#alice journal of asks

[formulapookie]

23 with rosquez

23. Did they hurt you?

When Vale learns about people breaking into Marc's home after what he said about it he feels like a meteor just hit him at full force.

He knows his fans are loyal and almost cult-like followers but this is definitely not what he thought could've happened after a press con.

Yes he was angry, fuming even, because Marc had just costed hima championship but - he never would've thought people could be this insane.

He wants to text Marc, tell him he's sorry that happened.

A clean, short message.

Just to get it off his chest.

But vale knows Marc, he knows his mind and how stupidly stubborn that boy is. He knows if he got hurt he didn't tell anyone and is probably still hurting.

And yeah maybe he shouldn't care, not after what Marc did, but something deep in his chest wants him to go, check on Marc, talk to him.

When he sneaks into Marc's motorhome that evening he thanks no one is inside, there was a really high chance Alex was gonna be there, and the younger never had a particular liking for Vale.

The only person present in the motorhome is Marc.

He's sat on his bed, shirtless and sad.

He looks - Vale doesn't decipher his eyes, there's a layer of something he cannot quite understand.

Even from the distance he can see the bruise, on his arm, ugly blue and purple fading to yellow on the edges.

Marc is wincing in pain as he applies what Vale supposes to be arnica or something similar.

There's a pack of ice on the nightstand, it's leaking, probably been there for longer than it was supposed to be.

He doesn't think about announcing his break-in, and he realizes a bit too late he's made a mistake.

He opens the door fully and he steps in, but when he does he's met with a terrified Marc, who curls up and hides his face.

"Marc it's me"

How fucking stupid can he be?

People just broke into his house and he comes in here like this.

When Marc notices he sits straight up, the twitch in the corner of his eyes a signal he's in pain, but doesn't want to show.

He's calming his breath down, trying to erase the moment that just passed.

"I uhm"

"What? You wanted to congratulate your dogs for entering my home and fucking it up?"

"No no Marc I-I wanted to say I'm sorry this happened"

"Mh. And why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm sorry"

"Yeah ok and if I tell you I didn't act on purpose to make you loose the championship what would yo say?"

"I wouldn't believe you, Marc this is a different thing-"

"What a fucking hypocrite. You want me to believe you but you wouldn't believe me if you had proofs in front of you"

"I - Marc this is not why I came here I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened"

"To say sorry? Sorry doesn't fix anything Valentino. They broke in. They broke things, they - they wrote on the fucking wall. Do you know what they shouted when I came back home, before breaking in?"

Vale's mind is running. No he doesn't know what they shouted, and he's not sure he wants to.

"They called me Lorenzo's little bitch. Reminds you of something someone else said? Oh yes. It's what you said to your journalist friends"

Vale is far again, heartbeat in his ears, Marc's eyes clearly full of tears but proudly holding them back.

His attention is brought back by the bruise.

it's still there, ugly as before, must be really fucking painful.

Then he notices another one, fading, and his stomach drops.

The one on the arm was bad already, it was done to hurt for sure but the second one.

It's. It's scary.

Around Marc's neck there's the faint line of a hand squeezing it with too much force.

He wants to get closer to Marc, hug him to reassure him but he knows he would scare him away if he did.

So he asks, because it's all he can do.

"Did they hurt you?"

The tone shakes something inside Marc. A weakness, a desire to be comforted and held. But he doesn't give into it. Because it was Vale's fault if that crazy man grabbed him by the hand and when he freed himself did the same at his neck.

He still feels the hand around it, the sheer panic he felt for the five seconds it lasted, before others got him far from that hold.

So he scoffs. Doesn't look at Vale because if he did he would meet his gaze, which guessing by his tone is of pity.

And Marc Marquez doesn't accept pity.

"Would you care?"

And Vale is stunned. He knows Marc thinks he hates him, because he's done everything to make it look like that.

But. He didn't think Marc thought he hated him THIS much. Not to care.

"Of course I care Marc they - they broke in and - the press didn't say anything about these"

Vale probably shuts his brain off, because he actually sits on Marc's bed next to him, and extends his hand to touch the bruised area.

And Marc, for the first time in his life, jerks away from Vale's touch. Like it's venomous, burning.

And Vale is sincerely worried now, hurt yes, because Marc gets away from him, but mostly worried for the fear he sees hiding behind Marc's pupils.

"Marc I'm not going to hurt you"

"No? Like you weren't going to leave me over racing results? You think I forgot what you promised me? Before the Ranch? Why should I trust you now Valentino?"

Valentino.

Not Vale.

"I - the racing it's different, it's a whole championship Marc! You helped him and -"

"I DIN'T FUCKING HELP HIM"

Marc is red in the face, he's stood up from the bed, and for once vale feels like the smaller out of the two.

"GOD! Will you get it in your fucking head I didn't help anyone to win? Huh? The fuck do you think that I manipulated the penalty system or what? That I faked to fall? That I've been mastering up this majestic plan to make you loose a championship since the Ranch visit? I didn't give a fuck who would've won last year because I wasn't in the run"

He wants to cry, so desperately would want that Vale wasn't the responsible of his pain so to look for comfort in him.

Because it doesn't make sense to ask for comfort to the person who's hurting you right? It's an oxymore.

"Marc please let me help you with those"

He'd ducking the question, Marc knows he is because he doesn0t have an answer.

And he wants to say no.

Wants to tell him to fuck off.

Instead he sits back on the bed, tilting his neck slightly, and it hurts.

He's scared too, his neck is there, ready to be sliced open if one only would.

He anticipates the sensation, hot blood running down his throat and staining his shirt, his bed, a river of crimson regret.

Instead there's gentle fingers grazing his skin, a thin layer of cream gently massaged on his bruised skin.

He wants to cry again, he also wants to get away, but he also wants Vale to stay and hold him.

He hasn't slept in days.

He wants to fall asleep with him.

God his head is a fucking mess. And Vale keeps on applying the cream on his neck, he can feel the softness and the carefulness of his touch. It's beautiful.

He wishes it could be like this forever.

Silence, softness and closeness.

Once Vale is finished he expects him to go, but he doesn't.

Marc doesn't protest, he slips under the covers and closes his eyes, tries to fall asleep.

Vale is still sat on his bed, like a guard, and Marc knows nothing between them is ok.

But maybe with Vale presence tonight he will be able to sleep.

And maybe in his dreams they're ok.

[calithso]

NATLAN TEASER... HRRJAKZ. SSDSM

HOT.. AOMEN

OHHHHHH MYGOD. THE WOMEN?!??? THE DESIGNS???? HELLO????? MY PRIMOGEMS ARE GONE. I'VE ALREADY 100% EVERY NATION. NATLAN YOU'RE NEXT

i can't do this is it bad i love their designs i'm sorry 💔

also mauvika biker gf real

[alicewritten]

In the most recent Ask Polly, “Passion Requires Slow Cultivation”:

[susiephone]

i just finished rereading "unmask alice" by rick emerson and am once again ready to resurrect beatrice sparks just so i can fight her personally. though tbh i feel like the fair thing would to be resurrect alden barrett's mother too and let her take a crack at her.

[victorluvsalice]

Valice Calendar: If It Wasn't Official Before Then, It Sure Was Official Then

Wondering what I'm talking about? Well, we've reached one of the last couple of dates to celebrate on my Valice( r) Calendar -- specifically, this is the first mention I could find of one of my Alice muses for LJ RP calling one of my Victor muses her "boyfriend." The context for this one was that I was doing a personal "88 Advent" fic-a-thon for my LJ of stories of 88 words in the days leading up to Christmas, and the fic for that day was a meta one featuring one of my Marty muses encountering my new Alice muse (who was intended for "Beyond The Rift," the game I mentioned back on the "thinking of fanfic" day) having just made gingerbread. And being suspicious of said gingerbread as she'd made it under the tutelage of Ms. Plum from Corpse Bride. XD At any rate, this is what I wrote immediately under the fic:

Yes, this is FuturePossibleRift!Alice, who insists on hanging around my head. -Alice: Well, my boyfriend's here!- -Rift!Victor: pleased blush-

So yeah -- I was definitely shipping it beforehand, but this was probably the final nail in the coffin of me ever trying to get free of this ship again. Victor was Alice's boyfriend, and that was that. And it's been that ever since. :) Really glad I never convinced myself this was a horrible ship -- it's been a real source of joy in my life over the past fifteen years. And I'm glad so many of you seem to enjoy it as well. Here's hoping for many more. :)

[marsstateofmindsblog]

The butterfly effect rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. It comes it go, if you take a bath for too long it’s because you’re drowning the idea of life in some worthless thoughts and theory that your life is slightly great after all and your just embarrassed to be satisfied by a boring life .

-to be a boring person.

#art#blog#writing#photography#trending#mars#planets#music#moon

[limerental]

@weirdandabsurd42 yeah! So my writing degree program had three tracks that students could focus on (fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction) and through a series of timing and schedule juggling accidents, I ended up on the creative non-fiction track studying/writing memoir and personal essay.

So the biggest trouble that haunts the genre of memoir is that there are varying opinions on when something veers out of fictionalized memories reframed into cohesive narratives and when details are just plain made up. It's accepted and common that certain details won't be factual (what you ate for breakfast or the color of your shirt on xyz day or the exact wording of what your mom said to you, etc) but some memoirs push the limits of that into controversies where it comes out those things did not happen to them at all or at least not in that way.

But it's not actually all that easy to wholly dismiss a memoir as non-factual, because memory is fickle. My professor had an addendum in his personal memoir where he confessed that he'd misremembered the events and participants of one of the stories in his book, revealed when he saw a photograph that reframed things. But he didn't edit the story, because he didn't remember it that way.

So there are several very well-known factually untrue memoirs that are still regarded as memoirs. Even the act of telling the story changes the story and the context of the storyteller's present life colors the story and a non-factual detail in a memoir can be true if its fact to the person who remembers it. Especially when you chuck memory altering mental states like abuse and loss and other trauma into the mix.

Which is why it's so fascinating to see that done so so so well in IWTV. Confusing events and details and your present self changing your memory of the past and little things reorienting you to what "actually happened" happens even to regular mortals involving things that didn't happen all that long ago in contrast. There is no true story! Not really! Everything that we remember is true in some way.

every single "wait that isn't how it actually happened" moment in iwtv has made my little former memoir scholar brain implode

[freakassfemme]

chronically offline abby headcannons ✧˖*°

she is coping so well and thriving. i said i could fix her and i did

heyyyy so this is sort of kind of low-key a little bit of a continuation on beloved butch abby, the premise of the au and personality is the same. i got a request asking for more and i was thinking about this anyways and thought they worked well together

♫ above the chinese restaurant (laufey)

ೃ༄ abby is (unfortunately) a retired soldier, she's got a kid to look after, she runs a cafe downtown and she's got two dogs. all at like, 22. did we really think she has the time to go online for anything more than 🔍 thirty minute dinner recipes your vegan teenager isn't going to kill you over

ೃ༄ just kidding. she doesn't mind lev trying out new things lol. he is her whole fucking world, she's more than happy to spend time with him cooking something he remembers from home, giving each other grossed out faces when they fuck up the tofu again, and giving up and going to target 15 minutes before close to piece together some random junk food.

Manny will come over and cook with them sometimes, and that's always a fun time. he's got abby drunk before nine and she's just a laughing mess.

ೃ༄ she just loves being around Manny in general. they meet up for lunch a lot, go on runs together in the morning, work on each other's trucks, etc.,

now that she's living a normal life, she's able to take a serious Spanish class, and he's very supportive about it.

ೃ༄ definitely takes the dogs into the cafe with her. whenever someone complains about the pandora radio she puts on, she blames it on the dogs.

yeah she uses pandora until someone teaches her what Spotify is

ೃ༄ she's such a planner. she's got a huge chalkboard in the kitchen for the week and the month with both of their schedules drawn on it down to the hour if needed. hers is written in orange and lev's is written in green.

only watches tv once a week, and it's for a designated show that's so laid back, like the great British baking show.

"do you want to watch this show?" "no it's not Sunday"

ೃ༄ she's definitely the type to limit screen time, and lev himself isn't like partial to brain rot, but sometimes he says something that has her turning around like what did you just say eyes wide and everything

lev tells her to touch grass one day and she goes on a hike

ೃ༄ her favorite evening activities are taking the dogs on a sunset walk with lev, and then when lev's gone up to his room for the night, she will pack him like a little bento-type lunch. she'll cozy up in her lazy boy by the fireplace with Alice at her feet and journal away, sometimes until she falls asleep.

she's got BUCKETS of journals. it started in therapy after her dad passed, as like a coping mechanism to at least attempt to correct her thought processes, and it's always stuck. it's always made her feel like she's putting herself in order again.

after therapy, i feel like abby spent a lot of time thinking about religion. she never really found anything that clicks, but she reads a lot about buddhism and really appreciates the perspective.

ೃ༄ definitely has a weird phone setup going on. she's either got a really old like iPhone 7 with maybe 6 apps on it or one of those CAT flip phones lol. can you imagine flip phone selfies from her

ೃ༄ writes her grocery lists on a little piece of yellow paper that she'll tuck into her front pocket. carries specifically one of those bic ballpoint pens, has like 5 year old reusable grocery bags and a keychain for her Aldi quarter that she thinks is so clever and fun.

she definitely uses one of her favorite coins from her collection as her Aldi quarter.

ೃ༄ gets the paper delivered to her house. she prefers to read it that way, but she pays for lev to get a digital subscription to his kindle or something

ೃ༄ keeps her dads beat up, decaying quilt as a topper for her bed. she folds it up neatly every night and sets it in a rocking chair in the corner of her room, just to preserve it a little longer.

ೃ༄ knows how to get throughout almost the entire west coast without a map or gps or anything

ೃ༄ reading is HUGE in her house. lev's reading log was NEVER forged not once. she spent a whole summer building ceiling to floor bookshelves with a gorgeous trim and a mahogany stain. she loves to swing by the used bookstore after work every once in a while, the one where she can get a book for 25 cents or a big bag of them for two bucks.

every birthday, lev gives her a bag of books, and he always puts one in that he loves but isn't sure she will like. it's usually not her style, but she likes learning more about his interests and she thinks they're always very sweet books.

always secretly surprises lev with little books with transmasc characters or about real trans people. she will just leave them on his desk in their shared office or something with a little sticky note with a heart on it

ೃ༄ makes friends with the lanky manager of the record store with a weird fucked up tattoo when she's looking for more cassettes for her beat up truck.

"dude, you're the only person who has looked through this crate in like, six months. you can just take what you want."

"holy shit, really? it's the only thing i can play in my truck besides the radio."

"jesus, that's kind of funny. yeah, anytime you want, you can use my shit to make your little mixtapes. if I'm not here, just tell them Ellie said so."

ೃ༄ is definitely an active member of her local library, not only for reading material, but to check out music, and she loves to participate in the chess and book clubs.

really loves board games in general.

ೃ༄ I feel like abby loves Birkenstocks, but the clogs. she has a pair of sandals for the summer, but in my heart I know she's a clog girly.

ೃ༄ very simple, very minimalist wardrobe. I feel like she exclusively sticks to Levi's for jeans, and then she has like 8 black tee shirts and some thrifted sweatshirts and tee shirts.

would very much adore though if her girlfriend crocheted her a hat or a scarf or something <3

ೃ༄ speaking of girlfriends, I feel like abby really goes for opposites attract. she's so mild in appearance, that she loves someone that's a little over the top. maybe a little frilly, or adds odd little details to their outfits. she loves funky hairstyles and creativity in women.

ೃ༄ she loves making her own coffee. working at the cafe wasn't just convenience for her, abby loves the slowness of it. she loves packing the espresso, she loves checking on her sourdough every morning, she loved crafting her own tea blends. she definitely has a beat up metal French press, but she probably invests in her own espresso machine to keep at home too.

ೃ༄ i feel like eventually abby would coach for a sports team at lev's school. maybe he joined gymnastics or like, made the soccer team, and abby's packing-coolers-full-for-the-team and carpooling and excessive volunteering eventually takes her to leading after school drills and a best coach ever mug for the middle school boys soccer team lol.

this OR she becomes one of the most active parents any GSA has ever known to mankind

joins the pta

ೃ༄ is SO sentimental. has photos of people she loves all over the walls of her house, keeps tickets from movies and cuts out bits from the newspaper to keep in a little shoebox under her bed. she keeps her dad's medical journals and research on a special shelf above the fireplace.

her little flip hone has a blurry picture of her and Manny in the background

ೃ༄ Abby texts and types like this. She is a very formal typist. She will become very confused if someone texts her in lowercase or without punctuation.

[aemondsbabe]

The Queen

summary: dairy/letters & lingerie kink || alicent stumbles across a secret of yours and is more than happy to make it come true

pairing: modern!alicent x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, pre-established relationship, dom!Alicent, sub!reader, queen honorifics used in the bedroom, lingerie kink, use of a leather crop, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, thigh riding, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.3k

a/n: happy day seven of 12 days of smuff!! i went into a fugue state and wrote 10 pages in 2 hours. the hold that olivia cooke has on me should be studied by science. anyway.

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @olliviacooke

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

Alicent’s POV

She was humming, swaying her hips to a new album she’d downloaded earlier that week as she smoothly moved the duster along the wooden surface of your nightstand, careful as she guided it between the lamp and the small potted plant you loved so much. Getting a bit too into the music she was listening to as she tidied up your shared bedroom, though, she accidentally bumped against the growing stack of books on your nightstand. 

“Shit!” Alicent hissed as a few went tumbling to the ground. Sighing, she bent down to grab them, half-heartedly cursing you for insisting on buying new books before you’d finished the ones you had. 

“Huh?” She wonders outloud, pausing the music on her phone when she sees her name scrawled in your familiar handwriting. Her fingers brush over the soft, leather bound book as she picks it up, her lips pursing as she reads the words “Personal Journal” embossed on the front in fancy gold lettering. Her brown eyes widen and quickly glance around the room, despite the fact that she knows she’s the only one home. Biting her lip, she runs a finger over the spine of your diary, weighing her options. On the one hand, she knew it would be a horrible invasion of your privacy to look but… well, what if it was something important? 

She shook her head at the thought. She wasn’t going to be one of those snooping partners! You already told her everything anyway, it’s not like there would be anything in your diary she didn’t already know! You were basically an open book, in fact, it was one of the things she loved most about you – your willingness to be so honest and transparent. 

No, she thought, carefully setting the diary back on your bedside table, I’m not going to! I’m simply – 

Okay, sue her. She’s only human and her name was right there! She’d make it up to you. 

Glancing around one more time, she flipped open the leather-bound book, flipping through it to the page she’d spotted a moment ago. She found it pretty quickly and nervously bit on a nail as her eyes scanned over the page, noticing the date first. It was from only about a week ago. She read on.

I’m not even sure how to bring up the topic, it doesn’t really seem like something you’d just bring up at the dinner table? Like, “Oh, honey, yeah work was great today! Kevin from accounting is finally getting married, I know! Can you believe it? Oh. yeah, one more thing! Can you boss me around in the bedroom like a drill sergeant?” I mean, come on. 

What if she isn’t even into it? What if she wants to be the submissive one? I don’t think Alicent’s totally vanilla, I mean, there have been so many sparks of… something. Sometimes she tells me to do something, usually innocuous like making sure the door’s locked before we leave or to get the laundry hamper from the closet but… God, the way she says it makes me shiver. And when she’s talking on the phone to someone at work? That authoritative voice makes me melt. 

Sigh. I just need to find the courage to ask. 

Alicent finally finished the entry and looked up from your journal, blinking as thoughts raced through her head. After a minute, she closed the notebook and placed it carefully back on your bedside table, just like it was before it fell off the table. 

She could barely keep the smirk off her face as she grabbed her purse and keys and shut the front door behind her, a devious, delicious plan quickly forming in her head. 

She knew exactly how to make up for her actions. 

Reader’s POV

You sigh as you unlock the front door, quickly tossing your keys into the small bowl on the entryway table before kicking off your shoes.

“Babe?” You called, furrowing your brows at how unusually quiet the house was. Alicent’s car was in the driveway and normally she’d be playing music by the time you got home but today… nothing. You’re about to call out again when the sound of heels clicking down the hallway makes you stop in your tracks, your bag falls from your hand as your girlfriend finally appears from around the corner.

“Good day at work?” Alicent asks coolly, tilting her head as she leans against the doorway. Meanwhile, you feel dumbstruck as your eyes scan over her appreciatively, taking in every dip and curve as if you’d never seen any of them before. Your eyes skim over her outfit, a black, lacy bustier perfectly framing her chest, with a matching black thong clinging to her soft hips, fishnet stockings held up by an enticing garter belt, all the way down to black, pointed toe heels. She’d even taken the time to straighten her usually curly hair, smoothing it down into a clean, nearly intimidating style. 

She smirked, brown eyes sparkling at your awe-struck expression, smiling when your eyes finally landed on her face; you couldn’t help but swallow when you saw that she was wearing that expensive red lipstick she only brought out for special occasions, the one you love so much. 

Her heels click on the wood floors as she strides over to you and it’s only then you realize that she has something in her hand – a black leather crop. The sight of it makes your knees weak. 

“I asked you a question, baby,” she says gently, locking eyes with you as she gently cups your cheek with in her hand, “It would be rude not to answer.” There’s a hard edge to her voice that makes you lose what little train of thought you had.

“I… uh,” you stutter, blush rising to your cheeks as you stare helplessly at her, fighting to keep your gaze locked on hers, “W-Work was good, yeah. Same as… as usual.” You finally finish, your chest already heaving as you rub your thighs together, desperate before you even know what’s going on. 

“How wonderful,” she smirks and leans in, giving you a sweet kiss like she normally would, but today it has your head spinning, “What do you think of my little surprise?” She asks, though there isn’t really a question in her tone – she already knows your answer.

“I love it,” you breathe, hardly giving her time to finish speaking as you let your gaze wander over her yet again. “What, uhm,” you cough nervously, “What gave you the idea?”

She smiles again, shrugging; you nearly jump out of your skin when she softly runs the leather crop up the inside of your thigh, starting at your knee and stopping tantalizingly close to your core. “Just got the sense that maybe you’d be into it…” She says casually, like you’re talking about the weather, “Was I right?”

All you can do is nod your head, but that’s not good enough, apparently. Her eyes narrow and she wraps a hand around your neck, not too harshly, mostly just sitting it there but it’s enough to make you whimper in the back of your throat, breath catching as her perfectly manicured red nails just barely dig into your delicate skin. “I don’t think that’s the proper way to address me, is it?” She coos, a faux pout to her lips. 

“N-No,” you say shakily, your eyes searching hers, “No… ma’am?” You try, inwardly cringing at how your voice squeaks. 

She clicks her tongue like a disappointed mother, the sound going straight between your legs, as she fixes you with an intense stare. “Baby, you know how I sometimes call you princess?” She asks, smiling proudly when you eagerly nod, “Well, tell me. Who’s more in charge than a princess?”

Your throat goes dry and you swallow thickly, darting your tongue out to wet your lips before speaking. “T-The queen?” You ask softly, pride feathering out in your chest like the train of a peacock when she smiles and nods again.

“That’s right!” She praises, almost as if she was speaking to a child; perhaps you should be offended at her condescending tone, but, if anything, it just makes your heart beat faster. “The queen. Do you want me to be your queen today, sweet one?” Again, you nod, so she continues. “So, address me properly.”

“Yes, my queen.” You breathe the words, core clenching softly around nothing. 

“Very good,” she praises, leaning in and lightly brushing her lips over the pulsepoint on your neck, “Do you want to keep being a good girl for your queen?”

“Yes, your grace, please.” You say with an eager nod, feeling like you’ll explode if she doesn’t touch you, or so something soon.

“Then be good for me and go to the bedroom,” she nods as she speaks, her big brown eyes looking directly into yours, “And strip.” She finishes coolly, leaving you no room to argue. 

You nod quickly and practically leap down the hallway, blushing when you hear her giggling behind you. As soon as your feet hit the soft rug in the bedroom, you tug at your clothes, quickly shedding your sweater and work trousers before unclipping your bra and sliding your underwear down your legs, haphazardly shoving everything into the hamper because you just know she’ll say something about the mess if you don’t. Finally, not knowing what else to do, you stand by the bed, arms clasped in front of you.

She doesn’t make you wait long and you bite your lip in anticipation as her heels click slowly down the hallway, smiling shyly when you finally meet her gaze again as she enters the room. Just like you knew she would, her eyes immediately dart to the hamper and her smile widens when she sees your clothes from today resting on top. 

“What a good girl I have,” she praises as she saunters over to you, her hips swinging enticingly as she moves. Without another word, she sits on the edge of the bed and gently places the crop down next to her on the bedspread, before she beckons you over with a crook of her finger, “You like your queen’s special surprise for you, huh?” She questions, tilting her head as she peers up at you, her hands resting gently on the curve of your hip. 

“Yes,” you nod, your eyes trailing down to her cleavage before you can help yourself and it’s only then that you notice that she’s breathing nearly as hard as you are, a blush extending down her pale neck and chest, “I love it, my queen, so much.” You nearly whisper, dizzy at the thought that she might be enjoying this just as much as you are. 

“Don’t you think you should thank me for your surprise, princess?” She asks coolly, smirk widening as she sees a look of realization in your eyes. 

“Yeah, yes, please,” you nearly beg, already tempted to sink to your knees.

She smirks at your eagerness, all but laughing when you whine as she pushes herself back further, out of your grasp and into the center of the bed, making enough room for you in front of her. Again, she crooks her finger and you hastily follow after her, kneeling between her fishnet-covered legs. With another smirk, she silently spreads her legs, bending them at the knee enough that the heels of her shoes dig into the bedspread. 

Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as you let your gaze travel down, between her legs, where you’re met with the shocking realization that the black thong she has on is indeed crotchless. Your eyes stay glued to her center, now beautifully framed by two strips of lace fabric; the sight makes you lick your lips without thinking, taking in the way her folds shimmer, even in the low light of the bedroom. Finally, you manage to rip your gaze away and lock eyes with her again, your blush deepening at the hazy look in her eyes as she leans back on her elbows. 

“Go on, princess,” she breathes, that familiar, aroused rasp finally present, “Thank your queen.”

You spring into action, wrapping your hands around her soft thighs as you lean in, kneeling between her legs. Your eyes flutter as you look up the length of her body while you press soft, sweet kisses to the inside of her thighs, your eyes widening when you see her lean over and quickly grab the crop. 

You jolt as she brings it down, smacking one ass cheek with it, not enough to hurt but enough to leave behind a pleasant little zing. “I don’t believe I asked you to tease me,” she admonishes, a playfulness to her tone still as her other hand brushes into your hair, red nails scratching soothing against your scalp, “Thank me properly.” She commands, guiding your head to exactly where she wants it.

You’re more than happy to obey and you press a kiss to the center of her folds, right on her clit, moaning against her as you feel it twitch against your lips. She lets out a breathy moan as your tongue licks a long, straight line up her center, right down the middle, before your lips gently seal around her bud. 

Your eyes flutter closed again as you softly suck at her clit, moaning lowly in your throat at her familiar sweet taste. You move in just the way she likes, kissing and licking over her heat with a practiced ease, pride blooming in your chest with every moan, whine, and sigh of your name. You shake your head against her, attempting to bury your tongue in her twitching core as the tip of your nose teases her clit, your chin dripping with her when you finally pull back. 

“Princess, fuck,” she breathes above you, head tilted down so she can watch as you feast on her, “Fuck me, come on.” She orders, giving another sharp little spank to your bum with the crop. 

You do as she says, smiling as you flick your tongue over her bud while you glide two fingers through her folds, making sure to get them nice and wet before you slide them carefully into her, relishing the long moan she lets out as you do. You can’t help but whimper as her walls clamp down tightly, pulsing around your fingers as you crook them up in the way you know she loves, your lips sealing softly around her clit again, eyes fluttering as you watch her chest heave. 

“Good fucking girl,” she whimpers, accentuating each word of praise with another slap of her crop against you, the pleasant sting you clench around nothing, “Make your queen come, princess, good girl.” She moans, tilting her head back as you redouble your efforts. 

Your arm aches as you fuck your fingers into her, keeping them quirked up against that small rough patch within her, but you pay it no mind, focusing only on the hand in your hair and the taste of her in your mouth, your hips canting desperately in the air. 

You flick your tongue against her bud once more, in just the right way, and it sends her over the edge with a gasp. You moan into her as the hand in your hair tightens and her walls rhythmically squeeze against your fingers, nearly tight enough to push them out. You move steadily, bringing her through her high as you have so many times before, only stopping when she finally goes lax against you. 

You press kisses against her thighs and hips as she comes down, breathing heavily above you. Eventually, the hand in your hair tightens once more, and you sigh happily as she pulls you up. 

“You did so good,” she praises softly, her voice breathy as she presses her lips against yours; she moans softly as your tongue licks into her mouth before she pulls away to trail kisses down your neck, “So good for your queen, my sweet princess.” You sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut as you straddle her, one of her legs between yours.

Your eyes shoot open as she bends her leg, pressing her fishnet covered thigh firmly against your center with a knowing smirk. “Goodness,” she gasps, her beautiful brown eyes widening once she feels how wet you are against her, “I think you deserve a reward too, for treating your queen so well.”

“Please, holy shit,” you gasp, your hips already moving on her leg, the pattern of her stockings adding a delicious friction, “P-Please, your grace.” You quickly correct yourself when she brings her crop down once more, making your back arch. 

“Good girl,” she whispers, mouthing at your neck. She lets the crop fall to the bed again as she cups your ass with both hands, guiding your hips as you move against her, “Take what you need, princess, you earned it.” She breathes, smirking as you shudder above her. 

You nod mindlessly, swallowing thickly as you already feel the knot in your stomach tightening dangerously, each drag of your clit over her stockinged thigh sends shockwaves up your spine. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier as you get closer and she smiles happily, bouncing her thigh against your wet core in the way she knows drives you insane. 

“My beautiful little princess,” she whispers, red lips ghosting over your chest, “Behaving so well for her queen.” 

You fall apart once her lips seal around one of your nipples, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyelids as she carefully sucks the sensitive bud into her mouth, gently teasing at it with her teeth. Your body tenses up as your walls clench again and again, your fingers grabbing at the sheets as you gasp her name. 

Finally, your eyes flutter open as your high subsides. Thankfully, you have just enough presence of mind to roll to the side, cuddling against her as your chest heaves. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe through a small laugh, your face flushed as your eyes meet hers. 

“So, you liked it?” She asks, a shy lilt to her voice now that both of you have had the chance to come down. 

“Liked it?” You question, staring at her wide-eyed, “I… I loved it. That was incredible.” You breathe, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, “Where on earth did all that come from?”

She giggles softly, a guilty look appearing on her face. “Promise you won’t be too upset with me?” She asks softly. 

“Of course,” your reply is instant as you card your fingers through her soft hair, “Just tell me.”

“I was cleaning a few days ago, when I had that day off,” she explains, swallowing as you nod along, “And I… may have accidentally knocked your diary off the table and then got curious when I saw my name and… yeah.” She finishes, teeth biting at her lower lip. 

Your face reddens a bit, instantly knowing which entry she must’ve seen, but you merely shake your head, about to tell her not to worry about it when she starts speaking again.

“I do feel really bad about it,” she sighs, continuing quickly, “I know it’s a breach of trust but I saw my name and then… I’ll make it up to you, I pr – !” 

She gasps as you cut her off with a sweet kiss, shaking your head dismissively, “Consider it made up.” 

“You aren’t mad?” She asks hesitantly.

“Mad?” You echo, laughing softly, “My sexy girlfriend bought ridiculously hot lingerie, and a riding crop, just to surprise me and fucked me to within an inch of my life and I’m supposed to be mad at her over a little diary?” Both of you dissolve into a fit of giggles as you finally finish, nuzzling happily against each other, “I think not.” You quip, smirking as your eyes search hers. 

“Okay, yeah,” she says with a small eye roll, “I am pretty great, huh?”

“And oh so humble,” you laugh, pressing kisses over the curve of her shoulder before leaning back to smirk at her, “Your majesty.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚" - 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 2 Aemond x Reader

A/N: I had not originally planned on this being a series but the Aemond girlies loved the first one so here is a second as a lil gift. //Divider by @firefly-graphics & @cafekitsune

Summary: You wake up to unfortunate circumstances. It only gets worse when you finally get some answers. A dream confirms that whatever chance you had at having a normal life was gone.

TW: Blood, Death.

←  Previous Part • Final Chapter →

Word Count: 3.6k (Not proofread, we die like men 🫡Im also just too tired I'll do it eventually🤣)

You yawned as you sat up in your bed rubbing your eyes. You look over to the spot Aemond was in and simply see a flower. Blushing you reach over and smell the flower.

You look over to the bath on the other side of the room and notice there's no steam coming out of it. You stand up and grab your robe off of the armchair next to your bed.

You walk over to the door after you wrap yourself in the armchair and attempt to open the door. You're shocked when the door doesn't open or move an inch.

"Hello?" You try opening the door again but they don't budge. "Is anyone out there?" You wait but hear no response.

You're unsure of what to do now. You look around your room for something to do. All that you manage to find are some of your old toys and unfinished projects.

You sit in front of the fireplace trying to think of what could possibly be going on. You remember a piece of the wall that could move and search for it, trying your best to remember exactly where it was. You end up finding it next to your dresser.

The piece moves easily and you reach inside. Your hand touches something and you instantly remember. You lay down flat on your stomach reach in with both hands and pull out the wooden box.

You're filled with nostalgia as you sit down on your bed with the box. You blow off the smoke and open it up.

Inside lies a small journal which you place to the side already deciding you have to see what young you used to write about. Inside also lies a small cushion you had sewn for you and Halaena's dolls. One of your teeth which Aegon convinced you to let him take out by tying it with string to a door.

You're confused for a moment at the last item. It's a black handkerchief with gold detailing. You pick it up and stare at it a moment before you remember.

Aemond had found you crying in a corner of the library covered in dirt, mud and God knows what else. He had asked you what happened and although you didn't want to tell him he convinced you too. You admitted that your brothers had joined Aegon in tormenting you by throwing mud at you insisting it was just a joke.

Aemond felt bad especially since he understood what it meant to be at the end of their cruel jokes. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the mud off of your face before walking you to his mother's chambers.

Alicent cleaned you off and got you a clean dress before seeking out the boys and your mother. All three of them were forced to shovel horse shit while you, Helaena and Aemond watched and ate cake.

The memory brought a smile to your face. Aemond had asked you for the handkerchief back but you told him you couldn't find it.

You pick the journal back up excitedly and open it up to a random page.

King's Landing 117 AC

Dear Diary,

Today my brother was born. Father named him Joffrey, I personally think his name is stupid but I held my tongue. Septa Anne would be proud. I went with the boys to the dragon pit today. It was awfully boring. Aemond and I watched while they got to practice commands. AND YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT THEY DID! They gave us pigs! PIGS! Called them the "Pink Dreads".

Sometimes I wish I could just gouge out Aegon's eyes and put them in his soup when he isn't looking...maybe I can get Helaena to catch a beetle for me...

Anyways. I went to the kitchen to get cake but then Harwin stole it! He said it was taxes? WHAT EVEN IS TAXES?

You can't help but laugh as you continue to read. You fall asleep while reading about the time Aegon fell out of a tree while trying to grab a bird.

You wake up and blink a couple times, clearing your vision. You sit up and jump back when you see Aemond next to you lying in your bed.

"Gods! When did you get here?" He has a smirk on his face as he continues to read while eating an apple.

"A while ago. You were sleeping peacefully I didn't wish to wake you." You nod and look at what he's holding. You quickly notice it's your diary and try to snatch it out of his hand but he's quicker. He clicks his tongue at you as you try to reach for it. "Im quite enjoying this. Listen to this one. Aemond gave me a flower today!"

"Aemond! Stop! Give it back" Your face flushes in embarrassment. "I was a kid!" He drops the apple and manages to grabs your hands with one of his and holds them down.

"He is so cute!" He looks back at you with a shocked expression. "You thought I was cute, princess?" Aemond pulls you to sit in his lap and you hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment. "Aemond smiled at me today!"

"Stop!!! Please I beg of you!" He laughs and puts the journal down.

"And this!" He lifts you out of his neck and waves the handkerchief in your face. "You swore to me that you lost it! Liar!"

Aemond begins tickling you and rolls you over caging you under him. He leans down and leaves a trail of kisses from your neck down to your collarbone.

"Aemond?" He hums back in response. "Why was I locked in my chambers?" He stops kissing you for a moment before he leaves a final one on your cheek and sits up.

"You need to break fast first...then we can talk."

Aemond calls for food and for your handmaids to prepare you a bath. You're shocked at first cause of how open he was about being in your chambers while you were fully undressed. You wanted to ask if the talk had gone well about the betrothal and if that's why he was ok with people seeing him here but you opted to wait.

He watches you eat occasionally grabbing slices of fruit off of your plate.

"If you want one you could just take from the tray you know?" He smirks as he puts another grape in his mouth.

"But they taste much better off of your plate." He leans over and bites the strawberry that you're holding.

"So." He leans back in his chair. "Are you going to tell me why I was locked in here?"

The atmosphere immediately changes and is tense. He sighs deeply.

"...King Viserys died..."

Your eyes widen and you drop the food in your hand back onto the plate. Your heart clenches at the news. You had spent much of childhood following him around, you had even willingly chosen to be his cupbearer in some of his council meetings simply because you wanted to be near him.

"...that doesn't explain why I was locked in my chambers Aemond. Matter of fact that is far from an explanation. If my grandsire died I should have been notified."

Aemond fidgets with his hands the same way Alicent does as he looks at the wall.

"Kepus. What are you not telling me?" He continues staring at the wall occasionally looking at you. "Aemond." [Uncle]

"Aegon was crowned king." He says it quickly with his head held high. "As the king's firstborn son, he is the rightful heir. He was crowned before the masses in the dragon pit."

Aemond watches as your breathing quickens and your facial expressions. Your lips are pressed together as you're clenching your hands so tight.

"Who made that decision?"

"It was the King's wish. He said it upon his deathbed to my mother." You roll your eyes and stare at the wall. There was a battle going on within your head. Part of you was understanding of the firstborn son point but the other part was devastated for your mother.

"Does my mother know? What of my grandmother? I was supposed to leave with her this mourning."

"...your grandmother interrupted the crowning. She was riding Meleys, many people died and just as many were injured." You cover your mouth with a shaking hand. "I believe she is already on her way to Dragonstone probably to speak to your mother..."

Meanwhile in Dragonstone

Rhaenys wasted no time heading straight for the princess. She had no time for formalities.

She walks into the room seeing them both by the fireplace.

"Thank you, Ser Lorent." Rhaenys stops at the head of the table. "Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys' recovery?"

"Viserys is dead." Rhaenyra's face drops as Daemon turns around. "I grieve this loss with you Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father...possessed a kind heart." Rhaenyra struggled to comprehend what was happening. She knew her father would die soon but hoped she would be back to King's Landing in time to be there.

"There is more. Aegon has been crowned as his successor" Rhaenyra clutches her stomach as Daemon walks over.

"They crowned him?" Rhaenyra was looking off into space, grieving.

"How did Viserys die?" Daemon had a look on his face that no one could quite place. Was he sad? Angry? Or just plain confused.

"I could not say." They both look at each other.

"How long ago?" Rhaenyra asks.

"A day past, perhaps two. I was made prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations."

"Viserys has been slain." Daemon watches Rhaenyra.

"Alicent demanded you declare for Aegon." It was not a question, Rhaenyra already knew that it had happened.

"She did. I refused her." Rhaenyra let out a shaky breath.

"And yet you are alive." Of course, Daemon was skeptical, when was he ever not?

"The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit. I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys." Rhaenyra was still clutching her stomach.

"They crowned him before the masses." Rhaenys nodded.

"So that the masses would see him as their rightful King," Rhaenys responded.

"That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you could have burned them all for it." Daemon's unknown emotion was now evident, he was angry, livid even.

"A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure. But that war is not mine to begin. I only rushed this warning to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house." She took a deep breath. "The greens are coming for you Rhaenyra. And for your children."

"M-my children?" Rhaenyra's face contorted in pain. "My daughter! You brought her with you?" Daemon stood straight up.

"Sadly...no...Alicent had her chambers guarded well and her room had no passages. I'm sorry. I did not wish to leave my granddaughter either."

"You left my daughter with those cunts?" Daemon walked around the table to face Rhaenys. "You left her to become a bargain in this war?"

"I did my best Prince Daemon. We have allies within those walls that can get a message to her. Once I hear word she is alright I will be sending someone in to retrieve her."

"You have done enough." Daemon pointed at her. "I will retrieve my child from the snakes you fed her too."

"Enough Daemon..." Daemon turned to face Rhaenyra who was now hunched over gripping the table. "The babe... it's coming..."

King's Landing

Aemond watched as you paced around the room. You had requested he leave you alone for the a day only allowing in your handmaidens and refusing to see anyone else.

Since you had called for him this morning you hadn't said anything in almost an hour and instead paced around the room looking for the words to start this conversation. Occasionally you would stop, point at him and open your mouth but then you'd scowl and resume pacing again. He could tell you were conflicted.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon, kessa ao sit ilagon? Before you burn a hole into the floor." [My Love, will you sit down?]

"Now is not a time for jokes, Aemond! Do you know what your family has done? This is an act of war! They have usurped the throne right out from under my mother's feet. If you think she will let this go easily- no, if you think Daemon will let this go easily you are all sorely mistaken." you begin pacing again.

Aemond stood up and walked over to you and grabbed your hands.

"Gīda." [Calm] He pushed a strand of hair out of your face. "Everything is going to be ok."

"What will happen to me?" The thought had crossed your mind many times as you wondered what would be made of you.

"My grandsire and the King have agreed to our betrothal. They will announce it as part of the terms if she agrees to declare Aegon as the rightful King and kneel before him and the council."

"Terms?" You back away from him letting go of his hands. "Our marriage would no longer hold meaning Aemond. It would be seen merely as something my mother won in bowing to Aegon, a spoil of war. Either way, she would never say yes."

"Then Aegon will marry us anyway." He shrugs and pulls you back into him as if none of this bothered him. "He is my brother and he knows of the love I hold for you."

"And if I say no?" His face became stern.

"You wouldn't hurt me so."

"You mean the way that you have today?" He sighs deeply. "Why did you not come and free me from my chambers?"

"Because I knew you would leave at the first chance." You look away from him and he turns your face back towards him. "You're mine and I wasn't willing to risk losing what is mine."

You would typically enjoy this possessive air around him but you currently found it suffocating. You wanted nothing more than to put space between you but he was holding you tight against him.

"Aemond. This is not right. You must understand that?" He rolled his eyes and let you go.

"Who sits on the throne is none of my concern and not on my list priority."

"Then what is?" You step towards him angrily.

"You!" he snaps. "You are my only priority. If you say no to marrying me then you will be made prisoner here. You will spend the entirety of this war locked in here." You could tell he was being truthful. "Marry me and you will at least have some freedom."

"Some?" He walked back over to the table and sat down tired of this conversation. "What is some?"

"You will be allowed to walk freely around the castle with a guard of my choosing."

"And Vermithor?" You think of your dragon and where he could be. You had claimed him when you returned to Dragonstone after what happened at Driftmark. Aemond's bravery in claiming Vhagar led you to sneak into where he sleeps and approach the dragon yourself. You had also thought that if you claimed him you could ride to King's Landing and see him. You had learned the song Daemon would sing and tried singing it to him to calm him down. It worked despite almost being burnt to a crisp you had claimed him.

"I will visit him on Vhagar." He reached for your hand but you shied away. "You must understand that my grandsire worries about allowing you to have full freedom. After a while, you will be allowed to go riding."

"How long is a while Aemond?" He visibly gulped and bit the inside of his cheek. "How long?" Your voice was cold and made the hairs on his neck stand.

"Until you give birth to our firstborn." He said it quietly already knowing how you would react. It was smart you'd give them that. They know you wouldn't fly away while your child is in their possession. "My grandfather's decision not my own."

"And did you try to fight him on it?"

"Why would I?" He shrugged but soon noticed the angry expression on your face. "I want marriage with you, I want children." He tried to reach for you again.

"So do I Aemond! But not like this." You take his hand and he pulls you to sit on his lap. "I want us to marry because it is what we want. I want my mother to be there! This isn't the way I want to do this."

Aemond leans his head against your chest.

"My hands are tied, my love." You get off of his lap and walk over to the fireplace facing your back to him.

"I wish to be alone."

"Baby..." You hear him get up and walk over to you.

"Please go...now!" A few seconds later you hear him sigh and leave the room. You sit on the armchair and allow yourself to cry.

This was all too much for you. You worried for your mother and the rest of your family. Did they think you were a traitor now? Will they think you have chosen Aemond's family over them if you were to marry him?

You know there's no way your mother will kneel before Aegon, even if she decides to, Daemon would rather lock her in her chambers than agree to that.

How could they be so foolish? So reckless?

You walk over to your bed and lie down. You go over the pros and cons of agreeing to marry Aemond. You then think about ways you could escape. Maybe agreeing to a betrothal will at least get you the right to walk around, you could find your parent's allies within the walls and find a way back to them.

You can stall the wedding for a while. Aemond would understand you'd prefer to be married only after the war was over and your family could attend.

You soon tire yourself out with all this thinking and fall asleep.

You spend the next day alone in your chambers. Alicent had invited you to join her in breaking your fast but you respectfully declined. You needed more time.

You saw a boat sail out from King's Landing and knew it was most likely Otto heading out to deliver the terms to your mother. You knew it would not go well and they would be lucky if she didn't feed them to Syrax for their treachery.

It was only the following midday when you grew worried. You saw Vhagar fly away from the castle. Part of you wish you knew where he was going and the other part of you remained angry. You thought he knew you better, if he did he would have fought harder for your freedom right? He would have denied Otto's offer and not allowed him to make your marriage into something that they hoped would sway your mother into giving up her crown.

Gods you missed her, you prayed every moment for her safety. For all of their safety.

It rained that night. Something was off. You could feel it in your bones. You tried to sleep hoping it would calm your nerves. Your handmaid brought you tea to help you relax. You soon fell asleep but sadly even your dreams were disturbed.

You wake up on the floor of pitch black. Everything around you was dark. There was no light just darkness. You sat up and looked around.

"Hello?" Your voice echoed. You stood up and began walking around in the dark abyss not knowing where you were going.

"Gēlȳn enkagon jamela!" You hear Aemond's voice. [You owe a debt!]

You quickly turned around but nothing was there.

"Aemond?" You walked in the direction that you heard his voice. As you got closer you noticed your feet getting wet.

"Taoba!" You hear him again but in a different direction. [Boy!]

You turned again where you heard his voice and walked quicker in that direction. You felt something patter on your head and looked up. Nothing was there just darkness but you could for sure feel something wet as if it was rain.

There was a flash of a bright light to which you shielded your face.

"Daor Arrax!" Arrax? That's Luke's dragon.

"Luke? Luke, are you there?" You noticed your clothes clinging to your body as they were now soaked the scent of salty water filling your nose.

"Vhagar! No! No..." What had happened? Why was he saying no?

You look around you quickly trying to make sense of what it is you are hearing. The rain is heavier and you look at your hands. They aren't just wet...they're red. Your dress is now too stained red. You touch your cheek and look back at your hands and see the same red substance.

Something drops from above causing you to step back quickly. More pieces fall from the sky surrounding you. You shield your head and scream as the red rain grows heavier and more pieces fall.

When the rain softens and the sound of stuff falling ceases you open your eyes and look around you. Your face twists in pain as you see pieces of the body of Arrax surrounding you. It only gets worse when you see a human body part. You look closer and notice the hand.

"He got me." You hear his Lucerys voice and you instantly know it was his hand.

You wake up in a sweat your hair sticking to your neck and your pillow drenched. You look up and see Aemond standing at the end of your bed his clothes drenched.

And in that moment you knew.

The war had started.

A/N: So this is clearly turning into a series. Which I'm actually not mad about. Not sure where this is going but naturally the chances of any of this being 100% original is not possible. There are far too many HOTD fanfics for any ending or storyline to be original. I can only hope that it is 100% enjoyable.

I will still obviously do my best to come up with a unique ending but I feel like to have a unique ending people need to die. I need to start killing off characters like Grey's Anatomy 🤣

Anywho I hope y'all enjoyed this part! If you wish to be added to this Taglist or any other one please let me know!

Gen Taglist: @thought--bubble, @valeskafics

[heyitslapis]

Hi it's been 10 hours & I still cannot stop thinking about her.

I can't stop thinking about this person

[formulapookie]

19 "Can I hold your hand?" and rosquez please if you'd like < 3

It's cold, really cold right now, the storm has made a mess outside, the communications are cut off and they're stuck in a stupid house in the mountains far from every kind of human connection.

Vale has been trying to make the phone work for one hour now without any kind of success.

Pecco, Franky and Diggia are in another house, a bit far from this one.

Vale would like to know what the fuck went through Ducati's head to make them all go there for the PR shit.

Him. And Marquez. In the mountains.

He hasn't spoke to the spaniard yet, he thought Pecco was the one in the house currently, and he needed to ask a question, but when Marc had come downstairs the storm had begun and none of them could be freed from the other's presence.

Marc is shivering he notices, despite wearing a comfortable hoodie he's clearly cold, and for another stupid reason they don't have been given blankets to stay there.

He debates whether to do this or not, maybe he could let Marc freeze and it would be over like this.

He ultimately decides not to commit homicide and removes his own hoodie, passing it to Marc.

"No no I'm ok I'm not cold"

"You're shivering"

"I - it's not the cold"

"Then what is it? Enlighten me"

"Why you have to be an asshole?"

"You're giving stupid answers"

"I. I'm scared of the storm. I fear we'll be blocked here forever if it doesn't stop. I don't like to feel trapped"

It strikes Vale now.

How despite having grown Marc is still somehow a kid. Scared of a storm. Scared of being caged.

"You're scared of the storm"

"Don't joke about it Vale"

"I'm not joking it's just. Doesn't seem like you"

"Yeah and what would you know about what seems like me? WE haven't spoken in God knows how long"

"Well I do remember you liked how I made coffee because it was tastier than the one you had home"

Marc stops his pacing around, and looks deeply into Vale's eyes. Almost grazing his soul.

"I remember you're scared of wasps and for some reason not of bees"

"They're different and wasps are cruel, bees are not"

"Mh if you think so"

While the temperature between them seems to be warming the one in the house is rapidly dropping, and Vale tries to light up the chimney.

"Billion dollar man knows how to light up a chimney? I'm impressed"

"Allora, I'm not an idiot Marc eh, I know how to do things"

And Marc agrees. He also would agree to the fact Vale looks hot while doing them.

The heat provided from the wood burning is not much, but it's something, and Marc goes to sit directly in front of it, behind an imaginary line Vale traced not to make him burn.

He's in the kitchen meanwhile, making something, and the storm is not hinting to an end, it rather seems to be increasing in force and dimension.

And it's scary.

Marc feels more and more like he's going to die in there, but can't tell Vale.

He already told him he's scared, he can't tell him he fears he'll die trapped in here now.

He smells coffee, and before he realizes there's a cup in front of him.

"no sugar right? You are on a diet I suppose"

"Yeah no sugar. I mean we're all on a diet"

"Have you seen one of my riders following it after podiums?"

"No"

"There you go. You instead I never see you take something from the buffet"

"You look at me?"

"You and Pecco share a team. I see you doing stuff, I don't look"

At a particularly harsh blow of wind and snow against the window Marc winches, and his hertbeat can be heard in the whole house.

He feels so stupid right now, weak even, he's scared of the storm like a child.

He feels Vale scooting closer to him, and turns around in surprise but Vale is quicker.

"Can I hold your hand? So you are less scared"

And it's extremely stupid on both their parts, it seems like they're stupid teenagers who don't know how to talk to one another.

"Yeah"

They stay silent in fact, Vale just draws small circles on Marc's hand, slowly helping him relax, and eventually drift to sleep.

Vale doesn't know quite well what to do.

He's just offered to hold his hand and now Marc has fallen asleep with their hands tangled together. He looks cute tho.

No.

No no no let's not. Let's not dive into that right now.

But he truly looks ethereal.

His lines, the one that come up when he's awake and in pain and PR acting all day disappear.

He looks younger than he is, way younger than the 32 year old man he should see at his side.

He doesn't remove his hand from the hold. He could, but he doesn't.

He'll do it in the morning. Yeah. He'll wake up first and he will break the hold and never speak of this to anyone.

How he held Marc's hand during a storm because he was scared.

The morning after he does not wake first.

The other boys manage to make their way to the hut where the two of them were staying, and had basically broken in, since none of the two answered.

"I'm telling you guys, they killed each other"

"They're just sleeping pecco don't worry"

"You don't know anything Diggia they could have seriously killed each other"

"Or" there came Franky, who honestly was just fed up with the shenanigans between the two men. "They fucked"

"Ah shut up Franky"

They walk around the hut for a bit until they end up near the chimney, breath held by all three of them.

Marc is hugging Vale like a koala, none of them awake yet, the wood now turned to ash but still it's warm around the two.

Vale has got an arm around Marc's body, keeping him tight against him, and their hands are close.

Still in a hold, presumably from the day before Pecco supposes, as the three of them make their way back out to their own hut.

"Well that was close to my bet I'd say"

"I'm never gonna forget boss with Marquez now"

"Oh trust me Diggia you have seen nothing"

Vale wakes when Pecco shuts the door a bit too harshly, realising the position they both are in.

He should stop holding Marc's hand now right?

Right.

He'll do it later. When Marc is awake.

Maybe.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Batfam x GN!Bat!Reader.

Summary: Bruce had another kid in Arkham asylum that nobody knows about.

Warnings: Murder, Suicide, Arkham asylum, Reader can see the dead, Bruce being a bad father, mentions someone who can "hear God".

Part Two

~☆~

Nineteen.

Nineteen miserable years that you have been alive. Five of which you have spent in the hell hole, that is Arkham Asylum. Thrown in here with the approval of the man known as your father. The man Gotham city praises. The man who does nothing but help those around him, even going as far as adopting a group of orphans. Bruce Wayne.

You had always had an "overreactive" imagination as the people around you called it. When you were around twelve, you started having "outbursts", claiming things that weren't there actually existed, things that happened actually were caused by another being, one that only you can see.

So when your mother was unexpectedly murdered, and Batman walked onto the scene, you told him you weren't even home. But the journals your mother kept that had scribbles all about your claims made them believe it was you who killed her, only, you were believing a delusion, so you didn't remember. Of course you remember, you were out running the streets to get yourself just a scrap of food from wherever you could get it from.

The city wanted a DNA test before they threw you in Arkham, trying their best to put a face to the empty signature on your birth certificate. You could always tell your mother knew who your father was. Her dismissive attitude that presented whenever you would ask gave it away.

When the test came back and told you that you were the Prince of the city's kid, you told yourself that he's unreliable and not to be trusted. Your mother had to have a reason not to tell the man that she was carrying his child. She wouldn't have raised you in your shitty one bedroom apartment for nothing. Maybe she did tell him, and he just told her to get lost?

You just know that as he watched you get dragged away and thrown in one of the most vile places, you had decided that he was the worst thing you would ever see.

He never one visited or called. Even when the DNA came back and he was allowed a short meeting with you, he denied wanting to see you. A far different man than his TV persona.

×

"This piece goes over there.." A female voice spoke from over your shoulder.

"Thank you, Alice."

"Mhm"

Alice was a nice girl. She had shaved off brunette hair and a pair of strikingly blue eyes. There were marks that stuck to the temples of her head from years of electro-therapy. She had been a patient at Arkham years before you were thrown in. She had even died there. She had whispered a story about her time awaiting her death through her electro-therapy...it was almost the same as the electric chair.

"And this one goes here." A young male who sat in front of you pointed at the puzzle you were putting together.

Mathew. He, too, had dark brown hair and matching blue eyes with Alice. Siblings that came from the same rotten seed. He had killed himself in Arkham after he found out about Alice's death.

Nothing was really wrong with them, they had been transmitted to Arkham at a bad time in the world. The both of them were just severely traumatized and scared.

Far different than Ruby, who claims God was talking to her, but his whispers stopped when she strangled herself.

"They have brownies in the canteen today." Mathew whispered, watching you with his usually wide eyes. The brownies happened to be the only good thing in this entire facility.

"Finally, I've been waiting all week." You mumbled, looking down at the table in front of you.

"Y/N." The familiar voice of Dr. Conley spoke. "It's time."

Wordlessly, you abandoned your puzzle and left your room, following her all the way to the bare office that they would bring the catatonic patients. Your breakdown last week had landed you to not be able to leave the main building.

"Please sit." She instructed you. You did as told and reached for the sickeningly white chair that waited for you.

You watched as she took in a sigh and looked around the room. "I thought you were getting better-"

"There is nothing to recover from." You interrupted her, growing defensive. "I'll name off a patient who died here, and you can go see if you can find their papers!"

You know you should've given up explaining by now. None of them would ever believe you. "Y/N, you know that's not possible-"

"But fucking aliens are!?" Your breathing became heavy as you looked at her.

"Look, Y/N-"

"I want to go back to my room." You mumbled, interrupting her for the third time.

You could hear her sigh yet again before she tried to speak, but you only banged on the table in front of you. "I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY ROOM!"

×

Dick had been searching through Bruce's at home office for the past few hours. Looking for his adoption papers because of some stupid shit at work. With a sigh, he closed the filing cabinet he was looking in and went to go find Alfred instead.

As he approached the dining room (where he expected the older man to be), he not only found Alfred, but a giant box filled with papers as well.

"I believe you were looking for this." Alfred stated as he turned to look at Dick. "Master Bruce keeps all of your legal documents in a safer place." Of course, he was talking about the other adoptees and blood child that lived in the Manor some point in their life.

"Yeah, thanks, Alf." Dick smiled as he started sorting through the papers. The older man only nodded his head and walked off.

Alright here we go..Jason, Tim, Damian, Jason again, More stuff for Tim, a copy of his own birth certificate, Y/N L/N, Jason- Hold on..Y/N L/N?

×

Dick had loudly entered the batcave, making a b-line straight for Bruce.

"Who is Y/N?!"

"Wha-"

"Who the fuck is Y/N, Bruce?!"

Bruce let out a sigh as he stepped away from Dick, watching as his son waved a handful of papers in his face.

"Father, what is he talking about?" Damian (who just happened to be in the cave) asked.

"He has another kid- one that he's kept secret!" Dick yelled, looking over at his younger brother. He knows it's not really any of his business, but he can't help but feel angry over how you might have not even existed in Bruce's eyes. "Another ACTUAL kid of yours!" He put emphasis on the 'actual' trying to hint to you being another blood child like Damian.

"Go get ready. I'm calling Tim and Jason." He told Damian, already grabbing his phone from his pocket. Damian hesitantly got out of his seat and did what Dick asked.

"Dick, you don't have to make this serious." Bruce slackly tried to grab for the phone.

"Don't make it serious?!" Dick yelled, shocked at Bruce's words. "They're your kid?!"

"They're a murderer!"

Dick let an ebrupt laugh fall from his lips, slowly lowering the phone from his ear. "Jason's a murderer."

"B-but-"

"Damian's a murderer, Tim's a murderer, I'm a murderer!" He yelled out the last part.

The two of them continued to stare at each other for a few seconds before Dick brought his phone back up to his ear. "Yeah, Tim, I'm here."

~☆~

Hehehhe, just something I came up with. I'm going to post another ArkhamPatientBatkid!Reader later. It's gonna have a different plot and stuff, but it's just stuck in my head.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Heyy, I love ur content and can I request a Web weaving of being alone or loneliness? Thankyou <3

i hope you're doing well <33

Alice Oseman Radio Silence / The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012) dir. Stephen Chbosky / Gail Honeyman Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine / Susan Sontag As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980 / The Double (2013) dir. Richard Ayoade / Heather Havrilesky Ask Polly: Help, I'm The Loneliest Person In The World! / Taylor Steele Shocker / Amy Dunne

[milkiie]

𝐴𝑁 𝐴𝐶𝑇𝑈𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑌 𝐻𝐸𝐿𝑃𝐹𝑈𝐿 𝐿𝑂𝐴 𝐺𝑈𝐼𝐷𝐸

everyone wants to talk about how the law is effortless, manifestation is effortless, but it seems to me nobody wants to talk about the effort one has to put in before being able to effortlessly apply it. manifesting is tied to general well-being, mindset and energy, and it is not the same for everybody. i've seen one too many people getting asks from others with genuine questions and giving them no guidance, no compassion, just buzz words, mantras and snark; so, here: an actually helpful guide to loa and manifestation, where i actually tell you things

─── ִֶָ ๑˙ 🎀 ̟ !! step 1 : self concept

self concept is the way you perceive and treat yourself.

here is a video explaining it in depth:

now that we know what it is and what makes a good, high self concept, here are some specific ideas on how to boost it:

first, it is important to develop a sense of self and identity. get to know yourself, find out who you are and what you really want, what fulfills you. i like to use journaling for this

here are some prompts for you to use:

and some subliminals, if you'd like to use them:

1. 432Hz frequency + self-concept by iwiigi: 🌸

2. mindset + self-concept by moza morph: 🍨

3. self concept by Alice's Enchanted Cottage: 💕

➙ you do not have to use subliminals, but i personally love to

some other ways to boost your self concept:

᯽ practice self care. physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually

᯽ discipline your thoughts. don't let your inner bully run their mouth

᯽ validate yourself, praise yourself, celebrate yourself

᯽ work on healing your inner child

᯽ do things that make you feel confident - wear your makeup, hair and clothes how you like it, dance sexily in your room, pretend to be a celebrity, whatever it takes to feel like you are it

᯽ spend quality time with yourself, doing things that make you happy

᯽ do nice things for others. simple things like smiling at people, or complimenting someone do wonders both for them, and yourself

REMEMBER: you don't need to do any of this, these are just ideas; do what feels right for you

─── ִֶָ ๑˙ 🎀 ̟ !! step 2 : align with receiving

this is what hinders most people in receiving their manifestations, and it is not your fault. it can be hard to receive effortlessly, especially if you are used to only giving, or having to work hard to receive. that is what the world has taught you.

work on becoming comfortable with receiving without endeavor, and on not feeling indebted or inadequate. this is why self concept is important. you will not receive what you do not feel worthy of. you will not receive if you don't feel comfortable accepting.

to become more comfortable with receiving, all you have to do is treat yourself! not just materially, but spiritually and emotionally. lavish yourself with care, compliments, little treats, rest, partaking in things that bring you enjoyment, etc. keep reminding yourself you deserve only the best, both by affirming, and actually giving yourself the good things. even if you feel you haven't been "productive", choose to spoil yourself. choose to live deliciously.

─── ִֶָ ๑˙ 🎀 ̟ !! step 3 : really embrace the simplicity

please, stop reading posts that use huge, abstract words and tell you to "just do" something. stop engaging with blogs that put people down or refuse to explain. they are bringing down your vibration, and they are complicating the law beyond all recognition. just do what feels right

you wanna use methods? use them!

feel drawn to practicing spells? go ahead!

subliminals look cool to you? wonderful!

you feel right just deciding and carrying on? hell yeah!

whatever you do to manifest your desires, be it affirming, making a vision board, scripting, SATS, or whatever else, as long as it feels good, it will work.

follow your happiness and your intuition. trust yourself. stop seeking validation from the outside, just do what you think is best

─── ִֶָ ๑˙ 🎀 ̟ !! step 4 : coping with perceived lack

now, we all know you aren't actually lacking. if you have decided to manifest something, it is yours. but what if you don't see it in your perceived reality? you don't have to ignore the illusion of lack. in fact, i would say it is self-limiting to attempt that

instead, make peace with waiting

understand that the moment you decide something is yours, movement starts, even if not visible to you in your surroundings yet. the moment you decide, you begin to align with your desire, and the universe starts to work on getting it to you. it is like online shopping. placing your order is instant, but it takes a little bit of time for it to actually get into your hands. and just like with a package, while you wait for your manifestation to get to you, you don't need to stress about it. just do what feels good and live your best life, do what makes you happy. you don't need to pretend you already have it. you just need to live in the knowing that you will. persist in the knowing.

[forthegothicheroine]

My 12 best fanfics

Multiple people have tagged me to post my 10 best fanfics! I did 12 so that I could easily format a bunch of Penguin Classics covers for them. If you write fic and haven't done this yet, consider yourself tagged!

Darkest Timeline: My infamous Evil Lancelot series which I wrote in a quarantine-induced brain spiral, for which I am still expecting the Arthuriana fandom to excommunicate me. Please read the warnings, this is an emotional Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

Bride of Thorns: Morticia the gothic heroine marries Gomez the brooding hero.

The Most Poetical Topic: Jonathan "Scarecrow" Crane makes a date with a cute bookseller. Original Character Do Not Steal!

The Mel Brooks Cameo in Twin Peaks: Audrey Horne visits an old Jewish gangster. Mel Brooks worked with David Lynch on The Elephant Man, so what if they had continued their partnership?

Sir Wishbone and the Bad Day: A Wishbone episode about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Joe getting his first detention is just like having to meet a guy to get your head cut off!

Opera Fantastique: Christine's bad reincarnation memories from the 1989 Phantom of the Opera film are just beginning.

Et in Arcadia Ego: A folk horror episode of The Prisoner. Is Six in the sway of black magic or just hallucinogens and manipulation?

Beware the Beetle: Batman has to read The Beetle by Richard Marsh when someone starts doing Beetle-themed crimes. Written for @bluestockingbaby's wonderful idea!

Gentle Wolves: A fairy tale-style confrontation between Vulpes Inculta, Craig Boone and the Courier. A fan favorite on the Fallout Kink Meme.

The Dream Journal of Lucy Westenra: Lucy has pleasant dreams of a romantic visitor which soon turn much less pleasant. My response to the idea that Lucy was 'asking for it'.

Alice in Camelot: Reading Arthurian legends can feel like reading Alice in Wonderland. Alice herself questions the logic.

Nyarlathotep: A Midrash: Moses's Pharaoh was Nyarlathotep, and Moses's miracles were dark and strange. One way or another, his people will be freed.