#pretentious monstrosity

[the-demoness-next-door]

@parziivale's character lea in a dress i like

(she/they)

no lighting version below the cut!

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

Rebecca A. Brown. 'Of Radioactive Sprites and Diminutive Tyrants: Hammer’s Monstrous Children' + Dustin Freeley, 'The Monstrous Child Replacement and Repetition in The Shining' from Monstrous Children and Childish Monsters

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | pt. ii

You take a sip of your morning coffee and almost spit it out on your dashboard.

This could not be your order. It was so… unusually sugary. Too sugary. Like someone liquified a whole candy store and shoved it into a venti cup.

Still reeling a little from the overly sweet aftertaste that lingers on your tongue, your eyes trail down to read:

Vt Crml Crnch Frap

5 Banana

Ex Caramel Drizzle

Extra Whip

Extra Ice

Ex Cinnamon

7 pumps Add Dk Crml Sauce

Ex Caramel Crunch

1 pump Honey Blend

Heavy Cream

Double Blended

What kind of pretentious asshole orders this garbage? Were their taste buds dead?

You mentally sent your condolences to the poor person that had to make this disgusting monstrosity of a drink. Please, you would’ve taken one look at the order and thrown it in the trash.

Your eyes searched the paper cup for who your local coffee shop transgressor was– catching sight of a scribble in blue marker reading “H-A.” You moved your hand a bit to reveal a “W-K-S.” A sense of dread creeps in as you numbly stare at the squiggly heart next to it.

It was like someone slipped an ice cube down the back of your shirt.

You had mistakenly picked up the wildly famous winged pro hero’s order and to make things even worse, put your mouth on where his was supposed to be.

Okay that sounded kind of dirty. But it’s not like you could drive back and return it now, what with your lip gloss already staining the lid.

Hey, um, I think I accidentally took a sip of the Hawks’s coffee? Oopsies? You guess you could pay for his order to be remade, but who’s to say he’ll even come back for it, much less accept it from some random stranger?

You were already running late to your desk job as is, and your coworkers were probably scratching their heads, wondering where you were since you always arrived at least half an hour before them. Should you just throw it away and pretend it never happened?

Oh god, would some person dig through the trash the moment you turned your back and extract your DNA from your lip gloss on the lid, thinking you were a deranged fan who stole his drink on purpose?

Or worse—that you were his secret girlfriend picking up his drink who had just wanted a little taste first before delivering it to him?

Your brain starts to wring itself dry of all the possibilities that could happen, shuddering despite each one being as unlikely as the next. An impressive mental workout for an un-caffeinated person at barely eight in the morning.

You wish you never even went to get your usual little treat today. That barista definitely looked right at you when you went to pick up your order, you swear they did.

But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe they were looking at the person standing behind you that you didn’t see as you rushed out of the shop? How do you even miss a man with wings that big?

Something gently knocks on the driver side window and you almost jump out of your seat.

As you roll it down with caution, your brain momentarily stops functioning as you’re met with a pair of striking golden eyes. Another inch of tinted glass down, a strong Grecian nose.

Forget work, the hell. You didn’t even know noses could be that pretty, and as your last bit of window disappears into the car so does your self-respect as you realize he’s abandoned his usual tan-colored jacket, standing before you in his black compression shirt with gold embossment.

Forget everything, actually.

You don't realize you’re holding your breath until he laughs at you, and you sheepishly close your slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know coffee thieves came this cute.” Drinking in your appearance his keen eyes stray from yours, slowly trailing down to your trembling lips, a stark contrast to the growing smirk on his. “Or this nervous.”

His fingers drum absentmindedly on the side of your car door, clear amusement written across his handsome face as he waits for you to say something. You collect yourself and snap out of your thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I’msososorryIdrankyourcoffee!” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as your words come out in a jumble. “I totally grabbed the wrong order and I can’t believe I didn’t see you waiting behind me, I swear I’m not a creep–”

“Hey, hey,” Hawks gently interrupts you, reassurance laced in his voice. “It’s all good, no harm done.” He taps the paper cup that somehow miraculously hasn’t slipped out of your fingers yet.

“Sooo was it good?”

You choke on air, not expecting that. “Your drink?”

“Yeah, my drink.” He shoots you a cheeky grin. That bastard. “Good or nah?” You pause, contemplating if you should lie–no. No, today you chose honesty.

“...Genuinely, I have no idea how you drink this shit.”

Hawks laughs at your bold answer. “Thanks for being my little taste tester anyways. Too sweet, huh?” The tip of his finger traces around the remnants of your lip gloss on the lid, the cup still in your now slightly shaky hand as you nod.

His touch seared against your skin, as his pretty fingers closed around yours to raise the drink up to his lips to take a slow sip, eyes never leaving your own.

With a gaze that was infuriatingly sultry as it was sweet, like a bird of prey beckoning a field mouse to be their next meal, he murmurs, “Just how I like it.”

You’re not really sure he was talking about the coffee anymore.

He hums, and your thighs involuntarily clench a bit as his soft-looking mouth closes around the opening of the lid to take another sip.

“I’d say you’re a villain that deserves their own special category.” He grins, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “One that involves letting me take her out to dinner.”

If you weren’t sitting down you know your legs would have given out. “Like… like on a date?” You gape at him incredulously. Because there was no way. Hawks. Just asked you out.

“Now sweetheart, what else would it be?” Hawks smirks at your dazed expression, like you’re sure you misheard him. So cute. “I mean, unless you don’t want to–”

“No!” He blinks, and your hand flies to cover your mouth at your sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, I want to…” You shyly say at a much quieter volume, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. He leans closer to you with a grin, languidly resting his folded arms over the open frame of your car door.

“It’s a date then. I know this really good sushi and ramen place down the block near my agency, my treat of course.”

“If I’m a villain is this your idea of rehabilitation?” You joke dryly. “Because it’s working.”

He tips your chin up. “Oh don’t worry pretty, I’m just getting started with turning you into a good girl.” A hot flush creeps up your neck to your cheeks, and you almost melt into a puddle right then and there at your steering wheel.

“I’d love to stay but I’m actually so late for work right now.” You utter weakly, chin still resting against his finger. Hawks tilts his head at that, unfolding his vibrant crimson wings as he wordlessly opens the front door of your car.

With little effort and an impressive flex of his biceps, plus a sharp intake of breath from you, one of his arms slips under your thighs and another firmly hugs you just under your shoulder blades as he lifts you up to his firm chest.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he feels your flustered arms hastily reach up to wrap around his neck. Honeyed eyes like molten gold meet yours as he gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh through your pencil skirt, and once again you find yourself needing a reminder to breathe.

“So, where to?”

‎

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‎

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“IS THAT FUCKING HAWKS OUTSIDE OUR COMPANY’S BUILDING?!”

say you can’t sleep, baby i know, that’s that me expresso~ ♪

[arthur-lesters-pinky-finger]

(Spoilers kinda for ep 45?)

Just listened to the new episode FINALLY and holy shit. I feel like this episode is so discretely monumental to both main characters, and it's so discrete because it's not really like "this is the end of an era", but rather "this is a halfway mark on a very important journey".

Of course, we have Arthur finally sort of accepting hope into his life, accepting that he is worthy of living despite himself is SO important. But also, John is genuinely such a good friend in this episode??? I always think of the pod as centered around their friendship and holy hell this is such a moment for them. I mean, he's truly empathetic! This god, whose original mentality was "I've been alive for so long and I'm so Great that nothing matters, why would your feelings matter?", is sitting with his friend and going "Arthur... this must remind you of this horrible thing" and he's just a comforting presence.

And that too! When Arthur is given the choice between an item and a truth you're expecting a little discussion between the two- but no, John is completely silent. Because now he's gained this empathy, and this love and trust for Arthur, and he understands that this is a gift entirely dedicated to Arthur for having stayed alive despite losing his child. John, who mocked Arthur for letting her die in the dream lands, who barely ever dared speak of her for like three seasons, understands this pain Arthur carries, understands the weight of Malam's first question ("a man kills a child, does homework deserve to die?")

This is a milestone for them because this is one of the first times that John's humanity isn't put into contrast with an act of monstrosity Arthur commits. They are coming to accept that they love each other, that they need each other, and John shows this through this little act of acceptance (stepping back, and letting Arthur carry this conversation despite having questions or feeling left out), and Arthur shows this through honesty and being vulnerable. Both are nothing new, but I mean come on, it's so rare to see them mixed together like this.

(I'm aware of how pretentious this sounds but I just love this episode so much. This season is so gut wrenching but so soft, I love it, and I'm not one to theorize, so I just like pointing things out :D )

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Eco Warrior Duchess Sussex merching winter gear like an idiot by u/Lensgoggler

Eco Warrior Duchess Sussex merching winter gear like an idiot So, I live in a country that gets cold. Very cold sometimes. Similar to Canada.And I own one puffy coat. ONE. I bought it 5 years ago. Most people here do not own many of similar function coats - and I assume it's true for Canada. Nobody owns 3 new identical coats simultaneously. Why? Because these are fucking expensive, and buying many is just plain stupid and pretentious. We also don't tend to own that many identical thickness new hats, gloves and boots. Same reason - expensive and pointless. When it comes to winter gear, everything has to have a function. Kids tend to have two or three sets of things because they tend to get wet and/or dirty, but not adults.​Blue, boots #2Beige, boots #1 with furBlack, boots #2But Duchess Meghan, the eco warrior, with a new website and last name, wears three different new puffy coats and two pairs of similar but different boots (the beige set had boots that have fur) in three days. She also wears the coats unlike people in actual cold places (we zip them up usually, or wear a thinner one). She wears a scarf like nobody who is actually cold does - but of course, if she wore it the way it'd actually be warm, you couldn't see it... And on two other occasions she has no scarf at all, so it's not scarf weather for her? She must have an immune system of steel. To Harold's credit, he seems not not give two hoots about what he wears. Has put on Invictus puffer after getting to the event, and has a nondescript layer underneath, and a very basic hat, if any. I wonder what goes on in MM's head... "This is my husband's work thing, I'll tag along and wear all kinds of different getups because this makes me appear successful and awesome because I have sooooo many clothes and accessories!! I am such an inspiration!" I didn't list the 'Valentine's Date pap shot' because it looks like she rewears the red monstrosity from the NY trip. I wonder what happens to the coats back in warm California. Will she return them? Donate them? Rewear them? I'm pretty sure WME has got nothing to do with MM anymore. Because this is a very bad look indeed, anyone with a brain would see that. A 42 yo woman obsessed with her clothes and faffing about at an event she has nothing to do with.​ post link: https://ift.tt/b4M9Swr author: Lensgoggler submitted: February 16, 2024 at 10:10AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[schrijverr]

You Don’t Know Me, But I Know You 6

Chapter 6 out of 6

5 times Tim showed he stalked Robin + 1 time Jason did

Inspired by this post of thecrazyleader.

On AO3.

Ships none

Warnings: none

~~~~

+1. Jason Acts Familiar

It’s a slow night. No one has commented on it yet, since none of them want to jinx it, but all have been luxuriating in the quiet.

“Since when does DC have a branch in Gotham?” Tim’s voice suddenly breaks the silence.

“What is this DC? Is it a new terrorist organization? I have not heard of them,” Damian asks.

“No, it’s a coffee shop, most people call it DC Coffee, but the C already stands for coffee, so that’s stupid,” Tim explains. “They were never in Gotham before.”

“Ugh, of course you wouldn’t just call it DC Coffee, because you’re a pretentious ass,” Steph rolls her eyes. “What sort of monstrosity do you order?”

“I don’t order a monstrosity,” Tim says offended.

“Yes, you do,” Jason inserts himself into the conversation. “It’s literally called the Death Wish and it’s the only chain that serves it. Of course you’re excited it’s here.”

“Shut up,” Tim hisses, but it’s overshadowed with multiple concerned family members preemptively banning him from entering. Bruce even considers buying it, so he can quite literally ban Tim.

“My coffee intake is not that bad!” Tim shouts over the noise. “No one in the family is normal about caffeine, I just get singled out for it. It’s unfair. Let me go to my favorite coffee shop in peace. I usually only get to go there on bus…” Tim falls silent suddenly.

After two beats, a concerned Dick tentatively asks: “Are- are you good, Baby Bird? What’s happening?”

Ignoring Dick, Tim asks: “Hood, how the fuck did you know what I order? You’re literally never there when I do, because I only get to on business trips or when I’m at Titan Tower.”

Jason is quiet.

“Oh my god, have you been stalking me? You’ve totally been stalking me,” Tim exclaims, torn between disturbed and delighted.

“No, I haven’t,” Jason protests, but Tim ignores him.

“After weeks of calling me a stalker and a creeper, here you are, doing the exact same. I can’t believe the hypocrisy!” Tim goes on.

“I wasn’t stalking you!” Jason yells, hoping to be louder than Tim to shut him up.

It works. Tim falls quiet. But then Steph asks: “Then why do you know his coffee order in a chain you’ve never seen him go to. Even I didn’t know that and I dated him.”

“Yes, how did you obtain this information without observation?” Damian inquires.

Jason is quiet for a second, then says: “Okay, so it wasn’t without observation, but observation and stalking isn’t the same at all.”

“It totally is,” Tim exclaims indignantly.

“No, it’s not,” Jason argues. “I was observing your routine so I could break in and kill you, that’s not at all the same as running around at night, because you’re a creepy looser, whose only human interaction is through a camera lens.”

“Okay, harsh,” Tim says.

“Yeah, way too harsh. I mean, I agree with you and I love ragging on Red Bridie-boy here, but that’s- that’s a lot,” Steph says, a jikes in her voice.

“Alright, yeah, you’re right, sorry, that was too much,” Jason agrees. “But I still think it’s not the same.”

“It totally is,” Tim says, easily forgiving the harsh words. They truly have gotten closer. Then he proceeds to be a little shit by crowing: “Stalker, stalker, stalker. Red Hood is a stalker.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Jason chants, trying and failing to drown him out.

“No. Creeper, creeper,” Tim starts up, Steph having no trouble joining in, despite not even agreeing with Tim.

“One of my plans was fucking poisoning you with your coffee order. I can dust that plan off, if you don’t stop right the fuck now,” Jason threatens.

“Still a stalker,” Tim singsongs, before turning off his com. He hasn’t taken Jason’s threat seriously in ages, he wonders when that happened.

[thebeholdingsfavorite-mrbitchard]

I like to think that those long winded emails and messages we all know Elias writes to everyone are actually the shorter form of what he actually wrote because he had lived in a time when long winded and expasivly long letters were the norm. He's just too use to writing things like that and it hasn't stopped even after so many years. He knows it makes him sound even more pretentious, which he doesn't exactly mind, but it's not like he can help himself. Peter told him to simply write less and Elias went into a fit about how that third subclause was diffently needed to get his point across.

I also think he forgets at times that emailing and texting are a thing and sends actual letters to people in the same long winded fashion. This makes him seem like such a huge prick because suddenly Jon is handed an envelope addressed to him in very formal and fancy calligraphy and after reading this three page monstrosity it all boiled down to how Elias wanted to remind him that smoking in the archives is not permitted because it could hurt the statements.

I do have to give Elias credit, writing those long winded letters is very addicting and a lot of fun, you guys should try it.

[infiniteinquiries]

♡ Coffee shop au in which ellie is a barista and knows you like her so she keeps making you increasingly terrible drinks to see how far she can push you ♡

pt. 2

-------

(pt. 1 here)

It had been a week since you'd graced The Wayfarer's Roastery. Ellie often thought it was a pretentious name, but here she was, working as a pretentious barista all the same.

It was the kind of set up you'd expect: white countertops and fake golden accents with a smattering of green succulents sprinkled in. You know, the kind of place you pay $8 for a cup of coffee because you're paying for "the vibe". Two comfortable seating areas that were always full, and minimalist back-pain inducing seating for everyone else.

She thought about you a few times that week, wondering if you'd perhaps leave a scathing review or just decide the shop was trash altogether and take your money elsewhere. But on the breaking dawn of a Sunday morning where Ellie was struggling to get through her opening shift, there you were.

You didn't stumble in this time. In fact, you looked quite composed. So put together in fact, Ellie wondered if your outfit and confident gait was some kind of ploy to impress her. Her cheek twitched in amusement, barely visible; you wouldn't have been the first.

"Mm," Ellie hummed in an almost sleepy tone, "back again I see. What can I do for ya?"

She watched as your eyes scanned the menu above her head. She tapped the countertop behind the register absent-mindedly.

"Could I get a Frappuccino? I know some places make those," you smiled, tilting your had sweetly. It was a bit much.

Ellie sneered, taking joy in the fact that she could put you in your place. "This isn't a Starbucks. Do you see a blender back here?" Her words dripped with condescension.

You looked at her, flustered and wide eyed. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know. Um...uh..." Ellie raised an eyebrow at you as you stammered embarassedly, glancing up at the line of customers forming behind you that signaled the start of the morning rush.

Ellie loved messing with women that tried to impress her. She took pride in the fact that she wasn't an easy catch, and being with her wasn't for the weak, especially with her fucked up sense of humor.

"Just...whatever you recommend," you blurted out in her direction. She took note of how your eyes avoided hers, veil of confidence gone.

"Alright then," she sighed, trying to tamp down the urge to laugh as best as possible, "that'll be $8.50".

Ellie's eyes tracked your hands as you dug into your jacket for your wallet. She zoned out as she thought about what monstrosity she could deliver to you next. She was grounded in reality once again when she heard the sound of coins scattering on the countertop.

She coughed to stifle a laugh, biting her lip to keep the sound from escaping. You looked panicked, and she decided that as much as she loved messing with girls like you, she didn't want to ruin your entire day.

Ellie began to calmly set the coins into her palm one at a time, a contrast to your frenzied gathering. Once she finished, she unclasped her fist full of change into your hands, held out pathetically like you were begging for something. The coins were warm as they left her grasp.

"I'll get on that right away," she smirked. A second barista approached the cash register to address the long line as Ellie scooted over to the prep area.

During your exploding wallet dilemma, she had come up with the perfect idea. Subtle enough to taste off, but not to the point she'd get in trouble for it. She whipped you up an iced London fog latte with a tiny dash of lemonade. Something about that combination just felt so wrong it amused her.

She approached the pick up counter, tempted to mispronounced your name but deciding against it.

As she noticed you still averting her gaze, she glanced out of the corner of her eye to see you sluggishly lift yourself from one of the only comfortable chairs and take your drink, mumbling an almost incoherent "thank you".

She giggled quietly to herself as she watched you quickly exit the shop into the cold air, briskly disappearing around the corner once again.

She wondered if you saw the small cheeky note she etched in sharpie under the logo of the roastery that read:

♡ Ellie

[smaller-comfort]

It is wip Wednesday, my dudes. And I should be baking, but it is way too hot and I am currently way too inebriated, so here we are.

I doubt I'll be able to finish anything by next week for @ghostinthegallery's birthday, but here are some more teasers of the obyron/zahndrekh thing and the oltyx/yenekh thing and also a tiny fragment of Lysikor's No Good Horrible Very Bad Day.

Aaaand some SoS modern AU, because finishing gotta start somewhere has temporarily rewired my brain, and I am having far too much fun with it. Somewhat nsfw.

Scrap file bit from the snecrontyr Obyron/Zahndrekh monstrosity (it's over 7500 words send help), which still has no title. It's gonna be something extraordinarily pretentious, though- I can absolutely see myself going Shakespearean for this one.

--

“How would you serve me, dear friend?”

He couldn't look up. He couldn’t; Obyron squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead into the floor a little harder. “However would please you most, my nemesor.”

Zahndrekh sighed, and that faint noise of disappointment felt like a gauss rifle blast to the chest. “Obyron,” he said, very quietly. “Would you look at me?”

It was, perhaps, the hardest thing Zahndrekh had ever asked of him. He would have rather faced down another thousand guerilla separatists in the swamp- but he could not disobey an order. He lifted his head.

“Oh.” Zahndrekh touched his face, gently turning him so he couldn't help but meet his lord's eyes. “No, I see- I’m asking too much of you.”

The idea that he had failed- that he was not enough, that Zahndrekh could ever ask something of him that he could not give- he would rather have taken a gauss rifle to the chest.

“Forgive me, my lord.”

“No‐ no, Obyron. There is nothing to forgive. On your feet.” Zahndrekh was frowning, just the smallest crease between his eyebrows. “I shouldn't- I won't. You're a good man, and a fine soldier, and it is an honor to have you by my side. You're dismissed- go, enjoy the celebration.”

He wanted to protest- dead gods, he wanted- but he would not disobey an order.

------

I really hope no one gets tired of necron weddings in conjunction with these two idiots because I'm writing another one. Not their wedding, at least, but *a* wedding. Snecron Oltyx/Yenekh, also currently without a title.

Oltyx and Yenekh are simultaneously Jock4Goth and Himbo4Himbo, and I think that's beautiful.

--

As Oltyx watched, Mesekhet skinned an ork with quick flashes of her claws. She draped the skin over Qareh's shoulders, affixing it in place over the cresting protrusions of their spine. Qareh, in turn offered her the creature's heart; a choice delicacy, by any measure.

They tumbled to the ground together, Mesekhet's whip-scorpion knife blade of a tail wrapping around Qareh's hips.

Oltyx thought of them as flesh memories, all the things that he had no more context for. He could not remember his own face, or his brothers’ or his father's. He could not remember the taste of ice wine, or any occasions where he might have drunk it. But he did not need to remember eating to know hunger; or to remember drinking to know thirst. There were things that he knew without needing to remember.

So it was with Mesekhet and Qareh: flesh memories, their mouths and hands moving with a hunger that Oltyx knew without remembering, bodies locked together and voices rising in ecstatic harmony.

He looked away, and felt something cold and hollow echo in his flux (his heart; his blood). He should be happy that two of his kin had found a way to assuage their hunger within each other. And he was; he was happy for them. He couldn't name the feeling that left him feeling so cold.

'Took her long enough'. Yenekh stepped out of the void and draped his arms over Oltyx's shoulders from behind, dripping with fresh gore.

He replied with an interrogative.

'Mesekhet. Thought she'd make Qareh wait another fifty years.'

Yenekh's closeness banished some of that nameless cold. 'How could you tell?' He tapped the question on the back of Yenekh's hand, enjoying the way the blood-slick metal felt beneath his fingers.

Yenekh didn't answer for a long moment, and then he let go of Oltyx with a shrug. 'You just know, sometimes.'

----

Lysikor and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (working title). He's actually having a great time here. He absolutely does not at any other point in this story.

--

“Valgûl, Twice-Regicide!" Lysikor laughed. “I should take lessons from you. I've stolen ships, constructs; overthrown a fringe world or two. But you- destroyer of dynasties! The future and past of Ithakas, stolen, vandalized. I could spend an aeon learning from you.”

“What second regicide have I committed?” Oltyx was too amused to be indignant. He'd forgotten- Lysikor had always been strange, but he was at least an entertaining sort of strange.

Lysikor tapped his cracked dynastic cartouche with one gnarled finger. “Unnas’ successor, of course. Didn't you murder Oltyx when he fought the Unclean? Stabbed in the back, I hope.” He leaned forward with that strange, unnerving eagerness. “Perhaps you could share the details with me.”

Oltyx laughed, because Lysikor wasn't wrong, not really. “The dynast of Ithakas fell in battle- I only scavenged his corpse.”

“Ah, Valgûl, King of Vultures! Nevertheless, it is an honor.”

-------

Okay, so the modern AU endgame has always been an ot3 situation, because I am extremely predictable. No title yet (the sequel to Life/Work Balance is called Staycation, because of course it is). Anyway, Aephorul and Resh'an have had sex on every flat surface in their townhouse, and most of the non-flat surfaces, and this is why they never host dinner parties. (They have like. An entire playroom. And yet somehow they still have an alarming amount of sex in the kitchen. This is just one of the many facets of Aephorul's extremely convoluted strategy to keep other people out of their home.)

--

There were times, Aephorul reflected, when he really wasn't entirely sure how his life had turned out the way it had. Now was a good example: here he was, lounging at the kitchen table, drinking the good wine directly from the bottle. Meanwhile, his husband was spread out on the table, bent nearly in half by the extremely large and muscular older man who was fucking him with enough force to make the whole table rattle in alarming ways.

It was impressive; the table was very sturdy. All of their furniture was sturdy, in fact, for this very reason.

Maybe this wasn't a great example, actually. Aephorul knew exactly how he'd ended up here, and it was mostly because whenever Resh'an wanted something, Aephorul would move heaven, earth, and all of their heavier furniture in order to give it to him.

[iggyguyy]

if you ever wanna lore dump about your ocs I’m here I GRHRHRHEHKRHEJ I NEED TO MORE ABOUT THEM

You are now one of my favorite people ever I hope you know that <3

INSANELY LONG LORE DUMP UNDER READ ⚠️❌️

The over-all story of the silly guys:

It's about this 5 person band filled with weirdos in the very real Texas town named Round Top Senior (better version of round top). They live together in a small apartment and have a lot of playing gigs at the local all inclusive bar. Their main problem is money. Money for a new apartment. Their non human drummer is still growing, and is slowly outgrowing the current apartment. They are desperately looking for money to buy one that can actually house their huge drummer. One day this all changes when a 6th person gets sort of kidnapped by the banjo player and has to stay there for a while. No one really likes him and he has no idea how to act around neither queer people nor non humans. Chaos ensues when he finds himself slowly falling in love with the weirdo who got him in that situation in the first place...

THE 6 MAIN CHARACTERS:

Mama 🌞🪕: No one knows who or what he is, but he is sure there! His warm pink skin, his bright green hair and his huge chest make him very loved around the town; you'd recognise him anywhere! His species, age, gender, past and motives are all unknown, even to him. All he knows is that he likes stringed instruments (He plays the banjo, guitar, bass, electric guitar and harmonica) and that he loves befriending humans and learning more about them. There's something about him that really drives people to love him. His huge list of past lovers really shows this!

While most people (including him) don't know, he's actually an impressive 2723 years old. He's the last stander of a species that went extinct around year 700 B.C. I could do a post just about this species but good lord it's so much

He / him used on him mostly, he couldn't care less. He has a vagina and seems to be able to reproduce, no one has really tried. He has a very deep voice and a strong Cuban accent. 200 cm / 6'6 ft. Doesn't have body hair below the face, 0 fingernails and never wears underwear. He also REFUSES to wear shirts / cover his titties. His "titties" are actually holding a very sweet and intoxicating liquid, and the "lines" under his chest are shallow slits that excrete the smell of this liquid.

No Canon gender or sexuality but he will be with anyone who wants him. His favorite band is Buffalo Springfield. Old ass drawing but its still one of my favs!

Richard Kelly / Dickhead 🕶🎸: He thinks that he's the coolest guy ever but oh god he is STUPID! He tries so hard to be likeable that most people just end up hating him instead. From his neglectful parents and bullies in school, he's ended up being a very pretentious and dismissive person. He doesn't really "get" queer people, he thinks most people are beneath him and he doesn't even slightly respect non human people. Why is he even here? Good question! After getting mad at Mama for "stealing his girl" (His gf Jill broke up with him because he was yelling at her in front of Mama), he got so mad in his drunk state that he fainted mid-punch and woke up on Mama's couch the next day. The rest is history! He tries to pretend that he hates the band but oh god he's starting to love them so much. He also canonically loves goth girls.

He / him, cis male. 175 cm / 5'7 ft. Has a HUGE ass. Stubby beard paired with sad mustache. Cis straight man in the beginning of the show, cis BI man at the end! 25 years old, birthday is the 15th of August. His favorite band is Gorillaz. Haven't drawn him in ages whoopsies!

Julius Amadeus Usoro 🍎🥁: Big guy! This huge monstrosity is the head honcho of the band, their drummer and the one who owns the apartment! He has a huge fear of birds and insane abandonment issues. He tackles having 3 jobs at once, drummer for the band, ASL teacher for their deaf neighbour and he also teaches the drums! His other hobbies includes competitive eating, cooking, anything that has to do with apples, going on runs and walks, cooking even more, napping and cooking again. He is a mix between a sewerian and a Häll-horn, hence his purple skin! Most people just know him as "the demon" though. His brain is very small and he's not that bright, but he has a big heart and he is very loved by the band. He is illegal in many places and the band literally have to say that he's a guide dog to get out of some situations. The people of texas really don't like "demons". He legally adopted Marv in high school. Won't say his whole long ass backstory either but he was raised by a Russian lesbian couple who owned a big apple farm. He is also mute! He communicates through ASL or messy writing!

He / him, cis grayromantic bisexual male. 255 cm / 8'4 ft. 21 years old, birthday is the 10th of October. Huge titties on this guy. Gets winter fur but is pretty hairy all year round anyway! Paw-like hands. His favorite band is The Beatles.

His current design has him wearing headphones more times than not, but these old drawings still work to shoe his design :3

Marvin Juhani Usoro / Marv 🎺💣: The youngest in the band, but also the smartest by far! With 150 IQ and a concerning love for violence and explosives, this little pyromaniac is the main singer in this already weird band. He is completely blind, literally not having eyes at all under his opaque glasses, two of his limbs are amputated and his scarring is painful, so he uses his trusty crutch-cane wherever he goes. He's in and out of asylums and switches back and forth between psychologists, which is awful for him due to strong noscomephobia [fear of hospitals or care facilities]. He's diagnosed with bipolar disorder, autism and borderline personality disorder. His mother got killed by a faulty bomb he made, and his dad disowned him afterwards; making Julius and the band his only family. He was born in Borås, Sweden, to two Jewish finns, so he speaks english/finnish/swedish/jiddisch.

He / him, cis aroace sex+romance repulsed male. 177 cm / 5'9 ft. Big part of his nose gone due to explosion. 16 years old, birthday is the 3rd of March. His favorite band is either Insane Clown Posse or Children of bodom. Ignore that his foot is only missing on one drawing it's a pretty recent change !

[Dead name] Hernandez / Buddy 🎹🤙: They are the backbone and most street smart one in the band, without them the rest of them would be completely lost! They love messing with the others amd pulling small pranks. They're diagnosed with Adhd. As a side gig they like to play piano and sing during nights at the club without the band, usually with a bar specific backup crew. They are a recovering alcoholic and struggle with smoking. They used to be very ablelist and cruel to people, but they decided to leave that life and they're trying to become the bigger person. They write pretty much half of their songs [other half being by Julius], and being in this band is the best thing that ever happened to them. They've completely cut off the ties to their family who still lives back in Spain. They pride themself in their big amount of friends, always making sure to check in on them and hype them up. They don't use their dead name ever, except for legal instances, but it doesn't make them that uncomfortable so they can't be assed to legally change it.

Any pronouns, mostly they / them. AFAB genderfluid lesbian. They still view gender for them as fluid, but still primarily fem! They are 28 years old and their birthday is the 1st of April. 167 cm / 5'6. Their favorite band is Queen, but fav artist is Cass Elliot.

Dominic Smith / Dom 🎷🖼: The half raccoon half human who ran away from home and just happened to meet Julius! This sax playing maniac is so obsessed with Julius that he clings to him 24/7. He has autism, adhd, strong maladaptive daydreaming disorder and even stronger schizophrenia. He basically lives in his own little world and sees things as a jumbled mess of bland colours, and that's why he loves Julius and the band so much; they're a break from the same old same old! He grew up on a corn farm for most of his life, living with his mother and 2 older brothers. His dad was nowhere to be found, and Dom cant remember meeting him ever. He loves sporting his beautiful knockoff slipknot merch and jeans. He has a very hard time remembering things. His special interest is spongebob! [Although he calls him "monty spumbop" for whatever reason ?]

He/they/xe, amab but pretty much completely unlabeled. No one has ever explained the concept of gender to him in a way he understands, but if someone managed to do it he would most likely use xenogenders. He's silly like that. 155 cm / 5'1 ft tall. 19 years old, birthday is the 17th of January. His favorite band is slipknot.

SOMEWHAT IMPORTANT SIDECHARACTERS;

Barbra Scarlette Wilson / Barb 💄🎀: A 32 year old 190 cm tall texan dragqueen millionaire! He has the biggest, pinkest house in town, and he is PROUD of that! He uses he/him and is a cis gay man. His drag name is Scarlette Darling. He is absolute besties with Buddy and even gave them a specific pink flip phone that only has his number, so it's easier to contact him! He has a crush on Julius that pretty much everyone except Julius himself has noticed.

Kino 🟦💢: 29 year old unlabeled Häll-horn whos Ukrainian and Russian, very traditional one too. He has embraced the "demon" culture and is completely against all humans. He absolutely hates Julius because he thinks that he's a disappointment and embarrassment to the whole species, with how human influenced he is. He is very aggressive and mean.

Kaleb 🟥❔️: 20 year old trans ftm pansexual Sewerian whos Ukrainian, not very traditional one. He doesn't care too much about traditions or hating humans, he just wants to relax and live as he likes. The only reason he hangs around Kino is because they can relate over both being non human and "demons". He had to pretend to hate Julius just to make Kino happy, secretly he thinks Julius is extremely attractive so whoops that's not what Kino wants!

Oscar Pérez 🍊🍺: A 37 year old cis male gay human from Mexico. He used to date Mama and planned on getting married to him while Mama was in Mexico, after getting left alone completely randomly by him, Oscar swore to find him and get revenge on him. Now he's found him again, but he still loves him too much to go through with it. So now he's just in an abusive relationship with him instead! Oscar gets a lot of pent up anger he usually takes out on Mama, since he thinks he deserves it. Mama doesn't even remember who he is or that they're even together, but he still keeps letting Oscar treat him as if they're an item.

Jill Dimitry 🖤💫: Richards ex gf. She loves rock and is trying to learn the guitar. She is cis female and bisexual. She can get fed up very easily, so it's a surprise she didn't break up with Dickhead earlier! She doesn't talk to Richard anymore but she's talking to Buddy and Mama every now and then.

Rita Salvador ✏️💛: Julius' old high school roommate and girlfriend. She was a huge beatles fan and collected spongebob merchandise! She was a transfem autistic girlie who always wore her socks over her baggy sweatpants. She died when Marv was working on a bomb and accidentally knocked it to the floor, the explosion happening close enough to Rita to kill her, but only knock out Marv. Julius just lied to Marv and explained that she died of a heart attack, not wanting Marv to feel guilty. Rita named herself after the beatles song "Lovely Rita" !!

Alia 🌼🫒: The local florist shop owner! She sells handmade and homegrown bouquets and all kinds of flowers! She was very close friends with Rita. She loves meeting Julius during the week, even if she can't understand his ASL! She's a transfem Muslim who always sports her cool handmade skirts! ALSO SHE WAS CREATED BY THE LOVELY @animatronicthing [art in the photo below was made by schyr!!!!!!!!] GO CHECK THEM OUT

There are a few more characters worth mentioning who don't have a decided design or aren't that relevant but still!!!!!!!!:

The Abdullahi family. They are the band's neighbours whi recently moved here from Nigeria. Mrs. and Mr. Abdullahi don't know a lot of English, and their daughter Sani is deaf and autistic. Julius spends his free time teaching ASL to Sani!

War veteran neighbour: old man in wheelchair who lives across the street to the sillies and often goes out on his balcony at the same time as mama, making them greet each other every now and then.

Freddie: he's the local pizzeria owner and he absolutely loves getting visited by Dom and Julius, it really makes his day!!

That's pretty much all characters who are somewhat developed, but oh god there's more! TY sososososoosososoosososoososososoososo much for this ask i am literally going insane !!!!!!!!!

That's my sillies, bye ! ✌️

[paper-gold-theories]

Villainous Headcanon: Miss Heed Unbearable Personality is like Kitten from Teen Titans

Out of all the cartoon characters, I imagine Miss Heed's personality to be like Kitten from Teen Titans from the "Date With Destiny" episode especially after Chapter 10 of The Risky Heist:

Both Miss Heed and Kitten have a spoilt and unbearable personality, their expressions are somewhat similar see images below), wear pink and have a pink esthetic (I kinda imagine Miss Heed having a pink limo like Kitten) and Miss Heed liking cats having a cat headband while the character's name is Kitten and sometimes pretentiously acts like one.

Her relationship with her father is also something like Kitten and Killer Moth! Mr Kelly. does love her daughter (why wouldn't he help clear her name and get out of rehab if he doesn't) however is an extremely busy with his work making him unable to give much attention to his daughter, causing him to overcompensate by giving her whatever she wants. (Like giving her a credit card without a limit at the age of seven)

This led her to become an extremely selfish, spoilt, and demanding brat, who wants to get everything that she wants without caring how others feel or how much it makes other people suffer to get it.

I kinda imagine her father caving into her unbearable requests as hero and her obsession of getting GoldHeart. (like the clip in the video below.

Miss Heed: If I'm going to be a popular heroine, I NEED a popular hero boyfriend too! AND YOUR GOING TO GET ONE FOR ME!

Mr. Kelly: Now, Cec-Heed, be reasonable! You don't seriously expect me to --

Miss Heed: And I don't want just any popular hero!

Miss Heed: I want the best, most popular, charismatic, coolest, and handsomest hero!

Miss Heed: The one that no other girl can get!

Miss Heed: The one who would drive EVERYONE wild jealously when they see us together!

Miss Heed: I want GOLDHEART!!

(Note: Here are the video sources I got the images and video clip above from (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) I clipped out some highlights as I can't I can't include everything. But you should check it because there're more totally hilarious clips showing Kitten's anger and obnoxious behaviour which I headcanon Miss Heed resembles out of her public persona. 😂)

This is also why he hired an agent at the start for Miss Heed when she wanted to become a hero. So that he can focus even more on his work, have a more bearable medium to deal with his daughter's demanding requests, and is able to deal with his daughter's HORRIBLE TANTRUMS, and personally not deal with the monstrosity his daughter grew up to be as much as possible.

Flug mentions in his journal that she is quick to anger when things don't go her way and for as long as he knows her she wants to be the centre of attention and will do whatever it takes to get it. So I kinda imagine her to be like the scene in the video last 2 clips (above)

If that's the case she must be an utter unbearable NIGHTMARE of a friend and student for Flug and her schoolmates to deal with or just generally everyone around her.

No wonder she needs a perfume to make people like her ( 😂jk/)

This is why I theorised that GoldHeart has been avoiding Heed as much as possible and not interacting with her as much as possible, unless necessary. That's why you don't see him in any of Miss Heed's social media posts despite her crazy obsession. As he does not want to deal with her annoying and unbearable personality, despite the importance of Miss Heed's formula, that she stole from Flug, in his plan to end Villainy. 😂

And probably cringes every time he actually has to interact with her.

Also if he were to ever be forced to go on the date with Heed he would react the same way and have somewhat of the same facial expressions (below) like Robin being forced to go on a date with Kitten, having to deal with her, obsessive, pretentious, annoying and unbearable personality and also (shipper headanon) Flug would be Starfire, the one thst GoldHeart would rather go on a date with.

[the-demoness-next-door]

some bouncing sprites of @parziivale's characters martial, levi, and caihe!

(he/him (any okay) - he/him - whatever/guess)

[colorfullyminded]

Omg I LOVE your pinescone stories they give me life :3 I have a few questions is you don’t mind

What is your favorite pinescone head cannon?

What is your favorite au?

Which one’s your least?

I saw that you used to write parapines is that still a ship that you write about or will is forever be in your heart?

In a zombie apocalypse how do you think the Pines family including Wendy and Soos etc (+ Wirt & Greg) would go about it? Who would survive?

That’s all the questions I have for now :3

((Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! It means the world to me. And yes, please feel free to ask any question you have.))

1. My number 1 headcanon is that they are equals-- that even with their strengths and weaknesses, their differences, they both value each other so dearly; to the point you almost forget that they're a crossover ship because of how much these two complete each other. And by that I mean, the two look at each other like the other is the moon and the stars. If these two aren't hopelessly in love and amazed by their partner, I don't want it! I hate when Wirt is forced to be in the back, or is made weaker and more cowardly by the narrative; I hate the concept of Wirt being just a pretty face for Dipper to save, or that anything Wirt can do-- Dipper does better. I don't mind Dipper saving Wirt, I don't mind Wirt being cautious or uncertain, or even afraid-- but I love when Wirt gets to be heroic too (because he is). I love seeing him excel at the things he's good at, and I think he brings strategy to the team dynamic that is not utilized enough; Wirt is the guy who's going to notice Dipper's blindspots and point them out to better strengthen the plan. I love when they both get to be sassy; their personalities would give them such good banter to bounce off each other. They are both adorable, dorky, emotional, but also very hotheaded and stubborn characters. There are few ships where I feel like any direction you go is canonical because of how multifaceted they are as characters (that's not to say I agree or like all of directions, but I can at least acknowledge why that decision was made). Wirt doesn't always have to be the one held up by sticky tape! Out of all the bad end friends-- Wirt is the only one I've see that canonically did not fall for a demon's trick. He never got posessed, he never made a deal, he wasn't tricked--if anything, he actually called the bluff of said Demon (something that Dipper failed the first time) when he was like 14 years old. I want to see more of that in my pinescone. The idea that Wirt would be so easily tricked by Bill just doesn't sit right with me. It never has.

Another headcanon I'm more in favor of: Dipper can cook (I know a lot of people have headcanoned him as the bad cook between him and Mabel, and between him and Wirt-- but he's literally the guy who follows steps and checklist-- what do you mean he doesn't know how to use a cookbook?

If anything, Mabel is the wildcard who can either make something really delicious....or put you in the hospital for food poisoning. You'll notice in my more recent fics the...monstrosities Mabel has loving created in the kitchen, and that she's even been banned from one kitchen before.

So yeah, Dipper can cook, Wirt can cook--and I love the idea of these two cooking together. I have others, but some are a little more risque, and this is already going to be a long ask, so I won't write everything down-- but here are two of my big headcanons (One was more a rant, apologies). 2. My favorite au, I don't wanna sound pretentious, but most Pinescone Au's I enjoy are the ones I've made for myself-- I have a lot of ideas, and so I think up a lot of situations with these dorks, though most are just free floating in my brain right now. Eventually I want to write them all down, but that may take some time. The closest Pinescone au that I enjoy that isn't mine is a mix of monsterfalls/Musume. Basically where Wirt is a human and he falls in love with Deerper-- and the two have to navigate that kind of relationship while certain laws and societal norms want to dissaude them from forming an interspecial relationship (even though in monsterfalls, most people became monsters from other means, rather than just being born monsters) Either way, the idea of Deerper snuggling up to a human Wirt and flirting through Cervitaur mating rituals is so fucking cute-- and I have wanted to write a small series story for that au. Also, just a shout out, but I enjoy @clubsheartsspades Pinescone meet-weirds! Those are such fun aus-- they've made for some of my personal favorite oneshots!

Also, even though they just started, I'm really enjoying that Au where the two start off on the wrong foot in "Horrible First Impressions" by Philia. I want those two to fuck nasty make out in their creative writing class! The tension is so good, and I can't wait to see the turning point where frustration becomes affection. 3. My least favorite au might be more clear-- as you'll notice a lack of two specific....villains in most of my fiction. Basically, Dead Ends Friends, but specifically Murder Husbands is on my low list of au's. To me, Bill and Beast are defeated; I rather the story revolve around Dipper and Wirt facing new challenges and deadly foes-- not the same one's they took care of as children. I don't mind if people like using Bill or Beast (they're great, entertaining villains, I get why people love them). I even love a lot of the art that involves Bipper and Weast; it's amazing art as usual. But I don't consider either aus to be Pinescone-- as it's just Bill and The Beast inhabiting their bodies. I'd enjoy it more if I could see glimpses of Dipper and Wirt in some moments, where they're allowed to take comfort and fall in love before their bodies are once more puppeted by the demons. If the story is just beast and bill doing fucked up things in their host-- with no shift to the real people underneath-- then It's not really what I want to read. I don't mind possession stories, or one being controlled-- I don't mind some darker content (Proxxy is an old Pinescone fic that is still very sexy and fucked-- and it involves Bill possessing Wirt... but the thing is, Wirt doesn't just take a back seat; his thoughts are still being shown to the audience. We still get to know what he's thinking and feeling, even when he has no control over his body). That kind of shit, now that I love. But again, Bill and Beast are NOT Dipper and Wirt to me.

4. Parapines has a soft spot in my heart, but I have moved on from the ship entirely. I made a joke about it once:

(Which again, it's just a joke but it does feel like thousands of years have passed). In all seriousness, I don't think I'll be coming back to the Parapines fandom. I think I once wanted to do a fic where Dipper and Wirt broke up, and for the summer, Dipper started dating Norman, before making up with Wirt again, as a kind of farewell, final sendoff to my old ship. I never finished it, but who knows, I still have the rough draft. I have a lot of WIPS I keep just in case I wanna come back and finish (you'd be surprised how many of my fics were wips for years before I posted them to ao3). 5. In a zombie apocalypse? They all would. We saw the pines family + Wendy and Soos survive a demon apocolypse, I think they can take on a zombie apocalypse as well. Wirt and Greg would be more beat up and worse for wear, but I imagine they could hold their own, until they met up with the Pines Family (though I had one zombie au but that's a different story). Now if they were all separated, or at least how would they stand on their own? Here's what I think (I'll try not to get too graphic): Dipper- Either survives/ Holds out for a long time, but would likely sacrifice himself to save someone he loves--Zombied Mabel- Either Survives/ (If Dipper dies) she would lose hope and probably fall prey to a bite--Zombied Soos- Zombied Stan- Survives / (If both twins Zombied) he would lose hope and be zombied next Ford- Survives Wendy- Survives Pacifica- Zombied Wirt- Would try to hold out if protecting Greg, though may also take his and Greg's life to spare them both. (Self Inflicted). Greg- (If he's young) Zombied without Wirt/ possibly mercy killed by Wirt (if he's an adult): Survives, though heavily traumatized. Maybe having lost a limb to stop a bite from spreading. ((Thank you so much for the ask, I appreciated this so much! Wow this was a lot and I'm so happy <3 I love receiving asks about these two!))

[bucknastysbabe]

Slips through cracks

A/N: Idk where this monstrosity TW of a beast came from but hope someone enjoys!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW implied ab*se, past underage, incest, weird manipulation and childhood trauma, Aegon being Aegon, drug and alcohol abuse. Modern!au, Frottage, fucked ass up greens, Daeron’s twin reader, she’s of age in this, nepo baby Aegon with a coke problem, Daddy Criston hours, I attempted to use English terms👍🏻 xoxo your pathetic American, toxic relationships

Oh boy, the trip to Oldtown. The whole family has to go see Daeron play in the Westeros Cup of football. You included. Ripped from an Essosi holiday break to cohabitate with the most dysfunctional unit of all time for a weekend. Then you could fuck back off to your own pretentious private school, Helaena could go back to her cottagecore Etsy shit, Aemond to med school, and Aegon.

You clenched your teeth at the mere thought of him. Degenerate. Drunk. ‘Wild Prince’, Asshole. You could go on. He was videoing the plane, incessantly talking to his ‘followers’. There was no way he wasn’t coked the fuck up right now. Aemond sniffed and tucked his nose further into his book, eyes rolling at the eldest.

Alicent and Viserys had already made it to Otto’s place, sending Criston Cole to keep the ‘kids’ in check. Even though you and Daeron were legal adults now. Peering over your book you watched Helaena knit a sweater in the fine print of a spider’s web. She smiled softly and asked, “Do you think he’ll like it?” She was almost done and it did look damn good, Daeron would love it. Your twin was kind and definitely could find a way to insert the handmade item into his wardrobe.

“Yeah Hel, you know he’s going to find a way to wear it every chance possible,” you laughed.

“Darling Daeron,” she sighed under her breath, eyes dreamy. You watched her nimble fingers, tuning out Aegon’s wretched talking and Aemond’s pointed noises. Eventually your eyes slipped shut, book falling into your lap.

“It’s time to get up,” he teased in your ear, you bolting upright with a gasp. Aegon smiled down at you, grinning lecherously, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. You scoffed and stood up, shouldering him off in the process. Your big brother whined, “C’mon you’re still mad at me? I was drunkkkk.”

Being drunk does not constitute leaving your sister in your dorm for a night after promising a ‘real flea bottom party’ with his ‘famous friends’. You cried watching him being a dumbass on social media, plastered with girls and drugs. Idiot. You got an actual Uber back to the family estate, crying to Criston about your dick brother.

You ignored him further, wanting to rip that stupid earring out of his head. Aegon pouted, prodding further, even taking your bags for you. Which the dumbass never worked out so he was struggling. You couldn’t help but quirk your lips up as the eldest brother almost fell face first down the jet’s stairs.

Aemond snatched your duffel, easily hauling it over a broad shoulder. He snapped, “You being a pathetic clown isn’t going to magically fix everything.” You shared a look with Cole and snickered. Aegon grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Oh get the stick out of your arse Aem.”

Helaena drifted aside, eyes on the sky, gazing towards the tower your mother’s side of the family was named for. You followed her gaze, frowning. It was a gleaming beacon on the outside, a gloomy vault on the inside. You hated it there, unsure why they couldn’t just abdicate the site to national affairs like every other royal did. Too proud.

Cole ushered you all into the limo, giving Aegon an extra shove and low curse, the blonde rolling his eyes. You sat far away from your elder sibling, asking Aemond how school was going. He replied in that stiff way of his, “More tests and research, then hopefully I can get my first residency. I’d like to be in a high-profile area like King’s Landing or Lannisport. Get more expertise.”

You nodded along, giving your brother best wishes. He hummed, “And your studies? Last I heard you’d rather play tennis.” You rolled your eyes and snorted, “I’ve given up hope, I won’t be a professional like Daeron. Finding myself with a passion for Psychology and it’s social aspects.”

“So you can figure out what’s wrong with the Targaryen bloodline,” Aemond said.

The aggravating ringing of Aegon’s phone ruined one of your rare conversations with Aem. He apologized sheepishly but still held up a finger as he argued with someone over the phone. It was either about one of his girls, drugs, or both. You rolled your eyes and groaned, watching the city pass by as the limo bumped it’s way toward the Hightower.

“Okay, whatever, fuck you I have plenty of others!,” Aegon spat, cheeks red from annoyance. Criston reached over the limo and snatched the cell, stuffing it in a coat pocket. Your brother gaped like a dying fish before demanding, “Give that back! I was in the middle of a conversation!”

“You’re getting on everyone’s nerves. Obviously it’s not doing you any good so why don’t we take a break, eh?” His brown eyes remained stony, arms crossed authoritatively. Ser Criston was basically the surrogate dad of your group, Viserys preoccupied with his health and elder daughter, her brood.

Aegon begged but received nothing. Eventually the prince settled down when Criston said he’d return the phone after they got there. The idiot instead rolled his window down to the crowd outside and waved, cheering with the people. You could see the cameras flashing on his cheeks, Aegon just sucking it all in. Aemond slunk deep into his seat and Helaena put on her noise cancelling headphones.

Aegon’s violet eyes turned to you, breathlessly stating, “They love me you know.” You retorted, “They love how accessible you are.” Aegon’s cheery smile faltered for a second, eyes flitting down. It didn’t last long as he painted the grin back on and blew a kiss to a girl decked in Oldtown’s team colors.

Eventually the limo pulled into the high gates surrounding the tower. Attendants were already getting your bags and taking them to the assigned rooms. Your mother, Alicent, and grandpa Otto waited by one of the many grand doors. She hugged and kissed you, blessing the seven for your safe arrival. The same spiel happened except for Aegon who got a stiff kiss on the cheek. Otto and Helaena shared an embrace, your sister happily chattering to him about her sweater for Daeron.

You raised a brow and asked, “Where is Daeron anyways? With the team still?” You checked your phone to see if you missed a text. Alicent replied, “He’ll be here later, they’re finishing up practice currently.” You frowned. Daeron had better get here quick or you feared someone was going to get stuck with a knife.

Criston held out Aegon’s phone to the blonde, who snatched it up greedily. His ringed fingers and violet eyes soaked up whatever minutes he had missed. You asked, “Can I go to my room? I have a headache.” Otto put his hand at the small of your waist and said, “Yes, come on, I’ll get someone to bring you water and medicine.”

You must’ve been really tired, blinking open your groggy eyes to see that hours had passed. Stretching your body you let out a little squeak, happy to have some alone time. Then the door crashed open and a freshly showered Daeron cheered, “Sister!” You grinned and hopped out of the bed as fast as possible, tripping in the process but your sibling caught you easily.

You pulled the taller twin into a hug, gushing, “This is so exciting! Look at you, Mister Oldtown Football himself.” Daeron blushed and rolled his eyes, “Nothing but hard work, I swear,” he added lowly, “And beating off bloodsuckers.” You smirked and both of you simultaneously said, “Aegon!”

Daeron groaned, “Yes, I had to come find you so he’d stop getting me on his social media shite. He went out to party though, so we’re clear for dinner.” You laughed and replied, “Well, let’s go have some family bonding. You need to tell me all about your year.”

“No you, freezing away in the North like that.”

Bonding with Daeron was exactly what you needed. Even dinner was not unpleasant, Viserys in a jovial mood. No one spoke of the elephant in the room. Your twin did slide his phone over to you later in the sitting room, dramatically pantomiming a gag. The video was of Aegon draining a shot between some broad’s tits. You could see the coke on the table in the back, loads of it.

Aemond peered over and barked a laugh, “Oh he’s going to be a nightmare in the morning.”

You swallowed at the comment, a thought leaving as soon as it appeared.

You grumbled, “Hopefully Cole will leave him out there.” Daeron smirked, “Someone’s still mad about summer.” You batted Daeron’s shoulder, now clad in Hel’s sweater. You pouted, “Try getting left alone all night! It sucked.” Your twin gave you a look, murmuring, “I know he’s your favorite for some reason but you shouldn’t trust Aegon.” You leveled him with a glare.

Daeron dropped the subject and the rest of the evening went smoothly. You went to bed when your twin had to return to the team complex. You tossed around for a bit, wondering about your eldest brother. Eventually sleep graced you. Not for long.

You groggily beat at whoever was in your bed. You rasped, “There’s no ghosts here Daeron.” Then realization hit you. Daeron was across Oldtown. Bolting upright you flicked on the lamp to be greeted with a disheveled Aegon. His purple eyes were big and sad. Obviously he’d been crying. Your big brother was likely suffering from a coke crash into a sad drunk fit.

You cursed, “The fuck are you doing? How did you get here?”

Aegon’s plush lips wobbled as he sniffed, “Cole got me.”

“Why are you crying?”

Aegon sniveled some more, “Did you mean that earlier? Does anyone like me? Why do y-you hate me?”

You gawked at him, perplexed by the behavior. Throwing up your hands you demanded, “Aegon you’re twenty-four years old, why are you crying in my bed like we’re children? I don’t hate you, you’re just a selfish prick.”

The blonde threw himself on top of you with another cry, apologizing profusely. You sighed, “Thanks- I guess. It hurt my feelings when you left me alone all night. I thought I was more important than that, big brother.” If you were turning the screws on him, that was your business alone, but it worked like a charm.

He pulled back and shook his pale locks, blubbering, “No-no-no you are so important to me, I am a selfish prick! I’ll make it up to you when Daeron wins!” Aegon was embarrassingly pathetic. But here you were, rubbing his heaving back while he whimpered, “No one gets me like you do.” You idly wondered if he said this to other girls or just his sister, which had long been a strangeness never deeply thought about. It’s just something that was, is.

You sighed, “I love you big brother, of course I get you, now can you get the booze clothes off and we can go to bed? I have some leftover headache stuff you can take.” He snuffled into your neck, wetting your skin with more tears. Shoving the man off you gently ushered him along.

“Promise you love me? I love you more than anything little sister,” he whispered into the darkness once the light clicked off.

You replied, eyes unblinking up into the inky black of the room while he cuddled into you, “Love you more than anything big brother.” A tear slipped down your cheek but you arms were too busy wrapped around Aegon to wipe it.

You awoke again tucked into his frame like many a night from the past. He always came back to you. As soon as Daeron and you grew up enough to not be attached at the hip, that’s when Aegon sunk his talons in.

He pressed little sleepy kisses to your neck, humming in contentment. Aegon murmured, “Smell so sweet. My perfect sister.” You swallowed at the feeling of his cock swollen and nestled between your thighs, only separated by thin cotton. Wetness had already seeped out your cunt, probably started when you were still asleep.

You chided, “A-Aegon, what if mother walks in?”

He whined, “C’mon, please, missed my sister’s pussy, please baby.” You found your will crumbling at the sounds of his breathless grunts and hot cock rubbing against your swollen folds. Aegon moaned like a needy whore in your ear, rutting harder and whimpering like he couldn’t enough. His hands grabbed and groped at your tits desperately.

“Hnnn- oh fuck, you get me so horny, m’so fucking hot for you.”

You rolled your hips back easily, playing into this mood. It was like muscle memory now, start baby talking him when he got this desperate. You pitched up your moans, “Yeah? Big brother all hard n’ achy for me? Gonna mess your little sisters panties up before breakfast?”

“Fuck!,” he cried, mouthing at your shoulder with a shudder. Aegon mewled, “Yeah, yeah- mmmfuck yeah m’gonna bust, so hard for you.” You taunted, “Didn’t even get a nut off last night? My handsome big brother surrounded by all these pretty girls and- oh- has to come rut into the baby?”

The tip of his cock was dragging the soaked material of your panties across sensitive nerves. You cried Aegon’s name softly, pressing your tits into his greedy hands, squeezing around his prick. He stuttered and whined, long and loud at your ministrations. The prince whimpered out, voice strangled by desire, “I thought about you, how much mmh- better your pussy is, oh gods m’gonna cum!”

You turned around to seize his loose lips, colliding with wet smacks. Both of you drooled and whined into eachother’s mouth, fucking faster by the second. The bed was faintly squeaking by now. You gasped, “Brother! Aegon!” He rasped, “Love you oh my gods love you.”

The elder seized up, hot cum soaking and staining your underwear further. He whined through his nose, exhaling on a choppy breath. You came soon after, Aegon’s whining and tweaking at your tits sending you over the precipice with a tight squeeze and muffled wail.

Your legs trembled as he slumped against you, pressing another kiss before rolling onto his back with a sigh. He jerked you over to him while fumbling to the side for his phone. You laid quietly while he slid through the messages and videos, a frown on his lips. He asked, “Do you ever think about running off to Essos?”

You shrugged, “Sometimes. I don’t think it’ll be much different for you in Braavos or Astapor.”

He challenged, “It would be just me and you. I swear.” The phone was put away petulantly, his red rimmed eyes staring into your own. Footsteps passed outside, your eyes nervously flickering to the door. Peering back at Aegon you said, “Just say the word and I’ll go, big brother.”

He seemed satisfied at that, lips curling back up. Aegon sighed, “Good. I’ll get going then. Love you.” He pecked your lips again and darted out an old servant’s exit while you watched blankly. Holding back a retch you texted Daeron, “Good luck today!”

[ghelgheli]

My own experience as a transsexual parallels the monster’s in this regard. The consciousness shaped by the transsexual body is no more the creation of the science that refigures its flesh than the monster’s mind is the creation of Frankenstein. The agenda that produced hormonal and surgical sex reassignment techniques is no less pretentious, and no more noble, than Frankenstein’s. Heroic doctors still endeavor to triumph over nature. The scientific discourse that produced sex reassignment techniques is inseparable from the pursuit of immortality through the perfection of the body, the fantasy of total mastery through the transcendence of an absolute limit, and the hubristic desire to create life itself. Its genealogy emerges from a metaphysical quest older than modern science, and its cultural politics are aligned with a deeply conservative attempt to stabilize gendered identity in service of the naturalized heterosexual order. None of this, however, precludes medically constructed transsexual bodies from being viable sites of subjectivity. Nor does it guarantee the compliance of subjects thus embodied with the agenda that resulted in a transsexual means of embodiment. As we rise up from the operating tables of our rebirth, we transsexuals are something more, and something other, than the creatures our makers intended us to be. Though medical techniques for sex reassignment are capable of crafting bodies that satisfy the visual and morphological criteria that generate naturalness as their effect, engaging with those very techniques produces a subjective experience that belies the naturalistic effect biomedical technology can achieve. Transsexual embodiment, like the embodiment of the monster, places its subject in an unassimilable, antagonistic, queer relationship to a Nature in which it must nevertheless exist. (...) To encounter the transsexual body, to apprehend a transgendered consciousness articulating itself, is to risk a revelation of the constructedness of the natural order. Confronting the implications of this constructedness can summon up all the violation, loss, and separation inflicted by the gendering process that sustains the illusion of naturalness. My transsexual body literalizes this abstract violence. As the bearers of this disquieting news, we transsexuals often suffer for the pain of others, but we do not willingly abide the rage of others directed against us. And we do have something else to say, if you will but listen to the monsters: the possibility of meaningful agency and action exists, even within fields of domination that bring about the universal cultural rape of all flesh. Be forewarned, however, that taking up this task will remake you in the process. By speaking as a monster in my personal voice, by using the dark, watery images of Romanticism and lapsing occasionally into its brooding cadences and grandiose postures, I employ the same literary techniques Mary Shelley used to elicit sympathy for her scientist’s creation. Like that creature, I assert my worth as a monster in spite of the conditions my monstrosity requires me to face, and redefine a life worth living. I have asked the Miltonic questions Shelley poses in the epigraph of her novel: “Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man? Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?” With one voice, her monster and I answer “no” without debasing ourselves, for we have done the hard work of constituting ourselves on our own terms, against the natural order. Though we forego the privilege of naturalness, we are not deterred, for we ally ourselves instead with the chaos and blackness from which Nature itself spills forth.

My Words to Victor Frankenstein above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage, Susan Stryker (1994) [pdf]

[dani-dance]

Which soda/drink would the Night Dancers drink?

A followup to this post. This assumes that Night Swan would let them drink anything other than like, plain water.

Jack’s (if he were to become a Night Dancer) wouldn’t change, it’d still be Rose Lemonade. Do what you will with the implications of this.

Sara is drinking Cherry Bubblegum Soda. It’s overly artificially sweet and absolutely disgusting to the rest of the dancers. They don’t know why she drinks that but they can’t question her without her forcing them to take a sip “to show them it’s good” so they’ve learned to just look away and ignore it when she chugs yet another can of that monstrosity that calls itself a drink. Night Swan keeps getting rid of Sara’s stash of them but somehow she manages to always have them on hand anyways.

I first put Fanta Lemon as one of two options for regular Brezziana. I’m changing that - it’s Night Brezziana’s drink now. It’s like the evil twin version of orange sodas. It’s good, but it’s very distinct from her soda choice in her regular form.

Similarly, Wanderlust drinks 7up. You cannot convince me that 7up isn’t evil sprite. Every time I order sprite and get 7up I feel betrayed. It’s good, but it’s just different enough to be jarring and Not What You Wanted.

Mihaly drinks vitamin water and vitamin water only. No carbonation and they’re super pretentious about it. I’m gonna say their favourite flavour is lime-lychee because that’s my favourite flavour and I’m not above that effecting this.

Night Swan only drinks plain water and has a big superiority complex about it btw.