#alyssandra

[meiinoe]

a fully rendered drawing of alyss and cass bc why not

[name-s-are-not-important]

Cassandra: Oh shit

Crowley:

Alyss:

Crowley: ...

Crowley: Yeah, you know what? I’m gonna go away now, and come back here in like ten minutes so we can all pretend I did not just see that, okay?

Alyss: ...sure

Cassandra: Can you not tell my dad? I haven’t had that big talk with him yet, so he probably will freak out if you tell him and...

Crowley, trying not to be nervous and leave: Cass, you’re making it really difficult to pretend I did not catch you kissing in my- and why exactly my office, huh? Why? Out of all places in that goddamned castle!

Cassandra:

Cassandra: It’s the most private and safe place...?

Crowley:

Crowley: When did you stole the key?

Cassandra:

Cassandra: A while ago

Crowley: And did you... no, no, no, you know what, no, I don’t wanna know, I’m gonna go now!

Alyss, trying not to laugh: Okay byee

Crowley: THAT IS NOT FUNNY

[araluen-arrows]

qbb ch 23 :DD

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149032/chapters/58149223 

SHE’S EXACTLY 66,666 WORDS I’M SO EXCITED!!!!!! also obligatory shameless plug excerpt:

“Let’s discuss over noodles,” Alyss says after a pause, turning to grab a third bowl. “It’ll be a hard conversation, but soup eases all human pains.”

As soon as she says it, Will realizes how hungry he is. The ramen is mid-range as far as ramen goes, but it’s still a top-tier food by sheer virtue of being a soup noodle. The broth is undersalted, but it’s greatly improved by the presence of eggs, shiitake mushrooms, and bok choy. “You’ve gotten better,” he marvels. “This is delicious.”

“You missed the one where she let the water boil for twenty minutes and forgot to add noodles,” Cass says between slurps.

Alyss kicks at her shin under the table, misses, and gets Will instead. “I was doing something!”

“I know. I was something,” Cassandra retorts, perfectly deadpan.

[psin314]

drawing ur ocs in hades' style is super fun.

[agirlnamedbone]

pub. in Okay, Donkey mag

[moondustlings]

lips pressed together to stifle a laugh as the god sat, letting his weight fall almost comically as he lowered himself to her level. often, she had trouble coming to terms with the fact that he had sired her because of who he was. yet these were the small moments that she saw him not as a god but rather a man and it was a nice reminder that powerful beings still had awkward moments. nodding to his answer, she sighed. alyssandra chose not to focus on the battle or mission or what she was missing out on but the small fact that he had returned and searched her out first. if anything, he was proving her point that he wanted to keep her safe and she was the main reason for all of this.

"you should do it more often. it's peaceful. back home..." her voice broke as she thought about her life prior to here, the men she commanded, the mother who doted on her, the best friend who was her other half. shaking her head, she continued on. "back home i had a garden and often i went out at night to think, to plan. it has a way to clear your head." it was hard to think about her life before this without becoming wistful. nor could she lie when he asked her what she was thinking about. "war." the answer was simple and if it came from anyone else, it would be comical. but they both knew what her skill set was and what she was missing out on by being here. "i was thinking of the men i led and whether they found a new leader they could trust their lives with. if they would protect them and plan for them like i did. if they would survive the next fight." it was her life's mission to fight for those who could not fight for themselves and alyssandra prayed to the gods that there were people out there who would continue on with her wishes. "and i thought about why you keep me here when we both know that i can do so much more out there." only then did she turn to him, look at him with an expression that read a mix of hurt and longing. "are you ashamed of me, father?"

highly skilled in the art of battle, his form impossibly strong and his mind stubbornly sharp, the only perceptible weakness tythos wore was an inability to handle matters of an emotional kind. it wasn't as if he lacked feelings — quite the opposite, especially in the heart of battle or when it came to his daughter — but his tongue was not trained the same way his body was and the words did not flow as easily as blood could be spilled. since he could not explain to alyssandra why he had stripped her of her duties and robbed her of a future fighting at his side, the god simply offered her no reason at all. even if he could explain, would she even want to understand? the apple did not fall too far from the tree, after all, and she wore the very same wilfulness that had made a champion of him. heavily, somewhat clumsily for his statuesque figure, fythos lowered himself to take a seat upon the ground she had marked out for him to join her. ❝ i just got back, ❞ he answered, sensing some animosity from the other and dragging his pale gaze to meet hers. internally, a deep sense of comfort washed over him at this closer view of her. happy to be in her presence again, relieved that she was safe and still obeying his wishes, every thought he'd had while away had been here with his daughter. had longed to be home but now that he was here... there was still tension brewing between them, that much was true. exhaling, his fingers reached out to skim across the grass near her leg, idly picking at the blades as his brows pulled together. ❝ i can't remember the last time i sat out here at night. ❞ had he ever? such benign memories had a habit of evading him, yet the horrors lingered ever on. ❝ what are you thinking about? ❞

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (ii/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: physical assault, derogatory behavior, mentions of rape, blood, violence, Aemond sorta unhinged in protection mode lol.

wc: 3,271

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt i

notes: lol so I've decided to make multiple chapters of this series I hope that's okay :)

Chapter 2: Bring Me To Life

When she was a little over the age of six, she remembers when her mama happened to be two hours late to pick her up from elementary school. She stood outside the school gates with her Hello Kitty backpack and her Bratz Dolls lunchbox in hand, waiting until she was the only kid left. 

When she was close to giving up and deciding to walk the fifteen minute walk home, a tall dark haired woman with sunglasses stood in front of her offering her a ride home. She was a bit hesitant at first, the woman was a complete stranger, yet the way she was dressed, elegant with an expensive buttoned green trench coat and a Chanel bag, made her wonder what harm could be done in taking up the kind offer. The woman looked rich enough to adopt a kid of her own and besides she was a woman, just like her mama. 

The woman must have seen the uncertain look in her face, resulting in her pulling out a Paleta Payaso out of her bag and saying she had more in her car if she simply followed. She remembers smiling and nodding, taking the woman’s hand while she unwrapped her favorite candy. 

Mere seconds before getting into the car, she heard her mama call out to her and before she had time to explain, the woman in the green trench coat was gone into thin air. The only trace of her was the chocolate marshmallow candy in her hand…

Don’t take candy from strangers! Her mama warned. Except she did. 

That occurrence that had been stored in her memory was what awoke her. There was a burn in her eyes as the sun’s rays hit directly at them from the window, blinding her vision. She wondered if her abuela intentionally opened up the blinds to get her ready for their usual mile walk around the plaza. 

Except, she received no response after the three times she had called her out. 

Odd. 

She gradually sat upright, wincing at the pain radiating throughout her back. Gods, how long did I sleep for? She mused before releasing a long yawn, stretching out the ache within her muscles. 

Immediately, she feels her stomach drop down to her feet as she takes in her surroundings. All at once she starts to recollect everything that Alyssandra did and said. 

The tea. The blood. The marigolds. The sapphire…

She ponders if all had been some sick cruel joke or a scam to steal some pesos out of her mercado bag. Unfortunately, she had none. Maybe ten pesos which basically converted into sixty cents. Not much could be bought from that. 

“Alyssandra?” She calls out, though it’s proven to be useless. It appeared that the cottage had no other occupants but herself. A series of spewed curses leaves her lips as she but all feels a strain in her back and neck. The saying of laying in a bed of rock, couldn’t be any more truer. 

After a few stretches and rubs to her neck, she begins her search for her belongings: her dress, her mercado bags, and her Fire and Blood book. But to her bewilderment, none of her stuff laid previously on where she saw them last. 

Everything of hers was gone. Or better yet, stolen by that bruja. Including her wallet, her groceries, her shoes, and even her bra and underwear. 

Great. Shoeless and commando it is. 

Without turning back, she exits the rustic cottage and tries to figure out some kind of explanation that didn’t sound implausible in the ears of her abuela. 

Adivina qué abuela, en lugar de tomar un uber fui estúpidamente a la casa de un extraño porque estaba lloviendo. Y una bruja me robó mis cosas y me drogó. Por eso estoy vestida así, sin tus compras y sin zapatos. (Guess what grandma, instead of taking an uber I stupidly went to a stranger 's house since it was raining. And a witchy woman stole my stuff and drugged me. So that's why i'm dressed like this, without your groceries, and without shoes)

The word ‘tonta’ lingered in her head with the same scolding tone as her abuela’s. Yea she was tonta alright. 

She figured with Alyssandra gone and the fact that she thieved her belongings, she sure would not miss a bundle of cempasuchiles from her garden. They were fresh and bright enough for the ofrenda and it was at least something she could bring back after being robbed. 

She uses the small mental notes as a guide to lure her back to the pueblo and halts halfway into the forest depicting two vital things into her surroundings. One, it was daytime without the residual wet smell one would distinguish after it rained. Two, the grass beneath her feet was free from moisture as if it had not rained and stormed one bit. 

Strange.

Instead, she smelled something faint amidst smoke and ash and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She shrugs, maybe someone left out the carne asada on the grill for far too long. (roasted meat)

The bundle of flowers in her hands nearly drops once she fully exits the forest, she expects to see the street that she had taken with Alyssandra but to her puzzlement she is met with an open field of uncut grass and hills that she had never seen before. 

As far as she knew the pueblo only had mountains. For a moment she thinks she took a wrong turn out, but she was certain this was the same very path that she followed Alyssandra to. However, curiosity turns into panic, when she spots a large gothic looking castle in the distance that resembles where a particular vampire, Dracula, lived in. 

Except this castle appeared to be in ruins or decaying and something told her that not only might have the Dracula resided in there but many ghosts as well. 

Where the fuck am I? 

It’s not long until she hears loud hoofs in the nearby distance, galloping closer and closer. She hides between a large tree and some bushes, covering up her mouth to restrain her heavy breathing and panting. 

She peeks through her shoulder, spotting three men high on their horses wearing some sort of armor medieval knights would wear. In the middle of their chests, a green surcoat was worn over their armor, a golden three headed dragon engraved in the center. 

A sigil. 

The marking was vaguely familiar from somewhere. Some place. Something. 

Through the corner of her eye, she sees all three men coming to a sudden halt. Not too far from where she hides, a middle aged man saunters with his head hung low examining thoroughly at the ground. He hums as his eyes find hers over the end of the trail of faint footsteps, giving her a cruel ‘I’ve got you’ tight lipped smile. 

Fuck. 

“Look at what we have here!” She gasps, the man grips her forearm impossibly tight, forcing her out of hiding into the views of the others. “We found ourselves a whore!” He whistles as the others laugh. “She’d be good use to us back at camp. Take her with,” Another man snickers. 

Rage seethes right through her, “No, let me go. I’m not a whore!” She sneers, pushing his hands away from her body as the man snarls and takes a hold of the roots of her hair but she is quick to act as she curls her hand into a fist socking him straight in the side of his nose. 

In that moment, she was thankful for learning such a bold move she mimicked from a Lucha Libre fight her cousins invited her to. (professional wrestling)

The man lets out a painful groan, holding a very bloody nose between his fingers, anger written all over his face. “You fucking bitch,” He hissed, using the back of his hand to slap her so brutally that it sends her directly to the dirt. 

A metallic taste swims around her mouth, no doubt her own blood and looking at the few drops on the grass all but confirms it. She hears the other men laughing and she feels too hazy and shocked by it all to continue to fight. 

“R’ ye done?” The man asks. She knows he is talking to her, and she looks up at him with furry eyes as she spits her blood against the top of his shoes as an answer. 

All four of them rode back in silence. They cut through most of the trees with ease, passing by other knights with the same sigil printed on their chest, circling around a large cliff that hoisted up the ruined castle. Those who were not guarding, hauled lines of other contrarily dressed knights over wagons. Most likely prisoners, she assumed. 

Gerald, whom she came to know as the knight who struck her, kept her securely bound with a knife to her throat as a warning to not try and fight him. She knew it was a foolish move to do so. But at some point, she deliberately pushed herself forward against the knife hoping this all had been some weird dream or hallucination that she could wake from.

But to her frustration, it surely was not.

Every single thing about this seemed odd… How did Alyssandra expect her to find a sapphire in this place? And where exactly had Alyssandra send her to? 

So far, she’d been led astray, drugged, displaced (to put it lightly), insulted and assaulted. And somehow, she knew her journey had only just begun. 

The smell of smoke and ash became more amplified as they barreled further up the cliff. She but all felt like a tiny ant amongst the rubble once the four of them arrived inside the castle’s gates. 

There were five towers in total, she counted, all of them tall but not equally the same height. Erosion was a plausible effect of why the castle was in ruins. However, as she looked closely it was quite clear that it was not caused by natural agents of wind or water but that of fire. 

But what kind of fire melts stone? 

They stopped near the stables, where more men similar to them sat on wooden benches either dining or sharpening their tools. Tents were set up near the most bizarre looking tree she had ever seen. It had eyes with what appeared to be blood pouring out them, leaves that looked like hands waving to her as the branches pendulated.  

“Move,” The guard said after he carried her off the mount. She glanced at her possible options of routes for escape. Not many were good enough for a safe return back to the cottage or better yet the woods. It would be a stupid move to run the way they came, guards guarded the main gates and most of the town.

Her best bet was going through the small hallway opening that led inside the castle itself. Perhaps through there, there might be some kind of exit that was unguarded. 

No.

“Did ye not hear me, whore? Move!” 

She gritted her teeth in fury as Gerald pushed her in the path of the tents. 

All color and emotion drained from her face when she heard it. Screams and cries and small pleadings of ‘no’. Groans, growls, and the slaps of skin echoed right back. 

At that very moment, it hit her that she was overhearing the acts of rape. 

She felt her heart drop down to her stomach. Anger, horror, icy and deep sluiced through her for what these evil and vile men were doing. As she glanced up, tall flagstaffs waving tripartite pale, blue, red, and green on white sigil dresses up in the sky. 

Their clothing…

She wanted so much to hurt them as they did to the women. Perhaps even more. Not a single person attempted to put an end to this and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t either. What kind of place did Alyssandra send her? And why did she choose this one? 

Why Alyssandra?

She swallowed that useless and weak feeling that rested in her throat. If she couldn’t save them, she could have a chance in saving herself. 

She glanced between the small opening and the knights, deciding. If her calculations were correct, she had a sixty percent chance of outrunning them and potentially hiding inside the melted castle. Luckily she was small enough to fit into tiny surfaces. 

The guard shrieked as she stomped heavily on his foot and struck him right in the place she hit him from before. And with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she broke out in a run before anyone had a chance to seize her. 

By how fast she was running, one would’ve thought she was in the olympics. If her high school gym teacher could see her now. Perhaps she could’ve finally given her an A. 

She saw one corridor unguarded and open and without hesitation, she took it. She glanced behind her, noticing a few men catching up to her and while her feet started to ache she ignored it and continued to run faster. 

Carelessly and unknowingly, she felt the front part of her body collide against cold hard metal, causing whatever she clashed in to move. 

It was then when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

Stop. Go. Now. 

Rage sketched in his features at first. Then his eye locked into hers and that rage quickly went away into something she couldn’t quite describe.

Shock? Awe? As if he finally found what he was in search of.  

“It’s you,” He said, his lone violet eye wide and wild as he stumbled backwards, a hand clutching at his chest. 

Me?

She drunk in the rest of his appearance. He was exceptionally tall, the kind of tall where she could already feel a strain in her neck from looking up.

He appeared to be not that much older than her, perhaps around mid twenties the most. His hair, curated into a half up-half down hairstyle, was an angelic type of silver that reached just about the middle of his chest. It looked silky smooth and soft and she fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

A scar covers and paints the left side of his face underneath a leather eyepatch that suits him so well. Something about him feels eerily familiar. She had seen him before but to put a name on him was difficult.  

This definitely was going to bother her.

She watched as he brought a hand to the left side of his chest, about to speak again when the guard from before came, gripping harshly at her forearm. “My Prince, I offer my sincere apologies. She outran us and–” Gerald’s anxious explanation was interrupted by the man as he held up his hand to silence him. 

Prince? 

Of course he’d be a prince. With hair that lucious and shiny and silver— Her lips parted open and her eyes widened in pure realization.

The sigil on the surcoats and on the banners. The black castle where they had taken her.​​..

Holy fucking shit! 

The one and only, Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen, stood directly in front of her.  How was this possible? How could it be? He was just a character. How could he be real? 

Que mierda’s esto? (What the fuck is this?)

His expression shifted and his lone eye darkened, noticing her very sheer attire that left nothing to the imagination to what was underneath. Unfortunately to Aemond, if he could notice the outline of her breasts and hips, so could the eyes of his men. And he could not have that. No. 

Her body was only for his eye to see. No one else. 

So Aemond tore away his crimson cape from his armor, wrapping it delicately around her body, making her skin tingle with shivers. 

“Thank you,” She manages to squeeze out. The top of Aemond’s lip lifted for a millisecond until it disappeared as he took heed of remnants of dried blood in the corner of her lip.

The one eyed prince became enraged, his lips turning into a sneer as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. Who had dared to touch what was his? Especially in such a violent way.

“Which one?” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with an edge of unruliness. All she needed was to say the name of the assaulter and he would kill him. 

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Aemond stepped impossibly closer, “Which one did this to you?” He asked again, tone harder as he gently traced his thumb to the swollen flesh of her lip. At her wince, Aemond was readying to kill the entirety of the army. 

It didn’t go by unnoticed by Aemond, the way she shifted uncomfortably against the hands of the guard that was holding her in place.

Him. 

He wanted so much to peel every inch of the man’s skin off his body for all the people of Harrenhal to see or mayhaps sever his fingers and make him eat it. Death by his dragon, Vhagar, was too quick. Aemond knew his dragon had not eaten and his corpse could be something of a light snack. But it all was too easy. He yearned for this man to die a painful death. Even if it meant one less guard for his brother’s army. Aemond abhorred any kind of violence directed towards women. Especially to his one and only. 

“You,” Aemond pointed towards the guard with his finger. “Stand there” Aemond gestured towards the pile of decaying bodies of House Strong. She trembled in horror, her face going pale like the color of her chemise as she saw Aemond swiftly strike the guard right across his face in the same location he had slapped her. 

She heard the man cry his apologies but Aemond was not having any of it. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. It’s her,” He pointed his sword towards her. The guard redirected his empty  apologies to her but she stood frightened to say anything. 

“Now which hand was it? The left or the right?” The man didn’t answer for he did not have time to. Aemond’s patience had always been thin, especially now as his one and only was here. 

If she hadn’t thrown up before she did now as all hell broke loose. Two detached arms were added into the pile followed by high pitched screams of the now armless guard crying for mercy from the one eyed prince. 

She should have run from such violence. Gone back to the little cottage from where she came from now that she had the chance to escape. However she was worried what the repercussions might be especially if what she read was true about the one eyed prince being ruthless and merciless. 

What would he do to her? 

Aemond had turned to face his one and only, wanting nothing more to take her up the castle and undress her and make her his now that he found her. To his dismay, he would not do such a thing until they were bound in marriage to one another. And when that day came he would be at her disposal worshiping every inch of her skin like the very image of a Queen she is. 

“Never again,” He whispered before he turned. The guard’s head was separated from his body in the blink of an eye.  

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[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part six

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

<<previous chapter

"To hold on, to the days when you were mine." - Peter, Taylor Swift.

These past few days, something has deeply changed in Daemon's psyche. He was always a neat freak, preferring to remain polished and clean on the outside while his mind was an overgrowth of plants that clouded his thoughts. He couldn't think straight then - but he kept a facade, pretending that he was sane. He wasn't.

Since seeing you in St. Joseph, he's lost all remnants of himself - the facade broke down and he was thrown into disarray. "Why is your shirt always untucked?" you chuckled, taking a step forward, as if it was second nature to fix his polo and tuck it into his pants.

"I was rushing," he found himself mumbling, confused at your sudden proximity to him. How long has it been since he's felt you? Had his fingers dance against your skin and body? You were always warm, and that was all he remembered about you.

Everything seemed to zone out in the background. He almost forgot that he was in a parking lot, and the sound of cars zoomed past him. All he could see was you, all that he could hear was you. He takes a deep breath, quickly composing himself.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, Rhaenyra herself even admitted that it was wrong. We shouldn't have fought in front of a guest." he apologized, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "If I'm lucky, I won't be a guest for long." you teased, fixing the strap of the handbag on your shoulder. "Mhm." was all he could muster.

The thought of you being married to his nephew made him want to puke. It made him want to kill himself.

He senses the awkwardness, he decides to clear his throat and look at his watch. "I guess this is goodbye. I'm running late for a meeting." he lied, staring at the side. "Of course, nice talking to you." you answered, equally as awkward as his intonation.

"See you tomorrow?" he smiled, walking past you.

"See you tomorrow." you replied, but he was too far to hear.

(ISLAND NEAR THE GHISCARIS)

Your mother descended from a long line of voyagers. Her family remained in Lyss, and life led her to Westeros. The skill of voyaging was long lost. You couldn't command a ship, even if your life depended on it - luckily, you were able to meet a group of female pirates on their way to the liberated islands near the Ghiscari Empire.

It was untouched due the large wall-like fortress that surrounded the shores. "I am surprised by your aptitude, not a lot of people appreciate the oceans well." Serenei, the woman that promised to keep you safe, handed you a cup of tea, the liquid inside of the cup was moving back and forth due to the waves.

"It's much like riding a dragon, though you shouldn't compliment me that much - I emptied my stomach a few hours ago." you giggled, remembering the reddish hue that your face turned into. Oh, your ancestors were turning in their graves. "Don't worry, it'll only be a few more hours until we reach the shores of Pharmaka." she placed a hand on your shoulder.

There was silence between the both of you, in fear of the unknown. You stared at the small round window beside you.

Would Daemon love the ocean too? You remember the War of the Stepstones. A sigh escapes your mouth, the wars have marred him and he wouldn't have loved the smell of salt air as much as you. "It's an island filled with women, not a single man is allowed." Serenei continued with a smile, and for a moment you pondered if she went though the same things that you did.

You shake your head. You wish that she didn't.

"It must be heaven, then?" Alyssandra leaned on the doorframe, trying to keep herself steady due to the treacherous waves that pumped against the ship's bodice.

"It is - utopia is what they call themselves." Serenei continued telling the story, a smile ghosts your face. Your life had turned into a story indeed, finding true love with a Dragon Prince - losing him and being forced to live through the tragedy in Harrenhal, and now you were halfway across the world, riding a ship that is going to a place that calls themself utopia.

(ST. JOSEPH SCHOOL OF DRAGONSTONE)

The steam of your coffee littered your face with kisses, and a groan escapes your mouth. You couldn't believe that you feel asleep through your entire free period. Those dreams weren't stopping, but the scenarios were drastically changing.

At first, they were filled with love - of scenes with you and the 'Dragon Prince' then they changed into nightmares - of ones that you couldn't remember, only waking up in tears - but now, you were in a ship to some unknown island that made you feel hopeful.

Once the story ends, would you be free of those dreams? Would you be free to live your life without those headaches that forced your head open, telling you that there was something that you forgot?

AEMOND NEW SIM How are you? You haven't messaged me in a while :(

YOU sorry i fell asleep hehehahaha 😭

AEMOND NEW SIM Sleeping on duty? tskk

Daemon interrupts you from replying by sitting next to you. There was a pang in your heart, something deep inside your mind telling you to run towards him and offer him a warm embrace. Flashes from your dreams come to you. The small round window, the small of salt breeze and his lavender eyes that felt like a thousand sleepless nights cuddled by the fire.

"Congratulations." Daemon opened his mouth to speak. He stared deep into your eyes, almost peering inside your soul. There wasn't an expression in your face that he hasn't seen a million times. "For what?" you inquired with a slight smile.

"The students proficiency in math has improved since you started teaching them." he informed, and you quickly remember that he attended a meeting earlier today.

A nervous chuckle escapes your mouth.

"They're struggling with the basic stuff, things that they're supposed to know in the first and second grade. I try to go back to those topics before getting back into the complex stuff." you explained, and the smile returns to your face, happy to speak about your passion.

"Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working." he continued to compliment, liking that look in your eyes - the fire. Your body shifts unconsciously, your elbows much closer to his. Your coffee has long gotten rid of its heat, but there was still a million things you had to talk about with him.

"By the way, I thought that you were familiar even before I got to know you - then Harwin and the family talked about that trip to Italy that we both had at the same day. I know it sound a little weird, but I'm pretty sure that the picture you posted on your instagram was taken by me." you opened up the conversation, and he freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

August 23. He remembered vividly, right after you took that picture of him, he promptly collapsed on the curb and was brought to a hospital. That was also the day that he finished remembering his past life. His memories were revived by you?

"A funny coincidence," he managed to choke out.

The Gods were playing a cruel joke.

He stares at your face, seeing your squinting eyes - waiting for his reply. He decides that this might be the right time to talk about Tirano. "When you left, I actually collapsed." he chuckled, playing with the ring on his finger.

"What? Why?" your eyebrows merged into each other.

"I don't know if I'm the only one but - when I was younger I used to dream about weird things, dragons, kings, wars. At first, my parents thought that it was just the result of an overactive mind but the dreams persisted until I turned into an adult - actually I think I was in my late thirties or early fourties when they stopped. It stopped after that trip to Tirano." he monologued, now evading your gaze.

If you weren't able to make the connection, then he would've revealed himself for nothing. "I dream about those things too. Strange." you whispered, your voice suddenly decreasing in volume. "I'm not the only one then," he looked to the side.

"But you said that they stopped? How did they stop?" you asked, wanting to rid yourself of those nightmares. He smiled, remembering seeing your face before everything faded to black.

"I dreamed about myself dying, and after waking up in a hospital bed feeling like I slept a million years, I never dreamt about it again." he confirmed and your heart sinks to your chest. "Holy shit, this sounds so fanatically cultish." you cursed. "- you're telling me that I need to die in the dream to stop dreaming about it again?" you repeated.

He replies with a shrug.

"Well that's going to take a long time. I'm in like, Act Three of the whole novel." you decided to keep the conversation light, although the topic was serious and you weren't sure if you were there to believe him. "How many acts are there?" he raised an eyebrow. "How many acts are in Madame Butterfly?" you quizzed.

"Three...so you're near the end." he smiled. "I'm not sure, for all we know it might just be the end of the beginning." you answered.

He stands up, hearing the bells ring.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that you'll find a cure of your own." he bid his goodbyes and disappeared from the teacher's lounge.

AEMOND NEW SIM Can you pls catch a ride with someone u work with? I'm a little busy here in mom's house She's moving a few things Yknow her trip to Turkey

YOU Okay, what time will u be home?

AEMOND NEW SIM Probably before dinner If I'm out past six have dinner before me

YOU Alright, take care

next part >>

[tomionefinds]

Heyo, any recs where Hermione goes back/reincarnates as a pure blood?? Preferably marauders era like Journey of the Soul, but any timeline is okay!

These fics have Hermione go back in time as a pureblood, but not necessarily in the marauders era. The first one linked has a lot with the Black family, including Sirius, similar to Journey of the Soul. - Haus

Stardust by orangepekoe latte

M | Completed | 129k

Carina Black is two, and the first coherent thought that enters her mind is Harry. She sees her twin brother, tugs at his silver locks, and thinks, Harry Potter.

Dissimulation of Hermione Black by Lilbit903

E | Completed | 17k

Hermione Granger is given an impossible task after the war with Voldemort. Using any possible resources available to her, she's to prevent Lord Voldemort from ever rising. Using an ancient Ritual she proceeds to rewrite history, using the daughter of Phineas Black and Alyssandra Travers. Planning the Dark Lord's demise is never easy though, especially not when her alternate persona begins to fall in love with the charming Tom Riddle and his promises to explore the world. Struggling to decipher which Hermione she truly is, she must hasten to eradicate the Dark Lord before he ever comes to be. ***Runner up for Lost In Time: Best Time-Turner for Tomione Fest 2017 ***Joint Runner up for Where Dwell the Brave: Favorite Hermione for Tomione Fest 2017

The Magpie by artofcrying

E | Completed | 82k

While working on a task force for the Death Eater Trials, Hermione discovers a cursed diary and finds herself in the body of a pureblood woman in the summer of 1945. Riddle Era/Time Travel.

Time and Evil by OtosyKarim

E | WIP | 175k

An unknown spell sends Hermione to a time where she's adopted and raised by a sacred pureblood family. But her fate has much more in store for her. Her life gets knotted with Tom Riddle, the future Dark Lord. Arrogant, brilliant, and haunted by a thirst for power, Tom is a force she must stop. But craving his touch, warmth, and affection was never part of the plan. Tom Riddle, confident in his destiny and heritage as the heir of Slytherin, always believed he's untouchable. That is, until he meets Hermione—a sharp, intriguing, and infuriatingly clever witch who unsettles his carefully controlled world. Her intelligence and allure ignite feelings he can't control, making him determined to dominate her, yet unable to let her go. In a dangerous game of destiny and desire, the cat-and-mouse chase begins.

[bcrgondy]

those drumming fingers momentarily quell its incessant ,   chirping rhythm  ,    to leer at the small  ,    blonde creature teetering over the edge of the pool in a flimsy satin robe that does little to discourage his antagonism .     “     —--- so you want to see me naked ?    ”      michael twists the meaning of her request easily ,     shamelessly ,    neglecting to address any of her threats ;     lean arms slithering out of the blue water to drape across the coping  ,   propping his bared torso forward a little .    “       woah    [     …    ]      you’re kind of a pervert .     ”      he breezily declares ,    batting those coquettish lashes up at her .    “      did you steal my clothes ?     —--- maybe i should call the cops .        ”

nose turned up in the air, lyss examines him much like she would a raccoon digging through her trash, unwelcome and hedonistically opportunistic in its sneaking around. "thank you for reminding me that we need to call pest control in the morning." azure eyes drift to the gate he'd inexplicably managed to bypass before settling back onto the nuisance trying to claim her property as his own. "mira, you have two choices— you can leave before i call the cops—" she takes a step closer to the edge of the pool— her pool— drawing a lavender satin robe tighter around her sleight frame, the wind ruffling weaved fabric. "or you can stay here until i get to press charges for trespassing on private property and lewd exposure. your choice."

[spikedsoul]

Bowser is, at least partly, turtle. There fore, he must love getting the base of his shell or lower back rubbed. Have you seen the videos of people rubbing their turtle's shells with toothbrushes? Seratonin.

Imagine Jr or another koopaling just walks in on Bowser wiggling/dancing around with maidussy holding a huge scrub brush and getting at his shell or lower back.

maidussy really is sending me tbh

but yeah, since his shell comes off he wouldn't be able to feel a brush on it like regular turtles can, but his back? anyway here's a small scenario:

alyssandra, giggling: damn, you really like brushies, huh?

bowser as he basically scratches his own back by wiggling against the brush: shut up. don't call it that

michaela: my big man loves his brushies~

junior, barging in like the 6yo gremlin he is: hey papa - uh... is this... this isn't a sex thing, is it...?

bowser freezing, mortified: WHO TAUGHT YOU ABOUT SEX?!

crystal, who didn't actually teach junior this: -drops the brush because she's absolutely dying of laughter-

[burlveneer-music]

Psychic Temple - A Universe Regards Itself - Chris Schlarb, producer of the Maria Elena Silva album below, has a recent album from his own ensemble with guest musician synth whiz Lisa Bella Donna

The 8th full length album from Psychic Temple is an epic, two song, all instrumental collaboration with synthesist Lisa Bella Donna. The full ensemble includes Dave Easley on pedal steel guitar, Mike Baggetta on 12-string acoustic guitar, Steph Richards on trumpet, bassist Steuart Liebig, alto saxophonist Isaiah Morfin, and drummers Tabor Allen and Danny Frankel. The band is joined by a choir led by Ann Thaiss and featuring Heather Sommerhauser, Alicia Walter, Alyssandra Nighswonger and Adriana Schlarb. Composed, produced, and mixed by Chris Schlarb. Tabor Allen - drums, percussion Mike Baggetta - 12-string acoustic guitar Lisa Bella Donna - Arp 2600 & String Ensemble, MiniMoog, Mellotron, Hammond organ, Oberheim Digital Sequencer Dave Easley - pedal steel guitar Danny Frankel - drums, percussion Steuart Liebig - electric bass Isaiah Morfin - alto saxophone Steph Richards - trumpet Chris Schlarb - guitars, tapes Alyssandra Nighswonger - voice Adriana Schlarb - voice Heather Sommerhauser - voice Ann Thaiss - voice, choir direction Alicia Walter - voice Produced by Chris Schlarb Cover artwork by Eric Thompson Layout and design by David J. Woodruff Written by Chris Schlarb Published by Interstellar Music Holdings of the Psychic Temple (ASCAP)

[aflirtingaccident]

i don't want to put this on facebook because i promised i wouldn't start shit. anyway sata con, dakota liorre and alyssandra avalynn are absolutely shitty fucking people and if you ever meet one of them, do me a favor and throw them against a wall.

"my side of the story" you spent years telling your side of the fucking story to anybody who would listen. nobody has ever once silenced you. any fear you felt was your own guilty consicence. i hope you get hit by a brick.

[psin314]

you might think im good at fanart but actually no, im a proud mother of a few hundred ocs. here's my little dnd party. no info just showing them off like newly born kittens.

okay i lied i will say who they are at least. a fighter in a dress with a two-handed sword that she can't even lift, a depressed long-lived monk, the best owl girl wizard, and a bi disaster cowboy

also them

[akumanoken]

GIVE ME THAT TRISTAN SAKURA LOVE CHILD PLEASE I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED-------

If they had a kid meme @cuteteacakes

Name: Yuri Alyssandra Hanagawa

Gender: Female

General Appearance: Slender and slim, with black hair with a slight wave and freckles across her face.

Personality: Quiet but quite affable, the kind of person who people come to for advice. She's quite quick and wise.

Special Talents: poetry and the sword

Who they like better: Tristan

Who they take after more: Both really

Personal Head canon: Much to her chagrin, she has no talent for cultivating flowers like Sakura does, but to make up for it, excels in arrangment

Face Claim: