where the two go sphere hunting in earnest!

[Previous] [Main] [Next - coming soon] [Chapter Bonus: "Style Savvy"]

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A/N: So, fun story, when I was first drafting the plot of MariPav, for the longest time, this chapter was just the phrase, "Space Boyfriends Cooking Chapter! XD" I was constantly re-arranging story beats to figure out what scenes should even go here. In the end, it turned into a somewhat significant chapter despite starting out as a joke / lighthearted story tucked in between more serious events.

While MariPav isn't (and can't ; _ ;) be canon to the Magolor of DX, I did think it was funny how several aspects of his character actually do mesh pretty well with DX!Magolor, one of them being Magolor's soon-to-be obsession with preparing food! (At least, I saw Helper Magolor bringing Kirby a constant supply of healing treats to be indicative of him actually kind of liking food prep!) MariPav Magolor has definitely caught the fever for baking after this adventure!

By the way, most of the script you're seeing here is completely unchanged from my pre-remake final draft but I did end up adding the line, "...a delicacy favored by the wizard kings of ancient Halcandra" (and "Your monarchy ate rocks?!") after seeing the role the gem apples played in the Magolor Epilogue and their ties to the Master Crown. Gem apples sure seem to be made of / grown with magic, yet we know they can be eaten too! If such a food existed, it would be no surprise that wizards would love to dine on highly sweet, concentrated magic power! (The "concentrated magic" part is why they explode, of course. That stuff is pretty volatile!)

...Oh, and also, this is canonically when Marx first coins the nickname "Mags" for Magolor. I know it's confusing because I've used that nickname a lot in side material already, but it starts here!

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Lastly, for the eagle-eyed readers who noticed the cook book uses the New World Font and thus, ought to legible in English, I'll spare you the trouble by copying the text I used here:

So we're finally here. The end of the cooking chapter. Has it really been a whole year? Amazing. Anyway, I'm finally learning how to implement 3d models successfully. Like that cake.  The one in the book is the defeault.  I modified it a bit for the one they make... Uh, what else can I fill this space with? Oh yeah. I was really proud that I wrote about Magolor quickly becoming addicted to sweets before he showed up in DX always dropping cakes and other food on you. There's a few things I felt MariPav predicted despite all that it got wrong.