#[ the askbox mourns ]

[itsnotmourn]

could u possibly draw hatzgang having a picnic … i love your hatzgang art so so so much!!!!

three little fellas eating :3 and tysm!!

[pianokantzart]

Yes. I love angst... you all know this... but I'm also a big ol' sucker for happy endings where everyone gets to talk it through and hug it out.

I think if something happened to Mario– if he was presumed dead, even for only a few moments– Luigi would take up the mantel.

He'd do it with quivering hands and tears in his eyes, but he'd do it determined to honor his brother's memory in every way possible, even it means pushing himself beyond his limitations.

[sculkshrieking]

Bird request! You can do whichever you want but I wanted to toss a few of my bird feeder regulars at you lol

American Goldfinches are so pretty and bright

Mourning Doves make some of my favorite sounds

And Redheaded Woodpecker just for funsies because they’re neat

-@blackstoneslab

[@blackstoneslab] there's something almost haunting about a mourning dove call and it made me think of 3l desertduo </3

[emily-mooon]

Just know I'm always booping you in spirit <3

AHHHHH THANK YOU ME TOO <33333

Here’s a boop right now (x100)

[historiavn]

          @dancedfacades    said;         〝 UMBRELLA :  for one muse to share their umbrella with the other on a rainy day 〞⠀⠀︱ ⠀⠀Agatha⠀⠀!

╰►    SOURCE:      a comprehensive list of scenarios

AGATHA COULD USE HER MAGIC TO STOP THE THUNDERSTORM — but why in Oz’s name would she, when her companion was ever so kind as to offer her his umbrella? The chivalrous gentleman standing beside her was rewarded for his efforts with a small smile, and her gratitude was GENUINE. For all that Agatha enjoyed watching a good thunderstorm, it was never a pleasant experience to be drenched by the accompanying onslaught of pouring rain.

        “Thank you kindly, Mister …” Agatha began, only to then trail off upon realizing that she did not know this gentleman’s name. This necessary detail, however, was recalled moments later. “—oh!” She exclaimed, RECOGNITION flickering across her visage. “You’re the new transfer student, right? Fiyero Tiggular?” It would be most unfortunate if she were wrong; however, this boy perfectly matched the physical description that her mother had given her at breakfast that morning. “My mother told me that you’d be arriving today. I’m Agatha Morrible, Assistant Teacher of Sorcery here at Shiz.”

[kaerinio]

The amount of ship potential George added for Jhogo and Dany?? He was the first of her khas to pledge himself to her and make himself ko! That moment in Qarth? When he pulled her onto his horse and kept his arm around her waist? When he was smiling and whispering in her ear during the magic show, making her smile and laugh? When he told her that those who hide behind walls are already defeated and they're the cowards, not her. 😭 When he stepped in front of her, begging her not to touch or help a dying man because he had the bloody flux/could make her sick, and if he died and she touched him, she would be cursed. When he stared at her aghast as she skirted around him and did exactly what he begged her not to do? And he even relented and helped? When she handed him over as a hostage to the Yunkai'i  during the peace talks, along with Daario, her paramour, and Groleo, her Lord Admiral...and Barristan notes that Jhogo is incredibly dear to Dany. He even says that they pretty much have to get Jhogo back and that Daario can perish for all he cares. I JUST!!

[faehelmet]

seeing so many people being ignorant and dismissive and falling for misinfo so easily these past few days has really made me sick, if i'm honest

[critterbitter]

What do you know- I'm trying out the askbox *eyes*

anyway I just wanted to say that high-key I think I'd follow any content you make at this point bc your art brings me so much joy. That doesn't tend to happen super often since i am,,,, very much so a hyperfixation-focused person HAHA

regardless I'm not exactly quiet about it but I adore your art and I look forward to each new time you post :D

I WISH i had the capability of pumping out art like you do bc man while I love to draw and have so many ideas all the time picking up the pencil is Hard Dude.

Also! In a recent post you mentioned the whole Twin Dragons AU and HC that people love to have- I'd be super curious as to your opinion on it!

-( ╹▽╹ )

I SEE YOUR TAGS AND IM.

I’ll have to slow down at some point on that Submas Grind, but the hyperfixation throes are REAL. Thank you for inhabiting the tunnels with me! People that tag and cheer artists on are the real mvps of the art economy.

As for twin dragon aus!

I’ve always seen Emmet as more zekrom esque, and Ingo more reshiram esque. Is it cause the typing matches their starters? Maybe, hehe.

Ultimately though, the guys are too multifaceted for me to easily split them into truth and ideals.

I also see the legendaries as Eldritch Abominations Beyond Understanding, so having the dragons in my iteration become the twins would, uh, have consequences. The funny goofy story would dip into horror territory instead. (Reshiram demands only truths, and anything not Absolute will burn. And zekrom’s ideals are beyond human understanding, and trying to understand the mad tangle of thunder would drive somebody insane.)

(I’m a huge tma fan. Can you see it? Man.)

((Also N’s a scary mofo for summoning reshiram. I’m digging directly into the whole “twin heroes have a civil war and it destroyed unova” backstory that pokemon set up, and the more I think about it the stronger my dread mounts at the idea of Zekrom OR Reshiram casually flying overhead.

But this is also just how I see the legendaries of the pokemon world! Lugia sinks islands. Groudon covers towns. Arceus loves the mortal world, and mourns because its immortality only brings grief. Giritina hates, because it’s the ghostly remains of every one of Arceus’s mistakes given drive, banished into the distortion realm. Normal stuff!)

You sly dog, you got me monologing! But here’s the tldr: Not sure i’ll ever make my own serious Dragon AU that follows my internal world building for pokemon. I’m too attached to my favorite trope: “the smallest people can still initiate the biggest of changes”, and I’m too attached to my other favorite trope: “legendaries are actually gods and you Should Be Frightened.”

So that’s why, in this essay, if the trio gets turned into pokemon, I’d make them route 1 run of the mill rats. Because rats can do whatever they want.

(Plus, patrats and pachirisu aren’t banned from the subway battles last I checked.)

If i had to make a goofy crack dragon au though, I think this would be the result:

The whole story would just be the trio and historians trying to figure out what the hell the twins got turned into, and concerns of other people becoming pokemon as well. So far, people are convinced they’re a paradox version of an archen. (I mean…)

(Alternate take of THAT, where elesa gets turned into a victini.)

[yugsly]

Hello there

For about three weeks now I have Ben starring at viscera objectica afraid to open and read it… but when I finally summoned the courage I was blown away. The feelings are communicated through the art fantastically, and I found myself weeping when I reached the final page. I had a doll named Heidi who I loved I took her with me everywhere like Vito dose Theu. I shared similar feelings for her that he does in your book.

One day I brought her to the redwood forest to go camping with me, and while I was holding her, Heidi’s face just shattered. I don’t know why it did. We had not Ben rough I was always soft with her. It just did. So I wrapped her up to fix her when I returned home, she never made it home. the bag I had put her in for safe keeping fell into the river and was swept away.

I always thought it was foolish to mourn for her.

But reading your book I did, and I didn’t have to be alone doing so.

So from the bottom of my heart thank you for righting this beautiful book. thank you for filling it with so many wonderful pictures emotions and memories.

And thank you for the safe place in your last panel to curl up and cry and understand that my loss was real.

Reading it was just as difficult as I thought it would be emotionally. But it was the most worth while story I have read in years.

Keep being wonderful

Love

-Me

Hello anon, I've been keeping your message tucked in my askbox for months now... I remember back when I first read it, I had to cry for a very long time. I can't recall the last time I've had such a strong reaction to anything.

Why did I cry so much? Well, because it means the world to me that you'd share such a personal memory like this with me, because my obscurely themed comic touched you so much... this was one of the first few messages I received about my comic, and I was so blown away, I was like:

It was worth it. It was worth it to make a comic like this, to bare my soul in such a way, to make something so different than everyone is used to from me. I didn't think anyone would care. But it was worth it...

Anon, sincerely, thank you for sharing this memory, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond, I just wanted to hold onto it for a while...

Maybe others reading this will be as touched as I am. Thank you!

[pupkashi]

OH GOSH CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K!!!!

Your new prompt looks so good so i hope you dont mind me bomb your askbox with requests :P

Can i have prompt " “god you’re bleeding! how the hell did you do that?” “i was trying to cut the tomatoes!” with gojo???

thank you friend !! i hope you enjoy this little thing i put together :3 <3

join the party!

“i feel useless” satoru groans from the seat he’s taken at the kitchen bar, his chin resting in the palm of his hands as he sighs dramatically.

“you just got back from practically saving the world angel boy” you smile, glancing back your boyfriend as you take out some vegetables from the fridge. “the least i can do for you is make you some dinner,” and while your reasoning is sound, to satoru it seems completely outrageous.

“i thought living together was 50/50? why aren’t you letting me pull my own weight” he’s huffing at you and sitting back, crossing his arms over his chest and watching how expertly you’re seasoning the food you’re prepping.

“fine” satoru lights up at your voice, “you can help me cut these vegetables, im gonna go to the restroom” you point at the chopping board and the knife you’ve already set up. “just try to cut them like i did the ones in that bowl, okay?”

“yes captain!” he salutes as you walk past him, giggling when you place a kiss on his nose before heading into the restroom.

“it’s just tomatoes, what could go wrong?” he smiles, picking the knife up confidently.

a lot.

a lot could go wrong with a freshly sharpened knife and someone with poor knife handling skills like gojo satoru.

“d’you finish- oh my god you’re bleeding!” your eyes widen as you rush to your lovers side, running his hand under warm water and rushing to find the first aid kit. “how the hell did you do that? I left for three minutes!” you shriek, grabbing a bandaid and some alcohol wipes to clean the alarmingly deep wound.

“i was trying to cut the tomatoes!” he defends, holding still as you hold his hand gently, smiling a bit over how much you’re fussing over him. you’re mumbling something as you open the bandaid and gently place it over the gash, kissing it softly before moving away from your boyfriend.

“I’m banning you from the kitchen” you state, throwing away the wrappers before making your way to satoru and starting to push him away from the kitchen.

“i can just used some reversed curse technique and I’ll be fine!” his protests genuine as he continues to let you push him out, “my career is just starting don’t do this to me” dramatically crying as you shove him into the seat he was originally sat in.

“I’d rather you relax and stay cut free than using your cursed energy over some damn tomatoes” you smile, brushing his floppy hair out of his eyes and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“sweetheart?”

“yes angel boy?” satoru only points to the stove, your eyes following his finger as you scramble away from him.

“i burnt the chicken!” you scream.

satoru doesn’t bother hiding his laughter, already ordering your favorite takeout as you mourn what could’ve been some amazing chicken.

[hunybody]

man rest in peace to the weaponized aids references in my mentions (due to tommy kinard's ugly block face). rest in peace prolific hatred of lesbians (due to tommy kinard's strangely square fridge-like qualities). rest in peace to my askbox being flooded with absolute freaks (have we ever noticed tommy kinard has cavernous, ghoulish features, like an ugly nosferatu). we will surely miss all this (been thinking recently about how tommy kinard looks as though he was cryogenically frozen and then dethawed but some parts of him like empathy and joy sort of got stuck). he looks like a cult leader. wait sorry i'm mourning. rest in peace #tommykinard

[itsnotmourn]

Dexter Erotoph pretty please? Either in the STP or the Dungeon Meshi AU would be super cool!! :D

dexter shenanigans feat. radford !!

[iamthecomet]

-sits down criss cross applesauce in your askbox-

For your consideration: Dew cutting his hair for the first time since the other ghouls have known him, not for any angsty reason, it's just really hot out, shit's heavy, and he wants a refresh, ya know?

Anyway, he comes back from the hairdresser, and the first thing the others realize -after much mourning of his long lochs- is that he has a bunch of little swoopy curls.

Like, they've never seen his hair like this before, and his hair was so long before it didn't really hold much of a curl (Dew straightened the life out of it) but now he's all fluffy and they're all panicking, because he looks so... weirdly angelic.

It makes him look way too innocent and the ghouls are having a crisis, because, "WHO ARE YOU?!"

On the less innocent side of things, Rain is really wondering how much harder it'll be to get a grip on Dew's hair when he's fucking him later, and may or may not be making subtle grabby hands thinking about it.

He's working out the logistics as he watches Cumulus pet his head, because, "It's so soft!"

...Cumulus may or may not also be figuring out how to get a grip on it while petting him, but who's to say.

Rain and her may have also made eye contact.

Dew is, for once, genuinely oblivious to the situation at hand and just enjoying the affection and is maybe a little flustered, like, "Oh, haha, thank you..."

Anywho...

-legs fell asleep, awkwardly crawls away-

God. Sweet little short haired DEWW. Bet he's got his head in Lus' lap, eyes fluttering closed as she pets him and she and Rain make eyes over the length of his body. Lus' fingers curling just a little in those soft locks as she nods to Rain. There's still enough to hang on to, don't worry. And just think about how his face looked--not framed with all that hair anymore. Never. Can't hide behind it when he blushes, none of it swept across his shoulders. He's exposed. And yeah, those little blonde curls around his ears make him look a little cherubic--weird considering his personality. When he looks at himself he thinks it's fine. Something different. It's off his neck in the August heat. It's a little weird to see so much of his jaw and cheekbones all the time--without any longer strands falling out of his bun or whipping into his eyes in the wind. He probably won't keep it. He likes his long hair, he'll let it grow out, probably. But he'd be lying if he said the post hair cut attention didn't do something for him.

[1800-fight-me]

Broken vows

Part One 

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 

Warnings: Explicit sex, infidelity, angst- oh so much angst, canon level sexism, the reader is a lady of a great house but the house is unspecified and the reader has no description. (As a forewarning, though this story has dark themes and tons of angst it absolutely will have a happy ending!) 

Word count: 7.3k 

Synopsis: You and Aemond have been best friends since childhood and in love with one another since you were teens. What happens when your father weds you to another man? 

Author’s note: It’s finally here! I’ve worked so hard on this fic and can’t wait for y’all to read it! Thank you so so much to my lovely beta readers @just-here-for-the-moment and @adderess​ y’all are the best!! P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! My askbox and taglist are always open! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist            Part Two Part Three Epilogue

“Please, father, please don’t do this,” you begged as tears streamed down your face. 

“It is already done and you are expected to do your duty,” he said sternly, without feeling. 

“Please, if you care for me at all as your daughter do not wed me to that awful stuffy old lord,” you cried. 

“It is final. You will marry him and put thoughts of the prince out of our mind. It was foolish of you to be so stupid to allow yourself to fall in love. I will hear no more of this. We leave in the morning to wed you to Cregan Stark,” he said harshly and turned to leave. 

“You would rip your only daughter from everyone I know and was raised with and isolate me in the north with a man I’ve never met,” you yelled at his back. 

He turned back to you, his hand on the door handle, “Do not pretend to mourn anyone but the prince you are so besotted with. We shall leave at first light,” he said firmly and finally before he left and the resounding boom of the door shutting behind him caused you to fall to your knees and sob. 

It took a long time for the tears to dry as you thought of the ruination of your life that was sure to come from your father’s decision. 

You snuck out through the tunnels you found in your room at the Red Keep years ago when you were a child. 

You snuck your way to the dragon pit and could finally feel yourself breathe again as you saw him. 

His back was turned to you and his long white hair gleamed in the moonlight as he ran his hand across Vaghar’s scales. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered, eyes full of tears again as you realized this would be the last time you saw him before you were shipped off and married to a stranger. 

He turned and took you in with an intense expression. 

“Come here, dear heart,” he said as he pulled you into his arms. 

You cried into his chest as he rubbed his large hand up and down your back and held you tightly. 

“Your father is an imbecile,” he finally said, his voice low and full of anger. 

“I hate him,” you sobbed. 

“You are mine. You should be mine and mine alone. If you were wed to me you would be a princess of the realm rather than just the lady of a frozen patch of unwanted land,” he said through clenched teeth. 

“I want to be yours,” you whimpered. 

“He turned down my mother’s proposal for us to be wed. His decision is beyond my comprehension,” he said with a kiss to your forehead. 

“Can we…” you trailed off, unsure of your own words. 

“My mother forbade me from spiriting you away on Vaghar and wedding you this night. It would mean war between our houses, war we cannot afford to wage at this time,” he said and you could hear the grief in his voice. 

There were no more tears to be shed. You looked up at him and placed your hand on his cheek. 

“Let me be yours, at least just for this night, take me one more time, Aemond. Make me yours, please,” you said and the words were barely out of your mouth before he kissed you, no - devoured you, in a kiss full of fire and passion. 

You spent the night with Aemond, your body entangled with his in pleasure and love and the next morning you faced your fate with a face of stone and a mind full of comforting memories of your lover. 

_______________________

Three years later 

You strode into the Red Keep next to your husband and attempted to keep yourself from trembling. 

King Aegon had requested the presence of the Starks and nearly all other important houses in the seven kingdoms for the celebration of his twins’ name day. 

You weren’t sure how you felt about visiting your childhood home again after years of being gone. 

Part of you wished you could’ve stayed in Winterfell, as much as you hated it there, at least you could avoid the emotional heaviness of being back home. 

You hadn’t seen or heard from Aemond since you left. It was too dangerous for you if he were to write to you and though he was the prince, there was no plausible excuse for him to visit you in your husband’s house. 

You missed him desperately and more so with each day that passed. 

Time had not lessened your love for him. No, your dragon had lit a fire within you that would never go out. 

There was certainly no love between you and your husband. He was not harsh with you, but treated you as a duty and a burden he must endure. 

You loathed when he called you his wife. You had dreamed of Aemond calling you that since you were a young woman. 

You entered the throne room and your eyes darted around as you looked for him.

He towered where he stood, his presence strong and intense, next to the throne. His hands were clasped behind his back and his hair had grown longer, nearly to his waist now. He appeared to have put on muscle in the years you had been gone. He looked good and your heart clenched in your chest. 

As he spoke quietly to Aegon, his jaw sharp as his face was turned away from you, you took your time to take him in and control your own emotions. 

You could not allow them to show on your face. 

The king’s guard announced you and your husband’s arrival and Aemond turned to face you. 

He was breathtakingly beautiful. You worried your heart would gallop out of your chest. 

His lips pursed as he took in your husband and then his eye landed on you. 

You knew him well enough to see the emotion he tried to hide so well as he took in your form and then stared into your eyes. 

You hoped he had similar thoughts about you as you had about him. Winterfell had not been easy on you, but you did your best to present yourself well today. Your lady’s maid had been exasperated with you when you changed your dress three times before settling on the one you were currently wearing. 

Aemond nodded slightly at you and you curtsied back. Your husband mistook Aemond’s nod for himself and your curtsy for Aegon as he too nodded back before he bowed. 

You sat at the feast and resisted the urge to bang your head on the table before you. 

Your husband largely ignored your presence as he spoke with the other lords around him and on your other side sat your father, whom you were hardly on friendly terms with. 

You did your best to not acknowledge the feeling of Aemond’s eye on you as he smoldered at you from across the room, but your body temperature raised each time you could feel his attention. 

Your eyes met his and he smirked softly at you as if he could tell the way he flustered you and took pride in it. 

Your father looked over at you and you quickly looked down at the table. 

“You are not to speak to him,” he hissed in your ear. 

You turned and glared at your father. 

“There are already rumors of you being unable to bear a child as you have failed in your duty thus far. I will not have additional rumors of you being a whore because that entitled prince cannot keep his hands off of you,” he whispered in your ear, his tone harsh. 

“Nothing has happened,” you retorted with your eyes narrowed at him. 

“And nothing will,” he replied firmly and you huffed but refused to reply. 

It was an exquisite pain to sit across a crowded room from the love of your life and have duty and your roles in life form a harsh unbreakable line between the two of you. 

You didn’t know what changes time had wrought on his life and subsequently his feelings for you, but you burned for him. 

A heat and desire you hadn’t felt in years ignited inside you once again as you felt his gaze linger on you once again. You refused to look back. 

Your husband turned to you, “Do you wish to greet the king and his family with me? They are your childhood friends, are they not?” 

You didn’t think you had the willpower to refuse him as being closer to Aemond was what every fiber of your being wanted. 

“Yes, that sounds nice,” you said demurely. 

He led you arm in arm, which you loathed, to stand before the Targaryen’s table. 

No proper introductions were needed this time for they were completed when you first entered the throne room. 

Instead Helaena called your name excitedly and hurriedly rounded the table to wrap you in a hug. 

“Helaena, how I’ve missed you,” you said as you hugged her back. 

“We must catch up. It has been far too long,” she said as she pulled back and gripped your hands. 

“Yes, perhaps a walk through the gardens tomorrow,” you said excitedly and she nodded. 

Alicent then appeared by your side and pulled you into a hug. 

“My dear, you look well, how is winterfell treating you?” she asked as she pulled back and looked at your face. 

You glanced over at your husband who was deep in conversation with Aegon and Aemond, though it was obvious to you that Aemond’s attention was covertly on you rather than the surely dull conversation. 

“It is good. Though I will admit that I have missed King’s Landing,” you said, and once again glanced at Aemond. 

Alicent nodded knowingly, “It will always be your home.” 

You nodded and refused to allow tears to fill your eyes. 

Aegon called your name and you reluctantly turned to join their conversation. 

He slung an arm around your shoulders and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

Your relationship with Aegon was precarious at best, as children you always took Aemond’s side and would always snip back at Aegon when he was being a prick, even going so far as to prank him back a few times. 

You knew Aegon was only embracing you to piss off Aemond, his idea of humor was nearly always at his brother’s expense. 

“How I’ve missed you,” the King said and you shot him a warning glare. 

“Do you remember when we were children and you and Aemond would always hide away in the library so to tease you I released a flock of birds into your little sanctuary?” Aegon said with a laugh. 

You merely sighed. 

Helena’s attention had wandered across the room and Alicent appeared frustrated with Aegon’s tendency to cause trouble, though she made no comment. 

“Hm, a wonderful prank,” Aemond said in a monotone, clearly unamused tone. 

“They were everywhere, the librarians were furious and you were so upset,” Aegon laughed as he squeezed you. 

Your husband glanced between you and Aegon, clearly confused and not as amused as the king seemed to be. 

It must be disorienting for him to see how closely bound you were to the family of dragons, and yet he did not know the true extent of your attachment. 

“Perhaps you also remember the time I crushed berries in your shampoo and your hair was blue for days,” you said with attitude and with another laugh Aegon finally released you. 

“Aemond, you have not truly greeted our childhood friend, embrace her,” Aegon said with the smile of a snake. 

You took a shuddering breath as you looked at him. 

His gaze was intense and threatened to drown you in a wave of fire. His lips were pursed in irritation at his brother and the moment lasted a heartbeat too long. The awkwardness and tension between the two of you became obvious to those in the small group around you. 

Aemond was a man that only ever showed affection in private moments when it was just the two of you. Certainly not in front of your husband and his entire family. 

It was best that he didn’t embrace you, you didn’t know if you would be able to hold yourself back from melting into his arms, his warmth, his scent. Gods, you wanted him. 

“Perhaps the lady should instead be embraced by her husband rather than continue to be passed around by Targaryens,” Alicent said lightly and efficiently resolved the tension. 

Cregon chuckled awkwardly before he reached his hand out to yours. 

You reluctantly placed your hand in his and allowed him to wrap his arm around you. 

Though, of course his embrace did not last. You did not miss how Aemond’s jaw clenched as he saw your husband touch you. 

Thankfully the conversation quickly moved on as Aegon promised to introduce your husband to all the pleasures of King’s Landing. You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at that. 

Everyone was placated with more wine and as Aegon and Cregon sank into their cups you decided to take your leave. 

Your husband waved you off without care and with a sigh you left the throne room and the lively party within it. 

You quickly dismissed the knight guarding you as you made your way to your room, grateful that you were given the same room you used to have as a girl and that your husband was given a different room so that you would not have to deal with his drunken state. 

You took deep breaths as you strode through the Red Keep and decided that you could not allow your thoughts to linger on Aemond any longer, it was too dangerous for a woman in your position to be pining over a young love. 

A hand grabbed at your wrist and yanked you into a darkened hallway. Before you could scream there was another hand covering your mouth and you were yanked back into a man’s chest. 

You squirmed and fought and attempted to reach for the dagger hidden underneath your skirts where it was sheathed against your thigh. 

The man snatched your hand as if he knew what you were trying to do. 

“Will you stop fighting me?” Aemond’s voice hissed at you in the dark and all of the fight immediately left you as you realized it was Aemond’s body you were pressed against. 

He sighed and released you.

Of course he knew you were reaching for your dagger, he had been the one to gift it to you and taught you how to use it.  

You quickly whirled around to look at him. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped at him, but remained careful and kept your voice down. 

“Oh how I’ve missed you, dear heart,” he said with a smirk and had to resist the urge to slap him. 

You settled for a glare which caused him to chuckle. 

“I didn’t know how else to get you alone without causing suspicion,” he said as he glanced around to ensure the two of you were still alone.

“Causing suspicion? You scared the shit out of me! I could have stabbed you!” you whisper-yelled. 

He merely stared at you in disbelief. Of course he would take offense to the suggestion that you could best him in any sort of combat scenario. 

You sighed in exasperation. 

He smirked once again. 

“Have you not missed me, my lady?” he purred and stepped forward and crowded you against the wall. 

He placed a hand on either side of the wall near your head and effectively caged you in. Though, you’d never felt more free. With him, in his arms, was where you always wanted to be. 

“Of course I have,” you said but you refused to look at him for fear of what his stare could make you do. 

“Look at me,” he murmured. 

You shook your head as tears filled your eyes. 

He placed a gentle hand on your cheek and turned your head so that you could meet his gaze. 

He wiped the tear away with his thumb as it fell. 

“Meet me tonight. In our spot,” he urged you. 

You sniffled. 

“I cannot,” you said, though your tone was clearly uncertain. 

“Meet me tonight,” he repeated himself, his voice passionate and persuasive. 

“I am married, Aemond. I cannot meet you anywhere, if anyone even found me speaking to you now it could ruin me,” you hissed through clenched teeth. 

“No one will know,” he whispered. 

You shook your head again and looked at the floor. 

“Just to talk, nothing more,” he reassured you. 

You looked up at him once again and your resolve broke. 

Of course you missed your lover Aemond, but somehow, even more so, you missed having him as your friend. 

“Okay,” you said with a nod and his face split into a grin. 

“See you at midnight, my lady,” he said before he pressed a kiss to your forehead then swiftly walked away before you could protest. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile from forming as you strode the rest of the way to your room. 

You announced to your guards that you were feeling ill and to notify your husband that you were not in need of company should he inquire about you, not that he would. 

Once you were in the safety of your room, you walked around in awe as you ran your hand across the furniture. 

It was nearly unchanged from your time spent in it during your girlhood. 

You wondered if that was due to Alicent, though she has her flaws you always felt her motherly love and you loved her as well. You suspected that she was devastated as well that you did not join her family. 

Perhaps she had taken pity on Aemond and that was why he had not been forced into an unwanted marriage as you had. 

You waited anxiously for midnight to come and once it was near you pressed on the large painting next to the bed and it popped open to reveal a hidden passageway. 

It was something you and Aemond had discovered when you were children exploring the Red Keep and running away from Aegon and his reign of terror over the two of you. 

You grabbed the cloak from where it laid on the ground next to the hidden doorway and dusted it off, before you wrapped it around yourself and pulled the hood over your head. 

You snapped the portrait-door shut behind you and crept through the dark passageway, guided only by your memory and your hand on the wall. 

Soon you were deposited outside of the Red Keep and snuck your way through the shadows to the dragon pit. 

“Hello beautiful,” you murmured as you came upon Vaghar. 

The massive dragon cracked an eye open and huffed out a breath at you. 

You giggled at her grumpy temperament and raised and put out your hand in a request for permission to touch her. 

She grumbled in a way that you knew meant it was okay, so you gently ran a hand across the scales of her face and she made a soft pleased noise that made you smile. 

You felt Aemond’s presence behind you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his chest to your back. His large hand covered yours as you pet Vaghar. 

“She missed you nearly as much as I did,” he whispered in your ear and his long white hair fell over your shoulder as he did. 

“I missed her as well,” you said. 

“Hm, but not me,” he teased, his voice light. 

You elbowed him lightly in the stomach and turned around to look at him, “Do not jest, Aemond.” 

He watched you warily. 

“I have yearned for you every day these long years but you touch me and speak as if the circumstances are not vastly different from the last time we saw one another.” 

He pressed his lips together. 

“You are mine,” he said lowly. 

“I am not! I am not,” you exclaimed with tears in your eyes. 

Your voice broke as you spoke, “I am wed, Aemond. I have a husband, who I dislike greatly, but he is my husband all the same. My heart will always belong to you, but I cannot be yours any longer.” 

He opened his mouth to speak but you barreled right through him. 

“Have you thought of what would happen to me if I were discovered to be here with you? Allowing you to speak to me to-to touch me so familiarly? I would be branded a whore, my prince. Your prior claim on my heart would make no difference in others’ eyes. I do not think you are taking that seriously enough. It would ruin me.”

He sighed, “Of course I understand, dear heart, I wish for nothing but your safety. I swear to you I will keep my hands to myself until you give me explicit permission to touch you. And even if that never comes, I would still like to enjoy the presence of your company.” 

You sighed and nodded slightly at him. 

He commanded Vaghar to move her head and revealed the spot he had set up behind her, fully protected from any prying eyes by her huge body as she placed her head back in its regular spot. 

The language of Old Valyrian rolled off his tongue and filled you with another rush of desire for him. 

You sat next to him on the blanket, but regretfully far enough that your body did not touch his. You rested your back on Vaghar’s warm scaled body and took a deep breath in, relishing the familiarity. 

He poured you a glass of wine and handed it to you. You smiled at him. 

“Thank you,” you said and you could see him physically restrain himself from reaching out and touching your hand. It cracked at your heart and your resolve. 

“Tell me of your life in Winterfell, how is it?” he asked earnestly. 

“It is cold,” you said and he chuckled. 

You smiled but then looked down at the cup in your hand. 

“Truthfully, it is very lonely.” 

His face was solemn as he waited for you to continue. 

“Other than my lady’s maid Brienne, I feel very alone in the North. My husband treats me as if I am a duty and burden he has to bear. The people of Winterfell are…. cold and unwelcoming. I feel as if I have no voice there and am constantly dismissed. Perhaps I need to stop comparing my current life to my past one, but I have missed your sister and your mother’s company. It is difficult living with so much formality all the time.” 

He nodded at you, understanding that there were no words to comfort you, nothing that could change the duty you had to endure. 

You reached for his hand and allowed him to hold it in his much larger one. 

“I wished to write to you, as I did Helaena but I felt it too dangerous.” 

“I understand. I refrained from writing you as well, I did not want to cause any trouble for you,” he said and squeezed your hand slightly.  

“What of your life? How have you been?” you asked. 

“I have kept myself rather busy with my responsibilities,” he said as he pursed his lips and swallowed. 

“To distract myself from thinking of you,” he admitted quietly. 

Your heart cracked in half as the man you loved so much looked at you, sadness and pain hidden behind longing.

You slipped your hand from his.  

“It seems this time apart has not been easy on either of us,” you said softly and your arms ached to hold him. 

“So many times I rode Vaghar and found myself unconsciously directing her north. I dreamt of unleashing her fire upon Winterfell and bringing you home, leaving only ashes behind us,” he said, his voice dark and deep. 

“Oh Aemond,” you breathed out and your eyes prickled with tears. 

He sighed. “A childish dream I have done my best to shove out of my mind. We are no longer in our youth and must conform to the expectations of us,” he said, tone firm as if he were reprimanding himself. 

“I am tired of conforming, of doing my duty,” you whispered as your fingers grazed his once again. 

“I try my best to not think of you performing your duty,” he said darkly as he looked away from you. 

You dropped your hand from his and looked down. 

“There is no pleasure or joy in it,” you whispered as you stared at your lap. 

“Hm.” 

“Have you…?” you asked as you peeked up at him through your eyelashes. 

He nodded, “I have, though there was no love in it as we once had.” 

You swallowed and nodded, of course you could not expect him to remain faithful to you while you were married to someone else and away in the north. 

Still, it stung. It made you understand how he must feel about you being married to another. 

“There are rumors about me. I have endured my duty for years and yet no child has come of it. You and I always took precautions when we were together to prevent a child but now... people whisper that I am barren and I worry they are correct.” 

“Your value is more than your ability to bear a child,” he reassured. 

You licked your lips and ignored the urge to throw yourself in his arms. 

“Not to men like my husband and my father,” you muttered. 

He sighed. 

“Perhaps you could distract me with tales of your adventures,” you said. 

He smirked, distracting you from your worries was a skill he had developed over years of friendship. 

“Vaghar and I visited Dorne last year,” he told you. 

He enchanted you as he told you tale after tale of his travels, places you’d once longed to see with him. 

You giggled and smiled as he shared with you, a small part of you resented that he was still able to find such joy without you, though he did tell you he always longed for you to be with him. 

You shared with him the few happy stories you had of your time apart. 

You felt close with him once again, as if it were old times and you were still young lovers with your whole lives ahead of you. As if time and circumstances had not ruined what was between you. As if you were friends once again. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered as he stared at you while you laughed. 

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m the center of your world. Like you love me,” the words tasted like acid as they fell off your lips. 

“I do love you. I’ve never once stopped loving you even with time and distance between us,” he said. 

“Aemond” you reprimanded, but your voice was as weak as your resolve. 

“Tell me you do not feel the same way and I shall never speak of it again,” he promised. 

“I can’t,” you said as you bit your lip to try and stop yourself from saying such forbidden words. 

You wished you could force yourself to break his heart now and end this. To walk away from him, but his hold on you was too great and you cared for him too much to hurt him anymore than life had already hurt the both of you. 

As you stared into his deep blue eye you felt your self control finally break. 

“Kiss me, Aemond,” you breathed out. 

It was clear his self control was frayed and broken long before, for as soon as the words fell from your mouth, his lips were on yours. 

His hand at the back of your neck pulled you in as he kissed you near ferociously.  

He devoured you, consumed you, and you submitted to him. You felt at home once again in his arms as he pulled you tight to his body and laid you down. 

You moaned in tandem with him as your tongues tasted each other once again.  

Your entire body lit on fire as you gripped at him and felt his weight on top of you. 

You yanked at his clothes as you kissed him back with urgency. 

“Need you,” you moaned as he helped you remove his coat and shirt. 

You groaned at the feeling of his warm skin and tight muscles under your hands. 

“Fucking perfect,” he moaned as he slipped his hands under your dress to caresss the bare skin of your legs. 

You let out a high pitched, “Oh!” at the feel of his large calloused hands as they roamed up to grip at the flesh of your thighs. 

“Need you inside me,” you gasped as you pressed your lips to his jaw and trailed them down his neck. 

He hissed as you bit down and sucked on the sensitive skin of his throat. 

“Say it,” he ordered as his hands began to unlace the back of your dress. 

You immediately knew exactly what he meant. 

“I’m yours, Aemond.” 

He groaned.  

“Mine,” he whispered against your lips as he slipped you out of your dress and bared you before him. 

The unspoken understanding that you were only his for this night hung heavy between the two of you but you both ignored it as you tangled your hands in his hair and kissed him once again. 

“You still wear it,” he said in awe as he saw your necklace clasped around your throat. The necklace he gave you years ago, when he promised you would be his and his alone. The necklace you always wear and keep hidden under your clothes. The necklace you grasp when you are anxious or lonely or thinking of Aemond. The necklace you lied about to your husband and claimed it was from your deceased mother so he would not question your attachment to it. The small sapphire in the crook of your throat gleamed in the dim light. 

“Of course I do,” you whispered. 

He blinked rapidly, swallowed, and licked his lips to repress the rush of emotions he felt. 

He kissed you in an attempt to make you feel everything he felt rather than have to say it. 

Your hands roamed his body, anything you could reach, his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his torso.  

You gasped as his warm mouth found your breasts.

He felt so good. 

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers and you wiggled your hand underneath the tight leather to wrap your hand around his hardened length. 

He groaned your name as you gripped him. 

“Need to taste you,” he said before he moved down and placed himself between your thighs. 

Your breath caught at the magnificent sight. 

He hooked your thighs over his shoulders and licked his lips as he stared at your core. 

You whimpered in impatience and desire. 

“How I have missed you,” he said before he finally used his tongue on you. 

The pleasure that racked through your body immediately prevented your question about whether he was speaking to you or your pussy. 

You gripped at his hair as his tongue swirled your clit and your toes curled. 

“Fuck, Aemond,” you breathed out. 

“Mmm,” he moaned into your soaked warmth as he pushed his tongue inside you. 

He gripped your hips tightly and held you in place as he gave you pleasure that you hadn’t experienced in years. 

“I’m so close,” you breathed out and he groaned. 

His perfect lips closed around your clit and he sucked lightly. 

You gasped his name as your release racked through your body. 

He continued to lick you for his own pleasure until you whined and attempted to push his face away. 

He chuckled darkly, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

He stared at you, your chest heaving as you took gasping breaths, while he removed his pants and bared himself before you. 

You whimpered quietly in need. 

He placed his hands on your waist and yanked you closer to him where he knelt before you. 

Your gasp quickly turned into a moan as he, in one fluid motion, buried himself deeply and fully inside you. 

He took a deep breath and the frantic energy within him seemed to settle now that he was inside you. 

His hand traced your body and you arched up to feel closer to him, to give him access to all of you. 

You pulled his face to you, gently and slowly, and kissed him with all the love in your heart. 

His lips moved against yours languidly as if the two of you had all the time in the world. 

“You feel so good,” you whispered against his lips and he nipped at your bottom lip playfully. 

“You are better than all my dreams of you in our time apart,” he said and pressed a long kiss to your lips. 

Then, finally, he moved. In and out of you in long slow thrusts that had you keening. 

You clenched around him and begged him to go faster, to claim you, as harshly and deeply as he wanted, as you could tell he needed by the gleam in his eye.

He complied with a growl as the last of his self control snapped. 

His pleasure was your pleasure as he filled you, moved inside you, and hit the spot inside you only he could find. 

You whined in ecstasy as he groaned your name. You clung to him and your nails dug into his back, which surely left your mark on him. The thought only fueled the raging fire within you. 

“Say it again,” he gasped and you could tell he was near his release as you neared yours. 

“I’m yours, Aemond, yours,” you whined as his harsh thrusts overwhelmed you. 

“Mine,” he groaned. 

“I love you,” you gasped as you hit your peak. 

He groaned your name as his thrusts became sloppy. 

“Where do you want me to-”

“Inside,” you moaned. “Need you to fill me.”

“Fuck,” he moaned and found his pleasure as well. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled you into a kiss so gentle and in contrast to the way he had just claimed you. 

He pulled out of you and before you could mourn the loss he pulled you into his arms as he laid on his back. 

You snuggled into his chest and his hand rubbed up and down your back. 

You swallowed back the rush of emotion that you felt as he held you and expressed care for you rather than leaving you alone as soon as the act was over like your husband did. But of course Aemond would hold you just as he always had. 

You laid there with him and did your best to not fall asleep with how safe and loved you felt in his embrace. 

You sighed in contentment as he kissed the top of your head. 

“Aemond,” you said. 

“Hm.” 

“It is nearly morning, I should go so we are not caught,” you whispered, though you did not want to shatter the comfortable silence. 

He groaned in annoyance. 

“Mm, no,” he said as he hugged you tighter. 

“Aemond,” you chided. 

“I do not wish to see you go again,” he said, barely concealed pain in his voice at the thought. 

“And I do not wish to leave you again but we have little choice,” you lamented. 

He sighed. 

“Perhaps I can visit you again tomorrow night. You are staying for a week’s time, yes?” He said as his gentle fingers traced your side. 

“Yes,” you said weakly. 

You were just drawing out the next goodbye. More time together would just make it hurt more, wouldn’t it? But you were powerless against the pull you felt towards him. 

This was inevitable. It was always going to happen. It was as if the gods had designed the two of you from the same material then cruelly set your fates so that you would not be able to walk through life together. 

He was drawn to you just as you were drawn to him and neither of you had the strength to stay away from one another. The moment your father betrothed you to someone other than Aemond he sealed your fate. 

You became a shell of your former self, a ghost that was only brought back to life by Aemond’s touch, by treachery and broken vows. You deserved the horrible things people would say about you, for they were all true. You loved Aemond so much and would never tell him no, would never deny him your heart or your body, no matter your allegiance to another. 

So you agreed, and for nearly every night you remained in King’s Landing you let Aemond hold you, love you, kiss you, and make love to you. 

“Do not go,” he whispered to you, his lips on yours, the last night of your stay. The sun once again threatened to rise and your time together was sprinting away. 

“I have no choice,” you said as tears streamed down your cheeks. 

You did not know when you would be able to see him again, to talk to him again, to touch him again. 

He stepped back from you and anger overtook his face to mask the broken heart and sorrow. 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded. 

“And what? Be a disgrace to my house? Be your whore? I cannot,” you said, your voice somehow steady despite your tears. 

He sunk down into the nearest chair and placed his head in his hands. 

He sighed deeply and reached out his hand to you. 

You stepped closer to him and placed your hand in his. He gripped you tightly. 

“I see now that I have made this difficult situation much worse by my lack of self control and endless pursuit of you,” he said as he looked up at you. 

You bit your lip to keep your tears from turning into sobs. 

“It is not your fault alone,” you said gently. 

He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you. 

You held him as tight as the knot in your chest as he buried his face in your throat. 

“I love you,” you said softly, brokenly. 

“Mm.” 

You sighed. 

“It is a fact of life,” he said. 

“What?” 

“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Dragons are not completely tameable. Children will always grow old.” 

“Aemond, what are you talking about?” you interrupted him. 

“And I will always love you. It is a fact of life. It is in my nature, my bones, to love you,” he said softly. 

You crushed your lips to his and you couldn’t tell if the salty taste was due to your tears or his. 

“This is not our last goodbye, I promise you we will see one another again, dear heart,” he said as he pulled back with a hand on your cheek and looked deeply into your eyes. 

You nodded and sniffled as you tried your best to stop crying. 

As you watched him leave, you were certain you’d never hurt this much in your entire life. Your heart shattered all over again. It was a physical pain in your chest and you suddenly fully understood the phrase broken heart. 

Sure, your heart was broken when you had to leave him years ago but this… this was somehow worse. 

This was no longer a girlish young love. He was cemented in your heart and yet you still could not fully have him. 

Your heart turned to stone with every mile your carriage took you away from King’s Landing. 

_______________________

9 Months Later: 

Tears streamed down your face as your newborn babe was placed on your chest. The halls of winterfell were no longer full of your screams, but rather your joy. 

“It is a boy, my lady,” the maester said. 

You cradled him close to you and pressed a kiss to his head. 

You blinked away the tears and looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time. 

Your heart stopped. 

“Oh my little dragon heart,” you whispered brokenly, quietly enough that no one else could hear you, as you saw the tuft of white hair on the crown of his head. 

“I shall call for Lord Stark so he may meet his son,” the Maester said as he left. 

You were alone with your Lady’s Maid. 

“Brienne,” you said as you grabbed her arm. 

Her eyes flickered between you and your son. 

“He is beautiful, my lady,” she said. 

“Brienne, you have served me loyally since I was ten and two. Let us be honest with one another,” you said frankly and she nodded vigorously. 

“You know me better than most people and I consider you one of my closest friends.” 

You looked down at your son once again and your eyes filled with tears.

“It must be said now, and never again, I need you to swear to protect my secrets and help me, do you swear?” You asked as you stared into her eyes. 

“Yes, my lady, I swear. My loyalty has always been to no other but you.” 

You nodded and took her hand and squeezed it in gratitude. 

“You know I have loved Prince Aemond since I was a girl. This child is a Targaryen,” you whispered. 

Brienne nodded at you, but tears streamed her cheeks as well. 

“Oh my lady, what have you done?” she asked in gentle concern. 

“Love has led my actions and we must protect this child, he is my dragon heart. Help me, please,” you begged. 

She nodded. 

“I shall talk to the maester. Perhaps he can suggest to Lord Stark that the color of his hair is a birth defect. Does he know of your feelings for the prince? Does he suspect anything?” she asked, she spoke quickly and quietly as you both worried that footsteps would soon be heard coming down the hall.

“No. He performed his duty as a husband prior to me being with child, so he has no reason to suspect anything. He has no knowledge of my relationship with the prince. When I laid with Aemond when we visited the Red Keep, I suspected that I was barren given my inability for years to produce a child. I now see that was due to my husband’s inability to sire children. I hoped all this time that the child was a Stark, but he looks just like my love,” you kissed his perfect face and felt your heart could not swell anymore with love. 

“I will do everything in my power to quell rumors and suspicions. I will also speak with the Maester,” she said as she nodded at you and departed. 

“Oh my love,” you cried brokenly as you held your son and wished that the trajectory of life could have been different. 

That the footsteps coming down the hall could be Aemond’s rather than the husband you have no love for. 

That Aemond could be there to meet his son, to wrap you in his arms and kiss you for your good efforts to bring such a beautiful Targaryen child into the world. 

You felt broken by the thoughts of what could have been. 

You needed to fill yourself with steel, with dragon fire, and fight and claw in a way you had never had to before in order to protect the babe in your arms. 

For if anyone found out the truth, you and the child would be ruined.

To be continued..... Part Two Part Three Epilogue

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42 @just-here-for-the-moment @salome-c @hb8301

Aemond taglist:

@fultimefangirl @dumpsterfirecee @adderess @flowerpotmage @theold-ultraviolence @lady-phasma @aemonds-war-crime @schniiipsel @mommyslittlewarcriminal @batsyforyou @signyvenetia @sirenofavalon @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @padfooteyes @percyjacksonspeen @aemonds-sapphire @wrendermeuseless @mllemarianne @slutforaemond @a-beaverhausen​

[basilone]

I want to hear your thoughts on fandom and the recent influx of the term content creation!

Well, anon, you are in luck! (Or not, depending on your definition of luck. 😉) I just so happen to have many Thoughts & Opinions™ about this. I will get wordy, this will get lengthy, and I will be social and put most of my thoughts under a readmore cut.

I personally try to avoid the terms ‘content’ and ‘content creation’ when talking about fandom works and a fandom’s creative pursuits nowadays. Occasionally, sure, it happens that it slips out anyway – it’s a term we’re all really used to using! – but I want to be as mindful about its use as possible. This is a personal decision on my account and I won’t get uppity about other people’s use of these terms, though.

But, Killy, you might say... why would you avoid using these terms? For me, here’s why:

Content is not synonymous with art;

Content creation indicates something different than art creation;

Fandom should not be subject to consumerism;

Fandom is about connection.

If all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die.

Yeah. I know. Melodramatic much? I’m on my fainting couch here, folks. 😂 But let’s dig in, shall we?

You know, maybe it’s just the archivist in me that balks at the term ‘content’. Content is a data entry field in the archival system we use at my real-life job: literally speaking, this data entry field is where we put a brief summary of the document attached to that specific archival file. It contains information that tells you the key takeaways of what the document is about, but it will not contain the full text of the document itself. Content is one of the points of access for our archival search: I know what I’m looking for, so I put a few keywords into our search and it pulls up the relevant file. But what do I need, really need, in my line of work? It’s the document itself, not the data entry field. The document tells me the whole story that I need to be able to truly do my job well. The content-field is a cliffnotes edition of that story.

It’s the same way with the art we create in fandom. I’m gonna take myself as an example here, because I create a fair bit! (Shocking, I know. Local Tumblr cryptid sighting, more at 11. 😎) I spend hours writing fic. I spend hours sorting through screencaps before screeching at Photoshop for a lengthy amount of time. I spend days pouring over quotes, books, documents, photographs, tutorials, and other things that will help me create something cool. I apply color theory, art framing/perspective, narrative focus, and many other theories and techniques to my writing and my giffing. If I were to put my finished work or any of my WIPs in that same archive system, it would be the document within the archival file. The tags I use on my posts? Those are markers similar to the content-field. They tell you who my gifset depicts and from which show it is. They tell you which OC of mine my fic is about. My work contains these things I tagged.

But my creative work is not content itself.

Content is marketable, easy access, blurb-y stuff. Content is something you absorb within one minute flat. Content is the highlight reel. It’s what fills a page, something you’ll scroll past in a heartbeat, something that barely stands out in a long long long list of stuff. Content is what you consume on a lazy Sunday afternoon without ever being forced to read lengthy pieces, take in the details of what you see, pause mid-scroll to ponder the meaning of life, whatever else have you. Create content and you create a flash in the pan, a quick laugh maybe, before it fizzles back out again. Create content and it’s here today and gone tomorrow without anyone mourning its absence for too long.

Art should last longer than that, don’t you think? 😉

So when I see people put a fic request in an askbox and it’s phrased like “Speirs x spy!reader fluff” and that very same request makes its way into about ten more askboxes before the fandom starts comparing asks? I might be inclined to classify us all as slot machines. Put an ask in and out rolls a fic. Who cares which slot machine it came from? As long as you’ve got your painstakingly crafted fics that you consume the same way you do actual content, right? We, its writers, are just lucky if we get a pat of acknowledgement on our little slot machine head for our troubles, aren’t we?

When I see an overly detailed summary of what sounds like a full-fledged fic in an askbox and the demand is “write this for me”, I recoil from the screen and go “child, who the hell birthed you, were you raised in a barn?” out loud. If you can tell a story in the space of an askbox, consider asking for help to let that story – a story you own, a story that is more yours that it could ever be mine – grow into what it has the potential to be.

When I see fics and gifsets and other creations get likes but not reblogs, I mutter something about the state of fandom economy these days. We exist in a little fandom bubble. Our bubble can’t expand or blow from place to place without a little help from our friends. And you’re my friends, right? I know the follow-button says follow, guys, believe me, I’m not that far gone, but for me ‘follow’ means ‘friend’. 💚 You’re my buddy now. Suck it up. We’ll share a can of peaches. 🍑

When I see fics and other creations get reblogged without tags or comments attached, I die a little on the inside. I feel like a little Victorian orphan child going “please, reblogger, a little penny of thought for its creator, if it pleases?”. I feel like commentless and/or tagless reblogging is giving me nothing, nothing at all, about who you are.

And I want to get to know you! I want to know who’s in my notes. I want to know who’s scrambling through my MotA gifsets like a fat little raccoon inhaling its third helping of a box of jelly-filled donuts. I want to know who is adopting which character and why. I want to know that it’s your birthday, or that you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up, or that you are locked in an Ikea at three in the morning reading my blog by the bright lights of countless Solhetta bulbs. I want to know that you love my OC Darlene but that you ain’t sure what the hell my OC Lottie’s got to do with anything. I want to know what tickles you – a turn of phrase I used, a color in a gifset, a little detail I captured that made me go !!!!!! on the inside while I was creating too – and I want to know what moves you.

What reaches into the soil of your being and nourishes you enough to blossom into whichever lovely self you can grow to be? What is precious to you? What comforts you in the dark nights of your soul, when all light feels like it’s faded out? What do you love, truly love? What feeling and thought and idea and love love LOVE do you consume – truly consume, head to tail, no takebacks – and what are you consumed by in turn?

Let me connect with you. Let me know the little internet scraps of you that tell me you’re a DeMarco girlie, or that you’re here for Hoosier only, or that you’re as feral and batty about Speirs as I am, or that you actually really can’t stand the one dude everyone else raves about. Let me know that you like angsty quotes on gifsets – feel free to yell at me for making you schedule an impromptu therapy session – or let me know you saw what I did in my fic there and you’ll be demanding compensation from me while you lie down and wail about it. Let me know you’re very into those lovely blues on a gifset (I know, SO good, right??) or that you are side-eyeing me because that close-up of your fave turned you into a little puddle.

Let me know what moves you, because I created these things with love. I created them because they moved me, too. I created them because I have a story to tell, somehow. I created them because the whole world is a string of stories and I want to pass the heart of them on to you. I created them not because I want to jump on a hypetrain that races past all the episodes and all the alternate universes and all the stories without stopping, but because I want to soak up the sun and point at something and tell you “look, isn’t this beautiful?”. I created them not because I am looking for a quick fix or a distraction or an escape, but because I want to give you something that nourishes you as it has nourished me.

That’s so much more than that quick flash in the pan, yeah? That’s so much more than what content could ever hope to be. That’s something that lasts beyond the clicks and gives you an ever-expanding horizon that leaves you wondering just what in the world is next.

Let me repeat point five: if all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die. Because content doesn’t sustain you. Connection does. And connection? That happens with meaningful interaction. That happens when you stop getting followers and start getting friends. That happens when you treat all forms of art as something unique that can be precious to someone, rather than something to like today and forget about tomorrow.

Can I do a lil mic drop? Yeah. I think I’m gonna. Just this once. 🎤

[fluffle-writes]

Alien Abduction AU - Species list + info

This is a list of the alien species and traits that I've come up with for some of the TWST characters - I mostly mushed certain animal traits together and built off of that lol. If anyone has any thoughts about my ideas then do feel free to let me know! My askbox is open for messages!

[POSTED A DRAFT BY MISTAKE - IMMA EDIT AND REBLOG THIS ONCE IT'S DONE]

Edonal

Hegehog-like aliens with a similar build to caterpillars.

Edonals are a species that is shorter by average, standing at an average height of 4'8-5'6 - although someay be taller or shorter depending on genetics.

They have eight limbs - two to four being used for walking whereas the others function as hands. Their choices on how they use their limbs can be affected by their need or desire to multitask, or the need to have extra stability for whatever reason.

Edonal communities have a mix of diurnal and nocturnal Edonals in order to maintain a smoothly running society that remains active both night and day.

Riddle, Sam

Avian

Trey (Violet-Green Swallow), Rook (Martial Eagle), Crowley (Crow)

Mairan

Butterfly or Moth-like aliens with more human-looking limbs and faces.

Mairans have eerily human-like faces and limbs, however they are often far more slender to allow their wings to lift them off of the ground. Their body - besides their wings - is protected by chitinous plating and their mouths actually open up more similarly to mandibles than human mouths.

Some species of Marian may grow soft, fluffy fur on top of their chitinous plating as an adaptation to survive colder climates or to blend in better with their surroundings.

Cater (Orange-Tipped Oakworm Moth), Vil (Mourning Cloak Butterfly), Epel (Chalk Hill Blue Butterfly)

Nelsian

Fox-like aliens with much shorter, rabbit-like, tails and stronger legs. They are also, on average, much fluffier than normal foxes unless they're adapted specifically for hot environments.

Ace (Red Fox), Kalim (Fennec Fox), Idia (Silver Fox), Ortho (Cybernetic Silver Fox)

Thesti

Canine species with a large range of appearances depending on their genetics. 'Thesti' is generally seen as an umbrella term containing many subspecies.

Deuce (Pitbull), Ruggie (Hyena), Jack (Wolf), Sebek (Cavalier King Charles Spaniel), Silver (Saluki)

Lonkat

Feline aliens with Scorpion tails and chitinous plating in some areas of the body. Lonkat Royalty is made up of those who are similar to Terran 'big cats' - whereas common society and lesser nobles are more similar to either domesticated or 'lesser cats' Such as Cheetahs or Pallas's Cats.

Leona (Lion), Trein (Persian Cat)

Chel'ir

An aquatic species that serves as an umbrella category for many subspecies.

The Chel'ir are the newest species to have joined the galactic union.

Jade, Floyd, Azul

Rilkol

Jamil

Thrican

Malleus, Sebek

Yelten

Bat-like

Lilia