#answer me fake sellers

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 4

1 - 2 -3 -4

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter, cussing, 18+ language and themes, insults, fighting, gossiping, alcohol consumption.

Standing next to the hound you watch as Marcella cries as she's rowed out to seat the larger journey ship. Tommen cries as his sister leaves his sight past the rocks. Joffrey rolls his eyes at all the attention she's getting.

Your ladies stand a distance away from the hound and yourself not wanting to be near him. He looks down to you briefly before Joffrey gets bored and walks up the stairs calling him along with him. 

“Come, dog!” he spits out hound follows him with an eye roll. 

“My lady you've been invited to a tea party in the garden with a few of the fellow court ladies' ' your lady in waiting says about to lead you out. 

“Can it wait.” you ask, looking at a cersi whose tears fall silently. She doesn't answer when she sees Sansa follow after her ladies. Your eyes avert to the water again, the light splashes of the water against the rocks before you watch cersei exit the ceremony following shortly after her. 

—-----

Your ladies continue to follow you as you walk through the garden. You huff and stop turning around to them. 

“Will you please possibly go do something else besides follow me like abandoned dogs on the street! I don't need to be followed everywhere I go” you snap at them. They curtsy and scurry off. You sigh, shaking your head. You turn back again seeing the other ladies and Sansa sitting under the gazebo giggling and drinking tea. 

“y/n how lovely for you to join us. We've saved you a seat as well as a cross stitch fold.” lady tyrell says as a guard pulls out the spare chair for you and you take a seat in between lady nighall, and lady cricket. You nod at her smile and a servant pours a cup of tea for you. You take the cross stitch in hand and work on it to occupy the time before the ladies barrel you with questions.

“You wed the hound, sandor clegane yesterday, how exciting.” lady ebsings speak. She's a skinny woman with dark black hair that she keeps in a high ponytail. Her dresses are always too elaborate to function yet she finds a way somehow. She married a man who's rich because he's the top ship seller. 

“Yes I did.” you reply. 

“And what I mean can't be much of a fun experience between a king's guard and a legitimate princess.” lady cricket, a larger woman with brown hair she keeps half up and half down always with a decorative hair pin holding it back. She wears green dresses even though it clashes with her skin tone. 

“It's…new. Being married isn't something I would have thought about for a while but the king thought we’d be a good match so we were wed.” you answer. Lady Tyrell gives you a small smile and nod knowing it was fully forced although liking the way you answered the question. 

“Oh come now spare us the sugar and get to the gritty, the consummation…he’s big?” Lady Nighall retorts, a woman of particular size but on the older side around her mid 40s who doesn't get much action as her husband is flaccid all the time so she indulges herself in self pleasure and pleasure houses as she is the country side's top broker for silver coin. You don't answer her question however. 

“you , did, consummate correct.” She digs for answers.

Once again the uneasy feeling erupts from your stomach as all anyone ever wants to talk about is if you and sandor have bedded. Opening your mouth to tell the truth you're sick of people asking so you lie. 

“Yes…he's very adequate.” you say into your teacup trying to fake a description of the act of sex. You sip on your tea before placing the cup back onto the tray. They all accept Sansa and Lady Tyrell, giggle and quickly speak about their husbands in bed for a short period of time. 

Your eyes attached downwards at the table of various sweets and tea. Lady ebsing speaks once again. 

“A-and how…was he.” she smiles at you. 

“Adequate.” you answer once again. 

“Oh come now you're a deflowered princess with a large husband. I was so sure he might split you in two or least break your neck while holding onto you.” she says as they continue to go back to gossip. 

“The hound is a big ugly brute. I'm surprised. After all, if he were to get married he doesn't deserve a small thing like yourself. No wonder all the maidens fear him. His best quality I guess would be being able to kill a man.” lady nighall says. I look up seeing him standing behind her. 

“Sandor.” you say. 

“I know his name, my dear. I just chose not to use a name. Did you know his mother wouldn't even look at him? Mhm heard that from the grape vein.” she says, sipping her tea. 

“My apologies for disturbing your chatter.” Sandor says through gritted teeth as he had to listen to everything that bitch said about him. His deep gruff voice hitting the ears like a clash of steel. 

“OH!” Lady nighall squeals, dropping her tea cup, spilling the tea on her dress. 

“Damn! Sneaking up on a woman is never a good quality” she exclaims 

“Apologize” he says knowing he's not really sorry. 

“Are you alright sandor?” you ask him. He nods before turning to Sansa who is still scared to look at him. 

“The king requests your presence my lady” he says as she nods and stands. 

“Thank you for having me, it was lovely.” she says and stands before walking off a guard that was standing post walks behind her. 

“Lady nighall maybe instead of indulging yourself in the insulting of other maybe you can focus more on the coin you spend daily to indulge yourself in lord baelish's pleasure house, or more rather hoe he indulges himself in you.'' Sandor retorts. Lady nighalls mouth opens in a gasp. 

“And close that yapper its using up more words than the kingdom” he says which makes her shut her mouth. And the other ladies snorted a giggle at his comment. Nighall looks at you square anger on her face as the hound begins to walk away. 

“I apologize for him.” you say getting up, gathering your skirt and running after your husband.

“Sandor!” You yell gathering your dress chasing after him. 

“Sandor, I'm talking to you!” You yell out to him.

He grumbles, continuing walking away. You stop, stamping your foot against the ground and shout at him.

“SANDOR CLEGANE! YOU STOP THIS INSTANT” You shout. He stops and turns to you before walking back to you. 

“Go back to picking flowers and sewing with the other ladies. I bet there will be more gossip about fox and hound eh!” He barks at you.

“You made me look rude, you should go and apologize to her.” you say 

He scoffs 

“Apologize? APOLOGIZE? My whole damn life I've been apologizing to highborns like yourself not as if any of you are worth it so speaking my mind once in a while..yeah I'll do that especially to over entitled cunts who drown themselves at pleasure houses.” he barks out. 

“Why are you always so hateful!” You snap back at him. 

“You’ll be glad of the hateful things I say someday! When I’m the only thing in your way of a good life and a bad one.” he says.

“I’ve got 3 bad things in my life and if you think you're one of them you’re wrong! I didn’t choose to marry you, but Fuck I’ll make the most of it!” You yell at him. Looking him dead in the eyes. Never in his life has he had someone yell at him and look at him square. His look softens ever so slightly. 

“Go finish your tea party. Eat your cakes and don't spill on your shiny gown and dont fucking call me that.” He spits out before turning away from you walking off. 

“GAH! I hate you!” You huff and turn walking away. Back to the other women. 

You ignore the hound for the rest of the day purposefully feeling your distance when Joffrey and Jaime knight the new king's guard, when you see him following the other guard to look the opposite direction pretending not to notice him. You don't know how much good he will care about it, you're damn sure getting a reaction out of it. 

Night falls and for the second time sandor does not join the room, the mester came to watch the consummation but you had him sent away wanting no one in the room and nothing. Sitting in the bath the water filled in oils and scents making the room smell nice as well. You sigh dipping into the hot water dunking your head under the water. The quiet of nothing for a few seconds before you come back to the surface. 

Moving your wet hair out of your face. You sit to the side and rest your head on your arm and you and your other out of the bathtub letting the water dripping off your finger tips onto the stone flooring. 

The memories of a happier time flood your mouth, your brother and you walking and laughing in the gardens. Him teaching you to ride a horse. Your family in your home's castle. All things you'll never get back. Confined to hatred and stone walls of kings landing. 

—------

The next day you continue to ignore the hound. Although has busy supervising the training of the new guards you pass by the courtyard you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Marriage troubles already?” meryyn says to him as sandor huffs at you. 

“Shut the fuck up trant.” he grumbles. 

“What's wrong clegane aren't performing well.” merryn laughs sandor walks towards merryn and grabs his collar. 

“You dont fucking shut up ill turn your insides to out side do you understand!” he tells me. Before dropping him into the mud. The other men stop to watch merryn trant get told by the larger man. Merryn gets up and draws his sword to sandor. 

“Oh what? You're going to pull out your little sword on me?” Sandor is annoyed with his temper tantrum. 

“Go on then swing it. Show everyone what a big strong man you are!” hound yells at trant. Who then swings his sword missing sandor everyone laughs as merryn only prompting him to swing again missing sandor for a second time.

“Fuck sake.” Sandor rolls his eyes at him, grabbing his sword out of Trant's hands, throwing it to the side and landing a punch on his face. Everyone oohs at the site of merryn getting his ass kicked. He gets up and charges at Sandor with a yell barreling into him pushing him back, tackling him. 

“You fuckign fat ugly cunt!” Sandor yells at him and pushes him over, holding his face into the mud. Jamie walks over with his arms crossed as he chuckles at Merryns struggle. 

“Don't pick a fight you can't win.” Jamie says as Sandor gets up, spitting out the mud that got into his mouth and wiping it off his face. 

“Dumb cunt.” Sandor says before spitting out more mud. 

—-----

You stand in the throne room staring at the iron throne alone, your handmaidens out of your sight finally. Nothing but peace and quiet as you stare at the throne. 

“Beautiful isn't it.” you hear a voice turning to see lord baelish. 

“My lord.” you say nodding your head. 

“Princess.” he answers, taking his place right next to you. 

“It was forged after all the battles against the Targaryens were done. People say that the throne room used to be covered in swords from all the battles, they would melt the swords right down onto the stairs” he says holding his hand out. 

“Where are they now? The other swords?” you ask in wonder.

“Removed when the chair had a new sitter. Children running around. They say servers would trip and impale themselves so often they had to train staff to a speciality. Out of all the brutality the targaryens ensued…they cared for the weary.” he says you continue to look at the throne. 

“You are lady clegane now, yes?” he says

“You were at the wedding banquet, surely you must know.” you say reluctantly. 

“You don't sound pleased.” he says

“I…it's just for the past few days that's all anyone speaks of my being lady clegane the princess away from home…i just…” you trail off. 

“Just what my lady?” he asks. 

You're about to open your mouth to speak again but the door opens and you both turn around seeing sandor half covered in mud. 

“Speak of the demon himself, what brings you? Here to collect for my lady wife?” Baelish says. 

“Fuck off you grey haired squirrel” sandor grunts as he walks twords your way. 

“Why are you muddy? Are you alright?” You ask. 

“Becuase merryn fuckign trant dosnt know when you keep his greasy fucking tits out of the way. Picked a fight while over seeing guarding fucking cock sucker. He says passing you both.

“Don't keep us waiting to tell if you win?” Baelish asks. 

“Fuck…off.” he huffs walking down through the hall to the council room. Also reminding lord baelish why he was walking through the throne room. 

“I beg pardon my lady, I wish you a good night.” he says bowing before following after sandor.

Chapter 5 here

[fictionismyreality3]

Hold Still

Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Tattoo Artist!Bucky, innocent!reader if you squint, sorta mutual pining, comfort, fluff

Warnings: tattoos and everything that comes with them

Word Count: 3k

Notes: EEEEEE this is my first oneshot on this blog 🥳 as always not really proofread im not sorry 🤓 I wanted to add like grumpy x sunshine underlines and BARK BARk tattoo artist Bucky 😩🙏🏻 Peace out my homies ✌🏻

The sound of your shoe tapping against the checkered linoleum floor tile filled the waiting room of "Brooklyn's Best Tattoos". It was raining outside and the streets were quiet aside from the occasional horn of an angry driver or a street seller trying to get their final deals for the day. Your bright yellow umbrella stood out against the walls of chipped black paint and a smokey atmosphere.

You kept your gaze flitting about the room, landing on the magazines on a coffee table and stickers placed haphazardly across various furniture. The few people sitting across from you reflected the vibe of the tattoo shop perfectly. Darkly eccentric clothes, skin painted with ink, and a tired look to their eyes.

When you had booked this tattoo appointment you didn't know what to expect. And now, sitting with an awkward stiffness in the hardbacked waiting room chair, you began to question your decision. How embarrassing would it be if you just got up and left? Surely you could get a refund?

It had been 3 months since your Grandpa Henry had passed away, and you didn't want his existence to be some fleeting memory, you had to get something permanent for him. You had been planning on getting some art commission to hang up in your apartment, but that fantasy was quickly dashed by your rather thin wallet.

Even though it was a leap in your confidence, you settled on getting a tattoo. For the past few weeks, the nerves have been building up as you spent your free time researching tattoo shops and what a tattoo would even feel like.

The idea of having your skin permanently marked by something that could end up horrible to look at was more than a bit troubling. That's why you settled on something small and somewhere inconsequential. Sorry Grandpa, but you're going to have to be content out of the spotlight.

Calling the shop was the easy part. It was effortless to talk to the nice lady on the phone about your ideas and listen to her babble on about the latest news. But, now that you were sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the pain of the needles that were soon to be in your skin, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat.

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as a woman with tawny skin and bright, neon-pink hair came into the waiting room and called over another young woman to follow her. They walked into the back, or wherever they kept the tattoo rooms, and you noticed with a sigh the ease at which the young woman walked towards inevitable pain.

"Are you the 6 o'clock?" A familiar voice broke through your haze of thoughts. You vaguely placed it as the woman you spoke to on the phone when you booked you an appointment.

Scanning her over, you took in her friendly smile and ostentatious (and probably fake) jewelry, putting a face to the voice. "Yeah, that's me." You answered after a second.

She smiled brightly. She had an almost motherly look to her and a warm and comforting demeanour. Looking around at the peeling linoleum floor, the sticker-covered walls, and the various riff-raff who were inking memories and stories onto their skin, you had a passing thought that she was like the empress of the little tattoo parlour. Her beads and glued-on rhinestones would make a marvellous crown.

You had a quick discussion about price and confirmed what you were getting and then she led you down a short hallway and into a room. As you broke the threshold your ears were filled with 40s music and the soft, low sound of a man humming along. Your eyes drifted over to the source of the voice, who soon spun his stool around to reveal an alarmingly handsome face. Bright blue eyes met yours and your heart did a little somersault in your chest.

"Don't you worry, baby. This is Bucky, he'll take real good care of you." She patted your back and drifted back out of the room, her ebony skin disappearing down the hallway and out of view. As you stood awkwardly near the door, your gaze took in the rest of the room. It was dark and moody, and you figured that each artist must get to decorate their studio to their liking. The cart holding the ink, needles and other supplies stood next to one of those lay-down chairs that the person getting tattooed sits in. The man, Bucky, was already looking at you when you met his gaze again.

"Nervous, huh?" He chuckled lowly.

Your cheeks lit up in a hot blush as you were suddenly aware of how long you had been spacing out. "This is my first tattoo. Why? Was it that obvious?" You asked.

"Pretty obvious, yeah. S'okay. Why don't you sit down for me?" He grinned.

Ignoring the way his voice was like butter, you hopped up on the chair in the middle of the room. The leather was soft against your skin and you traced the tiny cracks in the fabric with your fingers, thinking about how many people had sat there before you. Rolling his stool over to the side of your chair, he grabbed a sketchbook from the cart next to you.

"So, what are you thinking of?" He asked casually as his eyes focused on you.

"I wanted to get an anchor for my grandpa." As you spoke, you got out your phone, pulling out the inspirational photos you had been endlessly looking over, tilting the screen so he could see. You watched as he scrutinized the photos, his brow furrowed in focus as if he was translating the pixels to ink in his mind.

After a second, he looked back up at you with a lazy grin. "Yeah, I can do that no problem."

He was already reaching over for his pens to start sketching the drawing onto transfer paper, and your eyes followed the careful movements, tracing the ink that covered his arms. There was barely an inch of uncovered skin.

The whole drawing took less than fifteen minutes, and the silence was comfortably filled with Bucky rambling about when he got his first tattoo. His low, slightly raspy voice covered you like a blanket, settling over you and calming your nerves. By the time he was finished with the sketch, you had already begun to warm up to him, making small talk that was somehow not awkward.

As he showed you the final version of the sketch, your nerves were calmed even more. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You talked placement and sizing until the time finally came for the sketch to be transferred onto your skin.

"Alright, so.. on your thigh?" He said warmly.

"I read that it was one of the less painful areas." You said as you ran your fingers over your skin which was soon to be filled with ink. You had worn a skirt so that you didn't have to change or lose any modesty. The last thing you wanted was to flash your tattoo artist, especially now that you got one who was incredibly hot.

"Smart girl." He muttered in passing as he prepped the transfer paper.

You were sure it was just a casual expression, but you couldn't fight the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment. No sooner than you had that thought, Bucky had rolled his stool back over to the chair and had the transfer in his hand.

"Can I?" He asked expectantly.

You looked at him confused for a second before you caught up and inched your skirt up so he could transfer the tattoo onto your thigh.

"Right. Sorry." You watched the way he chuckled to himself as he pressed the sketch into your skin. His hands were warm even through the black latex gloves.

He started getting his needles and ink prepared and you fell back into easy conversation. "Why the anchor? Is your 'pops navy or something?" He asked curiously.

"He was, yeah." You said softly.

You didn't miss the way his hands, which were going through the motions of prepping the tattoo gun as if they had done so a million times before, stilled for just a second. His jaw ticked and he cleared his throat and resumed his preparations.

"Sorry for your loss. My family is army." He said quietly after a moment. You took the distraction of his past eagerly, wanting to think of something other than your Grandpa.

"Are you?" You asked carefully.

"I was, yeah. Now I do this." He said and gestured around the room. "You ready?"

Your awareness was suddenly brought back to the impending pain you were about to feel as your eyes locked on the tattoo gun hovering closer and closer to your skin. Your heart rate spiked as a pang of anxiety ran through your chest and your thoughts began to spiral. How long would it take? How much would it hurt? What if it got infected? As if he could sense your suddenly fearful thoughts, Bucky lowered the tattoo gun.

"Hey, it'll be fine. I've been doing this for years and you chose a really small design. It'll be over before you know it." He spoke reassuringly.

With a nod from you, he raised the tattoo gun, one hand on your thigh to steady himself, and made the first line. The pricking pain hit you instantly. It was sharp and stung like you were getting a vaccination or blood drawn. You always had a low pain tolerance, and don't know why that piece of knowledge decided to hide in your brain until now. If you knew it would have hurt this much, maybe you would have changed your mind. A whimper bubbled past your lips embarrassingly. Bucky's eyes darted up to yours, his brows furrowed with a little too much concern for someone you just met.

"Hey, hey, hey.. deep breath. You're okay. That's it…" He cooed soothingly.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands and tried to mimic the way Bucky was breathing. Even though he was actively tattooing you, he kept his hand on your skin, watching your expression carefully. It was big enough to cover the entire width of your thigh. The latex of his glove suddenly felt far too thin. When he was satisfied you reached somewhat of a calmer state, he resumed his work, the needles pricking your skin once more.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get this done." He muttered, almost to himself.

You closed your eyes to distract yourself, but it only made you more focused on the pain of the tattoo gun. But then the pain was paired with the calming touch of Bucky stroking the skin of your thigh with his steadying hand. Your eyes peeked open to the sight of him focusing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Well, that's certainly distracting. You were all too aware of the way your skirt was pushed up. Even though it was for the sake of the tattoo, it was beginning to feel far too hot. As if he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky's gaze snapped up to yours and you quickly looked away.

The silence was filled with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun and Bucky humming along to the music playing on the radio. You were doing okay. You were gritting your teeth and bearing through it, not wanting to embarrass yourself further in front of your stupidly attractive tattoo artist. But it was late and you were getting tired. The pain was steadily growing from a dull ache into an overwhelming sting. You didn't even realize you were whining until the needles were no longer pricking your skin and Bucky was putting the tattoo gun down.

"Shh, it's okay, princess. We can take a break, yeah?" He said gently.

His hands were on your thighs as he rubbed your skin comfortingly, and you couldn't help but want to whine for a different reason.

"How much longer?" You asked with a wavering voice. Bucky's eyes softened, and he glanced at the half-finished anchor on your thigh and back up to you.

"We're almost done. You ready to get going again?" He asked as he picked up the tattoo gun.

Not trusting your voice, you elected simply to nod. As the pain returned, your nails dug into the leather of the chair, and you wondered if that's where the cracks you saw earlier came from. You knew you were beginning to get shaky, and even though you read about it during your anxious preparation, it was still upsetting. You looked around the room, trying to take your mind off the literal needles that were stabbing into you hundreds of times per second. Maybe you could distract yourself from figuring out the darkly gorgeous man tattooing you.

He kept the lights of the room low, probably to keep people calm, and the posters on the walls were at least nice to look at. There was a pair of dog tags hanging off a lamp on the desk in the corner, and you chalked that up to his army past. There were some plants, but the only one still alive was the cactus on the windowsill. But, you couldn't preoccupy yourself for long. Every time you thought you were getting used to the pain, a new wave of discomfort would hit you, leaving you whimpering in the chair. Your breath was getting a little shallow, and your other leg started bouncing to release some pent-up energy.

Bucky's hand which was comfortingly rubbing the thigh that he was tattooing shot out and grabbed your other leg, his fingers gripping your skin so firmly, the sudden sensation distracted you enough that your squirming stilled.

"Fuck, you gotta hold still, dolly." He rasped. "How 'bout you tell me about your 'pops?"

His voice was strained and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper. Your skirt was pulled up enough that his hand on your non-tattooed leg was high enough to be considered intimate. At least, it certainly felt that way to you. He squeezed your thigh, focusing your attention back on him, before he put it back on the leg he was tattooing.

"Talk, princess. You're almost done." He commanded softly.

The pain was still at the forefront of your mind, but now it was fighting with the heat in your core that was slowly growing.

"Um.. he was a sailor. He.. his name was Henry." You began to recall fond memories of your Grandpa, and the pain of the tattoo slowly faded into a manageable ache.

"That's a good girl. Keep talking, sweetheart." He muttered quietly.

The praise made your breath hitch and the sound that fell from your lips wasn't from pain anymore. The only sign that he noticed your breathy whine was the little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"And… all done." He announced.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased and Bucky had already put it down, as if the tattoo never even happened. The only evidence of what you'd struggled through for the last hour was the perfectly executed anchor on your skin and the dull ache of your thigh. Bucky had already moved back over to you and was starting to clean and wrap your leg. His hands brushed the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. There was that smirk again.

"That's it?" You asked breathlessly.

"That's it. You did so well, princess." He said as he finished wrapping your thigh. After putting his supplies back onto the cart, he pulled your skirt back down almost protectively, his hands lingering a little too long to be professional.

"Here. You even get a lollipop for being such a good girl." He grinned as helped you off the chair, his hand brushing yours as he handed you the candy.

He said the praise so casually, but it still sent your head spinning and your cheeks burning with a dusting of pink.

"Thanks…" You mumbled.

"You can pay at the front. Call us if you have any questions. Be safe, princess." He said as his eyes drifted down to your thigh.

Your heart sank as you kicked yourself for thinking there was even a sliver of attraction that he felt for you. Obviously, the hot tattoo artist must get girls fawning over him all the time, you weren't anything special. Biting back a frown, you nodded and thanked him one more time before heading back up to the front of the store to pay. The friendly babbling of the same dark-skinned woman who had taken you to Bucky's tattoo room went in one ear and out the other. Your head was way too messy to pay attention.

After thanking the staff one more time, you grabbed your umbrella and coat and headed back out into the rainy Brooklyn streets. As you walked back to your apartment, your thoughts endlessly drifting back to Bucky, you pulled the lollipop out of where you'd put it in your pocket. If you couldn't have him, at least you had candy. Just as you were about to mindlessly crumple up the wrapper, you noticed something scrawled in pen on the plastic. It was an address and a phone number.

'Dinner this weekend. Don't be shy, doll.' It read.

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks of the pedestrians who nearly walked into you, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't even written as a question and you could hear his low, slightly raspy voice saying the words in your head. The ache in your thigh, the ache in your heart, and even the now permanent marking on your body were all worth it. You had the passing thought that maybe your Grandpa was setting you up from wherever he was.

"Thanks, Grandpa.." You whispered to yourself and walked home with a spring in your step.

[candlelover]

Just some fun...

General Marcus Acacius/(f!) Reader

Summary: When Marcus Acacius' (involuntary) fiancé just wants to have a little fun, he sees himself as the perfect fit to put an end to her fun

Warnings: my first time writing something like this, involuntary engagement, dubcon? fingering, kissing, Acacius is jealous, Acacius is slightly annoying?

When you find any more warnings please tell me :)

"Aren't you excited, love? "We haven't had such big games in a long time," your mother asks your father to break the silence on the way to the Colosseum.

"Excited?" your father scoffs, "how could I when this spectacle once again raises far too much from the state treasury?"

“It will cheer up the people. "The emperors have to make themselves popular somehow if their personality can't do it," you say, hoping that your father won't get upset again with his endless talk about the emperor and the Senate. You hardly hear anything other than the Senate at home , Senate this..... general Marcus Acacius this General Marcus Acacius this.

Ughhh... your future husband with whom you exchanged about five words in your life at dinner to celebrate your engagement.

'At least I'm lucky,' you think, 'he seems decent and isn't bad to look at.'

Many of your friends have had worse. Men who are almost on their deathbed or men who are completely inconsiderate and disgusting. Acacius probably won't even be in town much. Then you can continue living as you want. Do whatever you want.

"I hope when we see the general today that you approach him with a more bridled tongue," your father hisses, "of course also towards the emperors."

"I'll behave as well as always," you say while rolling your eyes.

You just hope you just don't have to talk to anyone. That would make things even more fun anyway. Maybe you can even convince your parents to let you look around the market in town after the games. You love to disappear into the hustle and bustle of people and have a pleasant chat with the sellers at the fruit and vegetable stands.

At the entrance to the Colosseum, your father holds you back by the arm and demands: "Just behave!"

As if you didn't always do that. Always perfect behaved, never contradictory, that's how it should always be.

Yes...maybe you'll find a handsome man at the market later with whom you can have some fun. Anything is better than going back to the villa straight away and having dinner with your boring parents and boring conversations.

------------

"Senator, I am pleased to see you and your family here."

You had just sat down in your seats when General Acacius came by to greet you. your father also greets him with a handshake and a slight head bow that is returned by the man across from him.

"My Ladies," he takes your mother's hand and yours in his,one after another, bows slightly and gives them a kiss.

Acacius wears something like a white festive armor robe with a white cloak over it. Everything with golden details. Not to mention the gold metal bracelets around his wrists.

I was right...I really could have married an uglier man.

"My lady, I wanted to ask if you would sit with me. We're getting married in a few weeks and haven't shared much closeness yet," he asks you, smiling.

His deep brown eyes look down at you as gently as the smile on his lips.

"Of course she would like to. Isn't that right, my star?" your father asks you with a warning in his eyes not to say anything wrong.

"Yes, I'd love to General," you answer with the best fake smile you have.

,,Good. Then follow me. And please call me Marcus.We'll get married soon," he suggests, holding out his arm for you to take.

"Yes, if that's what you want, Marcus. Then please call me by my name too," you reply as you take his arm and you start to walk to your seats.

You chat for a bit at your seats until the games start. Relieved that you no longer have to come across as overly nice, you lean back in your seat and focus on the first gladiators who step into the middle of the arena.

One Galdiator in particular catches your eye. Dark hair, muscular, tanned body and as it looks from above, a pretty face too. He fights fantastically and seems to be a real crowd favorite.

You can't help but turn to Marcus and ask, "Do you know the name of the gladiator who is so beloved by the crowds?"

"His name is Celio. He came from one of the smaller provinces we conquered," he explains.

You nod and a few moments later he leans towards you again and looks serious.

,,Why? Do you like him? You seem to enjoy watching him?"

You blush slightly at the sudden turnaround in your relationship. So far you've always been on an almost exhaustingly friendly basis and suddenly his relaxed charisma turns serious?

,Jealousy?'

'No, that can't be it. He barely knows me,' you think to yourself.

You decide to approach it carefully anyway and answer: "No, I'm just curious which man gets the audience so excited."

Marcus gives you a quick critical look and focuses back on the fighting down in the sand.

------------

After the games ended, the general said goodbye to you with another kiss on your hand.

Back at your parents' , you left the Colosseum and made your way home. Somehow you managed to persuade your father to let you go to the market for a while.

So here you are now. Strolling around the market and being happy.

You're just looking around distractedly when you suddenly run into something, or rather, someone.

You're just starting to apologize when you look up and see the man you ran into.

It's Celio, the gladiator from the arena.

,,I'm sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you finish your apology from before.

,,That's fine. I have to apologize too. My gaze wasn't directed in front of me," he admits with a small smile.

From this point you engage in a small conversation that ends in a wild kiss in a poorly lit alley.

'A little fun doesn't hurt, does it?' You think to yourself as you put your arm around his neck.

But of course you won't have the fun for long...

Suddenly Celio is pulled off you and taken away by a bunch of soldiers.

You stand in the alley in shock and look at the man who pulled the gladiator away from you and handed him over to the soldiers.

-Marcus Acacius

"What are you doing here?" you ask, surprised.

"What am I doing here? "I think I should ask you what the hell you're doing with a strange man here a few weeks before our wedding!" he replies angrily.

Oh, be damned...

"Let's be honest Marcus, you're certainly not an innocent lamb either!" you discuss with a special emphasis on his name.

He comes threateningly towards you and has now trapped you between a building wall and himself.

"I never said I was innocent. "Oh my little lamb, I'm not all that. But unlike you, I don't do it in public where everyone could see me."

"You have no right to decide what I do, where, when and how."

You don't know why, but his intense gaze on you stirs something inside you. And in this situation you're not doing well at all.

“If it concerns your reputation, I certainly have the right to do so. Because whether you want it or not, your reputation and mine are linked"

Unfortunately he's right, but you're unlikely to admit it. So why not tease a little for the fun?

"Is it really just your reputation that you're worried about or is it jealousy?"

He would do anything to wipe that confident grin off your face, so he brings his face even closer to yours and whispers, "Do you want it to be jealousy?"

Your breath catches and you feel caught.

'Hell no, this man definitely can't do anything for me,' you think, shocked.

But before you know it, you're both holding deep eye contact and the confident grin is now on his lips. With the sole thought of getting rid of this expression of superiority, your body acts against your will and kisses him harshly.

Well...at least you got rid of his grin.

He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you even closer to him. You sigh with pleasure and kiss him even harder while you comb your fingers through his hair and pull it lightly. He seems to like this gesture too as he moans slightly.

His fingers start to wander again and quickly find their way under your clothes.

"But that doesn't hurt our reputation if someone sees it?" you ask teasingly.

He just goes down to your neck with kisses and makes you moan with a light bite as an answer.

His fingers are now circling your clitoris.

"Even if you don't seem to like me, my fingers are pretty wet, my little lamb."

“Just do it Marcus. I can't wait any longer."

"So rude...where did my good future bride go from this morning?"

"We both know very well that this is just a facade."

"So I'm going to marry a little minx, huh?" he asks as he slowly inserts a finger.

'Ooh shit that feels good..."

You moan loudly and reply breathlessly: "I'm not getting married to a better person either, believe me."

As soon as he says it, his second finger is already in there and he starts to move it.

He laughs a little: "If you say please, I might let you come."

"I have no problem going home and doing it myself."

“Stop trying so hard. I know that's what you want."

You kiss again and you are close to finally finding relief.

Acacius notices and stops abruptly, moving a few inches away from you. Frustrated by the sudden emptiness, you whimper slightly and glare at him.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

"I'm just making sure my little lamb listens straight away next time."

With a smug grin he begins to move away from you for good.

You can't believe it. This terrible, sexy, horrible man!

Before he finally disappears, he calls to you over his shoulder:

"See you at our wedding, my little lamb. We will definitely have a very nice time that night."

Smug idiot!

[octuscle]

Cursed Ken, part 7: The Greaser

Daniel's whole body was shaking. He had leafed through all the catalogs. He had been on various forums. This Ken figure didn't even exist. And yet it was offered here on ebay. It could be a prototype that had never been produced. Or a small series that had never gone on sale officially. But the doll was there. Of course, it could also be something else. A product from another company. A fake would not be out of the question. But there was currently no bidder. The auction ran for another eight minutes. The seller wanted a paltry 10 dollars. The risk was minimal. And the chance? Prototypes of such dolls had already been sold for thousands of dollars. Daniel was a cautious, no, a fearful person. A person who enjoyed collecting dolls. To put it mildly, Daniel was overweight, didn't leave the house and lived on welfare. But he had an impressive collection of Ken figures. And now he was bidding 20 dollars on this doll. Ping! He was the highest bidder. Six minutes to go. Three more. 50 seconds. No more bidders! 3, 2, 1. Mine! He had the doll. Without a counterbid. For 10 dollars. He couldn't wait. He paid immediately via PayPal. And waited…

Daniel had to wait two weeks. Two bloody long weeks. And then he held the parcel in his trembling hands. He was wearing gloves. The doll was too perfect to be a mass-produced product. The hair wasn't plastic, it had actually been waxed into an oily quiff. The jacket was made of leather, the jeans of real fabric. The doll even smelled real. Like leather and pomade. Daniel breathed heavily. With excitement. And from exertion. He had almost run up the stairs to his collection. He draped the latest doll in a place of honor. Shit, he'd left his cell phone downstairs. Panting, he went downstairs. He had to capture this moment in a photo. Downstairs, he searched for his cell phone. He had left it somewhere… "Mamma, dov'è il mio cellulare?" he called out. No answer. Where was his mamma? There was a note in the kitchen. That he should remember to buy tomatoes at the market before he came to the restaurant. What time was it? 10:30. Shit, he had to hurry. The first guests were due in an hour. And if the pasta sauce wasn't ready by then because there were no fresh tomatoes, he'd be in big trouble with his mamma and his nonna.

Danilo was the typical Italian-American in his early 20s. Hot and testosterone-driven. But a bit on the simple side. He had forgotten something upstairs. He wanted to do something upstairs and for that he needed something from downstairs. And now? He ran back to his room. Logically, he had forgotten his comb and his leather jacket. He stood in front of the mirror and smoothed his hair. The pomade was shiny. Yes, he looked pretty retro. But that was part of the family home. It was the place to go for fans of good Neapolitan cuisine. And the 50s. Well, and a lot of guests came for Danilo's sake.

"Excuse me, may I take a photo of you?" Danilo heard this an average of 1.8 times as he walked from his parents' house, where he still lived, to his parents' restaurant, where he worked. Danilo was good at striking a pose. He was a star in Little Italy. And on Instagram. And even if his mamma and his nonna didn't know it, also on Grindr.

[crepuscularious]

candy

this short imagine is something inspired by wildest dreams (taylors version) as well as nanami and that baker girl, rip nanami

miguel o'hara x reader (mostly woman)

fluffiest of the fluff there is

"you see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night"

you owned a small candy store down the block. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pay for rent and good food. You always had a sweet tooth, ever since you were young so growing up and starting this business was healing your inner child.

you were fixing the fake flowers on the display by the windows, fake because flowers are too expensive and die easily. a bell rings, alarming you that someone entered the door.

"good day!" you said with a smile, as always.

"hi, just looking around" a tall man said, quite intimidating with the poker face plastered on his face, a buff man too, wearing sweatpants and a gray hoodie with his hands on his pockets. you almost thought this man was a thief, but nonetheless there was still that heartwarming smile on your face, like the sweet girl you are.

you nodded at his answer and dusted off a your apron as you return to your usual spot behind the counter.

"what's your best seller here?" the man ask

"well, are you planning on giving something to a certain someone? or just something to munch on when you're craving something?" you asked him. he crosses his arms *good god those biceps*

"just something i can eat when on the go" he says, admitting his need for sweets every now and then.

"well you could always get a bag, 1/4 of a kilo is only 2 dollars" i said

"let me get a kilo" the man said, you widen your eyes and giggle

"is there something wrong?" the man asks as he raises his eyebrows, hands still crossed as he looks down at your small figure.

"nothing, its just a lot of my customers would also get a kilo. and they're really huge sugar addict" i smiled "i'm glad to have another fellow sweet tooth, first time to see a guy who does too" i said giving him a bag and a scooper

"pick whatever candy you like and ill weigh it out for you after" i said as i give him the space to choose.

"i've been wanting to visit this for months now, but i keep getting busy" the man said "what's your name?" he asks

"y/n, you?"

"miguel, what are these?" he asks

"candy belts, theyre like gummy strips that are coated in sugar. personally i like the sour ones that the original" i said

he finishes picking the random mix of candy, you see an assorted variation of both gummy candy and hard candy.

"there you go. here, i got you a cookie. on the house" i smiled as i hand him a bag and put the cookie wrapped in pink inside and hand it towards him

"your total is only 8 dollars" i said as he gives me a 10 dollar bill, i open the cash register and pick out his change until he stops me

"keep the change" he says

"really? you sure?" i asked, my eyes sparkling. it has been a long time since i heard those words.

"yeah. thank you" he says as i smiled and waved goodbye.

"thank you! come again!"

i look at the bill, feeling something behind it. it was his number and address "wanna know you more, call me?"

i giggled, "wait till he finds the note in that cookie"

end

[miss-madness67]

Cool Cosplay (Dean W.)

Prompt: You go to a Supernatural convention and -unknowingly- meet Dean.

The Supernatural convention is finally here. You’ve been waiting for months for the gathering, supposedly, Carver Edlund, the writer, was going to make an appearance late in the afternoon. The Supernatural books belong to a small niche because not everyone likes them. So when you started reading, you had trouble finding people involved in the fandom as much as you. Meeting new fans became a slow process of writing on the internet forum. That’s how you met one of your best friends, Celeste Middleton.

She seemed very into the books, just like you, although her fanaticism was different because she didn't partake in the discussion of the characters or the narrative, she was mostly interested in learning about the monsters and the ways to kill them. You, on the other hand, couldn't shut up about your love for Castiel, and how much of an underrated character he was. But because you were also interested in the monsters, you became quick friends and met up a couple of times. It was she that told you about the supernatural convention. You also agreed to go together and dress up as your favorite characters. You, obviously put on a trench coat, and she decided to be Charlie, the redheaded tech friend of the hunter brothers.

“Even if you’re a redhead, I still don’t think you quite fit as Charlie.” You tell her while walking through the stands.

One of the sellers has a collection of Castiel stickers that you stop to watch. The best thing about this type of convention is that everyone in the fandom can bring their own things to share and sell. If the fandom were bigger, that probably wouldn't be allowed.

“Really?” Celeste asks with incredulity. “I’m a hacker; she’s a hacker, I’m gay; she’s gay, I’m a badass; she’s a badass. What’s more to compare?”

“Celeste, there’s more to Charlie than being gay, you know?”

She chuckles, “oh, believe me, I know.” She murmurs.

You’re about to answer something when one of the nearby stands calls your attention. It’s one of the writers whose fanfic you’ve been reading. “C’mon, let’s go over here.” She follows without hesitation.

While you decide to buy one of the copies of your favorite fanfiction, your friend’s checking something on her phone. “So, you remember the friends I told you about?”

You think briefly, “the ones that were curious about the convention and wanted to come?”

“The same ones!” She announces, “they just got here, wait for me while I go get them?”

You're way too interested in your new acquisition, to really pay attention to her words. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Celeste told you about some friends that she had that weren't supernatural fans, but wanted to get to know the fandom and the surrounding fame. You're not sure whether there's anything interesting to learn considering they haven’t read the books, but you’ll be the best tour guide you can be. Your friend comes back shortly after, followed by two tall guys that are dressed up in a way that reminds you, probably too much, of certain characters in the books.

“I thought you said they weren’t fans?” You ask Celeste.

The one dressed up as Dean chuckles, “oh, we’re not, sweetheart, believe me.”

You look at him with incredulity, “well, then, why are you dressed up as Dean, and your friend here as Sam?”

The Sam cosplayer shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny. The Dean cosplayer, though, is quick to answer, “because we are Sam and Dean.”

The encounter is proving to be way too funny. You look back at Celeste, “and they role-play too?” In spite of being dressed as Castiel, you’ve never been too much of a role player, so it amuses you that some non-fans are very into the characters. Even fake Dean’s voice is how you imagined real Dean’s voice would be like.

Sam throws an annoyed glance at Dean . “What my ah- friend here is trying to say is that our names are actually Sam and Dean, and Cha- Celeste convinced us to come as the characters in the books.” There’s something in his words that doesn’t quite persuade you.

“I see,” you murmur, “you did a great job!” Your wary demeanor instantly shifts to a friendly one. “You really do look like Sam and Dean.”

Celeste chooses that moment to finally speak, “and I don’t look like Charlie?!” There’s incredulity and exasperation in her tone.

Because you already had this discussion multiple times in the day, you decide to ignore her. Looking at Dean, you add, “though you need the Samulet, did you forget to put it on?” You pull something out of your trench coat pocket, “here, I’ll give you mine.” Technically, your costume didn’t need the jewelry, but you decided to keep it for some reason.

You extend your arm and give it to Dean, who takes it reluctantly. “Oh, thanks? But I’m good.” He tries to give it back.

“No, I insist. If you’re going to do cosplay, you’re going to do it good.” At your insistence, he takes it.

Celeste smiles mischievously. “Yes, my friend right here is a very good fan of Supernatural.” She looks up and down your outfit, “guess who her favorite character is.”

You don’t even let the boys speak, “obviously Castiel.” As if there’s any contest with the rest of the characters. “After all, he’s an Angel of the Lord .” Your imitation is too bad that Sam and Charlie can’t avoid laughing.

Dean chuckles, “so, you’re not a Dean girl?” You’re not sure, but there’s something in his voice akin to disappointment.

“Dean is ok, but there’s no one like Castiel.” You clear your throat, trying to contain the excitement when speaking of your favorite character. “I mean, he’s sweet, powerful, understanding…”

“Cas? Really?” Now he’s almost indignant, “and Dean is definitely more than ok.”

Now, normally, you’re a pacifist, but you’re not going to let this rando talk bad about your fictional love. “How would you know? Considering that you’ve never read the books before.”

There’s a hint of condescension in his voice, “oh, honey, I know, I-.”

But before he can say anything else, Sam interrupts. “So! Why don’t you girls show us around?”

Dean seems to be completely annoyed by being interrupted, but he doesn’t complain when his friend Sam tugs him forward. At this point, a lot more people have arrived at the convention. The fans of Supernatural are not enough to be a crowd, but not as small as to allow you to recognize everyone. Your group is not the only one dressed up as the characters. You mostly see Deans and Sams lingering around, but there are also some Bobbys, Johns, Castiels, and even famous monsters like the walling woman. Sam and Dean (the ones in your group) take everything in with open eyes, and, sometimes, uncomfortable gazes. You and Celeste show them to the different stands, there are merchandise, game tables, fanfiction tables, fanart artists, and discussion tables. There’s anything and everything to make the Supernatural experience enjoyable. You can even see a fake tattoo artist draw a devil’s trap, in, well, a fake Meg.

“Oh, and the author, Carver Edlund, is supposed to be giving a conference and signing,” you finish your tour.

This last bit is what interests the boys the most, “really? Do you know when?” 

“Uh, I don’t know. I suppose in a few hours,” you answer Sam’s question.

If he is disappointed by your lack of knowledge, you don't notice because you're too busy now looking at a stand full of drawing of different supernatural characters. It doesn't take you long to buy what you want, though, by the time you turn around, you see that all of your companions are chatting in whispers a few steps away. They seem to be in a heated discussion, so you don't dare to go near them. Whatever they're talking about must be private. Nevertheless, on some occasions, you catch them looking your way and then continue speaking. Are they talking about you? Out of the blue, Dean and Sam start a game of rock, paper, and scissors. Dean wins and cheers in place as if it’s something that doesn’t happen often. Before you can even try to make up your mind to approach them, Celeste and Sam walk away, while Dean returns to you.

“What happened? Where are Celeste and Sam going?”

Dean answers without hesitation, “they're taking care of something, don't worry. Why don’t you keep showing me around? They'll be back in a bit.”

Despite the fact that you are still worried about the sudden turn of events, you decide to listen to him and venture to some of the stands with Dean's company. He seems to be very on high alert because he keeps looking everywhere like something is about to jump from the crowd. He also looks at the “monsters” with a particularly nasty frown on his face that earns him some compliments for being very ‘Dean’. The demeanor, though, appears too real to be fake. You try and encourage him to buy a few things while he waits you wait for your friends to return, but he really is not interested. You even suggest playing a game, but he refuses. The only thing he seems to be remotely curious about is a particular stand on Supernatural creatures the brothers have defeated. You try to be a good guide by letting him in on your knowledge about the supernatural.

“And you learned all of this from the books?” He is really surprised by all the things that you've told him, even to the point of slightly forgetting about keeping his guard up.

“Some, other things I’ve researched on my own or Celeste told me.” Your hand caresses one of the books’ covers with a vampire. “I know it’s not real, but it’s fascinating to know.”

Then you dive into a full-on explanation about the different, fictional, possible ways one can get rid of certain monsters that you come up with. Things that supernatural books and your research don’t quite show that you think could work as an alternative to certain methods. You jokingly tell him that sometimes your mind wanders into the possibility of the supernatural being real, and you cannot help to think about it. Dean seems deeply impressed, and then something else.

“You know? You’d make one hell of a hunter,” he nods approvingly.

“IF hunters were real,” you respond instantly.

He chuckles, “sure, sure, if they were.”

You continue through the convention for half an hour, this time he seems to be more taken by you than before, because, despite that he’s still on guard, he makes conversation about yourself and your interest in The Supernatural books. He even tries to convince you that the best character is not Cas, but Dean. You believe that he is biased, considering that his name is the same one as the one from the character. Sometimes you notice the way his eyes look at your figure, and you cannot find it in yourself to feel angry. More like there's a small part of you that cannot help to gloat at the feeling of a handsome man finding you attractive. Though, you believe it must have to do also with the fact that, for some reason, besides his name, your mind cannot seem to stop pairing him up with Dean from the books. You’ve never been a Dean girl, but you’re starting to think you could maybe make an exception. He has something that draws you in. Whatever it is, you’re a goner because, by the time Celeste and Sam come back, they find you entangled in each other’s arms, kissing near the restroom’s door.

A/N: For plot’s sake, let’s imagine Charlie is in the Supernatural books. Also, if reader is dressed up as Castiel, does this count as Destiel?

[girloftheisland]

Scammed on Mercari: How I Fell Victim to Fraud Thanks to Social Engineering

If it's too good to be true, then it probably is.

I had never been scammed before on the web. I thought it was something that happened to boomers with low internet literacy, to those who open suspicious emails with urgent subject lines that impersonate someone they know, asking for help in the form of $100 gift cards. You know, scams like that.

I confess before this incident I hadn't shopped much on Mercari to buy American Girl stuff on the second market. Mercari seemed like a place where everyone tries to squeeze maximum dollars out of a sale. Dolls go for high prices, and rare outfits go for egregious prices.

One day recently I was skimming through listings on Mercari because I had decided that I wanted to find an early Pleasant Company Molly. I found a lot that was labeled as "Molly American Girl Doll by Pleasant Company HUGE LOT" — and you can bet that it was a huge lot. This person was selling a PC Molly, along with most of the things from her collection: furniture, outfits, accessories, and trunk. If that wasn't enough, the person was also selling a grill and picnic set and several modern outfits, including one that I consider the holy grail of Pleasant Company outfits: a complete Earth Day Outfit that speaks to me on a deep level with its hippie style and 90s beatnik vibes.

It may sound silly now, but it was the Earth Day Outfit that sent me over the edge. Here was something that I had been trying to grab at a decent price for ages. The entire lot was listed for over $650 but marked down to around $550. With Mercari's fees and taxes, it would be around $700. That's a lot of money. But there was a lot of bang for the buck here. I thought that maybe someone was clearing out their storage unit and just wanted to get rid of these 90s toys. On top of that, the listing had a notification at the top that read: "Someone has this in their cart."

Sites like Mercari and eBay (well, maybe every consumer site) will use forms of social engineering to entice users to buy. Lower those inhibitors. It happened to me. As soon as I saw that "someone else has this in their cart" message, whether real or generated, my brain froze and my fingers took over. I grabbed the lot in seconds and then triumphantly sat back in my chair when the payment successfully went through, and whoever had the item in their cart (real or generated) was out of luck.

And once that shopper's high was over, reality started to settle in. There were several odd factors about this listing that I should have paid attention to, and usually do when I'm not a goblin chasing after a perfect set. Most collectors will know the tell-tale signs of a fraudulent or questionable listing.

First, and this will be obvious, you probably shouldn't buy from someone who has zero ratings on their seller profile. How can you know that they're reputable? Scammers create new profiles all the time just to sell an item, or a large lot, and then delete the profile once the scam is complete and the money is in their pockets. They can't reuse the same profile every time; otherwise, it'd have a pile of negative reviews, right?

In my case, the listing also had an unanswered question on its page. That's another red flag. Shouldn't the seller communicate with potential buyers? One user had asked if Molly had a white or tan body, and the seller never answered. So if you're not sure if a listing is real or fake, chat up the seller to see what they know about the item. If you get nothing but radio silence, abort the mission.

After completing the purchase, I had immediate doubts, but I couldn't give up the idea that I had just scored an impressive lot and a number of things that I could check off on my collecting list. That's how these scams work: they pull you in and keep you there. The lot was marked "shipped" the next day and dropped off at the USPS the following day, and when viewing the shipment tracker, I had to face yet another red flag. The original listing said the lot was located in Ohio. But the package was dropped off in Tampa, Florida.

Due to Hurricane Helene, it was stuck in Tampa for several days. It was supposed to arrive on a Monday, but that day came and went, and I was getting worried that it got stuck. Understandably, too, since the hurricane devastated the Carolinas and hit Florida hard. I messaged the seller for the first time and asked what they knew about the postal situation down there, and all they replied was: "Hello, it has been delivered."

Ha, delivered!? USPS trackers are decent enough, and this one said it was still in transit and so unequivocally NOT delivered to my doorstep. In retrospect, I imagine that the scammer was probably laughing and enjoying the ride, while I continued to live in a dreamworld where a huge PC Molly lot was heading my way. I didn't reply to the seller, because ironically, the package was delivered that same evening.

I had asked my partner, who was working from home that day, to check our driveway periodically and be on the lookout for a large package. He checked every half hour but found nothing. You see, we live in a rural area. Our mailbox is not at our house but located half a mile down the road in a cluster mailbox where all the houses on our street collect their mail. Small packages are stored in parcel lockers there. Big packages come straight to the house. When my "lot" was delivered, the tracker said it was left at the mailbox. And I can tell you that there could be no way that such a large lot would fit in a tiny parcel locker. It was another red flag.

I got in my car and drove down the road, inserted my key into our mailbox, and found a small bubble envelope addressed to me. I ripped it open right there and stared dumbfounded at not a PC Molly lot, but a $1 Morgan silver dollar coin. I was angry and felt my blood pressure rise, and you'd think that I would wake up there and then, but I was still clinging to the hope that I would get that Molly lot. I just assumed that the seller had sent me the wrong thing. It's okay to laugh.

I drove back home and messaged the seller. I demanded that they send me the correct items or issue a refund ASAP. I showed the coin to my partner, who immediately understood that I had been the victim of a scam. He talked some sense into me, and I slowly realized that he was right. I had fallen hard for the scam and wanted to cling to it even with all the evidence before me.

Plus, I had just lost $700 dollars.

My partner was calm about the situation, but I was pissed. We decided that we would follow protocol and try to get the money back. We read postings on reddit threads about other people who had fallen for Mercari scams and how they resolved them. I followed Mercari's rules and opened a ticket. I asked to return the item and chose one of their predetermined reasons, that the item I received didn't match the listing. It sure as hell didn't.

Mercari approved the request and sent me a label to ship back this stupid $1 coin. However, on the return label I saw the final red flag. If you remember, the lot was supposed to ship from Ohio but was actually dropped off at a USPS in Tampa, Florida. The return address on the new label was listed for Hawaii. I googled the address and quickly realized that it wasn't valid. The street address was for a block of condos, but the condo or apartment number on the address didn't exist. How was I supposed to return this item, have it delivered, and then receive the refund?

This is how scammers get away with it. According to Mercari's policy, you have three days after receiving an item to try to return it. Otherwise, the sale will be marked as final, and the money goes to the seller. The sale will also be marked as final if you rate the seller. I became worried that the package would get stuck in USPS limbo because it didn't have a valid address, and then the scammer would reap the reward.

I wouldn't go down easily, though. I was going to kick and scream until the situation was rectified. I would make no future contact with the seller. I refused to mail off the item and renewed my ticket with Mercari. I presented all the evidence. Listed off the hallmarks of the scam. Waited for them to do something.

Luckily, the next day I received a refund notification and a note on the ticket from a real person at Mercari that said the sale was cancelled due to the safety of the transaction and other jargon, which all meant that they realized it was a fraudulent post and would delete the listing and the scammer's account.

It was a relief. It was a hard lesson to learn.

The moral of this story is that scammers are attracting unassuming buyers from all sorts of collecting worlds. Even American Girl/Pleasant Company. Try to be safe and savvy when browsing the web. Don't be like me and jump on something that's too good to be true. Because it probably is.

But to end on a positive note, the $1 silver dollar Morgan coin that was shipped in place of the PC Molly lot could be worth $300+ due to its rarity. So that's something.

[onyxbird]

Mr. Sandman, Ring Me a Dream

Summary: Death decides that a phone will help her little brother stay more connected to human friends. (Or “friend,” singular, for the moment.) Not to worry, she's taken care of all of the setup, right down to the ringtone. Just give this number to Hob and put it in your pocket. Please, little brother. For me.

Dream should have known to ask more questions…

Read on AO3

Ch. 1: “Turn on Your Magic Beam”

“Just try it for a bit,” said his sister. “You don't have to do anything but put it in your pocket and answer it if it rings.”

“I have no need for a telephone, mobile or otherwise,” said Dream. “Hob and I have remained in contact for centuries without any such thing.”

Death raised an eyebrow. “You see one another once a century by appointment, and you missed the last one. I'm just saying the humans have invented all sorts of communication devices, and you should try being a little more reachable. You might like it.”

Dream refrained from actually rolling his eyes, but Death seemed to get the point.

“Look, I've completely set it up for you. It's got Hob's number in it.” She punched the green phone handset button, “Contacts,” and the solitary entry labeled “Hob Gadling” with exaggerated slowness, the phone flourished in front of his withering gaze so that he couldn't avoid seeing the process. “I even set a ringtone for you! All you have to do is give him this string of numbers. He'll know what to do.”

Dream did not dignify that with a response.

“Come on, little brother. Give it a fair chance. For me.” She paused until his disdainful expression cracked, and she smirked in victory. “If you hate it, you can always go back to your once-a-century meeting and no harm done, right?”

Dream begrudgingly slid the glossy black rectangle into his pocket. Human innovations were often far from “no harm done” in his opinion, but fine, if his sister believed this one was harmless, he supposed he could humor her.

He dropped by to find Hob, crossly shoved the piece of paper with numbers at him, muttering that his sister had insisted on getting him a phone, and promptly forgot about it.

…

James' back hit the wall behind him, starting to question whether buying the tiny ziploc baggie of allegedly “magical” powder had been a mistake.

He'd mostly bought it as a joke, anyway. The seller had put on a surprisingly convincing song and dance to “prove” that the sand was magical rather than just gray sand, but really. Magic sand? Besides, if it were as special as he claimed, the price would surely have been higher.

Still, if the sand was fake, the salesman was an excellent illusionist, and the entertainment value alone had been worth the small price being charged.

…At least it had been until this goth beanstalk showed up, trailed by a raven, of all things. James had initially brushed that off, too. When you hung around in circles where someone was likely to sell you “magic dream sand,” you encountered a lot of odd people.

This one was persistent—James couldn't seem shake him—and his initial blunt pushiness had edged over into scary.

James tried to tune back into what he was saying. Maybe he should just—

An incongruously cheerful tune derailed his train of thought.

“Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom. “Bom bom bom bom bom.”

The apparition did not react or change expression as the a capella harmony continued.

“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream! Make him the cutest that I've ever seen.”

The apparition's eyebrows knitted together. He glanced around, as if looking for the source of the sound. He pivoted slowly in a complete circle, peering in all directions, as the song continued to play.

The raven cocked its head quizzically. “That coming from you, boss?”

(Great. A talking bird, as if this wasn't weird enough.)

“What do you mean 'is it coming from me?' Why would it?”

Words spilled out of James' mouth before he could think better of it. “…Is it your phone?”

He regretted speaking as soon as the apparition's attention snapped back onto him.

“I do not have a phone.”

“Uhh… actually…” said the raven.

The pale brow furrowed. “Oh. That's right.” He started patting his sides as if trying to locate something in his pockets. He fished out a black rectangle just as the music abruptly cut off, midway through the “Mr. Sandman” leading into the second verse.

He stared blankly at the it.

“I think you missed the call?” offered James.

There was silence for a moment. “It says 'Missed Call,'” the apparition confirmed. “'Hob.' There's a little picture of his face.”

“Yeah, you missed it, then. Maybe they'll leave a voicemail?”

The apparition scrutinized him. “A… 'voicemail'?”

James floundered. “Yeah. You know, record a message for you?”

Based on the apparition's expression, he did not know.

“Or you could just call 'em back?”

The apparition frowned at the phone again. “I… do not know how to do that.”

“There's—There should be a button.” He reached towards the phone automatically, starting to feel like he was talking to his Gran rather than a seemingly supernatural entity trying to mug him for dubiously magical sand. “Can I see? Yeah, right there—if you click on that, it should call them back.”

A long pale finger carefully poked at the spot James had indicated, before raising the phone to his ear.

There was a pause.

“Ah, this one rings like a bell, not music. That's what I thought they were supposed to do.”

“Uh… Well, that's what it does on your end while it's waiting for the other person to pick up. Might be music on their end, though.”

“Oh.”

“Hob,” declared the apparition. He paused. “Yes. I retrieved my phone, but you were no longer there.” He frowned. “Yes, I was busy. I still am. …This human said that otherwise you might send me mail, and I do not receive letters in the Dreaming. …I am not certain I know how to do that. …Very well. Thirty minutes hence.”

He frowned at the phone for another long moment, before looking back at James. “Do I have to turn it off?”

“Uh… I think the other guy probably hung up on his end, so…” He craned for a glimpse at the screen. “No, you don't have to do anything. The call already disconnected.”

The apparition carefully slid the phone back into a pocket, and clasped his hands behind his back. “I thank you for your assistance,” he said solemnly. “Now, there is still the issue of the dream sand, which you may not keep.”

Ch. 2 on AO3

[lediableblancdotcom]

I need some help! I am pretty sure I know the answer to this question, but I need someone to confirm or deny. Has anyone seen this set of trading cards in real life? They are said to be "Marvel Ultimate" released in 2019, 120 cards in the set, and are in Spanish language. There are only two sellers that have sold these cards, single or by set, and I am beginning to believe they are the same person. I think they are fake AF, but I could be wrong, them being released in another country from my own and all. I have seen slightly different images for the same card and the names are not consistent throughout the set (Gambit on the front, Gambito on the backs). I am about to scrap them, but if they are confirmed real, I would like to add them to the database. Anyone know? Update:

So I asked the guy selling these straight up if they were real or not and he told me they were distributed through the Peruvian newspaper El Comercio. He said they did several sets in the 2019 time period.

I am still skeptical.....

Now, El Comercio newspaper is the biggest newspaper in Peru and has released Marvel Books and materials, but those were all copyrighted and produced through DK. So you would think the cards would have some markings. Still searching with this "new information" NO ONE on the internet has heard of these cards EXCEPT for this one guy. Peru is a big country and El Comerico is a big newspaper, so you would think someone out there other than this guy would know about or be selling these cards. Also, Peruvian cards, especially Marvel, are released under Pepsi Cards....so you would think they would have a hand in something they have copyrights to.

I am still thinking these are SUS....I am going to hold on to them and not put them up on the database until I have some confirmation.

Update Update:

I talked to a few card dealers that know their shit and none of them have ever heard of this set and doing more research with the info I have pulled from the ONE person that has the set (the dealer selling them) I can find NOTHING that is outside his own auctions. There are not even images on google of this set that do not tie back directly to this ONE seller. So I am going to deem these card fakes made by the dealer or at least bootleg release. Either way they are not going on the site as legit cards. I will save the images and info I have collected, just in case something else pops up later that confirms there authenticity, but for now, no go.

FINAL UPDATE!!!!

Yes, they have been confirmed as really good bootleg cards! A wonderful man named David gave me the skinny on these cards. They are unlicensed, but good ones (which is surprising they put this much effort into bootlegs). They were released in Peru through newstands in card packs of 30, and marked Vol 1-4, making the 120 card set when finished. There was also a set of DC cards that was released the same way. So, all those that are unbothered by buying unlicensed goods, buy them if you want, but being unlicensed they will not be making up onto the lediableblanc database. Mystery solved!

[this-dude-over-here]

I've always been bad at answering the icebreaker question, "What do you like to do?" because I genuinely could never think of anything on the fly. I could say, "I like to read books and watch movies" but I never had a specific example of something that I read or watched. It just came across as awkward.

But recently, I have found a hobby. But I think it's probably worse to admit the hobby than just fumble around for an answer.

It started as channel flipping on a night I couldn't sleep, but I ended up on a teleshopping/paid programming/infomercial channel (you know the ones, showing overpriced random items that only a hoarder of a grandmother would consider buying).

And it just spiraled?

I started watching these infomercials on purpose and making up extreme stories about the hosts that I began to recognize with time.

Truth: there's Shawn, the flamboyant seller that only advertises food products.

Story: you can tell when he hates the food when he takes a bite and the camera immediately cuts away. the second it cuts, he spits it out. there's a twitch of his right eyebrow as he chews the bite, which foreshadows it.

The Extreme Story: Shawn is being forced to host this ad. he is locked on set and the only times he's allowed to roam is from 1am-6am during the televised program. he cannot eat unless it's food during the advertisement, which he must always pretend to enjoy.

It's like a legitimately entertaining TV show to me. I make bets about what the next outrageous price and product will be. I stay awake two hours longer than I'd prefer because I don't want to miss the showing for a $30 1/2lb bag of Taffy. I sometimes go on their sites and stare at the $3,000 fake sapphire necklaces. I don't buy anything.

There's not a point to this ramble other than to admit that this is my ultimate guilty pleasure and that I can't confide in anyone about it. They just don't understand the intricacies of close and wide camera shots while Shawn is mid-bite of the family owned sausage links.

[kudzucataclysm]

how about some Vague Questions about Vague

1. who’s arc is going to be the most surprising? you do not have to specify if it is positive or negative lmao

2. what is The Most ridiculous thing dez/frank or jack/vincent have gotten up to separately and together. bonus points if all four of them have had a shenanigan or two.

3. who would be the worst kid to baby sit?

4. who would kill each other if they were left alone as the last two people on earth?

5. worst take someone could have about se or any of the characters that would make you lay in the earth until the heat death of the universe? what about the best take that would fully ascend you to Best Weather Boy aka god

YIPPEE!!!!!! TYSM FOR THE QS!!!

1. who’s arc is going to be the most surprising? you do not have to specify if it is positive or negative lmao

funnily enough….Thursday’s!! His arc is most definitely gonna be the one to sort of throw people for a loop and (hopefully) make people sort of..question the way they view him! like dw at the end of the day he’s still gonna be a garbage person, like. that’s just who he is lmao but when it comes to his arc for Friday and even Francis i hope to surprise people :3

2. what is The Most ridiculous thing dez/frank or jack/vincent have gotten up to separately and together. bonus points if all four of them have had a shenanigan or two.

Desmond: Helped his older sibling Happy steal someone else’s cable (unknowingly), but ended up dropping the ladder becuz a hornet was trying to sting him so Happy ended up banging their head against the wall on the way down

Francis: Almost ate a couch and died. Once beat up an old lady for cutting her in line at Pfaffs and got arrested for it

Vincent: Fortnite danced her way out of getting killed by a rival drug dealer. Got scammed out of 40$ by a crystal seller while on acid cuz she was told her “vibes were bad”

Francis/Vincent: Vince tried to force Francis to bathe and as a result ended up flooding the apartment

Jack: i honest to god can’t think of anything he would do that would be ridiculous…he’s too CoolTM for this question i think lol. but he WAS there during the whole Vincent dancing incident and he just let that shit happen

3. who would be the worst kid to baby sit?

FRANCIS. FRANCIS 100% (backed up by JJ)

4. who would kill each other if they were left alone as the last two people on earth?

Lamia and Azel for FUCK sure. Lamia wouldn’t give a fuck if she was the last person on the planet, she’s taking revenge no matter what

5. worst take someone could have about se or any of the characters that would make you lay in the earth until the heat death of the universe? what about the best take that would fully ascend you to Best Weather Boy aka god

worst take: SO MANY TBH… part of me feels like yea this is vague and i actually do wanna answer this in a more serious/nuanced way so i’m gonna do a long hard think abt it and hopefully come back with actual answers…but meanwhile have these fake horrible SE takes that @bloody-hugs came up with:

best take: honestly i dunno…like people just coming away from this story learning something new abt themselves or realizing something or just enjoying the story trying to come up with theories and their own headcanons abt the characters like. i don’t think there’d be a “best take” in regards to a story like this but ummm i just want people to enjoy it uwu that’s how i complete my ascension to godhood

[faeriegoth]

As someone who is recently obsessed with hand-poked tattoos and doesnt use tiktok, THANK YOU for uploading that video of you practicing! There is like... not a lot of info on how to get started hand-poking the safe and sterile way online.

I had no idea what 'multiple passes' meant (and see people railing against it all the time) and couldnt figure out a way to hold the needle 😳 Wrapping it in tape is so smart and way safer than the other methods I've seen! A LOT of 'pros' are out there taping them to popsicle sticks or chopsticks... and re-using needles 😵 my tat artist wraps her tattoo machine in the same kind of tape, I don't know why I didn't think of it.

I am terrified of 'starting out' on my own skin so I've been trying to do as much research as possible on practicing the same way you would with a machine. Im going to buy the same supplies my tattoo artist has, but with a ton of fake skin, and practice on those for as long as I need to perfect the techniques and develop my style eventually.

Anyway I wish you luck on your hand-poke journey!! Your first stuff looks great already. Your vid encouraged & inspired me. I'll follow you on ig soon

thank you for this message it's v sweet :) i'm glad it helped and inspired you! if i'm honest i've had a lot going on in my personal life, mental health hasn't been great + also don't have stable housing rn so i haven't practiced in a little while, so this was a really nice message to read i appreciate it. hopefully i'll have the space to get back into it soon.

the guide i was following did suggest wrapping a popsicle stick to the needle (you see me use it to scoop the vaseline in the vid) but i found it didn't work for the way i hold the needle to poke. my tattoo artist used a popsicle stick when they did my arm tattoo, but i use tape. either way is fine just whatever works for u! i think the stick can help keep it steady and consistent, but it just doesn't feel right for the way i hold pencils etc when making art so i go with tape instead. re-using needles is obv a big no-no though, also if you're working on skin, whatever surface you're working on in the space should be sanitised and covered with cling film/saran wrap to make it as hygienic as possible - i just didnt do that with the fake skin bc i wasn't working with real skin. i'm not sure if they post internationally but i got my handpoke kit from here and they include a link to an informative guide by the seller who tattoos for a living. def recommend it if you're looking for some more insight and information

if you do follow my instagram i have a few videos of me practicing handpoke pinned as a highlight on my profile :) they're not as in-depth as the one i posted here, more like a little digital record so i can see how i improve as time goes on.

good luck on your handpoke journey! i'm by no means an expert but if you ever have any more questions about it i'll do my best to answer them

[avaantares]

More on that pirated fanfic thing...

@spamatron3000 wrote: #i doubt they have any of mine #primarily because only like two of them have ever been finished

I notified a few other authors whose works were listed along with mine (there are TONS but I just ran out of time today), and some of the fics that company had pirated were not even finished on AO3, so incomplete status does not appear to be any protection from piracy.

@littlebluewraith wrote: #i'm super curious about how much--if anything--they might have changed #did they at least ctrl+f and replace names or was it left fully intact?? lmao holy shit

NOPE. Not only did they not change anything, they didn't even do the logical thing and download the auto-generated ebook format from AO3! Instead, they appear to have copied the HTML version directly and dropped it into a (bad) ebook file generator, because it's full of formatting errors like underlined text and single-line paragraph breaks that wouldn't be present in a properly-formatted epub like the ones AO3 generates. (I read downloaded fics on my Kindle, so I know what the formatting looks like.) I looked at some other pirated books in their lineup, and it's the same thing in all of them. It makes me think the fics may have been scraped by a poorly-programmed bot, rather than manually copied.

Didn't even make a fake author name, holy shit. Is the lazily pirated fanfic genre really lucrative enough to make this worth it?? Who the fuck is buying these???

As for how lucrative it is... Sadly, the answer is very, which is why it's a huge problem throughout the publishing world. One common tactic is for pirates to steal and reupload ebooks from legitimate small-press or self-published authors, and then turn around and DMCA the authors to get the legitimate copies of their books kicked off of Amazon! Since Amazon gives the benefit of the doubt to the first person to file notice, this often results in the real authors' accounts being shut down, leaving the pirated copies without any sales competition for those titles.

In the case of fanfiction, since there's no cost for the material they're selling and very little risk of legal reprisal from fanfic authors (who tend to avoid legal entanglements over IP, given the fuzzy gray area fanfiction occupies), any revenue from the pirated books is pure profit for the pirates. Hundreds of millions of people shop on Amazon, so if even 0.000001% of them buy a $2.99 ebook, they still stand to make thousands of dollars from the scheme. It's a numbers game.

As for who is buying them... The pirate company is grouping them into series and dumping them into the same keyword pool as a bunch of other genre ebooks, so given the way Amazon's algorithms work, the pirated titles have a high chance of showing up in recommendations for people reading (for example) genre supernatural romance, or mecha war stories, or whatever. Thanks to One-Click purchasing and Kindle reward promotions, the buyer may not even realize it's fanfiction until after they've bought it!

And the sad truth is, a lot of people don't care if it's pirated, as long as it's cheap and/or convenient. Look how many people shop on sites like Redbubble without verifying that the seller is the original artist, even though a massive percentage of the content there is stolen.

[meaningtotellyou]

Dani someone is reselling their Taylor tickets. How do I not get scammed?

FIRST OF ALL only use PayPal Goods & Services!! You’ll get your money back in full if something goes wrong.

If you’re buying from twitter specifically, the current scam they’re all running on there is that they say they’re a minor and they’re not allowed to use PayPal, so they’ll try to get you to venmo or zelle them instead. DO NOT DO THIS. you will never see your money again.

Ask for numerous screenshots. Screenshots of the confirmation email, the tickets in the TM account, a screen recording of them leaving your messages and opening TM to the tickets

And if they DO send a screen recording and it looks super blurry and jumpy and just… off, it’s most likely fake.

Pay attention to the dates and times on the ticket screenshot/videos as well. Someone recently tried to scam me out of metlife tickets with tampa screenshots.

This may sound bad idk but look around the account too. Most of these scam accounts have like 3 posts but 500 followers. Have retweeted just a few random, popular videos and pictures from tour and that’s it. If it doesn’t really LOOK like a stan account, be careful too

Also there’s a trick going around saying ask the seller if the tickets are for the lover side or the reputation side of the stadium. We know that’s not a real thing, but if they give you an answer they’re just scamming

[ash4prez]

my b99 headcanons (thank me later) <33

—After the episode where terry can’t do yoga, he joins a weekly yoga class and is now in a group chat with five middle aged women who love brad pitt and cross-stitching.

—While he was in his prime shipping phase, charles definitely made a wattpad account with the username @peraltiago_foreverxX and wrote at least five fanfictions of different fluffy scenarios for jake and amy

—rosa has a secret obsession with Keeping Up with the Kardashians and used to watch it with Pimento. they were both very invested but refused to ever speak of it in public for fear of their badass reputations being ruined.

—Holt took Kevin and Cheddar on holiday to Florida and accidentally bumped into his old speed walking group from when he was undercover (they were on a road trip). they invited him out for coffee and he had to keep up his old fake identity by pretending that Kevin was his “bro”.

—Scully and Hitchcock loved taylor swift and would frequently go karaoking to her songs, usually dressed in blonde wigs and sequin bodysuits. (they definitely went to the eras tour together).

—Amy and her Dad text each other pictures of particularly difficult crossword puzzles to see if the other has the answer, and if neither of them do it becomes a competition to see who can figure it out first.

—Jake and Amy have a Wii and frequently have very competitive games of Mariokart and Wii bowling. One time, Amy swung the controller so hard that she hit Jake in the face, but he insisted on finishing the round even as bl00d poured out of his nose.

—Scully has been scammed on the internet because someone DMed him pretending to be Kate Moss. He gave her his card details so she could “buy a plane ticket to visit him”, but the next day he received bank transfers from a Porsche dealership and a private yacht seller.

—Terry hates sad films, but once Sharon forced him to watch Titanic and he sobbed his heart out whilst singing very loudly along to ‘my heart will go on’.

—Gina competed in a dancing competition and, whilst attempting a dirty-dancing style lift, she fell to the ground and broke her ankle. even from an ambulance stretcher, she shouted at her partner for “dropping her on purpose” and posted several angry instagram story updates.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 54 DAENERYS VI (pages 563-574)

Dany and friends visit the market for a fun day out while her husband is hunting, and meet a wine seller who causes a significant change in Drogo's plans.

-

"The stallion who mounts the world has no need of iron chairs." Dany propped herself up on her elbow to look up at him (...) "It was prophesied that the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth," she said. "The earth ends at the black salt sea," Drogo answered at once. ... "You must talk to my lord husband," Dany said. "Drogo says the stallion who mounts the world will have all the lands of the earth to rule, and no need to cross the poison water. He talks of leading his khalasar east after Rhaego is born, to plunder the lands around the Jade Sea."

Oh now that's interesting. Up until now, Dany's interest in Westeros has been tangential at best, it's just some place that she's heard about that her brother feels felt belonged to him. Dany has had repeated moments of "if I can have this life I have now, or a simpler one, forever, I would be happy." But now that Viserys is dead, she's campaigning for her son to get the Iron Throne.

The riders let them come and go from unmolested, so long as they observed the peace of the sacred city, did not profane the Mother of Mountains or the Womb of the World, and honored the crones of the dosh khaleen with the traditional gifts of salt, silver, and seed. The Dothraki did not truly comprehend this business of buying and selling things. ... She saw a beautiful feathered cloak from the Summer Isles, and took it for a gift. In return, she gave the merchant a silver medallion from her belt. That was how it was done among the Dothraki.

The salt and seed make complete sense, salt is the og preservative, nutritionally important and has a variety of practical uses including making food taste good, seeds can be used as food, fodder or growing crops. Silver makes sense in the more abstract, I would love to know if there's a specific reason for silver over other metals.

But you know what's never made sense to me? The idea that the Dothraki have zero concept of buy and sell. Like, they receive a gift and they give a gift in return, that's literally trade, buy and sell is just trade where we use something that has little other use (ie gold and silver) and agree each thing is tradable for a set amount of that. But she says 'did not truly comprehend' so they do kind of get it, possibly they just think it's dumb. But the way it gets brought up sometimes I have to wonder is GRRM implying that the Dothraki aren't smart enough to understand the set price trade system, or that the entire culture is composed of asshats who'd steal from a tip jar (or worse leave a fake bill that quotes scripture on one side. Like "My 65 page, fully coloured comic book that took a year to make, pay what you think it's worth." *Puts a single dollar in the jar* kind of people.) Obviously in Dothraki gift swapping, Merchants are making losses, but I suppose as long as the losses aren't life or limbs? (D&D and the show continues to be bad at translating things = 🥛)

- and Kayakayanaya with iron rings in their nipples and rubies in their cheeks, -

Okay for a second there I was imagining those stretcher earrings but with a giant slab of ruby in the hole and set in the cheek, but it's probably more like those cute little dimple piercings... right?

Dany felt disappointed, but Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one, and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly. Dany giggled. "You have not laughed since your brother the Kahl Raggat was crowned by Drogo," said Irri. "It is good to see you laugh, Khaleesi."

oh no 🚩 Be honest, how many of this group are going to die? NO, WAIT! Don't tell me. Let it blind side me, otherwise I'll be sad ahead of time. This is such a cute scene though. This, I want this for her so bad, low stakes and cute friend dates. (We'll ignore everyone on this outing who's not Dany either works for her, her husband or is a slave. They can be her friends too. Multitasking.)

Dany stumbled and lost her feet. "No," she screamed, thrusting her hands out to break her fall... and Doreah caught her by the arm and wrenched her backward, so she landed on her legs and not her belly.

Doreah MVP!!!!!!

"This poisoner was the first," Ser Jorah Mormont warned him, "but he will not be the last. Men will risk much for a lordship."

Well he would have been if Bobby B hadn't once again decided to severely inconvenience everyone around him!

"And to Rhaego son of Drogo, the stallion who will mount the world, to him I also pledge a gift. To him I will give this iron chair his mother's father sat in. I will give him the Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, will do this thing."

Psh, yeah, now that it's about a personal insult to you, but not when your wife was asking for it.

"- I will kill the men in the iron suits and tear down their stone houses. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak to bow down beneath the Mother of Mountains. -"

Classy. Die in a hole.

Sorry, the Drogo hate is back in full swing, like dude, just admit you weren't doing this because it's what Dany wanted, you didn't care about the Seven Kingdoms until they came after your property wife. Call her Moon of my Life all you want, but we all know this was about affection for her, it was about wounded ego for you. Creep.