#But if we must do it. Then set it up this way

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[earthenwing]

An unfortunate fact about history and science is that it is we, short lived, short sighted, and unconsciously biased humans who are doing it. Every researcher brings their own cultural and personal biases to the table, and in our position it has created a version of history that is specifically a male history (in the traditional sense of the cultural concept of a male). We knew primitive man lived in caves, and the men hunted while women lived in captivity inside the caves. How did we know this? We found some artifacts and art in caves. We found prehistoric burials of hunters and mothers. The entire rest of the narrative was made up by the personal biases of the researchers. Now with DNA testing we find that not every skeleton buried with a spear at their side was male, and not every set of bones found wrapped around a child as the world ended was female. Most prehistoric activity did not center in caves, and gender did not take precedent over skill or survival.

The result of the bias is 'knowing' that 'important' work was always done by men, and women took care of support work, things so trivial and unskilled anyone could do them. In actuality, female labor that doesn't fit those ideals is retroactively attributed to a man (see every female researchers work, ever) and male contributions to the 'trivial' are devalued or dismissed, or in some cases elevated to saintly status for humbling themselves so.

If weaving or sewing cannot be minimized and dismissed it must be romanticized as quaint and pastoral, the way the cottage core aesthetic does. Raising chickens is so quaint and fun looking.... Until youre scraping manure and building proper defense against predators and making medical decisions and mortal decisions for birds, both of which you yourself enact.

Fiber work is an excellent example of an entire industry being devalued due to its associated gender. Even into the 50s and 60s (and in some places still) women were responsible for garment manufacture in the home. The result was sewing every minute she wasn't otherwise working or asleep. It's portrayed as nostalgic and quaint now....bitch, grandmas hands looked like that for a reason.

a phrase that kinda bothers me when talking about women's historical roles in europe is "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear it so often, those exact words in the same order even. and once you learn a little more you realize that the massive gaping hole in that list is fiberwork. im not an expert and have no hard numbers, but i wouldnt be surprised if fiberwork took up nearly as much time as the other three tasks combined, so it's not a trivial omission.

it's not a hot take to say that the mass amnesia about fiberwork is linked to the belittlement of women's work in geneal, but i do think there's a special kind of illusion that is cast by "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear that and think "well i cook and clean and take care of children (or i know someone who does) and i have a sense of how much work that is" and you know of course that cooking and cleaning were more laborious before modern technology, but still, you have a ballpark estimate you think, when in fact you are drastically underestimating the work load.

i also think that this just micharacterizes the role of women's work in livelihoods? cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children are all sisyphean tasks that have to be repeated the next day. these are important, but not the whole picture. when we include all kinds of fiberwork—and other things, such as making candles or soap—women's work looks much more like manufacturing, a sphere we now associate more with men's work. i feel like women's connection to making and craftsmanship is often elided.

[nyrasvoid]

To Tame a Dragon

♡ Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: As the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra, you and your family are summoned to King’s Landing under mysterious circumstances. Upon your arrival, you quickly discover that you’re betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your strange uncle who never seemed to have an ounce of affection for you.

⚝ Warnings: Arranged marriage, Aemond being a cruel and possessive husband, degradation (uses of “slut” and “whore”), smut (with another lord for now but very short), manipulation, angst, toxic relationships, dub-con elements, slow burn and kinda enemies to lovers dynamic.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ A/N: for now they kinda hate eachother and reader has a lover but dw cause she will actually end up with Aemond lol. Also if you have any suggestions for the following parts my inbox is open

⭑ Word count: ≈2.3k

You and your family had arrived at King’s Landing under strange circumstances. The journey from Dragonstone had been long and tiring, and yet, no one could tell you exactly why you were being summoned to the Red Keep. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had tried to get answers, but no one seemed willing to speak plainly to her.

The moment you set foot on the steps of the Red Keep, you noticed it: their cold indifference. The greens did not welcome you, did not offer the courtesy that you expected from family. It was as if you and your kin had been erased from the family tree entirely.

“You see that?” Your brother Jacaerys whispered, his voice laced with disgust as he looked toward the hall where Aegon and the others stood. “Not a single one of them steps forward to greet us.”

Daemon, walking beside him, clenched his jaw. “They think us beneath them.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, his words carrying the sting of resentment. “They are reminding us of who they believe holds the true power.”

Your mother’s eyes flashed with a quiet fury, but she said nothing, instead leading the way.

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As you were escorted to your chambers by a guard, you exchanged a glance with your maid Ella, your trusted friend who had accompanied you on this journey. She followed you inside, her steps quick as she moved to help you settle.

“What do you think this is all about?” you asked her, your voice tight with frustration. “Why have we been summoned here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, my lady. They haven’t said anything to me. But there is a feast tonight. That’s all I was told.” Her hands worked to remove your traveling cloak. “Let me help you get ready.”

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. “A feast? At a time like this?”

She gave you a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s tradition, princess. You must attend.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was little you could do. You had to go. You had to pretend to care for the show, though your mind was filled with only one thing: why were you here?

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The banquet hall was filled with lords and ladies, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and wine. You sat at the long table, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel small in the green’s presence, especially as Aegon’s gaze drifted over you.

But the worst of it was Aemond. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you refused to meet his gaze.

As you conversed with your brothers, the topic of the greens came up once again.

“Look at them,” Jace muttered, his voice low. “They think they can get away with this. Not even a word of greeting when we arrive.”

“They can all rot,” you said bitterly. “I can’t stand any of them.”

Daemon smirked. “But that’s what they want, isn’t it? They want us angry. They want us to break.”

You nodded, a sense of frustration building in your chest. “I refuse to bend to them. But I can’t even figure out why we’re here. What do they want from us?”

Before anyone could answer, a voice interrupted.

“Princess,” a lord from one of the great houses stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

You blinked in surprise, but a smile quickly tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’d be delighted.”

The lord’s hand was warm as it held yours, and the two of you made your way to the dance floor. He was handsome, tall and with a charming smile that made your heart flutter. As the music played, you flirted with him lightly, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your waist and the way he made you forget about the tension at the table.

But across the room, you couldn’t ignore the sharp gaze of Aemond. It burned through you, dark and possessive.

Aegon, ever the troublemaker, leaned toward his brother, a smirk on his lips. “You know,” he said loud enough for Aemond to hear, “if you’re not going to make a move, I’ll happily do it. She’s got quite the figure, doesn’t she? Those breasts, I’m sure you’ve noticed. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her for myself, brother.”

“I think I’m capable enough of fulfilling my marital duties, brother” Aemond finally muttered, his eyes locked onto you with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You returned to your seat after the dance, still smiling from the interaction, only for the King to call for silence. The room fell still, all eyes on him as he stood, ready to make his announcement.

“My lords and ladies,” the King’s voice echoed across the hall, “I have an important announcement to make. It is with great pride that I announce the betrothal of my granddaughter, to my son, prince Aemond Targaryen.”

You looked to your mother, but she was frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Rhaenyra stood, her voice shaking with fury. “What is this? You did not consult me, didn’t even let me know this decision was being made. You rejected my proposal years ago of marryimg Helaena to Jace, and now—”

But the King cut her off. “The decision is final, they will marry. The advantages to the realm are clear.”

Rhaenyra’s hands curled into fists. “You think I’ll allow this?” she hissed. “You think I’ll stand by and let you make this decision without my consent?”

“Enough,” the King snapped, his voice cold. “This is for the good of the realm.”

The tension in the room was palpable as your brothers attempted to speak on your behalf, but the King remained unmoved.

You felt your heart break. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say a word as you watched the man who had always been indifferent, cruel even, be forced into your future.

You stood quickly as you stormed out of the hall. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t bear to hear any more.

You reached your chambers, the door slamming shut behind you as you threw yourself onto the bed, tears spilling from your eyes.

Not long after, you heard a knock at the door.

It was your mother, entering the room quietly. “Darling, I know this is difficult,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “But you must understand… this betrothal—it’s for the good of the realm. You will see that, in time.”

You wiped your tears angrily. “I don’t care about the realm, mother! I don’t want this. I don’t want him!”

Your mother sat beside you, taking your hand in hers. “I know. I know, my sweet girl. But this is the way it must be. For now, we endure.”

You shook your head, still crying quietly. “I don’t want to endure this. I don’t want him.”

She gave you a sad smile, kissing your forehead. “It’s not about what we want. It’s about what we must do.”

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The sun hung high in the sky as you met with your closest friends. Floris Baratheon, Lysa Tully, and Serene Martell were already sitting under the large oak tree. It was supposed to be a relaxing break from the madness of your betrothal.

“We heard, my lady. About the betrothal. How are you feeling?” Floris asked, her voice full of concern. She was always so direct, unlike Lysa, who was quieter but equally perceptive.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, taking a seat next to them. “It feels like my life is already over before it’s even begun. I’m being forced to marry Aemond. A man I barely know, a man who doesn’t care about me. I don’t even have a say in it.”

Serene, leaned in. “Well, your life might not be over just yet. You always have the option of finding yourself a lover.”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at that. “A lover?” you echoed. “Maybe I could find one.”

Lysa chuckled. “Well, I’ve heard things about Aemond. The rumors say he’s cruel, that he’s got a temper, that he punishes those who displease him.”

Floris nodded, her brows furrowed. “I’ve heard those rumors too. And honestly? I don’t blame you for being upset. Who wants to marry someone like that?”

You sighed heavily. “It’s like my whole future has been decided for me. I can’t escape it.”

Serene raised an eyebrow playfully. “At least you’ve got options, my lady. You’re not trapped in the same way as us. Who knows? Maybe that lord you danced with at the feast would be the one to give you the freedom you’re looking for.”

Your heart skipped at the mention of Lord Garrick Redwyne, who had captivated you at the last feast. He was bold, charming, and you could tell he also took an interest in you.

“You know, you might be right,” you said, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “I did meet a very handsome lord at the dance. Lord Garrick Redwyne. We danced and… well, maybe he could be the one to offer me some much needed distraction.”

Floris snorted. “Aemond can’t even stand a chance against someone like him. I mean, honestly, have you seen Aemond? I’m sure he’s not good for much other than looking brooding and scary with that missing eye of his.”

Lysa and Serene laughed in agreement. “You should go for it,” Serene added, her voice low but encouraging. “Let him give you what Aemond never will.”

You paused, your mind racing. “I think I just might. It would be nice to have a taste of freedom before I’m locked in a marriage with a man who looks at me like I’m nothing more than a political pawn.”

The conversation turned lighter as you all continued to joke about the idea of lovers, but little did you know, one of the queen’s maids had been standing nearby, overhearing every word. The whispers would soon reach Aemond.

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Later that afternoon, you were summoned to meet with Alicent and some of the workers to begin organizing the wedding.

Alicent wasted no time in pushing her own ideas. “I trust you’re prepared to make the necessary sacrifices for the good of the realm,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing as she gestured to the workers. “This wedding must reflect the union of two great houses.”

You bit your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “I understand, Your Grace. But I’d like to choose the color of my dress. I’d prefer red and gold.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, her lips curling in a thin smile. “Red and gold? You do realize that’s a bold choice, don’t you? Quite revealing for a wedding dress.”

“Why, does it offend you?” you told her, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

“You are marrying my son, dear. A dress of green would be more appropriate.” Alicent’s tone was firm.

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “I will not wear green. I refuse. If I must marry him, I at least want some control over my dress.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, but your defiance seemed to catch her off guard. She stared at you for a moment, then finally sighed. “Very well, but make sure it isn’t too revealing.”

You smiled, knowing you’d won this battle, even if it was a small one. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

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That evening, as the grand hall filled with the sounds of laughter, you were heading to your brother Jacaerys to ask him something about the upcoming wedding preparations. But just as you were about to step inside, you spotted Lord Garrick Redwyne once more.

He smiled at you, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Ah, princess, how wonderful to see you again.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the sight of him. His charm was undeniable.

“Lord Garrick,” you replied, smiling back. “I was just about to speak with my brother, but I’m glad to see you.”

His smile grew wider as he took a step closer. “Would you care to accompany me for a moment? Away from the crowds?”, he said as he extended his arm for you to hold onto.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”, as you wrapped your arm around his and followed his lead.

He led you through the castle, past the grand halls and into a quieter corridor.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Lord Garrick said, his voice low as he wrapped his hands around your waist. “I can’t help but wonder what it would be like… to have you, without all the politics, without the pressure of your betrothal.”

You took a deep breath, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you murmured, your eyes locked on his.

Without another word, he kissed you—softly at first and then more passionately as the moments stretched. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as his lips moved to your neck. You let out a soft gasp, feeling a shiver run through you.

He moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck, and you gasped softly as he nipped at your skin. His hands were firm, his lips traveled lower still.

His mouth found its way to your most intimate place, and the pleasure was overwhelming, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned quietly, afraid of who might hear. You’d waited too long to feel this kind of release, this freedom.

When it was over, you both sat on the cool floor, catching your breath. “That was… incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

Lord Garrick smiled, kissing your forehead softly. “I will be here whenever you need me, my lady.”

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget about Aemond, about the marriage that awaited you. With Garrick, there was no cruelty, no coldness. There was only heat, passion, and the feeling of being wanted for who you were.

As he gave you pleasure, you couldn’t help but think: Maybe I can have a life outside of Aemond, even if it’s only in stolen moments like this.

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The air in the gardens was thick with tension as you walked beside Aemond, the silence between you two almost suffocating. You weren’t looking forward to this forced interaction, but here you were, ordered by the queen to “get to know” the man you were supposed to marry. You had no interest in being his bride, and certainly no desire to get to know him any better.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to you now and then, but you refused to look at him. Finally, after a long silence, Aemond broke it.

“Tell me, why do you always wear that look?” Aemond’s voice broke the silence, his words laced with bitterness. “You’ve been sent here to wed me, yet I don’t see a single ounce of enthusiasm in your expression.”

You didn’t even glance at him as you walked, keeping your pace slow. “Maybe because I have been forced into this marriage” you shot back, the bitterness in your own voice matching his.

“I don’t owe you any pleasantries.”

His lips twisted into a small smirk, though it lacked any real humor. “Of course, you don’t. I suppose that’s why you’ve taken to speaking about me behind my back—saying things I’m sure you think I don’t know.”

You froze. Aemond wasn’t looking at you directly, his gaze focused ahead. You clenched your fists, not willing to let him know he’d struck a nerve.

“What are you talking about?” you spat, though you had a pretty good idea. The rumors, the jokes from your friends… Had they reached him already?

He shot you a glance then, eyes narrowing. “I heard you’ve found yourself someone to entertain you. I suppose it must be rather entertaining to joke about your… lovers.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you insinuating, Aemond?” you asked.

Aemond’s voice dropped to a low tone. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know exactly what I heard. You think I don’t know you’re running around with some other man behind my back? I heard of your little conversation with your friends in the garden. You’re quite the whore, aren’t you? Laughing about my missing eye and discussing your lover like it’s nothing.”

Your jaw clenched at his words. Whore. He had no right to talk to you like that. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “You have no right of speaking to me in such way.”

You glared at him. “You want to talk about my lover? Fine. I’ll tell you everything. He makes me feel things you could never,” you hissed, taking a step even closer to him. “In fact, I’ve already lost my maidenhood to him.” Lies.

“You think that’s something to be proud of?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, loose woman, and you’ll regret every second of it once you’re tied to me.”

“You think I’ll regret it?” you snapped back, “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Aemond. I don’t regret anything. Not my lover, not anything I’ve done before now. You’re just angry because I’ve found someone who actually knows how to please a woman.” That said, you turned around to retire to your chambers.

Aemond’s expression twisted into anger. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed your arm, spinning you towards him, forcing you into the nearest wall. You gasped in shock as Aemond pinned you against it. His grip was tight as he pressed you there, his face inches from yours.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Aemond growled. He gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. into a bush, his body trapping you against it. “Let me tell you something, princess,” Aemond whispered into your ear, he leaned in closer. “I’ll put a baby in you, and once you’re carrying my child, I won’t touch you again. You’ll be nothing but a vessel for my heir. And when you’re knocked up and useless to me, I’ll get myself a whore. A woman who knows her place. And I’ll bring her to the Red Keep, rub her in your face, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

You were petrified as he pinned you against the wall, but he wasn’t finished. “If I find out who your lover is, if I find out you’ve been seeing him behind my back, I’ll make sure you never see him again. I’ll have him dragged out and humiliated, and you’ll never be able to hide from it. You’ll regret every little thing you’ve done.”

Aemond took a step forward, forcing you to tilt your head up to keep your glare locked onto his.

“You think you can humiliate me?” His voice was quiet. “That you can make a mockery of this betrothal? Of me?”

You scoffed, “You’re doing that all on your own, Aemond. If you’re so offended, then call off the wedding.”, you continued “You are a man, a prince I’m sure they will call it of if you object”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You think I would let you go that easily?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You are mine now. No matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you despise me, you will stand beside me as my wife.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he said mine, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you.

“You can have my hand in marriage, Aemond,” you bit out, “but you will never have me.”

Aemond let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that, wife.”

He turned on his heel, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest.

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

[madthetruemad]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 18 | Nightly Visitors

You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

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Feixiao invited herself into your room as you closed the door behind her. Seeing such a person was still unbelievable to you. Heck, you thought you would never meet the emperor either, and yet here you are. Feixiao then turned to you after she inspected your room, her eyes were shining as knelt before you causing you to jump.

“Princess.”

“Y- yes?”

She tilted her head up at you, “I know it is wrong of me to ask such things of you, but I need your help,” she raised her hand to you making you hesitate before gently laying your palm into her own to which she gently took a hold of, “the Emperor is treading down a dangerous path and I wish to stop him before he burns down the whole world in his wake.”

“I- I don’t know how to help you though…”

Feixiao’s gaze landed on the key necklace around your neck, and you got the picture quickly, “the other key,” you managed to say.

Feixiao nodded while still holding your hand, “will you help me get it?”

You closed your eyes and thought for a moment, getting home was proving harder than you thought, “alright…, I’ll help.”

But, you thought to yourself, I can’t let them revive Sunday with those keys. There must be another use for the keys which is why everyone wants them so bad.

You jumped a little when you felt her lips press against your knuckles before she stood up, her grin almost infectious, “thank you, princess, and I promise, once this is all over I’ll get you home!”

She had bid you goodnight then, leaving your room in a hurry as you were once again left to your thoughts.

“Too much as happened today,” you mumbled as you started to finally feel tired, but the call to your bed was short lived as there was yet another knock on your door causing you to groan outwardly. You were quite popular tonight it seems.

“What is it-,” you voice got cut off when you opened the door, “Blade?”

“The Emperor wishes to speak with you.”

“At this hour? And besides, I thought I told you to get lost,” you peeked outside the door in hopes of seeing Gepard, but he has already retired for the night.

Blade raised his hand causing you to flinch, but he merely held the door open to keep you from slamming it shut.

“I wasn’t… going to hurt you.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, “r- right, sorry…”

“If it is any consolation, the emperor isn’t summoning you because you’re in trouble.”

“Then why? Is it about earlier?”

Blade said nothing as he stepped aside causing you to sigh and go back into your room to grab your blanket and wrap it around yourself so you wouldn’t be prancing around in just a nightgown.

“And your shoes?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said as you briefly realized you didn’t own a pair of fluffy slippers. Though, you yelped loudly when you felt yourself get lifted, your feet were no longer touching the cold marble floor as Blade held you close to his chest.

“Blade-!”

“Just let me hold you like this until we get to the Emperor.”

You quieted as you stared at his face, his expression looked… sad.

“Blade… what’s wrong?”

Truthfully you weren’t mad at Blade. Yes, he did sort of out you in one of your other lives, but it wasn’t like he was your enemy, and Sunday’s plans for him…

He did not answer you as he escorted you to Jing Yuan’s bedroom, and to hopefully console Blade in some way you decided to wrap your arms around his neck and lay your head against his chest as he carried you. You do not know what has happened with him in the past hours from when you last saw him, but you hoped it didn’t have anything to do with Sunday.

Maybe he knows what is to be done with him.

“We’re here.”

You lifted your head as you were once again brought to Jing Yuan’s door.

Blade had gently set you down, your feet instantly feeling the cold floor as you steadied yourself and raised your hand to knock on his door. You looked to Blade when you heard a faint come in from deep within the room, and Blade merely shook his head, “I am to stay here.”

You turned back towards the door and grabbed onto the handle and pushed it open.

“Close the door behind you,” Jing Yuan said to which you obeyed and when you looked back you saw that Blade was no longer looking at you as you closed the door. A small part of you wished that this was still your first life where Blade had promised to protect you.

“You were here earlier weren’t you? When that maid greeted you at the door?”

When you finally brought yourself to look at Jing Yuan you found it odd how he wasn’t dressed in his usual armor. Instead he was wearing a simple dress shirt and black slacks. It was a nice change.

“Y- yes, it was. I am deeply sorry about that by the way. If I had known that you and the maids were … that close, then I swear I wouldn’t have intervened like that.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, “then why is it that I sense so much anger from you?”

He was sitting at a table situated in his room and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him or at how relaxed he was which was when you finally noticed it. Your nose crinkled when the strong stench of blood hit you in full force.

“W- what- what is that?”

You looked around briefly before your eyes landed to the doorway leading to his bedroom, on the floor in there you could see a large pool of blood slowly forming. Jing Yuan followed your gaze, “ah yes, that. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

You didn’t listen as you took shaky steps towards it, and when you got to where he was seated he grabbed your wrist, but you had a clear view now. There was the maid, dead on the floor. Blood splatters painted the room like some horror story you would hear in the dead of the night to scare children from sneaking out of the house.

“Why-“

Jing Yuan harshly tugged on you causing you to stumble to the side and fall right into his lap.

“When you became my beloved fiancé I had every intention of stopping my little trysts with the maids. However, there were a few who were determined to keep their places as common whores.”

You shook within his hold, your fear becoming quite amusing to him.

“You should be happy, aren’t I proving myself to be loyal? The moment I took your hand, I made it clear to my servants that I only wanted to be devoted to you, but… give them a little attention and suddenly they think they have me wrapped around their finger…”

He made you look away from the maid, “do you believe me?”

You felt if you said yes or no then that would be a boring answer, and you knew how he felt about boring people. If only I was that princess from his past, then he wouldn’t be treating me this way, you thought.

“Then why was she in your room if you made it clear you weren’t doing that anymore?”

Jing Yuan let go of your arm as he sat back in his chair, your legs now straddling him as they hung off each side of him. Your blanket was long forgotten on the floor by this point and your hands, oh you didn’t know what to do with them, so you settled with resting them on his hard muscled chest.

“She wanted to hurt you because she knew that you would be coming to me or, at least, that I would be coming to get you.”

He moved his hands to rest on your hips, and you briefly wondered where his key was.

“And you promise that nothing happened you just- just,” you struggled to say it but managed somehow, “killed her?”

“I promise you my life.”

Despite being around a dead body, you had to admit that you were at least no longer mad about the whole ordeal, though, a part of you still felt bad. The maid lost her life after all.

“So… where are you planning to sleep now?”

His eyes glinted in the lamp light making you feel uneasy about the answer he was about to give.

“Your room, of course.”

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/31/25) - Resistance!!

Being a well informed American living under an administration determined to dismantle our democracy (already stressed) and cause as much damage as possible has even my comfort moments turning to resistance. After all, evil people have always existed. And good people have always resisted. So is there anything my Good Omens fixation has to say about resistance? Given Terry Pratchett's moral universe, we could argue that all of Good Omens is steeped in resistance. But I'm going to limit myself to a few specific favorite fics that highlight different forms of resistance.

Let's start with the series that got me thinking in this direction: Demon and Angel Professors (G) by Ghostinthehouse (@ineffableghost). This is 200 ficlets, each exactly 666 words, hanging on a silly premise. Everyone loves literature Professor Fell who goes on regular tangents about his sweet husband Anthony. Everyone fears grumpy botany Professor Crowley who treats his students like he treats his plants. And anytime Crowley goes near Fell, the first-year students go into protective mode. Because surely Crowley must be up to no good and a potential harm to dear Prof Fell and his precious Anthony. But beyond that bit of fun repeated every year with a new group of incoming students are amazing stories of resistance against those who would cause mental harm or physical violence to disabled people, folks with a variety of gender identities and presentations, queer individuals, people dealing with trauma--basically anyone who might be vulnerable in a thoughtless and even wicked society.

Sometimes resistance is persuading someone to do better. Other times it's offering a hint that makes someone think. It may involve a hands-on approach to someone who only knows violence. Or it may be getting someone to a safe place as quickly as possible.

I read it over a weekend. But I think there's a better approach to reading this long series--bookmark it in your phone when you are doing a hurry-up-and-wait activity (jury duty, medical treatments, picking up kids at school, etc.). The short length of each fic makes it easy to pick up and put down. The variety of "ducklings" tales (what the ineffable pair call the students they help) will keep you interested. And the sense of joy and hope will make it a good way to spend time on a challenging day. Resistance fics aren't all human AUs. Check out The Last Angel (E) by @bellisima-writes. For millennia, Crowley has been Hell's Grand Inquisitor. He never served on earth. After Hell won their war against Heaven, they finally track down the last remaining Angel, Aziraphale. Crowley's given the job of torturing him for information. I don't want to give too much away. But Crowley's form of resistance involves being true to himself no matter what Hell demands. And Aziraphale has a more direct form of resistance planned. It's an exciting read as well as thought-provoking.

@snae-b writes the kind of fics you don't want to start reading before bed--at least not if you plan on getting up early the next day. Echo (E) is no exception. Each day, barista Aziraphale wakes up and goes into work. He serves a chauffeur, Crowley, who seems strangely familiar. Asking questions like "what makes one human" and "how do you fight against an evil activity that no one knows about," Echo is also just a plain old compelling story. And a resistance tale that, despite its futuristic setting, would not feel out of place beside a tale of the French underground resisting Nazis.

Mutual Aid (T) by malicegeres predates the Good Omens tv show. So presumably that makes it part of the Book!Omens universe. In it, radical bookseller Ezra Fell ends up hiding anarchist Crowley from the police after he's injured by skinheads. As the title indicates, they find a common cause and start working together. Loved the depiction of Adam as a leader. And the fic includes a listing of leftist political resources at the end.

Many consider The False and the Fair (E) by @princip1914 to be one of the best human AUs in the Good Omens universe. I certainly do. Aziraphale Wright's family runs a coal mine. Anthony Crowley, his former best friend, is the son of a mine worker. I don't want to spoil the story if you haven't read it. But what appears to be a story of regrets and making amends has a strong thread of accountability that results in wrongs being made right after a powerful act of resistance (with some help from the press). If you haven't read it, check it out. And if you have, read it again--with an eye towards resistance.

Finally, I'll end with a WIP, Good Works (E) by @majnoonathelibrarian. Set in 1987, Aziraphale is an assistant parliamentary secretary in the Thatcher government who finds something strange in the documents he's handling. Crowley is a mysterious "fixer" for a consulting firm who finds himself drawn into queer activism. Both of them have to navigate their day jobs along with increasing activism in a couple of different streams. The characterization is fascinating and the writer strings out the mysteries through the tale. This WIP is regularly updated and nearly complete. Remember, the fan fic community is a COMMUNITY. So don't forget to encourage writers of works underway by leaving kudos and comments. Writers are a gift to fans and we need to show them our appreciation. Finally, I'll give my pitch as someone who has been around much longer than most of you reading this. The yucky things happening in the world can be overwhelming. But it's a backlash. Because we've already made so much progress (both The False and the Fair and Good Works are good reminders of just how deadly the 1980s were for queer people). So resist. By making art and telling stories. By protesting. By contacting the people in power making decisions you disagree with. By caring for the vulnerable. By speaking out at local political meetings. By amplifying the voices of marginalized people. By using any of your unearned benefits to advocate for others. And by just existing as the beautiful and unique individual you are.

[spneldritchbang]

SPN Eldritch BigBang is back!

Authors and Artists, SPN Eldritch BigBang is open for sign-ups

Give us your horror tales and your chilling thrillers, your dark fiction fantasy and your heartbreaking stories dripping with heavy angst. Anything that feeds the dark corner of the fandom is welcome on Eldritch. We are ready for your Lovecraftian monsters, your ghost stories and haunted souls, your deadly gothic affairs, and your cold and twisted serial killers. Leave your comfort zone and dare to join us on the Dark Side!

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Please respond to all writer check-ins. If you don't submit a complete summary and a rough draft fleshed enough for an artist to work with (minimum 5,000 words) by July 15th deadline (before the artists’ claims), we will assume that you have withdrawn. Be complete in your fic summary and tag all warnings and ratings as appropriate for artist claims. If you have questions about this, ask the mod. On July 15th writers’ sign-up close.

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[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If you like this fanfic, please interact, leave comments. This author will be grateful for any interaction. Minors should not interact with this chapter, be warned.

Warning: The chapter may be somewhat confusing, but keep in mind that much of it takes place in the reader's mind, and every time a word appears in bold, it signifies a shift in her mental landscape. Enjoy your reading! Engage with the story if you’d like more chapters.

FOUR

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

FIVE (+18)

In your mind, everything was a blur. You had no memory of getting up, leaving the precinct, or returning home, yet here you were—dressed differently, standing before your husband. Or at least, you hoped it was him.

"Do you approve of my attire?" Charlie inquires, shifting slightly to emphasize the priest’s garments draped over his frame. His tone is light, teasing, yet something about the sight unsettles you.

"How did I get here, my dear?" you ask softly, closing the door behind you. Confusion lingers in your voice, but instinct pulls you forward. You rush into his arms, and he embraces you tightly, lifting you off the ground as though to anchor you. The warmth of his touch, the strength in his hold, should have been reassuring—but instead, it only deepens the disarray in your mind.

"I assumed you’d still be cross about our argument," Charlie murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before setting you down.

"What argument?" you ask, your breath hitching. A sharp pulse of unease shoots through you. How could he be concerned with a past quarrel when the world around you no longer made sense?

"You’re acting strangely, mi amor," Charlie murmurs, his fingers tracing your cheek with delicate reverence. "But if you insist on revisiting our argument, I’ll remind you." His tone is reluctant, as though he'd rather not speak of it. Yet, the last thing you recall is the two of you making amends in bed—so how could there have been a fight at all?

"You and I argued about having a child," he begins, and suddenly, a flash flickers through your mind—you, hurling a plate at him in a fit of rage.

"As you know, we’ve been trying for years," Charlie continues, stepping closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "But doing things the traditional way hasn’t worked for us."

"I can’t carry a child," you whisper, memories flooding back—the countless hospital visits, the treatments, the sleepless nights, the relentless arguments. It all crashes down on you like a torrential flood.

"We can’t," Charlie corrects, holding you tighter, as if anchoring you to him. "And you know I don’t like it when you blame yourself."

"Is that why we killed that pregnant woman?" you ask, voice laced with a morbid curiosity that barely disguises the horror curling in your stomach. A sudden, visceral memory surges forth—a surgery, the metallic scent of blood, your hands cradling a crying newborn, the lifeless body of a pregnant woman lying beside you.

Then, as if waking from a dream, you find yourself in a dimly lit warehouse. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something more sinister. Charlie stands before you, dressed in his usual white coat, while you—clad in a flowing white gown, eerily reminiscent of a wedding dress—stand motionless. Blood stains the fabric, stark against the pale material. At your feet lies a massive wooden crate.

"I know this isn’t the answer you wanted," Charlie says, shoveling another heap of dirt over the buried box, his expression unreadable. "But trust me, it could be worse."

"How could anything be worse than discovering I’m a murderer?" you whisper, a sob clawing its way up your throat. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until Charlie offers you a handkerchief.

"Don’t cry," he soothes, dropping the shovel and striding toward you. "It wasn’t your fault."

His arms envelop you, warm and unyielding, and you sink into his embrace, pressing your face against his chest. But then something shifts. You tilt your head up, gazing into his eyes before crashing your lips against his, kissing him with a feverish hunger that borders on madness. Your hands slide down, gripping his backside, forcing a low groan from his throat.

"Would you believe we had to kill someone just to spice things up?" Charlie murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

Before you can answer, he lifts you effortlessly and presses you onto the bed—your bed, as if the two of you had been transported there in an instant. His hands move with practiced ease, removing your clothing, his lips trailing heat along your skin, leaving you breathless. Without you realizing, his touch becomes more insistent, drawing soft gasps from your lips as he explores you

"And the baby, mi esposo?" you ask between shuddering breaths, feeling your husband’s hands work their way over your body. In your mind, the murders seemed connected to the child, yet Charlie had spoken of killing as if it were nothing more than a means to heighten your passion—an unsettling thought. Charlie continued to stimulate your pussy, as he removes his belt, binding your hands above your head with his belt.

"You always told me that taking a life made you burn with desire, but I never imagined the thought of a child would do the same," he murmurs, pulling you closer. "Don't worry, mi amor. If you're a good girl, I'll give you as many children as you wish," he promises, his voice dripping with confidence as he pulls his pants down and then frees his cock from his underwear.

In moments as you process what is happening, Charlie moves forward, scratching your ass while thrusting his cock into your pussy. You want to say something that will make him answer the damn question but with each thrust of his, your body trembles with pleasure as if it has been so long since he touched you. His fingers tightening around your waist while he tried to guide you with the movements so that you were in tune while he stuck his cock in you as if he wanted to make his home in your pussy. You feel your orgasm building as you try to hold on to your husband as much as you can with your hands pinned under your head. Charlie cums inside you almost immediately after he feels you come undone in his arms.

"Now, can we talk about the baby?" you ask, determined to understand the true reason behind the murders. Charlie is still catching his breath, his hand lazily sliding down your body before gripping your waist possessively.

"Mi amor," he murmurs indulgently. "There is no baby. Remember? We chose not to ruin our careers with children." He presses a soft kiss to your lips, as if nothing were amiss. You frown. Something is wrong. Something has always been wrong.

"What does ‘priest’ mean to you, Charlie?" you ask, the pieces of your fractured reality shifting, refusing to fit together. He smirks, as if recalling a fond memory. "We met at the Catholic seminary. I thought I wanted to be a priest. You were a nun whose devotion was tested." His lips trail along your neck, the kisses slow, almost reverent. "We were caught sinning in the house of God." A shiver runs down your spine.

"A few months later, I finished the medical degree I had abandoned before joining the seminary, and you discovered your true talent as a painter." His hands roam your body with a familiar sense of ownership as he speaks, as if everything makes perfect sense. Your mind spins, trying to stitch together the scattered fragments of your memories.

"So… we didn’t kill someone to take their baby?" Your voice wavers between trying to process his words and resisting the way his touch clouds your thoughts.

Charlie chuckles darkly, his breath warm against your ear. "Of course not. We did it because I needed a test subject for my surgical techniques." His fingers grip your chin, tilting your face toward him. "And you," he whispers against your lips, his eyes gleaming with something wicked, "get wet when you watch me work."

Disgust crashes into you like a violent wave, cutting through the haze of his presence. With a surge of clarity, you shove him off you. Charlie stumbles, hitting the floor with a dull thud. But before you can even process what you’ve done, before you can see if he’s hurt, everything around you shifts. You are no longer in your bedroom. You are in a church.

"Come closer," Charlie commands, dressed as a priest, his voice echoing softly through the vast church. He descends from the altar, where religious artifacts and flickering candles cast eerie shadows, and walks slowly down the aisle toward you. At the sight of him—whole, unharmed—you begin to cry, even though you know none of this is real.

"Mi amor," you whisper, throwing yourself into his arms, clutching him in a desperate embrace.

"Ask forgiveness for your sins, and God, our almighty Lord, will grant you mercy," he murmurs, still holding you close. His fingers glide through your hair with tender affection before he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"What am I to seek forgiveness for?" you ask, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. His priestly robes suit him unsettlingly well.

"Kneel first," Charlie instructs, his tone gentle yet firm. "Like the good, God-fearing wife you are." Something deep inside you hesitates, but you obey, lowering yourself before him.

"Ask forgiveness for joining me in this performance," he says, looking down at you as he places a rosary in your hands. "For delving too deeply."

"I ask God's forgiveness for such a sin," you say almost instantly, though the hard church floor is already making your knees ache.

"Now," he continues, his voice even, unwavering, "ask forgiveness for killing those people in God's name—alongside your husband." His words make you falter. "My husband is you," you state, unsure if you are seeking confirmation or reminding yourself of reality.

"Yes," Charlie replies, his voice carrying a haunting sweetness. "And together, we have sinned." He smiles in that way that is both angelic and utterly wicked.

"You wanted to believe in something, and I gave you purpose," he says. "Together, we sought to cleanse the world, removing those whose hearts were impure, creating our own faith." Charlie kneels before you now, his movements slow and deliberate.

"You lead this cult?" you ask, hesitantly reaching out to touch his face. "We lead it, mi amor," he corrects, then pulls you into a kiss—soft, slow, intoxicating. But the moment his lips leave yours, pain rips through you. A blade. Charlie buries a knife in your stomach, his grip firm, unwavering.

"Charlie… why?" Your voice trembles as your blood spills over his hands, pooling onto the cold church floor.

"There is always blood on our hands, mi amor," he whispers, brushing his lips against your cheek. "There are sacrifices we must make to purify the world." He drives the knife deeper, a lover's caress turned cruel. Darkness edges at your vision, but before it consumes you, you force yourself to ask:

"Before this reality fades… tell me—who is Detective Megan Duval to you? And was Detective Lois Tryon right about anything?" Somewhere, you feel yourself slipping away, feel the world shifting around you. Perhaps you will wake in your reality. But something tells you—this is the closest you have ever come to the truth.

"Megan is my ex," Charlie answers, his voice steady, almost affectionate. "She’s part of our cult because she still wants me back. She even tried to kill you once, but I stopped her. Lois? She’s a drunk desperate to use the murder case to make a name for herself. She doesn’t care about you. She and Megan were partners—until Duval betrayed Tryon to save me from getting caught. Now, Lois is on the verge of losing her job. They think she’s drinking again." The pieces start to click into place.

"What were these visions I had?" you ask, your body weakening as the illusion of life drains from you. Charlie watches you with something resembling tenderness.

"Fragments of the truth," he tells you, his tone almost soothing. "Memories of what happened. Some distorted, some fabricated—because your mind is fighting to make sense of it all. You hit your head hard when you collapsed. But soon, mi amor, it will all become clear." With agonizing slowness, Charlie pulls the knife from your body and presses a final kiss to your forehead.

Then— you wake with a gasp, your throat burning. A nurse rushes to your bedside, hastily removing the tube from your throat. The harsh light stings your eyes. IV lines run into your arms. Medical monitors beep steadily around you. You are in a hospital bed.

"Mi amor," Charlie says as he steps into your hospital room, dressed in a sleek suit. His presence is steady, reassuring. He drops a backpack onto the floor before making his way toward your bed. The moment his arms wrap around you, warmth floods your body. His embrace is so familiar, so comforting.

"Is this real?" you ask, holding onto him tightly, unwilling to let go. The nurse’s voice cuts through the moment, instructing him to keep his distance so she can examine you, but neither of you acknowledge her.

"Of course it's real," Charlie reassures you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before capturing your lips in his. "You’ve been unconscious for weeks. I was afraid I’d lose you."

"I missed you," you whisper, clutching the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Charlie hums softly against your ear, murmuring that he missed you too before peppering kisses along your jaw, your cheeks, your lips. His touch is gentle yet possessive, his presence so consuming that, for a fleeting moment, everything else ceases to exist.

You could ruin this moment. You could throw accusations, demand answers, question everything lingering at the back of your mind. But right now, none of that matters. Right now, all you want is to hold onto your husband and pretend—for just a little while longer—that everything is as it should be. Only one certainty remains: Lois and the police must never suspect that we are guilty. That we are involved.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[sturniolostars]

﹫𝓢𝓤𝓒𝓚 𝓟𝓣 𝓣𝓦𝓞﹫

Masked!Matt x Kinky!Reader

In which: after you blow him he bends you over the couch and fucks you

TW: p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it!), knife play, mask play, dirty talk, spanking, rough sex, hair pulling

First part of suck

I quickly undress myself, eager to be fucked by Matt. I scurried over to the couch and bend over the arm of it. The leather was cold against my skin and sent goose bumps through me. I felt Matt walk behind me and my pussy clenching around nothing just knowing he’s about to fuck me.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” He asks. I whine. Smack. “Words” he whispers. “I’ll be such a good girl please!” I beg. He chuckles and runs his length through my soaked folds to lube himself up. I felt the cold metal of the same blade he’s been holding slide up my ass. He pulls my hair back so I’m looking up and places the knife to my throat from behind.

I gasp, but it quickly turns into a loud moan as he plunges all the way into me. He thrusts hard and fast knocking all the air out of my lungs. I moan and claw at the couch. The knife grazing my throat every so often reminding me my life could end making this pleasure so much better.

“Fuck Matt!” I moan out. His thrust only speed up. “Such a tight little pussy” he groans. “I can feel you clenching” he whispers and a broken cry slips free from me. He pulls my hair some more making my mouth hang open and unholy sounds flood out from it.

I can feel my orgasm building up quickly. And I know Matt was already sensitive from the blowjob I gave him earlier and his thrusts were already getting sloppy. He was right there with me.

“Matt I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum!” I beg. “Not yet baby” he says. His tip was repeatedly hitting that spot inside me that made me see stars. A tear slips down my check rolling down to the cold metal that still threatens to slit my throat.

With a groan he finally says “cum for me baby let go”. I don’t need to be told twice. My eyes roll back and I squirt all over his cock. I think I might have passed out from that orgasm because when I come back to my senses the knife is gone and Matt must have gone to the bathroom because he’s cleaning me and him up.

“That was so good baby” he says to me throwing away the rag he got and kissing me. I hum. “Can you carry me? I’m tired and I don’t think I can walk” he smiles. “Of course baby” he pulls his mask off setting it down so I can see the ice blue eyes hiding behind the dark sockets of the skull.

Sex was a completion between us both at times and that’s how we liked it. And I was going to make him cum even harder once I could properly walk again.

And I just think I’ll use his own mask to do it

@kadesturnz part two how we feeling?

[haguenauisforlovers]

♡ kiss and make up in haguenau ♡

HAGUENAU IS FOR LOVERS A Webgott Valentine’s Week Fan Event Feb. 12 - Feb 18, 2025

It's happening!! D-11 to Haguenau Is for Lovers: A Webgott Valentine's Week Fan Event. Become the fujo WW2 wife and pull up a cuck chair, write your sick fics and create beloved shit posts in celebration of two haters who are obsessed with each other: Joe Liebgott x David Webster. (Thank you so much for the support so far! Mwah!)

Need a refresher about the event? Click ‘Keep Reading’ for rules, FAQs, and The Good Stuff. Or head over to our Navigation post.

What is it?

A week-long Valentine’s Webgott fan event where you can create beautiful and sick things for every tiny interaction between the two in the land of lovers, depression facial hair, and night patrols: WWII Haguenau. ‘Haguenau is for Lovers 2025’ starts on a Webgott Wednesday and will run from Feb. 12 - Feb 18, 2025. This fan event would like to thank this post by @randlemartin for being iconic, and for literally providing the title of it all.

EVENT DATES TO REMEMBER

Prompts poll open: Dec. 18, 2024

Prompts poll close: December 26, 2024 

Prompts reveal: Dec. 28, 2025

Fan event start: Feb 12, 2025

Fan event end: Feb 18, 2025

FIC SUBMISSION DATES TO REMEMBER

AO3 Collection open for Submissions: Feb 12, 2024

Fic collection reveal: Feb 14, 2024

Fic collection close: Feb. 18, 2024

*This page will begin reblogging posts with @haguenauisforlovers mentioned, and/or posts tagged with #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday on Feb. 12, 2025.

FAQs

Who can join and what can they contribute?

All those who are part of Webgott nation near and far. This event will be hosted primarily on Tumblr so to participate, you must have a Tumblr account. AO3 accounts are optional but highly encouraged, especially if participating authors prefer to lock their fics for AO3 users only. This fan event is open to: - Fics - AMVs and edits - Fan Art - Webweaves and Moodboards - GIFs - Playlists - Meme nonsense - Historical research, baby

RULES AND GUIDELINES

1. Main Relationship: Joe Liebgott/David Webster This is a Webgott event. That’s what it’s all about, baby.  2. Inclusion of other Ships: Ships apart from Webgott are welcome as background/implied (OC/Canon, Big Ships, Rare pairs). examples: Fic: Baberoe sharing an excruciatingly tender moment in the background while Joe and Web glare at each other in a gay way.  Text post/GIF sets: Other ships sharing Tender/Cute moments in Haguenau  vs. Joe and Web at each other’s neck at Haguenau 3. Tracking and Reblogging: This page will reblog posts with @haguenauisforlovers mentioned, and/or posts with tagged with #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday 4. AI-generated content is not allowed. Romance is created not generated. All Webgott works found here will be organic and free-range. RPF is honest work for real, beautiful, flesh-and-blood sickos. 5. [Fic Specific] Can we do AUs? AUs can be incorporated in, but fics should be set primarily in Haguenau. example: Post-war is allowed but they have to be reminiscing about Haguenau. Modern AU but they’re thrown into a time machine and land right smack behind enemy lines. You get what we mean. 6. Zero-tolerance Policy: Don’t be a dick actually. :) Please be civil and respectful toward one another. There is a zero tolerance policy for posts and/or comments that contain personal attacks or attempts at doxxing. Comments/posts promoting homophobia/racism/ableism or Nazi glorification will be removed. Similarly, there is also a zero tolerance policy for disrespecting characters, pairings, or kinks. This is a YKINMK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink) zone.

*Unironic Webster haters, please sit this one out. That's First and Second Platoon’s job. Cobb, Martin, and IRL Malarkey signed up twice.

Will there be prompts?

Yes! You can find the prompt list here.

What is a prompt?

A thought starter, brain lube if you will. Prompts are there to 1) spark any ideas for your works, whether they’re edits, gif sets, text posts, or fics; 2) keep you on theme. You don’t have to use them as is, but they’re there to help you jumpstart an idea. e.g. Prompt: Spit  Fic: Web finally spits out what he’s been wanting to tell Joe since day GIF Set: Side by side: Web open mouthed, Lieb spit compilation

Do I have to use every prompt for each day? 

No, you don’t! You can choose one (1) of the prompts, or incorporate all four prompts if you’re a beautiful overachiever like that.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. Haguenau is for Lovers just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. 'Haguenau is for Lovers' just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day. <3

Why Haguenau?

Because it’s for LOVERS. Caress Band of Brothers episode 8 “The Last Patrol” in your hands and say a prayer to RPF. Anything can happen at the tailend of war, but especially falling in love. Get as snug as a bug, and let your Webgott imagination roam wild and free in war-torn Haguenau. But on a more serious note, Easy Company was stationed there during Valentine’s Day 1945. Historical accuracy, our collective beloved.

Any more questions?

The inbox is open! All questions will be answered as promptly as possible. If you’re submitting through anon, you can track your answered questions through the ASK TAG.

[theexaltedbride]

Chronicles of Darkness is a total reboot. There are similarities between the two settings though so this is a bit of a TLDR, and honestly I really like Werewolf the Forsaken way more than Apocalypse. The Uratha feel much more heroic and less eugenics focused than the Garou. But in this one the Uratha (the werewolves) are descendants of two ancestral Spirits. Father Wolf, and Mother Luna. They inherit all of their powers from their ancient ancestors. Father Wolf was once guardian of the gauntlet between the world of the living and the world of spirits. He kept the two separate/made sure no spirit or human stayed too long on the other side, as they could have ill effects. He hunted great and terrible monsters known as the Idigam (eldritch horrors akin to the Wyrm and other horrors like that, to the point some of the descendants of the Idigam still fear wolves because of it, such as the Rat spirits who keep trying to eat away at the borders of reality and let in more horrors) and Father Wolf won the love of Mother Luna who bore him multiple children known as the First Born.

Mother Luna was known as 'Warden Moon' and a shapeshifter, and she actually imprisoned many of these Idigams to keep them from bothering the mortal world.

Eventually Father Wolf grew sick and weak, unable to hunt as he used to and his own children wished to usurp him. All of them knew about it, and only a few went through with it (though some hedged their bets and chose to stay silent). In a terrible fight they killed Father wolf and sought to take his place.

Mother Luna was not happy, in her sadness she cursed the wolves with weaknesses to Silver, and some Uratha (the ones who knew about the plan to kill Father Wolf but did nothing) rejected Luna and accused her of being behind it and outright rejected taking up Father Wolf's old duties. The would call themselves "The Pure" and would become werewolf supremacists believing that eth world would be better with spirits running wild, infecting reality, and letting them roam free to pull an Impergium on humans.

The other wolves "the Forsaken", accepted that they had done wrong. And tried to prove themselves to Mother Luna by taking up Father Wolf's old duties of keeping balance between the mortal realm and the spirit world, for they themselves were born of spirits and would become tied to humanity (though we can only assume this is from Firstborn mating with humans, but it never explicitly says how werewolves became part human, unless we imagine Mother Luna looked human when she was with Father Wolf). Many spirits hated the Forsaken from keeping balance, and forcing them to remain to their duties, but Mother Luna saw that they did, and actually chose to forgive them. She removed some of the weakness the Forsaken had to silver, and bestowed on them Silver Tattoos and Auspice powers to make them stronger and better able to fulfill Father Wolf's duties. Now many eons later, the Forsaken still keep up this duty, surrounded on all sides by hostile spirits and the cruel predations of 'The Pure', who want to do plenty of horrible things to humanity, the Forsaken, and even Luna. The later supplements even make it canon that some Idigam have broken free of Luna's prison, and it is up to the Forsaken to stop them. But despite always being outnumbered, the Forsaken haven't lost yet and they still keep the balance.

The Wolf Must Hunt, and so they shall.

(As I said this is a TLDR and I'm leaving out a lot of details, but I honestly love Werewolf the Forsaken much more than Apocalypse, even went so far as to actually get most of the books. Highly reccomend starting with the 2nd Edition and then finding supplements/sourcebooks which interest you. Thanks to the modularity of CofD, you can really play around with the setting and change things up. I recently just completed a game where a trio of Werewolves befriended a runaway Changeling and they formed an alliance which saw them allying with other local changelings to kill Huntsmen (Fae bounty hunters) and work with more Forsaken packs to chase all of the vampires out of the city and turn it into a safe zone for Forsaken and Changelings. Surprisingly a lot of Werewolf and Changeling lore fit together in odd places).

If you were interested in checking out a playthrough, I'd also highly recommend "The Bitches of Brewery Park" by DorkTales. its very well done and shows a lot of the aspects of Forsaken.

(Image is not mine. Taken from the Werewolf The Forsaken book "Signs of the Moon". )

I don't know what it is about this image but it manages to be so wonderfully bittersweet within a dark setting. Werewolf dad watching out for his kids and making sure they are okay. Still trying to be a part of his family's life even while fulfilling the duties of the Uratha.

It might be inconsequential to most people, but it's one of the things in Chronicles of Darkness that keeps coming to mind and is one of the glimmers of light that show the setting is worth fighting for.

[kakuvibez]

TWST ┃ YANDERE HEARTSLABYUL X BUNNY! READER ┃M.LIST

Where ever after high! readers find themselves in a boy school as a transfer student,,

Part 2.

Bunny Blanc Reader.

Signature Spell: RABBIT,, [N] can transform into a rabbit at will with this spell. She also has the instincts of a rabbit. Her signature spell allows her to be on time no matter what.

❛❛Now I can't go back to Wonderland...❜❜

❛❛ All of us Wonderlandians stick together❜❜

❛❛ No matter what time I leave, I always show up where I need to be right on time. Maybe I'm just lucky that way...❜❜

"Now I can't go back to Wonderland." [N] murmured, her voice a soft whisper. She had stumbled upon Night Raven College, lost and disoriented, her usual luck failing her for the first time. Her monolid/ prominent/ almond/ downturned/ hooded/ deep-set look toward her new dorm, Heartslabyul.

Heartslabyul, with its vibrant colors and over-the-top decor, was a stark contrast to the muted tones of Wonderland. Yet, something about the dorm, and its inhabitants, drew her in.

Riddle, the Dorm Head, was immediately captivated. [N], with her soft [c] fur, her gentle demeanor, and her uncanny ability to always be on time, regardless of the circumstances, was unlike anything he had ever encountered.

"No matter what time I leave, I always show up where I need to be right on time. Maybe I'm just lucky that way..." she had confessed once, her voice tinged with a hint of wonder. Riddle, however, saw it as a sign. Fate, he believed, had brought her to him.

His initial fascination quickly blossomed into obsession. He found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, his every action carefully calculated to keep her close. Trey, ever the gentle giant, tried to warn her, but Riddle's charm and his iron grip on the dorm made it difficult to resist.

Cater, always eager for the next big story, documented their every interaction, his posts garnering an alarming amount of attention. Most of the time it was just her picture of everything, everything. Ace and Deuce, initially amused by Riddle's infatuation love, soon realized the seriousness of the situation. [N], however, remained oblivious, her shy nature preventing her from seeing the warning signs.

Riddle, in his attempts to "protect" her from the perceived dangers of the outside world, began to subtly restrict her movements. He would "accidentally" misplace her belongings, "forget" to inform her of important events, tho it backfired every time due to her signature spell being active, and "coincidentally" appear whenever she tried to venture beyond the dorm.

[N], confused and increasingly uneasy, tried to brush off his overbearing behavior as mere "concern." "All of us Wonderlandians stick together," she would remind herself, clinging to the familiar comfort of Wonderland's unwritten rules.

But Wonderland's rules did not apply here. Riddle, driven by his obsessive desire to possess her, was slowly eroding her sense of self, trapping her in a gilded cage of his own making.

One day, as she was attempting to use her signature spell, RABBIT, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the dorm, she felt a jolt of pain, her transformation cut short. Riddle, his face a mask of fury, stood before her, his eyes gleaming with a chilling intensity.

"You are not going anywhere, [N]," he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. "You belong to Heartslabyul."

You were paralyzed with fear, could only watch as Riddle, with a chillingly calm demeanor, began to tighten his grip, his obsession finally manifesting into something truly terrifying.

You could feel the others looking at you. Behind Riddle, there they were.

Riddle Rosehearts:

"You must follow the rules, my dear. If you break them… well, I will have to punish you."

"Why do you keep trying to leave? Do we not take good care of you?"

"A rabbit belongs in its burrow. And you belong here, with us."

Ace Trappola:

"Oh, come on, bunny, don’t look at me like that! We’re just keeping you safe."

"You think you’re fast? Cute. But you’re never gonna be faster than me."

"Just accept it. You’re ours now, whether you like it or not."

Deuce Spade:

"I don’t like forcing you, but… I will if I have to."

"Please stop trying to run. You’ll only get yourself hurt."

"If Riddle says you stay, then you stay. No arguments."

Cater Diamond:

"Aw, don’t be mad, bun-bun! You look way cuter when you smile~"

"You don’t really wanna leave, do you? C’mon, we have so much fun together!"

"Let’s snap another pic of our favorite bunny—oh, don’t pout, you love the attention!"

Trey Clover:

"You should eat something. Running away on an empty stomach isn’t very smart."

"You’re part of the dorm now. That means you have responsibilities—like staying where you belong."

"Trust me, it’s better if you don’t fight it."

No matter how much you try to escape, Heartslabyul is always one step ahead. You’re their little rabbit now—trapped in their never-ending game of tea parties, rules, and twisted affections.

And the scariest part?

THEY LOVE THE CHASE.

So 😋 do you like it my dear anon 🌷

[jinx-s-things]

Hey! 😘

This is my first ever request so sorry if it sounds weird. So I seen your post about starting Anora fics and I totally think you should

Ani x musician reader!!!

Like the reader is performing with their band or something like that then Ani notices the drummer and is instantly attracted.

That’s just an idea though you don’t have to write that if you don’t want to

Crazy little thing called love

Anora x musician fem!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of sex other than that I think it’s alright

Notes: I did change the reader to a guitarist instead of a drummer also thanks for the request.

The colourful lights were pulsing throughout the whole club as the loud music was thumping. Over in the corner in the dim light was Anora giving a lap dance to one of the men on the black leather couch’s. It was a shitty job but it’ll do if she can pay the rent.

The tinsel in her hair fell across her face while her dark black hair was all over the place. Most of her makeup was sparkling and matched with her acrylic nails.

-

You stood outside of the club, the neon sign flashed in your eyes, cars drove swiftly past. You and your band walked in the door getting ready to set up. You were glad to get in from the chilly weather as it was freezing this time of night.

Once everything was set up the lights slowly flashed a nice shade of pink and purple as music started to play. You couldn’t help but notice a lady in the background talking to a man. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

She suddenly turned around and looked directly at you and a slight smirk appeared on her face along with a wink. ‘Had you imagined that’ you think to yourself, but you must have been so lost in thought that you didn’t even realise your band mate was now aggressively taping you. “Get it together Y/N, we might actually get payed this time” they whisper to you.

For several months you and your band have been playing at college gigs and not one single penny. You had lost hope this was gonna be the last time you ever play with your band at all before you leave. No money, no job barely any food it was awful.

It was a shame you did really enjoy being up on stage but there was no way you would manage to pay bills. Your apartment was atrocious anyway.

The whole thing went surprisingly well although the whole time you couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark haired lady that was now dancing on the pole.

Once the gig was over and everything was packed up some of your band members started to head out. You were just about to go when all of a sudden a hand lightly grabbed your shoulder. “So you must be the guitarist” they said, noticing the guitar hanging around your shoulder. You turned around and realised it was her. “Yeah I am” you answered not really knowing what to say. “You got a real smooth melody going on” the dancer spoke in a quiet tone, seductive even. “Thanks really appreciate it” Now you were face to face with her you could see how stunning she was.

She then spoke “I’m Ani, you?” Her smile widened as you blushed suddenly becoming shy. “Y/N”, you muttered. “Nice name, why don’t we get a private room to ourselves” Ani says, you nod and let her take your hand.

“First time here I guess?” She asks seductively while caressing her hands all over your breasts. “You guessed right” but before you could say anything else Ani pushed you onto a couch.

“Just lay back and enjoy baby”

-

It had been a couple of weeks but you hadn’t heard from Ani at all it was clearly just a spur of the moment, but what did you expect however she done it for free?.

You quickly pushed that thought away for now and got ready to go on stage. Things were going well enough and finally our band started getting recognition.

More crowds started arriving making their way to the little venue. We still were performing at small gigs in bars or usually clubs but it yet you grow nervous. “What are you going to do if you get famous one day?” You thought now getting angry “Yeah right”, sighing you slowly walk onstage.

The stage was very little since it was only a jazz club however it still managed to look spacious . Lights were a mixture of red and orange making it seem warm, Hushed chattering filled most of the room. On stage it was dim but you could just make out people in the audience.

While playing all you could think of was Ani, Ani, Ani! She drove you crazy. From one of the nearby tables you could see a lady by herself though that wasn’t uncommon but for some odd reason this intrigued you.

Ani could only focus on you the whole time, she didn’t mean to disappear from you but she got nervous . She sighed hoping that you would notice her. It had been a bad couple of days or even weeks she couldn’t tell anymore. Imaging a more better life preferably with you kept Ani positive.

She moved closer so she was more in the light cause she seen you looking in that direction. You closely look once more and immediately your eyes lit up.

After the performance was over you scurried down the stage, heart racing like never before running towards Ani. You paused when you got to the table, a small smile appeared on your face however still quite confused also maybe annoyed. “What are you doing here?” Ani stood up, “I came here to see you” she answered “look I’m sorry for disappearing like that from you, I knew from the first time that I seen you I had to get to know you . You don’t need to accept my apology but I just wanted you to know that I love you even though it has been a short time. Thinking of you kept me happy and I hope you feel the same.”

She took a deep breath out clearly feeling better after getting that off her chest . You blink not knowing what to think, the apology made your heart flutter . She looked up at you with a shy look on her face, nervously waiting for you to speak. You sigh and place an arm on her shoulder, “I forgive you” you say.

There was a feeling between the both of you. In that moment you knew you had to go for it. Slowly you leaned closer and gently grabbed her waist while lips touched. Ani’s lips felt soft as silk you never wanted to part from it and her scent was intoxicating.

Finally parting lips, warmth blossomed in Ani’s chest as did yours. They both smiled at each other feeling calmer than ever.

[slimepuparibaba]

What do you think about the set-up for Skyhaven? Physically, because I'm having trouble putting it together.

It's a floating island on top of Linkon City. We know this, but how do you get in and off of it?

Everything I've read on the cards talks about trains, but what if there's an emergency? Do they move in their little flying cars? I haven't seen like a highway connecting the two. If it existed, it'd kill the aesthetic and remoteness of Skyhaven, and honestly, I think Linkon is a little behind in terms of technology to allow a jet to just park wherever.

What if Caleb needs to get to MC fast?

The only thing I've got at the moment is him straight up jumping off Skyhaven with his evol. Of course, the overprotective yearning jock would probably do it, but it seems like a reach. There must be a better way.

What do you think? 👀

Wait, this is actually so interesting. Thank you so much for the question, lemme cook for a second--

Okay, so here's my current understanding of Skyhaven as of current:

Skyhaven is a floating island above Linkon. Best way to get there is via skyrail / train. An example of a skytrain exists in the graphic of Lucid Dreams, Caleb's Myth, as that seems to be a skytrain to a Skyhaven Amusement Park. There is also good chance that an airport for Skyhaven also exists if someone doesn't want to take the train, since... you know, Skyhaven in the sky. Doesn't seem like there's any flying cars that exist in the 2048, which is interesting. Haven't heard a lick of a mention of a flying car, and Caleb also drives a lambo that doesn't fly so.

I would imagine if there was an emergency in Skyhaven, the Farspace Fleet has evacuation vehicles. Since they're such a big faction in Skyhaven, they will have the technology to create ships or other kinds of jets, planes, etc that allow for safety evacuation. But from what it sounds, majority of the time, Skyhaven only needs to be under lock down (no one can leave Skyhaven, there may be curfew, etc) and them Fleet will take care of things. Also it is very likely (and by likely I mean pretty obvious) the Fleet has backing from Ever so they will absolutely have the means necessary to take care of emergencies. If anything, the emergencies are likely just orchestrated emergencies. But that's just me--

What IS interesting is that Caleb's "house" isn't actually a house, but said to be more than just a house. Place is a gigantic island that's floating around, it's huge, it's gigantic. Also man has a personal landing dock for his jet. Which is insane by the way.

With this in mind, this is what me and my sister think would happen if there was an emergency Caleb and he had to immediately get to you. We got three possibilities.

Man is actively breaking the fucking sound barrier with his private jet to get to you. He's the Farspace Fleet Captain, he's flying to you almost immediately. While Linkon may be slightly behind in terms of technology, there will probably still be landing pads, ESPECIALLY considering the Farspace Fleet seems to be a pretty influential faction that even the World Evol Government has to abide to, and Wanderers are such a common occurence that I wouldn't put it past them to have multiple landing strips somewhere. He will find somewhere to land, hell he'd land in the fucking forest and bolt to you fast as possible. Doesn't matter. If he has to kill someone to get to you, he will. He's above the law in that moment.

The chance of Caleb being ten steps ahead of you is also very likely. Him being Colonel allows him more chances for him to keep an eye on you, to watch your every move. What's more, he doesn't seem above being extremely over protective of you. Man is very perceptive. He would very likely lock you up before the problem even happens. But assuming that the problem was sudden and not even he could catch wind of it, if anyone gets in his way, he will kill them and rush to your side as fast as possible. When you're hurt, he has extreme tunnel vision.

And now, crack theory territory: Caleb will somehow be able to use the Spatium Core to his advantage. That specific Aether Core is held together via gravitational pull, and can manipulate space freely. The Main Story does show how this Aether Core can come into play, and there is a good chance Caleb will be able to properly figure out how to wield it and manipulate it. The moment MC is in danger in the future, I wouldn't be surprised if we find out a Spatium Core is with him and he starts to use its power.

And I'm just saying, Caleb can do a lot with his Evol. If he's somehow able to manipulate it HIMSELF to teleport to her, I also would not be surprised. Do I know how gravity works? No. But man can make blackholes, stop the rain from moving... damn it all if I can't see it happening where by some miracle happens and he can make fucking PORTALS using gravity and spacetime.

[sorceresssundries]

The Tower

My next contribution for the @bg3tarotdeck is Rolan!!

This one was very special to me as I adore Rolan, and The Tower card is a pretty intimidating one to write for.

I loved it though, and I was blessed to get to pair up with the wonderful @mescalitoart for this one! Their artwork for this card is incredible.

Project Kickstarter info here!

It came as if from nowhere. 

The elder brain was a monstrosity, an abomination wearing the cursed crown of a heretic. As it rose from the bowels of the undercity ruins, its vast, pulsing mass blotted out the sun and cast a shadow that swallowed Baldur’s Gate. From his vantage point atop Ramazith’s Tower, Rolan watched in grim silence, the memory of Elturel's fall tightening like a clawed fist around his heart. He had made a promise to Tav that the sky would fall upon any who stood in their way.

He had been powerless when Elturel was dragged into hell, but not anymore.

Not this time.

This must be what it was all for, he thought with surprising numbness. He had faced banishment, the slaughter of his people, the crushing grief of thinking Cal and Lia were dead, and the humiliation of countless beatings from a cruel and undeserving master. Yet, he had endured. This was no longer a path he was being dragged down, but a mantle he was ready to pick up. 

Everything had led him here. From the pits of hell to the top of the tower - and now, he had a part to play. 

From its perch in the darkened sky, the elder brain pulsed waves of psychic energy, calling forth reinforcements. Nautiloid ships filled the sky in response, their grotesque silhouettes slipping through portals to ready themselves at its side. Minutes before, the air had been filled with the chatter and life of a bustling city. Now, there were only screams and smoke.

Rolan had made improvements to the tower’s defences and artillery, rectifying the neglect of his predecessor. The former master had been lazy and indulgent, more focused on seizing power than fulfilling his duty as the city’s protective mage. Rolan had done what he could, but feared it might not be enough to withstand the onslaught of Illithid attack ships. 

It didn’t matter. He had a promise to keep. If the tower had to fall alongside the sky, then so be it.

“Rolan!” Lia’s voice was a blade through his epiphany. His brave, stubborn sister stumbled out onto the balcony, suddenly sounding like the frightened little girl who had taken him in when they were children. She and Cal had saved him and become his family when he had no one. It was a debt he was determined to repay.

“What are you doing?” he snapped as a massive shadow from the nautiloid ship passed over their heads “It is not safe! Get out of here, now!”

“Don’t be a dolt, Rolan,” Cal snapped, emerging right behind her. “You really think we’d leave you up here alone? Not a chance. Tell us what needs to be done.”

He looked at their faces, jaws set and eyes blazing. His fierce, selfless siblings who he loved completely.

“Fine, make yourselves useful. I need more scrolls, as many as you can carry. Get back to the shop, and find any that will summon lightning.”

“But...” Cal started.

“Quickly!”

The two of them exchanged a glance, and Lia sighed.

“Do not do anything reckless, at least until we get back,” she said with one of her easy smiles. “We stick together, remember?”

He nodded, fighting the urge to pull them both into a hug—the way he had during stormy nights when they were children.

They raced through the portal without looking back, recklessly determined to help as always. Just like at the grove, on the road to Moonrise, and at every step of their journey. They had never wavered.

“Forgive me,” Rolan murmured, his voice cracking softly. With a heavy heart, he flicked his hand, and the portal shimmered and vanished in a flash of magic. Sealing them away, ensuring they couldn’t return to him.

He was alone.

Rolan resumed his place at the tower’s ledge, watching as the nautiloid ships steadied, focusing their barrage on the High Hall. They were trying to stop Tav and the others from reaching the top. His eyes flicked to the tower’s artillery control. One press, and he could rain fire down on any target he desired. But there was no signal from Tav yet, and without it, he had to wait. 

The tower shook as another volley of fire pummelled the city. He knew he had only one good shot before he gave himself away completely, and the tower’s defences wouldn’t stand a chance against the concentrated firepower of the entire fleet. 

Just then, a nearby nautiloid shifted, its shadow darkening the tower as it pivoted toward him. Its artillery halted and readjusted —focusing on the tower’s spire. 

They had noticed him. 

His heart quickened as he realised it wouldn’t wait for him to strike first. If he didn’t act quickly, it wouldn’t matter whether Tav signalled or not. His promise would count for nothing. 

He had to keep the ship off him, just long enough for the signal. 

He felt for the threads of the weave, silken and pliant between his fingers as the comforting scent of rosewater wrapped itself around him. His focus sharpened as his tongue carved out the arcane command, splitting the delicate threads of magic apart. Silk became static, and magic gathered in the skies above him, transforming smoke into storm clouds. The soft, rolling darkness growled and purred, and with one word from his lips, lightning crackled and spat across the battlefield sky.

Flashes of lightning turned his gold eyes silver-blue, illuminating his bruises and making his slow-healing scars look like fresh wounds. His teeth were bared in concentration, his muscles taut.

 He was the thunder that summoned the lightning. He was the storm atop the tower.

A bolt pierced the nautiloid ship. It sparked and blazed, and the ship stuttered like a failing heart against the smoke-clotted sky. Another bolt threw itself down, missing and hitting the surface of the Chionthar with a hiss. And then… lightning struck the tower.

The explosion rocked the structure and falling shrapnel slit his skin, but Rolan did not move. He stood firm. The end was near—he could see the ships turning toward him. He wouldn’t last long.

A strange relief washed over him. At least Cal and Lia were safe.

Just as he thought his time was up, the signal he had been waiting for pulsed in the distance. Hope bloomed once more, as it always had.

It was time to fire the cannon.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

We receive a yoga cushion. If I’m able to set up what I’m hoping for in the fourth round, we’re definitely going to need all the mindfulness that we can get.

Early morning and a wild Sage appears. The Watcher has no idea why she was napping in a party bush when she has a perfectly good coffin, but I suppose she was doing no harm (though her vertebrae may disagree).

Fangs up, Sage. You’re also on cooking for the day.

We saw nothing.

Also having an uncomfortable start to the day was Delphine. The party bush must be the new black for this household because in her quest for a place of easement, she not only bypassed the ensuite but the downstairs toilet. 

(Spongebob Voice: It's been 84 years...)

It is the final day for this household and contestants were pulling out more stops than a traffic light. Jerrod and Pauline both got flirty, but it was lucky Sage who received a first kiss!

But it was Avery who popped the question, and now everyone else is partaking in chore montage hour. Jerrod and Delphine take care of the animals, while Sage assists Pauline in the gardening.

Jerrod and Pauline have both been enjoying some mild flirtation with Delphine (who between them, Lilac - and earlier Lou Howell - has really been bringing all the pixels to the yard this round), but evidently it was no luck for Jerrod, as his attempts earned him this self discovery prompt.

(I declined as it would have disadvantaged him too much, but it did make me giggle.)

Having much better luck is Delphine, who we see again (and again) with Lilac. Elsewhere Sage finds a kindred spirit in former fellow fanger Pauline, and Avery works on being this group’s artiste.

Per tradition we get a sweet treat (other than the one Avery had earlier) as our final meal of the household. But what is likely even sweeter for Sage is that she managed not to burn down the kitchen at all today.

Not taking their security gig as seriously as Lou are our black chickens, who once again let this fox waltz off with our eggs. Maybe Household Three will have roast chicken one night?

That’s not all, folks! The Watcher gets a notification that an egg is ready to hatch, and who better for the task than RANCHER Pauline?

I think this is an eggcellent way to close out the household.

(rolls)

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @changingplumbob @simstagramsomeone @invisiblequeen @panicsimss

[fakeoldmanfucker]

The thing about blaming Americans (in general, or one political party, or one faction of one political party) for the election of Trump is based upon a fallacy that there is democracy in America. There is no democracy in America that matters in any real way to the election of federal office, nor local office if there's enough money put behind the campaigns. It's becoming clearer now, with the obvious visibility of oligarchs supporting Trump, but this is not a new condition. America is not controlled by the President, or by the Congress, or by the Court. It is influenced primarily by the interests of business, by the companies that prey on our sick, our poor, our vulnerable, our marginalized, all in the name of profit. It is their lobbying and their bureaucracy that affects the life of our country. It was the pursuit of wealth and the inability to conceptualize a communal society that set America on a bad track from the beginning. It has only been through the determination of the human spirit, the compassion and empathy and hope, that has made anything worthwhile of this country. The people in America that voted for Trump did so after decades of political campaigns priming them to vote for just such a candidate, a candidate that has finally shed the false skin of democracy and openly embraced the ruling force in this country, the force of capitalism. Any democracy we do have has been clawed from the grasping hands of the capitalist class and must be held onto. Go to local government meetings. Speak up at town hall. Talk to your neighbors, your coworkers, your classmates. Organize. No action is too small, no effort is a waste, as long as it comes from the people. Because if we don't do it ourselves, they will do it for us. And they will do it for their own benefit, with no regard to how many necks they step on, how many laws they break, or how many people they speak over.