#Mirro world

[pruskita]

Kirbtober day 19 Mirror

The world of mirrors, a dimension very dependent on another, but at the same time separates from it

people are different, had different attitudes towards the same situations, How Dark Trazana did not suffer the death of Sectonia but managed to completely overcome, or Dark Galacta who, instead of being a genocidal madman, someone who did horrible things but regrets it and will try to make amends before falling into complete madness and who takes care of Kirby as his son Or Gooey and Kirby who instead of denying where it comes from accept it

[tneql]

Mirros (Sight) is the capacity to look at the world around us. As a form of Essense, is connects to our ability to see, and the very manifestation of light itself.

Someone attuned towards Mirros can look at things with a clarity and detail that others lack. Those rich in this Essense tend to be artists, inventors, marksmen… and spies, if they’re nefariously inclined.

The most powerful Mirros users can bend and generate light out of the air, manipulate what others witness, and even seclude themselves from other people's vision entirely.

It has been told in the old texts that on the day before The Recreation, Garland The All-Seeing - Patron of Mirros - looked inside of himself, and saw nothing but turmoil and strife consuming the world of Elethia.

When he relayed the scale of the suffering that he witnessed to his brethren, they set about correcting this perceived wrong.

Watch TNEQL: https://youtube.com/@TNEQL

Our Live DnD show: https://www.twitch.tv/TNEQL

[dollfacefantasy]

Special Day

pairing: mafia!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: this year your husband wants to give you a special present for your birthday

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), fingering, daddy kink, breeding kink

word count: 5.2k

a/n: birthday fic for someone i am so happy to know and call my friend, @explorevenus. i love her so so much, she's one of the most fun and kindest people i have ever known. she's so totally cool and you all should wish her a very happy birthday.

For my pretty little doll on her special day. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.

That’s the message scrawled onto the scrap of paper that’s attached to the hanger on the closet door. On the hanger, dangled one of the prettiest dresses you’d ever seen in your life. Your favorite color, flowy and shimmering. Of the hundreds of things he’d asked you to wear over the course of your relationship, this had to be in the top three.

It almost made up for the fact that he was going to be on the job for nearly the entire day. You weren’t even confident he’d make it home in time for the dinner reservations you had, but if you had to be alone, at least you would look good doing it.

If anything, you tried not to let his absence bother you too much because it could be worse. You make a point to yourself to remember that today wasn’t like years ago when you would’ve spent the whole day at work just to come home to an empty house. So far you've spent it out, getting your nails done, lunch at one of your favorite places, some light shopping. And it was all on his dime. This was the one day a year where he truly gave you no limits, no allowance, no teasing about your debit card being worn out. Your birthday always was about letting you indulge in anything you wanted as much as your heart desired. You reminded yourself of that when you felt the familiar pain of longing tighten up your chest.

It wasn’t like the feeling was a foreign one. He’d been at work on every birthday you’d had since the two of you got together. He’d treat you to the shopping spree combined with sending you a lavish arrangement of flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, or whatever you had been wanting that year. Then he’d come to you the next day, or once you started living together, in the middle of the night. Always climbing into bed or coming up behind you with a hushed “‘m sorry, babydoll” and some gentle kisses to your head. And you’d never complain because the next day before you even had a chance to get annoyed, an expensive new bracelet would be on your wrist, and he’d deliver his apologies between your legs with his tongue, fingers, or cock. Your choice.

For the week leading up to your birthday this year, you had just been silently hoping it would be different. Considering he had been spending more time with you lately, and less time in sketchy meetings, it didn’t seem unreasonable. The higher he climbed in the dark world that he worked in, the closer you came to living the glamorous life he’d promised you from the beginning. His higher position scored the two of you the penthouse you currently sat in. It got you vacations to exotic places and clothes you previously only would’ve been able to afford in your wildest fantasies.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm orange-pink haze over your room. You figured you should put on the outfit he’d chosen for you. Lifting the dress up, you realize there’s something else attached to the hanger. Obscured from view at first glance is a delicate lingerie set, lacy pink bra and panties with rosebuds embroidered across them in rows. A smile rises on your lips as you slip off the clothing you had on and unclip the dainty articles from the hanger. Your fingertips smooth over the lace while visions of Leon’s hands dancing across your chest, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples, flash through your mind.

You slide the thin straps onto your arms and reach behind to clasp it into place. Then you pull the panties up, looking in the mirror at how they fit over your hips. The dress comes after these. You put it on and are left blown away by his choice for you. It looked good. Showed you off, highlighted your assets in the most flattering way.

As you admire your reflection, the main doors to the apartment open and close. Keys rattle as they’re dropped on the side table. He enters the bedroom and you hear a hum of adoration rumble from his chest.

“There’s the birthday girl,” he says softly as he makes his way to you.

Your eyes capture his gaze with a fond glance. He’d actually made it back when he said he would. Maybe things were looking up. You turn your back to him, revealing the parted fabric that left your back and the hem of your panties exposed.

“Zip me up?” you request.

Without a word, he pulls you close by your waist. You knew he loved doing this. Picking what you wore and watching your body slip into it, filling out his fantasies. His fingers tug the zipper upward and secure the dress together. He presses a tender kiss to your neck and inhales a deep breath of his favorite scent in the whole world, your perfume. His arms wrap around you as his palms rub down your body, over your belly and to your hips. He leaves a few more smooches on your throat as he directs your stare back to the mirror.

“That dress looks gorgeous on you. My perfect little doll,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you respond, catching his eyes in the reflective glass ahead of you. You scan the picture in front of you. His large frame engulfing yours, damn near lovesick expression on his face, hands and arms as possessive as they could be in such a basic stance.

“No, thank you,” he says, “You been having a nice day? Being a good girl? Staying safe?”

You sink back against his chest more as his low voice seeps out against your skin. “Mhm,” you answer with a slight nod.

“Yeah? You ready to have some more fun tonight?” he whispers, lips brushing your earlobe.

You nod, sweet and docile. God, it was like you melted in his presence. Could never hold onto anything with him around. It all went out the window in order to get his praise and feel the warmth of his affection on you.

“That’s my baby,” he coos with one more wet kiss on your cheek. He backs up as if he’s about to let you go, but as you turn around, he grabs your jaw. The pads of his fingertips gently dig into the flesh of your cheeks. In that loving and condescending tone that sent heat rushing through your body, he asks, “Who’s my pretty girl?”

It was such a simple thing. You didn’t know why it worked, but it always did. A big smile spreads across your face, and your eyes flit away with timid modesty.

“Me,” you confirm, tone soft but sure.

“That’s right,” he says simply and pulls you into an actual kiss.

After that, you’re almost giddy, high off the small gesture. It made your blood run hot and your head swim with a dizzy feeling of love. You all but prance to the rack against the wall that holds your shoes. Slipping on some matching heels, you face him once more and do a little motion to show off the completed look.

He chuckles at your twirl and opens his arms. You immediately go to him and find your place in his grasp. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters “What’d I do to get the sweetest girl in the world all to myself, hm?”

You shrug, and that’s all he needs before the two of you are ready to go. He stuffs his wallet in his pocket and walks towards the elevator with you tucked to his side. His fingers coast down your jaw and stroke your hair. Your eyes stay locked on him from the doors shutting to the little ding letting you know the trip is over.

The two of you float outside to the luxury car Leon rode around in now. Not even drove because he had been given a driver recently. All the two of you had to do was simply slip into the backseat.

He holds you close, nearly on his lap for the duration of the ride. One hand massages the back of your neck, keeping your head against his shoulder. The other delves beneath the skirt of your dress only to knead your plush thighs and feel your skin between his fingers. All the attention keeps your head spinning and your body craving his love.

It’s only around twenty minutes before the car pulls to a stop in front of the restaurant. You’re greeted by the familiar twinkling lights and neon letters of one of your favorite places. You beam at him and take his hand. He watches your pleasant reaction, so pleased he could make you happy with something so simple.

Getting in is quick and painless since he had called ahead of time, dead set on making this as special for you as possible. You’re seated at a booth in the back. It’s not completely private, but well secluded from the other patrons filling seats.

He slides in first, grinning as he pats the cushioning next to him. You follow, and immediately, he pulls you close. Your thighs are squished against each other beneath the table. His lips are caressing your neck as you skim the menu causing you to squirm and laugh softly.

“You get anything you want, pretty baby. Tonight’s all about my precious girl,” he whispers.

You nod and nuzzle into the affection a bit, brushing your nose with his. After deciding what you want, he orders your meal and drink. The two of you talk, and from this alone, it seems to be shaping up into the perfect night. You talk about everything and anything, catching up with him like you hadn’t in a while. You see the Leon you love, your Leon. The guy who comes home late with dark eyes and a flat voice is nowhere to be found, and you couldn’t be more pleased. He stays close the entire time, seemingly not able to help how touchy he was with you.

Eventually, your orders arrive, and things continue to look up. Your smile won’t leave your face as you eat and drink. Laughs fly between the two of you like neither of you had ever seen something bad in your lives. It’s only hours later, towards the end of dinner when you can see him simmering down a bit. His expression grows more serious. Different from usual though. It’s not stern. It’s more… vulnerable. He pulls you flush against him yet again and squeezes his arms around you softly.

“I’m happy you’re having a good time, sweetheart. You know I love seeing that pretty smile. And you should know, I’ve wanted your birthday to turn out this perfect every year. But now I can actually provide that,” he says, continuing to grow more genuine.

You nod, not totally sure where he’s going here but eager to find out.

“Usually, I’d have something big for you to open at the end of your day,” he starts. He almost looks nervous at this point, and it’s concerning you, “This year, I don’t have anything like that because I thought we might do something different for your main gift.”

You look up at him and shift your body to face him a little more. He had your attention now. You try to mentally run through different possibilities for a different kind of big present. Vacation? No, you’d done that before. Moving? That also seemed unlikely. Maybe it was related to his work? You honestly had no clue.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I think it’s time we start trying for a baby,” he says, his eyes going soft and his voice dropping to be more hushed.

Your heart jolts inside your chest. You almost don’t believe you heard him right. He must have said something else. That or he was just playing the most cruel joke in the entire world.

“But you said you didn’t want any?” you say skeptically.

“I know I did. But… I was wrong,” he says with a slight smile. 

Leon had told you on each rare occasion that the topic of kids came up that he did not want any under any circumstances. This life was too dangerous, he wouldn’t have time for them, he wanted you all to himself. All were reasons you’d heard over the years. You’d honestly just shoved your small hopes for a family away because he seemed certain of his position on the topic. You’d come to terms that it would never happen. It was him or the white picket fence fantasy, and you’d chosen him with no real hesitation.

“And you just changed your mind out of the blue?” you ask.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. He kisses your pulse point as his fingers start tracing small circles on your arm. “No, no. I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he whispers.

Your breath hitches at the sensation of his mouth on your skin again. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, letting him work. You were already buzzed from the drinks you had, and this wasn’t making it easier to think through your line of questioning.

“I’ve been having these dreams, y’know,” he breathes as if he senses your uncertainty, “Once every couple days, I’m seeing you pregnant. You’re looking fucking gorgeous, belly swollen and bright smile on your face. Then I wake up. And after a few times, I realized I don’t want that to only be a dream anymore.”

He continues trailing his mouth along your skin, leaving small love bites scattered throughout the sheen remnants of saliva. Your head is swirling with the mix of his actions and words, and what it means. He wanted you pregnant. It didn’t sound real to you even with his brief explanation.

“You want to change the entire direction of our lives because you had a few dreams?” you ask.

He laughs softly into the crook of your neck. “I’d been thinking about it anyway. I’m not getting any younger, baby. I guess I’ve softened in my old age cause what I want more than anything is to see my precious little doll holding our baby,” he says with a mix of teasing and seriousness in his voice.

It makes you smile and exhale with amusement. You turn your face in his direction and catch his lips in a real kiss. When he pulls away, his breath is coming out in heavier puffs. His eyes, blown out with love, are locked in a stare with you. His hand slips down to your midriff, palm flattening over your tummy.

“It wasn’t so hard to realize, babydoll. I’d be fucking insane to not want to see you carrying my baby. You’ll be the prettiest little mama,” he whispers.

His voice had become huskier, his thumb moving back and forth on your bottom lip. You were completely enraptured with him right now. Your head was growing fuzzier by the second, and the desire for him to fuck you full of cum was only getting stronger.

“You can’t even understand how much I’ll love watching that belly grow. How it’ll start sticking out of every shirt you have till we have to buy you a whole set of new ones,” he murmurs against your skin, “And don’t even get me started on how these are gonna fill out.” His hand moves to your breasts, gripping the plump flesh under his palm .

Now your breath was picking up a bit too. You shift in your seat in an attempt to alleviate the building tension in your center. His kisses become more aggressive and simple touches morph into rougher grabs.

“I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you, babydoll. Gonna have to fuck you like we’re still trying even when you’re in the last few months,” he grunts.

The softest whimper escapes you, but he hears it. You feel his smirk against your skin. He lightly nips at your throat and pulls back, letting you see his smug expression in its entirety.

“You like that idea, yeah?” he coos quietly, “So much attention for you, baby. Constantly being doted on. You’re not gonna lift a finger for nine months. Gonna let me take care of everything while all your energy goes into growing our baby.”

You look up at him helplessly. Big, sweet eyes that remind him of a puppy. He grins as your head bobs up and down in a nod.

“My good fucking girl. Let’s get out of here,” he says.

You’re quick to follow him out of the booth after he drops a couple bills on the table. Your fingers lace with his as he leads you to the main doors and back to the car. You take him in as he guides you. Just a few moments to admire his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. His protective grip and eyes that seemed serious to everyone else, but you could tell held more mischievous intent.

Once you reach the car, he opens the door for you, giving you a quick smack on the ass as you climb in. He’s right next to you after that, and as the engine comes to life, you almost wish he’d waited to have that conversation in here instead. Because now you were gonna have to sit here, turned on and untouched for the ride back. Heated skin and glossy eyes, it was pretty obvious how you were feeling. Most likely everyone in that restaurant and the driver sitting one seat in front of you all knew that Leon was going to fuck you dumb as soon as you stepped through the doors to your apartment.

You come to figure though, that if it’s already so obvious, what’s the harm in being a little more overt? Scooting over to him, you lean into his firm side. He looks down at you knowingly. Your fingers curl over his thick thigh, nearly brushing the most sensitive area of his lap.

“Feeling a little impatient?” he teases softly.

You nod. Sure your driver could hear murmuring, you just hoped he couldn’t make out exact words.

“Yeah, what do you want me to do about it?” he mocks, “You need Daddy’s fingers in that tight cunt? Can’t even wait till we get home to cum?”

You bite your lip to muffle the whine blooming in your throat. Your face burns at the use of the title that melted your mind down to a few simple words. Yes Daddy. Thank you Daddy. Pretty please. Wanna cum. 

With another nod, you sink further into his chest. Your eyes remain up and keep their focus on him.

“Well, since it’s your birthday…” he starts. His hand swoops beneath your dress, bypassing your thighs this time and cupping your pussy, fingers coasting over the damp fabric.

You were pulsing with desire, your heart thudding against your chest. He pulls your lacy garment to the side to run his digits through your folds and feel the slick that had gathered for him. A low chuckle leaves him, and all you can think is how grateful you are for the radio being turned on, no matter how low the volume. From how wet you were, you were sure in dead silence you’d be able to hear more lewd noises than the words spilling from Leon’s mouth.

“Oh, you really can’t wait. You’re already making a mess all over my seats,” he whispers.

The pad of his finger swirls over your clit, and you hum quietly in relief. The pressure in the pit of your belly releases a bit as the warm flow of pleasure courses through you. Your eyes flutter shut, your hands hook around his arm for comfort, and you press your face to his shoulder to obscure your reactions to the feeling.

“My perfect little doll. I press the right button and look how well you behave,” he breathes.

You suck in a breath, narrowly avoiding a whimper tumbling into the car. He plays with your bundle of nerves for a minute more before slipping two fingers down and slipping them inside you.

Your fingers dig into the sleeve of his suit, clutching it as he pumps in and out of you. He works himself in, up to his knuckles. Your thighs part a little more to give him some space to work with. He shakes his head and playfully tuts at the display of need.

“Poor baby, Daddy got you so worked up, didn’t he?” he coos softly against your head.

You nod quickly. All your focus is on keeping quiet as his fingers move between your walls as you clamp around them. He smiles and continues lightly. It was your birthday so he would be nice, wouldn’t try to embarrass you too bad.

You’re so wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy he’s bringing you that you don’t even notice when the car has stopped. The only thing you notice is his fingers are now gone and you feel painfully empty.

Your eyes dart up when you lose the warm, filling sensation. Unlike usual, you contain your whine of protest as you realize your moments away from getting what you really wanted.

Like a movie of the beginning of the evening playing in reverse, you both make your way back to the elevator. He keeps a firm hold on your hand as he takes the lead. You stumble behind, all but collapsing in his arms once you're in the elevator. He leans down into some sloppy kisses. Your tongues meet, and your lips smoosh against each other fervently as if you’re running out of time.

After what seems like forever, you hear that little ding, and he wastes no time pulling you into the apartment. You’re kissing on the way to the bedroom, hands roaming one another as you bump into furniture and nearly knock clutter off tables. His suit jacket is gone before the bed is even in sight. Buttons on his shirt had already been popped open as he throws you on the bed.

He climbs on top of you, continuing to make out with you for a moment. His lips start to head south, finding their place on your neck again while his hands start pushing up the skirt of your dress to bunch it at your waist. There was no teasing tonight. You were the birthday girl after all, and he intended to keep his word that the evening was about you.

His entire body drifts downward now. Placing himself on the end of the mattress, you nearly can’t see him from fabric that was hiked up. You can feel him though. Tongue and teeth grazing along your inner thighs, making you shudder.

In the midst of his frenzy of desire, he seems to remember something. He rises to his knees and starts to properly remove the dress from your body.

“Almost forgot to unwrap my gift,” he says.

He’s discarded the dress to the floor in no time. You lie there, on display for him in the lingerie he’d chosen just for this. His hands stroke your sides as he takes in the view of your nipples pebbles beneath the embroidered rosebuds, the soaked patch of fabric between your thighs. He’s lost in the sight of you, feeling almost as hazy as you did.

“Sweet baby, the only present I ever need,” he mumbles before lowering himself to the bed again.

He yanks down the pretty panties and tosses them over to sit with your dress. Then you finally feel some of the relief you’d been craving. He dives into your cunt, lips moving as he envelops your sex in the heat of his mouth. 

His tongue strokes up and down the velvet skin. He laps at your clit, paying attention to the precious bundle of nerves that had you crying out and writhing in his hold. You reach down and tug at his hair, causing a loud groan to emanate from the junction of your thighs. He devours you with increasing fervor.

“Pussy’s so fucking pretty,” he mutters into you, “So cute. My favorite toy.”

Your head falls back while your hips roll against his face. Gasps and whines erupt from your throat freely as you rotate between clawing at the sheets and pulling at his hair.

“All for you Daddy,” you choke out, trying not to devolve into a complete mess just yet.

He smirks up at you, enjoying the pathetic lilt in your voice. His thumb rubs your clit in quick strokes now while his mouth takes a quick break to speak. 

“That’s right, baby. All for Daddy,” he repeats, words coming out slow like you’d struggle to understand if he spoke too fast, “All mine whenever I want it. Isn’t that right?”

“Mhm, whenever you want,” you babble back.

“My smart girl,” he teases before returning to licking your cunt.

The room is vibrating to you. You’re so high in the clouds you can’t register anything in your mind that isn’t him. You vaguely feel him working two fingers inside you again as his lips wrap around your clit and suck on it in a way that causes you to shriek.

He laughs and continues on, holding your body in place as it jerks and seizes under his touch.

“Good girl, babydoll. Cum all over Daddy’s face. You deserve it,” he encourages you.

You keep cumming. Your slick coats his chin and mouth, and he laps up every drop that he can. He pleasures you through the high. Once he’s worked you over the edge, and he can tell you’re coming down, he pulls off.

“My favorite sound in the whole world. Those pretty noises you make while you let go for me,” he murmurs as he crawls back on top of you. He nuzzles your neck, leaving some kisses on the skin in the wake of your powerful release.

“You know that normally, I’d keep going, but I think we both wanna get to the next thing. Want me to breed that sweet pussy till I’m firing blanks,” he says.

He finishes pulling his shirt off and removes the clothing from his lower body quickly. He’s back on top of you before you even register he was gone. Lazily stroking his cock, he slides it between your folds, gently fitting up against you.

“My little doll ready?” he whispers.

You hook your arms around his neck and nod. He can tell by your languid movements that you’re almost loopy off your release.

“Yeah you are. My perfect girl,” he whispers as he slides in, sheathing himself in the warmth of your pussy.

He grunts and tightens his hold on you as he sinks all the way in with no resistance. Your walls flutter around him, already beginning to charge up the hot coils in his belly.

“Swear you were made for me,” he mumbles into your neck, “Pussy made for me to fuck full. Precious little face made for me to kiss.”

“Mhm,” you hum absentmindedly. You hook your legs around his waist, locking his hips against yours as he starts to grind himself into your cunt. His pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit while the head of his cock prods all your favorite spots deep inside.

He grunts and groans against your throat. Both of your hot and sticky skin slides against the others. His breath fans across you in hot pants as he starts working his hips a little harder, rocking in and out.

“Everything about you is all for me. My perfect doll. My good girl. My gorgeous fucking wife,” he growls.

You nod eagerly as you pull him closer. His hips smack against yours repeatedly, his heavy balls clapping against you with each thrust. Your breaths are shaky. It feels like you're headed towards another release with no ability to hold it off or stop it. You whine for him and squeeze around his length. So fucking tight, he actually whimpers to stop himself from blowing his load.

After a while more, he knows it’s imminent for both of you. He keeps pistoning his hips, rutting deep inside you while kissing you and capturing those sweet little sounds in his mouth.

“You there, babydoll? Gonna cum again for me?” he asks quietly, watching for the nod he knew you’d respond with. Once he sees it, he works a little harder, bringing you to the peak. “Yeah? You ready for Daddy to cum too? I know you are.”

With his voice rasping in your ear, his cock drilling deep inside you, it only takes one more thrust of his hips for you to reach the brink. You spill over into your second release. Your hips buck, and your chest heaves as the second round of ecstasy zips through you.

He hums as you contract around his shaft, clenching and drawing him in further, as if you’re crying out for him to give you his cum already. His cock twitches inside of you as he gasps and erratically fucks it into you. His entire body weight is pressing you down into the mattress as he lets go and gives up on not crushing you beneath him. It only added to the pleasure though. It was the closest you’d ever felt, and not only because his cock was bumping your cervix every couple seconds.

Soon enough, he’s spilled all that he can into you. He remains on top of you though, keeping you right where you should be. His arms snake under your body and the shift causes you to whimper since he still hadn’t pulled out. He holds you to him like you really were his dolly, peppering kisses along the side of your face and dragging his nose against your head.

“So good for me, like always,” he mumbles.

You reciprocate the affection with a few lazy kisses of your own. Your arms rest around him with no actual grip, simply just a way to show you return the sentiments.

The two of you just lay there like that for a little while, taking in each other, enjoying the peace that comes with release. You break the silence soon enough with a whisper.

“Think this has been my best birthday yet.”

He smiles and smooches you a few more times. “You deserve it, baby.”

“Thank you for making it perfect for me,” you say and tighten your limbs around him.

“Mhm,” he hums like it’s nothing. He then pulls back a little and looks down at you. “I don’t know why you’re talking like it’s over though, sweetheart. There’s still a few hours left of your actual birthday, and even then, I’m not gonna let some numbers stop me from fucking my gorgeous wife.”

You return the smile and pull him into a few more pecks.

“And I wasn’t lying, we’re going until I’m absolutely certain you’re knocked up,” he murmurs as he rocks his hips against you again, drawing a soft whimper from your throat, “And you know how precise I am. Probably shouldn’t make any plans for tomorrow, actually, probably need the whole weekend too.” He looks at you with a cocky smile before continuing the roll of his hips.

[fuctacles]

The first one of many

for @stevieweek Day 4: Special Outfit + first dress + fantasy and for @steddiemicrofic "one" G | 1111 | no cw | ren-faire, pre-relationship, transfem Stevie, smitten Eddie | Ao3 Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

"Do you like this one?"

Eddie appears by her side so abruptly, she jumps out of her skin. He smiles apologetically.

"Sorry," he says, but doesn't let himself be distracted. He reaches out to touch the sleeve of the dress Stevie's been eyeing.

It's yellow and white, with a floral pattern and a square neckline. The sleeves are slightly puffy, and the corset can be laced on the front for adjustment. It's one of the flashier ones at the stall, but Eddie wouldn't expect anything less from the girl standing next to him.

He's still surprised she agreed to come with them, to for a few days taste and touch the world her friends love so much. She told him earlier, that she liked everyone's costumes, but it's the first time anything has captured her attention like this.

"Do you want to try it on?" he asks.

"No, that's okay." She shakes her head immediately, but he won't be having it.

"Come on, we're here to have fun, all of us. And if trying on dresses is fun for you, then let's do it!" he encourages her, putting his infectious enthusiasm into the words.

She's still hesitant, but he can tell the garment in front of them is like a siren's call.

"I don't know..."

Dustin bumps into them while eyeing some of the leatherwork displayed nearby, and Eddie holds his breath, hoping it's one of these times his lack of filter is helpful. The boy looks at his friends and the garment they're facing.

"You guys buying a dress?"

"No," says Stevie.

"Maybe," says Eddie.

Dustin studies the dress with his judgmental eyes, gaze darting from it to Stevie and back again.

"You should at least try it. It's your color," he says, before walking away.

Eddie turns to his friend triumphantly.

"Well?" he grins. He can see in her eyes that she wants to but is having a hard time admitting it.

"I guess?" she says eventually. "I mean, it's just for fun, right?"

"Of course!" Eddie quickly flags down the seller, before she can change her mind. "Excuse me, good sir! Is there somewhere we can try it on?"

Which ends up with them ushered to the back of the stall, with instructions on how to operate all of the dress's clasps and lacings.

"I'll wait here. Tell me if you need any help," Eddie says before pushing his friend behind the partition, dress in her hand.

He can hear the rustle of fabric behind the heavy curtain, Stevie's clothes dropping heavily to the grass beneath while he's doing his best not to think about her undressing. She's cursing and huffing while pulling on the new dress and it helps to quell his nasty thoughts a bit. And then everything goes silent.

"Stevie?" He frowns. "You alright there?"

"Yeah," she answers, but it's so tiny he can barely hear it.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh-huh."

He pushes the edge of the green fabric aside and slips inside the little alcove. In the tight space, Stevie is staring in a full-body mirror, hands smoothing down her hips, pulling her hair forward, pushing up her breasts.

Eddie finds himself enchanted by her, not for the first time.

"You look beautiful," he says.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Though, your corset lacing needs some practice." She huffs at that. "Can I?"

The way she turns to face him, full of trust, makes his heart melt and slide down his ribs.

Delicately and trying not to touch her chest, like a true gentleman, he unlaces the corset to tighten it at the waist. Her gasp makes him bite his lip painfully.

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine. You can go a bit tighter."

They work together until her waist and hips make a beautiful curve, and her tiny breasts are pushed up in a flattering way. She seems to be especially fixated on them, on the bit of skin peeking out from the low neckline.

Eddie can share that sentiment.

"Thank you," she whispers once she's facing the mirror again, fingers tracing the newfound shape of her body.

"There's nothing to thank me for, you're just naturally beautiful." Eddie smiles, reaching out to tug her hair forward again, so it falls against the bare skin of her collarbones. The sight makes his mouth go dry so he decides to move his thoughts elsewhere. "I think it's the first time I've seen you in a dress."

Stevie hums.

"That's because I don't have one."

"Huh?"

"I've tried on Nancy's or my mother's, but I don't have one of my own," she clarifies with a shrug.

"That's unthinkable," Eddie declares. "We're getting it." The thought that her first dress could be a nerdy, ren-faire one, makes his stomach flip.

"It's too expensive." She shakes her head, but he can see she's sad about it. "I can get a dress at the mall for a third of this price."

Eddie nods along.

"Yes, you could get a cheap, boring rat mall dress," he agrees. "Or you could buy one of a kind, handmade with passion and care, worthy of a princess."

Watching her cheeks flush is worth the risk of exposing his feelings.

"Where would I even wear it?" she keeps digging her heels in the ground. And, while she has a point...

"Here, for starters. And any other ren-faire I'll take you to just so I can show off how pretty you are."

With the way she looks up at him, she might already know.

He just hopes he has enough money. He pulls out his wallet and Stevie frowns.

"You're not getting it for me."

"Oh, I am." He hopes he is, at least. In a rush of bravery, he smiles to add, "Consider it my first courting gift," and leaves before she can protest.

When he's counting his money and wonders who he can beg for a loan, Dustin approaches him with a wad of cash.

"I saw the price earlier and figured you guys could need it." He smiles with that self-satisfied smirk of his, but for once, Eddie doesn't mind.

He hands the money to the merchant and runs back to Stevie.

"Hey, does it count as a courting gift if the twerps pitched in?" he asks through the partition and is promptly pulled inside.

"Are you serious about the courting?" Stevie asks, with her face so close to Eddie's, he has trouble processing her words.

"Deadly," he whispers, hoping they're on the same page.

"Is there, like, a nerdy ritual I have to follow for it?" she asks.

"Uh, a kiss would be nice," he says. Pleads.

She smiles and leans in.

[magalhaessims]

VON HAUNT ESTATE - MAXIS-MATCH CC BUILD

Formerly the residence of Lord and Lady Shallot, the Von Haunt Estate has undergone restoration and now welcomes the public as a museum. Inside, visitors can explore the personal art collection and belongings of the estate's previous lords. However, a word of caution: the lords were known to be quite possessive of their possessions, and there are occasional rumors of their ghosts wandering the grounds... It's likely nothing to worry about. If you want to check out the construction progress, watch the YouTube video linked below.

NOT CC FREE 

Lot Type: Chalet Gardens

Size: 40x30 

World: Windenburg 

Enable bb.moveobjects before placing in your game!

📺 WATCH THE SPEED BUILD HERE ✨

Origin ID: MagalhaesSims (remember to enable custom content on!) DOWNLOAD

CC USED IN THIS BUILD:

NOTE: For convenience, some of the CC is included in the Download Folder. Please put it in your Mods Folder along with the CC linked below.

Amoebae: Pile In Carpet || CharlyPancakes: Chalk | Precious Promises || TheClutterCat: Busy Bee | Dandy Diary | Fairylicious (Jewelry Holder) | Hello Horses (Prize) | Mellow Moods (Candle) | Spring Spirits (Perfumes) | Sunny Sundae || Felixandre: Berlin | Chateau Set | Colonial | Florance | Gatsby (Flower) | Gothic Revival (Painting) | Grove | Paris | Soho (Bathroom Mirros) || Harrie: Brutalist Bathroom | Klean | Kwatei (Door) | Octave | Spoons || Hose Of Harlix: Baysic Bathroom | Orjanic (Vase) | The Kichen (Plant) || Lilis Palace: Intarsia Heirlroom (Decor) || LittleDica: Delicato Living (Glass Vases) | GreasyGoods (Bathroom Stalls) | Rise&Grind || Peacemaker-ic: Creta Kitchen (Mini Fridge) | Hinterlands Kitchen (Stool) || Pierisim: Auntie Vera | Calderone | Coldbrew CoffeeShop | Combles (Decor) | Domaine Du Clos (Decor) | Pantry | The Office | Unfold (Clutter) | Woodland Ranch (Paintings) || PlumbobTeaSociety: Rustic Romance (Cake Holder) || S-Imagination: Japandi Dining Room (Plant) || Sixam-CC: Home Office || Syboulette: Fancy Set || Taurus Design: Lilith Chilling Are: Coffee Corner

The CC Sets above are the main ones I used to decorate this specific building and you can find all the links to the creators’ sites on my Resource Page. However, if you can’t find something specific, you can send me a WCIF and I’ll try to help you find it!

My content will always be free and right away available to everyone, but if you want to, you can show your support through my Ko-Fi Page. Your donation will always be much appreciated!

Thank you for reblogging: @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @s4realtor @coffee-houses-finds and everyone else for helping me boost this post!

[ellery-six]

Chopper and Carrot in Mirro-world inspired by Mary Blair’s concept artwork for D!sney’s Alice in Wonderland. I loved how the Whole Cake Island arc referenced bits of Alice in Wonderland, which I’ve also always loved. It’s actually not too hard to imagine a lot of scenes from One Piece in Mary Blair’s signature concept-art style, I am going to try and do some more 🙂 I’m bored with my usual stuff 😴

[therealslimshakespeare]

Nine Times she thought she was, and the once she actually was #1

Pairing: Rosie Rosenthal & Ida Brady, intimacy journey.

Warnings: very few, still, typical warnings apply, 18+, discussions of a past rape and fear of intimacy

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1945

Mother held up a very frilly, decidedly see-through garment with a bashful grin, bridal boutique exclusivity and the comparative privacy of the dressing room making her as cheeky as a Catholic housewife ever dared. That was Robert’s effect on everyone, it seemed, he was so solidly wonderful, so obviously perfect, his mere attention so great a compliment that becoming his wife? —everyone rightfully gave Ida no peace over how fortunate she was. Her mother more than anyone, after watching the blood sport that was their courtship, egging on one declined proposal after another until at last they were here, a week out and assembling a hasty trousseau for an even hastier wedding to be followed by a lengthy overseas assignment.

Together. Nuremberg.

“You’d like Germany in the fall.” he’d told her.

It made one’s head spin, as did the very notion of donning that toilet paper excuse for nightwear. Maureen had not needed to be told, one grunt from Ida over the phone when a trousseau was mentioned was enough: “I’ll send you a portmanteau or two”, Maureen had concluded easily, without even needing to be told why. She’d also sent along perfume, rich and woodsy with just enough vanilla that Ida felt almost a bride in it. Ida worried such deep consideration was perhaps the product of the Clevens’ own marital struggles and adjustments to peace, but that was not her concern.

“Mother.” Ida begged now with a laugh, mildly unused to such familiarity with her parent, or with such liberal inclinations.

“You’ll be married Ida!” her mother responded, pleadingly happy, “If that’s not the time for it, when?”

When indeed? That hung like a thundercloud over this whole marriage and yet Rosie had set his face to the storm and welcomed it. “So long as you’re doing the ruining” he had blithely responded to her dire predictions for marital misery in his promising young life. Companions, he had declared them

-companions didn’t wear things like that.

“I- I don’t think it would suit me.” she fibbed, thumbing at a sensible set of mulberry colored silk shorts instead.

“My dear, think of him a little.” Mother meant well, words that would make Ida bristle were said so kindly and with such good intent she could only wince while deflecting them.

Ida gave her a curt nod before slipping behind the curtain and shimmying into a slip, very much like the ones she already owned with a pretty little trim of lace around the decollege. Dove gray and striking with her complexion. She already owned and wore such a piece often, the idea of wearing it next to him sent her stomach plummeting, suddenly she saw herself as he might, boyish limbs and the slight swell of breasts leading to a trim waist and only moderate hips; she was flat and tall —it still felt too clingy.

Mother’s voice startled her on the other side of the drape, “Here’s that other size you wanted.” she offered and Ida drew back the partition. Mother stood as if aghast in admiration.

“My beautiful girl.” her voice grew thick with emotion and Ida too felt a lump in her throat at the thought of how many years had been robbed from them, first by the seperation and then by the war, they might have had many such outings and none of them so burdened. “You’ll be irresistible in that.” she said it with such pride and Ida tried so hard to cling to that as her world grew cold and her fingers and lips with it, creeping doubt and pernicious terror raising itself at last at the sheer loneliness of not even her own mother having any idea what horror such a compliment evoked. “Ida, Eye Eye, what’s wrong? My sweets what’s wrong? What did I say? Sit, sit! -there, Ida, darling.”

Ida did not realize she was crying until she was sat on the pretty velvet bench beside the mirror, sobbing like a girl in her mothers arms. “I don’t want to be irresistible.” she tried to explain through her sobs, “I don’t want to tempt him at all.”

Confused as she was, mother did not argue the rightness or wrongness of temptation and desire within marriage. She just held her daughter like she had wanted to when her father died, when her plane had been downed, when they sent her away to Florida so someone else could feed her and she came back more pilot than woman. “Alright, then you don’t need to.” Mother said instead and it brought Ida such relief a new flood of tears were unleashed, years of pent up grief and disgust flowing out of her. “Be yourself. You’re precious Ida, never meant other than that.”

-see how ugly you have now become? the Kommandant had asked her before shearing her hair.

Crumpled against her mother, red faced and quite unimpressive, she wished she were even uglier for once. Poor Robert. She had warned him.

Gaining some composure back, Ida pulled herself away and squared her shoulders, allowing mother’s arm to stay loped around them. She did not deserve to be rebuffed after such kindness. “Mother,” Ida found her voice sounded gravelly and distant even to herself but needs must, “in the war, after I was downed-“ she chose her words carefully, eyes fixated on the most unoffensive thing in the mirror, mother’s sensible brown shoes, she had long debated whether to ever even tell her,, “-I think you know, or have heard or, but, there were things…done to me…that I cannot…easily forget. Robert knows, there’s no, no um, defrauding? no defrauding happening, I have told him, he knows. But I, I don’t want -I don’t want to be irresistible.”

Ida had watched the face of her brother process what had been inflicted on her, Johnny had watched her body swell with lurid proof of it, he had wrapped the bloody product of it in the only white garment left in the camp and buried it with last rites and a muttered Ave. A shroud of innocence for a life conceived in anything but.

Ida had no appetite left to watch a mother’s face when she learned her daughter had been violated.

Mother was now the one who cried, and Ida numbly felt the burgeoning impulse to hold her in return. Awkwardly but with growing surety, she lifted her arm and tucked mother’s smaller frame to her chest, holding her shuddering shoulders, “My brave child.” mother managed in grief, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’d do anything to take it away-“ it was a natural sentiment and Ida had grown to feel herself quite unnatural for not regretting the course of duty that had placed her in such jeopardy. “Robert is -he is a good man,” mother could not grieve for herself a full minute without returning reassurances, “I wouldn’t let a lesser man have you. But now I know— no one else will do. He will be good to you and if he is not, your father’s house is always yours.”

Ida had never doubted it but to hear it vocalized, to hear it with a recently unburdened heart, the last of her terror calmed to only simmering nervousness, and with the purchase of the demure mulberry shorts, it set her lightly on her last week of singlehood.

That night, the night of her wedding, Ida brushed her teeth alongside Rosie and splashed her face alongside her husband like she had with dozens of men hundreds of times in the shower rooms. Nothing remotely off there. Nothing until she closed the door on him, he to don his pajamas in the suite and she to don them in the bathroom, then the anxiety struck lethal and sharp.

“Don’t fail me now.” she muttered to her nerves as she tried her utmost to efficiently step into the sensible mulberry satin shorts after pulling off the sensible and smart wedding suit she’d been wearing.

She stalled at the door, trying to prepare herself for anything on the other side of it. Robert greeting her with excitement despite all their talks to the contrary of trying anything tonight, or any other night in the near future. Robert hitting the whiskey and passing out pleasantly only to forget his promises in the middle of the night. Or somehow worst of all -Robert lying in bed stiff as a board while waiting for her to shuffle under the sheets already and lay beside him. What then? shut the lights out like two senile dotards? That could hardly be borne, despite how dreamy he made it sound to have celebate sleepovers and chaste companionship. She’d rather take matters into her own hands tonight and pull him bodily inside than endure such stiltedness.

When she opened the door and spied him, nothing could quite prepare her. But then again, surprise was hardly the predominant sentiment. It was gratitude at being right. For deep down in all her doubting she had anticipated him taking her by such pleasant surprise she would never guess it -but never to be confounded.

Prim and homely in his flannel cover and blue pajamas, hair still immaculately lacquered except for where her voracious kisses had done them harm, sat Rosie on the suite carpet, cross legged before a meticulously stacked tower of wedding presents. Beside him was an ice bucket complete with champagne bottle and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries.

“You absolute dreamboat.” she accused in a gush, hand over her gaping mouth.

Robert’s eyes flicked up, blue and warm all at once, and those smile lines carved their way deeper into his cheeks. “Come on,” he held up a neatly wrapped present, “I can’t guess this one by shape and it’s driving me nuts. Let’s get it open so I can sleep.”

When they had gone to sleep, Ida had imbibed so much champagne and indulged in enough kisses she was foolish and pliant. She wiggled her eyebrows when he rolled beside her, close enough to heat the cradle of her thighs; Robert had only laughed warningly and rolled off. When she woke to sunlight streaming into unfastened drapes, warmth near her but not pressing against her, and Rosie’s dark mustache aglow with amber flecks, she was rewarded for her good faith. The curls had come to harm in his sleep and she pushed them off his forehead to wake him.

“Morning.” she whispered.

His smile was dazzling, somehow even more so with his puffy eyes and his loose, drousy lips catching against her palm, “Morning, Mrs Rosenthal.” his voice tickled her, “We’ve got a boat to catch.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

@blikebarbie92

@luminouslywriting

@justheretoreadthxxs

@bookotter01

@mads-weasley

@ka-ski

@darkestbeforethedawn16

@slowsweetlove

@richardslady121

@barbeygirl

@prfctplcsreads

@vaf24

@harrys-housewife

@claireelizabeth85

@pearlparty

@piastrinho

@sapienti0sat

@atrophyingaphrodite

@beingalive1

@vendylewin

[skzstoryvault]

Pretty Princess (Chan, smut)

F!Reader x Husband!Chan

Standalone story

Reader uses Chan's insecurities for sex

Established relationship.

Chan deserves all the attention and the love. He needs to be the princess too sometimes.

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real person Chan. I just like the SKZ outward personas they all project and I get inspired to write these. No connection with the real artists. They all deserve the world.

Story includes smut, reader calls the shots, shy Chan, praise, uncomfortable but not unpleasant wristy

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

***

“I don’t know. Is it okay? Or too much?” Chan asks, walking out of your shared wardrobe. “Is it slutty? I don’t want to be slutty this once. But I still don't own a suit."

“Babe, stop worrying. You aren’t dressing for them, you’re dressing for me. And you know I'd show you off just as much in Ipanemas and a single hollowed out pineapple on your dick." “Are you sure it won’t be an issue?” He is standing there, in black jeans that hug his thighs just right, and a black Givenchy t-shirt that has a very inconspicuous embroidered black logo. “You could go to a convent in this fit and you wouldn’t be out of place.” You say, somewhat disappointed. “If I’m dressing for you… would you choose what I should put on? I wanna be good for you.” “Channie.. You are always good for me.” You soften and step close, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close, kissing him slowly. “I’m just a horndog, always thinking of getting my hands on you. Doesn’t matter what you have on, I’m just thinking of when I get to take it off.” 

“Fuck.” He says, as a response to your words and as a reaction to feeling himself start to fill up in his pants. “I can’t go hang out with your parents like this.” “We have time, babe,” you say. “And I was going to say. If I should get to pick what you wear, I’d need you out of this shirt anyway.” He immediately pulls it up over his head and off, standing before you in just the pants, which you open, carefully pulling the zipper down. Now that so much skin is on display, you take a nice, long, appreciative look at your artistry from last night. A trail of strategically placed hickies decorates Chan's front, from his collarbones downward, over his pecs and abs, disappearing under the hem of his underwear. You know that similar wine-coloured marks adorn his hips, inner thighs and even the insides of his knees. Your need to touch and taste him is ever-present and overwhelming. Still eating him with your eyes, you go to the jewellery cabinet and pick one of your items. A gold chain necklace, that wraps around the neck and continues down with another length of chain which connects it to a waist chain. You tie it around Chan’s neck and waist, pausing to admire the result, unable to resist slowly running your thumbs over his now hard nipples. Chan looks gone. He’s holding his breath, his pupils are dilated as far as they can go and a delicate blush tints his skin from his abs to his cheeks. 

You pick another item, a string of Ghana beads, made with gold and gems, tying it around Chan’s waist as well, watching it settle lower, on his hips. Lastly, you take a sleeveless, plain white jersey shirt from the wardrobe and hand it to your boyfriend to put it on. As soon as he pulls it over his head, you grab your alteration scissors from the drawer and go to town on the shirt. Since the fabric is jersey, you don’t have to worry about it unraveling where you cut it. The pretty cutout pattern seems random, but it’s not, and the places at Chan’s sides where you cut whole patches out expose the jewellery outlining his trim waist. 

You take his hand and lead him to the full length mirror on the door of your wardrobe. 

“My pretty baby, you did so well. This is how I want you, so I can show you off to the world.” You whisper, moving your lips against the soft skin of his neck. 

His lips part in a silent gasp, seeing himself like this, in a far more daring outfit than he would have thought of putting on. Seeing you whisper into his skin like a demon leading a virgin into sin with honeyed whispers. His jeans are still open, the way you left them, and the jailbreak in his underwear doesn’t look as painful as it could be with a zipper pulled up over it. Not breaking eye contact with him in the mirror, you reach in and free his cock from behind the fabric barrier. Your pointy, long nails clack together when your hand squeezes around him, then slowly drag down his length. He’s so hard and the moment the weight of his cock rests against your palm, you can feel its rhythmic throbbing, like a pulse. You grip him harder than you think is comfortable and watch him. If he minds that, he’s not showing it, just twitching more in your grip. You don’t even have to carry on for long, just skate the pad of your thumb over the slit in the tip and caress up and down the length with a slight twisting motion. It can’t be comfortable, and normally guys use some sort of slick stuff to make the slide easier, but Chan is turned on out of his mind, which is where you need him. “Look at you. My god boy. My pretty princess, letting me do everything I want to you.” You purr in his ear, earning yourself a high pitched mewl. “But I want to be nice, you’re nothing but good for me and that deserves a reward. My pretty baby.” You punctuate your latest pet name with a sharp nail gently sliding over his slit, then lower, to the underside, where the head is most sensitive, and that’s what throws him over the edge. He comes with a surrendering moan, panting and reaching blindly for a point of support, his head resting back on your shoulder. 

“I’m… gonna need a moment.” He says, sorting himself back in his underwear and closing his jeans, watching you wipe your hand clean of his come with one of the patches you cut from his shirt. You then step into your shoes, which have you being slightly taller than him, whereas before you were the same height. “You may have taken me apart a bit too far.” 

“Are you saying you’d rather I drove? I can do that, baby boy. You just relax.” You offer. You love the idea of him just swimming in the endorphins, not having to focus on anything and later getting tipsy on Wildberry Lillets at the party. You know how that ends usually, with you fucking him by the pond at the back of the garden or in the piano room where nobody goes these days. Later, at the garden party your parents threw at your childhood home, there is not a single woman or man who is not drooling at Chan. He is blushing and squeaking when someone makes him shy with a remark or makes him laugh. Your mom walks up to you with a Veuve Clicquot flute in hand. “Maybe next time teach your husband to dress more modestly, he’s supposed to let you shine. No one’s been able to string two thoughts together since you two arrived and he took off his jacket. Animals, all of them. At my boujee function.” “But Channie is letting me shine. Who do you think picked his outfit? You taught me to go for what I want and settle for nothing less, mom. And you taught me well.”

[slowthypiglordblr]

Murder Drones cast represented with Rain World Characters

Uzi is the Spearmaster

N is the Rivulet (the best boy)

V is the Artificer (shellshocked veteran)

Doll is Enot

Tessa is Looks to the Moon

The Sentinels are Mirros Birds/Lizards/Vultures etc.

The Rot is the Absolute Solver

Cyn is the Saint (oh the irony)

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

Let's keep going guys (Part 2):

Papa Shroud had to stop Ortho from going after Idia, because the Ortho in Idia's dream is not what Idia remembers in reality. Papa Shroud tells Ortho to explain to Idia about the dream worldsince he's not aware that he's actually dreaming. But Ortho says he's not worried (which shocks both parents) because Idia would be probably amazed at seeing a humanoid AI (this made me giggle)

So Ortho enters Idia's dream, and Idia sees a video call request which he answers. STOP IDIA GETS OVERWHELMED CUZ HE THOUGHT ORTHO WAS COSPLAYING 😭😭😭. But Idia notices that Ortho calls him "Nii-san" and Ortho tells him that he is in fact the real Ortho (aka the humanoid AI), but Idia is in denial that he's real until Ortho points out for him that he noticed that the world is off.

Ortho tells Idia that he needs him to save the world together. Which causes Idia to go insane cuz a humanoid boy on his computer is asking HIM for help to save the world. When Ortho tells Idia that it's all a dream, the dream itself starts to distort. That's when RSA! Ortho calls and tells Idia that OG! Ortho is a lie, which pretty much causes Idia to go thru a crisis not knowing who to believe

Also guys the sprite for RSA! Ortho is uhhhh

It's giving uncanny valley amped up to 11

Ok going back RSA! Ortho tries to tell Idia that he's simply tired but OG!Ortho tries to snap Idia out of it but then Idia gets dragged into the darkness

And once Idia gets consumed by the darkness, he goes back to the first time we see Idia's dream where it was the opening ceremony with Malleus (so i guess it's kinda looping???). But before Malleus can lead him to the Mirro Chamber a ball of light appears WHICH CAUSES IDIA TO HIDE BEHIND MALLEUS AND SAY THE RANDOMEST SHIT EVER I CAN'T 💀💀💀

TURN OUT THAT WAS CERBERUS ORTHO SAYING THAT HE FOUND IDIA and of course Malleus is not happy and wonders how did someone like Ortho find his way into the dream world. Orthos answers that question by replying that he works just like a ghost, who have the ability to go dimension hopping.

MALLEUS IS SO MAD LMAOOO AND PROCEEDS TO CALL ORTHO AN ANNOYING MECHANICAL DOLL AND THEY START FIGHTING AGAIN AND IDIA IS JUST THERE CONFUSED CUZ A STYX ROBOT AND AN OVERBLOT ARE JUST FIGHTING EACH OTHER TO THE DEATH 😭😭😭

That's when the darkness reappears again because Ortho, the outlier, interfered with the dream. Malleus leaves Idia to get consumed (again) and Ortho desperately holds on to him. But Mama Shroud tells Ortho that he shouldn't try to save Idia, because if he gets consumed, he will be lost in the darkness. So Ortho had no choice but to let go...

Chopping this off again because I believe the next part deserves its own section, and I really need to make that damn paper so stay tuned!

Previous: Part 1 Next: Part 3

[sleepyfan-blog]

Clinic Day

Author’s Note: This is the next installment of Cedric's story - watch him struggle to integrate into the Husbandry AU. First. Previous. Next

Tagged: @the-pure-angel @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams

Warnings: misunderstandings

Summary: Cedric works in the Astartes run health care clinic in the town he’s found himself living in, on ancient Terra. 

In the handful of weeks that Cedric has spent on Ancient Terra, most of it has been spent in one of the eight Astartes bases in the large - for the time period's - city. As an apothecary in training, most of his days were spent working alongside older Apothecaries, learning whatever they were willing to teach him... And there was almost always a squad of Imperial Fists near wherever Cedric was working, for reasons that the young Black Templar hadn't questioned. They were the closest thing  he had to direct superiors and though they weren't Black Templars, his chapter had been founded by one of the Fists' First Captains, and their presence helped immensely.

He was curious as to why he hadn't seen any other Black Templars in the area. He'd seen Ultramarines - and several different of their successor chapters - as well as Imperial Fists - he'd spoke briefly with the Fist who'd been made Chapter Master (a stern and no-nonsense older brother who went by the name Mirros)... He'd seen plenty of Blood Angels - and members of their successor chapters (Including the perpetually unlucky Lamenters - poor, poor bastards), Salamanders, the occasional White Scar or Iron Hand... Cedric had patched up more than one pack of Space Wolves, or pod of Charcarodoons... He'd seen at least two or three of every first founded Loyalist chapter, as well as some of their most numerous successor chapters. But where were his fellow Black Templars? It was a question that had been starting to bother him rather persistently, though the young Apothecary wasn't exactly sure how to ask the question, nor to whom he should ask.

"Oi! Apothecary, are you going to continue to stare off into space, or are you going to help me?" A loud, irritated voice growled out in High Gothic, snapping Cedric out of his internal musings. 

Cedric dipped his head a little and responded to the growly Marine with a slightly apologetic "What have you come in for?" He was one of a half-dozen Astartes Apothecaries who were working at this medical clinic. It was available for both baseline human use as well as for any Astartes in need of help. Cedric was currently in medical scrubs - as the resources needed to make him a new suit of power armor were incredibly difficult to come by on Ancient Terra, and he had yet to gain the trust of the older brothers and cousins to earn any pieces of armor that might be handed down to hi-

Wait a fucking minute!

Cedric stared silently as he had finally registered the fact that the Marine in front of him, holding a small human child hostage was a fucking World Eater. 

The World Eater was a huge fucker too. Covered in jagged spikes and horns, likely fused to his armor. There were symbols of chaos carved into his pauldrons and cuirass. Cedric's eyes darted around the examination room - there was fuck-all he could use as an effective weapon against a Khornate Chaos Marine, especially with no fucking armor or real weapons of his own, but without armor, Cedric should be much faster than this demon-empowered, traitor. How the Fuck had he even gotten this far into the clinic? Or had the Chaos Marine used the miserable and sniffling human child as leverage against the Ultramarine who was manning the front desk, keeping the schedules and appointments in order? Oh. Oh fuck the chaotic traitor is talking. What is he saying? Cedric should probably be paying attention to the fucker.

"-nd that's when the sickness started. His parents say that it's just a common cold, but he's gotten those before. He's not been this sick for more than a couple of days. I'm worried that he's gotten something more serious. Look him over... Pease. He's my bonded and... I want to be sure that he lives as long as possible. Baseline humans live for such short periods of time..." The World Eater huffed, holding the tiny human close to his chest, surprisingly making sure not to spear the poor boy on his spikes. 

What... What Chaos-fueled trickery was this? If Cedric's ears weren't deceiving him, this Traitor was genuinely concerned about the human child in his arms. And given the utter devastation his legion in particular was notorious for on formerly peaceful imperial worlds - the vicious bloodshed as they drowned whole systems in tides of blood for their false god, this felt like some sort of sick and twisted cosmic joke. Cedric counted to ten in his head as he took in a deep breath and let it out before responding through clenched teeth, aiming to keep his voice calm "When did his more serious symptoms manifest? What is the child's name? I'm not sure I caught it. Does he understand Gothic, or should I get an interpreter so he can participate in his healthcare? I am... Learning the local languages, but I have only been on Ancient Terra for... I believe the term is a month and a half."

"My name is Andrew, doctor. I do understand these words, a bit. But I speak-" The child explained, before breaking off into one of the local languages, speaking faster than Cedric could parse through, especially when trying very hard not to descend into a furious whirlwind of fists and holy wrath when faced by a Chaotic Traitor. "- much better, sir."

"Well, the first thing I need to do is give you a full examination, to check you over. Then, I'm going to use this needle to draw some -" Would the word blood push the Khornate Fucker into a frenzy? Cedric did not know and had no desire to risk the child's safety "-vital fluids, for some tests. Those tests will take about an hour, and hopefully we'll be able to figure out what's going on."

"Will the needle hurt?" Andrew asked, huge brown eyes wet with tears, fearful.

"It will hurt, but only a little, like pinching your finger." Cedric answered truthfully. He was pretty sure that the sight of fresh blood would send the Khornate Fucker into a frenzy. He'd rather avoid that if at all possible so he asks, internally gagging on how polite he has to be to a filthy traitor. His teeth were still clenched as he requests "Please set Andrew down... Older Cousin. He will need privacy as I check him over and draw a sample of his vital fluids. Please wait outside the room, ideally in the waiting room-" His eyes flicked over the other's armor, trying to figure out if the other had some sort of rank to refer to him as "... Sergeant." God-emperor forgive him, but he is trying to get this child to safety. He is going to hit the safety alarm soon, too.

Benji clearly did not like his suggestion, and looked down at the tiny human in his arms "... Are you sure that I can't stay with him? Even if I set him down on the exam table and promise not to interfere with you checking him over?"

Were he not a Treacherous Chaotic Bastard, such a compromise would be fine. But Cedric wanted him out of the room. Out of the clinic, and ideally back to whatever demon-infested pit he had crawled out of. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Until he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth "Check-ups are done with the most amount of privacy possible. Unless Andrew asks you to stay, I am asking you to leave, per the local laws we're to abide by."

"... Fine. But if you hurt my bonded, there is nothing that will stop me from getting vengeance. If there is so much as a hair out of place... Your comeuppance will be brutal. your pleas for mercy will -" The Khornate Bastard began to threaten.

Cedric closed his eyes for a moment, taking in another deep breath, trying to shove the fury at the insult that he would be the one to harm the child of the two of them threatened to crack his composure as he interrupted the posturing Traitor "The only harm done to him will be a small prick of the needle, which is necessary for the tests that need to be run. Apart from that, I have taken oaths not to harm patients unless absolutely necessary, and on Ancient Terra, I have yet to need to give a patient the Emperor's Final Mercy, and I doubt that this patient will need such. Leave. Please."

"... Fine. I'll wait in the holding room. But -" Benji breaks off into one of the local languages, clearly telling the young baseline human something. Cedric wished he knew what the fucker was saying, but the older marine was speaking far too rapidly for him to begin to guess. Once he finished giving instructions to the child he continued "I am one shout of his away and I will break your spine if you hurt him more than absolutely necessary. Understood?"

Cedric swallowed down the challenging words that were on the tip of his tongue. Now was not the time to get into a brawl with a Chaotic Traitor. Not when he was so close to separating the two of them and being able to check to see if the child was willingly with this fucker (and thus Chaos Tainted, or at least blind to the dangers) or if he was being held hostage. "You need not threaten me, sergeant. I am not the threat to this child."

"Good." With that, the Khornate bastard finally, finally left the room, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. Cedric counted to ten ins his head before raising the room's internal shielding and kneeling down, so as to be as close to the child's level as possible. He gently held the young boy's hands as gently as he could "Listen to me. You understand, yes?"

Andrew nodded, a confused expression on his face "Yes. I understand."

"Okay, so I activated a shield that means that he can't hear us talking, so please speak truthfully. Did he kidnap you? Is he holding you against your will?" Cedric asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm and soothing "My older brothers and I can help you, if that's true. Or if he's threatening your family, so that you behave."

Andrew looked startled and confused. He shook his head "No! No, nothing like that. Benji's safe, I promise! He's very nice to me an' my family! I know he looks really mean and scary,, but he really is nice. He growls 'cause he cares."

Poor child. So young, and already tainted or at least blinded by Chaos. But it was his duty to tend to anyone who walked into the clinic, no matter their allegiance, so long as they didn't try to attack anyone inside the clinic. "Alright. If that answer changes, please come see me. My name is Cedric, and I'll help you as best I can. Now, let's see what illness is making you all sneezy and feverish, hmm?"

"Okay!" Andrew responded, smiling adorably up at him.

Cedric couldn't help but return the smile as he narrated what he was going to do next during his exam of the young human - patiently answering the questions he had, and letting him look over the instruments he was using in order to complete the check-up, as he'd been instructed to. Pediatric care was not something he'd been taught before he'd come to Ancient Terra. 

~

The next several patients were adult humans. Two had work-related injuries that he helped to set initially, before giving them the paperwork they needed in order to start the process, suggesting that they speak with one of the medically-inclined Ultramarines at the front desk in case they needed help filling out the paperwork, or were confused about certain aspects of that process as it wasn't something that Cedric himself really understood. The other three adults had bad sunburns from a recent trip to the beach and an improper application of sunscreen schedule. he prescribed them burn ointments and sent them on their way.

He had just finished the write-up on the last patient he'd seen and had signaled to the front desk people that he was ready for another patient when a flirty voice called out "Oh my, well hello doctor. Aren't you a handsome, big man."

Cedric froze for a moment before spinning on his heel, shifting into a combat stance on instinct, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a fucking Emperor's Child leering up at him, his armor painted the bright and gaudy purple. The Chaos bastard's green stretched far too widely across his face and Cedric felt unclean at the way that the other was leering at him.

There was nothing visibly wrong with this... This affront to the god-emperor other than being a Chaotic Traitor, from what Cedric could see. He did not have a human with him. H could see something dripping from the other's claws, and given his last encounter with Slaaneshi-scum had ended with the death of one of his squad-mates, Cedric felt that it was entirely prudent for him to slam shoulder-first into the Emperor's Child, knocking the other off of his feet. He then pinned the pathetic excuse for a marine with one foot planted on the other's back, his gloved hands reaching for the nearest empty jar and a roll of tape. "Stay down, you Slaaneshi bastard! I don't know what nefarious fuckery has brought you here, but I will not have your poisoned touch corrupt the innocent souls here."

"Excuse me?! I came here because my -" The Emperor's Child spluttered.

Cedric shoved a stress ball in the bastard's lying mouth. It would do little to keep him quiet for more than a moment or two, but the silence was blessed "I don't care what lies you told the others to get in here, but know this, Slaaneshi whore, I will not let you corrupt the people here. I know damn well the literal poison that drips from your clawed hands, and the devastation it can bring. If you truly mean no harm, then stop struggling!" 

Surprisingly enough, the Chaos bastard did, in fact, stop trying to squirm out from where Cedric had him pinned. Not that the young Black Templar trusted his apparent compliance as he finished taping empty jars to both of the Slaaneshi bastard's still-dripping hands. He called over the vox unit that he'd been given "We need a full biohazard clean up. There's Slaaneshi poison dripped all over the floor and God Emperor knows how much he's dripped all over the fucking city. I don't think that it's a contact poison, but if it finds it's way into an open orifice or wound we're going to have problems. I've got the fucker who's secreting it contained for now, but we're going to need somewhere better to keep him... Unless we can banish him back to The Eye?"

One of the Salamander Apothecaries who was working next to Cedric's assigned exam room came sprinting out, a confused looking elderly human and their Dark Angel companion peering through the door behind him. The Dark Angel immediately picked up the human and shuffled deeper into the exam room- smart. 

"Cedric... Young one, you wanna explain why you've got an unresisting Marine in a headlock and jars taped to his hands? I know he's a Chaos Marine, but we've told you that things are... Different here on Ancient Terra. The Chaos Marines don't feel the pull of their false gods nearly as keenly here as they do where we are from. What do you mean by poison?"

"The substance that he is secreting out of his claws, it's one of the six most potent Slaaneshi poisons. If I am not mistaken, it's the Poison of Vainglory." Cedric explained, still keeping the Chaos Marine in place. He was trying not to think of why this particular fucker wasn't resisting the choke-hold, because Slaaneshi. He gives a quick run-down on what happens when someone is afflicted with the poison of Vainglory, voice cracking a little as he tries not to think of how one of his squad mates had nearly been corrupted beyond the Emperor's Light because of it. He finished with a miserable "As far as I know, there are no known antidotes or cures to any of the poisons. Allegedly there are certain kinds of witchery that can slow down the onset of symptoms... But once the vines begin to manifest, the afflicted being is beyond the Emperor's Light and is damned to be consumed upon death by the ruinous powers as their body twists into a horrible plant-homunculus that seeks to infect as many as possible with the poison. Which is why I taped jars to his hands - they are leaking the poison and while the poison can be cleansed in holy fire, I figured that the less of it is around to be cleansed, the better."

"Did you... Perhaps... Ask if he could stop dripping poison everywhere?" The Salamander asked, his voice gentle.

"... No? Why would he seek to do anything other than inflict his patron's wretched curse upon the innocent, and upon those of us who are loyal to the Emperor?" Cedric asked, blinking in confusion at the older apothecary. This was a Chaos Space Marine after all. Misery, cruelty and suffering was what they tried to spread to everyone they could get their corrupted hands on. Everyone knew that.

"That's not... I came here looking for help not to be judged by a Big Baby Boy! You are very mouthy for a Son of Dorn, aren't you?" The Slaaneshi Scum spluttered in his arms. 

Cedric tightened his grip, and put more of his weight on the older Marine "Still your tongue, traitor!"

"What help were you seeking?" The Salamander asked, looking genuinely concerned. Soft hearted bastard was going to get all of them killed. "Cedric, put him down. I know it goes against your training as a Black Templar to release a Chaos Marine you've gotten your hands on, but as we've told you earlier, things are very different here. I'll take over handling him. "

Cedric hesitated, torn between the clear and present danger that the Emperor's Child posed, and obeying a direct order from a superior who clearly had more experience in handling Chaos Marines in this context. "Sir?" 

"My claws just started dripping this poison this morning and couldn't get it to sto-how in the fuck did you get a Black Templar in the city? I'm surprised he hasn't murdered half the humans already for heretical beliefs!" The Slaaneshi Fucker sputtered, his eyes going wide - all six of them. 

"He's an Apothecary. And he's very recently appeared on Ancient Terra, and until you spooked the hell out of him, he's been adjusting fairly well." The Salamander responded, before looking directly at Cedric. "Put the Emperor's child down. Right now. I want you to go to Chapter Master Mirros and tell him what you just told me about Slaaneshi poison. That's not something I've heard of before, and will definitely be of interest to him. You've done very well. Come on now, lad. Ptu down the heretic. If he tries anything funny, I do have my flamer handy and you said that fire works to counter the poison?"

Cedric nodded, and glowered again at the Slaaneshi traitor "Yes sir, fire works very well against Slaaneshi poisons. And that which creates them." With that he lowered the Emperor's Child into the salamander's hands, before stalking off to go find Chapter Master Mirros. 

[v-67]

When Luffy found Branch (Brulee) in the mirro world when he needed a 10 minute break⬇️

Same Pudding, same.⬇️

Bege is so devoted to his crew and his wife and his son. It's really cool.⬇️

Reminds me of someone (if you know)⬇️

IDK I JUST LOVE IT WHEN LUFFY'S EYES GET ALL DARK, the shadow demonstrating something's coming up, love it. Here for it. Here for everything.⬇️

All from random episodes from around after 850

29th January, 2024.

[snarryauctoberfest]

The Week 1 roundup can be found here. The Week 2 roundup can be found here. The Week 3 roundup can be found here.

Week 5 commences posting Monday the 28th October.

Day 15

Title: Synthesis Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-21 - Non-magical AU: “You’re a wizard, Harry.” Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11.2k Summary: Severus is a brilliant but hard-to-work-with chemistry professor, who only teaches because he has to but would much rather spend all his time doing research. Harry is the grad student that either Albus or Minerva - the head of the chemistry department on paper, even though everyone knows Severus always gets what he wants - has assigned to essentially follow Severus around and tell him “no” when he’s being unreasonable. Harry is tasked with keeping Severus on budget and preventing all his students from quitting his class. Severus takes this as a personal affront.

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Title: Bad Ideas Creator: ??? Prompt: Prompt 2024-82: An alligator features prominently in the fan work Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 684 Summary: A romantic weekend gets run aground when a hunt for mythological creatures finds “something.”

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Title: Muggle Adventures (Alligators Edition) Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-82: An alligator features prominently in the fan work Rating: General Audiences Word Count: Artwork Summary: You want alligators? I'll give you alligators.

💚❤️ View on AO3 💚❤️

Day 16

Title: Reckoning Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-51: Corporate Snarry! CEOs, IT guys, or just regular employees finding love. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31.2k Summary: Harry discovers that there is something wrong at his company and sets out to visit it undercover, pretending to be the new Happiness Manager.

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Day 17

Title: baring my arse (baring my heart) Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024 09 - Naked wedding. That's it, that's the prompt. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5k Summary: "Why do we have to be naked again?"

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Title: Raven King Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-78 - James warned Harry not to go. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5.4k Summary: Against his father's wishes, Harry and his friends, freshly graduated from Hogwarts High, visit the elusive Euphemia Club. Where for the right price, dreams come true.

“The head is too wise. The heart is all fire.” ― Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven King

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Day 18

Title: A Prize Worth Any Price Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7.7k Summary: Defeated by the Rogue King and his army, the remaining nobles of Voldania sacrifice omega Severus Snape as a war prize. They know the propaganda about the Rogue King's marauding ways and discarded lovers. The nobles laugh about sending an old, 'ugly' omega and taunt Severus with predictions that he'll be hate-ravished or killed outright for the insult. Meanwhile Harry thinks he's agreed to an arranged marriage for the peace contracts. He knows about the spy who worked for the resistance during Voldemort's reign. He's excited to have such a dashing spouse.

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Title: Wasting Away Again in Margaritaville Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-80 - A fanwork inspired in some way by the works of the late, great Jimmy Buffett. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 2.1k Summary: Severus Snape hanging out in a resort, life in shambles, enjoys a frozen margarita or three and eyes the bartender.

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Day 19

Title: Too Hot To Handle: Wizarding Edition Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-102: wizards discover reality TV. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 92.7k Summary: In a world where Voldemort died during the blitz and the Wizarding War, led by Bellatrix Lestrange, ended for good in 1981 when the attack on the Potters led to the Death Eaters being captured without incident, the Ministry is at a loss. The younger generation are not showing any inclination to settle down and have children, as their parents did before them. They considered a number of ideas but the development of the two-way mirror allowed for reality television to become a viable option. Welcome to Too Hot To Handle: Wizarding Edition, a show designed to encourage contestants to form deep and meaningful connections, punishing anyone who breaks the rules. Making more meaningful connections often has unforeseen consequences and what people intend to happen isn't necessarily what actually happens.

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

2024 Snarry AUctoberfest Entries || HOS Tumblr || Discord

[februarytodeath]

🧡 thoughts on girl prometheus track by track!!!

track 1: biblical love

forreal just sat there with my jaw hanging during my first watch/listen

she's tied to the altar .......

aside from october birds it could also be referencing prometheus being bound to a rock?

everything about this song is so good. the lyrics. the music video. the dress. the screams especially! it was a welcome surprise

very much enjoying how the first songs of the past two flower face albums include screaming (spiracle+biblical love)

i'm really not over the dress. like i Need a dress like that. and the one she wore for the pisces moon mv

the first part of the song reminds me of virgin

the song also sounds a bit like the garden so now i'm imagining a mashup even if they aren't related

the music in the teaser for this mv sounded like cornflower blue i Think

track 2: cat's cradle

i remember hearing the demo!!!

this song is soooo me

her description of it on bandcamp...like Yes. i Get It.

me whenever i find a new guy to have a weird romantic/platonic/gender envy/[???] type of obsession with

so sad i couldn't get a you're so cool shirt. it's so cute :(

track 3: maniac

i was kiiinda expecting it to sound more aggressive/frightening sonically? sortof like the way the audio was edited in the teaser

but! after having listened to it, i do think the more stripped back sound Does work with the tone of the lyrics ... the "[laughing] so you don't scream and cry," as she describes on bandcamp

track 3: valentine

GODDDD THIS SONG

second verse hits. entire song hits really.

this was the snippet i got after pre-saving the song:

i was like ??? Does She Know ???

yeah sometimes i think i feel too much for my own good and that's what this song is to me

also! i have to say the instrumentals are just So beautiful. this includes love of mine and outro 🫶

track 5: eternal sunshine

i might watch eternal sunshine after this ... i've been meaning to

"it's your fault that that i'm alive / it's your fault i want to die / but i will learn to love this world / i won't be november's girl" waow....

the repeated mentions of hands is interesting

track 6: the ides of march

my only thought is that i really want to hear this live. it just sounds so ... i'm not sure. i can't come up with the right words to describe it. all i know is that i want to lose myself in this song

track 7: cordelia

heard the demos for these too!!! when i saw they were taken off tiktok i got really excited bc that meant the song was making it onto gp

when i recognized the first lines i got so happy

then i got sad because this song is devastating

if this had a music video ohhh i would never shut up

tangent: the titles in the middle of the album are all references ... unfortunately i'm not the kind of person who would fully get them

track 8: squirrel cinderella

really depressing lyrics for a song called Squirrel Cinderella

the internet is gonna make me crazy too flower face

this feels like lonely summers where you have nothing to do but sit in your room and think and be sad

"and i've tried so hard to find a soft way out" ... man ..

track 9: skeleton key

"i want you the way that i want to be eaten alive" yeah

the mv was great too ... i'm no stranger to romanticizing my hurt and trying to turn it into art

track 10: pushing daisies

cornflower blue when gunpowder blue

actually now that i think about it this kindof feels similar to cornflower blue ... it's the violent but soft lyrics i think. and trains

track 11: if i beg you

absolutely one of my favs

october birds good ending

"well, goddamn, you're just like your father" could also be a reference to back to you?

the music video for this is soooo good too. very fun, very cathartic

also! definitely the perfect track to end the album

overall:

what a way to start november

flower face is great at picking songs to open and close her albums. spiracle and bad astrology for tsiyw and biblical love and if i beg you for gp just Feel Right

love the recurring motifs in the mvs (tv, heart mirror, red and blue lighting)

every lyric is like a stab to the heart

revisiting the thread she made of pictures related to each song on gp and going OHHHHH

the story behind the girl prometheus title + the orange album cover referencing the fire are actually so genius

i need to cover every song on this album and write a whole essay on it and draw stuff based on the mvs and and

i love you flower face

[ladybellissima]

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 19

The strong waves of the sea clashed against the surface and let thousands of water droplets covering the sand. The sound was calming, relaxing, but the situation wasn't nearly comfortable. Finally after running like crazy, Luffy reached the ship with the others and was met with a horrible sight.

Big mom' s pirate crew were surrounding the Sunny with their ships, while Chopper and the others had a hard time in fighting Perospero. Trapped inside his candy, not only the ship was unable to move, the others were slowly running low of air.

"You bastards… Get your hands off of my nakamaaa!", Luffy shouted angered and was about to crash the candy, but a familiar mochi wall stopped his attack.

"It would be better to think about yourself straw hat.", a dangerous voice got his attention and he was met with the angered gaze of  (Y/N)'s husband. Katakuri Charlotte.

Growling they looked each other in the eye like waiting for the other to attack. Katakuri was already exploding inside of anger to finally meeting Luffy, who destroyed everything they had been working on really hard the past few days and on top taking his wife, but to see that (Y/N) was missing ,let his blood pressure raise and body tremble even more.

"Where is my wife.", he growled dangerously and let Luffy raise his eyebrows. 

Before Luffy was able to answer, a loud explosion erupted by the ship and Perospero screamed out in pain. The candy slowly disappeared and let Luffy's crew on the ship cough exhausted. Badly wounded Perospero fell down to his knees, while his look found the serious one of his brother.

"Brother…Katakuri…. I am so sorry… I tried my best to help you out and to make it up to you…", he whispered and fell from the ship and down onto the beach uncouncious. Brulee looked after him worried and called out his name over and over again.

But not only did the Charlottes lose a fight.

"Pedro!!!", Nami and the others shouted shocked, while their loyal friend, who guarded the ship with all he got, took his last breath and crashed to the ground.

" What's the meaning of this!? ", Luffy growled and felt his heart stop for a moment, after noticing his crying crew.

" Luffy… He safed us by attacking Perospero and activating a bomb, he… he is dead…", Nami cried out with the others and let him gasp of shock, but before he could really comprehend what happened, another scream of pain echoed through the air. Quickly jumping on his ship, Luffy found Katakuri, who stepped on one of his crew members.

" Get off of carrot you bastard!!", he shouted and attacked him. Katakuri quickly blocked his attack and found himself trapped in Luffy's big gum hand. Bored his look found his angered one.

"Good, now that I have your attention. Tell me immediately… where is my wife?", Katakuri growled pissed. His mind was racing of thousands scenarios what could have happened to her. The moment the straw hats had arrived, his heart skipped a beat and hopefully, he looked out to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face. To see her bright smile again, to see that she was okay and finally safe by his side. But then the clouds darkened, after realizing she wasn't there, while his mother was stomping through the woods like a maniac. And the first question which haunted his mind was.

What did they do?

Distracted by his worries, Luffy was able to grab his sister Brulee and with Katakuri still in his other grip, he jumped into a mirror, which laid on the ground, to enter the mirro world. Falling down onto the floor, Brulee quickly crawled away and out of the dangerous atmosphere. Smirking Luffy got up and balled his fists.

"Now I can fight you without any distractions…", he spoke angered and crashed the window to stop anyone to get back to his ship.

Katakuri growled in anger and got into a fighting stance.

"(Y/N) is worried about you mochi guy!", Luffy started seriously and let Katakuri stop in his tracks.

"I am not an asshole and I told her that I will tell you her message. Even if you don't deserve it. ", he added.

"Where is she? What have you done to her. I will kill you.", Katakuri shouted angered and pulled himself together to get informations about her whereabouts.

"She is on the way to cacao Island with Pudding and Sanji. We never hurt her and protected her of any harm. She wanted to stay out of this to avoid getting in your way…", he spoke and got into a fighting stance as well.

"Now that you know I can fight you. I am glad that I asked for her forgiveness, because I am gonna beat you here and now! ", Luffy announced seriously, while Katakuri thought about his words.

"That sounds like her….Your crew is the reason of her getting in trouble in the first place. Why did you then kidnap her? For informations? What intention did you have.?! ", Katakuri asked angered and images of her last kidnapping popped up in his mind. Could he really believe his words that she was okay?

" We did nothing. It was an accident. One of my crew members thought she is in danger.", Luffy spoke seriously and had a staring contest with him. Katakuri was deep in thought about what to do. It seemed possible and it sure was believable that (Y/N) said those things.

" For now I have to believe you and trust in her. She is still recovering and weak, but a bunch of idiots like you wouldn't notice. I am glad she is in good hands now and not with the enemy anymore.", Katakuri spoke and hoped that his sister would have a good look on her. Luffy felt a stinging pain in his chest of hearing that. He didn't realize that her wounds were that bad.

" I will fight you and after I got rid of you I will take her back where she belongs. You will pay for taking her away from me.", he growled and shot mochi balls into Luffy's direction. Dodging and jumping out of the way Luffy smirked.

"Sorry (Y/N), I will sure overdo it. ", he thought and collected his energy to start his fight with the strongest of the sweet commanders.

xxx

The fresh air blew against her face, while they flew with high speed towards cacao Island. In a way it felt good and let her ease the pain in her legs. Sighing deeply (Y/N) realized how exhausted her body and soul was. Sitting now on this carpet she was finally able to rest a bit.

"Katakuri…", she thought and missed his presence beside her. She knew it was better to join Pudding then getting to the ship. And she knew that he would have been there. But she also knew that things would become complicated if she and everyone else was there. His mother with her hunger pang, Luffy and his crew, siblings of him who were ready to fight. She would get in the way like at the tea party and that would only cause problems again.

"We are almost there.", Pudding called out and pointed to an island in the distance. (Y/N)'s gaze met hers and Pudding quickly turned away.

Was she afraid of her?

Shouldn't it be otherwise?

After all she was the one who played evil tricks. Silently (Y/N) watched her uneasy gaze unsure of how to speak with her. Sanji pulled her out of her thoughts by tapping her shoulder and nodding towards Pudding to go on. Sighing she got up and sat beside her on the top of the carpet, her look directed to the beautiful view of the sea.

"I have to admit, I was really surprised of your actions…", (Y/N) started and got her attention immediately.

"I found you really nice, kind and beautiful. I felt comfortable around you and told you my fears. It was relieving in having someone to talk to. To share the same fate connected us in a way.. But it was all a lie…or is there a chance that of all the kind words you told me, that there was something the truth? ", she asked sadly and let Pudding gasp of shock. Ashamed she avoid (Y/N) 's gaze for a moment to collect her thoughts. She never had planned to become friends with someone. She gave up on this dream many years ago, but out of nowhere (Y/N) stepped into her life and all her sadness, nightmares and fears to get hurt again, were clouding her mind about what was real.

"(Y/N) I am sorry… ", she spoke and looked up to the beautiful woman beside her.

"I also got in trouble because of you right? The styling, your time passing in showing me some places. I know now how important tea parties are for Mama and how quickly she could take someone's life.", (Y/N) shocked Pudding in coming straight the point.

"I am sorry (Y/N)… I was jealous. I was frustrated about getting treated so kindly. No one ever did that… and I was jealous that you were pushed into a marriage, which lead you to your luck and have someone you like…I didn't believe it. I couldn't… but believe me that I never wanted that the party escalated that much. I am so sorry that big brother Katakuri and you fighted because of me. I am relieved to see that you are still getting along well… ", Pudding spoke while tears rolled down her face. (Y/N) sighed deeply and hugged her for comfort which let her cry even more.

" Our fight would have come sooner or later… It helped a lot to say what was on our minds…", (Y/N) spoke calmly and let her cry.

" I forgive you, but you have to earn my trust again. I still believe that you are a good person Pudding. And even if you don't believe me. I think you are beautiful. I would never lie about something like that. ", she told her and brushed her tears away.

"(Y/N) ~swan your kind words are touching my heart. Pudding~swan don't cry.. ", Sanji interrupted them with his love sick cheering and let the two girls chuckle.

" I will also help you with the cake. It will be finished faster. If Katakuri and Mama likes my doughnuts then it sure will help you too.", she spoke and surprised everyone.

"(Y/N)~swan could bake doughnuts?! How sweet like youuuu..", Sanji spoke, while Pudding felt her jealousy take over. But in a way it was different with (Y/N), because she knew that her heart would always belong to Katakuri. Nodding happily she hugged her again and felt relieved to finally had spoken about everything with (Y/N).

"We are here!", Pudding told them happily and took (Y/N) 's hand of excitement.

"Let's get things started and bake a wedding cake for Mama!", she spoke more than motivated than before.

Entering cacao Island they were met with the whole cake Islands top chefs. Pudding knew that Sanji would get in trouble as a known enemy of them. So she erased their memories and let them believe that the tea party was held like planned. Taking his hand in hers she waved happily and told them how happy she was as his wife. (Y/N) found that quite impressive how skilled Pudding was to trick everyone so quickly. Sanji didn't mind either because he was in his own world of hearts after feeling her beautiful body pressed against his. Leading them into a kitchen, (Y/N)'s eyes got big like saucers of the high tech equipment and variations of sweets.

"Great isn't it? Baking sweets is our main priority so we Charlottes only work with top ingredients and machines.", Pudding announced proudly and ordered the chefs around to take their plan into action.

Chiffon started to make the base chiffon cake and was relieved to have (Y/N) 's help. She was stunned how quickly and skilled Katakuri' s wife handled the dough. Seriously she worked on her own dough,while thinking about her sister Lola, who didn't have such a luck like her brother.

"Is your baby okay Chiffon? I noticed that he wasn't with you, but wasn't able to ask sooner. The little one must be missing you dearly..such a sweet baby boy.", (Y/N) 's caring words let her smile brightly.

"Don' t worry he is a tough one. Did you also plan in having one?", Chiffon asked happily and let (Y/N) cough furiously. Shocked she waved her hands in front of her flustered. "I.. I… Think that's too early to speak about. You see Katakuri and I are taking things slow. So..", she stuttered embarrassed to even think about the act in making one.

His trained body on hers, taking her roughly and kissing her….

Red as a tomato she quickly avoid Chiffon's amused expression and worked again.

Kissing him…

The thought of it let her heart flutter, but she knew all too well that it was a forbidden touch. Biting her lip bitterly she tried to push the longing feeling away.

" Did he show you what's behind the scarf?", Chiffon asked out of the blue and surprised her. It was like she knew what (Y/N) was thinking. Sighing she gave her a sad smile.

"No. I think he isn't trusting me enough to show whatever he is hiding underneath.", she spoke calmly while getting the dough into a form. Chiffon felt bad for asking.

"But it's okay. I have to earn his trust first. I will wait as long as he needs and if he still doesn't want to… Then I accept it. Because I like him the way he is. With and without this scarf.", (Y/N) smiled brightly and let Chiffon gasp of her beautiful words.

" Look Chiffon your cake is ready. Good it looks amazing. And the smell! Incredible! ", (Y/N) pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked at the childish and cheering girl beside her. Chuckling she gave her a friendly clap on her shoulder and hoped that (Y/N) would always stay this happy her entire life.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (44/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 9440

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Arianwyn returns to King’s Landing triumphant, having not only won the support of the Vale, but by striking a great political blow to Daemon. But her feeling of triumph is quickly shattered when she learns that Aemond has already returned – with blood on his hands.

Warnings: blood, allusions to suicide

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch @crazymusicgirl104

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

The Curse of the Kinslayer

The myriad lights of King’s Landing sparkled as brilliantly as the stars in the sky as Arianwyn and Emrys descended to the Dragonpit. Though she knew she could not see it from this distance, she still looked for the light of her bedchamber windows, hoping to see the shadow of her husband waiting for her.

She did not.

But the Dragonpit was lit brighter than she had ever seen. Fires had even been set within the eight towers adorning the upper dome – which she had always assumed were lookouts but now saw clearly as beacons to guide dragonriders home in the dark. When was the last time they had been lit?

Emrys was delighted by the display, circling low over the roof of the Dragonpit to bask in its glow before finally landing. Despite his exhaustion from the long flight – this time, they had not stopped for a rest, as their departure was delayed – he was still drunk on the sense of triumph he felt from his rider.

Arianwyn’s heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation. She could envision so clearly the pride on Aemond’s face when she told him of how she had won the Vale and exposed Daemon’s crimes for all the world to know.

But it would not last long; she knew that, and it did not bother her in the slightest. For she would enjoy what came next even more than his pride.

Perhaps she wouldn’t even have time to light her new candles before Aemond pulled her into bed.

But she would still try.

“Kostagon ao nādīnagon bisy ēlī?” She asked of the Dragonkeepers who had approached to take Emrys’ reins, gesturing to the saddlebag she had stuffed full of candles in Wickenden. “Jaelan naejot gūrogon ziry arlī naejot se sombāzmion lēda nyke.” Can you remove this one first? I want to take it back to the castle with me.

None of the acolytes responded. Indeed, none of them would meet her eyes as they guided Emrys into a crouch so she could dismount.

They must simply be tired, Arianwyn reasoned, or perhaps nervous. It was near midnight, and a storm was approaching – she had seen the dark clouds on the horizon as the sun set. But when she climbed off Emrys back, he turned to look at her, his icy blue eyes wide with concern.

“Iksis mirros pirta?” she asked the nearest acolyte, though her eyes never left her dragon’s. Is something wrong?

Though she received no reply from the young man, Emrys narrowed his eyes and gave a low huff. He did not know what, but something was indeed very wrong.

Arianwyn stepped forward to approach his head, trying to comfort him, but was stopped when a strong hand wrapped around her arm. When she turned, it was Elder Dantis, looking as grim as death.

What was the old man doing awake at this hour?

“Rȳbagon,” he commanded. Listen.

She was about to ask why or what, exactly, she should be listening for, but Dantis lifted a finger to his lips. A command to be silent and listen.

So Arianwyn did. She closed her eyes and let her focus drift to the sounds of the city.

She could hear the sand shifting beneath Emrys’ claws, the shuffle of the Dragonkeepers’ robes, and the crackling of many torches and fires. Beyond that, there were faint sounds of conversation in the streets, horses and carts clattering across the cobblestones, and music streaming out of open tavern windows.

But underneath all of it, low and grumbling like distant thunder, was a weak, mournful noise.

Arianwyn spun around, focusing on that heartbreaking cry, trying to find its source. But, amongst the din of the city, all she could determine was that it was coming from the south…

The Tourney Grounds.

Vhagar.

“Issa glaesa,” Dantis assured her when she whipped around to face him, eyes wide and already wet with tears. But the relief was short-lived. “Yn ziry ilimā hae lo issa daor.” He is alive. Yet she cries as though he is not.

Already, her heart was racing wildly. “Skorion massitas?” What happened?

“Gīmīlon daor,” he said, releasing her hand. “Īlon jiōrteks dōrior udir hen sombāzmion.” I do not know. We have received no word from the castle.

She gripped his frail arm with all her strength, for without it, she had no doubt she would collapse. “Istin jikagon naejot zirȳla.” I must go to him.

“Yes, Princess.” Dantis let her hold onto him and even set his hand on her back to guide her away from Emrys to where two horses were saddled and waiting. Atop one was Ser Warren Crayne, his face reddened from the sun and crumpled with concern. “He has been waiting here for you since the morning.”

Warren’s presence by itself comforted Arianwyn beyond measure. It always did. But he was alone, which meant the rest of her guard was needed elsewhere… needed by Aemond. And he was not with a carriage or wheelhouse but horses from the royal stables. That meant –

“We must hurry, Arianwyn,” Warren said, leaning over to offer a steady hand while she mounted the horse next to him.

Once in the saddle, she noticed the small rope linking the horses. A safety precaution, so they wouldn’t be separated – so she would not bolt away from him as she had done the last time she rode through the streets of King’s Landing to Aemond so many years ago...

Arianwyn looked at him, searching for reassurance in his deep black eyes but finding only worry. Her voice broke as she asked again, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted as he spurred his horse into a trot, taking hers with it. “He arrived back this morning, and he was… not well. I have never seen a man in such a state anywhere but on the battlefield, and even then, only a small number of times. He has confined himself to his chambers and declared that he will allow entry to none but you. I came directly here after informing the Queen of his request so I could bring you to him the moment you arrived back. I have heard nothing since.”

Dantis had been right then; Warren had been there all day.

Aemond had been in their rooms, alone and unwell all day.

Surely someone – Kiran or Alicent, or even Orwyle – must have gone to check on him. But if no word had been sent to Dantis or Warren…

“Can we go faster?” Arianwyn begged. “Please?”

Perhaps another day, Warren would have denied the plea. It was dangerous to race through the city’s crowded streets without adequate protection, even this late at night – especially this late at night. But he could not deny her when he saw the distress written so clearly on her face and the tears shining in her eyes.

He unsheathed his dagger and, in one motion, sliced through the rope holding their mounts together. “Go,” he whispered. “I will follow.”

-

Arianwyn dismounted her horse before it had completely come to a halt in the Red Keep’s courtyard, despite the shouted protestations from Ser Warren, who arrived mere seconds behind her. But she did not listen.

Her attention was drawn to the castle doors, which burst open moments after her arrival to reveal a frantic Ser Criston Cole, flanked by Ser Willis Fell and a knight Arianwyn did not know, but who wore the white armor of the Kingsguard.

She ran forward on stumbling legs, weakened by her own roiling emotions and a day spent riding both Emrys and the nervous mare than was now being wrangled by an exhausted-looking stable boy.

“Princess,” Cole murmured into Arianwyn’s hair as she collapsed into his arms. “It is alright. You are home.”

“It is not alright! Aemond is not alright,” she protested, trying desperately to find comfort and warmth in the cold steel of his armor. “I should have come home sooner. I shouldn’t have left at all.”

She could feel Cole shaking his head as he held her, bringing an armored hand to cradle her head. “You staying here would not have changed what occurred at Storm’s End.”

Immediately, she pushed away from the knight, and all arguments and regrets vanished. “Storm’s End…?” she breathed. Yes, that was where Aemond went. To try to sway Lord Borros Baratheon to Aegon’s cause.

“Was it Borros that hurt him?” she demanded. “Why have the armies not moved south? I will fly Emrys there now and burn the entire – ”

Cole shook his head again, trying to draw her back into his embrace. “It was not Borros, it… I need to take you to the King. He and the Hand can explain. And the Dowager Queen.” L

“I don’t want to see Aegon,” Arianwyn cried, at last pulling away from Cole and into Ser Warren as he came to stand behind her and laid a hand on the small of her back. “Or Otto or Alicent. I want to see Aemond.”

“You will,” Warren said softly, his touch gentler and less insistent than Cole’s. “I promise we will take you to him, but I agree that you should see the others first. If they can explain what happened… you should not see Aemond before you are prepared.”

At last, Arianwyn relaxed in Cole’s grip, and he released his hold enough that she could turn to face the commander of her guard. “Is it really so bad?” Her voice was small and weak, in a way it had not been since she was a child.

She was so afraid.

Even more so when Warren, Cole, and the other Kingsguard mumbled their affirmation.

Arianwyn fell silent, knowing that if she tried to say anything else, she would be unable to stop the deluge of tears brewing behind her eyes. So she took Ser Warren’s hand, needing to feel something solid and steady, and nodded.

As she followed the knights through the halls of the Red Keep, she never looked up from the floor. It did not matter where they led her or where she would meet the King. They could lead her to the Black Cells for all she cared.

Wherever it was, it wouldn’t be with Aemond.

She only had to get through a few minutes with Aegon, Alicent, and the Hand. They would tell her what had happened and who had hurt Aemond. Then she could go to him – hold him, help him. And once she knew who…

Arianwyn would unleash the fires of the Seven Hells themselves upon whoever dared hurt her husband.

“Aria?”

It was Aegon’s voice that tore her from her vision of eternal red and black fire, sounding more serious than she had ever heard him. Indeed, as he sat at the head of the Small Council table, the Conqueror’s Crown still low on his brow – would they ever dare alter the artifact so it would fit him properly? – he looked every bit the King he now was.

Except in his eyes. A darker purple than Aemond’s, and perpetually rimmed with red. Those eyes held a glimmer of decidedly un-kingly fear.

Arianwyn knew her silver eyes held the same.

“Are you alright, Aria?” Aegon asked. He shifted in his seat – also too large – like he wanted to go to her but decided against it.

She shook her head. “I will not be alright until I see Aemond.”

Alicent – who Arianwyn only noticed then – sighed where she sat to her son’s left. “I fear seeing him will bring you no comfort, my dear.”

“You have seen him?” Arianwyn looked at her desperately, ignoring whatever so was implying in favor of finding an actual answer as to her husband’s state.

“None of us have,” Otto said at the King’s right. He had stood when Arianwyn entered the room and still made no move to sit. His long face was as grim as the Stranger themselves. “We do not dare enter his chambers, as he has threatened to kill anyone who does. Excepting you, of course.”

Arianwyn’s stomach dropped, and her brow furrowed. It was not entirely unlike Aemond to make threats when he was angered; he had done so many times before. But to kill? And threats that encompassed his family? That was worrying.

And they seemed to believe he would follow through on his threat…

“Surely he was just upset,” she said, too quietly to be convincing. “He cannot mean it.”

“Aria…” the Queen reached out, inviting her good daughter to take the seat across from her that the Hand had vacated, but Arianwyn did not move nor release Warren’s hand. “He attacked his manservant. He broke the poor boy’s arm – his crippled arm.”

To her own surprise, Arianwyn did not vomit, even as her stomach roiled violently.

Aemond would never do that. Not to Kiran, who was so utterly devoted to his master. And who, she suspected, Aemond was devoted to as well.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head weakly. “No.”

“More concerning is that he has killed the Prince Lucerys,” Otto added, with no pity or gentleness to the declaration. Instead, he only looked to Arianwyn, assessing her reaction.

She closed her eyes, ducking her chin as she shook her head. The same reaction she often had upon waking from a nightmare as a child, as if she could shake the bad thoughts away if she only tried hard enough.

It never worked then, and it did not work now.

“No,” she whispered again. Not a denial, but a plea. A desperate plea to the gods or whatever forces guided the world that the horrible words were not true.

“He has,” Otto said, still studying every inch of Arianwyn’s face. “And with the boy’s death, any chance we had at resolving this dispute peacefully dies as well.” He narrowed his eyes and suppressed a dark smirk. “He lost only one eye. How could he be so blind?”

Arianwyn felt a familiar cold creep through her veins. She threw off Warren’s hands and stalked around the table to face Otto. For the first time in her life, she was not afraid to face the imposing figure, even as she had to crane her neck to look at him directly.

Had she not been so consumed by her worry and rage, she might have noticed the glimmer of impressed fear in his cold eyes. Might have seen the moment he became the only person in the world, save her husband, to know the depth and intensity of her inner fire.

“If you ever say something so vile in front of Aemond…” The menace in her words died when she balked and swallowed the rest of her warning.

Never before that day had she made a threat – against anyone – and she quickly found she did not like the taste.

“He is your grandson, Otto,” she muttered. Then turning to Alicent and Aegon, “He is your son and your brother! How is it so easy for you to believe the worst of him? We do not know what actually happened!”

Alicent began to cry, a hand covering her mouth to muffle her whimpering. As he gave his mother his hand to hold, the King was the only one to look guilty and turn away from Arianwyn in shame.

Good, she thought, they should all feel guilty and ashamed.

Aemond was their family.

All he wanted, all he tried to do his entire life, was to make them proud. To be the son and Prince they wanted him to be.

But now, they had turned on him, just as the rest of the court had.

As Viserys had.

“We know that Lucerys is dead,” countered Otto. “As is his dragon. By all accounts, Aemond is responsible.”

“Who gave these accounts?” Arianwyn spat. “How do we know we can they can be trusted?”

Otto sighed, quirking his head like a cat watching a bird, curious and evaluating. “The report is from Lord Borros Baratheon himself. Or rather, his Maester. It seems Rhaenyra is also gathering allies. She sent Lucerys to remind Borros of his father’s oath to the Princess. Fortunately for us, Aemond had already made the marriage pact. And Borros is a stubborn old fool. He did not take kindly to being commanded by a bastard child.”

“I don’t care about the Borros Baratheon or any of our allies,” Arianwyn growled. “What did they say about Aemond?”

For a moment, it seemed Otto would not tell her. She could not tell if he was worried about how she would react or if he simply did not want to upset her. Either way, the pitying look he gave her was nauseating.

“It seems your husband was not satisfied with letting the boy run home to his mother,” he continued, ignoring Aegon’s scoff as he poured more wine into his cup. “He demanded that Lucerys put out his own eye as payment for the one he took.”

Tears sprang to Arianwyn’s eyes. She could no longer face the Hand as he spoke. Though she wanted, so very badly, to insist that Aemond would do no such thing, she could not.

All his good sense disappeared when it came to his nephew.

That much was clear from their wedding night – before it had become their wedding night. It had been his uncontrollable, burning anger at Luke’s laughter that made him forget Daemon’s threat on her life. It had been his responding cruel words that had put her in that dark hallway, with her father’s hands around her throat, squeezing the life from her.

Arianwyn knew his soul as well as her own. But even she could not predict what he would do when faced with the boy who had stolen his eye.

“Lucerys, of course, refused, as any sane man would. So, Aemond moved to take the eye himself.” The Hand stilled when a sob escaped Arianwyn. Despite his anger at his grandson, he did regret upsetting the girl so. He had already apparently lost one of his greatest assets to madness this day. He preferred not to lose another to heartbreak. “Lord Borros forbade the bloodshed in his hall and had his men take the boy back to his dragon. But when Aemond asked for his leave, the capricious fool all but gave him permission to hunt Lucerys down.

“What, precisely, happened next, we do not know,” he admitted. “All we do know is that those in and about Storm’s End heard roaring from within the clouds. Some even claim to have seen a bout of dragonfire. Then, this morning, pieces of Lucery’s dragon washed ashore.”

Aegon grimaced, clutching his goblet tighter. “Both wings, one attached to some part of the torso. And I believe the back legs and tail were still in one piece.” He looked up at Arianwyn with darkened yet sober eyes. “The kind of damage only another dragon – one the size of Vhagar – could do, Aria.”

“Then he must have been provoked,” Arianwyn stammered, shaking her head furiously as she wiped her tears. “Lord Borros is lying about what happened at Storm’s End, or something else happened after they left. Aemond wouldn’t…”

Her voice trailed away as the memory of six words, written in Aemond’s hand, filled her mind.

Curse of the Kinslayer be damned, he had written once. When she told him how Daemon kept her from Emrys, and he offered to come and save her.

He could be so blind – damn the word – when it came to protecting those he loved.

He had threatened Jace with that rock when Baela held Arianwyn down in that tunnel.

That same night, he had spoken in desperation to protect his mother, not knowing that his words would prevent him from seeking justice in the future.

He had lied to Arianwyn, something he had never done before, in his letters. Just so she would think he was well and safe.

He had followed her out of the Throne Room following the death of Vaemond Velaryon, not caring that the whole court would see – that her father would see.

He had raised his sword against Daemon in front of the court the next day, again not caring that his actions would be all the confirmation some would need that her father’s accusations were true.

He was just as blind – perhaps more so – when it came to Luke.

But Arianwyn could not blame him for it. Why wouldn’t he harbor hatred for his nephew?

The loss of his eye had been horrific. And the pain of it had not ended when the Maester stitched up the skin. She still knew precious few details, but those she did were enough to justify the hatred.

Orwyle had performed more procedures after they returned to King’s Landing. For that night on Driftmark, he still had his eyelid. Now, he did not. She did not know how many times he was subjected to the Maester’s knife, but even once was enough.

And he had such hatred for the milk of the poppy. He had been so nervous when Arianwyn mentioned it had been in his tea. How long had he spent with his mind addled by the drug, as the King had been?

To Aemond, who had always wanted to be in control, not being allowed full mastery over his own body must have been torture.

He had struggled, apparently for many months, to adapt to the loss of half his eyesight. Had pushed himself so hard that he more than compensated for what was taken.

Even when he was ‘healed,’ he wasn’t. Not really. The scar still pained him. But he endured it.

Just as he endured the harsh words of those around him. The cruel whispers that echoed through the walls of the Red Keep, calling him the ‘One-Eyed Prince.’ The villain.

What would those whispers say now?

Arianwyn braced herself on a chair as her sobs began to come harder. “I need to see him,” she begged. Of whom she did not know.

“I think that would be wise,” Alicent conceded, wiping her tears away.

Otto came to help Arianwyn stand, offering his hand to her. She reached out to take it but froze when he spoke again.

“Find out from him exactly what happened,” he instructed. “Then report immediately back to me.”

Rage again surged through her veins, and she screeched as she shoved him with all her might. Still, he only stumbled back a step.

“I am not your spy!” she yelled, ignoring the hands of Ser Warren and the other guards wrapping around her to hold her back as she fought to rake her nails down his face – a face so like the one she loved. “I go to him because he is my husband, and I love him, not because you ask it of me!”

Once Otto retreated to the other end of the room, the guards released her, but formed a barrier between her and the Hand.

“You will get your ‘report’ the moment I remember to give a shit about you or what you want,” she spat, not acknowledging the look of dismay on the Queen’s face or that of somewhat pleased surprise on the King’s before she turned and left.

-

Slumped against the wall across from the five guards at her chamber door, Arianwyn found the last person she expected to see – Kiran.

His right arm was in its usual sling and bound in thick linen. There was no sign of blood seeping through the wrappings or other injuries. And though his eyes were distant and red from tears, he did not look to be in pain.

At the same time her heart broke to know that Aemond had done that to one of the few people outside his family that he cared for and trusted, she said a prayer of thanks that the injury was minimal. For she knew her husband was capable of far worse than a broken arm.

“What are you doing here?” Arianwyn’s words seemed to bring him out of the trancelike state he had been in, eyes clearing as he looked at her and immediately filling with tears. It set her own eyes watering. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Kiran shook his head furiously. “No, Princess. I’m staying here until I know he’s alright.” His voice broke, though as his tears began to spill down his cheeks, he spoke with impressive determination. “I need to tell him that I am not angry with him – that I do not blame him.”

Arianwyn instinctively reached out to set a comforting hand on his arm but pulled back when she realized to do so may aggravate his pain. Though she was touched by his words, she did not understand them. “Kiran, he broke your arm.”

“No, he didn’t!” At the confusion on her face, Kiran continued, “It is not broken. It is… I don’t remember the word the Maester used, but it is not broken!”

A sob escaped Arianwyn, from relief that Aemond had not severely hurt Kiran and guilt that he had hurt him at all. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out, feeling utterly ridiculous for crying more than him when he was the one that was hurt. “You’ll be well compensated, I promise. And I’ll find you a new position myself, so – ”

“A new position?” Kiran asked, so shocked that his own tears stopped immediately. “Am I being dismissed?”

“You don’t…” Arianwyn looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “You want to stay in Aemond’s service? After what he did to you?”

He blushed, looking away and cradling his wounded arm. “If he’ll have me. I know it wasn’t really him, and… the Prince is the only person that was ever truly kind to me. I can’t abandon him just because he’s had a bad day.”

Arianwyn reached out and wrapped her hand around Kiran’s left wrist, wanting to hold his hand but not wanting to push too far. “What did he do to earn such devotion from you? I don’t understand how anyone could earn such unwavering loyalty that you would forgive even this.”

“He brought me into the castle, to tell it briefly.” Kiran lifted his bad arm and twisted his mouth into a half-smile. “Someone like me typically isn’t meant to be seen by anyone, much less royalty.”

He paused, then tipped his head toward the door to the bedchamber, where Arianwyn had fixed her gaze on the Runes sketched in the wood. She could just barely see it through the gap between guards. Ser Warren still stood behind her, but four others – Sers Simon Mullynn, Rolan Krey, Conin Rocke, and Rody Tollett – now stood guard at the door.

She avoided each of their eyes, unwilling to endure the pity and worry she was sure to find there.

“Please tell me the whole of the story Kiran,” she breathed, blinking away both tears and the memory of her and Aemond carving those Runes in their youth. “I am not ready to see him, but I think hearing something… good may help me to be.”

“Yes, Princess.” Kiran licked his lips to temper his smile before recounting the tale. He was practiced in its telling, for he repeated it each time he overheard another servant speak ill of his master. He was proud to say that, thanks to him, foul rumors about the “One-Eyed Prince” had nearly vanished from the Servant’s Hall entirely.

“I was originally a stable boy,” he began. “The lowest of the stable boys. My duties were to manage the tack and groom the horses, but mostly to clear out the stables. I could do all of it well! It just took me a little longer than others.

“The man who managed the stables, Gurnar, liked to tease me. Or… I thought it was teasing at first. I know now he was just a cruel man, and I was his favorite target. Easy prey, thanks to my arm. It never got too bad – one of the other stable boys would come to my aid, most of the time.” He sighed, steeling himself. The next part of the story never got any easier to tell.

“One day, he was… worse,” Kiran had to suppress a shudder at the memory. “And I was the only stable boy there that day. Everyone else was ill. I don’t think I actually did anything wrong. Gurnar just wanted someone to torment, and I was there. He started yelling about my sloppy work – that I put the tack on wrong, cut one of the horses while grooming them, or didn’t clean out a stall properly. He just shouted and shouted. And then, with one of the farrier’s knives in his hand, he said, ‘If that crippled arm is so useless, I may as well cut it off.’”

Arianwyn watched in horror and confusion when his face broke into a smile as he continued. “Prince Aemond happened to be entering the stable then. I don’t know why. I think now it was an act of the gods. But he heard what Gurnar said, and he was furious. He didn’t say a word before he grabbed Gurnar by the collar and slammed him into the stable wall. I know he whispered something to him, because I saw Gurnar go as white as death, but the Prince has never told me what it was.”

Kiran started laughing, even when his eyes were still red from crying, and his arm ached with every breath. “Then the Prince pushed Gurnar into a pile of muck and brought his foot down on his arms, one strike on each just above the elbow. He did break Gurnar’s arms – both of them! When he turned back to me, Princess, I was so scared. But then he looked me right in the eye, and I knew then that he wasn’t what everyone said he was. And he offered me the position as he manservant, just like that!”

“Just like that?” Arianwyn echoed. She was still crying, but no longer just from fear or sadness, but from sheer pride at her husband’s good heart.

“Well…” Kiran shrugged slightly. “He did ask first if I could read. And I could – I taught myself how so I could read the names of the horses, you know how they’re written on those little plaques on their tack?” He began to laugh slightly, and to his and every one of the guard’s delight, Arianwyn began to laugh with him.

“Thank you, Kiran,” she said, at last lacing her fingers through his. She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a short kiss to the back of his hand. “I promise that you shall always have a position with us, for as long as you want it.”

He smiled and dared to squeeze her hand, pleased that her smile grew wider at the gesture. “Thank you, Princess. I admit I would very much like to accompany you to Runestone. I have never left King’s Landing before, so seeing what lies beyond the walls…”

“You shall see it all,” Arianwyn told him. “Wherever we go, you will be with us.”

“As long as I don’t have to get on dragonback,” he replied sheepishly, “I would be happy to.”

They only smiled at each other for a moment, imagining a future that might very well have died only hours before, when…

Arianwyn stilled, her eyes once again finding the Runes on the door. “Kiran?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“You saw him?”

A pause. A moment where Kiran brought himself back to reality.

“I did.”

“Is he… how is he?”

Another pause. A consideration of what, exactly, to say. Of whether the truth was too horrible to voice aloud. If Kiran could bear the weight of the Princess’ heartbreak.

“He is… wounded, Princess,” he finally said. There were no words to describe just how wounded. “His heart is… and his mind, it… he is not himself. I am sorry – if I have made it worse.”

Though her tears had welled once more, Arianwyn did not let them spill as she gave Kiran’s hand one more squeeze before letting it fall. “You have nothing to apologize for, nothing at all. Thank you for all you have told me. Please, do not stay out here all night. You need your rest.”

Arianwyn did not have the strength to look at Kiran’s face before she turned from him to face the door to her – and Aemond’s – chambers. Neither did she look at the faces of her guards as they stood aside to allow her to approach.

Tenderly, as though it was the holiest of relics, she ran her trembling fingers across each of the Runes in the wood. They granted protection from monsters and spirits, but would that protection extend to whatever demons Aemond had brought with him from Storm’s End – demons of his own making?

As she retraced the Runes, then again, and a third time, Arianwyn prayed that they would. Prayed that the Runes she traced on his chest nearly every morning protected him. Prayed that the Runes carved into the sapphire had kept him safe and unharmed.

She prayed for so many things as she retrieved the small brass key from the chain around her neck and unlocked the door.

-

The solar was endlessly dark and hauntingly quiet.

The storm clouds Arianwyn had seen earlier were now blotting out the light of the moon and each of the stars that had guided her home. No fire was lit in the hearth, and had not been for some time, leaving the room as cold and unfeeling as the stones of the walls.

Not even the candles that usually cast a golden glow over the tapestries and blankets and books that made the apartments her home – their home – were lit.

The only light came from the faint glow of the city far outside the castle walls and the occasional flash of lightning.

After one such violent burst of light, Arianwyn’s eyes landed on the door of one of the cabinets, torn off its hinges with such force that splinters of wood were scattered on the floor below it, among the slowly drying remains of several broken bottles of Arbor Gold.

And beneath the rumblings of the following thunder, she heard a low, mournful cry – so similar to that she had heard from Vhagar only an hour before.

“Aria…”

She swallowed a choking sob. His voice was so quiet, so raw, so desperate. It was not the voice that soothed her, lit a fire within her, and whispered sweet words in her ear when he thought she was asleep.

It was broken.

“Aemond?” she called softly. He had been so quiet that, with the thunder and pouring rain, she could not tell where he was.

Lightning flashed again, and she looked for him by the couch and hearth. But he was not there.

Another flash, and she turned to look for him at the table and beside the bookshelves. He was not there, either.

A third flash, and she looked through the open door to his study. His desk was empty.

The thunder grumbled again, louder this time. The storm was drawing nearer.

Then, as it faded, she heard it again.

“Aria?”

“Aemond? I’m here.”

Lightning, then thunder.

“Aria?”

She could hear the tears in his voice, the disbelief that she was truly there.

How long had he been calling for her, to be answered by only silence?

Though the thunder was closer, Arianwyn had heard him well enough that she now knew he was in their bedchamber. She did not wait for the light of the storm to return before she stumbled blindly to the door. Finding it slightly cracked, she burst through without hesitation.

The lightning lasted only long enough for her to see a blur of black leather and bloodstained silver hair as Aemond turned frantically away from her, scattering the shards of glass around him across the floor as he scrambled closer to the cold stone wall.

“No,” he moaned. It might have been a shout if his voice was not so weak. “No… please.”

Cold surged through Arianwyn’s veins. It froze the tears within her eyes and slowed her heart until she was not sure it beat at all.

But somehow, her body still moved. Her legs brought her to the edge of the glass, then lowered her down to the floor. Her arms folded within her lap, the urge to reach for her husband there but quieted. And her chest brought in a great breath of air to fuel her voice.

“Aemond,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. “My love, I am here. I am home.”

She watched as Aemond raised his hands to clutch his head, palms covering his ears to block out her voice. Blood was caked on his fingertips and splattered through his hair.

If it had been a battle on dragonback, how had he become so bloodied?

Cautiously, she leaned over the moat of shattered glass to try and lay her hand on his shoulder.

But he sensed the movement before she got within a foot of him and jerked away as though a single touch would kill him. “No!” he shouted. “Don’t touch me! Please… please, Aria!”

“I will not touch you,” she assured, pulling back behind the glass and holding her hands tight to her thighs. “But Aemond… will you look at me?”

He shook his head again, groaning as if in pain. With all the blood on him, it was entirely possible. More than possible – it was likely.

“My love,” she said, more insistent but still gentle. “Please look at me.”

Lightning flashed again, and silver flecked with red was reflected on every shard of glass as Aemond shook his head once more.

There was no sound but the storm.

Arianwyn felt that every drop of rain was taunting her – taunting the tears she felt but could not let fall. She wanted to cry, to scream, to pound at her chest until her heart beat again. But all she could do was clench her fists in her lap.

“Will you tell me what happened, Aemond?” she asked, hating how stilted her voice was. She sounded like Otto – cold and unfeeling.

Aemond ducked his head and whimpered.

Arianwyn took several deep breaths as she considered what to do next. She could try and force him to look at her, to tell her what happened. But she had tried forcing him years ago when he first started retreating into himself. It had been the only time they ever fought.

No, he required a more gentle approach.

“Do you want me to speak, or would you prefer silence?” It was a question she had asked countless times before, during his ‘quiet days.’ Sometimes it helped him to hear her talk. Others… he could not bear a single sound without panicking.

She did not say anything until he lowered his hands from his ears and braced them on the floor – his permission for her to talk.

Shifting so she could lean more comfortably against the side of the bed, Arianwyn began to tell Aemond the story of the past three days. How excited Emrys had been to fly so far. The charm of Wickenden, its Lord, and Lady, and of the dozens of candles they had gifted her. How Gerold’s hair had gone white, and how excited Jeyne was to meet her.

How she had told the Lords of the Vale of Daemon’s crimes and won their allegiance.

But she did not tell him everything. Anything that would cause him more worry or strife was left out. Her arrival at the Eyrie after the sun had set and the perilous journey through the mountains. Jace’s arrival at the Vale and how he had argued for his mother. How he confessed his love for Arianwyn.

And Lamentation. She did not tell Aemond that the sword was still strapped to Emrys’ saddle, awaiting its new wielder.

She did not know why, but she suspected that news – that Gerold trusted him as the new Lord of Runestone – would hurt him more than anything else.

When she finished her tale, Aemond seemed calmer – if only slightly. His breathing was slowed, but still uneven. But he had not cried again or otherwise reacted poorly to anything Arianwyn said. In truth, he had not reacted at all.

Still, he was no longer so volatile that she was afraid to ask…

“Lucerys is dead?” she asked.

Aemond raised his head as though he wished the rain would pour onto him through the window – as though he was beseeching the gods.

“Yes.”

The word rang through Arianwyn louder than any thunder and struck her harder than any lightning.

Still, she pushed further. “You killed him?”

Aemond’s body lurched as though her question was a dagger she had buried in his spine. “I… yes. No. It… it was Vhagar. She killed him.”

For a moment, it seemed the thunder echoed the dragon’s dirge.

“Did you give the command?”

“No!” Aemond almost turned to face her then, but she only saw a glimpse of moon-white skin marred with dried blood before he looked away again. “I just… wanted to scare him.”

It was the second time that day Arianwyn had heard those words. Both times, the intention had led to bloodshed.

Jace had only been a boy when he brought a knife to that tunnel. Aemond was a man, and a man should know better –

But a dragon would not.

A dragon hears more than words. They possessed a mysterious, arcane sense that lets them hear the innermost thoughts of those they were bound to. Desires and wishes that the rider themselves may not be aware of.

Realization settled in Arianwyn, leaving her chest feeling hollow. “Aemond, did you want him dead?”

“I did not want to kill him.”

“But did you want him dead?”

“I did not mean to kill him.”

“I know, my love. But that is not what I am asking. Did you want him dead?”

“Aria, I…”

She leaned across the glass and grabbed his hand to silence him, hoping he would look at her, but he did not. At least he did not protest her touch this time. “You swore that you would never lie to me, Aemond. So please, answer me. Did you want him dead?”

His entire body shuddered with one great sob, and an agonizing whine escaped him.

“I did.”

As she heard the words, Arianwyn felt that she was falling from a great height. Her blood went cold, and her bones rang with hollowness. The impact was near, and it would crush her.

“I’ve wanted him dead every day for six years,” he growled, voice shaking with both guttural rage and unfathomable anguish. “Since he took my eye and made me into a monster. Since he stole my father’s love. Since he took you from me and tore out my heart. I didn’t just want him dead, Aria. I wanted him to suffer the way he made me suffer.”

His voice broke, and he doubled over, ripping his hand from hers as he grasped at the floor as if he could claw his way to the Seven Hells. “I wanted him dead, but I didn’t want to be the one to kill him.”

Arianwyn was frozen as she had never been before. Every muscle called out to her to go to him, to embrace him. But she could not.

“It was supposed to be the gods!” he shouted. “They would deliver justice where my father would not.”

Another sob. It struck Arianwyn like a blade.

“But they have forsaken me. Abandoned me. Condemned me for my sins. For wanting their justice when I do not deserve it – I never have. Every prayer I have ever said has been a waste.”

Not every prayer, she wanted to tell him. They had prayed together that night on Driftmark that the gods would bring them together again.

That prayer had been answered.

“I have wanted for so much that is not mine,” Aemond moaned, slumping against the bed with his head still turned from his wife, “and this is my punishment. I will never be more than the monster they always meant me to be.”

Arianwyn’s frozen heart began to beat again when he finally faced her, then fractured entirely, shattering into a million sharp pieces, just as the mirror had.

The sapphire was not there – torn out by his own hand. Even after it was gone, he had continued to claw at the empty eye. Dozens of deep scratches now crossed the old wound, leaving trails of blood washing down his cheeks along with his tears.

His violet eye was rimmed with red as he looked at his wife, his beautiful face twisted with such desperation that she could not breathe.

“It hurts,” he cried.

Whether he meant his scar, the fresh wounds on his face, or his heart and soul, Arianwyn did not know.

All she knew was that she did not care what he had done. She did not care whose blood stained his hands. She did not care about the war that would surely follow in the wake of Lucerys’ death.

Her husband was in pain. More pain than he had been the night his eye was stolen from him, the night they had been so cruelly ripped apart.

Death did matter. War did not matter. The entire cursed world did not matter.

Only Aemond mattered.

Arianwyn could not stop her voice from breaking as she crawled over the glass, thankful that the bronze plates on her armor prevented it from piercing her, and took his trembling form into her arms, pressing his wet face to her chest. “I know it does, my love. I know.”

“Make it stop,” he begged, his sobs racking his entire body.

She had never wished for anything so much as she now wished for the knowledge of how to do just that. But she did not know, and no god answered her prayers. Perhaps they had forsaken her too, for loving him still after what he had done.

All she could do was hold him tighter and tighter as she whispered soft words into his ear, assuring him that she would always love him, and that she would never – never – leave him.

-

It was long hours before Aemond had finally exhausted himself and fallen asleep in Arianwyn’s arms. But even then, his brow was still furrowed with torment, and his body twitched as he dreamed. In the short time they had shared a bed, she had grown accustomed to seeing the moonlight reflected in his sapphire when he slept.

Now she saw only darkness.

Carefully, so as to not disturb him, she extracted herself from his arms. Then, silently, she moved around the room, searching every corner and crack. But it was nowhere to be found.

She moved to the solar, searching everywhere, even in the spaces between cushions on the couch, but still, she did not find it. Nor did she find it in the study, the dressing room, or the bathing room.

Wherever it was, it was not in their chambers.

Wrapping herself in her cloak, Arianwyn left their apartments to continue her search. She tried the library, the Small Council chambers, the family parlor and dining room, and even her old rooms.

Still, nothing.

Of course, it was foolish to search all these places. He had not left their apartments since he arrived, going straight there from…

Arianwyn sighed when she realized where she needed to go.

If it was not below the waters of Shipbreaker Bay, there was only one other place it could be.

She turned to Ser Simon Mullynn, who had followed her from their chambers and throughout the Red Keep as part of his night’s watch. “We need horses,” she whispered.

He only nodded in reply, though there was a pain in his warm brown eyes that made Arianwyn think that he knew more about how she felt at that moment than most would.

She knew he had been widowed as a young man, but he had never pursued another woman nor spoken of how his wife died. Arianwyn had only ever asked once, but received no answer, and was hastily warned away from doing so again by Ser Adrew.

When he lifted her onto her steed, she caught sight of a single tear running down his tanned cheek, and she knew.

She would rather the world end than let that happen.

“I can’t leave him alone,” moving to dismount her horse. She was not as strong as Ser Simon. She could not survive the same pain she saw in his eyes.

But he held her firmly to the saddle.

“I left word with Ser Kayl to fetch reinforcements to stand at and in your quarters –to watch as he sleeps, should he wake and try to....” Even her most stoic guard could not bring himself to say the words. “He is not alone, Arianwyn.”

She nodded, signaling him to mount his own horse as she blinked the tears from her eyes. It had been years since she rode through the city on her own, and with the rain that still fell hard and heavy, she would need her sight to find her way to the tourney grounds.

-

Vhagar was resting precisely where she had been only days ago, when Arianwyn had brought Emrys to meet her. She left Ser Simon at the end of the clearing with the horses to not startle any of the beasts. The horses were already unsettled by her lowing lamentations.

It was foolish of her to approach a dragon when her emotions roiled, especially a dragon so easily provoked and likely still drunk on the taste of fresh blood. But she felt she had no choice. She needed to find it.

When she was close enough to feel the dragon’s hot breath ruffling her hair, Arianwyn removed her riding glove and held out her hand. “Vhagar?” she called. “Vhagar, nyke jorrāelagon aōha dohaeragon.” I need your help.

The dragon’s orange eyes flicked open, and she raised her massive head as a deep growl rumbled in her throat. Behind her, the sound of Ser Simon drawing his sword rang through the air.

“Lykirī! Ao gīmigon issa!” Arianwyn shouted. Calm down! You know me.

She channeled all her fear and sorrow into anger, pouring into her voice as she tried to command the Queen of Dragons. “Nyke se ābrazȳrys hen aōha kipagīros, se nyke jorrāelagon aōha dohaeragon!” I am the wife of your master, and I need your help.

Focusing with all her might, she brought every memory she had of Aemond to her mind. Let everything she had ever felt from him surge through her again so that Vhagar would see and know she could be trusted.

Finally, after a heart-pounding moment, the dragon seemed to calm, at least enough for her to resume her approach.

Arianwyn continued, “Aemond ēza ojūdan mirros. Kostagon nyke jurnegon syt ziry?” Aemond has lost something. May I look for it? She gestured to the saddle on Vhagar’s back, asking permission to mount her.

With a low, warning hum, Vhagar set her head back in the grass. Taking that as an agreement, Arianwyn raced to the rope ladder on the dragon’s side. As she began to climb, she remembered watching Aemond triumphantly mount her for the first time on the beach of Driftmark.

Neither of them could have ever predicted this.

If she had known what the dragon would one day do on his behalf, she never would have let Aemond go to that beach.

Finally, she reached the saddle. It was enormous, and must have cost a fortune. She supposed that was why it had been passed from rider to rider, repaired and altered countless times over the years. To commission a new one for each rider would have bankrupted the crown.

Cursing herself for not bringing a lantern, Arianwyn blindly searched each pocket and saddlebag.

But it was not there.

Feeling thoroughly defeated, Arianwyn slumped in the saddle seat, resting her head on one of the large handles as she gave in to the tears she had held back for so long.

She would not find the sapphire.

It was lost, likely in the belly of some sea beast by now.

She knew it was silly to cry over a lost jewel when her cousin had been killed and the entire realm sat on the precipice of war.

But it was not just a jewel.

That sapphire had been her first expression of her love for Aemond, though she had not known it at the time. She had imbued it with the magic of her ancestors to grant him all the strength, bravery, and wisdom of the greatest kings of their family. To protect him when she could not. To keep her love with him when she was far away.

And now he lay forlorn in their bed, cursed as a kinslayer with a shattered soul.

The Runes had failed.

She had failed.

Still, she wanted to bring it back to him. Still, she had a single shred of faith that someday, the Runes would protect him when he needed it most. Still, she ached to save him, as he had done for her.

Maybe she just needed to start over. Find a new stone, one that better matched the beautiful color of his eye. She would carve the Runes herself this time, to make certain her intentions brought the magic to life.

Just when she had resolved to do so, something caught her eye. A familiar blue gleam reflected the light of the moon just breaking through the clouds.

There it was.

Caught in a torn seam between two layers of leather, the sapphire sparkled at her as if alive and winking mischievously.

Arianwyn’s tears stopped, and her breathing slowed as she reached down to take it. It was clean and entirely undamaged. Turning it in her fingers, the moonlight illuminated one of the Runes.

Two lines, converging in parallel. The ends split, reaching back for the other, but never quite touching.

She wrapped it tightly in her hands, savoring its weight.

Somehow, it had made the journey home.

It was impossible.

Miraculous.

An act of the gods.

Or perhaps, the result of an ancient and powerful magic.

She smiled as she descended Vhagar’s side, whispering her thanks to the beast.

Her eyes gleamed with grateful tears as she returned to Simon and rode back through the city streets to the Keep. When she returned to their chambers and dismissed the guards from their watch, she thanked them each dearly, embracing them as they left.

Aemond was where she left him, clutching her pillow to his chest as he slept fitfully. The tension had not gone from his face, and he cried out softly as he dreamed. Nightmares, judging by the way his eyes tightened and his fists curled. Arianwyn stroked his hair softly to soothe him as she sat by his side at the edge of the bed.

She retrieved the small periwinkle scrap of silk from where she had tucked it into her armor and carefully wrapped the sapphire. Once it was secure, she placed it atop his bedside table.

He would find it tomorrow. For now, Arianwyn would let him get what rest he could.

Shedding her leathers, she laid by his side, wishing she knew how to ease his mind. When he shivered, she pulled their blankets and furs back over them, ensuring he was warm.

Then, she pressed closer to his chest. Every time he whimpered, or his lips trembled, or he reached out for something she could not see, her heart clenched painfully.

As she had the morning after they had been married, only eight – or was it nine? – short days ago, she traced Runes across his chest.

Peace. Comfort. Serenity. Protection. Each one punctuated by the Rune of love, drawn just over his heart.

With each motion, Aemond seemed to calm. His lip stilled, and his breathing steadied. Finally, he fell silent, and wrapped an arm around Arianwyn’s waist.

At last, he looked as he did every other night she had shared his bed, save for the absence of his sapphire and his new wounds.

Arianwyn leaned forward, kissing his temple before she settled against his chest and surrendered herself to sleep.

Never again would she doubt the power of the Runes.

Next Chapter