#I see the vision with these two. i love them

[littelovelunette]

This is so depraved and disgusting but whatever but how about ceo sev taking u to her meetings nd business partner vi ISNT agreeing to the new deal so sev offers ur ass as payment to secure the deal and they both fuck ur shit up and sev basically shows her how tight readers ass is to fully convince her to agree to the new deal (I’m ovulating and this is soooo much so I apologize for how weird this is)

Deal To Be Struck

No "apologising for depraved requests" allowed in here, I want all my babies to feel safe and validated. I love that filthy thought.

Contains smut, threesome, rough anal play and fingering, degradation, mild spanking, finger sucking

"Are you suggesting I put my wife's ass up to make you secure the deal for me?" Sevika asked, her voice raising an octave at the audacity of the other woman.

You were seated next to Sevika, in a tight blazer straining against your tits and black mini skirt. Sevika had dressed you up for today's meeting. The garter stockings were making it harder to maintain because the skirt was short and the belt was pulling your panties down ever now and then, so you preferred to remain seated.

You tugged at Sevika's sleeve from where you were seated and gave her the nod of approval, Sevika let out a small sigh.

"Well, if you're not exactly comfortable with that, I know where the door is," Vi said, pushing herself off the wall, walking to the door.

There was something about that woman, her calmness yet roughness... It made you soak through your panties but you kept your desires buried deep in your heart, not wanting to be disloyal although you and Sevika had talked about trying a threesome before.

"Wait, Violet," Sevika said, "Fine, you can have my wife, but only the ass," she added, a warning tone in her voice.

You couldn't help feel your body grow hot at the thought of Vi stretching your tight ass open. Thighs pressing against one another to try to calm the ache between your legs, the need for some friction.

"So strict," Vi said with a hint of mockery in her voice as she walked over to you, letting out a hand in which you pressed your very own. Vi's fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you flush against her body.

You could almost feel the heat radiating off her, hard abs pressed against your soft body from through her suit.

You could see Sevika from your peripheral vision lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep inhale of the smoke, strangely enough she didn't seem to unhappy about the whole ordeal... Not as you expected her to be.

Just then Vi pinned you to the table, ass facing her, "You have a nice ass, baby," Vi whispered in your air, the tufts of her pink hair tickling the side of your neck.

"Sevika dressed me," you mumbled your voice meek as you saw Vi stealing a glance at Sevika who was manspread on her chair, smoking her cigarette as she watched you both.

Vi cupped one of your plump ass cheeks in her hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling it back to slap your ass.

You could only let out a small yelp followed by a whimper.

She admired the way it jiggled against the impact before pulling your mini skirt up, "Garters? Hm, you sure have good taste," Vi bit the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine.

"So you dressed your wife up fancily in case you needed to swoon me over to secure the deal for you?" Vi taunted, hands pulling your panties down with ease along with the stockings, "I gotta hand it to you, Sevika, smart move. Very... Business-y."

Vi raised a hand and send a smack on your ass, making your body jolt in pain.

"Spread your legs, use your hands and spread those cheeks for me," Vi said and you complied.

"There, good girl," Vi pushed two of her digits in your mouth, getting them nice and wet, "Suck on them, go on, you've already come so far. In front of your wife, panties down, pussy probably dripping wet at the thought of a rich investor fingering your ass as your wife watches, huh?"

You couldn't help whimper at the way she was taunting you but you still sucked on her fingers obediently. You couldn't help it. She was so right about it all after all.

Vi pulled her fingers out, lining them against your asshole with a smirk, "You ready? I won't be all soft and gentle, y'know? Dunno how your woman fucks you anyway," Vi thrusted her fingers in, strong slender fingers scissoring through the tight passageway to loosen the tension building up in your sphincture.

"Y-Youre so rough and so mean," you could only whine and complain as she continued thrusting her fingers in and out sending a burning sensation in your ass, the stretch making it feel like you'd cum already but you didn't.

Vi didn't let your whines and complains stop her, she twisted her fingers, angling them in such a way that she attacked a certain spot that made your knees buckle and reach to grab the table desperately to keep yourself from falling to your knees.

"P-Please," you could only beg her but you knew she wouldn't stop.

Now that she came so far she might as well make you cum from it.

"Oh, yeah, you like that?" Vi asked, voice strained from the effort of going so rough on your ass.

"Told ya' she's a tight one," Sevika said, putting the cigarette butt in the ash tray.

"You both discussed this before?" You asked through your moans and gasps.

Sevika didn't answer, walking beside the both of you, slipping two thick fingers in your mouth.

"Mmmph!" You gagged as she finger fucked your throat.

"Dolls don't speak unless spoken to," Sevika said, her voice dangerously low.

You knew you had to keep going or both of them would ruin you badly so you obediently tried to suck onto her digits in your mouth as Vi added a third finger in your asshole, slapping your ass with her other hand.

"Relax, bitch, stop tensing up," Vi spat out.

"M-Mhm," you could only let out a muffled sound of obedience before trying to loosen your muscles so Vi could continue thrusting deeper in your rectum, making your eyes close as tears streamed down your cheeks smudging your mascara.

"Good girl, always making mommy so proud," Sevika praised, smirk etched on her lips.

Vi thrusted all three fingers knuckles deep and you finally cam, slowly dropped to your knees from exhaustion as your body gave away.

Liquid seeping out of your pussy, asshole glistening and a little swollen from the recent rough treatment.

"I'll call my assistant and let you know the deal's secured," Vi shook Sevika's hand with her right hand, forcing you to suck your ass juices off her other hand before giving you a small pat on the head and walked off.

What just happened...?

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫

🌑 got lost in the sauce again... The horny sauce this time😭 I love this menace so much it's not funny and the amount of fics for him is honestly criminal so I'm fixing it myself ENJOY!!! :)

⚠️: Spoilers for the Wardance quests, oral sex (m!receiving), not beta read

The cunning fox is never far. Even blinded he finds a way to get to you no matter where you’ve moved – you suspect it has something to do with those exceedingly sharp senses.

“Isn't it a bit early to be cooking?” Jiaoqiu questions softly as he enters the kitchen, hands gravitating to your waist like metal to a magnet, edging under your shirt to drag his nails over your skin. Keeping the knife in your hand steady is a harder task than he ever made it seem when he was the one doing the cooking, “This is just prep, plus aren't you hungry?”

He hums lowly right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine while his ear flicks against your cheek. By the way he sneaks a nail beneath your waistband you know his intentions are anything but innocent. Though you have been neglecting him…

Just as the thought of giving in to him forms in your distracted mind, the bandages still wrapped around your lover’s chest brush against the back of your arms, “You should still be resting.”

He groans in protest, nose burying even deeper into the side of your neck as his hips push lightly against yours while the shadow of his tail flicks in irritation, “Not tired and I’m no cub, no need to treat me like one.”

You sigh heavily, putting the knife down to avoid an accident. The wounds have been closing steadily for some time now and given Foxian's accelerated healing he should be safe to start moving around more, but there’s also the issue of his vision. The last thing you want is to jump right into it like before and overwhelm his senses when he’s still getting used to them again.

The sharp sting of a fang nibbling your ear rips you away from such thoughts, as intended, “Come on, I miss you so much, dear.” he purrs it in that way he knows gets you weak in the knees and bending to his will most of the time. Just not today.

“Jiaoqiu, you know we can't. No matter how much I want to.” You spare a fleeting thought to the fact that the irresponsible one in this situation is the healer out of the two of you.

Said healer goes quiet for a second, huffing in frustration before dropping his head onto your shoulder and that should be it. You think he’s given up – not a chance.

He grumbles to himself as he peels his chest away from your back, teasingly brushing his fluffy tail along your back as he turns. Soft steps are cut off by the loud sound of Jiaoqiu hitting a chair with his shin after misjudging the distance. He raises his hand just as you go to ask if he’s alright, as if feeling your eyes on him.

The pink-haired Foxian sits heavily, legs spread in what would seem like relaxation if not for the hard-on clearly visible beneath the fabric of his loose pants, chest bound with (thankfully) clean bandages.

He opens his eyes to reveal that mesmerizing golden gaze, even though it does not change the fact that he cannot see – he knows what it does to you, “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

Your breath hitches – you know he hears it with how his ear twitches and his lips shift into a pleased smirk, lithe hand drifting purposely slow down his own body. Eyes lingering on his bandages and remembering the awful scars beneath, your hesitation persists, even as you abandon your cooking to watch him. 

His hand slips underneath the waistband of his pants as he breathes heavy. All you see is the suggestion of what he’s doing beneath the fabric, neck muscles twitching and tensing as he grips his cock.

Shit. Your self-control is not strong enough for this, “Jiaoqiu…”

“W-What? You can keep cooking, dear. I hope I’m not distracting y-you.” He stutters, sweat sliding down his long neck from where his hair sticks to his skin while his hand speeds up. A sharp canine digs into his plush bottom lip and stars you wish that was you.

“For a healer, you’re being very irresponsible,” You scold, hands gripping the cold counter behind you, “As a healer, denying yourself the satisfaction you crave is much more d-detrimental.” 

Him and his clever comebacks. You know full well that the two cannot compare, but you’re past caring at this point. Turning your head up to the ceiling you take a deep steadying breath, weighing your options once more, “Baby, please…”

Fuck it, “You’re a terrible influence, you know that?” he smirks like he’s got you exactly where he wants you, knowing you’re finally giving into him.

Your steps are large and hurried as you make your way to him, kneeling in between his legs without hesitation and lightly pushing his hand away from himself, all while he grins infuriatingly pretty, tail curling from side to side in anticipation.

Taking his cock out into the open air, he takes a deep, steadying breath through his teeth, hands gripping the back of his chair to ground himself. You just hope he won't regret this immediately.

But you can't deny that you’ve missed this – missed him. Your mind has been so crowded with concern and desperation that you haven't even allowed yourself to think of him in such a way for a while now. No wonder he’s feeling this needy, and the fact that you basically have to help him to do every little thing now surely isn't helping his case. You can't imagine all that’s running though his mind since he’s refused to mention the incident since the night he returned home, but you can guess that it’s like a storm in there.

Doesn't mean you’ll go easy on him though.

Wrapping your lips around the head of cock, you relish in the shaky moan that leaves his bitten lips, along with the way his hands twitch – wanting to hold your head and pull you along as he wishes.

All your movements are torturously slow, on purpose – you’ll show him what he gets when he’s being a menace, injured or not.

“Come on, dear. Faster…” He whimpers beautifully, hoping to tempt you into listening from his honeyed tone alone. And though a spike of arousal does make its way between your legs, you’re not one to give in so easily, “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing.”

Jiaoqiu’s brow twitches in annoyance, smirk wavering at your gall – words so innocent and yet so biting. He’ll get what you give him at the pace you want, or he’ll get nothing at all.

“If you feel like it’s too much, tell me.” You remind him gently and he nods in understanding. And then, you’re taking him down as far as you can and he nearly chokes on his own breath, a loud moan punched out of throat at the sudden wave of pleasure that rolls through all of his nerve endings.

You pull back a moment later, letting him catch his breath before beginning again, gentler this time, pulling him apart slowly and lovingly. You want to whisper all the reassurances he needs to hear – how good he is, how pretty he sounds, how you love him and all his teasing and how you just want him safe and healthy…

How seeing him in such a state that night nearly broke you. But your mouth is a tad bit busy for so many words, so you settle for rubbing soft circles onto his thigh as you work.

Jiaoqiu pants heavily, eyes squeezed shut with parted lips which let saliva slip between them and down his chin – utterly lost in the way your mouth wraps around him after so long without any such affection, “Please, I’m so–”

He cuts himself off with a resounding moan and under your hands you feel the strength that it takes for him to keep his hips from bucking up into your mouth, pleasured sounds growing in frequency and volume as you speed up, taking him deeper and sealing your lips tighter. 

A high-pitched, pitiful cry of your name is followed by the warmth of his cum sliding down your throat, pleasant in its taste as you always expect. You part from him slowly, offering comforting pets to his thigh as he winces in oversensitivity. 

“Will you let me cook lunch now?”

[askssgenerations]

So that's two shadows and three sonics so far ! Can they see anyone else ?

They do now!

Apologizes if the text is hard to read this time around! I use the page assist feature on procreate so I can’t add text, so the dialogue is all written. I’ll try different spacing for the next post to try and fix it. Thanks yall!

Prev | Next

(Note: I’m well aware of the similarities between this ask blog and @/asksonicverse, but we are two different people with different visions. They’re super awesome and I love their ask blog, but I’m not trying to copy them. Thanks for understanding!!)

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Three - Oaths | Series Masterlist

Summary: Aemond plans his upcoming nuptials, and his intended is quickly discovering what they expect of her | Word Count: 5.7k~ | Warnings: mention of war, canon-divergent, post-Dance Aemond, trauma, arranged marriage, intimate examinations, mild threats

His fingertips were wrinkled from bathing for too long. Deep, pale and inset, as if his life blood had escaped him. His hair was still damp around his shoulders, turning the faint linen near-transparent as it clung to him. The looking glass stared back, reflecting a war-broken prince.

There was once only one ugly scar that graced his body. And now, a second had accompanied it, jagged, red and raw, stretching from his collarbone over his shoulder. He remembered how flesh had stretched, blood gushing forth, the stench of stagnant water and death held onto his riding leathers.

How had he made it home at all?

The memory was no clearer than the question.

With a somewhat withered sigh, he dipped his fingers into the pot that had been left by Maester Gerardys. An ointment, the stumbling old man had said, to ease both the chronic pain of his temples inflicted by his long held wound to his eye, and the searing, intense pain that ruptured through the muscles of his shoulder, down to his bicep. 

The cream was cold, and smelled faintly of cucumbers, loosened with sweet oils. He wasn't sure whether the calming effect was due to the validity of the remedy or the temperature itself. Either way, he did not trust the man. 

But Maester Orwyle was dead. As were many others. And they were left with traitors, those who preferred to see a woman on the Iron Throne, and failed. 

He did not move as the chamber doors opened, the soft, measured steps already telling him who it was, he always knew. Aemond remained seated by the hearth, his eye fixed on the flames. The fire danced, shadows flickering across his features. 

“Mother,” he greeted without turning, his voice steady, though there was an undertone of weariness. A voice tainted by the unending visions of blood and fire. 

Alicent entered quietly, her green skirts whispering against the floor as she crossed the room. She paused beside him, her sharp, deep eyes studying her son. “You’ve met her, then,” she said, her tone neutral. “Lady Rosaleen.”

Aemond’s gaze did not waver from the fire. “I have.”

At least she'd had the decency to wait a few days before badgering him, he thought with distaste.

Alicent waited, expecting more, but when none came, she sighed softly and moved to sit across from him. “And? What do you think of her?”

There was a long silence, the crackling fire the only sound between them. Finally, Aemond leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests, his eye hooded. 

“She is sharp,” he said, his voice low, thoughtful. “Intelligent. Unafraid to speak plainly. Perhaps too plainly.”

Alicent did not seem pleased. At all pleased.

“Her and her blood shall soon learn the behaviours of court are not that of Raventree Hall. They shall have to adapt. As we all have.”

Aemond remained silent, allowing the amber glow to bathe his sore body. Not gracing his mother with the courtesy of a reply.

Alicent turned her ring, a gesture of annoyance perhaps. “She is suitable?”

He turned his head slightly, his eye finally meeting his mother’s. What looked back at him was a love of sorts, just the kind tainted by judgement. “Spare me the pretense that my opinion holds any weight,” he said sharply, his jaw strained.

The damned cream had done nothing yet. The pressure in his temples squeezed tight. Like two palms pressing on either side of his head. 

But before his mother could reply, he added. “I will wed her. As instructed.”

Alicent seemed to study him, as she had her second son for many, many years. But she still failed to truly understand him. Her son was a lesson the Gods had sent her to learn, a test perhaps. One moment a softly spoken, albeit shadowed individual. The next, a man whose pride was so much shattered he would burn lands to ash just to feel powerful.

His father had never needed such things to feel important.

Was there some part of her that held this contempt, she often wondered? Are children so simple as being similar to merely one parent?

She did not push for the answer. For she would not like it.

The Dowager Queen stood finally, smoothing her skirts, looking towards the flames and then to her son once more. Her last child, her only blood in this world.

“I shall have the Maester examine her then. To ensure her health and virtue before the preparations.”

Aemond said nothing. Offering nothing. And when Alicent left, his chambers felt no less-stifling. If anything, the little respite his mother’s presence offered as of late, was simply replaced an empty hollowness that had burrowed into his soul the day he emerged, bloody and soaked, from God’s Eye Lake.

He had meant to come home. To Mother and Helaena. But he had been too late for them. One lost to despair, the other to grief.

Those echoes lingered much louder than Aemond would have liked to admit. And even now, barely wearing the title of Prince Regent was still a cloak that he wore too heavily on his shoulders. He was expected to steer a crumbling ship to paradise, to quell rebellions, to issue pardons, negotiate new alliances. A wedding should have been a simple matter. An alliance of sorts, but one woven into bodies and bedsheets, written in ink and blood.

This union felt like another battlefield. Albeit, one strewn with polite courtesies instead of corpses.

The crackle of the fire had Aemond transfixed. It reminded him of Harrenhal, of Vhagar’s fire. The phantom heat of dragonfire washed over him, a fear and powerfulness alike thrumming in his fingertips, throat tightening. The memories were always the same. The intrusive thoughts. He could still feel the screams splitting the air sometimes, if he truly listened closely enough. 

A hard swallow lodged in his chest, half panic, half anger at the sudden recollection. He forced it down. Not here. Not now. Duty took root in his mind, his mother’s words, the council’s demands, and the weight of the Seven Kingdoms pressed down on him like a closed fist.

These days he spent more time in the Small Council chambers than in his own.

Outside, he could hear the low hum of bustling servants and distant chatter, but within these walls, all was pin-drop silent.He rubbed his temple, feeling a sharp twinge behind his brow. The nightmares, the tension, the endless demands of the crown, they all converged into a constant ache. But he refused to yield to it. Duty overrode pain. Or rather, duty was a type of pain.

The scratch of the nib of his quill certainly did not help matters. 

A light knock on the door did not disturb him. At Aemond’s clipped command of “enter,” the door creaked open, and Tyland stepped inside with a courteous bow.

“My Prince,” Tyland greeted, his voice carrying its usual blend of deference and quiet authority. “I understand you wished to discuss the wedding arrangements.”

Aemond inclined his head, setting the quill aside. “Indeed,” he said, leaning back against the carved wooden chair. “Sit.”

Tyland slipped nearby on his usual seat, balancing a neat stack of financial ledgers and a leather-bound ledger on his lap. His calculating gaze swept the room before settling on Aemond. There was always an air of uncertainty about the way the Master of Coin regarded him, he thought. Since the war, he carried himself differently. Perhaps it was contempt, for sending his brother to his death at the Red Fork. But judging from the way he now held himself, as if he were finally the sibling in the light of the Keep, his clothes finer, his taste pickier, and his demands never-ending, Aemond thought that the Lord that sat before him was finally grateful to live the prestigious life he was always promised, untethered.

“I have asked for a thorough accounting of the expenditures related to the wedding. Including the necessary additions to Lady Rosaleen’s dowry—”

“Just so, My Prince,” Tyland cut in smoothly. He opened the ledger and traced a finger down a column of neatly written figures, several newly gleaming rings on his fingers. “Lady Rosaleen’s dowry has been negotiated with Lord Blackwood, of course. Owing to his illness, his maester and I have corresponded. We have settled on a sum that will reflect the union’s importance, but…” He paused, lifting his gaze. “It is not unsubstantial.”

At least the man got straight to the point, he thought. Albeit looking far too pleased with himself.

Aemond gave a curt nod. “Go on.”

Tyland cleared his throat. “We must also consider the costs of the ceremony itself, feasts, tourneys, gifts to foreign dignitaries who may attend, and the inevitable taxes and tariffs associated with festivities. We had planned a scaled-down version in light of the realm’s…recent hardships. But the lords of the small council believe a grander display of Targaryen generosity would reassure the kingdom that we are once again stable.”

“‘Generosity,’” Aemond repeated dryly, leaning back in his chair. “The coffers have been strained since the war. Do we have the means to finance this ‘reassurance’?”

“We can manage, My Prince, if we balance the expenditures properly. A modest feast, but with enough pageantry to signal renewal. We need not rival the lavishness of King Aegon’s coronation, for instance, merely something to show the lords that the realm is not entirely impoverished.”

Aemond considered this, his eye flicking down to the parchment on which he’d scratched a few notes. “And Lady Rosaleen’s personal requests? Has her retinue made any demands for special offerings, entertainments, or additions to the ceremony?”

“Thus far, no. They have been surprisingly reasonable. A few items of significance to her house, colours, perhaps a small number of Riverlands dishes served at the wedding feast, tokens of her heritage. Nothing excessive.”

Aemond exhaled, relieved. The last thing he needed was a tug-of-war over ostentatious displays. “Good. Then we proceed with a moderate ceremony that won’t beggar us.”

Tyland nodded, sliding a narrow scroll from beneath the ledger. “I have itemised potential costs, wine from the Arbor, spices from Dorne, entertainment. We could hire travelling mummers or a small troupe of singers, though the cost of a full tourney is significant.” He glanced up. “Is a tourney truly necessary?”

Aemond’s lips thinned. A tournament, once, that might have been a shining moment in a royal union. Now, it felt like a hollow spectacle. The realm still bled from the wounds of war, men’s purses were light, and their families hungry. Yet, to skimp on tradition might be seen as weakness or disinterest in forming a new road ahead.

“We cannot ignore custom, but we will keep it brief. A single day of jousting, perhaps, with fewer knights invited to compete. We do not need every lord from Dorne to the Neck presenting themselves. Only enough to give the ceremony weight.”

Tyland’s quill scratched over the parchment, noting the prince’s instructions. “A small but prestigious list of contestants, then. I’ll inform Ser Willis to organise the rosters accordingly.”

Aemond gave a curt nod, fingertips drumming against the desk. “What of the dowry? You said it is substantial. How substantial?”

Tyland eyed his notes. “The Blackwoods have pledged a sizable sum, in coin and goods, timber rights from certain forested lands near Raventree Hall, which could be valuable for shipbuilding or repairs to the castle towns damaged during the war. Additionally, some white stone mined near the Vale, shared claims, apparently, from an ancient marriage, and an annual donation of grain once their fields recover.”

Aemond’s jaw worked as he considered it. “Useful resources for rebuilding, in any case.”

“Indeed. Truth be told, it’s a better arrangement than some we’ve seen from houses equally wounded by the Dance. It suggests the Blackwoods see long-term benefit in this union.”

Which, of course, makes sense, Aemond thought. They had supported Rhaenyra at first, and switching allegiance when the tide turned had come at a cost. This was their chance to ensure they stood on the winning side for the future.

“Very well,” he said aloud. “Ensure the final details are recorded. Once the wedding is done, we can gauge how best to distribute these resources in ways that benefit both Crown and Riverlands.”

Tyland dipped his head, scratching more notes onto the paper. “I will see to it, My Prince.”

A pause followed, and Aemond noticed Tyland studying him carefully, as if evaluating whether or not to broach another matter. The Lannister coughed lightly. “And how do you find your future bride, if I may ask? The realm’s tongues are already wagging at the prospect of this…arrangement.”

“Let them wag,” he answered bluntly, “she is determined and intelligent. That is all.”

Tyland only nodded, a polite smile hovering on his lips. “Such traits may prove an asset, given the state of the Riverlands.”

“Precisely,” Aemond said, schooling his features into neutrality. “She will be of use in that regard.”

Tyland clicked his tongue in approval, setting the ledger aside. “I shall make the proper arrangements, then. If you have no other requirements—”

“That will be all,” Aemond cut in. He rose, inclining his head at Tyland. “Thank you, Lord Tyland.”

With a bow, Tyland gathered his notes and slipped out, leaving Aemond with a mild sense of relief. These formalities, discussing dowries, entertainments, budgets, were trifles, comparatively. They seemed superficial at face value, and yet even Aemond could not deny their significance in showing the crown’s unyielding resolve.

He moved to the window, gazing out at King’s Landing sprawled below. Somewhere beyond that hazy horizon stood Raventree Hall, a place he’d once considered an enemy seat. Now, it was to be bound to him by marriage, its fortunes entwined with his own. He could not help but think of her once more, Rosaleen, recalling the tension he had felt, and the strange current of fascination that had run beneath it. She wanted to ensure he understood the Riverlands’ scars, the result of his flames. 

That would not be a simple matter. But not impossible. 

He sighed as another knock signalled his next meeting. Likely Ser Willis to discuss the security of the wedding. So it begins again, the unending responsibilities of rule, weighed against the ghosts of a war that refused to fade. He would soon be bound to a woman who spoke to rebuilding and destruction in the same breath, and if she wanted to rebuild, like it or not, she would need to look past his transgressions.

If she chose to or not, was another matter.

“My Prince. I apologise for the interruption.”

Aemond glanced up from behind his cluttered desk, quill rendered dumb in his grip, his jaw tightened at the sight of Larys Clubfoot, arriving unannounced. And unsummoned.

“You seldom visit without cause, Lord Larys. Make it quick.”

Though Larys inclined his head, it was unclear whether it was out of polite courtesy or annoyance at Aemond’s tone. “I wish to speak of Harrenhal, to repair the damage of the long-fought war–”

“If you’re fretting about your seat, be direct.”

If there was anything Lord Larys was, it was predictable about his prattling. For an age before the war, he had sat smug in every idle corner of the Keep, resisting the urge to grin ear to ear at having been appointed, though de facto, Lord of Harrenhal. A seat only given to him because all his kin before him had perished. As of late, he’d found himself in tenuous possession of that cursed fortress, granted by the crown, yes, but hardly secure. With the war’s end, lords of the Riverlands grumbled, complaints of blatant disregard for the ancient castle rattled through those scorched lands. 

Those who thought certain houses were better for the seat.

Aemond, himself, had put Lord Simon Strong to the sword, had played his part in crumbling the walls, and had almost met his end. Perhaps Larys thought he would naturally feel entitled to reimburse the costs of those damages. Real or otherwise.

“The Riverlands remain unsettled, Your Grace–”

“I am in the business of remedying that.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced, his voice unnaturally uncertain, a quiver of cowardice lacing his voice, “but, now your intended bride has blood of that region, some might seize upon that connection, claiming the seat of Harrenhal should revert to a local house more aligned with—”

“You fear Lady Rosaleen’s ties to the Riverlands will undercut your claim.”

Larys saw it, the hint of a smirk in Aemond’s features. One that told him the Prince was more than happy to see him squirm.

“She is a Blackwood, of an old family, highly regarded in that region. It is not impossible that her union with the crown could inspire certain factions to press for new arrangements.”

“Then hold your seat with your own power,” Aemond snapped, “I am not in the habit of safeguarding every lord’s inheritance. Harrenhal was given to you by the crown. If you cannot hold it, that is your failing.”

Larys pressed his lips into a thin line, feathers thoroughly ruffled. “I meant no offence, Your Grace. Only that the realm whispers.”

“You want my reassurance, that I won’t hand Harrenhal over to House Blackwood or any other local lord. Fine. I see no point in transferring titles further. I have more pressing concerns than who holds that ruin. Provided you remain loyal, you may keep it.”

There was not but a few seconds Lord Larys felt truly calm and relieved before Aemond’s chair scraped against the stone floor, his form unbending to full height, arms folded behind his back.

“But hear me,” the prince continued, “loyalty is more than murmured pledges at council. Serve me well, and I shall not contest your seat. Fail me, or scurry about stirring trouble to safeguard your seat, and you will find no refuge, either behind Harrenhal’s bloody walls or anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms. Are we clear?”

Larys leaned his weight on his cane as he bowed, “perfectly, Your Grace.”

“As for Lady Rosaleen,” he said, forcing a calmer tone, his fist forming to try and dispel the irritation coiling within, “she is a woman, yes, but she might offer insight on the Riverlands in time. My insight, Lord Larys. Mine to use, not yours.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I live only to serve.”

“Then serve,” Aemond said coldly, turning away to dismiss him, resisting that sweet, dark desire to kick the poor cunt’s cane from under him. “And one more thing…”

He had purposefully done so that Lord Larys had to make the effort to turn once again fully to meet his scrutinising gaze.

“Do not collude with my mother,” he warned, “I am well aware of the part you played when my brother yet lived. The quiet counsel, the scheming, to secure your own means of success. I will not tolerate any further plans hatched behind my back, not with the Dowager Queen, nor with anyone else who might seek to steer me. You will hold Harrenhal by my grace, and by that grace alone.”

Larys merely inclined his head once more, a flicker of apprehension flashing across his face before he made his swift, or as much as he could, exit. 

The war may be over, but the ceaseless clawing of men’s ambitions, would never be over. Lords like Larys were not done scheming. He would have to remain vigilant, ensuring no opportunist tried to subvert his authority, or his upcoming marriage to Rosaleen.

He would let Harrenhal keep their ghosts for now. Perhaps in their dark, stone halls, bleeding red, some ghost of him of years passed wandered there too.

Rosaleen traced her finger over the piece of parchment on her writing desk. The surface bearing faint impressions of her neat, curved script. The one honed skill she had appreciated from her mother. The letter was one of several, penned over the last few days to her father, each carefully sealed with the black raven of House Blackwood. She had written of her safe arrival at the Red Keep, of the kindness of her new maidservant, and even of the sprawling view of King’s Landing from her tower window. But there was no mention of Prince Aemond, nor of the strange meeting they had shared.

She exhaled, cursing when she had smudged her name when the ink had not yet dried. She was little known for her patience. Truth be told, she had been wound tight since the first meeting with her betrothed, and some things were better left unwritten.

A light knock always preceded Lyla’s entrance. The girl cutsied shyly, her pale, fine cheeks flushed as if someone had pinched them. “Good morrow, my Lady,” she said, her voice so smooth she almost seemed older than her years. “I have bought the garments His Grace requested you try before the upcoming festivities.”

Festivities. She could have laughed. 

She was so much fussed over here she felt as if she were a babe. Though Rosaleen had become accustomed to the rhythms of the Red Keep since her arrival, the surroundings still felt foreign. Every corner, every corridor, seemed almost alive with whispers. It was a world she was slowly beginning to navigate. 

Lyla unlaced Rosaleen’s robe, eyeing up the crimson fabrics laid over a nearby chaise. The beginnings of her wedding attire. 

“They’ve sent over fabrics from the royal seamstress,” Lyla remarked, “velvet and silks with golden thread. They said it’s to be embroidered with your house sigil, joined with the Targaryen dragon.”

She was sure Lyla caught the roll of her eyes in the reflection. Dragon this, dragon that, she thought. She could already imagine the talk, the Riverlands’ raven entwined with the dragon of House Targaryen, the union meant to symbolise the forging of peace. Yet the memory of war still lay across the Riverlands like a fresh scar.

“Quite the combination,” Rosaleen murmured, allowing Lyla to slip off her robe. The cool air of the chamber brushed her skin, and she crossed her arms lightly across her chest. “Does the Queen truly intend for that?”

Lyla swallowed, pressing her lips together nervously. Not wanting to overstep. “Yes, my Lady. She said it’s only fitting to display both lines united.”

Rosaleen gave a non-committal nod, though she barely believed it herself. She couldn’t help but wonder what Aemond would think of that. Would he care at all how the sigils were stitched, or was it merely another item on the long list of wedding formalities?

Lyla moved gracefully around Rosaleen, lifting the wedding skirt from the stand. “If I may say so, my Lady,” she ventured timidly, “the colour suits you. The deep reds, well, they match both your house and his. It’s quite pretty.”

“Anything to feel less like an ornament, the better. I suppose.”

Lyla pinned the skirt in place, testing the fit. Where to pull in, where to let out. As if the Lady of House Blackwood were just another puppet in the show the Realm called ‘the crown’.

“How do you feel about Prince Aemond?” she ventured another comment, a brief stint at bravery.

“I have grown accustomed to the idea,” she said carefully. “But weddings of this magnitude, they bring their own pressures. I’d be lying if I said I was immune to them.”

“It is only natural to feel nervous.”

Rosaleen cocked her head, her deep eyes focussed on her silhouette in the looking glass. Lyla was not wrong, the crimsons did suit her, but their hue felt so different. “I would not say ‘nervous’.”

“Then what say you, my Lady?” Lyla asked, sidling up to her to take in her figure, pulling a loose thread.

Rosaleen watched the slow inhale and exhale of her chest, as if she herself could draw courage from the woman staring back. Sometimes, when she had damp hair, pulled back away from her face, all she could see was her father in his younger years. The dark, brooding personality of a Blackwood, mercilessly confident. And yet, in herself, she merely saw his image, not his ambition.

“Restless.”

There were only so many shades of red Rosaleen could bear to scrutinise before she finally dismissed Lyla with a polite, though slightly exasperated, wave of her hand. Each scarlet bolt of fabric seemed indistinguishable from the last, daringly bold, but ultimately the same vivid hue she had worn all her life. Boldness was in her blood, stitched into the very threads of her heritage.

With so much hassling and prodding all in one morning, Rosaleen could barely stomach Aly’s incessant moaning. And the morning was such a nice one it would be a pity to waste such an opportunity. The gardens here were so different to those at home. Their scent as well. Rosemary and thyme, flowers of all exotic kinds lingered in the air, carried on the soft breeze that provided a momentary respite from the dull humidity.

Arianne walked beside her, fingers nervously twisting in front of her. Though her cousin usually radiated gentle warmth, she seemed troubled today, her bright eyes downcast. Rosaleen cast her a sidelong glance, waiting for Arianne to speak first. When she remained silent, Rosaleen nudged her gently with her elbow.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, care to share your thoughts, sweet cousin?”

Arianne exhaled, her gaze flickering to a cluster of purple flowers before she responded. “I was just thinking. About marriage, and the future, I suppose.”

Rosaleen could have rolled her eyes at the mention of yet more marriage. But she let a teasing note enter her voice, hoping to lighten the mood. “I thought you were in no hurry.”

“I wasn’t. I am not, truly.” Arianne’s cheeks flushed, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “But seeing you, all the talk, the preparations, even though it’s hardly a love match, makes me wonder if it’s time I considered my own prospects.”

Rosaleen frowned, slowing her pace. “You’re hardly an old maid, Arianne. There’s no rush to marry if you don’t wish it.”

“I know,” she said, chewing her lip, “but ever since my brother was sent to ward, he has been restless. Eager to barter me away for some alliance or profit even. I can’t imagine he’ll show restraint when the next opportunity arises.”

Rosaleen clasped her hands, knowing very well how her Piper uncle could be when restless. “And what is it you want?”

“I am not sure,” she admitted. “I have always thought, one day, I would marry. It’s just the way of things, isn’t it? Daughters wed, they raise children, and they secure their house’s future. But the more I see of the court, the less certain I am that it’s what I truly desire,” she shook her head, a faint, apologetic laugh escaping her, “but I suppose that makes me sound selfish.”

“Gods forbid we sound selfish,” Rosaleen commented half-heartedly, “they expect us to take on these roles without question, and yet they never stop to wonder if it’s what we truly want. Or if we might be more useful doing something else.”

Arianne gave her a sad smile. “What else is there for me, though? I don’t have your spirit, Rosaleen. I don’t think I could stand to clash with Father as you might with yours. He frightens me, if I am honest.”

“Is your father not due to visit Court in the coming months? Surely he will not organise a match for you if he is not yet here. Your father is an eternally proud man, he would not offend his only daughter with a match lesser than he believes fit."

Arianne’s sweet face grimaced, as much as her features would allow, “it is not beyond my father to organise such things by raven. I myself have not seen him for the better part of a year.”

“Well,” Rosaleen said, looping her arm through Arianne’s and casting a thoughtful glance down the garden path, “when he does arrive, you won’t be lacking in allies. You have Aly and me, after all. Us ‘Blackwood bitches’ will see to it that he learns his place.”

Arianne giggled at the jest, the sound sweet against the stillness of the late afternoon. She fit her pace to match her cousin’s, her brighter, more delicate features standing in gentle contrast to Rosaleen’s dark ones. Ever since they were girls, they had walked this delicate line of opposites, Rosaleen bold and unafraid to spar with her parents, while Arianne, poor thing, had never found the courage to stand up to her own father’s venom. The loss of her mother at a young age had left her alone in Lord Piper’s domain, a place where kindness seemed rare.

Still, here, linked arm in arm, Arianne felt a flicker of warmth. No matter how opposite they were, Rosaleen’s unwavering confidence offered a refuge she so desperately needed, especially in a world where women were often told to be everything but themselves.

No stranger of a maester to Lady Rosaleen Blackwood would put his fingers anywhere near her. Especially not in her. And despite reassurances from Queen Alicent, Rosaleen, with the support of Aly, reiterated the importance that the examination to ensure her virtue, be performed by the maester she bought with her, Maester Carwyn.

All the same, he had known her since birth, it was no easy thing to lay back and allow him, however medical, to prod and poke at her most intimate areas.

Carwyn muttered polite reassurances as he prepared his tools, Rosaleen lay rigid on her bed, the sheets fisted in her palms. She could feel the warmth of her cheeks, certain that every hint of her discomfort was on full display. It was one thing to be told there would be an examination for virtue, and another to lay here, half-disrobed, beneath the watchful eyes of those who presumed to judge her body in the name of politics. Even through the fine, cotton drapes that was supposed to hide her, embarrassment curled in her gut.

Had poor Princess Helaena once lay here as well, or did Queen Alicent spare her sweet daughter this torture.

Alysanne was at her side, her dark gaze full of protective fire as she pressed a reassuring hand to Rosaleen’s arm. “I’ll stay right here,” she whispered fiercely. “Unless there was a steamy lapse of morals I should know of.”

Rosaleen cast a playful glare. As if Aly herself could make jokes such as that about a lapse of morals.

She glanced briefly at Alicent, who stood by the open window with her hands folded neatly before her, her expression unreadable. The Dowager Queen had insisted on observing, citing ‘formalities’ and ‘the realm’s best interests.’ At least she wasn’t staring, Rosaleen thought with a small relief. 

Carwyn performed such an examination, luckily with warm hands, a small reprieve from the disgust she felt at her body’s blatant protest of the touch. It was an impersonal procedure of curt nods and murmured sounds of approval. Alysanne’s hold on her arm tightened whenever the Maester moved too boldly, and for that small comfort, Rosaleen was grateful.

When it was over, the Maester cleared his throat, scribbling a note on a small parchment. “My lady is as chaste as one might hope,” he announced softly, nodding to Alicent. “All is in order for the wedding.”

Finally turning once Rosaleen lowered her skirts, Alicent cast a sidelong glance, “thank you, maester,” she said coolly, “you may go.”

Rosaleen gave Aly a grateful smile, watching as her Blackwood cousin disappeared behind the chamber door behind Maester Carwyn, leaving two queens, one of long past, and one of the future, alone together.

“You must forgive the unpleasantness of this moment,” Alicent began, sympathy ghosting over her features, “the ways of court are oftentimes barbaric, and the realm demands certainty.”

Rosaleen swallowed, keeping her expression as composed as she could manage. “I understand, Your Grace,” she replied, forcing a steadiness she didn’t feel. “Certainty is a precious thing, especially after so many uncertainties in the realm.”

A flicker of something, approval, or perhaps calculation, gleamed in Alicent’s eyes. “Indeed. You speak plainly, Lady Rosaleen, which I can appreciate. Though there is more to consider now that you will be joined to my son. Tell me, how do you find the Red Keep thus far?”

“It is grand,” she answered carefully, “and overwhelming, in equal measure. Though I suspect most new arrivals feel the same.”

Alicent gave a faint nod, her hands clasped tightly before her. “Overwhelming, yes. The court can be a labyrinth of hidden motives. Doubtless, you’ve already sensed that. But for all the chatter and spectacle, a prince’s bride is meant to stand at his side and help maintain order. Not to fan the flames of further imbalance.”

Her voice held a blunt edge, and Rosaleen recognised it as a warning. Stay in line. She lifted her chin fractionally. “I have no intention of causing imbalance, Your Grace.”

“Of course.” Alicent’s responding smile was thin. She paced a few steps away, letting her gaze drift over the tapestries on the wall. “Your role, first and foremost, is to be Aemond’s wife and to see to his line. Politics, while important, should remain secondary. For a time, at least. He needs heirs, Lady Rosaleen. The realm needs them. Do not let that slip from your mind.”

Rosaleen forced a polite smile, though the taste of it felt bitter. “I assure you, I haven’t forgotten.”

Alicent’s gaze lingered on her face, as though searching for any hint of rebellion. After a moment, she inclined her head, seemingly satisfied with what she found, or failed to find. “Good,” she said simply. “Then I hope we can avoid further unpleasantness.”

For a moment, Rosaleen regarded her. A mother who had been through so much, so young. Too young perhaps. Had someone in years passed given this same warning to her with King Viserys? It would not take two guesses to pinpoint whom. These words were too scripted, too neat, to simply be a spur of the moment conversation with her future daughter-in-law. These were the warnings of a woman who was forced to become one too soon. Familiar ones. 

She felt a flutter of sympathy, before she recognised Queen Alicent did not intend to feel the same for her. How could she not, Rosaleen allowed herself to think. Was it not exhausting to endlessly toil in service to men, her own late-husband, and then to her own sons?

How must it feel, to have such power Alicent did have be snuffed out as if she had never felt it.

Would her future husband do the same to her?

“I shall leave you to rest,” Alicent added, her voice once again carrying that note of finality. “You’ll need your strength in the coming days. Let us both hope the realm finds peace in this union.”

Without waiting for Rosaleen’s reply, the Dowager Queen turned and swept to the door. Taking in a shaky breath, she let her fingers drift over her collar, keenly aware of the vulnerability she had just been forced to display, and the warning she’d been given. Yes, the realm demands certainty, she thought grimly. But at what cost to me?

Play the part. Bear the heirs. Keep your counsel mild.

Mild.

But she was a Blackwood. And the taste of the evening indignities rested bitterly on her tongue.

If she was to be Aemond's bride, his mother was going to have to trust her.

And yet around her lingered the ghosts, the tragedies of war. Scribblings had been meticulously painted over on the wooden panels surrounding her chambers. The erasure of Queen Helaena’s so-called ‘madness’. If Rosaleen looked close enough, traced the patterns indented with her fingertips, she could almost make out what had been there.

Was she truly mad? To experience what that poor girl had, what blood had been shed before her in the name of victory, who would not?

“My Lady,” Lyla interrupted her thoughts with a soft, careful voice. Wide eyes. She was nervous. “Prince Aemond wishes to see you.”

✨ Please note ✨ I no longer do taglists. If you would updates, please follow @targaryenrealnessdarlingfics and turn on notifications!

[freakymcnastys]

- thank you

“and it reminds me that it’s not so bad.”

【☆】 leon kennedy x blind!fem!reader

【☆】 synopsis: as raccoon cities new rookie they have leon doing rounds and he meets someone he finds…interesting.

【☆】 warnings: umm just fluff and its like non zombies au!

【☆】 notes: this is inspired by the veil manga GRAHH I LOVE IT SM

THE LOW CLOUDS WERE GREY. Docilely they sat still inside a frame. From the beginning to the end, the cold envelops this town. The owner of a pair of orbs innocent of the world walks, and the sound painted on a young man of sliver color.

"damn thing was left open again" Leon sighed as he sat on the brick ground. Leon had been working in Raccoon cities police force as a rookie. Sure it was hard just starting out as a transfer but he genuinely enjoyed the job so he endured. Although recently these kids who would run around leaving man holes open just to trip people to 'rob' them. Well as scary as twelve year old's can be. If people gave them anything it was more out of pity.

You had been walking around, only hearing the clacking of your white cane. You had been blind since you were 8 and you didn't really remember what things looked like before losing your vision but it didn't exactly bother you anymore. You were on the hunt for a job ever since you came to this city. This was the first time you were living by yourself and you didn't want to admit it but you were struggling to move completely into this city. Like looking for a job...

"Ouch!" Leon yelped as something hard smacked against his arm, multiple times before stopping. "Oh no...I'm so sorry!!" You quickly pull away your cane from where it was. "God I'm really sorry." This is exactly why you hated using a cane because things like this happen more often then you'd like to admit. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" You felt the embarrassment rise in your face now. Although something you were starting to find strange was the fact that the person your just hit isn't saying much.

You could tell that they had gotten up from the grunt you heard. "Uh I'm fine...what about you, miss?" Even though Leon had been assaulted by this cane he still kept his professionalism. "Phew yes I'm alright but I heard your voice from below now I hear it coming from above...so I suppose you are pretty tall." You responded but sort of thought out loud.

Suddenly the group fore mentioned kids showed up spouting stuff about putting his hands up and 'patting' him down. "You guys I don't have anything on me today." Leon played along with a slight smirk. As the kids took something from Leon's pocket and scurried off. "Be careful on the street!" To you this interaction seemed like something a bit genuine until you heard he smile in his voice.

"Hm so are you maybe a policeman?" This question from something the young bandits said when they 'robbed' him, calling him copper. "Yeah…you could stay that-" He laughed, taking off his hat handing it to you. Taking it and feeling it to see that he was telling the truth about the cop thing. "That's my credentials"

You laughed that the man in front of you, taking out your little book of things that held your address and cards. "Here are mine." You just hear the flipping of the book but him just mutter something about you coming a long way which made you hum in response.

“Do you need help getting home?” Leon asked, politely well as he tried to be. This made you laugh a bit. “I think I can make it but you could help me with something else?” You proposed.

A hum was heard from Leon realizing you can’t see his nod. “I’m look for the police station, you see i’m looking for a job.” This caught him a bit off guard since he knew they were not in need of anyone at the station but he could still take her.

“Yeah I can miss.” He smiled as he stuck out his elbow so you could place your hand there so he could guide you. And with that the two newly made acquaintances made their way to the station unknowing what was to come and what relation would develop.

- love always, kat

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Chondrichthyes - Rhinopristiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our third order of batoids (rays) are the Rhinopristiformes. This order contains the families Trygonorrhinidae (“fiddler rays” or “banjo rays”), Rhinobatidae (“guitarfish”), Rhinidae (“wedgefishes”), Glaucostegidae (“giant guitarfishes”), and Pristidae (“sawfish”).

Rhinopristiformes are characterized by a somewhat shark-like appearance, with flattened disc-like or diamond-shaped bodies, relatively small pectoral fins fused to the disc, and a long tail with two dorsal fins. Their finned tail helps the ray with propulsion and they swim in a more shark-like manner, rather than with their pectoral fins like stingrays and skates. However, as rays, rhinopristiform eyes and spiracles are on the dorsal side of their body while their gill slits, nostrils, and mouth are on the ventral side.

Rhinopristiformes give live birth, with embryos gaining nutrients via a yolk sac within the mother until they are born. Litter sizes are usually small. Most species exhibit slow growth, late maturity, and low fecundity. These features cause these animals to be susceptible to extinction.

Rhinopristiformes date back to the Late Jurassic.

Propaganda under the cut:

The large fins of Rhinopristiformes are considered a delicacy and are highly sought after, often the only parts of the animal kept and brought to market. High demand and overfishing has caused rapid declines in rhinopristiform populations worldwide, and most species are endangered.

Recent studies suggest that the Eastern Shovelnose Ray (Aptychotrema rostrata) may have trichromatic colour vision, like humans, due to the discovery of three spectrally distinct cone visual pigments in the retinae.

The oldest recorded Banded Guitarfish (Zapteryx exasperata) was estimated to be 22 years old.

The Guna people of the Caribbean coast of Panama and Colombia consider sawfish as protectors of mankind, who rescue drowning people and help fight off dangerous sea creatures.

In 1573, it was described how a ship almost sank during a storm in Italy. The sailors prayed that they would be saved and made it safely ashore. Once ashore, they discovered a sawfish that had "plugged" a hole in the ship with its saw, essentially sacrificing itself. A sawfish rostrum said to be from this miraculous event is kept in the sanctuary of Carmine Maggiore in Naples.

The Brazilian Guitarfish (Pseudobatos horkelii) is one of the most critically endangered Rhinopristiformes, and when it is caught as bycatch from trawling, beach seine, and gillnet fishing, is is usually pregnant females. It is estimated that this species may become extinct within about ten years.

One of the largest Rhinopristiformes is the Longcomb Sawfish (Pristis zijsron), which can reach up to 7.3 m (24 ft), but rarely more than 6 m (20 ft) today.

The 2.7 m (8.9 ft) long Bowmouth Guitarfish (Rhina ancylostoma) (see gif above) is known to be preyed on by the Tiger Shark (Galeocerdo cuvier). But the ray is not completely helpless, and may protect itself by ramming potential threats with the thorns on its head and back.

In 2007, the Newport Aquarium in Kentucky initiated the world's first captive breeding program for the Bowmouth Guitarfish. In January 2014 one female, Sweet Pea, gave birth to seven pups. Unfortunately, all seven pups passed away by February. In January 2016 Sweet Pea gave birth again, this time to nine pups. Five of them thrived and begin eating on their own and were eventually moved to the aquarium’s coral reef exhibit. A historic achievement for these critically endangered rays, which can be hard to breed due to a lack of observational data in the wild, and one that contributed valuable data to future conservation efforts. Sweet Pea was also the first Bowmouth Guitarfish in the world to have been target trained, allowing her to participate in voluntary vet check-ups. She passed away at the ripe old age of 19 in December 2023.

The Giant Guitarfish (Rhynchobatus djiddensis) is a known predator of stingrays. One specimen was found with more than 20 stingray barbs stuck in its jaw, apparently unaffected by the stingray's venom.

Told by the Anindilyakwa people of Groote Eylandt, Australia, the ancestral sawfish Yugwurrirrindangwa led a school of many different stingrays through Groote Eylandt, carving a river through the land with his saw, thus creating Angurugu River and a place for all the rays who followed him to live.

Around the Volta Estuary in eastern Ghana, the Ewe people revered sawfishes as spiritually powerful entities, classed as tro, of a divinity between humans and God. The Ewe had formal sawfish propitiation rites to dispel the danger presented when a sawfish became entangled in a fishing net. The powerful spirit was appeased with offerings of corn meal, alcohol, and palm oil. If this ceremony was not performed, fishermen who caught sawfishes were believed to have bad luck: illness might strike them or one of their family members, or they might be involved in accidents.

Even where sawfish are protected, people are still caught illegally trying to sell sawfish parts, especially the rostrum (“saw”). In 2020, a Florida fisherman used first a hacksaw, then a power saw to remove a live, critically endangered Smalltooth Sawfish’s (Pristis pectinata) rostrum and then released the maimed ray to die. He received a $2,000 fine, 80 hours of community service, and 2 years of probation.

In an attempt to increase the knowledge of their plight, the first "Sawfish Day" was held on October 17, 2017.

In addition to the living Anoxypristis cuspidata (Narrow Sawfish), the genus Anoxypristis also includes a few extinct species that are only known from fossil remains.

[cameronsprincess]

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET — J.M

summary: you and jj have been hooking up in secret for a couple of months, but when jj starts trying to make it more, you have to quickly remind him that wasn’t the deal, no matter how badly you want the things he does.

CW: smut! 18+ only! fwb trope, jj maybank x kook!reader, toxic and abusive mom, family issues, strong language, smoking, high sex, male and female receiving oral, unprotected piv sex, finger sucking for a second, angst.

note: loosely inspired by my favorite song by nessa barrett, dirty little secret!<3

masterlists.

The sound of your front door slamming had you jumping, your mind swirling at all the things that could’ve pissed your mother off today. She was always taking her anger out on you, the one who didn’t deserve it…

To be fair, you deserved it sometimes, especially when you challenged and pushed her, testing the thin patience you knew she’d had. You weren’t sure why you loved pushing at your mom’s buttons, it always ended with harsh words and sometimes bruises from when your mom got a little too physical with you, her anger getting the better of her.

Your mom shouts your full name from downstairs, followed with a “Get your ass down here now!”. You sighed, pushing yourself off your bed and padding down the stairs. The house was eerily silent, give for the sound of the air conditioner whooshing to life. You find your mother in the kitchen, a large glass of straight vodka in her hand. Her narrowed eyes find yours, and you feel like a kid again, shrinking in on yourself under her gaze.

“What’s wrong mama?” you asked sweetly, hoping she’d be calm enough to talk like an adult.

Your mother scoffs, downing the rest of the vodka in her glass before she’s harshly slamming it onto the countertop, making you flinch back.

“Just a bunch of idiots down at the firm…” she pauses, looking around the kitchen. It was fairly clean, a bowl and a glass in the sink, but you knew that was enough to give her a reason to be mad at you. “And then I come home to see my lazy daughter can’t even be bothered to clean after herself, I mean.. C’mon, Y/N. I raised you better than this.”

You bite back the scoff wanting to escape you. She didn’t raise you at all. You were raised by nannies your whole life. Your mother was too busy working or drowning herself in liquor to care, and your dad? Well let’s just say he was a worthless piece of shit from the beginning, left when you were five, didn’t really know him.

“Mama, it’s just a bowl and a glass, I can clean it-”

The words die on your tongue, a sharp cry of pain escaping when the back of your mothers hand flies across your face. You cup your stinging cheek in your hand, tears blurring your vision as you force yourself to meet her eyes again. If you didn’t, it would only get worse.

“Honestly, honey, I don’t care to listen to your excuses. Clean it up. Now.”

You keep your mouth shut, lips thinned as you blinked back the tears. You nod slowly, walking toward the sink and washing the two dishes before placing them in the drying rack. You turn back around, finding your mother gone from the kitchen.

Letting out a slow breath, you turn and brace your hands on the counter, lowering your head as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your mind fills with images of messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A crooked smile that made your heart rate kick up a notch. JJ Maybank.

He was everything you’d wished you were, free. He’d understood you in a way no one else on this god forsaken island could. His dad was a piece of shit, always blaming JJ for his mistakes and problems, beating JJ black and blue. You two had an understanding, but you couldn’t ever allow yourself to have him in the way you wanted. So you took what you could get.

And what you could get from JJ was sex. Mind-blowing sex that allowed your brain to shut off, that let you forget all the negative things your mom spewed at you in a day, all the times she hit you or blamed you for things that weren’t your fault. Even when it was your fault, you loved going to JJ after an argument with your mom, because he understood you, and he helped you forget.

Pushing off the counter, you made your way up the stairs, passing your mom’s room, hearing the sound of her en-suite shower running, and into your room. You grabbed your phone off your bed, finding JJ’s name and sending him a quick and simple text.

You: I need you.

He read it immediately, the little bubbles bouncing across the bottom of your screen. His text came in and a smile pulled on your lips.

J: Come over, no one else is here.

You quickly jumped up from your bed, stripping yourself of your pajama pants and sliding on a pair of black biker shorts. You slid the hoodie you wore off your body, tossing it onto your bed before sliding on a plain white off the shoulder top. You quickly pulled your shoes on, grabbing your phone and car keys before quietly slipping from your room, down the stairs and out the front door.

The entire drive to the chateau— JJ’s best friends house— was silent, nothing but your thoughts consuming you. You’re not sure how you made it to the house alive, realizing you’d disassociated yourself from reality on the way there, but you didn’t care, you’d made it and you were ready to forget.

The old creaky screen door pushes open, JJ’s face coming into view on the front porch. He smiles down at you, watching as you slowly make your way out of your car. You stare at your phone in your hands, deciding you didn’t need it and tossing it into your driver seat. If your mom needed you, too bad. Maybe you were being ridiculous, maybe you were adding fuel to the fire, but you didn’t care. All you cared about right now, was spending time with JJ and forgetting the dumpster fire that was your mother.

You slowly walk toward him, stepping into his open arms the second you reached him on the porch. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, your face pressed into his bare chest and inhaling his scent.

“Missed you, princess.” JJ mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You pull back, smiling back at him, the tears already filling your eyes.

JJ’s blue eyes softened when they found yours, “Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No. Just wanna spend time with you and not think.”

He nodded his head in understanding, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside, the screen door slamming shut behind you. JJ walked you into the living room, letting you plop down on the couch before he disappeared down a small hallway. He returns seconds later, a pre-rolled blunt between his fingers. He wiggles his brows, that boyish grin on his face that made your heart swell.

“New shit, it’s really good.” JJ says, plopping down beside you while flicking his lighter, letting the flame burn the end of the blunt. The smell of the blueberry swisher and weed filled the air as the end of the paper caught fire, JJ pressing the unlit end to your lips, letting you take the first hit.

You puff on the blunt a few times, inhaling the weed into your lungs as JJ pulled it back, letting a small cloud of smoke pass your lips seconds later. The weed instantly spread through your veins, making you feel lighter.

“That is good, your cousin?” you asked, giving JJ a sweet smile.

The smile drops when you noticed he was already staring at you, watching you, drinking in every inch of you he could with his eyes while he puffed on the blunt that lazed between his fingers.

“J?” you said softly, snapping him out of his trance.

He chokes on the smoke that filled his lungs, passing the blunt to you again while he tried to compose himself. “Shit. Sorry, what?”

You laughed. “Nothing, I just asked if you got this from your cousin.”

JJ grins. “You know it, he’s always got the best shit.”

You nod in agreement, taking another drag of the blunt before passing it back to him. You flop back onto the couch, your hands laced together and resting on your stomach, a comfortable silence surrounding you and JJ.

After a few minutes of the silence, JJ breaks it. “So… Did you uh, you come here to just smoke and sit in silence or?”

You snort at JJ’s ridiculous question. He knew you didn’t just come here to sit in silence and smoke. You look at him, your eyes glazed over from the high, half-lidded and soft. “You know I didn’t come here for just that, J.”

He smirks, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He quickly smashes the burning end of the joint out in an ashtray that’s on the table, dropping it in before he’s standing and grabbing your hand. You giggle as he pulls you down the hall and into ‘his’ bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

His hands land on your hips, pulling you into him. He runs his nose up and down the length of your face, breathing you in and groaning. “Fuck I missed you… It’s been too long, princess.”

You smile, lifting on your toes and kissing at his neck, your teeth nipping at his skin and pulling low moans from him. “It’s been two weeks, J… Don’t be so dramatic.”

JJ fists your hair in his hand, yanking your head back so your eyes are on him. “‘M not being dramatic, baby. It’s just… Why can’t you just be mine? Fuck, I can’t stand this sneakin’ around anymore. I wanna love you out loud.”

You frown. “It’s not that simple JJ.”

“Yes it is that simple, and I know you feel what I do. You can’t fake a real connection, princess, and you know it.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, tears already blurring your vision. You wished you could be carefree like Sarah Cameron, she was dating John B, loving him as loudly as he was her. But you knew your mom. You knew this town. You’d be eaten alive if you got with a pogue… You shouldn’t care about that shit, but you did. You didn’t want to give your mom a reason to kick you out.

As if he could read your thoughts, JJ kissed you softly, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t think on it too much, we’ll talk about it again. For now, I just wanna feel you.”

You bit your bottom lip, so hard you tasted blood. Nodding your head slowly, you released your lip from between your teeth and kissed him. Your hands roamed every part of his body, touching, grabbing and scratching every inch of him you could. JJ groaned against your lips when your perfectly done nails dug into his back, dragging down and leaving red marks in their wake.

He turned your bodies, backing you up to his small twin-sized mattress and pushing you down onto it. The springs creaked beneath your weight, and JJ crawled on top of you, his hands already making quick work of stripping you of your clothes. You lay completely naked beneath JJ, your chest moving up and down quickly as your eyes searched his.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” He rasped, pulling his sweatpants down his legs, his boxers following quickly behind.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, your eyes drinking in every inch of JJ’s tanned and toned skin. You finally pushed yourself up and onto your knees, shoving him so he was on his back. You lowered yourself, your lips brushing a soft kiss to the tip of his dick, already dripping with precum. Your tongue softly and slowly ran across the tip, moaning when the salty taste of him hit your tongue.

“Fuck, baby… You want me to beg for it?”

You giggled, teasing him some more. “And if I say yes?”

JJ groans, his head thrown back onto the mattress as you wrapped your lips around his swollen head, gently sucking and licking at him before releasing him with a pop.

“I’ll do whatever you want if you just suck my cock, baby. Please?”

You swiped your tongue across your bottom lip, smiling up at him before you gave him what he wanted. Your lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking as you slowly took him all the way down your throat.

A low groan escapes JJ, his fingers digging into your hair and lightly tugging as you continue to slowly move your mouth up and down his thick length. You push him all the way down, holding him there while your tongue moves against the underside of his shaft.

You slowly drag back up, pulling him all the way out to the tip. You tease him with your tongue, giving slow languid licks to his pulsing tip. JJ breathes out a frustrated breath, his fingers tightening in your hair and holding your head captive as he bucks his hips up, forcefully pushing himself down your throat.

Tears blur your vision, a rough gag pulled from you as JJ keeps himself held down your throat. He slowly lowers his hips, dragging himself out of your mouth, “Such a tease, baby… ‘M gonna fuck this pretty little mouth now, okay?”

The words you want to speak don’t even make it past your thoughts before JJ is brutally working his dick in your mouth, rough, hard thrusts of his hips as his hand in your hair keeps you held in place for him. You gag and slurp around him, drool spilling past the corners of your lips as you try and breathe through your nose. JJ’s dick pulses against your tongue, the feeling sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your aching clit.

JJ breathes out a low curse and call of your name before his grip on your hair tightens further and he’s ripping you off his cock, strings of spit and precum flying and landing on his toned stomach. You choke on gasps of air, your eyes bloodshot and half-lidded as you find his intense blue stare already burning into your face.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful,” His thumb reaches out to swipe away a tear that’d ran down your cheek. “Switch places with me, on your back, legs open baby.”

You quickly obey, weakly bringing yourself to your knees and laying your back against the cool mattress, your head falling into the plush pillows. Your shaky legs slowly spread wide, baring your glistening pussy to JJ. He sucks in a sharp breath, his tongue running across his teeth as his eyes drink you in.

“Fuckin’ soaked, just like I knew you’d be.” He smiles, falling to his stomach, his face between your shaking thighs.

JJ’s lips form a circle, a cool blow of air hitting your soaked folds. You shudder, moaning his name as your fingers fly into his messy blond hair. JJ smiles, his lips pressing lightly against your inner thighs. His lips leave hot, wet open-mouthed kisses along the length of your inner thighs, teeth nipping and lips sucking on skin every so often.

“J, please..” You moan breathlessly.

JJ’s lips press a soft kiss against your swollen clit. “Please what, princess?”

“Please… Eat my pussy, JJ. Please? I fucking need it.” you begged, your entire body tight and on fire as JJ continued to tease you with his lips and tongue.

He was so close to where you needed him, just a mere inch away from where you ached to feel him. Without warning, JJ sucked your clit into his mouth, pressing the tip of his middle finger inside you at the same time. You gasp, back arching up off the mattress as JJ fingered, licked and sucked at your pussy like it was his last meal on earth.

The coil tightened low in your belly, a warmth rushing through your veins as your inner walls fluttered around JJ’d finger. He releases your clit with a messy pop, his head lifting to find your eyes. He smiles, the sight painfully sexy as his mouth glistened with your arousal.

“Cum on my face and hand baby, then I’ll fuck you.”

His face disappeared between your legs again, his middle finger pushing in and out of you at a quick pace while his mouth sucked on your clit. His teeth lightly bit down on your swollen bud, making you gasp in both pain and pleasure. JJ soothed the area, giving slow and sensual licks with his tongue before he’s sucking it back into his mouth. JJ hummed against your pussy, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you. You came undone for him, body shaking and loud whines of his name spilling from your lips as he continued to suck and finger you through your high.

Your body fell limp against the mattress and JJ slowly pulled his finger from inside you. Lifting himself up to his knees, he crawled to hover above you. “Always so fuckin’ sweet, here, taste yourself.” He says before forcing his middle finger into your mouth.

You didn’t hesitate to suck on his finger, your tongue swirling around his digit, cleaning every trace of your arousal from his finger. JJ’s eyes darken over, a deep growl rumbling in his chest before he’s pulling his finger from your mouth and flipping you onto your stomach. His hands snake underneath your hips, lifting your ass up into the air for him.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, did you know that?” He rasps, his ringed fingers gripping a handful of your ass between them.

Your hips sway, silently begging him to fuck you. “Yes. But I love hearing you say it, J.”

JJ breathes out an amused laugh. “Always were a humble one, baby.”

“You know me, I’m as humble as they come,” you lift your head off the mattress, turning to look at JJ from over your shoulder. Your lips slightly parted when you saw him gripping his thick cock in his large hand, giving himself slow pumps while he stared back at you. “Fuck me, JJ. Please? I need to feel- Oh, God.”

JJ shoves himself inside you in one swift thrust, bottoming out and stretching you open. His hands grip your hips tightly, the feel of his fingers on your skin burning you from the inside out. JJ lets out a deep groan, slowly dragging himself out of your pussy before slamming forward again.

His right hand releases your hip, running up the arch of your back and to the back of your head. He tightly fists your hair in his hand, yanking your face up off the mattress as he growls, “This what you needed, baby? Needed my cock buried deep inside this sweet fuckin’ pussy?”

You whimper. “Y-yes,” a sharp gasp escapes you, JJ hips brutally slapping against your ass. “Fuck, fuck JJ… Oh, God…”

JJ lets out a dark laugh, his hand that wasn’t gripping your hair landing a harsh slap against your ass. “Getting real sick of being a dirty fuckin’ secret of yours, you know that?” JJ grits out, his hand harshly smacking your ass again.

Your fingers dig into the sheets below you, tightly gripping onto them as JJ’s thrusts pick up in speed and roughness. JJ slows himself, slowly dragging out to the tip before slamming inside again. His fat head nudges at your sweet spot, knocking the breath from your lungs.

JJ continues his slow and rough thrusts, each one more painful and pleasurable than the last. JJ’s grip in your hair tightens, his dick shoving deep inside you before he’s yanking you up off the mattress, pulling your back flush against his front.

“Why the fuck can’t you just let me take care of you?” Out. Slam forward. “I’d love you, I’d make sure you never knew pain ever again,” Out. Slam forward. “But you want to care more about social statuses and your fucking mom,” He grinds his teeth so hard you swear they might break. “Than you do about me. You know how that makes me feel?”

Tears flow down your cheeks. You knew he was right, and you wished you could give him what he wanted. But you just couldn’t, not now anyways.

“JJ… Please..”

JJ pulls himself out of you completely, slapping the head of his dick against your throbbing clit once. Twice. Three times before he slams back inside. He releases your hair, letting you fall back into the mattress, both his hands gripping your hips so tightly you swore you’d bruise. The cold metal of his rings should cool your heated skin, but they burned, searing themselves into your skin the way JJ had seared himself into your heart.

You choked on a sob, apologies spilling from you as JJ pounded himself into you, the sounds of your sobs, moans and flesh slapping flesh filled the room. Your pussy flutters around JJ’s cock when he gives a particularly brutal thrust, his dick pulsing deep inside you.

JJ leans his body over yours, slowly fucking into you as he swipes your hair off your sweat slick face. His lips kiss at your cheek, neck and shoulder, his teeth biting down on your shoulder hard as he pulses and throbs inside you.

“I love you, and I wish you loved me back.” He whispers.

A single tear slides down your cheek as you come undone around him, your pussy clenching and unclenching, squeezing him tightly. JJ groans, pushing himself deep one final time before he cums, spurts of his warm cum spilling inside you.

The two of you are panting, completely sated and exhausted. JJ slips out of you, standing from the bed and pulling on his boxers and sweatpants. You sit up, pulling his comforter over your very naked body, suddenly feeling more exposed and vulnerable than you’d ever felt in front of him.

His sad eyes found yours. “I meant what I said, I’m done with the sneaking around. I love you, and you deserve to be loved out loud,” He pauses, running a hand through his disheveled hair before letting out a humorless laugh. “Call me when you figure out what it is you truly want, but until then, this,” His hand motions between the two of you. “This is done. I won’t be some dirty fuckin’ secret. I deserve more than that, and you know it.”

He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You wanted JJ, but you knew it wouldn’t work. He was too good for you. He was and would probably always be, your dirty little secret.

tagging some moots: @quinnsbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @maybejj @maybankslover @cherrygirlfriend @rafescvntyclubgf @nemesyaaa @hauntedfawnn @dementedkittenribbon @jjslaybank @memoirofasparklemuff1n @kiiyomei @oceandriveab

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Ask or QTC-

What if one day reader ended up having a nightmare, and when she woke up from it, she decided she wanted to seek comfort in the form of cuddles rather than talking about it whether it be that she verbally announces that she wants cuddles because she had a nightmare or she just reaches out her arms towards one of them with crabby, hands in a way to show that she wants cuddles without saying anything more. How would the warlords react?

This is for the cursed warlords AU by the way.

You ask for a spoiler, that is what you are asking for! Eh let’s do it!

You let out the softest sob as your eyes shot open, you were covered in sweat and you were shaking. All you could see in your vision was the worst nightmare you had ever hand. You pulled your blanket closer to you as you looked around the dark room, only a few candles on the table in the corner of the room.

You pull yourself up until you’re sitting and look over the hammock you laid in and to the large nest in the middle of the room. Both Wukong and Macaque were laying slightly away form each other, you thought about it for just a moment. The room was silent and almost creepy with how quiet it was. You were holding back your tears as you slow crawled out of the bed. A shiver ran up your spine from the cold air.

Quietly you tip toed over to them, the room feeling colder and creepier than usual. You could hear the soft breathing of the two as you slowly stepped down into their nest. They surly wouldn’t notice if you just joined them right, they were both asleep and you knew it was a headache to get Wukong to wake up with him being such a deep sleeper.

You didn’t notice how Macaque’s ears fluttered just a little bit, nor did you notice how he watched you through sleepy and tired eyes. Confusion covered his face as you dragged your blanket into the nest like a child hanging onto their parent. He didn’t even get a chance to ask you anything as you stepped over Wukong so carefully.

He heard the slightly hiccup from you as you gulped down your nerves, nervous of Wukong or Macaque waking up and being angry. Surely they wouldn’t get mad, they often ask you to cuddle in the nest. You were just… accepting that right.

Wukong shifted in his sleep and you froze for just a moment before shaking your head and sinking into lay between him and Macaque. You pulled your blanket closer to yourself as you laid down your back towards Macaque unaware he was awake.

“It’s okay, it was just a nightmare,” you whispered to yourself and he understood.

You gasped as an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into Macaque’s chest. Your heart pounded in your chest before slowly calming down when he muttered. “Relax love, you’re safe and okay. There is nothing to worry about, no one is going to hurt you.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest when Wukong in his sleeping state pulled you and Macaque both into his arms. He sniffed a few times before snuggling his face into your chest, his arms mostly around you and he snored up a storm. You felt their tails wrap around either of your legs as they settled into a gentle sleep.

You couldn’t help but also drift into a much calmer sleep this time, it was peaceful and calm.

…

Until the next morning when Spirit decked Macaque for “Forcing”you to sleep in the nest.

“Quiet down, you’ll wake her up,” He snapped irritably.

“You perverted prick!”

“Calm down, she had a nightmare and came over to the nest. She did it willingly,” Macaque growled lowly unaware you’d already woken up.

“I don’t believe you,” Spirit growled back angrily.

You felt Wukong snuggle into you a bit more, “Don’t worry my love, you’re always welcome in the nest. You are safe with us~ sleep well my dear.” Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, Wukong didn’t move until you tried to get up, preferring to cuddle than get up.

[halyasgirl]

Months later, but I’m still going a little feral about Rayla and Runaan’s first and last duels and everything between them.

When they first duel in Moonrise, Runaan is focused on his mission to the exclusion of all else, and we see how he fights. Runaan is much admired by his assassin comrades for his restraint, his care to avoid collateral damage, but the truth is Runaan fights cold. There’s none of Viren’s spite, or Janai or Amaya’s passion or fire. He’s a consummate professional, even when committing atrocities. He does his duty. He fights like one already dead.

Moonshadow assassins are expected to sacrifice all of themselves in service to their mission, but unlike Runaan, Rayla is unable, and unwilling, to give up her humanity. And when they clash, we see the first cracks in the Moonshadow ideology, because whatever he threatens, Runaan can’t completely give up his humanity either.

He’s in control, he’s always in control. Throughout his fight with Rayla, he has the upper hand. Rayla’s outmatched and she knows it. But that doesn’t matter.

They say the opposite of love isn’t hate but fear. And Runaan is someone to be feared. But Rayla’s not afraid of him. She knows he’s her father, before the audience ever does. He won’t hurt her. She wasn’t challenging him to fight her, not really. She was challenging him to deny his own humanity.

And he can’t. Whatever else he does, for her, at least, he holds back.

Much of Rayla’s character arc is rejecting the darker Moonshadow values Runaan instilled in her, but she emulates him, too. Her very first act of heroism, putting her body between an innocent child and someone trying to kill them, she learned from him. But she gets a certain selfless ruthlessness from him, too. There’s something of Runaan in her when she launched herself at Viren and took them both to their almost certain death, and more than a little of him in what she does after, leaving her loved ones to stalk her enemy across the world. In her actions, good and bad, he’s there. And Rayla is left to ask herself when he’s gone, what parts of Runaan does she want to carry with her?

And she does carry him with her. Of all the things she’s done, he haunts her most. She turned on him, and she knows in her heart it was the right thing to do. But she doomed him. And the accusation of abandonment never truly leaves her.

She went back for him. From the moment the dust settled, she tried to find out what happened to him. She questioned Soren, looked in dungeons and Nexuses, chased any whisper of his killer for two years for some clue to his fate. When she couldn’t find his body she looked for his soul. And in Stardust, she finds him.

Whatever Runaan claimed when they last fought, he was alive, with all his flawed humanity. But when Rayla faces him in the shadowy reality of the Spirit World’s purgatory, he’s become what he believed himself to be. He’s already dead, she found his soul rotting.

If Runaan fought like an assassin in Moonrise, all cold control, here he attacks his daughter with terrifying brutality. But if he’s a monster, he’s not a mindless one, and gradually we realize it’s not the Dark magic that corrupted him; it’s the shame. When Rayla begs him to remember who he is, the shade answers: “I remember everything.”

All the emotion he repressed in life has come out in death, and for the first time we see Runaan completely out of control. He and Rayla tear through visions of his greatest shame, their second fight playing out against their first, but now it’s Rayla who has the upper hand. She’s as skilled as he ever was, he taught her well. But it’s not skill that wins the fight, in the end. He's her father, he won't hurt her. When Rayla drops her weapons, challenging him to deny his humanity and his love for her, she wins. She’s as good as the best of him.

[oh-no-its-bird]

KAVEH BEING MISTAKEN FOR A SENJU IS SO GOOD YESSS I LOVE THAT, THERES SO MUCH POTENTIAL THERE!!!

They think he has the mokuton because of his dendro vision ,, he's so fucked. Konoha has major dibs, they want his ass locked down and in their pocket.

Congrats Kaveh, you're no longer going to be killed for taking Naruto!!! But only because Konoha wants to chain you to them. Don't let them catch you or else it's a short trip to T&I for you and a few months of being mind fucked till you're loyal!!

Does the timeline line up right with Tsunade to make her a potential (suspected) mother to Kaveh? I think it might, since she left after the 2nd war.

Kaveh, obviously, knows better and can and will deny it. But meanwhile, Tsunade spent most of the years after the war in a near permanant state of being blackout drunk. She has very, very little memories of the time, and got into a lot of shit she kind of willfully repressed

That is to say: Tsunade... can't 100% say she's never had a child...? She's suddenly so nervous, actually

Someone mentioned Kaveh's dendro vision maybe helping him hide from trackers, somehow covering his chakra in a sort of natural nature chakra-- also helping hide Gaara and Naruto, since they're close at his side

I love that so we're going with that explanation of how he's hiding so well without even knowing it. His dendro vision is just projecting this aura of "natural chakra" around him, masking their signatures. Rip to those who are trying to find him

Alhaitham is here now !! I think he'd be worried for Kaveh but also mostly "Kaveh knows how to take care of himself and stay out of (most) trouble"

Though I think the more he realizes how hostile this world can be towards genuinely kind people, the more he might worry for Kaveh. But also like, he has to have faith Kaveh can take care of himself— at least till he finds him

Alhaitham does not get to clear up the misunderstanding in my world bc I love misunderstandings and need to see Kaveh hunted for sport (and for my amusement)

Maybe he can try tho but like, I do truly doubt he'd be believed fully.

Like, ok, ur jinchuriki is stolen by a strange foreign stranger. You go on the hunt and find him to be incredibly evasive, top tier stealth skills here. Then as you're hunting him, he goes and steals another child jinchuriki

Suddenly, this other strange foreign man (who admits himself that he is friends with the first!!) shows up and tries to explain a "misunderstanding" that he himself doesn't even have the full context for

Maybe they could have at least tried to believe him if it were just Naruto, but w him taking Gaara also like. Nah they'd toss Alhaitham's ass in a cell to give to a Yamanaka for some mind fuck jutsus. Which Alhaitham probably isnt going to just sit around and let happen to him, rip

Alhaitham is going, "This is somehow Kaveh's fault, I just know it," as he actively bashes his way out of a prison. Jail break arc !!!!

Anyways thinking about just. Kaveh treating Naruto and Gaara like the children they are. Showing them genuine care and concern and motherly love. Gaara especially tbh— obviously they've both suffered but I'd like to believe Naruto got one or two good or semi normal interactions in his life before, or at least has been in the position to witness that sort of thing

But Gaara has just kind of been trapped in an absoloute nonstop torture freak show from day one.

Kaveh will show them motherly love and worry and Naruto will go "woah... so this is what it's like..."

but Gaara will full shut down "I dont understand what is happening. Why does my entire body feel warm? Why is he look at me like that? Why does it make me want to cry? What is happening to me? What is this? Am I broken? Have I been poisoned?"

The three of them get into some sort of fight and Kaveh puts himself in front to defend his kids. Naruto is all bluster "let me protect you!" Without any of the skill but Gaara is fully "idiot, I can protect you" *massacre noises*

Afterwards Gaara is bracing for the usual screams of terror and inevitable abandonment, but when Kaveh starts to yell it isnt about Gaara being a monster but instead about how could you put yourself in that sort of situation? I'm here to protect you, Gaara!

And he like wipes away the blood from Gaara's face, looking like he's about to burst into tears. And Gaara is so, so confused because this is not how it's supposed to go— its never gone like this, ever

I think Kaveh would lose his mind a little bit over the violence but also like, not as much as he could, for several reasons

He isnt a stranger to fighting, obviously. The desert is dangerous, and he's run into his fair share of scuffles— and obviously yk, has been on some adventures with the traveler.

He does exist in proximity with Collei, and while I don't think it's ever directly stated that he's aware of her circumstances, I'd like to believe he knows at least a little. So he isn't a stranger to the terrible circumstances of some children, which can lead them to have skills beyond their age

Also just: these are kids. These are kids and he cares about them. It would take a lot to get mr bleeding heart over here to genuinley disavow someone he's already imprinted on, especially a whole child

So yeah, just, Kaveh caring for Gaara even as he is faced with the inherent violence he is built on and filled with. Kaveh showing Gaara he can be loved, even through all the blood and bone. Kaveh seeing the carnage and running past it all to hug Gaara tight and asking if he's ok

Naruto is also there going :O in the background

He's like. 6. And also Naruto. So the fear is kind of overrided by "WOAH HOW DID YOU DO THAT???? THAT WAS SO COOL YOU BEAT THEM ALL SO FAST!!!!!"

They are friends first now (best friends, Naruto insists) so Gaara himself is a priority now, and even if it was kind of scary, they're still friends!!

also @sanska :

SO REAL HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY ITS KIND OF INSANE !!!!

There are so many artists who do him so well, most beautiful man in Tevat fr, my favorite blond. Not to mention the fansong for him FUCKS, Writing on the Wall changed my life forever

I love when people draw and write him as wearing makeup ,,, my pretty princess ,, he lines his eyes in kohl every morning and has a whole skin care routine to protect his skin from the desert sun, pass it on. It's just canon to me.

I want to think about Kaveh (genshin impact) in Naruto but I haven't touched Genshin for longer than an hour in over a year now. I never even officially met Kaveh, I never hit his quests. So Idk if I can do him justice

But like, ,,, ough,,, Kaveh in Naruto ,,,, my babygirl most ever,,,

[zipzapfrogboy]

BYLER DOUBT BE DAMNED (An analysis on blocking and it’s significance)

Read this if you’re having doubt because I promise it will help at least a little.

(This might be sort of long and a bit unorganized because it’s my first analysis of sorts but just stick with me.)

The main thing that confirms Byler for me (and helps with doubt) is the final shots of season 4.

You know. Those.

I’m definitely not the first person to point it out but I want to talk about it a little more in depth. Specifically the blocking. It is so clearly a deliberate choice to place Mike and Will between two other canon couples (Joyce and Hopper and Nancy and Jonathan respectively). It’s most definitely foreshadowing both to romance and possibly s5 teams.

I’m a theatre kid, I’ve been acting since I was seven, I have experience and know some stuff. If directors don’t like what you’re doing or don’t think it works then they’ll tell you stop. The improv you see in shows and movies are things that were approved and stayed in because the directors wanted it to (in like 90% of cases). Same goes with blocking. Actors can’t just stand where they want unless explicitly told to do so.

Placement has purpose and meaning. It is so unbelievably specific and thought out. I have a director/theatre teacher who gave us at least a 30 minute explanation about how important stage placement is and the what it can convey. On numerous occasions she’s made us take two small steps forward, a large step back, stand a bit further from xyz, etc.

I was in a show that started rehearsing in June and the director had been planning and working on it since March or maybe even before then. Blocking (and choreography in the context of musicals) is planned for weeks to months ahead of time. Directors have visions and the reasons behind how they set scenes is to execute that vision perfectly and convey the right message and emotions.

I’m sorry if that all seemed random I’m just trying to emphasize my point.

Obviously it’s a bit different for filmed content but I don’t doubt that the same logic is applicable. You don’t place two characters who hate each other together because it doesn’t make sense story wise or character wise.

It’s thought out, planned, and so purposeful. It’s not just random placement and it’s certainly not foreshadowing just team pairings. Two characters who are a part of a complex love triangle standing between two already existing couples? Right…

And so now my question is, why?

Why else would they set it up and block it like that? Give me an answer that explains the reasoning behind that choice; the choice of having El stand alone in front of them and having her boyfriend stand next to the person who’s in love with him. What else would that mean? That’s simply not how you do blocking.

When you as a director look at something from the outsider/audience perspective you need to see it with their eyes. What else could that convey? I’m being genuine when I say I don’t see anything else. If there is another way to interpret it (that makes sense and isn’t plagued by bias) then please tell me.

It’s a perfect example of foreshadowing. El standing alone symbolizes her arc of becoming an independent person outside of romance and Hopper. Her whole story has been about learning how to be a person and be herself. Her standing out alone in the field in front of her burning hometown isn’t supposed to mean nothing.

Just like Mike and Will standing together isn’t supposed to mean nothing.

We know Jopper is endgame, I can’t see why they wouldn’t be, and I’m 90% sure that Jancy will be endgame (or if they break up it will be on good terms). So, again, why would they place Mike and Will between those people. If it was supposed to be showing how close they are and how wonderfully strong their friendship is then why did they choose those other characters? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. IT’S THE DEFINITION OF A PARALLEL.

If I end up being wrong then idk.

Thank you for reading :)

Also there’s this so like

[girldriveroscar]

yes you see the vision of mean charles choscar!!! oh the possibilities of a carcar/choscar contrast, i really dig the idea of playing with oscar's expectations regarding the two, the more time he spends with them he discovers carlos is actually kind of sweet and a lil dorky, while charles has that cutting mean streak to him behind all the affableness, charles enjoys toying with oscar, gets increasingly more cruel, and well, fortunately unfortunately oscar is really really into it, a charlos + oscar threesome, charlos tag teaming oscar and oscar is like, huh, carlos is being surprisingly gentle with him, charles though, charles a is bit cruel to oscar, loves to degrade him, oscar's like yeah sure ill have both

(also. thinking about. girl charles. pegging oscar. she would. he would let her.)

YESSSS U SO SO SO GET IT. DEFYING EXPECTATIONS. to start. nods. girl Charles wld lean her Perfect tits right into Oscars space n go. yk you really have a great ass its a shame no ones put it to use. and Oscar goes . Oh. Oh this a thing I could be into.

also the Charloscar threesome eye twirly emoji. something about them bickering and Oscar getting fed up eueueueue. once they get past that stage, Carlos giving him soft kisses on the neck and chest while Charles belittles Oscar for getting hard so easy. roughly spreading his thighs to get a closer look at how small u are. I can Viscerally Hear Charles using cute in such a demeaning humiliating way. Ur so cute. even down here. u remind me of my girlfriend. Look how my hands fit around your waist. look how my thumbs touch around your wrist. Something about like Mean borderline locker room talk is so sharl in bed to me. sex is a competition and he is winning. equally funny to imagine him doing all this talk to fuck really rough and unsatisfying,. that's why he needs Carlos there to slowly stretch Oscar and for Oscar to feel physically good once hes mentally gone.

Cus btw Charles is of Course even meaner to Carlos and their threesomes are in fact just psychosexual races where Charles only lets Carlos get it in first By his control. makes him pull out When he wants. and cums in Oscar while he makes Carlos use his hand. I repeat. Sex is a sport and Charles is winning.

nd then after they all cuddle bc Charles is pleased w his wins and Carlos is just happy to get a nut in. and oscars like. I am kinda suffocating. but maybe I can let myself enjoy this as much as the mean sex. Maybe.

[is-on-its-way]

okay ive finally come to see your vision on mulder here, although i do still think scully was uncomfy too, i think mulder was wildly uncomfy, definately in part due to the normalness of this neighborhood and suggestion this is what married life should look like, and knowing he isnt this person. Hes pushing her away with his treatment of her. But I think theres also another reason hes behaving like this that just clicked everything into place for me.

I preface this by saying i watch arcadia right after one son bc it makes canonical sense that way, they even say its their first case back. And this way i think it makes alot of sense for mulders characterization and for how their relationship would be post their fight

Agua Mala was not the episode filmed directly after One Son. Instead, Arcadia was shot between the two episodes. It simply was not ready to air in time. Mulder even refers to the case in Arcadia as the duo’s “first catch back on the X-Files.” Source: https://them0vieblog.com/2015/07/22/the-x-files-agua-mala-review/

I posit that every time scully is hurt, he goes to the ends of the earth to make sure shes okay, and then once she is, he flees or actively tries to get her to quit the x files, and overtly or inadvertently treats her poorly. Because he cant lose her again and survive, because he thinks he is completely responsible for everything that happens to her because his childhood trauma requires he carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. And because he loves her more than anything and has a decent amount of self hatred so he thinks he doesn't deserve her.

His behavior in one son/two fathers and arcadia to me is directly tied to her getting shot and almost dying in tithonus. I dont think its completely conscious on his part especially this time around but i also think something happened between arcadia monday and agua mala to get them to the more comfortable companionship they display in alpha.

That something being scully finally asking him for something or declaring something like he does when she pulls away. Finally calling him out and asking him to change his behavior, which he does, in alpha when she warns him about women he listens and isnt a dick about it.

anyway yeah thats it lol

Arcadia Analysis: Mulder’s Struggle

Contrary to popular belief, it was Mulder (and not Scully– my long post of her experience here) who was having a rough time in Arcadia. 

When Mulder arrives, his enthusiasm shines brighter than Scully’s placid happiness, momentarily disguising his true mood from her, the neighbors, and the viewers: dour, trapped, tense. 

Keep reading

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 10: Double date

**********

Buck fiddled with a few of his perfectly styled curls before finally leaving the bathroom. He walked out with a grin expecting Tommy to do what he usually did when Buck was wearing those jeans—-the ones that made his “ass look sensational”—which was to firstly gawp, then secondly slowly slink over to Buck and tell him how incredible he looked, then thirdly playfully ask if they could ditch whatever plan they had so Tommy could have his way with him.

Except this time Tommy didn’t even notice he’d left the bathroom. Didn’t notice him walking over or even hear Buck say his name. Instead, Tommy was leaning against the counter in the kitchen stopping a beer and staring straight ahead.

“Earth to Tommy?” Buck said standing in front of him.

“Hmm? What? Sorry.”

“You’ve been quiet since you got here.” Buck remarked.

“I’m fine.” He said. Buck knew his fake smile from a thousand yards away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Tommy opened his mouth to deny anything was wrong but Buck got in there first. “Tommy, we talked about this. You have to tell me if something is bothering you. Even if it’s something small. Not least because I’ll spiral and think I’ve done something.”

A look of something softer came across Tommy and he put his beer down on the counter and ran a hand up and down Bucks arm.

“I’m sorry, babe. It’s just.. I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

“Tonight.”

“Dinner with Maddie and Chim? Why?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows knowingly but Buck wasn’t getting it. “This is the first time I’m seeing them since.. since we broke up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I broke your heart and ran away like a coward and-“

“Hey.” Buck interrupted, placing a hand on Tommy face. “We’re past, okay? I love you.”

Tommy melted a little hearing those words. He’d heard them countless times in the last 3 weeks since they got back together and said them just as many times. But still, Evan may have forgiven him but they didn’t mean everybody else had.

“And I love you too.” He planted a chaste kiss to Bucks lips. “But my point is that they were the ones who had to see how heartbroken you were; see how much I hurt you. I guess I’m worried that your sister is gonna.. I don’t know hate me forever.” He looked down at the ground shamefully.

Stealing Tommys signature move, Buck tilted Tommys chin with his two fingers.

“Tommy, yes my sister and everyone else were pretty pissed at what you did and-“ Tommy tried to turn his head but Buck took his face in his hand and gently guided him back to facing him. “Listen.” He said softly. “Yes they were pissed at first when they saw how hurt I was, but.. when they knew why you did it, they understood. They don’t hate you, or think less of you—they love you. They love you because I love you. And because all they want is for me to be happy, and now that I have you back I am very happy.” He smiled softly at Tommy hoping that he was believed.

Tommys mouth slowly curved into a small smile. “You promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed Tommy gently before pulling him into a hug. Tommys arms slid down around Buck and his hands found his ass.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re a vision in these jeans?”

“Hmm. You know I’m not sure.” Buck teased.

“Maybe we should ditch tonight.” He pulled Buck closer to him and landed a few kisses to Bucks neck. Buck couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of their little routine. There were many things he’d missed in the 4 months they were apart but these little familiar moments; the silly inside jokes and playful bantering was definitely high up on the list.

Top of the list was kissing Tommy and if it meant they were 15 minutes late to their double date then so be it.

[slaaverin]

You know if the fandom at large truly saw Jikook as just Bros, we wouldn’t have half the issue we do have. They know there is something there and it’s what scares them.

I Like to be on this side of things where we sensible folk see two souls who love each other.

I Like to think that the love we share here, heals the world a tiny bit at a time.

I’m in my late 30s now, some may say too old to be a fan girl, or fawning of two guys especially in their late 20s, but do you know I see what I see, and I love their artistry.

I also never thought I’d get to my late 30s so fast, time really does fly by. Word of warning to all. But one thing I’ve learnt is that love is all that matters.

I hope with all my being that Jikook know there are people out there in the world who love them, and support them. I hope Jimin especially knows how much he is truly loved, and that he can and should be himself. Jungkook too, though i do feel he is better at that than Jimin. The show was a positive step in the right direction with how ‘free’ they were. As I said, life is truly too short not to be yourself, to be happy and to love.

"As I said, life is truly too short not to be yourself, to be happy and to love."

I couldn't agree more anon, and I think we saw in jikook many times that this has been an underlying wish of theirs. And I think it will be even more in the future.

There's nothing wrong with being a fan girl at 30. I know people who are 70 that are still fangirling and engaging in fandom. I mean, it's not because we're older that we need to be BORING 😂 I think people of any age can recognize true artistery, passion, and the beauty of people with pure hearts, sharing pure love. It's universal.

I personally don't mind being an ARMY until 70, and still reading silly fanfictions when I'm old 😂 who cares for real. As long as we're having fun, that's all that matters. (As Jimin would say lol)

You're right, life is flying by. And never again will we be us, in this particular life, at this particular time. Moments are fleeting and unique and will never be quite the same again.

That's why life should be enjoyed to the fullest, and appreciated.

That's also why I am so grateful to be sharing this piece of the BTS history with everyone, now, just as it is. What a journey it has been, and what a journey it's gonna be.

And I think it's important we experience it all, the bad, the good (mostly the good) and give as much positive energy as we can.

We're witnessing jikook in real time, and we're gonna see many new things from them. Hopefully they'll get to live an even more happy life, and make adjustements to be themselves to the fullest. How exciting. And we're gonna see it? They're never again going to be jikook going through this. Jikook will never again be jikook.

So whatever we witness, however we give our support, it matters. It's the only time where it matters, because in the next moment everything will be gone, and this theater we are all playing will disappear, and we'll remember it was only a dream, a pretty vivid one.

So the only thing that matters is the present experience, and our feelings and thoughts, how these two people can make us joyous, happy, full of love and appreciation. How we as a community are intermingled, the feelings, words, small actions we share.

We love a relationship that is not ours. Yes, many people have love in their life, but it's always going to be different from them. No two relationship are the same.

And even if it's not ours, we still get to experience things through them, it's part of our vision, it takes space in our thoughts and feelings.

I think, as people who think things through, jikook are aware of it.

Even if our support seems small and insignificant, the fact they simply know that we do, it must surely help them, at least to feel a tiny bit of relief.

And even if they never stumble on any of our words, our thoughts and action (writing, speaking), it's like magic we do. Magic is words (breath, physical movement) and intention. We all are magicians. And even with these small things, it affects them, even if lightly, in the great scheme of things.

So that's already something I guess?

And even if it doesn't matter to them, well it does to us.

If we were in their situation, we would like people like us supporting, just because. Because it feels good? Yeah.

So I think it's normal.

Personally, the other parts of the fandom are just noise to me.

I know what my heart tells me to do. I don't care about anything else.

It's about love, right? The rest has no importance.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts anon 💜sorry for my rambling, and the time I took to respond, I was losing my mind writing my fic lol

Hope you'll continue to be a fangirl as long as your heart tells you to.

sending love 💜

[phightingheadcanons]

Headcanons i have about the phighters i tend to play the most (i play alot of different ppl and this isn't even all of them anymore-)

Katana

- has a phone, but its like a *really* old phone that uses like, 3g or smth (it is.. so slow.. but he barely uses it anyways)

- would rather send letters through some mail system to talk to people than calling or texting

- When him and Hyperlaser go out for drinks (like two, maybe three times a month me thinks) he usually gets a drink that tastes sweet or a little bit fruity.

- ^ Katana will also get harder/darker liquors, but he prefers the lighter stuff so more sweet/fruit flavors come through over the alchohol taste

Rocket

- is actually pretty self-consious about his arm and leg, but just masks it most of the time

- he loves the prosthetics themselves, but feels like he'll be judged by others for having them (even though he knows they almost definetely wont)

- Rocket actually needs Zuka's help sometimes to clean up his horns and maintain the way they look (Zuka always chuckles when he asks because Rocket always asks a little awkwardly)

Scythe

- her white eye isnt like glass eye or a blind eye or anything, its just naturaly completely white. like the sclera, iris, and pupil are all just naturally white, and no one knows why.

- ^ Medkit has tried to figure out why and has pulled more than one all-nighter (not in a row) to figure out, no no avail

- ^ her eye being white doesnt affect her vision at all, surprisingly. Scythe can see perfectly fine with it. the worst it gets its a little bit blurry sometimes, like a super weak gausian blur over everything, but only out of her left eye.

- Her right eye is completely fine and normal. She uses the lens thing to see farther away for better aim when she has her scythe in rifle mode.

- ^ the lenses have the three different levels of zoom and focus, and can be adjusted (not while in use though)

Shuriken

- because ninja vibes and vigilante, he's learned to walk silently and scares Vinestaff and Slingshot alot. sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose, just depends on his mood rlly.

- Shurifin is an inside joke between him Vinestaff and Slingshot when he dressed up in a really tacky fish costume for halloween one year (like amazon 5 bucks kind of cheap)

- he learned how to patch himself up pretty well so Vinestaff and Slingshot didnt suspect anything when he came late from vigilante stuff (saw this from another anon, love it sm so i included it here bc it really does just fit)

Vinestaff

- alot of people think she's self-concious about her arm, but she really isnt. yeah she doesnt exactly like the fact that her arm is tree, but she's learned to live with it

- her arm sprouts during spring/summer. i like the cherry blossom idea that i saw from a another anon too (im sorry i dont remember who you are-)

- ^ Vinestaff tolerates her arm more in the spring because of the pretty pink cherry blossoms, and likes how it looks throughout summer too. once it hits fall or winter though she goes back to not liking it as much because its bare and pretty much just bark, no pretty flowers or blossoms

- 🌌✨️ anon

"Ohhhh I love thosee"