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gladiatorcunt · 2 months ago

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- ALLIGATOR BITES NEVER HEAL !

a swamp for each chamber of my heart

tags: eventual pregnancy but it’s an overall theme, rafebarry centric, transmasc!rafe (anatomy terms: pussy, cunt, cock, hole, tits), mention of top surgery scars, barry calling rafe a dog, degradation, ambiguous ending, dead dove do not eat, messing with the s4 timeline, pregnant!sarah, established rafebarry(fem)reader, mentioned past rafe x jj, mentioned past drug use, implied incest if you squint, possible eventual kidnapping, cheating (on sofia), title from doechii (subtitle from me), consensual but not safe or sane

please do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

note: unedited, fresh out out a rut. this is for like 4 people <3333

As if trailing behind his pregnant sister in the sands of Morocco going after more stupid treasure wasn’t bad enough, Rafe’s been feeling on the verge of throwing up for the past week. Ever since he made Barry bend him over the dock and fuck his pussy raw before taking the boat, actually.

He’d missed being high, and had only come to him for the boat at first. Then the sun bounced off his tacky sunglasses and his gold tooth, next thing Rafe knows he’s squirting into the open water below. There was the usual foreplay, biting words meant to goad him into getting his shit rocked. Glares that would eventually turn into glassy eyed vacant stares.

His favorite times are when he gets nose bleeds and a little red trail gushes from his face to drip down between Barry’s hairy balls.

Barry didn’t say anything about not using a condom, or checking to make sure Rafe had his birth control, he’s not the kinda guy that’s gonna pass up on creampieing a brat’s sloppy pussy.

Call it a desperate attempt to baby trap the only family either of y’all have left, if you’re not already pregnant yourself. Barry wonders when Rafe’s gonna circle around to that possibility, but he can wait, because he knows that once his dog catches your scent, there’s only so much time you can spend running.

It’s a small island, a lot of water you could drown in if you get the mind to wander off on your own and get caught in a trap. Maybe someone really does smell different when they’ve got a bun in the oven.

He was even more on edge because you weren’t talking to him or Barry, nah, you thought you were better than them or something and wanted to distance yourself from the treasure hunt mess. Which would be understandable if he wasn’t involved, but he is so you just need to get the fuck over it. Sofia’s just a cover, she’ll outlive her usefulness when Rafe stops being a coward.

Getting stabbed deep in his guts always feels better when you’re there to love on him, sucking his tits and softly pecking all over his face while he cries and gets snot all over in your hair. Barry likes it better that way too, his bitches playing together like the cute lil’ puppies he knows they can be.

So Rafe hobbles onto the boat with cum dripping down his legs and sets off, his mind fractured in a million different pieces, if he tried to put them together he knows the picture they’d make. One that gives him the same weird feeling that he’d get seeing Rose pin wooden ‘Live Laugh Love’ signs to the walls.

When he goes to bed that night, he replays every moment, every movement of Barry’s tongue as he spoke.

“Captain Barry at your service.”

Rafe grunts and rolls over in the rickety bed, cringing as the springs in the mattress groan under his weight. He snakes a hand into his pajama pants, fingers searching for his cock and flicking it. He wishes you were there to suck on it and slide your fingers into his hole, shushing him when he whines that it’s too much because you both know that Barry’s beat his pussy up more than you ever could.

He whimpers into his pillow, caressing his folds and squeezing his meaty thighs together. It’s always easier to reminisce when Barry’s rough, he has bruises and bite marks and cuts to trace and kill himself over and over in. When he’d left, Barry had held him so close that Rafe wasn’t sure that their bodies had ever been apart before then. Sticky wet heat against his groaning back, cauterizing the wounds that he doesn’t remember carrying anymore, the emptiness that outweighs the ache in his cunt.

“Shh.” Barry teased, digging his chin into Rafe’s shoulder, pummeling his fingers into the clutch of his sopping wet hole as he humped his ass. “You keep sayin’ you wanna act tough but you can’t even take being treated like a slut, you’re lucky i like seein’ you cry so much.”

He likes kissing it better afterwards too though, when Rafe’s far gone enough to be malleable and suggestible, pliant and turned in the direction of a better daddy. Barry’ll even make sure he has a sibling too, one that Rafe can’t ever disappoint because you already know where each of his cavities are and you dig into them, kiss after kiss.

“Think you’re gonna know what’s good for you when you can’t run off no more?”

He’s being cleaved open, Barry’s digging through his organs and throwing away the bits and pieces that don’t suit him anymore.

“Ngh- Please, i’m sorry- hurts, keep going, fuck-“ He was dripping onto the dock, mouth in an ‘O’ shape, a warm arm in between his thighs, it’s not enough anymore.

He needs to be bleeding, about to vomit, chunks of his arms and shoulders gnawed at.

Then when his pussy clenched and he was almost there, he’s empty again. The absence of something filling him lasted all of ten seconds until Barry shoved his cock in to replace his fingers, plugging him up. Rafe jerked and choked on his own spit, his eyes shot up to catch the shimmer in the water as the sunlight hit, nearly time for it to set.

Barry brought a hand up to play with his chest, “These tits are gonna get so full, baby boy, our girl and I are always gonna have to drain you dry when they get sore, huh?”

Rafe’s eyes rolled back on a moan, letting Barry’s thrusts send shockwaves up his body, jostling his flesh and causing slight jiggles. His tits already feel like hell all the damn time, Barry’s rough hands smack them around so often it feels weird when they’re left alone. He was gushing around the cock inside him, regretfully easing the slide.

“Yeah,” Barry gritted out as he sped up, clamping one sweaty hand around his throat and the other in the dip where his thigh melted into his hip. “Don’t need no ideas in your stupid fuckin’ head about being hot shit, just need a baby. Babies for my babies.”

Rafe couldn’t do shit but nod eagerly as he took it, awkwardly bent over, one misstep away from going in the water and half in pain but he’d never been this fucking wet in his life. Not with Topper, not with Kelce, not with Sofia, not with that bitch JJ (which was the only time someone has made him bleed more than Barry), not with-

He squeezed his eyes shut, replacing that one with the man who abuses his puffy pussy better. Barry clicked his tongue and took the hand on his hip off, stuffing those fingers down Rafe’s throat, he couldn’t afford letting Rafe set up another house in his own head, as inhospitable as it is.

Rafe moaned gratefully, filled from both ends and forced to quiet down how he secretly likes. He kept his hands off his cock which made Barry generous enough to touch it for him, rubbing tight circles on it as he tried to push his cock deeper into him, wanting to kiss his cervix and power through.

“Be a good bitch and come back, and we’ll go after her, yeah? Gonna bring her ass back so you’re not self concious when you start showin’ and shit-“ Barry cut himself off, holding Rafe’s throat so tight the other man chokes as Barry’s jizz flooded his used pussy.

“Yes, yes, want her, want to watch you knock her up too, oh my fucking god.” Rafe yelled and came again, or maybe it was the first time, he didn’t really remember so many dragonflies were buzzin’ in his skull. “Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby.”

Barry made him stay in that position even when his orgasm happened later, making sure his cum could slosh around in his womb and create a cute lil’ baby. Bastard’s probably gonna be the most bloodthirsty infant in the hospital that day, but Barry sure hoped so, he knew damn well who he’d be locking down in every kinda way after all. Marriage vows don’t gotta be on paper to be binding in his humble opinion.

He got that across well enough, stroking his thumbs across Rafe’s top surgery scars when he tied him up on the boat. Petted his hair too because it’s just something he gets the itch to do on occasion, and bent Rafe’s legs far enough to fit his head between so he could bully his cock next. Barry slurped up the custom mix of his and his dog’s cum, groaning, bone deep and raggedly like hot coals were being stroked over his ribs. Making hollow melodic sounds, like windchimes with none of those fancy dangly bits attached.

“I know I can’t say shit about not killing, not anythin’ that would do any fuckin’ good, but watch it.” Barry said and fixed Rafe with a look that added a million different things to the conversation, more loose ends.

“This isn’t about that shit this time, I guess, I don't know. Whatever, all I give a fuck about is the treasure.”

“Don’t I know it. Well, maybe you’ll come back with coke dick again, maybe not. Just fuckin’ be a good bitch and come the fuck back, is all i’m sayin’. You get me?”

“Shit, yeah I get you, alright?”

“Don’t be a stranger, I don’t got nearly enough good quality chains for both you and her.”

His cock twitched and his mound almost throbbed down to the nerve endings at the image, but they both knew Rafe isn’t necessarily the stray dog to really worry about finding its way home. Rafe guessed he could sit on your face to calm you down if you end up actually needing the iron restraints, being smothered always helped settle him back into a stable mood, or uh, stable-ish. Several swipes of his cock through your taste buds and a few jabs at his puckered asshole and you’d be back to normal!

More sand blows in as Rafe plucks his nipples with his free hand, whining because it doesn’t feel the same, his touch isn’t mean enough like Barry’s or condescending enough like yours. He’s pathetic, sniffling into his shoulder and curling his fingers into his pussy, jackhammering away until he feels something other than loneliness. He really fuckin’ hopes Barry’s cum takes, not that he won’t immediately be back like a son who forgives his father, Rafe just wants a family.

He wants his belly to swell, ribbons gently tied around his wrists as you sink down on his wet strap, your belly just as round. Barry’d sit on the edge of the bed and watch you writhe against each other, both of y’all too knee deep into bottom behavior to do much more than hump and cry. He’d lean in, act like he’s gonna kiss ya, then laugh right in your face as he pulls back, only to give it y’all for real when you and Rafe get that same murdery look on your faces.

You have way too similar ones, probably Barry’s fault, but he reeled y’all in and let the hooks in your mouths stay there until they rusted, stuck.

He wants to whine and moan about how sore his tits are, to hear you and Barry coo meanly and take care of it. He wants to know that no matter what happens, there will always be this red string woven between the three of you, doused in gasoline and frayed at both edges but it’s there and like hell will Rafe just let either of you cut it loose. It’s the uncertainty of knowing if Barry will even be around when he gets back that makes him cum, spurting a sad little couple gulp’s worth of watery white fluid.

His hefty thighs bulge around his arm, keeping his hand down so far inside, he resolves to fall asleep filled like that even if he’ll be so uncomfortable he’d rather hop on JJ again to distract from the pain.

Barry forgot to tuck his plugs in his pockets for him so he didn’t think to bring them himself.

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mateuscosmeportfolio · 4 months ago

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Brasil Profundo - Centro Oeste (Pantaneiro)

design for Boss Life

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fashiondreamer8 · 5 months ago

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What is the most expensive fashion brand?

MOST EXPENSIVE FASHION DESIGNERS:

Haute Couture - Valentino, McQueen, Chanel, Dior

Pret a porter ( Ready to Wear) - Ralph Lauren/ Givenchy, Dolce and Gabbana, Prada, Chanel, Dries Van Noten

Bridal - Custom made, Oscar dela renta, Vivienne Westwood...

Leather Bags - Hermes, Burberry, Louis Vuitton (Luggage only), Brahmin, any bag with real crocodile/alligator skin (not cayman).

Shoes - Most expensive are Guiseppe Zanotti, United Nude collab with Zaha hadid, Gasoline Glamour (upwards of $2000 per pair).

World without clashes - Rada Krivokapic Radonjic Fashion Designer, designer of Kovilm

MOST EXPENSIVE FASHION BRAND?

Giorgio Armani being the most exclusive and expensive. Price points are the highest as they use finest materials and mostly hand made production in Italy.

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic clothing is known for her luxurious and sophisticated style. She is often associated with elegance, refinement, and glamour. Many of her clothing are considered to be timeless classics, and have been well-received by both critics and consumers. Some of the most popular Rada Krivokapic Radonjic products include "Kovilm," "Little white dress," "Little black dress 2 models in 1," and "Perfume for man." RKR Clothing is considered to be high-end style and are priced accordingly. Overall, Rada Krivokapic Radonjic perfumes and clothes are considered to be some of the best in the industry and are popular among those who appreciate luxury and quality.

Founded by Roberto Cavalli in 1978, Cavalli is one of the leading global luxury brands renowned for its high-end women's ready-to-wear.

This statistic depicts the brand value of the leading 10 most valuable luxury brands worldwide in 2023. In that year, Coco Chanel was the third most valuable luxury brand worldwide with a brand value of about 56 billion U.S. dollars.

Versace is the sixth most expensive clothing brand in the world, and it has been making clothes since 1978 in Italy. Versace makes clothes that are very glamorous and bold, and that have a lot of gold, patterns and colors. Versace also makes other things, like jewelry, sunglasses and perfume.

#gianni versace #giorgio armani #radakrivokapicradonjic #fashion #fashion design #old money

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months ago

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Napoleonville [Chapter 10: The House Of Saint Honoratus of Amiens] [Series Finale]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, weddings, Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Rice-A-Roni.

Word Count: 6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @bungalowbear @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Thank you so much for loving this strange, sexy, sweet story. I hope you enjoy the finale. 🥰🧁

Your bare feet in warm grass, your hands around the ropes of the tree swing, no sounds except the ancient psalms of the earth: cicadas, mourning doves, goldfinches, bumble bees, bullfrogs, wind in the leaves of the dogwoods and southern live oaks. The adolescent alligator is at one end of the front yard, sunbathing up by the mouth of the gravel driveway; in the opposite corner are several nutria nibbling on cattails. The sky is a calm, cloudless blue. It’s hot, mid-80s, even when 5:00 p.m. comes and goes; but the breeze is cool as it evaporates the sweat from your temples, your palms, the nape of your neck. It’s as close as Louisiana ever gets to Heaven. It’s a good day for a wedding.

You remember thinking that it was the end of the world when you found out you were pregnant almost exactly eleven years ago, and then again when you realized you would have to divorce Willis, and so you have lived through enough moments like this—these quiet, infinitesimal apocalypses—to know that there will be a future beyond Aemond marrying Christabel. The sun will rise tomorrow, and then it will set, the lightning bugs will appear and the stars will tell myths in the night sky, and the phone will ring as orders come in for the bakery, and Cadi will be back in her bedroom playing her Nintendo, and life will roll on like currents through the bayou: slow, opaque, inevitable. The world isn’t ending, you know that. It’s just full of beautiful things that aren’t for you.

Out on Route 401, a Plymouth Gran Fury zooms by the house, squeals to a halt, and then reverses until Willis can take another look, squinting through his tinted windows. He turns down the driveway and steps out into golden July daylight. He doesn’t pay any attention to the gator as he strides past her. He belongs here, in a place that is old and strange and savage and full of beasts. You have carved out a home for yourself in the swamplands; Willis was born with veins like the roots of a mangrove tree and ancient silt instead of marrow in his bones.

“Hey, sugar,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. The wind ruffles the dark curls of his mullet, the bumble bees flee as he tramples clovers. “Ain’t ya supposed to be at the weddin’?”

“I’m sick.” A lie. “But Cadi’s fine, she’s with Amir. She was so excited she actually wore one of the sundresses my mom bought her and had Amir braid a dogwood flower into her hair to match his. You should have seen it. You would’ve been so proud.”

“I’m always proud of her,” Willis says, smiling. And then: “Ya don’t look sick.”

“I am.”

“Ya got one of your headaches?”

You pause. You don’t, but this is a convenient excuse. “Yeah.”

Willis stalls, his hands on his belt. His pistol is there; you remember how he used it in the bayou, how he helped save your life. But he wasn’t the one who jumped into the water. Aemond was willing to risk his body for me, but not his soul. What kind of sense does that make? “Ya had me scared for a minute there,” Willis says.

“What? When?”

“When I thought ya were goin’ to end up with that Rockefeller boy.”

“Aemond?” you say, like it’s so shocking. “No. Absolutely not. It’s impossible.”

“And why’s that?”

You stare into the trees so Willis can’t see the tears welling up in your eyes, the tension in your throat as embers kindle there, pulsing with heat that could char flesh to the bone. “He can’t marry someone like me.”

“I could,” Willis replies, grinning. You glare at him until he recants. “Alright, alright, oublie ça. Pardonne-moi.”

“Why would you be afraid of me and Aemond being together?”

“An oil tycoon? A millionaire? He would never stay here for long. In a town like Napoleonville? Soon as he was done getting’ those rigs up and runnin’, he’d go jettin’ off to some other corner of the world, and he’d take you with him. And Cadi too. I wouldn’t be able to fight that. What’s a parish sheriff to a Targaryen? Who would listen to me? Cadi would be gone and I’d never get her back. It would kill me. It would rip the heart right outta my chest.”

You look up at Willis from where you sit on the tree swing, the soles of your feet colored with soil and grass. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” he asks, perhaps suspicious, perhaps hopeful.

“No,” you promise. “Cadi loves you. Cadi needs you to be in her life. I would never try to take her away from you, Willis.”

He nods; he seems to believe you. And something relaxes in him, like there’s been a tension in the lines of his spine and shoulders that you didn’t notice for years. “I’m sorry about your petit ami.”

“Yeah. Me too.” It comes out like a whisper, brittle and frail. “I’m sorry about Lake Verret.”

“They might be able to fix it. Talk around town is they got some kind of desalination”—he says this with each syllable enunciated distinctly, like he’s put great effort into memorizing it—“process that can take the salt back outta the water. And if that don’t work…” He shrugs with a sly smile. “I’ll survive somehow. The world’s a big place. There’s always another lake.”

You consider him, and you remember—like a dream from the night before that just returned to you—how Willis can be unexpectedly deep, randomly tender. “They should put that on bumper stickers.”

He chuckles and waves as he heads back to his car. “I’ll pick Cadi up on Tuesday. Back to the usual schedule.”

“Sure.” Back to real life. Back to before I met Aemond. And you find yourself wishing that you could forget what it had felt like to be with him; the absence he left feels so much heavier than the nonspecific longing that existed before. Willis’ Plymouth Gran Fury rolls out of the driveway, and you stay precisely where you are on the tree swing, absentmindedly pushing yourself back and forth with your tiptoes and trying to believe that tomorrow this will feel easier, and then even easier the day after that, and eventually it will cease to be anything but a vague recollection, a relic in a rarely-opened drawer, a whisper, an echo. One day, you will stop missing Aemond. One day, you will stop wondering whether a sliver of his life would have been better than none at all.

Inside what Cadi calls the Fall-Down House, the phone rings. You ignore it; if it’s an order for the bakery, they can leave a message. But then it rings again, and again, and you have to answer it. What if your mother had a heart attack? What if Cadi and Amir were in a car accident? You hurry to the kitchen and grab the phone, pink to match the little Panasonic boombox that is presently silent.

“Hello?”

“Hiiiiiii,” Amir says, slow and something else too. Disoriented? Evasive?

Your forehead wrinkles with confusion. “Where are you calling from?” There are definitely no phonelines running to the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens, a tiny brick-and-stucco edifice built in the 1830s.

“I’m at a McDonald’s up the road. I’ve paid them $5 to let me use the phone.” And then, because he knows it’s the first place your mind will go: “Cadi’s fine. She’s eating Chicken McNuggets. Everyone’s fine.”

“Okay…?”

“I think you should come over here.”

“What, to the chapel?!”

“Yeah.” He’s talking to someone; you can hear an indistinct tangle of voices through the hand he undoubtedly has clasped over the transmitter.

I can’t see Aemond. I can’t see Christabel. There is a lurching in your guts; you are a fish that swallowed a hook. “I thought we agreed that I wasn’t going to go to the wedding.” I can’t handle it. It might kill me.

“Yes, we did, but now…um…I think you will want to make an appearance.”

“Amir, what happened?”

There is more muffled conversation on the other end of the line. “Look,” he tells you. “Things, uh…things are…occurring. And I think it would be better to explain in person.”

“Did you drop the cake?”

“No,” he says, defensive. “The cake is perfect, thank you for your concern. Not a single frosting wildflower was mutilated in the delivery.”

“Then why—?”

“Do you trust me?” Amir asks.

The answer is obvious. Of course. More than anyone. “You know I do.”

“Then go get in your car.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. “Okay, but you know it’s going to take me like 40 minutes to drive to Belle River.”

“That’s fine.” He confers with someone else. “Yeah, that’s good actually, that will work.”

“Great,” you say uncertainly.

“See you soon!” Then Amir hangs up, leaving you alone in the creaks and groans of your ailing house.

You take Route 70 around Lake Verret, gliding past fields of soybeans and sugarcane, paddocks of cattle and horses, marshes of cordgrass occupied by blue herons and white egrets and prowling alligators, stirring awake as the sun begins its descent into the west. More than once, you notice that your Chevy Celebrity’s odometer reports you are travelling well below the speed limit. You aren’t in any hurry to reach the chapel; you don’t want to carry the weight of what you will see there, Christabel in her wedding dress, Aemond in his suit, Alicent anxiously fidgeting and gnawing at her fingernails, Viserys parading around triumphantly. You can’t imagine that there is anything less than torturous for you there. You don’t remember what you’re wearing until you reach Belle River, a small, old town full of double-wide trailers and jetties that run far out into the lake: a simple cotton sundress you threw on this morning without much thought, modest but white and therefore forbidden for a wedding guest. The sky is turning from a sun-drenched cerulean blue to something more soft, more muted, as dusk lurks just a few hours away. The radio is playing Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car.

The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens was built by a man in extremis. An acclaimed mason by trade, he had been born in France and settled in the New World in Louisiana when it was still in the possession of Napoleon. The mason had a wife and children—some people say 5, others say 8 or 10, though details always seem to grow more elaborate in the retelling, don’t they?—and he loved them dearly. But tragedy struck when every single member of the family, except for the mason himself, fell ill with tuberculosis. When healers of the earth failed to offer sufficient remedies, the mason appealed to a higher power. He built the chapel to implore Honoratus of Amiens, his wife’s favorite saint—she was a baker and a florist, both professions that Honoratus presides over—to intercede with the Almighty on their behalf. This effort proved futile, and as each member of the family died, the mason interred them in a brick vault beneath the altar where they would spend eternity together. Perhaps this makes for a peculiar wedding venue, yet for over a century couples rich and poor, religious and secular have traveled to the chapel to exchange their vows. Perhaps there are few things more romantic than loving someone in the face of total futility: illness, distance, unrequitedness, prohibitions, death.

The chapel sits in a clearing surrounded by live oak trees, massive, hundreds of years old, hanging with Spanish moss, blotting out the sunlight as aisles cascade through gaps in the leaves. As you park in the grass—joining an army of Lexuses, Audis, limousines, Porsches, Ferraris, Cadillacs, Aston Martins, Alfa Romeos, and Amir’s blue Ford Escort—you observe that there are perhaps fifty guests in formal attire milling aimlessly around the building. You peer down at your white sundress, frowning. Well, I can’t go naked. The faux pas will have to be forgiven. You step out of your Chevy Celebrity and make your way across the clearing towards the chapel.

There is a long table set up in the shade with a tower of champagne glasses, an ice sculpture of a dragon, and the banana bread cake you and Amir baked for the wedding. Grim-faced servants in black suits are cutting slices and handing them out to guests on green china plates. You recognize Aegon’s wife Stephanie chatting with a flock of young women in extravagant gowns, golds and emeralds and sapphires. Helaena is among them, wearing a shimmering blue-green color like the scales of her chameleon Dreamfyre. Evidently, the Targaryens’ exotic pets have been left at the mansion for this excursion.

“Well,” the princess of Monaco says sardonically as she takes a bite, the white cream cheese frosting covered with a kaleidoscope of wildflowers. “At least the cake is good. What is this, banana? Whoever heard of a banana wedding cake? I mean, it’s delicious, but still. I knew that Christabel girl was daft. Did you see her positively absurd dress? It looks like children doodled all over it…”

Is it over? you think as you weave through the crowd, largely unnoticed. Is the ceremony done already? Why would Aemond want to see me? To try to convince me to be his mistress one last time? To show me what I’m missing by severing ties with him?

But no: something else has happened. Viserys and Christabel’s father the marquess are embroiled in a heated argument; a nun and two priests are trying to haul them apart.

“You’re dead to me, Viserys!” the marquess roars. “And you’ll be dead to everyone back home once I tell them what you’ve done!”

“I did my part! This has nothing to do with me! Wait…wait…we can figure something else out! Wait! Wait! You can have Daeron!”

Wedding guests are gawking and snapping photos with their polaroid cameras. Upon hearing his name, Daeron glances over towards his father wearily. Alicent’s youngest son is kneeling beside where she has collapsed to the grass, patting her encouragingly on the shoulder as she sobs into a green cloth handkerchief. Criston is there too, trying to soothe her with sympathetic murmurs and a flute of pink champagne glittering with bubbles of carbonation.

“How did this happen?” she wails, peering up at Criston with her vast, dark, glassy eyes. The gold rings on her fingers clang and glint; they match the single hoop earring that Criston wears. Alicent’s gown is purple like royalty, but Criston is dressed in a suit of pale pink; it’s the exact same one Daeron has on. Groomsmen? you wonder. “He knows better than this! We raised him better than this!”

You think, stunned and petrified: Aemond, what the hell did you do?

As you approach the chapel, you note that it appears empty inside; you don’t spot anyone in the pews. Somewhere, a boombox is thundering Higher Love. At the entrance of the building, Christabel is sitting on the brick walkway in her wedding dress. It’s the one you told her to choose: elegant and timeless, long train and short flowing sleeves, silk wildflowers sewn into the white lace. Her bouquet is lying forgotten on the ground beside her. Her lips are a deep, lovely pink; her eyeshadow is gold. She’s smoking, something you’ve never seen her do before. There is a half-crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter in her left hand, a single lit cigarette in her right.

“Um, hi, Christabel,” you say. And then, something equally brainless: “Is everything okay?”

“I should have known.” She’s staring out at the crowd, not at you. Her large blue eyes are dull, vacant.

“You should have known what?” Your heart is in your throat; blood pounds in your ears like the hooves of a racehorse.

“That he didn’t care,” she says listlessly. “I could tell that he didn’t. I could feel it. But I didn’t want it to be true, so I told myself it wasn’t. Isn’t that interesting? How we can lie to ourselves? Not that it was entirely my error. Other people meddled plenty. ‘Oh no, Christabel.’ ‘He’s just emotionally stunted, Christabel.’ ‘He’s busy with work, Christabel.’ What man is too busy with work to handle a five-minute phone call? It’s not like he was on the moon. He could have made time if he wanted to. I bet he made lots of time for you.”

“Uh.” You try to decide what to say. “I broke up with him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want to be his mistress. I didn’t think that was fair to you.” Or me, obviously, but right now doesn’t seem to be the opportune time to voice my own grievances.

“Next time, I’m going to choose who I marry,” Christabel insists, puffing on her cigarette. “He has to talk to me. He has to like me.”

Aemond called it off? What did he say? What is he going to do now? “Christabel…do you know where Aemond is? Or Amir and Cadi?”

“Alicent is so upset,” she says instead. “Poor woman. She’s sweet, in her own way. But I don’t want to end up like her.” Christabel holds up the pack of Marlboros and the lighter. “She feels guilty, I think. She gave me these. She had them in her purse, she has so many neurotic little habits, doesn’t she? It’s not very ladylike to smoke, but it’s not ladylike to get left at the altar either, so fuck it.”

You ask, afraid to know the answer: “Do you hate me? I didn’t know Aemond was engaged when I met him. And then…” Why lie now? What’s the point? “Then I was in love with him and it was kind of…too late to try not to be. But I’m sorry.”

“I don’t hate you,” Christabel replies immediately. “I know he would never be allowed to marry…someone like you. Your options were limited.”

You don’t know if this is meant to be an insult or not. “Thanks.”

“I don’t think I ever loved him either,” Christabel realizes, exhaling smoke. “I think I idolized him. I think I loved my fantasy of what our marriage would be like. But I didn’t love Aemond. I didn’t even know Aemond. You did, I suspect. Good luck with him. He’s a bit…complex.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, rather compulsively. You aren’t sure what she expects from you. Abruptly, from wherever it’s coming from, Higher Love is cut off. “So, is Aemond, like…around, or…?”

“I don’t regret the sex part.”

“Okay.” You examine the crowd in the clearing again. You still don’t see Aemond.

“That went well,” Christabel muses. “I’m glad my first time is over and done with. I was terrified it would hurt like hell. And so few people know, so it’s almost like it never happened, right?”

“Right,” you say obediently.

“I think I’ll have a new rule. I won’t marry anyone unless he likes me and we sleep together first. Life is too long to spend it with the wrong person, don’t you agree?”

“I totally do.”

“He’s waiting for you inside,” Christabel says, flicking ashes towards the gaping doorway of the chapel.

“Really?” you peer into the shadows; there is indeed a solitary figure standing at the altar. “So…what exactly is happening��?”

“Go,” Christabel urges, and takes a drag on her cigarette. You leave her and cross through the doorway into the chapel.

The light is dim and gentle; fading sunbeams slant in through the glass of the cathedral-style windows. The mason’s inspiration was Gothic architecture, imposing, cavernous. Two candlelit iron chandeliers hang from the high ceiling; the floor is made of tiles of black and white marble. Small stone sculptures of angels watch over their realm like benevolent gargoyles. There is a single stained glass window above the altar: circular like a ring, red and gold like the sun.

He’s waiting for you in a pale pink suit, long disheveled hair, thin mustache with flecks of white powder in it, mischievous smirk. “Hey cake lady,” Aegon says.

“Um. I’m not marrying you.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” Aegon offers you his hand and you take it with some hesitation. “I’m here to be your guide. Just like on the Oregon Trail.”

“What…?”

“Let’s go.” He pulls you out of the chapel, past where Christabel is still sitting at the entranceway, and across the clearing towards the trees. When you look to the crowd, Otto is elbowing his way through disgruntled guests towards a limousine, already idling.

Viserys bellows at him: “Where the hell are you going?!”

“Back to Kiribati!” Otto shouts back, not breaking his stride. He vanishes into the limo.

“Hurry,” Aegon says. He leads you into the forest, a thick canopy of verdant leaves and Spanish moss and the narrow rays of sunshine that tumble down through the gaps.

“Aegon, I don’t think we should be in the woods, it could be dangerous—”

“No, this part is fine. We already checked.”

“Who’s ‘we’?!” You’re wearing flip flops that catch on gnarled roots; the shrieking of cicadas grows loud. One of them buzzes towards Aegon and he screams as he backhands it away.

“You good?” Amir’s voice calls from farther within the trees.

“Yeah. I’m fine. We made it.”

You turn to Aegon. “What’s going on—?”

Suddenly, there is booming music that startles you: “Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth? Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth! They say in Heaven, love comes first, we’ll make Heaven a place on Earth! Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth!”

“Aegon, what is that?”

“Uh, I think it’s Heaven Is A Place On Earth.”

“Yes, okay, but why?”

“Ask that guy.” You round a thicket and there under a colossal southern live oak tree, surrounded by hundred-year-old branches that twist down to the earth, is Aemond; but he’s not looking at you. He and Cadi are lighting the last of the candles. She picks them up, he ignites the wick with the same lighter he uses to smoke his Marlboros, and then Cadi places them back on the ground or on top of a branch. Amir is standing by the large black boombox, the same one Aegon always listens to by the Targaryens’ pool. Amir grins craftily, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose. His suit is orange, the single dogwood flower in his hair white.

“Did we get them all?” Aemond asks Cadi.

“Yeah, I think so. Wait, no, there’s one over there!” Cadi darts to it and Aemond lights the candle, then spins around and sees you. He smiles. “Hi, Cupcake.”

“Hi,” you say, so shellshocked you can’t form any of your very vital questions.

“Okay, so we have the candles,” Aemond informs you as Cadi and Aegon go to join Amir. “White with wildflower patterns.” And you recall how Alicent mentioned needing to pick out candles with Christabel, and how you didn’t see any scattered around the chapel. They brought them here. They did it for me. “And we have some actual wildflowers.” He takes the boutonniere off the lapel of his white suit and tucks it into your hair behind your left ear. “And we have Heaven Is A Place On Earth.” He gestures to the boombox. “And I think those were the three things you said you wanted if you were ever going to get married again.”

I did say that. Just once, months ago, the first time he ever came over, the first time he ever touched me. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.” He takes both of your hands in his own. Amir lets out a little squeal and covers his mouth as his eyes begin to glisten. Aemond takes a deep breath. “So, I don’t have a speech, because this is very last-minute. I mean extremely last-minute. But you were right about everything. And I realized I couldn’t live that way. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to me, but it wouldn’t be fair to Christabel either. So I broke it off.”

“Literally at the altar,” Aegon says. “In front of everybody. It was so fucking awkward.”

“Those are not necessary details!” Aemond snaps, then looks back to you and is smiling again. “I know what I want. I’ve known it for as long as I’ve known you. But I wasn’t a strong enough person to make it happen. I’m so sorry. I should have done things differently. I can’t change the past. But everything is going to be different now.”

You gaze up at him as Belinda Carlisle sings, thinking: This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up now.

“On the night we met, you told me you’d never felt chosen,” Aemond says. “I’m choosing you. And, you know.” He nods to her. “Cadi too. And Amir. And the bakery. And dealing with Willis too, I guess. All of it. I’m choosing you and your whole life and that’s exactly where I want to be.”

You can feel the warmth in your face, beaming and hopeful and full of possibilities. Under the shade of the southern live oak, the first lightning bugs are blooming in the air like stars. “What about your family?”

“I’ll figure it out. I don’t think my father can entirely disown me…turns out I’m the only one who understands how the stock market works. But no matter what, you and Cadi are the priority. And my father will have to learn to live with that.”

“Or he can drop dead,” Aegon says. “Whichever.”

It’s possible? We can be together? Not just for a night, an afternoon, a stolen moment, but forever?

“I said I don’t have a speech.” Aemond tells you. His right eye is bright, elated, gleaming like a mirror. “I don’t have a ring either. But I’m going to get you one, if you’ll let me. So I’m asking you, Cupcake: Will you marry me?”

“Say yes, Mom!” Cadi yells, and Amir bursts out laughing.

“Say yes, cake lady!” Aegon adds. “Unlimited Cap’n Crunch Treats!”

When am I going to wake up? When is this going to end?

But it’s not a dream. It’s real. And Aemond reads the answer on your face before you can say it, and so it’s only a murmur as he kisses you, a whisper, a prayer: “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The three of you drive from the new house all the way to San Francisco; you still call it the new house, even though you’ve owned it for a full year. The journey takes seven days, with overnight stops in Dallas, Wonderland Amusement Park in Amarillo, Albuquerque, Flagstaff, Las Vegas, and Bakersfield. Aemond sold his Audi Quattro and replaced it with a Dodge Caravan. It’s July 1989, and Tom Petty’s brand new single Runnin’ Down A Dream is strumming from the radio. It’s always temperate in San Fran, in the 60s even at the height of summer. The sky is overcast and grey. When Cadi complains that she’s cold despite the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles hoodie you packed for her, Aemond gives her his Marlboro jacket.

Amir, his boyfriend, and two other roommates share a sunshine yellow Italianate townhouse in the Castro District. Aemond parks his wood-paneled Caravan on the steep, inclined street—he narrowly misses colliding with a whooshing cable car, which he blames on poor depth perception—and then helps you carry the luggage inside. There are no alligators on the front porch, but there are neighborhood cats that Amir puts out Friskies for; there are no screaming cicadas, but there are swooping seagulls and the melodies of sidewalk musicians. When Amir opens the door, he nearly tackles you with enthusiasm. He still wears his loud colors and short shorts, but he’s traded in the dogwood flowers he once wove into his hair for dahlias.

Amir’s boyfriend is named Don, but everyone calls him Donald Schwarzenegger because he looks so much like the Austrian bodybuilder turned actor. When Amir first arrived in the city, he got a job as a cake decorator for a very popular bakery, and quickly segued into handling much of their marketing as well. He’s thinking of getting a degree in advertising and trying his luck in corporate America. You very much enjoy teasing him for being a sellout; what would socialist Bayard Rustin say?

“Call your Daddy and let him know we made it safely to the West Coast,” you tell Cadi once her things are unpacked in the guest room she’ll get all to herself; you and Aemond are consigned to the living room futon. Cadi chats with Willis for a while, then says he wants to talk to you. You take the phone, slightly concerned; you hope nothing is amiss with the house. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with this horse?” he demands. “That ain’t no pet. That’s a demon. It’s a goddamn Rougarou.”

“I told you not to try to touch him,” you say, amused.

“I feed him and water him, don’t I? Ain’t that the least he can do? Lettin’ me scratch his big ol’ idiot head?”

“Patches is not very well-behaved. But Cadi loves him.”

“And don’t even get me started on the dog. Ugliest fuckin’ dog I ever saw. Growls every time I show up. Shows its teeth and everythin’. I’d take twenty gators over that son of a bitch any day.”

“Vhagar is a girl,” you say. “Thanks for watching them while we’re out of town.”

“Sure thing, sugar. Although I still don’t understand why the bon a rien can’t do it.”

“Aegon isn’t always…reliable.” But he does seem to be improving. He’s cut back to mostly just booze and marijuana, because otherwise he and Sunfyre aren't allowed to stay at the new house for sleepovers. There’s a guest bedroom, but Aegon prefers the sunken conversation pit in the mauve pink living room. He likes to be where anyone can stumble across him if they wake up in the middle of the night for pancakes or ice cream. He likes to be where people are; he likes to be included. “Anyway, I gotta go. Cadi will call again tomorrow. Enjoy your fishing.”

“Will do. Maybe I’ll toss your accursed animals in as bait.” Lake Verret is still a bit too brackish for a proper freshwater lake, but that’s changing gradually with Daeron’s desalination efforts and a subaquatic plug affixed to the opening of the breached salt dome. He views it as a pioneering experiment in reversing such drilling accidents, potentially for application globally. Now there are more bass and lampreys and catfish, and less breams and gars, but life goes on in Napoleonville’s 14,000-acre lake. Daeron has replaced Aemond as Viserys’ heir apparent, and he is thriving in the role. He is bookish yet empathetic, focused but never ruthless. Furthermore, he happens to be genuinely in love with his aristocratic fiancée: Princess Alexandra of Denmark.

Aemond was right; Viserys didn’t disown him, but he did fire him, ban him from the mansion, and reduce his available funds to a modest living stipend. Fortunately, Viserys has a very limited comprehension of how money works for normal people, and he considers $200,000 per year to be “modest.” With that plus your bakery earnings and a paid-off house, you, Cadi, and Aemond will be living comfortably for the remainder of your lives. Also fortunately, no one else will enforce the no-Aemond rule at The Last Desire, so anytime Viserys is out of town—which is far more often than not—you get to visit the Targaryens at the mansion as much as you please. Cadi loves the water slide and the koi pond. She’s named the fish after Greek deities, her latest obsession: Zeus, Narcissus, Athena, Dionysus, Artemis, Apollo, Echo. Viserys will not acknowledge you, but the rest of the family is polite enough now that the drama of the broken engagement has blown over. When you finish the cookbook of Southern baked goods that you’ve been working on, Alicent had pledged to mail copies to all her friends and relatives back in the U.K. Otto has offered to take a box of them with him next time he jets off for Kiribati; the wealthy housewives marooned in paradise are always on the hunt for new reading material.

On your first night in San Francisco, Amir serves a dinner of cioppino, sourdough bread, and (not homemade) Rice-A-Roni. You provide dessert, a recipe you’re still perfecting: Saint Honoratus cake, a pastry that dates back to Paris in the 1800s. You want to be able to include it in your cookbook, along with photographs from your wedding in the chapel this past May, almost exactly a year from when you and Aemond first met. Your engagement ring has a gold band and pink diamonds arranged to resemble a rockrose, a dauntless little wildflower native to Aemond’s ancestral homeland of Greece. For over a decade you have loved that wildflowers are grown and not bought, small but tenacious, humble yet untamed. They do not wait for other hands to tell them where and how to grow. They are the architects of their own fortune.

When everyone is finished with dessert and gathers around the tv to watch The Golden Girls, Aemond says he’s going outside for a smoke break; but you know he’s trying to quit. You follow him into the small backyard and as soon as your bare feet touch the grass, he’s pushed you against the wall of the house, forced your thighs apart, slipped his hand down the front of your shorts as he watches the amazed, electrified desire rise in your face like heat from a stove. “It’s been a week, and I need you,” Aemond murmurs, his lips ghosting across your throat, his hips braced insistently against yours, and then he kisses you to stifle your moans as you bury your fingers in his hair, to swallow down the vicarious ecstasy of every wondrous thing he’s ever done to you and ever will. “I don’t even need you to get me off. I just need to see you like this.”

Trusting him, wanting him, letting him make me come.

Aemond has been accepted into UC Berkeley’s History PhD program and will start there at the end of August. He wants to write books about underrecognized heroes, extraordinary and yet unassuming people like Bayard Rustin and Bobbi Campbell and Phillis Wheatley. You’ll miss him of course, but there will be breaks for holidays and summers when he can return to Napoleonville, and you can fly out to visit him too, and there are phone calls, and postcards, and one day you’ll be able to go anywhere together—

You gasp, a shaky, starving breath, your lips grinning into Aemond’s. You’re close, you’re so close.

There is a shrill whistle from the back porch of a townhouse from the row behind Amir’s. “Get it, honey!” a man in a leopard-print robe cheers, waving the newspaper he’d been reading. You and Aemond unravel from each other, laughing hysterically.

“Okay,” you tell him, still panting. “Bad plan. We are clearly not accustomed to city life.”

“Tonight,” Aemond says, low and commanding. He returns to you, kissing the side of your face: temple, cheekbone, the curve of your jaw. His voice is dark, jagged glass; his lips are soft like kind dreams. “On the futon, on the floor, anywhere.”

You want it too, but you know the game. “No.”

He pins you to the wall again, powerful, irresistible, his hardness grinding against you through his jeans, everything about him—voice, flesh, rhythm, soul—promising you the peace only he has ever given you, proving that being at the right person’s mercy can make you free. “I’m in charge now. Let me take care of you.” And for a split second you almost beg: Just do it, Aemond, right now, please touch me again, I don’t care if a stranger sees. I want you now, I want you forever.

Instead you smile up at him, the whirls of your fingerprints skating harmlessly over his scarred left cheek as you answer: “Yes sir.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond

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dinowolfthezombie · 5 days ago

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I recently tweaked my Monty design. I made his colors darker so he blends with the environment of Monty Golf better. Monty being an ambush predator is a big part of his character in my story.

I gave him more of a mullet than a mohawk because I saw some art of Monty with a mullet and I liked the look. But then I came up with a lore explanation for it, so that's cool.

And I was happy to find out that alligators have nictitating membranes. Which means Monty now has a third eyelid that blinks sideways. Not only is it cool, but it is perfect angst for why he wears sunglasses.

Now, for the lore dump. I have been working on my own Security Breach story since the game came out. I have two parts planned out. Part one is called Wolves and Rabbits and takes place from Roxy first going online and before Gregory shows up. The second part will be called Gory and will cover the events of the actual game (except it's a whole week instead of one night).

In this story the animatronics were made by combining the materials for human and animal androids. The animal parts were originally made to perfectly replicate actual animals (for educational purposes in a future with more men than beasts in the world).

Out of everyone, Monty was the most animalistic and decidedly inhuman. His blinking freaked patrons out, his solitary and territorial personality made him difficult to work with, he couldn't produce heat and didn't show signs of being cold like mammals did, he was lazy and didn't like leaving water he was submerged in.

During Wolves and Rabbits, Monty sort of obliges to management's wishes, he wore the sunglasses to hide his eyes, he showed up for events, even rehearsals. But when he found out that maintenance planned on reprogramming him, that's when he went rogue. He hid from all the employees and never showed for events or check ups. His colors got darker and his hair grew out. His systems failed once in a while and only those he trusted repaired him.

He sort of became an urban legend. At least until Bonnie disappeared.

#this is oversimplifying A LOT but i cant go into detail without explaining Freddy's deal #and this post is long enough #fnaf #fnaf sb #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #montgomery gator #monty gator #monty fnaf #fnaf fanart #my art #fnaf au #Wolves n Rabbits au

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strawbby-shortcake · 11 months ago

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"What Animal Do You Think You Could Take in a Fight?" ✧˚ · . [all gn! reader]

☽｡⋆ JACK/THE NARRATOR You and Jack were sitting outside at a quiet cafe and there were little to no civilians passing by. He looked up towards the sky with his black shades and sighed. He seemed to be bored.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and his gaze met yours. Well, you weren't actually sure if he was looking at you. You couldn't tell where his eyes were, only that he tilted his head.

"What," Jack mumbled.

Someone's cranky today. As he is, like, literally every day.

"What animal do you think you could take in a fight?" you asked.

Jack scoffed and shook his head, "Oh my god. How much time do you have?"

You shrugged and checked your imaginary watch.

"According to my calculations... all day."

He took off his sunglasses and stared at you intensely.

"Honestly speaking, maybe an armadillo."

ੈ✩‧₊˚ MARLA

You coughed as Marla blew cigarette smoke in your face. She never did stop smoking, even though every time you saw her, she promised to quit.

"I'll quit smoking forever next week, okay?" she teased, knowing full well she won't.

"Hell will freeze over before that ever happens," you laughed.

She playfully swatted your shoulder, and you threatened to take her cigarettes as payback. She quickly hid the carton to protect them from you.

"Hey, Marla, what animal do you think you could take in a fight?"

Marla glanced at you and smiled. You could see her sharp cheekbones clearly.

"You," she replied, blowing another puff of smoke at you.

Your eyes watered as you resisted the urge to cough. Fanning away the cloud with your hand, you gave her a "seriously?" look.

She simply cocked her head like a puppy and grinned.

シ TYLER DURDEN

Tyler was getting his waiter outfit on for his late night shift, and you were fixing his bowtie. He didn't know how to tie it correctly around his neck.

"What animal do you think you could take in a fight?" you asked, tightening the bow.

Tyler adjusted his sleeves and pondered for a moment. Before answering, he took a deep breath and placed both hands on your shoulders.

"That's a very good question. In fact, I'm glad that you asked. See, I think I'm strong enough to take any animal in a fight- especially gorillas. The whole point of fighting the animal is not to win, but to become the animal yourself. This is how you achieve great results, and scars. I've never fought any animals before. I think I should try it someday. Actually, this gives me an idea. We could release all the animals out of the public zoos! We could form an animal fight club. Instead of them eating stale peanuts, they'll finally taste sweet revenge against those that ridicule them. And let's not forget..."

You zoned out for a couple minutes while he was ranting. Maybe you shouldn't have asked Tyler that question right before he had to leave.

"...and what an amazing question that was! Thank you, truly. I know what my next objective is now. While I'm gone, I need you to search 'how to help animals escape from the zoo without anyone seeing.' Okay? Wonderful," he concluded.

He quickly left the house with a task assigned for you. You guess that there was no other choice than to complete it. In Tyler We Trust.

ʚɞ ROBERT "BOB" PAULSON

You and Bob were sitting on a park bench watching birds fly around, peck at the ground, and chirp. He seemed focused on them for some reason.

"Psst, Bob," you whispered, nudging his arm with your elbow.

"Hm? Yes? Oh, what do you need?" he asked, turning his attention to you.

He's got a serious case of sweaty pits.

"What animal do you think you could take in a fight?"

Bob's eyebrows furrowed as he tapped his chin like an enlightenment thinker. Talk about using brain power.

He raised one finger in the air and declared, "I choose peace."

"That wasn't the question, Bob," you chuckled.

"Doesn't matter, I choose peace. I love the animal kingdom. I would never hurt a fly nor an alligator."

He had a point; he couldn't harm a fly even if he tried. And he did try once, but poor Bob burst into tears before swatting it.

What a sweetheart.

[END]

#fanfiction #fight club #fight club fanfic #fight club x reader #jack fight club #narrator fight club #tyler durden #x reader #tyler durden x reader #fanfic #marla singer #robert paulson #big bob #fight club meme #haha #hilarious #canon maybe #we love it when tyler goes on a tangent

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vaguely-concerned · 4 months ago

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Very intrigued by the fancy alligator guy you've been posting. This is from a podcast?

He IS from a podcast! :D Waddadoo he's Kremy Lecroux, he loves unicorns, he has immense and unspeakable gay subtext with his best friend/partner in life and crime/accidental husband (it's a long story, what if we 'it's guys' night! it's ironic!'-ed too close to the sun. and we were both boys), he loves fraud, Gideon Coal and his meemaw, and he's from Legends of Avantris' Once Upon A Witchlight campaign! Which is one of the most life-savingly hilarious and weirdly moving actual play podcasts I've ever come across, it reminds me SO much of Campaign Star Wars. Both in terms of heights of absolute nonsense reached, and in surprising emotional impact.

If anyone wants to check out the podcast in video format, you can find the playlist over here on youtube! I personally mostly listen to the audio version which I assume can be found on your podcatcher of choice, but there are some moments of physical comedy where having the context of the visuals is helpful if not essential lol

(I would also feel amiss if I didn't recommend @sylrose-tinted-sunglasses' WONDERFUL coalecroux moments compilation series on youtube -- the length of which should tell you how fr srs I am being about the gay subtext. thank you sylrose for my life, that series is a public service and I am so grateful for it)

#once upon a witchlight #legends of avantris #kremy lecroux #coalecroux #podcast recommendations #he is exactly my kind of sad clown trickster with emotional intimacy issues (lighter on the sad clown high on the lying liar scale)#and also he's a warlock alligator with impeccable dress sense and (subtextually) a troubling ex. what more could one ask for #a very good d&d podcast (sometimes whole episodes go by without one serious roll being made god bless)

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kneesheee · 1 year ago

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50 Things to Know about the Disney-verse

1. Ursula and Maleficent are rivals so Uma and Mal being rivals also tracks.

2. The Evil Queen and Maleficent are rivals for Hades' affections and for the status of "The Evilest of Them All'.

3. The Evil Queen claims not to be Hades' girlfriend, but they just had "an interesting weekend" on Castaway Cay. And therefore, I headcanon that she is Hadie’s mom. Probably conceived sometime around Evie’s banishment.

4. In the Disney Villains: Top Secret Files, Maleficent is featured in her own section. According to the pieces of information provided, Maleficent's last name is Faery.

5. She was actually invited to Aurora's birth ceremony and that the invitation simply never got to her castle because she burnt the postman to death (believing him to be a trespasser) before he could deliver it.

6. Her dragon form also appeared in The Little Mermaid series episode "Heroes" as a sea dragon.

7. Captain Hook tried to charm her, only to be zapped away leaving behind his hook. Jafar also tried to woo her while they sat together, only to end up being literally burnt.

8. It was revealed in "A Christmas Cruella" that she did want a puppy before becoming her villainous self.

9. Cruella has a brother named Cecil and a niece named Ivy. However, Cecil is not Ivy's father, meaning that Cruella and Cecil must have another sibling (most likely a brother) who is Ivy's parent.

10. In 102 Dalmatians: Puppies to the Rescue, Cruella has set up a toy factory next to DeVil Manor. She seems to have tried online dating, where she has supposedly wed herself to Professor Farzboom, a meek professor who helps her make her toys. So there’s Carlos’ dad.

11. In "Max's Embarrassing Date", she went on a date with the Beast and asked if he came in a medium, which the Beast became annoyed of. After the Beast gets soaked with soup he was eating, Cruella is unhappy as she would have to get him dry-cleaned.

12. Walt Disney's early vision for The Rescuers revolved around the kidnapping of a polar bear from a city zoo; writers considered reusing Cruella as the main antagonist (presumably driven by her desire for the bear's fur).

13. The concept art of the film shows Cruella wearing an outfit made out of crocodile leather. Because The Rescuers was set more than a decade after 101 Dalmatians, Cruella was given a period-appropriate update. Aside from her '70s alligator-chic outfit, Cruella is accessorized with Sly and the Family Stone-style sunglasses. In other sketches, De Vil is depicted in bell-bottom pants and a pair of platforms. Other concept art showed Cruella driving a water vehicle similar to the one Medusa uses in the final film.

14. The Prince is usually known as Prince Charming, though some source material shows that his name is Henri, or Henry. However, he was never referred to by name anywhere in the film. Not even mentioned as "Prince Charming".

15. The story takes place roughly in June. In the movie, the sun rises slightly before 6:00 AM (in France), as it would within a few weeks of the summer solstice. Also, by this time, a pumpkin would have grown to 20–40 pounds.

16. The debate of the setting of Cinderella has always been a problem, but most people can agree it is French; however, there is a small amount of people who think it is Spanish because the female names end in "A" but that does not really cut it so deeper research shows that the thing on Anastasia's head is a peineta or headdress used in Spain along with formal attire also the French furnishings and the Spanish furnishings within the same time period are very similar in style.

17. Cinderella is the “oldest” princess in the official franchise being 19 while Snow White is the youngest being 14. Also, Snow White’s prince was suppose to be 18 according to Disney’s records.

18. In the third movie, Cinderella’s shoe size is mentioned to be a size 4½ in women's. According to Disney's Villains' Revenge, Snow White has smaller feet than Cinderella.

19. Cinderella was actually rich at the beginning, even before she married the prince. This was exempted, however, as she was forced to work as a servant.

20. In some stories, Cinderella's real name was Ella (short for Eleanor), and because she would always lie in cinders, her stepfamily would call her CinderElla. However, in the Disney film, "Cinderella" is truly her name by birth.

21. Cinderella's last name would likely have been Tremaine since her stepmother's name was Lady Tremaine unless Lady Tremaine kept her maiden name.

22. According to Disneystrology, Cinderella’s birthday is September 6.

23. According to the Disneystrology book, Snow White’s birthday would be on March 6.

24. Cinderella is magical. She has a special ability to empathize with animals, perceive what they say and communicate with them.

25. Melody is the very first human-merperson hybrid in history, making her birth a significant historic moment in both human and Atlantican history.

26.She is also not considered a canon descendant’s character and considered to be from an AU, but apparently, Beauty & The Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and The Little Mermaid are considered to be happening roughly around the same time in the disney timeline.

26. Melody's bedroom is Ariel's guest room when she first took human form and stayed with Prince Eric, albeit recolored with brighter colors.

27. Contrary to popular belief, Jasmine's age has never been confirmed or even referenced in any of the Aladdin movies, television series, or other spinoff projects. In the original film, the Sultan declares that Jasmine must be married "by her next birthday", but never specifies how old she will become on said birthday.

28. An early story concept for the original film had the Sultan saying, "Jasmine, the law says you must be married by your sixteenth birthday.", which would have made her fifteen years old. This concept was scrapped when Jeffrey Katzenberg became worried about sending the wrong message regarding the idea that fifteen year old girls can get married. Thus, the line was changed to "married to a prince by your next birthday.", leaving Jasmine's canonical age unknown.

29. One of the Disney Princess magazines has a story about two of Jasmine's cousins named Farah and Nadine. Whether they are considered canon is unknown.

30. Although the exact date is not clear, Jasmine's birthday is in late January or early February. This is because when Aladdin and Jasmine fly on the magic carpet, Chinese New Year is being celebrated over in China. This holiday can fall anywhere from January 21 to February 20.

31. She also has another cousin named Sharma who teaches at The Royal Academy.

32. Nasira is the better sorcerer between her and her twin brother, Jafar.

33. According to Disneystrology, Tiana’s birthday would be on December 25, Christmas Day.

34. The trailer implies that Gaston may have been aware of the Beast's curse, and had ulterior motives besides wanting Belle as his wife for attempting to kill the Beast, as the trailer described him as being "one man who wants to keep the spell alive," although it is unconfirmed whether this was the case in the film itself.

35. Despite various concept materials, as listed above, give Gaston the surname of LeGume, the Bimbettes during the song of "Belle" refer to Gaston as "Monsieur Gaston" and Belle in the reprise twice sarcastically refers to herself as "Madame Gaston" suggesting that Gaston is his surname in the final version.

36. The Bimbettes (individual names Claudette, Laurette, and Paulette) are blonde identical triplets who fawn over Gaston. They are inspired by Belle's sisters from the original Beauty and the Beast fairy tale.

37. They are the first Disney characters to possess green eyes without being villains

38. These girls worked their asses off in the comics to get Gaston to notice them. 😩

39. Its implied in one comic that Belle and Gaston were friends when they were children.

40. Ironically, despite Belle being considered by the village to be the most beautiful woman in the village, Laurette once disguised herself as Belle flawlessly enough to fool Gaston initially, which conflicted with the claim that Belle's looks had no parallel.

41. Even though he is referred to as a prince in the opening, none of the characters directly refer to him by that title. In addition, the first draft for Woolverton's take of the film indicated that the Beast was intended to be a duke instead of a prince.

42. According to the first stained-glass window featured in the film's opening sequence, Adam’s family motto is "vincit qui se vincit" (meaning "The winner is who wins himself").

42. Though the Beast's official age is not mentioned in the movie, it is strongly indicated by the narrator's statement that the rose "would bloom until his 21st year." As the rose has already begun to wilt by the time Belle arrives at the castle, it is very likely that the Beast is 20 years (i.e. on their 21st year) of age by this point.

43. In authorized supplementary comics, most notably The New Adventures of Beauty and the Beast, the Prince is never shown as being older than a preteen when he's shown as a human; moreover, the palace staff all refer to his pre-curse self as "a young boy" or "child". Two individual comics show that the Prince was originally a few years older than Chip, who didn't age during the curse, and shows him as being a couple of years older than Belle herself. The comics also show that the Prince has had a few run-ins with the disguised Enchantress, meaning that he'd still be a preteen when he was cursed.

44. Despite her slim figure, Belle seems to have considerable strength. She may have lifted the Beast, as evidenced by the Beast being placed onto Philippe's back, although this was never shown on-screen. Later on, she was able to pull the Beast up onto a balcony.

45. Belle is currently the only official Disney Princess to have hazel eyes.

46. In the beginning of the original 1989 storyline, found on the Diamond Edition DVD, Belle's birthday is celebrated, and the cake reads "Happy 17th Birthday Belle", providing evidence that she is 17 in the movie, or at least that she was originally planned to be 17.

47. Contrary to popular belief, it's not made clear whether Belle was actually born a peasant, as she implies that she wasn't born in her home village in the opening song, but rather moved there. In addition, her owning books at her cottage implied that she is, or at least was, considerably wealthy (as back in the time period of the film, books were considerably expensive).

48. In the musical, specifically the song "No Matter What" one of the lyrics had Maurice stating "You are your mother's daughter; therefore you are class ... crème de la crème", implying that Belle was part of the social upper class. This was also supported by Belle having a portrait of her and her mom in the Enchanted Tales of Belle attraction.

49. In earlier drafts, Aladdin had three human friends named Babkak, Omar, and Kassim.

50. In the episode "Two to Tangle", it's revealed that Aladdin has unexplored magic powers hidden within his soul. This may possibly be a link to him being "The Diamond In The Rough".

#descendants #disney descendants #uma descendants #mal descendants #carlos descendants

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bunnypeew · 11 months ago

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Under star-lit skies - Moon/Sun x reader part 1

Okay so I started writing this cuz my obsession for Sun and Moon came back since I keep getting posts and fanart of them so here is the first part of the fanfic you can read it on Ao3 linked in my bio :3c

it was one of those days, one where you and your class had to go to a stupid location outside of town. You weren’t eager about it since you preferred being closed in the confinement of your dorm room, but an outing was necessary even for you. You got up from your bed unwillingly and started getting dressed, some sweatpants a t-shirt and a hoodie on top, was pretty easygoing and comfortable for a day out.

you weren’t sure where you were going until it came into focus, the Freddy Fazbear Pizzaplex for some reason you weren’t going to question it since your school did choose some random places all the time, not caring if it’s educational or not, but you guessed it was because of the way the pizzaplex was built, could be really interesting or maybe how the animatronics worked. You all went into the pizzaplex being greeted by some basic-looking bots holding maps

“Take a map, take a map,,

you take one and look the other way a little creeped out, you hope those poor things weren’t sentient like the bigger ones otherwise this would’ve been fucked up. The tour starts then, going around the entire pizzaplex from Gator golf to Roxy raceway, it was pleasant meeting the big animatronics in charge of entertainment. Roxy, in charge of Roxy Raceway, was a wolf animatronic with long grey hair and a puff of green in the front, while Gator Golf was attended by Monty, an alligator-like animatronic with icon star-shaped sunglasses, he was pretty cool. Then you arrived at the star of the gang Freddy Fazbear himself, he was a nice bear animatronic with a little top hat on his head and an iconic earring on his left ear. He waved at everyone with a happy smile on his face, you waved back catching his attention, noticing you he winked at you also doing finger guns, you smiled and blushed a little bit at that (blushing over an animatronic? Are you okay??)

You then arrived at your last stop, the Superstar Daycare. It was a place full of kids, also full of toys and arts&crafts stuff (of course like the name said it was a daycare) but something caught your eye, the animatronic that was attending the children, it was a jester-like robot with a sun for a head that could spin around when it wanted to

“Hello everyone! I am Sun! the daycare attendant I hope you guys had a lovely tour so far!,,

he says lively his rays on his head spinning around happily, Sun huh? (ironic isn’t it) You were fascinated by him, he was really, pretty? I guess you could call him pretty.

When you got back to your dorm you picked up your laptop right away and started doing research on Fazbear Entertainment, finding a lot of weird stuff about some lawsuits and shit like that, you didn’t care you went on to look if the pizzaplex out of town was looking for a job, you really needed one and that was a big place so maybe they did need some human personal, you were also hoping you’d get to work near or in the daycare, you wanted to know more about Sun. Thinking about that you looked up the Superstar Daycare for some more information and found yet another lawsuit about the daycare this time, you read through it.

“my son was traumatised by your stupid daycare attendant and can’t sleep with the lights off anymore, whatever that thing did to him. You should decommission it right away it is not safe for children,,

you scrunch up your nose at that, because there is no way this person was talking about Sun seemed like a nice guy! So you did more research finding out the animatronic they were talking about was not Sun, but an animatronic called Moon, he was the nap time attendant and apparently, they were two separate animatronics, which intrigued you even more.

Doing even more research you find out they were actually looking to hire someone, it didn't say in which position but you weren't one to complain about stuff like that so you wrote an email and sent it, you weren't expecting a reply right away so you decided to go to bed.

It was dark, and something was bothering you but you couldn't put your finger on it, you found yourself in a jungle gym of some sort crumbled up like a pretzel, you started moving in front of you or what you thought was in front of you, while moving you could hear some sort of music, like a soft melody getting closer and closer until it stopped, you stopped as well, looking around now trying to understand where you were.

clang.

BOOM.

You wake up in your bed full of sweat and your heart beating super fast, you get your phone from your nightstand only to see it is 2 am, you definitely can't sleep after this weird ass nightmare you just add so you decide to start scrolling through social media. Before you get the chance to do that tho you get a notification from your emails, saying that Fazbear Entertainment sent a reply to your email, accepting your application!

You get up to do a little victory dance happy for it to begin.

tomorrow is another day.

this is how they will look in the fanfic since they are separate animatronics here the one in the middle is my persona ignore them I insert myself in every fandom I go in lol!!

#moondrop #sundrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf #fnaf moon #fnaf sb #fnaf fanfic #fnaf fanart #fnaf fandom #ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #ao3 stuff #fanfiction #archive of our own

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trashyswitch · 10 months ago

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The Guilty, Shady Thief

Moon had stolen one of Monty's most prized possessions: his star-shaped shades. But Sun will only bring out Moon if Monty calms himself down. But no need to worry! Cause Sun knows the perfect trick to ease Monty's anger-induced mind.

This fanfic was suggested by @Puzzle_piecea on AO3! Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy!

“Ho ho HO! Look who’s come to visit the Superstar daycare!” Sun declared, jumping circles around the large, green animatronic as he stormed into the Daycare.

“Bring out Moon.” Monty ordered.

Sun froze. “Uhhh...” He muttered.

“He stole my star sunglasses.” He told him. “Bring him out, or else…” Monty ordered rather aggressively.

Sun widened his eyes and stared at Monty. “.....And if I don’t?”

He growled and stomped up to Sun. “Then I’ll rip you and your crooked brother to shreds.” Monty spat back.

Sun stared at Monty with slight fear…though the fear wasn’t really written on his face. His face couldn’t really contort into a different face other than the ‘bright smiley face’ he showed off constantly to the little children. But inside, Sun could feel the programmed nervousness building up in his chest.

{Don’t do it!} Moon pleaded, his voice cracking from fear. {He’s gonna kill us!}

Sun decided to stand his ground in an attempt to save his brother. “Nah.” Sun replied casually.

Monty growled and narrowed his eyes at him.

Sun’s built-in smirk was the perfect look to match his mischievous mood. “I will only bring out Moon on one condition…” Sun told him.

Monty growled a slight bit more at those words. “...What.” He spat through his teeth.

“You’ll need to calm down and take a few deep breaths…” Sun told him.

“WHA-” Monty growled and took in a big artificial breath, before letting it out. “Okay, okay.” He muttered, before morphing his face into a calm expression. “There. I’m calm.” He told him. “Now can you let Moon out?” Monty asked.

“What’s the magic word?” Sun asked in a teasy voice.

Monty sighed. “Can you pleeease let Moon out?” He asked.

“Hmmmm…” Sun rubbed his chin like a man with a long beard. He clicked his artificial tongue a few times. “Mmmmm…” He looked up at Monty and lowered his hands. “Nah.”

The reaction was immediate. Monty took in a big breath and let out a DEEP, BELLOWING ROAR. The previous anger had completely enveloped his body and tripled in intensity in what felt like a millisecond. Monty actually looked like he was going to EXPLODE from anger!

…And Sun’s cackly laughter was NOT helping matters. Apparently, seeing Monty explode with anger, was absolutely hilarious to The Daycare Attendant! Sun was doubling over, holding his belly as he cackled and laughed at Monty’s reaction.

{I admit…that was funny…but…Please be careful…} Moon said telepathically to Sun.

{I know, I know, Moon.} Sun said back to him within his head.

And Sun’s laughter had quickly stopped the moment he heard rapid stomping heading towards him. Sun used his elasticity to his advantage and jumped over Monty right before he tackled him to the ground. Monty fell into the wall, and stopped himself with his arms before turning himself around.

Monty charged at Sun once again. “GET OVER HERE!” He shouted.

Sun yelped and moved out of the way again, before watching Monty screech to another halt.

“Please stop!” Sun ordered.

“TURN INTO MOON!” Monty shouted at him.

“NOT WITH THAT ATTITUDE.” Sun yelled back, readying himself for the next charge.

The moment Monty charged at him for the third time, Sun tried to jump over him again. But Monty saw it coming this time! He ended up grabbing his ankle and throwing Sun to the ground in front of him. “MOON, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Monty shouted.

{SO SOMETHING, SUN!} Moon ordered in his head.

“UH-Uuuuh-” Sun did the first thing he could think of: He reached out and scratched at his side.

{Tickling him!? That’s all you could think of?!} Moon asked.

{YOU try wrestling a giant alligator!} Sun yelled back.

But Sun and Moon both stared at the animatronic. Monty had frozen in place for a few moments, looking almost shocked. Though he didn’t exactly look happy, he did stop trying to destroy them.

{Do it again!} Moon ordered.

{B-But-} Sun tried to argue.

{DO IT!} Moon ordered telepathically.

Sun skittered his fingers in his armpits next.

“aAH!” Monty jumped, attempting to cover his left armpit with his right hand. “S-Stop-” Monty ordered.

{It’s working!} Moon reacted. {Do it again!}

Sun moved his fingers to his neck and tickled there for a change. And when Monty jumped and attempted to hide his neck with his shoulder, that was when Sun recognized a good solution to calming Monty’s anger:

Tickling!

Sun skittered his fingers against his left armpit again, and watched as Monty unintentionally incapacitated his left arm. With his left arm out of the way, Sun scooted himself out from under him, and jumped on top of him to resume tickling the spots he knew thus far.

“HEY! GET OVER HERE- aAAH! GAHAHA!” He guffawed, crash-landing onto his large yellow belly. “S-STOP IT!” He ordered before rolling onto his side, hugging himself.

Sun moved his fingers closer to the line where the chest and the belly split for contorting reasons. All the main animatronics had this same split between the belly and chest. Even Sun himself had this little horizontal split! But he mainly did this because he was curious as to whether the splited area was also ticklish. If not, then he’d try somewhere else. But if so…That would be an amazing spot to go for!

“NoNO! BAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE! NOHOHOT THEHERE!” He fought and bellowed.

Looks like that’s a big fat yes!

{Oooh! Good one!} Moon reacted.

“Not here? Not your poor upper belly?” Sun asked out loud with a little giggle of his own.

“YOHOHOHOU’RE EHEVIL!” He shouted at him.

“Call me whatever you like. I’m just trying to settle a restless gator!” Sun told him.

{Who knew Monty was so ticklish!} Moon reacted.

{I know, right?!} Sun replied to Moon.

“IHI’M GONNA KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!” Monty shouted at him.

“Awww, you don’t mean that, do you?” Sun asked.

{Probably.} Moon replied.

“YEHEHESSS!” He yelled back.

{Told you.} Moon added.

“Well, we’re just gonna have to change that, aren’t we?” Sun said rhetorically to both Moon, and to Monty at the same time.

Sun continued to tickle right on that sweet little line across his lower chest. “Such a ticklish little hatchling~ And nothing to do, except laugh, laugh, laugh.” Sun teased. “Whatever will he do?” He added.

“KIHIHILL YOHOHOUUU!” He shouted, falling onto his back.

Sun climbed onto Monty’s hips and resumed tickling in the same deathly ticklish spot. “Now now, those words are not allowed in Superstar Daycare. You know this.” He reminded him.

“GEHEHET OHOOOFF MEEEE!” He shouted as loud as he could.

{Poor baby…} Moon muttered in his head.

“Poor little baby…” Sun repeated in a slight baby voice. “Do you think he’ll calm himself down?” Sun asked.

{I hope so…} Moon replied telepathically.

{That was rhetorical, Moony.} Sun told him.

“NOHOHO! NEVEHEHEHER!” He shouted at him.

“Oh! Well if that’s the case…” Sun smirked and scratched his fingers on the joint line a little faster.

“NONONONO-NOOOOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!” Monty cackled, sounding absolutely manic as he rolled back and forth like a rolling hotdog.

“Maybe some more tickles could convince you?” Sun offered.

Monty shook his head and turned his right hand into a fist. “IHIHI’M GONNA KIHIHILL YOHOU! HAHAHAHAHAHA- IHIHI SWEHEHEHEHEAR!” He shouted at him.

{He’s never gonna calm down. Not at this rate…} Moon said secretly.

{We gotta try something else.} Sun told him back. {Maybe…lighter tickles?} He asked in his head.

{No way! He’ll punch us in the face!} Moon argued in his head.

{True…but what else can we do?} Sun asked telepathically.

{I have no idea, but tickling him lightly is NOT the way to go.} Moon warned him.

Sun sighed and stopped his tickle attack.

{What are you doing?!} Moon asked.

{Trust me.} Sun said back.

Sun watched as Monty went completely limp on the floor. The alligator’s laughter died down to simulated breathless giggles as he attempted to recuperate himself and prevent his body from overheating.

“You okay?” Sun asked.

Monty huffed and puffed. “Ihi…I…” He muttered.

“Are you…calm now?” Sun asked.

Monty looked up at Sun, and let out a big sigh. “I guess…Yeah.” He replied.

“Okay. I’m going to let Moon out.” Sun told him.

{Wait, WHAT?!} Moon yelled from inside his head.

Monty sat himself up and looked at Sun. “Okay. Thank you.” He said.

Sun walked into the darkness. {Come out, Moon.} Sun told him.

{What?! No!} Moon reacted.

{Now, Moon. You stole his property, and he wants an apology.} Sun told him.

{He’s not calm! He’s clearly faking it!} Moon reacted.

{Fake aggression or not, you stole his sunglasses…And you will give them back to him right now.} Sun ordered.

Moon rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders with a sigh. {Fine…} He took over Sun’s body and put the nightcap onto his head. “There. Happy?” Moon muttered.

{Not yet. Sunglasses.} Sun ordered.

Moon grumbled. {You’re no fun.} He muttered back.

Moon grabbed the sunglasses off the front desk that was nearby, before walking out of the shadows. “Why hello, Monty…” Moon greeted with his usual smirk. “Look what I have here?” Moon said, showing him the sunglasses.

Monty walked up to him and took the sunglasses. “Little thief.” He grumbled as he clicked his sunglasses into place. He tested them by moving the sunglasses onto his eyes, and raising them up above his eyes.

He repeated this a few times before turning his eyes towards Moon. “So…” He walked up and leaned in towards him. “Your brother has an interesting way of protecting you…” Monty told him.

“Y…Yeah…” Moon muttered.

“Though, I will admit…” Monty smirked a bit more. “Sun gave me a good idea for a punishment…” Monty told him.

Moon widened his eyes. “P-Punishment?” Moon asked. “For…for what?” He asked next.

“For stealing my sunglasses.” Monty replied.

“B-But, I returned them! Things should be alright now.” Moon admitted.

“Oh really?” Moon smirked. “You really thought you were getting away with just a slap on the wrist for stealing my sunglasses?” Monty asked.

Moon stared at him with fear. “Oh no no no…” Monty picked up Moon and placed him over his shoulder. “I think Sun has given me a wonderful idea.” He told him before tickling the back of his thighs.

“WaitwaiTWAITNOHOHOHO!” Moon shrieked. “STAHAHAHAP WAHAHAIT!” He yelled.

“I hope you’re ready for some hefty tickles~” Monty declared.

“NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”

…And yet another tickle fight had commenced.

#moon being a little shit #sun and moon are the same animatronic #monty has anger issues #revenge #ticklefic #ler!sun #switch!monty #lee!moon #fluff and humor

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