#lo! the beast speaks!

[sunhaloscarab]

if college wasn't so expensive i would try to get soooooo many degrees smh

[sunhaloscarab]

yes he is a certified doctor......as well as having a bunch of other degrees...

hi Maja...... what do you think of this silly guy...

(dr. mcninja from the adventures of dr. mcninja)

is he a certified doctor mcninja oh my gah

[andtheyreonfire]

i don't wanna say "kingdom hearts has g/t potential" because there was the toy story world and the cinderella world and the wonderland world but what do you mean there's only one borrower fic. you mean no one's going around constantly thinking about what types of keys borrower kingdom hearts characters would use as weapons. borrower aus with the destiny island and sea salt and birth by sleep trio. not even borrowers what if the power of darkness made you grow. what if sora or someone connected to ventus returned to cinderella's world and found themselves five inches tall. honey i shrunk the kids is a disney ip. kingdom hearts g/t bottom text. is this thing on. can anyone hear me. hello

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

i am once again debating changing estrel's name and title

[birdyshewrote]

“Like an Animal”

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Note- I’m tired of nobody playing into the mutant or animalistic side of him as much as I want them to. pls enjoy u freaks 😇

warnings/tags- 18+, Animal!Logan, he’s nasty, strong language, he eats you out like an animal okay? That’s the whole plot.

PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN IDEAS ! Mean!Logan, Soft!Logan, I like it all. give me ideas. also feedback appreciated !

——————————————————————————

Being a mutant leads to heightened senses. You’ve seen this first hand in Logan.

The second you start ovulating, he is all over you. Laying in bed on your phone, he’s watching you from the door way. He’s shirtless, wearing dark blue jeans. His dog tags lay across his broad chest, rising up and down as he breathes.

“Logan? You okay?” You ask, looking up from your phone. He says nothing, instead stepping towards you.. slowly. You frown, sitting up slightly.

“Lo?”

When close enough, he quickly jumps up on the bed, pouncing on you like a cat playing with a mouse.

You wheeze under the sudden weight of his body, all 300 pounds. He pins your arms to your sides using his muscular legs, sticking his face and nose into the deep crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, like he hasn’t been able to take a full breath in years.

“Can smell you..” He groans against your ear.

“Lo!” You exasperate, smiling at the sudden attention. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Could fuckin’ smell you from across the hall.” He smells you again, inhaling your pheromones. He starts smelling all of you in quick, jagged breaths. Your hair, your neck, your chest, your face.

You squirm, his breath tickling your skin. His stubble and facial hair gently scrapes against your soft neck. His own scent was intoxicating, that of leather and cigar smoke. A hint of alcohol lingered on his breath, along with his usual musk and light sweat. You knew there was no chance in getting him off of you unless he wanted to, but you try anyway. You grunt, shaking your shoulders in your best attempt to get the beast of a man off of your body.

He doesn’t budge.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’, girl? Hm?” You feel him smile against your neck as he speaks. “Tryna run away from me?”

The sound of his voice trickles into your ears and sends vibrations to the back of your throat. The warmth and weight of his body mixed with the feeling of his breath and the roughness of his face on your neck makes you weak. You know the power he has over you, and so does he. The familiar throbbing that you know so well rises in your stomach and down into your shorts. You shut your legs and clench your thighs to try and relieve the building tension.

Logan’s head rises up from out of your hair and looks down at your face. He can smell your arousal, and you see it in his eyes. His brows furrow, his breath heavy now, panting. He looks at you hungrily. The look in his eyes is like nothing you’ve seen before, and it makes you nervous, like you’re a piece of meat and he’s a starved animal.

“Logan..” You say cautiously. He scans your face as if he’s trying to regain some control over his own mind, his own movements. “Logan.” You say again, this time more direct. He blinks, his pupils steady again. “What is happening right now with you?”

He looks at your eyes. Then your lips. Then your chest. Then back up to your eyes.

“Need to taste you. Right now.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden bluntness, but you’re quickly distracted by a rough hand gripping the side of your waist. You swallow, inches from his face. You feel his warm, shaky breath on your face as he stares down at you with large, pleading yet demanding eyes.

“Need it now.” He repeats, more frantic this time, like if he doesn’t make a move on you you’ll get away. “Gonna give ya what you need, don’ worry baby, I know what y’need.”

He closes that last inch of space and connects his mouth with yours, kissing you slowly. His breath gets heavier, his nose and face mashing into yours as the kiss gets sloppier and lazier. He indistinctively let’s out faint groans and whines from his chest and back out his throat into your mouth. He’s lapping at your tongue now, like your mouth is the fountain of youth.

He paws at your waist, bringing his huge, veiny hand up your side and under your loose top. He cups a breast in his hand, to which he grabs greedily. He couldn’t get enough of your body, and if you weren’t soaking before, you definitely are now. He bites your bottom lip with his sharp canine, gently at first, but once he starts he couldn’t stop. He bites your tongue a few times, kissing you and pushing his face farther into your space. He quickly pulls his face away from yours, looking down at you with half lidded, crazed eyes. He brushes some hair out of your face with his free hand, looking down at your puffy, wet lips.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that? So beautiful.” His voice is low, you’re the only one he’s speaking too. The only one that needs to hear his voice. “So beautiful for me, all for me. Right sweetheart?”

You nod, quickly licking your raw lip and swallowing.

He kisses you again. Any politeness is gone now. He moves his mouth from your face to your cheek. He trails sloppy, hot kisses down your jaw to your neck. He bites and licks at the top of your ear, then back down to your collarbone. He moves his body down the bed, gently nipping at your collarbone, leaving red marks that will soon turn to hickeys. He brings his head up to look at his doing, clearly marking his territory. His warm face is back on your chest in a heart beat though, his other hand finding it’s way to your second breast. He focuses on perfecting the marks on your chest for a moment, then looks again. You writher under his touch, moving your legs together. Once he’s satisfied with his markings, he lifts your shirt up, letting it bunch at your neck before gently biting at your nipple, pinching the other with his hand. He licks and licks, tasting your skin and smelling you.

“Lo.” You whine.

You feel him smile against your skin before laying one more kiss on your tit, then sits up. He looks down at you once again. Your chest exposed to him. You’re all blushed and red, bruised, hot and bothered. He did this to you.

“I know, I know Bub. I cant wait either.”

He slides off the side of the furniture, ignoring his own painful erection and kneels on the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed. He grabs your closed thighs, hoists them up and effortlessly pulls you closer to him.

“Take these off for me, Baby.” He hooks a finger under your silk shorts.

You look at him, your face flushed, heart thumping.

He’s too impatient, he can’t wait any longer. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re already goin’ dumb for me. Haven’t even touched you yet.” He teases as he quickly pulls down your shorts to your ankles, tossing them out of sight.

He sighs through his mouth when he sees your leaking panties, all wet and glistening for him.

“Open up.” He sighs, putting his calloused hands on your knees. When you don’t move, he brings a hand to your thigh and pries you open with ease.

“God..” He groans under his breath. Feeling exposed, you try to shut your legs, but he sternly keeps you open for his access. He dips his head below your knees, and without warning inhales with his nose at the top of your clothed slit.

You gasp, embarrassed, and try to push his head away, but to absolutely no avail. Instead, he sticks out his tongue and gently presses it against your clit. Your embarrassment fades as it’s overwhelmed with sudden pleasure. It’s not nearly enough for anything, but at least it’s something. You let out a quick moan, which he pays no attention too. This wasn’t to make you feel good, this was because he needed to taste you.

He licks at you through the thin layer of fabric, holding your thighs down into the mattress with his large hands. He slowly rubs his fingers into your soft skin, soothing you, simply so you’d hopefully stop squirming. His breath is hot against your drenched panties. He grinds his own bulge against the foot of the bed while dragging a finger up your thigh. It travels to the top of your panties, then pulls them down your legs, around your ankles, and forgotten on the floor. He looks at you now, completely exposed to him. Again, you try to avoid his gaze by covering yourself with your hand, but he swats it away.

“Quit.” He snaps, like you’re preventing him from his work.

He brings his middle finger down from your thigh to your slit, just gently tracing it, trying to remember every curve and detail in your delicate space. You look away, shutting your eyes. He slowly slips his finger in, only to the second knuckle. You groan, your back arching to the little contact. He watches you tighten around his digit, your slick acting as natural lubricant. Your juices coating his finger.

“Mm, look at that baby. You’re already doing s’good. Already ready f’me, aren’t you? Such a dirty girl..”

He keeps himself inside of you for a moment, listening to you whine and watching you twitch around his knuckle. He slowly removes himself from your pussy and into his mouth, licking his finger clean, letting none of your arousal go to waste.

When he himself can’t take it anymore, he lowers his head once more in between your legs. He tries to be slow, but can’t stop himself from lapping and lapping at you like a thirsty dog. His licks are undirected, not aiming anywhere specific, just trying to taste as much as you as he possibly can. He moans against your cunt, sending vibrations through your core. He suckles at your pussy, his nose hitting your clit and his facial hair scraping against your folds perfectly. Lapping and lapping and licking and more licking, never once slowing down, never once coming up for air. Instead he breathes through it all, every inhale making him harder and harder in his denim jeans. He licks your entrance. He shoves his hot, wet tongue in and out of you, over and over again.

Once he calms himself down, he directs his licking to your clit, a little more concentrated but still wild. He slowly brings a hand up, holding a finger to your leaking entrance. Barely any pressure is used when his finger easily slips into your pussy, gripping and tightening once more. Once fully adjusted, he slowly pumps in and out of you while wildly lapping at your throbbing clit.

“Logan.” You moan uncontrollably. The noises coming from your mouth are not voluntary. You bring your arms up from your sides and latch onto the black tufts of hair on his head, pulling. He lets out a groan against your cunt when you pull his hair, and this almost sets you over the edge, but not yet.

He inserts a second finger, curling upwards, hitting that sweet spot so perfectly you begin to see stars. Your sweet mouth hangs open and your eyes water, huffing, trying to control your breathing.

“S’good f’me.” He mutters against you. “Doin’ s’good f’me. You gonna cum baby? Gonna make a mess on my face? Hm?”

Your toes begin to curl as Logan keeps your legs open for himself. When he looks up, he locks eyes with you. His eyebrows are furrowed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, watching your face.

“So good sweetheart, jus’ like that. Justa little bit more baby.”

He shuts up when he notices your legs sputtering, and starts eating you again. He nips at your sensitive bud once or twice, making you jolt in response. His fingers quicken, in and out, in and out. Then, the knot grew tighter and tighter. You tap his head with your hand as a warning, letting out soft “Ah- Ah”s.

You throw your head back and curl your toes tightly. Your eyes roll to the back of you head. Logan continues licking and deeply fingering you through your orgasm, moaning “Mhm, mhm,” against you as light encouragement.

He keeps licking every drop of juices that you’d let out until you’re a twitchy, sputtering mess. He lifts his head from your clit to mutter sweet nothings, slowing his fingers around your sputtering hole.

“Fuck, so fucking beautiful. You know that, baby? Did so good f’me. God.”

He gently pulls his fingers out of you, and slowly closes your legs for you to give them a break from the unnatural pose. He licks his fingers as he climbs into bed. Logan hooks his hands under your arms and quickly pulls you up into his chest. He brushes your hair out of the way and lays gentle kisses on your forehead as he rubs his hand up and down your arm.

“Feel good Kid?” He asks you, to which you nod.

You completely relax into his body as the two of you lay in bed. He reaches over to the nightstand and lights a cigar, taking a quick puff before smiling. He sniffs the top of your head again, covering his nose with your messy hair.

“You smell really good.”

[sunhaloscarab]

if they really wanted to piss off the anti woke weirdos they should've made peter latino too smh

'i didnt see anyone complain about harry n norman osborn being black in the new spiderman series!' i said with joys

i then found a yt video saying 'the woke agenda strikes again' about the new spiderman series

[mynameisjag]

Slightly Suggestive Poolverine Prompt: Good Boy

Logan could take pain, he was used to pain, pain was something he was too familiar with…

This though…this was something different...

Hands were gently stroking through his hair, slight little scratches here and there, it was soft and slow and something he hasn’t had in a long time.

There was a hiccuping purr vibrating through his chest, a feeling he had pushed down over and over again in fear of seeming less human.

“Good boy, my good boy.”

He wasn’t though, he wasn’t good.

“Oh, Lo-boo, I’ve told you're the best Wolverine, which means you’re automatically a good boy.”

The hands in his hair traveled, one scratches along his jawline while the other travels down his exposed chest to thumb through his chest hair. He rumbles deeply, falling more into the soothing motions.

Logan isn’t sure how he ended up being swayed by Wade’s honey covered words but he fell for it���maybe it was just the final collaboration of everything that has been happening crashing down on him. The excitement, the confusion, the adrenaline, everything tearing into him, wearing him down to a breaking point.

The animal within wanted to claw out and escape to somewhere, anywhere just to be able to process…everything…

He couldn’t let it…

Wade though, Wade coaxed it and him into a sense of safety…a moment to decompress…pulled into the mercs lap after a shower and borrowed downy feeling sleep pants. Head laying in the other man’s lap, body stretched out.

His mind felt like crashing waves finally settling after a storm, a mess but a mess that was slowly becoming more manageable.

There was a soft kiss on his forehead, another to the tip of his nose, he opened his eyes when the expected third to the lips never came.

Wade was hovering above him, eyes too gentle, smile too indulgent, “just needed a little love, huh, and you turn into a pussycat.”

Logan rumbled but was distracted by the hand on his chest slowly petting downward, teasing near the band of the pants, his rumbles turned into whines.

“Remember, keep your hands to yourself, I’ll keep petting you, can you do that, can you continue being a good boy?”

He whines again, pushing his head into the palm of the hand still caressing his face.

“Words honeybunch, need to hear a verbal yes.”

Logan huffs, his voice low as he finally speaks, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“…yes…please?”

The merc just lightly laughs, finally giving a quick peck to the lips before leaning back with a smug smirk, “See, the best boy,” his hand dragged back upward, getting the feel of the thick hair tickling his skin, “feels like fur.”

“Hmm.”, the Wolverine was practically melting, if this was some kind of alcohol induced dream, he was going to let it go as long as possible, he didn’t get gentle touches in both the waking and sleep induced worlds, and his body seemed unsure on how to process it.

Whatever beast that had pushed and pushed till it nearly consumed him, the force of his feral nature that had taken over in his need to survive no matter his wants of ceasing, the animal that always clawed at his mind…was silent…

It rumbles in a different unsure way then the usual anger.

He allows his eyes to close, losing more to the soothing petting.

“Holy shit, I have to be in the golden timeline, baby, you look so pretty stretched out like this,” Wade was grinning, eyes watching as his hand skimmed over the relaxing muscles, feeling the rumbles grow in intensity as the tip of his fingers slide under the pants band, “I think we’ve both been good boys and deserve a treat.”

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏ'ꜱ Qᴜᴀʀʀᴇʟ ᴀᴛ ᴅʀɪꜰᴛᴍᴀʀᴋ. ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴘꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴛᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ.

Warnings: Aegon being Aegon, Canon events surrounding Aemond's 13th birthday, and the Madame (no explicit details.)

129 AC

The ocean water is warm today. It foams up as it crashes onto the shore where she stands barefooted. Today is a day full of uncertainties and untameable nerves. Today is the day she wil claim a dragon. 

“You will become sick standing in the sea like that.” Jace says

"The ocean is warmer here on Dragonstone than on Driftmark." Rhaella says, dismissing his concerns.

"Are you excited?" He asks, standing beside her, letting the ocean wash over his boots.

"I am nervous. Sona has never been claimed before." She sighs

"I am sure you will be able to do it," Jace assures her

"That is easy for you to say, Vermax hatched while you were still a babe." She sighs

"All true Targrayens are dragon riders. I will not see one of my children remain dragonless."

Rhaella whips around to see Daemon approaching. He is relentless in his father-daughter bonding attempts.

"Jacaerys, your mother wishes to see you." Daemon says

Rhaella ignores how he stands next to her after her cousin has left the beach. Waves crash against rocks as her eyes remain fixed on the horizon.

"This silent treatment is becoming old. You are ten and four, you're no longer a child." He reminds her

"What does Rhaena think of me doing this?" She asks, ignoring his comment, "Of me trying to claim a dragon before her?"

"Her thoughts are not important....Sona has rejected her attempts before." Daemon says, "This dragon is for you, Rhaella, no one else."

Daemon's words are touching. Their relationship is still a rocky one though. The past three years have been spent with him flying between Dragonstone and Driftmark. After his marriage to Rhaenrya she had expected that he'd abandon her, Baela and Rhaena. And yet, every few weeks he'd show up on the shore with Caraxes at his side. He'd spend time with her younger sisters and then come barging into her room as though he owned the entire castle. It had taken many moons for them to have a fully civil conversation devoid of yelling and rude comments but eventually, they formed a sort of friendship. That of course did not mean they got along, just that she had come to tolerate him since he seemed intent on not leaving her life.

"The Dragonkeepers say that it is best to approach Sōna now. She enjoys afternoon naps and will become angry if we disturb her later in the day." Daemon says

Sōna's lair is darker than any night sky Rhaella has ever seen. Water drips from somewhere as she points the torch in front of her, trying to see where the dragon might be. Gods, she hoped she was not about to be eaten.

Another 50 paces into the cave and Rhaella is beginning to think the Dragonkeepers have lied about this dragon existing at all. The dampness of the cave is beginning to seep into her bones, she swears every hair on her body has stood up on alert.

And then there is a glitter of white meeting her eyes, the fire that barely illuminates a few steps in front of her has reached something magnificent.

Sōna's brilliant blue eyes are staring at her. Rhaella is looking into the eyes of a dragon. A shiver snakes through her body as she maintains eye contact and slowly drops the torch.

"Zaldrīzes rȳbus, lo mērī udrirzi Valyrio eglio ȳdrassua"

Daemon's last words before she had entered this lair echo in her mind.

A dragon only listens if you speak in High Valyrian.

She finds herself unsure of what to do now, so she speaks and prays to every god there is that this beast does not open her mouth to burn her alive.

"Iksā gevie." She says slowly, "Eman dreamed hen ao syt ñuha giez ābrar.

You are beautiful. I have dreamed of you for my whole life.

Sōna lets out a deep rumble and Rhaella is unsure about the dragon's thoughts on her compliment.

She slowly begins to move towards the side of Sōna's head. The dragon lets out another grumble as she draws close.

"lykirī. Iksan daor kesīr naejot ōdrikagon ao."

Calm down. I am not here to hurt you.

Rhaella's heartbeat pounds in her ears as her hand touches Sona's rough skin.

"Kesi sagon rōvēgrie raqirossa, Sōna. Mazeminna care hen ao lo ao ivestragī nyke claim ao"

We will be great friends, Sōna. I will take care of you if you let me claim you.

Rhaella gently runs her bare hand along Sōna's jawline. The dragon lets out a sharp sound, almost like a trill of sorts. Rhaella smiles as Sōna lets her continue. Has she truly done it? Has she truly claimed a dragon of her own?

Sōna lets out another gurgle before pushing her head further into Rhaella's waiting arms.

"Sir iksi hēnkirī ēva morghon ñuha riña. Nyke kivio naejot gaomagon ao ȳgha"

Now we are together until death, my girl. I promise to keep you safe.

Her voice is no more than a whisper into the cave but the dragon hears it all the same. Rhaella cannot help the wide smile that stretches across her face when her dragon lets out a noise of agreement.

"The winter snow reaches out and claims a woman. Black banners rise behind them. Green rises to meet the snow."

Aemond is unsure what to make of his sister's words. He had come to her room to play with his little niece and nephew who are learning how to stand on their own. They babble with happiness when he shakes a wooden dragon in their faces.

"The snow will meet green over fields of fire and blood," Heleana says, not bothering to look up from her needlework.

"They are growing quickly." Aemond says, hoping to turn the conversation to something more lucid and interesting for him

"They eat often. The boy more than the girl." Heleana says to him

"You will sit the Iron Throne one day, Jaehaerys," Aemond says to the baby who grabs at his hand and attempts to place it in his mouth

Aemond smiles down at his nephew and niece, they are two of the few living beings in this castle that do not fear him.

The castle is bustling with life, as it often does during the day. Maids scurry about, cleaning, and rat catchers lead their dogs about the halls. The feel of his practice sword in its sheath is a familiar one as he makes his way toward where Cole awaits him in the training grounds. Normally he'd try to rouse Aegon from his sleep but it had been weeks since he had successfully dragged his older brother from bed to train.

The clashing of steel is better than any music he's heard as Cole points out how to hold his arms in a way that keeps the sword from being knocked from his hands.

Aemond takes note of how he is rapidly approaching his teacher's height. The top of his head is finally in line with Cole's eyes, just a few more years and he is sure he will outgrow him, after all, he is already a bit taller than Aegon.

"Have you heard the news?" Cole asks in between sips of water from a large flagon that sits nearby.

"What news?" Aemond asks, not recalling anything his mother might have told him this morning at breakfast.

"Word from Dragonstone to the king. Rhaella Targaryen has claimed a dragon." Cole says, "Queen Alicent read it this morning to his grace."

Rhaella had a dragon? Aemond wondered what dragon she might've claimed. He knew there were many unclaimed ones on Dragonstone. He tried to imagine the delicate Rhaella on the back of a beast like Vermithor. It was rather humorous in his mind.

"What dragon has she taken?" Aemond asked

"Your uncle conveniently left that out, my prince," Cole said

Of course, Daemon would leave that out. Aemond had wondered what changed between Rhaella and Daemon. The last time he had spoken to Rhaella she had been deadset on pretending he didn't exist and now he was helping her claim some unnamed dragon. Maybe he ought to write her again. Things had been tense when he hugged her goodbye on Driftmark's shores. Her nose had still been swollen from his punch, which he regrettably had yet to apologize for.

For the first year, they had exchanged many letters, talking of mundane things such as Rhaella's struggle with holding swords upright during her training with the Master of Arms at Driftmark. And how he had discovered that growing up also meant being forced to stand still for measurements to be taken regularly as he was outgrowing all his favorite clothes. Eventually, though, the letters became less frequent and one day stopped entirely. His mother said it was part of growing up and that it was all for the best since she was "separate" from their family. Aemond tried to believe her, he truly did, but at night when he lay in his bed he found himself missing Rhaella's companionship.

"Shall we continue?" Cole asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

Aegon could not believe he left his chamber for this. Surely his bed and cups of wine were better than all of this.

"It is your brother's name day, try to look presentable." His mother had hissed in his ears when she pulled him down the many steps of the Red Keep.

Aegon did not care about Aemond's name day. Why should he care if his brother was ten and three? Aemond was going to have a thousand name days, Aegon didn't see why he should bother himself to be at all of them.

He still could barely believe his Lord Father had been able to plan and attend this family dinner. Viserys had sent the invitations himself, apparently wishing for his family to gather for Aemond's name day. Aegon still thought it was a dull idea.

His eyes scan the dinner table and they land on Princess Rhaenys, or more specifically who was next to her. His Uncle Daemon's three daughters, loud-mouthed as they were, had grown, Aemond's friend most of all. That blue silk dress of hers was doing nothing to hide the curves Aeggon could practically taste from across the table.

"Stop your staring." His...dear Grandsire said, sending a kick to Aegon's shin under the table

Aegon knows he is dense, but even he does not miss they way Aemond's eyes...or well eye...remain fixed on Rhaella through the night. Perhaps he has underestimated his little brother, maybe there is more to him than books and sword training with Cole. Perhaps this was finally a chance for Aegon to introduce Aemond to true fun.

He can feel the smirk stretch across his face as he plans their evening in his mind. Yes, it was finally time to bring Aemond into his world, to show him what other fun there was to be had.

Rhaella has never felt more awkward. When Rhaenys had announced that they would attend a dinner for Aemond's name day at the request of King Viserys, she wished she could be like Lord Corlys, and simply declare she would not go. It was not that she did not want to see Aemond, she just felt distant from him.Perhaps it was the lack of apology for her face or maybe it was the three years that passed since she had chosen Driftmark over him. She swore he was still upset about all of that.

Aemond's eye had been on her the whole night, Rhaella couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

When they had first arrived, Rhaella had sought him out, perhaps it was just a force of habit but she had found herself at his door. When she peered in, she had expected Aemond to look the way he did when she said goodbye to him on the shore of Driftmark, a snot-nosed, one-eyed boy who was begging her to get on the ship or climb aboard his new dragon with him. Instead, she saw an entirely different person. He was sat with a large book. His newly broken voice had filled her ears, he was practicing his Valyrian. His hair was just past his shoulders and Rhaella could tell he had grown significantly in their time apart, surely he was taller than her now. What stuck out to her the most though was his face, it had sharpened and become rather handsome, most of all though, a gleaming sapphire sat where his missing eye used to be.

She wasn't sure why but she slipped away, not bothering to alert him of her presence. Maybe his new appearance had startled her, or hypnotized her, she truly was unsure of it all.

After dinner had concluded, Rhaella tried slipping away, perhaps she'd visit the library, the castle's library had always been far superior to Driftmark's.

"Are you scared of me?"

A foreign voice fills her ears just as she reaches the doors to the library.

"Aemond." She breathes when she turns to face him, his sapphire eye is now covered with a dark leather eyepatch, "Were you following me?"

She did not hear any footsteps but that did not mean it was impossible.

"You did not look at me once during dinner. Nor did you visit when you arrived yesterday. You are avoiding me." He said, his voice had a twinge in it, like his feelings were hurt.

When did he get so observant and bold?

"I was not avoiding you, Aemond." Rhaella said, looking at him.

"Then why leave dinner so quickly, you ran as tough your hair was on fire." He jests

"You..." She decides it is best to be honest with him, "You are making me nervous."

Aemond lets out a snort of laughter.

"Why? Does my appearance frighten you?" He asks, stepping closer to her so they were only an arms length away

"No! No. It is just...different. I was expecting the same boy who cried after I told him that I'd remain in Driftmark. You have grown up, that is all." She explained honestly

"As have you. You are ten and four now, yes?" He asked

"Yes." She said

It was uncanny how he was taller than her now, truly unfair considering he was still younger than her.

"Aemond!"

What did she do to the gods that they were cursing her with Aegon's presence?

"Aemond! Come, the festivities are not over." Aegon declared, wrapping an arm around Aemond's shoulders.

"Hello, Aegon." She greeted

"Yes, hello." Aegon greeted, his eyes briefly scanning her up and down.

"Where are we going? Mother and father have both gone to bed." Aemond asked, confused.

"I am going to show you the world, little brother," Aegon said

Rhaella thought that was a stupid sentence. It sounded like something out of a bad romance story.

"Might we bring Rhaella? I want to speak to her more." Aemond asked

"No." Aegon said immediately

Rhaella glared at him, how dare he say where she could and could not go?

"It is for men only. You are a man now, little brother, or well you will be by the end of the night." Aegon laughed "Come, we're going now."

Rhaella watched as Aegon walked off.

"I am sure he is just taking me to some tavern he likes. It isn't for noble ladies though." Aemond said

"How long will you be gone?" Rhaella asked, suddenly sad that he wasn't going to stay with her.

"Not long. Wait in the library, I'll come to you when we're done." Aemond said before turning, "I want you to tell me about the dragon you have claimed."

Rhaella smiled as she watched Aemond race after his brother, perhaps appearances had changed but he was still the boy she knew, even though years had passed.

Aemond has never felt more unsure of himself. He has spent the last three years creating a person that is untouchable, devoid of weaknesses, and yet his hands are shaking and his mind is racing. Despite the late hour, he sits in a bath that he ordered a maid to draw for him. The soap and soft rag are rubbing his skin raw as he tries to rid himself of the whore's sickly sweet perfume.

Aegon's laughter was ringing in his ears. The way his elder brother had laughed and pointed as her hands had run down his body. She had been soft and warm yet Aemond had not enjoyed any of it. His skin felt like it was crawling when it had ended. Why did Aegon enjoy doing that regularly? Surely acts like that were not worth dedicating entire establishments to.

His hair is sticking to his neck as he sits in the water. Perhaps if he sits here long enough he will be washed away and the memories of tonight will fall away as well. His eye squeezes shut when he recalls the way her voice had sounded in his ears, loud and wonton, almost like the sound of a dying animal.

Fuck. He wished he could take it all back, he should've ignored his brother and just gone to bed, then all would be right and he wouldn't wish to peel his skin from his bones. His skin is red by the time he is done with it all. Surely he has removed the layer that her hands were all over.

He feels dizzy as he forces himself out of the comfort of the bath. He thinks of Rhaella, surely she is not waiting for him still.

Once he is dressed though, his legs lead him to the library anyway. Maybe he is just seeking comfort in familiarity but all he knows is for once in his life, he is not alright with being alone. The library is silent, and very dark when he enters. He nearly turns back to return to his own chamber when a pale flicker of light catches his eye.

A stump of a candle is all that illuminates the scene he finds her in. Her head is resting in her arms as half her body is resting on the table. Her nose is whistling ever so slightly as she sleeps. He quietly sits down next to her, just her presence is enough to calm his racing mind. Her long hair is free from its usual braids and tumbles down her shoulders. It is softer than it looks as he wraps a strand around his finger. His eye examines her face that is just barely illuminated by the candle. Her features had sharpened, just like his had the past three years and Aemond cannot deny that it suits her. Her familiar scent invades his nose as he rests his head on the table to stare at her, he smiles as he thinks of her waking to find him next to her.

"Gevī"

Beautiful

And so we dig into the romance of the story...

Sorry if the Valyrian is wrong, obviously I'm not fluent in it and I used an online translator for this story.

By the way, Sōna means snow in Valyrian. ;)

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[sunhaloscarab]

well! at least i will possibly see the collapse of america within my lifetime!

[avenomousflower]

Hector walked with light steps, careful to avoid making too much noise. He held a hand to the stone wall, recalling having been told that he should always do so if ever he was in such a situation. He had never expected this to happen to him, had never even considered the possibility.

It had been a hard life on the streets of Crete, begging for scraps and huddling for shelter when it was cold, or wet. It hardly seemed fair that he should be punished for trying to survive. He had taken a crust of bread, only enough to keep himself from starving, and had been thrown in front of the king to face judgement. He had been washed and oiled and perfumed, and thrown to his consequence.

Ever since the Bull had been born, punishment had become stricter and more common. Once he would have gotten a slap on the wrist, maybe a little compensatory labor, and then would be free to go. But the Bull of Minos demanded sacrifice, and criminals had been the obvious choice.

The labyrinth walls were rough on his fingertips. Each faint footstep echoed through the halls.

Hector steeled himself, willed himself to be brave.

But he was young, and alone, and each step brought him closer to the labyrinth’s end, and to his own.

On he walked for what felt like hours, turning corners and frustrating himself at dead ends, doubling back and trying new paths. There was an element of relief at each failed passage, but also a pang of disappointment; he would live for another moment, but was forced to prolong his own torment.

The deep and resonant sound of heavy breathing began to tug at him after some time. His journey neared its end.

The sound grew louder as he walked, laboured and consistent.

A final turn brought him to the Minotaur’s chamber.

The masculine smell of musk sat heavy on the air. The growling drone of weighty breaths reverberated in his bones.

It was seated at the far side of the room, head bowed. Its arms were as thick as tree trunks, its stomach swollen, completely naked save for a scrap of cloth covering its manhood. Its head was the furred black of a bull, two broken horns crowning it.

It looked up at Hector, black eyes twinkling in the dark, thoughtful.

The Bull of Minos rose from its rest, and took a deliberate step toward the young man. There was no aggression in its movement, but a curiosity and a gentleness.

Hector had sometimes heard the philosophers as they debated and deliberated, discussing their theories and concepts. A recent one was Fight or Flight; the idea that when threatened, mankind reacted like animals, with aggression or by fleeing.

Hector found that neither had applied to him now. He froze in place like a man petrified by a gorgon.

The Minotaur took Hector in its hands, calloused and broad, and inhaled his scent. It seemed to inspect him, sizing him up and taking his stock. He knew that criminals were sent to be sacrificed, but knew not the form that this sacrifice would take.

The Minotaur was gentle as it lowered him from his feet, bringing him to rest on his back on a pile of cloth. It seemed to have made a decision, had come to some conclusion about him. It came down to its knees, using a hand to part Hector’s oiled thighs, and the boy complied.

He could feel the swelling bulge beneath the thin fabric at the Minotaur’s crotch, and he found himself wanting.

The horror of the creature was eclipsed by how aggressively masculine it was; it looked like a man, it smelled like a man, and the rough hands on his thigh and waist asserted that it felt like a man, too.

Hector whimpered ever so slightly when two of the Bull’s slick fingers slipped inside him. It let out a huff as it did so, its breath hot on Hector’s face. Hesitantly, he reached out, taking the beast by its waist and pulling it toward him.

He did not know if it could speak, or how it thought, but it understood him. Its fingers gently slipped from within him, and it pressed the tip of its cock to the tight, oiled pucker of his hole.

The monster was a surprisingly gentle lover, carefully rocking back and forth, applying slightly more pressure each time it pressed against his entrance. An exhalation turned into a moan as the head entered him, his moan turning to a whine of pleasure as it pulled back and then pushed forward again, sinking a little deeper, stretching him a little wider.

Hector spread his thighs further apart, and the Minotaur pressed the weight of its stomach onto him, skin to skin.

It pressed its lips to his throat as it sunk the full length of itself inside the boy, throbbing inside him. It was still for a moment as though enjoying the tightness, the wetness, the warmth, and then it slowly and softly began to thrust.

Hector whimpered and whined, digging his fingernails into the skin of the beast’s back, pulling it closer, holding it tighter, inviting all of it inside him.

It pumped within him, breaths growing deeper and more erratic, nearing its climax.

“Finish within me,” Hector breathed, uncertain if the beast understood him, and uncaring. “Make me yours.”

The moment struck him like lightning from Olympus as it thrust roughly, burying itself within him, throbbing inside him, spilling itself into the hot, wet darkness.

The Bull breathed deeply, panting, and Hector panted below it.

They lay together for a time, breathing quietly, the Bull growing soft and slipping out of the young man.

After what felt like an age, it rose to look him in the eye, that thoughtful, inspecting gleam having returned. It watched him for a while before it leaned back down toward him.

It took the back of his head in one hand, a tender motion, and brought its lips toward him.

He thought for a moment that it meant to kiss him, before its mouth opened and he understood.

Its breath was hot, but not unpleasant. The cavern of its gullet opened to welcome him.

The Bull was gentle, tender, as it guided his head toward its mouth, teeth grazing along the skin of his face, tongue wet below his chin. He closed his eyes, embracing his punishment with a strange serenity.

Its throat was tight around his head, its lips now working down to his shoulders, arms pinned to his side. The flesh of the throat rippled around him, strong muscles guiding him deeper. The heat and wetness washed over him, lips moving down to his waist.

The muscles parted around him as his head entered the beast’s stomach, gravity doing most of the work now to pull him deeper. He naturally curled around himself, his feet wriggling as it took all of him inside it, the cool air outside pulled away as it closed its mouth around them.

All of him was inside the Bull’s stomach now, wrapped around himself foetally. He felt the impression of strong hands feeling about his form, taking his measurement from outside.

There came the deep and resonant sound of a belch that constricted the stomach walls around him and permeated through the flesh.

The beast’s hands stopped inspecting him now and rubbed at him instead, kneading him, enjoying the satisfaction of a filling meal. Hector considered now that this would end only in digestion, suspected that the rubbing might have been an effort to stimulate the process, but it was too late now to worry on such things.

This was his life now, his home, his purpose.

He had given the Minotaur permission to own him, and that was what it had done.

His fate was intimately tied to the beast’s digestive processes now, and he made his peace with that.

Hector raised a hand to press on the wet flesh of the beast’s stomach lining, and the beast met his hand with its own. He may have been foolish, or mad, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was a connection between them, a deep and personal intimacy. The Minotaur had taken his virginity, and he wondered if he had taken its own.

The breathing grew deeper, more steady, and he realised after a time that the beast had fallen asleep, hands still pressed lovingly to the bulge that he made in its stomach. Hector closed his eyes, allowing sleep to take him too, and he went to his final slumber amid gurgling and squelching, the walls of the stomach working over him, preparing him for digestion.

[mrs-stans]

GQ Hype

How Sebastian Stan became Donald Trump in The Apprentice

With an uncanny performance as a young Donald Trump in The Apprentice and an even less recognisable turn in A Different Man, the shapeshifting actor is embracing his freaky side

By Ben Allen Photography by Daniel Jack Lyons

Coat by Loewe. Boots by Dolce & Gabbana.Necklace by Cartier.Daniel Jack Lyons

When Sebastian Stan was growing up in Romania in the 1980s, he began to learn English through passive immersion. His mother, a concert pianist, would regularly play English music and language lessons on the family record player while they were going about their day. “I’d be playing with toys and I’d hear, like, ‘frog’ and ‘dog’, or whatever,” Stan says. It meant that by the time the actor moved to Vienna at age eight, where he attended an American international school – and later, when he moved to New York at 12 – he had a decent jumping-off point. “I’m a big believer in putting yourself in a situation where, subconsciously, there’s work being done.”

In the past two years, Stan has put that method to use in a very different way. As he entered preproduction to play Donald Trump in Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice – which charts the former President and current Republican candidate’s early rise through the New York property scene – he started spending his waking hours with tapes of the young Trump playing in his ears. He brushed his teeth with Trump, he went grocery shopping with Trump, he spoke to friends with one earphone in, Trump still nattering away in his ear. “I slept with him, by the way,” Stan says, well aware of how strange that sounds. “It just sort of ends up taking over your life.” He’s sitting somewhere in Los Angeles at lunchtime, speaking to me over Zoom, with the afternoon sun reflecting off his chlorine-blue eyes.

Jacket and shirt by Gabriela Hearst. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Ring by Cartier.

The Apprentice, which Stan first signed up for in 2022, explores the question, ‘How did Trump get like this?’ (The answer, it posits, has a lot to do with Roy Cohn, a lawyer and prosecutor who had risen to prominence in the 1950s as Senator Joseph McCarthy’s attack dog in the communist witch-hunts.) The film is the latest in a string of freaky, transformation-heavy roles that have run parallel alongside Stan’s very mainstream 13-year-and-counting stint as Captain America’s pal Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which has made him a globally recognised action star. The Apprentice lands this month in the UK, two weeks after A Different Man, an A24 production in which Stan plays an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that has caused the growth of non-cancerous tumours on his face. They’re not your typical actor-in-between-superhero-outings roles – and the fact that Stan is spending so much time in the make-up chair outside of the blockbusters is indicative of a desire to get truly lost in his work.

I started to think a lot about the American dream. What is it? Is it a ghost you keep chasing?

Preparing to play Trump, he says, was like any other time he has portrayed a real-life person – take, say, Tonya Harding’s ex-husband, Jeff Gillooly, in I, Tonya, or Tommy Lee in Pam & Tommy. But this time around it came with an added layer of stress. “There’d be nights when my anxiety levels would be through the roof, because I’d be like, Why did I say yes to this?” he says with a laugh.

But Stan thrives when he leans into fear. He had been terrified of I, Tonya, and even more terrified of Pam & Tommy – which, in its exploration of the couple’s romance and sex tape, involved a scene where Lee converses with a silicone puppet of his penis. (The latter earned him Golden Globe and Emmy nominations.) Trump was a different beast. “I thought, I don’t know if this is doable. I don’t know if I have it in me,” he says. “But it’s not not gonna happen because I’m scared of it.”

Coat, shirt and tie by Ludovic de Saint Sernin. Trousers by Gabriela Hearst. Boots and gloves by Versace. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Daniel Jack Lyons

Jacket and shirt by Gabriela Hearst. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Daniel Jack Lyons

When his mother told him he was going to be leaving Vienna for the United States at 12 years old, Stan felt like the floor had fallen from beneath him. “It was like you were telling me that my life was over,” he says. His mother was a single parent and had met an American man and fallen in love; he wanted to bring them both to live with him in New York. Stan remembers crying in the shower in the days leading up to the move. After departing Romania a few years before, he had worked hard to forge new friendships. Now, he’d have to rebuild from the bottom up again. “That did feed me resilience, because it did allow me to get better at restarting and restarting,” he says. “It fed a lot of who I am.”

Upon arriving in America, he started working on his impersonation of an American teenager. “I was so traumatised by being different,” he says. He refused to speak Romanian, even at home. He didn’t tell anyone he was from a foreign country. “I wanted to change my name to Christopher,” he says. “I wanted to be as normal in America as anybody else.” Having already set the ball rolling with his passive English lessons as a child, he was able to adopt a seamless New York accent, leaving little to betray his otherness. He tried out every personality marker available to him at school, to figure out which one fitted: debate team, forensics, every sport he could muster, and drama, eventually gravitating towards the latter. “I became popular in high school through acting,” he says. “I went on dates. I found my path.”

Still, this otherness was a part of Stan, as much as he initially tried to suppress it. As he came to appreciate life in America – in a middle-class household, with a good education – he began to reappraise his background, and felt a sense of gratitude to his stepfather for bringing them over, and for the drive it seeded within him. “This idea that you’ve been so lucky to have been selected to get this opportunity,” he says. “I was able to seize it and work with it, but on the other hand it’s a never-ending burden because you go, ‘You better not blow it!’” He remembers taking a walk through the city on their arrival, gawping up at the skyscrapers, when his mother impressed upon him that very sentiment: “You see these buildings? This is where you have a chance to become something.” He thought about this conversation quite a lot while he was playing Trump, probably because it feels like a scene ripped right out of a more varnished biography of the former President. “I started to think a lot about the American dream, and sort of like, what is it?” he says. “Is it a ghost you keep chasing?”

That was a way of me understanding that you're just out there, like target practice.

When Stan was doing theatre in high school, he loved getting a chance to transform and become a different person entirely. “You’re 14, 15, and you’re playing parts where you have to be, like, 35 years older than you are, and you have to change your appearance, you have to change everything, and you have to walk a certain way,” he says. “That shit was fun.” He would find himself craving those meatier transformations later, after landing a run of roles in Hollywood playing traditionally hot villains and heroes in Gossip Girl and in the Captain America movies. “Watching Christian Bale do The Fighter and watching him do Batman and Vice and The Machinist… He was a guy that, to me, could have made very conventional choices because he’s very good at any of it. But then he’s trying these things.”

Opportunities like this aren’t necessarily afforded to nascent actors. In a weird way, you kind of have to wait for your face to become recognisable before you’re allowed to start messing with it. The first real taste Stan got of this was in 2017 – after he had been solidly established as a Marvel hero – in the Margot Robbie-led, Oscar-winning I, Tonya, which told the story of the assault on figure skater Nancy Kerrigan, orchestrated by her Olympic rival Tonya Harding’s camp. For Harding’s ex-husband – who sets the assault in motion – they were looking for someone very different to Stan. The real Gillooly is slight and short, with narrow features. Stan felt his teen-drama looks would work against him in the audition process. “I’m like, ‘I’m gonna walk into that room and they’re gonna see the taller guy, The CW [the young-people-melodrama US TV network that first aired Gossip Girl] guy.’ I felt like I was going to be immediately judged.”

Coat and pyjamas by Dolce & Gabbana. Daniel Jack Lyons

I, Tonya director Craig Gillespie saw in Stan a capacity to become Gillooly. “I was familiar with Captain America: Civil War and his work there, and I couldn’t quite picture it [at first],” Gillespie tells me. “But he actually turned up [to the audition] in the turtleneck and the moustache, almost in character. And the transformation, and his instincts tonally and comedically… He was actually improvising things in the scene that worked incredibly well.”

Gillespie was impressed not just by how Stan had remoulded himself in the shape of someone else, but by his ability to tap into the character’s humanity, too. “It has to be emotionally resonant,” he says. “You have to be able to connect to the characters… He completely commits, which is an incredibly scary proposition for an actor.” Still, Stan was filled with anxiety heading into I, Tonya. “The amount of fear I had was almost traumatising,” he says. But then he did it. “I worked so hard for that movie, and it worked.”

A DIFFERENT MAN takes things up another notch. The film was written and directed by Aaron Schimberg, a rising indie director whose work has explored how disability has impacted his life (Schimberg was born with a cleft lip and palate). In it, a prosthetics-heavy Stan plays Edward, an actor whose biggest break to date is a small role in a corporate training video about how to treat employees with facial differences in the workplace. Edward’s spirit has been crushed by the world around him, weathered by the relentless gawping of strangers and rejection. Then, he takes part in a clinical trial for a new drug that could remove the tumours from his face. It works. Edward fakes his death and adopts a new identity, looking just like regular old Sebastian Stan. But when Edward’s kind neighbour – played by The Worst Person in the World’s Renate Reinsve – stages a play about him, he finds himself in competition with Oswald (played by Adam Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis) for the part. It is, to put it mildly, a confronting drama, excavating both society’s unwillingness to treat people with disabilities fairly and the fallacy of our terminal dissatisfaction with our looks.

Coat by McQueen. Shirt by Louis Vuitton. Trousers by Louis Vuitton. Tie by Dolce & Gabbana. Boots by Versace. Daniel Jack Lyons

Though the film treads across the noir and comic horror genres, and at points tips into the absurd, it feels most like a parable. “It’s another version of the American dream, right?” Stan says. “Don’t wish for the things you want; you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

During the shoot, Stan often had long stretches between having his facial prosthetics applied and his call time (the film’s make-up designer, Michael Marino, was simultaneously working on The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, and would sometimes have to squeeze Stan into make-up in the early hours before running to that job). So Stan would walk around New York, including parts of his own neighbourhood, wearing hyperrealistic prosthetics, getting just a little taste of what his life would be like if he had been dealt a different hand. At one point, he went to his local coffee shop, where a barista he has known for years was working the counter. “She was so busy handling stuff, and suddenly she turned and she didn’t expect to see me,�� he says, “and I could see the shock going immediately into overcompensation.” Pearson told him that those are the reactions that he is most often confronted with as a person with a disability: shock verging on repulsion, and guilty, over-the-top kindness.

Schimberg helped Stan to draw a neat line between Edward’s life and his own experience of fame. The one thing they had in common is how they’re observed in public spaces. “He said, ‘You have to think about what it’s like to be recognised. And the sense that you’re fair game out there.’ That I could understand,” Stan says. “I’ll go to lunch with my mom and somebody will be filming me the entire time, pretending they’re not. Or I’ll see somebody look at me strangely and then they’ll whisper to their friends. Or I’ve had someone come and tap me and run away. The invasiveness of that… And I can’t do anything but just receive it.”

Stan is quick to clarify that his experience as a famous person is not really comparable, that it comes with all sorts of upsides. But this point of similarity helped him to fully embody the character. “That was a way of me understanding this thing – that you’re just out there, like target practice.”

Coat and pyjamas by Dolce & Gabbana. Daniel Jack Lyons

Production on The Apprentice was hazardously stop-start. Several times over, Stan began his Trump immersion routine – which also involved pounding Coca-Colas and peanut butter and jam sandwiches, among other things, to put on some very un-superhero bulk – only to find out that production had been suspended. At one point, the project came so close to overlapping with his next Marvel outing, next May’s Thunderbolts, that he had to start shredding instead – only for Thunderbolts to be postponed because of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Straight back to the PB&Js. All that work wasted. “I’m fuckin’ 41; I just worked pretty hard to get in shape here!” he says.

Stan’s Trump is admirably nuanced, particularly for a person who has been so widely imitated – on SNL, on late-night talk shows, every second of every day by comedians trying to make a name for themselves on TikTok – as to be reduced to a caricature in the public consciousness. Initially, it feels quite removed, but then you spot the shape his mouth curves into while enunciating words like “deal” and “loser”, a subtle pursing of the lips when he’s being spoken to, a hand gesture. As the movie progresses, the man with whom we’re all exhaustingly familiar comes closer and closer to the fore.

Suit and boots by Versace. Vest top by Schiesser. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Watch by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

The challenge, in Stan’s eyes, was to tread the very fine line between interpretation and imitation. “It’s a balance between having the familiarity without it becoming sort of a schtick,” he says. “There is a small window of time where you are going through the impersonation phase, because you’ve got to get through that in order to come out the other end,” he says. “There is a mechanical, technical piece to it, and that comes from actually studying a person.” According to Stan’s mother, he spent much of his childhood relentlessly impersonating people he came in to contact with. “I’ve always been good at watching people,” he says.

I'm going to commit the fuck out of it and surrender myself to the story.

Once he got comfortable enough, he would take the show on the road – trying versions of the character out in restaurants to see if anyone would pick up on it. “Because there’s a thing getting born,” he says, “and you want to test it out in the world, but you don’t want to overdo it too quickly – then it gets frozen.” No one seemed to notice in the moment, which was at least some indication that he hadn’t tipped over into parody, but some friends who have seen the movie realised retrospectively: “They’ve come up to me after and said, ‘Now I see this fuckin’ weird thing you were doing!’”

When we meet Trump in The Apprentice, he is a footsoldier in his father’s company and significantly less self-assured, though he’s got the trademark wispy hair and the ill-fitting suits. The wheels begin to turn when he meets Cohn – portrayed here in typically committed fashion by Succession’s Jeremy Strong, with whom Stan only had the chance to interact in character on set – who begins to sculpt Trump in his own image, laying out his rules for success, which will be very familiar to anyone who has paid attention to Trump’s political career: 1) attack, attack, attack; 2) admit nothing and deny everything; and 3) always claim victory and never admit defeat.

Coat, trousers and shoes by McQueen. Vest top by Ami. Sunglasses by Jacques Marie Mages. Pin by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

Stan seems reticent to get into the politics of The Apprentice, which depicts Trump as, among other things, a rapist, in a scene referencing allegations made in a deposition by his first wife Ivana during their divorce proceedings. (Trump has previously denied the rape allegation; Ivana later issued a statement clarifying that she had felt violated, but was not raped in a “literal or criminal sense”.) But the movie speaks for itself. And Trump’s camp is already speaking back: after the film premiered at Cannes in May, the presidential campaign’s chief spokesperson Steven Cheung called the movie “garbage”, “pure fiction” and “election interference by Hollywood elites”, while also threatening a lawsuit. In a press conference at the film festival, Abbasi suggested that an ideal release date would be in mid-September, to align with the second presidential debate (but the film, as it happens, is now due out on 11 October in the USA, and 18 October in the UK). It wouldn’t take Alan Turing to decipher the message being transmitted. But I try and press for a direct answer: does Stan feel an added sense of responsibility playing Trump in an election year? “You can’t not think about it,” he says. “But I had tremendous trust in Ali Abbasi and his vision for the movie. And it is an important story – I think the movie makes a great attempt at exploring: how did we get here? But I approached it with the same responsibility as I approached anything I ever got involved with, which is, I’m going to give this my all. I’m going to research the fuck out of it; I’m going to commit the fuck out of it and surrender myself to the story.”

Does he have any concerns about backlash from Trump or from MAGA supporters? “I mean, is there anything out there now that doesn’t get backlash? You can’t worry about what people think,” Stan says. “But I’m fully aware that I’m doing things that are not going to be for everybody.”

He’s not far off the mark. Even Marvel, the world’s highest-grossing movie franchise of all time, has faced quite a bit of criticism in recent years – in part for the way in which they’ve handled the transition to a new set of heroes and storylines since 2019’s Avengers: Endgame. Stan doesn’t have any time for it. “I’ve never been part of a company that puts so much heart and thought into anything,” he says. “I think if Marvel was gone, it’d be such a big hole to try and fill up. Don’t just go out there and shit on something without offering something better.”

Coat by Loewe. Boots by Dolce & Gabbana. Necklace by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

He’s certainly not done with the MCU yet. Thunderbolts, which he’ll headline alongside Florence Pugh, will arrive in May next year. And he’s already looking beyond that, to a potential reunion with Robert Downey Jr, who has been announced to return in the next Avengers movie – not as Iron Man, but as the villain Doctor Doom. “I hope I’m in a scene with him,” Stan says. “Is there any other guy that could pull that off? I don’t know, probably not. After Tropic Thunder, is there anything that guy can’t do?” he says, laughing. It is perhaps the movie that I least expect Stan – or anyone, to be honest – to reference in 2024, but I should know better. Downey Jr is a transformation master, too. Game recognises game.

Trump doesn’t exist in the Marvel universe – or at least not yet – but if you spot a hint of him in Thunderbolts, you’ll know why. “I went off to Marvel after [The Apprentice],” Stan says. “And we were doing scenes, and I would do something, a thing or two, and be like, ‘Fuck! This is still living somewhere.’”

Styled by Sean Knight Hair by Erica Adams Grooming by Kc Fee using iS Clinical at Redefine Representation Set Design by Daniel Horowitz Production by May Kielany

[sunhaloscarab]

GIGGLES. KICKS FEET.

ok so this webcomic is called the adventures of dr. mcninja! it was created by chris hastings and ran from 2004 to 2017.

image most commonly used as cover 👇(all this canonically happens in the comic btw)

a basic summary of the webcomic goes like this: the adventures of dr. mcninja follows the adventures of dr. mcninja, a ninja/doctor from a family of irish ninjas! he interacts with a bunch of characters, gains allies/friends and battles enemies, all building up to the ultimate overarching villain of the comic: king radical.

so dr. mcninja has a lot of insane things in it , like dracula having a moon base laser, a 12 year old mexican gunslinger sidekick who rides a raptor and grew a mustache through PURE WILLPOWER, and talking dinosaurs from the future.

but here's why i like it so much: the comic plays all this silliness completely straight! this allows the reader to just accept everything as actual, real stakes! this also allows for a lot of really good and interesting writing, especially character writing, and for genuinely emotionally affecting moments for these characters! (the final arc emotionally devastated me 😭)

doc has a lot of really interesting writing and interactions with his family, who are also really interesting characters in their own right! DOC MAKES ME INSANNEE‼️

so here's the bad news: if you want to read it, the site is currently down :(

it's very well preserved on the wayback machine tho and it's been collected into book editions that are available on hoopla, which is accessible through your local library, hopefully (the book editions don't cover the entire comic tho)

web archive link!!!

i (and hastings) recommend that you start with meet the doctor, since issue one half is more of a weird one off (read it after you've finished the first two arcs)

(also warning: there are some instances of the r-word in the early black and white comics, but it's dropped around the switch to color)

uhhhh and i guess that's it! i could go more in-depth on some of my favorite characters or something if you would like that?

hiiii mae it's mantis.........can i tell you about this webcomic i'm obsessed with 😁pretty please

ofc!!🫶

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Coffee Date

Requested: yep

Prompt: Coffee date with Gavi

Warnings: none

Y/N sighed as she stacked her books on her dorm room desk, exhausted from a morning of back-to-back classes. College was a different beast from what she remembered, but she was determined to stay focused this semester. The knock at her door broke her thoughts. "Quién es?" She called, trying not to sound too distracted. "Gavi. I’ve got a surprise!" Pablo’s voice filtered through the door. Her heart leaped. It had been a while since she’d seen her friend, with him recovering from his injury and training to get back on the field. She quickly opened the door to find him standing there with a smile, holding two takeaway coffee cups.

"Gavito!" Y/N beamed, pulling him in for a hug. "What are you doing here?" She asked. "Te dije que te sorprendería. Thought you could use a coffee break." He winked, handing her one of the cups. "Perfect timing. I swear these exams are killing me," she groaned, grabbing the coffee eagerly. Pablo laughed. "Let’s go sit outside, you need some air." They walked to a nearby park bench, the sun casting a warm glow over the campus. "So, tell me-" She started as they sat down. "How’s it feel to be back playing?"

He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back. "Es lo mejor. No te das cuenta cuánto lo extrañas hasta que estás fuera for so lonv. But now that I’m back, I feel stronger, ready to prove myself otra vez. The team’s been really supportive too." He smiled. They started speaking Spanglish a while ago since Y/n spoke English fluently after moving to Barcelona when she was younger and Pablo needed to learn english, so their compromise? Spanglish.

"I’m sure they missed you. Everyone did. I saw your name trending so many times on Twitter." Gavi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, pero you know how it is. Fans can be... intense sometimes." They continued talking for a while, catching up on everything from football to Y/N's exams. The ease of conversation made it feel like no time had passed. But soon, she noticed some people nearby whispering and glancing their way. "Is it just me, or are we being stared at?" Y/N asked, lowering her voice. Pablo looked around, his brow furrowing slightly. "Eh, puede ser. Or maybe they recognize me." Y/N rolled her eyes. "Of course. Mr. Famous."

Just as she said it, a group of teenage fans walked by, snapping a quick photo of them. Pablo didn't seem to mind, but Y/N felt her stomach twist. She wasn’t used to this level of attention. "Qué pasa?" Pablo asked, noticing her expression. "I don’t know, I guess I'm just not comfortable with all the attention." She admitted. "I like being normal."

"Don’t worry, no es gran cosa." He said, trying to reassure her.

But within hours, the picture was all over social media. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok—you name it. The photo of them sipping coffee and chatting was everywhere. Fans were speculating about their relationship, and the reactions were mixed.

They’re cute together!

Omg she's so pretty!

Ew wtf??

Gorgeous!!!

Love her style ❤️

Who even is she?

Others weren’t as kind:

Who is she? Gavi could do better....

Y/N tried to ignore it, but when she walked into campus the next day, it was clear the photo had done its damage. People whispered as she passed by, and a few even pointed her out. Some smiled, others looked jealous. It was overwhelming. Later that day, her phone buzzed with a text from Pablo.

Pablo: I’m picking you up in 10. We need to talk.

She frowned, wondering what he wanted to talk about now. True to his word, Pablo pulled up in front of her dorm ten minutes later, leaning out of his car window. "Vamos, get in." Y/N slid into the passenger seat, crossing her arms. "This isn’t helping, you know. People already think we’re together." Pablo laughed as he pulled away from the curb. "Ah, come on. Don’t be dramatic. They think we look good together." She glared at him. "I’m serious. This has ruined my chances with Pedri." At that, Pablo nearly choked on his laugh. "Qué dices? You with Pedri? That’s not happening." Y/N frowned, feeling defensive. "And why not? Pedri’s sweet, plus you introduced us." Pablo shook his head, still chuckling. "No way. I wouldn’t let you near him. He’s too... no sé, it would just be weird."

"Well, weirder than this?" She gestured between them, frustrated. Pablo didn’t answer right away, focusing on the road as they drove through the city. After a beat, he shrugged. "I like it when people think we’re together. It doesn’t bother me." Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. "Wait, cómo que te gusta? Why?" He shifted uncomfortably, his playful demeanor fading. "No sé. I just... think we look good together. That’s all." She pressed further, her voice softening. "Do you... like me, Pablo?" The question hung in the air, tension filling the space between them. Pablo glanced at her quickly, then back at the road, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"Yo... no." He said, almost too quickly. "No, I don’t. I mean, not like that." Y/N’s heart sank. She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was hard to miss the change in her mood. "Right." She murmured. "I get it." Pablo glanced at her, seeing the hurt in her eyes. He wanted to say more, but he was terrified of ruining things. What if she didn’t feel the same? They pulled up to his apartment, and the rest of the car ride was filled with awkward silence. Once inside, Pablo grabbed them both a drink, sitting down on the couch beside her. "Look." He said quietly. "I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just... I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you. You’re one of my best friends, and..."

"And?" Y/N prompted, her voice barely a whisper. Pablo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And maybe I like you more than I should, pero I don’t want to mess this up." She looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "So... you do like me." He hesitated, but then nodded, the weight of his confession finally sinking in. "Sí. Pero...I was scared you didn’t feel the same." Y/N blinked, the tension in her chest releasing as she smiled softly. "Idiot. Of course I like you too." Pablo let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a grin spreading across his face. "Well... that’s a relief."

"Yeah." She teased, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You'rean idiot for not telling me this sooned." He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're a scary girl."He joked. "I'm not that scary." He scoffed. "Jeep telling yourself that, cariño."

[thefadecodex]

Our first real exposure actually beings with the Grand Oak tree in DAO! (Thank you @meganooooooooooooooo for pointing this out!)

Players began to notice a distinct cadence in Solas's speech during interactions in DAI. Notably, when he recounts moments from the Fade, his voice occasionally takes on a rhythm and tone reminiscent of a hymn or chant, evoking the cadence of "Hallelujah," specifically the K.D. Lang cover.

(note: @the-northern-continent does a great breakdown of the Hallelujah cadence vs iambic pentameter in this post. And @liaragaming does a good breakdown of Solas speaking in that cadence in this post.)

This has led The Fade Codex to theorize that this cadence reflects a dialect used by spirits—an ancient, rhythmic way of communication that blends emotion and intent through a deliberate structure. The 6/8 musical framework of the K.D. Lang Hallelujah cover. This framework prioritizes reflective pacing, 1-2-3 / 4-5-6 measures, and allows secondary stresses to create an emotional cadence.

This concept is further explored in Dragon Age: The Veilguard through various encounters with spirits. Below are examples that demonstrate this rhythmic, almost lyrical, pattern in their speech:

The Anxious Spirit (A Spirit of Comfort) - Arlathan Forest

"Trapped. Can't get out. It hurts. It's dark. Please. They didn't know what to do. They didn't want to die."

TRAPPED. CAN'T get OUT. It HURTS. It's DARK. PLEASE. They DIDN'T know what to DO. They DIDN'T want to DIE.

"Stop the thoughts. Stop the fears. Quiet, please. Make it quiet."

STOP the THOUGHTS. STOP the FEARS. QUI-et, PLEASE. MAKE it QUI-et.

Eulogy (Originally a Spirit of Compassion) - Minrathous

"Something larger stirs. Calling the desperate. I cannot see what."

SOME-thing LARG-er STIRS. CALL-ing the DES-per-ATE. I CAN-not SEE what.

"Know the hope you bring Dock Town thwarts it. And may you continue."

KNOW the HOPE you BRING. DOCK TOWN THWARTS it. AND may YOU con-TIN-ue.

"As you found their names, I felt them whisper through the Fade."

As YOU found their NAMES, I FELT them WHIS-per THROUGH the FADE.

"My own name changed. I am now Eulogy."

My OWN name CHANGED. I AM now EU-lo-GY.

Hope Unyielding - Hossberg Wetlands

"Light glimmers the surface. Flowers break through snow. Hope unexpected. I am such."

LIGHT glim-MERS the SUR-face. FLOW-ers BREAK through SNOW. HOPE un-EXPECT-ed. I AM SUCH.

"No. But nor was I forever."

NO. But NOR was I for-EV-er.

Pluck - Hall of Valor

"What foul-hearted spirit tugs at the corners of your lips to turn them down so?"

What FOUL-heart-ed SPIR-it tugs at the COR-ners of your LIPS to TURN them DOWN so?

"Greetings, Mourn Watcher. You are a long ways from Nevarra."

GREET-ings, MOURN Watch-er. YOU are a LONG ways from Ne-VAR-ra.

Emmrich (to Pluck)

"Hail to you, child of Valor. As voice of our lightless shores, I pray your blade may never sunder."

HAIL to YOU, child of VAL-or. As VOICE of our LIGHT-less SHORES, I PRAY your BLADE may NEV-er SUN-der.

Pluck

"You honor me. Few remember the old ways."

You HON-or ME. Few re-MEM-ber the OLD WAYS.

The phrase "the old ways," as used by Pluck, is believed to reference this rhythmic, cadenced speech. It’s a pattern steeped in intent, echoing the emotional resonance of the Fade itself.

Grand Oak - West Brecilian Forest

(image source)

What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?

What MAN-ner of BEAST be THEE that COMES be-FORE this EL-der TREE?

Ahhhh, yes, I remember thy kind. So brief of life and all but blind to the peril you cause, the lives you take, such chaos is down within thy wake.

AHHH, yes, I re-MEM-ber THY kind. SO brief of LIFE and ALL but BLIND. To the PER-il you CAUSE, the LIVES you TAKE. Such CHA-os is DOWN with-IN thy WAKE.

This dialect may serve as both a form of communication and an expression of a spirit's essence, allowing them to convey ideas, emotions, and purpose in a way that transcends mere words.

This theory deepens our understanding of how spirits interact with mortals and each other, highlighting the unique and poetic nature of their existence.

[loregoddess]

Ancient Beastling Deciphered (literally)

So when I played Octo2, I saw the phrase "Ghormf" ef "thanks" and thought it sort of looked like a simple substitution cipher. This has haunted me long enough that I sat down last night and gave deciphering Ancient Beastling a try and lo, in the English localization it is indeed a simple substitution cipher.

Here's the cipher that's being used in the game:

Using this, we can "translate" the dialogue for the "Ghormf!" side quest:

The quest starts after speaking to the beastling in the Nameless Village (henceforth referred to as NVB, since he doesn't have a name).

NVB:

E'da taar jaolrern huzor fpaach jogajy. I've been learning human speech lately. Tug e bir'g mris his gi foy "ghormf". But I don't know how to say "thanks". His bi yiu foy "ghormf"? E zufg mris! How do you say "thanks"? I must know!

After traveling to Beasting Village, you can speak with the beastling there (henceforth BVB, as he also lacks a name).

BVB: E'da taar jaolrern orcearg fpaach jogajy. I've been learning ancient speech lately. E jaolrab his gi foy "ghormf"! I learned how to say "thanks"!

After the player guides BVB back to the Nameless Village and speaks with NVB, a cutscene plays out.

NVB: E'da taar jaolrern huzor fpaach jogajy. I've been learning human speech lately. BVB: E'da taar jaolrern orcearg fpaach jogajy. I've been learning ancient speech lately. NVB: Ih. Bi yiu mris his gi foy "ghormf"? Oh. Do you know how to say "thanks"? BVB: "Ghormf" ef "thanks". "Thanks" is "<thanks>". NVB: Ih! "Ghormf ef "thanks"! Oh! "Thanks" is "<thanks>"! Sohoho! E jaolrab fizaghern ras giboy! Wahaha! I learned something new today! "Thanks" daly zuch! "<Thanks>" very much!

Afterwards, BVB remains in the Nameless Village near NVB. If the player speaks to them, this is what they say.

NVB: Jaolrern huzor fpaach ef wur! Sohoho! Learning human speech is fun! Wahaha! BVB: Ancient speech... Very hard. But... Jaolrern eg ef wur! Ohoho! Learning it is fun! Ahaha!

And, that's the Ancient Beastling speech translated! Well, almost. As you can see in the cipher images, there's 4 missing letter substitutions. I could only find the guide dialogue for Temenos's guide from a video tutorial for the quest, where BVB says, "All right. Jaob gha soy." ("All right. Lead the way."), but I wasn't going to try and scour every video that's ever been uploaded in hopes of capturing unique dialogue for other path actions.

Despite a few cursory searches, I haven't been able to find dialogue script for all of the potential path actions, which might fill in the missing letters on the cipher. Since both files I currently have in Octo2 are already 100% completed, I also can't go and see what these two NPCs say when I use path actions aside from guide on them to grab the text for myself, nor have I been able to find a text dump to scour.

(If nothing else, I might end up trying to grab screenshots for myself on my next playthrough, whenever that may be. But! If anyone happens to have screenshots or a video or the text handy of the path actions for these two NPCs, I'd love to take a look).

Some more notes on my process, and guesses for the letters missing from the cipher, below the cut.

Deciphering the cipher wasn't really that hard, since we're given the key that "ghormf" = "thanks", so I was able to write out the alphabet, and then start writing in the substitution letters above their corresponding letters (I handwrote everything while working through this, but I don't have pics handy, so no process images this time sorry).

Then I just had to go through and start applying what letters I knew for sure to other lines of dialogue and then filling in the rest of the letters based on educated guesses (i.e. "Ghormf ef "thanks". became "Thanks" [e]s "thanks". so it was pretty obvious that "ef' was "is", which meant that Ancient Beastling e = i; also the phrase "Thanks" daly zuch! seemed to fit the phrase "Thanks" very much! and when I applied the letter substitutions for "very" and "much" to the rest of the cutscene dialogue, it made other words pop out, and so on and so forth until I had the cutscene dialogue completely translated, by which time the entire cipher was all but complete).

Obviously, there's a few missing letters: we don't have the Ancient Beastling equivalent to j, q, x, or z, since those letters weren't used in any of the dialogue I could find, and the letters k, q, x, and v weren't used, meaning they're the substitutions for j, q, x, and z but we don't know which letters they substitute for.

There's probably an official cipher, but until it's released (or if I find more letters in the path action dialogue eventually), I don't know for sure what the substitution letters would be.

I do have a guess of course, if you're into speculation.

Based on the pattern of the cipher, and the fact that Ancient Beastling looks like something I could read out loud if I wanted to, we can assume the missing letters of the cipher should still be "readable" for phrases translated to Ancient Beastling.

Therefore, my best guess is that x = x and q = q because they're weird letters, and my tentative guess is that English j = k, and English z = v.

x isn't used in English often, so keeping it as it is avoids losing the use of a more versatile letter, and also avoids the various phonetic qualities of x being lost when put through the cipher.

Keeping q as q would preserve the "qu" rule that appears in English, making encoding words with "qu" less awkward looking in Ancient Beastling: i.e. "quiet" would become "queag" which still doesn't look like English despite preserving 40% of the characters, and could still be pronounced out loud.

I'm tempted to have English j become k and z become v simply based on the phonetic qualities of the letters: z and v have a slight buzz when enunciated, and then j and k are the leftover letters. However alternately using j = v and z = k doesn't make the encoded Ancient Beastling unreadable per se.

For example:

the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog (using j = k, and z = v) gha quecm tlasr wix kuzpf idal gha jovy bin (compare against j = v and z = k) gha quecm tlasr wix vuzpf idal gha joky bin

Here's another:

pack my bag with five dozen liquor jugs (using j = k, and z = v) pocm zy ton segh weda bivar jequil kunf (compare against j = v and z = k) pocm zy ton segh weda bikar jequil vunf

So, I guess if you're going to use the cipher to write Ancient Beastling into a fanfic or something like that, you'll have to come up with your own headcanons for the missing letters based on your preferences. At least until either the path action dialogue that I'm missing potentially reveals the missing letters, or until we get access to the official cipher that was used.

In any case, I had a lot of fun cracking the cipher, and I hope you enjoyed reading about it as well. If you made it this far...

ghormf wil laobern!

[cheerleaderman]

Astrid Primrose

Twst - The enchanted Rose

Known for his roses and for being cursed there are many different views of him in NRC. A Beautiful mysterious person to people who don’t know him but to those who do knows that’s only a fraction of Astrid.

Astrid personality is different from how he usually looks. With his classic blank expression and refusal to look people in the eyes at first some just think he doesn’t like people or is shy. Others think he gives off the vibes of someone unapproachable “not to touch” sort of speak.

Astrid is kinda social awkward as he hasn’t interacted with anyone outside of his family for a long time. A hopeful person but won’t admit it.He’s blunt , there’s no telling what going to come out of this man’s mouth , pretty silly, bit of a perfectionist, resourceful and creative but doesn’t see much in himself you can also say he kinda fears himself

Astrid believes he’s unlovable and is quite lonely with abandonment issues and blames himself a lot. Much as he wants to push those thoughts aside they still creep up on him.

🥀Basic info 🥀

Age: 17

He/They

Height: 174 cm

Birthday: September 18

Voice claim: Eng and Jp - Langa Hasegawa , Sk8 the infinity

Hometown: Briar Valley

Class: 2-C

Dominant hand: Right

Nickname: Ash - Friends | Koi Fish- Floyd | Monsieur rose enchantèe - Rook | Sebek calls him by his name never human | Rose - Malleus and Lilia ( sometimes) | Rabbit food - Leona |

Favorite food: different kinds of bread, chocolate , salad and melon

Like/hobbies: Drawing, architecture, Stargazing, astronomy, astrology, origami, chess , puzzles mainly cross words , Flying, birds, the snow

Dislike: feeling trapped, dumper diving, the smell of rotten meat, spoiled food , talking about his family

Family: Odette Primrose ( bio mom - deceased) Adoptive family- Mother, Father and 3 older siblings ( more than 8 years older)

Club: Equestrian

Best subject: Astrology

Talent: Chess, drawing building, making things out of little to nothing

Unique magic ( Curse) : Beast of the Guilty

Currently Astrid has little to no control over this power but knows it’s main trigger is eye contact. This is the reason why he refuses to look others in the eye calling it his curse

When triggered from Astrid’s pov a shadowy beast will consume the person and both them + Astrid will see what their most guilty of like regrets , something eating them up inside etc.

They person will be tormented by whatever they’re guilty of this could last up to 2 weeks. The reactions depends on the person. Breakdowns, Violence Astrid has witnessed how his power effects people.

Spell: For the selfish and the liars

You must not feel pity

Because soon they will meet

The beast of the guilty

🥀Extra info 🥀

Astrid is part fae he’s actually more fae than human like 80/20 . He didn’t know he was fae until Lilia spoke to him about being part Fae

His markings: Since he is part human Astrid’s powers slowly started appearing as he got older. The first was the marking on his cheek at 5. That’s when he got his roses and he’ll get all 4 markings by 10

His Roses: his most noticeable ability. Astrid can just grow them at will it’s basically second nature. His roses are not like normal roses they don’t wilt and harder to destroy. They react on his mood and others know if it’s Astrid’s roses due to the feeling it gives off He can eat them and they have different flavor based on his mode

Behaviors : It’s actually pretty difficult to really get to know Astrid it comes out in off handed comments and his actions. His eating habits is also noticeable as he eats quickly but with people he’s comfortable with he eats more relaxed.

Plans to leave his family after graduating NRC and not looking back

Selective intelligence with all his shenanigans the people close to him sometimes forget Astrid does have intelligence

Astrid isn’t one to just take it especially being in NRC it’s just he’s desensitized to most insults and physical altercation

Astrid wants to be loved but is also scared of it this is also with him making friends. Due to now having good relationships and the one that he thought was true turn out to be fake kinda shattered him

His favorite story is basically beauty and the beast as it gave him hope despite being cursed the beast found someone who loved them

Astrid has a great amount of life and Survival skills it may not be perfect but he will survive. This is from having to do work at the orphanage and living on the streets

Gets mistaken for a girl a lot he doesn’t even realize that he is the person others are taking about

Man has a stomach stronger than diamonds and eats Lilia’s cooking likes it’s nothing

barley at his own dorm always at Savannaclaw or Scarabia to the point if he didn’t wear his vest people with assume he’s part of Savannaclaw

Met Leona and Ruggie in his 1st year during some chess sessions held by the broad game club. Leona and Astrid tied at the end and continued to play against each other after.

Savannaclaw basically claimed Astrid as their own , he played spelldrive, got into the fights, they helped Astrid feel more comfortable using his powers and strength.

Despite being extremely powerful he barely uses due to the hurt it caused others. One his curse and when he first got his strength he almost killed one of the orphanage teacher when trying to protect himself. He’s pretty conscious about his strength and how much to use

Jamil was Astrid’s first friend and the first time Astrid tried to reach out and make a friend. So when Kalim came to NRC and started pulling away he thought it was his fault apologizing to Jamil if he ever made him upset

His horse is named Daisy who is a playful one and loves messing with Astrid. Tried chewing on his hair many times and their first meeting was literally Daisy charging at him

Has a scar on his right side of his waist but doesn’t remember how he got it

His birthday isn’t his actual birthday but the day he ran away from the orphanage

Had long hair before coming to NRC but cut it

🥀Odette Primrose 🥀

Twst - The Enchantress ( beauty and the beast)

Astrid biological mother how died due to her dwindling powers. She is well known in Briar Valley but Astrid doesn’t have any memories of her beside a song she would sing to him. Astrid himself has a feeling that she is his mother but also has doubts until he ultimately decides to stop worrying about her

She truly loves her son but knowing her time was running out she used the last of her strength to drop Astrid off at an orphanage.

Malleus and Lilia truly believe that Odette is Astrid’s mom from their similarities. Especially the roses “it’s practically their being”

🥀Backstory 🥀 - CW Bullying, Violence to a child, Child exploitation

Orphanage

Astrid grew up in a poor orphanage in Briar Valley. Due to being poor the kids were made to work. Sewing, Cleaning, cooking etc “If you don’t work you don’t eat”. He was able to live with his head down spending spare time reading stories and drawings. All he really wanted was to be adopted into a family that would love him like in the fairytales. That until his powers started appearing at 5 It was fine at first with his roses it was a new way to get more money in to the orphanage. This was really much exploded by many of the teachers and this started to push Astrid into being isolated. Others kids started bullying Astrid for being the “favorite” or sucking up to the teachers.

Astrid had to deal with kids putting rotten meat under his mattress, putting bugs or things in his food and many more. Astrid didn’t understand but knew how badly everyone was treated so justified in in his head. Even though he wasn’t really being treated better they used the fact that everyone is struggling to make Astrid overwork himself.

As time went on when he was making another batch of roses he looked the director in the eye. But this time was different there was some kind of showed figure that ate the director. He didn’t know what was going on but snapped out of it to a stinging feeling on his cheek. The director was never known to be violent but now she looked like a monster to the young boy. He didn’t think another thing like that would happen again but he was wrong more marks and incidents happened. He started to grow more scared of himself isolating himself even more. Not even caring about the bullying thinking he deserves it. which also effected his powers like his roses

They day Astrid ran away from the orphanage he was upset. The now 10 year old was currently getting yelled at for not having roses up to standers for the 3rd time. He tried to keep it in he really did but he just snapped. He just wanted to be left alone, just leave him alone. Leave.

Leaving the orphanage

After running away all Astrid had was a small bag with 3 loaves of bread and his favorite story book. He struggled a lot living on the streets but had some sense of freedom.

For the next two years he did whatever he could to live on his own. Luckily from all the work he did at the orphanage and his powers he somehow managed. Sleeping in abandoned places, dumper diving for anything he could use. He was already used to eating little to nothing eating whatever he could get his hands on.

Of course his powers still caused him problems.

By the time he hit 12 he grown accustomed to his life. Some of the nicer people he interacted with felt bad for the boy but didn’t know how to handle his powers. Knowing that Astrid has magic potential contacted a mage to see if she could help him.

When meeting the mage she looked at Astrid in complete shock. There was a pretty awkward moment with her just staring at Astrid but agreed to help him.

Getting Adopted

Being adopted Astrid was excited to have a family that would care of him. Living in some kind of magic tower situation. The mage taught him many things but he was still isolated from others.

Everyone is really busy and a kid like him would be put in danger was what he was told. Outside of him classes he stayed in the west wing of the place keeping himself busy with drawing which he loves. Stars and space, chess and more.

He was happy he loved his new parents though he never really saw his siblings it was okay he heard about their great achievements. He’ll achieve great things too.

But of course the rose will wilt again. At 14 looking for his mother he ventures out of the west wing. Overhearing a conversation his parents were having.

“ She came back to haunt me in the form of her child” Astrid never heard such venoms words from his mother

“We just need to keep his favor until his 21”

“ I can’t even bear to look at that boy’s face and he acts just like her!”

“ If you want to live keep pretending to love him and make him fully believe that”

It was all fake. He was just here to break a curse from his biological mother.

What did he do. Was he born just for revenge. Did his mother even love him? Was wanting to be loved too selfish. Why . Why .Whywhywhywhyw….Is he so unlovable.

After that day Astrid pretend to reciprocate his parents love. “ I love you just as much as you love me”. Is what he charged to

NRC

When getting accepted into Night Raven he was glad to get away from home but also scared. Due to bad experiences with others he wasn’t sure how peers would treat him.

Luckily most didn’t care about him but it was also confusing having to adapt to the more modern ways. But Make friends was also something.

🥀Gallery 🥀

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