#my twinn dolls

[desertdollranch]

Julia, wearing her Christmas reindeer jammies, unwrapped her first Bitty Baby doll this morning!

[jointed-custody]

Question for the #dollblr community: I recently purchased a pair of My Twinn dolls. They arrived very quickly, which was nice - but one of the dolls smells like she’s been stored in a hot car for a decade or more. The smell of heat-dried and crumbling auto upholstery is…overpowering.

How can I remove or neutralize this smell? Any ideas?

Edited to add: I’m probably going to open her up and wash the body/stuffing. Her right arm is disconnected from the internal skeleton anyway and needs to be fixed.

[beep-beep-sunny]

Help me name this absolute QUEEN 👑 I love her. I'm looking for more old fashioned names I think. She's my first my twinn doll, and I think she's my twinn Wendi? I OBSESSIVELY looked through the faces trying to decide which one she has. If you think she isn't the Wendi face please let me know!

Please send me your name ideas 🥹🥺🥺

[aiiaiiiyo]

[shyleviathan]

I had a "My Twinn Doll" growing up. It was essentially just an American Girl Doll but taller (23 inches versus the American Girl Doll's 18 inches), and it came without any of the fun history or backstory. They were competitors to American Girl Doll at the time, boasting to offer slightly more diversity in their custom made dolls that were marketed to look exactly like your child.

Sadly, I cannot find my old doll. But funny enough, those particular line of dolls also suffered from very similar discoloration in the eyes.

Examples from Reddit:

According to the top comment on the third post, the reason for the pink eye discoloration is:

"[They were] prone to happening in batches of glastic or acrylic eyes from the 1990s(ish). [...] Over time, certain batches of brown/hazel naturally desaturate to pink, or violet if they started as blue. Heat and sunlight we're initially suspect when people started noticing these changes, but that's since been discredited." (source)

So, sometimes dolls will have eyes that discolor. (Either due to being poorly stored - in hot environments, for example - or just because they kind of sucked to begin with and time passed.)

Life of Faith was a "Christian alternative" to American Girl in the early 00s. (These spring up from time to time. Most of them only last a few years with a very niche market. I think, at the time, they had because people were flipping out about American Girl partnering with Girls Inc to fund after-school science programs and stuff, because Girls Inc was - according to the conservatives - "A pro-abortion, pro-lesbian organization".) The dolls were based around the Elsie Dinsmore books and it's all . . . big fluffy dresses on a plantation in the antebellum South. With all that that entails.

It was pretty fucking bad.

With that in mind, this is perhaps the funniest toy defect I have ever seen.

[stellaluna33]

It's HILARIOUS to me that I immediately recognize the origins of that eye color chart that keeps getting passed around in various posts, and it's even more hilarious to me that the origin is the "My Twinn" doll catalogs from the late 1990s. 😂

[pancreasnostalgia]

Meet my mini me! I’ve had a My Twinn doll since 1999, but never spent much time with her. These days she doesn’t resemble me very closely, so I wanted to look for a AG Truly Me that reflects my adult appearance. It was a toss-up between 55 and 69 as they both have wavy dark brown hair. The advantage to 55 would have been her freckles, but I decided that 69’s brown eyes were more important.

She arrived in mostly great shape. Her legs are on the loose side and her tag was cut off, so I might send her to the hospital for a limb and torso replacement.

I’m not 100% settled on a name yet, but am leaning towards Pearl. My name is Meghan which is derived from Margaret, and Margaret comes from the Greek word for Pearl. As a June baby, it is also my birthstone. Finally, one of my great-grandmothers was named Edna Pearl.

[smallerplaces]

2023 in review 1: the great decluttering of Mom's collection

These are the survivors of the early-year decluttering of Mom's vast, vast, vast doll collection, plus culling from my own much smaller collection. If you've watched my photos of new acquisitions, you know that since getting the place decluttered, I've been buying for myself at an unsustainable rate -- but I've lucked into like 90% of my wish list, and the other 10% may never show up.

That's a story for another day. This part of 2023 in Review is about decluttering. A couple of preliminary notes:

My own collection has varied in size since it started in 2012, reaching about 100 at its peak. My interests have also changed a lot over that time. When I moved to California to live with Dad and declutter the family home, I brought maybe 30 dolls at the outside.

Mom loved dolls, inundated me with dolls when I was a kid, and bought more dolls as an adult, and the brakes really came off in her sixties. I see nothing at all wrong with having whatever size collection you want! She enjoyed her collection, and then I got to deal with it because everyone else in the family stared in awe, muttered about how it must be worth a fortune, and then sloped off to do more important things than identify and sell dolls.

Let me tell you what confronted me here in California.

Sewing room lined with shelves (including small shelves two deep!) filled with dolls. This room was heavily My Twinn and "collector" dolls. I do not consider dolls creepy, but I maintain it's creepy af to have My Twinn dolls that look exactly like daughters one has gone NC with.

Extra bedroom completely filled with dolls and dollhouses, to the point that most things were on rolling shelving units like a library. When I first sorted dollhouses, I'd tentatively kept about six that had been on my wish list.

Guest room (now my room) with two cabinets full of Vogue Ginny and Madame Alexander Dolls of the World, floating shelves loaded with stuffed animals, and every piece of furniture stuffed with doll clothes. (There was space to unpack solely because one of my sisters had cleaned out half the guest room closet by chucking it all into the extra bedroom. This was the only way she could have done it!)

Linen cupboard "folding counter" completely covered with dolls and bears.

Additional doll clothes in boxes in Mom's bedroom closet and in trays in all the furniture there. Also additional dollhouses.

Small cabinet of dolls in the dining room (plus multiple large dollhouses!).

Dad's count had been that Mom had 834 dolls (not counting dollhouse residents), and with things I found in cupboards, I'd make it a round 1000.

Here's where you say, "This must have been an incredible collection!"

One big lesson from working my way through all this is that, if a doll was a bargain on eBay when Mom bought it, it's probably not worth that much now. This includes most things made in the name of Ginny or Effanbee after 1980, as well as anything pitched to "collectors."

Never collect collector's items.

A second one was that Mom loved dolls with strung limbs but had so many bajillions of them that nobody kept track of whether the string was still strung. If it were a couple of dolls needing restringing, Dad would have done if for me. But when I pulled Ginny dolls off their shelves and dozens of them explode in random limbs... it's too much.

At the beginning of the process, I spent hours on identifying dolls and trying to figure out how to eke out money from every single doll. By the end, I knew at a glance what wouldn't sell and was shoveling entire cabinets of dolls into the donate bag.

Yes, I know thrift stores don't sell all donations. But (a) I've literally seen dolls I donated in the store; and (b) this is honestly not a loss to the doll world if they don't. No matter how pretty a 1980s Effanbee in a fancy dress, with loose limbs, is, her value on the market is close to zero. Dolls in good enough condition to donate got a chance at finding an appreciative thrifter. Some got sold or given away on FBM in large lots instead.

The number of dolls individually sold on eBay was a small fraction of the total -- after the first couple months, it was dolls I found fun to pose, photograph, and list, or else they had to be worth more than $30. The ones I remember most fondly as selling projects were the Kelly dolls (at least 100) and the Madame Alexander Travel Friends (who are adorable, and I had some when they were new, but they never fit well with my fashion dolls).

All stuffed animals got donated. Life is too short to figure out what drugstore bear is what.

Didn't you want to keep dolls because they were Mom's?

Yes and no.

On that size of collection, sentimentality ultimately doesn't mean much. If it's all Mom's Treasures, none of it is terribly meaningful. If I'd been 100% sure that certain dolls were ones from her childhood that I remembered, I might have kept them -- but I wasn't.

Mom's tastes were also mostly different from mine. She was highly influenced by Toy Box Philosopher, in a sort of hate-buying way. She'd inevitably buy whatever Emily was touting, while complaining about Emily's tastes, buying level, etc. I don't know! So a lot of dolls in the 18" to 24" range showed up, and I have no interest in those sizes.

She also went whole hog for sulky 8" collector dolls (Madame Alexander and Ginny), which I can't stand. Again, if I'd been 100% sure I'd found my Ginny from when I was a kid, I might have kept it. But when there are five dolls that could be that doll... eh. (The experience also unearthed for me how much I resented having been pushed, as an impressionable child, to pretend to like older-style dolls better than Barbie. There was literally a lot to unpack here.)

That all said, in dealing with fashion dolls in the Barbie-Bratz size range, I'd been setting aside dolls I thought I might want to keep, so my one bin under the bed expanded temporarily to two.

I sold most of the tin litho dollhouses as a lot to a collector.

Was there a process for decluttering?

Grab a thread and pull.

Seriously, every organized method i tried fell apart on volume and identification. I did my best work in fits of spite, where I could get through an entire section of shelves without deluding myself that if Mom had liked a doll, it must be worth cash money.

I set myself the goal of finishing within a year of when I'd moved in here (May 2022) and I beat it by a full month.

Did you enjoy any of this experience?

In selling the dollhouses and some of the Playmobil, I consistently met delightful buyers who were so excited to get a bargain. One of my happiest afternoons was sitting with two buyers and a box of furniture and accessories that I was letting them have free or cheap, listening to them be delighted over items I'd ceased to care about. This whole process has surely done something to boost dollhouse love among a younger generation. I met a number of lovely people as repeat buyers or freebie takers, too. And the son of one of Dad's friends is now the Playmobil Tycoon of his kindergarten.

Photographing vintage playsets was fun, and those buyers were nice enough.

The Kelly collectors are adorable.

One My Twinn buyer told me about how she chose that doll because it reminded her of a childhood friend. There was also a buyer of over 100 vintage dollhouse dolls who was charming and saved me so much listing and shipping time.

All this stuff is out in the world, giving more joy than it could possibly have given to me alone, even if I'd liked more of it.

How did you get from two bins under the bed to the four dolls and three pets in the photo?

So I got to the end of the big room-clearing. I could, at that point, have called it done, left the dolls under the bed for later, and moved on with life.

However, I decided I needed to tackle whether I was even going to do dolls any more. So I pulled out the bins and asked myself what I'd consider a comfortable, non-stressful amount to keep. The number 20 popped into my head. I don't recall whether that total was meant to include 4" dolls or not -- I've gone back and forth on that -- but 20 was a good number.

I culled down to 20 with surprisingly little difficulty. For the most part, I don't remember what I got rid of, so I guess I wasn't all that committed to my own collection by then!

The deal was that those 20 went on shelves for display. If I didn't engage with a doll over a reasonable period of time, it would leave. If I wanted to buy something new, something old had to leave.

Within a couple months of my buying Simply Fresh Kylie, virtually all of the retained 20 had left, in favor of dolls I was finding more interesting to acquire, restore, or customize.

The survivors are:

Fashionista Teresa, who I'd found at a thrift store and given to Mom for a birthday.

Manbun Ken, my grail doll from the TRU going-out-of-business sale.

Articulated Kelly, who was a long-time grail doll from Mom's collection and makes a good body comparison doll. I'd originally intended to trade her in for a different doll from the same line, but she grew on me.

Scarlet the Sparkle Girlz Mini, who I bought in Connecticut.

Vinyl dog and white tiger from Mom's collection, because they're cute.

Felted dog from Target because I was totally taken with those when I bought it.

What I learned was that I'm happiest with a leaner, more focused collection, where I have space and time to make clothes and furniture for them.

A later recap will discuss the dolls I've bought this year, which was definitely a pace I won't be keeping up in future years!

[queen-scribbles]

7, 21, and 29 for the weird asks!

7. hair-ties or scrunchies?

When I had longer hair, I usually went for scrunchies, bc it's really thick and hairbands were too tight, made my up-dos give me headaches. Now it's too short for anything like that.

21. something you’ve kept since childhood?

I still have several toys from when I was a kid, including a v ragged baby doll, three stuffed bears, one of those [Name]'s Critter toys(missing her ears, the dog got her T_T), some of my Barbies, and two of my American Girl dolls date back to when I was was 8 or 9 (Josefina and Felicity. I was obsessed with Colonial Williamsburg™ as a kid and I thought Josefina was so pretty when they added her) My AG Samantha is also still around, but I gave her to my sister, so she's not "mine" anymore. Depending on what's considered childhood, I have a My Twinn doll I got when I was 11-12, I still have her too.

29. how do you like your shower water?

Make-Me-A-Lobster hot, most of the time, though on occasion I will do just warm enough to be tolerable

Weirder Asks

[desertdollranch]

Grannie brought her rabbits out to the garden for some fresh air and bunshine. They agreed that the dandelions were delicious, but the lilacs were only good to look at. Grannie is so proud of her garden--look at the lilac bush overflowing with flowers!

[trigeda-republican-army-lexa]

That's not a natural eye colour chart, that's a My Twinn™ doll order form.

I know because I agonised over it for like a year.

Natural Eye Color Chart

[icetwinkluck]

here’s some nightmare fuel for u tn

[blackdollenthusiast]

My Twinn Dolls

Name: My Twinn Made by and When: My Twinn, copyright 1994-2003 Material: Vinyl heads, lower arms and legs from the knees down, and vinyl feet; stuffed cloth bodies with armature for posing and jointed ankles Marks: Note that some of the heads have a copyright year, but the body tag (if present) is a better indicator of the year made and whether it is a Denver-made or China-made My Twinn doll.…

[sugarbear2001]

[just-some-random-blogger]

bajajisiaiIjKKkakkakKaiaooaiIiiksjnwjjwjhejjjewjjjhjejejuBSBSJJWJEJBSSBWUUWJWJAJJAJA BESTIIEEEEEEEEEEENDJJSJSJSJ JAW ON THE FLOOR HOUSTON IM DECEASED

WHE HAVE TO START WITH THE FACT I SAW THE TAGS AND

YOU SEE ALL THESE HEARTSSSSS RAHHHHHHHH GIVE THEM ALL TO ME NIAAAOWWWW ALL THE FILTTHHHH BOWWW

As you pass by the guests, one of them makes a move to grab you. The man, some lord from the Reach, is well on his cups and ready for the bedding ceremony to begin. He is quickly thrown back in his seat by a firm hand on his back.

HARWINNN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 SAVE ME AHRWIN HELLPPOPOO BREAK HIS NECK

Who would dare, with Breakbones at your back?

GIVE HIM TO ME RHAENYRA HE BELONGS WITH MEEEE

[...] you like how you look in it. It is the first dress bought for you without Rhaenyra getting one too, so you wish to wear it a little longer.

😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 my love my baby girl

“I could say the same. I was nearly assaulted on my way out of the hall.” You complain, losing your smile. Had he been talking to Rhaenyra back then? You were unable to recall. It stung if he was. Your sister hadn’t even bothered to congratulate you, too busy gawking at Alicent’s green dress. Yet, she had taken the time to talk to your uncle? Unbelievable.

I WAS NEARLY ASSAULTED AND YOU WERE WITH MY SISTER

“Good thing you had your guard dog with you, then.”

THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY

The knight has unusual patience at playing dolls with the children of the orphanage. You still enjoy playing dolls too, so you have a great time visiting. Daemon, though, wouldn’t be caught dead entertaining what he deems a childish pastime.

HARWIN >>>>>>>>>>>> DAEMON UGHHH

“Of that boy?” Daemon scoffs, though by the look in his face, you would guess he is, in fact, jealous. “There is nothing to be jealous about. He is guarding our door as we speak, and I am in here, with you.”

🤡Of👹tHaT🤪bOy😃 yeah. CLOCKED. But also.... Yeah... He also clocked her.

You and your twin were not the same, and Ser Harwin could tell.

YOU'RE TELLING ME THYRE TWINNS???? I THOUGT THEY WERE LIKE REALLY CLOSE IN AGE

“You confuse love with lust, riñītsos. It is what worries me.” He delicately lowers one of the sleeves of your wedding gown, exposing your shoulder. Daemon presses a kiss there, slow and soft. “Your knight lusts after Rhaenyra, not loves her.”

.............. I have nothing to say but uh.... He kinda right??????? Uh....... Ok

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Daemon scoffs, taking a step towards you. You take a step back. He chases you, cornering you until the cold surface of the mirror you had been admiring yourself in kisses your back. You glare angrily at him. How does he dare, to call you ridiculous? You are a princess of the realm. “Sullen little girl that you are, always with the pout. It drives me mad.”

SHES SO ME. I WOULD PROJECTILE CRY AT HIM WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN 🍅🍅🍅🍅 FUCK YOU

“I do not pout, nor am I sullen.” You complain, sounding an utter brat even to your own ears.

But Daemon simply laughs and leans in, set on kissing your pout away. And he does.

💅💅💅💅 as he should NSJSJSJ BARKING

“Because you carved a space upon my very soul, you terrible child. And I tried so hard to spare you…”

[...] can feel phantoms of your touches when I touch myself, and I can imagine how sweetly your pretty little face will scrunch up when I fuck you…”

IN THE SAME BREATH IN THE SAME PARAGRAPH

“It is you who I want. Perhaps, had I wanted Rhaenyra, things would have been simpler.”

Rhaenyra would have been much easier to love. She would have needed less from him. But you. You, with your demands, and your need to feel special, to know Daemon would kill and die for you, in your name, for your banner, for your cause, even if you had none. Even if you were no one.

MUST YOU HURT ME THIS WAY JSKSKSKSKKS I... Ok tbh I don't remember what my initial reaction to this was Im far too daemon horny now fuck shit fuck

“No. And I enjoy complications.” Daemon kisses your collarbone, and then, above your heart. Slowly, he begins to kneel in front of you. “And contradictions. I wonder which one will you be tonight? The bold dragon rider? Or the soft little dreamer?”

WHAT IF I EAT HIM ALIVE IM 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤😋😋😋😋🤪🤪🤪🤪🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦👅👅👅👅👅💓💓💓💓😫😫😫😫😫

“Right outside, as it befits tradition.” Daemon smirks. “Would you prefer to have him right here? Holding you open as I take the very last bit of innocence left in you?”

“Come.” Daemon says, getting up and laying down on the bed. He pats his lap, invitingly. “I thought wanting to ride a dragon was your thing.”

Nskskksks BARKING DIRECTLY AT IT THIS LIL SHIT I WANT HIM SO FUCKING BACK FUCKKK SHIT FUCK

“My back isn’t what it used to be, you terrible girl.” He spreads his legs, making a place for you between them. “Come.”

Equally that's not my problems but also KSKSKKSKSKKSSK BOUNCING ON YOU SO HARD

He gives your wedding gown a sharp tug, tearing the dozens of pearl buttons out of it. They clatter to the floor, sent in different directions. He wastes no time in getting you fully out of it.

YOU RUCKING RUINED NAY DESTROYED MY FUCKING DRESS DIE 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

“Yes.” Daemon agrees, taking off his shirt with a sharp tug, and making you forget all about how much you had loved the gown. “And that was my shirt.”

...oh

Mesmerized by the exposed skin, you straddle him and run your hands over his chest. He feels warm under your touch. When your palm brushes over his heart, you can feel it beating, faintly but hurriedly.

Your hand goes lower. His stomach is soft, his shoulders broad. Daemon doesn’t have the chiseled body of your sister’s guard, but he is still a warrior. His arms are strong and his waist trim.

I WANT HIM SO BAD I WANT HIM SO BAD

“Perhaps.” He concedes, with a sideways smile. He laughs when you tickle his ribs, curious about it. “Brat.”

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦👅👅👅👅🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪😋😋😋😋😋😋 NO CUZ I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM HES SO BRAT TAMER HER SO EVERYTHING I NEED

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the mixture of smoke, wine, and something unmistakably Daemon. You wonder if he tastes the same as he smells, so you press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, just as he had done to you.

😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 ITS FINE IM FINE IM NOT JEALOUS AT ALL OF FUCKING LINES???? LINES??? WHO ME ACTUAL FLESH AND BLOOD???

You melt. There is no other word for it. You place your hand on his shoulder, and it is then, that you brazenly grab his member and spear yourself in it.

🧍‍♀️ uhm. See I wasn't jealous girl wtf was that

“You are done?” You ask, in disbelief. When Daemon doesn’t answer, and simply groans against you, you give him a shove. “You finished.”

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHHHHAAHHAHH CRYING I WISH I COULD ADD A LAUGHING GIF BUT I ALREADY USED ALL OF MY IMAGES UP NOOOOOO

“You said this would be pleasing to me.”

🗣️YOU🗣️SAID🗣️THIS🗣️WOULD🗣️BE🗣️PLEASING🗣️TO🗣️ME🗣️ FUCKING 🗣️RAT🗣️

“Dirty, huh? Is that what you would call my seed and your maiden blood?” He swirls his fingers in the mixture, rubbing it against your pearl.

MSKSSKAKNSJSNS SNSSJJSKSKSKSKSKSM TWITCHING UNCONTROLLABLY

“Gods, you sound so sweet.” He says, taking his fingers out of your mouth. “My sweet niece, who would have thought? Sitting herself greedily on my cock as if it were her throne.”

Nskskskskks HEAD EMPTY NO THOUGHTS ONLY FUCK YOU AND FUCK ME

“Such a wanton little whore. You are desperate for your Kepa’s cock, aren’t you?”

🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨 SHAKING UNCONTROLLABLY

Much to your consternation, he strips the bed and hands the bloody sheets to Ser Harwin. You cannot look the man in the eyes for the next three moons.

🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 EKKSKSKSK WOOOWWW UHHHHH HUHHHHHHH WOOOOOOOOWWWWW OK

CRISTI this was stunnninggggg. Ughhhhh I wish I could do thissss but I can only do tormented spirit I miss being whimsical with it and fun I'm just so sad and tormented HHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHA LOVE THIS SO MUCHHHHH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

Staring back at you (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You have married Daemon. Now, it is actually time to bed him. You find out you have a few more things in common with your uncle than you thought.

Warnings: PWP. Pure smut with a bit of jealousy thrown in. Vaginal sex, oral sex (F receiving) Daemon doing some nasty things with body fluids (Blood and semen)

A/N: Part 2 to Mirror, but can be read as a stand alone. Only thing you need to know is that reader is a Targaryen and now married to Daemon. Tagging: @just-some-random-blogger

When the feast is in full bloom, you slip away, unnoticed. Your father is too preoccupied with placating your sister, having been put in the unknown situation of feeling jealousy. Rhaenyra has attended two weddings this year, yet none have been her own.

You have never pegged her as one for marriage, but she might resent that despite being heir to the throne, you are the one marrying first. The thought makes you feel a hint of vindictive satisfaction.

You would feel more satisfied if you knew where your husband has run off to.

As you pass by the guests, one of them makes a move to grab you. The man, some lord from the Reach, is well on his cups and ready for the bedding ceremony to begin. He is quickly thrown back in his seat by a firm hand on his back.

Ser Harwin gives you a nod as you pass him. His message is clear. You can go. He has your back. You reach Daemon’s chambers without anyone stopping you. Who would dare, with Breakbones at your back?

You sit on his bed, idly noticing that all your things have been moved here already. There is a nightgown already laid in the bed, but you do not change. Your wedding gown is too complicated for it, and you like how you look in it. It is the first dress bought for you without Rhaenyra getting one too, so you wish to wear it a little longer.

Since you are admiring yourself in the mirror, you see through the reflection when Daemon enters the room. You give him a soft smile.

“I was wondering where you had run off to.” He hugs you from behind, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple.

“I could say the same. I was nearly assaulted on my way out of the hall.” You complain, losing your smile. Had he been talking to Rhaenyra back then? You were unable to recall. It stung if he was. Your sister hadn’t even bothered to congratulate you, too busy gawking at Alicent’s green dress. Yet, she had taken the time to talk to your uncle? Unbelievable.

“Good thing you had your guard dog with you, then.” Daemon sounds just as disgruntled. He has never liked Ser Harwin much, though you do. The knight has unusual patience at playing dolls with the children of the orphanage. You still enjoy playing dolls too, so you have a great time visiting. Daemon, though, wouldn’t be caught dead entertaining what he deems a childish pastime. “If you wanted to avoid a bedding ceremony, you could have come to me.”

“Jealous?”

“Of that boy?” Daemon scoffs, though by the look in his face, you would guess he is, in fact, jealous. “There is nothing to be jealous about. He is guarding our door as we speak, and I am in here, with you.”

You twist in his arms. You brush his frown away, tenderly.

“Konīr iksis daorun naejot sagon jāelagon nūmāzma, Kepus. Issa isse jorrāelagon lēda Rhaenyra.” Because in your eyes, there is truly nothing to worry about. Ser Harwin has panted after Rhaenyra ever since he first saw her, covered in blood and entrails. You had spent that afternoon eating lemon cakes and fearful of bugs. You and your twin were not the same, and Ser Harwin could tell.

“You confuse love with lust, riñītsos. It is what worries me.” He delicately lowers one of the sleeves of your wedding gown, exposing your shoulder. Daemon presses a kiss there, slow and soft. “Your knight lusts after Rhaenyra, not loves her.”

“So you think he might want to bed me because we look alike?” You begin to scowl. “Is that it? Is that why you wanted me to wife? Because you could not have her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Daemon scoffs, taking a step towards you. You take a step back. He chases you, cornering you until the cold surface of the mirror you had been admiring yourself in kisses your back. You glare angrily at him. How does he dare, to call you ridiculous? You are a princess of the realm. “Sullen little girl that you are, always with the pout. It drives me mad.”

“I do not pout, nor am I sullen.” You complain, sounding an utter brat even to your own ears. But Daemon simply laughs and leans in, set on kissing your pout away. And he does.

Daemon kisses you as if he seeks to devour you. His kisses have bite behind them, forcing you to open beneath him, turn pliant. You are no withering flower, though. You are a daughter of Old Valyria, fire and blood runs through your veins as much as his. So you bite back because just as Quicksilver had never once faltered before Balerion, nor will you before Daemon.

The two of you kiss until the mirror fogs up behind the two of you, until your blood is warm and singing for him. Until you are so dizzy with desire, you cannot even remember the reason you had been mad at him.

Daemon, though, doesn’t forget.

“I wed you because you are stuck inside my mind.” He says, as you part. You pant, knees weak, the mirror being the only thing keeping you upright. “Because you carved a space upon my very soul, you terrible child. And I tried so hard to spare you…”

You say nothing. Your uncle has never been a creature of raw, unbridled feelings. He is never honest with his emotions. It is too precious of an opportunity to let it pass, to interrupt with some ill-fated words. So instead, you let him speak.

Sometimes, it feels as if Daemon has a window to your very brain. He knows you better than you know yourself.

“When I look at you, it is not Rhaenyra I see. I see you, with your terrible temper, and the fierceness and boldness which you carry yourself… You are stuck on my mind, my body, my very heart. By the Seven, how I tried to spare you. To erase you. I am but a weak man, niece. I can feel phantoms of your touches when I touch myself, and I can imagine how sweetly your pretty little face will scrunch up when I fuck you…” His hands grasp your face, urgently. His eyes, shockingly purple, meet yours. “It is you who I want. Perhaps, had I wanted Rhaenyra, things would have been simpler.”

Simpler. A clandestine liaison, like the ones she has with her knight. A passing connection and nothing more. You can imagine it, the two of them together. Without the need for him running off to the Vale, for the mysterious accident his wife had suffered, the one you had not dared ask about, for it had been timed most coincidentally after your kiss in the brothel. Nor the need for good behaviors, for convincing your father to let him wed you.

Rhaenyra would have been much easier to love. She would have needed less from him. But you. You, with your demands, and your need to feel special, to know Daemon would kill and die for you, in your name, for your banner, for your cause, even if you had none. Even if you were no one.

“Simpler it’s not always better.” You muse, quietly. Does he regret it, you wonder? Having to sacrifice nearly everything for this?

“No. And I enjoy complications.” Daemon kisses your collarbone, and then, above your heart. Slowly, he begins to kneel in front of you. “And contradictions. I wonder which one will you be tonight? The bold dragon rider? Or the soft little dreamer?”

“I do not have a dragon nor do I walk between realms.”

“You do now.” Daemon opens the bodice of your gown. His other hand palms his hardening cock. You watch, mesmerized. “Care to ride a dragon?” He asks, innuendo plain as day.

“You said Ser Harwin was…” You try to sound scandalized, but the mere thought is making you wet.

“Right outside, as it befits tradition.” Daemon smirks. “Would you prefer to have him right here? Holding you open as I take the very last bit of innocence left in you?”

This time, you truly are scandalized.

“Kepus!”

“Not to your liking? Oh, well. I suppose he will just have to listen from the door.” Daemon raises his voice. “Perhaps that boy will finally learn how to please a woman.”

You hear movement against the wall and then silence. Mortified, you do not even dare breathe.

“Come.” Daemon says, getting up and laying down on the bed. He pats his lap, invitingly. “I thought wanting to ride a dragon was your thing.”

“Uncle…” You warn. You make no move to approach him. Your mind is still with Ser Harwin, and the terrible thought that you will need to face him tomorrow. Daemon could have at least told you about his thoughts in High Valyrian, a language that the knight would surely not understand. Instead, he had to loudly proclaim it all.

Daemon sighs, as if your fussing is a terrible bother, and sits up again.

“My back isn’t what it used to be, you terrible girl.” He spreads his legs, making a place for you between them. “Come.”

“As if you were so old.” You complain, but obey him regardless. Despite being fairly active, Daemon is still older than you.

“Not all of us can be maidens in the bloom of youth.” He grasps you by the hips and pulls you even closer, until your chest brushes against his. “Let’s get rid of this pesky garment.”

He gives your wedding gown a sharp tug, tearing the dozens of pearl buttons out of it. They clatter to the floor, sent in different directions. He wastes no time in getting you fully out of it.

“That was my dress!” You say, your outrage outweighing your nervousness about being left only in a thin shift. You are a Targaryen Princess, after all. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

“Yes.” Daemon agrees, taking off his shirt with a sharp tug, and making you forget all about how much you had loved the gown. “And that was my shirt.”

Mesmerized by the exposed skin, you straddle him and run your hands over his chest. He feels warm under your touch. When your palm brushes over his heart, you can feel it beating, faintly but hurriedly.

Your hand goes lower. His stomach is soft, his shoulders broad. Daemon doesn’t have the chiseled body of your sister’s guard, but he is still a warrior. His arms are strong and his waist trim.

You like his softness, you decide. Your uncle has always been a figure larger than life to you, this rogue out of a storybook. This makes him more human. More real.

Daemon lets you explore to your heart content. He jerks slightly as you brush his stomach, muscles twitching under your touch.

“Tickles?” You ask him, voice soft. His hands caress your sides, lulling you into relaxation without distracting you.

“Perhaps.” He concedes, with a sideways smile. He laughs when you tickle his ribs, curious about it. “Brat.”

You laugh. Your hand continues to move, lower and lower. Down the path traced by white, almost silver hair, and towards the edge of his breeches. Daemon’s body tenses, stomach going taut. But when you reach the first lace, you lose your nerve.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the mixture of smoke, wine, and something unmistakably Daemon. You wonder if he tastes the same as he smells, so you press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, just as he had done to you.

The effect is immediate. Daemon gasps, and his hands tighten around your hips. His cock, now feeling more like a hard rod, brushes the place between your legs, making you throb with arousal.

Under your lips, he tastes like salt and smoke. You bite, and you bite hard, set on placing your mark of ownership on your very own dragon. You do not stop until you taste iron, and he lets out a choked moan.

“Little beast.” Daemon scolds, but his words lack any real heat. Interestingly, his cock only gets harder.

“Not a beast. Zaldrīzes.” You complain.

“Zaldrītsos.” He settles on, and you pout. He can probably feel it against his skin because his shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. “Off.” He grabs the edge of your shift and pulls it from you, forcing you away from your hiding place.

This time, you cannot hide your nervousness. Daemon doesn’t allow you to hide again, his hand cradling your jaw. When you shyly lower your eyes, he pulls you even closer, until your foreheads touch.

“Avy jorrāelan.” He whispers, unbearably soft. It isn’t, of course, the first time he says it. It is the first time he forces you to maintain eye contact with him while he tells you he loves you. “Ao se nyke issi keskydoso.”

You have never needed to hear the words, but it pleases you regardless. His love shows through his actions, and you have often thought the two of you are the same, but hearing it feels different. Like it is no longer a secret you have to cradle close to your chest, protect it from the rest of your family. Like it is something you can live, and not only dream.

“Zaldrīzoti?” You scoff, as if it were obvious.

“Like the Conqueror and Rhaenys.” He taps the place over your heart. “Two hearts. One soul.”

You melt. There is no other word for it. You place your hand on his shoulder, and it is then, that you brazenly grab his member and spear yourself in it.

Daemon groans, body going as taut as a bow with the effort of not thrusting into your warm heat. You, instead, shriek. It hadn’t been one of your wisest ideas. His cock feels as if it is in your throat and the breaking of your maidenhead had felt like getting punched.

“Seven hells, why did you..?” He asks you, rubbing your back as you whimper. You begin to roll your hips into tight little circles, trying to ease the pain. “Wanton thing.”

“Fucking hells.” The circles do help with the pain, much like jumping in one foot does when you stub your toe. But there is something else there too, a spark of pleasure building as you grind yourself back and forth on his cock.

“I was going to open you up.” Daemon brushes a stray tear away from your cheek. “Damn you, and your stubbornness. Virgin cunts aren’t meant to just… Fuck, you just… That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

He seems to have no words to explain it. Considering how it had felt like being punched in the gut, you think he may be right.

“Could you help instead of scolding me?” You whine. Daemon’s brows pinch together, as if he were trying to control himself. There seems to be something about you, pulsing maddeningly around his cock, face covered in tears and looking wrecked, that does it for him because he gives in without any fight.

His hands steady your hips once again. Instead of holding you still as he had done before, he aids you rock back and forth, until you are no longer hurting, but aching to be filled.

His pace increases. His hands come to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples and making you shiver. Daemon encourages you to bounce on his cock, until the inside of your thighs ache, and you feel like you are nearing a glorious peak of your pleasure.

Yet when you are so close to it you can even taste it, Daemon pulls you closer, and curses, muffling his moans on your shoulder. He shudders, and you feel a sudden warmth inside of you. And then, he dares go still.

“You are done?” You ask, in disbelief. When Daemon doesn’t answer, and simply groans against you, you give him a shove. “You finished.”

“Can you blame me?” Daemon mutters, voice sleepy. You can feel his eyelids fluttering shut against your skin.

You slap his arm, hard.

“You said this would be pleasing to me.”

“You utter brat.” He scolds, rolling you over until you lay down on the bed. He gives you a smack on the ass.

Unused to any harsh treatment, considering you are a princess, you let out a yowl.

“You dared to hit me!”

“Don’t pout so much, less your knight comes barging in.” Daemon grabs a pillow. “I’ll give you yours. Hips up.”

The reminder of Ser Harwin, probably still guarding the door, makes you feel embarrassed enough not to protest. It fails to keep you pliant when Daemon dares to lick your cunt.

“What are you doing?” You shriek. “I’m dirty there. Stop it.”

Daemon lets out a laugh.

“Dirty, huh? Is that what you would call my seed and your maiden blood?” He swirls his fingers in the mixture, rubbing it against your pearl.

“It’s…” You cannot keep talking because he has shoved the very same fingers inside your mouth. The taste of his seed is bitter and overpowering on your tongue. You let out a garbled protest that only serves to make him laugh further.

With you properly silenced, he begins to press open-mouthed kisses to your cunt. You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by the sounds your uncle is making. You can hear how wet you are, and how Daemon is drinking all of it.

Most of all, you can hear the noises you are letting out. Desperate little sounds, garbled around Daemon’s fingers.

“Gods, you sound so sweet.” He says, taking his fingers out of your mouth. “My sweet niece, who would have thought? Sitting herself greedily on my cock as if it were her throne.”

“Shut up.” You mutter, weakly. But his talented hands seem to be everywhere, rubbing at your pearl, curling against a patch inside of you that makes you see stars. Pleasure is licking at the base of your spine, making your thighs quiver, your stomach tremble.

“Such a wanton little whore. You are desperate for your Kepa’s cock, aren’t you?”

You mutter something in High Valyrian. Most likely a curse. You feel like words evade you, slipping between your fingers as if they were made of sand. Your thoughts feel hazy, almost liquid.

“Shh, you poor thing. Your Kepa will take care of you.” And with those ominous words, he wraps his lips around your pearl and sucks hard. Hard enough that the pleasure building in your body reaches a peak so hard, you feel like you will shatter.

It's not pretty. You grunt, and you trash, and by the end of it, your legs shake, and you are a sweaty mess left limp in the sheets. Daemon kisses your cunt through it all, until it begins to feel too much, and you have to shove his head away.

“Satisfied now?” He asks you, laying next to you and holding you close. You feel so terribly boneless, you can’t even acknowledge him. Daemon presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Much to your consternation, he strips the bed and hands the bloody sheets to Ser Harwin. You cannot look the man in the eyes for the next three moons.

[shiftythrifting]

Creepy doll behind glass. Reminded me of a body in a coffin when you go to a funeral. West Valley City Savers