#i...choose...to bind myself to you....

[kazayu]

thinking about the natsuyuu dub and "you are free" *pans to matoba* "bound to no one" *pans to natori*

[morlock-holmes]

To quote myself, imagine if you bought a pocket calculator at the store in 1980, and then in 1981 Texas Instruments sent you a letter saying, "The terms of use for our calculator have changed, in order to use the calculator you agree to waive any right to a jury trial or class action suit against Texas Instruments or any of its parents or subsidiaries. Continued use of the calculator constituted a binding agreement to these terms. If you do not agree you must immediately stop all use of your pocket calculator. No refund will be provided."

Seriously, writing that out really made it strike me even more how utterly abusive the modern age is to consumers.

The EULA, or End User License Agreement is a binding contract which one party may unilaterally change at any time for any reason and in any way they choose; the counterparty may not negotiate or change the terms of the contract and their only remedy in the case of changes that they don't like is to withdraw entirely from the contract.

Such contracts govern all use of software, which, since software governs the majority of our lives, mean that they now govern the majority of our lives.

Want to order a pizza? Better send the legal contract with the pizza company to the lawyer you keep on retainer and after looking over the documents he'll advise you on the legal ramifications of the pizza transaction.

Oh, you don't keep a lawyer on hand to advise you about ordering pizza or playing video games?

Well, then you can't complain if you don't like something buried in page 20 of the contract you signed with the pizza delivery company.

One of the massively dehumanizing things bureacracy does is demand something that is in practice impossible, like, "Keep a lawyer on retainer to scrutinize the terms of every pizza delivery contract, video rental, major appliance, and video game you interact with." and then condescendingly tell you,

"Well, if you don't do something as simple as that, whatever happens next is *your fault* and blaming someone else shows a weakness in your character."

One of the confounding problems if you want to argue with people who have some kind of luddite leanings is that, well, new technology feels nowadays like an imposition from hostile forces who know that they have you over the barrel because, uh, it is that thing. It is deliberately designed to be that thing.

I like having a cell phone. I hate waiving my right to a jury or to participate in a class action lawsuit. I would pay more, as a consumer, for a phone contract that did not have a binding arbitration clause. I couldn't find one.

So I decided that owning a phone was the lesser of two evils, and that will now be treated as a free choice which I have no right to complain about.

After all, if I wanted the right to join a class action suit I could simply forgo phone service and conduct all communications by the post.

And since I am allowed to choose whether I wish to have legal rights or a telephone, I am not allowed to complain about missing one or the other. After all, *I agreed* to give one of those things up :) :) :) :)

I think this move towards mass abuse of consumers really is one of the more underrated factors in, say, modern American politics.

[anneapocalypse]

The ship dynamic of "I love you but I will always choose the world over you. I love you but my conscience binds me to the greater good in a way I can never escape. I love you but I would sacrifice you to save the world if I had to, even though it would kill me and I would never forgive myself. I love you and a part of me wishes that I could be the kind of person who would sacrifice everything for you. But I'm not, and I never will be, and if you're going to love me I need you to understand that."

[bob-artist]

Hi, New People?

For some unfathomable reason, Tumblr has decided to suggest my blog to brand-new accounts to follow, so I've had a crazy influx of followers who, of the ones that are genuine accounts, probably have no idea what they've signed up for. (sorry.)

Oh, and I also have some new bittern-loving followers who have a slightly better idea but might not know the whole story!

So, here's your chance to escape, if you so choose.

Anyway, I'm Bob! I've been here since like 2012. I mostly make comics, but I also do some prose writing, game dev, and general shitposting. Should you choose to continue following me, you will be subjected to such content as

Canada geese.

Like... a LOT of Canada geese.

Also ferrets, the love of my life. And other art and general musings about my favorite animals, including but not limited to bitterns, grebes, pheasants, parrots, crayfish, eels, every single other type of mustelid, alpacas, etc.

But, because I can't be bothered to make myself a consistent "brand," I also make

Very Gay Comics.

I can't emphasize this enough, because I kinda suspect all those plumbing company blogs didn't know this before following me. I make very gay comics.

I'm working on a new webcomic called Into the Smoke that's gonna launch soon. It's about a gay medium who binds himself to a killer ghost, and I think my new follower with the car financing blog is gonna love it.

Lots more on that soon.

Anyway, I don't want to make a super long post. I just want to make sure y'all understand that if you follow me, you will get

Canada geese

and

Very Gay Comics.

Cool? Cool.

[dark-corner-cunning]

Transmutation Warding: Feeding Off The Haters

• Welcome Back, Seekers! Within my local coven, we’ve turned our focus to warding and protection magick as we prepare for the year ahead. I adore transmutation magick for warding! It’s one of my favorite ways to craft shields for myself, my work, my growth, and my success. Instead of constantly bracing for every hex, evil eye, or ill wish, this approach flips the narrative. Transmutation wards work proactively, taking any negativity sent your way and alchemizing it into fuel for your growth and power. Why waste energy defending against haters or uncovering their identities when you can let their spite feed your fire? Let them send their malice—it’ll only make you more powerful.

As always, take what resonates with your spirit and weave it into your own unique magick! My spells and workings are here to spark your creativity and inspire your craft. ✨

--------

Tools & Ingredients:

1 black candle (to absorb negativity)

1 purple candle (for transmutation and spiritual power)

Thread or Cord (any color)

A mirror (to summon your Fetch Spirit or reflect your essence)

1 clear quartz crystal or any charm you’re called to that can be left on your altar or within your space -  As a subtle sentinel of the ward’s power, clear quartz is a cherished ally in magick. Its ability to be easily programmed makes it a perfect vessel for your intention, while its amplifying nature ensures the energy of your working radiates far and wide. To the untrained eye, it appears as nothing more than a beautiful crystal resting upon your altar or within your sacred space—a discreet guardian cloaked in plain sight, silently weaving its protective spell.

Optional: Chalk or something to draw a circle (for creating a sacred boundary to hold the enchantment of your crystal or charm. If chalk is unavailable, let your finger become the wand. You can also use salt or any symbols you would like to use to draw out a circle.

--------

Preparation:

Cleanse your workspace and tools with smoke, salt water, or another method of your choosing.

Candle preparation, take your black candle and anoint it with a neutral oil, something simple like canola oil—or any oil you feel connected to for protection. Once it’s dressed in oil, sprinkle it with herbs known for protection, such as basil, bay, black pepper, cinnamon, or clove—or any protection herbs that resonate with your magick. For the purple candle, I like to use a neutral oil as well, then dress it with herbs that are perfect for transmutation, like lady’s mantle and yucca. Along with those, I often add a pinch of herbs that represent success and abundance—and don’t forget to include a bit of your hair, fingernail clippings, or something from your person to taglock the magick, connecting the work directly to your energy. Then bind the candles together with some thread or cord.

Binding the Candles:

Take the black and purple candles and begin winding the thread around them, chanting this, or create your own:

"I bind these flames, black and purple entwined,

Protection and transmutation, powers combined.

Through thread and flame, my will takes hold,

To guard my essence, fierce and bold."

You don't have to go all out like I did with those massive candles. Honestly, a couple of chime candles will do the trick if you're short on time.

3. Place your mirror above the center of your altar or working space, positioning it to reflect either yourself or the flickering flames of your candles (refer to the caption below the next picture for more context). Let it serve as a portal, amplifying the energy of your work. Arrange your candles in a fire-safe dish at the center—I often favor a trusty aluminum pie pan for this purpose.

4. Hold your crystal or charm in your hands, letting your energy flow into it. Visualize your purpose, your will, and your desire imprinting itself upon the object. Once your intention feels vibrant and alive within the crystal or charm, move it in a clockwise circle around the candles, envisioning it connecting to the fiery energy of your working—like a thread weaving them together.

5. When the circuit feels complete, place the charged crystal or charm before the candles. Now, cast a circle around the entire space, sealing in the energy. You can do this energetically, feeling the boundary forming with your will, or use chalk, salt, or symbols drawn ahead of time to anchor the space. This sacred boundary holds the power of your work, ensuring that your charm becomes fully and beautifully enchanted. And now, it's time to spark the flame on them candles.

I used a selenite tower in this picture as a stand-in to show where your crystal or charm should be placed. This isn’t the actual charm I used, but it gives you an idea of the setup. You’ll also notice my altar mirror hanging just above the space, perfectly positioned for the energy work. If hanging a mirror isn’t an option for you, no worries—simply place one in front of your working area instead. The reflection is what matters most!

--------

Casting The Ward:

Lighting the Candles:

With the bound candles before the mirror. Light them, starting with the black candle, then the purple, and then chant this, or create your own:

"Black flame of shadow, guard and protect,

Purple flame of spirit, energy redirect.

Before this mirror, realms align,

My (Fetch Spirit/Reflection) carries this spell through time."

Incantation of The Ward:

Face the mirror and focus on your reflection, summoning your Fetch Spirit or the reflection of your empowered self. Chant this incantation, or create your own:

"Anyone who cannot honor my essence,

Respect my growth, or stand in my presence,

Be it through disdain, envy, or intent,

Their fate is sealed, their malice spent.

Their energy flows to me, transformed,

Into strength, abundance, success reborn.

As I feed upon their misguided spite,

They are drained by their own blight.

Across all realms, my shield is spun,

Now and forever, this spell is done."

Seal the Energy:

Visualize the mirror reflecting the power of your spell into the cosmos, spreading the ward across all realms. Allow the candles to burn fully if possible, or snuff them out respectfully.

I love this picture! The flames intertwine perfectly, mirroring the energy I was aiming for in this ward of protective transmutation.

--------

Aftercare:

Charging your crystal or charm: Leave your charm on your altar or in your space as a representation of the ward. Each full moon, place it under the moonlight to recharge its energy, visualizing the ward growing stronger with every cycle.

Mirror Care: Cleanse the mirror after the spellwork with smoke or moon water to ensure it remains a neutral tool for future workings.

Final Words:

Maintain your crystal or charm as a talisman of your protective transmutation ward and remember that this ward will work continuously as long as you charge it and feed it with belief and intention.

Stay Wild, Stay Magickal, & Keep Seeking, Seekers!

[rederiswrites]

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

[morgaine-la-reveuse]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but:

It is absolutely fine to use a label, only to realise it doesn't suit you anymore. Labels aren't there to bind you to them. They serve as a way to better describe how one feels and what ones lived experience can be like.

I had two pipelines of relabeling myself simultaneously.

From bi to lesbian, and back to bi.

From asexual to demisexual (because I thought, that one day, maybe I feel this kind of attraction, as sex-ambivalent and oscillating were terms I related with, and still do), and back to being asexual.

Does that make me less sapphic or a-spec? Absolutely not.

And to be honest: I still haven't figured out if I'm demiromantic or aromantic. And that is perfectly fine. We don't own anyone an explanation, but ourselves.

If the label felt good at that time, but doesn't anymore, let it go and take the one that feels more fitting. ♡ We are human beings. We are allowed to grow. You are valid, no matter which label you choose.

[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part two

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part: receiving the Princes at Highgarden and a little flashforward.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist: The Black Dread part one: read here part three: read here

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, more set up, depiction of anxiety, i think that's it and that's suspicious

You winced when the seamstress pinched your waist again while hemming the gown you modeled in front of a trio of mirrors atop a pedestal. "Apologies, my Lady," the woman with a heavy Braavosi accent excused with a quirked thick brow, "I appear off my clock, think I am seeing double."

"Expected after such long travels," you nodded in agreement. "Perhaps we should pause to let you rest, we can resume later - "

"No, no, nope, we have no time," the jittery ginger Maester Keiff Foral insisted, hands rushing in a flurry from where he was pacing behind you, "we have to get your dresses done now before the Princes arrive!"

"This is so superficial - "

"Stand straighter."

You huffed, "Tell me in earnest, why are we even entertaining these proposals?"

"Because war - "

"Not our war."

"Ours now that you've claimed a dragon!"

You sighed, just watching Madam Oraena Ostiris work in the reflection. "So we come to it," you whisper.

"To what, child?"

"You are angry I have claimed Balerion!"

Maester Foral pursed his lips, moving around to sit at the available table. "Angry? At you? I am weary," he admitted. "Bringing The Black Dread here, it has put a target on us, my Lady. The Greens and Blacks both were content to look the other way, we had declared ourselves neutral; they need Harrenhal more than they need Highgarden - and Oldtown's on their own, but now? Now, your dragon has beckoned them to our door."

"I can always refuse them," you mused.

"I do not know how the Princes would handle rejection from you in that dress," Foral chuckled. "Your father would choke if he saw you, my Lady."

"I suppose it is good he will not see again," you sighed, petting the material of your new gown. It was modern, chic, new; albeit revealing and daring, it was different. "I suppose I should ask, is there news?"

"No, my Lady. Your father makes no change."

In the tallest tower of the Highgarden Keep, your father, Lord Paramount Tyrell, laid in a bed; unmoving, unwaking, still breathing, as he has for the past 4 years following a swift and sudden infection. Your Targaryen Princess mother passed just a year prior to King Viserys, leaving you to inherit the lands, riches, titles, and all that comes with Lordship Ladyship of The Reach. This was until your brother, Ryden, now ten, came of age in another four years. Technically, he could assume Lordship at ten-and-three, but it was so stipulated he would remain under education until ten-and-four, pending your father's health.

"What do you think I should do, Maester?" You asked stiffly. "Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys both fly for us this day, what should I do?"

"Well, what feels appropriate?"

"As if that matters," you scoffed. He waited as you and Madam Ostiris chittered over your dress; making necessary changes in posture to let the seamstress hem and sew.

"Humor me, pretend it does," Maester Foral spoke to you through the mirror.

You frowned, rolling your eyes, "Well, ideally, I'd have time to get to know them both before being forced to choose who I want to bind myself to for life."

"Reasonable."

"For the love of the Gods, be helpful, Keiff, or get out," you huffed. "Do not just agree with me, please."

He chuckled, "All right, all right. You are the acting Lady of the House, you hold more power than you realize, and you now ride the largest dragon in the known world. So, receive them both and offer accommodations for the week their mothers have bartered for, and in that time, make clear you wish to spend equal time with them both before you declare for either side."

"I'm able... To do that?"

"Why not? If Rhaenyra can be Queen, why can you not take a week to get to know suitors you might possibly wish to spend your life with? Times are changing, my Lady, just look at the dragon you now ride, the position you hold." Keiff paused to take a long, deep breath, "You know, all-in-all, perhaps this will not be too bad."

"How so?"

"I hear both princes are rather becoming."

Your eyes rolled as Madam Ostiris snickered and softly mused, "Sounds as if, at least, whoever you choose will be someone pleasing to look at. There are worse fates, worse prospects of husbands, my Lady."

You hummed in acknowledgement, admiring your figure cut in the dress, directing to Keiff, "Do me a favor, old friend?"

"Of course, my Lady, anything."

"Keep me logical. If I fall prey to emotions, keep my head straight - I want to make the best, most logical, strategic pact for our people as possible."

"Do not be so pessimistic. Love can be so - "

"This isn't about love, it's about strategy, and at the very least, compatibility. A single week to decide who I will spend this life with, a week to consider which scales I tip in this war. This is about survival and stability, Maester, not love."

He sighed, watching Madam Ostiris tighten the laces of your exposed corset in a finishing touch to your attire. Since you were a babe, Maester Keiff Foral served your family; a surrogate father, nanny, tutor, friend, brother, the fun uncle you run away to when pissed at your parents. He hated how repugnant you sounded at love - wanting that magic for you, never wanting your marriage to be akin to a sales transaction.

Maester Foral, however, knew you to be a noble and honorable woman and if duty compels, someone who would agree to a marriage pact for other's benefit. So, he wasn't surprised by your determination to do your duty, but the way you spoke, the hostile acid used when speaking about marriage, about love - it saddened him. He knew you had so much love to give with nowhere to put it, nor were you equipped to accept authentic love - let alone give it a chance to let a flame catch and ashen.

One of the servants entered the chamber, hesitating only a moment before informing, "There's been a dragon sighted, my Lady. The watchmen predict no farther than 10 minutes from our location."

"Thank you," you breathed, Madam Ostiris finishing her work, allowing you time to finish prepping to your pleasure. "Maester Foral, please, uh, gather members of our court to the Throne Room. We'll receive the Princes. Oh, we'll need their rooms finalized, please, send some maids to double check the guest chambers are ready, as well. Ensure they're in separate wings."

"My Lady," he agreed, bowing out of the room to go do as you asked while you heaved a grand huff of breath.

There came a long pause as you looked at your dress, nodding in approval. "It becomes you," Madam Ostiris noted casually, packing up her sewing kit.

"Hmm?" You hummed.

"Power," she smirked.

"She's right," a voice chimed, Grandmother Celia came into the room; lips spread in a smirk, hands clasped before her. "Power becomes you, sweet petal," she chuckled. "That dress is exquisite."

"Madam Ostiris is a genius," you complimented, stepping off the pedestal. "I'm glad you're here. Tell me," your arms spread in bravado, "is this appropriate to meet our royal convoy in?"

"I would say," she approved, petting the skirt you wore. "Thank you, Madam Ostrich."

"Ostiris," you swiftly corrected with a smirk. "Madam, you've been shown your quarters, yes?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you."

"Thank you," you dismissed softly, watching her scoop her personal sewing kit into her arms and scurry out of the room. "Grandmother," you directed, pouring a goblet of sweet wine, "would you attend today's affair with me? I do not wish to stand alone."

"Maester Foral will be there."

"I would feel stronger with another Tyrell at my side."

She chuckled and took your arm, patting it in assurance. "I will always stand with you, my girl," she assured. "Are you prepared for their arrival?"

"As best I can be. I feel as if I am standing trial."

Celia chuckled, watching you take a nervous gulp. "To what crime?"

"Claiming to be a Targaryen is a heinous declaration, bordering on a punishable offense. None believed me, said I did not look akin to my claims; now I ride Balerion and am fielding marriage proposals from Dragon Princes. It's as if I am defending myself from tension that brewed in my mother's generation, and none of it feels real."

Celia nodded, "And yet, you carry this responsibility beautifully."

"Begrudgingly," you corrected with a smirk. "Shall we?" You finished your wine, setting the goblet down and offering your arm to her withered hand.

"To the Throne Room?"

"Courtyard," you corrected. "I intend to meet the royal envoy."

"Then we shall meet inside," she decided, "there's no chance I'm traipsing through the mud. Nor nearing your beast."

You agreed, watching her part as you were swept up by a swarm of maids and guards all escorting you towards the front of the Keep.

"My Lady," your usual lady's maid rushed up to you, "there's a dragon - "

"Yes, Eyme, I'm aware," you smirked, waving her to follow. "Did you have the guest chambers made up?"

"Yes, my Lady, in the East and West wings."

You nodded, "And the kitchens?"

"Stocked and preparing tonight's welcome feast," Eyme confirmed. The winds swept your dress skirt back when the doors opened, surging down the stairs as more of your Household Guard joined the procession.

"Open the gates," you commanded, leading the way out of the Keep. Things seemed relatively calm as the dragon in the distance was a growing speck, but then, the peace shattered when Balerion lifted his head and released a loud, reverberating growl. "Shit," you muttered, "stay here, stand at the ready!"

You rushed to your dragon laying in the valley beneath the Highgarden Keep, trying to use broken High Valyrian but making absolutely no sense - turning into a blubbering mess out of panic. There was no true calming your beast, especially when he lifted onto his feet and bared his teeth in threat. You cursed again.

Balerion stretched out, making you keep pace at his shoulder as the distant dragon drew closer. "You know them?" You asked The Black Dread casually, sighing and patting the scaly hide of his ankle - the only place you could honestly reach. "Is it a familiar smell?"

He grumbled and in truth, you had no honest idea if he understood the Common Tongue or not - but after so many years, perhaps he did to an extent.

"They're guests," you warned your dragon, who breathed heavily; shoulders hulking, leering in threat as the other dragon became more defined. "They're kin," you sighed. "One is your old rider's son, and the other, his grandson. Did you ever meet her? The Black Queen, Rhaenyra? Daughter of Viserys?"

Balerion huffed and you smirked, successfully distracting him. "I haven't either," you told him. "We'll judge them fairly, yes? You sniff out their dragons, see if they smell deceitful." When he grumbled, you patted his hide again, "Good lad." The dragon began it's decent, you musing, "Here we go..."

The first dragon that touched down was tiny in comparison, your curiosity peaking when another dot was spotted in the distance. "Easy," you told Balerion, "Vermax is young, he's not a threat." Your dragon grumbled as the dark haired Prince dismounted. "Vhagar approaches, she's who makes me nervous. Remain vigilant, that's a good lad."

You did not move far from your dragon, standing a few paces beside him as his head leered in an arch to watch the exchange as you faced the Prince. His dragon leered at your own; hissing and spitting, backing up a few paces as you smirked. When he was close enough, you greeted, "Welcome to Highgarden, my Prince."

"Lady Tyrell," he halted himself, eyeing Balerion with mistrust. "What a pleasure it is to make your formal acquaintance. I am Prince Jacaerys Velaryon."

You relaid your full name, using your manners to ask, "I trust your travels were safe?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you," he nodded, clearing his throat. "Though I regret to ask - "

"Vermax will be provided ample feeding," you smirked, clocking his breath of relief. "We've prepared for your arrival... And mine own, I suppose."

"I've often wondered, how much does The Black Dread consume?"

"Enough to feed several villages," you chuckled, glancing at the large head that dropped beside you. You laid an arm on him in a show of affection, "He's very good at self sustaining; though, I buy his love by feeding him livestock. I hope it makes up for my inability to speak High Valyrian."

"Perhaps we could arrange some lessons," he smiled prettily.

"That would be appreciated," you nodded. "In fact, I was hoping for your opinion on a tutor, while you're here. I'd like to learn of my heritage, but being able to communicate with Balerion is paramount."

"Of course, my Lady."

You watched as Prince Jacaerys was welcomed into your court as Vhagar eventually made her descent. You required a moment or two to collect yourself, swallowing nervously in the presence of the Velaryon Prince; a young lad you found almost dreadfully attractive. Despite his thick head of dark, luscious curls, he was every bit Targaryen you were - perfectly one half, on your mother's side.

For some reason, to the Realm, the mother's lineage is erased and forgotten - but blood doesn't lie. Neither do genetics, but that was a conversation for a different day.

You thought the Prince was well groomed; his thin face angular, high structured, and sharp, framed by his corkscrew curls. Though lean, he appeared to have the makings of muscle; standing taller than you, freckles sprayed across his nose and cheeks, lips plump and perfectly pouting.

Balerion bellowed when faced with Vhagar - even at a distance. You were unsure what word to use, but smoothly, you heard Jace provide the High Valyrian word for clam, "Lykiri."

You repeated the word with a stutter, Jace gently repeating himself to allow your tongue to form the foreign word. After another try or two, you were rolling your pronunciation; Balerion shifting his weight and growling, even under your patient hand. You muttered a few words in the Common Tongue, the beast glowering with literal smoke wafting from his nostrils as the One-Eyed Prince stalked across the short distance between dragons.

"Prince Aemond," You greeted kindly, "welcome to Highgarden."

As you went through the usual spiel, you got a good look at the Kinslayer Prince. He was handsome in a much more unique way; perhaps unconventional, but certainly alluring. His jaw (and nose) came to a point, his expression full with his single eye; stoic yet oddly expressive. His pin-straight platinum locks were down, pieces at his temple tied back simply to accommodate the strap of his eyepatch. His cheeks were chiseled. His scar was a dark pinkish-tan against porcelain flesh, indicating years of healing. Thin, bowed, quirked lips - even with a neutral and passive expression.

Handsome, indeed.

After hearing your court greet Aemond respectfully, attention had shifted towards you again. You told both Jacaerys and Aemond smoothly, "I hope to come to know the extent of our hospitality during your stay here. I apologize for greeting you outside the bounds of the Keep - I was unsure how Balerion would react to visitors. And I should apologize for our lack of Dragonpit, I understand the anxiety you might feel from leaving your dragons exposed; there's never been need to host dragons at Highgarden before."

"Mh," Prince Aemond hummed, "though appreciated, no apology is necessary, my Lady. Thank you for granting me your audience. The King was most pleased to learn you accepted our parlay invitation."

"No thanks necessary, my Prince," you shot back, saving Jace from rebuttal, "but I have yet to bend the knee, and therefore, encourage you do not mistake my hospitable curiosity to receive your envoy, my Prince, for alleged proclamation of support in the war ravaging the Realm. Yet while I do not declare for either of your sides yet, it's akin to alining with both." You paused, lips straightening in tight emotion, "I've learned those who refuse kings - or their kin - end in demise, so, at the very least, I'd be a fool to reject your entry under my roof."

"Nevertheless, the King appreciates your cooperation."

Balerion growled as if in disagreement with the term "King", but you just hushed like a parent would a child, "Aht! You behave."

Seeing them both offer kind amusement to your words, you noted how effortless Jace appeared and how Aemond's expression appeared to host veiled impatience. You remembered this wasn't some romantic meet-cute, but a very disingenuous way to marry; to find a partner; to start a new life - what very well could be the rest of your life.

Something in your gut stirred.

You were pretty as a petal, protected by dragon hide; knowing that when people saw you, they saw a meek, unmarried maiden and concocted their own narrative, snap judgements, harsh in their opinion. They thought you looked weak - a death sentence in this day and age; looking the part of vulnerable, all but offering for others to take advantage and manipulate you - only to dine on them. As dragons do.

Pretty girls were viewed as prey, appearing as easy targets. It was sickeningly frustrating to always be the bigger person; to remain ladylike, soft, kind, seen and never heard even in the face of adversity.

Like your grandmother said, it was time to be a dragon - who don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Dragons leave absolutely zero room for disrespect, and they never ask for respect - it's given, warranted, collected, nonverbally demanded all out of fear. Respect universally bestowed to the top apex predator who could end life in a single stream of fire, crush anyone or anything under their legs, decommission entire cities; talons that can easily eviscerate, teeth that could shred human flesh and bones like cheese on a grater.

Be a dragon.

So, you smirked, "Follow me, then, my Princes, Grandmother will be eager to meet you."

Two guards walked ahead of you, leading the procession into the Highgarden Keep. Maids and other guards placed themselves strategically between the Princes, but it seemed the Prince in green leather followed you closely at an even pace, lanky legs moving him with a distinct swagger; feeling almost magnetized to you while gliding through the Keep.

Upon entering the Throne Room (which wasn't a real "throne room" but instead, the room the Lord of the Reach would sit when receiving his peers, guests, counterparts, and citizens), you saw Maester Keiff Foral with your grandmother, Celia, standing at the front of the room with your brother, Ryden, around the seat you were to occupy.

Not feeling secure enough to sit in your new dress, you remained standing while introducing the two Princes - but it was still obvious, you were at the helm of Highgarden.

"Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys wish to discuss an alliance between our Houses - we are going to hear their marriage petitions," you announced officially, finally taking a seat - but in a perch, teetering at the very edge. "Now," you cleared your throat, "you both sent words of parlay that we have agreed to hear. Are you both designated to offer terms of negotiation?"

"Yes, my Lady," Jace nodded, your eyes shifting to Aemond, who nodded and repeated his words.

With a hum, you continued, "Then I encourage you both to listen closely. As Lady of this House, I will do whatever is right by my people - not this war. I am not currency for either of you to collect, this is about negotiating terms of peace. Nobody today is present under false pretenses, yes?"

There was a murmured wave of agreement.

"Then we are all aware that this alliance means the fighting rights to Balerion." There was another few nods. "I would see peace return to our land, to this Realm, but first, we have much to discuss. So, I will offer you both one week. In this proposed week, I will attempt to spend equal time with you both and learn of you; since marriage is served over a lifetime, I want to be sure about the man I willingly spend it with. Is this agreeable?"

"I accept your terms," Aemond nodded.

"Oh, you haven't heard my terms yet, love, sit tight," you mused; longer fingernails drumming on the armchairs. "Is this agreeable? A one-week term?"

"Yes, my Lady, most gracious of you," Jace agreed.

Aemond's head tilted to the side, slowly regarding those who ruled The Reach - all watching him like a wild dragon. "Tell me," Aemond leered, "when Lord Tyrell passes, who inherits Highgarden?"

You scoffed gently.

"Lady Tyrell, my Prince, until the new Lord Tyrell comes of age," Maester Keiff Foral answered strongly. "Your father, Gods rest his soul, was a peaceful King and the Realm is forever grateful that the Quiet Age lasted this long after King Jaehaerys ruled - but Viserys was not the first man to name a woman heir. Yes, first woman to the Iron Throne, but there are known keeps and kingdoms under the leadership of women - The Reach, for example. The Vale and Dorne, too."

"I am well aware. Does Lord Tyrell have any bastards?"

"Uh, n-no, my Prince. None that are known...?"

"Can anyone lay claim to her inheritance?" Aemond asked plainly, cutting off anyone ready to scold him for his brash questions.

"No, but she is expected to rule until her brother ages, and Gods forbid, if something happens to Ryden, she is to birth presumably the next Lord of Highgarden," Keiff answered slowly, as if piecing the idea together in real time.

"Then, forgive my hesitance, but why bother with Prince Jacaerys?" Aemond dared. "If he's to inherit the Throne," he mocked, "Lady Tyrell would have to forfeit her duties and the family's ancestral seat for a time, produce heirs for her husband's line, stand at the King's side when she's meant to rule here. Begs the question who Prince Jacaerys means to propose for this alliance? Surely, not himself as he's previously betrothed - to his cousin, uh, stepsister, Lady Baela?"

"And what of your engagement to Floris Baratheon?" Jace shot back.

Sure, his question was being answered (both engagements broken) and actually spurred conversation around the room, but Aemond couldn't hear anymore. Yes, he started this, but salty, warm, pressurized waters had flooded the chamber through sealed windows to trap Aemond in waves of anxiety. Suddenly, his nerves compressed, lungs emptied but couldn't refill; veins dilated to accommodate his worrisome racing heart, throat closing immediately after.

Jacaerys... Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who would be a legitimized, recognized, acknowledged Targaryen upon succession... Jaecerys. Jaecerys. Jaecerys. Jace... Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace...

Memories flashed to silently - privately - remind Aemond of that day when Vhagar killed Lucerys - the little bastard brother of Jacaerys. That infamous day haunts Aemond, feeling unfamiliar guilt and shame with himself - which didn't say much considering Aemond's entire life was a steady-handed written tragedy. Now, the other object of his ire would face off with him as Luke had... Vying for a Lady's hand...

Aemond wondered if Jace - being older with dropped testicles - would scream, and if so, would it be like Luke's? Shrill? Or something "deeper"? Lucerys screamed in sheer terror before being swallowed whole; arguably the day that started the war, but definitely being first blood shed (unless you believed that to be Lord Beesbury). Blood was going to be spilled one way or another! This was war, after all!

Aemond hated being mere feet from Jacaerys, but for the sake of the Realm, he restrained himself.

Yet nobody in that room was stronger than Jace - who stood, patiently, pleasantly, mere feet from the man who murdered his beloved baby brother in brutal cold blood. There would never be a more opportune time to strike for vengeance, but Jace kept his cool - insisting to himself that if he remained patient, he'd get his chance. Or perhaps karma would get Aemond! But one thing was for sure: Jace refused to "lose" you to this Kinslayer. So, he kept calm.

Aemond was sent to Highgarden by his mother; by the Green Council; by anyone not himself. Jace, sure, had been sent by the Black Council - but he had wanted to do his duty to his mother, in this war; to history. Jace felt honored to be received by your Ladyship - and by Gods, it showed.

Eventually, you spoke clearly through both Prince's internal thoughts, turmoil, and monologues:

"In this week, you are both welcomed guests, and all of Highgarden's amenities, resources, and services are at your disposal, my Princes. What livestock can be spared, your dragons will be fed - though do not be startled if they venture off with Balerion, he enjoys hunting in the surrounding areas. You're both to be hosted in different wings of the Keep," you laid out plainly, "and under no circumstances shall violence nor taunting be permitted. I understand the animosity between you two, there's been plenty of rumors - so I will not see bloodshed in nor around my home," you directed at Aemond, "to one another, myself, family, or dragon; nor any staff members, occupants of the Keep, and / or citizens. Can you both agree to these terms?"

"I agree," Jacaerys almost instantly accepted.

"I agree," Aemond nodded stiffly.

"Good. Then, come next Sunday, I endeavor to have a decision for you. I ask you both to consider a single question that I will expect answered in the coming days: what role would you have me play in this war? What would you see me do? Have me do?" There came a pause. "If there are no questions, I think we have much to discuss - privately."

When neither Prince argued, you and Maester Foral lead the terms of negotiation. You worried mostly over how The Reach would either suffer or benefit; hardly caring about personal expectations, you wanted to know who would overhead the barley production that season - since ale was so precious to the Realm. You wanted to know who would be funding the new irrigation system. You wanted to know how quickly either side would retreat once their alliance was made - essentially asking how long this war was expected to last post alliance. You wanted to know how best to help your people, fearing they'd suffer if you chose the wrong side to aline with.

After several hours, you understood the terms set by the Blacks and Greens; insisting they disperse for supper and get a fresh start for tomorrow. When the chambers emptied, leaving you, Keiff, and Celia, it was eerily quiet for several long heartbeats.

"What is it?" Maester Foral asked, leaning his crossed arms on the tabletop. "What do you think, my Lady?"

"This feels... I don't know, futile?" You struggled to think rationally, sighing deeply. "Like, what's the point? Rhaenyra isn't gonna let her claim to the Iron Throne go. And Aegon is more likely to tap dance naked in the streets of King's Landing than stand off the Throne. His mother, I hear, would probably shove him out a bloody window if he dared give up the Throne she stole for him. No matter what, Keiff, both sides think they're right and it's too late now. So, what do we do? Do we affirm this usurper's claim? Or do we help the Queen get her birthright back?"

"It is not a simple thing I can answer."

"Nobody can - yet I am expected to," you huffed. "They won't back down... We all know they won't - neither side will consent. So, no matter what I do, who I choose, I'll be on the frontlines with Balerion. They'll expect us to commit some incredible yet treacherous acts, like The Conqueror fucking burning Harrenhal. No matter what we choose, this war isn't gonna end, will it?"

Celia just sighed as Maester Foral was quiet, then he, too, sighed deeply. He spoke softly, "In truth? I always worried this would happen. There's nothing wrong with a woman heir, I never understood the fuss. Yet this country is so - so - so...?"

"Traditional?" Celia guessed. "Stubborn?"

"Closed minded," Keiff found the words, you nodding along. "They think because we started with a King, we should end with a King, and nowhere between should there be a ruling Queen. I don't know if Rhaenyra stands a chance winning..."

"What do you mean?" Celia asked stiffly.

"Even if she defeats the Greens, takes back her Throne, she'll still have to face the entire Realm - who whisper about her predicted downfall. A Queen will never rule," he frowned, "and the people would become restless and unhappy, betrayal would always brew - someone would always plot against her. She wouldn't be winning the war - but affirming it."

You frowned, "Who would think they have better claim than Rhaenyra?"

"Aegon - "

"Besides him," you chuckled.

"Prince Aemond, probably. And by the same right, Prince Daeron would have a claim - being Viserys' seed," Celia considered. "Could even be a bastard or two lingering in the shadows. Consider if Baelon had bastards, huh?"

"Prince Baelon? Bastards?" You laughed. "The man was devoted to his wife!"

"Devoted men can still fuck around! A cunt is still a cunt!"

"Oh, Grandmother, don't say that - I don't think you're allowed to say that and I certainly don't wish to hear it!"

Keiff spoke over you both, "There could be any number of bastards - from any number of royals. But there's no real proof of lineage, less the sire steps forward, and in this case, all sires are dead. So, I wouldn't worry about any bastards trying to raise and lay claim."

The night was still young and the questions only just starting.

ONE WEEK LATER

Dawn would peak in less than an hour, and yet, instead of being safe and warm in bed, you were slipping in dew-dotted grass while carting a wagon full of sickly lambs. In a tremendously unladylike fashion, you cursed like a sailor, annoyed with nature; pacing further from the border of the Highgarden Keep.

After clearing the dewy hill, you descended into the valley Balerion had curled up in. His head lifted as you approached, his grumble causing the earth to quake and send birds squawking into the skies. "Yeah," you panted, "I'm hungry, too, love, just gimme a second. Good lad."

For the past nine weeks you've had your dragon, you had fallen into routine of bringing him little treats. Cattle, goats, chickens, sometimes dogs or horses; and today, after an entire litter fell fatally ill, lambs. Vhagar and Vermax were in the sky above the Keep.

"All right, love," you sighed, approaching your beastie. With a tentative tongue, you tried the commands in High Valyrian both Princes had taught you that past week, "Serve, Balerion."

No story could do this beast justice. He was magnificent, but also absolutely terrifying - horrifying - devastating to gaze at. It's said “his wingspan was so large that his shadow could engulf entire towns when he passed overhead. His teeth were as long as swords, and his jaws were large enough to swallow an aurochs whole, or even one of the hairy mammoths that are said to roam the cold wastes beyond the Port of Ibben.”

In person, he was the living embodiment of Death.

You repeated yourself, listening to your dragon huff before lowering his head. "Be calm, Balerion," you commanded with a stern voice, smirking when he grumbled, "be calm. Easy... Easy," you chanted, extending your hand. His lip twitched as his snout extended, allowing you to lay a gentle touch to his cracked ebony scales. "Good," you praised, "good, be calm."

He breathed deeply, eyes bright and blazing a menacing flame red. You were lost in thought as you stroked his face, mind whirling with all that happened the past week; mind nagging about the stark differences in Dragon Princes. Balerion did not find his feet, there was no need; lifting his head only slightly when you pulled away to overturn the wagon before him. At your feet, the lambs were too sick to run away, bleating helplessly; the great large beast locking eyes with you and waiting for permission.

After several steps back, you smirked and called, "Eat, Balerion."

Behind you, a voice called your name. Balerion didn't care, indulging in his breakfast treat, allowing you to peak back and locate your best mate, Alora Flowers, waving you down. "C'mon, love," she called.

"You! C'mere," you told her, lugging the now empty wagon behind you.

"Gods, no!" She squeaked. "You get up here! I'm not going around that beast, you know this!"

"Coward!"

"Absolutely! Proudly!"

You laughed, lugging the wagon to a certain height and then leaving it to meet Alora on the hill incline. "Still scared of him?" You teased.

"Of the big arse dragon?" She laughed, "Yeah! I'm still scared! Even at this distance, he could reach out and snack on us."

"Good thing he won't," you assured, nudging her to sit down. "What're you doin' out here? It's early."

"You were not in your chambers," she noted, "and today's the day you announce to the Princes... I wanted to check on you, see how you're feeling about everything."

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as she revealed the miniature picnic basket she brought. As Alora unpacked an array of fruits, some cheeses and breads with jams, honey, and dried meats, you admitted, "I've no bloody idea what to think anymore."

"Oh, that's not good."

You hummed, biting into an apple as Balerion crunched three lambs between his jaws at once. "It's been a touch overwhelming," you muse. "But either Prince has made an impression, I am now tasked with choosing a side in this Godsforsaken war."

"You could truly turn the tide in it," Alora nodded, biting into a plum. "Take the Realm in a direction it's never been before... Or support it going in the same direction it's always gone. Which, you know, lead us here anyways."

Your eyes rolled, "Well, when you phrase it like that..."

"C'mon," she nudged your shoulder. "They're both very handsome, but for different reasons."

"Hmm?"

"Prince Jacaerys is handsome in a stereotypical way. You know, cut jawline, chiseled cheekbones, luscious curly hair. He's young, but in a charming way - seems green to the ways of the world. He'd be a match to learn with you," she chuckled, sighing to herself.

"You seem enraptured - surely, you'd hate me for choosing Prince Jacaerys since you sound so taken by him."

"Unless the Prince's penis suddenly reverts within his body, I don't envision myself with him," Alora teased, making you both laugh loudly. She flinched a little when Balerion grumbled and lifted his head to seemingly glare at the pair of you for interrupting him. After clearing her throat, she continued, "On the other hand, Prince Aemond's handsome in a rugged way. He's entirely chiseled, mysterious and confident. His entire presence drawls you in."

"All seems so simple when comparing men on parchment," you frowned, leaning back onto your elbow as the sun began its ascent above the horizon.

"Well, let's break it down."

"How?"

"If you aline with the Greens, what would that look like?"

You paused to consider her question, answering, "Chaotic."

"Think deeper."

Chewing a piece of bread with cheese, you considered, "Probably a logical choice, since the Realm has only ever known men to sit the Iron Throne. It wouldn't challenge norms, would relatively keep the peace since there's plenty to be expected when a man rules. Balerion would be put to use; that, I can all but guarantee. Things would... Become predictable, but perhaps that's preferred. After decades of peace, perhaps it's best to not change the status quo."

Alora nodded, "Alining with the Greens would keep Aegon on the Throne."

"Use Balerion would neutralize Rhaenyra, though?"

"Probably. And anyone who offers Aegon insult."

"And if I aline with the Blacks, then I would dethrone a usurper..."

"What an adventure that sounds like," she chuckled, you agreeing. "Keep going, we could expect what outta you alining with the Blacks?"

You huffed, "Chaos."

"Bitch."

Laughter felt a little misplaced, but still, you shared in the exchange of amusement. "Rhaenyra's the emotional choice - where it almost doesn't matter her qualifications because the Realm swore to her; she was declared and her claim upheld by her father, the King. We would be putting a Queen on her Throne, as intended. The Greens would be extinguished... We'd be heralding in a new age. Her son would sit the Throne after her..."

Alora blinked, "Am I just realizing that now?"

"What?"

"If you marry Aemond, you'll be the King's sister-by-law. If you marry Jace, you'd... You'd be Queen one day."

"What a fate after all I've been denied," you scoffed bitterly, "all my mother and aunt were denied."

"The Vanished Princess and the Queen Who Never Was. Quite a pair."

"I hear, in their youth, they were," you frowned with a sigh. "We'll never see their likes again."

"No... But perhaps, we'll see something new in you. Answer me this, who did you think was nice?"

"Oh, fuck off - nobody cares for that - "

"I do," she snapped. "Now, answer me. Who do you think is nice? Which Prince? Either? Neither? Both?"

You hummed in consideration, answering nervously, "Jace was nice - is. Is nice, Jace is nice."

"Who do you think you have more in common with?"

"Maybe Aemond."

"Are either of them funny?"

"Jace has a sense of humor, Aemond is so very... Rigid and stoic."

"I imagine it takes longer than a week to truly know someone, perhaps he is anxious?"

"Or perhaps he is simply doing his duty," you scoffed gently. "At the very least, Jace seems... Somewhat..." You shrugged, "Excited to be here, maybe even intrigued."

She nodded. "So, no matter who you choose, we're looking at war - but the end of the war, so... Where do you wish to stand? Since it's inevitable, I think this comes down to what kind of chaos you want to see - a chaos we've endured or one we've never seen before? I mean, never before has a woman come so close to the Throne..."

There was a long silence. Like, several minutes long. After deep-enough contemplation, you whispered, "If this past week if any indication..." You trailed off, sighing deeply for the hundredth time; staring at Balerion. "I think I know what I should do."

"Oh?"

"Talking it out helps."

"Then talk," she leaned back in the grass. "Tell me about this past week - tell me about the Princes."

And where to start?

part one: read here

part three: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread series masterlist

[swappedman]

The New Ethan Foster Part 1

Ed Calloway sat under the bright white lights of the NewLease Industries auction room, his fingers gripping the armrests of the sleek black chair. He was 43, out of shape, and worn down by a life that hadn’t turned out the way he’d hoped. A dad bod, thinning hair, and a back that ached in the mornings—none of it mattered now. He had one chance to start over, to trade it all for something new.

The Body Auction was a last resort for people like him. Permanent body swaps weren’t cheap, but the right buyer could cover the costs. Some people sought youth, strength, or beauty. Others, like Ed, just wanted a fresh start. A chance to escape crushing debt and years of disappointment.

The bidding had been lukewarm—middle-aged dad bods weren’t exactly in high demand—but then, a final bid came in. The moment the gavel struck, his old body was no longer his.

It wasn’t until the swap was complete that he learned who had bought him.

Ethan Foster.

His son’s best friend.

When Ed woke up in his new body, the first thing he noticed was power. Strength coiled beneath his skin. Muscles taut, lean, built for movement. His hands were steady, young, unscarred. He bolted upright, overwhelmed by the sheer lightness of this new form.

He stood and faced the mirror. The reflection staring back was almost unrecognizable—early twenties, sculpted physique, dark hair falling in waves over sharp cheekbones. The body belonged to a former athlete, someone who had lived fast and hard.

The door opened, and Ethan stepped inside.

He was still the same—tall, confident, that easy smile he always had when he and Ed’s son, Jamie, would crash on the couch playing video games. But now, there was something else in his expression. Something Ed didn’t recognize.

“You okay?” Ethan asked, his voice steady but searching.

Ed swallowed. “This is… a lot.”

Ethan smiled. “Yeah, it usually is.”

Usually.

That was when Ed realized—Ethan had done this before.

“You’ve swapped bodies before,” Ed said.

Ethan shrugged. “A couple of times. Nothing major. I just… wanted this one.”

Ed’s stomach twisted. He had been so focused on escaping his old life that he hadn’t thought much about who would be living in it now.

“You wanted my old body?” Ed asked, the words strange on his tongue.

Ethan’s smile faltered for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

There was a long pause. Then Ethan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really don’t get it, do you?” He met Ed’s eyes, and for the first time, there was something raw there. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.”

The words hit Ed like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled. Ethan liked me?

No—Ethan had liked Ed Calloway, the man he used to be.

“This isn’t some weird joke?” Ed asked hesitantly.

Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “Not even close. Look, I know it’s a lot. But I wanted a life where I could be near you. Where I could—” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “Where I could be myself, without all the baggage.”

Ed’s thoughts swirled, but there was no going back now. The contract was binding. Permanent.

His old body—his old life—now belonged to Ethan. And his new life… well, that was entirely up to him.

[whoops-all-jennas]

Every Universe - w.a.

Wednesday x witch!reader

"Do you think we're friends in every universe?"

"I hope so."

Summary: You and Wednesday are walking to Jericho after Wednesday had her vision in the meeting house. You have a question for Wednesday which gets her stuck in thought.

Past Lives one-shot

a/n: might have somethings that don't make sense if you haven't read 'We'll Meet Again' or 'Past Lives' but most of this doesn't need that context.

My boots squish into the mud of the dirt path, the rain just stopping a moment ago. Your shoes follow the pace of mine, meeting the same muddy fate.

There is a comfortable silence between us. We never had to try to force conversation, satisfied with merely the presence of one another.

"This is a stupid thought." You begin talking over the occasional patter of water dripping off the leaves. "Do you think we're friends in every universe?"

I stop in place, my boots sinking deeper into the mud. You halt beside me, finding my eyes with yours.

"Like, maybe we're Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." You say with a smile, looking into my eyes as I respond with silence.

You look at the ground with an embarrassed smile as you continue walking. "I told you it was a stupid thought."

You walk ahead of me for a moment, the squish of muddy footsteps filling the woods.

I find myself stuck in place, as if the mud was holding me. The only thing I can think about is that red string.

I find myself smiling as you pull the lever on the blue slushie machine for me. "Tell me when." You say with a smile.

You stop before the blue ice overflows out of the cup. "I didn't say when!" I say, teasingly.

"It was going to spill over, Vada." You grab another cup, holding it under your favorite flavor before looking at me with an expecting glance.

I pull the lever, the colored ice filling the cup.

"When." You say, a playful smile creeps up on my lips as I don't let go.

"Stop!" You playful shout, pulling the cup out of the way as it overflows.

"Vada!" I can't help but giggle as you grab a bunch of napkins to clean your cup.

We're both walking down the street, the lights illuminating our dark path. I hold a grocery bag of sweets and other snacks in hand, my slushie in the other.

I glance at you as I loudly sip from my cup. You're staring at yours, lost in thought with a smile on your face.

"Do you think we get to do stuff like this is every universe?" You say quietly.

I stare at you for a moment, admiring your cute sentiment.

"Of course!" I say with a wide smile.

You raise your eyes from your cup, finding mine as you return the smile.

I'm reading your poem silently as you stand in front of me awkwardly. The warm lights of my bedroom creating the perfect cozy aesthetic.

Your poem clearly follows the idea of two souls destined to be together, no matter what.

I look at you above the paper after I've finished reading, unsure what to do or say.

"So, what do you think Cairo?" You ask, curiously.

I take a deep breath. "I'm not a big fan of the idea of soulmates."

You look at me confused. "What do you mean?"

I stand before sitting next to you in my bed. "Soulmates are destined." I say, holding my eyes onto yours.

"The idea of destined connection dilutes the experience of love." I inch closer, putting my hand on your bare thigh.

"I prefer the idea that we're together because we choose to be, our souls breaking the quantum chains that bind us apart just for a chance to feel each other's touch a moment longer."

You shiver as I caress your thigh. "The feeling of you forever lingering on my skin, itching for just one second longer, as if that would be enough to satiate my hunger."

You're eyes look through mine with infatuation, my 'fancy words' as you would call it always had this effect on you. I move my hand up to your cheek, looking into your eyes lovingly. "Our determination for just that one mere second guiding us in every universe. Even if fate defies us, we would rather die trying than to spare another moment apart."

I slowly bring my face closer to yours, feeling your unsteady breath on me as I glance at your perfect lips. "I would choose you in every universe. Not because we're destined to be, but because there is no one else I'd rather have."

You grab my face, pulling your lips to mine hungrily. Your arms move down, wrapping around my neck as you pull me down to lay on top of you. As our lips touch, I ingrain the feeling permanently into my mind.

I murmur awake to the sound of a heartbeat monitor. The pain of all my wounds from the Ghostface attack quickly settling in as I open my eyes.

I feel another sensation, the feeling of your hand in mine. After I recognize this feeling it's as if all my pain fades away.

My eyelids finally finish prying themselves apart to find you asleep by my hospital bed, hunched over in a chair. Even as you sleep, you tightly grip my hand, as if you're you're afraid you'll let go.

I find myself smiling, admiring you at my bedside. I squeeze your hand in an attempt to wake you.

You squirm a bit in your seat, your grip tight as ever.

Your eyes open, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Tara!" You jump awake, a noticable weight off you after you see my smile.

Your grip loosens for a moment before squeezing my hand once again. "I uh- How're you feeling?"

My smile widens under the mere presence of you. "Better now."

You place your other hand over mine, caressing my knuckles lovingly. "I'm not leaving this hospital unless you're leaving with me."

I find myself lost in your hands, watching your thumb gently move between my knuckles as if I could break if not handled with care. I always loved how gentle you were with me. You manage to make me feel like a beautiful flower, scared to damage my petals and stem that I only see as a part of me, but you see it as so much more.

"I hope you're there for me in every universe." I say, looking up from your gentle hands to your eyes. "I don't know how well I would have handled this on my own."

The heartbeat monitor fills the momentary silence between us, words forming in your thoughts.

"I know I'm there for you in every universe, the same way you're there for me." You look into my eyes as if they were windows, your emotions passing through with ease.

I focus on the caring sensation of your touch, allowing your love into the windows to my soul.

I look back on the vision of our past selves I had in the meeting house, feeling the red string that binds us inside me.

"Wednesday?" You ask, stopped ahead of me.

I pry my boots out of the mud, the deepest it sunk into the ground. My squishy footsteps fill the woods as I catch up to be by your side.

"I believe we're together in every universe, whether it's because we found each, or because we choose to." I say, attempting to hide the emotion that so strongly desired to be on stage.

A genuine smile replaces the embarrassment on your face before turning to continue walking, our comfortable silence resuming as we head back to Jericho.

a/n: heyy hope you enjoyed this super short thingie. I plan on making more past lives one-shots before s2 of Wednesday releases. feel free to request ideas for that :))

[slytherin-princess-x]

Bound by decree: love is a dangerous game

Mattheo x reader

Summary: An arranged marriage but they’re enemies

A/n: it’s a long one today guys

The parchment felt like a death sentence in my trembling hands—crisp, official, and utterly final. I stared at the ornate script, the words swimming before my eyes: *"By decree of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the Ministry of Magic, a binding betrothal is hereby established between…"* My stomach churned. I already knew the name; it had been the hushed whisper in the corridors, the grim topic of conversation amongst the Slytherins. *"...Miss Y/N L/N and Mr. Mattheo Gaunt Riddle."*

Year Seven was supposed to be exciting. The final exams, Quidditch tryouts, maybe even a stolen kiss or two behind the greenhouses. Instead, it was starting with shackles. Arranged marriages were archaic—relics of a bygone era—but here we were, being dragged back into it for the sake of pureblood lineage. As if my family's ancient bloodline wasn't pristine enough.

The cause of my imminent doom was leaning against the wall across the Slytherin common room, a picture of indolent indifference. Mattheo Riddle. Dark hair perpetually mussed, eyes like chips of obsidian, and a smirk that promised nothing but trouble. He exuded an aura of dangerous charisma that made most students scurry out of his path. But me? I was now legally bound to him. The irony tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Well, well," Mattheo drawled, pushing off the wall and strolling toward me. His voice was a smooth, velvety threat. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, L/N."

I crumpled the parchment in my fist. "Stuck is an understatement, Riddle. This is a bloody nightmare."

He chuckled, a low, humorless sound that grated on my nerves. "Don't pretend you're not flattered. Who wouldn't want to be betrothed to me?"

"Oh, I can think of a few," I snapped, my eyes blazing. "Anyone with a functioning brain and a desire to, you know, choose who they spend their life with."

His smirk widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Such spirit. I'm almost… impressed."

The "almost" hung in the air, thick with sarcasm. That was our dynamic in a nutshell—a constant sparring match, a battle of wills fueled by mutual disdain. He reveled in my frustration, while I seethed under his arrogant gaze.

The engagement was a public spectacle. Announcements at breakfast, pointed glances in the corridors, and the ever-present whisper of our names linked together. It was suffocating. And the worst part? Mattheo seemed to enjoy it. He’d drape an arm possessively around my shoulders during meals, his touch sending shivers of disgust down my spine. He’d answer questions about our "future" with infuriatingly vague pronouncements, leaving me to grit my teeth and plaster on a fake smile.

My attempts at a normal Year Seven were thwarted at every turn. Gryffindor boys who’d dared to flirt with me suddenly found themselves on the receiving end of Mattheo’s icy glare and a few well-placed hexes. Even my closest friends grew hesitant, the air around me now tainted by Mattheo’s presence.

"He's like a bloody Dementor," my friend Clara muttered one afternoon, as we watched Mattheo lean against a tree, his gaze fixed on me. "Sucking all the joy out of the air."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Tell me about it. I can't even look at another boy without him glaring holes into their skull."

The enforced proximity did offer a twisted kind of insight, though. I saw glimpses of Mattheo away from the public eye. The way his brow furrowed in concentration during Potions, the almost imperceptible twitch of his lip when he read a particularly clever passage in a Transfiguration textbook. These moments were fleeting, quickly masked by his usual sardonic demeanor, but they were there.

One evening, stuck in the library together to “study”—a thinly veiled excuse for our parents to see us interacting amicably—I found myself staring at him. He was engrossed in a heavy tome, his features softened in the lamplight. For the first time, I saw past the arrogance and the threats, and caught a glimpse of… something else. A weariness, perhaps? Or maybe just boredom.

He looked up, catching my gaze. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a neutral expression that was almost unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

"Problem, L/N?"

I quickly averted my eyes, a blush creeping up my neck. "No. No problem."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. It was different from our usual animosity, charged with something… more.

As the year progressed, our interactions, while still laced with sarcasm and barbed comments, began to shift. We argued about house points with a shared competitiveness. We found an odd sort of camaraderie in our mutual disdain for certain professors. During a particularly grueling detention scrubbing cauldrons, Mattheo surprised me by sharing a mumbled joke that actually made me laugh.

The Yule Ball arrived like a looming deadline. I had dreaded the thought of being seen on Mattheo’s arm. But as he stood before me in his dress robes, a certain unfamiliar nervousness in his eyes, something shifted within me. He was undeniably handsome, and for the first time, the thought didn’t fill me with immediate revulsion.

Our dance was stiff and awkward at first, but as the music softened and we found a rhythm, a strange sort of understanding passed between us. His hand on my back was firm, his gaze surprisingly steady.

"You look… tolerable," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the music.

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "And you're not entirely unbearable yourself, Riddle."

It was a minuscule crack in the wall of our mutual animosity, but it was there.

The turning point, perhaps inevitably, came during a late-night study session in the deserted astronomy tower. We were arguing, as usual, about some obscure Charms theory. Our voices echoed in the stillness, the tension crackling between us.

"You're being deliberately obtuse," I accused, frustration bubbling over.

"And you're being willfully ignorant," Mattheo retorted, his eyes flashing.

We were close—too close. Our anger was a palpable force. And then, something shifted. The anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a different kind of intensity. His gaze lingered on my lips, and for the first time, I didn’t want to look away.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "You know," he said, his voice low and husky, "you're not what I expected."

My heart hammered in my chest. "And what did you expect?" I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

His gaze searched mine, a flicker of something vulnerable in his dark eyes. "A simpering pureblood princess, eager to please."

"And what did you get?" I challenged, my voice barely a breath.

A slow smile spread across his face, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and banished the usual shadows. "Someone who challenges me. Someone who isn’t afraid."

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t a gentle, tentative kiss. It was fierce, possessive, filled with a pent-up energy that mirrored the animosity that had simmered between us for months. And surprisingly, I kissed him back, my own frustrations and grudges melting away in the heat of the moment.

The world didn’t magically transform. We were still betrothed, still bound by an archaic agreement. But as we stood there, breathless and slightly shaken, in the silence of the astronomy tower, something had undeniably changed. The hatred hadn’t vanished entirely, but a new emotion had taken root—a complicated tangle of resentment and reluctant attraction.

The arranged marriage was still a cage, but now, maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be quite so lonely. The year still stretched before us, filled with uncertainty and the weight of our forced union. But for the first time since that dreaded parchment arrived, I felt a flicker of something akin to hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this nightmare could turn into something else entirely. The enemies were still there, but maybe, beneath the surface, lovers were beginning to bloom.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[fangdokja]

Not really a request, but just a thought to share with you! (If that’s alright?)

Imagine Yandere! Demon King having to resort to “granting” his darling immortality, having realized that her lifespan was impeccably fleeting compared to his and demonkind. And seeing how unruly, ferocious, and self-reliant she was throughout their entire time together (or more like her captivity), he went through the trouble of binding her to him in body and soul by turning her into a succubus.

With this, she would be forced to rely on him during “feeding hours”, leaving her utterly helpless as she refuses to “feed” on other people.

Not only would this bring her closer to him, but also the fact that she’s under his dominion now as a demoness.

— Random Anon

WARNING: Semi-formal rambling and formatting. Includes Library Recommendations (nsfw + sfw).

If you guys want Reader lore? (low-key surprised people asking for Reader lore in some series) Well... I already have it all prepared. It's coming next week. Not all of Reader lore yet, but enough to tell you that Reader is not as helpless against even the Yandere! Love Interests, as one might believe:

We have four new characters coming up. And these guys are part of the top tier powerhouses, even compared to Yandere! Demon King. Most likely stronger actually. Actually maybe the strongest four man lineup in the entire series. And personally, I like these guys best. Though, unsure if I'll give them more screentime than one chapter. There's reason for that, but we'll see.

I also have four more new characters alongside these guys, but I haven't finished writing for them as of the moment.

WHY IS THIS SERIES SO POPULAR. adnljdsddsgawfuishas. Is it really 'cause it's otome isekai???? or something else hahaha. I was literally just writing about myself 😭 I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THIS INTO AN ACTUAL SERIES.

OK, now onto the ASK + Library Recommendations (sfw + nsfw).

Nice to meet you, Random Anon :)) I'm glad you're comfortable enough to speak with me about your thoughts. Don't worry, it's fine. I'm glad you're willing and open to share ideas or thought dumps.

Also, out of topic, but I like how you guys are picking "names" and not just emojis haha. Actually, for me, I prefer you guys picking actual names of your choosing. I don't want to constrain the name picking, so feel free to name yourselves anything, when asking anonymously. It'll also help me identify you better. Just make sure it aligns with the blog RULES and Tumblr guidelines.

Ok, this is a thought. But, even in dark humor content and especially in world building. Logic and reality is a must here. I heavily dislike making non-canon lore, it's basically me writing fanfiction on my own work. I can do it, but I heavily prefer canon works only. It's also in my RULES. I will always prefer transparency and honesty, so I will be honest in my answer here. I am aware what you gave is a thought dump and an imagine-scenario, so not necessarily canon. Just sharing thoughts. But, I will expand on the reality of who Reader is.

Reader doesn't just have basic intelligence, nor a dead inside personality when it comes to romance. Canonically speaking, Reader can in fact take on the love interests. So, why does Reader rely on wit, the romance system, and no-powers-mode?

Well, that will come in the next extension of the series. Yes, I'm officially making these into a Headcanons Series. This one:

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

Why am I saying this? Because based on the timeline of the current story with Reader officially escaping and in hiding. It's practically an impossibility for any of the Yandere! Love Interests to try capturing and doing whatever they want with Reader. Yes, impossible.

And even if there was a slim chance of capture even before the escape. Let me tell you know.

No. It's impossible.

Why am I so sure? Well, you'll know why once the new characters come out.

In actuality, all my Reader characters have lore. I just don't give it away so freely, compared to yandere lore. Why? Well, I focus mostly on yandere content for one. The other is because all my Readers are meant to have enigmatic backgrounds. No, I did not just make this because I want you all to feel more in-depth self-insert or something.

The Reader characters have actual lore in fact, all of the characters I make do. I just don't say it outright, because spoilers obviously.

I wouldn't be a psychological horror-thriller author, if I gave things away so easily. I decided to give some crumbs because of the effort Random Anon put into this message. I want you to know, Random Anon, that I appreciate you having the courage to do this, being comfortable with me, and giving me a message of substance. So, thank you.

And, it's why I'm taking this seriously, even if it may disagree with yours or others' thoughts. These crumbs are canon information on the series and characters.

Ok, I rambled a lot. But, to clarify the following:

It's impossible for Yandere! Demon King to turn Reader into a demoness. Considering it's still very early into the series, and unlike my novellas, this is still a lighthearted dark humor series. As of the moment, there will be no permanent and explicit horror factors yet. Why? Characters are still being introduced. Did you really think I'd stop at eight? haha.

Anyways. Yes, later on, it can be changed. But not now.

The Veteran Readers and those who have read my novellas, should know how I write. Take a dip and see how I actually write my horror content. Like this one, newly uploaded as well. It's not even novella length, it's also a headcanons series, if that's what you're used to:

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

I recommend reading Part 2, if you want to see how I write my actual horror content.

Anyways. I'm saying this now. If you honestly think I'll write vanilla yandere content, then I'm sorry, I don't. What I mean is that ALL the Yandere! Love Interests are still part of my yandere collection. Hence, they'll do way more than just controlled feeding and monitoring lifestyles. Especially the demon race, for example.

Or, rather, the stronger they are, the more dangerous they become.

These are the kind of yanderes I generally write: Dom + Top + Older + Sadistic + Red / Black Flag Yanderes

Nor do I hold back in writing horror content.

What you gave is basically the barebones part of yandere content. Trust me when I say, Yandere! Demon King is going to do a lot worse than just isolate and force feed you. In fact, I would even say, he would NOT turn Reader into a demoness. Why? Well, let's just say, he's not as kind and collected as he seems. And I'm not talking about him simply being an emotional mess.

Would Yandere! Demon King grant Reader immortality. No, he wouldn't. Not only is it illogical for him in his eyes, but he has better plans than simply turning Reader into a doll or servant.

Not to mention, yeah, I mentioned Yandere! Demon King can be emotionally unstable. But, I don't mean in simply losing his cool and patience; thus losing his sense of rationality, then acting reckless and stupid. Or losing himself in rage and emotional turmoil. It's something better.

Also, for non-human races. Here, to give you New Readers an idea on how I write them. Read the Sukuna part if you want to know:

Novella 1 : Dominate Me, Daddy. (Brat Tamer)

🔞Will you scream? Or will you beg? (Bakugo Katsuki, Yoichi Isagi, Ryōmen Sukuna, Rex Lapis, Sunday)

I know some of you New Readers came here for dark humor, and lighthearted comedy. But. Let me tell you now, once I write actual "true yandere" content. Well, it's not for the faint of heart.

I only made the dark humor content because I was mindblocked on horror content. It's basically idea generation to me, so I can exercise my brain for erotic horror.

The true yanderes I make are hard doms + top + older + unapologetic + sadistic + does not need darling's validation + will hurt the darling + may kill the darling + truly confident in themselves.

They do not care nor need the darling's permission, validation, feelings, etc. to take what they want. They're not weaklings like that. As individuals, they are strong in their own right. Including mentality.

Yes, this also includes the yanderes in the drabbles.

Do you want to know the ONLY yanderes that won't physically hurt you? It's these guys:

Yandere! Royal Guards

Drabbles

Royal Duties: looking pretty, sitting still, watching your guards destroy the kingdom.

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

And, that's because they're engineered to protect you, not harm you. These yanderes are the only canon yanderes that will never hurt you physically. They're the ones who will protect you with their lives. Aside from them? Nothing. No one. Every single yandere in my library will hurt and may kill you. Yes. Even if they may not seem like it, even if it's dark humor content, even if they look ridiculous and dramatic.

And you know the good thing about being a psychological horror-thriller author?

No one can tell what happens next.

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[krems-chair]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[sturnsdoll]

SWEETER THAN CANDY -`♡´- - C.S

idea creds

pairing: chris x fem reader

summary: chris finds a rather creative way to teach you patience.

warnings: smut obvi, swearing, (very little) plot, light bondage, candy g-string, oral (f recieving), heavy teasing, dom!chris, sub!reader, orgasm denail, begging, degrading, praise, slight dumbification, cum eating(??), back scratching (?), choking

word count: 2,332

authors note: hope you enjoy ♥

"orange" = chris "pink" = reader

your boyfriend chris had been busy all day with filming with his brothers, shopping, a meeting for his brand and what felt like a million other things.

one of those million other things had been him trying to keep you from losing your mind waiting for him to be free. you hadn't seen your boyfriend in a few days and the impatience of wanting not only his love, but his touch, was driving you to insanity.

text after text, call after call. chris was sick of telling you he'd be free at 12 and that you just needed to be patient.

it was currently 12:05 and chris was filming a car video with nick and matt. his phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

you toss your phone down next to you with a sigh.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

1:07 AM

half asleep, you're finally in the triplets parking lot to pick up chris so you can bring him back to your place. after a few long minutes of waiting you look to the passenger side of your car, spotting chris heading over.

when he enters the car, there's a bit of a slam to the way he closes the door but you choose to ignore it. you smile brightly at chris "feels like i've been waiting forever for you i-" "do you still have the thing i got from the store last week?"

you're confused by the question and a little taken aback that he didn't greet you. although there's a glint of mischief in his eyes that makes you clench your thighs. "no hi? hello? chris i've been waiting all day.." you go to wrap your arms around his neck but he grabs both your wrists. "wrong. you've been an impatient brat all day. now is it still here or not?"

it takes you a minute to even think of what the hell he's reffering to. that's when you remember chris had bought a candy g-string at the store last week when his brothers hadn't been watching the two of you. you thought it was more of a joke that he had gotten it though, not really expecting to use it.

your eyebrows knit together in confusion. you look at where his fingers are wrapped around your wrists before looking up at in hiw eyes again "yea, it's on the backseat still chris but i-" he cuts you off again, not wanting to hear it. "good. go find somewhere private to park. better be close though" "seriously? what's wrong with you?"he drops your wrists and gives you a dead serious look. "now." the tone of his voice makes you decide to put the car in drive.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you found an empty parking lot out back of a closed fast food place. the whole drive there chris's hand squeezed at your thigh harshly and anytime you tried to ask what his problem was he'd just tell you to keep your mouth closed and drive. which you did.

now that you were here, you opened your mouth to question his antics but he didn't let you get the chance. that angry yet needy look glosses over his eyes again "get in the back n' put it on" he says with a quick hand motion toward the backseats. you raise your eyebrow at him ready to protest but he wasn't having it. "do i need to repeat myself baby?"

you pause for a second before shaking your head no and doing as you were told.

now, only in your cropped t-shirt and the candy garment, you watch curious and nervous as chris removes his belt. "hands above your head" he commands and you listen. he brings your wrists behind the head of the car seat, binding them together with his belt.

"i think.." chris starts as he moves to his knee's infront of you "that for whatever fucking reason" he spreads your legs "you think it's okay to start acting out when you don't get what you want when you want it" his tone gets you wetter than you already were. you can't help the smile that spreads on your face at the satisfaction of having gotten the rise out of your boyfriend that you were hoping for. if only you knew how much you'd regret it only a few minutes from now.

chris catches the sly little smirk on your face. this makes him smile back, only his is much more menacing. "oh you think you're getting what you want huh?" he says. you shrug, staring back at him smugly. "we'll see." he says, mocking your text from earlier before he his mouth latches onto your left thigh.

his mouth moves smoothly, leaving a small trail of purple marks up your thigh. when he gets to your candy covered cunt he hovers teasingly for a moment before switching to the other thigh. you sigh impatiently, earning a threatning glare from chris.

this time when chris makes it to your heat his teeth close in on a candy just above your clit, mouth is so close yet so far. he bites the candy before eating it excrutiatingly slowly. once he's done he flattens his tongue against the front of the candies, shortly giving you the smallest amount of pleasure as he drags it up to where the waistline of the g-string is.

his teeth latch onto another candy but this time he pulls back, bringing the candy clad garment away from you. he quickly releases his teeth from it, letting it snap back against you.

you jump a little at the unexpected sting. chris smirks at your reaction before his mouth goes for another candy that's sitting right over your clit again. "chris come on" you complain but he stays focused on consuming the little candies.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you squirm in the seat, wrists uncomfortably wriggling against his belt as he sucks on another candy, his lips just barely brushing where you need him. it's been almost ten minutes now and you're soaked and needy, clenching around nothing everytime his lips or tongue accidentally ghost you.

"chris m' sorry i need you please" you attempt to beg, pushing your hips toward his face. he wraps both his arms around your thighs to hold them down and apart. "should've thought about that before whining and complaining all day hm?" he taunts before his teeth grip another candy "n' stop squirming" he says through gritted teeth while he sucks on the sugary candy.

this goes for a couple more minutes before he pulls away to look up at your face. you look just about ready to cry from sexual frustration. he smirks as he rubs your thigh soothingly. "what do you want baby?" his hand snakes up to your waist to pull the candy string back and let it snap against your skin again. you wince before speaking "your mouth, fingers, anything. please" not caring how needy you sound you beg him desperately. over the candies, chris presses two fingers over your hole. the feeling of the cold candies against you instinctively makes you attempt to pull your hips back but there's really nowhere for you to go.

he wraps his fingers around the garment and pulls it to the side before his head dissapears between your thighs. he gives an experimental flick to your clit before diving in to suck and nibble on your sensitive bud.

you throw your head back, a nearly pornagraphic moan comes out at the pure relief. to make things easier for himself he gives a harsh tug to the part of the candied underwear he was holding, causing the string to snap. candy spills off most of the garment and it goes all over the floor of your car. you instinctively try to reach out to pick up the candies or somehow stop the mess but your wrists only strain against the material of his belt again. "chris!" you whine annoyidly.

you're quickly silenced by two fingers teasing your folds. wetness coats his digits without them even being in you. "did i really get you this worked up, sweetheart?" he asks before holding his fingers up to your mouth "open". you comply and are immedietly met with his fingers pressing down on your tongue."taste sweeter than candy don't you?" he asks rhetorically before unexpectedly latching his mouth back to your clit. you cry out when he adds his two fingers along with it.

his tongue switches between flicking, sucking and nibbling so often that you can't even keep up with what form of pleasure he's applying. his fingers pump in and out at an extremely rapid pace that makes your hips twitch. the windows are foggy and the air in the car is heavy from both your heavy breaths.

your mouth hangs open as incoherent words and whines spill. he lets your clit go with a wet pop. his fingers continue. he pulls his head back a little to watch the way your body reacts to him, the way your face contorts in pleasure. you're already clenching around his digits. his fingers push deeper and curl up into that one spot that makes your mind go numb. "mph- m' close" you mutter out between desperate whines. "yea? you wanna cum on my fingers?"

you open your mouth to say yes when suddenly he pulls his fingers out, shoving them in your mouth again. "suck" he tells you while simultaniously reaching up to release your wrists.

with glossy eyes you look at him and suck your juices off his fingers. once he retracts his fingers you pull him in by his shirt to press your lips to his. the kiss is full of tongue and teeth. needy. he climbs onto the seat next to you before adjusting you until you're beneath him. his hips press down into yours making you both whine. you push your hips toward his. he pulls his face back to look at you consideringly. looking at him through your lashes you reach between the two of you to massage his erection through his pants "please." your voice is needy but sweet. "yea? wanna be a good girl and let me fuck you?" he asks while moving to take his sweatpants off. you nod with a sickeningly sweet smile as he finishes removing his clothes.

once he's situated, he makes a point of dragging his tip teasingly along your folds. you go to complain but he knows you too well. "uh uh. remember what that mouth did to get you here in the first place" he reminds. "well techinically it wasn't my mouth since it started over text so- mph!" one hand covers your mouth as he uses the other to balance himself while he thrusts his length into you.

he watches you in awe as he slowly pulls back out "not another word out of you" his hips snap right back. everytime he fucks into you, you're crying out into his hand. his speed starts steady and slow but that lasts no longer than a minute before he's messily pounding into you. you wrap one hand around the wrist of his hand that covers your mouth. your other creates deep red marks down his back, nails dragging and grabbing for some kind of support.

at this point everything that comes from his mouth are all mindless filthy comments. "gonna- mm- make sure that i f-fuck the rest of that attitude outta y-you" he assures as he abuses your cervix repetitievly. clenching around his dick at his filthy words causes his head to drop, a moan slipping his lips. even when his pace is sloppy he doesn't dissapoint, continuing reaching deep inside you with every movement.

it's not long before your minds set on wanting to finish. you reach between the two of you to stimulate your clit but chris swats it away. one hand shutting you up still, he uses his other to rub fast circles on your sensitive bud. you whine and he does too from the way your nails dig deeper into his skin.

his thrusts become sloppier and his fingers work faster. you try to speak but between him fucking you and his hand over your mouth it's impossible. luckily for you he knows by the way your breath is becoming shallow that you're close.

"not until i say so" when his hips begin twitching he slides his hand from your mouth to your neck to steady himself. "jesus chris" you manage to whine as you drink in the air, still slightly restricted by his hand on your throat. your legs tense around his body and you both know you can't hold off much longer.

"you wanna cum sweetheart?" you nod, letting out a soft "yes" breathlessly. "then ask me. gotta make sure you've- mm fuck- learned your lesson" he looks in your eyes with a look of admiration at how pretty and fucked out you are for him. "wanna cum so bad, m' sorry for compla- ah oh god" you don't get to finish as he grabs under your knee and spreads you wider, managing to hit deeper inside you "i'm sorry for complaining, pleasee let me cum" you draw out the please in a innocently convincing way. "listen so well. go ahead"

as soon as you have his permission your lower stomach twists inside as your legs clench right around his waist. all it takes is one more thrust and you're dripping around his cock. chris curses out your name with a string of obsceneties as your orgasm triggers his. he makes sure you both completely ride out your highs before he pulls out and retracts his fingers from your poor clit.

you both take what seems like years to catch a normal pace to breath at. chris reaches to the floor, obtaining both your clothes. "shower when we get home?" chris asks you as he becomes aware of the sticky residue of both cum and candy left on your body.

"absaloutely."

Tags: @ezziewinchester @sturnsblog @mattsrod @blue-for-percyjackson

[mia-can-yap-too]

JJK but it’s a dating show

What?:- The JJK men are here to compete to steal the heart of Y/n L/n in the show ‘Binding Vows and Broken Hearts’! In this segment, our host will ask each of the contestants why they want Ms.L/n to choose them!

Warnings!:- fluff, crack, allusions of violence, a little bit suggestive but like it’s only the last line

(bllk ver.)

Gojo Satoru

“Starting off strong with none other than the strongest sorcerer in the world, Gojo Satoru!” introduces the host.

Gojo lounges on the leather chair like the rich man he is, with a confident yet effortless smirk adorning his face. The cheers he gets certainly boosts his already huge ego.

“Ah, you don’t need to make everyone nervous like that! Someone people cower in the presence of greatness, you know? Just call me Gojo,” he chuckles.

“Confidence, we like that! Let’s dive right in then! Tell us, Gojo, what makes you stand out from the rest? Excluding your incomparable strength, of course!” The host laughs a professional laugh.

Still smirking, Gojo doesn’t ponder before he answers. “Other than that? Well, there’s so much…like my otherworldly beauty, my endless wealth, my irresistible charm, my glorious blue eyes, which would look great on our children, by the way, Y/n. Oh, there’s also”—

“Right, that’s enough for now! Onto the next!”

“Hey! I wasn’t done yet, Y/n needs to know all that she could score with”—

Geto Suguru

“Next up, we have Geto Suguru!”

Geto smiles charmingly at the crowd which makes some fangirls scream. “It’s my pleasure to be here.”

His long locks are tied up into a bun and his black suit complements him well, adding onto the allure.

The host reads from the cards in his hands. “Let’s not waste a second! What makes you think Ms.L/n would choose you?”

Geto straightens his posture before he replies. “Well, not to toot my own horn, but I am quite popular with the ladies. I believe I could treat her right, as someone as priceless as her should be treated. I can be charming, but not so much that it’s bothersome. Trust me, I know someone who doesn’t know where that line stands. I can be very caring, and thoughtful also. I believe these traits would make me a good boyfriend.”

The host nods slyly. “That’s a very good answer, Geto. Now, what do you say about the rumors that you are mentally unwell?”

“I—What?!”

Nanami Kento

“Everyone, give a round of applause for Nanami Kento!” The host exclaims.

The man himself is seated politely on the leather chair, every bit of him looks as neat and pristine as usual. “Nice to meet you, everyone.”

“So, Nanami, what type of man do you consider yourself to be?”

“Based on what I deduce from my daily routines and on the type of person I strive to be, I would say I am a hardworking and honest man.”

The host nods. “We’ve all heard a lot of good things about you! The media says that you are ‘total malewife material’! Isn’t that great?”

Nanami merely nods. He does not know what that phrase means.

“Let’s do a couple more short questions. How much does loyalty matter to you in a relationship?”

“A lot. I would be very loyal to my partner and expect the same in return. I wouldn’t date someone if I had the intentions of cheating.”

This earns him some coos from the ladies in the audience.

The host continues, “Would you say that you are hot tempered in any way? What if your partner did something that made you mad?”

Nanami doesn’t hesitate, probably because he was raised well. “No, I wouldn’t. I find no use or respect in shouting at someone for their mistakes. I like to think of myself as patient, so I would try to talk it out instead.”

The host claps. “Wow, ladies, this is the type of man you should go for! You very well might be the best contestant here!”

Sukuna Ryomen

“Give it up for, Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses!” says the host nervously.

There aren’t many cheers as most of the audience is praying for their lives instead. Even the viewers at home can feel the tense atmosphere from the screen.

The curse, who makes the leather chair creak, is seemingly satisfied with the term of address that he doesn’t notice the lackluster performance from the audience.

“So, Sukuna,” starts the host, “why do you think Ms.L/n should choose you?”

Sukuna scoffs. “Why shouldn’t she? I would make her my queen. She would be the most respected woman in the whole world and would have authority over curses too! She’s a fool to say no to me!”

The host is apprehensive. “But, there is a chance…she chooses someone else? Someone less likely to murder her maybe?”

Sukuna glares. “Do you wish to die, peasant?! I can kill you all right now! Matter of fact”—

There is a flurry of cameras knocking down and people screaming. In the midst of it all, the host grabs a camera and talks to it. “After a short commercial break about the best onigiri places in Japan, brought to you by Inumaki Toge, we will be right back!”

The cameras cut.

Choso Kamo

The host wipes his brow with a handkerchief. The set up looks as normal as before, if you don’t include the slightly disheveled state of the staff.

“Sorry for the wait, but moving on! Choso Kamo!”

The audience does its best to applaud but Choso doesn’t mind.

“Hello, everybody!” He even gives a small wave.

The host chuckles. “Hello to you too, Choso. Right, the questions! Choso, what about Ms.L/n caught your eye?”

Choso blushes slightly. “She is very kind. Oh, and pretty too! Very pretty. Um…and she’s nice and my baby brother, Yuji, thinks so too! He says he ‘ships us’”—he makes quotation marks with his fingers—“but I don’t really know what that means.”

“That means he thinks you both look good together! I didn’t know kids so young could talk, he must be talented! You seem to be very fond of your baby brother! He must be a cute little gentleman, babies are so adorable after all! How old is he?”

“Sixteen.”

Toji Fushiguro

“Everybody, welcome the Sorcerer Killer, Toji Fushiguro!”

The crowd, both the male and female members, hoot and holler.

Toji manspreads on the leather seat, wearing his usual day to day clothes. Which the host totally doesn’t judge him for.

“Toji, why is someone like you on a dating show?”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the winner. Also, the girl’s hot.”

The host’s professional smile falters. “…the cash prize is the reason…Nevermind! What do you expect in a relationship?”

“For her to pay for my meals. My physique needs protein I can’t afford.”

“No..I mean what would you do?”

“…Do backshots count?”

Bonus Scene!

The viewers are waiting for the show to come back on while watching the commercial break.

Currently, there is a guy on the screen whose face is half-covered with his collar.

“Tuna Tuna. Salmon Roe! Mustard Leaf, Tuna Mayo!”

“Dude, what the fuck is this guy on about?”

Authors note:- About time i admit i haven’t watched S2 of JJK and this is based purely on the fanfics i’ve read and tiktoks i’ve watched. anyways I won’t be adding more people in this but if u want a part 2 then you can tell me what the next segment should be about in my inbox or replies! Thank you!

take a look at my masterlist!

[sits-bound]

One year of fanbinding!

I keep thinking "I'm really new at this still" but I guess after a year, it's like, you don't have a puppy anymore, you have a dog. So now I'm in the dog phase of this hobby.

(I didn't make all of these, some were acquired in exchanges.)

In the past year, I have made around 54 books. (For the purposes of my sanity, I am not counting journals or sketchbooks, nor am I counting author/artist copies if the design was the same.)

54 books! In 52 weeks! That's basically a book a week!

Which binds are my favorites?

Ooh, that's hard. I tried to limit myself here, but these all are very special to me.

And I can't choose just one of these:

Honorable mention goes to this one, but I didn't design the typeset, so I can't take all the credit. But I do love the cover.

What's my favorite part of making books?

It's not surprising to me that typesetting is my favorite part. I designed a book for a local museum in 2007, and loved the process. Before that, I wanted to work in editorial design (I had a few jobs doing that in and after college, but that was in the olden days.)

I enjoy the part of physically creating the book too, but I find it a bit more frustrating. I'm not detail-oriented enough to make sure everything is perfect, and then I get frustrated when an endpaper is glued on slightly crookedly, or my text block isn't perfectly square. (Not that I have anyone to blame but myself!) That said, holding a completed book in my hands is the most satisfying feeling, after actually reading said book. I feel so smug when I'm reading a book I created.

I have a lot of imposter syndrome when it comes to the actual designing of covers. I know my strengths lie in manipulating existing content instead of creating it from scratch. So I need to stop comparing myself to other creators, and just do my best. We all have different styles, I tell myself.

What's next?

I'd like to learn how to sew endbands for once and for all. I have tried and given up in disgust so many times. I have watched so many videos and read many tutorials, and I just need someone to come to my house and show me in person.

I also would like to try to learn how to draw, a bit. I know I'll never be great at it, but I've also never tried to learn. I will be off work for a few months later this summer/fall, and I'd like to use that time taking some classes. Even if I could just draw designs to use on my covers, I'd be happy. I don't expect to be able to draw things or people.

I wanted to take up this hobby for a long time before I actually did it. I read through @armoredsuperheavy's guide like eighteen times before I worked up the courage to actually use it. So my advice to all of the people who tag my posts with "i wish i could do this" and "i want to do this"…do it!