#custom gold lead frame

[sheltiechicago]

Lillies, 2023, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 40 × 30 inches.

Artist: Sean Fader

The digital image as a tool for exploring queer histories.

Daddy, 2023, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 20 × 15 inches.

Spreckels Sugar, 2023, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 20 × 15 inches. 

Sugar Daddy I, 2021, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 44 × 78 inches.

[pullthehilt]

carrot at the end of a stick

Desc.: meet cute… but is it really

Characters: IMPLIDED RELATIONSHIP Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Azul Ashengrotto

Reader: not explicitly yuu

t/w: implied non-descriptive cannibalism

why is it all in bullet points? idk :> one day i will flesh this idea out, but i just really wanted to get this out before my dreams for the next few days is just this lol.

"And… let's talk about your love life."

It was a quiet afternoon on the pier; a summer buzz blanketing the residences of the shore as the rumble of the rollercoaster in the distance groaned. One such man had taken shelter from the sweltering heat in the cloth-covered stall of the fortune teller.

The guy in front of him was… shady to say the least; the man was in a pressed suit in the middle of summer, gloves and jacket and all.

He was sceptical, but he was also incredibly bored. So, agreeing, he splayed his hand palm-side up.

He peered over his glasses frame. "It'll be extra for that."

Tsk.

"Aha, dear customer. It seems you'll be having an encounter that'll change your life very, very, soon."

“A man, oh it kinda looks more like a woman-- well the encounter will definitely be with a person. Hmm, well it seems to be on the shoreline. Perhaps heading north-- in the evening…” blah blah blah

Well he's killing time at least and it’s not the worst place to be rotting his summer away in.

Exiting the tent he revels in the sticky, salty air and heads down the steps towards the shoreline.

He'd like to dip his toes in the water, kill the heat some more.

And then he sees them.

He sees you.

You're certainly a sight for sore eyes. Flushed from the sun, digging your feet in the sand. You sway gently with the waves, rhythmically matching the seas tune. The sun behind you douses you in liquid gold. It's like your clothing is just artistically draped onto you, white silk against your skin. There are shells piled into your arms, cradled as you continue to collect, bend and gently poke into the ground.

He's a long ways from you but it's like the world around him silences-- enraptured. He can no longer hear the sound of mechanical enjoyment, the rollercoasters and man-ran stalls. No sounds of children crying or couples bickering. Just the sounds of the waves accenting you.

And you're getting further and further away, shyly toeing towards the half-submerged tide pools.

He has half a mind to not bother you. It's a bit weird to trail after you, isn't it? You hadn't even noticed him as you were minding your own business.

But the words come back to him, the same way the water laps at his shoes.

"An encounter…"

At first he's only walking towards where you've disappeared over the horizon. The leisurely pace he treads, a product of hyping himself up for conversing with you, if you're still in the area. But then he hears a short yell and his heart staccatos.

Chasing after you is easy, sand being flicked up with every gallop towards your direction.

There's butterflies in his stomach from how your voice was carried in the wind-- is that what you sounded like when you were hurt? Or was it a yelp of surprise? Even scared, you sound so...

He scolds himself for even thinking of the other sounds you'd make.

When he reaches you, you're drenched and sat on a sloped rock.

The tide pool itself is shaped like a crescent, the open mouth leading directly to the sea-- and the waves are really working up a storm, as the tide has gotten inches higher from where it was just a few hours ago. At the centre of the crescent shape from where you're sat is a small rock pathway.

Your face is contorted, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pressed to a thin line. Slumped over your leg, you clutch at the leaking wound at the side of your shin.

"Oh god, are you alright?" He calls out to you, body leaning in your direction. It's cute how you jolt to attention, dishevelled.

At first it looks like you're analysing him, and so he tries, "I'm not here to harm you." Palms facing up, showing that he had nothing of a potential threat on his person. "I… I just heard a shout-- a scream. I thought someone needed help and you…"

"I scraped my leg… But… Uh, I'll be alright."

Your voice is light, fluffy even. He soaks it into his system like a sponge and wishes you'd talk more-- god he'd do anything to make you talk more--

"Do you need help?" Dumbass, he thinks to himself, of course you need help. He'd reprimand himself further if his mind hadn't frozen at the way your lips curved to a smile.

"It'd be nice if you could help me," calling out to him you kind of beckon him with your hand. "Come. Come help me." Stumbling to the edge, he prepares to step.

"What's your name?" He's afraid of coming off a bit too strong, but he needs to know. He can feel the water seeping into the canvas of his sneakers, pooling at his toes, but he only steps closer with one foot on the first stone of the pathways towards you.

The shape of your name casts into your lips, but the waves at the moment steal your voice. What? What did you say? He can't hear you, and he says so.

Carefully, he commits his weight to the first stone before moving to the next.

It's a short way to you, but he's slow to make his way as the water spits and crashes against the pathway. Torn between you and the stone he’s stood on, his eyes flicker between the two. Your hand is still stretched, as still as a marble statue. Waiting for him. A heat filters to pool in his ears the closer he gets to you. There's a flicker of hope tickling his spine as he imagines the words he'd say when he gets you off this rock-- he'd ask further if you were alright and if maybe you wanted him to accompany you to the lifeguard's tower to get you patched up. You'd say yes and then he'd follow up with shy conversation leading to the eventual exchanging of numbers. Then he'd for sure ask you on a date, maybe visit the small restaurant overlooking the cliffside a short walk away. Circle back to the pier, win you a couple of prizes from the vendors there… Visit the fortune teller and give him an extra tip.

He's so close to you now. Balancing on the next rock is hard, and he focuses to where his foot nearly slips. It would be terrible to embarrass himself by falling into the water-- troublesome too from how his shoes would be waterlogged and maybe tangled in the seaweed he could see dancing below.

The next stone is even smaller and he gets why you could've slipped here because, he's swinging his arms to regain his balance. But he sees your hand just in front of him and he clasps his to yours, fingers tightening.

Your smile is so bright, stretching to your eyes as your cheeks squish and mould into something Cheshire like.

He winces, your grip firm.

"Thank you." And he's tumbling as you yank sideways.

Water fills his lungs, salt attacking his tastebuds and stinging his eyes.

No one hears you when you're drowning, especially in the sea. The water crashing against the rocks is already loud in itself, and the fact that you have to fight between sputtering out water and kicking your legs to stay afloat and shouting is a battle in itself.

He screams to you, help him god-damn it. Fucking wench, why did you do that-- he'll actually drown at this rate. You're a bastard for tricking him like that-- a whore.

But your eyes are vacant and unfocused. You don’t see him, but you’re looking at his direction.

And then he feels something squeezing his leg. He's kicking harder now, has the thought to untangle the kelp or something he probably accidentally tangled into—

When he looks down, he doesn't see a clump of black wrung around him. Instead, there is a pair of half-moon eyes peering from beyond the water, coloured a sandy brown and warning sign yellow.

-

The water starts to turn a beautiful pink reminiscent to the colour of the coral and anemones dotting around your home. He, the man, is quick to have been pulled under with a trail of bubbles popping to the surface; at first it stays in once place, before the shape of him thrusts forward-- he rushes through the water like a bullet, tearing to circle the rock you sit upon.

 A warm sensation spreads across your stinging wound. When you look down there are a set of eyes fluttering back at you.

"Jade, stop that..." His tongue slips back into his mouth.

He parts from your calf, propping his head by your thigh, smiling. Floyd surfaces for a minute, eyes peeking back at the two of you. There's little disturbance as he moves almost jerking back and forth before his head fully floats above the water with a satisfied sigh.

"Was that all of him?"

"Dunno,” he burps out. “Definitely not all of him though.”

“Can you check?”

“Will I get a prize for doing it?” Glaring, you flick droplets at him with your free foot. He splashes back, waving an arm at you.

Clasping the foot, Jade cradles it to his chest. "Then… what part did you eat?"

"Dunno. An arm?”

“Floyd.”

“Hmph.” He dives back down, body folding to flicker into the deeper waters. After a moment, he resurfaces carrying something by the way he sways a bit more unevenly. “It was an arm.”

[saintmuses]

❝𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩❞

Pairing:

Chris x Rockstar!Reader

Summary:

It was 1978, she was living her life on stages. She had her whole future planned out which was playing in front of crowds until she dropped dead. Well that was the plan until the night she met Chris.

Warning(s): soft SMUT. Slight Oral (m-receiving). Slight fingering. P in V. Attack/threat (from a stranger). Minors, dni!

Word Count: 3k

For some reason, this particular night called her. Called out to her in a certain fashion with a seductive tone with a voice as a sin. 

She didn’t know why, but she was ready to fall in the deep abyss that was the night sky filled with clusters of stars. To her, the stars reminded her of gold dust from afar; the closest thing to her was the gold glitter smeared on her cheekbones that was brushed upwardly and gold eyeshadow that looked like fallen dust.

It was nineteen seventy-eight, and Y/N could practically taste the anticipation on her lips as she could hear the rising excitement of having her on stage at . 

Clad in worn-out converses, bell bottom jeans and skin tight tank top, she was the lead singer and one of the songs her band had written and produced ended up playing on the radio.

It was music to her ears, flowing in one ear with gold glitter and coming out with dust in gold dust because she drained every critic, every success, it was the most powerful thing in the world. The power that the words held over them. Sending them into a trance-like state, and she couldn't blame them because if she was in their shoes, she would've felt the same.

Her voice nearly faltered when her eyes landed on a lone guy standing by the wall, far away from the sporadic crowd, gripping the base of the microphone with one hand and holding the spine of the stand with the other; she was surprised by the fact that she could see him in the crowd like this. Pulsing, erratic, a unified wave with the strobe lights flashing red and blue over the nightclub.

Her voice then faded into the low range, whispering the words of the song that was blasting across the place as she raked her eyes down his frame.

She could tell that his hair was somewhat shoulder length and dark, almost as dark as the wall behind him, maybe even closer to black. She could tell there was a mustache adorning his skin between his nose and his upper lip, and he was handsome despite of it. He would've been just a regular nobody, and she would be none wiser, but the thing about him that drew her in like a moth to its flame was the holster hidden underneath his leather jacket.

And that was why she could tell he wasn't a regular nobody. Maybe nobody in her world, but as far as it goes...he wasn't a nobody in his world; of that she could tell. He was dressed in dark colored pants, a patterned buttoned up shirt beneath the leather jacket he was adorning that were clearly custom cut for his body.

Who carried a gun to a nightclub? Or even a bar? He was at a high risk of destroying the place with a sea of crowd full of intoxicated people and a few were all high on powdered addiction. 

She felt like she was singing the words to him. Maybe she was, but no one had to know. She was nearly flustered when she knew that he knew she was looking at him as she growled into the microphone -with the words that drove through the crowd relentlessly- due to the smirk that lilted his lips.

Those lips from afar, are the ones that she wanted to kiss. And she didn't even know him. Just a mere stranger from the sideline, an observant, a bystander. A handsome bystander at that. All she knew was his eyes were on her, and she relished in the attention that he was giving her. There could be many men in one room that could be so handsome, but she would single him out. 

It was electrifying.

Her painted lips trembled slightly at the sight of his face as he stared at her. It wasn't the one of those creepy stares that she would get every now and then. It was more of a romantic novel stare like one of those movies that border-lined dramatic on romantic scenes. She didn’t know him. Yet, she didn’t care because she had a feeling she will know him very soon.

She nibbled her bottom lip when the drummer took over for the solo, and her eyes were heavily lidded as she mentally beckoned him to come to her. To come closer to her, to lessen the distance between him and her with the crowd in between. 

To suppress the electricity charged tension that she had felt earlier before coming upon the elevated platform, she then knew it was him that was making the night called to her. She then shifted her hips to shimmy them to the beats of the drums as it echoed throughout the room.

Her eyes were still on his as she finished the song. She wouldn't be able to look at the song the same way ever again.

Every time she would sing the song in the future, she would remember the icy eyed man in a leather jacket.

Y/N dipped the rag into the running warm water and raised it in front of her as she stared at the dirty mirror of the small dingy bathroom, then dragged the damp cloth across her face to clean up the gold dust off of her cheeks.

When she was at the age of sixteen, she ran away from home; her mother and her father died in a robbery gone wrong sending her and her brother to their guardian. There were more secrets in the family, and more lies that she couldn't take anymore and ran out of the town ever since.

She was a runaway from the quiet town of Massachusetts and had ended up in California after weeks of long days and lonely nights where people paid her no mind and not an ounce of sympathy in their hearts. It had been one cold rainy night on the street in Los Angeles where she met her very first friend and bandmate.

They had a simple idea. A seed, really. It was a tiny seed that slowly turned into roots then it erupted into a wild thing. A simple idea was to form a rock band, whereas everyone chased their dreams, and had been crushed when life deemed to not be satisfied enough to give them what they deserved after a lot of sacrifices and dedication.

Somehow, Y/N and her bandmate were able to make it come true. It was a small dream, really. It went from two, a guitarist and a singer. That was a rough draft; then they somehow got three more. A dream became a reality when she was eighteen when she heard her song on the radio for the first time. She wasn't always the avid music lover; she'd settle for classical music. 

When she was a little girl, she wanted to be a doctor; to follow her father's footsteps. After her parents died, that desire went from being a doctor to a writer. A writer about horrors, she supposed. Granted she had enough of them to last a lifetime.

Between running away from a small town in Massachusetts to arriving in a severely overpopulated city that is Los Angeles, music had become her only source of comfort. she had constantly listened to Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, ABBA, Meat Loaf, the Runaways, and etcetera on the radios in the random vehicles as she raised her thumb in the cool days of spring and hot days of summer to hitch a ride or two across the States to realize that the music was her lover. Then from that point on, it manifested into a dream.

No matter how much she played the music, sung into the melody's lips, her lover, she would always be the imposter; inside of the rock persona, she was a nobody, a nineteen-year-old from the quiet town who escaped from her past, because nothing will change the truth about herself. 

Y/N sighed as she pulled her leather jacket around her frame tightly as she stepped through the back door and into the October air. She glanced around when she felt a shift in the air; she already sent her friends to the hotel earlier and wanted the night to herself so she was on high alert.

Before she could take a step on the way out of the alleyway, she felt a presence looming over her, and she turned around. She let out a groan when her back slammed against the rough wall, and she opened her eyes to see an unknown man hovering over her with his hand wrapped around her throat, constricting her airways along with a knife to her skin.

"Ah, pretty thing." The man hissed; his eyes flashed maliciously as his lips curled. "Why won't you fight back?" He asked after he realized she wasn't taking control of the situation.

"Are you stupid?" She hissed gasping as she struggled to breathe, "you’re holding a knife to my neck."

He bared his teeth in response which revealed his fury, and he reared back to shove the weapon into the juncture of her neck.

She squeezed her eyelids shut in preparation of the pain that she knew she would feel once his knife cut into her skin, but nothing happened until she heard a gun going off and she felt his fingers loosening the grip on her throat; so, she opened her eyes to see a stunned face reflecting back at her, his eyes were wide, unseeingly and his mouth was agape before collapsing onto the pavement.

Her eyes followed to see a familiar man she saw in the audience earlier, the one who she couldn't take her eyes off all night, standing in front of her with his fingers gripping a handgun in his hand and drops of blood splattered his face.

"You alright?" he asked, his hand -the one not holding the weapon- was reaching for the handkerchief inside of his leather jacket, tugging on it and pulled it out as he placed the weapon back into his holster.

The man whipped the cloth into a loose form as her eyes drew to it; it was white, a stark contrast of himself. White was pure, from what she could tell he was not pure, and she was certain that he weathered a lot of burden in that regard.

She snorted, "I am…” she trailed off, eyeing him. “But who the hell are you?" She asked, shaking her head slightly.

"Chris." His eyebrows shot up with a smirk, then he wrapped the cloth around his face to wipe off the excess of her attacker's blood.

"Well, Chris. Thank you for saving my life." She grumbled, straightening her leather jacket, dusting off some lint off of her shoulders before looking at him.

"You don’t like it when someone saves you?" He asked after stuffing the cloth into the pocket of his pants.

She nodded, pushing a several loose strands away from her face. “Don’t like owing someone a debt.” 

He inclined his head towards her, "Let me take you to some place nearby and we can talk more about this," he gestured for her to come with him.

“Can I trust you?”

“Aye, I did save your life after all.” A smirk curled his lips before walking away while pulling out a case of cigarettes out of his leather jacket pocket.

"My mama had warned me about men like you," she said playfully as she slid into the booth underneath the bright lights of the quiet diner. A stark contrast to the night lights in the crowd of the bar.

He clasped his fingers on the top of the dull surface of the table, chuckling slightly, "she told you to stay away from IRA men, eh?” 

She shook her head, “no. Dangerous men.”

“Not dangerous around you,” he murmured causing her to blush. “What made you want to sing?” He was genuinely curious.

She looked at him, eyeing him before she exhaled softly. "It was sort of a dying wish; my life has been filled with death and none of people did what they wanted to do…my life was dull ever since my parents died and I had to do something about it. It's like a bucket list, except there's only one thing on the list to do before my death. So, when I die, at least I did something meaningful with my life.”

It had been during one hot summer day in nineteen seventy-six when he heard her voice for the first time. He could recall her voice sent shivers down his spine when it blasted from the radio in his borrowed vehicle, he didn't know who she was then; However, he knew he had to know her.

It was enticing, her voice. When he went across one of the local record stores, he found what he was looking for, and he had remembered his eyes widened, his jaw slacked, and his fingers were gripping on the cover.

He was a fool when he thought that he was done playing a schoolboy with a crush on some hot girls back in Ireland, but the proof was undeniably on the cover that he's holding.

He was curious about the voice of the music, so he had bought it and had listened to it. It wasn't until over a year later, he heard that Y/N and her band were going to play at a bar which happened to be near where he was staying at.

He was already enraptured by her voice, but until he walked into the sporadic room, she had captured his attention to her beauty that the others did not have. By the time she was done with the show, he knew he had to have her. 

"Thank you," she murmured while fiddling her thumbs.

He tilted his head sideway. "For what?"

"For saving my life." She smiled softly.

He allowed a small smirk to grace upon his face while gazing at her. "You can thank me by telling me how you were introduced to a different world." He said expectantly, ignoring the tension that rose between them. It wasn't the time yet.

She hummed before telling him the story from the very first night she almost died.

A few hours later, he drove her back to his rental place which happened to be a dingy little motel, and now they're in the assigned room of his.

"I...I don't really do this stuff," she stammered, flushing heavily under his heady gaze.

One thing had led to another as soon they walked into the living room. Electricity surged between them with phantom rope tied them together, and they had to give into the feeling. The tension had exploded literally and figuratively. 

It was undeniably inevitable.

He walked closer to her, loosening the jacket, and she forced herself to keep her arms by her side from touching him. She felt the weight of his hand pressed against the lower part of her back as he reached for her. It ascended in a slow line, following the curve of her back from her spine.

"It's okay. I don't do it either," he murmured, and then his fingers curled around the nape of her neck, and her mind quieted.

“I don’t believe you,” she said automatically.

“Well, I don’t, I usually just take them out for dinner, but sometimes it’s tediously boring that we never go that far. You on the other hand…” he trailed off; His other hand drew a trail over the curve of her hip, rising over her waist where he barely grazed over her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat and her gaze averted at his exploration. He dipped his head, his lips hovering over hers. Her lips trembled at the sheer tension as it rose between them.

His fingers caressed her face, tucking strands of hair behind her ears as his tongue slid against hers, and she just pressed her body against his in response, he then gripped her by the waist. It wasn't enough.

It was heaven and hell being close to his presence.

She nipped at his neck, and he gasped. She finally opened his shirt and yanked it from his pants rather unceremoniously, her fingers touching the fabric.

She sucked in a gasp at the sudden pressure of two digits sliding over the underwear.

He held her gaze, her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks utterly entrancing. She felt his fingers hooked into the elastic of her underwear and tugged down, allowing them to drop onto the floor. She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers trail up her thighs.

His breath was hot in her ear as he murmured her name, her hips bucked forward as he slid his fingers into her.

His eyes trailed over her bare breasts after she reached around her back to unclasp the hooks and dropped her bra to the floor. The light pressure made her knees shake as he cupped her breasts with his fingers, blue eyes gazing as her back helplessly arched.

She lowered herself to the floor, the thick carpet was soft under her knees.

When she looked up at him, she saw his head was thrown back, his eyes closed. He groaned and tightened his grip in her hair, making her eyes roll back.

She felt a flash of arousal clenching her abdomen. That she could easily make him lose control as easy as he could keep a façade. She then swirled her tongue around his cock, taking him deeper with glitter in her eyes.

His body was flushed against her, hovering over her frame, all around her in so many ways in one. She quietly begged him to move. As if he could read her mind, he began to slowly move in and out of her with a swirl of his hips, pushing back in all the way with each thrust.

Her body rocked helplessly against the mattress each time, her breasts bounced slightly with each thrust, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match her heartbeat. His hips thrusted so roughly that she'd be sore. Her hips would ache, she'd feel him for the rest of the night and in the morning.

His breath came in shallow pants, he whispered against her damp skin that he will make her breakfast in the morning.

That thought made her feel warmer than she had ever been.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Seven

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness, an early update from me?? How crazy!  I never update early the world must be ending. I know it's only like a day, but still, it's a day early! For someone reason, it was super easy to write. I don't know what that says about me. xD I want to thank y'all sooooo much for constantly supporting me. When I first started this fic, I honestly thought nobody would read it and that those who did would hate bomb me. Everyone who has commented has been super nice to me, and I honestly can't thank you enough for it. I do want to warn you, though, that there's going to be a chapter in the distant future where were discuss Aegon's not-so-consensual activities. That's all I'm going to say about that. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a steamy one toward the end. ;)

Chapter Warnings: Flash Back, Somnophilia

Prince Daemon opened the door to Madam's brothel like a dark cloud, slowly traveling with the threat of a storm, Dark Sister tapping the frame. Rage was his presence as he entered, though his outward appearance seemed as if he was unbothered. He was on a mission, and he had only one question.

"Where is she?" He asked the first woman he saw, a client on her arm. She smiled at him sweetly.

"Give me one moment Ser, so I can escort this handsome patron out, and I will be right with you." She buttered the man up, her words a purr in his ear as she stroked his cheek.

Daemon rolled his eyes, taking three long strides to the girl and grabbing her by the arm. "You will listen to me and listen well. Forget this fool." She whimpered, letting go of the man's arm as she went to shield her face.

"I am Prince Daemon Targaryen, the man who created the very Gold Cloaks that will burn this establishment to the ground should I snap my fingers." She nodded, eyes teary and lips quivering. The girl was confused and caught unaware by the Prince's presence. He had not been here in quite some time, ever the loyal husband to Princess Rhaenyra. 

"Where is Madam?" He seethed through gritted teeth at her prolonged silence. The whore took a shaking breath, hesitating momentarily as she glanced at Dark Sister, deciding the truth would be better than Valyrian steel through her stomach. 

She leads Daemon to a back room, hidden and out of the way so no simple-minded customers could mistakenly enter. A small fire was lit, and a cast iron cauldron hung over it as Madam stood hunched, her shoulders shaking.

"Madam," the girl spoke softly, and she straightened her posture, wiping at her face as she turned to scold the worker, but stopped short, seeing a former star patron.

"Prince Daemon," she curtsied, sniffling to clear her nose, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" Madam knew she was playing a dangerous game.

"You know exactly why I am here," he replied firmly. Madam tilted her head at her worker, silently telling her working girl to leave.

"I am not sure I do. You know better than anyone that there is no need to come directly to me in order to schedule a session," she said dismissively. 

Of course, Madam knew precisely why he was here. It was the exact reason why she was crying.

"Do not play dumb, Babette. Where is Elaina?" He asked, losing patience.

"I already told you this many years ago when you first asked. My answer has not changed. She went back home to the North." Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes again as he stepped closer.

"I may have believed that lie once, but not anymore. She has no ties to her family." Madam sighed, shaking her head and raising her arms as if talking to a belligerent child.

"I am not sure what you want me to say, Your Grace. That was all the explanation she gave me before disappearing."

Daemon growled, charging at the poor woman and pushing her against the fireplace by her neck. Madam could not react, nearly falling into the simmering stew pot as she grappled for purchase.

"Stop protecting her, Babette; I have no intention to harm. I need answers," he spat.

"I have none to give," she relented, ever the strong woman from years prior. 

"Stop lying to me!" He yelled, shoving her into the hearth, her head smacking the stone. "Where is Elaina? Where is my child?"

Madam was a force to be reckoned with herself, but when put against the Rogue Prince, the man crowned King of the Step Stones, she had no choice but to yield. Her years of hardening were not meant to withstand the flames of a dragon.

"Elaina is dead, thanks to the babe you put in her belly, and that child-- my child," Daemon's grip loosened, a lump beginning to form in his throat, "that I have raised into a beautiful young woman has been taken by your eldest nephew for reasons unknown to me,"

Sadness replaced his rage, a dark, depressing feeling shadowing in the pit of his stomach. 

Yet another woman in his life has died from childbirth—his mother, sister-in-law, wife, and now a former mistress. Did the cycle of maternal loss ever end? The water wheel that was the Targaryen's customs was spun by endless blood and loss. Daemon's face was stone, though his heart was not. A twitch of his lip indicated he was upset by the news of Elaina's death.

Finally, he stepped away from Madam. Was he destined to lose every woman he had cared for on the birthing bed? What would become of Rhaenyra? She had just given birth to Joffrey not nearly two years ago, and she was already filled with the starts of another. She had been lucky, but the Gods' favor only lasted so long. What would become of you once put in that same spot?

"She is with Aegon, yes?" He questioned Babette, sniffing once as he rested his hand on Dark Sister. She nodded, cradling her wounded head, blood painting her fingers. "The Gods only know what that drunkard has done to her," Daemon said as he swiftly left the brothel, a new mission on his mind.

Lyra ducked into an alcove. Her grey cloak covered most of her recognizable face, the shadows of the secret entrance aiding her efforts. The layout of the many secret passages into the Red Keep was slowly becoming etched in her memory. She needed to know them like the back of her hand.

Her little apple, she thought somberly, her heart aching in the palms of gluttonous high-borns. Left to be eaten until there is nothing.

Madam had sheltered you too much from the reality of the world. You were too kind to bare the Targaryen name, too innocent to become a part of their "holier than thou" culture. You were not stupid, Lyra knew that, but your ignorance was simply due to a purposeful lack of knowledge on Madam's part. Unlike most girls your age, you knew about sex, the pleasures a man could receive, but you still had the inexperience as them, and without some trustworthy to guide you... there was no telling what path you might follow.

Lyra stopped at an almost invisible door, the wood untreated and dark within the shadows. She used her knuckles to knock a rhythm into the door, short and legato sounding. She waited, her anxiety boiling inside her stomach as she bounced on her feet. The passing time seemed too long. By now, someone would've opened the door.

"Lyra, you must leave. The castle is in a tizzy with the arrival of-"

Lyra didn't wait for the servant dressed in red to finish, shoving her way into the bustling kitchen of the Red Keep.

"Lyra, I cannot help you right now," Sara chased, tugging her friend's arm. "They are preparing a feast for the royal family!"

Lyra ignored her, running to another hidden servant's passage, her leather shoes tapping on the worn stone floors.

"Where is she," Lyra asked, sprinting up multiple steps. "I must see her. I need to tell her to wait." Sara tripped up the stairs, catching her skirt as Lyra gained more distance.

"If you would take a moment, Lyra, I could tell you," she huffed, catching up to her old friend at the top of the passage. "They are at dinner," Sara finally answered, her breathing ragged. "She met Daemon. I observed through the walls. He was kind to her. I believe there is no ill-will between them."

"That is a relief to hear; truly, it is Sara, but the things I have listened to since she left..." Lyra trailed off, "a girl of her age should not be partaking in such activities. She is far too young to comprehend the consequences fully."

"That is hypocritical, Lyra," Sara scolded, crossing her arms. "I remember us during girlhood. We were not much better."

"That was different," Lyra said. She dismissed any more attempts of scolding from Sara, opening the door as the sounds of music seeped through the crack.

She could see you dancing, hopping back and forth like a rabbit with Princess Halaena. Lyra could not help but smile. Seeing the joy on your face was infectious. It had become a rare sight over the past moons. Partly, because you had just gotten your cycle, your body readying itself to fill its biological purpose. A part of her almost felt guilty for trying to ruin your night with the plans of your escape.

Your laughter carried into Lyra's hiding place as you lifted the Princess. Lyra slowly shut the door, a wan smile covering her face. It might do you good to extend your stay at the Red Keep. You could live as a girl, make friends and play as you never could. It would give Madam a sense of ease to know you were well and to gather the needed supplies for your trip across the Narrow Sea.

Sara gave Lyra a confused look as she retraced her steps. She still needed to memorize them. You would be safe for now, and that was all that mattered as Lyra slinked back to Flea Bottom.

Daemon had escorted you to your room after dinner, silent the entire way. You were thankful for that; if he had sparked conversation, you could not have held back your grin.

Of course, you were still upset with Aegon for stealing you away and keeping his real reason for wanting you at the castle, but how he looked at you... He made you feel like you were the only person worth looking at in a room full of royalty... It made your heart feel full.

Perhaps you were too harsh in judging him? He is still a person growing into an adult, the same as you. You acted immaturely with Ma, and he acted stupidly with you. You would forgive him, just as Ma forgave you.

You thought of Daemon, wondering what was running through his head during that silence. You understood that people believed you were his daughter, but your mother was not alive to claim it as such.

Sara calmly unbraided your hair as Caldia fluffed your pillows, and one of the other girls you had come to find out was named Izola laid a thin buttoned nightgown on the bed. It was nice to be dotted on, feeling more important than you were as your eyes became heavy.

It reminded you of the nights you and Aunt Lyra would pamper each other. She would use extra wages on the day off to gather pastries, flowers, and sweets. You would sit and listen to her odd stories of patrons for that week about how one man wanted her to call him "brother" and cried after he came. You would laugh and laugh as you both stuffed your mouths full.

Suddenly, your chest hurt, your heart skipping a beat, fluttering rapidly to regain its set pace. You clenched your fist, placing it over your heaving breasts as you tried to steady your breathing. It felt like you had fallen from a great distance and landed on your back. Tears swelled in your eyes as your body panicked, unsure of how to respond as it betrayed itself.

"My Lady," Sara spoke with concern in her voice. She had stopped unbraiding your hair, her hands on your shoulders as they heaved up and down. "Are you alright?" She asked, turning to see your frightened expression.

The other girls came rushing over, like swans landing on a pond, as they all gathered around you with concerned looks.

"My Lady, what has upset you?" Izola questioned as she put the back of her hand to your temple.

"My..." You stuttered, clutching your beating chest. "My... Heart," you gasped, confused and scared about what was happening. "I want Auntie Lyra. I want Ma. Where is she?"

You couldn't think straight. Your mind attempted to grasp what was happening, reverting to a terrified child after a nightmare.

"Ma is not here. You are in the Red Keep," Sara attempted to soothe you, unsure whether she should reveal what she knew.

"I-I want to go home," your voice was thick with shedding tears.

"You..." Sara glanced around, unsure, her voice becoming soft and pointed, trying to convey a message with her tone. "You are home."

"No," you cried, yanking at the collar of your dress. "I want to go home! I want to be with my family!"

The gown no longer held beauty when you gazed upon it. All you saw were hands.

You were screaming, your eyes blinded by tears as you stumbled into the vanity, falling to the stone floor. Dozens of pale jeweled fingers become your skin, trying to penetrate your flesh. They consumed you, curling inside as you attempted to pry them away. You pulled and swatted at them, but nothing worked. A never-ending cycle would appear as soon as you broke free of one another.

"Get off," you shrieked, "get away from me!"

You couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't see. All you could do was feel their burrowing digits wiggling into you.

"Ma!" You screamed again, though you knew she wasn't coming. "Ma! Ma!" Your voice cracked, sounding thick with saliva.

You heard a loud crashing noise in the background, and you turned to look, but one of the hands gripped your face, forcing you to look back at them. You could see them gnawing like rats through your flesh and bone. Before you realized it, you were being lifted, the bejeweled fingers still all over your skin as someone shoved you into a chair.

Suddenly, they all vanished under a curtain of water, and you finally regained all your senses, looking at staring faces.

Caldia stood panting, a silver bucket in her grip. The other two maids were there, along with the Guard who was stationed outside your room. Sara and Izola were holding each other, their faces red and tears brimming their eyes. They must have seen them too... the hands.

"I came as swiftly as the Gods allowed," an older gentleman in pious brown robes said, bursting into your chambers with another man dressed similarly with a leather bag.

"Maester Mellos," Sara greeted in relief. She released Izola and thanked him with a squeeze. "I do not know what happened. One moment I was readying her for bed; the next..." She trailed off, looking at you with concern.

The Maester turned, seeing a girl who looked like she had run from one end of the Keep to the other, then averted his eyes swiftly.

"For God's sake. Give this girl some clothes."

You lowered your head. While in your fit, you had split the gown down to the waist; you only tore your small clothes a little higher. You covered yourself in shame, and embarrassment biting your ears. Caldia dropped the pale and grabbed your night dress from the beautifully patterned silk bed while Sara and Izola went to pull the tattered slit to keep your modesty.

Maester Mellows continued his examination, listening to your heart and touching your neck and underarms for anything abnormal. His companion took notes, a leather-bound book and feather quill in hand as the Maester whispered his findings. Your handmaids stood in the background, each with worried expressions.

One with a hand over their pursed lips, the middle looking between you and the stone floor, the other with arms crossed tightly around their chest, swaying slightly.

"She seems to be in good health," Maester Mellos declared. All three women sighed in relief, whispering thanks to the Seven. "Though her heart beats like a wild stallion, even when resting." As he continued, their faces dropped, fear rising to replace their short-lived relief. "I recommend deep breathing exercises to steady the pulse, but if something like this were to occur again..."

He motioned to his assistant, taking his bag and rummaging through it until he found what he was searching for. "Take a spoonful of this. Not a drop more."

He handed you an amber-colored glass bottle, a cork keeping it tightly sealed as you accepted it with trembling hands, letting him know you understood.

"Child, do you think you will be able to sleep tonight?" You lowered your gaze as your pride made your tongue feel like lead.

Maester Mellos sighed through his nose, kneeling to your height and placing a hand in your shaking ones.

"Tis alright, my girl. All women suffer hysteria from time to time. A punishment that all suffer in this time. Just do as I ask and all will be well." His tone was soft and kind, as a grandfather would speak to their grandchild, but the contents made you feel insulted.

He uncorked the bottle with a pop, getting a spoon from his bag as he poured the liquid into the bowl. You opened your mouth as he raised it, wrapping your dry lips around the cold silver. It was tan, almost the same color as molasses, and you began to feel skeptical of the powers this magic potion was implied to have.

You nearly spat it out from the taste. It was a bitter flavor worse than the absinthe Aegon gave you and burned your throat just the same. You didn't think to ask what it was, too focused on not spitting up as you forced yourself to swallow, taking a gulp of air with you and burping afterward.

"Rest now, child; the Seven smile down upon you. Thank the Maiden for this being your only ailment, and pray to the others for your continued health. You will be well in no time if you devote yourself to that." You nodded again, pushing yourself out of the chair wordlessly as you climbed into your bed, your handmaid hurrying to help you.

The Maester and his companion took their leave with a swift bow, the Guard escorting them out of your chambers and leaving the four of you alone. You had been nothing but a calm, albeit stubborn, guest in the Red Keep, and they were more concerned than anything. You could sense that they had questions, wanting to know where this sudden outburst came from.

The day had taken too much from you, and you had no more energy to speak as they pulled the silk sheets to your chest, tucking you in as Ma or Lyra would. You had begun to feel the effects of whatever Maester Mellos had given you as the girls left. Your limbs were heavy, and you felt your body and mind relax, sinking deeper and deeper onto a bed of clouds.

Aegon had drowned himself in his cups as always, but he did not desire to explore the Streets of Silk as he usually would at this hour. He sat on the stairwell leading down to your bed chamber hallway, waiting patiently until he saw everyone leave. Seeing the Maester as one of them did startle him a bit. What had happened in the time he was not with you?

He realized then that his little dragon could not be left unattended. He must be with you at all times lest something happen. It would be a difficult task for Aegon, yes, but he would do it. He would do it for you. You were his hatchling, after all. His and only his.

The eldest Prince waited a few more moments until he was sure your ladies would not return. He pulled himself up onto wobbly legs as he descended the stairs, dragging his fingers along the corridor until he felt a familiar little divot.

Aegon opened the wall into a hidden passageway connected to the many others that led out of the castle, but he didn't intend to leave tonight. Everything that he desired was right here in these very Redstone walls.

He traveled until he saw the familiar patch of stone that signified your room, making sure his drunk legs did not make a sound in case you had fallen asleep. Aegon pushed the wall slowly, careful not to have the stone scrape the ground as he peered through the crack.

Aside from lit candles on your bedside tables, there was no light in your chambers. He pushed the door partly open so that he could slink through, still as quiet as a mouse as he went to the lump on the side of the bed. He called out softly to not scare you, but as you did not move, he continued and sat on your mattress. Still, you did not stir. Your lips parted slightly as drool leaked onto your cheek. He leaned over, gently swiping away the spit, and finally, you roused, only moving from your side to your back, the covers below your chest.

Your nightgown had come unbuttoned, exposing the glistening valley between your breasts. It stopped short of fully revealing what he longed to see to Aegon, much to his disappointment. He traced his finger over your skin, sticky from the summer night's heat, and you, once again, did not move. He was mildly concerned you did not wake from his touch, but it did not stop him, his cock growing hard in his trousers.

He knew in his mind that if you had been awake, you would not let him touch you as he did, moving the fabric over to free one of your breasts. And the fact that you were not conscious right now, your body unable to reject or accept his advances, made him groan.

Aegon moved, swinging a leg over so you were in between his. Surely this would be when you would wake, kick, and scream at him until he left. But no, you laid beneath him like a log, and he grinned. Indeed this was a sign from the Gods you wanted him. In sleep, your body did not see him as a threat, which meant you truly desired him; your conscious mind did not know it yet.

His needy cock became too much, and he freed it from the confines of his pants. The head was a ruddy pink from his rushing blood, his thick shaft pulsing in time with the hammering of his heart.

He removed your other breast from your nightgown, the nipples taught and ready for him to pinch. One hand found the base of his member, the other groping and massaging the sensitive flesh. It only made him go faster, his hand pumping in shorter and quicker strokes. To his luck, you were still sound asleep, with no expression as to whether you felt him.

Aegon wanted to shove his needy cock down your throat and continue what you had started from a moment that now felt ages ago. When you asked him, drunk on the little death he had just given you, to teach you how to pleasure him. Perhaps your subconscious could learn instead.

"I like it sloppy," he said in a strained voice, spitting on his prick as he mimicked the squeeze of your womanhood with his fist, "but for you, little one, we will go slow. I'll have you dripping first, your little cunt begging to be stuffed by me. You will do better that way," Aegon grunted at the thought as he continued. "Then, I'll have you spit on me and use your tongue to spread it before I sink into your mouth. Do not worry. I shan't shove it in all at once. I'll ease it in. I'll guide your head to find the pace I like, and you'll use your hand to make up for the lost space."

He felt a jolt of pleasure, picturing the scenario in his mind, your big doe eyes staring up at him, looking for reassurance.

"Of course, you will be unsure if you are doing it right, but not to worry, I will tell you." The stroking of his cock went faster, making the pace that you would set for him. "Good girl, I would say. You're taking me so well. I know you would just clench at my praise and try to take more of me. I know what you are, even if you do not. A good little girl that would take whatever I gave her with a smile; you just don't realize it yet." Aegon could feel his high mounting quickly, grunts and moans spewing from his chest as he moved his free hand to squeeze your throat.

"You will do that for me, won't you, little one? You'll take my cock down your fucking throat and thank your Prince when you are done?"

Your eyelids fluttered open at the lack of air, sleep still clouding your vision and mind. You could only make out a face—shoulder-length hair of white, pouting pink lips wet with spit, and flushed cheeks.

"Aegon," you whispered groggily, suddenly pulled back under the sleep waves.

He came quickly and suddenly at the sound of his name from your lips. It was such a force that his seed shot to your chin.

"Yes, it is me, little one. I am here," he answered as more spurts of his manhood fell onto your bare chest. "I am here." You did not hear his words. Already back in a deep slumber as you squirmed slightly, wiping his labor off your chin.

Aegon cursed the Gods for such an insurmountable and sudden pleasure, stroking his cock slowly as he came down, almost collapsing on top of you. He wanted to watch you clean yourself, forcing you to wipe his spend off your body with your fingers, sucking it off before swiping for more, but alas, his little dragon was sleeping and knew better than to wake you. He needed now, more than ever, for you to be awake.

Aegon tucked himself back into his trousers and left the bed, searching for a rag to wipe you but could find none, only seeing your peasant clothes draped over a chair. The maids must've forgotten them, and he grabbed the dirty outfit stained with sweat and alcohol to clean his sin of your flesh. He looked out the window once he was done, throwing the clothes in a random spot for later.

At this point in the night, he realized where his highs would cease, and his thoughts would finally reign free. His chest felt empty, a horrid feeling of shame and guilt gnawing at his gut. No one would ever love him, he realized, not in the way he sought for. His mother was ashamed and disgusted at the mere thought of him. His brother filled all the criteria his Mother wanted him to, and his youngest sister, his... wife, stuck in a marriage she nor he wanted, forced to carry his heirs. His father often forgot he even existed in favor of Rhaenyra and her bastard children.

How would he ruin your life, Aegon wondered. It was inevitable. You, too, would surely follow the same pattern. You would hate him, be repulsed by his heinous actions, and become like everyone else. He heard you stir in bed behind him but did not care; you were still fast asleep. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, sniffing and willing himself not to let them shed as he crossed his arms for comfort.

"Aegon," he heard a soft voice behind him call. "What are you doing here?" He quickly wiped the tears from his face, rushing over to kneel on the opposite side of your bed.

You saw the wet streaks, his eyes bloodshot. "Are your alright?" You asked, sitting up as you grew more concerned.

"Yes, yes, little one. I am pretty alright. I was just stopping by to see how you faired after tonights events," he lied. You didn't believe him. Your mind slows as you think of what to say.

Though you were still angry at him for what he had done, you felt your heart soften at his broken face as you opened the covers on the other side of you. "Would you lay with me," you quietly spoke, doubling down as you saw his surprised expression. "Just for a little while until I fall back to sleep." Aegon did not hesitate to kick off his boots, shedding his wine-stained shirt as he climbed in. He, too, was desperate for companionship, as he always was.

You knew this was considered improper in royal customs, and you would most defiantly get into trouble if Daemon found out, but you didn't care. You could tell you, and Aegon needed some, if just for the night.

Aegon climbed into bed wordlessly. From the moment you met him, he was always the one to lead, and you were blank on how to proceed. He was afraid to say the wrong thing and have you refute your offer. You both lay there awkwardly, staring a the black ceiling in silence. You were still trying to figure out what to do.

You recalled childhood moments when you would crawl into Aunt Lyra's bed after Ma had scored you. It was almost second nature for her. She always knew how to help you and make you feel better.

You scooted closer to Aegon's stiff form, wrapping your arms around him as he turned. You did not speak. There was nothing to say as you squeezed him closer to you. Each other's presence was enough as you slowly drifted back to sleep. Eventually, his arms wrapped around yours as something akin to water slid down your skin.

Master List of Series

Aegon is a mentally ill and emotionally stunted individual who does terrible things. Instead of mommy issues, he has "everyone in his family issues." I just wanna stroke that baby prince's cock and tell him what a good boy he is as he makes a mess of himself with his cum.

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Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess

[blue-rose-soul]

Where could you see Alastor setting up his eatery if not Cannibal Town? He may keep his meals free of mystery meat, but there is the safety factor of being in a friend's territory.

For some reason I think he'd keep it small. Restaurant feels too big a title. So... Eatery. :}

Vox is banned from all Royal Properties, Alastor's side project included, and Alastor doesn't officially allow the BeeEats service so he can't even order on the sly. He'd be lying if he said he didn't care.

Yeah, I think he'd make it something small and quaint too. Not like a Michelin 5-star restaurant but the kind of place that attracts a solid number of regulars and hosts live music. It definitely has that rustic vibe Alastor is so fond of and several nods to the bar where Nicaise taught him to play the piano. There's a wall of banned customers and Vox's portrait was up there before opening day on a 18" x 24" gold-framed canvas with a plaque reading, 'Idiot Box.' And then there are a few dozen smaller photo prints of the various VoxTech employees who have been sent to get takeout on Vox's behalf only to be stopped at the door. Vox 'settles' for having his personal chef try to recreate Alastor's pompano en papillote, but it's not the same...

As for its exact location, it's a little hard for me to pick out a specific area to place it. One of the mods (don't remember which) of @nunalastor did a pretty good analysis of various scenes of the layout of Pentagram City and how they contradict one another, which lead to a pretty cool collective headcanon that the city actually rearranges itself. (If I'm able to find the post I'll come back later and link it). As far as I know this is because Vivienne cared more about setting up good-looking scenes than mathematically calculating the smallest detail of her fictional world. I'd say Alastor would pick out an older neighborhood far from the Vees' entertainment district or Carmilla's industrial zone and probably not terribly far from Cannibal Town itself. As for safety, he'd keep a number of those doll-like phantoms hidden on the premise to keep an eye out for trouble when he's not present to defend the eatery himself. Any corpses made in such incidents get delivered straight to Cannibal Town.

[bishie-haven]

After-party, Day 1, Part 2!

Alright, so part 2 of that list, HERE WE GO!

#7: The Avatar of Lust (Initial UR)

This blasted card…another NB-exclusive, they’re really able to lean into the “we’re in the past” element of the story and bring it out into the open. Being brought to Lamentation on account of hearing ghost-like noises, it turns out to be Asmo literally wailing like a banshee because of Satan’s remarks on him putting on airs. This leads to a point of backstory that I absolutely adore. We all know about how Asmo was nicknamed “the jewel of the heavens” by Luci himself and how the two were effectively a pair, but we never knew his true intentions behind it. Well, thanks to a flashback, we find out it’s because Luci saw all the effort Asmo put into things, whether successful or not, and that’s what truly made him shine like a gem to him. It really puts into perspective his abundance of drive and self-confidence and how it shines in every other situation he’s in. I hate that it takes over two sections of the story just to even start TALKING to him, but you take what you can get. 

And the ART…I have merch of this card art, and whatever side you look at, you can TELL the artists went all out for the release, whether demon OR angel form. (And also, WHY has no one said anything about how the demon form’s pose is the gold-standard yandere pose?!)

#6: Treat for a Job Well Done (Water Panic UR)

Oh, the equivalent of my birthday present last year~ While the event that was attached was…a bit less than desired (it felt like I was ACTUALLY working that temp job pushing through it…and you couldn’t even kiss him ON THE FERRIS WHEEL!), the story we got for that grind was SUCH a treat. Even with a concept as simple as “beach episode”, so many cute elements were added in, like the floater keychains and the drink customization. And overall the tone was just so playful, like it truly was a reward for the work you did to get this card. And you ACTUALLY get that kiss (if you want it!)!

While the card art doesn’t have many bells and whistles, the composition is what sold it for me. Both the initial and DF unlock are framed like you’re both under the warm rays of the sun (a rarity in this world), and each show Asmo with the biggest smile on his face…it warms my heart just as much!

#5: Gifts for My Valentine (Valentine’s ‘24 UR+)

Now THIS is a direction I haven't seen the Valentine's Day surprise take before. Casually dropping that he and other students have been cursed, we get full access to Asmo's thoughts for the day, and instead of stuff you shouldn't really be posting on the internet, the thoughts are actually pretty wholesome. However, it seems to wreck every surprise he tries to give you. Between a secret that romantic feeding makes a chocolate ten times sweeter (attacking me with my favorite romantic trope, no less) to wanting to share a gift so that they could be connected, you end up knowing it all. And what does he do to combat this? Pulls the “I'm your present, unwrap me” card to shroud his brain in mystery and have a decorated demon as your gift. Absolutely. Freaking. Adorable.

And the art? Oh COME ON, not only attacking me AGAIN with the initial art, but the suit in the DF unlock? The freaking RIBBON?! We're getting spoiled here!

#4: Lovable Me (Initial SSR)

The last of the NB-exclusive cards I can rank, this one I feel gets the most right when it comes to what they're trying to do. They show the start of a character's personality trait (in this case, the fifth deciding he's going to pursue being famous on social media), showing how it can be in a negative sense (bringing his twin younger brothers along primarily as pack mules on a shopping spree), and how it can be turned on its head. Within this story, Asmo gets a huge break when a scouting agent asks him to be an in-house model, but only if he immediately signs a contract at their HQ. He could have done this, nothing was stopping him…but he promised his brothers lunch and rest, and he knew that while he would have plenty more opportunities, he only had these brothers. It really reveals that under the glitz and glamor he likes to portray, he is loyal and dedicated to those he cares about. I've said it before and I'll say it again: to those of you thinking Asmo only cares about himself READ THIS NOW. Also, the fact that Mammon ends up getting the spot in his place and the lusty boy ends up going ballistic on him is hilarious. XD

AND the art also portrays multiple sides of him too. A big reason I love this character is because he is very much GNC and is ready and willing to wear things that aren't necessarily coded as masculine, whether that be lipstick (initial) or even a gorgeous ball gown (DF unlock). And this was one of the INITIAL cards??

#3: A Taste of Stan Culture (Hobby UR+)

While I adore our demon of desire, he is not the only one in this game I like. For example, my 2nd favorite amongst the brothers is our lovable little nerd, Leviathan. And if there’s one thing I and the envy demon have in common, it’s the passion we share for our faves. And my #1 gets to understand the mindset of the #2 in this story, where a spat between the two leads him to try and apologize by trying to get into his head about anime, idols and overall stan culture as a whole. Although from Asmo’s perspective, the faves he has in mind? Himself and you. On his end, wearing homemade merch of your love (in this case personalizing shirts with his face on it which, fun fact, show the art from his Return My Glow card from the OG game!). On your end, a fashion show with him laying on the praise as thick as he can: penlights, fans, hearts in his eyes and all! It highlights a lot of little things about him, too: he and Levi share a skill of sewing, and because Asmo has a hoard of fans himself, this little experiment allows him to understand them just a bit more. Development just for going the way of the otaku for a couple of days!

While I’ll admit the initial art for this card is just okay (unless you’re a huge fan of embroidering), the DF unlock is where it really shines. This is where we get him waving the fan and the penlight, but also where he’s wearing this GORGEOUS outfit that I will pay SO much money for in order for it to be a model in-game, PLEASE SOLMARE!!

#2: Li’l Asmo’s Big Journey (Fairytale UR+)

This. This freaking story. How many ways can I say I love this story?? Since I was a kid, I loved movies like “Honey I Shrunk the Kids” and many an episode of a TV show where characters either grew or shrank and had to get used to the new perspective of the world around them. In this case, thanks to context from another unlockable chat, nibbling on a few cookies off-screen caused Asmo to go down to mere inches in height, leading to a slew of shenanigans as he wants to do multiple things just trying to get back home. From playing around and fighting dolls in a cursed dollhouse to ordering a sweet dish that’s quadruple his size (and another attack on my fave romantic trope depending on the dialogue choice) to getting KIDNAPPED BY A BIRD, it has all the trappings for a stupidly fun time with one of my favorite subjects. And the irony is, he asks you multiple times near the end if you would like to shrink as well sometime for a cute photoshoot amongst the flowers…and I currently have an OC dating him whose magic specialty is altering size, whether of objects or herself…

When it comes to the art, they really leaned on the Thumbelina inspiration for each image, and whether you want him resting pretty with a wand or relaxing with a pair of butterfly wings, if you like fairies, this is the card for you!

#1: Every Version of You (Learning UR+)

So this card from the Learning-themed Nightmare is my favorite. And while I will admit right now the art isn’t my favorite (I don’t hate it, but it’s more on the plain side with the collapsing books or the Demonus pong) and that some aspects feel a bit forced (specifically with the ending in the club), it’s honestly easy to ignore for me. I say this because the story that occurs is absolute perfection if you want character development for someone as perfection-obsessed as Asmodeus. The whole story revolves around a video of him studying going viral online, and because it doesn’t fit what he usually portrays as his image, he starts to worry that no one likes his personality anymore, and tries multiple avenues to try and give a new image to himself (and not like a CERTAIN #14). He tries, fails, and it’s only when a photo is snapped of him collapsing over a pile of tea reference books that he starts to realize that not only does he not need to change any aspect about himself, but that he needs to start showing the realm that he’s NOT always perfect. No matter whether he succeeds or fails at something, the fact that he’s doing his best is what’s most important at the end of the day. It revolves back around to the first UR he receives in this game. He isn’t a jewel of the heavens or even of all three realms just because he’s seen as perfect. It is because he’s determined, he’s passionate, he puts in the time to get the results he wants.

And that? That is one of the countless reasons why so many, including myself, see him as more dazzling than any gem a jeweler could offer. 

Alright, Day 3's contents are on the way! And this time? We'll be going into a bit into my head for our next wave~

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (19/19)

Epilogue - There is no Power like the Freedom of Their Flight

<- Previous | Masterpost |

----

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1281

----

“Oh skies,” Roman says as he paced back and forth as Janus tried - and the keyword is tried - to fix the lace on his dress. “What if he doesn’t like the dress? What if it’s too much - what if he sees me and decides he doesn’t want to-”

Janus put his hand on top of Roman’s head, effectively startling him out of pacing and talking all at once.

“He’s not going to hate you,” Janus said. “He’s put up with you for almost four years. How? I have no idea, but he has. He’s not going to leave now, not even if you trip over your skirt and fall face first as you walk up the aisle, got it?”

Now that Roman was still, Janus was able to fret properly, fixing the lacing at the back of his corset so that the gold bow sat neatly on the ruffles of his red dress. 

The dress fell to the floor and reminded Roman a little of the dresses he would wear to balls at other kingdoms - it was the only way he’d wear a colour like this back then. Vibrant reds with shimmering gold accents, white at the front and on the bodice with a semi translucent mauve veil over his hair that cascaded down his back - decorated with glittering silver and a hemline of gold and blue flowers on green vines. Something that represented his family - his whole family - the ones he had chosen. 

Janus adjusted his veil ever so slightly, pinning it back into its place before patting his cheeks. “Virgil’s going to think you look absolutely beautiful.”

Roman let out a soft sigh of relief just as the door to the little backroom of the tavern they were waiting in opened and Logan poked his head in. 

“Is everyone ready?” he asked, glancing at the two of them. Janus turned to look at Roman for the answer, who smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I’m ready,” he says. Logan nodded.

“Then we will begin in ten minutes, shall we?” he gestures to the door - offering to lead them to their places. Roman smiled, nodded and followed him out.

“How’s Virgil doing?” Roman asked as they made their way downstairs. The  train of Roman’s dress dragged on the staircase and his shoes clicked on the wood. This was the most expensive thing he’d worn since he had lived at the palace and yet it was probably worth less than most of the dresses he had owned then, but he had saved up for this. He had bought this dress with his own wages, that mattered so much more than what it cost and besides, he thought it was incredibly beautiful regardless. 

“He is almost ready as well. As is tradition, your family - well; Remus - is helping him prepare. Although, I don’t know how much ‘help’ Remus is actually giving.” 

The trio chuckled as they continued down the stairs.

—-

The tavern had been redecorated for the wedding, It was closed to customers for today, though most of their regulars had received an invite regardless. It wasn’t an extravagant event, they had simply pushed the tables back and rearranged the chairs. Red and purple banners had been strung up around the room, draping the pillars and the bar, yellow and pink flowers were arranged on each table around the back of the room. The stage had been framed with flowers and ribbons to look like an archway, beneath which Virgil stood. 

The way he was fidgeting with his hands did not distract from the silver suit he was wearing, accented with purple wherever possible and pink where it wasn’t. He wore a veil just like Roman’s, just like the ones from the spring festival - though this one was red, with the same yellow, blue and green border as Romans. Someone had attempted (and failed) to tame his hair. Roman thought he looked just as beautiful as he always did. Janus and Logan followed Roman up the aisle and Roman had to resist the urge to run to his beloved. It looked like Virgil was having the same problem. 

Remus stood in the front row, he wasn’t dressed in a fancy suit or dress - instead sporting what was practically jester wear. Roman simply smiled fondly at him. His brother gave a double thumbs up from the audience as Roman stepped up onto the stage beside Virgil, immediately taking his hands. 

Virgil returned the smile on Roman’s face. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. Roman couldn’t help but grin.

“You look incredibly handsome, my love,” Roman said softly, bringing one of Virgil’s hands up to kiss his knuckles. Janus coughed to get their attention.

“Save it for after the vows,” Janus teased, rolling his eyes. “You can kiss all you want then.”

Virgil blushed crimson despite the giddy look on his face. “Well why don’t you hurry up and marry us then?” he taunted back. Making the audience laugh. Janus huffed. 

“Yes yes, alright,” Janus said, clearing his throat again and tapping his cane against the ground for silence, “Get on with it then.”

Virgil shook his head and took a deep breath before beginning,“I, Virgil Iris Wynter, take you, Roman Anserinae, to be my husband, to love and protect you through every trial and trouble, to cherish and care for you through each winter and each summer, through rain, cloud and shine, forever and always.”

Before Roman could start his own vows, he had to take a deep breath and choke back the happy tears that were already building in his eyes. Butwith a soft smile from Virgil and a nod of encouragement from Janus, Roman spoke. “I, Roman Anserinae, take you, Virgil Iris Wynter, to be my husband. To  love and support you through every trial and trouble, to cherish and care for you through each winter and each summer, through rain, cloud and shine, forever and always.”

Logan approached the two of them with the rings Virgil had made, each a simple band of gold set with an inner ring of purple and red. They were simple rings, far less ornate than their engagement rings, but Roman loved them just as much.

“Take this ring we crafted together as a symbol of my love and devotion to you,” Virgil said as he slipped the purple ring onto Roman’s finger.  “And with this bond even death shall not part us.”

Roman could barely get through the same words through his tears - which Janus seemed to find vaguely amusing. He couldn’t help it - he had never imagined this day would come, it was so beautiful, putting the ring onto Virgil’s finger as they stood in the place that had become their home, surrounded by people who had become Roman’s family as much as they were already Virgil’s. This was every bit the life he had imagined for himself when he had allowed his mind to wander back at the palace. 

“Unless anyone has any objections - and if you do you shall have to deal with Remus, so I wouldn’t bother - I now pronounce you married,” Janus says, smiling as he - in true Janus fashion - paused for far too long, “You may now kiss.”

Roman lunged forward to wrap his arms around Virgil and pressed a kiss to his lips fast enough that Janus let out a startled laugh. Virgil wrapped him up tightly as the tavern erupted into cheering and at that moment, Roman realised just how many people loved him.

Together, they danced until the sun peeked over the horizon, surrounded by family and friends and strangers who loved and cared for him. 

Roman was not alone anymore.

[archduchessgortash]

Bhaal, Bane, and Myrkul are the god-equivalent of three guys who had a garage band.

BBM gained a loyal following playing in taverns around the region that would one day be known as Baldur's Gate. Their indie live performances were spectacular. Eventually, they pitched their sound to Jergal Studios Unlimited, changed their name to the Dead Three, released their first hit single, and went on tour. Once they started recording a full record, however, they quickly broke up due to artistic differences before the songs were even all written. Success went to their heads. Each one thought that they were the lead singer/songwriter. They garnered a fanatical cult following, who bought into the delusion that their favorite member of D3 was the ONLY reason they were successful.

Once they went solo, their individual fanbases did grow quite a bit. They even built their own custom mansions with all the gold they made, but it's really all still owing to that one, very big hit single that they made together. And it drives them NUTS. Probably Bane most of all. Their fans reminisce about that song constantly, diving into their every solo work in pursuit of evidence that this song proves who the REAL talent was. Bhaal occasionally adds a few chords to one of Bane's new songs, for old times' sake, but they invariably get into a fight when they get drunk celebrating. Bhaal leaves in a huff and returns to doing his own thing. Alone. It's how he works best anyhow.

Bane and Myrkul decide to record a new song, just the two of them, and play it to Overgod Records, but Ao gives it a thumbs down. He's not convinced they're worth backing without Bhaal. Incensed, the BM boys (lmao) aim to prove they're better as a duo. They get a list of Bhaal's biggest fans and secretly doxx them, framing the Murder Lord for the leak. Bane then rides to the rescue, playing the hero, removing their info, and tracking down those who downloaded it. Bhaal loses many of his most devoted fans to Bane's treachery. The outcry for more from the BM boys grows, but it's still not enough for Overgod Records to give them what they want. Bane and Myrkul say, 'Screw Ao, we'll just release the song ourselves!' But the idiots can't figure it out and steal the servers containing all music since the beginning of time instead. Overgod Records refuses to restore ANY from backups until the originals are returned. Meanwhile, the Realms just have to hum their favorite songs. It is NOT the same.

Cyric the Dark Sun uses this opportunity to launch his own label, knocking D3's single out of the top 10, off the charts completely, copying their sound, and twisting it. All the D3 stans are now Dark Sun stans. Bhaal, Bane, and Myrkul go broke, lose their mansions, and are living on the streets. Cyric was SO ambitious and ruthless that he tried to make a world in which only his music would be heard, buying up radio stations and streaming services and refusing to allow ANY songs to be played but his own. The entire industry rose up against him, even Ao of Overgod Records, who originally backed him. The Dark Sun ultimately failed to make his sound into the only one heard in all the Realms and promptly went batshit as a result. Cyric will be in rehab for a literal milennium. He has been full-on canceled by everyone (like p3do producer-level canceled). You get blacklisted just for speaking his name aloud. Everyone in the known universe loathes that guy.

Bhaal, Bane, and Myrkul never really recovered from the rise of the Dark Sun, however. They have been trying to reclaim their past glory ever since. They are still stuck in those garage band days, those old wishes like poorly organized amp wires tangled around their ankles, keeping them stagnant. That first live tour is something none of them ever really stop dreaming about, but they won't admit it to each other.

Bhaal and Bane tried to piggyback on the successes of their children, and to say it went badly is a monumental understatement. Most of Bhaal's kids either didn't want to share the stage with Papa Murder, or they straight up gave him the middle finger. The only ones that really stuck with him were the dangerously unstable addicts because he keeps letting them crash on his couch.

And Bane? Ugh, don't even get me started on Xvim... Sorry, babes, your kid will forever hate you, even now that he's dead. Good thing hatred is your bag, right? You may have stolen most of his fans, but we know Xvim is plotting a comeback, and it's gonna be HUGE.

Myrkul is the childless snob who thinks he's the only one who remained purely devoted to the art. His small but loyal following remains omnipresent.

With the advent of new technology, the music industry, spearheaded by Ao at Overgod Records, decides to move away from live touring in general. Concert turnouts haven't been great in recent years, and when they are, they turn into toxic places. It's not about the music anymore, even there. Ticket sales are in the outhouse. And then there was this plague that messed with everything, everyone, everywhere.

All the other artists are down with the change, except D3. For the first time in forever, Bhaal, Bane, and Myrkul agree on something. They were at their best when they played live. All three of them. In the old days.

It's time to get the band back together.

[alternative-ffa]

Pleasing The Rich - Part Two

Part One here:

She didn't really want to explore the palace just yet, so she retreated to her bedroom. She was planning on putting her clothes away into the drawers and other tasks as she made this room her home, but found that her suitcases were already empty. Opening the closet, she saw the clothes she brought placed in drawers, but also many new custom dresses hung there as well. Initially she thought these must have been the clothes of whoever had her job before her. Then she noticed that they were all new, and exactly her size.

A knock on her door distracted her. She opened it to see Simon standing there and she invited him in. Before he had a chance to ask her about her experience with Herbert, she motioned to the closet and asked, "the dresses... are those for me?"

Simon smiled and said, "oh yes, His Highness wanted to gift you a new wardrobe. How about you try one on to wear when you have to continue his feeding in a few hours?"

She asked, "is it an option, or an order?"

Simon blushed, "more of a combination. Herbert chose the dresses, so I'm sure he would be pleased to see you in one, but it's not a requirement... just a strong suggestion."

Eliza nodded, realizing it essentially was a requirement despite what Simon said.

A call came through on the cell phone that Simon had on his belt. He answered it and walked away from Eliza. She heard his responses, but not who was on the other line. The call was quick and he returned to her side. "That was a dinner invitation for you. Herbert is going to forgo his 3pm meal. He would like you to join him for dinner in the dining room at 6pm."

She hoped that this meal would be more friendly than the feeding she did with him earlier. Simon seemed to pick up on her discomfort and said, "It will be quite formal, so I recommend you wear one of the new dresses. As I said, his Highness would like that."

She agreed and Simon left the room for her to change.

Looking into the closet, she pulled out a few dresses. One caught her eye more than the others: a deep burgandy silk fabric overlaid with a see-through black lace mesh. She placed it up in front of her and looked in the mirror. It was much fancier than what she was used to, almost as if she was taken back in time by a century. But she put it on and was pleased with her appearance. She still had a few hours until dinner at 6pm, so she decided to explore the expansive palace. She quietly opened the door to the hallway and poked her head out. Once she knew she was alone, she stepped out and took a left, knowing this would lead her to places she hadn't seen before. Her heels clicked across the wooden floor of the hallway. Reaching a turn, she went right. It lead to another hallway with large windows on one side. The light streaming through the windows lit up many portraits on the walls. She paused here to look at the paintings. The gold plaques below the images had names of previous Kings and the years they were in power. Many of them were quite obese, which didn't surprise her. As she walked down the hall, she noticed the dates were getting closer to modernity. The last portrait was what got her attention. The gold plaque said "King Herbert IV: 1998 - ____".

But the painting was not the man she had just met. Or, at least, it did not look like him. He stood, dressed in a filigree military uniform, fit and thin. His defined cheek bones and jawline were what added to his attractiveness. His wavy auburn hair fell mostly to the left of his face and framed his gorgeous hazel eyes. She couldn't walk away from it, and just stared. There was no way this was the extremely obese man she just fed and rubbed to completion - but the plaque said it was. She made a mental note to ask about this during dinner... assuming the right window came up in conversation.

She checked her watch, it was 5:30. She was surprised at how much time she had spent looking at the portraits. Knowing she had to start making her way to the main rooms of the palace, she turned around and tried to navigate back to her bedroom. Despite it being only a few turns down various hallways, she was careful. She didn't want to get lost, and she certainly didn't want to be late. Finally making it to the landing above the foyer, she felt relief knowing she was going to be on time. There was a large elevator at the top of the double staircase, but she was well aware why it was there, so she took the stairs. A new face happened to be walking through the foyer, and he noticed her. Stopping short, he looked up and smiled. She could tell he was related to Herbert, but only due to the thin portrait of him that she had discovered earlier. She got to the bottom of the stairs and he approached with his hand out for a handshake. Taking her hand in his, he bowed gently and kissed it, then with a deep voice, like his brother, said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Freddy, Herbert's brother. You must be Eliza."

She smiled at what a gentleman he was, and nodded to answer his question, still not speaking yet. He motioned to a set of double doors to the left of the staircase and said, "I know you're meeting Herbert in the dining room at 6. In the meantime, would you like a drink?"

She felt relieved and said, "actually, that would be great."

Freddy smiled and presented her with the crux of his arm. She placed her arm around his and he guided her to the parlor. If she thought Herbert's bed chamber was excessively decorated, this room put his bed chamber to shame. It was covered in gold leaf, highlighting the same cherry wood that made up the interior rooms of the palace. A seven foot tall black marble fireplace lit up a small section of this expansive space. The flue was a large lions head, held up by chains: certainly a piece of art in and of itself. The sun was setting, so she could still see what looked like a large patio through the windows opposite the fireplace. A forest of fir trees lit up in orange in front of the sunset. Freddy called her over towards a full bar, enhanced by mirrors and the same gold leaf that accentuated the room. She diverted her attention towards the bar.

Freddy was relatively thin; at least compared to Herbert. But his belly stuck out in front of him, very round and pronounced. He made his way around the back of the bar and his belly hit the shelf holding the crystal glasses. They tinkled against each other and he quickly reached out to keep them from toppling. He blushed slightly, placed his hands on his protruding stomach and said, "I'm still getting used to this." With no further explanation.

He grabbed two glasses and brought out a bottle of Champagne. Before opening it, he glanced at the large grandfather clock against the wall. It read 5:45, then he said, "Well, I suppose it's enough time for a quick drink."

Eliza smiled. His mannerisms were gentle and kind; not nearly as authoritarian as his brother. He popped the cork from the bottle and filled two champagne flutes. Handing one to her, he lifted his own, and they clinked glasses. He toasted, "to new friends".

She smiled and took a sip. She had never had real Champagne before, and couldn't even guess at the cost of the bottle he opened, but it was delicious. The clock began to chime. It was 6 o'clock. Freddy placed his glass down and squeezed out from behind the bar. She began to place her glass down, but he stopped her and said, "you can bring it into the dining room."

So she held onto it. Given the afternoon she had with Herbert, she felt that alcohol might help with comforting her anxiety, so she was glad to keep the glass. Freddy gave her his arm again, and they both walked back into the foyer. Freddy led her a few rooms over to a candle lit dining room. The table itself must have been 20 feet long, but the place setting was for two: one at the head of the table, and one to the side. The candles provided enough light, but Freddy reached towards a dimmer switch on the wall and increased the lighting. Suddenly the opposite doors opened. Eliza heard the whir of something mechanical, then Herbert came into view. He was in his electric wheelchair, but dressed as a King should: a full suit, black cravat, and a diamond ring in the shape of a lions head. She didn't notice the ring when she was dealing with him earlier, so she figured this must be a piece of jewelry for special occasions.

He rolled his chair into position at the head of the table. Freddy was still present, and Herbert motioned towards the chair next to him. "Come, Eliza, sit." He said.

Freddy nodded towards her to obey, and then said, "Have a good dinner, I'm sure I'll see you soon."

Then he left the room, closing the large door behind him.

Eliza sat in the chair next to Herbert. He seemed more subdued than he was earlier. She still hadn't spoken, and Herbert said, "I realize my actions earlier today were unusual. I would like us to take this time to get to know one another."

She was quite surprised, as this didn't seem like the man she had dealings with earlier in the day. Before she could reply, a servant arrived to take their drink order. Eliza finished her glass of champagne and requested a martini. Herbert requested a double shot of whiskey with one ice cube. The servant nodded and went to make their drinks. Herbert looked Eliza up and down and smirked. He said, "the dress looks wonderful on you. Quite tempting."

He licked his fat lips and she felt the discomfort from earlier. Not wanting silence, she said, "thank you for the generosity of the new wardrobe; the pieces are quite beautiful."

"Only the best for you, my dear." He replied, with a little too familiar of an air for comfort.

The doors opened again. One servant came with the drinks on a silver tray. Then five more followed with rolling trays filled with food. Eliza's eyes widened when she realized that she would have to watch another gluttonous display. But she quickly fixed her expression, not wanting to offend the King. He noticed, and said almost teasingly, "you will get used to my appetite."

She didn't know how to react, so she stayed stoic. The large serving plates were placed in front of them both: a honey ham, a turkey, trays of vegetables, potatoes, and rice. It was enough food to probably satisfy the whole palace of people, but it was made for one man's extreme gluttony. Herbert immediately began to fill his plate. She sat and watched, not having much of an appetite. Once his plate was full, he said, "Go ahead, eat. I won't make you feed me this time."

She hesitantly scooped a small serving of food on her own plate. But she was not hungry, so she nibbled a little and concentrated on consuming her drink. Herbert had dived in at this point: huge forkfuls of food were stuffed into his mouth. She heard the familiar groan of pleasure as he ate and it did nothing to ease her anxiety. He noticed and tried to relieve her fear. "Nothing is expected of you tonight. I just want to get to know you."

She took another big sip of her drink and said, "what would you like to know?"

He replied, "anything. Your interests, your family, your life. Tell me how you ended up here."

She cleared her throat and said, "I saw the advertisement. Another servant needed for the King... you. I loved the idea of working at the palace, so that's why I'm here."

"And?" He asked.

"And... I saw the rate of pay and thought it was too good to pass up."

He burped, then as he refilled his plate, said comically, "Ah, so the money, then?"

She felt rude having brought it up, and said, "Well, not entirely..."

He grinned and said, "I'm just being playful, of course this job needed a high rate of pay. What I'm asking of you in this position isn't exactly a normal request."

She didn't want to agree with him, but he was right. He dove into his second plate of food, while she had still barely touched her plate. A servant entered to refill the drinks. She gulped down the last of the martini and requested a second. Herbert grunted with his mouth full and his glass held up. The servant knew this meant he wanted another as well.

Herbert continued to shovel food in his mouth. She watched him and her mind went to the portrait she had found earlier in the day. Normally she wouldn't have brought it up, but the liquor provided courage, so she said, "I was exploring the palace earlier... there was a hallway, well lit up by windows... I saw a portrait of you."

He put down his fork and said, "I figured you would have run into that. Goes to show that I wasn't always this obese."

He reached down and jiggled the fat of his belly which was squeezed into the suit jacket he wore, as if to emphasize his previous statement. Then he continued, "Us Leonhart's tend to gain quite a bit of weight... it just runs in the family. I'm sure you noticed that as well in the other portraits down that hallway."

She nodded, "I did. Which was why your portrait was so surprising. I had to read the plaque twice to verify that it was really you."

He chuckled, then began to refill his plate for the third time. The second round of drinks were brought in, and Eliza thanked the servant. Herbert just grunted in acknowledgement.

Hours passed. Plate after plate of food was consumed, with wet belches from deep within his fat body coming out every few minutes. The time passed quickly and was almost blurred by the drunkenness of them both.

[callmearcturus]

This conveniently brings us to the subject of this chair!

A Secret Lab Titan 2020 Cyberpunk 2077 Edition, with Secret Lab cold-cure foam cushions, a steel frame, upholstered in Secret Lab's Prime 2.0 PU Leather. With machine-embroidered logo stitching and a maximum weight load of 290 pounds, the Secret Lab 2020 provides ample space as well as customization at the highest level.

In addition to an uncompromising experience that lasts for endless hours, this elite, award-winning chair is unquestionably the gold standard you need.

I told you Secret Lab had sent me this chair for free and I promised that at the end of this segment I would destroy it with a chainsaw.

Of course I'm not going to do that! I paid 429 dollars for this chair just so I could lie to you about destroying it with a chainsaw! Why would you want to see a man destroy a 429 dollar chair, even with a chainsaw?

And why would you want to watch a man review Cyberpunk 2077, an admittedly brazenly stupid video game? Is it because the guy is unusually articulate for a human being? Or, because you can, because it’s there? Because you friend said, "Uhhuh dude there's this video review of Cyberpunk 2077 and it’s like eight hours long, uhuh."

This video was three hours long and then I wrote five needless hours, just so your friend would lead you right here.

TIM ROGERS, at one hour and 14 minutes into video 7 of his 8 video Cyberpunk 2077 Review/Epic/Miniseries on Action Button Reviews

[fictomorph]

Any Objections? (Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth TF/TG/MC)

This story contains female to male TF, character TF, and identity death as well as Wrightworth shipping/romance.

———————

“Looking for something in particular?”

A voice disturbed Griffin, who was currently hunched over the top of a display case, filled with rings, all of them beautiful, finely crafted….and expensive. He jolted up, meeting the eyes of the clerk.

“Oh...yea.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling. The clerk looked him over, trying to read him for what he wanted. Decently groomed short chestnut hair, a purple polo shirt and pressed jeans, brown leather dress shoes...probably had something decently important later today. And considering what kind of jewelry he was looking at….

“You’re proposing later, aren’t you?” Griffin paused, nodding.

“How did you?...” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Ugh, yeah. But everything’s so expensive...I’ve been saving for practically a year and even then I can barely afford any of the good ones!” The clerk watched him as he went back to pouring over the rings, struggling between getting his loved one something they deserved and something he could pay off.

“Actually..” He perked up, holding a finger in the air as his icy blue eyes pondered a thought. “I think we might have a set of rings in the back for decently cheap, $100, $120….but they still look rather nice and are of high craft. Would you like me to see if we still have them?”

Griffin nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Really? Oh thanks, man, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Ah, no problem. My job is to help people find what they’re looking for, after all! Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walked off, headed into the forbidden parts of the store unknown to the commoner. After a few minutes, Griffin (who had started scrolling through Twitter) was brought back to reality by the sound of something being set on the glass in front of him, along with the clerk’s statement of “Take a look”.

Two small ring boxes were laid in front of him, one coated in red velvet and the other in blue. He lifted the red box, popping it open to reveal the contents inside. A rose gold band, with two small diamonds and one ruby crowning it. The edges of the band flares, giving it a ruffled pattern almost like creased fabric. Ooh...this would be perfect for her! He picked up the blue box, inspecting its hidden treasure as well. It was a similarly simple pure gold band, two sapphires on either side of a diamond tucked away in a golden four-pointed star. He looked back to the clerk, grabbing both of them as he fidgeted his wallet from his pocket.

“You said these were…$120?” The clerk nodded, leading to Griffin slamming the money on the counter. “Oh man, thank you so much! She’s gonna love this, I-I can’t thank you enough!” Placing the ring boxes in a bag for him, the clerk waved as another satisfied customer ran off.

The rest of the day was as normal as it could be for a day leading up to such a big event. Griffin called to double and triple-check his reservations were still in place, re-washed and ironed everything he was wearing for later, and took an intensive shower. Everything had to go perfect for tonight. Soon enough, after what felt like both no time at all and a full eon, his doorbell rang. Answering it, he was met with the face of his beloved Kelly. She had dressed similarly nicely, a long somewhat shimmery orange dress accompanied by a pearl necklace. Her blonde hair had been neatly curled at the edges, letting it frame her face in a rather flattering way.

“You look nice.” Griffin stuttered, eyes darting across the room as she chuckled.

“Thanks. You too.” She grabbed his hand, leading him out the door. “C’mon, we should get going. You said this place was expensive, and I don’t wanna miss our chance to eat $100 steak.”

The car ride over was nice, Kelly looking out the window at the late-night city’s lights. Her eyes drifted over the scenery, soon enough settling on the restaurant they had arrived at. She had known it was a fancy place, but she didn’t expect it to look quite this nice. The building had strings of fairy lights dangling from it, and as they walked in, she took note of how well everyone was dressed. She started to think she might’ve underdressed for the occasion.

“Mr. West? Ah yes, we have your reservation. Please, follow me.” The waitress led the two to an empty table, one which happened to be on the patio. A nice open space, no one else outside, illuminated by the moonlight….it was perfect. Griffin kept a hand on the two ring boxes in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment.

Whatever was above must’ve taken a shine to them that day, as the dinner went perfectly. Their food was cooked to perfection, the wine the servers brought out was a rich palette, and all night the moon and stars were perfectly visible and bright. As Kelly polished off her second glass of wine, he gripped the boxes tighter than he ever had before and sighed.

“Hm?” Kelly placed her glass down, focusing on her partner. “Something wrong, Grif?”

“No, it’s just….we’ve been together for a while now and...you’re really important to me. I

realized I found something I don’t wanna lose. So….” He took the red box from his pocket and held it out to her, letting her see as he popped it open. “Will you marry me?”

She gasped, grabbing the box as she teared up. “Oh my God….yes!” His heart pounded out of his chest as she slipped the ring on, admiring it. He had taken the shot and hit a bullseye.

“The best part?” He held the blue box in his hands, showing its contents to her. “They’re a set. We match!” Putting his own ring on, Kelly practically pounced on him as she pulled him into a hug that turned into the two holding each other’s hands, rings resting against each other. It felt like a moment that would last forever…..until they withdrew their hands in shock.

“Ow, something shocked me!” Kelly rubbed her hand, surprised by the indignant interruption.

“Yea, me too….might’ve been some static electricity or something in the rings.” Griffin explained to the best of his knowledge. That was a thing that could happen, right? Metal conducted electricity.

“Mhm...probably. Felt a bit stronger than static, though. It was just...weird.” She unconsciously flexed her fingers to fully shake the feeling, although a new, even stranger one replaced it. Her hands began to shift, growing broader and more well-groomed, like they belonged to someone from the upper class. Though the expected tightness of the ring becoming too small for her fingers was strangely never present…

“Maybe you just aren’t taking your wine well.” Griffin chuckled, taking her hand in his in an attempt to comfort her, only to realize how large it was compared to mere moments ago. He gulped, feeling his hands become a bit more comfortable in holding hers, the change nowhere as near as drastic as Kelly’s but still something concerning. His arms tensed, swelling with a slightly toned layer of muscle new to his form. He took his hands from Kelly’s, looking over them. Sure, he admittedly never held his wine the best, but he’d never hallucinated before, and he’d definitely never actually felt it.

“Grif? Do you think someone put something in our food?” She took a longer, more well-built arm to her chest, feeling the fat layered on it melt away and replace with an admittedly not too shabby set of pecs. “Wh-What?” Her face flushed, eyes widening at the realization that whatever was happening to them had decided to shift her sex around.

“I’d like to see whatever drug can do something like this at all, let alone this fast!” He gripped onto a chair’s back, groaning as his back popped, leaving him slightly taller and, as a cursory scan of his new body would reveal, sporting a new set of abs. “Woah...this is...something.”

Kelly, meanwhile, was not as enthralled with her changes as Griffin was. She felt awkward enough in her dress already, and the cracking of her spine and toning frame didn’t serve to help. What only made things worse was the notable pressure she felt from her high heels, confirming her fears as the sides of the shoes gave, leaving her feet exposed in the cold night air. “Ugh….just kill me now….”

“Hey, cmon, don’t be like that.” Griffin pulled her into a hug, grinning in an attempt to ease her fears. “This probably won’t be that bad.” She looked up at him, desperate for some form of comfort. It was probably just the changes, but...he looked so much more handsome than usual. His jawline was sharper, his eyes had cooled to a soft smoky grey, and his formerly chestnut hair had burnt to a dark black, even changing how it was styled into a striking slicked back and spiked look. Something about it was…..familiar and comforting.

Griffin swept a bang from her face, letting him look at her shifted face. He let out a quiet gasp, her heart sinking.

“I-Is it bad?” She clasped her hands together, still feeling the ring.

“No, you’re...you’re gorgeous.” His hand rested against her cheek, taking everything in. Her face had gained this strong stoic look to it, almost statue-esque. His hair had faded to a platinum, combed into a set of bangs that perfectly framed his face and made similarly pale eyes stand out. “I...wow.” He’d never felt this strongly towards...anyone. He took one of her pearls in his hand, only to let go of it as he realized it had gained an odd fabric like texture.

Kelly watched as her pearl necklace flattened and softened, the chain around her neck becoming the same silk as the pearls now were. She brushed over it with her hands, the string now a rumpled scarf of some sort...what was the term? The word “cravat” suddenly popped to mind, albeit she didn’t know where from. Yes, that was right.

Griffin coughed as something tugged against his throat, looking down to see a bright red tie had formed around his neck. More notably, where it touched seemed to sap the red from his shirt, leaving it pure white as the still-blue edges tugged away from itself, leaving him with a formal white undershirt topped with a sapphire blue suit jacket. “Guess they have a stricter take on business casual than I thought…” He awkwardly joked as he watched the blue spread down to neatly pressed dress pants, his changes finishing with his shoes expanding slightly and shifting into dark leather.

Kelly brushed her face, slightly flushed from Griffin’s new form. …..Griffin? Was that right? No, that...that wasn’t it. What was his name, though? As she thought, her clothing underwent its own metamorphosis, bleeding into a combination of a black vest and a deep red suit jacket, albeit this one more high quality than her partner’s. The material shared its conquest of her wardrobe with her partner’s changes, as the ends of her dress wrapped around her legs into fanciful perfectly tailored wine red pants. Her shoes even got a second shot as the heels flattened to the ground, a refined pair of leather dress shoes.

“Is...is it over?” The two looked at each other, Griffin pausing at his new voice. It was young, nothing too outstanding on its own but probably could be with some power put behind it, like some form of objection.

“I...I believe so.” Kelly gasped, putting a hand to her throat as she felt her new Adam’s apple. The voice it had given her was a rather pleasing one, deep and proper, the voice of someone who really knew what they were doing. “My...this is all so….” She didn’t get to finish her thought as she trailed off, Griffin taking her hands one again.

“Not what I expected to happen tonight, either. Can’t say I’m too mad though.” Kelly blushed, Griffin’s face equally red as he leaned in for a kiss, which she gladly reciprocated. That simple act sealed the two’s fates as when they pulled back, a different, more fitting set of memories and personality traits belonged to the pair.

“Wright....must you be this extravagant?” He looked around the patio, taking in the almost storybook-like picture the two found themselves in.

“Of course. Nothing else for my Miles.” Edgeworth turned his head, leading Phoenix to giggle.

“You’re an embarrassment.” He tried to come off as his usual stern self, but the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips was his lover’s cue to keep going.

“Hey, you know how I get when drunk.”

“I suppose I do, Feenie.” Miles slipped his hand into his partner’s, only for the two of them to pause and investigate the rings they didn’t remember putting on.

“Guess I was a bit more drunk than I thought….” He looked away, rubbing his neck in that ever-so-Wright way. A pause of awkward silence, before he sighed and reconnected eye contact. “Hey um….even if we don’t remember it...would you still...you know…”

“Of course, you idiot.” Edgeworth full on smiled, a rare sight, and grabbed Phoenix’s hand once again, planting a kiss on his cheek. Even if they didn’t quite remember how they got here, this proved to be the best night of their lives.

[signagemates1]

The Importance of Quality Signage for Businesses in Brisbane and the Gold Coast

In today’s competitive market, effective signage is crucial for any business, whether you're located in the bustling streets of Brisbane or the vibrant Gold Coast. Quality signage not only enhances your brand visibility but also communicates essential information to your customers. In this blog, we’ll explore the various types of signage, the importance of investing in high-quality materials, and how businesses in Brisbane and the Gold Coast can leverage signage to stand out.

Understanding Signage

Signage encompasses a wide range of visual graphics used to convey information to an audience. This includes everything from storefront signs and banners to digital displays and wayfinding signs. Here are some common types of signage:

Outdoor Signage: Essential for attracting foot traffic, outdoor signs should be bold, clear, and visually appealing. They often include channel letters, illuminated signs, and banners.

Indoor Signage: Once customers are inside your business, indoor signage plays a key role in guiding them and enhancing their experience. This can include directional signs, menu boards, and promotional displays.

Digital Signage: In the age of technology, digital signage is becoming increasingly popular. These dynamic displays can showcase promotions, advertisements, and important updates in real-time.

Vehicle Signage: Wrapping your vehicle with your business branding is an effective way to advertise on the go. Vehicle signage can turn your car into a mobile billboard, reaching potential customers wherever you go.

Promotional Signage: Temporary signs, such as banners or A-frames, are great for sales events or promotions. They can quickly grab attention and drive traffic to your business.

The Benefits of Quality Signage

1. Brand Visibility and Recognition

Quality signage is vital for establishing your brand’s identity. A well-designed sign communicates professionalism and builds trust with potential customers. In busy areas like Brisbane and the Gold Coast, eye-catching signage can differentiate your business from competitors, making it memorable in the minds of consumers.

2. Increased Foot Traffic

Effective signage acts as a silent salesperson, attracting customers to your location. In high-traffic areas, strategic placement of signs can significantly increase foot traffic. Whether it’s a beautifully lit storefront sign or an engaging promotional banner, the right signage can entice passersby to stop and explore what you have to offer.

3. Information and Direction

Signage serves an important informational purpose. It guides customers to your business and helps them navigate your premises once they arrive. Clear directional signs and informative displays reduce confusion and enhance the customer experience, leading to increased satisfaction and repeat visits.

4. Cost-Effective Marketing

Compared to other forms of advertising, signage is a cost-effective marketing solution. Once your signage is up, it continues to promote your business 24/7 without ongoing costs. Digital signage can further enhance this by allowing for quick updates and promotional changes without the need for new materials.

5. Local SEO Benefits

In an era where local search optimization is crucial, having visible and well-placed signage can enhance your online presence. Google considers physical location when ranking local businesses. A recognizable sign can lead to increased foot traffic, which, in turn, can improve your online reviews and search rankings.

Choosing the Right Signage for Your Business

When selecting signage, consider the following factors to ensure it meets your business needs:

1. Target Audience

Understand who your customers are and what type of signage will attract their attention. For instance, if your business caters to tourists on the Gold Coast, colorful, vibrant signage may be more effective than more subdued tones.

2. Location and Visibility

Evaluate where your signage will be placed. High-traffic areas require larger, bolder signs that can be easily read from a distance. Conversely, indoor signage can be more detailed, providing customers with essential information without overwhelming them.

3. Materials and Durability

Invest in high-quality materials that can withstand the elements, especially for outdoor signage. Signs made from durable materials like acrylic, aluminum, or vinyl will not only look better but also last longer, reducing replacement costs over time.

4. Design and Branding

Your signage should align with your overall branding strategy. Use consistent colors, fonts, and logos to create a cohesive brand identity. Engaging graphics and clear messaging will help communicate your business’s purpose effectively.

5. Compliance with Regulations

Ensure your signage complies with local regulations and zoning laws in Brisbane and the Gold Coast. This includes size restrictions, placement, and lighting requirements to avoid any legal issues that could arise.

The Future of Signage

As technology advances, signage continues to evolve. Digital signage is becoming increasingly popular, offering dynamic content that can be updated in real-time. Businesses can showcase promotions, events, and social media feeds, creating a more engaging experience for customers.

Moreover, incorporating interactive elements, such as QR codes or touchscreens, can further enhance customer engagement. This technology allows customers to learn more about your products or services while they’re on-site, providing a richer, more informative experience.

Conclusion

In conclusion, quality signage is an indispensable asset for businesses Signage in Brisbane and the Gold Coast. It enhances brand visibility, attracts customers, provides essential information, and serves as a cost-effective marketing tool. By understanding your audience, selecting the right materials, and designing effective signage, you can create a powerful first impression that drives success.

Investing in quality signage is not just an expense; it’s an investment in your brand’s future. Whether you’re a new business just starting out or an established company looking to refresh your image, make signage a priority in your marketing strategy. With the right approach, your signage can become one of your most valuable business assets.

[sillovn]

The World Before #5: Silver and Gold

Sorry for the long wait. Part 5, some unchecked speculation on the eternal cities. all entries -> #worldbefore

5.1 Uncertain Fate

Last we left off; Farum Azula is broken and the Elden Ring lost. Im going to make a claim that this creates 2 rival factions among descendants - a choice between recovering the Elden Ring or living away from The Greater Will.

Sure, such an event is never explicitly stated; but I think it provides an explanation to the origins of Age of Stars vs. Age of Gold.

5.2 The First Stargazers

Its clear that the idea of a coming “Lord of Night” originates in the Eternal Cities, predating Ranni and the Carians. This culture was acquainted with the Greater Will (see. Fingerslayer Blade, Nox armour) and was attempting to create lightning-wielding Dragons (see. any Dragonkin Weapon). Given Farum-Azula's association with these things, the Eternal Cities make a good candidate for descendant culture attempting to recreate their old home.

The time span and motive is flexible here. The custom of Astrology – seeking fate in the stars; could stem from an attempt to contact The Greater Will directly (afterall, the Elden Ring came on a star), or it just as easily be about seeking guidance without TGW. The plot to herald an Age of Night could have been an active rejection of the earlier Azulan age, or it could be a result of desperation and failure to reclaim the Elden Ring.

5.3 An Ancient Enmity

Besides Nokstella and Nokron, there is a 3rd Nameless Eternal City (NEC) directly under Leyndell, at the roots of the Erdtree.

I previously ran on the idea that the location of the Erdtree *is* where the golden star fell (see. Elden Stars location), though writing as of DLC trailer – the ‘Golden Tree was born in the Lands of Shadow’ paraphrasing a Miyazaki interview (no idea on translation accuracy). I really doubt the following idea will survive DLC lore, but might as well throw it out there…

Thus, I would have previously suggested that the NEC represents the faction of Azula descendants who wished to regain contact with The Greater Will. A wish that materializes when empyrean Marika seizes the Elden Ring. This explains a few things…

The Nox and their signature silver-based constructs are not found in the NEC. Perhaps the NEC people were Marika’s earliest followers, building a new city – Leyndell to accommodate the growing Erdtree that would define their society. Though it is technically underground, the NEC remains covered due the growth of the Erdtree’s roots – would the city be on the surface without that? Not a particularly important argument, but one could say that this city was never ‘banished underground’ – simply smothered by the Erdtree.   

It also frames Marika choice to create a new ‘Age of Gold’ as one opinion among the Numen. This ancient rivalry between the Eternal Cities; where Marika’s faction triumphs and their rivals are banished underground (see. Nox armour) is what ultimately leads to ‘Night of the Black Knives’ in the distant future.

Its thought that Black Knife Assassin's having a Numen origin shows Marika somehow planned Godwyn's murder - or, it could simply be that her ascension as God was not something other Numen agreed with? A counterpoint here is that Black-Knives attack Ranni's followers - though it can easily be framed as revenge for stealing/attempted recovery of the Fingerslayer Blade.

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

This is all for today.

TLDR: The Farum crisis creates 2 factions, this is the origin of stars vs. gold.

next entry - Crucible Faith

[vaservice]

The Timeless Elegance of Gold Leaf: A Gilded Artistry

Gold has long been associated with wealth, power, and beauty. One of the most exquisite and enduring ways to harness the allure of this precious metal is through the art of gold leafing. For centuries, artisans and craftsmen have used gold leaf to create intricate designs, adorn religious icons, embellish architecture, and even enhance culinary masterpieces. In this article, we will delve into the world of gold leaf, exploring its history, production, applications, and enduring appeal.

A Glittering History

The history of gold leaf dates back over 5,000 years to ancient civilizations such as the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. These cultures recognized the rarity and beauty of gold and developed techniques to create incredibly thin sheets of the metal, known as gold leaf.

Ancient Egypt: The Egyptians were among the first to use gold leaf for decorative purposes. They adorned tombs, mummies, and religious artifacts with gold leaf to symbolize divinity and eternity.

Ancient Greece and Rome: Gold leaf was employed in the creation of intricate mosaics, jewelry, and statues, reflecting the opulence of these ancient empires.

Byzantine Empire: During the Byzantine era, gold leaf was widely used to embellish religious icons and mosaics in churches, creating an aura of divine splendor.

Medieval Europe: In medieval Europe, illuminated manuscripts, frescoes, and Gothic architecture featured gold leaf extensively. Monasteries and churches were adorned with golden altars, crosses, and religious sculptures.

Renaissance: The Renaissance period saw a resurgence of interest in classical art and architecture, leading to the widespread use of gold leaf in the embellishment of paintings, sculptures, and architectural elements.

Production of Gold Leaf

Creating gold leaf is a meticulous process that involves transforming a small quantity of gold into incredibly thin sheets. Here's an overview of the production process:

Gold Beating: A small piece of pure gold is first flattened and stretched into a thin ribbon through a process called "beating." This ribbon is known as goldbeater's skin.

Alloying (Optional): In some cases, the pure gold may be alloyed with other metals to achieve different shades, such as white gold or rose gold.

Rolling and Cutting: The goldbeater's skin is cut into small squares and placed between layers of paper. The stack is then rolled out and compressed repeatedly to achieve the desired thinness.

Burnishing: After reaching the desired thickness, the gold leaf is cut into squares or leaves and placed between sheets of parchment paper. It is then burnished with agate stones to achieve a lustrous finish.

Applications of Gold Leaf

The versatility of gold leaf lends itself to a wide range of applications, including:

Art and Decoration: Gold leaf is used by artists to add a touch of luxury and elegance to paintings, sculptures, frames, and furniture.

Architecture: Gold leaf has adorned the domes, spires, and interior details of iconic buildings, including palaces, temples, and cathedrals.

Culinary Arts: In the world of gourmet cuisine, edible gold leaf is used to garnish desserts, chocolates, and even cocktails, creating a visually stunning and indulgent dining experience.

Religious Artifacts: Gold leaf is a prominent feature in religious icons, sculptures, and altars in various faiths, symbolizing divinity and transcendence.

Design and Interiors: Interior designers use gold leaf for custom decor elements like mirrors, lamps, and wall accents to infuse opulence into spaces.

Conclusion

Gold leaf remains a timeless symbol of luxury, beauty, and craftsmanship that has transcended cultures and centuries. Its shimmering elegance has the power to transform everyday objects and spaces into works of art, adding an air of opulence and sophistication. Whether adorning religious icons, gracing the walls of ancient cathedrals, or enhancing the flavors of a gourmet dessert, gold leaf continues to captivate our senses and evoke a sense of wonder. In an ever-changing world, the allure of gold leaf endures as a testament to the enduring appeal of this precious metal and the artistry of those who work with it.

If you want to witness a gold leaf in person, head to www.delafee.com for an unforgettable experience.

[everlock101]

Shadow and Stardew

Chapter Four: Furnishings

I cut through town, following the street up the hill. People were out and about, starting their day and heading into work. 

As I passed a building with a sign that read, Stardrop Saloon, the door opened and a broad-shouldered man with golden hair shouldered his way outside. He was followed by a young man with dark hair and golden eyes. 

Both of them turned onto the street beside me. 

“Oh, hello,” the golden-haired man greeted in a thick accent. 

“Hello.” 

Silence fell as we began walking in the same direction. The boy stayed quiet. 

“Um, I’m Ketarina,” I said awkwardly. 

“I assumed. My name is Matthias. And this is Kuwei.” 

The boy gave a small wave. 

“Matthias?” I asked, brightening. “I was just heading to your shop.” 

“Ah, well, good fortune then. What are you needing?” 

“Furniture. The Demiov house doesn’t even have a bed. Also, Mal told me you would be the person to talk to about a telephone.” 

“I’m sure we can get you everything you need.” 

Matthias and Kuwei were men of few words but the silence wasn’t terrible. Matthias’s shop stood at the top of the hill that met the mountain. He unlocked the door and let us both in before turning all the lights on. I looked around as he and Kuwei moved through the shop. Lovely pieces of assorted furniture stood around; chairs, tables, bedframes, benches. Everything looked well made. 

“So, what will you be needing?” Matthias asked from behind the counter. Kuwei had vanished. 

“A bed first. And eventually, I’ll need to furnish the rest of the house.” 

“Alright, I’ve got a few bed frames already made or I can custom order you one. We also sell mattresses, bedding, and other household appliances there,” Matthias said, pointing through the door to the right. 

“Alright, where are the bedframes?” 

He led me over to a stretch of wall where headboards hung on the wall. One of them caught my eye, a beautiful queen sized with patterns mimicking a starburst on the head and footboards. 

“How much is this frame?” 

“For a first time buyer? Thirteen gold.” 

“Are you sure? This is a beautiful, handmade piece.” 

Matthias gave me a small smile. 

“I’m sure. You said you have no furniture so that means you’ll bring me plenty of business.” 

I chuckled and nodded. 

“Alright, then. Is it alright if I go pick out other things and pay for them all together?” 

“Of course. I’ll get this bedframe down. You go and pick out anything else you need. We can load it all on the cart and haul it over when you’re done.” 

“Thank you.” 

I left him with a smile and went into the other room. Kuwei was there, organizing a shelf of lamps. 

“Hello,” he greeted quietly. 

“Hello. You and your father keep a lovely store.” 

“Oh, thanks.” 

I found a bed set I liked in a bright teal, matching rug, a simple nightstand, a lamp with a light brown lampshade, and a new desk chair since I already had the desk. 

“Where are your mattresses?” I asked as I stacked the items near the door. 

“Just around the corner,” Kuwei replied, pointing through an open doorway. I stepped around. There weren’t too many mattresses but there were three queen sized. I checked each of them and found one firm enough. 

In the end the total cost was still manageable and far under what he should have charged me. We loaded everything up onto a big wheeled cart andMatthias left Kuwei in charge of the shop before escorting me back to the farm.

“There’s actually a shortcut right through here,” he explained, leading me to the west along a heavily wooded path.

“Huh, are there lots of these shortcuts throughout the town?”

Matthias shrugged.

“Not so many but enough.” 

The farm appeared and I led Matthias to the door, helping him pull the cart up the porch steps. The big wheels helped. 

We pulled the cart through the front door and Matthias looked around. I watched his brow furrow. 

“You weren’t kidding,” he finally stated. 

“Nope. And you were right. I’m sure I’ll be giving you plenty of business.” 

I helped him carry the bedframe upstairs to my bedroom and helped him put it together. We shelepped the mattress up next.

“Did you really sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor?” Matthias asked, tipping his head toward the balled up sleeping bag in the corner. I shrugged. 

“Not a big deal. I’ve slept in worse places.” 

We finished putting everything up and away. 

“Thank you for your help, Matthias. I’m sure I’ll be in and out over the next few weeks.” 

“I’m happy to help.” 

“Well, uh, here.” I grabbed one of the jars of spice jam that Alina had given me. “I didn't make it but here, as a thank you.” He chuckled. 

“Thank you, but my wife and I already have too many of Alina’s jams in our cupboards. Really, there’s no worry.” 

“Well, thank you. I guess I’ll see you around.” 

I waved goodbye to Matthias from the door before heading back inside. 

I spent the next couple of hours cleaning again. By the end, I only had the stairs left and those just needed a good sweeping. 

I was just pulling the broom out when I noticed something. Tucked behind a large cabinet, was a door.

My brow furrowed. I tugged on the cabinet and it shifted slightly. I pulled it away from the wall and tried the door. It stuck a bit but I drove my shoulder in and the door popped open. I fell through the opening and felt nothing but air beneath me. 

I tumbled down a set of stone steps and fell into a crumpled heap at the bottom. I lay there and groaned, feeling every bruise and bump. I had landed awkwardly on my arm and knew I had twisted my wrist badly. 

After a few creative curses, I took a breath and picked myself up. My wrist throbbed angrily and I coughed away the dust that had settled into my lungs. 

I couldn’t see much. I fumbled along the wall until my fingers found a lightswitch. A faint glow illuminated the room from the center light. I’d need new bulbs. 

Wine racks lined each wall. There were only a few bottles though, scattered here and there.  

“Well, I’d have preferred not to break myself to find a drink but…” I shrugged and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. I took long deep breaths until my heartbeat calmed and I could focus through the pain. I cradled my wrist as I limped back up the stairs. 

“Second day here and you’ve already crashed into someone, nearly shot another guy in the head, and now probably broke your wrist. Good going, Ketarina,” I muttered scathingly. 

I limped my way out of the house and to the little clinic down the road. 

“Oh!” 

A little gasp caught me by surprise as I stepped past the trees into the square. I blinked and found yet another gorgeous woman standing to my right. 

Seriously! 

She had long red hair pinned back from her face and flawless alabaster skin. She wore a beautiful blue dress with red embroidery. 

“Oh, dear, you’re a mess. Are you alright?” 

“Yup, just wishing I could crawl in a hole,” I groaned. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched and I tried to wave her away only to hiss and curse again. 

“Here,” she hurried to my other side and put an arm across my back. “Lean on me. I’m assuming you’re heading for the clinic and if you weren’t, well, we’re going there now.” 

I chuckled but straightened. 

“Thank you but I can make it. Everyone’s already been too nice to me here.” 

A smile flickered across her face and her lovely golden eyes softened.  

“Well, I was heading to the clinic anyway so I’ll just accompany you.” 

I gave her a look but her smile had turned mischievous. I huffed and grumbled but limped over to the door. She stepped deftly ahead of me and held the door open. I tried to look dignified but gave her a grateful smile. 

“Fedyor?” she called, walking in behind me. There was a counter blocking off the corner and a small but cozy waiting room. One door stood on either side of the counter. The door leading into the waiting room swung open. 

“He’s not here right now, Genya. What do you-” 

The man who walked in stopped as he saw me and arched an eyebrow. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Ketarina Demiov? She’s gotten hurt,” Genya explained. 

“I can see that. Here.” He vanished back through the door and reappeared with a wheelchair. 

“I can walk,” I said automatically. He pushed the chair behind me anyway and I slowly sank down. A sigh rushed out of me as the weight came off my leg. I hadn't realized how badly it hurt. 

“This is Dr. Ivan Kaminsky. He’ll take good care of you.” 

I twisted as he pushed me toward the door. 

“You didn’t actually need anything here.” 

“Nope.” 

She gave a little wave before slipping from the clinic. I bit my lip against a smile as Dr. Kaminsky pushed me into a small examination room. 

“Alright, why don’t you tell me what happened?” he said, sitting down on the little rolly stool and pulling a clipboard from the drawer. 

“I fell down some stairs.” I saw him pause a bit as he slipped a form under the clasp. “I didn’t know the door would open up onto stairs and it was stuck. What kind of cellar door opens inward anyway?” 

I saw his shoulders shake briefly and scowled, moving to cross my arms. Any humor left him as he heard my hiss of pain. He quickly spun back to me and gently took my arm. 

“Where all do you hurt?” he asked as he began to carefully feel along my wrist and arm. He was more gentle than I thought he might be. He was handsome as well, of course, but his features were similar to Zoya’s, severe, stern. 

“Wrist and leg are the two big ones. I’m sure I’ve got other bumps. Ouch!” 

He nodded as he poked a tender spot. 

“Well, it hasn’t started swelling yet so that’s a good sign. It doesn’t feel broken but we’d need an x-ray to be sure. You were walking so I doubt your leg is broken either. We’ll get some x-rays, some pain medication and then a brace or cast depending on what you need.” 

I nodded and he gently settled my arm back down. 

He examined my leg as well before taking me to a back room where they had an x-ray machine set up. He took the pictures then settled me back in the examination room on the bed. 

“Alright, rest here. I’ll get you something for the pain. Any allergies?” 

I shook my head and leaned back against the pillow.  

The pain medication helped and I fell into a light doze. Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Kaminsky stepped back in. 

“Alright, thankfully, nothing’s broken. You do have a bad sprain though so I have a brace for you. You also have a bone bruise on your leg so make sure you rest, ice and elevate it.” 

“Thank you.” 

I swung my legs over and Dr. Kaminsky pushed the wheelchair over. I tested my leg. 

“I can probably make it home.” 

“I just told you to rest it.” 

I sighed but lowered myself into the chair. He pushed me out into the waiting room and another man sat behind the counter.

“Fedyor, can you watch the clinic while I take Miss Demiov home?” 

“Of course, dear.” He smiled brightly at me and it reminded me of Alina. I couldn’t help but smile back. He gave a wave as Dr. Kaminsky pushed me out of the clinic. 

Dr. Kaminsky rolled me down the path in silence. Despite his severe features, I actually appreciated it. Everyone here was so nice and chatty. It was good to know someone was a little closer to my normal. 

At the house, he helped me up the porch steps. 

“Let me guess, your room is on the second floor?” 

“Yes, but really, I’ll be ok. Thank you for everything.” 

He hesitated, brow furrowing. “Alright, but call if anything happens or the pain gets worse.” He handed me a business card. 

“Right, I still need to get a telephone,” I muttered. 

I’d never heard a more exasperated sigh. 

[edwardnortonwhore]

Old & new || mike wheeler x male!reader - part 5

A/n: started this at 00:36am so I apologise for any spelling errors or grammar or shit.

Notes: mostly angst, some fluff at the start/end.

Random: I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS AN AHS HOTEL CROSSOVER CUS WHY TF NOT SO THAT IS IMPORTANT ASWELL!!!!

Warnings: swearing, violence, homophobia, jealous!el, underage smoking, reader ends up in the hospital, extreme gore, seizures, injury detail.

Summary: Mike broke up with eleven over a year ago and has found someone new. That only one person actually knows about in the world. But when el follows Mike home one night she finds something out and loses her temper... badly.

"Well, uh, this is it." Y/n broke out of his emotional haze and unlocked the door. He had only just noticed the keyring that still adorned the metal, a small glass heart. It had a golden latch at the top that opened and was filled with a red liquid.

The memory came back all too fast and y/n found himself fiddling with it as if to dissuade Mike from asking about it.

However, they both entered the room together and as he had remembered, it was still pretty much identical other than the change of scenery from the large floor to ceiling window on the far wall.

When first walking in there was door leading to a spotless, rouge themed bathroom with a rainfall shower and a sink with a large, Hollywood mirror. Along with a toilet and a towel rack that held fresh towels.

After the door there was the actual room. A television on the wall, surrounded by mountains of posters, magazine cutouts, photo frames and fairy lights. It made y/n smiled to think that they had left the room this way, not giving it out to customers or even redecorating. It still had its original red and gold patterned carpet and the red velvet bedframe that sported a double mattress adorned with all types of black pillows, blankets, a quilt, throws. Anything comfy. There was a large wardrobe on the side wall that opened up widely. The clothes were now in boxes, probably to stave of any moths that wanted a snack, even though non of them would fit anymore.

"Holy shit this is so cool!"

"I decorated it with Donovan when I was twelve. I begged Elizabeth to let me have a room outside the penthouse and she finally caved when I got dono and even Sally to join in."

"It must of been so cool living here as a kid!"

"Sometimes, yeah. I met alot of cool people, famous, about to he famous, all sorts. You know elvis presley stayed here? And Marilyn Monroe! And Ralph maccio!"

"Woah!"

They pair continued to chat idly as they put their stuff away and soon y/n was distracted fiddling with some things in a box.

A bracelet, a few papers, all autographs, some old coins, a few vintage cigarette boxes, some eccentric lighters, and some photos.

Mike sat down beside him and looked over his shoulder quietly.

One photo was of a much younger y/n being carried by Elizabeth who looked exactly the same as now. He was wearing denim jeans and a plain white shirt, his hair was lighter and he was smiling.

The next photograph was of y/n and another 2 kids, around ten maybe? An oddly familiar girl with ginger hair and a blonde boy. Mike swore he'd seen them before.

"Who are they?" He asked casually, resting his chin on y/n's shoulder.

"Uhh," he paused, "the girl is molly ringwald and the boy isssss corey haim." He smiled and Mike's jaw fell open and he leaned back against the bed.

"That is so fucking cool!"

"Fuck yeah man! The coolest!"

"Oh fuck wait, what's the time?"

"Uh I dunno."

"Fuck we need to go meet the others."

"Oh shit yeah. Forgot about that." Mike laughed and grabbed a jacket while y/n reached into the wardrobe and moved a panel to reveal a small space. He pulled out a denim jacket with all sorts of patches and badges sewn on. They were from all sorts of places, countrys, concerts, shops, bands, everything. He carefully placed it on and grabbed the keys. He hung the key and small glass heart around his neck by a chain like he did when he was younger and opened the door for Mike.

They walked down the hall hand in hand and eventually reached the elevator, clicking the first floor option and ending up at the bar. They walked over and sat down, liz stood behind it in a bright blue dress. She walked over and leaned on the counter.

"Kids. What can I get you?"

"Uhhh, can we reopen my stash please liz." He smiled and Mike turned to him confused.

"Stash? What stash?"

"Oh don't worry hon. Its just a shit load of discontinued energy drinks that y/n decided to bulk buy 7 years ago. They dont expire till 2040."

"Ohh. Why?"

"I have no clue. I liked the cans."

Y/n replied, drumming his hands on the table. A minute later liz passed over 2 glasses of bright pink fizzy liquid with ice and strawberries.

Y/n took a long sip and smiled. "Amazing." He nodded like a food critic. Mike laughed yet again and sipped on his contently, waiting for the others who eventually came bounding across the lobby balcony and sat down.

"We got lost, four times." Dustin declared.

"It was lucas' fault!" Max retorted.

"Shut up, it was not!"

They began to bicker between eachother while the others decided to move over to the larger sofas on the edge of the balcony. Y/n nodded and smiled at liz, paying even though he wasn't obliged to. And sitting down in-between Mike and dustin.

They began their usual conversation. How it was nice to be away from Hawkins and monsters and the upside down. But y/n knew they were never far from danger. Especially not here. But they were safer. And he was okay with that.

About 30 minutes later, John walked passed and stared at the group of teens confused before spotting y/n.

"Y/n/n!" He said loudly, smiling.

"John!" He got up and stepped over Mike, hugging the ex-cop.

"How've you been? I haven't seen you for years."

"Good, good. Uh, Alex passed a few years back. Murder."

"Oh fuck."

"Don't bother with the pity act, not even I liked her."

"So is it okay to ask who did it so I can go win or lose a bet I made with Donovan before I went to Hawkins?"

"Sure, it was the twins." He smiled.

"I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! YESSS!"

He waved his arms in the air.

"200 BUCKS MOTHERFUCKER!" John laughed with a wide smile and patter him on the back.

"Do me a favour and don't spend it on cigarettes? Please?"

"What if they're blue ones?"

"Y/n- oh you know what they sound pretty cool, fuck it."

"Yess."

He sat back down and recieved some strange stares.

"What?" He looked around.

"She was murdered? And you know who did it? And you had a bet?"

"Yeah" He paused, "oh wait yeah this hotel's pretty fucking weird so yeah if you hear something like that no you didn't." He smiled and sipped his drink.

It was about half past midnight when the party decided to head back to their rooms. All walking slowly along the corridors. To their rooms they went and eventually into bed. Fast asleep.