#give them proper animal heads and most of all necks

[bunny-jpeg]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

you knew that your friends from school raised an eyebrow when you told them that you were dating a man almost double your age. you were in your twenties, while this 'simon' guy was close to fifty. you told them that he was an army man who had a gooey center for you.

your friends could see the upgrade in your laptop and the new knapsack with a logo that proclaimed it was expensive. the small chain around your neck with a 's' on it that you toyed with when they asked questions about him.

you looked happy, healthier even! you weren't eating minute meals and surviving off of black coffee. there was a little roundness to your cheeks now and you looked more alive. a glow to you that wasn't that while you trudged through your graduate program. so honestly, how could they complain?

if you had a glow to you, it was because you were often fucked out. most women your age through that dating an older man would mean having to go slow. be patient about technical difficulties regarding their cocks. that was what you expected from a man that old. especially one with aches and pains like simon. your poor si, he had been in the military his entire life. barely had the touch of a woman during that time! poor guy! of course you'll teach him all the ways a woman should please a man. the first time you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock he cam all over your head, and while you whined. it made you crazy hot. fucking simon was like fucking a live wire. he hadn't slowed down with age. he fucked like a stallion in breeding season. and he loved when he pulled his heavy cock into you. you once told him that he could be a cervix breaker. and he simply said, "well, if i break it... i can't breed it." which made you go slack jaw for a moment before he continued to rut up against you. you didn't expect a man of his age to have a breeding kink.

you practically begged your doctor to give you birth control, because he was not buying condoms. "don't fit in 'em, lovie." he said as he patted his clothed cock when you started dating. you knew that was impossible, condoms could fit a lot of things and while simon was fairly big. he could fit in a condom. but, no. when you tried to put them on yourself, he simply took it off, tossed it to the side and pinned you under his heavy weight. legs in the air as he rutted against you like a hungry animal.

he was so much bigger than you. wide shoulders, strong thighs and a bit of a gut to keep you folded under him. there was a masculine heft to him. he was strong, picking you up was easy to him even when you tried to tell him your weight. one time he gripped you by the waist with one arm and moved you out of the way. you kicked and squeaked as you were moved. but to simon it was easy as lifting heavy equipment. but that softness to some of his muscles really got you hot all over. it didn't help that part of your role as his girlfriend was to make sure that your man was fed. you cooked him meals and he over devoured in your sweet dessert. he loved you in an apron. all domestic and sweet for him. you were real wifey material. could easily be cooking meals for him and the kids in a few years. you can have a graduate degree and a few riley babies. "look good cookin' for me, darlin'. know how to make a proper meal for your man." you wouldn't admit but his words excited you.

simon can be a little... chauvinistic. it was just his age. while he respected female colleagues in the military and was beyond happy that you were getting your degree. he'd do things for you that you could clearly do on your own. like when you tried to fix the leaky tap in your flat. or when you try to carry all the groceries inside. yes, darling, you're a strong woman. but let him take over. take care of you. that was what a man did right? he'll cut the onions for you and try to fix your buggy wi-fi connection. he's pay for dinner every time and even get you dessert after. he'd wipe your face clear of the sweet treat you'd have. "don't ask her anything too difficult, johnny. she doesn't need to be thinkin' too hard." he once said with his hands over your ears and glared at his teammate. which only made the scotsman laugh. simon didn't mind if he had to take over. he'd never pull the rug out from under you, even when you were under him. you looked prettier under him, letting him take charge of your fucking. he took care of his girl, even when you whined and told him you were capable. there was no need to whine. simon needed to take care of his much smaller, much weaker baby girl. no need to break a nail trying to do stuff that simon could easily do for you.

even with the grey in his blond hair, he still kept up to you. there were times that you were too exhausted from day-to-day that you let simon rut between your thighs until he covered your round ass with his hot cum. you'd whimper which would turn into a yelp when he easily slipped his heavy cock into your sweet pussy. where it belonged. he fucked you heavily as his cum coated your behind, even trailing down your sloped back as you had your head in the covers.

"don't spill a drop off that pretty ass, baby girl. or else i'd might have to mark you again." thank god you liked your men older. <3

[a-queer-yeen]

Forcemasc/kidnapping/noncon/conditioning

Thinking about forced masculinization taken to the most extreme. Being kidnapped by some sicko who sees me as a lab animal to be tested on. I'm strapped to a chair, legs tied to either side so that they're spread, and my kidnapper approaches me with a vial of testosterone. I'm immediately nervous and starting tugging against my bindings to get away.

“What's wrong? I thought you wanted this? After all, that's why I brought you here, because you're confused about what you are. I could tell from the moment I started watching you that you desired change, and now… I'm going to give it to you.”

I struggle more as they give me my first dose of testosterone, crying and pleading that I'm not ready, only for my words to fall on deaf ears. They pick up a pair of clippers and grip my head firmly and start to shave me down, not caring if the blade gets too close and cuts my skin, because REAL men don't mind a little roughness, right?

“There, now that's a much better picture. Now we move on to what will be your new daily exercise.”

They put away the clippers and grab a pump from their toolbox. Knowing what's to come I try my damnedest to close my legs because I don't want them to touch me, not there. My attempts do nothing though, and they place the cylinder of the pump over my clit firmly and squeeze the pump again and again until I whimper out in pain.

These all become my new routine for more days than I can keep track of, and with each passing day I become more adjusted to this routine and struggle just a little less. I soon start to notice how the hormones change me, I get a little fuzzier and my voice just a little deeper. The most noticeable change though is how horny the testosterone makes me, and as much as I try to deny it, every time my captor pumps or touches my growing tdick it feels amazing, and it keeps getting harder to stifle back my moans.

Inspection day comes, and they approach me once again, with new intent this time.

“Time to open your legs boy, you better show me some fucking results, because if I don't like what I see then we'll be crafting you a proper dick.”

Without even needing to force me or threaten me, I get into position for them, because by now I've accepted my role. They look me up and down, trailing their hands all over my body to feel the changes they've made to me, and as their hand grazes my already hard tdick I shudder and gasp loudly, earning a very pleased look from my captor.

“Beautiful…yes…yes I think you're ready.”

Before I can ask what they meant by that, they pull me up and turn me around, and push me down onto a mounting stool that had been sitting in the corner for many days now. They order me to stay in position as they walk out of the room and come back with a stroker in hand. They push up behind me, pressing their bulge against my ass as they reach around and hold the stroker in place for me.

“Now let's see you use that dick like a real man, go on, fuck the toy like the horny mutt we know you truly are.”

Without hesitation I start bucking my hips, humping away desperately as this new sensation overwhelms me. Too distracted by my own pleasure, I'm oblivious to my captor unbuttoning and dropping their pants, and I'm suddenly snapped out of my trance by the feeling of their cock grinding roughly against my ass. I gasp and groan loudly as they push inside my tight ass, and I claw at the mount I'm bent over as they thrust in and out in rhythm with my own humping. It feels right. It feels intoxicating. Still new to this feeling, I lose control of myself, and I moan and cry out as I cum hard from the overstimulation. My captor, unable to resist my cries, picks up the pace and pounds into me harder and deeper until they reach their own climax and fills me to the rim with their load. They keep their cock inside me and lean down to kiss my neck.

“Such a perfect little man, so proud of my boy.”

[storkmuffin]

just found your blog yesterday, it's super interesting reading through your different posts. do you have any more thoughts on jongho?💖

I have not done a deep dive on Jongho yet because of Yunho (let's go kick him together), but I DO have thoughts on Jongho floating around in my head.

During the whole fortune teller episode, Jongho said that he had been feeling a decrease of confidence the longer he was an entertainer. Has anyone in the Jongho ult world given this some thought?? He said he felt couldn't be as expressive as he wanted to be. I've been wondering what he has meant the whole time. He doesn't dance all out like he did at the start with The KQ Fellas, because the Ateez sound is extremely reliant on Jongho high notes as much as Mingi hollers, and there just isn't breath. I also think he was injured a bit (again, lack of deep dive, so I don't know for sure). Is that what he means or does he mean something else?

Jongho actually has the most abrupt duality of all of them. His face is so cute and sweet. He looks positively edible when he's actually amused and really smiling. He's very playful. But he's tough as fuck. He's got proper old soul energy, like a really big, really old tree with a huge trunk and deep roots type deal, which is so weird for someone who is still in his mid twenties to be projecting already. He's deeply serious, and he wants you calm the fuck down and be serious as well. Except when he's being feral and riling everyone up and making everything seven thousand times worse just to see what happens. Duality.

I wonder if he enjoys being in an Idol group. He's totally capable and ready to go solo as a balladeer. I think all the rest of them think about how much fun it would be to be the center and alone on stage with nobody present and get 100% of the attention, but Jongho is already there. I got totally turned around on Jongho from seeing him Live (more on that below). Because he is going to sing a really difficult ballad, center stage, standing still, ALONE, JUST TOTALLY ALONE (no dancers, no lights show, nothing) and bring the roof down. In a group of very competitive, macho-energy guys, this was him just standing on everyone's neck AND WITH A PLEADING LOVE BALLAD TO BOOT and I was BLOWN away.

Jongho struck me as potentially humorless (I do not enjoy his adherence to confucian social values tm) and arrogant (compared to the eager-to-please-ness that animates Wooyoung, Yunho or Seonghwa, especially) at first, but I think now that he just is a really tough, solid old soul who likes what he likes and has no qualms about giving the finger to doing anything he doesn't wanna do. I think this might make him a rather unusual idol. An Idol with actual boundaries akin to an ordinary-job person.

I enjoy Jongho's evident straightness and total rejection of fanservice BL things. This also makes him unusual in the current Idol market. The sheer force of Jongho's heterosexuality is such that in an 8 person team, there's a threesome (Woosansang) because Jongho absolutely won't have it. I find this very amusing.

[starsofjewels]

hello idk if you're requests are currently open right now, but could you possibly do another gregor c fic or one shot???(maybe one were he and reader have children or something idk i just need more gregor, especially from you!!!)

Haunted Keeps and Squirrel Bones

Gregor Clegane x Lady Clegane! Reader (feat. the Clegane boys)

CONTENT: Language, possible HOTD spoliers (regarding Aemond), mentions of hunting animals + animal bones, ghosts, a medieval man's interpretation of the menstrual cycle, Greggie C is his own warning.

Word count: 3.1k

MASTERPOST

(If you want to consider this a Part 2/ Epilogue to Yellow Wedding, by all means do.)

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I actually had this written and ready about a week ago, but we can pretend it's fresh for you...

Hello beautiful, gorgeous, god-given anon,

yes, my requests are 100% open, request as much as you like!

Thank you so much for giving me an anon post to attach this fic to, so I look like a very good, very proper writer with many, many followers. Here's to more Greggie C requests.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

CONTEXT- In my little fantasy land, Lady Clegane and Gregor have three sons together- Ronan (approx 6/7), Finnegan 'Finny' (approx 5/6) and Baby (a baby, go figure). Ronan likes making the kitchen cats race each other, and Finny likes stories about old battles. Yes, they are both shockingly normal for having Greggie C as a father. Someone let me know if they want more about Ronan and Finny. :)

Your life is sweet, and comfortable. The world of a lady with no particular noble standing, and an infamous husband. You have no expectations in the court, to the Lannisters, or to anyone but yourself and the town you control whilst Gregor is away. 

Clegane Keep is merely a small patch of land in the Westerlands, or in Westeros at all. In the grand, vast world of your Kingdom and your country, it is nothing. And yet it thrives like no other. The food is plentiful, the children run wild in the streets, and your little town’s only downfall is that it is constantly steeped in the hushed stories of Gregor’s violence. Everyone knows someone who their ruling lord has murdered in cold blood, and yet none of them say anything. The Mountain is a fearsome guard dog, enough to ward off any potential threat from the surrounding areas. 

You are watching your boys play when he tells you, splashing each other with water from the troughs. It is hardly clean, you think, but they are having fun, and so you shan’t complain. You are sitting on the other side of the field with their lunch, and their baby brother in your arms, most comfortable with the arrangement. 

Gregor sits beside you, helping himself to the picnic, no matter how much you slap his hands away. If it weren’t for his enormous size, and the jewels around your neck and fingers, you could pass for any common family, enjoying a sunny day. 

“I’ve been called up again.”

Something inside of you sighs, knowing precisely what this means. Another fortnight, more months of waiting up each night for a man you know may not return. Not that you suspect he wouldn’t, Gregor has often joked that he would beat the Stranger when He came for him. And you do not doubt his words. So, you school your face, and respond as neutrally as you can,

“Where to?”

“Harrenhal.”

That makes you turn your head, unable to hide your displeasure at the mention of the place. Every child in Westeros has heard of Harrenhal, and its spirits. It is the place where riches turn to ruin, jewels to mud, and princes to skeletons. Daemon, Aemond, Rhaegar, a Martell, the list of princes who call the area around that haunted keep their gravesite is almost insurmountable. Their ghosts haunt it alongside those of the vengeant Children of the Forest since an ironborn king had made it his pleasure to cut sacred forest. The largest castle in Westeros, and the one place you think even your Mountain may be powerless. After all, there is nothing that can withstand death, or the dead. Not even the mountains.

“Absolutely not.”

Gregor lets out a huff, probably expecting your initial refusal. He lifts up the jewels from your neck, inspecting them in the sunlight,

“He’s offering double the last time, and there’s enough space you can come with the littluns, if you wanted to…”

One of your sons topples over the other one, causing both to fall to the ground. You can hear their laughter from across the field.

“Why in Seven Hells would I want to bring the children to a pile of haunted stones?”

His big hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him, the baby in your arms squalls slightly at the movement,

“It’ll toughen them up, seeing a ghost or two. Besides, can’t live without my sweet wife’s cunny, can I?”

The noise that comes from you is halfway between a scoff and a laugh.

“What, you mean showing me off to all of your men, and the ghosts?”

“Aye, and the ghosts.”

You sigh, and lean back, staring up at the bright sky. It seems more and more likely that you will be attending the haunted keep. Gregor usually manages to get his way somehow.

“Fine.” 

Your husband looks mildly surprised that you’ve agreed so quickly.

“Fine, but the moment anything slightly ghostly happens I am taking the boys up to my father’s halls.”

He had forgotten you were from the Riverlands originally, that the keep you grew up in sat upon the Blue Fork. You were right, of course, your father’s castle was no more than a day or two away from Harrenhal, by boat and horse.

“Whatever.” He was never going to give you a proper response. He reaches for more of the sliced gammon, and you smack his hand, nothing more than a tap on your husband’s great stature.

“You should take them up to see your mam when we get there.” Gregor leans down to face his infant son, patting the boy’s head, “hasn’t seen the baby yet, has she?”

“Or she could come down to us, if she wanted.”

“Aye, that too.”

The keep is colder and wetter and darker than any book or song could describe it as. The place feels haunted, even without any of the gossip. Things move themselves in the night, shifting just noticeably, the wind howls through gaps in its ruined stones. There is no warmth or comfort in this cold, black place, even despite the fires lit in nearly every corner. You are shoved, unceremoniously, into one area of the keep. The boys are given toys and books to keep themselves entertained, but they are not much in the mood for playing, too used to the bright days down in the Westerlands. Even the baby, with no responsibilities other than to exist, is unsettled, he refuses to sleep, or play, or laugh. You have only the amount of milk he guzzles down, and the fat tears which roll down his face, to convince you that he is still your son. But the money is already coming through, and already it is more than you have ever seen. So you must find ways to entertain yourself, and your sons.

The town is as depressing as the keep. Harrentown has never been known for much excitement, even the whores look grey-faced, not even pretending to appear young and vibrant like their southern counterparts. 

Ronan is jumping in the lake, trying to scare the little fish that stay by the shallow end. You doubt he will freeze, with how hot his blood runs, a gift from his father’s line.

“Mummy- Mummy, you’re not listening!” Finny sits beside you, flicking through a book on the area’s history. He does not understand most of the words, but he knows enough to make his way through it. 

“Mummy- They pulled the sword out of his face, and they got the dragon out too- But they threw him back!”

You nod, slightly, the story of Aemond One-Eye has been an obsession of both your boys since you gave him that book. Ronan has heard the discussion from the sea line, you know this as he sneaks up to you, with a look upon his face that you can tell means he is going to ask for some wild favour.

“Mummy? Can we go and look for Aemond One-Eye’s bones?”

Your brow furrows, and you stare in mild confusion. They have looked for squirrels and rabbits in traps, and spent days stalking out small birds around their home, but a full, human, skeleton has never much been on their register.

“Ronan, why would you want to look for bones?”

“Sell them.”

You glance from boy to boy. Finny, who you consider your more sensible child, has jumped up, leaving his book at an illustration of Daemon Targaryen striking his nephew from the sky, and you know you have been defeated.

“Aye, alright. But no going in the water, and stay where I can see you.”

Ronan grabs his brother’s hands, pulling him away from you, you watch them start to leave,

“And I get a cut of any money you make, seeing as I’m letting you search.”

“... That’s fair.”

Once again, you are left alone with the baby, on the shores of the Gods Eye. You can see them jump over the hills and dig through the sand, and you are certain at one point you watch Finny put a fistful of sandy dirt into his mouth. You don’t think you will mention that. 

They come back to you, squeaking and screaming, Ronan grasping something you hope is not a human bone, Targaryen or not.

It is covered in dirt and sand, and presented to you like a fine prize by two, beaming boys.

“Erm- It’s certainly… Interesting.”

The bone probably comes from a squirrel, or some other small, furry creature. It is definitely not human, and for that you are semi-thankful. But the boys are convinced. 

You let them take it home, as well as a handful of interesting pebbles. If it will keep them occupied for long enough to stop complaining about the cold, you are willing to indulge it.

The boys keep it by their beds, and you are near certain that they talk to it occasionally. 

But that does not disturb you. What makes you slightly wary of the keep, is that the boys claim it is talking back. Not the bone itself, no, bones cannot speak, of course. They appear in your bedroom at night, complaining of the whispers through the corridors, and they can hardly sleep because of it. They like scary stories, ghost stories, they assure you, but the tales they pick out from these night-time phantoms are beyond what they consider disturbing. Gregor brings them back to bed for you. 

It is late, late enough that you should be abed already, but there is nothing that can convince you to sleep. Your husband is out, for whatever reason, and the boys have been put to bed particularly reluctantly. 

Something feels wrong, perhaps the temperature has dropped again, or a storm is coming. That, or the ghosts have gotten to you.

You sigh, and go back to your sewing, ignoring how concerningly similar the wind sounds to human voice. 

There is someone in the doorway. You cannot tell who, given the dim light, but you see the break in light between their legs, and the definitive shape of a head above it, but they come from nowhere. You think it to be a man, given the build, but you cannot particularly tell. All you see is its shadow, and a sapphire light in place of one eye. It tilts what you think is its head, not daring to venture closer toward you. Instead, it turns back on itself, marching down the hall. It takes barely a minute for your boys to run, screaming, from their bedchamber, you are surprised the babe is not awoken.

“There was a real ghost, Mummy!” 

Finny is beyond words, huddled and shivering to one side of you. It is Revan who takes responsibility for recounting their ghostly experience.

You want to dismiss their fears as something else. A bad dream, the excitement of battles long finished. But, you do not.

“I saw him, loves. I believe it.”

Two children stay huddled to your side long into the night. One who refuses to pick up the book he had so dearly loved nights before, and the other trying desperately to be seen as strong, but who yelps at each click of the floorboard, or scuttle from a creature travelling through the walls. They do not need nor want stories, or song, or toys to entertain themselves with. All they need is their mother.

Gregor comes in close to sunrise. Finny is long asleep, Ronan is uncomfortably awake, you don’t even think that he notices your husband coming in, despite the large shadow he casts. He is filthy, and exhausted, a day of acts you don’t ask nor even think about. Still, he gives you your kiss, and leans down to your older boy,

“Why aren’t they in bed?”

You look up slightly,

“Ghosts.”

He slumps himself into the chair beside you, which you are mildly surprised holds the weight, and groans.

“Ghosts, that’s all I hear about. The men see ghosts, the prisoners see ghosts, the fucking dogs see ghosts. And now my boys see them too.”

“I saw one.”

The noise he makes is somewhere between another tired sigh, and a scoff.

“How do you know it’s not your woman’s business?”

You throw a cushion at him for that, which he catches with ease. You realise quickly he’s semi-serious, he’s never known much about women.

“My monthly does not cause ghost sightings, you absolute fool.”

Eventually, he stands up, cracking his bones as he does,

“Gods, I need a fucking sleep. Come on, I want something warm to hold.”

Gregor picks up Finny, the boy’s limp, sleepy body bouncing like a little fish in his father’s enormous grasp. You watch him pile Ronan on top, fitting both children comfortably into his arms. The man turns around, leans down slightly, and you wrap your arms around his neck, lifted up into the air in an uncomfortable piggyback. If the boys were awake, and suitably not terrified, they would squeal and squeak with delight at this show of strength. 

Your sons are plopped, with an incredible lack of ceremony, into your bed. As you move to tuck them in, Gregor stops you, turning back and thumping down the hall. The scrape of wood makes your brow furrow, until your husband appears again with one of the boy’s beds, carrying the thing as though it weighs nothing. It is out beside the windows on the other end of the room, and your boys are put into the one bed, too exhausted to care, and happy to be in Mummy’s bedroom. The babe is still asleep, neither knowing nor caring about his brothers’ stay in the room. 

Finally, the man gets into bed, and is permitted rest.

“Fucking hells, the things I do for them kids.”

Your hands find his chest, and he kisses your hair. 

“You’re lucky they have your looks. Wouldn’t be dragging in a bed if they were big brutes.”

You give something of a smile, by now too tired to care. But there is no need for words, not now. 

“Did you actually see a ghost or did you just want the littluns in here tonight?”

“Oh, feck off.”

In the morning, you wake to find Ronan and Finny in place of Gregor, as you would most mornings, the bed dragged back to their own room. You dress Finny, and the babe, and bring them down for their breakfast. Nothing is said about the previous night. 

“Mummy?”

“Aye, Ronan?”

The boy looks up from his porridge, rubbing his eyes slightly,

“Can we put the bone back? I thought maybe it was the ghost’s favourite toy and he wants it back. Like when Finny took my favourite knight.”

You are oddly surprised by his little boy logic. It seems such an intelligent observation for such a little child.

“Do you know something, Ronan? That’s an excellent idea. I thought we could leave some offerings around the keep as well, like we do for the gods.”

“So they know we want to be friends?”

You look at him, slightly strangely.

“Of course, Ronan, so they know we want to be friends.”

The trek back down to the Gods Eye is a solemn procedure. The babe is on your back, Finny is trailing behind, and Ronan has wrapped the bone in one of your handkerchiefs, carrying his spade in the other hand. 

He insists on burying it himself. Back into the wet, marshy sand of the shores. When the wind turns just right, you catch glimpses of him speaking to it. An apology, it sounds like. When he is finished, the two of them spend a little while splashing in the water, and throwing rocks at fish, thankfully missing. You are already haunted by human ghosts, the thought of fish ghosts is slightly too much to handle.

Flowers which grow in the fields of Harrenhal are oddly similar to the place itself. Sad, and wet, and mildly depressing. Still, you pick out the best ones, with no help from your sons, who instead tear out patches of wildgrass and push each other down the hills, returning somewhat to their normal, pre-Harrenhal states.

They do help you tie the posies, with blue and yellow ribbons. Finny is particularly excited to attach little stones to each of them, which you find quite an odd thing to be excited about, but you shan’t question it. 

The men look at your boys strangely as they run around the yard, putting little bunches of flowers and unlit candles in door and window frames. Of course, one look from Gregor shuts them up. 

They have never asked to pray before, but they pray that night. Not to gods, but to the ghosts of Harrenhal, asking them to be nice, and not haunt them, and all of the other things which concern little children.

Finny goes to bed with no complaint, tucked up with a song and a story of the Battle of the Trident. It takes his brother slightly longer, needing more convincing. You light him a candle and put it above the fireplace, light scares off the ghosts, you tell him, and he believes it. 

The morning comes with no ghosts, no small children in your bed, and a Mountain stealing your side of the blankets. You sigh, sitting up and kissing his face; he groans in response, wrapping his arms tighter around you. When you finally escape his clutches, you find the babe with a silver rattle, which he is particularly happy about, a sapphire ring beside him. Large, and ornate, and certainly real. 

“Who bought the ring?”

Gregor is still partially asleep, he moans,

“How should I know? The ghosts did.”

Something in you tells you he might be right. 

There are gifts for the boys as well. A book of Targaryen heroes for Finny, with his name already written in the front cover, and a whistle formed from bone for the older one. Gregor gets nothing, but the affection from your boys, as you pretend that he is the one who has found such pretty presents. He, naturally, sucks up the attention. 

When you finally leave Harrenhal, there is a sense of normalcy. The boys say they will miss the place, miss the ghosts. They love the Riverlands now, apparently, and they do not want to leave. 

This ends the moment you get back to Clegane Keep, when they leave their ghostly presents, rush to the kitchens, and return carrying a cat each, which they then insist on racing. Harrenhal becomes a distant memory, which no one speaks of, and a beautiful, sapphire, ring lives in your jewellery box. One day, if Gregor gives you a daughter, you decide you shall give it to her, and hope her brothers do not scare her with stories of a haunted keep, and the ghost they befriended. 

[ph0enix-12]

Ichorverse - Chapter 1

~ Everlasting will of protection ~

Welcome to my greatest project. I am so very proud of this one, and i am happy to finally share it ^^. Please keep in mind that english is not my first language- and i promise chapters will get much lighter after the prologue. (cross-posted on Ao3)

CW: Slavery(non sexual), implied abuse, stavation, implied animal consumption

. Chapter 2 ->

He never remembered much of his life, even now, he still has problems with his memory, remembering even small things is hard thanks to injury to his head. A giant crack across most of his head that, of course, he didn’t recall when he got it.

His senses are what helped remember most of his life.

Far too clearly, he recalls the stink of death, the mold that grew on the walls, the dried blood on the whips and the rust of the chains that frayed under his fingers

He didn’t keep anything else from his early life,he always had only vague and fleeting feelings to latch on. Maybe he had a family once, maybe back when his skull wasn’t broken, but the result of trying to remember “the before” are splitting migraines, like his head is getting open all over again.

Pain also helped him remember. Like the pain collar around his neck that chained him to the wall of his cell. The pain around his wrists, where shackles dug into his bone as if to fuse with it. The pain of the cold and dirty floor that pricked himself sore back as he tried to rest.

Maybe he was allowed out sometimes?

He thought so at least, but all he seemed to keep from those times were the heavy weights that were strapped to his shoulders to carry. Maybe he was given crates, or stones, or some other material, but like everything else, he didn’t remember clearly, he simply carried what he was given in the direction shouts came from without really reminiscing about it.

The first thing he recalled clearly was a rat..a cute little fellow as hungry as he was that scurried around the cells when he rummaged up enough bravery to look for scraps.

During the first few encounters, the little guy had been cautious, watching him from far away as he tried to give him some crumbs from the stale bread he was given sometimes, scurrying closer only to grab them and run as fast as his little paws could take him.

With time, the cute fellow approached the trapped skeleton more often as he ate what little food he was given daily, which he always tried to give the small mouse somehow, even if it wasn’t a proper meal for them.

Sometimes, the skeleton would only be given peels, to keep him at bay and tired. It was pathetic, and he didn’t understand the reason for such small rations, or why he was kept away from other slaves. He was locked in a small cell to the very back of one of the hallways, he would thankfully never fully realize the real reason for such a thing.

He was being left for dead.

With each day, he was given less and less food and yet he still tried to share with the small mouse that visited him, but he was tired, he was tired and his bones felt like lead pulled down by gravity and the heavy chains that held him captive.

He didn't understand why.

He didn’t know that he was being left because they couldn't sell him fast enough. He didn’t realize they were letting him die.

If he had the strength to, he would have been angry. But his vision was clouded and his bones sore.

…It all culminated one particular day…or maybe it was night? He didn't know..it’s all still a blur for him.

The small fellow came to visit again, holding a small crumb of bread toward him.

The little one, who the skeleton had come to cherish so much, held in his little paws the piece like the skeleton himself had done many days.

And then the little buddy was no more.

To this day…he doesn’t know what happened.

The small one was sitting right in front of him..and now the crumb was discarded to the side, and the little fellow laid unmoving.

He looked down at his bloodied hands confused as blood spilled down his teeth and down to his chin.

There were loud noises outside his cell, like stomps of heavy armored boots, but all was muffled and confused..he felt flesh between his teeth and droplets of blood running down his sore throat, refreshing it like water would do.

Even if he didn’t understand his actions, he cried, tears he hadn't felt in a long time ran down his face. He only knew that the little fellow wasn’t going to get up anymore…“by the great crown of Reaper-” was the first thing he was able to make out from a pained and soft voice outside of his cell.

The captive skeleton turned to look at the voice that came from a strange man.

The man looked at him with a sad expression from behind the bars, holding onto one of them to look down at the prisoner.

He simply stared at the man unmoving and quiet like he always was.

The man stood before the bars that kept him in, staring at the chains that bound him to the walls.

He was small, a third of the size the prisoner was, but he still looked imponent and powerful, an old golden scar ran on one side of his face.

The skeleton couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but the way his deep seafoam eye grazed over him, almost made it seem like he was looking for something.

Then he suddenly opened the cell.

The captive skeleton tensed up, his instincts screamed at him, adrenaline rushing in his mana lines immediately once the man stepped into the cage. He heard him say something along the lines of a reassurance as he carefully approached him while showing his hands. But it didn’t matter at that moment, the captive was terrified.

Once the man was close enough, the skeleton leaped at him, biting down on his forearm.

He bit down hard on it. He was scared and his mind was clouded but he still heard his groan of pain and saw his golden blood spilled down onto the dirty floor.

Guards of his tried to approach, but he yelled back at them, ordering not to come close.

The captive skeleton didn't care, he still held his forearm in his maw..

As the adrenaline started to die down, he heard him speak finally.

“It’s alright…I know you must be scared…it’s okay” he spoke between his teeth and his voice trembled as he gently moved his free hand to the slave's back, “I startled you by approaching, didn’t I? I am sorry”

He slowly relaxed as he started to finally understand what he was saying. He felt his hand stroking his back as he kneeled down on the ground, almost hugging the slave as his teeth bore into his forearm, letting blood drip down in golden flocks.

He kept speaking softly, apologizing for scaring him …he was nice, and slowly, the jaw with a vice grip on him released his arm. The slave felt a small prick on his neck and he finally passed out in the man's arms.

———————

When he woke up again, he felt softness under his head first and his fingers grazed over a blanket that was wrapped around him. Was he in bed?

It was a struggle at first, but he was finally able to open his eye after a lot of tries.

He was, indeed, laying down in a bed.

The slave slowly ran the blanket between my fingers, it was a very nice ‘cottony’ material. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

The room looked like an infirmary, it was luminous thanks to the large window beside the bed he laid in, giving him a full view of the garden outside. He figured he was on the third floor of whatever place he had been taken to.

The sun was peeking behind the horizon and night was falling judging by the colors of the sky.

He looked around the other side of the room and he froze when he saw the man he had bitten sitting on a chair beside his bed. The captive skeleton calmed down when he realized the man was sleeping soundly.

He had dark circles under his eye and his forearm where he had been bitten was wrapped in bandages. He studied the man, he didn’t look relaxed even in his sleep, he held a rag in his hand tightly and he was slumped in the chair. Had he been awake all night?

His eye fell on his wrapped arm and he felt his soul tightened up…even if he had bitten him, he now had no chains on himself, his scars were wrapped and he was in a comfortable bed. The skeleton didn’t understand why, beasts like him that bit were discarded and never seen again..and yet, here he was alive and relatively well.

The man stirred and made a small noise, like cats do when first waking up. His gaze shot to the man in alarm, his eye was blown wide as he slowly woke.

The man noticed he was awake, almost relieved, “ah..there you are. How do you feel?” He stirred in his seat, fixing up his posture, “is there anything you need?” He kept asking with a patient and kind tone , his eye roaming over the sheets to check the skeleton without moving.

His throat felt tight and his voice came out raspy as he started to shed tears, “I….sorry-“ he wanted to apologize, but his vocal cords burned, “I..bit- i….sorry-“ his voice was barely a whisper, but he was thankful the man heard him.

His features softened, “there is no need to apologize..I simply startled you-“ his words didn’t hit him right away, he kept crying desperately, sobbing as he tried to breathe between hiccups. “So- rry..” he sobbed again.

The king’s hand moved to his skull, gently petting away from his old injury. “Please don’t cry, there is nothing to apologize for” the skeleton slowly calmed down, shutting his mouth as tears ran down his face. He moved the rag in his other hand to wipe away the tears, “do not weep, I beg you” he looked at me with pitiful eye still, like he had done when he was in his cell.

“My name is Nightmare. Could you tell me yours?”

His name? He didn’t remember his real name, did he even have a name? “H-Horror. My name…is Horror” he spoke weakly, that was what he was called a couple of times, he figured maybe that was his name then.

He smiled again, gently petting the skeleton, “It is nice to meet you then, Horror” he tucked in his blankets and he got up, “are you hungry, Horror?” He was making it a point to use his name for some reason.

Horror’s eye widened at the mention of food. Horror nodded uncertainty and Nightmare smiled. “For now, you will have a light diet, but I am sure you will soon eat anything you wish” he brought out a plate full of nutritious food for his and the skeleton’s mouth watered.

A bowl of hot porridge stood at the edge of the tray, next to it layed a scrambled egg, a couple of pieces of toast, juicy fruits and fresh vegetables. He settled down the tray and helped the skeleton sit up against the pillows, “there we go, dig right in” he smiled at him as he handed him the food.

He could only stare at it. It smelled like the greatest feast on earth and yet he couldn't move.

He remembered just then that the handlers loved to flaunt their food to them, the punishment for trying to sneak a bite was often a sound flogging to the back. The king stood beside me as he stared at the food…the man- Nightmare, seemed safe, but fear locked up his joints.

He sat beside Horror, gently taking the toast from the plate and decorating it with the scrambled egg. “Would you be more comfortable if we ate together?” He leaned the toast and egg toward him, “go on, no need to hesitate”

Horror trembled, but he still leaned in, following his order.

He took a small nibble out of the corner of the toast before looking at him uncertain again, his expression changed only to smile at Horror. He took a small bite as well before passing the bread to the freed slave again. He felt relieved to see him eat as well and so he took a bigger bite of both toast and egg.

The toast was nicely roasted on some walnut wood from what he could tell and the scrambled egg was soft and garnished with high quality herbs. He made a soft groan as he tasted the parcel on my tongue, it was the most divine thing he had ever tasted.

He took another hungry bite, and then another, and then yet another until the toast was no more. Nightmare smiled at him, handing Horror the spoon for the porridge.

He ate that as well, without hesitation this time.

The entire thing was finished, he made sure not to leave a crumb…but now he felt bad, looking sadly at the man beside him since he hadn’t left anything for him other than fruit, he simply smiled again.

“I am glad you enjoyed that, it’s good that you have an appetite” Nightmare petted him gently, “please do not worry. I promise I will eat as well now, but you need to rest” he nodded, all he wanted was for Nightmare to eat too now.

The king gently tucked him in again, making sure he was comfortable. “Rest now, I will come back to visit you soon” .

Horror looked up at the ceiling above once Nightmare shut the door behind himself. He didn’t know what would happen next, but for once, he wasn’t scared.

[daydream-believin]

Like a Boiled Frog (you don't even scream) [Ch. 5]

[Start Here] + [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Test out fun things like ball pits and claw machines. Meet your fellow members of the Fazbear Family. Realize you've made yourself like, the platonic ideal of a potential cold case homicide. Oops.

Warnings: swearing. animal death? neither of the animals that die are animals. and neither of them actually die...

Word count: 4602

A/n: sorry it took me a little longer but, it's longer now. happy thanksgiving break!

Taglist: @spirit-of-the-hollow

You rest your head against the newly painted wall. The other employees flitted around, but you didn’t care. It’s your break and you’re gonna rest, goddamnit.

“Bloody hell. This holiday rush might shut us down before we even get a proper go at it,”

You had no idea when Michael sidled up next to you, but you didn’t even startle at the sound of his voice. You were too damn tired to care.

“Not gonna lie, kinda worried about when those two go home in half an hour and it’s just going to be me, you, and the trash gang,” you gestured to the dining room in front of you, “Because this clearly isn’t calming down anytime soon,”

“Yeah, I really underestimated just how many people would want pizza at 10 o’clock at night. Lucky for us, we just ran out of dough,”

“Oh goody. So we get to go home?”

Relief wasn’t even the word to describe it.

“Well,” Michael rubbed the back of his neck,

 “Not exactly…”

__

Last night had been so fun! Now that Helpy was up, y’all got to finishing testing out all the games in the arcade. Which wasn’t much, since most of the cabinets were still out of working order, but beside the air hockey table there were a few claw machines. And a ‘ball pit’…

That goddamn cardboard box of balls. You hated ball pits normally. Ball pits, foam pits, pillow pits, any type of pit children hurl themselves into like lemmings, really. But this thing put Dashcon to shame. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone had somehow pissed in it even though it was brand new and hadn’t been exposed to the public yet. This thing’s aura just felt that horrible.

So of course Michael thought it a grand idea to throw Helpy into it.

In his defense, the robot had practically begged him. Even though the little guy couldn’t speak as much as just make noises, he was very persuasive. To be honest, it was pretty cute watching Helpy get so excited at the prospect of doing exactly what he was made to do, help. And he was the only person in the room who feasibly could test the ball pit. So after watching him wade around in there for a bit, you thought nothing of the bear climbing back into Michael’s arms and miming to ask to be tossed back in.

“You wanna jump? Okay, one, two—“ the little bear looked determined as Michael wound up to throw him, “THREE!”

Helpy flew through the air, eyes wide and squeaking in glee.

And then,

CRACK.

You just stood there with your mouth open, staring in disbelief at the sight before you. Beside you Michael whispered a small, “Oh shit…”

Neither of you said a word as you stared at Helpy’s now limp and lifeless body. You could hear your heartbeat.

RIP Helpy, alive for an hour before he broke his little neck. He died doing what he loved: being hurled into ball pits.

Initial shock over with, this was actually pretty funny, and you were trying so very hard not to bust out into laughter. You know, considering this meant another headache for Mike as he would have to fix the robot now. He might not appreciate your entertainment in this situation.

Michael deeply sighed. A bloody shame. And more work.

“NOOooo, little guy!” You approached the little robot, shaking your head as you stared down at him.

You reached a hand down to start picking him up off the floor when Helpy jolted back to life, a loud cartoon ding! playing, promptly giving you a heart attack.

As you clutched at your chest, Helpy got back to his feet and dusted himself off.  He looked up to chirp at you and Mike, giving a thumbs-up with another silly little sound effect to assure you he was all good.

Well, at least you can breathe again at this point. Some Looney Tunes ass shit that Mike’s programmed here. Geez.

Michael gave Helpy a quick check-up to see what he broke but the little robot had only sustained a few scratches and a loose wire here and there, nothing major thanks to Mike’s excellent craftsmanship. Helpy was just as chipper as ever. No harm no foul.

The claw machine tests were a lot less eventful.

Well, no, that’s a lie. After the initial tests proved all four of the machines worked, it quickly became a competition to see which of you could actually win without maintenance-mode turned on.

Spoiler alert. It was Michael. The lucky bastard.

He not only won, either, he got multiple wins as you continued to try, determined to show him you could at least get one. If you were using actual money and not just Fazcoins that Mikey had a bucket of, you’d have already spent a highschool kid’s hard-earned part-timer paycheck. Good thing this is fake and the stakes are so low. But this was about honor at this point.

He leaned against the glass of the machine, smugly watching as you struggled. He had his arms crossed with that cocky smirk you noticed he had whenever you played the arcade games together. You know, in the all-of-two instances that’s happened. The colorful lights of the machine bounced off his features, giving him a bit of a glow as he snickered when you failed once again. Kinda distracting, in combination with the annoying ass carnival music the machine played. It’s kinda cheating. Yeah.

As the loud “you lose” tone played once again, Mikey laughed full-bellied, shoulders shaking, “C’mon, mate. Give up. I don’t think you’re going to do it tonight,”

“No. You shut up,” you childishly stuck your tongue out at him, “I’m going to get it this time, new strategy,”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Sure,”

He’d already won three times, so getting this one wasn’t going to win you the little war you two had. There was technically no point. But you still really really wanted to win at least once. Some kind of driving factor here. Maybe you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. Maybe you were trying to impress him. Who knows.

What you did know, however, was that by some miracle, the claw was actually working for you. You stared in disbelief as it dragged the stuffed animal across the air and didn’t drop it this time. You didn’t even realize you had been holding your breath until the “you win!” jingle was loudly blaring from the machine.

“…I did it?” you turned to Michael, “I did it!”

You held up your hand for a high five. He laughed and shook his head in disbelief as he met your hand with his.

“Well I’ll be,” that sounded strange coming from his accent. Mike came around to pat you on the shoulder, “you actually won,”

“You better watch out, I’ll start practicing and give you a run for your money soon,”

“Oh sure,” He bent to pick up the stuffed animal from the prize cubby to put in back in the machine, “I’m SO scare—“

In his hands lied good ol’ psychic friend Fredbear.

Oh. You kinda forgot all about him, busy with Michael. Whoops.

“…I think we should call it a night,” Michael’s voice was now devoid of all playfulness as he turned the plushy around in his hands.

“… Yeah.” you answered dumbly.

Michael started walking off, expecting you to follow. Which you did, of course. Damn. Already in some sort of routine here.

You two made your way to the restaurant’s office, of which you remembered from earlier today when Mike told you it was off-limits and you should never go in there without him. Ominous.

When he opened the door, it just got stranger. It looked like any ordinary run-of-the-mill office. As long as you looked straight forward. If you looked to either side of the room, however, there were GIGANTIC FUCKING VENTILATION OPENINGS?? Like a fully grown adult person could get in there easily without having to crawl on their belly like a snake. An elementary schooler could get in there and run around.

“What in hell—“

“Don’t ask. Explaining it would take way too much time and energy,”

“That’s cryptid as fuck but okay,” you’d pick a different battle than this.

Michael gently placed the Fredbear plushy down on top of the printer, “You comfy Fredbear?”

The stuffed bear did not answer.

“That’s great! Goodnight buddy,”

Michael pushed past you to leave but you stayed there in the doorway, transfixed on the doll. Its eyes bore into you, just like they always did. You really should bring Fredbear home with y—

“Come on!” Michael called to you from the front door.

You shook your head, trance broken, “Yeah!”

You shut the door tightly behind you, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference if the haunted plush wanted to be somewhere else. It was more for you than anything.

You almost ran through the door Michael was holding open for you.

Ah, but once in the car, you couldn’t help but be curious and get on Mike’s nerves. As you do.

You turned down the radio to talk, “So. You don’t want your dead baby brother’s bear in the house?”

“Absolutely not. Once you invite them in, they won’t leave you alone,”

Well, that was in fact the deal with ghosts, so you could see it, but,

“You don’t want to be haunted by your own dead brother?”

He sighed, “Look, I’ve already been there, okay? He doesn’t even— and that other little freak’s probably with him too so— I don’t—  It’s not like a fun family bonding experience, Y/n,”

You could give him that. And truth be told, you were tired of living in haunted houses. At least Michael’s place seemed to only be haunted by one singular ghoul, himself. You could handle that. You weren’t sure you could handle more though, so maybe he’s right.

Maybe he’s really right. Why were you even arguing against this? Hoo boy. This godforsaken town is making you crazier already.

Speaking of more ghosts, did he say ‘that other little freak’? There’s two? Did Evan’s ghost have a friend? Strange, you had gotten the impression that the spirit was lonely, like you. And like, that’s why he’s haunting you, right? It was all just more to the mystery. And you didn’t want to be dealing with that mystery 24/7. You and Michael aren’t the Scooby-Doo gang.

“…You’re right.”

Michael sighed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Reaching over, he turned the radio back up.

You wanted to ask him more about the supposed second ghost, but he looked so tense, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Eyes locked forward. It’s probably a conversation that can be had later. It’s not like you’ll be able to forget about it.

 The rest of the ride home was silent.

—

You padded out of the bathroom, now in your official “Fazbear uniform” (Just a red button up with the black jeans you had already been wearing when you rolled into town. You technically didn’t work there so it’s not like you had a uniform shirt or a nametag or any of that) and ready to start your first day at the pizzeria. The pizzeria’s first day at the pizzeria too. Excited wasn’t really the word, but you sure were feeling ready for the onslaught of opening day.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you were met with the sight of one zombie man reading the news on his laptop at the table. Dressed very nicely for the occasion, Michael had on a muted cyan button down with the addition of a gold vest and a navy tie. Dark grey slacks. You know the outfit. Hoo boy. Men in vests. Damn you wish you could wolf whistle.

“Whew-ee, someone’s looking spiffy,” you smirked as you made your way to the table, “we need to take a picture to commemorate the moment, chh-ch,” you mimed taking a snapshot.

“Stop. I look fine,” he grumbled, continuing to read the article about the zoo’s latest baby otter so he didn’t have to look at you.

You noticed that along with his name tag, which said “Manager Mike”, he also had a few vintage looking buttons displaying the faces of the characters pinned to his lapel. Cute.

You hefted yourself onto the tabletop to sit, now looking down at him, “I know. That’s what I said. You look fine,”

Mike finally pulled his attention away from the news to look up at you. He just stared, so after a while you raised your eyebrows in question. He broke away, shaking his head a bit.

“I’m sorry. I—“, he suddenly got very interested in the floor tiles, “I guess I’m just not used to compliments, genuine ones, at least,”

Dammit. You really wish Michael had a working circulatory system. What you wouldn’t give to see this man blush.

But. That’s also really sad. What’s been going on in this poor zombie man’s personal life all these years. You had a sneaking suspicion you knew, with a reaction like that. It was all too familiar.

“That’s okay.. Uh, me—me neither,” you checked your watch to avoid having to look at him this time, “Oh, we need to go. Like right now. We’ll be late,”

Michael stood up at your words, clearly eager to leave this awkward conversation, and offered you a hand to help you get down. Which you didn’t need, because like, you just had to slide off the table and onto your feet. Easy.

But that’s an excuse to hold your hand, isn’t it?

Eh. You might just be making mountains out of molehills here…

——

On the short drive to the pizzeria, Michael almost hit a dog.

Or at least. You hope it was a dog. It had to be a dog… The way it dragged its limp body away into a bush.. So unnaturally… You shivered at the thought…

Well, nevermind all that!

Things were pretty normal before the employees arrived. Just you and Mike doing some last-minute cleaning, such as vacuuming up all the gypsum flecks that had made its way to the dining room floor during reno. Once the kids did get there, though, then things got a little funny. Henry had made up a mask to help Michael blend in more with the aforementioned not-dead people. Although, you personally thought a silly white bear mask made him stick out more. But whatever works.

Oh you needed to see him interact with Helpy when he had the mask on, actually. It would be adorable.

So, about those not-dead people.

You finally got to meet Vanessa and Travis. Turns out they were real after all. Silly you for doubting.

Vanessa was a sweet girl, and very excited to start her first job because it made her feel “all grown up” as she told you while you helped her put all the chairs down in the dining room.

Apart from the regular Fazbear uniform, she had a gajillion kandi bracelets on her wrists over a pair of long fingerless gloves. Like Mike, she also had a bunch of Fazbear character buttons, but these looked much newer. Maybe she got them from her older siblings or just a goodwill in the area. Who knows. To top off the look, her fluffy blond hair had some raccoon rainbow highlights, just so her friends will think she’s dynamite~. Or something.

Travis was. Definitely a guy. Look up “white guy stock image” and then put a red Fazbear uniform shirt onto him. There you go. That’s Travis. Mike had him prepping in the kitchen, so you didn’t see much of him. And he’s probably not important, so let’s skip over him.

One person you had been waiting to meet, however, was not there. The ever-mysterious Uncle Henry. Elusive too, it seemed. You don’t know what you were picturing. Not an older Michael, since you knew Henry was the stepdad. The dad who stepped up. Maybe a humanized Freddy? Guess it’ll remain a mystery.

Right after the clock struck 10:00am, just an hour before opening, Michael came out of his office, keys in hand, muttering to himself. You watched him turn about the room to get his bearings, secretly entertained at how silly he looked in that bear mask. Once he spotted you and Vanessa, he made his way for the dining room to talk to y’all, hanging in the doorway,

“Vanessa, you’re in charge while I’m out,”

Vanessa quickly put up her hand in salute, promising that she wouldn’t let him down.

Well. Okay then. That kinda stung. He trusted this teenager more than you? Fine then y—

“Y/n, c’mon let’s go,” he waved his hand towards the door, expecting you to leave with him.

Oh. Okay… Alright. You could vibe with that. Cool mystery errand time. Hopefully it’s not something insane like hiding a body, but hey, if it was, then that means Mike extra trusts you.

Thankfully he took off that stupid bear mask while in the car. Probably way too hot to keep it on, but you liked to think that he just felt comfortable as himself around you. That being said, you get the feeling that if you had met him a little later than you did, when he was wearing the mask, he probably wouldn’t be as confident. Maybe even terrified of letting you see him like this…

Thankfully, none of that mattered.

It wasn’t too long, just about fifteen minutes, before you were pulling into the driveway of some random house in a more rural part of town. The house was pretty big and looked like it was probably fancy too once upon a time. But time had taken its toll on the place by now. A flipper would have a field day turning this thing into a soulless modern home.

Michael visibly tensed up as he pulled into the driveway. You put a hand on his shoulder, attached to the arm still strangling the steering wheel. His eyes darted to yours as you made contact, and he looked about ready to go into fight or flight, so you didn’t break it.

“Hey,” you moved your thumb slowly along his bicep, trying to calm him down, “I don’t know what’s in there, but at least you’ve got backup.”

He continued to stare you down.

You pointed to your chest, “Me. I’m the backup,”

He broke away from eye contact, shaking his head in exasperation, “Yes, I know... This— This is just a lot… I try to stay away from here as much as humanly possible,”

You rubbed his shoulder gently, as you didn’t quite know what would hurt him at this point, or at least accidentally break his skin. He had to be pretty fragile. Pretty easy to rip apart. In fact you weren’t entirely sure how he was even being held together in the first place. Magic, you guessed… or dismissed, more like it.

“I can go, uh, do whatever you need to do, so you don’t have to—,” you began.

“No,” he cut you off, “He won’t open the door for you, might try to shoot you, even. He doesn’t know you,”

“Ah, yeah, you’re right I…” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I keep forgetting none of this is any of my business… Wait, I’m sorry he might what?”

Mike let out a pained chuckle, “It’s fine,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “it’s not like he’s going to open the door for me either,”

Well, apparently Michael isn’t too worried about the “the person inside has a gun” part. So it’s probably fine, like he said. Probably…

Man, you’ve been putting a lot of trust in a zombie you met like three days ago.

Hmmm. Well. It’s not like you have anything to lose here. At least when you die it can be on Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Michael knocked very loudly and deliberately on the door, and then rang the doorbell in what could be presumed was a pattern, but maybe it was just random bell spam because he was angry. No one came to open the door, but you heard a lot of scuffling about from behind it.

Mike pulled out his cell phone and started calling. It apparently took too long for the other person to pick up, as he rolled his eyes in impatience.

“Yes, it’s really me. Open the bloody door.”

He aggressively pressed [End Call]. You could tell this man missed having a physical receiver to slam the phone into.

“Did you just have to Two-Factor Authentication this motherfucking door?”

Michael’s deep sigh gave you all the information you needed. Okay, so maybe you are doing an Insane Errand.

The door swung open swiftly, revealing a dark room beyond it. Kinda reminded you of the spring-loaded quickness of the entrance to a possum trap. You actually didn’t want to go in there, you know because of the threatening aura, but Michael boldly walked right in, unbothered. You followed, disciple that you are at this point.

The first thing you noticed was the smell. It was reminiscent of Mike’s place, dust and motor oil and smoke and stale beer. And thus, like Mike’s place, there was a sense of nostalgia to it.

Second, it was pretty dark, but what you did see of the furniture was dated. It was like this place was a time capsule. The living room looked as if it were imported straight from the 70’s. And just like Mike’s place it was covered in various mechanical parts and half-assed machines. Prototypes, as they were called in proper English.

And then you noticed the feral old man holding a whole ass crossbow. At least it wasn’t pointed at you but. Damn. Perhaps Mr. Henry Emily? Considering Mike told you he doesn’t have that large of a social circle. Still. This could be a dealer. You never know.

This heavily armed senior citizen was disheveled, with oil stains on his clothes. The way he stood, ready to flee or pounce at any sudden movement, reminded you of a cat. One of those big fluffy cats that could use a good brushing.

Michael sighed, “I suppose it’s stupid to ask but do you think you could work the restaurant for the weekend? We’re short-staffed and I need all the help I can get.”

Mr. crossbow left a pregnant pause with an icy glare, “… I think we both know why that’s a bad idea, Michael,” he gestured towards you, “Besides, you’ve got an extra hand with Mx. L/n here,”

Okay. So context clues here are really pointing towards Henry. At least you hoped. Although, this wasn’t exactly the cordial man you had been picturing. The kinda man who walks around in a yellow bear suit and talks to kids in a goofy voice. That man was not present at the moment. Even as you stood in his dark and dusty bear cave. It's like that with bears, you guess. You linger too long, or hurt their cubs, or just for the hell of it and suddenly, you were dead. But-- no. Even now, Henry Emily didn't look like the kind of man to kill for the hell of it. Not a polar bear, then.

“A person with a single day of training will be nowhere near as useful as you would,” Michael shot you an apologetic look in an afterthought, “No offense Y/n,”

“None taken!” you weren’t gonna pretend like you were a hot new player in the pizzeria game.

Michael ran an exhausted hand through his hair, “It would just be a lot less stressful if you were there, just briefly. Just through the rushes.”

“Those are the worst times. Think of the foot traffic.” Mr. Crossbow crossed his arms. He looked pretty cross. (ouchie stop throwing stuff at me I’ll stop okay)

Mike took a calming breath with his hands clasped tight in front of him, and yeah, you couldn’t blame him. That was quite literally a ‘yes that’s the whole point’ statement.

“Look, you can work the kitchen the entire time, that way you only have to interact with a few people,” he pleaded.

Henry grumbled, “You know Jeremy never complained when he was short-staffed.”

“Jeremy’s MISSING HIS FRONTAL LOBE,”

Uh. Hopefully that’s unrelated to his position as a Fazbear employee. But you know it’s not. Not even a ‘deep down you knew’ nah the shallowest part of you knows.

You glanced over at Michael again, all undead and stuff. Shit…

“You know what? FINE.” Mike announced as he stalked off towards the kitchen, “where are the damn tapes?” which was perhaps a rhetorical question as he clearly knew they were in the kitchen.

And this left you alone with Henry. Or at least, you thought it was Henry. Probably should ask. You know, like a real person does.

“Henry Emily, I presume?” you held out your hand.

He eyed you suspiciously. Shit. If this ain’t him that’s awkward. At least he shook your hand.

“You would be correct, Y/n L/n,” oh thank God.

“I’m crashing at Mike’s place for a bit,”

“So I’ve heard,” he looked you up and down, like he was taking measurements for your coffin, “… Y/n M/n L/n. twenty-[X]-year-old runaway, far from home. 15-year-old car, not running a tab at any motel. You don’t have a cell phone on you, do you?”

“Um, no?”

“No one knows where you are.” A statement, not a question.

“Uhh—” this was starting to get creepier.

“There was only five, right?” Oh blessed Michael the angel here to rescue you.

“That’s all of them.” Henry replied shortly like he wasn’t just listing out all the reasons they could bury you in the backyard tomorrow without drawing any suspicion whatsoever.

You held out your hands to take some of the tapes Mike was carrying. They didn’t look heavy or anything, but you really needed something to do with your hands. And you needed to feel useful right now. For some unknown reason. He passed a couple to you, sensing this.

“Alright, c’mon Y/n, let’s go,”

You freed up a hand to wave to Henry, “It was nice meeting you, sir,” you lied.

“Likewise,”

“Yeah, bye Henry,” Michael didn’t look back as he shepherded you towards the door.

How much of that did he hear, you wonder. Probably all of it. It wasn’t that big of a house.

“I’m sorry about that,”

Yeah, Mikey heard.

“Um,” you didn’t know how to phrase this politely, “He wasn’t like, threatening me, right?”

Michael made a noncommittal gesture, “Honestly? He could totally have been. But he also just talks like that normally. So who knows,”

“I would like to know,”

He playfully shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It’s probably fine.”

“Probably isn’t—sigh. Okay,” again, at least you’ll wind up on Buzzfeed Unsolved, “Well, do you think he liked me at all?”

“That I also have no clue about,”

“Then I choose to believe that he thought I was the coolest person in his dark cave of a living room,”

Michael chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Oh, I’m sure that’s true. In those exact words too,”

The pizzeria came in view. Still in one piece and not on fire. So far so good. No immediate disaster. Vanessa did a good job as acting manager. In the all-of-forty-five minutes she was in charge—

Uh. Perhaps you jinxed her, because as soon as you two walked through the door, Vanessa came running into the room like the world’s most nervous cheetah. And that’s saying something, cheetahs are naturally nervous. Her blonde hair was in disarray, little rainbow sprigs sticking out here and there.

“Oh good! You guys are back!”

Her cheerful tone died, “Please help us.”

[ruru195]

Good to see you made it through your exams

For the magic mayhem fairytales is there going to be another part we can't leave it like that

Bendy is fine but the others mugman or mugfish lol being stuck in the pool is probably the tamest of the curses poor boris half feral surprised he hasnt accidentally attacked anyone in moments of unclarity and felix sounds like he's lying at deaths door waiting for it to be opened

Part II: A Most Chaotic Happily Never After

The forest clearing was chaos.

Bendy, now very much awake and very much dramatic, had his arms wrapped around Cuphead’s neck like a clingy vine, refusing to let go. “You kissed me back to life,” he kept saying with an overly fond gaze, as if they weren’t surrounded by screaming and mild magical suffering. “You love me.”

“Yes, and we can celebrate that once I’m not dragging my brother around in a plastic kiddie pool!” Cuphead hissed, jerking his head toward the shallow basin where Mugman—or Mugfish—splashed his soggy tail sadly.

“I itch in places I shouldn’t even have scales,” Mugman muttered with wet sorrow, his tail flicking like an angry koi. “Everything smells like chlorine. This is hell.”

A sudden crash from the edge of camp made them all jump.

Boris had returned from the woods. His shirt was torn, his hair a wild mess, and his claws were dragging in the dirt. His glowing yellow eyes scanned the group like a nervous animal about to bolt—or bite.

“Boris?” Bendy stood, voice low.

Boris didn’t answer. He twitched. Sniffed the air. Let out a confused growl. Then—

“AAAAUGH!” Mugman screamed as Boris lunged—not to attack, but to dive face-first into the kiddie pool and lap at the water like a parched mutt.

“HE’S FERAL,” Cuphead shrieked, pulling Bendy behind him. “HE’S A DOG NOW. A WHOLE DOG.”

“Actually,” said a dry voice, “he’s technically a werehound. There’s a difference.”

They turned.

It was Felix—or at least, what was left of Felix. Pale as moonlight, shivering in Oswald’s hoodie, a crown of dead leaves stuck in his hair and eyes slightly glazed. His voice was calm, but that eerie kind of calm someone has right before dying or killing someone else.

Oswald hovered behind him like an angry nurse. “You shouldn’t be upright. You bit a cursed apple.”

“I’m fine,” Felix said, wobbling.

“You called me ‘Mother Goose’ an hour ago and tried to recite the Constitution from memory,” Oswald snapped.

Cuphead squinted. “Why isn’t he dead, anyway?”

“Oh, he almost was,” Oswald growled. “But I gave him a half-bag of emergency fairy dust, a resurrection mushroom, and a forehead smooch. He sneezed glitter for five minutes, then called me his knight in shining cardigan.”

Bendy blinked. “That sounds romantic.”

“It wasn’t,” Oswald and Felix said at the same time.

Suddenly, Mugman flopped upright in his pool. “Okay, listen, enough panicking. We need a plan. A spell, a cure, something.”

Cuphead groaned. “Right. Where’s the bag of magic nonsense?”

Bendy gestured to a lumpy satchel nearby.

Inside, they found:

1 sleeping potion (useless)

3 phoenix feathers (only slightly burnt)

1 self-playing harp that only sang sea shanties

A glowing frog in a mason jar

A mirror that just kept whispering “You’re not that guy” to Cuphead

And at the bottom—

A folded scroll labeled “In Case of Cursed Idiots.”

Cuphead unrolled it. “It says we have to ‘complete the tale.’ Every fairytale ends a certain way. We have to give it a proper ending to break the curses.”

“So like… a climax,” Bendy said.

“Or a moral,” Mugman added.

“Or revenge,” Boris barked with eerie clarity from the kiddie pool.

Felix blinked. “Okay. So who touched what?”

Everyone turned.

“...It was Cuphead,” Mugman said, tail flopping.

“I think it was Bendy,” Cuphead said at the same time.

“It was both of you,” Oswald deadpanned. “You're twin disasters.”

There was silence.

Then the cursed frog jar exploded in a puff of glitter, and everyone screamed.

[crybaby-bkg]

Fluffy bakugou brainrot:

So I’m in a classic soft sad semi crybaby kinda mood rn- did anything happen? Nope. Am I just like this? Yup.

Anyways, I like to think number one blorbo bakugo lowkey lives for this shit. NOT BECAUSE YOURE SAD. But because it means he just kinda ??? Gets a koala for a little bit??? All pliable and shit.

And you know he just goes along with whatever too. You wanna just hide your face in his neck on the couch? Bakugo’s got a blanket pulled up around you with a hand rubbing up and down your back while the other gives occasional head pats.

You wanna chill and play switch games? Bakugo’s there, sitting prolly behind you against the headboard so you’re in between his legs askin questions and paying ATTENTION goddamnit. WITH bonus !! Forehead smooches frequently. (I’m on a Zelda totk kick rn and I like to think bro gets all smarmy and cocky when bosses show up because “sweetheart I could totally beat it for you don’t worry” and then he dies not a minute in)

In general: soft bakugo who adores having koala hours with his baby when he can just plop around with them and call them the sweetest, cavity inducing nicknames on the planet to get them to laugh a lil

Bonus!!! Bakugo finding out you haven’t eaten the Proper Amount of Food™️ so he puts your ass on the kitchen counter and makes your ultimate favorite. Gets you water too in a lil cup with a straw

PLS this will live in my head rent free for the next two weeks ‼️‼️

but nooo I get it!!!! like it’s not necessarily about you being sad as it is about how clingy and mellow you get that he absolutely adores!!!! loves being able to just decompress after a long day, hide his face in your neck and breathe in your scent while you read on your phone.

and omg the switch part he gets sooo cocky about being able to beat everything and dies after the first punch skdjdkd I can imagine him bragging about beating the boss even if you’re playing something easy like cooking mama or animal crossing LOL what a dork

he calls you the most sickening nicknames that he would absolutely kill his friends over if they ever heard it!!!!! all sweethearts, and my love, and honey bunny that you can’t help but laugh at bc it sounds a little funny coming from him !! but you love every name anyway, because it came from him and he’s so comfortable around you that he doesn’t mind being a little corny if he gets to see you smile at the name he gives you 🥺

also definitely is ready to throw hands if you don’t eat or drink enough >_> scolds you the whole time he’s fixing you food, keeps shoving individual ingredients in your mouth and hands in between seasoning the food and stirring/chopping. “why do you always do this—how the hell do you even forget to eat?” as he slices up a cucumber or piece of fruit and taps it on your bottom lip for you to open wide so he can feed you !!

[papabirdurskeks]

"Precursor" Anatomy

Well, once again I spent some months working here and there on some new headcanons no one asked for BUT here they are!

Some random anatomy headcanons on the Witness's People! To expand upon my previous posts!

-Be warned, this will be a LONG post-

The bones:

To start, we go to the basics, aka the main structure of it all, the skeleton. When looking at the skeleton of a "Precursor" (if one is able to), one will note that is it humanoid in shape save for a few differences here and there. They stand upright on two feet and have a single set of arms and legs akin to that of a human. But when looking for those differences, one will see a few of them. The skeleton is almost a gray blue in color, the teeth just slightly lighter while the base of the skull and parts of the neck are darker as shown in this basic viewing of the skull.

The skeleton's coloration comes from the fact that becomes stained overtime with the individual's blood, which is noted to be a rich, deep blue in color and highly potent in smell. This potent blood can be extremely dangerous to other species, toxic even as it was a primary defense against animals that would try to prey on them. While now they are apex predators of their homeworld, they keep this trait as they evolve to keep others at bay to try and do them harm.

This is why it's also always hard to find a full skeleton to study as most individuals are cremated upon death to avoid the toxic blood from pooling out and aerating into public spaces.

The eye sockets are also large and hollow to house the large eyes they possess as it both aids them from bright and almost blinding lights as well as being able to see in near pitch-black darkness. The top of the skull is lined with hard, boney crests that protect their heads from heavy blunt force damage, adding an extra layer of protection to the brain. Yet, the base of the skull almost appears hallowed and riddled with grooves, looking rather brittle to the touch. Yet, despite its brittle appearance, the bone is just as strong as the rest of the skeleton. This hallowed out base allows for the brain and extensive nervous system to fix itself comfortably about the individual's body; the grooves offering an opening for the growing nerve tendrils that sprout as they age.

The teeth on the skull suggest an omnivorous diet among the people, with the frontal teeth bearing sharper for grasping and shredding flesh and plant material while the back helps to grind down the tougher parts of said meals. However, their jaw strength is comparable to a human's, loosing strength over time as they no longer eat their meals raw as they had much earlier times. Yet, the still are sharp and tough enough to garner damage to any foolish individual to stick their hands or fingers in their mouths.

The skull is held up by a thin yet long neck, lined with nerve pikes at the bases to keep that connection with their extensive nervous system. These nerve pikes are extremely sensitive when they are connected to the nervous tissue, allowing a proper means of reaction time when situations go astray. Along the bottom of the jaw is also an extended piece of cartilage-like bone that lines itself along the neck for extra mobility and flexibility of said neck while also giving it the needed support to keep the head up.

Hands and Feet:

Next in connection to the skeleton is that of the hands and feet. While they do the same things any other creatures would do for them and bear similar characteristics to humans, they also harbor their differences as well.

All "Precursors" are born with the simple hand structure just like humans, four fingers and an opposable thumb on each to help them grip and hold items with ease. Yet, these hands also hold a few unique traits different from that of humans. Their feet are also quite different in structure as well, being partly digitigrade in formation as they walk solely on their toes and front of their feet. Each foot is lined with three large, clawed toes.

Yet, upon birth, infants are born without their trademark "claws" on both hands and feet.

Instead, the tips of their fingers and toes are lined with an extra layer of thick skin covering these "claws" as it keeps them from damaging their parent during the birthing process. These "claws" do not grow out until the infant reaches about 4-5 months in age, in which they soon begin to experience a "peeling process". This process is extremely painful for the infant, akin to teething if one could put it, as the skin begins to break apart and pull back to reveal the "claw" beneath it. These "claws" are actually the bones of the tips of their fingers and toes, sharpened out and hardened over time to give them their trademark defenses dating back to the earliest days of their ancestors.

Along with the fingers and toes, a "heel spike" will also form in the back of the foot at the base of the ankle. This provides an extra means of defense for the individual as they grow older with age.

And once they reach adulthood, these claws will be the most important and deadliest pieces of personal weaponry for the people against any threat they come across.

Fully formed claws will be completely pitch-black in color and hardened like stone, unable to break easily despite it being bone. These claws allow for easier grasp of objects and surfaces alike alongside their defenses. At the wrist there is also a small spike that forms as an individual gets older. While not as prominent as the heel spike, this little spike adds an extra means of defense IF one is able to land a blow on their foe, stunning them enough to make them step back if hit hard enough. Again, this is an old evolutionary call back to the earliest days of their ancestors.

Each hand and foot is lined with dark lines that resemble stripes. These stripes are actually nerves beneath the skin that line along the rest of their bodies, giving them a bit of extra feeling in their fingers and toes when touching with the skin itself or when picking up vibrations through the bone; allowing the body to react when signals are sent to the brain to alert it of what is going on.

"Hair" and Emotive Responses:

And in speaking of their nervous system, now is a good time to take a look at the tendrils on their heads that often resembles hair to outside species.

When looking at the "hair" on their heads, one would find that this is not hair but in fact tendrils connected to the base of their skull and back of the neck. These tendrils serve as an extension of their nervous system in being able to read their surroundings as well as emote themselves more discreetly. Each tendril is connected to an ultra-sensitive nerve spike that also connects directly to the brain, which in turn feeds the brain the proper information when receiving signals of its surroundings. And as an individual grows older with age, the nerve spikes grow along the tendrils to give them more time and means to better understand their surroundings.

This in turn also allows for an individual to regulate their emotive reactions, keeping emotions discreet to outsiders who may often see them as "cold" or apathetic.

However, this is more of a misunderstanding when it comes to communication between different species. As the "Precursors" have evolved to be discreet over time, they found different ways to express themselves that only those within their own species would easily understand. This reasoning for this silence communication can be found in this post here.

Yet, sometimes there are other indicators that can show to others when one is feeling expressive in their emotions. In times of happiness or joy, tendrils tend to wave about in an almost shy sort of way, the ends twisting about themselves as if they were tickled by their happiness. Others express their joy or affections to one another by entwining their tendrils with another, bonding with said person in a deeply emotional moment that can be shared between them. When angered or stressed, their skin dulls and their tendrils twitch as if they were the rattles of a snake's tail. And in times of extreme sadness or stress, their tendrils will curl close to their breast or twitch about manically as if trying to seek some semblance of self-comfort in their ordeal.

The natural markings on their bodies also tend to darken in their stress as well, indicating that they are not feeling well in the situation they are in. The same of their tendrils as they darken with color in high times of stress. Black tears will usually accompany an individual who is under extreme pressures of emotion, appearing almost ink like as it runs down their long features.

It is unknown as to why their tears are black, but some speculate that it was once an old defense mechanism in the early days of their evolution that helped keep predators at bay in which they would actually spray these "tears" at the faces of said threat to temporarily blind them and give them time to escape. Others speculate it is because they have become emotionally discreet that the tears can blend into their natural markings to give them less of an emotive appearance.

Body Markings:

And lastly come that of the markings on the body. While most of the markings are explained here and here, there is some additional info to be put about them when looking at the "Precursors".

One will note that the majority of the species almost looks to have the striped variety placed upon their being, lining the very same extensive nervous system that keeps them connected to their natural surroundings. But sometimes, there are few that are born with traits that go back to their ancestral roots and stay with them even long after these genes have not been seen in many.

When most "Precursors" are born, they harbor particular markings on the face around the eyes and nose that usually indicate their age. However, some adults keep these markings even well beyond the time of childhood. As adults back in their earlier days of their ancestors used to carry this trait as it kept their eyes and noses further protected from the intensity of the sun(s), the traits were eventually lost over time during the Golden Age Era when life was seemingly better off. But as time goes on and evolution takes it course, this trait seems to have made a comeback among some families.

Freckles are also another trait that is less commonly seen, doting the very stripes of their bodies to give them a unique speckled look. The variety of both traits depends entirely on the genetic makeup of an individual and will look vastly different from person to person.

Yet, as previously stated, markings do play a crucial role in communication between the species. And when one falls ill or is close to death, others will note that their markings are hardly to be seen, giving them an entirely ghostly appearance of pale skin. This usually indicates that their systems are failing them and are in dire need of medical attention or at the peak of death. Others who harbor severe depression also go through this, essentially pushing their systems into a state of unwillingness to live.

If noticed in time, others can be able to aid them and bring them back to health, offering a variety of comforts to make their last moments easier to go in peace or help them get better; a trait that is once again, predated back to the times of their earliest ancestors.

---

Okay, this is all I have for the moment but I am sure along the way I will have more. Sorry I had to keep a lot of the sketches basic but with my new job, I don't get as much time to do things when I want to. BUT, I do hope this helps in getting across some of the ideas I've had lingering about and why I do the things I do with my art and headcanons!

Just remember, these are purely headcanons and are to be as such especially for my stories! Its all meant in good fun! c:

[ladylamrian]

Fantastic Beasts ✨️

Female Main Character: Alex

Pairing: F!MC × Nik Ryder

Summary: Alex discovers another side of the supernatural world.

Word counting: 3.4K

Rating: General (Fantasy, Fun, Fluff, Magic)

With Harry Potter Hogwarts references added

Warnings: none

-> -> -> Full Masterlist here <- <- <-

Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to read, like, comment, or reblog my stories/fanfics. It means so much to me! Please inform me if you would like to be added/removed from my new Tag List.

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @lilyoffandoms ; @liviusofpella ; @secretaryunpaid ; @blackcatkita ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @rosepetals1 ; @mxdanni ; @peonierose ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @jdstar88 ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @stars-are-within-me ; @artbyalz ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; @choicesmonthlychallenge for Choices March Challenge (Prompt: Nature, Animals, Awakening)

Thanking @secretaryunpaid for edit beneath

Author's note: An old fanfic rewritten and expanded ✨️🦄🧚🏼‍♀️

After Nik led his girlfriend, Alex carefully through the dark woods, he finally removed the blindfold from her eyes. She gasped at the beauty in front of her. The fields were glade-green and the sound of chirping birds filled the air. Bees are murmuring in that strange cult hum and flit from flower to flower, surfing the short spaces as they go. The bayou was always so special for Nik, but this time he led Alex somewhere else, near the bayou. Mother nature is beautiful, but her eyes were focused on something else.

"Whaaa?! Are these...?"

"Welcome to the beautiful side of the supernatural and magical world, rookie. Forget your fears, nightmares and welcome this great side of this world.", Nik wispered and gently brushed her hair to the side while she got surprised of the sight in front of her.

Trotting towards them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Alex has ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly golden eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly-looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of them were held in the vast hands of a young man, who came jogging after the beasts.

"Nik!! How are you, my friend?"

"Hey Anton, I'm fine and you don't mind if I brought Alex along? She's new in this supernatural and magical world and didn't had the oppurtunity to explore the beautiful parts.", he introduced her to his friend.

Alex slowly stepped closer towards one of the majestic creatures and tried to touch one, but it quickly backed away.

"Are these Griffins?"

"No, Hippogriffs, but they're very similar to the Griffin with the horse rear replacing the lion rear. And that's Anton, my client and a good friend. A few years ago I helped him to track down the missing pegasi which were held captured by the Blight Brothers in Arizona."

"It was a dangerous mission, but you pulled it off. Nik, because of you not only the pegasi, also many other magical creatures were saved and gained back their freedom. I will never forget that.", the friend thanked the young nighthunter.

After hearing what Anton said, Alex gave her boyfriend a sweet smile, showing him how proud she felt. He shyly glanced back at her with a crooked smile on his face. Who knew that a young man giving the bad-boy-vibes with a dark past could be so golden at the same time? His heart, so pure and still he didn't like to show it and kept it hidden from the world. Risking his life to save others... Somehow she felt very grateful to call that man her boyfriend.

"Ummm, well, shall we head a little further to show Alex a few other species?"

"Wait, I want to pet this Hippogriff first before we go. Can I?", she gazed with pleading eyes. The friend immediately agreed.

"Sure. When humans approach Hippogriffs, a proper etiquette must be maintained to avoid danger. Hippogriffs were intensely proud creatures, and an individual must show proper respect by bowing to them, and waiting for them to bow in return before approaching. Eye contact should be maintained at all times, without a single blink. The Hippogriff should be allowed to make the first move. If offended, it might attack. Hippogriffs were tameable, but only by experts in their care like me. I'm a wizard. Although, Hippogriffs could also be fiercely loyal and protective of those who had earned their trust."

"Eeeek, I'm getting Harry Potter vibes from you right now. Nik, your befriended with a wizard which is soooo cool!!! Anton, can you do magic? Are you from Hogwarts?"

Nik chuckled because of the loud excitement of his girlfriend, while Anton got nervous and so did the Hippogriffs, but he quickly managed to calm them down.

"Raahhh!", one of the creatures answered in response.

"I can only do a little magic, because my main job is to take care of these creatures and no, I'm not from Hogwarts. Whatever that is."

"You're really doing a great job, Anton. Uuuhhh, but do I really have to bow to touch them?"

"Don't worry, these ones were well tamed by me. Just pet them, I'll hold them."

Again, she stretched her arm and placed her palm on one of the Hippogriff's feathers while Anton held it near her for support. She softly stroked the creature which stayed calm now and gave her a curious look. Even Nik decides to give it a try to pet it now.

"An amazing creature. Hey rook, you likin' it?"

"I love it, Nik. And I want to see more. Pleeeeeeease?"

Her puppy eyes and one "Please" already melted his heart and he asked his friend to give both of them a tour. The three of them walked further with the gigantic Hippogriffs following right behind until they reached the fields and the tiny house of Nik's friend. In the backyard of the wooden house, he showed them, the magical creatures, he has been protecting and taking care of before releasing them. Even keeping a close eye on them was important when the creatures were in the wilderness. To prevent any danger and to appear quickly for any rescue or help. Some magical animals even decided to visit Anton more often or even stayed with him, especially the way he gently cared about them.

"Anton, the bound between you and the magical animals... it's... it's amazing. Damn, it's outstanding!! And you're not even a fae which are already naturally bound with nature."

"Right said, Anton is the best!!", a mysterious voice answered.

Alex quickly turned around and realized that one of the Hippogriffs just... talked??

"Uhh, can Hippogriffs talk?"

"Uhhh, no. That was just a series of high-pitched whistling or piping notes like eagles always do. Hippogriffs are partly eagle as you can see."

"No, I... I heard real words coming from that bronze colored Hippogriff."

"Is that girl talking about me, Ash?", she heard the bronze colored creature answer again.

"I don't think so. Come on, let's eat something. I'm hungry.", the gray colored hippogriff talked now.

The gray colored beeing pulled at the long chains Anton was holding which were attached to it's thick leather collar and signaled him something. The young man immediatly gave in and got led by the Hippogriffs to see what they wanted. The wizard friend recommended Nik to show Alex a little bit around on his own. Nik's always welcome to his home. Then Anton left the two alone.

"I think Ash was hungry."

"Who's Ash?", Nik asked her.

"That's the name of the gray Hippogriff."

"Okaaaay, I don't remember Anton mentioning the name at all. Well, wanna see the pegasi next?"

She excitedly nodded and both of them were headed towards a field where beautiful winged horses enjoyed the fresh grass of the season and some of them even flew around. Before Alex could let out an excited shriek, Nik quickly covered her mouth with his palm.

"Shhh, we don't wanna scare them. Pegasi are mild-tempered, docile animals, unlike unicorns. A herd of Pegasi used to live in the Bayou, but now they're just a few of them. Since they're imbued with magic from heads to hooves, Pegasi are sometimes poached and sold to collectors or killed to be used for parts in spells."

"That's so sad, I'm glad you went to that mission in Arizona to save them. They're so beautiful and such majestic creatures, Nik. You know, I learned that Pegasus isn't a type of creature, it's actually the name of the winged white stallion from Greek mythology and while Pegasus was one specific creature, his name has often been used as a defining term for winged horses in general. Also, his role was to bring thunderbolts to Zeus."

"Damn, you're good. I love it when you speak intelligent stuff."

"Thanks. Just imagine that one day a pegasus will bring you your arrows."

"That would actually be cool, my intelligent girl."

"Oh Nik, I love it when you call me intelligent."

"Then why did you sometimes played the dumbass last year?"

His girlfriend gave him a playful nudge and he lets out a warm laugh after teasing her.

"But no, really, I like it when you praise me. You even once said that I'm powerful and strong. Like I'm no helpless princess anymore, waiting for her knight in shining armour or prince charming to come for rescue. And what you also said about the faes. That the faes need worship to the ground I walk on. But seriously, that line sounded very cheesy."

But Alex quickly realized that Nik's focus was somewhere else and followed his gaze. A white pegasus carefully trotted towards him. That majestic white stallion got carefully closer, but still watched the two of them from a safe distance. A crystalline droplet appeared out of nowhere and floated in the air beside the creature's eye.

By touching the tear, everything around Alex faded away and she find herself in an animalistic body. Having hooves instead if feet, gigantic feathery wings and the body of a horse. She saw a vision about the creature's past Everything in the perspective of the creature. The night had fallen already.

"Neeigh!"

Tied up with a rope, the pegasus was captured in a small cage in a dark room, seeking for food, fresh water and freedom like many other creatures around . Some of them are also the pegasi from it's own herd. The Blight Brothers have captured the pegasi after it left Anton's backyard to go for a flight.

"Don't worry pegasi of my herd, stallions and mares, I will find a way out of here.", it promised it's pegasi companions.

"We won't get free. I've been captured here for almost a week now."

The pegasi turned it's attention away from it's own herd and focused on the unicorn calling out. She was a beautiful mare, had white fur, a sparkly pink mane and a horn on the top of her head.

"My name is Sunburst, the leader of the pegasi herd in the bayou of New Orleans and I won't let any human steal our freedom from us."

"And as an leader you're still befriended with one human called Anton?! My name is Moonlight and I'm telling you, all humans are the same and..."

Their conversation got cut as a blond haired man suddenly began opening the cages and freeing all the captured animals in a hurry.

"Okay, time for everyone to escape before Scourge and the Blight Brothers catch us. Hurry off, to your beloved freedom!! Anton's going to be happy 'bout this."

"But... Isn't he working with the Blight Brothers?", the female unicorn wondered herself.

A feeling of happiness and hope appeared. One by one the young man released every creature from their cages and they immediately flew or ran towards their beloved freedom. When the last creature got freed, Sunburst, the pegasi leader suddenly discovered several men, the Blight Brothers appearing towards the human.

"You're a traitor, Carl Drogo!!", one of the men yelled at the animal rescuer.

"I'm not Carl Drogo, you bastards! I'm Nik Ryder, a nighthunter and your biggest nightmare!!"

As the Blight Brothers attack, the nighthunter kept fighting, threw punches and shot arrow after arrow to keep the bruisers distracted until the last creature made it's safe escape. But they're too many of them and they slowly began surrounding the bleeding hunter.

"Damn...", Nik silently cursed as he realized that he was in trouble. All the bruisers against him. He was alone.

But then... Sunburst, the pegasi leader came into action. Flying above the dangerous bruisers, it kicked and stomped with it's hooves to buy the hunter enough time to escape before leaving Arizona for good. And it worked!! While the animal kept the bad guys busy, Nik quickly took his chance to escape while looking after the winged horse. Making sure that it escaped too because he wouldn't allow it if it got captured again. And it worked!! Flying across the nightsky with the rest of it's herd, the leader of the pegasi hoped that the rest of the creatures and the mysterious nighthunter will be on their way back home too. Safely.

Then the memory of the underground trading ring dissipates around Alex like a mist and she found herself back in the woods in her own body. Without knowing, she was leaning against Nik. The white pegasi which the two of them were watching was already gone.

"Hey, what's the matter?", Nik, her boyfriend got worried and gently touched her cheek and leaned to make eye-contact.

"Aww, the pegasi is gone. And I couldn't even pet it, Nik."

"They're very shy, so it's gonna be very hard to pet one or even find one. I'm surprised that this one even dared to come that close to us. Well never mind, I can show you other cool creatures if you'd like. Maybe a tiny jackalope or some pixies?"

"How about unicorns?"

Sudden silence hang between them. After a moment he began to speak, but this time his voice heavy, jaws clenched and eyes drowned in her's.

"The hell!! I'm not even letting you near a unicorn, rook. They're dangerous and not like the ones from My Little Pony where everything is sparkle, glitter and rainbow. Unicorns are territorial and they attack whoever comes in their near unlike pegasi, rook."

"Not all are like that..."

"Oh yeah, met one before?!"

"Uhhh maybeeee..."

"Wait what?!! Where? When? Whyyy?"

"Uhhh, last month. But she was a friendly one and she even talked with me, relax. I guess beeing partly fae gives me the abbility to talk with animals and understand them. Isn't that cool?"

Without words, Nik gripped Alex softly by her wrist and pulled her with him through the dark woods, back from where they came from.

"Heyyyy, where are you taking me?!!"

"Headin' home."

"If you want to go home then leave, I want to explore..."

"Rookie, no."

"Rookie, yes!!"

"You never listen."

"You don't understand. Look how great this day begun and now you ruined the whole mood, Nik."

Gggrrll...

The girl bumped into Nik when he suddenly stopped walking after hearing a strange noise. Both of them got alert. A skeletal creature slinked out from behind the bushes and began hissing at the young couple. Nik protectively stood infront of her.

"Nik, what is that?!"

"Shhh, don't worry. These creatures have canine skeletons and are covered with moss or vines. They can be killed if their skulls or spines are destroyed."

"What do we do? You didn't brought your weapons along. How are we...?"

"You run, I'll handle."

"No way, Nik!! Not that again. Seriously?"

Nik tried to calm her down and pushed her away from danger, towards safety as the skeletal creature appeared closer.

"Gggrrll...", the skeletal creature aggressivly snarled.

Time seemed to slow down as it jumped in the air towards the young nighthunter and landed on him. Both crashed on the ground, the creature above the Nik who desperatly tried to escape its grip

"Gggrrll..."

The creature ready to strike...

"Nik!!", Alex panicked.

Without knowing, Alex stretched her arm, showed her palms where a light blast appeared and hit the moss creature hard. First the wood monster hestitated, then it decided to leave Nik and... to hunt his girlfriend down instead. This time, it lets a powerful shriek out while desperatly tried to signal her to run away.

"Ggggrrr..."

"Come here you freaky monster!!! You don't scare me at all. Let him go!"

Before the moss creature could reach her, Nik quickly leaped on the creature, preventing it from getting near her and at the same time letting out several strong whistles by pressing the tips of his thumb and forefinger together up against the tip of his tongue.

"Phhwwwht!"

While Alex got confused why Nik suddenly began to whistle, a majestic falcon appeared from the sky and flew towards Nik and the moss creature. It somehow began to help Nik by peeking angrily on the creature's skulls.

"Kack-kack-kack!"

Both struggling, while Nik and the falcon tried to fight it, but the monster kept biting and snapping to release itself from the hold. Alex had to do something quick before Nik gets more injured, the monster's claws made him already bleeding.

"Run, can't... hold... longer!", Nik desperatly begged her, but she decided to stay.

Alex remembered what had she learned in the fae realm and began to concentrate. Closing her eyes, she pictured a crystalline blade, radiant with golden light. Her fingers abruptly curled around the smooth, glassy warmth of a handle! After a while, as she opened her chocolate-brown eyes, she discovered to see a long, slender blade of light gleaming in her palm! She held her magical weapon with confidence and immediately knew what to do.

Swinging the weapon up and without losing more time, she sprinted towards the monster. With enough strenght while keeping a safer distance towards Nik and the mysterious falcon, she finally brought her sword down. Slashing through the creature's neck with a blow so hard, that the blade bit through the dirty ground.

"Hyyaaa!!"

The moss creature's body crumpled, twitching beneath her sword. Then, she picked up it's snapping head and blew it's glowing eyes like candles, and it's body fell still.

"Damn, that was hot.", Nik got impressed by his girlfriend.

Letting the creature go and letting her golden sword disappear with magic, the girl quickly hurried over to Nik who was still lying on the ground. Alex gently helped her boyfriend on his feet and assisted him to walk while the mysterious falcon flew away.

"I'm fine, it's just a little blood. Are you okay? Why didn't you ran away when I told...?"

"Because we're a team, remember? You told me that last year when I wasn't listening to you, right? And you're not fine, you're hurt! Let's get you somewhere safe. We are not far from Anton his house, right?"

"Yeah. And I'm fine, thanks."

The injured hunter gave her sly smile after she reminded him that they were a team.

"Nik, what was that before?? You whistled and then a falcon came... Uhh, how did...?? That was cool! Awesome!! That... That was... How???!!!!!", she couldn't believe what she just saw and asked him.

After a little silence, Nik finally spoke in a nervous tone while his eyes faced the ground as both of them were strolling towards the wizard's house.

"The thing is... The falcon and I share story. A past. When I was still living in Elijah's house in the woods, I found it. It was a tiny chick. Near it's nest I discovered two dead falcons, it's parents. And well..."

"Oh Nik...", she placed a hand on his shoulder for support. Afterall Nik his birthparents also died when he was a tiny child, so that little falcon chick reminded Nik of himself.

"Soooo yeah, I kinda raised the falcon. I named it, fed it, taught a few tricks and took care of it. Poor little fella' lost its parents like I did, so I had to do something. So just like Elijah took me, I took this falcon. Alex, you're the very first one I'm sharing this with. And please don't share this embarrassing story with anyone, especially not Katy."

"But it's not embarrasing, it's heroic. You're a hero, Nik. A protector. But I see... You don't want your tough guy act be ruined, huh? Oh my Nik, you're such a hidden softie and I love you.", she giggled and pinched his cheek with love.

"Ouch. Hey?"

"You're welcome, dear. By the way, what name did you even gave your falcon pet."

"It's not my pet, rook. It's a free living creature, a friend and well... I named it... I named it Arrow."

"Arrow? Just like the arrows of your crossbow??"

"Arrow. Because this bird flies really fast just like a shooting arrow. Like really really fast, rook."

"I see. Not bad actually, Nik. Definitly better than any nicknames you give. Or should I say Nik-names??", she giggled while Nik rolled his eyes after hearing that bad joke.

"Stop it, rook.", he grinned.

"Fine... Oh hey, Nik!!"

"Hmm?"

"Since I met your wizard friend today, I was wondering... What Hogwarts house would you like to belong to?"

"What kind of question is that? From where did you got that idea?"

"Just answer!! I'm curious to know."

"Well, I don't know. Never thought about that. Would a Gryffindor suit me?"

"Oh definitly, but I actually see you more as a Ravenclaw because you know a lot of things."

"Me? Ravenclaw? You think I'm intelligent??", Nik surprised by Alex's opinion, so she decided to explain it more.

Nik Ryder was indeed a very brave man with enough strenght and courage. Life made him tough, but he also showed his knowledge and intelligence. Several times he came up with new ideas, suggested what to do next and got into the leader role very well without noticing. By staying loyal to his companions and thinking about every next step, he lead his friends through adventures. He was the one and only who found out about Alex's missing father, her mysterious benefactor and that she was fae royalty instead of an ordinary human. Mysteries and puzzles solved all thanks to him, she explained.

"So yes, these are the reasons why I think a Ravenclaw would suit you too. Means I have a very clever boyfriend.", she praised.

"Oh yeah? Thanks, my dear girlfriend. And you're definitly a Hufflepuff.", he winked.

Thanking @secretaryunpaid for this beautiful and magical edit above. -> Full view here , when you scroll down beneath to find the monster and hippogriff <-

So credits to @jamespotterthefirst , for these beautiful templates which she created and I was allowed to use for my MC and LI. I also made some changes with the colors and added my own edits/pictures.

[symphonic-scream]

Here's a bunch more of the Gender Thieves

Futaba has the Thieves' Chat named "Fruity Bitch Parade" which, is fitting. They also assign each of the thieves a nickname as their contact name and shit just. They lightly haze them all it's a thing they do

So the Thieves at Shujin include Futaba, Ann, (A)Kira, and Makoto. Then Yusuke isn't in proper school they're in a conservatory, and Ryuji and Hifumi are at Kosei

So let's talk about the Shujin uniforms, ft Shiho and Haru!

Starting with Futaba, they wear the uniform normally, blazer buttoned up, skirt, but with bright green crocs, varying gamer themed socks, and with headphones around their neck

Kira! Blazer buttoned, black choker with a red heart, red headband, skirt rolled up once so it's an inch higher, knee socks, black loafers. Nothing too special, she tries to fly under the radar

Time for Ann. Open blazer, a volleyball team jacket under it, so it's red with a white zipper, red hood with the white inside. Black hair tie, wears the skirt a little high, I'm debating the knee pads. It would be funny if she wore them all the time, but, that's not realistic. And, pink runners, and the basic black crew socks

MAKOTO. At first it's canon Makoto, but then they get saved and come out and, well. Blazer is gone, instead it's an oversized blue plaid hoodie/jacket. They get their hands on some slightly large uniform pants, just big enough that they bunch up a bit, the crotch is lower, etc. They also wear the suspenders down, and some scuffed up dark blue vans type sneakers

Shiho is, canon, only she makes it to the end of the year. Thats all she's there the whole time

And, Haru. Our sweet boy. No blazer here, he subs it out for a pink formal sweater, a crew neck pull-over type. He wears suspenders under it, but you can't really see them. Just know they're there. His pants are always perfectly correct. He has some dress shoes too!

And. Psst. Makoto's suspenders? From Haru. Took his spares.

I have so much for Makoto and Haru since they're where this started. So, so much for them.

Makoto and Haru both have different favourite cuddle positions, and then there's one they both agree is amazing

Haru's favourite, especially after his top, is Makoto's head where his shoulder turns to upper arm, their arms wrapped snugly around his waist. It's the perfect position for him to admire their sleeping face, the cute little half smile, their little light snores, Haru adores it

Makoto prefers having their boyfriend on them like a weighted blanket. Lying between their legs, head over their belly, holding them like a giant pillow. Makoto loves to watch him sleep, and play with his hair. This position gives them the easiest access to both, while having Haru hold them like he's never letting go

And, of course, the compromise. Lying on their sides, Makoto tucked just under his chin, both holding the other so tight it's like they're one

Just. Makoto lying on Haru's bed in the gym uniform shorts and some T-shirt they bought with Ryuji post gym shopping, and Haru smiles from his desk. He loves them so much. Makoto finished their homework an hour before he did, and has been watching anime on their phone. The little Buchimaru socks.

Haru: hey, I'm done, didnt make you wait too long, did I?

Makoto: nah, but, you can still give me some kisses to convince me further?

And he carefully lies over them, and they share some lazy, sweet kisses

The Thieves in this are very used to their Emperor splitting their attention during meetings, texting under the table, while still helping plan things as if they weren't flirting with their boyfriend. It's a whole thing they're all low-key amazed

Also like. The only thieves that go by he being the little butch, bleached-hair nose-ring boy, and the prettiest most Gender one of them all is. A little funny to me (Makoto, Ryuji, and Yusuke)

Please. Ask me more about them I love them

[bear-durs-gate]

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Pairing: pre relationship fem!tav x astarion

Rating: M (to be safe since vampirism I guess)

Word count: 1,615

AO3

She dreamt. Dreamt of being in a boat out at sea, floating on silver waves in moonlight with nothing but wind at her back and stars in her hair. The crashing of waves tossed her to and fro but there was a sense of freedom. Of peace. But somewhere from above and below and behind her, she felt it. Eyes watching her. Breath, hot on her neck. Fear prickled and nipped at her nape, nudging her awake.

She jolted upright and nearly smacked heads with Astarion.

“…shit,” he muttered.

“Fucking hell!” She yelped and caught sight of him, teeth bared and recoiling while looking—what—like a school boy in trouble? Beautiful idiot vampire. Surely the guilty act was just a performance though. Hell, she’d play a part if she was caught doing such a silly thing. She hopped to her feet and he backed further away.

“No, no. It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

She almost laughed. Was he frightened? Of her? When he’s the one with sanguine sucking chompers? “Oh, so you weren’t hovering over me with fangs bared to take a bite? Just having a sniff were you?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you!” he continued, a bit breathy, “I just needed—well, blood.”

“Ah, yes, the old I wasn’t going to hurt you, just puncture your flesh and take a little sip line. I’ve never heard that one before.” She blinked with lifted brows. “My apologies for such an absurd assumption.” She smirked. “Besides, it’s glaringly obvious now that you need blood. It’s all making perfect sense now. Explains why you’ve been so incredibly slow.”

“Hey, now. I’m not that slow.” His features shifted from fake fear to frowning. “But you’re right. I am in need. I feed on animals but it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak.” He threw her a look that was probably meant for her to have pity. But all she felt was certain other things. Things she had no business feeling. “If I had just a little blood I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

It was cute the way he pleaded. She liked him like that, begging. She wanted to make him do a little more. How far would he be willing to go for her blood. Probably not far seeing as there was a camp full of sleeping possible participants. And he was just about to bite into her if she hadn’t woken up, but living in a bubble of a delectable fantasy seemed rather harmless for a moment.

She cut it off before it really began however. She needed to focus. He didn’t need to catch wind of her base desires. So, she’d put on her own show.

“Bravo. I would clap for you if I could, you always perform so elegantly but you know, I’d rather not wake the others with the encore. My dear boy, I would gladly say yes but I need you to know something first.”

“Yes, go on.”

“I must tell you—if you ever fucking stand over me like that again and wake me from my pleasant dreams with such a frightening stance—breathing on my neck like some spectral from the depths of my deepest nightmares—oh! There will be words—words to be had. A great deal of words. So many words, you will regret you have ears and be begging for someone, anyone—except for me because I refuse to dirty my hands with such grotesque tasks you see—to be chopping them clean off! And I promise you, such an exchange will be utter torment for you and not the pleasurable kind either.”

Astarion shifted from slightly concerned to amused to almost baffled. “So, you aren’t angry?”

“I’m angry that you didn’t just commit to the bit. A scary vampire needs blood to be strong and you’re always judging my choices but then you hesitated? If you wanted to make an ordeal of it, you could’ve sent me an invitation or something, allow me to improv if you needed a flair of dramatics. Give me time to memorize my proper lines. My heavens good boy, I was having the most pleasant of dreams and you had to go and ruin it—making it nightmarish because you could not simply take the bite. Hovering—ugh.” She shuttered. “I do not frighten easy, mind you. And angry is really the wrong word actually—disappointed is more suitable. Yes—very disappointed.”

“Are you saying I can have a taste? I got a bit lost halfway through your speech.”

“Yes.”

He smirked. “And here I thought I would need to be a little more convincing.” His face fell. “I even had a whole speech of my own prepared.”

“Of course you did.” Tav shook her head. “My apologies for disrupting the scenario you had rehearsed in your head but if you just asked me sooner then this could’ve played out exactly as you wanted. But no, you had to do it the hard way.”

“At best I thought you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He grew more serious as Tav folded her arms across her chest. “I needed you to trust me—and you can trust me.”

“Bullshit.” She unfolded her arms and wagged a finger at him. “I’ll stop you right there. Someone who wants trust doesn’t slink around in the dead of night trying to bite the ones they want to trust them. Come now, my dear boy, we both know this is a matter of you being caught and your words, oh they are very pretty, but unnecessary. Besides, I trust you. About as far as I can throw you.”

He looked her up and down, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’d say you could throw me quite far.”

“Probably. We could test it out tomorrow.”

“I’d really rather not but thank you. For the trust that is. And I only need a little taste. I swear.”

“A taste—a sample? A taste and how long will that last? No, no, that will not suffice. Feast my boy and recover your strength—though I do ask that you spare me, as you are well aware that I am the most elite performer and we can’t be burdening the others with walking my carcass about, puppeteering and propping me up until we happen across a goodly necromancer now can we?” She raised her brow. “No, we can’t. Or can we? Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Let’s roll on it shall we?”

She pulled a die from her pocket and tossed it on the ground. A solid one out of twenty. Her fate was sealed for the night. Astarion seemed very amused.

“Well—I suppose you could ask Withers to revive me or use one of Gale’s fancy little scrolls. Though, I do wonder how that will affect my skills—surely there’s some unnamed consequence for an impromptu revival and I do wonder what that might be, hmm. No matter! So long as I can talk, I can do what I must, so if you need my blood to optimize your performance, then my dear boy, you shall have it!” Tavelia tugged on his sleeve. “Now, get to it so I can get back to my dreams and we can carry on same as always—but different because you’ll be stronger and not so painstakingly slow, yes?”

Astarion hesitated. “Really? If you’re sure…”

“We are all consenting adults here. Unless you’ve changed your mind? Does one of our other campmates look tastier? Please say, ‘no, you’re blood is the most compelling. Smells like a finely preserved cheese only to be brought out and paired with the most expensive wine. In fact, you are so special, that I simply had to hover over you particularly just to have a taste. You were simply irresistible.’”

“Well, I wouldn’t have stated it quite like that. So, desperate.” Astarion smiled coyly then raised a brow. “And cheese? I don’t think I’ve ever compared blood to cheese. What a peculiar choice.”

“It’s improv, my good chap. Now let’s get to it, shall we? Don’t be shy.” She gestured to him, coaxing him to come closer. She even turned her neck, tilting slightly while brushing all of her pastel rainbow strands out of the way.

“You are making it weird.”

“Nothing is worth anything if it’s not at least a little weird.”

He shook his head. “Let's make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” He gestured to the bedroll.

Tav situated herself, lying on her back while reaching for her die and pocketing it. “I am as comfortable as I’ll ever be with a shred of fabric between me and the rock hard ground. So I’m ready when you are.”

She’d expected the pain and honestly she’d expected the stupid butterflies that fluttered throughout her stomach but she hadn’t expected to let out the most embarrassing moan. Desperate indeed.

“Oh, sorry,” she muttered but Astarion didn’t seem to notice or care as the blood flowed from her body. Astarion seemed wholly invested in draining her completely but at least he was being gentle about it. Cradling her head as he just kept drinking. And drinking some more.

He drank so much that she started to drift; dizzy and light drifting further into the numbing cold, darkness of night. She closed her eyes, holding back another idiotic moan. Concentrated on the way her extremities went from chilly to nonexistent at all. Maybe he was sending her back to the lovely little boat dream.

Yes, she was floating. Rocking. She was free.

At peace.

She was.

And then she was not.

[royalreef]

@lastingquiescence inquired: "Hey..." A low, voice could be heard coming from the tall feathered humanoid carrying a dagger. Empty white eyes staring upon the marine lady. He could easily be mistaken by a mindless monster if it weren't for his gentle voice. "Forgive me this is sudden but... wouldn't you happen to be a princess, would you?"

She does not even tilt her head. There is no offering of confusion, no hint of doubt, no slower dwelling upon the question to make it seep into her heart and soul, suck it up through her skin and leave a home for it to live within herself. Miranda does offer a flicker of her fins, a curl to the very ends of the shafts they sit upon, beams upon which the rest of the fin was constructed, but this is all. It's a measly offering, if this was supposed to be odd, or unique, or something that would have suggested that this wasn't just par for the course for Miranda.

But it wouldn't be too hard to suppose either, that Miranda is made of stranger stuff as well. After all, only one of them in this encounter is humanoid, and whatever cry of monstrosity the other carries feels moot against something larger than cry or creed, some vast shadow of experience, of existence itself, which exists outside of every other norm that could be clung to. Miranda is intolerable in her dimensions, utterly alien in her mannerisms. She smiles at the stranger, but this is the pulling of rigid lips unlike anything mammalian over a head built like a brick, long and low and solid-edged, and although perfect in its execution, it is still painted across a surface which no human smile was ever meant to touch.

She is something that makes the brain wheedle at instinct, her shape evocative of entirely different subsets than that which walks upright, where two legs are pillars upon which the rest of the body is supported, familiar dimensions that might have been comforting. She is the body of something different, more ancient when it was coined. The mind races first to animal, but churns deeper than even that, summons images of eyes seen glinting in the water, of a splash and a scream and silence. Of darkness and the things that live in the night, the reasons you do not walk by the river after dark, myths recited to children to ensure they never strayed too closer to the banks, where the land was steep and slippery and they might not come back home. The sensation of a faint something brushing against the inner edge of a leg as water is treaded comes, summoned, unwittingly and uneasily, slick and smooth and so brief that it could have been anything, would have been anything. Grasping hands in murky depths, the faint movement of something larger than life in the distance, the ripple of waves when no one else is around to see them.

Of course, Miranda is still just standing there. Her hands tuck up against her chest, their flat edge pressed smoothly up against her ribcage, offering streamlining. Her legs are short, vaguely uncanny as she stands there, spreading the digits of her back feet to spread her weight more evenly across the ground, clearly with some troubling detail that is not certain enough to give a name yet. Most of her weight is balanced with her tail, spread over the ground less like a proper train and more like a stray tree trunk which was felled in the path, and the rest is carried high in her neck and her head, hovering horizontal to the ground, far away from even the base of her tail.

There is certainly a crown on her head, gleaming slick and fetid, its three pearls crowning her brow burning sick holes into vision, hard and hurting to stare at the longer it goes on, the gold queasy in odd damascus marbling. This time, there is no cuff on her hand. There is no chain running parallel to her body, nothing binding up her tail as thick as the rest of her body, nothing muzzling the head as long as someone else's whole torso. In fact, this time she is quite mobile, and although she stills, there is no suggestion that she might stay that way.

"Yes, but of course!" she confirms, a little flick of the vowels in the back of her throat making them dance. Her voice is low, deep, rumbled in her chest in a way that no human voice was ever spoken or ever will be spoken. It slides through the ear, accompanied by glimpses of broad, triangular, serrated teeth in the mouth through which she speaks, and it touches none of the places language should touch, offers no comfort nor recognition of a self in all the ways she cannot pretend to be human, cannot even make such a suggestion to the idea.

Felids speak like this, maybe, through sandpaper tongues and fangs like steak knives, whispered through the long grass and telling their victims of the way the world will end before they break apart their skulls and expose this truth to them at their core. Cetaceans, perhaps, their voices breaking apart the sea floor with tectonic movement, quakes and tsunamis and geologic time itself flowing in a medium that was only ever intended to contain sound, pouring the experience of watching the formation of the heavens into the poor soul who dared to listen in until their heart pops from the weight. Neither is the voice of what the brain traditionally associates as a person.

Miranda, more aware of herself than anything else, rolls her eyes shut, fluffs the fins at the sides of her face. The tail swishes behind her, drags slow through the dirt with the effort to move something so massive and so thick, making a dry hiss against the ground from the contact. "Finally, someone who can recognize those of proper birth when they see one! I cannot tell you how long it has been — truly, no one here has any hint of proper conduct or manners, they are so very lucky that I am quite so humble as to permit their ignorance!"

[arollofbutcherpaper]

The whole "Without ugly in this world there would be nothing beautiful." (Dooku) is a nice sentiment that holds some truth.

But it should also be acknowledged that there can be beauty in ugliness, and vice versa.

One of the key non-movement principles of animation is appeal, not meaning that something has to be easy on the eyes, rather it is interesting to look at. Rango (2011) does an excellent job at making so many grotesque characters (Rango's neck is bent, Rattlesnake Jake has a tiny but apparent mustache, the chicken with an arrow in its eye, no character has proper posture, no one is well groomed, and no character is anthropomorphized enough so that you forget they are animals.) but it is still a beautiful movie because you believe that these animals are actually living in the Old West and are actually struggling to stay alive and that adds so much to the immersion.

Ty stuffed animals is a good example of the pursuit of "the best design" that has the opposite intended effect. Their first big product, beanie babies, drew their cuteness from simplicity. You give them a friend shape and two dots for eyes, that's all you need.

Their modern works reflect the pattern that mass produced children's products hold to, with a focus on ease, mass appeal, and oversaturation. You take a quick look and think "yeah that's cute", but a second thought and you realize just how uncanny it is, the eyes have been enlarged to the size of ping pong balls, every mouth is the same "3" shape based off of cats, glitter covers every convenient surface, and the body and head have been modified to best fit the neck into a child's hand. And for better or for worse, most kids won't give that second thought, I know I didn't, and though I have nostalgia for those huge eyed Ty's that I do have, I certainly do not plan on buying any more.

This is less about wanting to make everything ugly for the sake of authenticity/purism and more that I want all types of beauty to be appreciated.

[not-the-usual-suspects]

Sapphyra was going to kill someone. She was going to walk right out of this house, find an arms dealer (illegal or not, she didn't rightly care), go out into the North District and start gunning people down-

She stopped, took a deep breath before hitting the heel of her palm against her forehead several times, sending pain shocking through her head, which was the intent. She took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as she used both hands to grip the back of her neck, shifting in place to avoid the shards of glass down at her feet.

Right. That was just the tip of the iceberg in all of this.

So much had happened in the past three months, she couldn't handle much more of it on her own. Wily's forces coming to her door almost every week, checking one complaint about child abuse (she was still trying to figure out who phoned that in), to another about animal abuse (gods help whoever said that, regardless of intent), and several more about scamming people (it wasn't her fault they got a reading that they paid for in advance, that ended up not telling them everything was sunshine and roses in their life).

Her boys, as much as she loved them, were driving her up a wall. Davion was the most self-actualized and, dare she say, calm of the five of them (which was more surprising giving how his formative years had gone before she and Rusty adopted him as a young teen), but everyone else seemed to have perfected the knack for getting on her absolute last nerve.

Lucien was in a depressive funk because, despite all of the businesses claiming to be looking for a middle-school aged intern with an interest in the stars and astronomy, refused to even bring him in for a second interview. Zak had recently been diagnosed with ADHD, and it was even more of a headache on top of her own because the doctors were still tampering with his medication every week to figure out the proper dosage he needed. Max was sick with the flu again, but it was some of the least of her worries, given everything else (that and Max was usually sick in bed once a month, so this was just par for the course). Alex was trying to help Zak, because he also has ADHD, which led to the two getting sidetracked with treatments into gaming into imagination-fueled adventures. Which she never had a problem with, but the homework was piling up, especially over this weekend.

Zak was having more outbursts because of the change in medication, which the doctors said it would take two to three days for any changes to be noticeable, and that couldn't come soon enough. She had to fight with him to get his chores and homework done, which almost devolved into a shouting match if Davion hadn't been nearby to help mitigate the conversation.

She was high-strung, running on fumes, and wishing that Rusty would just get home already, when she heard the crash upstairs where her shop was set up. She had run up from the basement (converted into their home) to find one of her cats running down the hall, and the most recent piece she'd had imported for sale in a heap of broken colored glass on the floor.

And that had almost been the last straw in her sanity. She let out several deep breaths through her mouth, trying to rationalize that everything would be okay. Rusty would be home by the end of the week, and she could handle it.

The door opened, the electronic bell chiming and the second note happened to be just off-pitch enough that another spike of irritation raced through her. Because despite all of this, she still had a job to do.

"Hi, sorry about the mess," she said, trying to sound cheerful as she knelt down to pick up the larger pieces of glass by her feet. "If you can give me five minutes to get things sorted out, I'll be able to help you."

There was no response, and her immediate first thought was that one of the boys stepped out to check on something. Her second thought was that it was one of Wily's Watchmen, standing there and observing her before hitting her with another complaint.

"You need more than that."

The voice made her stop. She stood upright and turned to find Rusty standing there, his backpack on one shoulder as he looked at her. His expression was stoic, but she could see the concern hidden in his eyes.

She set the glass down on the table, her hands shaking as her composure began to waver. "You... you're not due back until Friday." It was all she could muster in her confusion.

Rusty shrugged, and she could tell he was at least amused by her choice of words. "They let me go early," he explained, "said it was because I had a 'family emergency'. I wasn't going to argue with them since I could tell how stressed you were over the phone."

She shook her head, not caring at all that he set his backpack down on one of her tea tables, since nothing was on it, anyway. She could feel her lips quivering, tears stinging her eyes as he continued: "Now, do you really need five minutes, or do you want to take twenty?"

Sapphyra couldn't really hold it back anymore. She did her best to choke back a stressed sob, leaning forward and burying her face against him. He chuckled, rubbing her back in a soothing manner, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Twenty minutes, then."

[just-some-random-blogger]

He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it.

Damn that's how aegon dies. Rip aegon he would have loved happy hour

He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

Okay get it I guess

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head. 

Okay homicidal maniac 😃👍

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold. 

NO CUZ IM USUALLY SO SILLY FOR BREEDING KINKS BUT I MUST NO LONGER BE OVULATING HUH HAHAHAHAHH CUZ WHAT THE FUCK WAS RHAT

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him.

Opportunist recognizes opportunist amirite

[...] a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

😀✋ ur sick. What am I a dog?

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him. 

you remember a lot for someone who doesn't give shit bruv dafaq?

He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life.

LIKE I JUST FUCKING SAID

Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be. 

This fucker still goin dafaQ

The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children. 

I've realized boys don't really grow up, they just get louder, bigger and more audacious

The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was. 

Damn, you can scream through a headache???????????????? 😰😰😰 GO OFF IG?????

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice. 

Damn, aemond has sonic hearing or smth 😭😭😭 that or she just slammed that book HARD

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt.

First of all, shut the fuck up

“Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him.

Second of all, I thought you didn't give a shit

When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃👍 ok I fucking hate him this is gross but I'm sorry to say I'm into choking let's see how I feel after folks

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot. 

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

I dont remember if I was disgusted or kinda 👀 with him HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHHAHAHHAHAHHA

He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU RAT ASS STRING OF PISS THATS LITERALLY YOUR FAULT YOU CHOSE HER MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT DAFAQ OH NOW IF IT ISNT THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS

Oh ho ho but you'll be glad to know you stupid fucker one eyed freak aemond that women you fuck are perpetually changed because of your shlong and cum. Yessir!! Esp if they get pregnant 🤩 like your DNA has the capacity to borderline alter her fucking DNA 🥰FOREVER🥰 isNT THAT AMAZING?!?!!!!! WOWWWWWWWW HOW GREAT FOR YOU U SACK OF SHIT. ID PULL OUT REFERENCES FOR THIS BECAUSE WOMEN SHOULDN'T DATE UGLY LOSERS FUCKING HELL AS IF WOMEN DON'T HAVE IT BAD ENOUGH But I'm lazy

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

Ok first of all... I'm kinda into being a rag doll daddy 😋 OOP I KNOW I KNOW BITE ME. second of all, AEMOND BROKE HIS TOYS AS A CHILD CANON? HEADCANON? IDK IDK I feel like he would take care of them UNLESS they were hand me downs from aegon, in which case aBSOFUCKINGLUTELY DESTROY THEM. But but also I kind of imagine him being look mother, I am so much better than 🤮ae🤢gon🤮

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him. 

Your honor I have nothing to save rather than 🫦🫦🫦🫦 ooh into choking are we daddy 😋😋😋

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?” 

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

Damn he's kinky lmao but what do you expect from someone who grew up with a family wreath

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–” 

She like me fr

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

🙄 simp :p

To be completely clear, I really liked this ok. This is just my honest reaction lmao. You write beautifully with so much detail 😔 I wish, ya know

foxfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in. 

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head. 

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold. 

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a fox, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him. 

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be. 

And so it shall be. 

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children. 

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was. 

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late. 

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice. 

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet. 

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you. 

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot. 

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.” 

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.” 

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders. 

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him. 

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there. 

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him. 

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head. 

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it. 

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–” 

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough. 

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”