#so when it comes to creating content or finding sources

[wordsandrobots]

I think, OP, you are probably broadly correct about Machu and Nyaan's plot. This would be adding absolutely nothing new in the Gundam canon, since what you are describing is pretty much Standard UC Gundam Operating Mode, but at this point, assessing everything G-Quacks has done up to this point, I think you are accurately describing the themes being played with.

However - and I apologise for breaking my internal rule of not doing full critical work until something is complete but I suspect this point won't change with the final episode - those themes don't alter the fact that in terms of the artistic decisions being made to convey the story, this show is hopelessly devoted to Tomino's Gundam as a source of innate importance.

It drops its plot momentum - twice! - to indulge in extended flashbacks that could have been much shorter given what they actually contribute to Machu and Nyaan's story. It constantly throws in named UC characters who, likewise, don't add anything but are given prominence well in excess of their actual role (the asides with the Titans are especially glaring). And above all, it hinges multiple dramatic moments on the audience's ability to recognise key parts of UC Gundam iconography.

Now, that's a kind of obvious statement. There is no way this was designed to be watched by people unfamiliar with Gundam's greatest hits. But it's an inbuilt limitation: simply put, in the contention between the old and new generations, it automatically concedes the issue. The Gundam, Lalah, Char, Kycilia, Zeon, the Black Tri-Stars - if the story is deferring to this past iconography as worth spending time on, how sincerely can it argue that we need to move into a wide-open future?

As a franchise, Gundam already has a perfectly serviceable means of moving past the Universal Century. Its standard operating procedure for over thirty years has been to take its visual iconography and remix it to produce totally different kinds of story. G Gundam, Gundam Wing, SEED:Destiny, Iron-Blooded Orphans, The Witch From Mercury - these are not retreads of Tomino's Gundam, even when they go to the extent of borrowing entire plot concepts (the world-ending doohicky in the final act is nigh-irresistible, it seems). They deal with different themes, different dramatic structures, and different moral questions. Tomino himself has come back twice to take his own stab at moving beyond the basic premises and iconography of the UC, and I'd argue it resulted in some of the best pieces of Gundam fiction out there (well, Turn A is; G-Reco is at least extremely pretty).

So what therefore is gained by creating a show, in 2025, that drapes itself in the Universal Century to the point of being borderline incomprehensible without a grounding in the original Gundam (your mileage may vary but my non-fan partner was definitely getting lost/bored even in the first few episodes) to convey the message 'we need to move beyond the past'?

If it's aimed at the fans who prefer the eternal continuation of the original, which has proceeded alongside the attempts to diversify Gundam as a franchise . . . then I'm sorry, the message of 'escape the past' is not going to land. It simply won't. It never does.

And if that *isn't* where this is being directed, if it is just using the UC as placeholders for an older generation that the younger must escape out from under, without being a commentary on Gundam as a whole? Then it is fatally beholden to the past anyway. Because, again, it hinges importance on people recognising and appreciating that past, often to a higher degree than the present.

G-Quuuuuux is not slop. It is a tightly constructed, well written narrative that clearly has a goal in mind and an artistic vision for how to 'do Gundam'. At the same time, it is riven through with an abiding love of the UC Gundam and a gleeful delight at being able to play in that toy-box. I guess we'll find out next week exactly how well those two aspects can be meshed together in the final outcome.

But I personally remain extremely dubious that telling this story in this way adequately conveys the message that you believe they are going for. And that's as much a technical criticism as it is my knee-jerk reaction to being bombarded with iconography taken out of the context where it actually meant something.

Also as a more serious post I keep seeing claims that Gquuuuuux is telling a story about Gundam or is doing “uc slop” or sudden rebuild bullshit in the last five eps but no it’s not. It’s telling a story about two possibly three teenagers proving that they have the right to decide their own destinies and not be bound by what the older generations have decided for them. It’s just that it’s achieving that by using the most iconic parts of Gundam to represent the older generations.

The UC “bullshit” is the culmination of the shows thesis about how the newer generations need to be left free to chart their own paths. Nyaan and Machu represent two ways in which younger people live with this. Nyaan aimlessly floats through life without convictions or passion for what she’s doing, her only wants restricted to her needs while she pines for what she truly wants but is unwilling to grab it until her hand is forced, and Machu is raging against the bonds holding her with no regards to what happens if she breaks free, she just knows she needs to be free becuase that’s worth whatever she’ll lose in the process. And then if I’m right about Shuji (and even if I’m not the earlier stuff with the red Gundam still fits) he’s the total loss of identity outside of the older generations wants and needs he no longer has his own id or ego he’s subsumed by the older generation and mirrors them (like those kids whose parents never made it in sports or whatever but they “totally could’ve” so the kids are forced to push themselves to the brink no matter what they actually want to enable their parents need to vicariously live through them.)

The fight against RX-78 isn’t just them fighting to prove their universe’s inherent right to exist but also the younger generations right to chart their own paths. This is why Challia and Kycilia’s treatment of Nyaan and Machu are so contrasting, Kycilia impose her own values and beliefs on Nyaan and Nyaan fights against them, she used the gun she was given to protect her self to protect someone else finally choosing what she wants rather than floating along. While Challia gave Machu the freedom to do what she felt was necessary and her gun was used to free herself and the Gquuuuuux to not only achieve what they wanted but to reach their full potential with the omega psycommu. It’s the same reason Challia doesn’t want to kill Xavier. he let Xavier go the way he wanted to and do what he felt was necessary and even though they’ve ended up on opposite sides he doesn’t want to take that freedom away from him in death. Whereas Kycilia was fully willing to kill Nyaan as soon as she didn’t align with her beliefs. And I think this is partly why Challia was chosen and written the way he is. He’s not an icon of Gundam like Char, Lalah, Kycilia, Amuro or even the titans. He’s of the og series but isn’t bound by it, it’s why he can straddle the line of being of the older generation but not trying to bind the newer generation to what they decide and be the only one willing to let them have the freedom they deserve.

The RX-78’s appearance is the manifestation and climax of this, the gquuuuuux timeline isn’t doing what it’s supposed to so it must be destroyed. This isn’t a show about Gundam, its not a meta story about Gundam needing to move past the UC timeline, it’s a show using the most iconic example of the old generation that Gundam will ever have to be the final boss in Nyaan and Machu’s journey to prove that they have a right to decide their own destinies. It’s why Beyond the Time works so well at the end of ep 11, it’s not only a callback but a call to arms for Nyaan and Machu to change their destiny and futures and share the happiness that’ll come from being finally, truly free.

[slowestlap]

hey previous anon here thank you so much for the tip you changed my life!!

No worries, happy to help! ✌🏻✌🏻

[star-anise]

Disclaimer: I like Anita Sarkeesian.

But also, I just saw a writeup of a Youtuber whose content has come a long way from his Gamergate days, and to explain that, the wiki says, "Anita Sarkeesian is a radical feminist who created a webseries about sexist tropes in video games"

AHAHAHAHAHA ANITA SARKEESIAN, RADICAL FEMINIST

HOO HEE EXCUSE ME THAT'S A GOOD ONE

Radical feminist. Feminist extremist. Anita Sarkeesian.

Anita Sarkeesian did her Master's Thesis in Social and Political Thought in 2010 on the trope of the "Strong Woman" in fantasy and science fiction TV shows, and produced Tropes vs Women, a series of online videos breaking down her work in a way that was accessible to a lay audience. She found a ready audience in geek feminist circles, since this was exactly the kind of thing we wanted and needed right then.

Tropes vs Women was extremely bog-standard cultural critique, what you'd find expressed in discussion between scholars of literary theory or media analysis anywhere, and exactly what 99% of feminists were saying at the time. It certainly talked about patriarchy as the complex system of sexism fused into our cultural matrix, so it's not like it wasn't radical feminism from that viewpoint, but it wasn't "radical" by way of being especially militant. Sarkeesian frequently pointed out how individual occurrences of a trope weren't harmful in themselves, but that a media landscape completely saturated with only that trope and nothing but that trope is, in the aggregate, a big feminist issue.

And the internet

HAAAAAAAATED

her for it.

Like, geek feminists got flak a lot anyway, especially when we wanted things like properly enforced policies against sexual harassment at science fiction conventions. And yeah, there totally were toxic keyboard warriors who said stuff about all men being scum - but Sarkeesian wasn't one of them.

It's probably because of her succinct, matter-of-fact, "this is not a debated issue, feminists have decades of theory and research to back this point up, sources abound if you google for thirty seconds so I won't stop to baby you through all the fundamental concepts" approach that she got such a big reach. She was calm, concise, coherent, and rational, everything feminists are told we need to be.

Unfortunately that just made her seem... attackable, I think. A good target, not actually scary or impassioned, unlikely to respond to violence with violence. The perfect kind of person to play five seconds of, and then spend the next five minutes yelling into your mic because IF ANITA IS RIGHT ABOUT VIDEO GAME SEXIST YOU MIGHT AS WELL SAY THAT EVERYTHING IS SEXIST AND SEXISM IS SYSTEMIC AND ENDEMIC TO ALL OF WESTERN CULTURE AND OTHER CULTURES TOO, WHICH IS CLEARLY RIDICULOUS, ANITA LADY BAD.

She literally spent five solid years as Enemy #1 in online geek spaces. It was completely insane. I am so sorry she had to take the brunt of it, and yet grateful that she did. She held the line and took the shit and kept doing good decent feminist work for years after, though she did admit to burnout and closed up shop on her nonprofit org Feminist Frequency in 2023. I hope to hell she's having a good day.

But even now, more than a decade later, dudes talk about her as though she were Geek Feminist Godzilla, the biggest baddest woman in the universe, off to lay waste to downtown Video Games and cut everybody's balls off.

When people (mostly dudes, but not all) talk like this, it's just very funny and unintentionally revealing because of the absolute averageness of her third-wave, trans-inclusive, western-centric, intersectional feminism. It makes them look absolutely pathetic.

Because it just makes it clear that she is probably the first and last self-described feminist the speaker has ever paid attention to.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call. Quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress—along with the charger cord still attached to it—and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, laundry. Gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as it sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum—depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you—almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead—probably tonight when you do your daily login—you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming—but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell surprise and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you hadn't switched your phone to silent, hadn't made the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend—nope, nothing unusual here—you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[whimsyvixen]

𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 ~ 𝟙/?

Stalker Fic (original work)

Rating: 18+ Pairing: Female Reader x Male Yandere Synopsis/Excerpt:   It felt like someone was looking at you. A predator looking at a fawn. Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart. WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, stalking, yandere, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, masturbation, captivity, non-consensual bondage, dacryphilia, forced breeding, forced orgasm, vaginal sex, fuck or die, tags will grow as this story progresses. ⚠️READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags . NO minors. ⚠️

A/N: Wooo! so I finally decided to make story for this post I made awhile back (a thousand thank you's to everyone who liked and commented <3 ). Please read up on the tags, so you know what to expect in the coming chapters. Happy reading!

-Dividers by @adornedwithlight-

It was raining outside, the distant thunder and pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window creating a lullaby that was lulling you to sleep. Combined with the soft rumbling of the bus, you could feel your body’s desperate need for rest after a grueling shift at work. 

Familiar streets and roads were tracked by your eyes, the expected relief of almost getting home brightening up your mood despite the gloomy weather. You estimated that you'll reach your destination in less than half an hour, rummaging through your purse to take out your phone to set up a timer in case sleep overtakes you and you miss your stop. 

Pressing the lever of your seat to recline, you got comfortable and laid your cardigan over your chest, finally giving in to the urge of closing your eyes. Seconds ticked by and all you could think about was how you couldn't wait to be in the comfort of the soft bedding on your mattress. Your muscles were practically begging for relief and you had enough pillows and blankets waiting for you back home to alleviate this problem. 

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes that passed– your mind completely disassociating from reality while you snoozed– when your peace was shattered. A shiver of unease ran through you, waking up your consciousness abruptly and causing you to jolt awake. 

The same feeling that’s been haunting you for weeks now was back.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood and your heart rate picked up.

It hadn’t always been like this. You could still remember a time when you climbed inside the vehicle without your gut twisting anxiously. At first, you chalked it up to it being caused by some low level of anxiety you were experiencing or lack of restful sleep. Something that could be easily remedied by swallowing a pill stashed inside a drawer back home.

However, as of late, a feeling of wariness and fear seemed to consume you, your fight or flight response triggered whenever you climbed up the stairs of the bus, each step weighing heavy on your legs as you went to take your seat.

It felt like someone was looking at you. 

A predator looking at a fawn.

Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart.

The paranoia getting to you, you turned your head to the right, swallowing down your nervousness as you tried to find the source of your panic. 

There was a man seated in the opposite seats across from you. His stretched out and bulky frame took up much of the space, the black cap on his head and the mask he wore obscuring his features and giving him a mysterious vibe. The turtleneck shirt clung to him, emphasizing the broad muscles of his upper body even in his relaxed state. His back was to the window, his left leg bent in a careless fashion along both seats, facing you directly as he was browsing through his phone. 

At least, you thought that's what he was doing. You didn't want to believe that the man was taking unwanted pictures or videos of you while you slept. 

You didn't realize you were staring for too long, the stranger’s attention shifting away from his phone when he could feel your gaze, freezing you in place as your eyes connected with those dark depths. For some reason, you couldn’t look away, too afraid to blink as a chill took over you from being under the perusal of those piercing eyes. There was something wrong, you just couldn’t explain it. He tilted his head to the side, regarding your stunned state for a moment before his eyes crinkled with amusement. He waved good naturedly at you, a normal gesture of greeting that you would've returned if not for the twisting of your gut that warned you against doing such a thing. 

When you didn’t return his gesture, the stranger’s eyebrows furrowed in dejection, bringing his hand down to lay against his lap almost disappointedly. 

A good few seconds passed with both unwilling to look away from each other. 

Your eyes, firm and guarded while his were inquisitive and curious.

As if finally sensing your unease, the stranger backed off by turning to sit properly in his seat and shifting his focus back to his phone. 

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, you grabbed your purse and whipped out your phone, your shaky hands nearly dropping it when you first grabbed it. Turning the screen on, you realized you had taken a ten minute nap with seconds to spare from your alarm ringing. You were mere minutes away from arriving at your stop.

Taking a quick glance at the stranger once more, you tried to rid your paranoid thoughts that he was the reason for your being on edge these past few weeks. It couldn’t be, you tried reasoning to yourself. If anything, you were in the wrong for staring at him funny when you’ve never seen him before. Maybe this was his first ride on the bus and you made his experience weird because you kept looking at him as if accusing him of something heinous. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and not spook you when you caught each other’s eye by accident. Maybe your groggy mind was making things up about a complete stranger. 

Could the stress of work and your responsibilities piling up for the past few months be messing with your awareness? There was nothing special about you. You weren’t an important person. There was nothing, no gifted ability or priviledge, that separated you from the throngs of people you saw every day while heading to work. Why would someone want you with your bleak existence and no future aspirations?

Your anxiousness and worry slowly left you when you drew those conclusions about yourself, replaced with self pity as you realized you really had nothing going for your life. The somber expression staring back at you through your phone’s black screen only dimming your mood further. 

It was a while before the bus slowed to a stop, the driver’s familiar voice announcing your destination and making you stand to walk to the front. Not paying attention to your footing, you tripped over your own feet and felt gravity pull you under. A small yip tumbled out of your lips, feeling pain on your left elbow from the hard impact on the floor. Your purse went flying in a comical fashion, your disoriented mind not sure in which direction it landed or if anything fell out of it. 

Embarrassment quickly flooded you, feeling the eyes of other passengers stare at you and hearing a few snickers amongst them. Wincing from the blossoming pain in your arm, you had barely braced your hands on the floor ready to stand up, when you felt warm hands encircle your waist.

“Here,” a deep voice whispered against your ear. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

You were lifted from the floor easily, your weight meaning nothing to the man as he held you gently until you got your bearings straight. You looked up at him, having to crane your neck upwards due to his tall height and seeing it was the masked stranger.

“I, uhm.. Thank you,” you stuttered over your words, a flush of heat blooming in your face at his proximity. You wanted to kick yourself for how high pitched your voice sounded, unable to maintain eye contact with him when he gazed so intently back at you. If you dared to say, it felt like he was trying to memorize every small detail about your face– birthmarks, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips, the emotion in your eyes. Realizing that you still held on to his arms wrapped around your waist, you nervously laughed before going to break yourself away from the intimate embrace. 

“I’m okay now, you can let go,” you assured him, the fake smile plastered on your face concealing your tense disposition from his closeness. 

You chose to ignore the way his fingers dug momentarily into your waist, gripping you a little too tight to be normal before he loosened his grasp, allowing you to generate a more respectable distance between you and him. Seeing your startled reaction to his handling of you, the stranger immediately apologized for his actions.

“You’ll have to forgive me for my forwardness.” He told you, imploring you with his eyes that he meant no harm. He bent down to pick up something on the floor, his other hand holding up the strap of your purse for you to take it. “I only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t trip over yourself again.”

“Oh! I-It’s ok really, I-,” your words were interrupted by the harsh voice of the driver telling you to hurry to the front if you planned to get out. You quickly snatched your purse back, ignoring the little jolt of electricity that zipped through you when you grazed his fingers. “Um, I have to go but thank you, again! Bye!” 

You turned to walk briskly down the steps of the bus, thanking the bus driver for his patience and stepping out into the familiar streets of your neighborhood. Luckily for you, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, an umbrella not needed for the small trek you took to arrive at the apartment where you’ve been renting for the past year. 

Locking the door behind you, you sighed audibly before throwing your purse at the chair nearest you. You walked over to your room, kicking off your shoes to land haphazardly along the floor because you were too tired to bother putting them away. Removing your damp clothing, you grabbed a towel and some night clothes to head to the shower.

Relaxing under the spray of lukewarm water, you found your mind straying to the stranger in the bus. 

Who was he? 

You weren’t lying that you had never seen him before. A man of his formidable size would have been easy to spot, sticking out from the rest of the passengers like a sore thumb. He was dressed peculiarly too, his attire giving off the impression that he values secrecy and privacy. And his voice! Goodness, you could feel yourself nearly melt remembering the richness of it. The way he held you like a dainty object didn’t escape your notice either, your cheeks aflame at how good his hands felt around your waist. The feminine thrill that his presence ignited was hard to subdue, unbidden thoughts of his hands squeezing and trailing over your naked body filling your mind.

Would his hands be soft and gentle? Or would they be strong and rough? 

As if your hands had a mind of their own, they moved up your body to cup your breasts making you gasp at the contact. You looked down at your chest, seeing the peaks of your nipples hardening under your soft touch. You tried envisioning his hands squeezing the doughy flesh, your head tilting to one side as you wondered if he'd be satisfied with your size. Small moans escaped you as you continued to fondle yourself, closing your eyes and imagining him whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he teased your breasts. You were sure he’d trail a line of kisses down your neck, pressing his naked front against you so you could feel his excitement poking at the small of your back. A sudden hard pinch to your nipple brought you out of your fantasy, the thought of his cock causing your fingers to twist the sensitive tip excitedly. 

You shook your head under the shower, trying to calm your racing thoughts before they got more explicit. 

To think such things about a man you hardly knew wasn’t good. What if you see him again tomorrow? Could you bear to look at him knowing where your thoughts were straying at this moment? 

You winced, memories of the loaded eye contact you threw his way making you want to smack yourself. Maybe you should apologize next time you see him. To prove to him that you weren’t a crazy lady that regularly gave the stink eye to neighboring passengers. Explain that your stress was getting to you. Perhaps be the first to wave at him next time to show there was no animosity between you. Maybe something could develop once you introduced each other, a giddy little voice tickled your ears.

Once you were done showering and drying your hair, you went back to the living room for your purse. You had placed your phone inside so the rain couldn’t wet it. You needed to wake up at a good time tomorrow to get ready for work so setting up an alarm was crucial. When you grabbed your purse, you noticed it felt lighter and looked down to see it was unzipped and wide open. 

Oh No. There’s no way…

You dug your hand inside, hoping to feel the familiar mass of your phone only to come out empty handed. Then you remembered your fall from earlier.

“Damn it, it must have fallen off when I fell,” you cursed under your breath, gnawing on your fingernail in worry for a minute before sighing tiredly. You needed to sleep and staying up late thinking about your lost phone was not going to help. You’d have to wait until tomorrow morning to ask the driver if anything was found.

Turning off all the lights in your place, you finally headed to bed, a yawn leaving your mouth as you placed a knee in your mattress. Under the covers of your blanket, you tried clearing up your mind so you could sleep quickly. A sudden image of the masked stranger flashed through your head, your growing curiosity of him affecting you even in your most tired state.

Right before you slept, a nagging at the back of your mind told you to be wary of him.

~

A man lay on his bed alone, hair plastered to his forehead as he breathed harshly. His shirt was raised to his waist, exposing his naked pelvis and muscled thighs as he pumped his rigid dick at a furious tempo. 

His choked groans and huffs were muffled by his mask, the man tilting his head back on his pillows to bask in the pleasurable sensations of his hand firmly stroking his length. Perspiration ran down every inch of him, the sweat dampening his bed and making him grunt at how his sheets clung to his heated skin. He slid his hand down his shaft– tightening his grip when he got to the base– hissing when it caused his cock to twitch before sliding it up once more to tease his cockhead and repeat the process. The squelch of the lubricant coating his dick was a decadent symphony next to his pleasured grunts, the aggressive handling of his pleasure nearly causing him to erupt as he continued to fuck his fist. 

He was nearly there, half lidded eyes eyeing the drop of precum threatening to slide down his shaft and mix with the lubricant. 

No, he didn’t want to cum so soon. Not without the image of the pretty bird he’d been stalking for the past month etched in his brain. God, she was so beautiful. Never had he seen a more perfect woman than you. His hands tightened remembering how soft and demure you were when he picked you up. The slight tremble in your body and your skittish behavior making him want to devour you where you stood. 

Biting his lip, he slowed his pace and closed his eyes in concentration, conjuring up an image that would help to reach his climax.

In his mind, it was no longer his hand wrapped around his dick. 

Instead, smaller hands were slowly stroking him in an almost reverent manner, seeming to worship every protruding vein and jerk of his member. A small gasp escaped you when cum drizzled out of his tip, smearing your fingers with the warm liquid to combine with the lube drenching his dick. He could feel the stickiness of it running down his thighs and balls, causing him to shudder at the sensation. 

He could see you biting your lip anxiously, staring at him with those expressive eyes of yours waiting for his instruction. Unable to resist, he'd grab your hair and yank you his throbbing cock, your flushed face gasping at the heat emitting from his rod of meat pressed against your cheek. He hoped you were a smart girl, knowing what he desired from you as he slapped his dick on your lips. 

He'd stare you down, arching an eyebrow as he waited for you to open that sweet mouth of yours. He knew he wasn't a small man–his girth was enough to intimidate even his most experienced past partners– but he was sure he could teach you how to swallow him down like a good girl.

You'd hesitate for too long, testing his patience. He’d need to be firm with you then. He'd pinch your nose between his fingers, blocking your airways and driving you to open your mouth to take a breath. It was all he needed to shove half of his cock inside your heated orifice. A guttural groan would echo in his room, the warmth of the hot cavern of your mouth and wiggling tongue on the underside of his dick making him see white for a second.

He could picture your muffled whimpering, your hands bracing against his thighs to pull away. He'd lift his upper body to get a better grip on your head, not allowing you to escape and forcing more of his dick down your throat. He'd praise you for being so good and lovely for him. Telling you to relax your throat, to make it easier for you. Before long, you'd obey his commands and start bobbing your head slowly to adjust to the fullness in your mouth. 

He'd allow you to work at your own pace, content with seeing your tear ridden face for a few minutes more before taking over when you were going too slow for his liking. Your eyes would widen with alarm when he thrusted his hips up, a gargled whine vibrating through his manhood from the fierce jab in your throat. He’d repeat the same action again, a pleased groan rumbling out of him at the feel of your mouth struggling to accommodate him. From there on, he'd use you like a fleshlight, gripping your hair tightly to pull your face down to every one of his savage thrusts. Spittle and cum would rain down your jaw, messing your appearance as you gagged and moaned around the dick hammering your throat. 

It was the fantasy of seeing you look up at him, eyes pinched with distress and tears streaming down your heated and sweaty face, that made him finally snap.

His hips jerked up in his hand, his body vibrating violently just as his cock shot out endless ropes of cum in the air. He grunted with each twitch of his pelvis, feeling the warm liquid pooling in the crevices of his contracting abs and staining his shirt. His chest heaved with exertion, the stranger breathing heavily as a result of cumming from his heightened lust. His mask hid his delirious smile, the stranger chuckling to himself at the euphoria he felt and the mess he created.

Only you could make him cum so strongly to drive him to lose himself.

Minutes passed until he was able to get his breathing under control, begrudgingly getting out of his bed to clean himself up. 

Something about you had him hooked. What started off as a fleeting crush morphed into a distorted and unhealthy obsession, the stranger falling deeper in love with you every passing day, as well as the urge to take you growing exponentially worse. .

He longed to know what it felt like to have you in his arms, the thought keeping him up often at night.

Luckily for him, his wish finally came true tonight, remembering the softness of your body in his hands. You were a small little thing compared to him, barely reaching his chest. It wouldn't take much to overpower you, the statement giving rise to depraved thoughts of your squirming body underneath him, naked and helpless under his ardent touch. It took everything in him not to pull you closer, wanting to feel your delicious shape against his frame as the fantasy played in his head. He hated his mask at that moment, realizing he could've caught a whiff of your scent too if he wasn't keen on hiding his identity. 

The stranger's eyes furrowed in displeasure at this, angry at himself for missing an opportunity to know you more intimately. Turning off the sink, he didn't bother to dry his hands when he ripped his mask off and flung it in the trash. 

In a foul mood, he exited his bathroom and marched towards his study. It was already past midnight but there was something important he had to do before he slept.

Entering the room, he didn't bother to close the door and sat down, sliding the chair closer to his desk to get to work. He was inputting his PC’s password when he glanced at the rectangular object next to him.

It was your phone. 

He inspected it, taking note of your phone cover and thinking it suited someone like you. He pressed the on button, seeing your phone screen light up and ask for the passcode to access it. He typed in a few guesses and not to his surprise, none worked. 

No worries. This would only be a momentary issue. Nothing that he couldn't crack open once he plugged your device to his computer. Sure enough, within a few moments, all your browsing history and personal information was revealed to him. His eyes traveled greedily over all your files, desperate to know who you were and what you liked.

His impatience to claim you was nearing a tipping point. He already had a small taste of you and it was not enough. HIs hands clenched into fists. He wanted more. Desired to thoroughly possess you and infect you with his love. 

One way or another, you were going to be his.

He would make sure of it.

[caracalla-dondus]

Suspicious Minds

Pairing: Emperor Geta/wife!reader

Summary: A senator informs Geta about the rumors surrounding his wife

Author's Note: This fic consists of pieces I took out from a much longer fic I had written. After reading what I originally wrote I didn't really vibe with the whole thing and so I took out parts I liked best to create this fic. Idk if it's better or worse because things feel a bit rushed in this fic now and not as cohesive as before but it's good enough I think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I was partly inspired by Fire & Blood where it says that some in court found Queen Rhaenys Targaryen suspicious because she spent time with bards and singers and they were sure she must be having an affair on Aegon I. Also the title is from the Elvis song of the same name because it popped into my head while writing this because it's similar to the plot lol.

~~~

The late afternoon sun streamed through the marble arches of the palace, casting shadows across the floor of the Emperor’s private chamber. Emperor Geta paced restlessly, his jaw clenched tight, his fingers twitching. The rumors had come to him this morning, carried by a senator whose words had been carefully chosen, yet laced with venom.

“She is often seen in the company of poets and bards, my Emperor. Some say perhaps too often.”

The words echoed in Geta’s mind as he strode to the balcony. Below him, others strolled about, oblivious to the storm brewing in his heart. He had always known that his wife had a fondness for the arts. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. The way her eyes lit up when she heard the verses of a poem she thought was interesting, the soft smile that graced her lips during the final notes of a ballad. She was a woman of intelligence and charm. Perfect qualities to be his empress.

But now those very same qualities and interests had become the source of his unrest.

~

Geta finds his wife out in the garden. “I had hoped to speak with you my wife,” he said, his tone polite but firm. 

“What troubles you, my love?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer to him.

Geta studied her, his gaze lingering on her face, searching for some sign of guilt. But she looked as she always did, serene, composed, and beautiful. “There are whispers in the court,” he began slowly, “that your affection for music and poetry has extended beyond mere appreciation.”

His wife’s eyes widened, and then she laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of bells. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense.”

“I don’t want to,” Geta admitted, his voice low. “But the court is not kind to a woman who spends her days surrounded by other men, no matter how innocent her intentions.”

Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Geta, these men are poets, musicians and artists. They speak to me about the soul, not the flesh. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

He wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her. But the thought of her laughter, her attention, her admiration being bestowed on another man gnawed at him. “Then why do others speak of you so?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly. “Why do they say you adore Bacchus so much that you have embraced his indulgences?”

His wife stiffened, her hand falling away. “Do you question my virtue?” she asked, insulted that her husband would believe such nonsense about her.

“I question the company you keep!” he snapped, the words sharper than he intended.

She took a step back, her expression conveying her hurt and frustration. “You have always known who I am Geta. I am not a woman content to sit idly in the palace, just simply gossiping my day away. I find joy in the divine chaos of creation. If that makes me suspicious in the eyes of our court then so be it. But I will not apologize for things I did not do.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion. Geta clenched his fists, his anger warring with his love for her. Finally he spoke, his voice softer. “I do not wish to stifle you. But I cannot bear the thought of others questioning your loyalty or your love for me.”

His wife stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Then let me reassure you, my emperor. I am as sure of my love for you as I am about Sol bringing us the sun each morning. But if you doubt me, then tell me what must I do to prove myself?”

He sighed, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Let the poets and bards sing their songs without you for once. Let Bacchus have his revelry elsewhere.”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “If it will ease your mind, my dear husband then I will stay.”

Geta pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the whispers that sought to undermine them. But even as he held her, a shadow of doubt lingered, refusing to be banished entirely.

~

The grand halls of the palace echoed with the click of her delicate sandals against the marble floor. The weight of her husband’s arm on her shoulder was both reassuring and suffocating. For the past three days, Geta had not let her out of his sight. Where she went, he followed. Where he could not follow, he sent his guards to watch her every step. It was unlike him, and though his paranoia was silent, she could feel it in the way his fingers tightened around her arm, in the watchful, almost desperate glint in his eyes.

She had tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him of her loyalty, but it seemed no words could pierce through the suspicion that had taken hold of him.

During a feast, Geta watched his wife like a hawk as she entertained a visiting nobleman whose son had written a collection of poems. His wife listened to the man intently, her soft smile never wavering as the man recited a verse.

But Geta saw something else. He saw how the man’s eyes lingered on her, how her laughter seemed to light up the room. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, his jaw tightening. Was it admiration? Was it mere courtesy? Or was there something more? The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm, dark and unrelenting.

When the man left, Geta wasted no time. He rose abruptly, crossing the room to where his wife stood.

“You enjoyed his company,” he said, his voice low but laced with accusation.

His wife blinked, startled by his tone. “He was reciting his son’s poetry, my dear husband. That’s all it was.”

“You smiled at him,” Geta pressed, his eyes narrowing. “You laughed.”

“Am I not allowed to smile and laugh?” she asked softly, though there was a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Must I always wear a sour expression to please you?”

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice trembling - not with anger, but with something deeper, something more fragile. “Your smiles, your laughter, they belong to me and no one else.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the flicker of insecurity behind his harsh words. She reached up, covering his hand with her own. “And they are yours, Geta,” she murmured. “Only yours.”

His grip loosened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might vanish. “I will not lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I cannot.”

~

For the next several days, Geta’s wife’s world shrank. Where she once wandered the gardens freely, now her husband walked beside her, his hand resting possessively on her waist. When she visited the library, he went with her. Her gatherings with poets and musicians were no more, replaced by dinners where Geta sat her beside him, his eyes never leaving her.

She tried to be understanding, but his constant scrutiny weighed heavily on her. One evening, as they sat together in their chambers, she finally spoke.

“Geta,” she began, her voice tentative. “Do you not trust me?”

He looked up from the goblet of wine in his hand, his expression guarded. “Of course I trust you, you are my wife,” he said after a long pause. “It is everyone else I do not trust.”

“You cannot keep watch over me forever,” she said.

His jaw tightened. “You are my wife,” he said firmly. “My empress. And I will not risk anyone else taking you from me.”

“Even if it means suffocating me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Geta flinched, as if her words had struck him. He set the goblet down and rose to his feet, pacing the room. “You do not understand,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I have enemies everywhere. We have enemies everywhere. They would use you against me. They would take you from me. Take your love away from me”

“Who could take me when I am yours in both heart and soul?” she asked, rising to stand before him.

He stopped, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like a man on the edge of breaking, his carefully constructed armor of intimidation cracking to reveal the fear beneath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. “Geta,” she said softly, “you will not lose me. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me.”

“I promise,” she said, though her heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as if his life depended on it. She sighed softly, resting her head against his chest. She understood that his possessiveness was not born of cruelty, nor out of a need to stifle her but it was of a fear he could not truly voice, a fear he could not truly reconcile with, and it had consumed him.

And so she stayed, tethered to him by her love for him, hoping that soon his insecurities would ease and he would see that she was his, not because he demanded it, but because she chose it. But she was not sure how much she could take of this suffocating behavior. Of every move of hers and every interaction being heavily watched.

~

She rarely let her frustrations boil to the surface, but this time was different. As she sat across from her husband in their private chambers, the weight of the senator’s venomous words and their impact on her marriage gnawed at her patience. For days and days now, Geta’s suffocating possessiveness had taken over every aspect of her life, and she could no longer bear the thought that this rift between them had been instigated by a man seeking to undermine her, a man seeking to replace her.

She set down her goblet with a sharp clink, her hands trembling, not with fear, but with barely restrained annoyance and anger. “I’ve been thinking, my dear husband,” she began, her voice calm but carrying an obvious edge to it.

Geta glanced up from his seat, his brow furrowing slightly at her tone. “What is it?”

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with uncharacteristic determination. “The senator who came to you with these baseless rumors. I believe he must be punished.”

Geta blinked, clearly surprised. “Punished? For what?”

“For daring to speak against me,” she replied, her voice firm, slightly exasperated that he did not already know what she spoke of. “For poisoning your mind with lies and causing this… this chaos between us. He sought to undermine your confidence in me, to cast doubt on my loyalty, to possibly destroy my reputation. That is not something we should let go unanswered.”

Geta leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. “You surprise me, wife. I thought you were above petty revenge. You have always counseled me against such rash decisions before”

“This is not petty, nor is it rash!” she shot back, her tone sharpening. “He sought to disgrace me, your wife, your empress. By doing so, he has disgraced you as well. How can you tolerate such audacity?”

Her words struck a nerve. Geta’s insecurities flared, his mind racing as he considered her argument. She was right. The senator’s insinuations had not only called his wife’s loyalty into question but had also implied that Geta was a weak ruler, unable to control his own household. The thought made his blood boil.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, his voice low.

“Demote him. Remove him from his position. Let it be known that you will not tolerate slander against your Empress.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “And if others see this as an act of weakness? A sign that I am blinded by my love for you?”

“Let them see it as a warning,” she countered. “Let them know that your loyalty to your wife is unwavering and that you will not allow anyone to sow baseless discord in your court.”

Her words appealed to Geta’s pride, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. After a long silence, he nodded slowly. “Very well. The senator will be dealt with. I’ll ensure his removal will be public and soon.”

Relief washed over her, though a part of her felt dissatisfied about simply just having the senator removed from his position. The senator had meddled in her marriage, made her husband watch every move she made for days now, and he deserved to face more severe consequences for it. The senator has a daughter around her age, she felt certain the senator was likely hoping to get her pushed aside to potentially make way for his daughter to get close to Geta, for her to be the next Empress of Rome. Geta’s wife seethed silently at the thought of someone replacing her, of someone attempting to steal her position. She thought about paying Caracalla a visit and informing him of the treacherous senator in their midst. He would certainly give her the dramatic reaction she wants.

Geta rose from his seat, crossing the room to stand before her. He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze softening. “You are right. I should never have allowed his words to poison my mind. You are my empress, my wife. No one will come between us again”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch and calming for a moment. “And I will always stand by your side Geta. But we must stand together, against anyone who seeks to divide us.”

Geta kissed her then, fierce and possessive, as if to reaffirm their bond. She let herself melt into the embrace, even as a small voice in the back of her mind wondered if she should push for more to be done about the senator. 

~~~~

reader can't take out her frustrations on Geta so she will take it out on the senator who started all of this instead lol

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

[oraclemoontarot]

why people are jealous of you 𓂃⊹ pac tarot reading

from left to right, top to bottom -> pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, pile 4

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

pile 1 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: six of pentacles, five of swords, seven of wands, fool, nine of pentacles. oracles: snow leopard: self-reliance, polar bear: mystic, swan: grace, unicorn: infinite possibilities, days of winter, winter besom, devotional, Brigid's doll

For my pile one's, people are jealous of your giving nature. There is this kindness and grace to you, this lack of hatred and this purity. You may have gone through conflicts and hardship, but it has made you stronger and didn't keep you away from your goals. You are hardworking yet fun and full of adventure. People are jealous of your ability to have fun, to explore - this curiosity and acceptance of your inner child is what people wish they had the strength to accept within themselves.

You are also someone who appreciates life. You are grateful for all that you have, never wanting more. People may be jealous of you, but that word doesn't exist in your vocabulary and that may make them furious lmao. Pile one's you are such a sweet, warm, and kind person. It is hard to find someone like you in this world.

With the animal oracle cards, you are independent and probably enjoy your own company. Where everyone else may get bored staying home all day, especially on their own, you thrive in such an environment. Maybe your hobbies involve things such as art, reading, writing, playing video games, or something musical, where staying home or within your own company is where you're able to have the most fun.

Challenges are what make you incredibly strong, you are a dreamer and someone who has a strong potential to become a tarot reader too! There is something incredibly mystical and graceful to you. You see things most people may not even understand. You get people on deeper levels, but also yourself. There is so much wisdom and goodness within you, so much elegance, beauty and love. People who are jealous of you don't understand that. I feel like, only people who have so much negativity and hate would be jealous of you. They wouldn't appreciate your inner world and your good nature.

Extra messages + why people would be jealous:

'I must seek to befriend the hidden parts of self, the darkness that embraces the whole of who I am'

you completely understand yourself, you accept yourself for who you are, both the good and the bad. You are content with who you are and that is so, so beautiful.

'Sweep away ill intent while creating boundaries weaved with protection. A witch respects passages of safety'

because you have accepted yourself, you also respect who you are. Therefore, you don't let people with bad intentions close, your boundaries are clear.

'There's something so intimate when letters reflect the tongue, in times of introspection when I am at my most vulnerable and revealing all the lives in me'

doubles down on you understanding yourself, especially your inner world, and enjoying your own company.

'Thread by thread I weave my desires, working as one with the source of creative power'

you are so strong Pile one. Whatever you put your mind to, you can achieve. You have the knight of pentacles energy, the ability to take your time, moving with a steady pace towards your dreams.

pile 2 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: hermit, three of wands, ten of cups, emperor, king of cups | Lynx: keeper of secrets, lion: higher calling, squirrel: always prepared, sea turtle: protection, snowdrops, winter woodlands, milk moon witch, dark days of winter

People are jealous of your ability to look within and come out stronger. You enjoy your own company and solitude, able to find the deeper meaning or purpose within your life. At the point you are reading this pac, you may be levelling up within your career or life, or you are constantly achieving. People are jealous of your successful nature, feeling closer towards envy. You may even have a good relationship with your family, especially your father, and feel content surrounded by those you care about - you may thrive in such an environment.

You are someone who creates your own future through your efforts, beliefs, and preparedness. You are someone who is able to work just as hard as you have fun. There is this playful and cheerful nature to you that is so contagious, just like the courage in your heart. The Lynx card is just like the hermit, 'in silence and solitude, you will find your strength'. There is so much confidence in your self, in your ability to make the right choices. You are also great at keeping secrets and seeing things in other people - either deception or their true selves. You work hard, yet you also have the ability to go with flow. There are so many layers to you and yet you are an incredibly balanced individual. You create your own path, your own rhythm and flow in life. And this is what people are jealous as sometimes they feel stuck on the path they were given, or clueless on the direction they wish to pursue yet, with you, you draw your own line on the map and follow it with so much perseverance and strength. You're unwavering, like a turtle which swims along the current of the ocean.

Extra messages + why people would be jealous:

'when all seems to stem from the unknown, hold firm in knowing all will be as it should'

you have this understanding and trust in your abilities, unwavering and strong in the path that you follow. People are jealous of you being someone unable to give up no matter what challenge presents itself.

'Take time to honour what you feel. Self-compassion is the healing balm you desire'

you accept your feelings, you love and trust yourself when most don't, and you truly understand who you are as a person. There is a sense of respect towards yourself that others wish they felt towards themselves.

'Watch as the tides turn in your favour, weaving the waters within and conjuring unspoken desire'

whatever wish, goal, or dream you have, you're able to achieve and fulfil. It's as though both luck and your skills are what lead you through the path of greatness, and this feels more like that of envy than jealousy of your life and achievements.

'I must seek to befriend the hidden parts of self, the darkness that embraces the whole of who I am'

Again, just like the hermit, you are able to accept both the good and bad traits within you, admitting that they are what make you, you. These shadow selves show that you are human, that you have flaws just like everyone else and you aren't ashamed of them. This confidence and love for yourself is what people feel jealous of.

pile 3 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: ace of swords, page of swords, three of cups, two of pentacles, ace of pentacles, nine of pentacles, five of swords, lovers, seven of swords | fox: clever, tiger: fire, penguin: authentic, dog: friend, black bear, horned owl, casserole, cinnamon rolls

There seems to be a lot of jealous energy around you pile 3. This could be from people who you are around often, or those who you had cut off. You may have had conflict with a friend group of 3 or more people, and these friends may be the jealous ones, which their jealousy could have been the reason for conflict, tension, or the falling apart of this friendship.

The reason as to why people may be jealous of you is because of your communication skills. You are someone who is able to express their thoughts and feelings clearly, articulately, and may even be witty. There is likely this intelligence to you, especially a social and verbal intelligence. You may be incredibly good at forming connections and networking. The way you communicate brings forth opportunities that may lead to wealth. You are goal-oriented and always look towards the future and towards a new adventure. There is this humbleness to you, this gratitude, and people are jealous of what you have achieved and what you have. They're jealous because they see you as having more than them, about having the life they wish they had. This could also be skills of yours that they're jealous of.

You are also good at balancing your relationships with your life and work, you have so much love, warmth, and kindness to you. If you are in a relationship, they are jealous of that as well, as they see it as an ideal connection. Even with conflict, you are warm, understanding, and still value the people who you are tense with. It frustrates them. I keep getting this negative energy. This frustrated, irritated, and jealous person/people that don't seem to have an ounce of good intentions towards you. If they are ex friends and you were the one to end the relationship, I am so, so proud of you. You did well, even if it were hard, you deserve only good things and people to surround you, especially as you seem like such a lovely character with so much love around you.

With the oracle cards, they're jealous of your mind, of your intelligence. You always find a solution to problems that arise, you have a strong instinct and have a lovely heart. You have this fire within you, this drive and determination. You have so much passion and are unmoving from your path - bold and brave. You are also unafraid to be your authentic self, and people are jealous because they put on an act, lacking in confidence and bravery. You value relationships, family and all close connections, loving your uniqueness and constantly surprise others in a pleasant way. You may be loved by most people, simply because you are you. You are yourself and no one can change that. You are a true friend and a true companion. You are loyal, a protector, a happy and positive person, as well as having a lot of energy and enthusiasm to you. People really do want to be like you, they want to see the world and themselves the way you do. To have such drive, determination, and enthusiasm.

Extra messages + why people would be jealous:

'your existence is the resistance. All you must do is accept the power waiting you arrival' This relates back to you being your authentic self. You don't let anyone tell you who you are or who you should be. You being yourself is resisting against cultural norms and societal expectations. Could even be the expectations of your friends, family, and environment. You know your own strength and power.

'become the shadow that watches, keeping quiet while moving intentionally'

this could be focused more so on the people who are jealous - to be aware of those around you. To watch, to observe, to make note of possible red flags. Be careful of who you trust and who you let into your life. It is important that you protect yourself as these people are like shadows that you may not notice. They are quiet but their intentions are there.

'trust in the flavours that led you here, an unexpected alignment. Let it move you in ways that capture your soul'

People are jealous of your experiences, the way they shaped you into the person that you are now. You have so many things to talk about, so much to share, so much you have lived through and will continue to experience. There is so much depth, strength, and resilience to you.

'warm my heart; all-deserving comfort readies my heart'

You really are a warm, welcoming, loving, and kind soul. You wear your heart on your sleeve, a comforting presence open to love and connections. It is important that you know and appreciate that side to you as well as it is so, so beautiful. So precious and sweet.

pile 4 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: two of cups, emperor, two of swords, knight of cups, magician, ace of swords, five of pentacles, fool, eight of cups | black jaguar: old soul, butterfly: rebirth, swan: grace, lion: higher calling, arts and crafts, Angelica, river rocks, bathing ritual

People are jealous of your ability to create meaningful and lasting connections/relationships. You have this ability to be like the emperor and the knight of cups, there are two very different sides to you that creates a sense of balance. The emperor is one of authority, confidence, strength, and a protector. They are like that of a pillar within relationships and are great caretakers too, you don't bend or break for any or anything, and you even communicate in such a way - as well as communicating with clarity and intelligence, having such an intricate way of words. The other side to you is one of romance, innocence, gentleness, and this sense of childlike wonder. There is this purity to you and this excitement, adventure, and energy. It's as though you are like an old and new soul in one. You know your purpose, you have a strong value of people and relationships, but you also have a creative, romantic, dreamer side too, with so much emotion and sensitivity.

Even when you feel alone/lonely, or if you're struggling financially, you have this optimism to you, and this drive to get out of such feelings and situations. You don't let the negativity of your life or surroundings bring you down, you don't dwell or stay at a standstill, you find ways to leave it all behind in search for something great.

You really are that of an old soul with the black jaguar oracle. You move through life with this confidence and grace, you know what you want and you don't lose sight of it, turning your dreams into reality. You are constantly changing, growing, transforming, and reinventing yourself. You are open to change and the good that would come out of it. You love and appreciate the journey and, once you arrive at the end of it, you have so much gratitude and are humble of your achievements. There is also this beauty, wisdom, and elegance to you, like the swan, you grab others attention and respect/appreciation of you. You have this dignity, like royalty, you carry yourself well. You have courage to face hardships, you don't live in the past, able to let go of things that no longer serve you because you know your worth. You really do value relationships, finding contentment and strength in them.

Extra messages + why people would be jealous:

'nothing exists without the essence of spirit. May it be whispers or chants, your energy is what brings life to all that you create'

you may be an artist or creative, someone who has such a strong energy and puts a lot of effort, character, and life into whatever you do. There is passion, authenticity, and something deep and real to you.

'the bells have rung far and near. Underneath feathered wings, my dear, you have nothing to fear'

You protect your health, heart, and mind well, as well as those around you. You are a protector to people you care about and yourself. You are a pillar, a source of strength, and you don't let others worry or fear things.

'go with the current, dear one; find peace in letting go. Let life wash over your soul and welcome your becoming'

You are likely someone who goes with the flow, you don't let things hurt you or people to not treat you right. You leave situations and relationships that do not serve you, you let go when it is necessary so to protect your peace and yourself. This is what lets you to grow into a strong character.

'with you, water spirit, I wash away what no longer serves me and drink in spells that call for healing'

Similar to the one above, you are good at healing yourself, about not letting past hurts affect the you today. You cleanse your heart and mind of pain and troubles, and you let yourself feel only what you know you deserve - happiness, positivity, love and light. And that is truly beautiful and what others who may be struggling or have negativity in their hearts would be jealous of.

[mead-iocre]

Furnace Girlfriend | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: it's too bloody hot for a cuddle

warnings: slightly suggestive at the end

wc: 1.2 k words

You wake up– again. 

Clammy and far from pleased, you shuffle so you are laying somewhat on your back. Heat and perspiration pollute the air making it almost hard to breath comfortably. Despite being dressed in a thin tank top and shorts, your skin still prickled with sweat. You feel an uncomfortable dampness beneath your knees, probably a result of your body sweating through the night and seeping into the cotton that now clings to your skin. You’ve been slipping in and out of sleep, unable to fall into slumber, and it doesn’t help that your girlfriend loves to cuddle. Leah is pressed against your back, every inch of exposed skin sticky against yours. At first you thought buying a king sized bed would be enough to give you both ample space, especially in sweltering summer nights like this, but you should have known better than to underestimate your Leah. 

You love her but when the temperature is at boiling point, and her generous body heat was making things worst, you are left to suffer on your own at– a quick peek at your phone screen that nearly blinds you– 2 am in the morning. Your hair is tacky against the back of your neck, only adding to your growing fickle mood. You could try to wiggle away, to create some room between the two of you, but you were on the edge of the bed and the next wiggle will send you face-first on the hard wooden floors. 

Craning your head slightly, you try to make out your girlfriend’s form in the dark and sure enough she was fast asleep, uncaring for the heat wave emitting from within these four walls. When you squint even harder, you see that not only was she perfectly content to slumber in her own sweat, her lower half was covered under the 100% solid Egyptian cotton blanket that was sourced from Italy. You were sure you had kicked the blanket off of the bed before you both went to bed— so what it was doing back on the bed, blanketing your girlfriend in this heat, is a question you did not care to find an answer to right now.

You had had enough. 

Swinging your legs off to the side, wincing at the stickiness of your skin as it leaves the cotton, you grab a pillow and slip on your shearling slippers. You blindly make your way around the room, careful not to bump into anything that might wake your girlfriend from her cosy sleep, the lucky fucker. If you were in a better mood you might’ve left your girlfriend with a peck or two, but you were hot and irritated right now, so no kisses for her. When you feel for the doorknob, you twist it open, making sure to shut it gently behind you. You make the journey downstairs to the living room, still groggy and still annoyed. Turning on the lamp by the side table, you start to arrange your bed for the rest of the night. 

You practically collapse onto the sofa, audibly sighing at the coolness in the living room compared to the sweltering heat in the bedroom. The air is slightly cooler here, a faint breeze from a slightly open window. You sprawl out as much as you can, welcoming the space and lack of a furnace in the form of your girlfriend. Though still warm, the cooler air and the softness of the sofa are enough to lull you into falling back asleep. Your body finally begins to cool down as you drift off, hoping for an undisturbed sleep and a more bearable morning. 

But all good things do come to an end at some point. 

You shift, adjusting uncomfortably at the weight on your front.

Why did it feel like you were being weighed down by something?

Opening your eyes, you blink away the sleep and look around. Streams of light peeked through the sliver of space in between the curtains. The air feels fresh, and there's a gentle quietness that hints at the world just waking up. When you look down, all you see is a mass of blonde hair. 

Leah. 

Your girlfriend, that you had left sleeping in bed upstairs, is now sprawled on top of you on the living room sofa. Her head was tucked into the crook of your neck, and you could feel warm puffs of breath against your skin. It was hard to tell if she was sleeping, or how long she had been laying on top of you like this. You reach up, sneaking a hand under her tank top and run it across the small of her back. Tidy nails lightly scratching her bare skin, you nudge her awake. “Lee…”

“You lef’me in bed” 

So she is awake.

“Leah” You grumble louder, the heat once again creeping up to you again now that you’ve got your personal furnace back on top of you. “Love, it was boiling up there–”

“Don’t give a fuck. You don’t leave me alone in bed” 

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. There was absolutely no way you were going to sleep alone, especially now that Leah knew where you were sneaking off to cool off without her. Her iron grip around your waist and her legs tangled around yours was proof of that. 

“But it’s so hot, and you’re a human furnace”

“yeah well I ain’t having it when its cold and you need this human furnace to warm you up”

Suddenly, the blonde sits up so she was straddling your waist. Your eyes open, and you squint up at her, confused as to what she was up to.

“Sit up” 

“What? Lee, I’m tired and barely got any sleep–“ 

“Come on. Up you get” She tugs at the material of your tank top. “It’ll be quick and it’ll help with your overheating problem”

You sit up abruptly, gasping exaggeratedly at her teasing. “I do NOT have an overheating problem– you're the human heating system”

“C'mon. Arms up” Leah grabs the bottom of your tank top in her hands. You could already guess what she was planning to do, and made no move to stop her. 

She pulls your tank top over your head, leaving you in your black cotton bra. “Cheeky. You just want a look at my tits”

“I’m doing this to help, baby” She laughs, but doesn’t deny your accusations. 

“Shorts too?” She cares to ask but in fact she’s already shuffling off and standing to the side so she can shimmy your shorts down your legs for you. Once you are left in only your bra and panties, Leah grins at you— and there too goes her own t-shirt. 

Now left only in her plaid boxers and sports bra, your girlfriend gestures for you to shuffle over across the sofa. You raise an eyebrow at her, but do as she says. “Why do I have to move? I was here first”

“Because…” Leah starts, producing her own pillow seemingly out of thin air. She must’ve brought one down from the bedroom and you only just noticed now. She throws her pillow down beside yours, fluffs it up, and then settles beside you. “I don’t want you falling off the sofa, baby”

She snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you to her as close as possible. You lay on your sides, face to face, and this time you gladly welcome her touch. Her hand stroked up and down your back, lightly massaging away the tension in your muscles from the hours you were deprived of Egyptian cotton sheets. Her touch far too intimate, too suggestive, for early morning shenanigans. You giggle when her massaging seizes, her hand stopping just above your panties, and her pinky finger slips just underneath the lace. “Cheeky” You whisper, all conspiringly.

“shhh” She hushes you, pecking your nose, but makes no move to remove her hand. In fact, her entire hand has now slipped under the lace, greedy and groping for skin.

It’s not as hot anymore thanks to the lack of layers, and you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were having trouble sleeping without your girlfriend beside you. If she had waited another hour in bed, you probably would’ve slipped back into bed with her. 

“gimme a kiss” Is said with a pat to your ass. You chuckle breathily when you can just about make out her lips pursed into a pout, the dim lights catching the wetness of her bottom lip. You do as she says and kiss her, savouring the feel of her soft lips against yours. Placing a few more sweet pecks against her pouty lips when she chases yours for more, you will yourself to end the kiss before you both end up losing more sleep doing other things.

“now sleep, love”

Inspired by the heatwave around the UK lately.

it's so bloody hot I've been living off of cornetto ice cream, an electric fan, and lemonades all week.

-- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[palettepainter]

Does Doey ever find out the origin of his creation, if so, what are his thoughts on it? Is it relieving to know the source of all that confusion, or does it add more stress to his mind?

(pulls up a chair) No no no cuz lets talk about this-

Doey goes on to explain what the interrogation rooms are in ch 4 and his own experiences in them, he also goes on to talk about the doctor and how he knows that A) he knows his name is Harley Swayer and B) he knows Harley was responsible for creating him/the other bigger bodies

In cannon I think it's highly likely that Doey is aware of what it is Playtime is doing with the orphans, and then during the final fight where he says "Mommy daddy i just wanna go home" implies that he at least remembers interacting with Susan and George before they died (rip)

BUT...What if he didn't know that?? HM?? Imagine how utterly world destroying that would be: Doey waking up as this thing, he isn't human, nor animal, he's a thing. Property. Playtime Co prod at him and have his work like a mule. For a long time Doey views himself as just that, a thing, he has no identity, and he hates it.

After the hour of joy and safe haven is created, Doey finally feels like he's learning about himself for the first time. He can interact with toys not because he's being forced to, but because he can, he can be him, he can learn who he is.

Imagine going through all that pain and suffering, finally getting to a point where you a content with who you are and the family you have built from the painful situation you were forced into without a say, only to then have your identity taken away to when you learn that no. You aren't Doey, you never were just Doey, you are three kids, three helpless kids that were forced to become Doey

The identity you built for yourself has been built on the death of three innocent kids, your identity is build on pain and ultimately death

You are not Doey, nor Jackie, nor Kevin, nor Matthew, you don't know what you are anymore..

EDIT: (COMES CRASHING BACK INTO THIS POST TO ADD)

DOEY FEELING ALL THIS ANGUISH, ANGER AND SADNESS BUT NEVER KNOWING IT'S ORIGIN, ONLY TO LEARN THAT ALL THOSE FEELINGS WERE NEVER HIS OWN, IT WAS SOMEONE ELSES SUFFERING. MAKING HIM QUESTION IF ANY OF HIS CHOICES, FEELINGS OR TIMES OF HAPPINESS HAVE EVER BEEN HIS. WAS ANYTHING HE DID EVER HIS??

[shousetsubangbang]

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[anim-ttrpgs]

Go read check out Unchained Mysteries by Jesse Burneko

I recently was altered to and read a treatise called Unchained Mysteries, and it’s incredible that I had never heard of it before. It’s not a TTRPG, but it is a treatise about TTRPGs, particularly mystery investigation TTRPGs, and how bad they have been for the past 50 years at actually doing investigation gameplay.

For the roughly two years since we went public with Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, we have been fighting a war, an idealogical war on TTRPGs as an artform declared by monopolistic corporations, parasocial “”actual play”” shows, content mill YouTube channels and the loyal adherents of the above. The generals of this vast army, whether they consciously realize it or not, have a financial incentive to teach you that game design is not real and that it doesn’t matter. A consumerbase that understands game design or what a TTRPG is on even the narrowest, shallowest level is one where some people might sometimes choose to play something besides the most popular and heavily advertised game on the market when they are able to recognize that it does not suit their needs.

To this end they teach you “just ignore the rules when they get in the way of the story,” and “a good GM can make anything work.” They task the GM with putting on a one-man show so that people who do not like the kinds of experiences created by the rules of the most popular game do not ever have to engage with the experiences of playing the most popular game, but still buy all the most popular game’s products, and most importantly never buy anything else.

It’s been an uphill battle, but we have been able to carve out a little outpost for ourselves, convert others to the Game Design in Real faction, and occasionally make contact with like-minded individuals who fight for TTRPGs to be treated as a unique and meaningful artform and game, not just an annoying book that gets in the way of your improv session, as most self-identified fans of TTRPGs have been taught to treat them.

Unchained Mysteries is one of those times we discover a powerful ally, and it has been some real wind in my sails, lemme tell you.

As a TTRPG game designer, it really wears on the mind to get the same comments over and over and over from people who don’t even know enough about gleeblor to understand the position they’re taking, that all boil down to the same thing: Telling me that my work, and the work of others trying to design TTRPGs, is, at best, completely meaningless, because the rules we write shouldn’t be assumed to affect anything, that the right way to play TTRPGs is to just ignore the rules and make it up as you go. At worst, they get offended, and demand to know “why I’m trying to tell them how they should play the game” in the instruction manual for the game. And come at me with shonen hero monologues about how as an artist I have no right to even want people to engage with my art the way that I intentionally designed it to be engaged with, let alone have the audacity to express that desire. People’s right to not think about anything and put in the least possible effort for the quickest, shortest gratification is sacred, especially because game design isn’t real, so there’s no way that following the intent behind the design could lead to a more meaningful experience than just running off vibes.

And all this with the financial stress of being unable to keep a “normal” job due to disability, making my art my main source of income on top of the constant reaffirmation that large amounts of potential customers have been taught that the kind of art I’m best at and most passionate about, art that is really really trying to provide a particular experience through its design and intent, is the most undesirable kind of art, if they even know that kind art exists within the medium of TTRPGs at all.

Sorry about all that.

Anyway, it would have been cool to find such a well-written piece of writing that agrees with Eureka’s stance on investigative TTRPG gameplay on one point.

It would’ve been really cool to find such a well-written piece of writing that agrees on two points.

The points made, the problems highlighted, and the solutions proposed within Unchained Mysteries are about a 90% overlap with Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy’s, and presents them even more convincingly. (Which is to be expected, since it exists only to make these points rather than also being a whole game.)

If you’re interested in the arguments Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy makes and demonstrates about game design, give Unchained Mysteries a read.

[luvvyouforever]

vampire!emily prentiss

you are mine, you shall be mine, you and i are one for ever. ꨄ

-carmilla, sheridan le fanu

content: vampire au, wlw imagined when writing, lowk sugar mommy dynamic, sex, possessive, blood, feeding.

𖤐 uses her immortality to enjoy all that life has to offer. indulges in expensive trips, luxurious fabrics, international delicacies, and art collection. her home is always beautiful no matter where she lives and becomes her own personal museum. probably has storage units around the world holding her keepsakes.

𖤐 works for fun rather than for money. creates new lives for herself when she gets bored with one. essentially builds an entire character and lives as her in some new place. will change her hair or her entire style so she's not recognized.

𖤐 if she had some way to just ethically source blood like premade bags or something along those lines, she would. but if those options aren't available, she will feed and drain the worst, almost like a vigilante.

𖤐 she is suchhhh a seductress, luring people in for pleasure and company easily. all she has to do is attend an event dressed to the nines and lean against a table before she has people crawling to her.

𖤐 when she meets you, she's entranced immediately. thinks about you all night long, dreaming of touching your skin and brushing your hair away and feeling your lips on hers. she tries not to let herself wonder what your blood tastes like but she can't help it when you're close and she can smell it.

𖤐 spoils you to no end, but makes sure she's buying you the best of the best. she's so good at being rich and enjoying luxury that she practically has to teach you. she shows you what expensive fabrics feel like and makes some expensive drink for you saying this is the only way you can enjoy vodka.

𖤐 i think she confesses to you that she's a vampire rather than you finding it out in some dramatic fashion. she feels herself becoming more attached to you and she's lived so long that she knows it's better to be upfront about it to keep you.

𖤐 i like to think that if there was some way to have you eternally and let you live alongside her for the rest of her life, she would want that, but she would make sure you're really sure. eternity is not what everyone makes it out to be, she says. but she would be so heartbroken if you said no, knowing she has to watch you age.

𖤐 loves teasing you by dragging her sharp teeth along your skin, sending shivers down your entire body as you think about how powerful she is, what she's truly capable of. enjoys making you come completely undone for her.

𖤐 she has so much experience and knows exactly what to do to make your body sing for her. she can draw it out for an entire night, keeping you down on the bed, making you finish around her till you're a babbling mess. or she can take you against the kitchen counter quickly, having you leave for work in record time.

𖤐 is very possessive and claiming of you. she gets angry at someone's touch against you, even more so if they've been so close to you that she can smell them. licks along your neck, muttering 'mine' the whole way up.

𖤐 will totally gift you something that makes it glaringly clear that you're taken. she'll gift you a locket with her initial carved into it, or an ornate ring she picked up centuries ago. you wear it with pride, so happy to have been gifted something beautiful, but she's smirking as she feels her possessiveness quelled a little bit.

freaky vampire blood stuff below i'm sorry (no i'm not):

𖤐 it would take multiple conversations for her to be comfortable with feeding from you. she likes strict boundaries and open discussion and prioritizes your health over anything. she informs you about how you're gonna feel, how the process will work, everything. when she receives another confirmation from you, she can't help but feel excited that she finally gets to taste you.

𖤐 the first time she does it, she makes it an intimate experience as if it was your first time having sex. makes it dark in the room, lays you down on the plush bed and crawls on top of you. she asks for permission one more time and when you readily give it to her, she bends down and gently seeks her teeth into your neck.

𖤐 from that moment, she's obsessed. she dreams about your taste and craves it all the time. but if nothing, she's great at self-control. she holds herself off until you've recovered, then she will practically crawl to you, begging for another taste. it's the most submissive you've ever seen her.

𖤐 she lost her mind when, as she was about to cum during sex, you lifted your neck, offering her the perfect spot to sink her mouth onto. she finishes just at the moment that your blood fills her. she never wants to leave your side.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Commonplace Book

Commonplace Book - a system for writing down and sorting all manner of tidbits: quotes, anecdotes, observations, and information gleaned from books, conversations, movies, song lyrics, social posts, podcasts, life experiences, or anything else that you might want to return to later.

It’s called a commonplace book because you collect all of this in one common place—a central resource that makes it easy to find, re-read, and utilize each piece of wisdom you have obtained.

Some prefer a commonplace notebook system, while others use an intricate series of index cards, and others still create a digital commonplace book using various apps.

Ways to Keep a Commonplace Book

There is no one right way to keep and use a commonplace book. It is critical to find a style and system that feels comfortable to you so that keeping up with commonplacing doesn’t become a chore. After all, the purpose of the book is to save time and provide inspiration.

Notecards. One popular method utilizes notecards filed in a small box using dividers that can be labeled according to topic. You’ll write your recently gleaned nugget of wisdom on a single card, and then file it under an appropriate topic, which can be virtually anything (“Creativity,” “Finances,” “Humor”). Rather than force a range of topics on your commonplace book at the beginning, let your categories of interest emerge organically as you come across new bits you want to add. Furthermore, buying index cards in different colors can allow for another level of organization, such as the type of information stored on the card. For instance, you may decide to use pink cards for literary passages, white cards for overheard quotes, and green cards for ideas.

Notebooks. Another method involves filling notebooks with commonplace entries. While this fosters less flexibility, you can still create a system for sorting your chosen tidbits. Leave space at the beginning of each notebook for a table of contents, within which you are free to enter anything (a title, a source, a brief summary) that quickly evokes the specific quote, idea, or anecdote that you’ve written down in the book. Also leave space at the end of each notebook for an index. Here you can list topics or themes that appear within the entries of your commonplace book (“Leadership,” “Nature,” “Writing”), as well as the type or source of information gathered (“quote,” “story,” “idea”) if you wish. The notebook approach makes it a bit easier to cross-reference when an entry touches on more than one topic or theme.

Digital. You can use various apps and word-processing programs for digital commonplacing. Depending upon the program, you may be able to tag individual entries with relevant topics, themes, info types, and sources, and then later sort your entries using the tag of your choice.

Whatever method you use for commonplacing, the most important thing is to keep adding to your book. This is a lifelong process, and its value increases the more that you put into it.

Benefits of Keeping a Commonplace Book

To remember what inspired you. Living in the Information Age, it’s easy to come across interesting figures of speech, inspirational passages, and new favorite quotes—and just as easy to forget them once you’ve moved on to something else. Having your own commonplace book allows you to return to these tidbits and rediscover the feeling they originally gave you.

To save hours on research. If you’ve got a writing project—whether it’s an article, a speech, a novel, or a memoir—having a commonplace book can save you tons of time. You can skip scouring your memory, searching the Internet, or combing through the marginalia of your book collection when you have a personalized encyclopedia of quotations, references, and ideas.

To find unexpected connections. Commonplacing is a unique form of note-taking in that you are basically bookmarking anything that you find interesting. Depending on your system of cataloging, this means a quote from a Greek philosopher might end up next to a lyric from a pop song or a story a friend told you. In writing, such connections can lead to inspiration.

To focus your future reading. As your own commonplace book evolves, you may find that you have a new lens by which to approach and examine media you consume. Reading books, listening to podcasts, or even having conversations can become didactic pursuits as you seek out perspectives and information that add to or differ from what you’ve already gathered.

Who Uses Commonplacing?

The idea of a commonplace book goes at least as far back as the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, whose Meditations—a vital text in Stoic philosophy—began as a private collection of notes, thoughts, and quotations.

The form picked up popularity in the Middle Ages thanks to Erasmus’s instructive De Copia.

It grew across the Renaissance (Francis Bacon made over 1,600 entries in his commonplace book) and the Enlightenment when John Locke penned A New Method of Making Common-Place-Books.

Commonplacing was adopted by all sorts of intellectuals by the 17th and 18th centuries and continues to be to this day.

Thomas Jefferson was known to keep one commonplace book for legal references and another for literary ones.

Authors like Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mark Twain, and Virginia Woolf used the technique, while modern proponents include Ronald Reagan and Bill Gates.

Though essentially a written form of scrapbooking, commonplacing has been valuable to countless big thinkers over the years.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[its-to-the-death]

Fourth Wall Fight Round 4

Flowey (Undertale) vs Mother (Shoot From the Hip - The Leftenmost Window)

Propaganda for each character below the cut! May include spoilers

Flowey

While Undertale is a game riddled with cracks in the fourth wall, Flowey is one of the only characters to directly address you, the player. If you open the game again after completing the true ending, Flowey pops up and talks to you, asking you not to reset the game in the following scene:

(Spoilers for all of Undertale) Even if for most of the game Flowey is content to watch you from offscreen, when he does talk to you he makes sure to be as threatening as possible. He reveals his knowledge of your ability to save and reset the game early on, taunting you about your mistakes and threatening to take your power back for himself. He does so at the end of the Neutral Route by hijacking six human souls and creating a pocket dimension where he can kill you forever, and when that fails he guides you towards completing the True Pacifist route, which gives him the opportunity to use the souls of all the monsters in the Underground to substitute for a seventh human soul to try and lock you in a better death loop. Over the course of several runs trying to get the golden ending, it is assumed that the player will grow to fear and then hate the little flower, which makes the No Mercy route's reversal of this dynamic more impactful. Before you, the player, entered the Underground, Flowey had control of the save file and messed around a lot with his reset powers. At first he tried to figure out how to make everyone happy, but he grew bored with that and eventually started using his powers to kill without consequences -- he started by hiding behind the excuse of being curious but then admitted he enjoyed it. He only reveals this backstory to you at the end of the No Mercy route (while also calling out playthrough watchers for "want[ing] to see it, but [being] too weak to do it themselves"), when, presumably, you have already finished the True Pacifist route and are curious about what would happen if you went in the opposite direction, making your journey the same as Flowey's. Previously, he had taken joy in goading you towards murder, even against him, but he doesn't get to appreciate that now as he realizes that you're about to kill him for real this time, and you do, as the world is destroyed about a minute later. This meta-commentary on what it means to be a player is only made possible by Flowey's ability to talk directly to you, which is impressive enough on its own, but even more impressive is that it doesn't stop at condemnation. See, after Flowey had been killing for a while, he realized that that was getting boring too, and got to the point where he ended up waiting around without resetting long enough for you to show up and usurp his power -- at first he was scared of not being in control, but then he realized that you could provide him with a fresh source of entertainment and set to work plotting how to come out on top. At the end of the True Pacifist route, you end up defeating Flowey by causing him to feel the emotions of all the souls he's absorbed, forcing him to reflect and realize that his endless fight with you -- which supposedly would cure his boredom by allowing to experience the high of killing someone who will never react the same way -- isn't actually fulfilling him, and that all he really wanted was a chance to let out the grief and fear that had consumed him for so long, for example, by yelling his issues at the only other person with first-hand experience resetting. Afterwards, he decides to give life another shot without powers and uses up his soul energy to break the barrier and let everyone go to the Surface, proving that no matter how far you let yourself go, you can still come back. (And postcanon dialogue released later suggests that he does end up finding ways to be happy.) But should you boot up the game again after the credits roll, Flowey will pop up and beg you not to reset or load your file for the sake of everyone's happy ending , and thus Undertale asks one final question -- can you too, let go of the safety of the game and move on?

He can overwite your save file, refers to everything as being a game and either calls you out for watching someone else play the bad route or not actually killing people irl.

Mother

From video clip (starting at 5:19) until 6:25. It’s just such an iconic scene

MOTHER she literally walks into the audience

[s1lu3s]

INSPIRATION ISSUES, rafayel.

warnings: suggestive content +18, masturbation, voyeur, fem!oc. pairing: rafayel x y/n. notes: this is my first shot about him!! hope u like it <3 if you find any mistakes, pls tell me (english is not my first language) comments and repost are appreciated <3 credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

With Rafayel out of town in order to find some inspiration for several days, you stayed alone in the apartment you both share.

Bored and unwilling to do anything, tonight you especially felt very much in need of him.

However, he never let you know when he would be back and you don't want to bother him with your stupid and unimportant concerns.

You wish you had agreed to go with him, but your job as a hunter obliged you from doing so.

And you know you can't let Jenna, or any of your other teammates, down. Both, Rafayel and you know that your rigid morals prevent you from doing so every time he proposes such an escapade from your work.

You close your eyes, sink your head into the pillow and raise your hips as you imagine the same fantasy you've had with him over and over again this lonely week.

“Rafayel...” you murmur, squeezing one of your breasts and stroking your clit in slow circles.

You feel your fluids sliding down your thighs, your breathing ragged and erratic and your pulse rising higher and higher.

You imagine how he would do it if it was here.

Firstly, he would turn you around so that you would focus your attention only on him as he would play with your folds before delivering a single thrust and creating a torturous rhythm that would trigger an unstoppable state of frenzy on you.

You outline your own folds with one finger, which enters easily inside you because of the wetness you have between your legs. So you start to fuck your fingers in and out, feeling how your cunt is stretching them.

“Mph...” lascivious sounds burst from your lips as you change the rhythm of your fingers, curling them when they reach your walls and arching your back while you find that sweet spot that has your thighs trembling and put your eyes in blank while you hit it several times.

The warmth you radiate spreads throughout your body and you begin to feel a slight tingling sensation.

You are about to finish, when you hear a low grunt coming from the corner of the room.

You raise your head and notice a familiar figure sitting. Watching you.

“Oh, please don't stop for me. Go on, show me how much you have missed me these days.” Rafayel's voice is low and demanding, you even are able to catch that it denotes a lustful tone.

You obey. So you reassume your previous action, again directing your hand to the place between your legs, this time, turned, with your back on the mattress and staring back at him through the darkness. Your fluid always helping you to better slide your fingers through your folds, passing near by your needy clit and finally sliding into your walls.

In fact, you were closer for the orgasm you had been searching for. A couple of thrusts curling your fingers and moving them in and out, a thrust with your hips, and your legs begin to tremble slightly.

You squint, catching a fleeting glimpse of Rafayel holding a notebook and pencil and gazing at you.

“You know, these days I had gone looking for inspiration when I realized one thing. You are my source, the engine that gives life to my drawings.” His words are all you need to let yourself be carried away by the final wave of ecstasy. “A true work of art.” He mumbles and continues sketching strokes on the paper for a few more minutes.

For your part, you simply lie back and settle yourself better on the mattress, controlling your breathing and closing your eyes as you feel in the left side a slight movement.

You feel a subtle pressure on your shoulder and hip when he stands next to you.

“I don't think I'll have any more inspiration problems.” He assures you, kissing your hair and lying down with you.