#don't read the cruel prince though please don't read that

[softpng]

do nerd teens even still exists? the ones that read fantasy and write fanfics and dress like they go to Harvard even though they're 13 (but in a slightly awkward way, not the trendy influencer shit) and befriend more teachers than students and you know those teens, are they still out there?

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 7

Title: The Perfect Jotunn Bride

Kink: Macrophilia

Pairing: Frost Giant! Loki x f!Asgardian!Reader,

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, macrophilia, temperature play (Frost Giant skin), descriptions of violence (not toward reader), arranged/forced marriage, dubcon, mean!Loki (he should just be a warning anyway), knife play (brief), corset, struggling to breathe (bc of the corset), nipple/breast play, thigh riding, teasing, biting/marking, pet names (see below author's note), squirting, vaginal fingering

No beta - and we're ignoring that I posted this 1 minute past midnight xoxo

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Your Husband, the Frost Giant Prince Loki, has come back from battle and expects to see his bride.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

A/N: I had to edit this fic more than once to cut and splice things from it. I expect I'll have a part 2 (and 3) soon... I don't even wanna talk about how many words this was YEESH. I gotta learn to make a one shot and not stay up to early hours with a 6k storyline. Again, this was supposed to be LONGER 💀

I found this website here that helped with Old Norse translations (but they may be wrong!) I'll link it once I get the chance - Love, Grem x

smăr einn = little one

Part 2

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You had just barely managed to avoid the advances of your husband for the last few weeks. Too busy with the politics between realms to fully focus on you; and you were grateful for it. Your husband was ruthless, cruel and cold. That last adjective quote literally. The prince of Jotunheim was not to be trifled with; as your brother and father had found out rather perilously. Your father had sought to trick Loki and whilst his back was figuratively turned, your brother  was sent to kill him.  

Loki returned your brother’s mangled corpse back to your home, with a letter promising war unless your father’s prized possession – you – was given as penalty. Marriage with the prince of Jotunheim meant two realms were unified, which was far more prosperous  than war.  However, that meant being ripped away from your home, your family, your friends, your fiancé and everything you had ever known and being thrust into the cold, unforgiving hands of a barbaric frost giant.  You had begged, cried and pleaded with your father but nothing had changed his mind. It was set in stone.

Your new husband took joy in tormenting you on your wedding say, reminding you time and time again that you were lucky to be a negotiation prize rather than one of his spoils of war. The thought had made you shudder with terror and, thankfully, his attentions were lured away to another realm, another battle, another day spent far away from you.

You quickly learned that many of the female frost giants were unimpressed with you as a tiny little thing in comparison to their race as a whole. Your body almost entirely unequipped for Jotunheim weather. Your ladies-in-waiting were no different.  They had spoken in their native tongue in front of you, clearly, discussing you and how you probably didnt meet their standards nor their prince’s. You’d stayed quiet and fiddled with your hands, unsure of how to approach them or speak to them. Everything you knew about frost giants was from your culture; which labelled them as blood-thirsty barbarians. Though, the ice fortress you resided in was immaculate and strictly designed – different from your home in Asgard yet no less civilised.  That was a good starting point.

over the course of the week’s your husband’s absence, you focused on befriending your ladies-in-waiting. You asked about their culture, their lives and the language they spoke. If you were going to be here until the end of your days, you may as well know what is being said behind your back and, well, to your face.

You picked up words quickly, studying in the silence of the enormous bed chamber. You had borrowed a few children’s books from the library, and one or two on the flora and fauna of Jotunheim, though you could only appreciate the pictures thus far.

The bed chamber was far too big   for you, perfect size for your husband, you supposed. Large wooden bookcases adorned the far wall, and there was a small (well small for a giant) fireplace adorned with a fur rug from a creature you couldn’t name, but it was soft. The bed itself was so huge you practically drowned in the covers. It was cosy but you agreed with yourself it was probably cosy because your husband was not there with you.

Yet.

One morning, after waking up  relatively late, your ladies-in-waiting were busying about the bedroom.  

“What’s going on?” you ask nervously, already anticipating the answer.

Gertrud, the more social of the two giantess’, gave you a smile as she paused her dusting of the bookshelf. “Prince Loki is returning from battle today.”

You suppress a shiver and try to smile, but you’re not confident you look entirely happy. “Wonderful.”

Gertrud continues regardless, her face contorting to an excited, doe eyed look.  “He’s sent you a gift ahead of his arrival, my lady.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound chipper. In the very short time you had spent in Jotunheim, Loki had only ever taunted you, albeit briefly. A gift was... new. And you didn’t like it one bit.  “How thoughtful of him.”

“He left instruction for you to wear it on his return.” Gertrud says wistfully, as if it’s the most romantic thing she could dream of.

“Wear?” You speak before you can process what’s been said, the shock in your tone evident. Your mouth goes dry and heat burns its way to your cheeks. You weren’t stupid. Wearing something for his return only meant one thing. Your stomach becomes a pit and you have to scream at yourself internally to stop from swaying.

Gertrud mistakes the your shock and flushed face as a sign of excitement, not of worry and fear.  “I must say the garment – whatever it is – is not from Jotunheim. Your husband  must have acquired it for you, my lady.” Gertrud pauses to smile over at you. “I think our prince is quite taken with his bride.”

You flush a deeper shade of pink and clear your throat. “So it would seem.” You murmur carefully. “Where is the garment? What is it?”

Gertrud places the duster down and heads to a dresser on the otherside of the room, picking up a package and handing it over to you. You delicately take the package from her, shivering at the coolness of her skin, and begin to unwrap it. To your surprise, and utter embarrassment, it’s a corset with matching underwear. Gertrud’s eyebrows raise and she gives you a knowing smirk. You bury your face in your hands.

“I do not need to know what that thing is to know it’s intent,” She says smugly. “As I said, our prince is taken with his bride.”

You peek out from your fingers, eyeing the corset.  It’s blue – frost giant blue to be exact – with white lace detail across the bust and back, and white ribbon zigzagging up the back. If this was your husband’s idea of a sick joke, it worked. You still couldn’t decide if you were going to vomit from nervousness.

Gertrud pats your shoulder gently, again misreading your embarassment as bashfulness.

“I will run your bath, my lady. I do not know how to help you into that... thing.” She eyed the corset suspiciously. “But I will ensure that you are ready for your husband’s return.”

You only nod, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You should have known this would be inevitable.

You pace fretfully around the large bedroom. You’d wrapped yourself in a robe, hiding your corset and matching underwear, feeling too exposed even for the man who was your husband. You’d attempted to study again, books and notes strewn across the fur rug in front of the crackling fireplace, but the nervousness of your first night with your husband had you too worried to think.

You’d shooed Gertrud away as quickly as you could, after being bathed in the nicest oils and scents imaginable, softening your skin to butter. You’d fiddled with your corset, tightening it possibly too tight, and after one look in the mirror making heat rise where it definitely shouldn’t you’d throat on your robe.

You’d been pacing for an hour, or thereabouts. Word of Loki’s return to Jotunheim had spread like wildfire  within the fortress, yet  he still hadn’t come to see you. Any other time you would have been grateful but you knew that he was tormenting you; keeping you on edge until he decided to visit. You even contemplated running and hiding but you knew the risk; Loki had whispered as much to you at your wedding banquet, reminding you that if you ran away all out war would ensue. Starting with your father’s head on a spike.  You also knew that hiding would only deny the inevitable; you would eventually have to share a bed with your husband and as a wife, you were expected to bear his children. You shuddered again.

The door to the chambers opened. Your head whipped up, hands clutching at your robe tightly without thought, as you watched Loki enter.  He towered above you, easily twelve feet high maybe more, but he must have came from one of the bathrooms because his blue skin trickled with water droplets from his long raven’s wing hair, and he held a towel around his waist.  You averted your gaze to the fire, face flushing. Despite it all, he was still attractive.

Loki’s chuckle echoes throughout the chamber and the door shuts behind him.

“What? No welcome for your husband?”  He sneers. You don’t have to look to know his lips are curled into that cruel smile you’ve grown accustomed to. “And I see you’re not wearing your gift.”

You look over at him as he approaches, too scared to move. “I-I am.” You  murmur, regretting the words as they leave your mouth.

Loki sits on the rug in front of you, on leg up the other flush against the rug, the towel leaving little to the imagination. His red eyes stay on you as he smirks, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Well,” He gestures at your robe. “Let your husband see.”

Your face burns, your palms are sweaty against your robe, and you pause. You look at your feet, clearing your throat.

“a-aren’t you going to tell me about your battle?” your attempt for stalling is dismissed immediately.

“Later. Show me. Before I remove it for you.”

You nod quickly and with a shaky breath, you untie your robe and let the garment pool at your feet. You would attempt to cover yourself but you aren’t even naked, which somehow makes it worse as you feel Loki’s crimson eyes rake over you.  Your chest his flushed and heaves  in the corset, ribbon straining with each breath. Your breasts look like they might spill over at any given moment and   You feel a little light headed from the entire situation. 

“Come closer, wife.” Loki curls a finger at you and you take a few tentative steps closer until you’re stood between his knees, still staring at your feet. His finger tilts your chin up to look at him. The coolness of his finger makes you shiver but when you meet his eyes, there’s a softness you don’t expect to see. “You look beautiful.”

You don’t quite gasp, but your mouth makes a small ‘o’ in shock. You hadn’t expected something so sincere, let alone nice and it makes heat surge between your thighs.

“Thank you, Loki.” You say softly. Loki shifts his legs, eyes not leaving yours as his lips twitch upwards into a smirk. His gaze flits behind you to your notes and his smirk widens into a grin.

“Ah, my wife has been busy whilst I’ve been gone.” He comments, gaze flicking back to you.  “Come into my arms and tell me what you’re working on, smár einn.”

The foreign words tickle at your memory but you can only recognise the word one. You take another few steps forward, squeaking with surprise when Loki’s cold forearm  wraps around your waist, guiding you to straddle a large, muscular thigh. The icyness of his skin against the warmth between your thighs makes you audibly gasp, and Loki chuckles.  

“Happy I’m home?” He teases, your back meeting his torso as he cages you in around his thigh. Wisps of his hair tickle at your shoulders, and a cool kiss is placed at your nape makes you startle. “Because I’m happy to be back. I thought you wouldn’t wear this for me.”

Your blushing isn’t missed by Loki nor is the throb of your cunt on his thigh. When you don’t answer, Loki’s nose runs along your nape, making you shiver again. You’re breathing harder, your breasts bobbing with each breath, as you try to get as much air into your lungs as possible. You feel like you’re suffocating, even though Loki’s grip loose on your waist.

Loki doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he doesn’t care, he’s too busy being smug about your excitement for him, and continues to tease you about your corset; how you look like the perfect Jotun bride now. You mumble thanks at his teases, trying not to look at him and trying not to think of anything, but Loki start to trail icy kisses up your neck that burn your skin in their wake. You mewl quietly and shift your legs causing more friction against your cunt which in turn makes you squeeze your thighs around his gigantic thigh and you notice that the same raised lines on the tough blue skin of his arms and face are on his legs too. Loki nips gently at you shoulder, eliciting a strangled yelp from you.

“That’s it, warm me up, smăr einn.” He taunts, licking the skin he’d bitten with a luke-warm tongue. “Rutting against me like a bitch in heat, no instruction needed.”

Shame floods you at his taunt but so does a throb of excitement. Loki kisses at your neck a little more hungrily in response, earning another few short gasps from you.

“Go on,” He urges in a low, mocking tone. “You want to – I can feel that you want to.”

You whimper pathetically, rolling your hips forward for more friction. Your lip quivers and you bit down – hard – you’ll be dammed if you let him think he wins by seeing you cry. But your giant husband only sneers down at you. Your clit brushes against one of the raised ridges of his skin; electricity crashing through you as you gasp loudly, falling forward onto your palms. Your nails dig into his tough skin when you hear him chuckle, face flushing with anger as you glare in his direction. Loki only mocks you further, holding a hand up in faux-surrender.

“I’m sorry, wife.” He says smugly, watching your reaction. “Please, continue fucking yourself on my thigh.”

You fluster again, but the light-headedness you felt earlier returns. This time, though, instead of struggling to breathe you feel faint and you sway and swoon atop Loki’s thigh. Loki raises an eyebrow, vexed at your actions, before realising that you aren’t faking. Something akin to concern crosses his face and he gets to his feet, holding you close as he takes you to his large bed.

He places you down somewhat gently, your breathing laboured, the constriction from the corset aching at your ribs. You can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs at they scream at your for it. When you look at your husband you wonder briefly if he’ll leave you to die like this and when he pulls a knife from his bedside table, you think he will be the one to take your life instead. The blade is cold against the heat of your skin. Loki doesn’t rush. He trails the tip of the blade down your sternum, between your breasts, to the lacy frill of your corset.

“I can remove this if you so wish,” he says coolly, pressing the blade into your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood. “But I need to hear you beg.”

You want to kick him for the heat that pools between your legs. He knows you’re struggling to breathe with this God forsaken corset on and somehow he manages to find a way to please himself.

“Please.” You huff, but Loki clicks his tongue.

“No, no.” He chides. “Properly.”

His eyes meet yours, and you can feel the challenge emanating from them. You grit your teeth and take a small breath, trying to avoid crushing your ribs. In a small voice you beg him in the way he’s requested.

“Please, husband.” You mumble. “Please, help me.”

The ripping of the ribbons are swift. Your beautiful but bone-crushingly tight corset falls away and you inhale a deep breath that transforms into a gasp when Loki’s mouth finds your nipples and sucks them almost lovingly. Your hands root into his thick black hair, mind drawing a blank, as a cold hand tweaks the nipple he isn’t paying attention to with his mouth. You couldn’t push him away even if you wanted to, not with a giant’s strength. However at this moment in time, you didn’t want him far from you.

Your gasps and moans fill the chamber and Loki smirks up at you from where he’s latched to your breast. Peppering kisses to every inch of skin he can manage, Loki finally finds a supple piece of skin above your left breast that he deems the perfect space for a mark. A mark to show the world that you are his. Only his.

He bites down onto the skin, feeling the vessels burst between his teeth and growls at you when you tug at his hair with a pained yell. You writhe beneath him as he sucks and kisses the spot he marked, the gesture is almost sweet, loving, but you’re too busy feeling too turned on to care. His hands large hands move down to remove what’s left of your underwear, a long, cool finger teasing at your folds.

“Loki,” you say his name with no air left in your lungs, your body trembling under his touch. You’re no longer fighting the desire you feel, which stirs something within Loki’s icy chest. He looks down at you, head tilted faux-curiously, unable to resist teasing you.

“That’s the first time you’ve used my name.” He comments, watching your face contort in pleasure as his index finger breaches your dripping core. “I believe you deserve a reward for being such a good wife.”

His digit pumps you at a vicious pace that, after the assault on your sensitive breasts, sends you careening over the edge of ecstasy quickly. You coat his finger with your cum, chanting his name desperately, strangling his finger with your pussy as he helps you ride out your high. Your legs twitch as you watch him with half lidded gaze as he remove his finger from you with a smirk. He towers over you and before you can say a word, he’s peppering you with soft, cold kisses.

“My smăr einn,” he says softly. “You did well tonight. I look forward to seeing what tomorrow will bring.”

You don’t think about what he could mean, your brain is too foggy and you feel too wonderful to want to dampen the wonderful elation you’re feeling; something you haven’t felt in weeks. You don’t even complain when Loki curls over you, allowing him to wrap himself around you under the sheets of your bed. Nor do you move away when Loki kisses your head and wishes you goodnight; something he’s never done before.

As you drift to sleep, anxiety of the day and the high provided by your orgasm taking its toll, you wonder if maybe your relationship with Loki could be better than you had expected.

[fictionplumis]

Dreamling: Arranged Marriage AU

This idea won't leave me alone until I write it. A Dreamling arranged marriage AU where Night decides her children could stand to be a little closer to mortals lest they end up like their father and completely separated from them, so she decides one of them needs to take on a mortal consort--who would then become immortal, no she does not think this would eventually compromise the integrity of her idea. Ideally, all of them would have a mortal consort, but even she recognizes the problem with that. Destiny doesn't meddle in mortal affairs at all, Death is far too busy, Destruction has been pulling back from his duties and neglecting his realm (he's still there, for now, but they all know he's not really doing anything anymore, they just don't know how to bring it up to him), Desire is far too immature, making a mortal spend eternity with Despair would be cruel, and Delirium would drive her spouse insane.

So it's decided that Dream (this is about Sandman, not the YouTuber, if this post breaks containment PLEASE understand this is about the Sandman NOT the YouTuber) is the only suitable candidate, and the others will just have to experience mortals through their sibling-in-law. Night declares it, says she doesn't care how it's done as long as it's done, the end. 

(I'm sorry all you people that want Night and Time to be good supportive parents, but I read Overture, they fucking suck. Night will not show up to the wedding because she's already written off her children as selfish and ungrateful anyway, this is in part a way to punish them and to punish Dream, and Time finds this ridiculous but knows it will happen, has already happened, is happening, and he doesn't really care.)

Dream hates this. If he had his choice he would pluck the first mortal up, marry them, and promptly forget about them and go back to ruling his realm. That's why his siblings decide that he cannot, under any circumstances, be in charge of this.

Instead they decide on a friendly competition. They will each (all except for Destiny, who already knows the various different outcomes and has decided to observe but not participate) pick a candidate for Dream. The Endless don't really abide by silly things like linear time and whatnot, so it could literally be any mortal they nominate. They will each then devise a trial to test what they each believe to be an important quality necessary to marry Dream of the Endless and become Prince Consort of the Dreaming. All candidates will be put through the tests until there's one remaining. 

(I'm sorry, Calliope will not be in this because I can't think of a realistic way she would be eliminated and she's technically not mortal anyway.)

Death finds her candidate in a dingy tavern on Earth, circa 1389, when she overhears a drunken snippet of conversation. A man boldly claiming she's stupid and he's going to live forever. It's a jest, she knows. He doesn't actually believe he'll live forever, but there is the desire to within him and in thirty seconds he's proven himself a natural storyteller. It's a whim that she approaches him with an amused, "Did I hear that right, you intend to live forever?" 

The table goes silent. Hob's companions are smirking between him and the woman suggestively and Hob waves them off with a laugh. "Aye, that's right." 

"I believe you and I need to talk, then. Somewhere more private." 

There's some immature tutting from his mates, and Hob looks surprised and thrilled all at once, because she's very beautiful though why she's interested in him when her outfit implies she's chaste-- But hell if he's going to pass up the opportunity, so he goes with her, tries to make a move on her the second they're around the corner and she laughs in his face, easily bats him away, and goes, "You're cute, but not my type, Robert Gadling. No, I'm here to offer you a chance at immortality." 

He grows wary at first. Asks if she's the devil, but she just stares at him patiently until he realizes who she is and stumbles back in fear and surprise, only to be laughed at again. Kinder, this time. 

"I'm not here to take you, though..." She eyes the tankard in his hand with raised brows. "It is a shame you didn't lay off the ale sooner." He quickly sets the tankard down and steps away from it. 

The deal is this. He'll be part of a competition, though he won't know it or remember this conversation. Should he win, he'll be immortal. If he loses, he'll be returned to his life right before she approached him, to live out what few hours he has left, never remembering any of this. She leaves out how he'll become immortal, leaves out that he'll end up marrying her sullen little brother and becoming Prince Consort to his realm, but what are the changes he'll win anyway?

Dream is surprised to find that each of his siblings picks someone that does, on some level, appeal to him. He's a romantic at heart, it's hard not to fall a little bit in love with each other of them as he watches how this plays out.

The competition is this: 

Each candidate will live what they perceive to be four lifetimes in a dream. For the most part, they're just going to be jumping from important decision to important decision, with the blanks filled in for them through false memories to make it feel like it's been four lifetimes and not a few days at most. At the end of each lifetime, they'll be asked if they wish to continue living. That is Death's trial, because anyone marrying an Endless must be resilient enough to keep going. 

The first lifetime is Despair's test, in which the candidates discover that they won't age, they won't die, that their life may very well be unending. They lose their families, their friends, and realize that they always will. They don't know if there's any way to opt out or not, so for all they know, one day in the very distance future, they will be the only one left. Despair wants to make sure the idea of Endlessness is not a curse for Dream's spouse to bear, though she herself would thrive off that, personally.

Ironically, it's Despair's candidate, the queen of the first human civilization, that falls to this test. Nada lives the first lifetime without ever knowing true, passionate love. She's pushed into marrying someone who is a good ruler for her people, and when they pass, she marries someone else who is also a good ruler for her people, and she sees that there are those besides herself who have the judgement necessary to rule. She's proud of the city she's created, she's proud of her people, and the idea of eventually watching them die and come to an end as all things do, it kills her inside. It doesn't matter that it might be millennia from now. When a gentle voice asks one day if she wishes to continue living, she contemplates it, contemplates her current husband, closes her eyes, and says, "No. I think it's time for a new queen to rule my people." 

Hob, on the other hand, has spent his lifetime fighting, mostly, a bit of highway robbery when he couldn't find a war. Lots of brothels. He's eaten stuff he shouldn't have, gotten himself mortally injured more than a few times, bounced back from it, and now he's into this printing thing. No guilds to restrict it yet, it pays well, and he's been teaching himself how to read. He's sitting in an inn, drinking ale next to the hearth, no smoke in his eyes, and thinking about swindling the table next to him in a round of cards to pay for some more ale. When the same voices asks him if wishes to keep living, his eyes get bright and he answers, "Oh yes." The thought of what his immortality might mean never really crossed his mind. He lost people, sure, but he would have lost them anyway, and there's always more people to meet. This is amazing. 

The second lifetime is Desire's test. Desire, who actually cares on some level, in their own way, and knows that if their big brother marries an idiot, they'll have to put up with them, so they have to make sure Dream marries someone halfway decent. Someone who might keep him busy. Someone who desires things strongly, but is not so ruled by them that they'll give up their duty to chase distractions, nor will they give up if Dream doesn't desire them the way they wish--which is very likely. In Desire's test, each candidate is given people to love, fully and completely, with all their heart, and are forced to watch that thing die violently and terribly only to be asked right afterwards if they still wish to live. 

Delirium's candidate is Killala of the Glow, who finds out that the beautiful green star of her solar system, which is the cause of her power, is a conscious, living thing. And he loves her. He is everything she ever wanted. With him, her powers grow. She learns to use them better, to get stronger with them, to understand them and herself. It shouldn't have happened so soon, they should have had millennia together, but something happens and he has just enough time to warn her, to explain that he's dying and that she needs to be strong and use her powers to shield her world from him or his death will raze it all to the ground. She doesn't understand how this could happen, she can't concentrate through her grief, her planet is destroyed and as she's floating amongst the burning cold heat of her lover collapsing in on himself, she's asked if she still wishes to live and she says no. 

Hob meets Eleanor, who is charming and funny and matches him wit for wit. She doesn't ask about his past or how he acquired his money. He's never been in love before. He thought he would continue finding his companionship in brothels and had felt perfectly content with that, but now there's her, and he wants so very badly to marry her, to be her escape away from her traditionalist of a father who stifles her wit into silence. So he does. And he has a son, a beautiful baby boy that he promises the world to. Then there's the promise of another child, and he's thrilled. 

He's there in the room, holding Eleanor's hand, terrified when she goes into labor months earlier than planned. She's in so much pain. The baby isn't crying. The midwife is trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The blood is still warm on Hob's skin and clothing as he holds Eleanor's lifeless body and sobs. His son needs a mother. Needs a father but he knows, in that moment, that he will be a useless one to the boy like this. Robyn has his temper, he'll die too young and Hob will have failed him. 

When he's asked if he wishes to keep living, he thinks of how the blood is still warm on his skin, and how ashen Eleanor looks in his arms, and he brushes her hair back from her face and says, brokenly, "Someone has to remember her. She wouldn't... She wouldn't want me to give up, now would she?" 

Delirium knows better than any endless how pain and suffering can break a mind. Dream is the Lord of Nightmares as much as he is the Lord of Dreams. Or maybe she was just feeling particularly sadistic because she doesn't understand why she can't get married, she would love to get married, she could turn her spouse into bubbles and they would look so pretty floating around her realm, or maybe even glitter, or frogs! But no, she's not getting married, Dream is, and Dream is mean sometimes, so maybe she just decides to be mean to whoever he gets to married. It's hard to tell if even she knows her own motivation. 

But the candidates suffer for her trial, pushed to their breaking points and then past them. 

Destruction's candidate has never really known suffering before these trials. Or living, really. See, Destruction hadn't actually gone out to try to find someone for Dream, he had been busy trying to learn how to carve a piece of marble into a shape without reducing it to rubble. Once everyone else had found their candidate, he went to Desire and was like, "Hey, so..." 

Desire sighed, and rolled their eyes, and was like, "Fine, I'll help you. I'll construct a woman to be your candidate. If I don't win, maybe you will." 

Thus Alianora was created. She's strong, smart, and while she can handle loss, she was created to be a lover. To be loved. To be a partner. Under Delirium's trial, she is alone, she suffers alone, no one pays her any mind or they hurt her worse, and she withers. She grows morose, she grows desperate, she grows hysterical in her isolation. She loses her mind. She never does answer the question of whether or not she wishes to keep living. It's questionable if she can answer the question, if she even fully understands it. Unfortunately, there is no coming back from such a thing, even if they fix her mind and these trials became like just a dream to her. There's no place for her to go now that she's lost this trial, no home for her to go back to. She's the only true causality of this game and Dream, aching for her and bitter over Desire's causal indifference, makes a Dreamscape for Alianora to live in where she'll never be alone. It's the least he can do.

Hob goes a touch insane himself, but the cracks in his mind are strategic. Like crumple zones in a car, it's to survive what comes next. He's drowned as a witch. Over and over, rocks tied to his ankles, tossed into the water, and every time he surfaces they catch him and do it all over again. Again and again. Dirty pond water filling his lungs, his chest fit to burst, throat and nose raw from inhaling liquid, skin clammy and near rotten. He lets himself break so that when the moment for real escape presents itself, he's not so gone that he misses the opportunity or that he stupidly cocks it all up. 

He does escape, but he's lost everything in a world where value is determined by wealth. He sleeps on the street, mutters to himself, has arguments with made up people in an attempt to kept his mind sharp and to distract himself from the decades where he starves and starves but never dies, his stomach endlessly digesting itself and he throws up what little bit of scraps he can get his hands on, which just makes it worse. 

When he's asked if he still wishes to live, he tosses his head back and laughs, startling a couple people walking past him on the street, who walk a bit quicker, and he asks, "Are you crazy?" Dream is leaned in where they watch these dreams projected above the family meeting table, and if one paid attention they might see that his eyes were rimmed red, thinking that Delirium's trial would claim another. At least he could be fixed, and would soon after go to the Sunless Lands to live in peace. He deserved that. They all did. 

"Death is a mug's game! I have so much left to live for!" 

And now there are two left to face down Destruction's trial. 

Destruction may not have put effort into finding a suitable candidate, but he did devise a good trial. While his brother did need someone strong and resilient, they had to be what Dream lacked as well. They needed to be flexible. They needed to learn and grow from their mistakes. They needed to have compassion. All of these things to teach Dream the same, to encourage these things during the moments that Dream lacks them. His trial isn't about pushing the candidates into choosing Death, there's a very clear answer to his and if the candidate does not find it, they fail, whether they want to continue living or not. 

Desire's candidate has yet to break. She has no intention of dying. She's more than willing to let go of what she desires if it means furthering her ambitions. Suffering doesn't break her, it only pisses her off. Dream isn't sure what to think of this woman. He doesn't really like her on a personal level, she would be nothing but trouble actually, but there is a certain appeal to her. He would never have to worry about hurting her unintentionally, at least. But she's greedy and she doesn't care who she hurts to get her way. And when Destruction's test rewrites her memories to have it where her immortality is granted to her through the blood of other witches, of her sisters, killed by her and sacrificed to the Hecate, the Three-in-One, the One Who is Three, and that more will die by her hands to keep living, she feels a twinge of grief and guilt. 

So Thessaly simply decides to not think about it. She misses them, but it's just proof that she was stronger than them. Smarter than them. That she deserved to be here instead of dying out with them. And if she's able to continue making these sacrifices, if no one is able to stop her, then clearly it's just more proof she deserves this. 

She fails, and no amount of Desire calling bullshit on Destruction's verdict changes his mind. 

Hob, meanwhile, has rebuilt his life. His fortune. He's living well again, he's at no risk of starving, no need to fight in anymore wars because he has pockets of money all across the world he can run off to at the first sign of trouble. He has connections and a successful business. 

He's talking with someone about said business only to have them eye him judgmentally. He's told, "It is a poor thing to enslave another." 

He's a bit rankled at being called out on it. He shrugs, says that's just how it's done, because it is. It is. And at first it looks like he's going to fail too and this whole venture will have to be start all over, new candidates found, but as they watch him, the words aren't easily pushed from his mind. He dwells on them. He starts going through charters and logs. He gets restless sitting at home, surrounded by his newly regained wealth. He starts contacting his ships, digging into their practices that's never really taken the time to learn the specifics of before. A captain offers to let Hob sail a round with him so he could show off how safe the investment is, fearing that perhaps Hob is only questioning because he's afraid of potential repercussions.

He's shown how people are collected. Chained together. The conditions they're kept in on ship, the treatment the sailors give them. The captain explains that if they're pursued, it's easy enough to dump the cargo into the ocean, the chains ensure they all sink, no one is the wiser. 

They don't leave port until everyone is loaded off the ship, and Hob demands they go straight back to England. He contacts every ship in his business and puts a stop to it. Cuts every shipping tie he has and when captains tell him he'll never make another quid, he tells him them he doesn't care, it's not worth it. The guilt still eats at him. It's not enough to make him forget the imagined faces of all the lives he's destroyed, drowning the same way he had, again and again, or resigned to a fate worse than death in most cases. He drinks himself into a stupor most nights. 

He's drunk when he's asked if he still wishes to live. It's not the kind, understanding woman's voice that usually asks. It's a man's, soft and deep, curious, and Hob swirls his glass of brandy, contemplating whether he deserves to or not when he was responsible for the death of so many innocents. They weren't killed in a fight, they didn't have anything worth taking from them, it was just cruelty against helpless people. He swings back the rest of his drink and mutters, bitterly, "History has a way of erasing these things, doesn't it? It forgets what it doesn't want to remember. Someone needs to remember. Someone needs to remind people of this. It won't ever be enough to make up for what I've allowed, but this is something I must live with. To die now and let the world forget would make me a coward shirking responsibility for myself." 

Just like that, he's sober again and standing in a room that's a mix of the time periods he lived through in his dream. It's warm, inviting. There's a four poster bed, a large hearth with piles of comfortable pillows in front of it. An oak wardrobe simply carved but beautiful. Rugs over stone floors. There's a large balcony that lets in plenty of natural light, and it overlooks fantastical mountains in the distance, and a harbor filled with ships of every kind, and sea serpents lazily winding their way through them. Hob had never given much thought to what his perfect room would look like, but he knows he's standing in it. 

The dream he lived through feels like a dream, it's hazy and indistinct, disconnected from the emotions that he once felt were so real and consumed by. But he's not the same man he was when it started. He's retained the lessons learned about living, about compassion, he's more mature, he still remembers how to read. It's all still there, but the loss and grief and guilt are distant now, more like a story he read than a life he lived. 

And Death is there with him, dressed in black jeans and a tank top, smiling proudly at him. He suddenly remembers the competition and has a brief moment of panic, blurts out, "Oh god, I lost and drunk myself to death and this is heaven--" 

"No, you won, Hob!"

"What?"

"You won!" And then she has to explain that while yes, he technically will be immortal, it's only because he now has to marry her little brother. They move out to the balcony and she explains that they're in the Dreaming and what that means while Hob looks around in awe. "He's not bad, my brother," she assures. "He's a bit distant, mostly. A stickler for his rules. He's prideful and can have quite temper if you insult that. It's wise to remember that he rules dreams and nightmares here. But at worst, he'll probably go back to his work and forget you exist, and you'll have the whole of his realm to explore. Unfortunately, you can't back out now." 

"Oh, I wouldn't if I could," Hob assures quickly, waving the concern off. "Marrying a nightmare sure beats rotting to maggots in the ground. I'll take it. What's expected of me?" 

She tells him that he probably won't have any actual duties, and Prince Consort will more than likely just be a title. Theoretically, Hob could hold sway over the Dreaming nearly as much as Dream did, but that required getting close to Dream. "Consummating your marriage," she tactfully puts it. "Each time you got closer to my brother, each time he lets you closer and as his trust and care grows, you would find the Dreaming responding easier and easier to you. The Dreaming is an extension of him, after all. And it's better that way, because you're immortal but still human, and suddenly having awareness of this would be way too much to pile on your mind all at once. But I doubt you'll have to worry about it. My brother seems curious about you but he's stubborn and easily distracted."

The wedding happens that night. 

Hob hasn't met his betrothed yet. 

Death dresses him in a stunning white suit with gold accents. His cravat is the finest woven white silk, embroidered in gold. He has a halo of gold light. There's a bloody cape. It drapes like heavy velvet but it's light and sheer and glitters like stars. He's a nervous wreck and she laughs gently and assures him that he'll know what to do when the time comes. 

Everything that dreams attends the wedding. It shouldn't have been possible to fit so many people in a room, but they're there. It should have taken years for Hob to walk down the aisle to the staircase to the raised dais and the throne, but it was a short walk and the whole time Hob can do nothing but stare at the man standing in front of the throne who has his chin raised, his dark eyes a host of starlight. He does seem vaguely curious. And haughty. And prideful. And beautiful. He's dressed in a similar suit of black, his sheer cape swirling with galaxies and nebula, and there's a sword of obsidian glass in his hands, the point resting gently against the stone floor. 

Hob knows intuitively to kneel the second he ascends the last stair, but he can't quite manage to duck his head like he knows is proper because he can't look away from this creature. Thankfully it produces something startlingly close to amusement in his betrothed. 

"Robert Gadling," he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying, the same one that had last asked him if he wished to live. He holds out his hand, a ruby ring already on his finger. "Swear your fealty to me." And then lower, softer, just between the two of them, "Do not be nervous, the words will come." 

And they do. A bit breathless, but they come after Hob reaches for the hand and presses his lips to the ring, his eyes still on the entity soon to be his husband in what has to be the weird marriage ritual of all time. "I swear my undying fealty to you, Morpheus, Lord of the Dreaming, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories and Shaper of Form. I swear to reside at your side, to give my loyalty to you and this Realm first and foremost, and to never raise a hand or support any threat to the denizens here. I am yours, Dream of the Endless." The words tighten through his chest like a binding and good lord, there's the smallest little smile on the Lord's face and he doesn't have a halo but the way the light from the stained glass windows behind him shines, it looks like he does and it's beautiful. 

Dream takes back his hand. He raises his sword and taps both of Hob's shoulders. At the second one, Hob feels the weight of a ring on his own finger. "Arise, Prince Consort of the Dreaming." 

Most people leave after that, they wake up and go about their lives, knowing something changed but not sure what. Some stay, and there's some mingling, and a reception dinner, and Hob barely gets a second to say two words to his husband. He's introduced to family, to Titania and motherfucking Lucifer. A librarian gives him her congratulations, a scarecrow with a pumpkin heads does so with a bit more reluctance and wariness, a raven with a white breast chats with him. She explains that she retired not too long ago, and nods towards a larger raven currently trying to figure out how to get his head into a champagne glass, explaining that he's her replacement. Despite how stupid he looks, she assures Hob that he's a good raven. 

There's a murder at one point. A man is stabbed through the eye with a serving fork. Some blond man in sunglasses looks intrigued by the turn of events, but he's the only one that bothers to react. The murderer tells him not to fucking try it, and then drags the body off. His husband merely tells him that it's normal and fine and that's pretty much the most he says aside from introducing Hob to people and staring at him from the corner of his black eyes. It's a whirlwind night and Hob ends it champagne drunk and passed out alone in his bed in his private quarters, not realizing until morning that he doesn't even know how to find his way around, let alone where the fuck his husband's room is. 

But when he stares at the ruby on his ring in the morning, he knows that he won't stop trying to woo his husband until they are properly, happily married, because one glimpse and Hob Gadling or whatever his surname was now, was most definitely head over heels in love. And thus begins the long and arduous process of courting his husband, the most stubborn man in existence, who is terrified of falling of in love and potentially being too much and would just rather keep his distance thank you very much. He makes it hard for Hob, until Hob remembers Death explaining that the Dreaming was an extension of him. If getting closer to Dream makes him closer to the Dreaming, maybe getting closer to the Dreaming will make him closer to Dream? It's worth a shot.

At the very least, Dream definitely takes note of the way everyone in his realm seems to be so smitten with his Prince Consort all of the sudden.

And that's it, that's all I have. I'm yeeting this out there to get it out of my head and now that you have it, you're free to do whatever you want with it. Change it up, write it, draw it, whatever, I don't care, you can have it now, just tell me if you do something with it because I wanna see okay thanks byee.

[parkjayssi]

MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE; EXCHANGE GAME

an exchange game about your fictional character as a partner

a game where i read the fate of you and your fictional character, in some other dimension, as partners and your dynamic together

rules :

🤍 like and reblog this post

🤍 please send me your ask along with the reading for me (tarot/intuition), initials, and your favourite colour.

🤍 please do not send your request in my dms, i'll only be accepting the one in asks.

🤍 any anon request will be simply not accepted.

🤍 please know that if i do not recognise the character you want an exchange for, the reading will take time.

🤍 the characters/fandom you can choose for me:

nanami, gojo, geto or shoko from jujutsu kaisen

levi from attack on titan

howl from howl's moving castle

elias ainsworth from the ancient magus' bride

any guy from love and deepspace

any adult from genshin impact

any adult from honkai starrail

cardan or jude from the cruel prince

baek dohwa from operation: true love

kim dokja from omniscient reader viewpoint

ryu sunjae from lovely runner

draco malfoy from harry potter

people who have entered : @mymoonlightyou @skymoonies @sofia-the-creator @foulkidphantom @generalcoldphilosopher @tea-lover-flowers @tarotally-amazimg

spots left: CLOSED

NOTE : since a lot of you don't know how exchange readings work, here's an example

if i still keep getting asks that do not understand the rules, i will cancel the game. the ones who've sent proper asks will be answered though

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox (Preview)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • fem!reader ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, sexual abuse, groomer ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Which scene do you want to talk about?" He asked coldly, dispassionately, and she swallowed loudly.

"About the Little Prince and the Fox." She said quietly, feeling him give her a brief glance.

He grunted under his breath, apparently agreeing with her choice, waiting for her elaboration on the matter. She swallowed with difficulty, licking her lips.

"What moved me most was how true this scene is. That the greatest enemy of friendship, or any close relationship, is haste. That only by respecting someone's barriers, only by approaching someone slowly and with understanding, can you really look at them from a distance.

By taming someone, by making that person grow attached to you, you take partial responsibility for that person's feelings, for making them trust you enough to believe that you won't intentionally hurt them with your behaviour. Until we really get to know someone we are just a crowd of people passing each other on the street."

She said in a trembling voice, feeling for some reason tears under her eyelids and a tightness in her throat, her eyebrows arched in pain, her lower lip began to tremble, she played with the material of her white daisy dress in a nervous gesture.

She felt him watching her, an awkward silence fell between them.

She couldn't look at him.

She thought he was going to say something cruel, that he was going to tell her to stop wailing, but he said nothing. After a while he spoke up.

"I see this scene differently. They're both moving towards each other because they're determined to do so. They are both going their separate ways. There is a balance. The Little Prince doesn't force the Fox to approach him, just as the Fox doesn't force the Little Prince to approach him. They do it of their own free will. They tame themselves because that's the decision they made. You can't tame someone who doesn't want it." He said lowly, and she looked up at him feeling tears begin to run down her face.

Was he talking about himself?

Was she the Fox who wanted to tame him even though he didn't want it?

[igzsatelier]

Imagine...

Instead of Katarina having a harem, it was you being the main love interest.

Prince Geordo, Prince Alan, Keith and the rest of the noble men and ladies were romantically interested in you. They love you very much the longer they spend time with you.

Except you were in denial about it and you refused to believe that these handsome men and beautiful ladies were in love with you.

There was no way Prince Geordo was interested in you, right? He's too perfect! An absolute fairytale prince that you can't help but feel like you were dragging him down with you!... Huh? Why is he confessing to you? No no no, you're being delusional--

Nicol was so quiet and mysterious. And these awkward silence sessions is seriously killing you. Woah, Nicol has an intense gaze... Wait-- is he angry with you? Did you do something wrong?! Y-You must apologize to him!

You wonder why Mary was always so nice and touchy with you, it's pretty embarrassing and you couldn't return her passionate gaze... Maybe because you were so easy to fool and please... Um-- Uhh?!-- She sounded kinda aggressive towards Alan and Keith. Uwah, scary!

Romance novels weren't something you were into in the first place. It made you feel desperate and pathetic, but reading it with Sophia made you feel safe...

Eep! S-Sophia!-- Why is she pressing her forehead against yours? Maybe because you were sitting too close to her?... Yeah, that must be it! You have to move away before she gets disgusted by you!

Prince Alan looks so cool and amazing!... Unlike you, you feel like your talents weren't good enough no matter how hard you try... Wh-What...? He looks a bit red. Alan thinks you're already amazing in the beginning? That... Th-That!-- M-Make's me really happy...

Keith was so helpful so to you that you couldn't help but feel useless. You feel like you have failed on being a good big sibling to him. I must apologize for being a bad sibling!... Hmm? He's not mad? Then wh-why is he sighing tiredly like that!?-- He probably thinks that you were being pathetic again. Ahh! Need to apologize again!

Maria... Why was she so nice to you? And so kind! A-And beautiful!... It makes your heart flutter to think that she cares about you... Even though you think that you don't deserve it. Oh my god, sh-she's being so radiant! But you can't help but feel guilty that she's putting up with your pathetic self. You should apologize everytime she's with you-- she's far too good for this cruel world!

[rachelillustrates]

My top 7 Faerie stories/worlds atm 🦋

**Note, I am super dupes aware that I haven't read/watched everything, so please feel free to reblog/comment with recommendations!**

Faerie is the pulse of my heart, and my mind/spirit/etc. spends a LOT of time thinking about it, SO here's the most resonant of depictions of the realm/faeries themselves in my current opinion (and why).

(And not in any particular order:)

Elfhame, @hollyblack 's "Folk of the Air" series and all related books

Arda, Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" and all related adaptations

"Suitor Armor" by @thepurpah

Studio Ghibli's take on spirits in Japanese folklore

Brian and Wendy Froud's take on Faerie

"Fraggle Rock"

"Tock the Gnome," by myself!

Thoughts:

(Art by Rovina Cai, from "How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories")

I feel very much that Holly Black gets the lushness and richness of Faerie, plus the trickery of it, and that level of dangerous beauty - what attracts humanity to it, etc. How everything is in extremes, too, but also how parts of it echo the human experience - both in terms of courts, but also in terms of the heart, and the emotional impact of intense circumstances and intense feelings.

I am, admittedly, not all caught up yet since I haven't read her earlier works, but of course I recommend starting with "The Cruel Prince" and reading forward from there (the more recent "Stolen Heir Duology" having an extra special place in my esteem)!

(Also special shoutout to the fact that there are Nisse - Gnomes! - in the recent books, AND that her take on Redcaps is absolutely Orcish 💚)

(Also also, cw: Changelings. They can be a triggering/upsetting subject, considering how our concept of them as humans seems to have come about. She does make pretty heavy use of them, but not in the ways that one might expect, and always from a very emotionally-centered space - not a humans-abusing-potential-fae space.)

So, Tolkien - yes, I am including the world of his works in this because even though he considered them religious and specifically-denominational, he took SO MUCH inspiration from folklore and faerie tales (do not even get me started on what got edited out of "The Silmarillion" istg) that Arda is not wholly Christian, from my Faerie-worshiping queer-ass faerie perspective thankyouverymuch. Not to mention what is being done in fandom with the faerie-races, especially the Dwarves and the Hobbits, AND what recent adaptations are opening up with the Orcs!! Obviously, his take on Faerie is a much more literally-grounded reality - they exist in the Earth-based world (as if Faerie has bled into what we expect Earth to be), they have magic (at least the Elves and Dwarves do) but it's both somehow super ethereal and super physical at once. And divinely connected, since the biggest magic in Middle-earth (or any part of Arda) comes from the lesser Gods - the Valar, and the Maiar who serve under them as well as from Big Sky Daddy Eru, but we're not talking about him right now. So that, to me, really speaks to the spiritual nature of Faerie too - which is always always always personally interesting to me, and Jrrt's take on the fae was absolutely foundational in my budding concept of them, before I even really thought about who they are in a conscious way.

I don't know where to recommend starting, since I got into the world through the Jackson films, first, and I wouldn't change my experience for anything because it's given me SO much. But in fandom, shoutout to the works of @conkers-thecosy (read her fics here!) as well as "A Long List of Happy Endings" by vicious_summer and "The Mushroom Mine" series by @chrononautintraining for Dwarf Stuff - and "Splint" by HelenaMarkos for Orc Stuff. Plus, as much as I know it's divisive, "Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power" is - again - doing wonders about the Orcs AND doing very well by the Dwarves too, in my opinion, showing them as a fully realized and thriving people (though Dwarf women should still have beards, Amazon!! And there seems to be some confusion around how the name of Durin functions...)!! Available to stream on Prime, here.

"Suitor Armor" takes place in a world that appears very similar to medieval Earth, and as such the worldbuilding itself doesn't feel very specifically Faerie - yet. However, with the main character having significant ties to the fae, and with the story still having space to explore their culture once the tale takes the characters there, I have faith that we are gonna see more of this take on Faerie specifically soon. In the meantime, what we have seen so far - how faerie magic works, how they relate to each other, etc. - rings true for me, and is lovely to behold, especially in the face of the tragedy around their circumstances in the Big Plot.

Free to read here (and coming to bookshelves in 2025!!).

As for Studio Ghibli - Miyazaki's take on the spirits of Japanese folklore - which are absolutely Faerie - was SO formative for me growing up. I don't have anything else to say about that except that he's right!!

I recommend "Princess Mononoke," "Spirited Away" and "My Neighbor Totoro," particularly. All available to stream on Max right now (but buying physical media is better, and they're very likely available to rent other places, too).

Brian and Wendy Froud's work has, of course, also been absolutely formative for me - especially when I started getting into Faerie properly. Their work doesn't require much commentary either - they're just correct 💗 Nothing I've experienced has ever contradicted what I've read in their books, and I feel like their work really, really gets the energy of the fae and the liminality of their existence. And that there is kindness, and light, as well as danger.

I recommend "Trolls" and "Faeries' Tales," to start with, and of course the quintessential "Faeries" by Brian Froud and Alan Lee, which started it all.

(Also, considering what's below, special honorary shoutout to their work on "The Dark Crystal." Definite overlap there and absolutely counts.)

Obviously there's some crossover with The Muppets here, considering they come from the same studio, BUT if we're looking at just "Fraggle Rock" on its own - absolutely. Though a very different take than those mentioned above, if you're looking for the whimsy and delight at the heart of the fae, the Fraggles have it.

Both the original series and the reboot are currently available to stream on AppleTV.

Okay, and my own! What I'm doing with the world of "Tock the Gnome" is a little bit different - again, we're looking at a realm that isn't free from some of the physical bounds we find on Earth - but in its vast history there is Faerie at its purest, and the characters are on a Big Quest that will be instrumental in restoring the realm to what one would expect of Faerieland (all wrapped up in a body-positive, sapphic-presenting queer romance, btw). My focus is on Gnomes and Orcs, in particular, since the fact that they're also fae is a big part of my message. Recognizing that, as well as recognizing the importance of connectedness between people and the balance of that and personal sovereignty, and how damage to those things might impact the whole of a magical realm.

All pages available to read for free here, across several platforms (with print issues available here).

🦋💗🦋👏👏

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

part i. the fear and the fire of the end of the world

[masterlist]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 3.4k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, mentions and use of guns/weapons, death of people and animals, sort of slow-burn

a/n: I’m so excited to share this series with you! Reader is new to the world, so much will be explained (game knowledge not required to enjoy!)

The year is 2297, and your days in Vault 113 are spent among the pages of your books - of fairytale romance, of noble knights and handsome princes. That is, until you venture from your Vault, and are immediately thrust into the harsh and cruel world of the Wasteland.

And when you find yourself being rescued by a man in armor - you can’t help but wonder if those beloved stories might just have come true.

You still dream about the sleep.

In shades of sepia, the perfect days that never seemed to end. That always seemed to be just a little bit familiar, like you had taken each exact step before.

The idyllic neighborhood, slow jazzy notes floating in from open windows. Cars that rolled down the street until they were out of sight, always at the same time. Perfectly behaved dogs, in their neat, square yards.

Now - now that you're out - you don't know why it took you so long to notice.

Maybe you didn't care. Were content to play through that single, perfect day. To ignore - at first - the glitches. The fuzzy part of your brain that said that something wasn't quite right.

The itching memory, that something bad was going to happen. Something you had picked at, until it was raw and aching and oozing.

You wonder if that is why you woke up. That something in your brain triggered the stasis - the reason why on that morning, your eyes opened to shades of green and grey.

A dome of glass overhead, a sick pneumatic hiss when you hand flattened against it. The mask you tore from your mouth and nose as you were born onto the tiled floor, shivering and confused.

It had all come back to you.

The blaring of the siren.

The man, ushering your family into the vault.

The promise, whispered with clasped hands.

It will all be okay.

We'll be together, don't worry.

Climbing into the pod, the slow sleep that came after. Waking up, in your old life.

Never waking up that way, again.

You had sat in silence, for hours. Unsure of what to do, where to even start.

Freezing in place when there was a whirr, the sound of movement - as a robotic being rolling into the room, checking the readouts on the large display.

With thick treaded tires, and a sleek, domed head. A mass that looked like a brain floated inside with one large, fixed mechanical eye. It churned your stomach, as it chirped at you.

You are 1825 days ahead of schedule. Please return to your tranquility lounger.

The pod wouldn't let you back in, though you had tried. The red button pushed flat, the screen unresponsive. Leaving you alone and helpless as you looked at the circle of others.

Of your family and neighbors and friends, still in their perfect dreamland.

You lingered there, a while longer. Too afraid of what was beyond its safe walls. Only nudged into moving when the cramp of hunger became unbearable, until you couldn't take the repeating, robotic lines any longer.

Metal doors had opened into other rooms. Empty and sterile and shades of grey steel. Bits of your memory came back - the hallways you ran through. Glimpses of what lied in them, in your rush to the pods.

Eventually, you found a mess hall. Twin machines lined the walls - white with cherry red accents, rows of cafeteria-style tables in front of them. They were still humming with life when you approached, reading the lettering across the top in blocky, silver print.

VAULT-TEC FOOD SYNTHESIZER

The press of a button dispensed thick, pink paste onto the metal tray beneath. It felt like mush in your mouth, the vaguest flavor of something, but not enough to mask the unpleasant texture.

But, much like everything now - the loneliness, the isolation - you learned to bear it.

There are some things you found, in the days that came after, that were not quite so horrible.

A room full of beds, where you tested each one to find the best. Stripping the pillows and blankets, until yours was as close to cozy as you could get.

There was a device you found, in a room full of bubble-screen computers, with their black screens and green, blinking text. It sat half-out of its box on one of the tables, and you were unable to resist removing it from its casing.

A screen sat in the middle, on top of a thick, leather strap. A booklet fell out - the pages now dog-eared and crinkled from the amount of times you read it. The first lines still seared in your memory.

If you're reading this, a scorching wave of atomic fire has likely turned the surface into a wretched husk of its former self... which means your Vault has been activated! You now have in your own hands one of America's finest, easiest-to-use personal-computational tools: the Pip-Boy.

It becomes one of your prized possessions.

Sitting heavy on your wrist, an endless supply of screens and dials that entertained you for hours. Readouts and documents and even simple, chirping games to fill the empty hours with.

The other thing you came to cherish most was the library.

Well, you called it that - though it barely compared to the ones in your memory. It was a small room - a pair of plastic chairs, beneath a thick, metal shelf lined with books of all shapes and sizes.

You'd read them all, in the months you stayed there. Even ones that made your eyes burn with their dryness; Dean's Mechanics, Infiltration Techniques Vol. 2, Pugilist Quarterly.

Fingering tracing over the thin pages, trying to make sense of things you had never heard of before.

But your favorite were the fairy tales. Just four books, among the two dozen.

Grimm and Perrault. Andersen and Lang.

Their books thick and illustrated, the spines and covers stamped with gold.

The romances were the ones you visited, again and again. Younger you would have loved the macabre - evil witches, plucked out eyes, soul-wrenching betrayal.

But in this new world, you couldn't bear it.

You got lost in the pages. The girl who fell in love with the Beast, who was not so monstrous after all. Another, who risked everything to dance with the Prince, only to abandon him at midnight when the spell was broken.

When you grew bored, you created your own tales. Princesses that were swept off their feet. Knight fighting dragons, a fluttering in your chest when you thought about the romance.

The twisting and twining of limbs and tongues, the slow build that lead into soft, contented sighs.

They became your comfort, as the days passed.

So similar - in ways - to the ones when you had been asleep. The same routines. Paste, read, sleep.

The same clothes - the blue and gold jumpsuit you had woken up in. That the others wore as well, in their sleep. Each one the same, with the vault’s number emblazoned across the back.

On your Pip Boy you read it was to protect you from the elements outside - but here, it only added to the monotony of your day.

Every variation of an afternoon you had done at least once. Poking into every corner of each room. Fingers tracing over the glass screen of the pods, watching your family sleep.

Reading the books again, and again. Using the bits you picked up to learn more about your Vault, what had happened.

It took you a solid month to key into the computer terminal in the main office. Clicking on different words in the scramble of letters that poured across the screen, trying to crack the password protection.

Getting frustrated and giving up - only to come back again the next day.

Finally, the beep as you were let in. Clicking through the files, piecing together a mess of text that was scattered across numerous logs over the years.

That you were in Vault 113. That it was created in partnership with several more, and a copy of the previous, 112.

That some of the Vaults were created to be an experiment. A test to see how humanity would fare, released in key waves after the Great War of 2077.

Held in a cryosleep stasis - the first to be opened at 25 years, and then at 50. Continuing every quarter-century until 225 years has passed. Ending with your vault, scheduled to be released last.

The dread settles in as you started to understand what they had meant when you woke up.

That you were early.

That all you can do is wait.

You don’t even know where you’d even start - no idea if they would fare as well as you did, to be woken up ahead of schedule.

And so, the days ticked by. The marks you scratched on the wall next to your bed slowly increasing. One for each morning you woke up, until there's 182 of them lined up in neat rows.

Finally - coming to the realization that had been nudging at you for days, for weeks. The one that had been keeping you up at night, though you wished for the unconsciousness of sleep.

That you can't sit around for 4 and a half more years, just waiting. That wasn't a life, any way to live.

That you'd go mad, talking to your Pip-Boy, the robots that only had a few lines of verbal programming.

You had to know, to see. To go out.

Into the world. Alone.

You'd watched the videos.

The short animated films. The cartoon boy with the vault suit like yours, as he explained life after the fallout. How it would be different - tips on survival, how to keep sharp, how to use your own experiences and talents to your advantage.

It helped, giving you an idea of what to expect, but you hated them. The little acronyms, the cheesy animation - they seemed to mock the massive loss from nuclear annihilation.

The grainy, black-and-white recordings you find, after.

Prepared and left by the Overseer that no longer stayed there - who passed on the responsibility to the robobrains that still stood watch, when another Vault position opened.

They had made you weep, to think about what happened. Until you chest ached and your eyes stung. You couldn’t watch some parts, thinking about all those who had not been able to get away. Unable to help wondering about your extended family - your friends.

But it still hadn't prepared you for how vast and cruel the Wasteland was.

It had taken you another two weeks to actually open the Vault door. Dragging your feet as you collected supplies. Trying to pack everything you'd need while also trying to leave plenty in case someone else woke as you did.

Canteens of water, extra vault suits. The pink mush spooned into glass jars, clinking in your backpack, as you checked the space another time.

Leaving a note on the terminal, where you hope they'd find it.

But eventually, you had to try. You'd stalled long enough.

And so, after marking the Vault’s location on your Pip-Boy - you left.

You’ve been out for a week now. That alone feels like an accomplishment.

Not expecting how barren the world would feel, even with the preparation. It mirrors the muted browns from your dreams, though there's no hazy edges here.

Just a broken landscape of trees - still standing, stripped bare and bleached by an unforgiving sun. Crumbling roads, and what little grass endured was burnt and brittle. The air dry and thick in your lungs with the dust that kicked up, as you had carefully left the vault.

Misfortune had befell you almost immediately.

Barely out of the crumpled building that held the Vault, down the worn asphalt path, when there had been a scuttling sound. Fear and bile in your throat when a roach the size of a cat crept from the ruins, poised to spring.

Unable to do more than to grasp at the ground, fingers wrapping around a solid bit of wood. You can still hear the crunch of collision when you close your eyes, before you took off running, not wanting to see the aftermath.

The petrified branch still sits by the door, just in case.

In the half-standing farmhouse you've set up base in, until you're brave enough to wander further. That has been unnerving as well - seeing places that were different from your memories.

You had gone home, first.

It had seemed natural, though the fear lingered in your stomach, making your steps heavy. Following the road for three miles, all the while trying to force the puzzle pieces to fit. Broken bridges over dead streams, street signs that lead to crumbling, empty lots.

The road you lived on had been hit hard. It had ached - nothing left but the skeletons of your life before. Tumbling brick and rotting plaster. Chipped tile and broken floors, creaking under your feet as you stood where the kitchen once was. Must like your life before, it was just - gone.

The sentimental part of you had rooted around. Finding a rusting, red bottle cap in the ruins. A silver spoon found in the shattered remains of the counter where you grew up baking cookies.

You took them both, tucking them into your bag.

The farm you had found next, late the first night. You had been there before as a child.

The owners opened their property for apple-picking, hayrides, bonfires with sweet, melting smores. It had been a memory you had forgotten, until the bit of still-standing roof appeared on the horizon, beckoning you to it.

You'd do anything to have more of them. The memories.

The owners are gone now, as is the orchard. Just rows of thin trunks left, the branches dead and brittle.

With the wasteland around you - so very different from the safe, metal walls, the honeycomb of simple rooms - you wish you had stayed.

But much like waking up, you knew you couldn't. That you couldn't undo what happened, or forget the things that haunt you now.

Now - you spend your days wandering out. Poking around the barn to see if there's anything to take with you.

Finding a bit of joy, in some small moments.

In your books, as they soothe you to sleep. The stories are long-memorized but still bringing such comfort.

In the funny, two-head cow that had half-scared you to death when you first found it - that you know think is sort of cute. Almost poetic, in a way.

She wanders the fields behind the barn, and sometimes you go out to sit with her - keeping watch from a distance.

In your Pip-Boy, with the radio that hums out tinny tunes throughout the day - there's only a few of them it picks up, the songs on loop.

Picking through the holotapes of data - finding out that your new friend is called a Brahmin, mutated after years of radiation. It’s not much, but it's something.

It gives you hope that there might be someone else out there. It gives you the strength to think about moving on.

And you do find them - a semblance of civilization - but not in the way you hope.

You’re sleeping when it happens. Curled up in a bedroom on the second story, trying to avoid the holes that litter the hardwood floors.

It’s barely morning, the sunrise a weak, watery yellow as it peeks over the ridge. Though with a start you realize it’s not the light that has woken you. That rarely made a difference, after your time in the Vault.

Too afraid of the dark to turn off the light.

It’s the bellowing.

At first, you don’t know why it makes your skin prickle. After all, Minnie made those sounds when she first saw you - snorting and pawing at the packed earth, both sets of eyes dark and wide. Slowly settling, in the hours after - when all you did was watch from behind the fence.

The pieces click into place.

There was something out there.

You’re just getting up to look, when you hear a wild shout. The sound echoing, followed by a sharp, echoing crack.

The bellowing stops.

Your gasp is loud in the silence. Hand pressing over your mouth as your heart thuds in your chest - aching. The floor beneath you creaking as sink down onto it, trying to make yourself small.

But the voices move closer. Different tones overlapping, arguing - from the open field, then to the barn.

Then, to the house.

Your breath in your throat as the front door bangs open, a sharp voice cracking through the air.

“-lay off the fuckin’ Jet, mate. You’re fuckin’ paranoid as hell.”

The floor creaking as they move through the living room. An annoyed grunt, the rattle as something metallic clatters to the floor, making your stomach flip.

“Told you man, I heard somethin��,” Another voice answers.

Your heart drums so loudly in your ears, you’re certain it has to be audible. Tucked underneath the window, in clear view of the staircase.

If you don’t move, they’ll see you. You’re certain of it. The videos had warned you of the lawlessness, but nothing could have compared you for the fear that paralyzes you.

But, you try to be brave. Three feet to the right and you should be safe - your heart in your throat as you shift your weight, to move just out of sight.

The floor groans.

The voices downstairs stop.

You bolt.

Feet like lead, disconnected from your brain as you make for the stairs - thinking you can make it out. Skipping steps at a time, hoping that you won’t fall and break your neck. Ankles aching as you hit the bottom, sights set on the door the left open.

Almost making it out, when there’s a shout. A sharp “fuckin’ knew it” that sounds entirely too close. A gloved hand that reaches out, snagging your elbow.

Sending you off balance, slamming into the brittle wall. Pain radiates from your hip, the wood splintering from the collision. The hand closing around your ankle, yanking you hard.

The man pulls again - dragging you to the side, through the open doorway.

You’re gasping for breath, trying to yell - though nothing comes out. The air knocked from your lungs as you’re tugged across the porch, one of the steps cracking against your head as you try to grasp onto the railing.

It splinters under your grip, one of the spindles breaking free. He lets go when you reach the bottom, calling up to the second that lingers in the doorway.

“Check inside. See if there’s any more.”

A foot pressing against your shoulder, pinning you to the ground as he leans down, barking out a harsh laugh.

“Thought you could hide?”

He’s even more terrifying up close. Dark paint smeared around his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like tears. Dressed in a mismatch of leather clothes, nails driven up through the fabric at the collar. A spiked shoulder pad made from bent metal, the sharp edges a deep, rusted red.

You take a deep breath… and then swing.

The makeshift weapon collides with the side of his head, and then shatters. With a loud yell he stumbles, and you scramble - pushing yourself onto shaking knees, and then feet.

“Goddamn bitch,” He snarls, and there’s footsteps from the house, calls coming from the barn.

You don’t make it to your feet before you’re looking down the barrel of a gun. Fear and a strangled whimper in your throat as you hover in a half-crouch, hands coming up to shield your face.

A shot fires.

There’s a bright red light that sears through your closed eyelids, the smell of something burning. You open them just in time to see the man pitch to the side, his body glowing with a heat you can feel. Disintegrating as you watch, turning to ash before he hits the ground.

You can barely hear the yell from the others, the sound of your heartbeat drowning the world out. Faintly aware of one cracking shot, and then another, a deep reverb echoing across the flat plane.

Rocks skittering on the ground around you, the tremor of heavy steps and sharp mechanical hisses. Loud cries and shots traded as you cower, unable to look away from the scorched earth where a person just was.

And then, everything goes quiet.

A shadow falls across you, and you’re looking up. Seeing the figure that’s crumpled against the stairs. The unmoving peppering of bodies littering the ground, out near the barn. Never making it any further.

Up, and then up - to where a giant suit of armor towers over you. Painted in shades of green that you thought you had forgotten. A long rifle tucked in the crook of its thick arm, the end a hot, steaming red.

It’s head tilts - as a low, mechanical voice breaks through the silence.

“Its dangerous to wander the wasteland alone, ad’ika.”

ad’ika - little one

thank you for reading! 💚 part ii will be out thursday, the 9th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tagging some friends that liked the sneak peek 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights , @wingofshadow , @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force , @valentine-tx, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved)

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I remember you once wrote a post about snape not being written how JK rowling thought she did, can you elaborate on that please perhaps? I also heard he is so much more of a dick in the books (never read the books, only watched the movies some time ago xd)

Anon. Sit down. I have shit to SAY. Okay, so, Snape is 100% worse in the fucking books. He insults hermione so viciously that she permanently alters her appearance. He threatens to poison Neville's toad and actually punishes Gryffindor house when Hermione prevents that from happening. He constantly goes out of his way to insult, belittle, and embarrass Harry. There is no reason why an eleven year old boy should feel as though a teacher hates him. There's no reason why he should be right. Let's get one thing straight: Snape does not like Harry. He only protects Harry because of his love for Lily. He straight up admits it. Dumbledore asks him "You've grown to care for the boy?" and Snape says "for HIM???" Like. If Harry was not the son of lily, would Snape care about him at all? If Harry was the exact same boy (same personality, same everything), except that his mother was not lily, would Snape give a shit about him? No, right? So how can anyone say that Snape likes *Harry*? He doesn't! People will say that Snape had to be cruel to Harry to keep up his facade, but I call bullshit. Snape did not have to go as far as he did. When Snape catches Harry alone with the mauraders map, he insults Harry even though there is no one else alone. Tell me who he is putting on a show for? Harry already thinks Snape hates him, so why did Snape take that opportunity to viciously dig into him? Also, why does nobody talk about the fact that Snape chose to become a death eater in the first place? "He had to put on an act" Why join the play in the first place?? In my opinion, JKR gives him too many irredeemable characteristics and/or choices. Also wouldn't it have been a more sensible decision for him to be a good teacher to everyone? For someone who was trying to keep his secret identity under wraps, he does a poor job. Harry and his friends suspect him CONSTANTLY. Harry goes to Dumbledore multiple times about Snape still being in allegiance with the dark lord. If Snape's reasoning for being cruel to Harry and the non-Slytherins was so he would not draw suspicion to himself, he does an absolute shit job at it lmao.

Snape isn't an awful person as a facade. He's awful because that's who he genuinely is. Don't believe me? Well, we get a look at him outside of school, before he has any death eaters to impress. My beef with JKR is that we're supposed to forgive Snape after one chapter. The chapter "The Prince's Tale" is supposed to redeem Snape.

One. Singular. Chapter. In the final book of a 7 book series is supposed to undo every single thing we've seen so far. I'm not saying that's impossible, but I am saying it's not the chapter JKR seems to think it is. We're supposed to believe that Snape is so redeemed after this chapter that Harry deadass names his son after him. It absolutely KILLS me that in the chapter JKR uses to prove that Snape is a good person, he does more bad shit! It's not filled with cute Snape moments; it's filled with moments where he's a creepy ass young adult. He enters the potters' house after they die and you know what he does? He rips a photo containing Harry, James, and lily, and keeps the portion containing lily. That's fucking creepy! That photo could have been given to Harry, but no! Snape just had to keep the portion containing Lily.

When he's a teenager, he tells lily he won't "let" her do something (I forget exactly what it was). Lily accuses him of wanting to be a death eater and he not only doesn't deny it, but lily CALLS him out for not denying it. That is something that canonically happens. Snape DOES become a death eater! He is friends with people who do dark magic. He calles Lily a slur in front of a crowd of people. He's shown to have blood purist beliefs as a child; Lily asks him if her being muggleborn makes any difference and he hesitates before answering. It's clear he DOES think being a muggleborn makes someone less. I can forgive Snape for being a weirdo as a kid. Everything is more acceptable when you're a small child, but he never changes. In the chapter JKR uses to justify everything Snape has done so far, she shows him STILL being a bad person even outside of school!! She seems to think she wrote some tortured hero who was kind deep down, but she wrote a bully who was so obsessive over one woman that he didn't care about whether her husband and child died so long as she remained alive. Snape loved Harry? Snape was okay with him dying as a baby lmao. Once again, Snape only cared about Lily. JKR wrote Snape as obsessive when she clearly meant to write him as deeply in love. That's what I mean when I say she didn't write him how she seems to think.

Also, as an aside, I truly feel like Draco and Snape are kind of the same, but jkr HATES Draco, and that makes no sense to me lmao. Like, the series would have been better tied together if Draco was redeemed as well. I'm not saying Draco is a good person, but to call Snape a good person despite him being a cruel grown man, and in the same breath condemn Draco who is literally just a child who grew up in a racist family? What sense does that make.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

a coffee please <3

i’m 5’4 and slightly plus sized with pretty big boobs. i’ve got long brown hair (with the underside currently dyed dark green), green eyes and pale skin.

i’m very quiet and introverted but once i get comfortable around someone i show my extroverted and crazy side.

i’m pretty sarcastic and dry sometimes. i love “that’s what she said” jokes.

when i’m interested in someone or something i get pretty obsessive and possessive and it usually takes up all my thoughts. my love language is quality time and physical touch. also biting haha

my hobbies are reading, writing and drawing. i love fantasy and gore. my favorite tropes are enemies to lovers and forbidden romance.

my favorite colors are green and brown. my favorite artists are taylor swift, twenty one pilots, the smiths, djo and t. rex. my favorite movies are the rocky horror picture show and 10 things i hate about you. my favorite shows are stranger things, the walking dead, game of thrones, wandavision and the boys. my favorite books are six of crows, the cruel prince and fourth wing.

i usually prefer staying in. when i go out i prefer sit ins with a close group of friends. i hate going to clubs. when i go out i almost always get very drunk.

thank you!!! <3

I'm going with Mattheo. I think he likes introverts, but would love if you yapped around him and just got more comfortable with him. I think he'd love dry humor too. I also think he's similar where his love/interest would be like obsessive/possessive too. Though, if you bite him, he bites back. I think he'd prefer staying in with you, but if you did go out together, he'd be making sure you don't get too wasted.

(also, omg, are you me bc this is so similar.)

[zoobus]

What's your favourite entry on mangadex with a 6.xx score?

(Re: #Everything on mangadex with a 6.xx rating is either a powerful contender for best of the year or extremely niche fetish softcore)

Ugh, this is a hard one because I haven't been reading a lot lately and I lost a huge chunk of my saves after mangadex was killed off for some months. (Also because I don't actually finish anything I read, lots of my "favorites" are a first volume I loved so much I couldn't finish it. That's how my brain works. I haven't finished anything on this list.) Also best of the year *for the kind of story it's telling.

TW, a good chunk of these have sexual assault and/or skeevy sexual themes

Manga about girl with strong signs of BPD using sex to self-harm, I don't remember the name, sorry - Extremely pathetic girl, desperate to not get bullied ever again, thinks she can fool her peers into thinking she's one of them but nahhh, you see the looks the popular girls give each other - it's like cats watching a wet and whimpering mouse wearing cat ears bite the throat of other mice, looking over her shoulder for proof that this is worth it, that they think she's a cat too. Made me understand how self-harm sex works.

I Would Die for Your First Time - Okay, it's sitting at a 7.09 *now,* but when I read it like five years ago it at 6.18. Guy who looks like a stereotypical fat faceless hentai man marries so far out of his league, it causes him immense distress. Even though his super hot wife clearly loves him, he's unnerved by the fact that she's had so many partners before him, while he only had her. She swears that if she could go back in time, she would make him her first and oh wow is that literally the worst thing she could have said.

Because he does go back in time, and he does try to hold the assurances of his 30yo wife to her 15yo self who doesn't have a clue who he is, and he does find himself ruining the life (and the original timeline they shared) of the poor woman who made the mistake of loving him over and over and over again.

Tamarowa/Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire? - I both get and don't get the hate for this one, harem stuff seems to make people very mad. Anyway, Tamarowa is like if Danganronpa was about Who Wants to Marry A Billionaire, uncut HBO version. And if Danganronpa was good. Great example of horny and good story. Whenever some cornball suggests good writing and fetishistic, hand in pants writing are mutually exclusive, I think of Tamarowa. "I need you to psychoanalyze one of the contestants in my place. Go do ageplay with the milf and deduce the odds she's trying to murder me."

His Favorite Idol Moved Next Door - A fan has a crush on his idol. The idol has a merciless and cruel crush on him back. 6.02 because god forbid we cater to actual female sadists rather than masochists for once 🙄

The Villainess Wants To Punish The Sadistic Prince - I will probably get around to translating the final volume. One day. Please see first paragraph about loving things so much, I don't finish them.

By the way, it might be my pride speaking, but I wouldn't include the last two entries in the niche fetishcore category. That's more for like "my childhood friend is annoying! and also keeps getting splattered with smushed bug goo every chapter" or those collection of pics titled stuff like "The women in your life flirt with you while insulting your gf's small boobs"

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

So, I have a question and a comment for you.

First, my question: was there any specific piece of media that inspired some of the fantasy elements/specieses in your story? Like, did you ever read a book and think “oh I really like how they do fairies, I want to do something similar”, or was it more of a sort of whatever mix? (Specifically for this story, but also for your other ones if there are any specific examples. Also, I really love how you made fairies work in this world, I think it’s really cool)

Also: I was doing some planning for a scene involving one of my sad and tortured little guys today, and I found myself thinking “oh yes I am once again visiting Kate and Elia’s Torture Characters Through Drug Problems Club”

Thank you for the Question @darkandstormydolls!

So, for the Question:

I read a LOT of fantasy all the time, and I just always loved how Fae worked, and the concept of Faeries, (But this concept of the flower fae was entirely my own - Feel free to use it)

I would Suggest reading: The Cruel Prince Series

Also The book The Wild Huntsboys (It was my favorite book when I was younger, and it's a good book even though it is a little bit immature)

The Iron Fae is a good series for that too, (Though the protagonist is a FUCKING DUMBASS)

Narnia is good for inspo even though it's not about Fae

(And Also, LMFAO, who is Kate, I must speak with her immediately, Would her Character and Jak get along? I must know. And, PLEASE JOIN THE CLUB SO I DON'T FEEL WEIRD BEING OBSESSED WITH JAK ANYMORE)

I can answer any other questions you have!

Reading is a FANTASTIC way to get inspo (Do it, You know I'm right)

[ashblooddragons]

My Love, My Life

Summary: Daemion has always loved his cousin Maegora. Had always known she was made for him, and he was made for her. Though Daemion was named after his grandfather King Daemon also known as The Rouge Prince, and Maegora after Maegor The Cruel, these two are said to be the kindest Targaryens to come into the dynasty. Read to find out their story! This is the third installment of The Red Queen Au so please read The first two before reading this or you'll be confused.

Coming soon!!!

Special thanks to my Ride or Die @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I don't know what I'd do without you girly!

[doppotranslations]

Alcohol, Sakura and Kangaroo ~Cherry Blossom Evening Stroll~ - Part 1

===============================

Hypmic ARB in-game event story (Doppo, Hifumi, Jyuto), Rio, Rei, Hitoya

Recording Link: https://youtu.be/u9RnJaY2gfI (in case you wanna read along with the in-game voice lines and sound effects :D)

===============================

Chapter 1

[At the Police Station]

Jyuto: I deeply apologize…

Detective: Hey now… Iruma-san, you're going to have to assume responsibility for that case…

Jyuto: Be more careful in the future, for my sake as well......

Rio: ……

Jyuto: Well then, I’ll be off…...

[Outside]

Jyuto: *lights a cigarette* Phew… that whole debacle from before was solved thanks to Samatoki… Rio, why did it have to be in Shinjuku......?

Rio: How many times do I have to say it? I came here to look for a kangaroo.

Jyuto: …... what I meant was that I don’t get your reasoning at all, so why did you have to drag me into this? If I didn’t know you, I’d probably end up interrogating you too. Furthermore, what is it about this wallaby that would make it worth being taken in by the police for…... 

Rio: It’s not a wallaby, it’s a kangaroo.

Jyuto: *sighs* …... I don’t care which one it is…...

Rio: Getting accurate information about this is important.

Jyuto: If there really was a kangaroo in this city, there would immediately be a fuss about it. Don't you think so too?

Rio: In that case even I’d find out about it, wouldn’t I?

Jyuto: *sighs*...... That’s right…...

Rio: Though it’s true that I have brought you trouble. Jyuto, I apologize.

Jyuto: Don’t worry about it. What are friends for after all…... it was a cheap arrest too. After all, it was all thanks to that idiot Samatoki being used to getting people out of trouble.

Rio: Right.

Jyuto: Well, what do you say? Since we ended up in Shinjuku and all, shall we go drinking in this golden city?

Rio: Hm…... I would love to join you, but I must look for that kangaroo.

Jyuto: …...and if you happened to find it, what would you do?

Rio: That’s a weird thing to ask. I’d make a meal out of it, of course.

Jyuto: I see…

Rio: Kangaroos…... Their meat is easy to cook and delicious. There surely must be a stray kangaroo somewhere around Japan…...

Jyuto: …...just please don’t get arrested again.

Rio: Got it. Well then, I’ll be off.

Jyuto: Then…... guess I’ll be drinking alone, huh?

[At a Temple]

Doppo: (Aah…... The manager of the company I was doing business with today…... was so cruel…... What do you mean by “You look like you’re emanating an aura of misery so much so that it’s annoying. If you let me slap you, I’ll buy what you’re selling.” W-well,  it can't be helped. If it’s for the sake of my company, I’ll take the hit… but if it’s just one hit I promised, why do you have to go all in… What do you mean “I was only joking when I said I’d buy it!”...) Fuck……………………………………… Fuck fuck……………………………………… Fuck fuck fuck……………………………………… FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKING HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL!!

???: Wait…...

Doppo: THIS IS BULLSHIT! EVEN THOUGH HE SLAPPED ME!! THAT ASSHOLE STILL DIDN’T FUCKING GIVE ANYTHING IN RETURN!!! IT’S TOO MUCH, MAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!

???: You over there!

Doppo: HYAH, HYAAAH!!!

Jyuto: I was thinking some idiot was screaming around here, but it was just you, Kannonzaka-san.

Doppo: I-Iruma-san… A-are you by any chance here to arrest me for being so loud…? I was being a bother, wasn’t I?

Jyuto: I’m not really impressed by the screaming, but I’m not gonna arrest you either.

Doppo: I-I’m glad…

Jyuto: By the way, Kannonzaka-san.

Doppo: Yes?

Jyuto: You seem to be feeling pretty stressed about something, don’t you? So, how about I treat you to a drink.

Doppo: Sounds great! Let’s go!

Chapter 2

[At Hifumi’s host club]

Hifumi: …...Um? What the?

Host A: Old man! Quit being so arrogant! The table isn’t a foot stool!

Host B: What the hell do you want!?

Rei: Right, sorry for that. Looks like our precious prince charming here is pretty rotten.

Host C: Asshole…... are you messing with us…...?

Rei: *lights a cigarette* It’s pretty fun being a wild guy with a temper, you know?

Host A: Ah?

Rei: If you would give me the favor of getting involved, then I would say we’re about to have a pretty fun twist.

Host A: You bastard…...

Hifumi: That’s enough!

Host A: H-Hifumi-san!

Hifumi: You guys, what do you think you’re doing acting like that in the host club? As usual, you’re supposed to behave elegantly here.

Host A: M-my apologies!

Rei: Oh, at last mister number one showed his face, huh?

Hifumi: Huh? You’re Osaka’s… Why are you here?

Rei: I’m here to collect some debts.

Hifumi: Why are you doing that…?

Rei: It’s something I simply cannot turn down. You see, I am a pretty influential person of the nightlife in Kabuki.

Hifumi: …...really? You talk about needing to collect debts, but I don’t think there’s anything to collect from here, is there? 

Rei: That’s right…...

Hifumi: Then why did you come here?

Rei: See the chick in this photo? Ya get it now?

Hifumi: That woman…... Some time ago, she was a guest here and requested me…... What’s the matter with her?

Rei: She’s been messing around at this host club with borrowed money. And…...

Hifumi: She ran away because she couldn’t pay it back…...?

Rei: You got it. I came here to ask you if you know about the whereabouts of that hoe.

Hifumi: I know nothing about it…... And even if I did, I would not be able to share any information about my beloved clients.

Rei: Heh…... Well, since you say you don’t know anything, should I ask you what the truth is by force?

Hifumi: ……

Rei: Hahaha! Juuuust kidding! Lil’ old me only does such unreasonable things on special ocassions.

Hifumi: What do you plan to do if you find her…...?

Rei: Ummm. Let’s see… if she pays back the money it’s all good, but if she doesn’t…... ya dig?

Hifumi: !

Rei: Hey, don’t look at me like that! I don’t want to come face to face with a young woman that has a bright future about something like this either, you know. Though rules can’t be broken no matter how much you complain about it. Since you work at a place like this you get it, don’t you?

Hifumi: …...Yeah.

Rei: I mean, it would be good for you too if she paid up since she’s got a tab to pay for you, right?

Hifumi: …...I forbid my customers from putting their payments on a tab.

Rei: Heh...... that’s uncommon.

Hifumi: It’s because we don’t want problems like this with debt.

Rei: Nonsense. Well then, looks like I gotta bounce.

Hifumi: Wait a second…...

Rei: What’s up?

Hifumi: I simply cannot let this go by, having a woman I know be met with mean eyes. I will go too.

Rei: You’re coming to do what exactly?

Hifumi: Once we find her I shall scold her.

Rei: Scold…... huh? Haha, sounds fun. ‘s all good then. Come.

Hifumi: ……

Chapter 3

[Out in the city at night]

Hitoya: (*sighs*... The Supreme Court is so tiring…...) It’s still early, I could probably get a drink and go home...... (How about viewing the sakura trees while having a drink? Maybe I could find a nice place for that, huh.) Oh, right, Shinjuku Central Park is right around the corner. I’ll get going.

[At the park]

Hitoya: Woah…... this is pretty impressive, huh… Since I bought both a drink and something to eat, I can enjoy the evening in peace over here. *opens his drink* Gulp… gulp… gulp… Pwaah~. Having a drink after work is simply exceptional. (When I’m in Nagoya either Kuko or Jyushi always find a way to destroy my peace and quiet…... That’s why, I’ll make use of this alone time while I’m here.) …...This park seems to be pretty big and all, so I’ll go for a little walk around here.

[Somewhere else in the park]

Rio: According to the intel I gathered, that thing is lurking inside this park...… as expected…...

???: Gwooo… Gwooo… Gwooo…

Rio: Mm? That sound is…

Kangaroo: Gwooo… Gwooo… Gwooo…

Rio: Just as I thought, the information seems to not have been wrong… Goddamn…...

Kangaroo: !?

Rio: Kh…!

[Somewhere else in the park]

Hitoya: Gulp… Gulp… Canned beer around the sakura blossoms at night… This is just the best, isn’t it? A night like this would make even cheap alcohol feel luxurious.

Kangaroo: Gwooo… Gwooo… Gwooo…

Hitoya: Hm? What was that sound…?

Kangaroo: Gwooo gwooo gwooo!

Hitoya: Wha!? A k-kangaroo!!????? Why is there a kangaroo in a place like this…...

???: Mm!!

Hitoya: Huh…? *gets hit and everything turns black* Gwah!

???: Guh!

Hitoya: *gets up* That hurts, man…

Rio: …...I apologize. I was in a hurry.

Hitoya: Right…... huh, you’re from Yokohama Division?

Rio: And you’re from Nagoya Division…?

Hitoya: What are you doing in a place like this?

Rio: I was chasing a kangaroo.

Hitoya: Chasing a kangaroo, you say… The hell kinda joke is this?

Rio: Looks like it completely got away…I know this is an embarrassing request to make but…...

Hitoya: …What is it?

Rio: Could you do me the favor of helping me catch that thing?

Hitoya: Why me… is what I would normally say, but I bumped into you and got in the way and all, so fine. I’ll help out.

Rio: …Thank you!

Hitoya: Was that kangaroo your pet or something?

Rio: No, it’s my food.

Hitoya: ???????????????????????????

Chapter 4

[Out in the city at night]

Hifumi: Is this the place?

Rei: According to what I was told, yeah. 

Hifumi: *tries to go in*

Rei: Wait a second.

Hifumi: Why…?

Rei: Just to be sure you’ll have to stay here. We’re in this together, so in case she tries to run away you’ll have to do something about it.

Hifumi: Got it…

Rei: Good, I’ll get going then.

[Inside the club]

Hifumi’s Former Client: I’ll have another drink, please~

Host: Which one would you like?

Hifumi’s Former Client: Open the bottle of Golden Dom Perignon~

Host: Really? A glass of Golden Dom Perignon then…

Rei: That order is canceled.

Hifumi’s Former Client: Huh? Who the hell are you…?

Rei: Who I am? Let’s see…

Host: That’s right, what’s with this jerk…?

Rei: Sorry to be a disturbance, but this young lady’s and Romeo’s little affair will have to wait. ‘Cause you see… I am a scary old man.

Host: Do you want to have your ass kicked…?

Rei: Haha! I like being threatened, lil old me is happy to hear that, you know?

Host: Hey…!

Manager: S-stop that…

Host: What was that?

Manager: Don’t you go yelling at that man!

Host: Is there a reason for that? The way we earn money here is by selling lots of drinks, you know?

Manager: That’s enough…! That man is Amayado-san and is one of the people who works in the shadows in this neighborhood.

Host: I-...i-in the shadows…?

Manager: Keep bothering him and our store will surely be shut down…

Host: R-really…?

Rei: Huh? You’re not gonna kick my ass anymore?

Host: A-ahaha…

Manager: P-please… enjoy your stay…

Rei: Oh, really? I’ll make sure to take my time then. *turns to the girl* Yo, sorry to have kept you waiting.

Hifumi’s Former Client: W-what do you want…?

Rei: What do I want…? You see, the reason a scary old man like me came here is… something you should know about as well, right?

Hifumi’s Former Client: ……

Rei: Oi oi… Don’t make me look like the bad guy here. Got it?

Manager: H-he’s talking about…...

Rei: You’ve got a debt to pay, so if you give me the favor of paying up right away nothing bad is gonna happen.

Hifumi’s Former Client: !!! *gets up*

Rei: !!

Host: Uwah!

Hifumi’s Former Client: *runs away*

Rei: *sighs* …What a pain in the ass…...

Hifumi’s Former Client: *pants*

Hifumi: You…...

Hifumi’s Former Client: H-Hifumi…...!

Hifumi: Why…...

Hifumi’s Former Client: !! *runs away*

Hifumi: Agh…...

Rei: Hey! Stop zoning out and let’s chase her!

Hifumi: ...…right.

[slytherinsimping]

Some thoughts I had about Walburga and her children after rereading the series recently:

Sirius was the favourite child. I know the fanon tends to lean heavy on the abuse he endured and I'm not saying he didn't, but hear me out.

In Hallows Harry points out that Sirius has the bigger room right? Obviously he's the first born son, the original heir, this makes sense and I doubt Reggie's room was small. But after everything, even Sirius running away, Reg was kept in the smaller room. (Not to mention how Reg felt the need to way overcompensate in how he decorated his room, but I'll get to that).

Kreacher mentions that Sirius broke his mother's heart when he ran away, and I believe this. Think about it, he was a beautiful child (much more attractive than Regulus according to Harry), he was incredibly talented and probably showed signs of impressive magic at a young age, and he was the heir. Walburga's brother had three daughters, he failed to produce an heir, but she did. I'm willing to bet that Sirius was her pride and joy for the first eleven years of his life.

I know it's the fanon way to write Regulus as his replacement and say that Walburga must've seen something in Sirius and gave up on him, but I don't think so. Regulus was never his replacement, he was a back up. An afterthought. He secured that they would still have an heir if anything ever happened to Sirius, and he knew that was all he was. That's why Regulus had to try so hard to get their attention and approval. That's why his room was the time capsule of a perfect little heir, a perfect Slytherin, a perfect death eater. Where love and adoration came easy to Sirius, Regulus had to fight to be noticed.

Think about how Sirius acts on the train in Snape's memories. He's not some meek, abused child, he's lounging across an entire seat taking up space he feels entitled to. He's casual, funny, kind of mean. Defying his family feels like an afterthought once he meets James and decides he likes him.

I'm not saying the abuse didn't start after he was placed in Gryffindor, I just think up until he defied them Sirius was probably treated with a lot of respect. We see in canon that he can be arrogant and even downright cruel. I'd dare to say he was a bit of a spoiled brat until his family turned on him and he had to get out.

PLEASE don't assume I'm saying anything negative about his overall character though, Sirius is one of my absolute favourites! He's so much fun to write about and study as a character. And obviously fanon is fanon and it's all fine! I love reading (and even writing) stories where he was abused from a young age, stories where he absolutely wasn't the favourite, etc etc. I think all these situations can create a really interesting version of Sirius that's worth exploring!

I just personally don't think Regulus was treated like the little prince so many people write him out to be. I think a far more interesting take is that Sirius resents Reg for being 'born to replace him', but Reg resents that he only exists as a back up, an afterthought.

[felinemotif]

also, uno reverse, book rec ask game questions 9, 22, 25, 48, 85, 89, 124, 131! feel free to pick and choose <3

<3333

9. your favorite book of 2020

i can't remember what year i read most of my books, let alone years back, but upon some googling my dark vanessa by kate elizabeth russell was originally published that year and since i love that book, let's just say it was that one.

will say though for anyone considering reading it that as a warning, the ending isn't what most would find satisfying but it did make sense to me.

22. your favorite thriller

i don't read thriller as often as i would like to, to be honest. i usually get distracted by books from different genres (namely historical fiction). always open for recs though!

in the future for this genre i am looking forward to reading the paris apartment by lucy foley. i've been told that it's good.

25. a book by your favorite author

perhaps the easiest question i've ever been asked in my 20+ years of life. without a doubt this would be in the dream house by carmen maria machado. i've recommended this book + author countless times on my blog and irl for good reason; carmen is a master of her craft, and this was such a raw and intensely honest memoir.

there's a long list of content warnings as it dives deep into domestic abuse in a sapphic relationship so for anyone who would like to read it, please take care to check that ahead of time.

i think it's the most important thing i have ever, and will ever, read.

48. your favorite sci-fi novel

without a doubt this would be into the drowning deep by mira grant. this is about terrifying mermaids and sisterhood and is soooo atmospheric. it's a follow-up to the author's novella rolling in the deep, and i do think it needs to be read in order. lots of horror elements too. overall it's just a really enjoyable book.

i think i actually have a pdf of into the drowning deep saved somewhere on my laptop and can send it to anyone who would be interested.

85. your favorite book about magical realism

it's been a while but i want to say that the gilded wolves by roshani chokshi was magical realism??? possibly??? it was found family + heist + paris, 1889 + magic with a beautiful and diverse set of characters and touched on issues like ableism, anti-semitism and racism.

honestly just talking about it makes me want to reread it. i still need to get the sequel dkfj

really upped my standards for ya.

89. a book that disappointed you

...i don't like holly black's the cruel prince at all. i wanted to, but i couldn't get into it. i think she's a talented author though! this one was just a miss for me.

124. the book you're currently reading

house of hunger by alexis henderson.

this is a sapphic retelling of the blood countess; it's been described as kinda vampires, but not really and... yeah that's really what it is. it has the vampire aesthetic; one of the main characters has her teeth fashioned into a vampires' fangs and she drinks blood. but she's not a vampire. you know how in the past some ppl thought drinking or washing yourself with someone's blood was thought to be a cure for ailments or like. a fountain of youth type of situation?? that's what's happening here. very gothic and atmospheric and i am already planning on buying henderson's other book, the year of the witching.

131. tag somebody with whom you would want to buddy read a book

apologies in advance if any of you don't like being tagged! feel free to just lmk and i can remove your @. but oh my so many people on here would be fun to read with! i know @hexgh0ul and i seem to have very similar tastes in media (yellowjackets, interview with the vampire, dracula to name a few) so i feel like we could definitely find smth we'd both enjoy and have a good discussion on.

@waffleinator-inator is another one!!! maya has great taste and i already do really enjoy talking literature with her so buddy reading smth new to both of us would be fun <3

@ladytauria is someone i have exchanged recs with as well and another one with excellent taste in fiction so hmu sometime /hj

and ofc you as well, it turns out, since i'm learning today that we both really enjoy some of the same books, at least for ya which you're never too old for imo

i'd be happy with buddy reading with anyone though tbh i read a pretty wide variety and each mutual could be matched with something different :)

bookish asks