#so robust and powerful and STRONG

[wildsaltair]

making this photo my phone screen, computer screen, bedroom wallpaper, personality, religion, and lifestyle

[me-kume]

His pregnant wife | Sylus

Sylus x fem!Reader

The silence in the spacious bedroom was thick and heavy, like expensive velvet. Broken only by the steady ticking of the clock, it wrapped around you like a warm blanket, refusing to release you from the clinging embrace of sleep.

New life was growing and strengthening beneath your heart. Your belly had long since rounded, becoming heavy, making movement difficult, so you spent more and more time in bed. Under the strict supervision of your beloved husband, this life felt truly paradisiacal. Surrounded by care, tender as pure silk, you drowned in this intoxicating feeling. Pregnancy felt more like a resort with service above five stars. All inclusive, exclusively for you—for the one who first mercilessly stole his heart, then gifted him hope for a bright future. A future where he has a family. And Sylus would never tire of thanking fate for this.

Truly a gift from the universe—sensitive and shifting like hot coastal sand—yet it stirred all his senses, adorning his stern face with a barely perceptible smile.

A fragile sense of peace flickered where, by its very nature, it shouldn't exist. Sylus pushed away the nagging, acrid feeling of anxiety. The house was quiet. Even the floorboards didn't creak under the man's weight, and the black soles of his boots left no trace on the deep-pile carpet. Now everything was perfect. He was where he belonged—in love, boundless devotion, and the feeling of order, where everything was under control.

Sylus entered the bedroom without knocking. Not a single rustle under the veil of the first sunbeams. They avoided touching your face, wary of disturbing your sensitive sleep, tearing you from Morpheus's grasp. The baby was growing restless. Strong, healthy, robust like his father, he scarcely slept during the long autumn nights: tossing, kicking his tired mother in the belly and ribs, as if cramped in his allotted space. Such a tiny thing, yet already staking a claim to power.

In the pinkish-orange light of the morning sun, you looked especially pale. The dark circles under your eyes were more pronounced, and the hollows of your once-rounded cheeks struck Sylus as somewhat painful. His own flesh and blood was methodically destroying the most precious thing he had. It was cruel.

"Sy?" – still half-asleep, yet you sensed your husband's presence from a mile away. His aura, heavy and dense, enveloped the space like a grey thundercloud, and the saturated scent of ozone in the room overpowered any perfume.

How many times had you changed fabric softeners? Lit incense and placed diffusers, trying to add coziness, but his smell… thick and persistent, it seemed to have seeped into the very walls of this house, refusing to leave.

"There, there, kitten. I'm here. Why are you awake?" – His voice, deep and velvety, calmed your frantically pounding heart—an unwelcome remnant of nightmare, clinging like clammy sweat to your temples. "You look tired. Even more than yesterday."

You wanted to wave off his words, bite your tongue, keeping your worries to yourself, and just savor the moment where everything seemed too flawless. But his warm hands were already sliding behind your back, helping you sit up. That intuitive gesture of care lodged like a prickly lump in your throat, preventing a full breath. Some absurd sense of guilt settled deep within, as if lying to someone who sincerely, without a shadow of doubt, cared for you was fundamentally wrong?

"Don't waste energy on lies. You promised to be honest, remember?" – Long fingers carefully adjusted your pillow, fluffing the soft down inside. He did it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, as if he were born solely to lavish all his care upon his beloved—as if killing wasn't etched into his very destiny.

Reaching towards the nightstand placed right beside the bed for your convenience, Sylus picked up a glass cup with a chipped handle and handed it to you. The sweetish aroma of ginger, honey, and something more pungent—something you could never quite place—touched your sensitive nose. Your mouth went instantly dry, like a traveler's in the midst of an endless desert.

He knew your desires and needs better than you did yourself. Knew when it was time for vitamins, the exact time of your doctor's appointment, and the G-index of magnetic storms during which you constantly complained of migraines. He would never allow himself to miss the slightest detail and would always be there when needed.

"Drink. Nothing beats a vitamin bomb for morning sickness."

Your hands trembled almost imperceptibly as your slender fingers curled around the slightly warm, rounded sides of the cup.

Taking small, slow, careful sips, you tasted the water, slightly cloudy with lemon zest, and took a deep breath. The feeling of the night's nightmare on your skin evaporated as quickly as a trace of steam vanishes from a fogged-up bathroom mirror. Better, lighter—your body no longer felt like a heavy weight pulling you back into bed.

"Bothering you today?" – A broad, masculine palm gently covered the swell of your belly. Beneath that warm touch, faint kicks could be felt. Sylus found it amusing that this little one remained so active at any hour. "Little rascal. Already learned to demand attention." – A familiar note of mockery laced his tone. He enjoyed watching this new life grow within his woman, but you, attuned to his subtleties, saw the deep, almost indecent pride radiating beneath it.

"He's just active. Like his father."

"Then he needs to learn the cardinal rule: His mother is inviolable, and her comfort is the law for every member of this family. No exceptions."

[sideysvault]

⋆˚࿔ Handmade 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Cregan Stark x fem!reader ₊ @hotd2025bingo. ₊ read part two

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱ • ⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

wc. 1258k

tags. [sfw] arranged marriage, slowburn, fluffy, family life, they are both shy and dumb, mutual pining.

────────

It was like the Northern soil itself was rejecting her. No matter how hard the Princess tried, she never seemed to be worthy enough. 

Or Honorable enough.

The prolonged exposure to the cold weather used all of her body’s stored energy. Most days, the Princess felt tired, with her facial muscles fighting to twitch against the freezing breeze, her cheeks were in a perpetual state of red, with the undying burning sensation traveling across her limbs. 

The people of the region? Despite her best efforts, they still saw her as nothing more than an outsider. Someone who was not built like them, not educated on their rigid values. A liability, at best, and a foreign spy at worst.

The woman only knew one thing more righteous than the frosted soil. The lord of Winterfell himself, Guardian of the North, Lord Cregan Stark. Her husband.

Most days, the Princess was deeply intimidated by his presence, his way of being. Cregan Stark had impossibly gray eyes, which always reminded her of a winter storm. Whenever she walked behind him, his broad back would obfuscate almost all of her view. Not to mention his God's forsaken honor. 

It all made her feel inadequate.

However, the Princess would be the first to admit it; It was intoxicating, that beautiful honor of his. Even after consummating the marriage and sharing the same bed in the cold of dawn, he called his wife by title instead of name. While she was endlessly charmed by this habit of his, and supposed it was to be taken as a sign of respect, the majority of the time It felt like nothing more than a polite rejection. 

When the first stripes of light began to decorate the sky, the Princess knew that she did not need to corroborate the date to know what it was. She was turning a year older, alone, in a strange land with stranger people. And even if she knew that she had no right to complain —After all, a young, kind, and distant husband is every woman’s dream— she had still hoped for marital love.

You see, beyond the tales of honor and horrifying efficiency, she had heard stories of families in the North being formed out of love and loyalty. Even rulers possessed this privilege, often growing to form meaningful connections with their arranged spouses. 

Perhaps the ardent patriotism with which they fed their land seeped into their crops and fed them with devotion. Or so had the Princess thought. But it had been months now, and all of her efforts had been rendered futile.

Her heart, though, was often at odds with her pride. Whenever he saw Cregan Stark, she couldn’t help but to waver under his charm. Feeling the inexplicable need to gain his affection at all cost. After all, he was a stern and formidable leader and a good friend to even the Night's Watch, the most forlorn amongst the realm.

And Dear Gods, was he a handsome man. A long, steel-strong face, auburn brown hair, and unbelievably tall. Her husband did not need the heavy furs he usually wore to look stout and robust, but they definitely made him look irresistibly personable. She had always thought that a Lord avoiding extravagance was rare so, to the woman, this furthered her husband’s rejection of traditional power structures. 

She had sinned with a lack of modesty in the past, but now she viewed elaborate decoration as ostentatious and unnecessary, specially when their people were struggling.

But even then, how could she ever complement his values?

The Princess had a recurring dream as of late. The woman had begun to wish for only two things: For her husband to perceive her as fair enough as to fall in love with her, and for the crimson red between her legs to stop appearing altogether. After all, who, amongst all men, could be a better father?

A kinder husband?

────────

Regardless of the land's greatness, it could not be argued that the North was considered one of the poorest regions in Westeros. He tried to ignore his shameful instincts. But whenever he saw her, he couldn't help but feel like a brute. He did not have much to offer; a busy life, an inherited prophecy, primal worship of the Old Gods, a struggle for survival, and his people, who were stern by nature.

He felt a pinch of superficial guilt in seeing his beautiful wife dressed in the North's dour clothing. The shades of blue and gray danced before her eyes, covering her warm skin in the musky colors of the winter climate.

Cregan knew that this was merely an easy excuse to avoid unraveling his true grievance with the situation. He could not provide what she deserved, and his wife still woke up besides him every morning, with a kind smile on her face.

This would be the first birthday she would spend on her new home. And Lord Cregan was trying to reclaim what he felt ashamed of. Determined to transform the grouches into something she could cherish.

But, how could he possibly thank her for her kindness if he just had all the work done by someone else? Making it himself would be the least she deserved. The Lord of Winterfell wanted to gift her a custom jewel that would remind her of the comfort she deserved on her life. 

After all, he did notice how hard she tried to follow the North's austere ways, specially his own. And while he endlessly appreciates her tact, he wanted his wife to let go of the idea that being married to him implied she had to restrict herself so severely. It was a weird thing, he thought. How fond he had become of her and how little he had been able to show it.

While he was gilding dinner, Cregan’s mind trailed off to her naked, sweaty back, the sounds she was making before turning back to look at him with a lustful, doe-eyed gaze. He remembered the times she prepared glasses of wine, ideal for them to share at night, talking till dawn about nothing in particular. 

The truth was that the Northerner was not particularly fluent with words, but he would love to hear her silky voice telling him stories and teach him facts that he would've never thought to be so fascinated by. 

He craved learning every detail about her, no matter how mundane. The man adored her for travelling with him and learning about the winter soil and its costumes, meeting people with a strong, confident gaze that remained resolute, even in spite of her skin, which always cracked under the freezing cold.

Cregan loved seeing her play with snow when she thought no one was watching, that his wife was never scared of petting the wolves; He felt fascinated by how quickly they would trust her, as if they could also perceive that elusive openness in her soul.

A smile appeared on his face as he realized that he wanted a family. Not for the continuation of the nobility of his name, but a home of their own, with whom he considered a close friend. Having a babe that carried their mother’s laugh within them, her wit, her curiosity.

He tried to infuse in every dent all the words he was too ashamed to say to her. A cowardly act, yes, but perhaps the safest way of expressing the deep love he had developed towards her. The love he was too shy to express with his own voice.

────────

notes. This is my first time writing for Cregan! I'm still not super sure about how to characterize him, but this has been stuck in my mind since I saw the prompt on the hotd bingo. Personal updates? After two years, I'm still in love with my ex (yay!). This is a bit slppy and rushed but i missed posting and the comfort writing can provide<3. Anyway, take care.

All credits from the idea of Cregan calling you by title instead of name goes to @sylasthegrim’s wip. Thank you sm for the inspo! go support them rn

-Sidey xxxo

[thanatika]

The Bachelor's Pharmacy

I made a list of all of the metabolism-affecting consumables I could find in the Quarantine game files. @humancork was asking to see this, but I'll put it in the tag in case anyone else wants to see.

Stimulants (Increase Mania/Decrease Apathy):

Camphor Stimulant, a rubefacient. Causes irritation, just like everything in this damned place.

Coffee   Coffee is imported from overseas, so I must conserve my supply. Besides, the delivery of goods to the town is delayed, so the price of coffee can be outrageous. Addictive, with each use, the effect becomes weaker.

Adrenaline (Called "Stimpack" in game files) A hormone produced in the adrenal glands as a response to stress. When administered, it activates the body's fight or flight response. In my case, it increases running speed.

Strychnine A poison. Which is the same as medicine. Invigorating in small doses. Addictive. With each use, the effect becomes weaker.

Concentrated strychnine   The word repulsive doesn't even begin to describe its taste, especially in such a dosage, but it clears your mind like nothing else. You can't become addicted to it, even if you want to.

Tobacco It is believed that cigarettes have a calming effect, but in fact nicotine is a stimulant. Addictive. With each use, the effect becomes weaker.

Taurine Taurine is extracted from ox bile—perfectly fitting for a town built on bulls. It stimulates the nervous system and supports energy processes in the body.

Depressants (Increase Apathy/Decrease Mania):

Bromide Increases inhibition in the cerebral cortex. In other words, dulls the brain. Sometimes that's exactly what I need.

Etorphine A powerful analgesic. An overdose can lead to sudden feebleness or even death.

Morphine Relieves any pain, both physical and mental. In return, it asks only for your sharpness of thought. Many people take that deal. Addictive. With each use, the effect becomes weaker.

Refined morphine   Strong, robust. Each time it hits you like the first one. However, it's very rare. Use with caution to avoid overdose.

Valerian extract   Sedative. Sometimes even Bachelor Dankovsky drinks valerian extract, just like his grandmother used to.   [Alt: Sedative. Can't go wrong with valerian.]

Other:

 Dankovsky's special (Called "BachelorBrew" in game files, lol) A remedy I made myself. When administered, it allows the body to postpone any current pain and spread it out over time for approximately [Y] seconds. Unlike morphine, this drug doesn’t inhibit the psyche or cause apathy.

Makeshift tonic pill (Called "Craft_Pill_Apat" in game files) Partially mitigates the negative effects of apathy. Effectiveness unknown.

Makeshift stress relief pill (Called "Craft_Pill_Psycho" in game files) Partially mitigates the negative effects of stress. Effectiveness unknown.

Twyrine (Called "Tvirin" in game files, no description)

Swevery extract Serves as a natural tonic. It would be good to cultivate the local herbs...

White Whip toxin The White Whip an endemic species of the Gorhon Steppes. Contains a poison that, in its pure form, is lethal. There have been known cases of murders involving its use.

[txttletale]

What would you say are the three best introductory ttrpgs? Not in order of quality, but like if you had to pick three games as a good collective foundation before someone explores other ttrpgs.

obviously this varies table to table and person to person, right, some people aren't going to gel with certain aesthetics or settings or tones or themes. but in terms of speaking pure mechanics, i think the world would be a much better place if more people were introduced to trrpgs via pbta (esp. thinking like, '3rd gen', post-monsterhearts stuff here) -- not because i think pbta games are without flaws or even, as a rule, 'good', but because i think that GM Moves are an absolute cosmic sea change in terms of allowing the GM/facilitator role to actually fucking play the game and a powerful antitode to the imo extrmeely corrosive attitude that 5e play culture instills towards that role.

other than that i don't have particularly strong ideas about what's a good 'beginner game', because i think that depends a lot on factors like the players' genre familiarity or previous experience with non-ttrpg roleplay. like, lancer could be an incredible starter game if you want to get your 40k group with no roleplaying experience into ttrpgs, and honey heist might work great with your improv buddies who don't do tabletop games -- but swap those around and you could have pretty awful starter experiences!

so yeah tldr it varies from group to group but i truly think that any game that provides robust narrative as well as mechanical support for the GM role, or splits that creative element around the table (including fully GMless games) is going to be a much better starter game than 5e.

[charliemwrites]

Ok ok I have to work on my backlog of fics BUT

Thinking about usurper king Price on an uncontested conquest of an entire continent. No one knows how he does it, but one day a kingdom is standing independent - the next, its bearing his coat of arms.

(He’s got a team of his most trusted warriors. One goes in, gathers intel and allies and plans, takes down all the key players and opens the doors for Price’s army.)

He’s a good ruler in the sense that he is EFFECTIVE. Brutal and cruel, short tempered and occasionally unpredictable. But overall, he has solid infrastructure, flourishing economy, and trade deals for goods from other continents that are mostly trying to appease him. It’s incidental that most everyone fears him. Deeply. They have good reason for it.

Reader’s kingdom is on the far side of the continent, with two much larger and more robust countries between. They’ve just allied together, so there’s actually some hope that they’ll be able to stop Price’s conquest at the halfway point.

(He knows that, but it’s much easier to force convince cooperation with nowhere to run. Feeling protected breeds complacence, it’s really all too simple it’s like they WANT to be at his heel.)

He’s taking special care with this one, goes himself as a new hire to a paranoid king’s royal guard. The other king is foolish, prideful, nothing but nepotism in his court and corruption at every turn. Almost all of his advisors are happy to turncoat for coin or promises of station in the new regime, one by one.

(Key word: almost. There are only a few, he can count them on one hand, but they’re loyal not to the king. They’re loyal to his heir.)

For all of his many, many faults the current king cares deeply for you, his heir. Who price is assigned to guard with his false identity. Who becomes your shadow, not from duty (as you might assume) but obsessive fascination.

(You’re just so good. An idealist, an optimist, an altruist. All terrible, damning things for a leader to be. Poor thing, you’re not suited to ruling. You’ll tear up that soft heart on hard decisions and necessary sacrifices. You’ve overcorrected your father’s negligence by caring too much. Price is doing you a favor by taking over.)

For as sweet and benevolent as you are, you’re also whip smart and strong-willed. Have to be to get anything done in your father’s circus show of a court. Truly the only thing between the people and careless greed of the rich and powerful, but you wear that responsibility as well as any crown.

And you’ll put yourself between Price (your guard) and citizens that just want to shake your hand, or offer you sweets out of well-earned devotion. He loses track of how many times you scold him for the coldness he’s so well known for. Or how often you snip at him for voicing his opinions about your legislation (not that you ever tell him not to share them, he notices)

(He imagines that pouty face melting away beneath moans of pleasure. Your tiara slipping off while he bounces you on his cock. That smart mouth wrapped around his cock, or crying his name. You’re gorgeous and clever and so fucking contrary for all that you are infuriatingly kind - he takes pleasure in being the only one to provoke you so.)

and when the time comes, your father and all his useless advisors slain, blood on the same gold that bought their own slaughter, he has you brought before him.

There’s steel in your spine even with tears running down your face and you lift your chin when you tell him he’s no king. Not to you, no matter whose flag decorates the ramparts. That the only way you’ll kneel is by force and it would only prove he’s not fit for a throne.

You’re beautiful and heartbroken but defiant in a way that makes his blood run hot and he adores you. Adores you so much that he can’t bring himself to cut you down, as he has with all royal families he’s usurped. No, not when you have so much potential. When you are the only part of the old regime worth salvaging.

He doesn’t, however, feel the same for your younger sibling - who takes after you with all the attitude but none of the grace (or his favor).

A life for a life, he bargains. The former king’s son in exchange for you - belonging to him now, that is. He doesn’t need your loyalty, but your compliance is convenient to sway the people towards submitting without bloodshed. And isn’t that better? He could raze the fields and streets to cement his rule, but you love your country too much to sacrifice it for your own pride. Not when you can do something to convince him otherwise, even this.

Besides, anything worth having is earned, he knows - and your heart will be his greatest possession.

[novaursa]

Hello there

Can I request a HOTD! one shot that is Aemond x Younger!Sister Reader in which she is the most beloved of Allicent's children and she nicknames the songbird due to her love of singing and her voice is said to be almost celestial. Many suitors ask for her hand but Aemond being the protective brother he is doesn't want it to happen not only because its his duty to protect her but he also loves her as well and wants to make her his wife. Ill let you go wild in terms of the story, i trust your skills and i love all your other works Thanks so much!

And If They Ask for You

Requests are closed

- Summary: They wanted to marry you off, but Aemond didn't let them. And he never will.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: ❤️

The air in the council chamber was thick with the mingled scents of parchment, beeswax candles, and the faint trace of myrrh that clung always to Viserys’s robes. The king, throned at the head of the table beneath a high-arched window that bathed his face in morning light, looked half-asleep and yet strangely lucid this day. His once-robust frame had withered, but his voice, though slow, carried the weight of authority. Around him sat the familiar faces of court—Ser Otto Hightower upright and silent as a sentry at his place, Lord Larys Strong half-shadowed and smiling behind his fingertips, Grand Maester Orwyle shuffling parchments, and Lord Tyland Lannister with his fingers steepled, his gaze sharp.

Aegon lounged across from them, expression bored and fingers idly tracing the edge of his goblet, sipping without permission from the wine set out for Viserys. He was here by command, not desire. But Aemond… Aemond sat upright, his single violet eye fixed, attentive, burning with quiet fire. He was here by invitation—no, by summons. Viserys had looked at him three days past, pale hand trembling atop the armrest of the Iron Throne, and said in his brittle voice, “You must learn the work of kings, my son. Come to the council. Watch. Listen.”

And Aemond had obeyed.

They had spoken first of trade and taxes, of casks of Dornish wine delayed in the Stepstones, of an illness spreading through Lannisport, of the Black Cells overcrowded. Aegon yawned through it all, whispered something lewd to Tyland, and earned a glare from Otto, but Aemond had not blinked. His mind turned over every word, every coin, every name.

Then Lord Orwyle cleared his throat. “Your Grace,” he began delicately, unrolling a scroll and setting it before the king, “there is the matter of your daughter, the princess…”

That name—your name—was not spoken aloud, but it didn’t need to be.

The moment it was implied, Aemond stilled. His fingers curled around the armrest of his chair. He knew what was coming. The talk of alliances. Of offers. Of lordlings come crawling like dogs in heat, drawn by the mere idea of you.

Otto, ever practical, picked up the thread. “She is of age now. Nearly sixteen. A treasure of our house, and the court is flush with suitors. The Lords of the Reach, the Vale, and even from the Free Cities have sent word. They ask for her hand, and rightly so. She is—”

“A songbird,” Larys murmured, lips curved with something that might’ve been admiration or something darker. “Sweet-voiced, gentle-hearted, and beloved by all who hear her sing. There are rumors that she is half-divine, sent from the Seven themselves.”

Viserys chuckled weakly, eyes distant with memory. “She used to sing to me when the pain kept sleep away. Her voice… like starlight through mist.”

Aemond said nothing. His jaw had gone rigid. He stared straight ahead, but his vision had blurred. Not with tears. With rage.

“She would make a fine match for Lord Cregan Stark,” Orwyle continued with no sense of the shifting air. “He is young, powerful, and fiercely loyal to the crown. A union with the North would bring strength. Or perhaps Lord Borros Baratheon. He has four daughters and no sons, and he would cherish a princess of royal blood to elevate his house.”

“She’s too soft for the Stormlands,” Otto noted, “but the Vale has sent sweet letters. Ser Gerold Royce’s son is well-bred and eager to please. Runestone would be—”

“No.” The word rang out like the tolling of steel.

Heads turned.

Aemond rose slowly from his chair, his hand clenched against the pommel of his sword—not because he meant to draw it, but because he needed something to anchor himself.

“No,” he said again. “She will not marry any of them.”

Otto raised a brow. “It is not your place—”

“She is my sister,” Aemond snapped. “She is blood of my blood. You speak of sending her to cold stone castles, of handing her over like coin in a purse. You forget that she is not some… broodmare to be bartered for allegiance.”

“She is a princess of the realm,” Tyland interjected calmly. “Marriage is her duty, and alliances are—”

“And what of Aegon?” Aemond demanded, voice rising like a whip crack. “Was it not decided he should marry Helaena? Was it not called tradition, that blood weds blood to preserve the line? That the gods would smile upon it?”

At that, Aegon sat upright. “Leave me out of your madness, brother.”

“You have her,” Aemond snarled, lip curling. “You—who mock the crown, who drink yourself senseless, who bed whores and maids in the same breath—you were given our sister to wed. And now they speak of giving her away? No. If you may take a sister for wife, so may I.”

The words echoed in the chamber, awful in their clarity.

Viserys stirred in his seat, the mask of age slipping from his face. “Aemond…”

But Aemond would not be silenced. “She is mine to protect. Mine to cherish. No lord in this realm will ever deserve her. And I will not stand by while you sell her name to the highest bidder.”

Then, without waiting for dismissal, he turned on his heel. His boots struck the stone floor like thunder as he stormed from the chamber, the door slamming shut behind him.

In the silence he left behind, none dared speak. Not even Otto. Only the soft crinkle of parchment as Orwyle quietly rolled up the list of suitors, setting it aside—for now.

The storm that followed Aemond out of the council chamber did not break with thunder, but with the quiet wrath that hung from his shoulders like a velvet cloak soaked in blood. He descended the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast with swift, purposeful strides, the sword at his hip jangling with each step, the weight of the conversation behind him pressing hard against his ribs. The whispers of courtiers and gold cloaks brushed past his ears like gnats, but he heard none of it. His pulse throbbed too loudly, his thoughts were thick with you—always you.

He needed to see you.

The gardens behind the Tower of the Hand were still wrapped in early sunlight, the hedges gleaming with dew, the scent of blooming roses and lavender perfuming the air like a whisper from some gentler world. It was there that you often passed your mornings, far from the breathless intrigues of court, laughing softly among your ladies as if the weight of the realm could never touch you. He found you where he always did—beneath the arching white trellis, where the pale roses bloomed year-round, even in cold.

You sat upon a carved stone bench, draped in pale blue and silver, the color of sky at dawn, your hair unbound in waves across your shoulders. One of your ladies-in-waiting was braiding a ribbon into your sleeve while another knelt before you, holding out a small harp that glimmered with polished ivory and gold. You smiled as you spoke to them, your voice like wind chimes in a summer breeze—soft, clear, unearthly. Aemond’s breath caught in his throat.

“My prince,” said the eldest of the girls, rising and dipping into a curtsy the moment she saw him. The others followed, eyes wide, startled by his abrupt approach.

You looked up at him then, your eyes alight, unaware of the fury that still curled like smoke beneath his skin. “Aemond,” you said, your voice gentle, sweetened with delight. “You’ve come to chase the sun with me again?”

His lips parted, but the words would not come. Instead, he simply stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of you, anchoring himself in your presence. The silver threads at your sleeves, the glow of your skin in the light, the way the corners of your mouth tilted up, curious and patient, waiting for him to speak.

“Leave us,” Aemond said, and though his voice was calm, the ladies did not hesitate. They fled like birds startled from a tree, casting backward glances as they went.

You blinked at him once they were gone. “You’re angry,” you said softly. “I can see it in your shoulders.”

He paced once, then again, like a wolf pacing the border of his cage. “I was at council,” he said at last, though he did not speak of what was said. His voice was low, clenched between his teeth. “The air there chokes me. I needed—” He looked at you. “I needed to breathe.”

You tilted your head. “And I am fresh air?”

“Yes.” His eye flickered, sharp and bright as flame. “You are.”

A silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sound of water trickling from a marble fountain and the rustling of branches above. When he moved, it was with the grace of a predator, silent and sure, until he was standing before you, close enough to reach out but not daring to do so.

“I do not like when they speak of you,” he said finally, quietly, his voice trembling at the edges despite his control. “They speak of your beauty, your voice, your kindness as if you were some sweet thing to pluck from a tree and devour.”

You lowered your gaze, lashes brushing your cheek. “They always speak. It does not reach me here.”

“It will.” His voice deepened. “It always does. They will try to take pieces of you. They will carve away what they do not understand. That is what this court does.”

You looked at him then, your expression unreadable. “And what will you do?”

He stepped closer. “Watch over you.”

His hand lifted—hesitated—and then brushed a lock of hair from your brow with careful reverence. “Always. As I did when you were a babe in the cradle and cried for the stars. As I did when you scraped your knee falling from your pony and bled all over your stockings. As I will do, every day forward, whether I am beside you or not.”

You blinked up at him, a small breath caught in your throat. “Why?”

He said nothing at first. Then, softly, as if the words might shatter if spoken too loudly, “Because there is nothing in this world more precious to me.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. Your lips parted slightly, but the words faltered on your tongue. He gave you no time to find them.

Aemond leaned forward, and for a moment his forehead pressed to yours. His touch was cool, his breath warm. “You need not understand. Only know this—I will let no one harm you. No one take you. No one change you.”

And then, as swiftly as he had come, he stepped back—his eye lingering, voice gone, heart still burning behind his ribs. Without another word, he turned and strode from the garden, leaving only the imprint of his vow behind, and the echo of your name held in silence.

[teratosubmission]

Humanfucker Here: Humans Make Great Beginner Companions

So, you’re a monster looking for your first pet. You’re craving companionship and intimacy, and you’re pining for the kind of fuckfest only an interspecies romance can provide, but you’re inexperienced and don’t really know what you’re doing. That’s okay, we’ve all had to start somewhere too! I’m here to give you the advice I give every beginner: start with a human.

Why a human, you ask? Well, everyone focuses on renowned human sexual compatibility, and their natural beauty and seeming submission to any creature larger than themselves, their noises, their orgasms, their devotion… but there’s a lot to caring for a pet that gets overlooked. I’ve seen too many of us rush into picking up a monster companion, thinking only about fulfilling their particular fetishes and not realizing the nuances and labor of taking care of such exotic species. And so I offer a beginner-friendly monster that is easy to take care of and require no complex logistics for: the human. I’m sure you’re familiar with them, they are arguably one of the most popular companions around, and I won’t argue their popular traits, but many overlook the real reasons for their popularity: their easy nature and adaptability that arguably make them even more compatible with us than any sexual reasons.

Humans innately pack bond with other species easily. This near-universal compatibility makes them incredibly easy to bond and form connections with any creature, which means your pet gets acclimated to you rather quickly without the need for specialized knowledge. You wont have to worry about consulting compatibility charts or fretting about every nuance to bonding with your pet; the simple versatility of a human takes out a lot of the frustrating guesswork!

Humans can adapt a wide range of behaviors, which means they adapt pretty well with the behaviors of whatever creature they are with. Are you nomadic? Humans are evolutionarily designed for long journeys. You have a permanent nest? Humans are excellent at maintaining your home. Part of a pack or a large society? Humans are social creatures and integrate well into your societies.

Humans will often challenge your dominance, but this is a form of play for them and will not actually try to usurp your place as the alpha. This offers beginners a safe and fun way to practice and assert your dominance, and its fun for both parties to put them in their place! This is especially an important trait for younger monsters who are still developing socially and are at risk of being stunted by more aggressive mates.

Humans will vocalize when you’re being too rough with them, but if you accidentally hurt them, it will be okay! Their bodies, while weak, are robust and heal easily, even from injuries that could lame other creatures. Just be sure to go easy on them and care for them while they’re healing, and they’ll love you for it! This robustness is also why they make good companions for a variety of locales and creature strengths, as well as for those still learning how to be gentle with their pets. Humans are excellent communicators in general, and their needs and desires will often be vocalized or presented through descriptive body language. Even the most anti-social of us would be able to properly ‘read’ a human’s mind given time.

And while they are not big or strong, they develop strong attachments to their mates and can match your ferocity if a situation requires it. You will still need to protect them, but they are not helpless either, and their fierce support can be enough to help you ward off threats.

Humans do have a special power up their sleeve. They are capable of controlling fire; they wield it, master it; they use it to cook, illuminate the dark, and even use it for defense. For many, this can be the most unnerving part of keeping a human, but you have to trust that they can properly control it. Having a fire-user is actually rather helpful!

Humans are very needy, but while they will primarily rely on you for sex and intimacy, they can take care of themselves if need be, which can be a godsend in case you're tired or injured. Humans are known to masturbate a lot while thinking about their companions, which can help intensify your bond when you are ready to love on them!

All things considered, I highly recommend taking a human as your companion, especially if its your first time. They're very easy to bond with and learn, very forgiving and adaptive in a variety of situations, and overall have several benefits worth considering for yourself!

[ninibeingdelulu]

heyy could you do a pregnant female reader x geto please like hc or however u want thank youu

How he act when you’re pregnant ft. suguru geto

a/n: ty 4 the request anon!

Suguru may be the fearsome leader of an anti-non-sorcerer cult, but deep down there's still a part of his soul that belongs solely to you and the child growing within your womb.

He masks his true feelings with that signature cold, impassive facade around his loyal followers.

But whenever the two of you are alone, his icy exterior immediately melts away bit by bit.

Suguru can't resist the temptation to kneel before you, gently cradling the swell of your pregnant belly between his calloused palms.

His thumbs map out the rippling flutters and kicks from within as if decoding an ancient arcane language.

"Do you feel our heir shifting inside, my love ?"

His deep rumble always takes on an uncharacteristically hushed reverence during these tender moments. "So powerful...just like their mother."

He'll then dip his head to pepper soft, lingering kisses against your stomach - wordlessly conveying his boundless pride and adoration for the new life blossoming under his fervent worship.

When the pregnancy insomnia and restless nights inevitably strike, Suguru is the first to sense your stirring beside him from even the lightest change in breathing pattern.

Without a word, he'll enfold you into his strong embrace, palming soothing circles over your lower back and whispering indecipherable words laced with cursed energy directly against your skin to ease your discomfort.

"Allow me to bear this burden for you both, my darlings..."

He'll rasp the entreaty like a sacred mantra repeatedly until you've drifted back into a blissfully dreamless slumber cocooned in his protective heat.

Once you're finally due, Suguru wastes no time ruthlessly dispatching any who attempt deterring him from remaining glued by your side during labor and delivery.

He is a man possessed - fueled by sheer stubborn willpower and the ferocious desire to bear witness to this historic event.

The instant that robust newborn cry pierces the air, he shatters. Suguru openly weeps unrestrained tears of rapturous joy while clutching your sweat-dampened brow to his chest - the last of his emotional levees obliterated.

He remains equally awestruck cradling that tiny squirming bundle, studying every indescribably perfect detail with an intensity you've never witnessed before.

"Look what your incredible strength has brought forth, sweetheart..." Suguru's sandpaper baritone cracks with each hushed endearment while rocking the newborn firmly against his thrumming heart.

[lalathemediterraneanmermaid]

Ikepri reigns as real life countries

Hi there again my dear Belles. As we all know, ikemen prince reigns ar based on real life countries, or at least, that's what it looks like, specially knowing character's names, I mean, we have Chevalier (french), Von Obsidian (dutch - german), Ricci (italian), Yves (french), Kagari Amagase (japanese)... But, even though some kingdoms are easily "recognised" in real life countries, there are some others that are not that clear. That's why I've decided to match each kingdom to a country. This is just my opinion, so feel free to expose yours. Hope you enjoy little rabbits!!!!!!

Rhodolite - France

Romantic and Elegant Atmosphere: France is often seen as the epitome of romance, known for its picturesque landscapes, charming cafés, and the enchanting ambiance of cities like Paris. Rhodolite reflects this romantic and elegant atmosphere through the bookshops, the taverns, the little plaza with the fountain, the market, the pastisseries, the landscapes, the town… creating a kingdom where love stories unfold against a backdrop of beautiful scenery and intimate settings. The kingdom features elements like festivals or traditions that celebrate love, happiness, freedom and union.

Art, Fashion, Culture and roses: France has a rich artistic heritage, being the birthplace of influential movements such as Impressionism and home to iconic fashion houses. Rhodolite emphasizes this connection by showcasing characters who pay close attention to this type of visual and external things, such as Nokto with the jewelry, fashion, perfumes, etc. The presence of roses as a symbol of beauty and love could be significant in Rhodolite, with gardens filled with rose varieties and floral motifs present in everything, echoing the French appreciation for aesthetics, and also, it is known that France’s national flower is the rose.

Royal Legacy and Noble Etiquette: France’s history is steeped in royal legacy, with grand palaces, elaborate courts, and a system of noble etiquette that has influenced many cultures. Rhodolite portrays a kingdom that maintains these traditions, highlighting a royal family that embodies elegance, grace, and responsibility. The interactions among the nobility reflect the formal customs and social hierarchies reminiscent of historical French courts, adding depth to character relationships and political dynamics.

Architectural Beauty and Palaces: French architecture is renowned for its beauty, with iconic structures like the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the palaces of Versailles and Fontainebleau. Rhodolite showcases stunning architectural designs, blending various styles like Gothic, Baroque, and Rococo, for example seen in the palace. The kingdom is dotted with grand mansions and beautifully designed public spaces, reflecting the importance of architectural beauty in French culture and serving as a backdrop for significant events and gatherings.

Revolutionary Spirit: France is known for its revolutionary spirit, marked by events like the French Revolution, which reshaped the nation and inspired movements worldwide. Rhodolite embodies this revolutionary ethos by portraying characters who advocate for change, challenge the status quo, and strive for social justice. The kingdom is depicted as a place where ideas of liberty, equality, and fraternity resonate, driving the narrative of personal and societal transformation.

Obsidian - Germany

Strength, discipline and Military Power: Germany is historically recognized for its strong military tradition and disciplined approach to governance and society. Obsidian embodies these qualities by depicting a kingdom with a robust military presence, emphasizing values such as honor, loyalty, and strategic prowess. Characters in Obsidian reflect the disciplined nature associated with German culture, portraying dedication to duty and strength in adversity.

Industrial Powerhouse and Innovation: Germany is renowned for its industrial strength, being home to leading companies in sectors like automotive, engineering, and technology. Obsidian highlights this aspect by showcasing a kingdom that values innovation and technological advancement, I mean they “invented” the guns. The presence of skilled craftsmen, inventors, and engineers are prominent, illustrating a society that thrives on progress and economic power, mirroring Germany's historical emphasis on efficiency and quality.

Cold and Austere Atmosphere: Germany’s cultural identity often includes a perception of coldness or stoicism, reflected in its architectural styles, weather, and social interactions. Obsidian captures this austere atmosphere through its landscapes, character interactions, and overall aesthetic. The kingdom is characterized by a serious demeanor, where emotions are expressed more subtly, especially fear, emphasizing strength and resilience over overt displays of warmth.

Central European Strategic Position: Germany’s central location in Europe has historically made it a crossroads for trade, culture, and politics. Obsidian represents this strategic significance by showcasing its role as a threat for other kingdoms that surround the obsidianites. Characters navigate complex political landscapes, reflecting Germany's historical importance in shaping European dynamics and alliances.

Architectural and Cultural Grandeur: Germany boasts a rich architectural heritage, with castles, cathedrals, and modern structures that showcase its historical and cultural grandeur. Obsidian features majestic buildings, representing the kingdom’s power and strength.

Benitoite - Italy

Luxurious Lifestyle and Grandeur: Italy is synonymous with luxury and grandeur, known for its opulent fashion, exquisite art, and historical monuments. Benitoite embodies this luxurious lifestyle by portraying a kingdom filled with elegant palaces, lavish celebrations, and a strong emphasis on beauty and aesthetics. Characters dress in fine fabrics and adorn themselves with beautiful accessories, reflecting Italy’s rich cultural heritage in fashion and art.

A nation benefited by the sea: Italy’s long coastline has significantly influenced its culture, economy, and way of life. Benitoite reflects this connection to the sea through its geography, highlighting vibrant coastal cities and a thriving maritime culture. The kingdom showcases bustling ports, trade routes, and a lifestyle that embraces the ocean, with characters engaging in activities like fishing, sailing, and enjoying the beach, mirroring Italy’s deep-rooted relationship with the Mediterranean Sea.

Gastronomy and Sophistication (the best of the best): Italian cuisine is renowned worldwide for its richness and diversity, emphasizing high-quality ingredients and sophisticated flavors. Benitoite emphasizes this culinary heritage by showcasing elaborate feasts, traditional cooking methods, and a strong focus on fresh, local produce. Characters engage in the art of cooking, like Silvio when he swapped bodies with Rio, celebrating gastronomy as an essential part of their culture, reflecting Italy’s status as a culinary capital.

"The cradle of commerce": Historically, Italy has been a central hub for commerce and trade, particularly during the Renaissance when cities like Venice and Florence thrived economically. Benitoite embodies this spirit of commerce, showcasing vibrant marketplaces, trade fairs, and a culture that values entrepreneurship and innovation, I mean, look at Silvio, nothing more to add. Characters are depicted as merchants, traders, or skilled artisans, highlighting the importance of commerce in the kingdom’s prosperity.

Rich Alcoholic Heritage: Italy is famous for its wine production, with regions like Tuscany and Piedmont known for their exceptional vineyards and rich traditions surrounding wine-making. Benitoite reflects this alcoholic heritage by incorporating wine and other alcoholic beverages culture into its narrative, showcasing characters who appreciate fine liqueurs, attend harvest festivals, and engage in alcohol making traditions. This connection to Italy’s rich alcoholic heritage could also be reflected in the kingdom's celebrations, where drinking plays a significant role in social gatherings.

Jade - The Netherlands

Natural Beauty and Green Landscapes: The Netherlands is renowned for its picturesque landscapes, characterized by lush green fields, beautiful flower gardens (notably tulip fields), and tranquil waterways. Jade embodies this natural beauty, showcasing a kingdom filled with vibrant flora and serene environments, where characters are deeply connected to nature. The kingdom features breathtaking gardens, parks, and countryside, reflecting the Dutch appreciation for their scenic surroundings.

Rich Herbal Traditions and Innovation: The Netherlands has a long history of herbal medicine and innovation in horticulture, with a significant focus on cultivating plants for medicinal and culinary purposes. Jade highlights this aspect by incorporating herbal traditions, where characters utilize local herbs for healing, cooking, or crafting potions. The kingdom is portrayed as a center for herbal innovation, showcasing advanced gardening techniques and a thriving market for medicinal herbs, mirroring the Dutch reputation in this field.

Cultural Heritage, Tolerance and Neutrality: The Netherlands is known for its cultural diversity and historical commitment to tolerance and neutrality in international affairs. Jade reflects this spirit by portraying a kingdom that embraces various cultures (obsidianite refugees) and ideas, fostering an environment of inclusivity and understanding. Characters from different backgrounds coexist peacefully, contributing to a rich tapestry of traditions, beliefs, and customs within the kingdom.

Connected Communities: The Dutch are famous for their strong sense of community and interconnectedness, often seen in their cooperative agricultural practices and social networks. Jade emphasizes this sense of connection by showcasing tight-knit communities where people work together for the common good, support each other, and celebrate local traditions. The kingdom features festivals, markets, and communal events that highlight the importance of relationships and collaboration among its inhabitants.

Wildlife: The Netherlands is home to a diverse array of wildlife, including various bird species, insects, and unique ecosystems like marshes and wetlands. Jade reflects this biodiversity by incorporating elements of wildlife into its narrative, where characters have a deep respect for nature and actively engage in conservation efforts. The kingdom showcases natural habitats and characters who are passionate about protecting the environment, mirroring the Dutch commitment to sustainability and conservation.

Tanzanite - Persia

Historical Influence and Rich Heritage: Persia has a rich historical legacy, with significant contributions to art, literature, and science throughout the ages. Tanzanite embodies this heritage by portraying a kingdom that honors its past through storytelling, art, and tradition. The kingdom includes historical sites, ancient temples, and a culture that celebrates its roots, reflecting the grandeur of Persian civilization and its impact on the world.

Persian Aesthetics and Ornamentation: Persian art is renowned for its intricate designs, vibrant colors, and detailed craftsmanship. Tanzanite captures this aesthetic through its architecture, clothing, and decorative arts. The kingdom features elaborate palaces adorned with mosaics, beautiful gardens inspired by Persian design, and characters dressed in richly embroidered garments, showcasing the beauty and sophistication associated with Persian culture.

Philosophy and Mysticism: Persian culture has a long tradition of philosophical thought and mysticism, with influential poets and thinkers like Rumi and Omar Khayyam exploring themes of love, spirituality, and the human experience. Tanzanite reflects this depth by incorporating elements of philosophy and mysticism into its narrative, I mean, Azel is portrayed as a God. Characters engage in discussions about existence, love, and magic, drawing inspiration from Persian literature and thought, creating a reflective and introspective atmosphere in the kingdom.

Trade and Cultural Exchange: Historically, Persia was a vital hub for trade along the Silk Road, facilitating the exchange of goods, ideas, and cultures. Tanzanite could mirror this aspect by showcasing a vibrant marketplace where diverse cultures converge, highlighting the kingdom's role as a center for commerce and cultural interaction. Characters might be seen as traders, merchants, or travelers who bring different perspectives and traditions to the kingdom, enriching its cultural tapestry. Let's not forget the trade relationship between Azel and Silvio...

Economy: Persia was known for its wealth derived from trade, agriculture, and craftsmanship. Tanzanite could have reflected this economic strength by portraying a kingdom that values trade and innovation. The kingdom might have  thrived on the production of unique goods, such as textiles, spices, or artisan crafts, showcasing a dynamic economy that supports its inhabitants and fosters prosperity. But the reality that they have shown us is that they are not as economically powerful as they seem. It almost looks like the greater houses are pretty rich while the rest of the population might live in poverty.

Kogyouku - Japan

Cultural Heritage and Tradition: Japan has a rich cultural heritage characterized by traditional arts, crafts, festivals, and rituals that have been preserved for centuries. Kogyoku seems to embody this sense of tradition through its customs, ceremonies, and the way its inhabitants celebrate their history. The kingdom highlights tea ceremonies, calligraphy, and traditional music, emphasizing the importance of honoring one’s ancestors and cultural practices, thus creating a deep sense of identity.

Sakura trees: Sakura (cherry blossom) trees are iconic in Japanese culture, symbolizing beauty, the transient nature of life, and the arrival of spring. Kogyoku incorporates these trees into its landscape, creating scenes of breathtaking beauty during the cherry blossom season. Characters participate in hanami (flower-viewing) festivals, celebrating the fleeting beauty of the blossoms, which aligns with the Japanese appreciation for nature and the passing of time.

Japanese aesthetic: The Japanese aesthetic emphasizes simplicity, naturalness, and the beauty of imperfection, often seen in art forms like wabi-sabi. Kogyoku reflects this aesthetic through its architecture, gardens, and crafts. The kingdom features tranquil gardens with carefully placed rocks and water elements, understated yet elegant clothing, and art that embraces asymmetry and simplicity, capturing the essence of Japanese beauty.

Civil war: The Sengoku period (1467-1603) was a time of social upheaval, political intrigue, and military conflict in Japan, characterized by powerful clans vying for control. Kogyoku draws inspiration from this historical context, incorporating themes of rivalry, strategy, and the quest for power among noble families. Characters embody the spirit of samurai warriors, showcasing their loyalty, courage, and the complexities of allegiance during a tumultuous era, enriching the kingdom’s narrative with historical depth.

Focus on Honor: Honor is a central tenet of Japanese culture, particularly within the samurai ethos. Kogyoku reflects this focus on honor through its characters’ values, emphasizing loyalty, duty, and respect. The kingdom has a code of conduct that guides the behavior of its inhabitants, with stories centered around noble sacrifices and the importance of maintaining one’s honor in the face of challenges. This aspect resonates deeply with the samurai legacy, highlighting the significance of integrity and personal honor within the kingdom.

Achroite - Sweden/Finland/Iceland

Cultural Coldness and Reserve: The Nordic countries are often perceived as having a cultural disposition characterized by a certain reserve or coldness, particularly in social interactions. Achroite embodies this aspect through its characters, who exhibit a calm and composed demeanor, reflecting the understated communication style of the region. This cultural coldness can be portrayed as a strength, emphasizing the value of inner strength and emotional control, which allows for deep connections beneath the surface.

Commitment to Justice and Equality: Sweden, Finland, and Iceland are known for their strong commitment to social justice, equality, and human rights. Achroite reflects this ethos by showcasing a kingdom that prioritizes fairness and equal opportunities for all its citizens. The kingdom has laws and systems that are pretty strict, emphasizing the importance of social equity in governance and community life, creating a narrative centered around progressive values.

Strong-Minded and Resilient Individuals: The people of the Nordic countries are often characterized by their resilience and strong-mindedness, adapting to the challenges of their harsh environments. Achroite embodies this quality through its characters, who display determination, independence, and resourcefulness in overcoming obstacles. The kingdom might celebrate stories of individuals who stand firm in their beliefs and face adversity with courage, emphasizing the strength of character that defines its inhabitants.

Wisdom and Rationality: Nordic cultures value education, critical thinking, and rational decision-making, often relying on informed discourse and logical reasoning to address societal issues. Achroite reflects this emphasis on wisdom and rationality by portraying characters who approach challenges thoughtfully and analytically. The kingdom is depicted as a center for learning and intellectual exchange, where knowledge and wisdom are cherished, fostering a culture of informed dialogue and progress.

Law and Order as Pillars of Society: In the Nordic countries, law and order are fundamental to maintaining a peaceful and stable society. Achroite mirrors this principle by showcasing a kingdom where justice, rules, and civic responsibility are highly valued. The narrative highlights the significance of laws that promote societal harmony and the role of institutions in upholding order. Characters take on roles as guardians of justice, working to ensure that the kingdom remains a safe and orderly place for all its inhabitants.

And that's it my loves!!!! Hope you've enjoyed this quite long but interesting post!!!! Bibble loves you XOXO.

[baronessvonglitter]

Welcome!!

My name is Adriana, and if your'e on my page it's because of Pedro Pascal.. isn't it? Yeah, I thought so. Feel free to stay awhile and peruse some goodies on le menu below.

My blog is all about Pedro, with a few other fandoms sprinkled in.

Please check below for works on your favorite Pedro boys! (I do not write or reblog RPF.)

Feel free to leave an Ask and say hi, discuss fics, or plain just fangirl with me! I don't bite.

I am currently quite busy with some life changes and won't be able to fulfill requests immediately, but it never hurts to ask.

(Please be aware that this blog is for those 18 years or older, minors DNI)

Le Menu...

Harry Castillo ~ bold, expensive, and intentionally theatrical, this dish has a confident and commanding presence. He's not a comfort meal- he's a power dinner.

Joel Miller ~ well-seasoned cut of dbf! beef, a lot of fans' comfort food. Warm, filling, and dependable, it doesn't hide its complexity, and is served with a varying sides of age difference, angst, or secret relationship. (Our most popular dish)

Marcus Acacius ~ not a feast for the fainthearted.he's a warrior's banquet: rich with legacy, heavy with sacrifice, and plated with the taste of iron and ash. Majestic, brutal, carved by the gods.

Lucien de Leon ~ rich, refined, and slightly rare; elegant on the surface, but pulsing with something primal underneath, he's the kind of meal that makes you question whether you've just indulged in something exquisite or dangerous - maybe both.

Clint Flood ~ a classic aged bourbon with a twist of lemon, robust, smooth, and as seasoned as the man himself. The lemon adds a twist of citrusy brightness and hope.

Din Djarin ~ he's brought in warm, not cold. A smoky char on the outside that's surprisingly tender on the inside and unexpectedly sweet. Served with a side of touch starvation and strong honor code. (If a little green creature tries to float your meal away from you, please inform the staff at once)

Dieter Bravo ~ stylish, bold, with a spicy kick and a touch of Hollywood flair — the kind of dish that knows it looks good on the plate and isn’t afraid to make an entrance. The flavor hits sharp and unapologetic, much like Dieter’s blunt, no-nonsense attitude.

Tim Rockford ~a perfectly crafted espresso - strong, focused, doesn't sugarcoat the facts. Just when you think you have him figured out, there's another layer to explore. Served with a dark chocolate truffle enrobed in mystery and film noir vibes.

Marcus Moreno ~ classic, no-fuss meal that's timeless and has a comforting sense of warmth. A crisp golden exterior to a tender inside, with flavors of strength and dependability. (Don't mind the eggshells) Served with an appealing side of total dilf vibes.

Max Lord ~ COMING SOON!

Frankie Morales ~ complex, smoky, but always satisfying. Cooked low and slow to bring out the deep, intense flavors. But don't be fooled by this deliciously flavorful meal - this is a dish that loves to eat you. Served with a side of coke (just don't tell his lady).

Dave York ~a well-mixed Old-Fashioned that's deceptively smooth on the surface with a hidden bite beneath. The sweetness of the sugar hides the strong kick of bourbon, wrapped in a sleek and refined package. You'll never even see it coming. Served with a silencer.

Jack Daniels ~ maybe you expected whiskey? This is an impeccably cooked steak served in a delicious glaze of smoky, bold heat with a slightly sweet aftertaste.. a brash exterior hiding a more sensitive side. *No ground chuck in this meal.* Served with a hearty glass of whiskey.

Javier Peña ~ a gritty, no-nonsense meal deeply rooted in tradition with plenty of South Texas spice. Made with care, simmered over time to develop depth. Wrap yourself in a nice afghan while indulging. Served with an unfiltered cigarette.

Pero Tovar ~ COMING SOON!

Max Phillips ~ slick, a little greasy, and surprisingly indulgent. You don't think you wanted this meal until you spend more time around it, and before you know it you're stuffing your mouth with it. Served with a pint of blood. *Particular blood types may be seasonal*

Marcus Pike ~ warm, approachable, comfort food with a touch of sophistication. A classic dish simple in execution but bursting with flavor. Makes you feel at ease and taken care of and will never let you down. Consistently satisfying and leaves a lasting impression. Served with a side of pancakes.

Oberyn Martell ~ bold, vibrant, full of intense, contrasting flavors. Exotic and daring, with unexpected crunch and smooth complexity. This is meant to be enjoyed by all. *A shareable plate -- not served a la carte*

My Most Beloved Fic Recs of All Time

Fucktober 2024 Birthday Writing Challenge

Reblogs and comments appreciated! I love that shit ♥️

[reasonsforhope]

"India’s announcement that it aims to reach net zero emissions by 2070 and to meet fifty percent of its electricity requirements from renewable energy sources by 2030 is a hugely significant moment for the global fight against climate change. India is pioneering a new model of economic development that could avoid the carbon-intensive approaches that many countries have pursued in the past – and provide a blueprint for other developing economies.

The scale of transformation in India is stunning. Its economic growth has been among the highest in the world over the past two decades, lifting of millions of people out of poverty. Every year, India adds a city the size of London to its urban population, involving vast construction of new buildings, factories and transportation networks. Coal and oil have so far served as bedrocks of India’s industrial growth and modernisation, giving a rising number of Indian people access to modern energy services. This includes adding new electricity connections for 50 million citizens each year over the past decade. 

The rapid growth in fossil energy consumption has also meant India’s annual CO2 emissions have risen to become the third highest in the world. However, India’s CO2 emissions per person put it near the bottom of the world’s emitters, and they are lower still if you consider historical emissions per person. The same is true of energy consumption: the average household in India consumes a tenth as much electricity as the average household in the United States.  

India’s sheer size and its huge scope for growth means that its energy demand is set to grow by more than that of any other country in the coming decades. In a pathway to net zero emissions by 2070, we estimate that most of the growth in energy demand this decade would already have to be met with low-carbon energy sources. It therefore makes sense that Prime Minister Narendra Modi has announced more ambitious targets for 2030, including installing 500 gigawatts of renewable energy capacity, reducing the emissions intensity of its economy by 45%, and reducing a billion tonnes of CO2. 

These targets are formidable, but the good news is that the clean energy transition in India is already well underway. It has overachieved its commitment made at COP 21- Paris Summit [a.k.a. 2015, at the same conference that produced the Paris Agreement] by already meeting 40% of its power capacity from non-fossil fuels- almost nine years ahead of its commitment, and the share of solar and wind in India’s energy mix have grown phenomenally. Owing to technological developments, steady policy support, and a vibrant private sector, solar power plants are cheaper to build than coal ones. Renewable electricity is growing at a faster rate in India than any other major economy, with new capacity additions on track to double by 2026...

Subsidies for petrol and diesel were removed in the early 2010s, and subsidies for electric vehicles were introduced in 2019. India’s robust energy efficiency programme has been successful in reducing energy use and emissions from buildings, transport and major industries. Government efforts to provide millions of households with fuel gas for cooking and heating are enabling a steady transition away from the use of traditional biomass such as burning wood. India is also laying the groundwork to scale up important emerging technologies such as hydrogen, battery storage, and low-carbon steel, cement and fertilisers..."

-via IEA (International Energy Agency), January 10, 2022

Note: And since that's a little old, here's an update to show that progress is still going strong:

-via Economic Times: EnergyWorld, March 10, 2023

[justpoliteconversations]

Soft Morning [Husband!Four x Reader]

Domestic bliss is quiet. And soft.

Been a rough week. So I'm taking it easy coming back into the writing scene and just basking quietly in some self indulgent nonsense. Also, I have fallen deeper into Four Simp Hell. Send help.

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You come to the brink of awareness when you feel the movement of your favored pillow trying to escape from under you. Of course your sleepy self refuses this distasteful notion, tightening your sleep weakened fingers into the soft give of your traitorous pillow's sides. For your efforts, you get the soft vibrations of fond chuckles and rough, calloused fingers soothing over your exposed cheek and over your fluttering eyelids.

The feeling of dry, tacky lips pressing into the curve of your hairline eases your disgruntled mumbles, pulling a smile to your own dry lips. You tiredly turn your grimy face just enough to press a sleepy kiss into your (pillow's. traitor's. abandoner's) husband's collarbone, dozing off right after. Your forehead pressing ever harder into the firm muscles and softened flesh of his robust chest as you lose the battle to stay conscious.

You were unaware of when Link finally managed to escape from under you, readjusting you into a proper sleeping position with practiced ease. Tucking the blankets in around you to keep out the crisp morning chill threatening to nip at your exposed, sleep-warmed skin. And forcing his abandoned pillow into your lax arms, smiling as you curled yourself around it slowly (seeking comfort).

A soft, lingering kiss was placed right between your brows. A roughened finger gently wiping away the build-up at the corner of your eyes and the dryness at the corners of your mouth. Pulling a slightly pinched expression to your face as he worked out a stubborn layer of it with a nail.

Eventually, Link ran out of reasons to procrastinate the inevitable and he sighed (soul deep and aching). Tired from the early morning (so early the rooster hadn't even awaken yet. the sun had yet to peek over the horizon) and reluctant to leave the comfort of this tiny haven. But he gritted his teeth and straightened himself out. Pulled his smooth, blonde hair into a ponytail, and forced the cobwebs of sleep from his bones with a few long stretches.

He arched his back (ignoring the bite of early morning- nearly night- air on his goosebumped skin), cracked his shoulders, his hips, his elbows and knees. He loosened his joints and eased his tired muscles into his pre-morning morning routine by the power of his will alone. Occasionally looking over at your sleeping face, hidden partially in his pillow, your lashes fluttering gently as you reentered a shallow dream.

The sight of you (soft and safe and his forever more. his to hold. his to keep. his to provide for and to cherish and to love), gave Link the strength he needed to finish off his exercises and begin another day.

You awoke nearly 3 hours later, just as the first streams of sunlight peeked through the curtains of your bedroom window. Slow and aching, with your eyes still glued shut.

You almost dozed off again as the drag of sleep called to you, strong as a siren's call. But you reminded yourself that your husband would be in the workshop already. Working hard and laboring over the heat of the forge, hair pulled back from his sweat-slicked face and undoubtedly hungry (because he refused to eat without you. and as much as you loathed him going hungry, your heart fluttered at the notion that he was waiting for you).

That knowledge, more than anything, gave you the strength to pull yourself out of bed (graceless though the effort was) and begin another day.

The air was stinging cold this early in the morning, prickling your skin and nearly painful to the touch. But you pushed passed the discomfort, entering the hallway and making your way to the workshop at the other end of the house.

(Link had moved the bedroom there after you finally agreed to move in with him. Because he was loathed to disturb your slumber when the urge to craft and give shape became too strong and he inevitably started in on his newest fixation. No matter the time of day or night.)

Halfway down the hall, you heard the first rings of metal being struck. It was a familiar sound by now, and it never failed to put a pip in your steps (the thought of seeing your husband, your Link, always did. even now, when you saw him so often the shape and expressions of his face was more familiar than your own). And you smiled tiredly as you got closer.

Sunlight was streaming through the open windows of the workshop, bathing the place in the soft shine of morning's first light. Honestly, it was damned annoying (gleaming far too brightly off metal scraps. the intensity of it hurting your still sleep strained eyes).

But the way it touched the beautiful (scarred. discolored. perfect) curve of your husband's skin and labor-hardened physique made you forget all that. Because sitting before you (with stray hairs framing his concentrated face. salty sweat and grime coating every inch of his skin), was the most stunning (most divine) creature you had ever had the pleasure to set your eyes upon (and always would be, no matter how many years passed).

Fine, blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, unruly bangs escaping their confines to stick wetly to his forehead and jawline. Eyes a collage of glossy red and bright green and cool violet and steel blue, shifting and gleaming from one strike to the next. Thin lips pulled down in intense focus, reddened and dry from the heat of the forge. As were his cheeks, ears and forehead.

His work apron tied and pinched at the slim clench of his waist, straining at the width of his wide chest and broad shoulders. His work shirt's oil stained sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tight at the curved muscles of his upper arms. And his Minish tail earring, a delicate contrast to it all shimmering in the dim light of the forge's red glow.

Absolutely stunning. Like poetry in motion. Art at it's finest.

Another strike of metal, and you catch a glimpse of movement as Link's multi-colored eyes took you in for a brief moment before returning to his work. Another strike. And another.

And you waited it out patiently. Knowing that once he finished up whatever he needed to to find a good stopping point, he would properly address you.

Knowing that he would put the half-finished pieces his current project down. That he'd pull off his thick forging gloves and push the sweat-soaked hairs from his face, sighing deeply (as though coming up for breath after a long, hard dive into cold, mountain waters). He'd stretch his back in a chest bearing arch (shoulders pulled back, hands curled into fists at his shoulders). Then, put his hands on his thighs and leverage himself up like a crumpled old man (but he wasn't. you knew better than anyone just how spry and lively he could be when properly enticed).

With one last look around the shop, he'll turn to you and smile. Soft and warm and a little lopsided at the corner of his lips. Eyes beloved, soft blue, shimmering with the promise of others.

For sometimes his eyes would be heart-seeping red. Or sometimes it would be heart-fluttering green.

Or he'll kick his stool under the table and you'll be met with intense, unwavering blue taking you in from the tips of your toes to your cold-reddened ears. All with a grin bearing far too many teeth and maybe a little flex. Just enough to draw heat to your cheeks.

Or sometimes, when the clouds are heavy in the sky or the promise of rain is dark on the horizon. You'll find the calm, smooth gleam of lavender-blue set upon you with the faintest of smirks resting on his lips. The soft sigh of relief as he works the tightness out of his hands.

And then (no matter the color that sometimes seeps into his eyes. no matter the shift and turn and quirk of his lips) Link will come to you, take your hands into his and press his lips to your own. Brief and chaste, but for the gentle inhale as he pulls away and bids you good morning. Open and sincere, always. No matter his mood, no matter his temperament.

And you'll lean back in and give him a kiss of your own. You'll lift your joined hands and kiss his work worn (battle worn) knuckles, before looking back up to meet his tender, love-struck gaze.

Just like every morning before. And every morning that will come after.

But for now, you lean against the doorway of the workroom and let your eyes linger tiredly (dreamily) upon your husband. Letting a smile slip wider across your lips as you thank whatever deity will listen for bringing you to this man. And for bringing him to you.

And you promise yourself that no matter what may come. That no matter what the future may hold. That this moment. This place. This life. Will never slip away from you. And that you will fight for it, with every ounce of strength you possess.

Bathed in the heat of forge fire and the sweat of his labors, Link had made a promise to himself too (many years ago, before the ring he would one day put upon your finger had even blessed his hands). That he would never let this go. Not until death itself came to reap his soul. This life he had built for himself, and for you, with his own two hands.

That he would fight for it. With every drop of blood in his body, and every thread of courage woven into his spirit.

That he would win. As he always has.

And as he always will.

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

[malecardiolove]

The Test, chapter 4

Jack opened his eyes slowly, feeling a familiar weight on his chest. He was lying on a metal stretcher, his hands and feet firmly strapped with leather restraints, immobilizing him. The air in the room was heavy, oppressive, and the darkness was only interrupted by the glow of the machines around him. Beside him, a monitor displayed a real-time electrocardiogram and echocardiogram. The image of his heart, enlarged from prior testing, beat with a steady, powerful rhythm on the screen. The beats felt deeper, stronger, as if his heart had evolved after the tortures it had endured.

For a moment, Jack found himself fascinated. Despite the fear, pain, and suffering, he couldn’t stop staring at the screen that projected his own heart. The organ looked strong, robust, even after everything it had been through. But that fascination was soon replaced by a disturbing question: What would Dr. Ruiz do next?

Suddenly, Ruiz's voice echoed through the room via a microphone, clinical and calculating in tone. "Jack, I see you’re awake. I assume you remember that your heart started beating again after ten minutes of resuscitation. It was a challenge, but your heart is... fascinating. Resilient. However, this is far from over. The real test begins now."

Before Jack could process the doctor’s words, the atmosphere in the room began to change. The temperature rose rapidly, turning the room into a stifling oven. The air, already heavy, became almost impossible to breathe. Jack tried to gasp for air, but there wasn’t enough oxygen. Instead, a pink gas began to seep into the room.

"That gas you’re breathing, Jack," Ruiz continued, his voice terrifyingly cold, "is a bacteria designed to attack the heart at a structural level. Its goal is to degrade it, break the fibers, and weaken the muscle from within. If your heart doesn’t deteriorate during absorption, it will mean it’s immune... that your heart is, essentially, perfect. But if it’s not… this is the beginning of the end for you."

Jack felt his mind clouding as a memory surfaced. There had been a pandemic, many years ago, that ravaged the world—a disease that specifically targeted people’s hearts. Now he understood: that disease hadn’t been an accident. Was this part of some larger plan? Had they created the bacteria now infiltrating his body?

As his thoughts spiraled, he felt the gas brush against his feet. The cold touch of the gas, in contrast to the stifling heat, sent a shiver through him. Jack tried to resist, but it was impossible. The gas seeped into his nose, slowly invading his body. He could feel it filling his lungs and spreading through his system. A deep fear consumed him as he imagined what the bacteria would do inside him.

With his heart pounding faster, he turned his head toward the monitor. The echocardiogram showed an acceleration in his heartbeat. Faster and faster. Fear consumed him, yet strangely, his body showed no other symptoms. His heart, though agitated, kept pumping strongly, resisting the attack.

Thirty minutes passed. Jack continued watching the screen, expecting something catastrophic to happen. Each beat echoed in his ears, the only sound in the silent, oppressive room. But, surprisingly, his heart showed no signs of weakening. The pain he had feared never came. There was only the quickened pulse and the growing fear, but physically, he was fine.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his breathing, though rapid, remained regular. The pink gas kept filling the room, but his body resisted. Could it be true? Could his heart be immune, as Ruiz had hinted? Was it… perfect?

Note: after publishing this story, I'm planning to write another dark cardiophile novel here, but I would like to make a casting for the characters hearts. So, if you are a male cardiophile, you can send me by dm your EKG, Echo, Heartscans, your heartbeats, etc. And also, like a plus, photos of your male soles 😁 I'll give You credits.

[nthspecialll]

Rdr1 newspaper "Blackwater #53" transcriped

Masterlist link.

Williamson Gang Reign Of Terror

In events that hark back to our state's not so distant and non too glorious past, a gang of thieves and killers is running amok across the western counties. Although New Austin has never been a place for the faint of heart, nor a place that encourages delicacy, law enforcement agencies are particularly worried about this new gang. Not since Dutch van der Linde's crew was operating up in West Elizabeth has a criminal group caused so much consternation, nor gained so much publicity. Although cattle rustling and robberies are unfortunately still common throughout our region, the spate of killings, fires and burnings caused by Bill Williamson and his gang have shocked even the hardiest and most robust of local residents. Williamson, a career criminal and reprobate, with a record running back to reform school, is himself believed to have once run in Van der Linde's gang. Dutch van der Linde himself has not been seen nor heard from in several years and despite claims of sightings, is thought to have perished in a fire following a bungled robbery in 1906. With railway companies and other business interests pushing local and federal government bodies to aid economic development and investment by reducing crime, it is clear that action will be taken against this latest gang attempting to live the American dream outside of the law.

Grave Robber Captured, But Crimes Persist

Residents of Armadillo are baffled by the mysterious and somewhat repugnant case of Moses Forth, who was recently arrested for desecrating and robbing graves and is believed to have been solely responsible for a string of similar crimes across the West in the last couple of years. Following his arrest, however, there has been a further outbreak of graveyard de-secrations, leading to anxieties about who else is committing this most vile act.

Mexican Leader Appeals For Calm

Mexican President, General Ignacio Sanchez, who seized power last year in a bloody coup in which he killed his own brother has appealed for calm in the tempestuous country. General Sanchez, who was head of a Mexican Cavalry division and who has studied in Spain and Bolivia is promising to improve conditions for workers across the country while increasing suffrage. In a speech he made last week Sanchez noted "despite my privileged upbringing, I am a true son of Mexico, but as a Mexican, I know our county needs strong leadership and this is what I intend to provide. The road for our country has never been easy, but I promise you, we are now heading in the correct direction."

People Missing In Cholla Springs

Several residents of Armadillo and the surrounding areas have gone missing over the past few months in separate incidents, but non have yet turned up, either alive or dead. Local law enforcement bodies are urging residents to show extra caution when travelling in the back country on their own or when travelling at night.

Humorist Cracks Jokes, Arrives

Well known East Coast wit, Jimmy Saint, who writes for a number of respected periodicals in the New Work area recently wrote to this publication, seeking our advice. Mr. Saint is being dispatched to our region to try and find some 'wildness' in our Western states. We wrote back to Mr. Saint wishing him well, but letting him know that beyond the occasional murder, bloody shoot-out or horse rustling, very little wildness persists in the region outside of wild west shows.

Cattle Rustling Worse Than Ever In New Austin

The poverty-stricken ranchers of New Austin have been further blighted by a ruthless band of cattle rustlers in recent months. The hoodlums, led by twin brothers Ike and Willie Bollard, have been stealing cattle throughout Hennigan's Stead and then selling them at Thieves' Landing, often well below market value. The gang is believed to be using Pike's Basin as it's base of operations.

Tumbleweed Haunted?

Following recent reports of ghost sightings in the abandoned town of Tumbleweed, visitors are continuing to tell of unnatural happenings and strange feelings. Some visitors claim to have seen spirits of the dead, others ghosts, still others, ghouls and fairies. Our reporter on the scene found no evidence but we urge readers to send us reports of any unnatural happenings in the area.

Tobacco Fights Tuberculosis

Everywhere that fresh air abounds, man knows nothing of coughs, colds, or lung inflamations. However, as man creates cities and is herded into factories, sweatshops, mines and mills, these soggy and unhygienic atmospheres spread the most deadly of pulmonary diseases - Tuberculosis. Dr. Charles L. Helden says workers can disinfect themselves and protect against disease through regular smoking in the workplace.

An Orgy Of Phones

Most miracles are spread out quietly as the oak grows. However the telephone has grown like a common garden weed. There are now ten million telephones in the world. This novel vocal spectre has a certain haunting charm as telephone girls work day and night asking "What number please?" What man hasn't imagined the dalliances of the exquisite fairies that bless the most romantic of the commercial sciences? The telephone and telegraph companies promise Blackwater's skies will soon be one of wires in every direction, truly a crystal clear and sullied future at the same time.

Wonder Tonic From The East, Doctors Worried About Future

Users of a new medicinal tonic being sold in areas of New Austin have reported remarkable results. A one legged woman in Plainview grew back her missing limb and an elderly man close to death got up and ran to the nearest brothel with the resumed vigor of a 14-year old boy. West Dickens Patented Elixir claims to effect an infallible and painless remedy to virtually all known human ailments, both internal, external, and spiritual, including aches, sprains, dysentery, lumbago, paralysis, chilblains, malaria, genital debility, rickets and depressed humors. The tonic, which is the result of years of research combining ancient wisdom from the east and scientific investigations from universities across the land is being hailed by its distributor as the greatest medical discovery of our time.

Miscellany

Cart Race to be held at Gaptooth Breach. Date to be announced. Large cash prize. Winner takes all.

Furs and Pelts Wanted. Excellent Prices Offered. River Traders Pawn Shop, Thieves' Landing, New Austin.

Horse Deeds for Sale. Beautiful Cleveland Bays, Standardbred Pintos and Tersks, among others. MacFarlane's Ranch General Store, Hennigan's Stead, New Austin.

The marriage is announced to be solemnized of Miss Mollie Brannigan, daughter of Cole and Ella Brannigan to Mr. Melvin Brannigan, son of Cole and Ella Brannigan.

Young boy missing. Ralph Anderson, Age 8 years. Please contact Grace Anderson of Armadillo with any information as to his whereabouts.

Animal Bait for sale. Attracts all prey big and small. Manzanita Trading Post, Tall Trees, West Elizabeth.

Beds available at Ridgewood Farm, Cholla Springs. Very reasonable prices

The old ways is the best ways.

[bestworstcase]

in light of the v9 lore confirming the unreliable nature of jinn’s narration (light was not the “elder” brother), together with the glaring falsehood in the narration implying that salem lied when she truthfully “blamed the end of the world on the gods”

i’m not hedging anymore. we cannot trust jinn’s account of what salem told people during her rebellion, full stop.

“If she were to turn humanity against Light and Darkness, she could rid herself of their curse—or at the very least, she could make them suffer. Salem traveled from one kingdom to another, telling tales of how she stole immortality from the gods, inviting any swordsman to cut her down, and demonstrated her powers. With the kings and queens in awe, she pulled them deeper into her scheme; she painted them pictures of a time when they would no longer have to watch their loved ones wither and die, when they could claim the powers of their creators for themselves, and in turn, perfect their own design. All they needed to do was destroy their old masters.”

jinn describes this campaign as if salem deceived everyone, maliciously tricked them into serving as pawns in her hatred of the gods—but

when she’s beaten, salem stands up and vows to “tell the world of this massacre”—she’s enraged and horrified on behalf of the slain. she’s horrified when the god of darkness tells her he killed everyone. her reactions do not support the implication that these people meant nothing to her.

there is a strong ideological continuity between “overthrow our old masters, claim the powers of our creators for ourselves, and perfect our own design” and “we could be the gods of this world […] create the paradise the old gods could not.” this continuity suggests that salem actually believes in this cause, enough to hold onto it for millions of years.

so, did salem really claim to have ‘stolen’ immortality from the gods… or did she tell her allies that she became immortal through submersion in the fountain of life? that the gods can bring people back from the dead, and simply choose not to because they care only about enforcing their will? did she “pull them deeper into her scheme” or did she talk openly of what she had learned about the cruelty and fallibility of the gods? did she deceptively trick people into following her with fantasies of immortality or did she just pull back the curtain to reveal that the permanent ending of death only existed by arbitrary divine fiat that self-evidently can be changed?

just as jinn’s narration framed salem implicitly vowing to revere darkness above light if he helped her as salem deceiving and manipulating him by “making no mention of his elder” (<- why would she? this bargain was between her and darkness), this account of what salem did to foment rebellion against the gods aligns closely enough with the truth (salem did gain divine power, eternal death is an arbitrary rule, and the gods are fallible) that what it really comes down to is whether we trust jinn’s description of salem’s intentions.

did salem lie, or did she tell the truth in defiance of how the god of light thinks the world should be? did she deceive people, or did she reveal the brothers’ deceptions?

the god of light—and therefore ozpin and therefore jinn—see salem as a puppet-master making the whole world dance to her tune. “who has led you down this path?” he asks. she’s his scapegoat. but salem knelt before thrones and invited people to slit her throat to prove that she was telling the truth, and she isn’t the one who leads the army into light’s domain; she walks among them, not in front. in a story told with such robust symbolic language, that kind of storytelling choice matters.

she may have started the rebellion, but it became bigger than her; i don’t think salem even saw herself as their leader, necessarily. otherwise why not lead the way?

jinn’s narration—ozpin’s side of the story—devotes so much effort toward creating the impression that salem is a duplicitous, manipulative liar (like ozma), and then… salem hates being lied to. salem yells and throws tables when people lie to her. the cruelest thing salem can think of to say to oscar when she decides to hurt him is “the lies come out of you so easily; likeminded souls, indeed.” the opening lines of the show amount to salem saying that ozpin’s legends and fairytales aren’t true, that he’s obscured the “forgotten past.” both of her songs rage against ozma’s deceit—maidens and kingdoms wrapped up in a lie, and these children you mislead, and the more you try the more you’ll just breed hate and lies/truth will rise revealed by mirrored eyes. salem as a character is consistently associated with the truth and her hatred of deception is one of her most pronounced traits.

the lost fable is unreliably narrated—we now know this for a fact, because jinn describes the god of light as the elder brother and that is not true. there are many noticeable discrepancies between the narration and what’s actually shown. “stories aren’t reality” and “truth is hard to come by” are overtly-stated themes. and the lost fable answers the question “what is ozpin hiding from us?” and is thus presented strictly through his eyes.

in the fairytale anthology, ozpin helpfully informs the reader that stories like ‘the girl in the tower’ and ‘the infinite man’ are propaganda, not the truth.

so…

do we really believe this repeated claim that every word out of salem’s mouth is a manipulative lie? words we’re not even allowed to hear for ourselves? when the characters telling us that salem lied are ozpin and a bound spirit recounting ozpin’s side of the story? in the unreliable narrators show?

is the word gullible written on the ceiling?