#alice does quilting

[doctahpants]

I finished Four! That scarf was a pain, but I'm so glad I did it that way!

[slytherizz]

Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest. 

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?" 

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly. 

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin. 

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged. 

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?” 

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest. 

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges. 

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams. 

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight. 

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical. 

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly. 

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom. 

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs. 

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was. 

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand. 

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach. 

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat? 

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work. 

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been. 

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm. 

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?" 

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears. 

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race. 

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder. 

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath. 

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes. 

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned. 

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect. 

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success. 

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they. 

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her. 

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four. 

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat. 

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child. 

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled. 

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for. 

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other  reasons it appeals to me.” 

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him. 

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle. 

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity. 

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl. 

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment. 

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed. 

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall. 

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently. 

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs. 

“Sebastian - please,” she whined. 

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a  groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke. 

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers. 

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree. 

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach. 

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian. 

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress. 

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation. 

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh. 

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress. 

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips. 

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock. 

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.  

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft. 

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach. 

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust. 

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately. 

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out. 

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined. 

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.” 

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear. 

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her. 

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke. 

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard. 

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock. 

Willing it to take root. 

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take. 

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away. 

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one. 

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her. 

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval. 

“Care to test the theory?”

[nena-la-fresa]

The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 3|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 2 | Part 4

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage | Murder/Suicide | Soft Aemond |

Word Count: 2233

A/N: Hasn't been proof read yet. I feel like this took a hard fucking turn and idk how I feel about it. But it's the only direction I feel like it could go in.

Aemond had dressed first so that he could stand in front of you as you changed back into your dress. He hid your body from his brother as he refused to look away. 

“I’ll have you know sister. I tried many times to get him to bed a woman in the whore house. I had no idea he was capable of that.” 

“Brother I think you speak too much for a man on his deathbed.” 

“That is exactly why I need to speak my dear baby brother.” Aegon began to cough violently. “Come.” Aegon lets out. 

Aemond looks back at you to check if you are dressed before moving to sit on his brother's bedside. You follow closely behind to fill up a cup for Aegon. 

“I have spoken to mother. As my children have all died you are to be my heir.” He began to cough again. 

As he does, you pass him the cup, “Thank you dear sister.” He takes a sip to provide relief to his throat. 

“Forgive me dear brother. I never wanted to be king. It should have been you. You should have been King. You wanted it far more than I did.” Aemond watched as his brother spoke. 

“As you have consummated your wedding I see no reason why I should drag my life on longer.” 

Confused by his response you looked over at Aemond and back at Aegon. 

“Aemond, I need you to kill me. I can not live like this. This is no life. I will not live like father.” 

Aemond scoffs and gets up from his brother's bed, “All you have is broken bones and scar's brother.” 

“It is an infection.” Aegon removes his quilt with what strength he had left to show the infection that had been growing on his legs. “I had the maester hide it from mother.” 

All Aemond could do was look at the infection that had spread from Aegon's leg to his chest. Aegon infection had looked exactly as their father’s. 

“Aemond. Please. I beg of you. You had not let me run away back then. Let me die now. Let me go before I end up like that man.” 

Aegon's eyes pleated with the silent prince. All Aemond could do was nod. 

“Aemond.” You spoke lightly. Your thoughts racing at the possibility that your new husband was about to do. 

Aemond turned back to you, watching as your figure cowered. He had made his way over to you, he tilted your chin upwards towards him. His grip was firm yet soft, “Make your way to my chambers. Speak to no one, and remain there even if I do not return.” 

You looked at him hesitant, your eyes flickering between him and his brother. 

“Y/n”. It was the first time he had spoken your name since the moment you had arrived. Your eyes had now locked on his face. 

“Do you understand?” 

You nodded lightly. You began to walk away before turning back and looked at Aegon, “I wish we would have met under different circumstances. But may the gods of the old and the new be with you.” 

Aegon gave a faint smile, “And to you.” 

You had made your way out the door closing it behind you. You stood there for a few seconds before walking off. Your mind clouded, vaguely remembering where Alicent had showed you where Aemonds chambers were. 

“She’s beautiful.” Aegon spoke to fill the awkward silence. 

“She is.” Aemond’s view lingered on the door for a few seconds before returning his attention to his brother. “I will return. It would be best with poison.” 

“No.” Aegon coughed before speaking again, “Where would you find poison at this hour? There are too many eyes watching.” 

“Anything else and it would be obvious it was an assassination.” 

“Use the pillow.” 

Aemond hesitated but he watched his brother. “Please.” Aegon whispered. 

He had looked frail, he hadn’t noticed until now how weak his brother looked. The man his brother once was was gone. There no longer resided the whore of a man. The one who would always tease him. All that was left was an empty shell of a man who was asking for mercy. 

Aemond picked up the pillow and hovered over his brother. Aegon could tell Aemond was hesitant, “Don’t worry bother. I will forgive you.” He paused for a moment, “I love you my dear brother Aemond.” 

“And I you brother.” Aemond lowered the pillow down against Aegon's face. 

He had pressed his weight down more. And after a minute or so there was a jolt. Aegon’s body had been fighting against the weight. His hands found Aemonds arms as he grasped onto them. Holding them for what seemed like hours Aemonds hands shook at the pressure he was putting. Until the jerking motion had stopped. There were no longer signs of struggle coming from Aegon. Removing the pillow Aemond saw his brother's face. It was lifeless, it looked like he was resting and that at any second he would take up. 

Aemond put his finger to his brother's nose to check for air, and there was none. He had done what his brother had asked for. He had remained loyal to his brother. But at what cost. The wave of guilt and regret hit Aemond. He placed the pillow down where it was first found. He had begun to back away from his brother. His mind racing, his heart beating out of his chest. 

He should have said no. He should have let his brother suffer. He should have suffered because now he is burdened with the weight of this. Now with the weight of becoming king. He had always wanted to be king. But this was the cost. Was this really worth it? 

Consumed by his emotions Aemond left the room making sure there was no one. He then made his way through the doors of the Red Keep. He had climbed onto Vhagar making the dragon fly into the storm that had been stirring. Aemonds cursed the gods but they had been drowned out by the clapping of thunder. 

As you walked into Aemonds chambers you were greeted with the decorated colors of black and red. The candles had provided the only light as you stood there in front of the door. You had tensed up after hearing a knock on the door. As you turned around you saw a maid with towels in hand. 

“Princess, before the Prince left he had asked me to draw you a bath. Please sit as we get everything ready.” 

“Thank you.” You gave her a half smile. You had made your way to the small balcony, the cold night air made you shiver slightly. But as you breathed in you could smell a hint of petrichor. 

“Please princess, sit by the fire. You might catch a cold.” 

You chuckled lightly, “Winterfell has had colder nights.” But you listen to the maid regardless and sit by the fire. You had begun to wonder where Aemond had gone. Or what had happened. Had he fulfilled Aegond's wish? 

As the other maid finished drawing the bath the other helped you remove your gown. No matter how many times you refused she didn’t take no for an answer. Just as you were about to step in, the sound of thunder and the bedroom door swinging open were heard. 

Startled, the three of you turned towards the door to see Aemond drenched. The look on his face was hard to read. One could say it was a somber look. You wrapped yourself in a sheet and excused the maid out. 

Closing the door behind them you made your way to Aemond. He had made his way to the fire, leaving a trail of water behind him. 

“Aemond?” You place your hand on his arm, yet he makes no response. 

“Come bathe with me.” You lead him to the bath and begin to remove his clothes for him. 

You let him get in first. Trying to figure out where to sit, you decide that the only option was his lap. You step in slowly as you avoid stepping on him. You slowly sink down and straddle his waist. Instinctually his hands placed themselves on the curve of your hips. You grabbed the cloth nearest and dipped it into the warm water. You began to run the cloth against his chest, shoulders and to his neck. You grabbed his hand, cleaning his palms before you cleaned the rest of his arm, you had done the same for the other. You had rinsed the cloth before cleaning his face. You gently cleaned around his face but got to his eyepatch. You hesitated for a second but decided to remove it. 

Aemond, now out of his trance, stopped your hand. 

“Not there.” His voice was different. It had almost sounded like defeat. 

You put down the cloth against the tub. Grabbing his hand you placed it on your waist. Gently you grabbed the eyepatch and pulled it away. He had his left eyelid closed, making his scar even more noticeable. You picked up the cloth again and gently patted it so as to not hurt him. When you were done you leaned in and kissed his eyelid. 

You had pulled away from him, once you did he decided to show you. Show you how hideous it was. How hideous he was. 

You were met with a blue sight. The space where his eye was supposed to be was replaced with a blue sapphire. 

“Hideous is it not.” 

“You’re beautiful.” 

They had spoken at the same time. 

It had taken him a bit to register what you had said. You leaned down again to kiss his scar and the corner of his eye. No one had ever used that word to describe his eye. He had kept the eyepatch as a courtesy for others as many of the times they were repulsed. Saying things behind his back, ‘He now has only a face a mother could love.’ 

“You must be blind.” Aemond turns his head away from you. His hands no longer rested on your waist as he moved his arms against the tub. 

“I can assure you my dear husband that the only blind one here is you.” You smiled lightly as he turned his head back. 

“You dare joke now?” 

“You are blind to your own beauty. You after all have that Targaryan ethereal beauty. A horrible attitude yet a very pretty face.”  

He continued to glare at you. There was a distant look that was scattered across his face. It was hard not to notice. It was hard not to ask him what he was thinking or feeling. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.” He grew stubborn though you clearly knew his mind was flooded with thoughts. This was the first time he was docile. No sarcastic remarks, no anger behind his words. Perhaps it was best to leave him with his thoughts for now. 

“Alright well-” You paused, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts then.” You were going to leave the tub when his hands found your waist again. His fingers danced across your waist. 

The man you had seen that day in his mothers chambers was now different. Although it was only a moment, it had been enough for you. Enough that you saw another side of him. Not the angry man he was. But a loyal man, a man who would do anything his family asked of him, no matter the action. 

Aemond wrapped his arms around your waist. He sat up slightly, coming closer to you he rested his head on your shoulder. 

“Do not leave. Not yet.” His voice was soft, almost angelic. 

He had confused you. He had made your mind try and piece together if you should hate him or comfort him. He still had disrespected you when he did, he had still lashed out when he did. But the last few hours, since the moment you had entered Aegon's room, it was different. 

In this moment you were choosing comfort. You wrapped your arms around him. You felt his warmth, the way his skin touched your skin. You felt the way he was breathing and his heartbeat. Your fingers ran through his hair in an attempt to soothe him in any way you could. After all, you were now his wife. His future Queen. Was this not the role a woman in this society needed to take? 

Perhaps you were delusional. Perhaps you were just trying to justify his behavior. But would that really be so bad? After all this? After knowing a secret with him. Knowing you have to keep this secret. It was frustrating. Frustrating that in the past three days you had not had a single dream or vision. Nothing that could help you in dealing with all this. Nothing that could help prevent it. Perhaps you had angered the gods in some way. Either way you had to gain it back, you had to be in the favor of the gods. After all, being what you were was the only reason as to why you were in this situation at all. It was the only reason why your family was alive. To remove that from yourself could cause chaos and the death of your house.

[ashblooddragons]

This Mysterious Love (Chapter 8/?)

Series Masterlist

Alicents pov

I can't hide the smile that has plastered itself to my lips. I can't believe what has just happened, what I had just felt. 

Powerful.

I felt powerful as I held Caraxes maw in my hands. I felt like a Goddess among men when his amber eyes looked into my honeyed brown. I felt like I had nothing to fear when he nuzzled into me. 

It was so different to when Rhaenyra forced me to meet Syrax. How those ice blue eyes stared into my soul and seemed to frown at it. How Rhaenyra didn't guide me only rested my hands upon her growling beast. I still remember the warmth of Syrax's flames. The heat felt scorching, thankfully I could only imagine what the pain of it licking my flesh would feel like for the Dragonkeepers intervened. 

But with Caraxes, it felt like he saw each part of me, the good and the dark and still he bowed his head and nuzzled into my chest. And though he isn't the most appealing dragon to look at I know now that each time I see his silhouette I will feel safe once more.

But most of all I smile because I finally feel free. Someone is courting me with my permission. Not my Father's, not the King's, mine. 

But just as that thought comes does another one rise that swipes that joyful grin from my lips. 

He is married.

Gods how could I have forgotten this? He's married. Oh and Rhea Royce is not a woman to look down on. She is well taught with the sword and even better with a bow and arrow. She at times makes men look like fools. 

And you just tried to take her husband Alicent. Gods, you’re so stupid! I think as I burst into a sprint towards my bedchambers to cry my shame away before begging the Maiden for forgiveness. 

I fall onto my bed feeling myself sink into its plush comfort as the warmth of my mother's quilts welcome me. I faintly hear Beth shooing the other maids away before feeling a dip in my mattress.

“What is wrong, my Lady?” She asks, rubbing my back. I know she is worried for her strong Iron Islands accent is coming through clearer. I know she tries to hide it but I love it, always had since I was but a little girl of four and she was put in my care. 

But instead of responding with my idiotic choices I only sob harder.

“Ha-has the King-” She starts before she clears her throat. I hear her choking back her own sobs before she finishes her sentence. “Do I need to inform the maester to make me a tea? I have been feeling parched.” 

I realize now what she thinks happened. That the King has finally done what we both feared. Beth swore if he did she would help me, and she would make sure no one knew. I know now how she was going to smear her own reputation as a kind old woman who loves her husband dearly. Or mayhaps she was going to ruin one of her girls? She has four to pick from for this task she brought upon herself. 

It with this that I finally rise and look at her tears still streaming down my face and snot most definitely along my upper lip. 

I must look a mess. I think before responding to her inquiry.

“No, no need for tea. I'm sure water is perfectly fine.” 

I see her shoulders sag in relief at my words a smile rises to her lips and the whispers of ‘thank you Mother, thank you’ barely audible before she turns to me again holding my hands in her cold weathered ones. 

“Then tell me girl, what has you in such a state? Because I will find out and I will give them a piece of my mind one way or another.” 

I can't help but giggle, wiping my tears and looking at the only person who held me as I sobbed for my Mother. The woman who forced bone broth down my throat when I became too thin to even sit up. The woman who saved me. 

“I didn't get this dressed up just because wanted to.” I whisper and can't help but pout when she throws her head back laughing. 

“Well I already knew that!” She exclaims before taking my chin in-between her fingers and lifts my head once more so she can look me in the eyes again. 

“Why did you dress like this girl?” 

I hesitate for but a moment before looking her in the eyes and only finding kind warmth in her aqua blue pools. 

“The Prince.” I all I say with a sigh but from the tapping on my chin I know she wants more.

“He asked me to meet him at the Dragonpit, and I went.” 

She nods her head, her eyes still shining with confusion but I see her piecing the story together bit by little bit. 

“So that's why you stink like a demon from the seven hells?” 

I guffaw at her words, slapping her hand playfully. 

“I stink of dragon you old bat!” 

She only laughs more though almost falling off the bed in her fit. I at times think she laughs more than a flirtatious lady in search of a high standing husband. 

“Same difference if you ask me.” She says in that twange once more before waving her hand for me to continue. 

I stop for a moment deciding if I should tell her. I have no reason not to, she is loyal to me but it is my Father who pays her. Would the smell of gold sway her? 

No, Beth would never betray me even if it meant her death. I me for gods sake she was ready to ruin one of her daughters or granddaughters for me the least I can do is give the rest of this blasted story.

“He asked me to court him.” I finish and I already know the words she will say next before they even leave her throat.

“The man is already wed! Oh Alicent, what were you thinking?” She says in a tone that says she is far from pleased. 

“Obviously I wasn't, hence my sobs because I am nothing but a stupid little girl.” I respond falling back against my pillows looking up at my canopy. I remember counting all the stars and butterflies seen into the fabric as a child, I still do from time to time if only for nostalgia. 

Perhaps now is a good time? I think before Beth grabs my arms and pulls me back up to look at her.

“You listen here girl, you aren't stupid. Far from it. You are brilliant, why else would King Jaehaerys ask for you to comfort him in his dying days? Are you young? Yes. Are you naive at times? Yes. But this does not make you stupid do you hear me?” She all but roars at me. 

I only nod before falling into her arms and crying into her chest. She strokes my hair and hums some savior chanty to calm my hurt soul.

Daemons pov

I sit in my study staring at a sealed letter from my Bronze Bitch. There is no telling what it could be. A death threat? Gotten my fair share of those from her in our marriage. A demand for him to act like a husband? Too many of those had come only for him to be treated like shit on someone's boot. 

Well you won't know if you don't open it. My brain helpfully reminds me.

And with that I break the seal and open the scroll prepared for the worst and never expecting the best. But as I take in each letter, each word, each sentence I realize it is the best outcome. It's a letter with her signature at the end of a dotted line only waiting for mine so our marriage can be annulled. 

Though just as the shit eating grin spreads across my face, do I remember that Viserys had no reason to do this unless his idea is actually going to happen. Which can mean only one of two things.

One Rhea asked for the annulment and Viserys finally gave in. Though this is unlikely as she swore to make my life like the seven hells were following me. 

Or two, Viserys actually plans to make it where my child with my new wife will be his heir. Also unlikely as he never wanted me on the throne so why would he want my child upon its cold seat?

Yet again only one way to find out. My brain oh so helpfully reminds me yet again. 

With an annoyed sigh I stand papers in hand and begin the walk towards my brother's chambers.

I can't help but pinch myself every so often along the walk just to make sure this isn't a dream. 

I never liked walking around the Red Keep at night. It always has a chill that even the Northerns complain of. But it isn't just the cold wind, it's something else, it's the feeling that even if you are alone in a hall you're being watched. That no matter where you hide someone is always watching, waiting. It's not a pleasant feeling to say the least, so I try and stay out of the keeps halls at night. 

I watch as Knights and Lords stumble down the halls towards their chambers. A lady trailing behind them. I already know what they are up to, I even know two of the women they are bringing with them. For I myself have already had a taste of them, one of which I know is the man's wife. 

She was a wild thing too. I think with a wicked grin as I pass her. 

But as always the walk to my brother's chambers always seems too long, and yet too short. 

Not enough time to think and too long not to. I think before making a resounding knock on my brother's door.

I wait but a moment before raising my hand to start slamming my fists against the door when I hear a tired. “Come.” 

I take this as all the invitation I need and enter, closing the door behind me just as quickly as I entered.

“Brother, what brings you here?” Viserys says trying to hide the fear in his voice and tremble in his hands. Though he was never good at lying.

“My dear Wife sent me this letter. I thought you may have something to do with it.” I say tossing the annulment papers into his lap before plopping into a chair and picking up one of his little stone soldiers.

“Careful with that.” He scolds, snatching the figure from me as he reads the paper. 

I watch as he reads it carefully before taking in my wife's signature. 

“Well…” I ask trailing off to see if I can catch any reaction to the letter but strongly Viserys is stone faced. 

Perhaps he can lie? I muse to myself before almost laughing out loud at the thought. 

Viserys sighs looking down at his stone soldier before looking me in the eyes.

“I had a hand in this, yes. Though I was hoping to announce it to you on the morrow. But it seems your wife was eager to get rid of you.” 

I scoff at the obvious jab before turning to him once more. I see the way he eyes me warily, I see the way he flinches each time I shift in my seat. I know he's afraid of me now, mayhaps he always was.

“And this news?” I ask with a wave of my hand. 

I know it is a waste of time acting like I don't know already, but it is just oh so fun watching Viserys squirm in his seat. 

“The realm chose me, they would not stand for a woman to take the throne. So I would need to take another as wife, though that is now out of the question.” 

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the face Viserys is drawing this out. He never was one to just get to the point, always needing to make one sit there and pray he'd shut up and finish the tale. 

“And I cannot have Laenor sit the throne. For that would cause more outrage than my daughter upon it. For he's not even a Targaryen by name. And sadly with you being a warrior you may die younger than I.”

I sigh looking up at the ceiling as Viserys continues to just list every reason why instead of just saying it. 

“So I've decided to annul your marriage, let you pick a new wife of your choosing. And the first boy you have, shall be my heir.” 

Wow I'm surprised he didn't make it last two hours like he did when he was telling Aemma was pregnant the first time. I must before looking him in the eyes again. 

“Is this a jest?” I implore not wanting him to think I already knew. 

“No, though I understand why you would think as such” He says sincerity in his voice.

I only stare at him for a long moment before snatching the annulment papers back and taking his ink and quill scribbling my name along the dotted line before handing it back to Viserys.

“So now I'm a single man?” 

“Now you're a single man.” He confirms.

Not for long, I'll be taking a Little Hightower you have been wanting. I think before standing bidding my goodbyes and walking out of his chambers. 

Now to find out what her favorite flowers are. Every woman likes flowers. I muse with a new skip in my step as I traverse the Keep in search of my Little Hightowers lovely maid named…Betty?

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I sweat I'd be lost without you girly!

I would also like to thank @thecutestgrotto for making the divider. I truly love it!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff @seaevans @edensfanfictionsuggestions @yn-jackson @fictionlurker @marvel-is-my-obsession @ninihrtss @zara-zara11 @lady-ye @nommingonfood @dreamlandcreations @baybaybear1

[devilslamb]

I want to know if Dale decided to hire an assistant, besides Ruth, one who was actually on a payroll and would just help him make the dolls, what would their first day of working for him look like? I want to know how that man would welcome someone completely new to his Satan cave.

ouuu, this would be so interesting. hmmm,, id imagine him probably getting ruth to put in ads in the paper, waiting for someone to call the house number. waiting by the phone all day when he hasn't anything to do (and lets be honest, he doesn't do much other than make dolls now that ruth is his accomplice LOL)

i think it'd be pretty uneventful just because i think dale is dutiful, no shenanigans on the job type of guy, especially with such gruesome work.

their first day... slinking into a crowded house and down into the basement isnt at all what they expected when they called in for the ad. the stairs are steep, and the basement is so cluttered yet so.. organized? it's quite odd how the room is so put together yet so clunky with books and blankets and handmade quilts.

he makes his presence known by giving a high pitched "oh!" you know how. he's suddenly behind you with his hands politely crossed in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. probably scaring the shit out of you. he doesnt really introduce himself. rather, he tells you to sit down at the bench so you can get started

most of the work is in making the dolls, so you'd be sharing the workload with him, if you're quick to learn

dale is a very hands-on teacher. not in that way, either. i dont think he's a man of many words, so trying to explain stuff would be so frustrating for him when he could just show you how to do it

you're seated at his work bench and he's so uncomfortably close behind you, shoulders practically caging you in between him and the bench. you can smell him, he's so close.

hes watching you carefully, raggedy breaths in your ear. it's so uncomfortable and tense for no reason. like something bad is about to happen. but nothing ever does.

all you hear is the occasional footsteps above you, eerie whispering, and his heavy breathing. no music or white noise to avoid any distractions. just him and the devil keeping you company.

he hands you the tools and gives you the name along with it. short little "brush" or "glue" in his sluggish voice. he doesn't say much else.

when you're making a mistake, he grabs your wrist in a sluggish motion but with a firm grip and redirects the tool in your hand. he's extremely picky but spares the patience for you.

though after a couple of hours of things not going right, he twitches, shoulders curled up like a threatened cat. he's huffing and puffing a bit, burning holes in the back of your head with his stare. hes grinding his teeth a bit too.

if you do something right, he gives your shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze (though it unnerves you) accompanied by a low, gravelly "mm good". he doesn't spare the praises either, making sure to let you know well you're doing.

once he's a little more confident in you doing each task right, he'd probably pop a record on. maybe one of his own, or maybe one he favors. something old and classic, maybe some alice cooper. just light listening to offer a much-needed buffer from the silence.

before you know it, you're there through some of the night, and it seems time has flown by when doing the devil's work, but he lets you know to come back tomorrow depending on how well you've done.

sorry this is a little boring, but i cant imagine him getting someone to help. hes such an insular person to me that hed rather do it himself to ensure it gets done right, but yk i dont think he'd be too terrible at training someone to help him. he'd probably very much appreciate it.

[thephantomcasebook]

Wait I’m confused, all the anything positive of neutral about the Greens is Green propaganda and the framing of the Targaryens as prophesied saviors isn’t Condal? Whatever OC says/does I can’t see TGC, EM, and FF agreeing with their haphazard characterizations this season so who is anyone is calling the shots?

Imagine, for just a second, that you're not you - a ASoIaF fan who read the book (or even the past editions of the book). You've only ever watched the show and have the HOTD show bible to go off of.

How do you think a ghost runner is going to write and patch work the show based on this information?

I'm not saying that Condal and Hess didn't write dumb shit or set up the Greens to be the bad guys.

What I'm saying is that the ghost showrunner isn't going to contradict what came before, cause he doesn't know dick about the lore. He's there to makes sure that they are on schedule - which I don't have to tell you that they weren't under Condal and Hess. He's setting up shots, locking things down, and patch quilting about four different drafts of Season 2, right?

Tom Glynn-Carney, Ewan Mitchell, and Fabien Frankel, are playing consistent to the characters they were in Season 1. In fact Tom Glynn-Carney is single handedly salvaging Aegon's character now that he has carte blanche to rework his character without Hess actively trying to destroy him.

Frankel is absolutely on side with Criston, playing him as being in love, basically married, to Alicent. But he also has to play off Olivia Cooke who has completely lost the plot and is basically doing whatever the fuck she wants to do, which is not working at all.

I'm mean we're talking about a dip shit who thinks that Alicent and Criston's love story is the height of patriarchy because Criston gives power to Aemond because he wants to protect Alicent from having to do terrible things if he backs her to be Regnant.

That's the kind of galaxy brained, 4-D chess, genius level intellect Frankel is working with.

So, you're right that Condal and Hess have fundamentally damaged TG, but its because they have a broken foundation rather than are making the decisions this season.

[therapycat21]

His True Obsession Six

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Word Count:929

Viserra's eyes fluttered open as the sun shone through the drapes. She turns slightly as she feels movement to her side. A soft smile graces her face as the prince adjusts himself, pulling the woman closer to his warm shirtless chest.  Aemond sighs in contentment as he gets comfortable again before the pair groans at the sounds of rapid knocking at the chamber door.

Aemond shuffled Viserra off and walked to the door, Viserra leaned up on her elbow, staring at Aemond who stood bare to the world, even the eyepatch gone. He hastily opened the door and was greeted by a Criston Cole. He groaned in annoyance at the man "What is it Cole?" he huffed. Cole peered at the young man, briefly seeing Viserra lying on the bed, only covered with a sheer blanket. 

Aemond noticed his movement toward the girl, adjusting to cover her from his eyesight, leaning against the doorframe "The princess is needed my Prince" he looked down at his feet, slightly cowering from the One-eyed man. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction before slamming the chamber door in his face turning back to Viserra.

He walked back over, leaning down to brush her hair back lovingly and leaning down to leave small chaste kisses along her face, whispering against her lips "Sadly you are needed my queen" he smirked against her skin as she shuddered at his words.

Viserra moves back to look him in the face, rubbing her hand along his face "Did he say why?" She asked, Aemond shook his head and watched as she sighed, throwing the blanket to the side and standing bare to the room, Aemond felt himself stiffen, groaning slightly, watching as she smirked at his reaction.

She walked around, gathering her clothing before leaving a longing kiss on his mouth. Before ultimately leaving the One-eyed Prince to get ready for the day. Viserra walked behind Ser Criston Cole until she looked around confused at the familiar walls of her chambers. 

Viserra looked at the man ahead of her "I thought you said I was needed? why are we back in my chambers?" Viserra went unanswered as her arm was grabbed harshly. Before she could comprehend she was thrown into the room, her body slamming onto the hard floor.

The air partially knocked from her all she heard was the sound of the door being slammed shut and locked from the outside. Gathering her bearings she stood and rushed to the door handle, trying to pull the door open, groaning as the door didn't budge. She slams her hands against the door, angry at the harsh treatment. She huffs, fixing her hair before turning to the windows.

They were locked, she tried breaking them open but it still wouldn't work, all she could think is what the fuck!

It's been what felt like hours, Viserra sat on her bed, finishing one of the quilts she was making for Halaenas twins when she turned at the sound of her chamber doors being fiddled with, Viserra stood frozen when the door was pushed open by Ser Criston and walking in behind him was Alicent.

Alicent stood with her hands clasped together, a solemn look on her face "Your grandsire has passed" If it wasn't for the bed behind her Viserra would have collapsed to the ground. Her grandsire, one of the people in her life loved her unconditionally and never treated her like an outsider.

Viserra's eyes were fidgeting, and her hands were fidgeting as she tried to comprehend what was happening "Does my mother know?" she whispered to the queen, Alicent nodded her head, choosing not to explain further. Viserra was somewhat okay, knowing her mother would be crowned queen. "Where is my mother?" she asked Alicent. Alicent started picking at the skin of her fingers, a nervous tick Viserra noticed she would do when she was uncomfortable or stressed.  

"Your grandsire has asked for Aegon to be crowned as his heir" she paused "Your mother was already on her way back to Dragonstone when she heard the news" Viserra could feel the anger crowding her vision "My grandsire named my mother as heir, not Aegon!" Alicent stared at the young woman, surprised at her outburst, only knowing her as the quiet and timid woman around Aemond.

Alicent sighed before looking to Cole and nodding, Viserra watched as Cole gathered her trunk from the front of her bed and started throwing clothes in it. Viserra rushed forward about to stop him until she was held back by more guards who she did not notice enter the room. She looked to Alicent, betrayal coursing through her body. 

"Where is Aemond?" Viserra asked, Alicent shook her head, staring at the young woman "Aemond will not be here to save you Viserra" she paused "You are going to be sent back to your family in Dragonstone" Alicent stepped closer to Viserra, a threatening look in her eyes "you will forget about trying to be with Aemond, he is promised to another" Viserra felt tears clouding her eyes, shaking her head, not comprehending what is happening.

"No, Aemond would not stand for this" She whimpered, her body almost slack against the guards, Alicent doesn't say anything else besides giving the guards a nod and leaving the room. Alicent stood outside the chamber doors trying to catch her breath, jumping at the sound of Viserra's cries for Aemond.

[haggishlyhagging]

Anne Bradstreet (1612?-1672), an Englishwoman who with her family arrived in Massachusetts in 1630 and combined a traditional life of Puritan domesticity with the inner life of a poet, the first American poet in fact, offers a good example of adaptation to gender constraints. She wrote:

To sing of Wars, of Captaines, and of Kings, Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun, For my mean Pen, are too superior things, And, how they all, or each, their dates have run: Let Poets, and Historians, set these forth, My obscure Verse, shal not so dim their worth. . . .

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue Who says my hand a needle better fits A Poet’s Pen all scorn I should thus wrong; For such despight they cast on female wits: If what I doe prove well, it wont advance, They'l say it's stolne, or else, it was by chance. . . .

Let Greeks be Greeks, and Women what they are, Men have precendency, and still excel, It is but vaine unjustly to wage war; Men can doe best, and Women know it well; Preheminence in each and all is yours, Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.

Bradstreet's sweet-tempered moderation can be read as ironic or conformist, but the significant fact is that she persisted all her life in working and publishing as a poet. At what cost to herself and her art can only be surmised. As Adrienne Rich observed: "To have written poems, the first good poems in America, while rearing eight children, lying frequently sick, keeping house at the edge of wilderness, was to have managed a poet's range and extension within confines as severe as any American poet has confronted."

Anne Bradstreet ignored the "carping tongues" and assured herself and the world that she was writing mostly to her children and to praise God. Yet, in every generation, everywhere women were struggling for intellectual expression, some "carping tongue" reminded them of their female limitation, their female duty. Over and over again, we find women directed toward the loom, the shuttle, the distaff, the embroidery frame rather than the pen. Many of them heeded these calls: the artful textiles, the glorious quilts, the richly varied embroideries, the fancywork that decorated churches and homes, all testify to the flourishing creativity of women. And, as Alice Walker reminded us, the creation of gardens was, for many women, a form of art. But the contested ground for men was that of literary creation, of definition. It was here they asserted their so-called prerogatives, claimed superiority of training and intellect, defined exclusionary standards, and used every form of psychological pressure possible to discourage women from claiming any of that terrain. Against such pressure only the strongest in character and motivation could hold their ground.

-Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness

[cornus27florida]

Random Headcannon List of Characters

Jolie's eye socket of other pocket dimension connects her to the Marble Empire (CPC equivalence for Greece) where things that happened in the 'fictional' books that related to Greek in CPC (Dogyssey, Medusa, Tale of Deaneira) series actually really does happen - those Greek monsters exist, and one of them is biting Saffron at episode 19. Btw Monika's reference at ep 76 of Maria Kondo come from celebrity that like MK in her kingdom - The Quilt Kingdom.

Blaine and Lance's academy isn't St. Cerulean like Frederick and Leland - but both uniform is blue, so I feel the name of the school will be related to blue.. I suggest "Lapis Academy"

Frederick isn't a picky eater (contrasts to Leopold that dislike sweets, or Jamie that had disdain over 'healthly foods' like vegetables) - but he had tedency to eat green-colored foods, so similar with Percy Jackson by Rick Riordan but instead blue is green. This means he loves eating green vegetables like broccoli, spinach, lettuce, cabbage, etc - green fruits like green apple of granny smith, melon, lime, etc - and green flavor associates like matcha (milk green tea)

In the Monochrome kingdom - the most favorite ice cream taste is Cookies and Cream because monochromatic color. Whitney associate that taste as the flavor of his childhood

Maria's collection: she listens to the (Bozart/Schozart) music using grammaphone that she keep at her wardrobe, also she have soft spots to all fairy tales with female blondies in there such as Sleeping Beauty, Alice in Wonderland and Rapunzel

Lorena actually the one that cares the pets at their palace the most, not Maria with her animal gathering ability or Gwen with the vermins [like Mr Possum and Mr Rat] - She built a cat tower house for Colonel Snuggles, keeping stash of catnips for Col. Snuggles, buying treats for them - and even the one that cosplaying them [kinda shown being the one that gives them the military gears, or a skirt]

[warning for dark, grim HC there] One of the horrifying taste that Jamie encounter is when the chef feeling suicidal, the food taste abruptly changes to feel like aftertaste of metallic blood. Jamie never tell anyone about it to protects the chef identity that very ashamed to ever serves a prince like that

Gwen is very creative person indeed, beside creating various dishes - she also crafting a teddy bear plushie in homage for Frederick, hence the reason Frederick depicted as the bear

Lilyth (Leelathae) can draw (more tidy than a doodles), the diary of lilyth has drawings of various stuffs like Melusine emblem - the inside of the Pastel palace - the possums in the forest.. Gwen and Lorena inhirited her talent to draw, but Jamie and Maria can't draw like Jack

working on various multiple part time job as teenager, which she's juggling as pet shop keeper - band player - dish washer

Leland the one that crafting accesories for Laverne, like the necklace. He orthodidacly learns about it with books and lot of time spent in his office. He never letting anyone, even Jack - about his crafts and multiple designing that he learns by himself including making chess pieces and dress designs

Thermidora know and singing "Under the Sea" because the Lobster Kingdom is near the Mermaid Kingdom - which actually exist but never be mentioned to anyone. Another case of similarity with Marble Empire, the 'fairy tales' books actually depicting real life things instead as fictional

Velvet Kingdom where Renée come from specialized in the ringsmithing, everyone rings that depicted so far (Jolie's to Nell, Blaine's to Maria, Lance's to Lorena, Frederick's to Gwen) all are come from this said kingdom that masterfully crafting rings (which imbued by minor magic so always could fits the wearer) and putting it on specialized velvet ring box

Prez literally studied everything from algebra to biology to finance to geography to zoology + curses, espc if depicted from fairy tales - hence she's the one that capable to checking potential CPC member with her knowledge. Her knowledge is so vast but sadly she can't teach

Saffron from Foliage Kingdom and Syrah from Metallic kingdom actually come from neighboring kingdom - their border is metallic fences that has vines of ivy grows there. Their kingdom has many alliances business, which the prominent one is "Goblin's Silverwares" - which a specialized, magical wares (weapons included) that always pristine so no need to get cleaned up + imbibed to get more powerful if getting strong stuffs like venom's beast. Goblin's silverwares are very rare and expensive, with the goblins usually won't ever consider to making one to human unless a very special ocassion arise which also prevents malicious people to get it

Miss Agatha's questionable book collection, she brought it from Pastel Plaza - yes the market selling smut stuff openly

Beckett is the sole keeper of the "Lost and Found" corner, which actually becomes hazard things accumulator

[miswaken]

Some Christmas headcanons:

Alice is a real tree purist. Artificial trees might look nice but they just aren't the same -- no pine scent, no imperfections giving them life and character. Plus she just likes the yearly ritual of picking one out, getting it home and set up, and enjoying it for that brief window where it's pretty and fragrant before the needles start to drop. She's all about the beauty of those fleeting moments.

She also likes eggnog.

Christmas lights everywhere in the apartment. The windows, the hallways, just... everywhere. Unsurprisingly her nyctophobia was at its worst in the wintertime, but the holidays always offered a respite and an excuse to brighten things up, literally. She prefers white lights to the multi-colored ones.

However, on the vibrant and 'tacky' side, she does appreciate a good ugly sweater. She has two -- one that was her mother's and one that she found in a Manhattan thrift store. They're both very 'vintage mom sweater' vibes. Think those oldschool handmade-looking ones that are either knit or quilted, button-up with a big collar and everything.

It's a Wonderful Life used to be her favorite Christmas movie, but she hasn't been able to watch it since Bright Falls. Miracle on 34th Street (the original, not the remake) was the runner up that took its place.

Although it hasn't been filled in years, Alice still has the stocking her mother made her as a child and she hangs it off one of the living room bookcases every Christmas Eve.

Of the two of them, Alan was always more of the chef, but after his disappearance Alice takes up baking as a hobby to relieve stress and keep her mind occupied on a task. Every year since 2011 she's made a point of trying out at least three new cookie recipes during November and December, and the winners get added to the roster for the actual holiday.

[doctahpants]

I sewed a thing!

(I know his foot is very pointy - once I join them all together it will sort itself out!)

Just 18 more blocks to do!

[discipulusmaleficus]

✵ IF You are still accepting, for anyone that tickles ur fancy

@scxrytxles - impressions meme!

ALICE.

Their first impression of your muse: Oh that thing's weird. Might as well investigate.

Current impression: Most trusted and appreciated of Friends.

Are they attracted to your muse?: She's cute!

Something they find frightening about your muse: Have you SEEN her doing magic

Something they find adorable about your muse: Her hair and her clothes and the way she talks and the way she moves and again, she's cute

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: Yeah.

Would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic: Yeah.

One word my muse would use to describe yours: Idiosyncratic, politely.

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: No, because she would probably just act sad about it. And he doesn't want her to leave again.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: Yeah.

NIL.

Their first impression of your muse: Why are you Looking at me like that. if you start Diagnosing me I am going to shove your head into a blender

Current impression: Excellent blood mage and complete fucking lunatic who goes around giving free help to Just Anyone, apparently. and also like. some kind of Authority Figure you can form a mutual friendship with and whose love and support isn't contingent on you doing exactly the right thing at all times?? he doesn't know what you'd call that, it's wild

Are they attracted to your muse?: Not particularly. Is nursing more fanboyish admiration and deferential respect than he'd like to own up to.

Something they find frightening about your muse: If Nil stops helping him for any reason, he's pretty sure he's fucked. Still Does Not Like incomprehensible medical devices.

Something they find adorable about your muse: Quilts!

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: Probably. Gets the feeling Nil would prevent that from happening.

Would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic: Sure, he can go Do Things. (Nil's only sometimes embarrassing to be around in public.)

One word my muse would use to describe yours: Unbearable. <3

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: He'd punch him again! Just for fun.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: Has hugged him. Feels kind of self-conscious about initiating it.

LEWIS.

Their first impression of your muse: Oh This Guy Is So Cool. This Has To Be The Coolest And Prettiest Guy Here. Hello Your Aura Is So Shiny. I Like Your Piercings. Can I Sit Here And Look At Your Face. Can I Touch Your Fa

Current impression: I hate you. You're the most important person in the universe. I need to set something on fire.

Are they attracted to your muse?: kal vc: haha not at all <3

Something they find frightening about your muse: He keeps letting his guard down -- even as he becomes increasingly aware that this man could literally bite his hand off -- and he's not sure why. Also he's full of Bugs now and we know how Kal feels about that

Something they find adorable about your muse: Those lip studs bobbing up and down. Bioluminescence. Likes teaching him words.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: Yes. ರ⁠_⁠ರ

Would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic: Sure.

One word my muse would use to describe yours: …Difficult.

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: And worse~.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: Yes.

CHESTER.

Their first impression of your muse: Hey so why are you covered in stitches and also a cat? Please tell me about this in great detail. …No? OK.

Current impression: Fine? Kind of uptight. Not sure what his issue is, the safety pin thing was weeks ago c'mon

Are they attracted to your muse?: Nah. Too skinny.

Something they find frightening about your muse: He's a Large Predator and also actually understands the legal system.

Something they find adorable about your muse: Chasing of small woodland creatures. :3

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: Not particularly likely.

Would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic: That sounds like it would annoy Chester immensely. So sure.

One word my muse would use to describe yours: Kitten. >:3

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: Feels no particular need to. Doesn't think it would get much of a reaction.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: That also sounds like it would annoy Chester immensely.

TESSA.

Their first impression of your muse: Bitch.

Current impression: Bitch.

Are they attracted to your muse?: UNFORTUNATELY.

Something they find frightening about your muse: Half of his support network is in love with and/or works for her. He doesn't know how to make her stay dead.

Something they find adorable about your muse: Well. He'd like to see her in panic attack mode again~.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: She's one of the few people he's still tempted to murder. (:

Would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic: In a manner of speaking. Well, if he's ever in fighting form again.

One word my muse would use to describe yours: Bitch. Stubborn.

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: Mhm.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: Seems foolhardy.

[lucygraysboy]

it must be some sort of witchcraft, billy thinks to himself once he’s all alone, and still the memory of lucy gray’s voice echoes in his ears. he’s never been someone who’s easily influenced by others’ opinions, naturally rather stubborn and strong-willed, but she’s put a spell on him and can pull on the strings of his heart with such ease that he’s suddenly the first one to compromise and reshape even the most fundamental of his viewpoints. he made up his mind on marriage a few months ago, when his mother died and he got into some serious trouble for the first time — he’d never marry, not while he’s an outlaw, not when he has no real way of fulfilling the promise of a lifetime together. after all, his might be cut short. this attitude didn’t stop him from falling into alice’s arms and stumbling into her bed, despite knowing he’d never be able to truly love her, because he was being selfish and needed someone to comfort him, and maybe they did use each other in a way. maybe it’s cruel of him to make this distinction between the two women, but his heart insists he does just that — lucy gray deserves to be loved truly and permanently. unlike alice, who didn’t mind letting an intoxicated stranger warm her bed, who took advantage of the state that he was in.

i couldn’t handle it like alice seemingly can. his heart wants to respond by saying, i’d never ask you to handle it like alice did. he wouldn’t want to spend just one night with lucy gray. if he’s being honest with himself, he wants to give her his heart and soul, dedicate his life to making her happy. if he only knew he could give her the world and everything she deserves… he’s so lost in these thoughts that he doesn’t even realize when he’s managed to clean the bedroom, scrub the oil stains out of the rug, picks up the shards of glass and sweep the floor, tuck the empty bottle away among other trash, throw the dirty rags away. his sleeves still rolled up to his elbows, cheeks rosy from the effort it took to get these chores done, and a proud smile glued to his lips, he sits down on the edge of her bed for a moment, just trying to catch his breath and using it as an opportunity to look around. it’s such a cute, cozy room, he thinks to himself. he runs his hand over the soft, rainbow quilt, fluffs one of the pillows. then, his gaze falls on the stuffed bears, sitting neatly on a wooden chair, and he gets up just to examine them. assuming lucy gray won’t mind, he picks up the bigger one and smiles to himself because it has brown eyes, too, and in a way resembles the girl who probably used to play with it when she was younger. he tucks the teddy bear under his arm and heads to the dresser, glancing toward the door to make sure she’s not coming back, and picking up a hoop earring he finds on top of it. oh, she’s got so many pretty things!

“well, wouldn’t you like to know darlin’. but you don’t get to now.” because he was asking her only now. which, she wasn’t actually mad at him for but it is fun to tease him. sweet like cocoa, in look and color; those hues of hers traveled up his frame as he caved in closer and lucy gray’s head craned to look up at his taller statue otherwise she was just staring at a chest. she anticipated what he had to say but stood there bravely, until she takes in this info…and has no idea what to do with it. because they weren’t even talking hypothetically like they claimed, this was realistically. he is a handsome faced guy, the windows to his soul was some of the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen. her mama had the most beautiful eyes and now this boy…he tied with her in the big beautiful eyes category. she would say his hues were powerful enough to make her heart flip and twist and jolt looking at them and being stared back by them…it was safe to say she was attracted to his looks.

and he kept blushing and being smitten by her im return, now his words…admitting he obviously would do whatever he did with alice with her. it left her stunned and conflicted on how her mind was supposed to process that. she couldn’t wrap her mind around it— why would he do that? “well, that’s exactly why i want to be married first. cause i couldn’t handle it like alice seemingly can. i don’t want to be temporarily loved, i want to be loved forever. don’t wanna spend just tonight with you— someone,” she swallowed her embarrassment, blushing red, “then you up and take off like you do. that ain’t how it works for me.” about to her cross her arms until she stops midway to grab his finger poking her belly, it’s tickling her and annoying her. “you never can be for sure.” shaking her head, bets his ways are as ridiculous as his logic that he seems so certain he won’t put babies in women’s bellies being so reckless.

once in her room, she tiptoed around the glass pieces and went over to her dresser where she pulled out a perfectly folded white sleeping gown. it was cotton, reached a little past her knees and the sleeves had been cut off it and made into thin ruffly straps for the shoulders because it was too hot for nightgowns with the long sleeves no matter what the preacher and the rest of the church said about always needing her arms covered. with little blue bows hanging off the shoulder straps she tied on herself with powder blue silky string for lot cuter detail. undergarments and white socks with ruffles she gathered in her arms before carefully leaving and taking the clothes back to the bathroom. a lot on her mind still as she went around cleaning their mess they made in here, gathering his clothes after placing hers down…thinking about his fight with the blacksmith, making her wonder if she HAD been lusting after billy taupe, her father taking control eventually and deciding who she can be forced to live with. but decided to forget about all of that by time she got to the eerie last part and focused on him laughing about her putting him in timeout earlier and the way he laughed. it was cute, she realized she hadn’t even paid attention in that moment because she was too annoyed about other things.

[lavalierre]

Tagged by @elphabaoftheopera! I liked this one, thanks for tagging me. I have ten shelves so choosing one from each. Ranking for lowest to highest:

10: The Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare: “Between the record of his baptism in Stratford on 26 April 1564 and the record of his burial in Stratford on 25 April 1616, some forty documents name Shakespeare, and many others name his parents, his children, and his grandchildren.”

I’m not a big Shakespeare fan and this doesn’t really pull me into to read this play.

9: Salomé by Oscar Wilde: “‘Salomé’ has made the author’s name a household word wherever the English language is not spoken.”

Similar to Shakespeare, this doesn’t pull me in; such is the danger of a foreword.

8: Inkspell by Cornelia Funke: “Twilight was gathering.”

Appreciate a setting but comes across a little cliche as the only sentence to judge by.

7: Marginal Lyrics of Love and Praise by Sister Monica Lammers: “I am not a poet— / Don’t think I don’t know it!”

This one is by my great great aunt. Kind of made me laugh (affectionately) to open on this note

6: The History of Ornithology by Valérie Chansigaud: “In the animal world, birds are among the easiest organisms to observe: their size, colour and song all conspire to attract our attention.”

While still in foreword territory, this one is more effective to me. Birds absolutely do garner my attention, that’s why I got this book!

5: The Green Man: Tales from the Mythic Forest edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling: “When we journey deep ‘into the woods’ in myths, fairy tales, or modern fantasy fiction, we travel to a place of magic, danger, and personal transformation.”

Another foreword, but a stronger one again, because I want to hear more about this transformation theory the editor is presenting.

4: Echo by Pam Muñoz Ryan: “Fifty years before the war to end all wars, a boy played hide-and-seek with his friends in a pear orchard bordered by a dark forest.”

This book had no Library of Congress page or foreword/acknowledgments at the front; immediately jumped into the story with a strong setting, and I appreciate that.

3: Heartstopper: Volume 3 by Alice Oseman: “Sunday May 23rd: So… I came out as bisexual to my mum.”

This line makes me want to keep reading; how did coming out go?? (Already read this one so I know how it went but still a good hook!)

2: From the Corner of His Eye by Dean Koontz: “Bartholomew Lampion was blinded at the age of three, when surgeons reluctantly removed his eyes to save him from fast-spreading cancer, but although eyeless, Barty regained his sight when he was thirteen.”

Hooks me in - how does an eyeless blind boy regain his sight? Science? Magic? Tell me, Koontz!

1: The AIDS Quilt: Stories from the NAMES Project by Cindy Ruskin: “My grandparents, well into their eighties, grow melancholy remembering lifelong friends who have died.”

This one hooks me in a lot, which the title alone already did. Definitely have had those heavy convos with my elders about the loss of friends and family, and I want to see where the author will take this.

I tag @gaysolavellan @ashestoashesjc @h0ckeyslut @notyourhousewife (if you want to - other mutuals please participate you want!)

[adheidth]

"O-of course I'm alright!" Alice huffs, indignant, from her vantage point - and if her voice chatters, it's surely from the chill.

..there's a wolf. Why is there is a wolf? They're inside an inn, and she feels relatively certain that an immersive experience was not a part of this stay. She tugs the blanket-ever tighter around her shoulders, and calls down once more.

"Are the other patrons alright? 'tis my duty to assist you, as an aristocrat, but if you can handle yourself, I will ascertain their safety first!"

He... really does look like he has it handled, but she also feels uncertain if she should head away. What if more wolves show up? It ill suits her to leave someone in danger, and anyway -

"Kh-!"

A jaw snaps by her ear, far, far too close. For better vantage - of course, the upstairs is a rather thin corridor - she skitters past it, near-tripping on her blanket as she stumbles down the stairs.

"You awful beast!"

In a whirl of golden hair and patterned quilt the noble girl turns on her heal, conjuring her own flames to the tips of her fingers.

as the clock strikes

mission board: distress || reason +1