#ep: the ever burning fire

[thekinslayed]

A God Among Men

summary | Aemond's veins ran hot with the high of his victory at Rook's Rest, while his mind pondered on what will come next.

tags | spoilers to s2e4 ahead! masturbation (m), cum eating, humping, aemond's so fuckin horny omg, vhagar is tired lol

wordcount | 2k

note | i felt insane writing this, but the new ep was just amazing! i know aemond felt good asf after that, as he rightfully should 🙂‍↕️

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider graphic is from this website)

The sun had only started to dip into the horizon when Aemond returned to the skies. The sky was tainted with a lavender hue, while the remaining whispers of sunlight left streaks of orange and red. When the smoke had settled, Aemond remained assessing the fatality of the battle’s aftermath, as well as making sure Lord Staunton’s head fell from his sword. He made sure to show his face, had let their armies know who exactly it was that led them to victory. Cole was handling Aegon and what remained of his burnt body, but his uncle Gwayne had given him a proud clap on the shoulder.

As he returned to where Vhagar settled, the fire in his veins still burned ablaze with the high of their success. She fought well for him today. His old girl was just as eager as he, sharing a twin spark in their veins that had them thirsty to rain fire. He and Vhagar made for a horrific sight, reducing all else to mere dust under her talons. His aunt’s beast may have been hardened by battle, but it was no match for the queen of all dragons. 

The king was a different story. Aemond hadn’t anticipated the drunkard to find his way into the battlefield. His arrival had complicated things, had blocked the younger’s path to proving himself worthy of glory. Taking down Rhaenys was Aemond’s battle alone, and to have Aegon be caught in the crossfire, well, that was collateral damage. 

This victory will not be his to claim before the masses. He knew that. The streets will roar for Aegon, sing songs about the battle won in his name, despite the countless efforts of many others except for him. This was Aemond’s place, to get his hands dirty so his brother could forge his name in history as king.

He had taken his time flying back, feeling every bite of the wind that blew his long hair back, and savoring what remained of the day’s lights. His blood still ran hot with fire, his fingertips still buzzing with euphoric bliss. The one-eyed prince was drunk on power and glory. It bubbled down into a fire in his loins, a hardening in his breeches. 

Aemond tried to keep his urges at bay, just until he returned home at least, but his body demanded reprieve. With no other eyes on him except for the gods, the kinslayer slowly canted his hips towards the front rise of his saddle. He held onto the seat’s horns, rubbing his clothed bulge onto the firm leather. His battle garb was rougher, stiffer than his usual leathers. It made for a delicious kiss on his cockhead. He rutted against his saddle ferociously, his hips lifting from his seat in desperation. His thighs were starting to burn from his movements, but the fiery lick deep within his belly was only ever starting to grow. Alone in the heavens, Aemond was free to voice his pleasure as he wished, his grunts and groans swept away in the wind with every flap of Vhagar’s wings. This was the first instance he let himself do so, only ever biting back his sounds when he was fisting his cock in his bedchamber, or fucking a whore.

Beneath him, his dragon was growing restless too. Their bond, forged with their souls, let her feel what he felt. There was no doubt a similar spark coursed through her. They were one and the same after all. But his urges grew desperate, and he wished not to let his girl fly like this.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” he ordered, rubbing on her rough scales to ease her. With a tug on the ropes, Aemond guided his dragon to land. They found their place by a meadow, and with Vhagar’s size, it would be easy to mistake her for one of the hills that enclosed the grass. The night was slowly growing dark too, and Aemond could presume no soul would want to venture out this far at this hour. 

The prince did not bother with removing his long coat, nor the belt around his waist. In haste, he merely unbuttoned the last clasps to split the fabric open, before untying his breeches. The night air held a slight bite of cold, and it made him hiss when it kissed his exposed cockhead. His pulse thumped loudly in his ears, while his face burned hot with a fiery vigor.

He had to let it out, lest it started to burn him from within.

His gloved hand made quick work of tugging on his shaft, establishing a swift rhythm. If it were any brighter, Aemond would have seen the flushing of his tip, almost to a purple hue, though under the moonlight, his arousal glistened. Nothing ever made his blood run hot like the addicting glory of proving he was above the rest. He had felt it then, when claiming Vhagar, when Daemon sent men to kill him in sleep, and especially when he had successfully reduced his brother into a pouting, stuttering mess in front of the council. They underestimated him too much, all throughout his youth. They are wise enough to fear him now.

With a grunt, Aemond bit the tip of his glove, pulling his hand free of the leather. His hand returned to his cock, pumping it with an unrelenting urgency. He squeezed his tip with a flick of a wrist, while his free hand descended to cup his stones. It was only recently when a whore had shown him how sensitive his sacks were, and with the slightest caress, it spurned the prince closer to his end. He bit down on his glove harshly, bringing about an aching in his jaw. 

He was close, evident in the way the warmth in his belly bloomed upward towards his chest. When he closed his eye, Aemond could relive the glory of his triumph, could feel the fear in Aegon’s betrayal the moment his brother burned him. He could still smell the stench of marred flesh under his nose, while the weight of the catspaw dagger sat heavily on Aemond’s waist. 

Aemond knew what was to come, what was needed of him now. The second son was the key to their victory, and it was his divine right to lead him to it. With a moan, Aemond leaned against his saddle once more, grinding his bare cock against the wood. 

He could almost see it. The throne. The Conqueror’s crown on his head. With him crowned, the pretender and her brood will burn soon enough. He was not weak like the rest of them, like Aegon or Alicent; no, they were too soft. The gods have deemed him capable of such power, it was only right for him to wield it. 

Daemon knew this, he understood it the same way as he. His uncle was the only formidable foe of them all, and Aemond knew he thought the same of his nephew. The fact that he had to send men to slay him in his home, in his bed, was laughable. It flattered him, really. When the time came, he would face the rogue prince head-on, and not hide like a coward. He would face him in the skies, yes, that would be the way to do it.

The ornate embroidery on the leather scratched his tip in a way that made his jaw slacken. He humped the saddle like a bitch in heat, his gloved hand still squeezing his hefty stones. “Seven fucking Hells,” he cursed. Vhagar grumbled, shifting him about in his seat. Leaning back to rest on the cantle, Aemond propped his legs wide open. His hips thrust into his fist, fucking himself into his hand. He was starting to perspire beneath his garb, droplets of salty sweat beading down his neck. 

How would he do it? Vhagar was a behemoth compared to Caraxes. The red wyrm may be faster, but Vhagar was a seasoned killer. The way she and Meleys engaged in the skies was proof enough. She was smart, capturing the red queen in her hold before spewing fire. His uncle’s dragon would fare no better.

Or perhaps, he could meet him on the battlefield, where they would fight like mortal men. Aemond was a menace with a sword, expert skills honed by one of the best swordsmen the realm has seen. Cole had even beaten Daemon once, there was no doubt in the younger’s mind he could do the same. 

His tip was leaking hard, weeping tears like a wailing widow onto his calloused hand. The wet smack of his cock echoed into the darkness, audible to none but the spirits of the forest. With courage bubbling in his chest, the hand on his stones descended lower, making an experimental press on the space between his rear and his cock. The touch made him shudder, bringing about tingles that spurred him further. He had only seen it done once while passing through the numerous bodies splayed about in Sylvi’s brothel. It intrigued him, making him pause from making his way to their designated corner.

We could try that if you want, she had whispered to him, but Aemond merely shook his head with a huff before moving on. He saw the appeal of it now as he massaged the area with a firm press. The top of his head was starting to grow light, threatening to float away. Low whines poured from his lips, his face scrunching as he desperately sought out his release.

“Please, please,” he whimpered. His arm was starting to cramp from exertion, while his thighs shook. With another vigorous caress on his taint, Aemond came with a cry. His seed spurted out in three thick, hot spurts, painting his hand, his breeches, and the leather of his seat. He had keeled over in overwhelming pleasure, giving himself one last grind against the wood, then another, to spill all he could. He had subconsciously squeezed his good eye a little too hard, and when it opened, specks of white danced in his vision. Through the bleary fog of his climax, he saw Daemon. He saw the life drain out of his uncle’s eyes, and his blood painting Aemond’s hands red.

They were already tainted by the blood of his kin— Luke, Jaehaerys, and Rhaenys. The same scarlet stream that ran in his veins. But as he lifted his hand to look at it, there was no speck of red to be seen. Instead, it was painted by the pearly sheen of his essence, his seed. This was his poison spilled clean. With a pleasant throb in his temples and a heaving in his chest, Aemond took his fingers into his mouth.

It was saltier than he imagined, though not entirely unpleasant. It was rather moreish, making him lick one finger clean after another to get another taste. He had even scooped up the spill on the saddle, swiping the leather clean with his tongue.

Thoroughly pleased, Aemond slumped back, tilting his head to the sky. He was calmer now, with the lightning in his veins wearing down to an ache in his muscles. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on him. Vhagar too. His mount was starting to let out deep huffs, the first telltale signs of slumber, and a warning for Aemond to hasten. 

With a firm command, they took to the skies once more. It took little time for them to be greeted by the sight of King’s Landing. The Red Keep stood tall, speckled with flickers of light from the torches by the open windows. There was much awaiting him there, this Aemond knew. It would take some time before Cole and his men returned with Aegon’s injured body, and who knew if the imbecile would still be alive then. The second son was being presented with a golden opportunity. With the king and the Hand gone, it was up to him to commandeer their ship. His mother will think him capable, will finally see she had put the wrong son on the throne. It was no matter to Aemond now, he held little grievances, especially when his efforts were starting to come to fruition. 

They will kneel before him soon enough. They will learn it will be better to submit than to resist. After all, it would be unwise to incur the Kinslayer’s wrath.

[fabled-fiction]

Temptations of the Wolf

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Being a Targaryen meant sacrifice. Being a Stark meant sacrifice. Both these houses know the service of duty well. But when war is amiss, and two leaders of these respective houses meet to discuss allegiance, feelings for one another bubble to the surface and get in the way. Oh how the winds of war turn would be lover on would be lover.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Angst, Foribbiden-ish Love, Use of (Y/N), proof read only by author.

A/N: I AM A HOTD TV SHOW PERSON ONLY!!! I did research on wikis to try and write Cregan correctly, however I am but a simple man that writes fanfiction, so mischaracterization isn't totally unavoidable. ENJOY!

A dragon does not get cold.

A dragon does not feel the cold as they have fire brewing under their scales, penetrating not only their bones but also their soul. The soul of a dragon is a fiercely burning one, said to run so hot that their touch alone melts the thickest of ice.

(Y/N) Targaryen knew of this fire better than any dragon. Or that is what the people of King’s Landing had quickly grown to best know them by. Growing up within the tense house of Targaryen, especially during war times, justly called for you to have more than just a spine of a predator.

To survive amongst dragons, you must be able to breathe their fire.

Making every other tense occasion feel as though you were walking on air.

Perhaps there was another reason as to why you felt no fear as you flew North. A reason that bore the Stark symbol.

That is why, as Polarxes rode through the winter chill, with the wind daring to snip at your skin you felt calm. At peace almost, even as the great Wall came into view.

It was realized that in order to keep the throne that was meant to stay in the hands of your brother Aegon, relations had to be made. Families and Houses had bent the knee for King Visery’s heir not long ago, and it was soon made apparent that your family would have to make the same bend the knee again for Aegon. Just to make sure that loyalties lied with the correct Targaryen.

Whilst you particularly did not care for such politics, or politics in general, your mother had other plans. Seeing as you and Aemond stood as…the most intimidating of the family it was an easy decision to send the both of you out to ensure alliances were made and pacts bonded.

You knew that the decision to send you to the Wall was laced with more than just truce in mind. Your mother was a cunning woman, and recalled the times that whenever the Starks came to make your acquaintance you favored the nip of the cold family over the burning of the dragon pit. The touch of their ice, and the gaze of one particular wolf.

As your dragon landed, her talons digging in to break, you took a moment to yourself to feel the snowflakes rest on your warm cheeks and melt into the white of your roots. The cold felt nice on your skin that had grown used to the humidity of King’s Landing. To feel at ease in your skin, to have even the opportunity to cool off was an unknown blessing of this trip.

“I hope the ride here was not too tiresome for your dragon here, the winds can be quite hard in preparation for the change of season.”

Looking down at the boy, who looked no older than four and ten years of age, you smiled as you slid off your dragon with ease. She shook her head in response, her ivory scales offering her a sort of camouflage to the elements around her as she settled down. The heat of her breath alone melted whatever ice laid around her, the rest becoming swept up as her wings folded in. 

Whilst you looked at her with admiration, you could tell that this was the first dragon the boy had ever seen. It was a mix of awe and fear that flooded his eyes, which you did not doubt also kept him frozen still in fear of her eating him to remain warm.

“Do not worry about her, she is not the dragon that will eat you alive should you make one wrong move.”

A wolf does not get cold.

A wolf does feel the cold because the wolf knows how to bear the frigid winds. Their fur having grown to shift with the winds that come with winter. They stand strong against the chill of winter, and stand headfast at the front of the storm. 

The gaze of a wolf alone makes one question whether or not the storm bends to the wolf’s howl.

Cregan Stark knew that his house would come to be called upon soon enough. That is what comes with the winds of war. He just never felt bothered enough to actually busy himself with the calls of the storm.

But it became increasingly hard to ignore as a dragon landed at the gates of the Wall.

Especially when it was a dragon he recognized, that held a rider that had occupied his mind in the dark of the night as he stared into a fireplace. The lick of flames taunting him the same way a certain Targaryen had whenever in their presence.

He had begun to regret not knowing what exactly this storm of war would make him face.

The warmth of a Targaryen was hard to ignore, it made the men wish for the comfort of home as they were reminded of just how cold winter really was when left in their absence. A reaching hand hoping to grasp onto the hearth that was your soul. 

Even as he looked up toward the wall, the announcement of your presence was made when he felt sweat beghin to build on the back of his neck.

Turning towards you he noticed the sea of men that had parted to make a runway for you,almost as if they were presenting you to him. Or maybe it was the other way around as he noticed the way your predatory gaze ate up every inch of him.

He should have felt intimidated just by that alone.

You stood there before him, adorning only the one coat that seemed to mock the furs that he had adorned in order to retain even a fraction of the heat that you held onto. Your head was held high as you looked upon the Stark, giving him the smallest courtesy bow as your hand reached to shake his. He should not have been so eager to be in your presence upon the precipice of war.

Cregan Stark was no fool, he knew the reason for your visit. But still, appearances seemed to be becoming more and more important in this age.

“Lord Stark, I hope I am not intruding? There were some important business I’d like to discuss and well…dragons are faster than ravens.”

He offered you a curt smile as he stood to his full height, hoping to give himself an advantage on the conversation. Or at the very least to provide some distance to distract from the pit that had been lit a flame from your very speaking of his name.

“You’re not intruding in any way. Would you like to take this discussion somewhere more private, if the matter happens to be so important?”

You were not used to the Northern accent. The regality of the South had become your norm as you dealt with many affairs there, instead of bending to the will of the many Lord and Lady that wanted an audience with the great Targaryen rulers of the day. Thus you were used to their customs, clothing and accents.

Everything about the North always took you by surprise, and assaulted every sense that you had.

Cregan Stark was no different. If anything he made the divide even more stark as you set your gaze upon him.

He stood tall, and unbroken as he looked at you. The Wolf of the North was everything that had been said about him. Tall, broad, strong…handsome. His steeled eyes locked you in your place almost instantly. You weren’t sure if it was because you feared a single wrong move from you would provoke the beast or because you wanted to soak in every minute of his undivided attention. Never had you met someone with the same resolve as you, nor the same gaze.

You knew now why people were so intoxicated by you.

He always had that effect on you.

Taking his hand, stepping onto the lift you couldn’t help but be drawn to the cold that laid on his hands. The chill that ran up your arm from his touch alone made you want to keep a harsh grip on his gloved hand.

When the both of you were locked in, it was only then did your hands regretfully break apart by the jostle of the cables.

“I’m sure you know why I have made the trip all the way out here?” 

“Was it not to take in the view atop the wall?”

The chuckle that left your lips resonated throughout the cart, it made Cregan want to fill a book with quips that would draw similar sounds out of you. He smiled to himself as the ride came to a halt, and the two of you made the trip to a balcony overlooking the edge of the forsaken wall.

“ While that is a plus, I have come here as a courier from the Queen Mother. Whilst I believe you are busy with the responsibilities of defending the South from that of which come from those blasted woods, it would shock me to find you do not know of the developing situation within my family?”

His suspicions were confirmed. While there was no doubt you had come to discuss the usurping of the throne, it lifted some weight off his shoulder to know that you had been the one to broach the topic first. For some…unknown reason he felt hesitant to the idea of bringing up a topic that would only bring a scowl upon your face. Or any topic for that matter that would cause a crease to form between the bridge of your gaze.

But upon the question he found that you were calm and collected. As if you had not just brought up the topic of a deed that often led to disorder amongst the throne and council. Many of the men that served the wall had been sent here for just the discussion of mutiny alone.

Your confidence alone shook him, and confused him at the same time.

“I’m sure even the farthest reaches have heard of your brother taking his seat upon the Iron Throne. I'm confused however on what this has to do with me?”

Taking your gloves off, Cregan watched as you placed your hands on the edge of the ice that formed this pocket amongst the wall. Your shoulders dropped along with your head as you took in a deep breath. It was interesting to take in your mannerisms when it was just him instead of him and an audience. You behaved…well like a dragon. A foreboding presence that did not easily reveal their intentions, a ticking trap of anguish and fire. A continuous stream of steam left your nostrils as you took a moment to contemplate.

The dread that spilled from your exhale had Cregan convinced there was something more amiss this meeting of allegiance. 

“I truly do not care of the affairs of my brother, he has rarely acted on his own accord. Thus why I am here, to gather support of others that will make sure whatever whims he does hold are defended from those that aim to make all of this harder than it has to be.”

Looking at the palm of your hand that had been grasping the ice with a fury, you noticed that it had only now just started to turn pink. Whereas you were sure if anyone else had dared to meet flesh with ice, it would be purple and dead by now. It was a calming reassurance to feel the calming touch of ice. When looking into Cregan eyes, you felt a similar calm as his brows furrowed into a look that resembled something of sympathy.

He understood more than anyone the weight of duty.

“If I may ask, it seems as if you do not have much desire in the battles that are brewing? So why come here to make a play with a house that is known to keep their oaths?”

Of course he knew the weight of duty. The Stark house was known to be one of the most noble houses when it came to keeping a promise. They had bent the knee for your half sister years ago, so why must you have come out all this way to try and turn their tides? You truly did not want to come out all this way, only making the trip at the request of your mother who had become a thorn in your side ever since you made your indifference to the throne known.

You knew coming out this way would not sway the Stark, but instead sway you. 

“Who wishes for war? Only mad men desire a battle that would take their life,” Taking a moment to compose yourself, you straightened your back.

“Which is exactly why I come in hopes that you share the same sentiment.”

Your eyes seemed to hold all the emotions of the seven kingdoms. Cregan took a moment to compose himself, and remind himself that he was the Warden of the North. He does not need to consult himself on ways to keep the blaze of your heart lit. He had a job, just as you had yours.

Which is why he felt himself faltering.

“A Targaryen that does not wish of war? You are a rarity amongst your family (Y/N).”

Your name should have felt foreign to say. It was not dressed with honorifics, and he meant it. The lack of title that came before your name was with the purpose of bringing this conversation down to a more personal level. 

He watched as you tensed with him saying your name. But he knew it was not in offense, he could never offend you. It was in realization of the fragility of this conversation.

His informality was sealed when he rested his hand on the small of your back. The both of you just took in the moment to look beyond the wall. Cregan knew that this simple action could warrant reaction from you, it would be justified for you to take his hand and his tongue for even speaking to you in such a casual way.

Instead you melted into his touch, turning to face him.

He took this as an invitation to invade your space once more, taking a step forward to move a piece of hair that threatened to obscure his view of you.

“You flatter me, Lord Stark. But a compliment such as that will only do so much to sway me. I was sent here for a reason.”

His title wavered on your tongue as you spoke to him. This just drew more a response from him as he did not move, humming almost in agreeance as his hand found its place on your cheek. For a moment he felt jealous of the leather that dressed his palm, for it had the honor of holding you truely.

“Hmm yes, you were sent here for a reason. But could there not have been another? One that you hold instead, that trumps the duty you feel to your house?”

He was always good at reading you.

Perhaps you should have felt unease in coming here, to think it would just be a simple trip to the Wall that would just lead you to return home with nothing but a word that the Starks were not aligned with your house.

You were blinded by the urge to see him, the want to make his acquaintance one more time before the realm tore itself apart. “Cregan…”

His name fell from your lips with a whisper, as if you were praying to the gods above to harden your resolve.

“Tell me the real reason you came here.”

He was incredibly close now, his presence shadowing over yours. He covered you in a shroud of snow, his touch almost paralyzing you as you remained locked in a fight of wills.

Who would win? The fearsome dragon or the unbending wolf?

“To speak with you. There are…alliances that need to be made in order to keep my family from tearing itself and the world apart.”

This earned a frown from him as he leaned even closer to you. He assaulted every sense you had now. His eyes burned into yours, rivaling your gaze as his scent came over you. There was a reason you favored the smell of leather and musk. It reminded you of him.

“Could you just this once make a decision that was not dictated by your family, but rather made in lieu of what you wanted?”

Your hand reached up to hold his wrist of the hand that grounded you. Your touch was searing, Cregan knew that had you touched his skin he was sure there would be a burn where you had touched him. And he would wear it with honor.

He wondered if a kiss from you would be just as searing. If steam would rise from the both of your lips as you became one.

The fan of your breath over his cheeks threatened the very resolve he was known for.

This very act alone could be considered taking a side. The both of you would seal your fate if you fell blindly into your passions right at this second. A thought crossed the wolf’s mind, how truly awful would it have been to give in, even for just a moment?

Your hand on his cheek, a mirror of his own action, made him clasp his eyes shut as a shaky breath escaped his own trembling lips. 

He looked beautiful, in this very moment, you thought.

The both of you were so close, the desire of one thing burning in your mind as you stared at him.

You were never one for politics, but could that argument alone be excuse enough to betray the whims of your family for a single kiss from a man that would stand against them?

You wished to lite his lips ablaze with the passion of your touch.

He wished to swallow the fire that burned in your throat.

A dragon does not feel the cold.

A wolf does not feel the cold.

But right in this very moment they both wished the winds would freeze them in place, if not to hold onto the memory for just a moment longer.

“Cregan..”

“(Y/N)..”

The side of his nose seemed to fit perfectly against yours as he leaned in. Your hand rested up against the nape of his neck perfectly, anchoring both of you in this stance. 

Just as the both of you felt a graze of the other, there was the annoyance of another made present.

The squealing of the lift cables broke the silence, and thus breaking the tender moment of the two of you.

It wasn't until they came to a halt did you finally step back, and Cregan was left to imagine the moment for only a second before opening his eyes to the reality of the situation.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of house Velaryon has arrived to speak with you.”

With a small huff of a laugh, you straightened your cloak and looked out over the wall once more. 

This would probably be the last time you saw winter…the snow…and him.

Feeling his hand grip your chin, making you face him you could only chuckle as you held his face again. Only this time with longing and remorse. You were already mourning any possibility you had with him, and he knew it too as he looked down at you.

“I wish it were that easy…”

Leaning forward, you played with fire one last time as your lips came to rest on the corner of his. It was a quick moment, only giving yourself enough of it for the small gesture. You knew if you lingered for even a moment the Northerner would take it upon himself to seize whatever he could. And then you truely would be gone to the whims of a lovely passion.

Pulling away, you watched as he held where you had kissed him, before breaking away from your eye as you made your way to the lift to leave him.

But when his hand found your wrist, you could feel the fire brimming in your throat.

“Just…think about what I said…before its too late.”

Looking over your shoulder, you couldn't help but take the moment to study his face. Commit it to memory. Perhaps that is truly what you came here for. Not some silly test of allegiance, for you already had that answer before you even mounted your dragon.

No…it was to take in one last memory of the cold.

[asidian]

DBDA Meta Commentary Roundup

Okay, I'm getting tired of scrolling back to find my own posts, so it's time for a roundup post for my DBDA meta commentary.

Meta Commentary:

Why you should watch Dead Boy Detectives

Charles is a people pleaser

A very large snake as a reference to hell

The same lantern

Edwin knows the Misery Wraiths a bit too well

Why Charles is upset by more than just jealousy re: Monty

The white kimono

How Crystal and Charles' character arcs intersect to make an absolute trash fire

You can talk to me about anything

Edwin's hidden kindness as Charles dies

Edwin's hangups re: emotion and how it ties into his time in hell

The silliest Clue edition

The Cat King's design changes when he starts a new life

Counting cats

Where is the Doll House

Edwin and Charles acting like they've known each other forever in tiny details

Esther has the cops in her pocket

The lantern scenes as an extension of the theme "The good you do comes back around"

Why Charles opens up to Crystal so quickly

Payneland endgame nods through leitmotifs in the soundtrack

Charles is super sensitive to criticism, even when it's not intended

The Season 2 in my heart

The hidden nod to history in the WWI ghost's makeup

Why Charles' death is so much worse than it seems

The brilliance of the first ten minutes

The ship of all time

The incredible women of Dead Boy Detectives

Edwin's bowtie

Crystal and Charles as mirrors and projections

Bi disaster Charles Rowland

Edwin can knit

Chekhov's snake-slaying sword

Murder night movie time

Why Charles was more of a hero than he knew

What the doll placement says about Edwin's many deaths

Charles smiles for other people

The absolute fridge horror of That One Gate in hell

The only good thing generative AI has ever done

The wood-burning stove as part of Charles' cold trauma

Charles is so very brave for walking into hell

Charles' bad decision face

Edwin complimenting Crystal as a kindness to Charles

Charles' something-is-going-to-be-difficult tell Charles Rowland appreciation hours

Crystal's two character arcs

Niko's fear of death and her own mortality

Mick is great

How Edwin speaks of hell as character growth A reminder of home The secret in Jenny and Maxine's wine label

Set Design:

Charles' room

The London office

The boys' detective license and its source

Tragic Mick's shop

Niko's room

Cameos:

The boys' early relationship and how they've influenced each other

What the boys do together in their downtime as leisure activities

A brief in-character skit of an ordinary day at the office

Tidbits about the characters that didn't make it into the show

Input in developing Edwin as a character and suggested changes Imagining a Valentine's ep and Charles' thoughts on the holiday

Imagining a Valentine's ep and Edwin's thought on The Holiday

Color Symbolism:

Red

Blue

Pink

Green

Green (alt)

Purple

Orange

Brown

Black

White

[agatharkn3ss]

Agatha's info/rumours

I thought I'd pull together all the info we've been shown in ep.6 and add my interpretation to it. I still can't believe that Billy read these short bits and claimed he knew an "egregious" amount about Agatha.

As usual, biased towards Agathario, because I think they are heavily implying Agatha's connection to Death (I mean yes, the writers could just be trying to explain why the internet would be so invested in her identity, but still)

First of all - "333 partial results for Agatha Harkness Ancient Witch". I love yet another allusion to how Agatha is linked with number 3, making her the actual harbinger of doom (I explain this here).

It's interesting that the related questions are all about the immortality of the witches:

Are witches immortal?

Do real witches ever die?

How do you kill a witch?

How old is the oldest witch?

If we didn't have other super-old witches in the show, it would make me wonder if Agatha didn't make some sort of pact with Death (Rio), where she provides "bodies" to her in exchange for her long life. But as it is, we have Lilia as 450+ years old and Jen is also older than a century, but you don't see them trying to kill people (I think).

The very first search result is quite fun:

"The Macabre Wiki – a comprehensive encyclopaedia of all things that only come out after dark. Created by two blood witched from Salem"

No matter what, I will forever believe this is Agatha and Rio's page. (for reasons explained here)

The rest of the search results are not as exciting:

Witchy Resource – Ancient witches and ancient warlocks are not well documented traditionally and usually for good reason…

Witches and Aging – Apparently, witches are able to chose how they age and present themselves to humans. Some withes choose to stop again at a certain point staying roughly 30 years old visually for literally hundreds of years.

Dreadit – Salem Witch Trials – Recently I’ve been researching a ton on the SWT and not many people know this but there are reports of witches that actually survived burning and drowning

The Art of the Ancients – Learn about the secret art of witchcraft and the witches that have [...]

So this suggests Agatha specifically chose her look and age. Neat. Quite empowering really.

Also, another suggestion that some witches can be immortal and survive burning and drowning. I wonder if we will see this in the show - Agatha and Rio having absolute blast at mocking people who were trying to torture/kill Agatha, only to realise she wasn't feeling any pain, she would just raise and shout "Surprise witches!".

Then we go onto the Salem Witch Trials page. This pretty much confirms what we already know about them. I immediately clocked how all the handles only have green or purple colours... Coincidence? I've not tried to decipher the names, but if anyone has any suggestions, let me know!

witchygirlblack: Did any witches survive the Salem witch trials? Are they still alive? Where are they? Witches can live for hundreds of years, so the ones that survived the trials might still be out there [] witchkraft dreadit, you must know of some?

4thlevelwarlock: The Salemites, Evanora Harkness’s coven, were prominent in the area. I’ve heard rumours [...]the young children from the coven escaped

SamSamwitch: @4thlevelwarlock look familiar? [Agatha image link]

BoftheEast: be careful posting about her just saying

Then Billy takes the photo through reverse image search. I know these are tiny, inconsequential details but I still love them:

"Looky" sounds like a little nod to Lilia's "kooky"

The letters “o” have moons inside of them.

Each letter has different colour that seems to align with the witches – light blue (Jan - water trial?), purple (Agatha - spirit), yellow (Lilia - air), dark blue (Billy?), orange (Alice – fire)

This search then leads to a number of events that Agatha has been spotted at. Rather than pull out the quotes, I'm going to put the events in a chronological order and add relevant background info:

Salem Witch Trials (1692-1693) - this was a series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts. More than 200 people were accused. It was the deadliest witch hunt in the history of colonial North America. This is the time where Agatha's mother and her coven try to "punish" her for using "the darkest of magic". Her fingers weren't black, so she's unlikely to have had Darkhold back then. (btw the script for this suggests Agatha was 18 at the time, so she was born ~1675, making her ~351 years old in 2026)

The Eastern Seaboard - Although we don't know the exact dates, there are "unconfirmed reports of Agatha traveling the Eastern Seaboard". This could relate to various areas but this is likely just referring to the US East Coast. The Thirteen Colonies, which formed the United States in 1776 were located on this coast, playing an important role in the development of the United States.

The sinking of the Titanic (1912) - the British ocean liner sank as a result of striking an iceberg on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, to New York City, US. Of the estimated 2,224 passengers and crew aboard, approximately 1,500 died. Agatha is listed as one of the survivors

The Hindenburg disaster (1937) - a German commercial passenger airship caught fire and was destroyed during its attempt to dock at Lakehurst, New Jersey, on its journey from Frankfurt, Germany. The accident caused 35 fatalities among the 97 people on board, and an additional fatality on the ground. The publicity shattered public confidence in the giant, passenger-carrying rigid airship and marked the abrupt end of the airship era. Again, Agatha is spotted as a woman who "survived the explosion then disappeared"

"Jolene" (1972-1973) - The headline states "Does this 1972 Surveillance photo of Dolly Parton show the real Jolene?" and Jac Schaeffer confirmed that yes, Agatha = Jolene. So I had some fun with this, because why not?! I wondered what Agatha's play would've been here. Is she truly after Dolly's "man" - if so, in what way? Or is she after Dolly herself? Note that although the article says 1972, later on we also see statement that Agatha was last seen in Nashville Tennessee, 1973. Now - that year in Nashville, Dolly not only recorded "Jolene" in May, but a month later she also recorded "I will always love you" - a song that is widely understood to be a goodbye song to her business partner because she decided to pursue solo career. In my head this is all a result of Agatha's influence, who showed Dolly her real power.

On that note, I don't think we would be far off assuming that as Agatha kept Dolly (or her man) her company, she would've actually come across Lorna Wu herself? We know it was similar time, because "The Ballad of the Witches Road" record was made in 1978. Alice mentions how she got her tattoo in Colorado as her mum was playing at the Red Rocks amphitheatre. Dolly Parton also performed at the Red Rocks in 1972 (the same year as the camera footage), so Agatha could've been there...

Finally, we get to the "brujapedia" - the encyclopaedia of witches. It's fun to speculate who could be running this page - the whole theme is black and white, with red highlights. There is also an image of a raven - as I discussed it before, it is a symbol of bridging the world of life and death. So it would be fun if it was Death herself maintaining it, as she would be the only one who would truly know who the real witches were. Also it would be a cool census of who is still remaining for her to "collect" their dues.

Another good spot from @chaotic-homoromantic is that "bruja" is a Spanish word for "witch", giving us another hint to Rio.

I couldn't really find any info on any other names other than the top one. Abigail Adams was a founder of the US, wife of John Adams, the second US president and mother of John Quincy Adams, the 6th US president. I'd like to think witches had some input back then.

Also interesting is how Agatha's surname is misspelled - it has two Ks. I wonder why that is - no way it's a mistake, seeing how much detail they've put into this. Maybe it's a subtle suggestion that this information came straight from Agatha herself or as a joke from someone who knows her, since she's known for using wrong words. (or it could just be a suggestion that all of the other names on this list are also misspelled, explaining why we can't find any info on them)

Then we get to some info about her - most of which I already collated into the timeline above. There is also a vague mention of Nicky: "Agatha Harkness. Son. Name unkown, rumours [...]"

But there are also some other bits - hilariously referred to as "FUN" facts:

Fun Facts:

Murdered her entire coven

Possesses succubus powers

Nick name is “witch killer!”

Only known survivor of The Witches Road

Folklore references: It is said certain children’s book make reference to Agatha [...]

Funny how the nickname absolutely includes the exclamation mark. I feel like maybe Jen was the one who submitted this info.

As for the children's book - I feel like it wouldn't be just a single story but more like the Grimm's Fairy Tales. Following Lilia's comment, Agatha probably was the template they used for "evil witches" - poisoning apples and stealing kids and eating children. It's not something she would deny anyway.

Now, the Succubus comment is interesting. In lore they are generally depicted as a sexual being - "a female demon or supernatural entity in folklores who appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity."

But I think in Agatha's case, things are different. Yes, she has the charisma and can probably seduce people quite easily (I mean, she probably seduced Death, didn't she?). But I don't think that's like a magical power. In fact, if it was, it think it would be really unfair to Agatha, erasing the fact that her character had to build and evolve around her experiences and the fact that she had to survive - "in a way that few do". So I think this "fun fact" could be partially coming from someone's snarky comment (Dolly Parton's?), who just wanted to take away Agatha's agency. Or fell for Agatha and then blamed it on her "powers" rather than admitting their own gullibility. Just like women over the centuries were accused of witchcraft and casting curses if things simply didn't go the way someone wanted.

Plus the way she goes about getting her magic from people is absolutely not seductive. She simply finds a way to annoy the heck out of the target!

But of course, that's not all there is to it, because on the other hand Agatha has her syphoning ability - now that could also be described as the "succubus powers" referred to above. In DnD succubus attacks using a "Deadly kiss", basically draining the essence of life and I feel like this is quite a good description:

"The kiss of a succubus is an echo of the emptiness that is the fiend’s longing for a corrupted soul. Likewise, the recipient of the fiend’s kiss gains no satisfaction from it, experiencing only pain and the profound emptiness that the fiend imparts. The kiss is nothing short of an attack, usually delivered as a final farewell before the fiend escapes."

In that magic/soul sucking way, she would have more parallels to Death, explaining their connection. More so, if Agatha can't control her powers - because Death does not really have much control either, she just has to do her job when the time comes.

[cassiefromhell]

The Game

Nanami x Wife!Reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: f!reader, mdni/18+, smut, teasing, ROUGH, manhandling, gentle choking, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering a/n: this is a combination of my reaction to the latest jjk ep and a general need for manhandling nanami.

You know exactly what is coming for you.

You can feel his eyes on you from across the room. Watching you. 

Watching his pretty little wife play games that she’d lose. 

Because you have one goal in mind: piss off your husband, Nanami Kento.

Which is not an easy task. But you had pissed him off once before, a few weeks ago, and had been insatiably craving more. His reaction that night was… his hands in your hair, throwing you back against the bed, the words out of his mouth—

You can’t help but blush a little at the memories that flood your head now, as you speak to a man twice your age at this party. You know this man thinks he has a chance with you. He came up to you earlier, and is now flirting with you relentlessly, seeming blind to the ring on your marriage finger which marks you as claimed. 

You giggle a little at something he says, taking your poker and stabbing at the fire. You sip the glass of wine in your hands. There’s no need to look over your shoulder to confirm; Kento is most decidedly watching you.

And that fire? It’s growing.

You can feel the way your white silk mini dress has ridden up your thighs a little, but you don’t do anything to fix it, no matter how much the skin on the back of your thighs sizzles and sears under his scorched gaze.

All it takes is for the man to reach out, try to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and the flame explodes.

Hands are on your waist in an instant, a cotton-covered, firm chest pressed against your back. You know that chest. Those hands.

“I think it’s time for us to get going, don’t you think, dear?” Kento grits out, his thumbs digging into your skin. A warning.

“Oh,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him. You’re met with a hard-set jaw and cold eyes, as your husband stares down the inferior man who got a centimeter too close. “But it’s raining. We’ll have to wait for it to slow down a bit, or have a valet bring the car around, we’re parked a block away—”

“We’ll walk. Goodbye,” he flashes the tightest, fakest smile you’ve ever seen, and then turns you towards the elevator, pushing you in that direction.

And what choice do you have? You half walk, half stumble forward, his hands never faltering in their iron grip the whole walk over. He stops you in front of the elevator.

“Button,” he commands, jerking his chin towards the panel with two buttons, one an up arrow and the other down.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“It seems that if I let you go for half a second, you’ll run off and let yourself get eye-fucked by a nobody in a cheap suit. Button,” he growls, his hands tightening their grip, causing your sides to protest.

You whimper softly, reaching out and pressing the down button. It glows a soft blue, and you tilt your head to the side, gazing up at your angry, blond man. “What’s got you in such a frenzy? I was socializing—”

He scoffs. “Socializing. Sure. I know the game you’re playing, and might I remind you that it’s a game you can’t win, darling.”

You swallow hard, fighting back a flinch as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. 

Empty.

Kento shuffles you both inside, and holds the ‘close doors’ button so hard that you’re afraid it might actually crack.

The elevator doors slide closed, and he releases you, taking two steps back.

Suddenly, the air is so thick that you can hardly breathe, and the thought of the fingerprint bruises he’s likely left on you fills your head.

“Ke—”

“No. No more words from you,” he spits out, practically punching the ground floor button.

You pout, and take a step towards him. “‘Nam, c’mon,” you poke that damned fire again, just waiting for it to burn you.

And it does.

His arm snaps out, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “I said, quiet.”

That sharp anger in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, abdomen tensing. You bite your bottom lip, and try your luck. “You’re a little angry, huh?”

Your back is against the wall before you can even process what’s happened, before you recognize that he’s shoved you into the corner of the elevator, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed firmly against your hip, keeping you in place. His body is fully pressed to yours, and the straining bulge you feel is unmistakable.

“Angry? You have no idea,” he says, his voice having dropped to an eerily calm tone. “I want to throw you onto the ground of this damned elevator and make you suck me off right here, right now. I want to fuck your throat, and then that kinky little cunt of yours, until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”

Your breath catches in your throat— no, it completely stops. You’re no longer breathing.

“Then do it.”

He gives a breathy chuckle, suddenly spinning you around, a hand knotting in your hair and shoving your cheek against the wall. And then he leans down, presses his lips against your ear, and…

“No. You’d like that too much.”

You whine, straining against his grip on you. Kento is usually ever the gentleman, the perfect white picket fence husband. He brings you roses each Friday and a piece of your favorite cake every Tuesday, and fucks the shit out of you each day when he returns from missions. But he’s so… polite, all the time, his touch gentle and his voice soft. He’s the type to rest his hand on your thigh while he drives, and carry you bridal style into the house.

But this Kento… This Kento is the reason you’re trying to piss him off. Because you unlocked the manhandling, relentless Kento once, and now can’t get enough of it.

Suddenly, the hand on your neck drops down, down, down to your thighs, and then up under your skirt. Kento’s fingers ghost over your bare pussy, straight up laughing when he realizes you’re wearing no underwear. But the laughter is harsh, and sends shivers down your spine.

“You really planned this, didn’t you dear.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Can you blame me?” You murmur, trying to grind down on his hand, the hand which is now cupping your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand juuuust below your clit. “Please.”

“We’re almost on our floor,” Kento suddenly releases you, fixing your dress with a soft touch and taking two steps back. 

You open your mouth to complain, but right on cue, the elevator doors slide open. Kento presses a hand against the small of your back, forcibly guiding you out of the elevator, and across the plaza, out to the main doors.

Where it’s pouring.

You pause outside the glass doors, crossing your arms across your chest. “No. It’s pouring.”

Kento sighs, but looks you over, and realizes it at the same moment as you do; you’re wearing white.

And Kento is a gentleman.

“I’ll bring the car around. You stay right here, you understand me?”

You nod, and he’s out the doors in an instant.

You find yourself shifting on your feet as you wait, your heels really starting to do a number on you. You keep fixing your dress, trying to ignore how you’re wetter than the rain outside.

Your feet have not moved an inch when your familiar white BMW M8 pulls up to the doors, and your husband gets out of the driver's seat, umbrella in hand.

And he is soaking wet.

His blue shirt sticks to his chest, not hiding any of the rippling muscle along his entire torso. He’s discarded his gray suit jacket, but the pants have darkened a shade due to the rain. His hair sticks to his face, blond locks drenched.

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks when you realize how close you are to being able to make out his dick print, and that only worsens when he walks through those doors, headed straight for you.

“I didn’t move,” you murmur as he takes your arm, gripping your bicep tightly and heading for the exit once more.

“That earns you no brownie points tonight.”

Kento opens the umbrella as he drags you outside, holding it over your head. Not a drop of water hits you as he escorts you to the car, and then opens the door to the back seat.

You raise a brow. “Backseat?”

“So you can’t touch me,” he replies, and then promptly sweeps your feet out from under you, catches you, and tosses you into the back seat.

You yelp as your back hits the leather, and the door is closed immediately. Kento is in the driver’s seat before you can blink, staring at you in the rear view mirror. 

You buckle yourself up, and he seems satisfied, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot at a speed that’s probably too fast.

You chew your bottom lip, watching his hair drip onto his face, watching his hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, watching his foot press the accelerator.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you murmur, leaning forward and running a hand over his hair, trying to squeeze some of the water out.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his head. “No touching.”

You pout, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward, pressing your face against his neck. “Kentoooo…”

You feel the change in his demeanor immediately. He tenses, and reaches back to grip your hair, yanking your head away from him.

“That’s it,” he hisses, and pulls the car into an empty parking lot, putting it in park.

He’s out of the driver’s seat instantly, coming around to the back, and climbing into the back seat.

You have to fight back your victorious grin, but he doesn’t have the same plans as you do, because he grabs you, and pulls you out of the car and into the rain.

“Kento—”

His mouth crashes into yours, and he grabs your chin tightly, his other hand holding your waist to his. You whimper into his mouth, trying to ignore the cold rainwater that’s certainly making your white dress translucent.

He pulls away just when you begin to shiver, then drags you around the car, putting you into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He appears back in the driver’s seat in an instant, his jaw once again set and eyes cold as ice.

“What happened to the no touching rule?” You grin, kicking off your heels.

“Better idea.”

He pulls back onto the road, eyes staying on the path ahead, all while his hand starts to make its way under your skirt.

You realize what he’s doing just as a finger plunges into you, sliding easily with your wetness. You groan loudly, whimpering as his thumb grazes your clit.

He slides in a second finger, and starts pulling them out and pushing them back in, all while stimulating your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for you to be whimpering and grinding against his hand, gripping the door for support and leverage.

With a few more strokes and swipes of his thumb, that coil in your abdomen begins to tighten, your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Ah— oh, shit…”

Kento withdraws his hand, and you open your mouth to protest, then realize he’s pulled the car into your garage, and is putting it in park.

And he presses the garage door closing button.

And then waits, both hands on the steering wheel, as the garage door closes.

The second that the concrete meets the door, Kento turns his head to look at you, all needy and desperate with pleas begging to escape your lips.

“You really want me to be rough with you?” he asks, his brows stitched together in concern.

“Wherever would you have gotten that impression?” you drone, raising a brow sarcastically. “I want to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of me.”

“You want to be hurt?”

“A little. I liked last time,” you murmur, allowing your mind to slip back a little bit, back to that night that had left you both bruised and begging for more.

“There are better ways to go about this than pissing me off,” your husband narrows his eyes, jaw clenching.

“This is the authentic way.”

“You’re spoiled, you know that?”

“You’re hard as fuck, you feel that?” your eyes flick to the bulge under his pants zipper.

That’s enough to send Kento flying out of the car, and before you know it, he’s opening your door, dragging you out by your bicep.

You yelp, stumbling forward as his grip on you — which is covered in your slick — remains firm. He pulls you into the house, and your back is pressed against a wall immediately, his mouth on yours, hand around your throat.

Kento pulls you up the wall, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching cunt against his shirt. He roots his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to be a bit painful.

Clearly he’s done waiting, because his dick is out within seconds, and he’s pulling up your dress. You whimper once the fabric is bunched up around your waist, gripping his shoulders.

“Please…”

“You think that’s enough?” he scoffs, tugging your hair and tilting your head back. “You flirt with another man, nearly let him touch you, act like a brat, and you expect me to just give it to you?” Nevertheless, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the slightest bit of pressure. 

“Fuck—” you whine, groaning softly. The hand holding you up digs into your skin. “I’ll be good— jesus, please. I need you.”

Kento slaps your ass, and then thrusts nearly his entire thick length in at once, causing you to cry out, tears coming to your eyes. He immediately starts a bruising pace, fucking you into the wall so god damn hard that a picture frame nearby rattles.

You whimper as his cock reaches that sweet spot once— and then again, and again, until you’re matching each thrust with a tilt of your hips and a moan.

“Fuck— there you go, baby,” he grits out, yanking on your hair. “Take it all.”

That familiar cool begins to tighten, your abdomen tensing as he picks up his pace even more, and you wonder how it’s possible — untll you look down and realize he’s using the tiniest bit of cursed energy to fuck the actual shit out of you.

“Cum for me, come on. You wanted this so bad, so cum on my dick.”

And that’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge, stars flooding your vision and a long string of curses leaving your lips like a prayer.

His thrusts grow a little sloppier, and he spills himself into you with a hiss, leaving little nips along your jawline. 

“I’m not close to being done with you, just as a fair warning,” he growls, and then tosses you over his shoulder.

At this point, you’re half dead.

But also half alive, kept awake by Kento’s hands rubbing circles along your skin, the bubbly bath water tickling your breasts. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to a bruise on your shoulder.

You give a half-babbled response, leaning into his warmth more.

“Full sentences, please.”

“Mm.. I love you,” you manage, turning to face him. You press your face into his neck and inhale his scent.

“I love you too.”

A long pause comes, with Kento just rubbing circles into your bruised sides. Then, he speaks.

“Now, what did we learn?”

“That pissing off the husband results in mind-blowing sex.”

He draws a sharp breath in, and smacks your shoulder gently. “No, no. We learned that we don’t have to piss the husband off, we just have to use our words and plan a date for these things.”

“That’s not very authentic.”

“Do I have a shot at winning this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Getting hot under the collar and in the kitchen and on the pool table and...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 3-4 of 12 - one of the things I'm enjoying about this show is the fact that the introverted super shy uke is having hot fantasies, and the extroverted seme is having the sweet fantasies. It's another way this show is highlighting God being the world's greenest flagged seme BL has ever produced. (And he's being given stiff competition this year - trend alert.)

Anygay: God is so cute and so not cool and so in love and all the consent asking word salad coming out of this boy. I LOVE him. 

Diew: It’s ep 4 so I’ve decided we can talk face-to-face.  God: So how many children do you want? 

The teaching him to play basketball bit, where God politely asks to hold his hand, is so freaking adorable I can’t.

I'm thinking of calling this show the anti-Mame pill.

Blue pill? Red pill? GREEN pill!

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - We gotta talk. I do like this version, but it’s starting to feel lackluster. Perhaps it always was by comparison to the bright sparkle uniqueness of the original. Perhaps I didn't notice because I was distracted by G4. But now I gotta say it's become a bit disappointing and even my love for G4 can’t seem to bind me to this. Frankly, this show is making me want to watch either the Japanese version, or My School President. It’s never a good sign when a currently airing BL makes me want to stop that and go rewatch an old one I’ve already seen.

NO SINGING.

Meanwhile, the "locked on the rooftop" trope! I haven’t seen that one in years. Cool. Also cute kisses. They learning. 

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - I can’t believe this is ending next week. But also I can. And I have thoughts.

I really love SailubPon. They might be one of my favorite newer pairs on the scene right now. But I just don’t believe in these characters or this couple. I don’t feel like they are going to have a lasting relationship. It feels like they’re just using each other for sex and distraction, and that’s how the script to set it up, and as a result they’re never gonna make it as a couple. As soon as the sexual fire between them burns out, what do they have to build a relationship on? Frankly? That would be fine if this were a modern love drama, and not a BL. But this IS a BL.

Putting the health code violators aside, I really do believe in the secondary pair, but they haven’t been given enough bandwidth to develop as a couple. There’s no way they’re going to adequately resolve Methas and JJ in the final episode.

At this juncture, I’m mostly finding this show annoying. Which in itself is annoying, because I wanted to love it.

Why is it that Thailand, the land of the best food in the world, king of BLs, struggles so hard to produce the restaurant set BL of my dreams? I’m really pissed about this.

That said, the Methas & JJ stuff is killer. Loved JJ running away. So good. Plus the age old decision - love or money? 

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 2-3 of 12 - The issue was me and I've managed to get hold of this show again. The story within the story is so ridiculously badly written I'm going spare. I’m not sure if the outside show is not ALSO badly written. That said, I do love how the 3 writer friends are all shipping our leads. It’s VERY silly. Meanwhile, cohabitation trope is a go. 

I like the side couple too. Stern Daddy + lost puppy is a very cute dynamic, I hope we get more than just crumbs. I actually am enjoying this show now. Ep 3 kinda derailed into this weird chimera novel that they’re all writing together and I’m finding that bit the least interesting, but I adore the domestic components which I think may turn out to be TutorYim's strength (if they're allowed to lean into it). 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - Man I hope this gets some kind of distribution at some point. It was a pain to find and watch. But I enjoyed it. The focus is more on the seme in Thailand’s version. Which I don’t mind since that's rare in BL, and it’s more August on my screen. It’s all round softer than China’s version but still feels very familiar. I know some fans are struggling with it, but not me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - I like that Sam’s crafty business espionage has paid off. Them teasing Sam & Yo really had me belly laughing. It was so funny.

Legitimate question. Would one put perfume on one’s cheeks in Thailand, as one does on wrist or sternum? Because of the sniff cheek thing? Scented face powders?

I do feel like with MosBank & SailubPon scorching up our screens, we’re being spoiled by some of Thailand‘s best high heat pairs at the moment.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It remains kind of sweet and cute. It's also calm and slow moving. Oddly it reminds me of La Cuisine in its style and execution (if not content). I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I don’t know. I’m getting bored.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 10fin - Fort’s acting during the break-up was truly great. But I feel for Rak. It’s rough to learn that someone else is playing a long game with feelings while you were playing a short game with d**k.

Ultimately this is probably a solid 8/10 show but I’m mad I wasn’t madder at it, and I'm mad I was so bored throughout. So it gets a 7/10 and let us not speak of this again. I’d like to simply forget about it. Trash watch.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 1-2 of 10 - OMG a uni student who looks young and a... COP! GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. I had to go grey to get it and I hate everything about what I had to do. But ya know what? Fucking worth every single repeated crash-causing advertisement.

I love it. The grumpy lonely little student cook and the cheerful mature police officer. What a fabulous dynamic. Is the cook looking for a boyfriend or a Daddy, and do we care if it has the same result? It is filmed VERY manga style camp. I’m a little nervous about that, but this means it’s also very fluffy and so damn sweet. It made me squeak with the cute. I’m gutted this didn’t get distribution.

Ironic that Tawada Hideya is in a new BL while Sunspot is re-airing.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 3-4 of 8 - Ah, the gays are doubting the bisexual again. How familiar. I like how this one is paced and moving through time, even if the relationship seems to be going comparatively slowly by contrast. I love the way Sahashi is always looking at Natsume, even when they’re in conversation with someone else. Ah yearning. I think the conflict was kind of inevitable, given the two personalities of the protagonists, and I like that. (No manufactured angst here.) But I still hope they can repair the breach and I’m still interested. Frankly this is so classically Japan - I don’t know what story beats it’s following and I’m not entirely sure where it’s going, but I kinda like that unpredictability. Makes me think it could go into "must you, Japan?" territory but fingers crossed.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I'm enjoying it very much. I could do without the girl character. I know she’s more interesting than most (this is Japan after all), but she’s not really for me. It’s the complexity of the connection between the leads (and why they like each other) that’s being executed so brilliantly in this show (and in the manga, FYI). Both actors are so on point with their roles and the nuanced emotions required of these characters that every time it’s only them interacting I'm riveted. I could do without the rest of the cast tho.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 1 of 8 - I have a confession to make, I’ve been watching this whole series as it goes along. But this is the pair I absolutely like the most. I’m not sure I would necessarily recommend any of the installments, and I’m not sure how this one is going to go, but I’m VERY invested in this particular couple. They are so pretty!!!! This is a true friends-to-lovers struggle. I like that a lot. (Reminds me of I Cannot Reach You but a different dynamic.) Did I mention how pretty they are? And we already know they gonna kiss well. I bet the uncut version is stellar.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - It's no one's funeral, turns out! Reports are in - not only are there kisses but it ends happily with wedding plans. So I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. I'm enjoying it. Ya'll know I adored Chinese BL before censorship. It has a certain unhinged quality I very much apreciate (and is the reason I'm so tolerant of the Thai pulps) that I think will marry well with Wuxia's effervescent and ever-present tropes. Watch me suffer here.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan starring Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn team. With their powers combined they are...

fine.

This is a fine BL. The fight scene was fun and I like the meet cute. I’m not sure about the chemistry of the leads, but I think they’ll probably do okay. I admit I’m struggling a bit with a singing and the music. Are you surprised? I think I like it enough, but I’m not wowed.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Oh! Out of the blue attack kiss. What IS this show? I don’t get it at all. Bah. I guess they’re dating now. It’s… so odd...

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me if it's safe.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Again delayed? Not sure what's going on with this one but the continued push-backs do not bode well.

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming This Month!

8/22 The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) 12 eps - announced in 2023 this one has a high school set stepbrothers trope and is reputed to be high heat. From Taiwan! It's made for me. Based on a novel Mou Mou from the Your Name Engraved Herein folks, so it could go dark. Still, I'm very excited.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

WHY IS HE SO FINE?

I truly belly laughed. Sam & Yo did not go in the direction I expected, but this scene alone made me not mind that they curtailed the suffering Sam was rightfully due. (SunsetXVibes)

Tall boyfriend armpit, anyone? (Monster Next Door)

The two extremes of BL in one show (Long Beans indeed).

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

[dreamingofep]

Merry Christmas, Baby🎄💋

A/n: Here’s a smutty little Christmas blurb 🤭 I’m incapable of writing anything short, sweet and to the point so this will have to do! I wrote this with 1970’s E in mind but I also thought about Vampire!E too (of course) so picture what ever Elvis era you want. Merry Christmas 🎁

Word count: 1.6k

Tw: SMUTT, some cuteness

December 24th, 1970

The twinkling lights on the Christmas tree softly lit the living room. You were content sitting on the couch by yourself, enjoying the fire and the murmur of conversation through the house. Elvis was around mingling with everyone and being a good host. You were glad the night was settling down, you wanted to spend time with just him. This was your first Christmas together and wanted to make it special.

All the presents were unwrapped, food was eaten, and the house was decorated to the nines. You didn’t want the season to end if this was how Graceland looked. It always looked beautiful but something about the Christmas glow of the house made it even more remarkable.

You turn your attention to the dining room and feel your heart flutter at the sight of him. Lord, he was stunning, no amount of time with him would make you immune to his good looks. Especially the way he was looking at you tonight. It didn’t help that you were teasing him to no end throughout the night. You were begging him to make love to you before the party began and he wanted to make you wait. You didn’t like that and would make it your mission to make him crumble for you. You’d kiss him on the neck, something he couldn’t denounce, or stroke his thigh with your hand, getting dangerously close to his crotch.

That look in his eyes was dangerous now. That’s a look you’ve gotten when he’s about to ravage you. You can’t handle that thought with so many people around. His gaze doesn’t waver and only intensifies.

Like you were the only thing he wanted as he subtly licks his bottom lip. You hold your breath and look down, praying he doesn’t see how you’re coming unglued by him already.

You nervously take a sip of your drink and set it down on the coffee table. You’re about to glance over at him again but someone’s voice has you distracted.

“EP, play us something before we leave!”

You look at Elvis and see him give a cute, cheeky little smile. He gets up from his seat at the dining room table and straightens out his shirt.

“Sure, why not,” he grins.

Everyone gets all excited and starts to funnel into the living room area where you were. You get up and offer your seat to someone. You want to be as close as possible to him and take a seat on the couch by the piano. Before he takes a seat at the piano bench, he picks you up and gives you a much-needed kiss. It left you breathless and a bit startled by the passion of it. He sits you back down and goes to the piano.

He plays a couple of chords to warm up, humming to himself to get in key.

Merry, Merry Christmas baby

You sure did treat me nice…

The low, sultriness makes your whole body freeze. Oh, you knew what he was doing, he was trying to tease you. Try to make your cheeks burn and get you uncomfortable in front of everyone.

You lean back against the sofa and look at him with a lustful gaze. He looked damn good and you were sure he knew it. He wore all white today and the whole outfit was tailored to fit him perfectly. You watch those long fingers dance along the keys, making the piano play in perfect tune.

You look back up to his face and see he’s wearing a smug smile, probably proud of himself for seeing how he’s got you feeling.

I said Merry Christmas baby

You sure did treat me nice

He sings that last line and turns slightly over his shoulder to look at you, his eyes drinking in your crossed legs. You feel your heart gallop at that one singular look.

Completely weak.

You could not look at him for a second longer.

Well, I wanna kiss you, baby

He took his time on that last line, smugly smiling and chuckling softly. Clearly not thinking of just kissing you.

He plays a few more songs and your guests start to leave. You say your goodbyes and make your way upstairs, needing to gain back your composure before being alone with Elvis. You quickly make it to the bathroom and see your weakened demeanor.

Your cheeks were flushed and your heart still raced by the thought of him. Damn it he has you so weak and he loves it.

You hear the bedroom door open and you try to straighten yourself out.

“Baby?” His deep voice rang out in the quiet room.

“Yeah I’m here,” you say nonchalantly.

He turns the corner and smiles at you, nodding his head approvingly.

“Mmm, just as I had thought,” he says coyly.

“What?”

“Pink little cheeks,” he says low, caressing your face, “probably thinking about somethin’ naughty in that head of yours.”

“I would never while there are guests around,” you quip.

His hands trail down to your hips and squeeze there. You lean into his body, loving his hands on you and sighing.

“Let me put some naughty ideas in there then,” he taunts. He lifts you onto the counter and spreads your legs, leaving enough room for him to stand in between. His lips cover your neck in kisses, sending a bolt of electricity through you. Your arms wrap around his neck, almost instinctively now, and try to pull him closer if that is humanly possible. He kisses you so intensely and his hands are igniting the fire inside you.

You moan breathlessly into his mouth, craving more of him than you thought. You wanted to feel more of his warm skin and your fingers frantically worked the buttons off his shirt. You quickly get it off his body and pull the sleeves down. His hands move quickly too and easily find the zipper on the back of your dress. He peels it off of you and you lift your hips up to get the dress completely off your body.

Your hands are back on each other and kissing each other like you never have before. It felt perfect. You both knew exactly what you needed before uttering a word. He momentarily takes his hands off of you and you hear him working his belt off of his hips. You look down and watch as he unzips his fly and lets his pants fall to the ground. Your cheeks redden more as you look at his length.

Oh God, you needed him. You needed him so badly.

You look back up at his face with needy eyes and he swears a little smirk on his lips.

“What are you thinking about now?” He asks.

“How much I want you. Why?” You try to say holding it together.

“Mhmm good. I’m thinking the same thing,” he says as he rubs the tip of his cock through your wet slit. You groan at the friction and wrap your arms around his neck again.

He pulls your hips forward on the counter so you’re more on the edge and he lines himself to your entrance. He slowly pushes himself inside you and groans as he feels you squeeze around him. You scratch at his back, pleasure searing through you as he slowly pumps his cock in and out of you.

He takes you slowly, holding onto your body tightly and murmuring how good you feel. His lips cover your neck in kisses, surely leaving marks there to remind each other what you did tonight. You do the same to him, making him buck his hips into you harder if you nip him. You quietly cry his name as your release builds. He loves hearing how good you’re feeling and how you want more.

His hand drifts down to where you’re connected and he finds your swollen bud. You squeeze his bicep when he does this and look at him in shock. It felt good but you were so sensitive, on the brink of cumming already.

“So good baby, you feel so good,” he growls into your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and gravelly in your ear. It sends shock waves through you. Hearing how much he is enjoying this makes you want to give more to him. You lean away from his body to look at his face and you see his eyes gazing at the reflection in the mirror.

His heated eyes meet yours once more and he’s breathing heavier, fucking you harder than before.

“I love you, I love us,” he breathes. All you can do is whimper in agreement. With his cock stuffed inside you and his fingers rubbing your clit, you feel yourself about to go over the edge.

You hold onto him tighter, feeling your orgasm loom and get even closer.

“Elvis oh God,” you cry out.

“Good baby, takin’ me so well. All fuckin’ mine,” he growls.

Your body tenses and your core flutters, unable to hold back your release any longer. You squeeze around him and whimper in ecstasy, feeling as though you’ve been shot into the stratosphere. He groans heavily as he tries to fuck you at the same pace but he can’t. He’s close too and you feel too good to stop him from coming.

He holds onto your body tight and buries his face in your neck, whimpering your name. You feel his hot release pour into you and you both are a sweaty, sticky mess. He moves slowly as you both are coming down for your highs. Your entrance was overly sensitive after all of that and he was too.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you.”

“Merry Christmas Baby,” he says low and sultry like at the piano.

“Mmm, my new favorite Christmas song,” you tease.

•

•

•

Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister@velvetelvis @ccab @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley@chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley@cattcb@annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[multifandom-nerds-blog]

S7 ep 1 compliant mini fic with established Corvus (Cause Sorens face was bloody in one scene and clean in the next one somehow)

Maybe a bit similar to the one I posted a few days earlier, but who cares.

"Oh, right. Right! Because I'd be dead!"

Corvus could only shake his head at Sorens antics. Not without smiling though. The relief of seing him alive was strong, and gave him enough energy to stay on his feet even after the long day followed by flying for hours.

Though seeing the castle like this really was terrible. They had seen the smoke from far away already, and it wasn't much better up close.

Their capitol. Their castle. The home of Ezran, Callum and Soren. And well, after two years also his home, though this was obviously much worse for his friends who had grown up here. But Ezran was with Callum for the moment, so he could focus on Soren.

"Opeli is on the way to the Banther lodge with most people." Soren said while keeping his arm around Corvus shoulder. "I stayed here with some guards to keep the fires under control and look for uhh... stuff."

"You mean anything salvagable?" He didn't mentioned the ever so slight shaking of Sorens hand on his shoulder. Or the quite trembling of his voice. It would most probably just lead to Soren closing his walls.

"Yeah. Yeah! That. Also Barius and some others are going to the sorrounding towns for supplies and help to set up cam- what are you doing?"

Corvus had put his hand up to Sorens face. Unable to ignore the blood on the blonde mans face and hair any longer. He turned around to properly face his partner, Sorens hand not leaving him but sliding on his other shoulder instead when he moved.

"What happened?", Corvus asked. Lightly tracing his thumb over the streak of blood going through Sorens eyebrow. He didn't flinch so either he had pushed the thought of injuries to the back of his head, wouldn't be the first time, or it wasn't as bad as it looked. Corvus guessed for both, head wounds were nasty bleeders after all but Soren was also extremely stubborn and ignorant about his own wounds at times.

"Oh that?" Soren took his hand of his shoulder to poke his own forehead, with a bit more force than Corvus liked him to do. "Right. A flying stone hit me. Not as in the Stone knowing how to fly. Just a stone from the rubble flying into my face."

Corvus hummed while taking Sorens hand away from his face with his own to stop the poking. He would probably hear the whole story later. After everyone had time to collect themselves a bit.

His free hand started looking through his pockets while not letting go of Sorens in his other hand.

"So how was the wedding? Probably fancier than a burning castle. Though it was a sunfire elf wedding, so maybe they have some traditions about burning stuff?"

"Not exactly.", Corvus answered. You could probably say that Queen Janais relationship to her brother burned to ashes, but that would be a pretty rude oversimplification of the matter. He could also still feel the bruises from when Karims followers captured him during the battle. "The wedding is a... long story."

"Later?", Soren asked.

"Later.", Corvus agreed.

Finally he found the clean handkerchief he usually kept on him. Though honestly surprised it was still there and clean after everything. And finally Soren showed a reaction to his wounds when Corvus reached up to his forehead again.

"Ah." Soren's face flinched. Corvus might have not even noticed if he hadn't spend so much time of the last two years studying the other man. "You don't... have to. It's dried anyway."

For a moment Corvus wanted to ask if he was okay, but... that question seemed senseless in the current situation. But he could see that the adrenaline was starting to leave Sorens body. And there was a look in his eyes that was all to familiar to Corvus.

Right. Lord Viren was in the dungeon while Katolis had burned down. So what happened to him?

"We should still clean it up.", Corvus settled on. He let go of Sorens hand to cup his face instead in both hands, looking into blue eyes.

Sorens skin was warm, which confused Corvus a bit. His partners skin was usually ever so cold, but now warmth was somehow streaming from his body into Corvus hands.

"Your warm.", Corvus stated. "Do you have a fever?"

"Heh, well, most people would probably call this a normal body temperature."

Soren tried to crack a smile, but Corvus just raised an eyebrow.

"It's just from... the fire. Well. Kinda. But it's wearing of already." Soren laid one of his hands over Corvus', as if to prove it, even if his hands were usually even cooler than the rest anyways. "Everybody who was here is running hot right now. But as I said. It's wearing of already. You're gonna have your walking iceblock back soon enough."

There was obviously something Soren was leaving out in his story, but Corvus decided it would be better to talk about this later. As well as the unavoidable topic of wether Viren was dead or alive.

Later, Corvus thought. Later was good.

He ran his right thumb over Sorens eyebrow again, rubbing some dried blood of in the process. Soren responded by lowering his head until their foreheads meat.

"I... I'm...", Soren stuttered.

"It's okay. I've got you."

He could feel Sorens other hand landing on his shoulder and gripping on to him.

"I know."

"But now, really, let's find some water to get all that blood of your face."

"Hm, okay. Yeah. You're probably right."

"It's also in your hair."

"WHAT?" Soren promptly jumped back to check his hair. "Why did not nobody tell me?!"

[roseytoesy]

Safe space 3

Sorry this has taken a while to get to. Life got busy and I wanted to really pour some emotions and comfort into this fic. So have this mess of emotions. Enjoy!

A comforting promise

They had found something so hidden and locked away that it was practically untouched other than rubble and dust from the slow decay around it. They were almost giddy with excitement. A way out. The executives elevator. Something only they and a select few could even know about, hidden behind 4 different thick safe doors.  Locked with 3 different scans, a key card, a code, and the omnihand of course. And after all of that, in a room that anyone over 6” would have to duck due to its closet size, was a glistening red elevator. 

EP quietly cheered to themselves, it seemed to still be in working order, with an easy access panel on the side too! They quickly slid the work pack off of their back, pulling out some welding tools and other tools as they got to work ensuring everything could still work. They got the door open and found the open shaft leading up into darkness and same downward, a draft wafting up, smelling of death. Then again with the piles outside the prison and the many corpses they had to pass to even get this deep into the factory it wasn't too uncommon of a smell.

They hesitantly pushed the call button, fingers crossed as the elevator shuttered to life. It came to them and opened its doors. The inside was a pale white cream and dark steel, covered with dust and looking fairly cold. They were about to step on when a yowl startled them. A large Nightmare critter was staring at them, a swarm of smaller critters forming behind them. 

EP yelped as a critter flew past them into the elevator, They grabbed their flare gun and shot, scaring most of the smalls away, but the Simon smoke bigger body did not move, the flare bouncing off its shoulder, a puff of smoky laugher hissing out of its open mouth. EP watched in horror as it got down on all fours and started to breathe in deeply, a seemingly impossible amount of air. They turned back, about to jump into the elevator when they tripped over their own legs. They were never very athletic and they could hear their coworkers snickering echoes. 

“Can’t even walk on the bridge, why the hell did boss think they were a good choice, watch them flail like a damn sad dear.” They laughed as they kicked the rope bridge. Only a small wobble, but EP stumbled hard, hands flying forward and Their hand jamming through the wooden planks, a snap and-

They shook their head remembering the danger they were in and awkwardly dove to the side as the Simon smoke released a fireball. Right into the elevator. EP screamed as it exploded, the shockwave blasting over them thanks to their half cover, the doors melting shut from the fire within, a creaking and screaming crashing sound echoed in the shaft as the elevator plummeted. Before EP could even Scream the Simon smoke beat them to it, as the other toys who got burned turned on him, They all scampered back down the twisting maze of rooms screaming and roaring.

EP sat there, adrenaline pumping and their breathing ragged, they turned to the elevator, slowly approaching it, as if there was some way to undo what had happened. The metal had cooled, a smoldering mass of metal and charred rubble was all it was now. Not even the call button had remained. EP sobbed, startling themselves at their own sound of defeat. They were so close, So close to getting out. 

Over the last week and a half they had helped fix things, built a plan for those who wanted to stay, helped catch and tame some of the critters near safe haven, and created a defense so strong the prototype couldn't even approach without setting alarms and traps off. But What EP really wanted was to leave, ever since Huggy came to life, they just wanted to leave. They weren't a true employee here, they just did repairs around the factory a long time ago, a nobody, as many would remind them. They continued to cry as the horrible memories swirled. Buried vision and cruel voices laughing at them. The sounds of warped laughter echoing in their ears calling them a pathetic piece of meat. 

It wasn’t until they heard some rumbling footsteps and the unmistakable sound of dough squishing quickly. They tried to get up but their vision swam, everything was red… No the smoke. They turned to the elevator and noticed something spewing out of it.  They stumbled away and into the soft hands of Doey. Who quickly took in their state and took them quickly to a nearby padded room. A 'therapy room.' more like an asylum. 

“Hey, EP, look at me.” Doey said calmly. EP still flinched in his hold, the nightmare gas changing their vision, too many eyes and sharp red teeth- they were breathing hard. Doey gently cupped their face, dough covering their eyes, they scratched at Doey before his calm voice was all they could focus on, they followed his guidance to breathe, to relax, that they are safe. Wanted. 

After a few minutes to calm down EP gently shifted in his hold to stand, Doey let them and made sure they were steady before retreating. His orange hand stayed somewhat nearby. 

“Mathew…” EP said quietly, holding the hand. Doey nodded, taking a seat near them, Head lowering a bit to be eye level. 

“Im here, We are here.” Doey said gently. 

“I- I need, I need a hug.” EP says feeling so tired. Pathetic. A voice whispers in their mind. They shake their head. 

“Outside hug or…” He left the question hanging the option there yet unspoken to try and not make things too awkward. Ep thinks for a moment before a soft smile graces their soot and tear smeared face, looking down at Doeys belly.

“Gotcha, Come on in I’ve got you. We’re here.” Doeys voice is soft and gentle as the hands on his belly shift and move, becoming more than just a pattern on his front, thickening enough to dig into the dough and create an opening by pulling the belly dough apart. A small crawl space opening up on Doeys middle. His normal large hands to the sides, like a low hug at the ready

EP can’t help the thankful smile they give Doey who just nods back, eyes closing in understanding. They could see the 3 sets of colors glowing faintly within the crawlspace as they entered. Quickly curling against a wall and patting the yellow head a few times, watching in awe as the dough closed around them. They shifted a bit more in the now enclosed space. 

The yellow head seemed like it wanted to lunch forward for a hug, but orange somehow beat them to it. As soon as EP stopped moving There was a presence wrapping around their front. Orange eyes looking downtrodden and understanding. The look alone sent new stings through EP’s eyes as tears formed. They curled around Orange, Mathew. Kevin staying back and Jack gently hugging a leg, unsure what else he could do. 

EP sobbed about being sorry. For failing and messing another thing up, for being the clumsy ditz everyone always called them. Mathew just holds them. Running a few hands down their back and arms. Assuring them that they didn’t fail, they still found a direct way out. And that they were ok despite the danger. After a while EP just sits back exhausted. Mathew still gently massaging their arms and Jack gently trying to wipe a few stray tears. 

“I just wanted to find us a way out. With the prototype cut off from ever reaching out of the labs, we can finally leave. But all the ways are so treacherous with the rubble and everyone in safe haven needing help.” They looked sadly into their hands. “It was so close... I was so close.” 

“We will help you get out.” Mathew said. Kevin and Jack looked at him surprised. After all it was him that made the tape reminding himself to stay to care for the other toys. 

“You will? But, safe haven, the prison-” EP started.

“Doesn’t matter. If we can leave, We can find a new, safe space. And we wouldn’t be abandoning Safe Haven if we could get everyone.” Mathew reasoned. 

Kevin looked a bit irked at first but just huffed and sank back into the wall. Doey moving toward Safe haven most likely. Mathew and Jack just sat with EP comforting them when the nightmares started to affect them. As they were lulled in and out of exhausted sleep from their adventure.

“Are we really going to leave mathew?” Jack asked, looking at the older personality. 

“I… Yes.” Mathew asked after a moment. It had been 10 years. 10 long years of just surviving, trying and losing so so many friends and resources. And here was finally a way out, not just for them, for everyone they could carry. So Mathew just sat in thought, molding his hand in different ways as Kevin took them all home to rest, to plan. Not like he didn’t want to leave either, but too many times have promises like that turned south. He would talk to Matthew about it later that night. 

He grumbled a bit as he swung from platforms and stretched openings to fit through thanks to their current passenger. But whatever. He would try to ignore how nice it felt to have them there, to feel his brothers other sides care for this person that was stuck down here too. Silently hoping that Mathew would have a good plan for them all.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

It's december already which just feels insane to me. Christmas is coming which makes me happy but this year went by too fast. Anyway as usual, spoilers and opinions below, read at your own risk.

QL - Currently Watching

🇹🇭 Caged Again [4/10] - Junior is one of my favourite characters. He never learned to deceive so he just says what he feels like it's the most natural thing. And his confidence and optimism are contagious. I love him. And Sun is just smitten and terrible at hiding it so it's a good thing Junior is completely clueless about these things. I'm loving Jodd and Jeng and since they are also animals, I think we're getting more about them next episode. I can't wait. 🇹🇭 Fourever You [9/16] - I am so incredibly bored. They are stretching these two pairs for no reason. They should have just given us the four pairs in 16 eps cause this is torture. 🇯🇵Fragrance You Inherit [3/8] - It's lovely. I love Sakura. I really liked the scene in the restaurant. Sakura talking about being a single mom and Mone being supportive brought tears to my eyes. It was a beautiful moment. I love the relationship between the moms and the kids and I'm curious to see how Toki will react, if he in fact doesn't know already. It's also interesting to think about what exactly parents owe their kids or not, specially regarding something like that. Fansubs being provided by @isaksbestpillow. Thank you🧡 🇯🇵Love in the Air Koi [5/10] - The pacing is so much better here. I agree with @lurkingshan here and the kidnappings will probably be combined somehow. I like the second couple a bit better here than the thai version, but I'm still not the biggest fan of this storyline. Although Fuma is better than Prapai.

🇯🇵 Love is a Poison [11/12] - Shiba is so in love. I always believed, just like Shan, that Haruto was coming back, but it was painful watching Shiba hurt. Only one episode left where they will defeat the bad guy and live happily ever after. I will not accept anything else. 🇯🇵Miseinen [4/11] - Well at least they are 'friends' now. I can't with these two. That ice cream scene was insane and it's burned into my brain. This is a great adaptation and I need all the episodes like right now.

🇹🇭 Perfect 10 Liners [6/24] - PondSand are everything to me basically. I'm so over ArcArm and I need the next couple stat. It looks like this will be another parade of guest stars which is kinda fun and next week Sea will make an appearance along with the always fun jealousy plot which hopefully will end with them being boyfriends so we can move on to the next couple.

🇹🇼 See Your Love [7/13] - The contraste between the couples is hilarious to me. The sign language scenes were the cutest and they are adorable. And this must be a record number of the 'falling into each other's arms and almost kissing but not' trope. No one is that clumsy. The sides are bonkers.

🇹🇭 Spare Me Your Mercy [1/8] - Strong start. I'm reserving judgement but I like the setting a lot, so many MoD vibes, and I like this pair. They can act.

🇹🇭 The Heart Killers [2/12] - I'm watching quietly.

🇹🇭 Your Sky [3/12] - This might be too cute. Teerak is adorably clueless and Fah is so smitten. He came up with that nickname so fast, it's almost as if he's been calling him that in his head for a while. Also, the friend group is amazing at running interference. That scene in the lift was great. And I love the scenes with the Teerak and Babe.

QL - Finished

This is gonna be the quick-fire version cause I'm tired.

🇨🇳 Blue Canvas of Youthful Days - Great until episode 10. Unearned and unbelievable ending. Mostly forgiven because China. 🇰🇷🇹🇭 Eccentric Romance - What did I watch? was it bl? was it a crime drama? No idea, but it was not good.

🇹🇭 Every You, Every Me - Rushed ending but I really liked the bl inside the bl. I wanna see these two again.

🇹🇭 Jack & Joker - YinWar. On my screen. In 2024. Even if it was bad, it was good.

🇹🇭 Kidnap - Proof that Ohm will pretty much get me to watch anything.

🇰🇷 Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo - Pain and snow and happy endings.

🇰🇷 Love in the Big City - As close to perfection as anything I ever watched. Young will stay with me forever.

🇹🇭 Peaceful Property - A mess and also proof that TayNew will get me to watch anything.

🇰🇷My Damn Business - It was fine.

🇹🇼 The Nipple Talk - Mama was a gift.

Others - Watched

🇰🇷 Bad Guy | 🇯🇵Seoul Blues | 🇯🇵Blue Boys | 🇹🇼Marry My Dead Body | 🇯🇵Some Love Begins with Mistaken Identity | 🇰🇷Taming the Bad Boy | 🇰🇷Joseon Chefs | 🇰🇷The History of Us | 🇯🇵 Polyethylene Terephthalate 1 & 2

And continuing my YinWar agenda they just released a song and the video is hilarious.

As usual my ask box is open. Have a wonderful week💜

[helenanell]

Burn Away Like Mist

Aemond Targaryen

Burn Away Like Mist 

⫷⫸

Aemond Targaryen X Baratheon Wife Reader 

Summary: You despise your husband and that hatred is only compounded when you find him gazing up at the Iron Throne after the battle of Rook’s Rest.

Warnings: This is TOXIC, lots of cruelty and manipulative behaviour (on both sides.) Mention of child SA and a blade is drawn (Did someone say knife to throat?) - Enemies to Lovers, except they are so far from lovers in this. (maybe in a part two?) 

Notes: No use of Y/N - Spoilers for S2 Ep 5 - Also, I really am not and have never been an Aemond girly (I will see Luke and Rhaenys avenged!) But I do find Aemond so, so compelling and I just couldn’t get this out of my head. Enjoy?

W.C: 4k

⫷⫸

To those in Westeros who still held to the old Gods or to those who cradled superstitions close to their chests as though they were their own babes, the wind often harboured ill portent; it weaved across the sky, stitching the future there with fate as its thread.

And yet, it was not an ill-wind that had been the true portent of doom. You knew that countless foul fates had been ushered forth with a single foetid breath. 

The breath upon which the order to send dragons to war was uttered, was the breath that began the end. 

The Targaryens had survived the Doom of Valyria, fleeing from fire whilst using it to forge a path to the Iron Throne. And now they were to die in fire, of that you were sure. 

The dragons had begun their dance and a dynasty would die because of it. Your husband had already claimed the lives of two. Two dragons and two dragon riders.

You would never forget Prince Lucerys and how bravely he had stood before your father in the hall of Storm’s End, his chin tilted up defiantly and such an assured, level voice from a boy still so small. He had made you smile. Just looking at him had made you smile because in him you had seen…well, you had seen a boy who had been loved and so could love and care for others in turn. You had felt hope for the realm. 

But then he had been chased into the sky by Aemond Targaryen, a man devoid of love. 

You knew that your husband was a product of both his blood and his upbringing. Boys starved of love grow into men who hunger for something they have never tasted; something they do not understand. Fond feelings and affection cannot find root in inhospitable soil, let alone bloom there. That was not Aemond's fault and yet his actions as a grown man were. His violence and vengefulness was no one’s doing but his own.

The storm into which Prince Lucerys had fled had been a particularly terrible one, it had felt as though the sky was being rent apart with each roll of thunder, the stone beneath your feet trembling as though in terror of it. Or in terror of what was happening above. 

The moment Aemond had left your father’s hall in pursuit of his nephew, some part of you had known what was to come. And yet, when you had heard what had befallen him, you had cried for that sweet boy who had so loved his mother and affirmed his honour by so swiftly declaring he was already betrothed. 

Selfishly, you had wept for yourself too. Grief for the boy you had not known and grief for the life you could have lived had intermingled, the tears that rolled down your cheeks acrid to the point of toxicity upon your tongue. 

Not even a week later, Aemond had returned for you. His dragon blotted out the sun and you had remained in shadow ever since. 

Your father had promised you that the wedding would not take place for some time, but he had not accounted for your betrothed becoming a Kinslayer while his promise to wed you still echoed down the halls of Storm’s End. The greens needed all the support they could get and quickly.

You had been married the day after you had arrived in King’s Landing.

Now, if Aegon did not wake, your new husband would be a Kingslayer too. 

You did not know what had happened during the battle of Rook’s Rest and yet you had seen the truth of it in the brief glimpses you’d caught of your husband since his return. His brother’s state was not only down to Princess Rhaenys and the Red Queen, Meleys. 

Up until now, you had been grateful that Aemond seemed to have no inclination to even converse with you, let alone share your bed, but you couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be to plunge a dagger into his chest if he did. You were no soldier, and you would not waste honour on a man such as your husband, so you truly would have no qualms or quibbles over cutting his throat as he slept.

Ours is the fury. Those were the words of your House.

When you were a girl you had felt such great pride upon hearing them; they roused and emboldened you, filling you with such righteousness as you retained safe and protected in Storm’s End, with your only adversary the wind that battered the walls and howled down the corridors in dismay when it could not reach you. 

Now, when you heard the words you wanted to laugh. 

Baratheon fury was without a doubt that of a storm: irascible and unyielding. And yet…it was water and wind. To Targaryen’s, the wind was something to be ridden and all water was burned away like the morning mist by dragon fire.

You had known even before you had said your vows to Aemond in the Sept of Baelor that he wished that you were that mist. When he looked at you, his gaze harboured a flame that told you he wished that you too were so easily burnt away.

But you refused to burn. 

It was this rapidly growing hatred that drove you to seek him out, to look at him without baulking, if only so he could not sate himself on your fear as well as that of so many others. 

It was not a search that had taken much time. After all that had happened, what would your husband want to do but gaze upon that which he coveted?

You had first met Aemond during a storm and you found him now as another raged outside the walls of the Red Keep. It was an ill omen.

It was the first rumblings of a reckoning. 

Earlier in the day, Aemond had made you stand on the walkway alongside himself and the dowager queen Alicent when Meleys’ head had been paraded through the streets. 

‘Behold the traitor dragon Meleys!’

You had wanted to close your eyes and plunge yourself into darkness to avoid the horror of the sight, but those words would still have rung in your ears, so you forced yourself to bear witness to the tragedy. 

Aemond stood now as he did then, with his hands clasped behind his back and standing so still he might as well have been stone. The movement of his shoulders was almost imperceptible, as if taking breath was something less than vital to him. As though it were beneath him. 

He was standing with his back to you, gazing up at the Iron Throne. He stood at a distance from it, but not out of deference for his dying brother, you knew.

Aemond had considered himself a king long before his Aegon had fallen upon flaming wings from the sky, he was simply enjoying the sight of the seat upon which he would soon sit; the seat he felt he was both owed and that he had earned. 

Another bolt of lightning fractured the darkness and the tips of the swords that formed the Iron Throne glinted in the flash. The white strands of Aemond’s hair were for a moment threads of silver, shimmering like spun stars. 

Then, the lightning retreated and the shadows descended again. Your husband seemed just as comfortable in the light as he did in the dark. Why wouldn’t he be, when he appeared able to thrive in both?

You step forward, peeling away from the side of the room. 

When you speak, your voice has to contend with the thunder, but you are pleased with how indifferent you sound.

‘You may as well sit on it.’ You call out. ‘The arduous task is done with. What difficulty could climbing a few steps pose compared to killing your own kin? Again.’

Aemond’s head tilts as if in contemplation before turning just enough for you to see his face. His impassive expression is lit by a particularly violent bolt of lightning, his one violet eye flashing as brightly as you presume the sapphire in the other socket does when caught in the sunlight. His hands are still clasped behind his back.

‘You are ill-informed, wife. My brother yet lives.’ 

You do not miss that he does not say ‘the king’ and you dare to scoff in response.

 ‘Yes, I imagine you are irritated by that. It would be better for you if his demise was the result of Dragon warfare. That is easier to explain than, say, a pillow over the face? Or will you choose poison?’

Aemond hums, the corner of his mouth lifting in a deceptive manner. He is not amused, but you cannot say exactly what the small movement upon his face means. He turns to face you fully.

 ‘Poison is the weapon of women and cravens.’ Aemond says, his voice languid, almost bored. It infuriates you. 

You want him to be as angry as you are. You want him to burn from the inside out as you do. He is the cause of your pain, so you will be the cause of his. It is this desire that drives you to speak so recklessly to him.

‘Well, you certainly aren’t a woman.’ You answer snidely. 

Your silent implication has the desired effect. Aemond advances towards you, his jaw is clenched and the lines of his face are as hard as the carved stone that adorns the hall. You do not flinch or take so much as a step back. You stand firm, staring him down as he stops barely an arms length in front of you.

He is certainly breathing now, his shoulders heaving as he draws in air with the anger he has that is so often unbridled.

But just when you think you’ve succeeded in provoking him, Aemond lets out a steady exhale, his expression turning imperious as he looks down at you. 

‘Are you so listless that you must come to poke and prod at me as though you were a disgruntled infant?’ He says, his voice hushed and his tone belittling. ‘My good sister is surely in want of company and comfort during such a trying time. Go to her.’

You frown up at him, curling your fingers into fists, nails digging into your palms. 

You’re sure that he dons a mask of indifference around you because he knows it drives you mad. In his eyes, you are deserving of nothing, not even his contempt. 

It makes you that much crueller.

 As you recall an exchange you’d had with a very drunk Aegon a few days prior. Your lips lift into a nasty smile as you step up to Aemond, your chests almost touching. It’s the closest you’ve been since standing before each other in the Sept.

 There’s another low rumbling of thunder. It may well be a warning, but you take it as encouragement.

‘I suppose we have that in common then.’

Aemond’s head tilts to the side, humming with feigned interest. ‘And what is that, ñuha jorrāelagon?’ 

Your skin itches. You hate that you cannot know what he calls you, especially when he has that unknowable glimmer in his eye. You steel yourself and speak the words that you know will place you in peril.

‘It seems we are both prone to bouts of childishness.’ You say, smiling up at him. ‘I know what happened in the brothel, Aemond.  Aegon took great delight in telling me of how he found you: naked and cradled in the arms of the establishments madam as if you were a babe.’ 

The noise that comes from Aemond borders upon the animalistic. So much so, that when he darts forward, his hand curling around the nape of your neck, that you expect to feel the sting of claws piercing your flesh. 

You swallow down a gasp as Aemond drags you closer, forcing you to crane the neck he has in a vice grip in order to look up at him. Lightning gives you a better glimpse of his face that is now tight with fury. 

He does not utter a word, he just glowers down at you as his heaving chest brushes yours. 

You open your mouth to speak and his grip tightens, his nails digging into your neck. You do not know if he’s warning you or urging you on. You’re not entirely sure that he does either. 

Either way, it would not stop you. This is the closest you’ve come to feeling alive since you left Storm’s End. 

‘How old were you when it happened?’ You speak with a softness that you know he will not know how to contend with.

The jarring change in your tone and demeanour works. As Aemond takes in the concern that you force onto your face, his anger falters. It is only for a blink, but it feels like a victory all the same.

You are triumphant in the knowledge that he does not know you well enough to tell if you’re being genuine.

You aren’t, of course; you do not care for your husband. But that does not stop you from feeling sad for the boy that he was.

You have no doubt that the brothel all those years ago was Aegon’s doing; his was no doubt the lecherous hand that had forced Aemond into the arms of a grown woman. Undoubtedly, the sexual act had become conflated with tenderness for Aemond and for a comfort that he had never had. 

Aemond manages to rebuild his cold exterior, but it is not as well fortified as before. He leans down, holding your neck tighter as he forces you to maintain eye contact. 

‘You speak as though it is something which should torment me.’ He says quietly, sounding unconvinced by his own words. ‘As though it was something inflicted upon me, instead of something that I desired.’

‘You didn’t desire it. You were a boy.’ You answer,  disgust dripping from your words at the thought of it. 

Aemond’s hold on the back of your neck loosens, but he does not remove it completely. 

‘Boys must become men.’ He answers flatly.

‘Yes, but that is something that time will take care of without interference. Boys become men, that is an inevitability, it is not a change that can be brought about by abuse-’

‘It was not abuse.’ Aemond hisses, nails digging into you once more.

Aegon had delighted in telling you a great many things.

During the wedding feast–if the rushed, dismal affair could even be afforded such a title–the King had been deeper into his cups than you’d thought possible and he had delighted in telling you any story he could conjure in order to diminish Aemond’s manhood in your eyes. He had spoken in great length about the disappointment you were soon to suffer in the bedchamber, but he had also regaled  you with stories of his brother’s youth that had been rife with ridicule. 

In what you had thought was preparation to defend yourself against Aemond’s coming attempt to bed you, you had sharpened your teeth on the tales of his childhood torment. But after he had spurned you, leaving your marriage unconsummated, you had not been able to bite anything.

Now, you were going to take the chance to bloody your mouth with those sharpened teeth. You meant to take a chunk of flesh.

 ‘Aegon did not make you a man, Aemond, nor did that woman, because you are still that little boy who was given a pig to ride–”

You choke on your own words as air rushes about your ears as you are forced up against the nearest pillar.

Your back slams into the cold stone as Aemond draws a familiar Valyrian steel dagger and presses it up against your throat. The muscles in his neck strain as he lets out a low grunt, as though the effort he is exerting to stop himself from killing you is physically painful. 

 You keep your eyes on your husband’s face, revelling in seeing his mask shatter, even as you feel the blade press into your skin. 

You glower up at him and eagerly continue your tirade. At least if he kills you, you’ll be free of him: ‘Did you have to take the dagger from Aegon’s body, or did it fall to the earth alongside Sunfyre after you attacked them?’

Aemond’s knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip. ‘You wield your tongue as though it were a weapon, wife. It is impressive, truly. But you would do well to remember that only the real thing can cut.’  Aemond’s whisper skims across your cheek as he leans, your neck beginning to sting as he presses the dagger deeper. ‘Only one can draw blood.’

You fail to suppress a hiss of pain as you feel a bead of blood roll down your skin. And Aemond does not cease, almost spurred on by the sound of your pain. He leans in a little more, exerting further pressure on the blade. 

The Baratheon fury that is your birthright flares within you and your hand shoots up. You wrap your fingers around Aemond’s wrist, attempting to stop the press of the weapon. It does not. Your reaction only serves to lift his lips into a sadistic smile. 

‘Do you see now, how useless your words are?’ He coos, lips skimming the shell of your ear. You feel the vibrations of his words in your very bones. ‘How doomed of a rebellion your vitriol is?’ 

You answer by curling your fingers and digging your nails deep into his wrist as he had done with your neck. Nothing happens at first, but as you dig and dig, he leans back to peer down at you, his thin lips pressing into a tight line. 

‘And what of your blade, Aemond?’ You goad, nails digging deeper. ‘What use does it have when you won’t use it? My throat is still yet to be slit.’ 

A shadow that has nothing to do with the darkness of the throne room passes over Aemond’s face. ‘Do you so wish for death, that you would offer yourself up like a lamb to the slaughter?’ He seethes. 

‘But that’s just it, Aemond. You can’t slaughter me, can you?’ You say, sounding almost manic. Your blood has been drawn and both of you can taste it in the air. ‘My hand won Baratheon swords and my death would turn them against you.’ 

‘It would turn them against the Crown. I could cut your throat right here, right now and any retaliation your father offered would still be nothing more than treason. You are of no true consequence.’ 

‘So do it.’ You challenge, perversely energised by the feel of a blood trickling down your neck. ‘You are already a Kinslayer and a Kingslayer too if Aegon succumbs to his wounds. What does an oath sworn to my father mean to you? What are the vows you said to me? Although, now that I come to think of it, you are not truly my husband, are you?’ 

Aemond takes on an expression of mock pity, and tuts at you. ‘You may wish that to be true, but in the eyes of the gods and men, you are mine. My wife.’

You laugh bitterly, tightening your hold on his wrist, almost willing him to dig the steel further into your neck. ‘Am I? Without consummation I belong only to myself.’ 

Aemond lets out another of his characteristic hums that could just as easily signify danger as it could amusement. Another flash of lightning sends his one eye glowing. 

‘You call me a boy and yet it is you with such infantile notions.’ He says. ‘You have never belonged to yourself. Before any man beds you, you belong to your father. You were his to give away the moment you were born and he has…to me.’ 

‘And you sneak out of the Red Keep and into the arms of a woman who you pay to hold you. Do you even know that affection can be something freely given?’ You lift your free hand and place it against his cheek, just below his eye patch. You could swear he flinches. ‘True comfort need not come as part of a contract.’ 

‘Is that what you are offering me?’ There is still a derision dripping from his words, but they lack their usual potency. ‘Affection and comfort? You would give this to me freely?’ 

‘No, I would not.’ You snap. ‘ If I were truly free, I would have taken the knife sheathed on my thigh and plunge it into your heart.’ 

For all your fantasising, you knew what harming, let alone killing your husband would mean for your family. For your dear sisters.

Something flashes in Aemond’s eye at your words. He eases back, the blade lifting from your skin by barely an inch. The wounds stings fiercely as the air hits it but you manage not to wince.

Your husband is tall enough that he can take his free hand and lift up your skirts, all while maintaining eye contact with you. Your breath hitches in indignation as his warm fingers run up your calf and over your knee, splaying out into a flat palm to run up your thigh as he searches.

You do not move.

 When Aemond finds nothing he shifts his hand, moving to the opposite leg. When his fingers land on the dagger contained within the sheath, you see his own breath falter. 

A grin spreads out onto your face. He hadn’t believed you.

You had surprised Aemond Targaryen.

With his eyes still on you and one hand still clutching the sheath on your leg, Aemond returns the Valyrian steel dagger to his belt. The now free hand moves to your neck, the pad of his thumb catching the bead of blood as it rolls down towards your clavicle. 

With his eyes still on you, he pulls back the thumb now stained crimson and takes it into his mouth, lips closing over it and taking part of you into himself. 

Your cheeks flush in fury, feeling that something else has been stolen from you. 

He looks so satisfied, as though what he’s just consumed of you–both emotionally and physically–will feed him for years.

Letting out a furious groan you reach beneath your skirts and pull his hand from your thigh. You know he lets you do it, just as he lets you take your hands and hit out against his chest, shoving him away from you.

And yet, you still feel pleased with yourself when you see his eye widen slightly at the force of your push. He only just stops himself from staggering back, his now clean thumb falling from between his lips.

Aemond takes another step away from you, the carefully crafted impassivity returning to him.

But, the way he’s regarding you has changed. There’s a predatory glint in his eye that had not been there before. The sight of it makes your throat close up. You already miss his emotionless stare. 

‘You should not concern yourself over the lack of consummation. If my brother dies, I will be King. And a King needs heirs. As does a Prince Regent.’ Aemond muses, revelling in the horror that blooms upon your face. ‘Enjoy the solitude while you have it, ñuha jorrāelagon. You may soon bear the burden of a queen.’

And with that he’s turning his back to you, the sound of his footfalls bruising you in a way the storm’s din couldn't. 

But then, just before the towering doors, Aemond stops. He does not turn and yet you feel his attention on you all the same.

When he speaks, it is a whisper. A whisper that you should not hear at such a distance and over the thunder and yet somehow, you do. 

You do not understand him, but you hear your husband's words.

‘Aōha perzys gaomas daor zālagon nyke, ābrazȳrys. Yn nyke raqagon se ōdres hen ziry’

(Your fire does not burn me, wife. But I enjoy the pain of it.)

And then, just like the first time you had met him, Aemond Targaryen departs a hall besieged by a storm, leaving you breathless with hatred in his wake.

[wordy-little-witch]

I am now hip deep in the Edge of Midnight campaign from legends of avantris and lemme tell you some shit -

1) I would lay down my life for Jericho Sticks without any hesitation. Torbek and Jericho are my sons now, no takesies backsies.

2) Lethica and Marius are so perfectly aligned to be end game lovers but I personally adore the idea of them being queerplatonic if only bc it's funny to watch people be confused and I think Lethica would adore that.

3) you can pry the concept of Briggsy having a some kind of magical fantasy cellphone equivalent from my cold dead hands - sending stone or smth idfk - and he's been keeping his buddy/boyfriend Torbek updated on all this like "Becky you would not BELIEVE what happened today-" ((listen I know the flirting bit between them in the yuletide one-shot was a feycurse but leave me alone it's funny as fuck))

4) briggsy @ jericho in ep 24 appropos nothing: Jerry, maybe we have to kiss ((sad, silly twinks with Literal Darksides are his type /j))

5) I have a friend-crush on Nikkie and I will never recover

6) I have an unyielding NEED to have Jericho get a final hit on a boss and yell yeehaw

7) I know stylistically Jericho doesn't have "skin" but I personally hc that his clothes aren't effectively his skin, he has a burlap body - and he has "tattoos" in the form of embroidery. It started when he had to stitch up his own cuts and stuff and he just kept it up.

8) Only Yorgrim has any constant sense of cooking in an actual kitchen-like setting. Farryn, Marius, and Briggsy can do journey or on-the-road cooking, but it's never.... great. Lethica burns everything somehow or gets the bright idea to 'experiment', and it's never good - she's fine if she's got clear end goals. Jericho is understandably skittish around fire due to his body and straw, but he is the closest to being able to cook well and do so semi regularly.

9) Virgil is a weird mix of a hater and lowkey overprotective. He does hate being imprisoned, but also he's kinda bound here so he HAS to keep this disaster of a bard safe. He refuses to admit he might have a soft spot. He is Stressed.

10) Farryn doesn't get the appeal of Girls Nights, but Jericho does!!! They join Lethica for some fun relaxation. Briggsy once asked why Jericho was allowed since he's also a dude, and Lethica just responded "he's allowed to be there - on account of him being a scarecrow and not a literal man after all." It's an inside joke which later has to be explained - Jericho is nonbinary but doesn't rightly care about stuff like that.

11) Yorgrim is the group dad, no I will not explain.

12) sometimes after a battle, Lethica and Marius will help stitch up some of Jericho's tears. Farryn may also add in random flowers she finds around because it makes him happy.

13) Briggsy is small but mighty. The only person he has yet to pick up and carry is Yorgrim - he swears that one day that tombstone will be gone and he'll be able to do it. It's all the rock's fault, he's sure of it.

Spoilers under the cut (caught up to present)

OKAY so I am caught up completely and have decided that Canon is not important leave me alone

• Yorgrim did not die - he got wounded heavily but survived.

• Farryn almost got taken but they got to her in time. She is mute for a time due to injuries and trauma - idk if she ever talks again bc we could use more sign language in the world. Maybe it comes and goes, fuck if I know, idk and idc

ONWARDS TO SILLIES

• Lethica strong armed her way into giving Jericho The Talk after he revealed he had no idea what a penis was. Scarecrows cannot blush, but apparently his fiendish glow can ebb and flow and he glows much MUCH brighter when he's embarrassed - she tries so hard not to laugh.

• Adella and Jericho btw are simply besties. His "crush" on her is a friend crush and Phillip just finds it painfully cute. ((Also -> Jericho has mommy issues and Adella always wanted a son/nephew/little brother. Peaceful alignment))

• Dark Mode Marius is a colossal flirt but still a giant dweeb. He's cool and suave until someone flirts back - then he's a mess.

• Briggsy is very happy with his Kannon & makes "shooting my shot" jokes at every and any opportunity

• Yorgrim, with his reward, manages to finally lay many souls tonrest but he still carries the tombstone on journeys - just not constantly now. He still believes he must pay penance, but it's a little easier to share the burden.

• Farryn, with her own reward, has not chosen to activate it yet. Something tells her to wait, to bide her time and remain. She does, however, get a little more at ease with the others. She and Jericho have come to an understanding, too - that being they they are a package deal, no takesies backsies, and they refer to each other as twin, much to the confusion of many, many, many people. WLW and NBLM solidarity.

• Jericho is pining HARD for Marius, but he's absolutely terrified of damaging the friendship so everyone is watching two oblivious dummies look longingly into each other.

• POLYAMORY POLYAMORY POLYAMORY

• Marius grows rather fond of Virgil, and the sentiment is very much NOT reciprocated bc this angry knight vampire is not good enough for his vessel and he's mad about it.

• Yorgrim: I've only had my friends for a few days, but if anything happened to them, I'd kill everyone in Druskenvald and then myself.

• I fully expect for Jericho to somehow befriend an enemy in disguise, not realize, and accidentally fuck up the evil plan with the powers of puns, music and friendship (/j)

• the first time the party sees Jericho presenting more feminine, he's been lended one of Lethica's dresses after his own clothes got torn up and the rest are being washed. Marius has a nosebleed and faints. Briggsy is staring somewhat respectfully. Lethica is trying valiantly not to laugh. Farryn and Yorgrim regret not dying when they had the chance.

• Marius: i cannot have a relationship because I have sworn to follow the duchess of sin

Lillith: whoa hold up, Do Not use me as an excuse to avoid the cutie pie over there. Besides, he has a demon. I'm queen of hell. I can make a small exception.

Marius: shit

• Briggsy Bi Icon: OH if ONLY Jerry here had a DASHING KNIGHT to SAVE THEM from this PERILOUS INCIDENT

Jericho: captain, I'm just getting off of a horse??

Marius: no no Briggsy has a point, no maiden should be unaccompanied or unassisted. Allow me-

Lethica&Farryn: We Know What You Are

• Yorgrim is watching all this inter party flirting and is definitely wondering if he's gonna have to have an aside with everyone about flirting tactics and communication skills. Briggsy is making it worse by enabling everyone.

• Farryn gets some sweet, succulent healing, that is all.

[dearmyloveleys]

FoF Ep 22-23: Script/Story Prose partial leak (EN TRANSLATION)

-

“… Attract the fire from Wen Zongyu’s piece of Ever Burning Wood over. Take advantage of this opportunity to destroy his inner core. He must die with no question.”

Zhuo Yichen was shocked. “But you will die as well…”

Li Lun looked at the scarred and injured Zhao Yuanzhou who had collapsed on the ground a distance away.

All of sudden, Li Lun stretched out his hands and tightly grasped Zhuo Yichen’s neck. Like veins, countless strands of black miasma left his hands, leaping into the other’s neck. They slowly spread onto his face and morphed into Li Lun’s Demonic Marks.

Stunned, Zhuo Yichen asked, “Li Lun, what are you doing?”

Li Lun laughed indifferently, “I gave you half my Demonic Energy. Wen Zongyu is nothing when the demonic powers of the Pagoda Tree and Bingyi are combined. Zhuo Yichen, help me… save Zhu Yan…”

The black-blue Demonic Marks spread onto Zhuo Yichen’s countenance. They were an exact replica of Li Lun’s. The Demonic Marks on Li Lun’s face had already disappeared.

“I…”

“Ever since we were born, him and I, we were the two youngest and greatest Demons of Dahuang. We were matched in strength, eternally equals. I cannot stand to see him useless and powerless… Zhao Yuanzhou, the remaining half, I’ll give it to you.”

Black Demonic Energy floated away from Li Lun’s hand, and the dark miasma surged towards Zhao Yuanzhou, tunnelling into his chest.

Zhao Yuanzhou woke. Struggling, he pulled his body to his feet. He turned around, and looked at Li Lun, Zhuo Yichen. His eyes filled with grief.

Li Lun said, “Don’t need to thank me. I am only obeying and fulfilling my oath.”

Once he’d spoken, he suddenly stretched out both hands from behind Zhuo Yichen and wrapped them around Xiao Zhuo’s face. Within a moment, his fingers changed their arrangement and poise, and Zhuo Yichen’s eyes turned gold.

Dumbfounded, Zhao Yuanzhou stared at Li Lun, a little unable to know what to make of this. Inconceivable.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt VII good omens S1E3 but i'm in a fever-induced haze and i watched it four days ago

Hello maggots it turns out I may have a viral fever... or perchance I'm just going viral in the GO fandom and Crowley being so hot has given me a fever (this is what I learned from years of studying thermodynamics). BAHAHAHAHAHAH anyway this is a LOOOONG post.

EDIT: There are time inconsistencies, as some of you informed me. Paint before wall slam etc. But this show does not follow linear time, just like me. Time is cosmic Play-Doh, and @neil-gaiman, Einstein and I are toddlers playing with it all bendy-bendy. We may have eaten some. I blame Neil. So I will correct nothing.

(im sorry to all my followers, the maggots, and everyone reading this post, i'm afraid this level of quality will be sustained for the rest of the post)

Whatever it may be... haveth my summary of Good Omens Ep3, or whatever I remember of it, anyway.

The second the episode started streaming everyone was yelling about the cold open in the chat.

I could be conflating this with Ep 1 but I think it begins with Aziraphale's gaslight gatekeep girlboss moment where he straight up LIES TO GOD about giving the dumb humans a flaming sword right after they fell from grace.

Hot take from someone who has negligible biblical knowledge, look at it, guys. What harm has an apple ever done to mankind (except to doctors)? Nothing. *nods vigorously* And then our lovely angel goes and gIVES THEM A GODDAMN FLAMING SWORD. Nice, fire and weaponry, this is going to go well for the world!

Anyway lesson is Aziraphale is a chaotic lil bastard and it's why we and Crowley love him.

Fast forward to uh, Noah's Ark... There is a unicorn and it runs away, which Crowley/Crawly seems concerned about. Azi is just chilling there watching all of humanity be drowned and Crowley, looking gorgeous may I add, walks up and she's like CHILDREN? WHY ARE YOU KILLING CHILDREN?

Did I mention that she looks gorgeous with those flowing locks because she does. It gives kind of Disney Brave vibes, doesn't it? Wait is David Tennant Scottish I WANT A DAVID TENNANT/CROWLEY MERIDA COSPLAY.

Anyway so Aziraphale and Crowley watch everyone drown etc

I may have missed a few centuries but then we have ol' Bill Shakespeare and Hamlet (David!!) and Aziraphale like the bean he is wants to cheer them on, and does it badly.

Crowley is standing there thinking man this angel is a fucking doofus why do I love him, and then they make a deal that allows them to do NO work whatsoever since their work cancels out anyway.

Aziraphale pouts at Crowley and Crowley melts inside and makes Hamlet a success though he doesn't even like Shakespeare's tragedies but Azi does and that's all that matters.

OH YEAH FRENCH REVOLUTION. Just to fuck with Aziraphale and because the painkillers are getting to me, I'm gonna do this one in my shit French (et non, je ne peux pas utiliser les accents, j'utilise l'ordinateur et je ne veux pas ouvrir Google). Alors, la revolution est la, Aziraphale veut manger (quelle surprise) et ses vetements sont tres chers, les sans-culottes le tueront, mais Crowley vient et Aziraphale dis "Crowley! Mon hero"

Okay I ran out of French but yes so he was gonna be hanged but Crowley came and Aziraphale's face literally melted and then he switched clothes with the guard and left him to die while he and Crowley went to dine happily (Aziraphale dined, Crowley was hungry for Azi because he has a watching-angel-eat kink).

Aziraphale being a casual accessory to murder/murderer is the most underrated part of good omens.

Fast forward and it's the holocaust and Aziraphale is tricked by some Nazis and they're about to kill him. But Crowley walks down the aisle to their groom, well, more like skips while yelping, and burns the place down for Aziraphale. Naturally Azi's like OH NO MY BOOKS and is ready to cry, then Crowley gently hands him the suitcase full of books unharmed and says just a little miracle for you, baby, want a ride home? And Aziraphale is left holding the books (which by the by Crowley does not care about, they do NOT read books, again, just for Azi) and looking like the happiest man alive and like he would die for Crowley.

Fast forward and we have Crowley in the sixties SERVING with her bob cut, anyone who doesn't like it can fight me to the DEATH, I LOVE HER, and anyway Crowley manipulates, manslaughters and manwhores her way into getting into the car with Aziraphale. He hands her a bottle of holy water because fuck heaven he would do anything for Crowley, and Crowley offers to drive him anywhere (mmmhm Crowley sure you're just being a gentledemon) and Aziraphale tells her that she goes too fast for him. IF THIS ISN'T CALLBACKED IN S3 WITH CROWLEY SAYING "YOU RIDE TOO FAST FOR ME, ANGEL" on a motorbike or horse or his peepee ANYTHING IDC im gonna throw hands.

I'm choosing to forget all the breakups so end cold open back in present day

They're in a paintball arena and Crowley presses Aziraphale into the wall while growling I'm not nice (ok Crowley bro maybe it's time to take a break from 2010s wattpad) and Aziraphale is just gazing adoringly at him. Ex-Satanic nun comes and is like oh my bad this is an intimate moment and Crowley turns around immediately cross that someone's interrupting them but Aziraphale continues to stare at Crowley's face hornily until he reluctantly looks at the nun too. Thanks for the acting choices Michael Sheen.

They hypnotise her and Azi melts when she mentions the antichrist's toesy-woesies and then they leave and Azi is hit by paint, Crowley circles him devouring him with his gaze and finally blows away the paint with an air kiss. I see you, Azi, I KNOW you can get rid of it yourself. Anyway then Crowley turns all the paintball guns into rifles and people start shooting and Azi is like THIS is my husband and they walk away to have drinks while the police swarms.

People were like 'Crowley only ensured no one got killed because of the look Azi gave him' like LMAO have you MET them? Aziraphale is always fucking down for murder, Crowley is the one being like FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AZIRAPHALE NO. Azi was like "shit we gotta kill the antichrist you do it" and crowley's like "bitch slow down we can literally just raise the kid right"

Anyway Crowley gaslights some demons about seeing the hellhound and ig whatever I said happened in Ep 2 with Dog actually happened here etc

The bandstand scene, fuck me. Crowley asks Aziraphale to run away together from the end of the world and Aziraphale says no and they're both sad

we're all sad too

the end

[hayleysayshay]

Okay here’s how some ideas to adapt bard’s lament in TLOVM S3 if we had to keep this same story structure generally and end on a hopeful note but also allows the season to have actual interesting inter party conflict.

— At one moment in ep 1/2 where Scanlan talks to Kaylie he mentions his mother. Kaylie wants to know more, but Scanlan is too drunk and a mess to continue the conversation. Maybe he even says that he never talks about her — no-one ever asks, but again he’s too drunk to continue the conversation with Kaylie who is annoyed by this

— then episode 6 happens. Pike says he can go, so Scanlan tries to say that he wants to leave to find his daughter. The rest of the group are angry, there’s more pressing things right now, they’re a team, can’t this wait? Scanlan feels dismissed especially since he let them spend a night in his chateau.

— They return to Whitestone. The city is being attacked by dragons. Scanlan tries to help, but is severely hurt by dragon fire. Like head to toe burns. He’s hanging by a thread, Pike works for hours to keep him alive. It’s painful. (This way it’s a really traumatic moment for Scanlan like his death without being a death.)

— Scanlan finally wakes, maybe early ep 7, and then the Bards Lament breakdown happens. He and Percy especially snap at each other. He says they don’t care bout him, what is his mother’s name, he just wanted to see Kaylie.

— he asks Allura or Gilmore to transport him away to Kaylie. VM allow him to leave, Pike is hurt by him leaving, rest of VM more angry.

— we see in ep 8 Kaylie and Scanlan meeting. She’s happy that he came to find her. He plays her his song and he apologises for being a bad dad, but he wants to be there for her.

— Then Percy dies, and Thordak fight happens without Scanlan (just rework his contributions to another character (maybe Vex and Grog?))

— during ep 10 we see Scanlan and Kaylie in a bar together, chatting, where they hear that Thordak has been defeated, but the Lord of Whitestone is dead. Scanlan voices his regrets that now Percy died thinking he didn’t care, that he wasn’t there for the funeral, that the group now thinks he doesn’t care. He can’t fix it.

— Kaylie: ‘your loyalty to those weirdos is one of the endearing things about you. Go to them, don’t leave it like this. You fixed things with me.’

— I think if Scanlan isn’t in a coma it makes VM falling apart in ep 10 more realistic. Instead of only Grog and Pike caring to stay with Scanlan, the team splinters as Percy is dead, Scanlan willingly left, are they even Vox Machina anymore?. (I think you could rework the whole Ripley end fight to have more of VM but I’m just doing Bards Lament, so sure Vex and Vax go fight her alone.)

— Scanlan and Kaylie make the journey back to Whitestone (maybe via a cart, or a joke aboutdrunk wizard who only gets them half way). Either way they don’t get to Whitestone immediately.

— now he can either be back for the Raishan fight, and help out there, or Scanlan can come back just in time for Percy’s resurrection. Maybe it’s really hard — Gilmore and Allura are also helping out Pike and Keyleth, but they need a little more magic, Orthax is sooooo powerful — and then another pair of hands slams onto the resurrection circle — Scanlan has come back in time! Percy is res’d, Scanlan apologises for how he left, they all apologise for taking him for granted, but they soothe those hurt emotions.

— they then all part on good terms like how s3 actually ends.

I don’t think Scanlan is super needed for Thordak or Raishan since he killed Vorugal in s2. If he left midway through s3, his absence would be felt through the second half, so it’s nice to actually see him back in the last episode.

[wtchinghcur]

Lunacy is the debut EP by Estelle Yu, released on March 21st, 2025 through Verse Creative. One of the most anticipated debuts of the year, Lunacy received rave reviews from both critics and fans, marking a smooth and successful transition from acting to music for Estelle. Renowned for its heavy lore, visual aesthetics, and cohesive storyline, Lunacy might just be one of the most critically and commercially successful releases to ever come out of Verse Creative.

The album was promoted for a month, ending with a concert tour across Asia. During the promotional cycle, Estelle performed across various music shows and festivals, appeared on TV programs, conducted magazine interviews, and even launched her very own YouTube variety show—The Witching Hour.

Interestingly enough, though, the release of Lunacy was also accompanied by some sort of ARG/interactive game/underlying narrative, which definitely came as a surprise to her fans and the industry at large. But more on that later.

1. INTRO: FIRE AND BRIMSTONE 2. LUNATIC (TITLE) 3. GOING, GOING, GONE (B-SIDE) 4. WHO AM I? (FEAT. AHRI OF DI-VERSE) 5. TEMPTATIONS 6. LOST GIRL 7. KNOW BETTER 8. BY THE MOON 9. OUTRO: PUNISH

The visuals of Lunacy are interesting. It's like they're mirror images. Two sides of the same coin. Complete polar opposites. Light and dark. Good and evil. Innocent and guilty. In fact, that was the exact intention. Both the album and its corresponding singles are telling two sides of the same story, but it's up to you to figure out who's telling the truth, or if the "truth" is more complicated than it actually seems.

The album itself is the story told from Estelle's character's perspective (the tracks tell it in chronological order, at that). The visuals are angelic in nature. Soft and draped in whites and dusty pinks. It clearly conveys innocence. A girl who can do—who did—no wrong. XXXXXXXXX was wearing a white dress when she died, after all. She was pure even as she was being burned alive. Even as she was labeled a "lunatic." She was simply trying to warn them. The album is how she wishes to be perceived in death. A spirit—an angel—that is simply seeking peace. Her carnal, innate desire for revenge as kept her soul awake for far too long. But is she really? Has it actually?

The visuals of Lunacy's singles—"Lunatic" and "Going, Going, Gone"—are a lot darker, however. Estelle's character clearly looks like the witch she was labeled as. She's sinister in nature, surrounded by flames like a demon wreathed in hellfire. She's everything the town wants her to be remembered as, buying into the posthumous image they forced upon her in order to ensure her name is sullied for eternity. XXXXXXXXX was everything that was wrong with the world. She was sin itself. She deserves to be remembered this way—and that's if she even deserves to be remembered at all. In fact, it wasn't even the town's fault that she died.

However, the music video of "Lunatic" sort of... muddies things a bit. In fact, the latter half of Lunacy does, too. In the MV, though, Estelle's character looks angry. She looks like a vengeful spirit, expressing every desire she has to seek retribution on those who've wronged her. On the ones who stole her life from her in the name of God. Can you blame her, though? She was murdered, after all.

So, which one is it? Is Estelle's character really a spirit—wrongfully accused—who wishes to rest, or is she a pariah who got what she deserved? Does she even wish to rest at all, or will her soul persist until the ones who did this to her finally suffered as she did? Who knows. It might just be all three.

Despite how... interesting this album was in comparison to most releases within K-pop, that's what made it great. Estelle—as an established actress with a twenty year career under her belt—already had a fanbase prior to her debut, and she's had crossovers with the K-pop industry before, so of course, this album was bound to blow up. And blow up it did. Despite coming out of an indie label that was only a little over a decade old, Lunacy's unique concept caught the attention of many, so once it hit shelves, it sold well.

The album's first week sales were a bit slow, selling around 95,000 copies. However by the next week, sales had skyrocketed to nearly 200,000 total copies. By the end of the month, Lunacy had sold over half a million copies. Shortly after its release, the album topped every major chart in South Korea, marking Estelle's first number one album. Abroad, it charted in Japan, France, Germany, the Philippines, China, Taiwan, and Indonesia. It debuted atop the Billboard World Albums chart and saw a placement of #20 on the Billboard 200, which was seen as "unexpected." By the end of April 2025, Lunacy had sold nearly two million copies in South Korea, going on to be million-certified by the KMCA.

The success of Lunacy's lead singles was definitely crazy, though. Lauded as one of the best debut tracks in K-pop history, "Lunatic" was smashing away on the charts the minute it dropped. It debuted atop the Melon, Circle, and Bugs charts, and also saw a #1 debut on Apple Music in Korea. With first day sales of over 80,000 units, it didn't overshadow Lunacy, but you just had to give it some time. By the end of the first week, its sales had jumped to over 200,000 units, credited in part to how viral the choreography became online. Eventually, sales hit the half a million mark, scoring a placement of #25 on the Billboard Hot 100. To say that "Lunatic" nearly eclipsed the album it came from would be quite the understatement, but Estelle didn't let anyone forget the album she poured so much thought into.

Lunacy's B-side, "Going, Going, Gone," also saw significant success. A favorite among her (currently unnamed) fanbase, the track debuted at #5 on Korean charts, selling about 65,000 units on its first day. By the end of its first week, it sold a little over 100,000 units. The choreography is a favorite among a part of the fandom due to its fluidity, and it became a rather popular dance trend for a good week. Some of Estelle's fans wish "Who Am I?" received the single treatment, but unfortunately, it was regulated to a deep cut.

As for the critical reception of Lunacy? One word: insane. Receiving a score of 89 on Metacritic, critics praised the album for its unique and haunting sound, calling it a "standout amongst the current landscape of K-pop." The intro and outro tracks—both of which were over six minutes long—were especially praised, with critics saying they really "set the tone" for the album and most represented its core themes. "Outro: Punish" seemed to be a favorite, especially since it nicely wrapped up XXXXXXXXX's story of injustice with biblical references that fit the narrative. Estelle's vocal performance was also praised, considering she rarely sang up until her debut. But you know what was really praised? The visuals and the lore. Critics and fans alike ate up the "innocent and guilty" concept Lunacy had going on, but they heaped the most praise on the clear references to real world religious hysteria and fear surrounding witchcraft, in addition to all the aforementioned biblical references sprinkled in. Even fans from outside of Estelle's fanbase were interested, admitting on Twitter that they were reading Twitter threads and video essays popping up on YouTube (which were more like video paragraphs considering they were all more or less than ten minutes long... like Estelle literally just debuted), especially since there was an entire ARG going on. The overall consensus, though? Incredibly solid debut.

However, despite all the praise directed at Estelle's debut, some listeners weren't all that enthusiastic! Not everyone enjoyed the direct depictions of death, injustice, and religion. There were people saying her music and visuals were "violent" and "uncomfortable," (although there were warnings at the beginning of both of her MVs... they really didn't have to watch them), and then there were others saying that everything about Lunacy was blasphemous. There was discourse all down Twitter and TikTok for days. Estelle's fans, though? They were calling it a success. People were hating, so now people were interested. In the words of mother Beyonce, "you know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation."

Remember when I said Estelle performed at a few musical festivals during this era? Well, one of those festivals was Coachella! After her set was announced, a lot of people wondered how she got to a festival as large as Coachella so quickly, but CSJ Entertainment is Verse Creative's parent company, after all. That was certainly met with excitement from Estelle's fans, of which would only grow once Coachella came around. Now, her set was only around 45 minutes long, especially since she debuted with an EP and not a full length album. But she wasn't headlining, so who cares! However, with the seven already released songs she performed, she also premiered three new ones from what's possibly going to be her next comeback. Not only were fans up and down Twitter screaming over that, but viewers were also praising Estelle's stage presence, in particular, her insane facial expressions. She's an actress, it's only natural for her to be a good performer. She was especially good during "Lunatic." She gives 110% every time she performs that song.

Estelle had interactions with a lot of idols this era, which is not that surprising when you considering that she's, well, Estelle. A lot of them participated in the "#LunaticChallenge," including ITZY's Yeji (Estelle also returned the favor by dancing to "Air" with her!), TWICE's Jihyo and Momo, BTS' J-Hope (Twitter was quite literally on fire when this TikTok dropped), BLACKPINK's Jennie (this was also insane, by the way!), and the members of LE SSERAFIM and DI-VERSE (the latter was definitely a pleasant surprise since the members rarely participate in dance challenges with other idols anymore). It was also pretty funny to see Estelle, dressed in black and in nothing but gothic looks and dark makeup, next to idols in clothes that were significantly lighter. It's happened so often well before her debut, though, that now it's a running joke within Estelle's fandom. The "resident goth" of the industry, truly.

Like mentioned earlier, Estelle was on a bunch of interviews this era, but some fan favorites were definitely her interview with Jimmy Fallon, her Chicken Shop Date episode (fans really liked this one), and her Hot Ones episode! Yes, she was on Hot Ones! Estelle's fans rarely get to see her let that loose on any interview, so all of these were especially welcomed.

But, speaking of interviews, let's talk about The Witching Hour! The basic premise of Estelle's variety show was essentially just Buzzfeed Unsolved, but focusing more on ghost stories, and better yet, Estelle's experiences with actual witchcraft! Estelle would invite other celebrities to talk about their experiences with the paranormal on her show, and to receive a free tarot card reading. <3 The Witching Hour was definitely unlike any other variety show in K-pop, and it was definitely well received by Estelle's fans.

But... what about that ARG? It all began when a few attentive listeners heard morse code in the background of "Who Am I?" A user on Twitter decoded the message, claiming it said, "They tried to erase me, and it's working. Is this what death is? I feel nothing. I am nothing. I can't even remember my name. Did their propaganda extend to me even after they scorched me alive?" Interesting. After discovering that, the most natural thing to do was to keep searching. At the very end of "Outro: Punish" (like literally the last second), you can vaguely hear a female voice saying something akin to a name. Once someone turned up the voice's volume, it started to sound like a panicked scream, but it was still too distorted to make out anything coherent. Fans started to notice that for a single frame (yes, just one), nine white Xs on a black background would briefly flash on screen in the "Lunatic" MV. Clearly, that was supposed to spell out something, but what? That's all the clues Estelle's fans managed to put together during this era, but you know what was really interesting? The morse code and distorted voice heard on "Who Am I?" and "Outro: Punish" were only audible on streaming services until the Lunacy era concluded, leaving the only way to hear either through the physical CD. At the same time those versions of the tracks were mysteriously taken down, the "nine Xs" clip was silently taken out of the MV for "Lunatic," as well. Looks like the supposed erasing that "they" are doing is seeping into the real world, too.

Eventually, after the Lunacy era was long over, Estelle would post pictures of her in front of an abandoned high school in Japan to her Instagram and Twitter accounts, seemingly out of nowhere. Fans automatically assume it was for some sort of project, because why would she be in front of an abandoned school for no reason? All the caption read? "Rebirth." Yeah, this was definitely hinting at something. Estelle's fans just have to wait and see.