#Fisher and the Flame

[tamlindain]

It seems y’all, for some bizarre reason, find it abundantly difficult to find a Xaden who isn’t white so here, I bring you options. Quit with Matt Daddario please. He made a great Alec but Xaden is canonically a moc. It’s like y’all are allergic to melanin.

[Fady Elsayed, Drew Ray Tanner, Taylor Zachary Perez, Jordan Fisher, Kartik Aaryan, David Castañeda]

[yourlocalpurplekinnie]

Yugioh Rarepair Week Day 6!!

Today I did Circus with Extinguishshipping, Tweetshipping and London x Fisher :33 (I’m probably gonna draw more of them on the free day tbh because I have some scenes in my head that I wanna draw but I couldn’t today because I started this later in the day so I didn’t really get chance to add something on top of it)

We have London as the Ringleader, Fisher as the Magician’s assistant and Windy as the Magician (Idk I just find this to be funny in my mind for that duo (Fisher probably didnt know what they wanted to do and so London was probably like “Magician’s usually have assistants” and boom!!).

Then Flame as a fire preformer with basically the same design as I usually have him beyond the leather jacket being off and Tori and Yuzu who are both trapeze artists.

I already knew I wanted Yuzu to probably be a Trapeze artist but I wasnt surr what Tori would do so I just out her with her gf :33 I am 100% gonna redesign their outfits for the freeday because I got a little lazy witj them because I was gonna add patterns but I couldnt do a good one and I just wanted to get this over with LMAO.

Also no hat Fisher?? No way!!

But yeah I genuinely fell in love with this idea and I’m 100% gonna expand on it (well more like 75% because I have a hard time following things through) and yeah :333

Also my ocs decided to punch me in the face and take my interest away for like half or so of the day so yeah!!! I drew such a cute picture of them though <333

Anywyas yippee another day down!!!

[pricklymuffinzzzzz]

Sally Face Stimboard

Art by Kovid-Chan on Pinterest

(A redo of my old one)

[kouraiiz]

"You must be an angel"

---- Hello!! this is my first post here so apoligies if its not formatted well. Regardless; here is a mediocre ( orignally written on a03 by me, linked here) story I wrote on a whim, about a broken family put back together once they move to Nockfell after an incident with Knives (our main character) and her mother. She and her brother meet the gang and silliness ensues. AKA a shitty modern day SF fanfic because head full, this is a self-insert character so sorry no y/n. she is loosely based off of me so blah blah ok here backstory time & yes there is homestuck refences and NO I do not care ☹ let me do what I do #autism !! English is a poor language for me so apologies for mistakes!! None of the fanart/ images used are mine, credits to owners!-----

CHAPER 1:

End of the Beginning

what seem like decades ago, Knives lived with her semi put together family in the ever so urban Houston Texas. With her twin brother Vinnie (or Vin) and her eldest brother Silas everything was just peachy. That was until their father had died of heart complications when Knives was just 11.

After that sad excuse of a day the widowed Miki became a pathetic shell of a mother. She lived by her ever empty bottle of wine or shitty canned beer. To the point where she became more of a roommate than a mother. Knives had to do something about this.

She wasn’t going to sit back and watch as her older brother work his senior year of high school away at some mediocre grocery store just so Miki could blow most of his minimal paycheck on alcohol. On April 14th, just days away from knives & Vins’ birthdays, knives decided to confront her mother. Here’s how the interaction went down. (First person pov)

“You crazy bitch who do you think you are?!” you mother slurred as she quickly tried to grab the bottle of wine that you started to pour down the drain.

“Me? Crazy? Please.” You said in a monotone voice as you finished dumping out the bottle and swiftly moved out of the way of your monstrous mothers’ grasp. Your brothers used to go onto the roof when things were easier, they taught you how to fight, or ‘strife’ they called it. You had gotten well at defending yourself over those couple of months. even being able to use your newfound skills against a creep at the mall.

“Please don’t do this, I just want to help you momma I promise!” you said grabbing her hands and looking up into her glazed eyes.

“Let go of me! You brat! I’m an adult and I can do as I want! Do not tell ME what I can and can’t do!” she said as she pushed you forward; causing your smaller body to hit the counter behind you.

As brush your long hair out of your face and you steady yourself you look back to your mother to see her lunge at you. You could never hurt your mother. Not ever. She’s just a little girl who’s distraught over her husband and best friend of 16 years dying. You couldn’t punish her for lashing out. She’s just scared.

 You feel warm now, you have a stinging spot on your head so instinctually you went to scratch it. Then comes the pain, it’s almost everywhere; you groggily open your eyes to look at your hand as it feels wet, blood. It was blood. You jolt up, now realizing you’re on the dining room floor. Your full vision slowly comes back, and you’re horrified at the sight. Chunks of your beautiful hair is sprawled around you.

 Your hair that held the last memory of your father. You used to crawl into bed with him and your mother in the mornings that you woke up before them. He used to always tuck your hair behind you bejeweled ears and hum you back into a light sleep. You grasp a chunk of the mangled hair and spread it between your fingers. Slowly beginning to cry. The pain on your extremities was nothing compared to this. You just slowly lowered yourself back onto the fake hardwood floor and cried, cried because you didn’t know what else to do.

 You wanted nothing but for everything to go back to the way it was. You starred at the entrance to your apartment, watching the very minimal light from the peep hole shine in, casting light on the dust particles in the air. It felt like the world was spinning in slow motion. You were dreading the time Silas and Vin come back from the music store. You cried for what felt like hours. You eventually sat up and noticed the keys to one of the two cars your family had owned was missing. You weakly stood up and hobbled to your mothers’ room, seeing drawers strewn over the already messy room.

“Great. Pansy ass bitch.” You said as your voice cracked. Crying again as you realized your mother had fled.

 You didn’t care though as you heard your brothers obnoxiously loud keys jiggle the lock open. You shuffled into the dining room, quickly observing the scene left behind. A broken wine bottle, small spots of blood with of course your white hair scattering the room. You dropped to your knees and touched your head for the first time since you woke up. You began sobbing again. The rest was a haze. You vaguely remember your older brother cupping your head; asking what happened. The only thing you could mutter was ‘’ Momma”. That’s all he needed to hear.

After that it’s a blur. Due to your mothers fleeing and your brother being freshly 19, he gains custody of you and your twin.

CHAPTER 2:

Beginning of the End

~Time skip: 3 years after incident, age:15~

You innocently lean against your bed, plucking mindlessly at your well-loved bass. The vibrations running through your fingers.

“yo“ Vinnie says as he comes into your shared room, pushing up the shades he always adorned and swooping his platinum hair out of his face. You found it funny, you rarely see him without the sunglasses.

“Hey man, did Bro mention anything about what school we’ll be goin’ to after we move?’’ you questioned as you shut off your amplifier and faced him fully. He sat down at his desk and kicked his feet up on the nearby bedpost.

“Yeah, actually he did, it’s near the shithole surprisingly, so we could probably skate to & from the hellhole instead of riding in the bus” He referred to the apartments we planned to live in as the ‘shithole’ because in all honesty, it wasn’t lavish. On the website it looked quite old, but it’ll do for the three of you. The real name of your new crib was ‘Addison Apartments’.

You set your bass down as you glanced at your mostly packed room. The stacks of cardboard boxes occupying most of the free space.

‘’I can’t believe this our last weekend in Texas...” Vinnie sighed and got up to stand next to you as you turned to glance out the window of your Highrise apartment. You’re not going to miss the hustle and bustle of urban Texas; the constant traffic and shouting kept you up frequently. You leaned onto your brother as he comfortingly wrapped an arm around you and sighing.

“I know, it’ll be a nice change though, Nockfell looks chill.” He said rubbing circles onto your arm.

Later on you go into the bathroom to take off your makeup, when your mother defaced you she gladly didn’t do as much damage as you initially thought. Your long hair now was medium length with layers. You honestly loved the change of appearance. You also decided to dye the tips of your hair a dusty rose because you’ve always liked the idea of a colorful head of hair, even if its just a little.

-

“Finally, I finished packing the moving van with my and my brothers’ shit’’, you thought, never understood why they needed so many electronics, turntables, keypads, electric pianos, they had it all. They sure did love their pop music. You, Knives, on the other hand liked all music types, but you really loved heavy metal. The way that Sanity’s Falls bass shook your head every time you listened to it just make your love for metal grow. You laughed at how ironic it was that your name was Knives, AND you liked heavy music, how metal is a name like that?

Vin stumbled out of the entrance to the apartment building, his headphones sitting heavily on his shoulders as he chucks his skateboard and your roller skates in the back of bros’ pickup. You had all finished getting ready for the drive, you and your twin glances at each other and then to your guardian.

Bro wiped sweat from his forehead and adjusted his pointy shades “Alright y’all let’s get this show on the road, its a long drive so let’s get started. I wanna make it at least halfway by tonight.”

You and Vin were going to drive the pickup while Bro drove the chunky U-Haul. Although you both couldn't legally drive, your brother decided on a whim to teach the both of you a couple months ago so you had a general idea of what you were doing. You were nervous to make the lengthy drive because you had a fear that if you got pulled over that you and your brother would both be sent to juvey.

Regardless, you made the drive. The 48 hour journey was taxing but when you stepped out of the car in Nockfell you realized that this place was way different than Texas and you had no clue what was to come.

After reconnecting with your eldest brother after the long drive you made your way into the lobby as your brothers unlocked the moving van. You realize that there was no receptionist desk only a small mail cubby area. you remembered that Bro mentioned you would be staying in unit 403. So you made your way over to that cubby and you realized that you needed a key to unlock. \

You did not know where to obtain such key so being the genius you are you stuck your smallest fingers' nail into the key slot and tugged & wiggled out a little bit to see if it was unlocked and thankfully it was! you grabbed the few pieces of junk mail that had already gathered and threw them away, then picked up the thin envelope that contained the apartment keys and gently opening it and removing the keys

you made your way to the elevator and hit the button for your floor you jogged quickly to your apartment and unlocked it. You push open the door to see a glum looking room with a green-gray carpet that held a few stains.

You scrunch your nose due to you smelling heavy cleaner and bleach, but at least it was clean, you quickly set down the keys and make your way out leaving the door open so you and your siblings can easily go in and out without having to worry about the door.

-

After you brought up all the boxes with your name on it and set them in your room you put your hands on your hips, sighing, and glancing around the room. You were excited to finally have your own room away from your brother, but it would be a change because you had been bunking with him since you two were little. Reminiscing about all the times you had spent together was making you feel nostalgic.

Vin and Bro had made a quick run to the grocery store so they could stock up on some essentials for the fridge. You sat down and sliced open one of the cardboard boxes that was labeled “CDs” you were rummaging through it when you heard some mumbling coming from outside your room and heavy footsteps. You were surprised because you thought it would take your brothers a longer time to arrive back home, so you brushed yourself off and pushed the door open.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realize that the two people you heard in your apartment were in fact not your brothers but two strangers. One being a tall male with tanned skin and long brown hair having deep set eyes that carried bags heavier than anything. This person wore a cannibal corpse shirt with a beat-up flannel and gray jeans. The other person that you couldn't assume the gender of had electric blue pigtails hanging from each side of their head & wore red ripped jeans with fishnets underneath, combat boots along with a black crew neck, you also noticed that this person wearing what looked like a mask, you didn't think twice though because a lot of people these days were very expressive. It looks quite cool.

“uh…. hi...” you said sweetly but quietly, slightly hiding behind the door frame because you didn't know if these people were a threat or not. Just in case you reached over to your desk and put your hidden hand on it to feel for the box cutter you had laying on it.

“Oh! Hey man” the tall one with long hair said as he lifted his ringed hand and waved “sorry to intrude like this dude just wanted to give an introduction because we were told that a new tenant would be moving in, I’m Larry, Larry Johnson.” He took a step closer to you holding out his dominant hand for to shake.

“Hi... I’m Knives, yeah me and my brothers just moved here, nice to meet you” you reluctantly grabbed his hand your long nails accidentally brushing against him.

“Knives? Like the utensil? That's a cool ass nickname!” He said smiling noticing the gap in between his two front teeth. It kind of made him look like a Bunny.

“Thank you! But that's my real name.” You said awkwardly smiling leaning your head fully against the door frame of your room.

“Oh, and uh this is my friend Sal, but you can just call him Sally face! It's kind of like his nickname.” Larry said elbowing his shorter friend getting a low toned laugh out of Sal.

So, the mystery person is a guy, good to know. You could tell that you and Ben would get along well with them both.

“So, you said you had brothers, right? Where are they?” The bluenette questioned while stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“They went to the store I think but they should be back soon. How old are you guys?” you questioned. Quickly stuffing the box cutter into the backside waistband of your shorts and quickly tucking your Motley-Crue band shirt over it. You swiftly moved away from the door frame and took a step right outside the door and leaned against the wall, kicking one of your ankles over the other while withholding eye contact with Sal.

"we're both fifteen, how about you?" Larry questioned eyeing you 

"same. My twin is fifteen too, His name is Vin, I think you two would get along well. He likes cannibal corpse." you lied straight through your teeth, not knowing why. Vinnie never really liked metal. Hopefully he'll lie as well to cover your white lie. You were never good with people.... safe to say you're nervous for what's to come.

CHAPTER 3:

Every story starts somewhere

Hi hi I somehow forgot to mention that this story is NOT following canon events, i.e. no cult, just some vague paranormal activity   !All original characters belong to me, none of the canon characters mentioned are mine and do not have the rights to them!

You had spoken with the two for about 15 minutes before they saw themselves out. After they’d left you had mentally slapped yourself for being so socially inept, Vin and Silas would definitely make fun of you for this one.

“Hey hey Knives! We’re back with some food!” Silas said as he loudly slammed the door with his foot.

“And we bought apple juice! So come get some before I finish it all.” Vinnie barked as you made your way out of your now unpacked room.

“Thanks bro!” you said smiling widely at your older brother as he messed up your hair

The three of you lingered in the kitchen as you unloaded the groceries and unpacked the kitchen essentials.

“Something really weird happened earlier-“you said turning to face them both, you were met with darkened plastic sunglasses awaiting you to continue speaking

“These two guys from the apartments came to introduce themselves, Larry and Sal, surprisingly they were very chill. I kinda lied about you liking cannibal corpse to Larry though vin...” you said sheepishly smiling and covering your face with your hands.

“ Man what the hell why? I don’t dig metal that much” Your twin asked jokingly.

“They were just so… intriguing! I got embarrassed and it just slipped out!”

“Chillax sis its alright, don’t sweat it. So, these guys are what? Hardcore church burners?” Vin said making the demon horn motion with both of his hands.

You and Silas laughed as he obnoxiously headbanged.

“No not really, at least not from what I could tell. They were very nice. I’m pretty sure they go to our school since we’re all the same age. “Vin nodded for you to continue.

“Larry is a tall dude with what I have to say is the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen on a man” you said throwing your hands up in defeat. Both of your brothers scoffing sarcastically.

“Then there’s Sal- “you began to remember the sight of the boy, something about him captivated you. Whether it was his unique hair, His killer style, the tone of his voice…...or the way his hands looked with all those rings on them… and the way you thought they’d look on you…

Girl, what the hell are you thinking?! You just met him? Stop being weird. You seriously needed to stop letting your hormones take control of you like this.

You’d realized your brother was looking at you strangely.

“Hellooooo? Anyone in there?” Vin said waving a hand in front of your face.

“Is she having another episode?” Silas asked, setting down the box he was moving and walking over to you.

“What? Oh sorry, No I’m fine, I just got lost in thought you guys don’t worry” you nervously laughed as they back away from you, relaxing their attention.

“Shit man you really worried me for a second…Anyways continue with what you were telling me about this Sal girl” Vinnie sighed now sitting on the counter across from you.

“Sal is a guy- “you said rolling your eyes “– but anyways. He’s sweet, he has this bright blue hair that’s really dope. He also wears this mask? I’m not sure what its about but it fits him, he has the same style of Larry he’s just a liiitttlllleee short…” you said making a “small” motion with your index and thumb.

“Hey, it’s not like the little guy can control it!” Vinnie said getting off the counter and poking at you.

You and he laughed as you made your way to his room to help him unpack his belongings.

-

The next day was Saturday. You were making your way down to the lobby with your brother to explore the area when on your way out of the dingy elevator you bumped into someone, accidently knocking something out of their hands.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” you apologized quickly kneeling to pick up papers and a purple school folder off the ground.

“It’s okay! I should’ve been looking where I was going” the feminine voice said giggling.

You handed the girl what you assumed was her schoolwork.

“Hey…are you new around here? I’ve never seen you before? And I think I’d remember someone this pretty” the girl said.

This girl was also quite pretty. With long brown hair and piercing green eyes, she wore a long purple shirtdress with purposely torn black tights. Along with a chunky black choker and heavier makeup, you started to really like this girl already.

“Thank you so much! You’re pretty too, and uhm yeah! Me and my brother just moved here recently, My names Knives. This is my brother Vinnie.” You said gesturing to Vinnie who threw up a weak wave to her as he seemed in awe.

“Knives?! That’s so awesome! My name’s Ashley but everyone just calls me Ash. Do you have insta or anything like that? You seem realllyyyy cool and I’d love to get to know you-“she said as she pulled out a lavender iPhone from her sleeve “- but I’m supposed to be tutoring with my friends right now and I’m already late, I’m afraid they’ll think I’m dead if I’m any more late” she said holding her phone out to you.

“Yeah, I do! Also, no problem I understand, you seem pretty chill as well!” you said slightly smiling as you typed your username into the search bar and then clicked on your profile as it came up. You handed Ash her phone back, she waved goodbye and jogged into the elevator.

“she seems nice, It seems like everyone here has awesome hair…” you said looking to Vinnie

“DID SHE FOLLOW YOU YET? LET ME SEE YOUR PHONE NOW, GIVE IT GIVE IT GIVE IT” he said reaching for your phone which was in your hand.

“Jesus man here fine, have a look god!” You laughed handing it to him. Vinnie snatched it out of your hand and flying to Ash’s’ profile.

You looked over his shoulder as he looked through her pictures, she had about 15 posts. Most were landscape but there were some of her and her friends. She was friends with Sal and Larry! That’s convenient! Vinnie swiped through the post of her and the guys on the 4th of July, there was also a pair of boys you hadn’t recognized yet. Safe to say you were excited to meet them both as well.

“Yo are these the guys you were talking about yesterday?” Vinnie said clicking on the profile mention on the picture, pulling up Sals’ account.

“Yeah! That’s cool that they’re friends. Makes me excited to hangout with them.”

Your brother finally handed your phone back after sending Ashley’s account to himself, you internally laughed at how eager he was to swoop this girl off her feet. You somehow made your way back to those pictures of Sal and everyone else on the 4th. You admired Sal, eventually tapping onto his profile, your thumb hovered over the ‘Follow’ button and you hesitated.

What if he thinks I’m a stalker? He didn’t even mention his socials so what if he thinks negatively of me just following him out of the blue? What if-

Then your eyes glance up at the notification you’d just received,

“New follower: @TheOG_SF – Sal Fisher”

CHAPTER 5 (4 was an update on the story):

Why is everything different now?

Heyyyy, finally got this damn story updated, my apologies, im learning more English now so they should be more frequent!

Holy shit, you thought, quickly swiping up the notification to dismiss it.

Were you hallucinating? You truly hoped you weren’t.

“ Yo are you alive?” you glanced up to Vinnie with a wide eyed expression

“ah yeah sorry…don’t know what washed over me, lets go” you said walking past him to the main doors to exit

-

You and your brother had eventually made your way into a nearby resale/music store. The both of you going to see if you could replace some of the CDs you’d had before you moved.

Unfortunately for you and him some of the discs were snapped or scratched up during transit from Houston to Nockfell. The two of you slowly made it outside; you rummage through your cluttered tote to get the keys to the truck. You eventually find them and toss them to vin.

-

Once we pulled into the parking lot of the music store vin took the keys out of the ignition and glanced to you. You were chewing on your fingernails again, that’s something you did when you were nervous. Or in deeeeeepppppp thought.

You just kept starring at the follower request, not knowing what to do. You’ve combed through all of ash’s’ friends’ profiles except sals. You were just…too nervous. You were never this nervous.

“Dude just follow him back, it’s been like 20 minutes.” Vin said leaning over to watch your phone. “Absolutely not! What if he thinks I’m weird? Or what if he just did it on accident, or what if-“ you kept talking as your brother slothed his arm over and gingerly accepted the follow request. You sat silently in shock as he shrugged. “Well alright... ill just leave my phone in the car I think” you said hooking your purse over your shoulder. Overthinking everything that could happen if he didn’t accept your request.

-

You rummaged through CDs, you only had a couple stuffed in your hands; Bring Me The Horizons’ “Suicide Season”, Pierce The Veils “Misadventures”, Madonna’s ‘’like a virgin’’, and finally Dark Thrones “Transvilaian Hunger”. Quite opposites if you ask me, you thought to yourself as you maneuvered through the thin isles of the shop. As your sifting through discounted vinyl’s you hear the chime of the electric doorbell, the one that annoyingly chimes every time someone enters or exits. You decide to ignore it and continue looking.

“Speak of the devil” Vinnie breathed out quietly and smirked as he gestured to who entered the store; Of course, it was Ash and her group of friends. One of those friends being Sal. You swiftly turn back to the vinyl bin. Pretending to be interested in its contents to seem busy.

“Oh hey! Look who it is” you heard the deep grungy voice of who you assumed was Larry. You still didn’t look up, frozen from anxiety. You never really felt like this… you didn’t understand why everything was changing so suddenly. You reluctantly turned around and smiled. “Hey knives! Looks like you discovered our best kept secret” you heard ash giggle as she threw her hands up in defeat.

“yeah” Sal laughed “This record store is one of the only good things in Nockfell” he continued. “Oh yeah? Well, I’d have to say its awesome, glad I found out yall’s ‘little secret’ “you said making air quotations.

“Believe me, we have better secrets than this.” Said an unfamiliar voice. “Well its nice to finally meet you, only today had they mentioned meeting you and trust me, they were all eager for me to meet you, I’m Todd” A shorter ginger boy with rounded glasses appeared from behind the other three. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Todd” you smiled; “Also, this is my partner, Neil” Another guy emerged, the same height as Todd. He waved sweetly and grinned.

-

“You having a party without me? Unbelievable.” Your brother jokingly scoffed as he finally came to take some of the spotlight off you. “Yo, nice to see you guys in person, I’m Vinnie, but I just go by vin.” He said as he shoved his rap CDs into your arms to go fist bump your new friends. “Nice to meet you man! I heard you liked cannibal corpse, right?” Larry said enthusiastically as he looked at vin.

“Yeah man...I love them…!” Vin said side eyeing you through his shades. Making you giggle

“Oh word? That’s sick, I love them too.” You heard Sal say to your twin. You caught yourself starring at Sally. He was just a lot to look at to be fair, not in a bad way. In a way you’d look at a renaissance painting, just taking in the intricacy. The guys were all conversating about what-not, you noticed how Sal spoke with his hands a lot. That’s funny, you do that too….

“Knives? You alright?” Ashley said waving a hand in front of your face, Todd furrowing his eyebrows confused while waiting for your response. “Huh? Oh yeah sorry I was just starring off into space.” You said as your eyes widened. You catch Todd exchanging a look to Ashley, and she returned that look; you had no clue what language they were speaking with their eyes.

-

You and your group checked out with your minimal items, you and Vinnie ended up leaving with the group. The five of them somehow walked to the record store? They must really like this place. The six of you have to somehow fit into Silas’s truck. Vinnie and Larry in the front seats, Ashley, Todd, and Neil in the back seats… Where were you going to sit? Where was Sal going to sit?! They definitely did this on purpose. 

------------------

Chapter 6 coming soon, thank you!!!

[iamtryingtobelieve]

You came along to change the grade to raise the bar I'd made of late

You came along to raise the stakes to tend to me and my mistakes

I can't pretend that I could be the man you said you saw in me

But hang around and I'll try and land this thing

[tenojan-in-tevinter]

Every day, we mshenko fans wake up and choose violence...

[cerastes]

Habe you ever had a "did we even play the same game?" moment with someone?

My favorite game ever used to be Metal Gear Solid 4, it’s still up there in my top favorites, and this time at a party I met a guy that said he didn’t like MGS4 because he felt like it ruined Snake as a character and that it misrepresented him. I asked if he could elaborate and his response was that they took this Rambo dude, this super manly war hero and emasculated him into a weak old man.

I need you to understand that Solid Snake was without exaggeration fundamental in my growth as a person: I am from a latino country, grew up in what’s widely considered the wrong side of the tracks in the middle of nowhere, being macho, manly, tough was incredibly important to me, because that’s how it was in there, and Snake (plus “The Knight In Rusty Armor” by Robert Fisher) basically made me question all of what I’d grown up thinking up until then, because Snake isn’t a badass because grrr manly beef jerky I kill and swear, he is this incredibly solemn guy who hates what he can do, but is the only one that can do it, and if he doesn’t do it, then nuclear war happens, or worse. There’s a whole angle of expectation as a narrative arc in regards to Snake: Meryl expected a glorious, boisterous war hero, Otacon expected a grizzled, badass action hero, Liquid expected Himself But Better In Every Way, Ocelot expected a tool and nothing else, Naomi expected a callous and cold killer… And they were all wrong, he is, ultimately, an exhausted man that cannot stop no matter how much he wants to stop, because if he does, the world might likely go up in literal flames.

So to hear this self-proclaimed superfan of Snake say this just made me skip anger and go all the way to pity. In-universe, those in the know of Snake worship him as an actual God of War, and it’s a common thing that gets addressed in-universe: The whole point of MGS2 is that Raiden could never have won if he tried to be Snake, because you don’t want to be Snake. Snake hates being Snake. Snake isn’t manly because he beat a tank on foot one on one, Snake is admirable because he does the right thing, even if he’s breaking down molecule by molecule as he goes and he wants nothing more than to fuck off and raise dogs in the arctic, but keeps on going anyways because he can do something about it. The most important message he imparts on Raiden and Meryl is Don’t Be Me; Create A World Where Snake Doesn’t Need To Exist.

I felt pity because if you feel like MGS4 misrepresented Snake, then you really and explicitly are exactly the kind of fodder PMC nobody that feeds the proxy wars in MGS4. I think only by skipping every cutscene you can come out thinking that way. The only thing super about him was ficial.

[baxndaid]

sal fisher x mean!reader?

reader is a bit of a bitch to be completely honest. that’s what sal loves the most about them 🤭🤭🤭 (perchance some smut with it xoxo)

sal fisher

x reader 🍤☁️🦢

— super bitchy reader

a/n ; i love bullying sal <33

- being a massive bitch to sally isn’t something that he was supposed to like, but he does, and it freaks everyone out

- he used to be snarky and insult you back but after a few days he completely stopped and just let you have your way with him without much of a fight

- you love to make fun of him, he’s just so pathetic, your favorite activity is tugging on his pigtails while sitting behind him in class and then quickly looking away like nothing happened

- you and your friends snicker but little did you know, the blush under sally’s prosthetic mask intensified as he found himself liking it a little too much

- his best friend, recently step brother larry, obviously noticed sally’s jittery behaviour and at first he thought it was because he was scared of you, but thanks to some detective work with ashley it was clear that he just liked you

- they tried their absolute best to talk him out of it,

“dude, did you hit your head? you like her? she’s a massive piece of shit!”

“right! she torments you every day! are you sure you’re feeling okay sally?”

sally didn’t exactly deny what larry and ashley told him, instead opting to just silently nodding whilst drowning out their voices and day dreaming. yes, you were awful and rough with him, but he loved it

- larry would try and guide sal away from you whenever he saw you in the hallways, but after a long while, he gave up and let sally be drawn to you like a moth to a flame, he didn’t like it, but he couldn’t stop sally from doing what he wanted

- and so, your torment continued without sally’s friends in the way

————

The halls were completely empty as the bells rang and class has commenced. Sally, despite his not so best efforts, found himself stuck between your arms and his back facing the lockers behind him. He didn’t bother to move or run away,

“Hey dumbass, what’s up with you? You look more repulsive than usual,” You asked, leaning in slightly. He looks around nervously, his glass eye lagging behind his real one as he stutters.

“Huh? What’d you say? Speak up!”

He flinched, his blush hardening under his prosthetic face and reaching his ears. He looked up at you, a little nervously but a hint of excitement present in his blue eye.

“Jesus…” You caress his red ear, “You into this or something?”

He looked at you and swiftly looked back at the floor again, you followed and looked down.

“…Fucking perv.”

[sjscoyote]

Also tag any lines you quote from books! My family uses "Deathstalker luck, always bad" from Simon R. Green's Deathstalker Saga and "thrice cursed son of a Salset goat" from Jennifer Roberson's Tiger & Del books.

i love hearing what lines from film/tv people quote with their family all the time because they’re always niche and forgettable to everyone but that specific family

[petermorwood]

Recent article on NPR about the history of artificial light somewhat frustrated me -- they portrayed all of pre-kerosene history as dark and heinously expensive at all times. Thing is, the writers based their findings solely on tallow candles, & ignored oil lamps, beeswax candles, clever use of refraction & outdoor light including moon/starlight... Also seemed to ignore the ubiquity of hearths / cook fires. Was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about non-tallow light? This isn't to ignore that truly, artificial lighting WAS much more difficult & expensive for much of human history, but acting like tallow candles were the ONLY light source seems very silly! (Plus your other lovely post about bottles of water used to make those candles more efficient via refraction & focus)

I'm betting the article you mean is this one - which refers back to this one.

For matching reference, my own posts about period lighting are here, One and Two, including observations about painting walls white, how to light candles and lamps without matches, and several other matters.

*****

It didn't take too much listening before I got tetchy, because the first half of this podcast seems more about mocking how WEIRD and PRIMITIVE old-time people were, than passing on any useful information.

Despite the presence of Jane Brox (author of "Brilliant: The Evolution of Artificial Light") whale oil only gets touched on in passing, and olive oil isn't mentioned at all.

Instead she starts talking about using oily seabirds (stormy petrels) as "candles", despite this scholarly study concluding that it was something talked about far more than done, besides being so very, very localised that its relevance to the history of lighting is very, very small.

But hey, WEIRD and PRIMITIVE, right?

*****

By contrast, making candles was so commonplace that it was another of those jobs which created surnames. Fletcher once put feathers on arrows, Cooper made barrels, Fisher, Miller, Baker and Farmer are obvious, and Chandler used to make candles.

Lampier, of course, made lamps, which helped keep those naked candle-flames away from anywhere they shouldn't touch. The man on the left is making the lantern bodies, the one on the right is shaving sheets of horn as windows.

It's cheaper than glass, less easily broken yet is translucent enough, when shaved properly thin, to give quite adequate light.

*****

The podcast has a digression about measuring the light output of a reproduction Ancient Babylonian lamp. Here's an original and a repro.

Yet that too says nothing about what fuel the lamp is or should be burning - olive oil, traded all over the Mediterranean by ancient olive-growing cultures.

These are Roman oil-lamps, from simple and cheap to elaborate and costly.

As for beeswax, so far as the podcast is concerned might as well not exist, despite being a by-product of honey, which was THE principal pre-sugar sweetener for centuries when not being made into all that mead whose existence, production and quaffing nobody questions.

Oh yeah, and then there was the amazed discovery (2:40 / 1:25, depending on which you're listening to) that melted beef fat "...smells really nasty, like, ANIMAL nasty,"

Why is this guy surprised? It's part of an animal!

*****

It's the same sort of infotainment ignorance as displayed by this TikTok twit, right up to complaining about the effort involved in preparation of anything because not having powered appliances was so labour-intensive, oh woe. Yes, it was, welcome to any historical period before about 1920. That's where "the daily grind" originates.

However the implication (listen, it's there) that cattle were raised just to provide fat for candles is ludicrous. The fat was a by-product, not a main one, and was often a butcher's side-line, while members of the Chandlers' Guild only worked with superior beeswax.

I don't think you could make candles like these with tallow:

...and you definitely couldn't make one meant to be hand-held.

Picture evidence shows, by their clothing, the class of society who bought these, and tallow-greasy fingers would have been a no-no.

A Chandler didn't make individual candles. By the time that fresh batch is hung up, the first batch away down at the end is cool enough to be dipped again.

A chandler's shop in a medieval city would look very similar, and often had a horizontal wheel on which to hang each batch of candles, rotating them up and around to cool, then back to the dipping pot. Non-modern people may not have had modern tech or time-and-motion studies, but they weren't stupid.

*****

By contrast, the podcast's disparaging attitude of WEIRD and PRIMITIVE is emphasised by what seems a deliberate avoidance of anything which counters it (examples of that in my own posts) and finally at 11.24 / 9:50 came this:

"Even when you get all the way to the 1700s (...) most people are still subsistence farmers, living in some kind of hut, trying to grow enough food not to starve to death (...) and light? Light still comes from finding stuff that's lying around and just lighting it on fire."

Some kind of hut...

Stuff that's lying around...

After making such a declaration, I'm surprised - since they'd been implying it for half the podcast - someone didn't just go ahead and announce that "there's some lovely filth down here..."

That's when I stopped listening.

Enough is enough, and I'd had it.

*****

ETA:

cc: @asmuchasidliketo :->

Here's a photo of what purports to be a Petrel (not petrol, that's something else) Candle, held in the Pitt-Rivers Museum, Oxford. It's mentioned in that scholarly article I linked above.

Just as "one swallow doesn't make a summer", so one - and only one - known example of this, which may have been a fake-up to spoof the Southerners, doesn't prove it was a common or even rare practice.

There's another reason to take this with a big pinch of salt, so maybe Jane Brox was on a low-sodium diet when she wrote her book.

Creatures with a layer of fat or blubber for insulation all have it like any other form of insulation, on the outside, where it does some good. A wick passed through the inside couldn't draw on it for fuel since there's a layer of muscle and another of internal organs for the oil to get through first.

The cropped-off bottle just visible to the left is a far more likely way seabirds became lamp fuel: by rendering out their oil. This oil is from the Northern Fulmar, Fulmaris glaciaris (or glacialis, I've seen both. Same bird regardless).

Incidentally, the Wikipedia article on European Storm Petrel mentions a supernatural connection, that the petrels were the souls of drowned sailors, and killing them is unlucky.

Not just killing them but making them into candles sounds like A Bad Idea, and is yet another reason why, IMO, the candle thing may be a folktale, or a deliberate leg-pull, or...

Let's just say "improbable" and leave it there. :-P

[deltarogers]

LOOK AT ME PT. 1

PAIRING: Boyfriend! Conrad Fisher x Fem! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve always been the second choice.

WARNINGS: Pure raw ANGST! Get ready. UNEDITED.

A/N: It was 12:30 AM and I just got the “Ooh Angst!” Idea…

READ PART 2 HERE

“Conrad?” You questioned, the story you were telling halting in your throat as you noticed his gaze had drifted elsewhere.

To Belly.

Your heart nearly stopped as you watched his jaw clench. He was jealous and you knew why.

You would choose not to believe it if you could, but the way he looked at her. He hadn’t looked at you like that. Ever.

He wanted her, and you were his distraction.

You had been with Conrad for 2 years, the happiest of your life. This summer, something had changed between you two. You knew it, but you didn’t want your suspicions to be true.

The way they interacted for the first time should have said it all. The way his smile, that had been dull for weeks, returned once she got there. The way his eyes lit up when she would swoon over him.

Belly was currently with Cameron, and they were too close for Conrad’s liking, you assumed. You had been telling him a funny story, but his eyes and thoughts drifted to her.

It hurt, but you wouldn’t show it. You were too stubborn.

You didn’t even say a word, you got up from your beach chair and walked into the house, the cold air causing you to shiver.

It took way too long for Conrad to realize you were gone. And when he did, he knew he had fucked up.

“Y/n?” He called throughout the house, looking for his girlfriend. He hadn’t meant to ignore you like that.

“She went home” Susannah said and Conrad felt his heart drop.

“Shit” He mumbled before grabbing his keys.

You had decided to walk home in your swimsuit and towel, not bothering to change. Tears threatened to spill, but you wouldn’t let them. You couldn’t.

Your heart ached. He didn’t love you, he never had. You were just the second best thing. You should have known.

“Y/n!” You heard behind you, the sound of a car door shutting following. It was him.

“2 years” You said, droplets of rain beginning to fall. “I spent 2 years loving you. I thought you loved me too” You said and he looked confused.

“It’s always been her. If Belly came out of that house and told you she wanted you, you would have jumped like a moth to a flame” You explained, your voice laced with betrayal.

“No, no…” Conrad said and shook his head, placing his palms over his eyes.

“I should have noticed” You said and he finally approached.

“I don’t love her, it’s you” Conrad countered “I know I don’t say it enough, a-and I’m sorry” He stuttered out.

“I see the way you look at her, Conrad” You whispered as he approached you, his eyes holding a guilt you wished you couldn’t see.

“I can’t…”

“You can’t help it, I know” You said to him, your voice softer now. “But you shouldn’t have led me on like this, Conrad, I loved- no I love you, I’m in too deep.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n….”

“I know”

Sneaking out of his room in the middle of the night wasn’t something you thought you’d do.

When he called saying he missed you, the love in your heart swelled, causing you to go to him against your own better judgement.

One thing led to another after he snuck you in, sex ensuing. You hadn’t expected it, but you consented.

Now, shamefully, you snuck out of his room. He was your ex-boyfriend now. It had only been a few weeks. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

“Don’t go” You heard before you opened his room door, the voice halting you in your tracks.

“I have to Conrad- I shouldn’t have come” You whispered. “You’re with Belly now…” You whispered and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not with her”

“This is over, Conrad, this was a one time thing” You said, meaning sleeping with him while you were broken up. “I won’t be a distraction again, if you love Belly, just tell her” You said.

Your relationship with Conrad had become so toxic and so complicated so suddenly. You couldn’t understand what he wanted.

“I’m sure she feels the same way” You finished and he huffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

When he didn’t speak, you moved to leave again.

“I love you” You heard, a small gasp leaving your lips “She confessed to me before we broke up and I didn’t know how to handle it” He admitted. “I didn’t want you to feel insecure or be upset with me” He added and you were shocked.

“So instead, you just let me watch you silently love her?”

“No, I never loved her, I just, didn’t know how to tell her I didn’t feel the same” He said “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings”

“You should have come to me Conrad, not let me go like that” You said and he nodded his head in agreement.

“I’m not good with that stuff, Y/n…” He whispered before taking a deep breath.

“I love you. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on, I didn’t want to be a burden to you, or hurt Belly” He said sincerely, holding your hands in his.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t love you” He added and cupped your cheek in his hands.

“Do you still love me?” He asked, leaning down to ghost his lips over yours. He knew you loved that.

“Yes, Conrad, of course I love you” You whispered before connecting your lips in a love filled kiss.

You could feel it; his love for you. All in the way he kissed you so carefully.

“I love you, Y/n” He whispered against your lips, allowing you to pull him closer.

Your lips molded together perfectly. You missed this, you had missed your Conrad. He had always been so good to you.

“I’m sorry for letting you go so quickly” You apologized once you pulled away. He shook his head.

“Don’t be” He said “You have me right here, all to yourself” He whispered.

Telling Belly he didn’t feel the same way was something Conrad was ready for. He just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

You two were perched on the couch, Conrad arm around you as he stared off in thought. You were about to ask him what he was thinking about before he decided to speak.

“I’m gonna tell her today” He said and you looked up at him “I know I might break her heart” He added and you smiled a tad at his care for his childhood friend.

“Listen, however Belly takes it, she won’t hate you” You explained “You can do this Conrad, I know you can” You said and he sat up a bit.

“She’s at the beach now, I’m gonna get it over with” He sighed and you nodded, pecking his lips before he went out the back door.

—

It had been 45 minutes…

You decided to check on them. They couldn’t be far…right?

Upon stepping out the back door and traveling towards the beach, a pit in your stomach arose.

You trusted Conrad. He loved you.

That’s when you saw it.

Belly, leaning in to kiss Conrad. And he wasn’t pulling away.

You watched in horror as Conrad stepped away at the last minute, shaking his head and uttering something to the girl.

Belly was now crying.

Relief shot over you, but you were certain that he was going to kiss her.

“Y/n?” You heard and turned, seeing Jeremiah.

“Jere, hi” You said and he looked confused.

“Who are you…oh.” He said as he saw what you were watching. “Conrad told me what happened” He said and you nodded. Jere could tell something was bothering you.

“He almost let her kiss him” You muttered and Jeremiah’s eyes flashed with anger.

“What?” He asked before pulling you into a hug. “I’m so sorry- I don’t know what’s gotten into him”

“He lied to me, Jere” You whispered sadly.

The next thing you saw, broke you to pieces. Conrad and Belly hugged before he leaned down and gave her a brief kiss.

Conrad was crying now too.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, watching the boy you loved in disbelief. You had believed what he said, he lied to you. He LIED to you over and over again.

You pulled away from Jeremiah and made a b-line towards Conrad and Belly.

“You liar!” You shouted and Conrad jumped away from Belly. “You said….you said…!” You started but you fell yo the ground, clutching your chest as panic took over.

Jeremiah rushed up behind you, holding you close as Conrad tried to rush over as well.

“Back up, Conrad” Jeremiah said.

“You fucked up big time.”

PART 2

I loved how angsty I made this hehe!!

[rafeysvenicebitch]

📝001 MASTERLIST

A/n: div made by me!!!

Rafe Cameron hadn’t always been the kind of guy to catch people’s attention. At least, not the way he did now. Not the way he did with that glow.

It was just a little over a year ago when he left school, a skinny, awkward kid with wild eyes and no direction. But the summer after his disappearance had done something to him. Something unspoken, something that made all the girls go from whispering to full-on staring.

He came back with an edge. His jawline sharper, hair messier but on purpose. The way he wore his clothes—tight black jeans, a leather jacket with his sleeves rolled up—he was a man now, or at least looked the part. His confidence had matured, and it had every single girl in the school swarming to him like moths to a flame.

But not you. No. You were different.

You weren’t a girl who got lost in the look of someone, no matter how dangerous they seemed. You were the oldest Lisbon sister, the one who carried the silent weight of your family’s expectations, the one who still slept in a room full of faded photographs and empty dreams.

You were numb to the typical boys at school, boys who didn’t care about much beyond the next party or weekend plans. But Rafe? Rafe was something else. His presence was more than skin-deep. And even though you never let on, you noticed.

It was during third period when you first saw him again—really saw him. You were in your history class, the one place you tried to escape the suffocating noise of your home, the place where you could at least pretend you were someone other than the Lisbon girl, pretending you didn’t have a family falling apart at the seams.

You were lost in Mr. Fisher’s lecture, mind wandering, scribbling thoughts in the margins of your notebook, until the door to the classroom swung open.

The hum of the room quieted immediately. There was a shift in the air, a charge, like electricity.

Rafe Cameron stood in the doorway.

He didn’t look at the teacher. He didn’t even look at the kids. His eyes, dark and steady, locked on you the second he stepped in.

He hadn’t been here in months. And you hadn’t thought much about him since he left school without a word. No one had heard from him, at least not in any meaningful way. Some said he’d gone off to some expensive boarding school; others whispered about him going to rehab or getting into trouble—stories that were always just out of reach, too vague to be real. But here he was, striding into your classroom like he owned it, like he’d always been part of the scene.

The principal, Mr. Carrington, was quick to move toward him, but Rafe didn’t even break stride. With a subtle tilt of his head, he brushed past the older man, ignoring the reprimanding tone as he walked straight past him.

He was a force, unstoppable, untouchable.

You felt the room’s collective attention shift to him, felt the eyes of your classmates burning holes into you, wondering why he was sitting behind you. Of all the places, of all the desks, he sat in the one behind yours, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of smoke still clinging to his leather jacket.

The rustle of his movements behind you almost seemed too loud, each breath he took was too close. His presence swallowed the space, and you didn’t know why, but you couldn’t stop your heart from speeding up.

The bell rang, and the chatter that followed was like a dull hum in the background. You stayed silent, eyes glued to the front of the room. But you could feel him there. His gaze, heavy and intense, like he was studying you without ever letting his eyes leave your back.

Finally, unable to resist, you turned slightly, just enough to catch him looking. His expression was unreadable at first, like he was waiting for your reaction. But then you met his eyes fully, and there was something in them—something raw. His lips parted as if he had words he didn’t know how to say.

You didn’t scare him. You’d expected him to be confident, cocky even, maybe with that stupid grin he used to flash when he thought he had the world figured out. But no. Rafe was stricken. He was awe-struck, looking at you as though you were the one thing he hadn’t anticipated, the one thing he needed.

And you, despite your usual guard, couldn’t look away either.

His hand shifted on the desk, tapping against the wood nervously. You could tell he was unsure—this wasn’t the boy from the past, the one who could walk into any room and own it. This was a boy who had found something that broke through his arrogance, something bigger than whatever act he put on for everyone else.

Rafe’s lips barely moved when he spoke, but you caught the words.

“I’ve missed you.”

Your breath hitched. You turned your head just enough to let your own eyes roam over him, lingering on the sharp cut of his features, the dangerous allure now wrapped up in everything he was.

But you weren’t sure if you could trust the words, the way they seemed to hang between you like an unspoken promise. It had been a year, and in that time, you’d changed too—grown quieter, more distant.

Still, there was something about the way he stared at you that you couldn’t quite explain. His gaze was a pull, magnetic, and despite everything telling you to look away, you stayed, locked in a moment that felt like it was meant to happen.

The bell rang again, signaling the end of class, but neither of you moved. The others began filing out, the usual rush of students breaking the spell. But Rafe didn’t leave. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, his eyes not leaving you for a second.

“You’re still here,” he said softly, almost as if he were surprised.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you realized you hadn’t felt this kind of electricity since your own sisters were still around. The realization struck hard, deep—Rafe Cameron was no longer the boy you once knew. He was something else entirely, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he saw in you.

You stayed silent, but inside, you could feel the pull. The way he needed you, the way everything about him screamed for your attention.

And whether you liked it or not, you weren’t sure if you could stop yourself from giving it to him.

“Yeah,” you whispered, barely audible over the shuffle of footsteps in the hallway. “I’m still here.”

Rafe smirked, leaning forward slightly as if he were about to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he just let the silence hang there, filled with so many unspoken things, both terrifying and thrilling.

And just like that, you were caught in his orbit again.

Taglist: @sarahsangelicdoll @sarahsangelicdoll-recs @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @vogueprincess @ilovefiction4lmen

[greycloudsinwinter]

Hi can I request yandere Maegor the cruel x gender neutral reader escape in successfully reaction and then being found after a while in a style of a dialogue with a little bit of smut. ❤️

YANDERE MAEGOR X SUCCESSFUL ESCAPY READER OR SO YOU THINK

You ran . As fast as your legs could take you almost falling down the stairs only two pockets full of coins and the clothes you wore with you. You couldn’t be with him . the way he would torture those he got to close to you even his own wives it terrified you.

And after that night where he shoved you against the stone hall. the ways his lips smashed against yours. Then his tongue demanding entrance to which you did not want to give ,so to force you to open your mouth he bit down on your bruised lip making you gasp. He grunted in satisfaction as his hands made quick work of moving higher up your thighs.

The mere thought of that night still makes you feel sick. You hated him. despised him .but lucky enough he was too devoted in his own fantasies yo realise that you had made a plan to escape right under his nose .

You found your self pushing your legs to the limit as you mad your way down to the dock. The small vessel waited for you there . You brought the boat from an old fisher man that was more then pleased to receive a bag of coin for the busted up little boat and paddles.

You still remember Maegor’s words from that night ‘you can’t escape me little flame’ it haunted you . But as you stepped one foot into the boat you found some relief.

And that’s when it happened…

The golden cloaks .

The sounds of yells.

A roar of a mighty dragon.

Maegor laughing.

He found you .

now you could never escape…

[suryp]

Run.

That's what I'd done, what I'd been doing, for days.

I'd gotten quite good at it, too. Even with hellhounds or d'roge nipping at my heels, even cradling a wolf-pup in my arms, even after the things teeth bit into my tits, which fucking hurt, by the way, I was good at running.

It helped that hellhounds always tried to tire their prey out rather than simply running it down, and that d'roge preferred most anything else, but human hunters didn't have those issues, and I was quite certain banshee didn't either.

So when I eventually saw them on the horizon, I started moving as quickly as I could.

Or, I would have, had I not been quite, ah, busy.

At least they'd grow up faster than a human child, and hopefully faster than most Skei'yd considering the size of my breasts.

They were, at least, already showing interest in meat.

Welp. No time to experiment now, I had to keep the both of us away from danger, and that meant heading even further south.

Unless they truly believed we were dead, they'd keep coming, and that meant we had to either make a convincing set of corpses, or leave no trace of our existence for at least...

Well, I didn't think either was going to happen out here on the open steppe. They'd see us miles off, and it seemed like they'd gotten professionals on our tail, so the only hope we had was...

The Forest. The Banshee Forest. A place people only went to if they were truly desperate, even if the potential profit was thousands or millions in a single trip.

And I had to, somehow, survive there, well enough to take care of a Skei'yd pup, for years.

Well. Time to go.

I'd learned star mapping from my father, who learned it from his. On the deserts and open prairie of their home, it was a needed skill, and I enjoyed learning. If I kept with it, I may have even been a matriarch, but when he eventually believed I was old enough to truly make that choice, I'd learned a lot of things from other people.

Glad I remembered his lessons, though. Keeping the sun off my back was generally necessary, and the animals here had much better insulation than any of the old clothes I still had.

The march was still long, and every few... days? The first sunset occurred not too long ago, but every once in a while, just when I'd forgotten about them, I saw traces of smoke behind me, heard faint shots ring out.

Always put a spring in my step.

eventually, I'd reached the ice. I knew from reading that there wouldn't be any food out there, and that if it was too warm, It'd break underneath me and I'd be stuck in a freezing ocean, with big fish below and ever moving ice above. I resolved to start out as late, and as cold and southerly, as I could.

Plenty of time to gather good food, freshwater, and warm clothes.

So I began gathering. And hunting. D'roge started burying themselves when the first night came, and now I hadn't seen one in days, so I began looking for where they might've gone. There were also plenty of other burrowers, and a few plants with edible roots, as well as the moss itself were I so desperate, but I was lucky.

A dead hippogriff.

Or at least, some ornitherian. The skull was missing, probably from D'roge, and the guts and ribs were mostly gone, but there was still a lot of good meat left, if you were desperate and dexterous.

Well, I was human, so I had plenty of both.

That night, I continued along the coast of the frozen sea, taking any easy resources I could spy. The rocky beach held a few crabs and some specks of green, but I'd expected less, considering the sea was iced over.

And then, I saw it.

Firelight. Closer than it had ever been before.

Close enough to see the sillhouettes of horses, and their riders.

So, I did the logical thing.

I booked it.

-

part2.

so. uh. we've still got some places to go. the RUN storyline isn't finished. we're gonna loop it back i prommy.

anyways, obligatory explanation of certain bs, ie, the d'roge.

these are weird frog dogs, effectively stolen from @alphynix's Running Frogs, albeit with a few other ecological changes that aren't explored in this story (or at least, not this section :3).

In other news, it's real difficult for frogs to breed when there isn't much water around.

now that we've covered that, y'all can expect part 3 (the final for RUN) pretty soon. I'll be sure to put em all together in at least one post, so it's easier to read, but until then, bye!

[feralpercy]

Poseidon's usual Fisher wardrobe (which Aphrodite still wants to burn) usually consists of the same outfit each day.

Today, he wore a clearly hand man, very blue and with fish details around the edges, jacket.

(Apollo has been eyening the jacket with slight suspicion.)

"Brother," Demeter calls. "That jacket..."

Poseidon had the gall to look smug. "Oh, this? Percy has been learning crocheting for a while now. Its a gift."

Crocheting?

Demeter, upon receiving that answer, looked very considering as she stares at the jacket.

Coincidentally, at the same time, an offering was accepted at the hearth of ollympus. Whereas Lady Hestia got a similar cloth, more of a poncho shape with red hues and flames at the edges.

Percy clearly has favourites.

(Later, Hermes finds a crocheted hat in his temple.)

[bohemian-nights]

An Offer From A Rogue

Word Count: ~9,448

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Warnings⚠️: 18+; incest, smut, choking, a little bit of soft dom!Daemon; p in v penetration; a tiny dash of degradation; fingering against a wall

Description: Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not in that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame.

AN: Based on this request by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored. So sorry it’s late🙏🏽

The sound of dancing and a lively tune could be heard streaming in from just beyond the wrought iron door, but that had long been put out from her mind.                                            

Another tune entirely played reached her. It took her a great deal more effort than it perhaps should have to realize that the sound came from her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

A whine which she felt clawing its way out from the back of her throat and breaking out into the quiet of her chambers. Desperate and greedy thing it was. Not in the least bit ladylike, but she supposed this was most assuredly unladylike and he was encouraging her with his murmurs of let me hear you sweet one and let go for me sweetling I have you.                                                                        

He did have her. Brown legs wrapped around his middle. She clung to him like a vine, splayed against the backdrop of her chamber, though she was mostly being held up by his strength. Hers having long since departed from her already spent form. 

The rest of her senses fared little better. Her ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton, all she could taste was the salt of his skin mixed with an unearthly of smoke and dragon at his nape, and her voice had gone a while ago, but she had gathered that it hadn’t really mattered. Who needed oxygen when they had this? His breath breathed life into her better than undiluted  air ever could.

Who needed to speak when one could moan out her pleasure no. It did not matter. 

Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not at that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame. To pure heat and want. She could never describe that. What she felt. What was before. What was after. If there even was an after.

What was apart from this chamber, it truly did not matter. 

That world that she had ventured from so distant. So foreign. So immaterial. It was no more real than the creatures in old fisher wives tales told to scare naughty children who crept from their beds in the dead of night. 

Everything else had faded and turned to gray. There was just him and her in vibrant color and even then she had a hard time distinguishing between the shades that made up him and the ones that made her. 

The guests feasting below let out another round of shouts and cheers. Their stomping faintly registered in the back of her mind overcoming the haze for a brief moment.

They were getting quite loud. Quite merry. Quite drunk.

Twas probably for the best. She was being quite loud herself. With each mewl and breathless moan that broke free of her body increasing in duration and volume. Unrestrained as they serenaded a most captive audience. 

An audience that drew out a whine lodged in the back of her throat to pass through kiss swollen lips. The cause of which was no more than a mere swipe of ardent tongue upon her décolleté and the deft brush of fingers upon her all too sensitive nub sat atop her womanhood. Over and over again as she yielded to her pleasure. 

“That’s it sweet one,” he hummed. Voice thick and with something she could not quite name, but it was something which she felt too. Something that sparked another gasp for the air which he had taken from with another murmur and lap of the wet muscle at her neck. “That’s it.”  

She would have tried to stifle that moan if she had her bearings, if she had any sense or care for her name, but all manner of proprietary and good breeding had flown from her and floated down into the world of gray. Thankfully forgotten for if that gray had collided with her world of color, staining them with the red welts, yelps, and slick of their passion to which she would never forget the shame of it. 

She should have shame. She would have had shame at her own visage if she had any left. If she could gaze down at herself or look into the mirror she kept on the opposite wall of her chamber near her vanity and behind the changing screen which hid her bath, not that she needed to.  

Slacked-jawed, flushed, and incapable of any intelligible speech. She made a lovely sight. By the way in which the brute of a man before stood leering over her, the way his tongue lapped at her, tasting her, marking her as his, she knew she made a lovely sight, but she could not be more indecent.

Body given away to the haze of euphoria that enwrapped her courtesy of a pair of strong arms that kept her firmly pressed against a most willing figure complete with calloused fingers embedded deeply inside her reaching her in places where she had not know existed, but where nonetheless needed him most, and a set of thin, but determined lips upon every bit of exposed brown skin they could reach. 

She could hear the squelching sound that his fingers made as they rocked them in and out of her warmth. Clenching around them whenever he grazed over that place within her that had her seeing the stars of the night sky reflected on the back of her eyelids. Good girl he chanted when she gave into him. Gushing down on his arm with her slick. 

She could feel her curls glued to the wall by his exertions. See the wet trail she had left upon his robes and the deep purple bruises forming over skin on the tops of her ample breasts. Bruises that she’d have to explain away to one of her maids when they came to attend to her in the morn.

I tripped over my skirts and only managed to catch myself upon the railing would do or mayhaps a simple my stays were too tight would suffice. Would they believe her? Mayhaps they would. 

She would have to throw away the horrid garment on the second account. It would be replaced by some other God's awful contraption of death before she could forget the feel of it constricting her, and on the first—well she was a rather clumsy adventurer it had always been easy enough for her to bruise. 

A fall upon her knees would leave her looking as if she were a peasant girl who had been milking cows upon her knees and climbing up trees or traversing through the thistle field where Vermiothor liked to roam would leave her arms raw and red with her own lifeblood.  

But the days of childhood clumsiness had long since passed her and while she might fool a pack of serving girls who were scarcely older than she, she would most certainly not fool her Septa. 

No she wouldn't be so naive. 

She would see what had happened. What he had done to her. What she in truth had let him do to her even if she could not believe it so.

Her septa, a woman not quite old enough to be her grandmother, but a fair deal older than her mother had been, would have been alert that oher whines and whimpers. She was good natured, if not a little strict. She was a sweet woman above all. Wise. Dependable. 

Though unmarried at two and twenty she was getting rather old to need her septa as she did, but truthfully, she did not know what she would do without her. She was all she had known. The only maternal figure which she had and her septa seemed to love he in all the ways that she had seen a mother love their daughter

She could not recall her mothers laugh, the feel of her hands stroking her hair as she brushed and braided her riot of coils, and most importantly,  well important to her, her face which she had been told more times than she had inherited. 

She supposed she must have inherited it. She knew she had not inherited much of her fathers Valyrian countenance, the details of which she could not quite recall either. 

Though in that moment she supposed she could not quite recall anyone’s face apart from the man who had buried his head silver into her neck among other things laying heavy kisses into her flushed skin as she absentmindedly stroked down the planes and contours of his person that she knew better than her own image. better than she should have known. 

She was not the first to do so. The first to touch him as he had her, but she knew a part of him. Knew what he sounded like when he tried to contain his own grunts of pleasure, murmuring into her skin with pet names which she would not go without. 

“My sweet one,” he whispered as she drank up the praise. She knew what those saccharine groans tasted like upon her tongue. The sweetness. 

Knew what it felt like to feel his length pressing against her. rubbing upon her thighs, her womanhood. hard and wanting. She knew him like this and she enjoyed the knowledge more than she should. Letting it wash over her. Engulfing her with every grunt and groan intended or not that slipped from his lips. 

Daemon had been rough with his affections and she had not minded it. She liked it. She had not known she would, not knowing what had lied dormant within her, waiting to be awakened, but no that it had, she was wanton. She was utterly wanton. Every bit debauched. A creature which needed to be fed lest she wilt away to nothing. 

She had heard about girls like this. Her septa had warned her about girls like her. 

Wayward. Fallen. Ruined whatever one wanted to call it, innocence had been corrupted.    

Tainted with sin and damned for it. Their great shame and what a shame it was. 

She would have died from the shame of it if the older woman were to somehow apparate configured from her rapture before her very eyes. 

Or would she? 

She was desperate. Starved. Not caring on but propriety or for the gentle breeding of a lady which had been drilled into her skull since before she could even write her own name.

But now—now the only name which she knew was his. What a name it was. What it stirred within her. Who could have known that a single word could leave her so wanting.

“Daemon,” she moaned when he had nuzzled at a particularly sensitive patch of skin underneath her ear. Trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. It was not as pleasant as what his fingers could stir from a few fervid rolls of the little pearl he had found at the apex of her mound when he he tweaked her to stiff , or the push of those digits in and out of her heat at the languid pace which he had set, but it was bliss nonetheless. A bliss she was happy to chase. 

Pulling the man as close as their still clothed bodies would allow her to as she wound her fingers through silver strands slicked by lust. Feeding her hunger. 

This, this is why they kept girls away from the truth of what went on between men and women in prowling hours of the wolf in the comfort of their chambers with fears of proprietary and damnation. 

Shrouding it with mystery and hushed chastisements that it was for the marriage bed and if that should be broken it one would risk body and soul as well as social ostracism to silence the more curious sort for if they knew the truth of what pleasure lied, of what lay within them, they should not forgo it. They should grow to want as she had grown to want and wanted and wanted. He had made her want. 

A gale, no, a raging thunderstorm had been awakened within her that she could not put out by her own hands. No matter what she had tried and tried and tried to her great frustration. 

Repeating those same ministrations that he had, the tips of drumming circles into her bundle of nerves, his rhythm steady. Long fingers pistoled in and out of her heat trying to reach that spongy spot he had found within her that had her mewling like one of the feral cats that roamed around the castle, but it was no good. 

Everything was wrong. So very wrong. The pads of her fingers had been too delicate in their movements. Her slender digits had not filled her in the way he had. Had not quite stretched her to find that spot and what they could reach had certainly not elicit that same intensity he had ignited. They had not the callouses which did not catch upon her clit no matter what way she had positioned them. And yet she tried. 

Tried chasing her high that he had taken from her for the better part of the hours between dusk and dawn.

She was in a frenzy of want. Of heat. Of fire, trying to stoke that burning fire until it burst before her into molten magma and still it eluded her. He eluded her and with him that delightful bliss he had set into motion by his strong hand. 

She was made to give up the feverish coxcomb of self pleasure all too soon. Forced herself to for she was gaining nothing from it except anguish.

Laying there in a empty bed, in the dead of night with soaked fingers, a sore cunny overflowing with her slick, a brown face marred with tears, and pride in her throat caught with a scream upon her tongue that she did not dare let it out lest her Septa find her in her ruin or that insufferable man howl with his own pride at having left her in such a state of unabashed avarice. 

Her mother had been in this exact position. Or something similar to it. 

It was how she came about. What bastards grew up with the knowledge of. Still while she may be a bastard she was the bastard sister to a king. Had grown up with his children, under his eye, and that acknowledge meant things were expected of her.

If her Septa happened to walk in this moment, if anyone happened to walk in, and see that she was no better than a common whore, no better than her mother she’d be ruined. Absolutely ruined

the blood of the dragon gone to waste. Common blood won out, unless the man who was doing his best to ruin her for all other men saved her. Unless Daemon asked for her hand and restored her honor. 

Would he do so? Would he save her or at least her virtue? Ask her to be his wife. Be the mother of his children? Would give up his life for her? Would he forsake all others, have her pass through his life at his side, and sully his blood with hers . Would he do that for her? 

She was not quite sure what he would do. After All he had pulled her into his depths and converted her to this nymph. Drawn her away from her, but did she care?

Marriage certainly did not have any bearing in this. Seven help her, thinking in its entirety had lost its place here with him.    

There was only divinity itself. She felt divine. Absolutely divine there with him. As if she had tasted the heavens and had touched the face of the Maiden herself. Gods oh Gods.

Did he find another? Had he been with her or was his hand enough? Was a rough hand scared by battle adequate replacement to her tight warmth or had he taken his pleasure in a whores cunt instead?

Was that why he left her or had he like her gone without satisfaction in its entirety? It seemed now when she had him worshiping her when his mouth was  and nipping at her commanding her to let go to give into him and he’d be there to catch her as she tumbled into her ecstasy so silly to wonder where he had been, but now was not then. 

Then he had left her to want. Left her to cry like a child and beg for him to return to her and make him put out that fire which he had so brought her to life. Make her feel alive for the first time in her short muted life. She’d never live down the shame of it. 

She had hardly gotten more than a few dreary hours of sleep because of him. Plagued by dreams of him and those fingers that held magic in their tips. In his tongue that left In the length of him. 

Him. All him. He consumed her. Burned her. 

It was all the cause of that man who was trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck rough yet surprisingly nimble fingers caressing her in a place in a way that she was left in this sorrowful state, but nonetheless, only he seemed to know that she had been driven mad with passion and lorded it over her. She had found utter bliss and lost it in a few hours and had been left wanting in its absence. In his absence.  

Oh he had known what he was doing. What he had been doing for a good fortnight.

He had rarely let her side since he had arrived back from his latest excursion away to some distant land he would take her to. You ought to see more of the world than this place. He had told her. Arms linked and his head bent to hers as they took a turn about the Red Keeps gardens. Taking great pains to detail the full exoticism that his travels afforded him. Which could be afforded to her.

Her septa had not liked that. Muttering to herself with discontent when they had arrived back to her chambers, but there was not much she could do. For Daemon commanded her company to make up for his absence in that time between and who was she to deny a prince? 

How could she deny him when she insisted  that she be seated besides him at each feast. Asking for her favor at every tourney. Every dance was reserved for him lest she find the lord who dared to take her away from him for a mere round needing to be carried off his mount at said tourneys the next mourn. 

Daemon drew her in with whispers into her lips curl into a smile and a heavy hand upon her covered knee that sent a shiver through her for want of more than mere warmth. 

“Let them stare sweet one,” he had told her with a grin she did not wish to escape from. Wandering fingers inching up the silk which she had painfully stitched together by her own hand. It had taken her the better part of a moon to make the gown, but when she had shown it to her septa she could not have been prouder.

It was a ruin now much the same as her. 

The bodice ripped in two courtesy of the man in her grasps lust ridden possession to free her breasts from their restraints. 

He had been restrained up until that point, but that restraint had severed when she had begun to quake and drool around him. Needing to suckle upon her breast seemingly as much as she needed him within her. Taking the erect bud between his lips and to lavish them with his tongue as he had done so with her neck. Not caring that he had soiled the garment with his salvations and his essence. 

She did not know entirely how the latter had even over, perhaps he had taken himself in hand while she was preoccupied with the feel of him inside her, any part of him inside her, surrounding her, but whatever may be the case it smelled of his musk. Almost overpowering her smell with that smoky scent of warm salt air, dornish red, dragonhide, and open sky. 

She had hid it as best as tucked away under a loose bit of stone under her bed. She hadn't a choice on that matter. 

How was she to explain away that when they saw the state of it? What would they ask her? What would she say? She could feel the words catching in her throat beneath her high. Would anyone say anything?      

No one had said a thing when he had first laid eyes upon it. When he kept his gaze, his hands, his attentions a laugh at their guests  upon her. He kept her person firmly affixed to his side. Eyes darkened under his adore and the dim glow of the candlelight. It was quite hard to tell if his eyes had darkened, but they had lost their violet hue. 

They had gawked at them of course, received a few raised brows, but a brother, even a Targaryen brother, paying compliments to his dearest sister, his only sister, was not so very wrong. And from their eyes such affection did not resemble those of lovers. 

Her brown skin covered her blushes and the table covered his hand inching up her leg hiking  up her skirts or how her foot just so happened to be grazing whenever the wandering limb got particularly close to her cunt underneath such frills. Her own hand wished to touch him in the same way as she did. 

She was not completely naive. She had seen the hounds at it once. Twas a vicious affair consisting of a stubby appendage making rapid pumps in and out of a puckered hole that made her stomach churn and wish to expel her breakfast. It could hardly be comforting for his mate. 

One of the serving girls between fits of raucous laughter when her mistress had finally found the stomach and courage to do so told her it was how pups were made, but people were not dogs.  

Still the question and the answer to that circled back around her this sweltering fortnight.

How would it be with him? Would he be quick?  Would he be gentle? Would he take her from behind like a dog? He already had her pressed up against the wall twice now the ravenous mad dog he was. She knew that humans were different, but he had not even taken her to the bed as befitting her status. 

What would it be like if he had? What would it be like to have him hovering over her?  How would his flesh feel atop hers? How would his length feel like inside her? Would he let her touch him? Love him as he loved her?  Hand drifting to where a growing tent was ensconced under his robes? 

How would it be? 

He certainly had to be bigger than a dog. He felt bigger than what she imagined the hound did deep inside his mate. Would his length bring her pleasure in the way that his hands had? Blind her with it and turn her into some lust ridden beast. She felt like that. Then. Now. 

Oh, she was depraved, but he did not seem to mind her need when he had caught her staring at him with what she was sure was her need. Hands drifting.

“What's mine is yours sweet one,” the warmth of his breath fanned her nape as he spoke the words into her ear. Her cheeks warmed as he had taken her hovering hand in his bestowing a light kiss upon the supple brown flesh before he pulled away. His touch lingering where his lips could not. 

It looked more like lively banter, albeit laced with the affections from the depths of their kinship, than the makings of a passionate tryst. 

Even still she was not so green as to think that the eyes and ears of the Red Keep would not notice something if they kept on as they had. They were Targaryens after all and Targaryens were not so common as mere men in their desires and wants. 

She had not followed him when he had left the Great Hall last night well before dessert was brought in. Their brother huffed and eyed the top of the man’s pale head in the crowd of ravens and browns and gold with some measure of suspicion, but he did not command him to stay. 

Letting him leave without saying a word in protest. 

Daemon did as he pleased and there was no point in keeping him, especially when his behavior raised brows from their more stodgy guests and the ones connected by law than by blood. The ones who would not understand this. What they meant to each other or how natural it was even beneath the sin. 

After a time, which she had deemed appropriate where no one would guess what had been up to under the cover of that table where their hands had wandered and communicated what whispers and gazes could not in an overcrowded hall, she took her leave of the merriment.

Viserys did not seem to mind if she stayed either. Sending her off with a solitary flicks of his hand in the same direction that their brother had left.

She thought he was rather relieved to see her go. She could picture the small as her back turned to him. Feel his stare on the back of neck. He always seemed rather relieved to see her go. As did the rest of the hall save for her cousins. Her very existence raised brows and that was not limited to the ones who were supposed to love her best, the king included among them. 

True enough he cared for her. Their father had seen to that as had Daemon, but he was not brotherly, barely familial and though he was old enough to be her father he had never taken upon that role after Baelon had met his abrupt end. 

Too much like her mother she suspected. He had never been fond of the Naathni whore who had captured their fathers gaze. 

Then again Viserys did not seem very fond of anything apart from his daughter and the little prince she had birthed who looked no more Valyrian than she. His indifference to her was really less to do with her blood and more to do with his general indifference to all things Viserys was not so concerned with the purity of their family and her lack of it, but Daemon, Daemon who loved her, Daemon who had defiled her, Daemon he was  was another matter.   

Daemon had not been particularly brotherly either  with his comings and goings, but his indifference was a foreign concept to her. Her youngest brother had never hid his affections; his care for her even if those affections had turned into something more than it ought to be. Or something as it in truth should be. 

“You’re a Targaryen sweet girl as much as I am.” He would always say when she questioned why he was so affectionate with her without a breath spared. Whispering in her ear and sealing his words with a kiss to her temple or peppering her  face with sloppy kisses. Never mind the frowns and deep furrows they’d received for said affection. They wouldn’t understand.

Half was still a Targaryen. She was still a Targaryen no matter who her mother had been. That was the beginning and end of it or just the beginning. 

It was why they were here and why she was presently in a half state of undress stuffed with her brother's fingers, soaking his hand with her slick and his mouth upon her breasts. They were Targaryens and Targaryens did what they liked. Would have what they liked. Take what they like. Conqueror. 

As he had done with her. Twas in their blood. Her blood that was a siren call and he had answered. Like calling to like. Blood to blood. He had answered with his own call.  

Silly and naive as it was, she had thought he had actually gone to bed. That he had gotten bored of her of the game they played, but he most decidedly had not.

She had only managed to make it a quarter of the way to her chambers before a pale hand shot out from the dark and pulled her back into it. Pulling her into a hard chest while his mouth caught the scream she was sure to have let out if not for his tongue tangling with hers in the most lovely dance swiping across her lips to gain entrance circling the roof of her mouth upon hers she had given into him without much fight.

And now what little fight she had had vanquished along with the rate of rapidly deteriorating care for anything apart from the feel of him upon her. In her. around her. Him. She had not cared for anything else since last night. Just him. 

“Don't turn away from me, little one.” his hand had quickly enough found its way to up her skirts once more when his fingers finally pulled away from her lips. 

The pale Targaryen man wasting no time venturing them up her leg. Grazing the smooth embellished bronze skin of her thighs until he found her warmth waiting for him. Placing a toned thigh between her legs and spreading them apart.  Finding no resistance to stop him. To keep him from her. To keep this pleasure he wished to give her and she would take it all and thank him for it like a dog dying from thirst.

He could've commanded her to streak across that very dark, very quiet hall naked as the day she was and she would've gladly done so. She would've done anything with those digits working her through. A finger gliding across her glistening slit to collect her slick before bringing it up to tease her little button. Drawing crescents into the engorged nub as he grew moans and whimpers from her lips. Getting drunk off the noises. His breath upon her. 

She had been shamefully wet. She still had some shame in that regard when she had heard the sound of her wetness filling in that tiny enclave. The pool of slick he made which stained them both and reached something in her that had her tightening around him and arching back on to him. 

He found the places in herself she had never known and  had never dreamed of knowing. 

She had touched herself on occasion before. Feeble thing it was. Timid and unsure movements made when the castle had gone quiet and the only company she had were the moon's light, her slender hand, and her labored breaths. Each time no different than the last and neither was this attempt at self gratification. Not unpleasant, but it was not particularly eventful, nothing remarkable, nothing euphoric in it. 

She did not have those flutterings spreading from the pit of her core. Had never spasmed around her fingers. Wet them with her arousal. 

Only once had she ever attempted entering them within her channel and she had never tasted herself. She certainly had never lost herself in her fumblings. Not in this way. Never gone and she had been gone. She was gone. 

Every thought left from her body besides that cresting feeling overtaking her like a wave in the harbor and she a ship soaked through with love embrace. 

Gone enough to let him debase her there upon that wall where anyone might see them, see her like a common whore. Chanting his name like a possessed woman. 

Daemon. Daemon. Daemon.

Gone enough to let him kiss away her moans. To whisper sweet things into her dampened flesh. Things that made her cheeks flush with warmth and her stomach clench in pleasure. Bearing down upon his fingers as she clung to him.

She was gone, gone, gone. And then he was gone. 

“Patience is a virtue dear sister,” he had whispered onto her lips. 

Gifting her one last kiss upon the hot skin beneath the shell of her ear just as she felt herself cresting over that little hill of fire which he had built, halting her as he pulled the ground from out under her.    

He did not catch the gasp when he had pulled his fingers from her. A gush of her wetness went with him as he brought those digits to his lips to sample her excitement and left the rest to run down her thighs and stain that ruined silk that of course was then. A wink, and the inaudible groan he let out as he tasted were the last trendles of bliss he had afforded her, before he left her in that scorching void of need and agony, but that memory had been painted over with the vibrancy of desire. 

Now whatever had made him leave her, whatever lesson he had tried to impart upon her, whatever, whatever he had seared into her mind with his,  he had returned to her with great fury. 

Passion reignited as he had thrown open the doors to her chambers after she had tried to slip through them in search of him. His lips were upon hers with not a word spoken between them as he removed all traces of what he was to say to him. The only thing cushioning her head from hitting the wall which he had backed them into was his hands placed behind her that softened the blow. Then it did not matter. What her septa thought, what did not matter. There had only been now. 

Now she was not willing to let it slip through her fingers that were presently holding onto the pale man until she had her fill and more then. 

“Don't leave me,” she rasped with a whimper out into the shell of his ear. The last bit of consciousness before the fall. The words choked out with a gasp for breath over the sound of the squelches growing in their obscenity and his panting into her skin.  

it was pathetic it sounded childish to her own ears, but she was determined to let him know. To not have what had happened repeat to be left as she didn't think she could bear that. She would collapse into herself and never leave from this place he had set her atop above all the rest. 

Passion faded. Flesh rotted. Bones turned to dust. Withering away until whatever had been her, the old her and the new was gone too. 

She could not bear that.  

“I never left you. I will never leave you sweet one.” She believed him. 

Believed him as she could feel him at her fingers. The resolute beating of his pulse. Thump, thump, thump.  The heat of his skin she managed to pull. His blood strumming through him.

Believed him as he lifted his head at last from where he had trailed his kisses down from her neck to her décolletage. The warmth of his breath fanning her exposed skin dampened by his hearty ministrations. 

Daemon had come back, that is what mattered. He had never strayed. Not truly. Not in any way that mattered. He had come for her. He had found her and taken her for his own, giving her this gift of pleasure. This new her. 

“Is this all for me sweet one?” He crooned out the question. Goosebumps erupted across her body as those long digits of his hit the back of her cervix, his pace unrelenting. “Is this why you 

She wouldn’t have been able to contain her moan then even if she wanted to. Nor the shudder that wracked through her body as she folded into him. Nor answer him. Clawing at him. Pulling him tighter to her practically suffocating the man with her bare breasts having pulled down her flimsy gown as if he would flit away as he had before, but he did not. She would not. Not with the way he groaned into her skin. The way he lapped at whatever he could find as he sped up the pumps of his fingers within her heat.

There was something comforting in knowing that she had ruined him the same as he had ruined her. 

Help her mother. If she had found the Gods on the rough pads of his fingers stroking her, loving her, what would she find on the end of his cock? What would that cock make her see, stroking her, loving her, how would she feel? 

A moan interrupted her thoughts once more. 

“That’s it sweet girl.” He teased with a nip at the back of her ear. Taking her lobe between his teeth to suckle upon as his fingers worked her through. In and out over that spongy spot he had. Striking a delicate balance as he kept her on the edge. The balance that she had missed. Come to crave. 

A little heaven right under her nose which she had been kept from. Not that she was complaining, who would complain about heaven when they had reached it, but then she was in fact complaining. Whining again when he pulled his hand from her and with it that heaven. 

The sound of her wetness around his fingers filling the still. Twitching around nothing after being filled for so long. 

She felt empty. Cold somehow and empty. The air leaving out from her lungs. Left starving once more as she clawed at him. Her grip unrelenting. 

She had forgotten what it felt like to feel so empty. It was somehow worse than when he left her crying in the hall. She detested it with every fiber of her being. 

She whined and that whine turned into another moan when he brought those soaked digits to his lips to taste her. His eyes remained locked on her. Watching her as she squirmed around him.

He was a cruel man and he had chosen her to be on the receiving end of this cruelty. 

Cruelty seemed to beget more cruelty. With a pop those fingers were and had voyaged to swipe them  through her sticky folds. Torturing her, but she did not have to wait long. He plunged them back into her depths in the next breath. Reaching her cervix as he curled them. Leaving her shaking in his arms. 

“Do you feel how wet you are for me sweetling,” he growled out eyes scanning her face for acknowledgement and when he received no such thing besides her quaking in his hold silent by the pleasure, he emphasized the point. Pressing his fingers deep into that spongy spot atop her walls, she answered his growl at last with a whimper. 

She could do no more than whimper at the truth of it. The squelches of her heat playing on a loop. In and in and in. Not stopping. Never stopping as he worked her up the little hill he had molded. Her descent into the abyss threatening to undo came thundering down upon her like a clap of thunder. “Come for me sweetling.” And she did. 

Giving into that magma that had been boiling over. Seeping into the hot puddle of her own bliss. Her vision swirling with life and her body trembling with wave after wave until all that was left was her soul. 

Climax overtaking her until she felt nothing but those hands on her. arching into his fingers to draw out that fluttering feeling. Her stomach tightening with it. Body loosening into it until she was but a puddle of molten passion. 

Oh Gods. Nothing more for what else was there, but this bliss. What else was there but this? What else could there be?

Strange and unearthly as it sounded she had left this mortal plane for that brief duration of her orgasm which seemed to stretch endlessly. That puddle of bliss an overflowing fountain which kept replenishing with the sweetest liquid ambrosia. 

She hadn’t realized he had moved them to her bed until she felt the heaviness of his weight and the heat of his skin on top of her. Warming her now cool form contrasting with the feel of the soft linens and the fluff of her pillow at her back cushioning her. 

He wore a smile and greeted her with a tone as if he were frightened that she might float away from him, but how could she after this. 

“Hello.” The corners of his violet eyes which had regained some of their hue crickling with mirth as he petted her cheek with the back of his hand. Softer than she imagined it would be. It was the hand that had been inside with the way it glistened in the moon's light. 

“I think you’ve broken me,” she returned barely above a whisper and more breathy than she would like, but not knowing what else to say. She felt broken. Like a ragdoll. Breathless and listless with what remained of her orgasm. 

He laughed at her ragged state, but it was not the jeering sort. It was as airy as her own voice. Breathless happy if she would be so bold. Not just gloating he was truly happy. Pleased. Pleased with her. Pleased with pleasing her and he was far from being done doing so. 

“I shall endeavor to do that more often than.” He brought his hand up to her cheek. Caressing the flushed skin from brow down to her nape with the back of his knuckles. 

If she hadn't had the good sense to allow her maid to braid up her hair for the night as she had last night too restless with yearning for a relief that had never come till now to allow them to do such, He might’ve encountered loose coils which he could grip. Instead her mop of raven coils were braided neatly into two plaits resting upon her shoulders. 

Though she imagined he might have liked the sight of her mane unbound considering he could not keep his hands from brushing the back of those coils, for he knew better now than to try to attempt to comb through the delicate strands, last night when they had been as such during the feast. Only adorned with a band of rubies atop her head to restrain them. 

Her hair would have been a mess to comb in the morrow, resembling more a brittle bird's nest than hair and taking the better part of that very mourn to undo the damage which had been done, but she’d let him play. 

She’d let him play with her whenever he’d like. 

“Perhaps I can fuck the church mouse from you,” he mused. His thumb swiping across the expanse of freckles resembling a consolation across her nose. If he meant to raise offense to virgins sensibilities which had been bred into her that would have her hiding her embarrassment from his vulgarity he was surely to be disappointed at her reply for she met him in kind. 

“Mayhaps I shall fuck the cruelty from you dearest brother.” 

Wideyed staring up at him she expected a sharp quip for her cheek, perhaps another lewd castigation, but he was to disappoint her as much as she so joyously disappointed him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his hand had ventured to her lips, eyes darting between them and her brown gaze with not so much as a hint of mischief. “So beautiful.” She should have felt subconscious, full of virgins blush at the intensity in which he watched her, but the flush of lust was still coursing through her waiting to be attended to. Waiting in this hellish limbo that kept her from celestial rapture. 

Bare before her, his robes discarded into a pile with her gown just outside the peripheral of her vision. Covering every inch of her person with his pale flesh and staring down at her. Staring straight through her and right down to her soul. The violet of his irises blown out, replaced with the black of his pupils, he looked the picture of it. Valyrian god come to life to lead her into wickedness. 

Through her haze, she saw he was motioning towards her slightly parted lips swollen from his kisses he commanded her with a solitary word. “Suck.” 

It was less vulgar and more reverent than one would expect from the meaning of the words. Less a command too, more like he had called her beautiful once more with that starry look in his eyes that suited him odd as it was though she did not need to be flattered and she certainly did not need to be told twice.

The taste was not unpleasant. Salty mainly, she did not taste of berries and honey, but there was a sweetness there. A sweetness which she could understand why men seemed to go wild from it, why Daemon seemed so eager to have her taste herself. 

If she were to admit to it, and she hardly thought she could even at his command,it satisfied some dark perverse part of her crawling that crawled out with a tiny moan stiffened by his fingers, but that darkness still hungered. Wondering how Daemon would taste on her tongue. 

To see him reduced to a mere husk of man that would see him beg her with that solitary word and throaty pants. 

Her hand had crawled between their bodies blindly with want. Instinct drove her around this new bend as she took him in hand. 

He was hot to the touch. His skin felt soft like velvet yet rigid with his arousal. Throbbing in her hand and far larger than that hound imprinted in her memory.    

He allowed her to go on like that. encouraging her in her explorations as his hand joined hers between their bodies. Guiding her little tugs upon his length, but halted her movements when she had felt him begin to coat her hands with his spunk. 

The haze of lust she found herself in abated somewhat with a slap placed onto the meat of her thigh which had her yelping at the sting of it. 

Another was placed in that same spot rubbing the brown skin tender for good measure when she had tried to bring her hand to her mouth to taste him as he had tasted her. She could not meet his eye when he sneered down at her. 

“I did not did not give you permission to do that sweet sister.”

Taking her hand in his as Daemon brought her fingers to his lips. Enveloping the digits into to suckle upon before releasing them not a half minute after with a pop that had her wetting her thighs that she tried clamping together for some relief, but was stopped by the hard body atop. Gods, did he have to keep her from this too? 

“Greedy little thing whatever am I to do with you?” His eye sparkled with mirth at her whines and squirms beneath his person, but he took some mercy on her.

“Next time sweet one,” her brother promised. The tips of his pointer finger on the other hand that had not been in her tracing her lips as his bent head smirked down at her. She desperately wanted to meet the small admonition with a protest of her own making. Why could she not love him as he loved him, but he supplanted the words with a moan by way of his lips returning to its rightful place upon hers. 

“Next time I’ll teach you how to use that pretty mouth.” He breathed into her his want. 

Next time his promise swimmed in her head as her tongue wet and wild battled with his. Giving in as was becoming a habit when he swiped it across the nerves atop the roof of her mouth. She did not mind waiting for the next time if it would lead to this. She could wait for next time. Next time. Next time. 

He wanted there to be a next time. He wanted a next time with her. Mayhaps even more than that if he made good on his promise. If he took her away from this half-life of dictums, indifference, and daggers hidden behind tight smiles. Mayhaps there will be a thousand next times. She could almost picture it beneath the clouds. Almost feel it if she just reached for it. If she just—

“Shh sweetling,” he panted out. Pulling away from the kiss, but only just for his lips still ghosted hers.  the warmth of his breath fanning her fevered cheeks as he moved his hands to back up to cup her face as he murmured plaintives. “I’m right here.”

She did not know why, but she had begun to cry. She had not even aware she had, hadn’t even felt the telltale sting upon her cheeks nor tasted the salt of her tears, the thought of next time and its pleasures gripping hold of her til Daemon leaned down to kiss them away. Peppered her face with kisses as he shushed her. 

Trying to calm her overtaxed state with his own branding. Bringing her back down from the skies which he had ascended her into with the gentleness of his touch. And yet he was far from sending her into that bliss. Next time could wait. There was a now to see too

She whimpered as he spread her legs, this time with his bare thigh which felt like a balm to that heat that was regrowing in the pit of her belly. Feeling the stretch and her own stickiness but mostly how sore she had become. Dear god he really was trying to send her to heaven or to whatever land of milk and honey he had come from or perhaps the land of fire and blood was a more apt description for it. 

“Daemon please,” she begged, but he had only answered with a laugh and the tilt of her 

“You’ve been neglected for far too long,” He was toying with her, teasing her. Controlling her movements as he grinded her heat down upon his thigh. 

It was too much. It was not enough.    

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” That hand which had been guiding the erratic dilutions of her hips had shifted to the apex of her womanhood cupping her curls before pulling her labia apart to renew their efforts upon her pulsing button; it did not take much to send her spiraling delirious with want as she was. 

“I don’t care,” and she didn’t. Feeling her orgasm crescendo once more with each circle he drew into her engorged clit. That hill so intoxicating a climb. Her sopping cunt pulsing around nothing as her clit thrummed, but so desperately needing to be filled as she once had. “I don't please.”

She wasn’t above begging now. Not when she had a taste. “I need you please I need you—- Daemon,” she choked on her moan as he answered her call. her nails digging into his back as he breached her pulsing walls. She could tell that she was drawing blood, but she had bled for him and the man atop her had choked out a groan of his own as he sheathed himself within her to the hilt. 

He had been right there was pain but it was but a prick swiftly overtaken by that wave of pleasure which he brought the heady concoction that he made for her.

 In out. 

Not stopping. 

Never stopping for she was a finely tuned instrument he knew only how to play. 

Ever the master of his craft his mouth hot on hers as his tongue soaked up every song she gifted him. The long digits of his right hand remained on her clit. The pads of his fingers rubbing circle while his length bullied that spongy spot within her heat which once pulsed around his fingers while the fingers belonging to his left hand wrapped themselves around her throat. Squeezing as her walls squeezed his length. Milking him for all that he would give her. 

She arched her hips up onto him when he tried to leave from her walls just to thrust himself deeper within them, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her need taking over as she let the man use her for their pleasure.

 His thumb had never abandoned her clit as he kept himself seated deep within her quivering walls as she watched black dots blanketing her vision. A little death of the color he had painted over her world of gray, blind as she was, but there was so much more to feel. 

This, this was the thing which she had needed. This was what she was meant for. 

His skin upon hers. Sweat, spit, and spunk gluing their bodies together. The squelches from their lovemaking her spend and his combining with each tilt drowning out whatever remained of the world outside or even within the walls of these sultry chambers. 

The push and pull of him stretching her. His rigid length dragged across her walls, filling her better than his fingers. She felt whole. 

Each thrust somehow deeper and deeper. Carving out a space that had not existed before this, but was always to be. that want and longing that had tormented her so quelled like a babe at his mothers breasts. 

She came around him, soaking him, squeezing him, without so much as a release of breath, but he was there to breathe for her. There to speak for her. There to be her anchor.

That's a good girl. That's my good girl. Gods, you're so tight, so tight. Naughty little thing you squeeze me so perfectly. That's it, he crooned, adores position by his low rasps of breath. Voice strained in the back of his throat as he commanded her, Let go for me. 

It was not his words that undid her. Nor his grunts of pleasure he did not refrain from gifting her. 

It was in his eyes that bore into her. Violet turned midnight eyes that mirrored her own which said You'll be my death you sweet thing, but I will not leave you. In. I belong here. In. In you. In. With you. In. You are mine. In. As I am yours.

 In. In. In. In. 

She shook beneath him and he groaned into the hollow space between her breasts. Eyelids fluttering shut as he bent into her. Squirting around his hot member as he spilled into her. 

He was everywhere. Had taken everything from her body from the depths of her being and she did not care.

This was the beginning, the after, everything. Her body curled into itself. Curling around him. He did not stop and she did not want him to stop going further and further up a cliff which she did not know only that it was more than last time. Stronger too as she tumbled over into the welcoming arms of elation.

Time had lost all its meaning as her orgasm wrecked through body. White and silver the color of moonlight flashing across her. The salt of his skin the only taste on her tongue. The little grunts and moans they let out to the other as effortless as one's heartbeat. Where he ended and she began extended past where their bodies were joined for there was no him, no her, just this. Just them.

It was his hand that she came to the world of color. Petting her cheek as he had before when she had returned back to him from that mountain of bliss. Hand upon her bare hip a comforting weight, but he made no move to exert her further. 

“I will not touch you, but I need to take care of you sweet one.” Another kiss, this one placed on the tip of her freckled nose as she exhaled, loosening that ball of energy that remained from her worn body. 

Cupping her warm face between his palms as he leaned in so that his damped forehead rested upon hers. “Will you let me take care of you?" she nodded, that ragdoll feeling coming about her again, wanting to do but she knew better than to take his words in vain.

She laid there doll like upon a mountain of pillows that as he fetched a cloth and thimble of water from her wash basin. Still as naked as she, backside turned, throwing  her a boyish smile every so often over his shoulder as he dampened the rag, but having no shame in her seeing him as such and she was too tired to be embarrassed by the sight of a naked man or to care what any others might think of it. Let them make what they like.

She would not trade this, seeing that lovely gaze with light in every corner of his face which made him look ten years younger for what had been before ruined as she was. 

There was no talking as he washed slick and spend from her body. Stilted breaths, trembles when he dragged the cloth against her sour cunny, and little gulps of water from the chalice he handed to her when he had deemed his washing the only tune which played. Even the feast below them had gone well and truly quiet. The moon that hung low in the night sky which would soon glow a bloom of red and orange their only company. 

Half bathed in the shadows he stretched out a pale hand towards her as he finally settled himself beside her. Having thrown the soiled rag clear across the room for one of her maids to find in the morning along with her, but that would wait til dawn broke free of the night.

The moon high his fingers glistened in its light with water droplets from the basin as she took that outstretched hand without pause. Daemon pulled her into him with one tug.

A feminine yelp and  a contented sigh the brief interlude that cut the still. Nestling her head beneath his chin as he resumed stroking down her body. 

Gentle. 

It shocked her how he who could be so maddening who could elicit such scorn and want, even from her,  yet he was still so gentle with her when it was all said and done. She couldn’t complain that he was so gentle resting there in his arms, but it was a shock albeit the most pleasant kind. 

They went on like that. Time continuing to be immaterial. The soothing caresses down her bare back pulling her tenderly to the land of dreams. That contented quiet having quenched the hunger prevailing until he broke it.

Pulling her head slightly away from his shoulder where she had rested to lift her chin up enough to face him but not quite enough to pull her in for another sweet kiss or a searing one to begin their lovemaking anew as she had thought. She was not so very tired and the sun was still aslumber, but then she met his eye. 

Brown met Violet as their gazes aligned. 

“Come away with me.” He whispered. His voice sounded just as boyish as he looked then. A slight bit of apprehension beyond the brilliance of his gaze, but so full of hope. A hope she would not leave unanswered. 

Meeting him the rest of the way she leaned into his touch. Her lips grazed his as she breathed her reply into him. 

“Okay.” She’d follow him anywhere. Into bliss and beyond.  

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