#thank you for looking at our art and thinking its good enough for a follow!

[janebonbon]

We'd absolutely love to do something to celebrate this, I check Tumblr while waiting for the moving truck and guess what!!

Almost a hundred of you... I would like to make something special, or do something special? Though I'm not quite sure. Is there something you would all like as a celebration? I'll be happy to as soon as I'm moved! Again ... I am so emotional! For so many things! Things are looking up! I appreciate all of you, and I'm working on those ask requests, I promise! It has just taken a back seat with moving, so please bear with me!

[lodisama]

RIDICULOUS (x.t)

xavier thorpe x reader (no pronouns mentioned)

summary: reader is wednesday's cousin, or rather, uncle fester's child. you have transferred to nevermore, and on your first week, you meet someone. this turns into forming a secret alliance wednesday can't know.

reader has the same powers as uncle fester (electricity)

Being around people who stare at you like your some animal zoo wasn’t really on my list, especially when they’re the same kind as you. An outcast or, a so called freak. I would’ve enjoyed this more if I did something terrible. But for some reason these people love peculiar blood lines.

I exit the door to the school indoors, and there I enter the quad. Where every student of monsters imaginable hang out. I loathe the gossips, but love the stares. Everyone turned their heads to me, then there was silence. I look around to muster in the atmosphere. It’s not that I think highly of myself. It’s just they make me feel highly than what they are. I felt a dark aura behind me, making its way next to me. I turn to my side, “Wednesday, my beloved cousin.” I turn my head back to the students, smiling, not at them but at her presence.

She has always made me feel wanted and seen, though we had different interests, she never failed to make me feel fit in.

“Y/n, it’s lovely to see you again.” Her hands clinged together, hanging down.

Her voice monotone, though I know her words were sincere. “How is the first week in this hellhole full of surprises?” She asked, sounding almost displeased. I sigh, not upset in any case. “Surprisingly good. Though my roommate appears to be a no-sleep enjoyer.” She hums, raising her eyebrows.

Silence fell after that, but then a familiar platinum blond, with colorful tips comes hopping our way. “Y/n, hope you don’t mind me borrowing Wednesday from you.” She smiles excitedly.

I return her kind smile, “No not at all, you may take her.” I see Wednesday look uncomfortable, but she let it happen. “Thank you!” Edin holds Wednesday by her shoulder, as they walk away to a bench. I walk to a pillar next to a wall art, standing beside the pillar. I felt electricity fuzz on my shoulder, making me flinch. I step back to see who it was

“What the…”— He looks down my size.—“Oh”

I hum, seeing the man. Tall, tall enough to be a tree, hair tied up, miserable eye bags, chiseled face. “No sorry? I apologize, I didn’t see you’s?” He raises his eyebrows, with a confused yet maintained calm tone. “Have you heard me say anything?” I respond, which he raises his eyebrows at this. He licks the inside of his cheek, muttering a silent Alright. He seemed used to it.

He turns around, and continued on painting the wall, the crow impressively detailed. He coated its background with a different shade of blue. I stare, blankly following his every move. “Please stop looking, I can feel your eyes,” The man lets out a breathy chuckle, still focused on the painting. My face hardens by the feeling of getting caught.

“My apologies.” I clutch on the bind of the book I was holding.

I didn’t give him time to say something, not that I was expecting him to. I turned around and went in a different turn of the quad.

Though I didn’t see it, he smiled unevenly when I apologized.

━ ━ ━✦❘༻༺❘✦━ ━ ━

"Do you know where it is?" Wednesday ask in a stern, yet eager voice. "Of course. Dad always told me stories about this school." Her eyes practically glew when I said that. "Will you please show me?" She blurted. "It's in that secret headquarters full of Nightshade wanna be's. " I slowly walk up the stairs, making sure my voice was low. She nods, satisfied with my answer. "I need you and Thing to get it for me. Weems has me on a radar right now." She stops next to the railings, looking at me. "Do you mind?" I smile at her, shaking my head a no "I don't mind , Wednesday". "Thank you." She whispers. As I look around, I saw Xavier looking at the both of us from the other side of the railings. My face turns stoic, as I inhale sharply.

"So I just snap two times?" I asked Wednesday. "Yes, you'll need this." She confirms, handing me a flashlight. Thing crawls on my shoulder, giving me a thumbs up. Got it I responded. I face the statue, snapping two times. The statue slowly moved backwards, revealing a spiral staircase on the right side. I checked to look at my back. Wednesday was already gone. I exhale, walking to the stairs, the dark room full of paintings and the smell of old books greeted me. I point my flashlight to the wall, seeing every painting of whom I assume to be the parents of these students, which I familiarly recognize.

Unfortunately my father, didn’t possess the academic aptitude to be here, but I am grateful to be filled with his knowledge about this school, and letting me experience it at least.

My whole body shivers in joy seeing the Nightshade logo on the floor. Pure ecstasy erupted in me. Finally happy to see one of the best stories my father has ever told me, right in front of me. I keep my pace slow, paranoid by the idea of getting caught, but either way, what bliss. I could feel Thing patiently waiting on my shoulder. Suddenly, I hear something shift behind me. I had the instinct to turn around and flash out electricity on my finger, not yet zapping the said noise. "Woah━ woah." The man raises his arms up in the air, moving backwards. "Xavier?" I say breathly, whilst my eyes wide open. I slowly lower my hand, the electricity disappearing on my finger tips. We both pause. A minute of taking heavy breaths. Now that we're all alone, under this dim light, he looks good. Genuinely good. His hair not tied up in a man bun was a foreign sight to see. He was the first one to break the silence. "What are you doing here?" Brows furrowed, voice shaky. I blink profusely, thinking of an answer. Usually I'm great with lying, even at the most unbelievable situations. But right now, I can't just discard him away or say that I was exploring the school. Fuck.

My mouth opens, then it closes again. "Exploring. I couldn't sleep." I say. I try to ignore his eyes. Clearly doubting my excuse. "How did you get in? Not many people can." He asks. I subtly smile "Do you think of me as stupid?" I muse, tilting my head. He stiffens in his position "No━I just━ Forget it, I'm sorry." He rubs the back of his neck. "No worries," I blankly say, hiding my laugh. My eyes look around the room, seeing the painting that hides the treasure Wednesday desires. I make my way to it, not caring that he was still behind me. "What are you looking for?" He follows behind me. "This is none of your business." I hold the side of the painting, opening it like a door. "What the hell.." He says in awe. I hadn't even realize it, but Thing was now nowhere in my sight. "Thing?" I call out for him. "Wait, what? What are really here for, Y/n?" His voice now serious. I inhale deeply in exasperation. Turning around, I fuse electricity on my finger, pointing it at him. "Dare to speak a word of this and I will electrocute you in your bath." I threatened, slowly walk towards him. He looks at the blue fuzzing thing on my finger. "Okay, I won't. What can I do to help?" I sigh in annoyance once again, and I think he got the idea, but still stayed. "I prefer to commit theif crime alone." Thing signed, agreeing with me. "Would you rather me tell on Weems?" It's his turn to threaten me now. Though it didn't do much. "She'll lose one of the most rarest outcast, then." I smugly reply. "Trust me no one here needs you," I could hear his smile through those words. I ignore him, and proceeded to do what I was told to do. "Thing, open the safe please." I ordered Thing, and like that he obliged. "Hey, I don't think we're supposed to open that safe." Xavier peers, concerned of some sort. "Then leave." I bent down to the size of the painting or rather, safe. It opened swiftly, revealing the book I needed. I softly gasp, grabbing the book. Flipping through the pages. The pages contain different kinds of beasts. The man behind me slowly made his way next to me, interested in my discovery. My eyes widen as I saw the beast my cousin has been obsessed with. "That's the thing I keep on dreaming about," His voice low. My brows knit together, turning my head to his face level. "You've seen this before?" I ask in curiosity. He nods, "Yeah. I've been drawing them too, it's been on my mind for so long. It's fucking me up." He covers his mouth, faltering his eyes at mine. There was a pause, but then I turned around to look back at the book. I sharply close it, emitting a sound. I grab my bag, putting the book inside. "Thank you, Thing." I looked at the moving hand. Thing crawls back on my shoulder, making himself comfy. "Y'know, you might get caught, right?" Xavier puts his hands inside his jean pockets. "Yes, and the idea excites me." I reply coldly. Xavier snickers at this. "Let's go before anyone notices we're gone." I said. He nods, letting me walk up the stairs first, his tall figure following me behind. We made it out the underground place, and I immediately turn to a different path, but I was abruptly stopped by a hand holding tightly on my wrist. I look at his hand and up at him. "What?" I ask. "Do you have a phone, or are you just like your cousin?" He chuckles lowly. I straighten my position, raising my eyebrows. 'I prefer to be old schooled." I replied. "Letters?" He breathed. Well he catch on quick. "Yes. Why?" pure confusion runs my head. "Expect letters under your door." He drops my hand, now pointing at me. "I'll be ready with a lighter to burn them." I muse once again. "Is that a yes?" He pushed further on. This boy is ridiculous. I nod slowly, I could see and hear his smile through the darkness. "Goodnight Y/n."

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #39: Gladiator's ELEVENTH Anniversary! (+ BONUS: Fic-to-Art #36...)

And here we are! March 26th arrived and I did not forget about it, but I paid for my ambitious madness with my wrist and forearm. Somehow, I finished my intended pieces on time, but I do not advise that you ever try to make 9 artworks in 3 days. No, sir. Bad life decisions, that's what that was... but this fic, as anyone knows, moves me to do things I never thought possible, starting with writing the fic itself!

It's really crazy every time it hits me that I've been doing this for as long as I have. It's been a complicated, chaotic journey, with its many ups and downs, but ultimately, it has been our journey. For some people, this is just one more fic in the pile: for me, it's been the best adventure of my life so far. Everyone who has ever been touched by Gladiator, who has ever cherished this story, who's looking forward to the big conclusion, who wants to see how the chaotic war is going to end... you're all part of this crazy adventure along with me, and I can only thank you for joining me.

This year, I had no time to make as big a project as I usually go for. Thus, I did a sort of free-for-all edition of Fic-to-Art over at Patreon and challenged myself to draw as many scenes as I could, out of their suggestions. I even sprinkled in a few scenes I impulsively wanted to draw because I loved writing them or because I look forward to writing them... and this is the result!

In order, the scenes are as follow:

Sokka combing Azula's hair, a common occurrence throughout the story.

Azula watching over a convalescing Sokka in the Chase of Jeong Jeong arc.

The outcome of Sokka's final battle in the Superior Gladiator League, namely a moment where Sokka and Azula more or less gave away their relationship's true nature to the public by raising their hands towards each other...

And now, spoiler territory! Some were by my choice, some by Patreon requests:

An important moment shortly after Sokka and Azula reunite.

Azula confronting her father, with a LOT of backup.

Xin Long's long-awaited freedom.

The aftermath of the final battle.

The full-blown confirmation of their relationship to the general Fire Nation populace.

Sokka, Azula and Hotaru's first night together

And the big final one is ACTUALLY Fic-to-Art #36 but hahaha woops I didn't post it here on time because it was super hard to finish since I had a LOT of things going on... but here it is now! :'D it's a glimpse VERY far into the future of this fic's timeline!

Alright, that should be enough talking and explaining. Some things are vague, some things aren't, but ultimately I really hope you guys will be looking forward to the scenes you haven't seen yet, and to Gladiator's eventual outcome.

So now... with all this being said and done, I'm gonna go take a trip down memory lane and watch my Tenth Anniversary video once more! Feel free to do the same thing if you'd like to commemorate the fic, I think it's a good way to experience Gladiator all over again, hahaha.

Thank you if you read all this, and if you read all THAT: 5 million word landmark, here we come! Thanks for hanging out with me across ELEVEN years of Gladiator!

[asa-do-your-thing]

The Shadows of The Lost Court

Dark!Aemond x F!OC - 18+ MINORS DNI Word Count: 8.6k TW: dubcon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Shameless Smut, Angst, Fellatio, Misogyny, Internalized Misogyny, Non-Consensual Drug use, Religious Imagery, Symbolism and guilt

Art made by the lovely @nyctophilic0vitnir - thank you so much sweetheart! <3 And thank you so so much @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organizing this @hotd-bigbang , you are amazing!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Elisabeth shuddered and stopped, turning around, coughing to try and relieve her dry mouth. 

She knew. She knew… She knew something. Something was following her. 

Leaning against a grubby, crumbling wall, Elisabeth tried catching her breath. There was nothing there, neither on the left, nor on the right. Only cobwebs; cobwebs, moss and the smell of decay.

 ‘Is The Stranger a something or a someone?’

Tonight was different. The milk came sooner than usual.

Elisabeth struggled - where some people love the rush and the calmness afterward, she hated it. Hated the way it made her sick. Hated the way it lamed her tongue; hated the way it hid her. She knew better than anyone that her doses were calculated. Maester Rithyr must have gotten the order for her to be silenced, not addicted. That wouldn’t look good. 

Elisabeth peered out of a window, only to see thick tendrils of fog curling up from the ground like ghostly fingers. The dim light filtering through the mist gave everything a spectral, otherworldly hue. She took notice of how broken everything looked: shattered windows, splintered doors and debris scattered across the dusty floor. She sighed heavily as she rearranged her long, dark brown hair under its veil, trying to keep it in place amidst all the chaos. And then, she heard him again - his footsteps echoing through the ruins.

The sound made her feel uneasy; it was too quiet, too lonely. For a moment she wondered if she was in trouble or hurt. But then a chill ran down her spine and she realized that perhaps it wasn't just the desolate ruin around her making her feel so cold and scared.

“You swore to obey me. You swore before the gods, you brutish whore. After all I’ve done for you…”, the voice echoed around her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was closing in on her. The staircase seemed to be miles away, yet still, she pushed herself away from the moss-covered stones and cautiously started walking. Elisabeth grunted, her legs burning. It was as if she was walking against a current of water, one that swept her slowly closer to him. She stepped over a rotting tapestry and tightly clung onto the handrail of the staircase. 

‘Why would The Stranger think of me like that? Is it time for me to… die?’

Carefully descending down, she peered up the stairs. The window let in cold, humid gusts of air and Elisabeth was sure that she could see his dark robe in the shadow. Knowing that the Queen’s Ballroom had no other exit, she trudged past it, stopping to catch her breath along the way.

Out. Out of Maegor’s Holdfast, her mind urged her. But where would she go? As soon as the Kingsguardmen saw her, they would gently escort her back into her chamber. That’s the way it has been for a long time. Biting her lamed tongue, she quietly walked down to the entrance and glanced out. No one was there. No one, except for the occasional rat that scurried through the lower bailey. 

“I saw the way that the Strong bastard looked at you. You were with him, weren’t you? Was it not enough to tell him about our political strategies, but to also give him your useless cunny? Do you even know the shame you bring onto this realm?”

Her breath hitched as she saw him closing in on her, his dark cape billowing in the light wind. Glancing up at the serpentine steps, she felt a thick raindrop splashing down onto her. That was just what she needed - collapsing on the slick stairs, The Stranger close behind her. No, risking embarrassment by climbing over the ledge into the Godswood was far more appealing to her. 

“Leave me be! I beg of you!”, she whined, her lungs on fire.

'I cannot do this anymore, not long, anyhow, my feet... my lungs... The Stranger... Death...', she thought, unable to focus on anything else than him.

The Godswood was an ancient and sinister place, a twisted forest lurking within the heart of Maegor's Holdfast. Towering weirwood trees with their deathly white trunks and faint streaks of crimson formed a menacing roof above, and the loamy earth seemed to swallow her every step. Elisabeth took a raspy breath, feeling the icy, dank air fill her lungs. The stench of decay surrounded her, the smell of putrefaction and rot. Rain drops pelted down onto her skin, the soil beneath her feet sodden.

Elisabeth moved with a sense of urgency, her feet burning as she weaved through the dense trees. The pattering of rain on the leaves above offered her some concealment as she made her way between the shelter of one tree to another, hoping to avoid detection by her pursuer. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and she whirled around, only to hear the sound of footsteps growing louder and louder.

Her heart in her throat, she ducked behind a gnarled oak tree, taking cover from the ominous presence that was closing in on her. She could feel every drop of cold rain as it streamed down her face and hair, running down her back and soaking through to her skin. Each breath was ragged and tumultuous as beads of perspiration bubbled up on her forehead. Elisabeth shuddered uncontrollably in the frigid air before finally forcing herself to keep moving forward through the relentless downpour.

Elisabeth could hear the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest as she tried to make her way through the Godswood. She was shaking with fear, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. She knew that The Stranger was close behind her; she could feel his presence like a dark cloud looming over her.

She stumbled over a tree root, nearly falling to the ground, before weakly righting herself and continuing on. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck,  her clothes were soaked through. However, insignificant concerns like the dampness penetrating her to the core were overshadowed by her urgent need to elude her relentless pursuer.

Abruptly, a chilling sound pierced the silence, causing her blood to freeze in her veins. It was the eerie scrape of something sharp grating against the gnarled bark of a tree, almost like the sound of a blade being sharpened before an execution. Her heart raced as she whirled around, and there, amidst the gusty winds, stood The Stranger, his ominous dark robe unfurling like a spectre from the shadows.

"You can't escape me."

Elisabeth recoiled in terror, her wide-eyed gaze darting around frantically, searching for a possible escape route. However, the Godswood resembled an inescapable labyrinth of winding trees and dense underbrush, leaving her utterly trapped.

The Stranger took a step forward, his eyes fixed on her. Elisabeth saw the hunger in his gaze, the hunger for her soul. She knew that she was doomed. With a cry of despair, she turned and ran, darting between the trees as fast as she could. The Stranger was right behind her, his footsteps pounding on the wet ground.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, cold and ...familiar? Shaking her head quickly and looking up into the sky, she saw the towers again. She probably ran around in circles, her dazed mind tricking her into thinking she had been trapped in a forest.

Frantically sprinting out of the oppressive Godswood, she sucked in a deep breath of fresh air as her gaze fell upon the dilapidated Outer Bailey. The once-glorious stone walls loomed ominously over her, crumbling inward from age and neglect. Threadbare tapestries hung limply in the breeze, swaying like ghosts in an abandoned graveyard. Gaping holes in the walls revealed chipped statues that had been carved centuries ago, still standing guard despite their years of neglect. In the far distance, the towers soared into the sky, dark voids against a backdrop of gray clouds.

Elisabeth inhaled deeply as a thick, unsettling aroma engulfed her. The scent of lavender and jasmine combined with the decaying smell of rotting fruit and mildew. In the distance, Elisabeth could hear the faint sound of buzzing from unseen insects lurking beyond the shadows. She stumbled forward, mesmerized by the air that was heavy with an ominous foreboding.

At last she reached the entrance to The Sept - an imposing structure made entirely out of pale stone blocks that glowed in the fading light. Stone steps rose up to meet two large wooden doors while several small windows peeked out like watchful eyes looking down on her every move.

Elisabeth, feeling the stinging of her lungs, ran into the Sept and fell down on her knees. She laid atop the golden seven-pointed star on the floor and looked up at the statue of the Mother, trying her hardest not to look at the Stranger. To calm her head, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, running her dry, cracked hands over her burning calves. The tears continued flowing over her pallid face, running down into her dirty gown. 

‘What is happening to me? Why on earth would the Seven punish me so?’

She remembered her wedding. It was magnificent, aye. But then again, it had to be. After Joffrey’s death at Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding tourney, she was quietly whisked away from the Stormlands and settled into the Red Keep as a way of keeping the Lonmouth’s - and to a greater extent the Baratheon’s - good graces, so as not to let them favour Princess Rhaenyra’s claim in the case of King Viserys’ death.

The time until the courtship was quiet, that much Elisabeth still remembered. She grew up alongside Princess Helaena - Helaena being three years older than her. Endless hours of handiwork, study and prayer had shrouded her in relative solitude, so when she turned four and ten, she was shocked to be invited to the Royal Table more often and to be invited for strolls with Prince Aemond. Back then she had still been Lady Elisabeth, not 'Princess Bess'.

Later she understood why the engagement happened. Prince Aemond had to marry to secure the crown’s security and to show the green faction that they had gotten the Stormlands support.

She often asked herself why they had chosen her over the Baratheon girls. They were more comely - Elisabeth's stature was short and plump, giving her the appearance of a child much younger than her age. Her brow was rounded, her cheeks plump and her eyes large with dark, scared pupils. Her Monmouth blood - the one that made her relation Joffrey so beautiful - must have passed her by. Her long, dark hair was thick but formless, hanging in her face without curls or ringlets. It was clear to her that Aemond was not interested in her, not in the romantic sense at least. 

As days turned into weeks, Elisabeth discovered that Prince Aemond was the first man with whom she could engage in conversations almost as equals. His cold, yet encouraging words had ignited a spark within her, urging her to delve deeper into her thoughts and ideas. Over time, an unexpected fondness began to blossom in Elisabeth's heart for him. In his unique manner, he exuded a charming gloomy aura that drew her in. Many hours passed in their quiet companionship, their noses buried in books, immersed in shared moments of silent contemplation. Their intellectual pursuits were often overseen by the watchful presence of Princess Helaena, serving as a discreet but ever-vigilant chaperone.

But now, as she lay on the floor of the Sept, she wondered if she had made a grave mistake somewhere along the line in her life. Should she have taken her vows? Life as a septa would’ve suited her far more than whatever tragedy her current situation had turned into.

Aemond had changed since they were wed. Princess Helaena said that that was the case for most men, yet somehow, a small glimmer of hope still arose that it might have been different. He had become more... mean. It was as though he was a different person entirely.

Although... he had always been the quiet sort. The kind of man that you could hear exhaling slowly whenever he heard a foolish remark, the kind of man that judged everyone for everything, the kind of man that doesn't even think himself superior - he believes it.

Elisabeth couldn't help but think of the Stranger. It was a foolish thought, she knew. But in some ways, Aemond reminded her of the mysterious figure. Both were dark, brooding, and unpredictable. 

Elisabeth had always been on edge when Queen Alicent was around; her hawk-like gaze followed her every move and her scornful words cut deeper than any blade. Every time Elisabeth tried to be independent or think for herself, the Queen would chastise her that those were qualities meant just for Husbands.

After months of having to constantly please the Queen and ignore her own wants and needs, Elisabeth felt like a teetering ball ready to burst with the slightest push. She was too afraid to say anything, though, in fear of making things worse.

Then arrived the fateful day of her wedding, a lavish spectacle replete with tournaments, sumptuous feasts, and exhilarating hunts—a grand display of House Targaryen's power and influence. The exuberance of the festivities infected all who attended, making it effortless for others to revel in the celebrations.

However, beneath the surface of the revelry, Elisabeth harboured a mixture of anxiety and excitement, uncertain of what her future held in store. In the midst of it all, Prince Aemond had become a steadfast presence in her life, forging a deep connection with her. He seemed to grasp the essence of her being, affording her the precious gift of solitude for introspection, or so she believed. He made sure to squash her hopes.

For most, that had been a grande and joyous event. For Elisabeth, it was the start of her misery, though she did not yet know the full extent. As the Queen had instructed her, she treated everyone courteously, demurely.

That she did, or at least she thought that she did. Her husband disagreed, though. As soon as they were escorted into his chamber (he had wished for the doors to be closed), he spun around and pushed her against a wall. Aemond asked with a steely voice, towering over her, if she had been cavorting with the Velaryons, the way she had smiled at them, the way Jacaerys’ lips lingered on her hand as he greeted her.

Aemond questioned if she thought him to be blind. Elisabeth whimpered and gulped, trying her hardest not to hold Aemond's hard gaze, when she explained that she was told to be courteous to everyone, only to be cut off, when Aemond had pushed her even harder, making her yelp in pain, her shoulders burning from his strong grip. He ordered her to hush and questioned her why she would associate herself with usurpers, bastards and sodomites. 

What followed was of no particular interest to her, not anymore, anyways. Someone outside of the chamber, presumably Maester Myntheon, cleared their throat and told them to settle any disputes after the ceremony. Aemond had quickly slipped off his breeches - the fact that he didn’t even care enough to fully undress stung her after it had happened - and made sure to get her naked as soon as possible. 

She laid there, freezing, looking up at the tapestries next to their bed as he quickly stroked himself. ‘Do not do anything, lest he should think you a whore’ ran through her mind so often, that she almost thought that a small version of Alicent sat in her brain, spewing her nonsensical rules over and over so she could drive herself insane. 

“Open up.”

When Aemond saw her puzzled expression, he sighed, shook his head and gently pried her legs open, pulling her down the bed so that she was close to the ledge, closer to him and his half-hard member.

“I need to get to your cunt. Don’t make this more difficult for us than it has to be.”

Elisabeth felt her face heat up, and even though the room was dark, she could feel a heavy blush take over her neck and cheeks. She opened her legs wider and tried to steel herself for what was to come, but all too soon Aemond was pushing himself inside of her. She gasped as he entered her roughly, not giving her time to adjust. He kept thrusting into her with more force than necessary, making it hurt even more than it should have. Did he know it hurt? Did it hurt him?

She tried to cry out but he put a hand on her mouth and told her he was almost done. Tears started streaming down Elisabeth's face as Aemond kept going for what seemed like an eternity until finally his body went limp on top of hers. He rolled off of the bed without saying a word and left the room without so much as glancing at Elisabeth again.

Elisabeth lay there in shock, touching herself gingerly where Aemond had just been. For the first time ever she felt ashamed of herself; despite all that had just happened she still felt pleasure deep within herself that made her feel worse than before - something no one had prepared her for or warned about prior to this momentous night.

Was she a wanton whore? Was.. was Alicent right?

That was that. After that, he visited her fortnightly, stated his needs and left again. Although, Elisabeth noted quickly to herself, he had gotten gentler after seeing her bruised cunny. Proving she was a virgin had been no great feat. Her fear had made her so stiff and dry that there were multiple splotches of blood on the bed sheet, so many that even Alicent deemed to congratulate her. That was also the time where Alicent had started giving her milk of the poppy and after that, Elisabeth could not remember anything reliably. 

Even if she could, she noticed it was not the time to reminisce anymore. His eyes were dark and bright at the same time, void of feeling even while raging with anger. The candles flickered nervously on the altars as he stalked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Slowly turning around, she tried looking up at him despite her shaky vision. He was tall, wearing a cape with a large hood that covered his face.

If he wouldn’t … glide and give off a sense of dread, one could almost think it was Aemond himself. Yet, the way she knew him, he would not have spent such a long time chasing her and taunting her. He made it clear enough to her, she didn’t matter. 

“Have you come to confess? To repent?”

The Stranger offered her a hand, which she eyed cautiously. 

“Have you come to take me? Or are.. You taunting me?”

He laughed ominously. “You know me, I could never taunt you in a sept. But… taking you? That is a very bold request, Lady Wife.” 

Lady Wife? Elisabeth shivered and groaned, taking his cold hand. She was not instantly taken away to the realm of the dead, which made her glad and worried at the same time. 

“Wh… why..? And… why Lady Wife? I’m Elisabeth, don’t you know?” 

The Stranger helped her up and held her for a while until she gained complete function over her legs again. Letting her go, he stepped away again and looked around the Sept. 

“You're quite perplexing. You've yet to respond to my allegations, and instead, you've led me on a convoluted journey through the Red Keep, Bess.”

Calmly folding his arms behind his back, he strolled through the small hall, making sure his eyes were firmly on her shaking form.

“You even took me here, just to ask me to be with you, despite your previous reluctance. Has something changed, perhaps due to a newfound perspective from The Maiden?”

Elisabeth cocked her head to the side, trying her hardest to identify the figure in front of her. Why would… why would The Stranger care for her relations with Princess Rhaenyra and her sons? 

Why would… why would he want to engage in an amorous congress with her? Was that a cruel way the gods were testing her? 

“Well… You chased me… I thought you meant harm to me…” 

The figure hummed and it almost looked like his face turned into a doleful expression. 

“I could mean you harm depending on the answers you shall give me. We are in a sept - if you lie, you are damned. Do you know that?”

Elisabeth took a few steps back and lowered her eyes again. So it was the Stranger. He was asking about her sins so that she might repent before he took her away. That realisation hit her gut like a punch. Tears started welling up in her eyes. 

“I… yes, I do, but believe me, I-”

“I shall decide for myself if you are innocent, Lady Wife. Spare me your tales of woe.”

Closing the distance to her again, the figure gently took her chin into his hand and forced her to look up into his eyes. He quickly smoothed her hair and wiped the tears from her face.

“Before I ask you though, I need to take you. I need to take what is mine; you have ignored me long enough and now that you’ve asked me, I would be a fool not to take you up on your offer.” 

Elisabeth whimpered and stood rooted on the spot. If it weren’t for the weird pull in her stomach, she would have pleaded, would have fled. But something… Something about the way the figure touched her so gently, so caringly, made her heart leap in ways that have seldom happened. Nothing made sense anymore. 

On one hand, she wondered why on earth the Stranger wanted to take her, yet on the other, she knew that what the Gods willed was destined to happen. And if that wasn’t the Stranger? Well, but who would it be? A dream figure? But why would she dream of such things? Was she so depraved and craven? Maybe she was. In that moment, delirious and flush with adrenaline, she threw all concern out of the tiny window of propriety that she still had in her foggy mind. 

Placing a trembling hand around the Stranger’s waist, Elisabeth nodded lightly. 

“Take me then, if you must,” she whispered. The Stranger smiled in response and embraced her tightly, pulling her close to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed like that for what felt like eternity and Elisabeth swam in a sea of emotions like never before. She could feel his heart beating against her own, slowly but surely drawing them closer together. 

He smelled familiar. Something in her mind told her she knew him; the smell of leather, dragons and sweat. Could it be...?

At long last, the figure pressed his cold lips onto hers, almost possessively. Even though it had been one of her first kisses, he guided her strongly, making sure that she couldn’t doubt him or his intentions.

Bess tried her hardest to banish the thought of Aemond in her head. No, it couldn’t be - Aemond never kissed her. It had to be the Stranger. Was that the metaphorical kiss of death? 

Answering her doubts, the Stranger slowly started to undress her, as if he was uncovering a precious gem. His hands moved with a slow and patient rhythm, almost like a ritual or dance as they explored every inch of her body. He caressed her curves and memorised every quirk on her figure until Bess had no more will left in her to resist.

For a moment it felt like time had stopped. As if the entire world was focused on them and their lovemaking; their own little bubble of pleasure and passion that nothing could penetrate. Aemond let out a low moan of pleasure as he drew his lips down Bess’s neck, relishing in the taste of her skin against his tongue. She shuddered beneath him as his fingers slowly moved ever lower, exploring each inch of her body without an ounce of inhibition or shame. She gasped when she felt his tongue swirl around one sensitive spot near the base of her spine before finally coming to rest between her legs, ready for exploration…

Elisabeth found herself melting beneath Aemond’s touch as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body in response to his ministrations. His fingers seemed to know exactly where to go and what buttons to press – it was almost like he was born again.

It was almost like Elisabeth had been born again. The grogginess in her mind had subsided almost as soon as she had felt the pleasure; so had the illusion of the Stranger. But then again, her Aemond had never been kind, gently, loving in bed. He had always been rough with her, pulling her hair if he got too excited. And this man…Her Aemond had never touched her the way he did right now. Was she still dreaming?

Aemond stepped back, the space between them electric with passion and anticipation. His smouldering gaze locked with hers, and she felt a rush of heat that paralyzed her body and mind. Even though he had desired her since the day they were married, he thought she despised him, yet now in a sept the intensity of his longing was palpable. The air around them was thick with desire.

"I need you to taste me. I need to see you naked, on your knees, here, in front of the gods. Elisabeth, I finally want to claim you as my own, as my wife, and not as a piece of meat I spill my seed into every fortnight."

Despite all of her hesitance and apprehension, Elisabeth obeyed without any objection; he was still her lord husband and adhering to her spouse was the utmost important action she could take as a dutiful wife.

With trembling, cold hands she took his long, hard member and guided it towards her mouth. Was that her punishment? But for what? She had done nothing to warrant this perverse humiliation, but as he placed a hot, determined hand on the back of her head, she knew that she hadn't had much of a choice.

Gently, Elisabeth opened her mouth and engulfed Aemond’s cock. She could feel him shudder at her touch, and the heat that emanated from his body caused her pulse to race. His breathing was ragged as he gasped her name again and again, urging her on.

With a gentle hand, she guided Aemond’s hips closer to hers before taking him deeper into her mouth. The sensation of his velvety smooth skin against hers was electrifying. Her tongue gently danced around him, exploring every inch of his manhood until he could no longer hold back the intensity of his pleasure.

Elisabeth felt embarrassed and exposed; this seemed like something she should never be allowed to do in front of the gods. But the sheer pleasure that it evoked in both herself and Aemond kept her going. Gods, it felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

"Fuck. Yes, Bess... You belong to me... Not to The Strong bastards, not to Aegon, not to anyone else... You're... fuck... mine..."

Aemond's hands tightened around her head, making sure she was as deep as her mouth allowed her to be as he released a long moan before spilling himself inside her mouth. It was hot, salty and Elisabeth tried her hardest swallowing it without looking up at him.

With a throbbing head, she released him and covered her face in shame. She knew the milk was dangerous - yet making her dream of death and running through the Red Keep? Taking Aemond's cock like a... a dirty Harlot?

That was more than she could take. Now he knew that she was a weak person, that there was only a weak will buzzing around inside her. The last thing she needed now was the usual gloating expression on his face - his unbearable questioning. 

“I’ve done all you wanted. Ask me your questions, so that you might finally understand that none of this was ever my will,” she said as she wiped her mouth, her voice brittle.

Aemond gave her a cold look of confusion and cocked his head to the side, closing his breeches and slipping his doublet on again, after he had caught his breath. 

“What wasn’t your will? Giving yourself to me here?” 

Elisabeth sighed. "You're my husband. Your wish is my command."

Aemond, in his usual fashion, looked away from her in shame, flaring his nostrils.

"Alright then. If it is your wish again to make me feel like the worst human being in the world, then I shall do so too. I thought I could take you to your chambers again, get you a hot bath... Alas, my Lady Wife, you asked for the interrogation yourself."

He walked over to the Statue of the Mother and gave her a cold look, his tousled white hair gently floating down his back. His eyepatch made him look even scarier than it usually did.

"I've heard rumours that you've taken moon tea. Do you want to avoid giving me an heir? Swear on the Mother."

Elisabeth shivered and slowly dressed herself again, making sure not to break eye contact with Aemond. The milk made it's presence - or rather, abscence known again - it made her desperately queasy. The aftertaste of Aemond's spunk in her mouth certainly did not help.

"I swear on the Mother I haven't been taking Moon... Tea."

Aemond raised his eyebrow in a quizzical manner.

"Then what is that concoction that Maester Rithyr brings you? I can't imagine it being a skin cream."

If looks could kill, Aemond would've joined the Stranger's embrace right then and there.

"Do not mock me, Lord Husband. You and your filthy snake of a mother know exactly what it is he brings me," she seethed, her voice thick with venom. "It is exactly the thing that made me think you were the Stranger chasing me through..."

Anger was not the only thing that bubbled up inside her. Retching, she emptied her stomach onto the marble floor, the large marble hall making the splattering sound of her vomit uncomfortably loud.

Aemond's eyes blazed with fury, one hand pulled back in a fist ready to strike. But before he had the chance, Aemond's gaze fell on her frail, sweaty body next to a pool of her own bloody vomit and his arm fell limp. He was held in place by the sight, unable to move or even blink as his anger turned into fear.

"Bess, gods, tell me what it is he gives you! Come clean to me, you foolish girl!"

Elisabeth flinched and wiped her lips, groaning weakly. Aemond had not seemed like someone who would lead her into danger or punish her for being honest - if he wanted to be so cruel, he could've hit her when she cursed his mother. She took in a deep breath and tried to rid herself of the sour taste in her mouth, then nervously patted her clammy palms on the stained fabric of her dress. Leaning against the statue of the Father, she felt a little bit safer.

"From the moment we were wed, your mother has given me milk of the poppy. Told me you'd stop trying to give me an heir if I continued to act the way I did."

Coughing, she shook her head and gave Aemond a cold look. His face was unreadable - no reaction was a reaction, Elisabeth noted and took a deep breath before continuing.

"The people in front of our door at our bedding ceremony told her of your indignant attitude to me and my inability to give you an heir after that. She... She thought I was denying you and that you were too courteous to take what was yours."

Elisabeth heaved once more, so Aemond propped her up and held her hair back. As she vomited, a worrying amount of blood appeared - it was nearly just that. Frowning, Aemond used a piece of fabric from her dress to clean up her lips afterwards.

"Please continue," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wished she were in bed with a warm blanket instead of being forced to confess. But the more she said, the better chance she had of avoiding drinking that awful milk again.

"She was always displeased with me and she did not hesitate to tell me so. She told me the Daeron's future wife - a certain Clara Lannister," she gave him a sharp look putting a finger to her lips, signaling to him that it was a secret and that he didn't hear it from her, "would have made a much better wife to you than I have. She's even more pious, meeker, prettier..."

Aemond huffed. "Clara's a feeble twelve year old hussy and she has wrapped the court around her pretty little fingers. I still cannot quite comprehend why my mother would try... try to drug and shut you up."

Elisabeth raised her eyebrow and gave her husband a sorrowful look. “You remember why, don’t you my Lord Husband? You were displeased that I was fraternizing with the Strong bastards. You said to her that I wasn't serious about state affairs. You told her you couldn't go through with our marriage vows and that I was too...” A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. She wanted to avoid any more tears rolling down, so she looked up in an effort to stop them. "You called me Bess just as the others did to show how much of a simpleton I was and you continue doing so! You would've beat me senseless if I'd have called you Monny!"

Aemond let out an exasperated sigh before taking a seat next to Elisabeth on the cold marble floor, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders in comfort and pulling out a handkerchief from underneath his cloak which he tenderly offered for for her to clean herself off with.

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly. “We all make mistakes.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it towards him so she had to look him in the eye. “I thought you hated me after our marriage ceremony, and I foolishly told my mother about it in a fit of anger.” Despite his words, there was something uncomfortable in the way his gaze held hers.

Elisabeth erupted into desperate sobs, pounding her fists against his chest with each cry. The dried blood that stained her hands flaked off like dust as she grabbed him in despair. "How could you do this to me? We should have talked it through, together! Instead of understanding why I had changed after our marriage, all you ever did was lash out at me and let your mother drive me to the brink of madness - treating me like a stranger and I can barely recognise myself anymore! If I didn't love you so much, I would hate you right now. But even then, my heart still aches for you... Oh gods, Aemond..."

The strain of her confession was too much for her. Elisabeth tipped forward, still gripping onto Aemond’s tunic with her bloody hands, as she lost consciousness in his arms.

Aemond caught her, gently placing her down onto the floor, then stood up and looked around the sept. He felt torn; part of him wanted to believe what his mother said but the other part of him knew it couldn’t be true. He had made a horrible mistake by allowing his pride and anger to drive him to such lengths, and he now he had to face the consequences alone. With a heavy heart, he summoned some guards who helped move Elisabeth’s lifeless body to his chambers where she could rest peacefully and recover from her ordeal.

Aemond was left with an overwhelming feeling that something fundamental in his life had shifted during that conversation in the Sept — not just between himself and Elisabeth but also between himself and his mother — an unspoken understanding that things would never be the same between them ever again. As he walked off in a daze towards his chamber, thoughts of revenge raced through his mind as he planned how best to confront her about it all — but for now, all he could do was hope that Elisabeth would recover quickly enough so they could make sense of everything together.

He was determined to take care of Elisabeth and as he watched her sleeping in his chambers, the rage that had been building up inside him slowly melted away. He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and sighed resignedly — he had no control over what happened next, all he could do now was to care for her. As best as he could, Aemond pulled the blankets over her body to keep her warm and placed a pillow underneath her head for extra comfort. He sat by her side all night, silently willing for herto open her eyes so they could talk this out together, but it seemed like she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

The hours dragged on and his frustration only heightened with every minute that passed until finally Aemond couldn’t take it anymore. He ordered one of the guards to stay with Elisabeth before storming off in an attempt to clear his head. As he walked through the corridors of the castle, images of their conversation in the Sept replayed in his mind but try as he might, Aemond still couldn’t make sense of it all – what did this all mean? Could they ever go back to the way things were before?

Aemond was prepared to take matters into his own hands, he always was. He thought that this evening would end in him seeking a divorce or a mistress at court, arguing with his senseless simpleton of a wife, yet nothing could have prepared him for the confrontation he would have with her. 

Storming up the steps up to her apartments, he quickly shooed away Ser Criston Cole and opened the doors. He followed the light through the Entrance Hall up to her solar, where Alicent sat quietly on a settee, getting her feet rubbed by a lady in waiting. She raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"Whatever's the matter, Aemond? Is Helaena all right? Did Aegon do something?" 

Aemond's nostrils flared with fury as he fought himself to remain silent. How dare no one tell him - Elisabeth's husband - that his own wife had become a shadow of her former self, her mind so clouded with drugs she was practically a ghost? He could feel the rage building in his chest, threatening to escape and take over.

"Milk of the Poppy. Have you lost your damned senses?"

Alicent flinched a bit at his dangerously low, cool tone and sent her lady out. He could not make out her facial expression - it could have been anything from boredom to indifference - which angered him even more. Trying not to act too rashly, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. 

"Say something! And don't you dare deny it, I know it was you! Maester Rithyr told me everything", he lied effortlessly. He knew he had to - everything else would put Elisabeth in great danger.

Alicent lowered her eyebrow again, donned her slippers and stood up. Her face changed into a caring and hurt one, leaving Aemond a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"Wasn't it you who told me she was cavorting with Jacaerys? Didn't you complain of her disobedience, my dear?"

'So it is my fault now', he thought and took a deep breath, stepping closer to her and grabbing her tightly by the shoulders.

"What I wanted was for you to give her spiritual guidance and help in transitioning into her role as a princess. Why-"

"You cannot turn Mice into dragons, Son. Everyone knows that Bess doesn't fulfil your needs and our doubt will only be confirmed if she continues to be barren."

Alicent interrupted him icily and tore herself from his grip, sitting back down. 

"I have received a raven from Boros Baratheon, he said his daughters had only just flowered. What do you think? Or would you rather prefer Clara Lannister? I could..."

Aemond was taken aback, this conversation had gone way beyond his expectations. How could his own mother suggest such a thing? He knew he had to put an end to it before it was too late.

"Stop right there, Mother", he said sharply interrupting her mid-sentence. "Contrary to popular belief I like Elisabeth a lot and do not wish to take another wife."

He glanced coolly around the chamber and smiled unsettlingly.

"You must forget yourself, dear Mother. Helaena is Queen Consort now so it should be in her responsibility to judge on these issues and you know how much she likes Elisabeth. And besides, if the court would know of your... hysterics, who would continue to take you seriously? You know how your dear father, the Hand, dislikes your moody tendencies."

His words must have struck a chord - Alicent paled significantly and shrunk in her seat, clasping her hands on her lap.

Aemond continued with a calm, yet terrifying tone:"I don't wish for you to continue giving her the drug. I think the milk of poppy may be causing her infertility and I won't let that happen. You barred me from having heirs - who knows what you did with Helaena or you will do with that Lannister girl? It's almost treasonous, you know."

Alicent was desperate and scared, she picked at the skin around her nails to distract herself from what she knew would be a losing battle.

"My son-", her voice was small and trembling. She wanted to argue with him but his implacable gaze made it difficult for her to even look him in the eye. He had always been so strong willed, just like her own father. She had never been able to get through his hard shell of pride and arrogance, no matter how hard she tried.

"I only wish the best for you and our kingdom," she said softly trying to reason with him but he merely scoffed in response.

"Then how can you suggest me taking another wife? It would do more damage than good." His words were cold and final - this conversation was over before it began. Aemond stepped away from her and towards the door, pausing momentarily as he grabbed the handle."Remember our discussion mother", he said sternly before leaving the room without another word.

Aemond stepped out of the chamber, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. He had hoped that his mother would be able to understand his point of view, but it seemed she was too entrenched in her own ideas about Elisabeth's faults to do so.

He walked down the corridor that led to the castle courtyard, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts. But as he walked, he couldn't help but think about how much he had changed since he had been married with Elisabeth. He had never imagined himself being such a cold and vengeful man, no.

The thought brought a sharp pang of guilt - what if word got out that the heir presumptive to the Iron Throne was considering taking another wife? It could cause widespread scandal and potentially put him at odds with some powerful houses. He shook his head in dismay, knowing that this wasn't an option for him - not now, not ever.

Aemond made his way to the training yard to clear his mind. He picked up a sword and began to practice with it, swinging it in powerful arcs and thrusts as if he were fighting some invisible enemy. His body moved in sync with the blade, becoming increasingly faster until sweat was dripping down his face from the exertion. The familiar movements soothed him - they allowed him to forget about the pressures of court life for a time, giving him respite from all of its trifling problems.

Once he felt sufficiently calm, Aemond returned back to his chambers and changed into some clothes more suited for the upcoming feast. As he finished dressing, he noticed something odd - there was a faint light coming from his bedroom. He rushed over to see what she was doing, hoping that she had woken up again, which she had, indeed.

Elisabeth looked up at Aemond with an anxious expression on her face before hastily turning away from him. "I don't wish to cause trouble," she muttered quietly before standing up and making her way toward the door without another word. "I shall just... retire to my chambers, Lord Husband."

Aemond watched as she stood up, feeling confused and slightly hurt by her actions - why was she so distant? What had happened happened to her?

"Elisabeth?"

He said her name softly, stepping closer to her and taking a gentler tone. He had meant to apologize for his earlier words, but something else came out instead.

"I wanted to thank you, for telling me the truth yesterday. I know it must have been difficult for you. I spoke with my mother and she will never give you milk of the poppy again if she values her life and social standing."

Elisabeth's dark eyes widened as she stared at him in shock. She had completely forgotten the events of the previous day and that Aemond had cared for her after her hallucination - another one of the side effects of the milk. His kind words made the feelings of guilt and confusion wash over her anew, and it was hard not to be taken aback by his unexpected familiarity with her. If she wouldn't have felt that painful yearning in her soul for more of the drug, she would've believed that she was still dreaming.

"L-lord Husband? How...? Why...?"

He smiled, realizing that she must'nt have remembered what had happened yesterday.

"It doesn't matter now," he said kindly. "What matters is that I would like for you to join me at the feast this evening, so people can see how beautiful and intelligent my wife truly is."

Elisabeth gave him a weary look before returning his small smile. She quickly glanced at her reflection in the mirror, before blushing self consciously.

"I give thanks to the Father for leading you to discover the truth... Before we go, can I take a moment to change my clothes?", she questioned quietly, gazing up into his eyes. Once they had filled her with unease but now caused her heart to flutter with a hint of love.

Gently laying a kiss on her forehead, Aemond motioned for one of his loyal servants to come forth. He commanded them to fill the grand bath with steaming hot water and to bring a most exquisite dress for her. "Let me be the one to tend to you my darling. I must have you look as though you are mine," he uttered in a commanding yet affectionate voice.

The servants quickly scurried to do his bidding, bringing forth everything Aemond would need to make Elisabeth beautiful. They filled the bath with fragrant herbs and oils, as well as a variety of soaps and lotions for her to use. They also brought forth an exquisite gown of rich green silk and delicate lace, complete with matching slippers.

Elisabeth silently slipped into the soothing hot bath while Aemond knelt down beside her and began to lovingly bathe her body. He took great care not to scrub too harshly on her bruises and scrapes, something that she had not expected from him. The heat and his gentle touch made her trust him more with every second. "Lord Hus- um, I mean, Aemond, might I ask you soething?"

Aemond squeezed out the sponge in his hand and gently caressed her body. He truly missed out on all of this due to his anger against the Blackss, he noted grimly in his mind and gently started brushing her long, dark hair.

"You may speak freely, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth flushed and hastily sought to conceal the exposed parts of her body, aghast at being presented thus before her husband. "I had been given milk of Poppy yesterday, which has stripped my memory," she ventured nervously, attempting to tread carefully knowing full well his notorious temper. She hoped that whatever grievances between them had subsided in his mind and uttered in an almost meek voice, "Could you tell me what happened? I..."

"Elisabeth, you do not need to be so shy and meek around me," Aemond said soothingly. "I know that is not your true temperament. I will try to reign in my anger more if it makes you feel better." Reaching for a cloth, he dried her body before helping her out of the tub and into the dress they had brought for her. As he arranged it around her frame, Aemond thought about what he should tell herknowing that avoiding certain topics would not help them move forward any better. He gathered his thoughts before finally speaking gently yet firmly.

"I do think it's best for us both if I... do not recapitulate everything, my darling." He tied the ribbons at the back of her dress and gently guided her to a seat, giving her a few pins and such so that she could arrange her hair. His member twitched slightly as he thought back to her, naked on the marble floor, her lips flush against his skin. "You hallucinated something about The Stranger, ran around the Red Keep and then you confessed to being drugged by my mother. We then reached an understanding and I carried you here," he said matter-of-factly, trying his hardest to banish the thought of her full, naked figure from his mind.

Feeling a little flustered, Elisabeth swiftly pulled her hair into a loose bun on her head, letting one or two strands flutter down onto her chest. “Oh, I'm sorry to hear I subjected you through this, I thank you for listening to me and for forgiving me," she said softly. After finishing her hairdo, she stood up and bowed towards Aemond. “Thank you, my Prince, for everything. Shall we go and have dinner?”

When the doors to the Hall opened, a hush fell over the crowd and all that remained was an eerie stillness. With an air of grandeur, Prince Aemond Targaryen strode in, his purple eye sweeping the room like a hawk, the other hidden behind his leather eyepatch. But what shocked the court even more was who he had with him. Princess Elisabeth Lonmouth walked tall and proud beside her husband, having not been seen much since their marriage six months ago. She appeared almost otherworldly with her petite stature and unusual looks, her dark hair waving languidly as a gentle breeze wafted into the Hall. Her chin was raised high and there was no hint of submission or fear in her presence.

The star of Aemond Targaryen had risen again - ready to face the Dance of the Dragons with Elisabeth by his side.

[sparrowrye]

A Little Something….

Update + Snippet

Greetings my little devils. Thank you, as always, for being so persistent in your patience with me! I’m hitting quite the writer’s block as I start the transition between DEMI DEMON and a new Alastor x Reader story.

It’s a late Spring cleaning for us! Expect pinned posts to be rewritten, new pinned ones to come out (super excited about some of these), and a few polls about the current or new story.

Part 15: boiling blood is half written and boy is it spicy 🌶️ I’ll update you when I’m close to posting it

As a little gift for your patience, here’s a snippet I wrote awhile back. It was the first part of a random story I had and the inspiration came from these images (at the bottom) on Pinterest - my unhealthy addiction

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My hands gripped the edges of the stone sink as I sucked in a shaky breath. My legs were ready to give out at any moment. My recent patient nearly died and it had taken nearly all my energy to bring him back from the land of the dead. He was a fighter and his memories alone were enough of suck the very life out of my lungs; memories that were familiar to me.

I splashed my face with the ice cold water before I could trail down that dark path. My bones ached, a migraine pressed at the front of my head, and my throat was horribly dry. I gulped down several mouthfuls of water before looking at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were red and chronic dark circles under my eyes dragged my skin down. I looked half dead, which to be fair, wasn't really far from the truth. I grabbed the small towel and dried my face. I kept it pressed against my eyes, enjoying the only clean and sand-free thing I owned.

When I looked back in the mirror, hoping to see a slight improvement in my features, I noticed a dark figure in the doorway.

I spun, hand extended. A silver blade flew from my sleeve and buried its tip in the stone. I instantly recognized the tall ears, skinny cane, and red coat. His lips pulled back to reveal a yellow-teeth smile. His head remained still as his eyes glanced over at the knife a few inches from his face.

"Was that out of respect or inaccuracy?" he asked.

"What do you think?" I lowered my hand and took two steps back.

"Good to see you haven't lost your touch." His sharp claws tapped his cane one at a time. He brought a hand up to examine the knife still buried three-quarters of the way in the stone. He recognized the art of the handle. "Or my gift."

"Weapons aren't allowed in this settlement," I justified. "It's the only one I have." I mentally kicked myself. I had just admitted to being defenseless.

He grabbed the handle and pried it out of the wall with one swift pull. He examined the blade in his hand, glancing up to look at me briefly through his red hair. Had it gotten darker? "Come, dear," he curled the knife in his hand and turned away, "we have much to discuss."

I clenched my hands into fists at my side. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"We're not going anywhere," he said over his shoulder so nonchalantly, "but it's rude not to entertain a guest. Especially at such a late hour." I followed to the entrance of my room and watched him lean against the wall closest to the stove. "You remember how I like my coffee."

"At such a late hour?" I mocked, taking only a few steps from my room.

"I have business to attend to at the Hive. Traveling at all hours of the day gets us there sooner." His eyes glanced briefly at the stove as an incentive.

I swallowed on nothing. "I'm not going to entertain you after you nearly killed me and Creo when we escaped." The memory of my brother and I trying to make our escape had always burned in the back of my mind.

Alastor gave a fake gasp, still sporting his stupid smile, and put a hand on his chest. "I did not try to kill you..." His smile molded into a smirk. "That was the attempt before your successful one."

"We almost died on that cliff!" I took a daring step forward.

He shrugged and put both hands on his cane, swiveling it around in front of him. He cocked his head to the side. "It did what I wanted. You broke your foot and couldn't attempt it again for weeks."

My voice dropped an octave. "You did more than just break my foot while I was stuck with you."

"May we have this conversation over coffee? I am so very tired and we have much to discuss." He lifted the knife from his cane and spun it once in his fingers, eyes glancing sideways at me. I knew what he was implying.

I pulled in a deep breath then I crossed the room to start the coffee. The embers in the stove were enough for the dry weeds to catch flame. I closed the metal door and brought out the coffee pot. I dropped the powder in and put it on the stone plate over the fire.

"What do you want?" I asked, turning to lean against the adjacent wall so I could have him in my full sights. My arms crossed my chest protectively.

"Tell me about this life of yours." He gestured to the small cave.

"It's simple and perfect. Wouldn't want to ever leave it."

"Why's that? Surely you're bored here."

My heart was beating in my ears now. "I'm not leaving. And neither is Creo."

"Quit being so defensive, my dear." He pushed off the wall and swung his arms dramatically. "We are merely two acquaintances catching up after a seven year parting."

I couldn't abate the nausea that was creeping into my throat. I was so nervous it was making me sick. "Is that we are?"

"You don't believe so?"

"'I am the master and you the servant. Heed my words carefully,'" I repeated the phrase that had haunted me for years.

"I recall saying that within the first year of you joining me," he sounded unfazed. "Our dynamic changed as the years went on."

"Careful, Alastor," I dared to say his name in such a casual manner, "someone might think we're lovers."

He closed his eyes with a soft chuckle. Being lovers had been insinuated by the warriors after my first two years with him. He had always kept me at his side and put aside time to find ways to enhance my magic or my vision seeking. It had never been anything more than rumors. Eventually they were silenced when Husker, the captain, earned enough credit among the ranks for them to believe him when he said Alastor and I were master and student, not lovers.

When Alastor opened his eyes again they were already looking at me. "I must say, I do enjoy seeing this new you. Not as timid and afraid as you once were." It took him three steps to cross the small kitchen and stand an inch from me. He towered above me like he always had, making me shrink under his daunting shadow.

"W-well, I've grown," I replied. "Seven years can do a lot for someone." I leaned against the poorly melded counter, nails scraping the stone on either side of my hip. His familiar, overpowering scent of smoke and incest filled my nose. It made the world kilter to one side.

"Indeed it does. Perhaps you will hear me out then." He leaned down so our faces were inches apart. My back was hurting from bending it so far over the counter in an attempt to keep the distance. I casted my eyes down at my hands on the edge of the counter, at my shirt, at anything other than him.

A blade snapped up in my vision. I let out a gasp as the edge barely caught my nose. Cold claws grabbed my wrist and wrenched it off the counter. His red, beady eyes stared back at me, focusing less on the knife and more on my eyes. It was hard to breathe.

The knife dropped into the palm of my hand and I flinched. My eyes darted down to the weapon as he gradually moved closer, red hair brushing against my cheek. What was he going to do? I've seen him rip someone's ear off before. Nothing but red filled my vision as he pressed me further into the counter. His breath was hot on my ear.

"The coffee is boiling."

He abruptly straightened up and took a single step back. I sucked in fresh air, eyes jumping from him to the kettle. The sight of the brown liquid spilling on the hot stone pulled me out of my daze. I grabbed the pot and put it on a single plate full of cold sand to keep it from toppling over. I slipped the knife into my sleeve holster and brushed past him to grab a mug, careful not to actually touch him. I drew in another deep breath.

The kitchenware was stored in a cabinet further from the stove, also dug into the rock. We had only two mugs - for two people. They were probably the finest, straightest thing we owned. They were a cool, maroon color and had a wide base.

I grabbed the two mugs and poured a full cup in one and half in the other. I made sure to use the non-chipped mug for him. When I turned to hand it to him, he had already seated himself at the living room table. His legs were folded neatly under him and his staff resting not too far. I hated when he moved silently - it was unsettling.

Biting the inside of my lip, I passed over to the carpeted area and placed the mug in front of him. His eyes examined the simple mug before bringing it to his lips, taking a long inhale of the steam. His eyes flicked up to mine as I pretended to take a sip of my own cup.

"Your taste in coffee has sweetened," he remarked into the mug, finally tasting it.

"Creo doesn't like the dark brand you drink."

"But you do."

"Not anymore." I placed the warm mug on the table and leaned on my elbows. I pressed my hands against the hog mug in an effort to keep myself from fidgeting.

"Your elbows, dear," he corrected.

I had half the mind to ignore him but the last thing I needed was to give him a reason to be angry or annoyed. The uneasy feeling in my stomach grew as I pulled my elbows off the table and tapped a finger against the clay cup.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you," he glanced at me briefly over the rim of the mug, "I have an audience with Lucifer in the Hive."

"No. Why are you here? It's not like you to be away from the front lines and when you do you're quick to get back. So why bother stopping in a small, unimportant village?"

His smile quirked to the side. He placed the mug down, using his pinky finger to keep it from hitting the table too hard, mostly out of sheer habit since the table was covered in rugs and wool.

"Perceptive, as always." He placed his hands in his lap, back straight and manners reigned in perfectly. "Well, my dear, I had a vision of this very conversation. I planned my route to the Hive and stopped only at the nearest villages that I knew had their residents living in stone."

A vision. How developed was that skill, now? He had them quite often when I was with him but now it's been seven years. Surely he developed that skill exponentially. Is that why he hadn't flinched when I threw my knife?

"Most villages live in stone," I said, unsure of what to say.

"Not anymore, my dear. They have no need to be with the Humans securely behind Sharptooth's pass."

"Then why look for me? Why waste your time going to villages to find me? Surely you've already found a replacement healer for your army. That wouldn't be very smart of you if you hadn't."

"Indeed I did." He lifted the mug to drink again. He must be pretty tired if he's drinking sweet coffee.

"So then why are you here talking to me?" I asked again. He took his time, eyes closed as he drank the thick coffee, and let the silence hold over our heads. I could remember how uncomfortable it once made me when he created prolonged silence. I felt it creeping back into my bones, struggling to shove it down and stare at him until he was ready to speak again.

Finally he lowered the mug. His claws stayed wrapped around the handle as he placed it on the table. "I had not intended for you to stay away for so long. My spy's past caught up to him and died on his mission to follow you. I intend to bring you back."

There it is. I knew what he wanted but hearing him say it still hit me like a train. My hands pressed into the mug so hard that I worried it might crack and shatter. Fear gripped my shoulders and held my spine in place. His eyes stayed firmly locked with mine as I struggled to find my words. I had to pry my eyes away from his and stare down at the dark liquid.

But did he say...

He had let me stay away? Did that mean he had let me escape on purpose? How long was he planning to let me try to make a life on my own before roping me back in? Who had been the spy?

"I will not be going back with you," I said slowly. It felt like I was standing in the center of a metal rabbit trap, the claws ready to snap up and decapitate me. "I fought tooth and nail for this life, for Creo. You won't take it from us."

He let out a sigh, his smile still pressed in his cheeks. "Is it really one you wish to risk your safety, your brother's safety, over?"

"Yes."

"Why?" He tilted his head so his ears waved. He lifted the mug to his lips again, eyes never once leaving mine. He sounded genuinely interested in my answer.

My palms turned up to the ceiling, mouth moving but no words coming out. How could he be serious? My life was hell with him and his army. He knew how to twist my thoughts around so I went the other route. "Creo's life isn't being threatened. He's not at risk for dying from a Human attack. And he's not being influenced by the tough, respect-less army lifestyle.”

"You view it as respect-less?" He sounded surprised, curious even, at the term.

"Among each other," I revised, "I don't want him adopting their behavior." My back was starting to hurt.

"He is not six years old anymore," he lowered the mug just enough to say his part, "he's now, what, fourteen?”

"Sixteen," I answered. "Still an impressionable age."

"Most people his age have their occupation or are married. It appears he has found his occupation." He glanced around at the various gadgets and inventions littering the place.

"He's finishing his childhood since he didn't have one."

"He's a man, my dear, no longer a boy."

"My answer is no. We are not coming with you."

He placed the mug down. "Then leave him. I only need you."

"We don't separate."

He broke his manners by placing his elbow on the table and leaning his chin on the back of his hand.  "You realize you are the one who makes these things difficult? I am not to blame anymore."

"We are not going with you," I punctuated each word. "You will have to drag me by my teeth." Even as I said it, I wish I hadn't. I knew he would do it if it came to that. He wasn't above anything.

"How unfortunate." He grabbed his staff and stood. I was faster, on my feet in an instant and ready for him to do something dangerous. "You've lost your good manners in my absence."

He looked to the front door as two men burst through it, dragging Creo's hissing form. They were dressed in red and both held a struggling arm. One of them had a tight grip on the back of his neck. Creo dug his feet into the ground and tried to wrench himself free.

The men forced him onto his knees and the one man pulled on his hair so he was forced to look up at Alastor. The Demon took a single stride to stand above him. "My my, you've grown quite a lot," he crossed his arms and leaned heavily on his red cane, "You were barely past my knees last I saw you. Do you remember me?"

"Should I?" Creo hissed when the man pulled tighter on his hair.

"Indeed. That burn mark on the back of your neck is my crest." He reached a single claw around to press on the spot under his long hair. Creo's eyes fell to me. "You belong to me."

"He doesn't know how to fight like your warriors," I said, voice echoing too loudly off the walls. Alastor straightened up and turned his head just enough to look at me out the corner of his eye. "He has no use for your army."

"No use? I see a bright mind eager to explore his skills and limitations." He looked at the random metal objects and inventions lying around the cave. "I could easily provide materials and guidance to a gifted inventor."

"Neither of us are going with you." It didn't sound as firm as I wanted.

His eyes found mine. "I am gracing you with one more opportunity, meerkat," he used the condescending nickname. "Return with me willingly and I ensure Creo stays out of my ranks and out of harm's way. If I have to...drag you back by your teeth...he will remain on the front lines." He leaned his cane sideways and watched, waited, for my answer.

Why hadn't I received a vision about this? I had lost touch with that skill since leaving Alastor but surely my mind would've predicted this? Would've saved me? Yet I had no vision. I was standing before Alastor and about to determine how my life, and Creo's, would go. Why could I never keep either of us safe? Why was it so hard to keep our lives secure? To give us a normal life?

Alastor was uprooting us. We had found a place to let our roots grow but he was pulling us up as if the soil had been sand this whole time. He was taking us away from a shady, moist area and placing us in a plant pot in the middle of the desert.

I didn't know how to feel. I was at a complete loss. My heart felt like it had been wrenched out. I had believed wholeheartedly that I had managed to evade him, to finally outsmart him and hide away. Our city was far from the front lines and he had no reason to be so far back into Duner territory. It was thanks to his audience with the King that he had found me.

"What do you say, my dear?" He stepped closer and the sound of his cane tapping the stone sounded like a key locking the cage door.

There was no debate. Alastor had spent half his life fighting, meaning I wouldn't be able to beat him in a one on one fight. Even if I had a chance, I didn't want to bank Creo's safety on it. If I fought Alastor and lost, he would put Creo on the front lines. I may never see him again. I lowered my head, staring at the tip of his black boots.

"Okay."

"What was that?" He took another step forward. It felt like the corners of the room were darkening.

"I will go with you."

He stepped closer still, claw coming up to push my chin up. His red face was clouding my entire vision and his canine teeth poked out of his lips in an ugly smirk.

"Willingly?" he pressed.

"Yes," I clenched my teeth in a snarl but it was far from one. He raised his eyebrows and examined my face with half lidded, knowing eyes. My lips closed over my teeth. "Yes, Alastor."

He hummed in satisfaction. "Come dear, show me that lovely smile. You know you're never fully dressed without one!"

[hp-bodiceripper]

Bodice Ripper 2023: masterlist revealed

Reveals are here!

Thank you to all our wonderful participants for your skill and creativity. It's been a joy to host this fest for you again.

Thank you dear commenters, rebloggers, kudos givers, and enthusiastic supporters. We hope you feel properly romanced.

See you next year!

🖋 collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart by @lqtraintracks (Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, E, 4k)

Gin’s adjusting the lighting for their next shoot when in walks the new model Luna was so enthusiastic about, and that’s when they know they’re in deep shit.

🖋 Cool About It by @oflights (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, M, 16k)

Harry is so excited for his first date with Draco. But what follows isn't so much a date as it is an all-night odyssey including a malevolent lift, a Gringotts heist, a Sleeping Curse, a trip to the kebab shop, a lack of dancing, a Muggle drug, a rooftop pool party, a black eye and, eventually, a sunrise over a Quidditch stadium.

🖋 Love Me Meow by apricitydays (Arabella Fig/Minerva McGonagall, E, 2.5k)

After the students leave for the summer, Headmaster McGonagall and the new Muggle Studies professor have a chance and sensuous encounter at the beach.

🖋 Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage by @goblinmatriarch (Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, E, 21k)

Lord Draco Malfoy may be a young man spending time in Dumbledore’s summer court, but that does not mean he needs to succumb to its licentious frivolity. He carries the burden of his lineage, the shadow of rumours, and the dignity of his betrothal to a good match. He is certainly not fool enough to be distracted by the dark curls and ready grin of the court’s stableboy, who seems to have taken up with every courtier who looks his way.

🖋 The Real Thing by @skeptiquewrites (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, M, 5k)

Harry only means to cheer Draco up after a terrible breakup. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

🖋 this is how we become timeless by @evadwrites (Narcissa Malfoy/Lily Evans, T, 10k)

Narcissa is in eternal servitude to the Dark Lord, bound by the tears of a burned-down phoenix. Lily belongs to the Order, bound by the tears of the same creature. They’re the only two people in the world in the position of time turners, tasked with teetering the outcome of the ongoing war into their respective side’s favor. They are light years away, yet they’ve never been closer.

🖋 Wild Horses (couldn't drag me away) by @purplehotmess (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, E, 36k)

Koi no Yokan (Japanese) - The feeling of excitement you get when you first meet someone and know that you will eventually fall in love with them. A more realistic version of ‘love at first sight’, it roughly translates to ‘premonition of love’. A story of magic, horses, magical horses, and two men who fight all odds to find their way to each other.

🖋 Yesterday by suhtmuikkis (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, T, 10k)

Harry doesn’t intentionally kidnap Draco Malfoy. Really it’s debatable if you can even call it kidnapping but the git surely seems to think so.

🎨 Harry And Draco Wearing Kilts by @ladderofyears (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, G, digital art)

Our favourite wizards, dressed in traditional Scottish attire.

🎨 I Bloom Pink For You by @crazybutgood (Narcissa Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, M, craft)

Pansy has been starved for love her whole life. All she needs is someone who will give her the approval she craves. An origami comic inspired by Schmem_14's fic.

🎨 Joy Exposed by @getawayfox (Fleur Delacour/Ginny Weasley, G, Digital art)

Ginny and Fleur give an interview for Daily Prophet’s new Weekend Magazine and spend hours doing an accompanying photoshoot. When it comes to approving the selection of photos for print, they unanimously choose the candid one taken on their break, rather than all the styled and posed images.

🎨 Monday Murder Club by @vitaminpops (Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Lavender Brown/Padma Patil, T, Digital art)

The members of a crime-solving club find love and friendship amidst the blood.

🎨 The Professor's Passion by @digthewriter (Narcissa Black Malfoy/Hermione Granger, G, Digital art)

Hermione is a professor and Gryffindor head of house. She loves her job... until Narcissa Malfoy is hired on the school's faculty, and is now head of Slytherin. God, that woman is insufferable. Hermione despises her so much she can hardly think about anything else. (She must hate her... that's why she always feels so hot and bothered when she's around, right? And does she have to be so damn beautiful?)

🎨 You Pierce My Soul by @reliand (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, M, digital art)

Harry's eyes were on him almost as soon as Draco entered the ballroom. It was as if he'd been watching the door, and now Harry's eyes were wide and his mouth open.

🎵 Masks Off by @roseszain (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Teen, 3h 15 min)

Draco had followed his parents to this Caribbean island as a matter of course, even though no one had told him what they were doing here or why his father’s ships were frequently attacked by masked pirates. And, honestly, Draco’d had no intention of actually finding out either.

🎵 wasps and honey by swoons by cailynwrites (Hermione Granger/Narcissa Malfoy, M, 1 - 1,5 hours)

After ten years on parole in the Muggle world, newly widowed Narcissa Black is finally allowed to do magic again — as long as she can complete all the spells on the Ministry course list. Her Ministry of Magic representative? Hermione Granger.

[obligitory-fma-blog]

I watched the second fma Netflix adaptation. Here’s the best of my notes:

They had the whole fma original soundtrack to use for this movie and tHEY DIDNT??

Purification arts of Xing?? Just call it Alcehestry like they do in the show?? (No I didn’t spell it right I was noting stuff as I went and didn’t look it up)

Okay the weird pause before Lan Fan pulled out the smoke bomb…

ITS AN ACTUAL BOMB?????

Lots of weird pauses and slow-mo’s to mimic anime fights but it reads weird as live action and I don’t like it

HUGHES THANK FUCK PLEASE MAKE THIS LESS WEIRD

Wtf never mind hi envy with your shit ass wig (I forgot they killed off Hughes in the first one 😭😭)

LAN FAN BODIED HIM LMAO

Ed really be like “you do you ig”

“Yeah people exploding today!” Is my favorite line so far. (English Captions with Japanese audio; this was the train hijacker guy from fma 03)

Ed’s expression when Mustang shows up is the most in character thing I will say that (after train stuff)

I will say they did better on characterization this time around I feel like they’re close to the actual characters

But it’s hard to get close to them since they aren’t, well, animated characters. Trying not to judge too harshly.

Not terrible so far actually

Okay nevermind about the cgi WHAT IS WITH XIAOMEI

“I mean, we’re just some decent human beings.” -Ed who wanted to leave Mei behind

GO OFF MEI YEAHHHH TELL HIM THE BITCH

Okay we’re gonna have a really awkward explosion-over-short moment that just will not work because it isn’t animated

GIRLIE ARE YOU HAVING A SEIZURE

Mei being a bitch back is warranted

They be running

“You’ll never catch me, tiny rice man!” -Mei (rice man?)

The dialogue being altered where Ed says he doesn’t have a god to pray to before scar kills him bothers me

I like Alphonse’s movements on the ground when he’s incapacitated, I think the cgi works well there

Hi Mustang good on you for saving your pseudo sons

Riza with the side eye lmao

The slowmo’s again like hello

ARMSTRONG HIIIII You look really fuckin weird tho But HIIIIII

Okay the flexing I can do without thanks it looks weird

Yes Breda why is he shirtless

The red eyes don’t look good either. (For scar)

N ow see why wouldn’t you put in a leitmotif for the brothers theme in this scene with Ed and Al and instead just put in sad piano that sounds vaguely similar to it

WHERES THE LINE ABOUT THEM BEING BROKEN BUT ALIVE WHY WOULD YOU CHANGE THAT

Riza being the best and putting her coat over Ed >>>>

Mustang go comfort your son’s PLEASE

Okay just ignore that I’m on the found family train

Girlie that looked like a bad PowerPoint presentation WHY WOULD YOU DO IT LIKE THAT?? (The part where the officer shot the ishvallen child)

Gluttony… hi… again…. Can’t wait for your cgi…. (It didn’t look as bad tbh)

Sorry but with the military uniform off and just the white collared shirt he looks LIKE A DAD LIKE CMON (Mustang)

“You’ve grown… at least I think.” -Hoenhiem, observational genius

“I think I like this scene better than canon a bit actually? Cause Ed gets to express his emotions more than just calling him a bastard

Okay Hoenhiem just ignore him??

Uh oh they have to walk back together

“Our hair matches :D” -Hoenhiem

Ed immediately takes his out of the ponytail

Im not gonna lie I chuckled at that

Also I love seeing Ed with his hair down we don’t get enough of that

“stop following me” -Ed

“we’re going to the same place? 😥” -Hoenhiem

Okay we’re talking about Xerxes instead of Ed and Al’s mom or…?

And the bitch is gone

YOURE GOING TO XERXES WITH AUTOMAIL YOU DUMBASS YOURE GONNA OVERHEAT

Ooooo love the look of Xerxes ruins

Awwww Winry’s parents :D we get more of them

They’re gonna die tho and I hate that :(

This is gonna be so hard wrenching actually-

GIRL IM GONNA CRY

5 minutes into Central and you’re already causing trouble, good job Ed

Al I feel like has the weakest characterization so far in this adaptation he’s just reacting to stuff rather than doing stuff as far as I’ve seen

Scar when Winry is having a breakdown🧍

Ruhroh Winry’s got a gun

Okay the slowmo makes more sense here

Ed saves the day :D

Also we finally see scars brother after getting no context on him

Good acting on Lan Fan’s part

Also why is this calling her Ran Fan? Is that a dub thing (they called Ling “Lin” but this was all in the captions so I’m confused)

“King Bradley is a Homonculus” very serious Ling “hUh.” -Ed

Any Mustang and Hughes content is good Mustang and Hughes content I don’t make the rules

Also it’s good they didn’t change the layout of Riza’s explanation montage for Ishval because it works really well in canon and translated pretty well to live action

Riza and Roy’s speeches near the end >>>

Oh great the bros are gonna try and catch scar alone this can only end well

Well they definitely didn’t catch him

WINRY HOW TF ARE YOU HERE??

MUSTANG WHY TF ARE YOU HERE???

Oh hi Riza :D

Mustang’s like “let ur gf speak to him if she wants like damn”

Ed’s like “bb girl if he says anything shitty I’ll fight for you”

WINRY GIRLBOSS LUV HER

“Hell no I don’t forgive you for shit, but I’m gonna patch you up anyway.” -Winry

Okay cool message, someone must endure pain if it means they can prevent further suffering and cycles of violence

Uh oh Gluttony escaped

He be runnin

YEAH ED AND AL SAVE UR DAD

YEAH SCAR SAVE WINRY

YEAHHHHHH

“Wait I won’t leave you behind” MUSTANG BEING A DAD AHEGWIWNWN

“Colonel your fight is elsewhere” SCREAMING

Oh hi envy

ED SAVINF LING

and they got eaten lmao

Yay we’re all trapped in Gluttony’s stomach :D

Envy is so cynical what a bitch lol

“Tf is a portal of truth 🧍” -Ling

Oh great we’re gonna get cgi envy this will go well right?

EW

Could be worse but

EW

Conclusion: it was okay. There were parts I genuinely liked. There are things that also bug me to no end. The soundtrack from the original series would’ve fit way better and a lot of times it sounded like an off brand marvel track. Acting and cgi was a lot better (at times.) An improvement on the first one, and a semi-worthwhile watch if you have nothing else to do and you like fma. Cannot and will never be a substitute for the original obviously. Seems like less of a cash grab and more of a genuine effort this time which I appreciate. Overall? 6.5/10

(Lemme know if y’all want my full notes version because it has way more of me screaming and being goofy)

[ourloveisforthelovely]

The Words "Best Friends" Become Redefined. Part 5

Regulus Black AU

Summary: You had been Regulus’ friend since childhood and now his mistress. The war had changed many things, Regulus among them. Now its time to decide if you should put your self-worth over missing someone who was gone.  

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M- smut

Link to Part 4

Lyrics in Chapter: “New Star” by Watchhouse

______

“The monsters were you, darling.”

Regulus didn’t move from his place as your words echoed in his mind. All of this mess was his fault! Regulus had to hand it to himself…he had done such an excellent job at trying to scare you away that you were seeing him for what everyone thought he was…a monster.

“I suppose you see why I don’t think that you are good enough for her.”

Regulus looked up as Remus stepped into the room looking ready to fight. Rolling his eyes, Regulus wondered if punching your brother would make things even worse between the two of you. Something told him yes. If he wanted to earn your forgiveness whacking Remus seemed like a shoddy plan.

“Luck for me, Y/n tends to think for herself. She doesn’t need her older brother to do her thinking for her.”

Remus made a quiet “hmm” at that. He had to agree that Regulus was right on that one. You did think for yourself and didn’t need Remus to make your choices. In fact, you told Remus multiple times that fighting your battles wasn’t his hill to die on. That didn’t stop Remus from stepping on things like Regulus Black breaking your heart (as he already did).

“I suppose it's lucky for you or unfortunate seeing as you have totally broken her heart but what do I know? Either way, Regulus, I don’t think it would be good for you to treat her so poorly over and over again. Y/n deserves better.

Regulus took a breath as Remus sat down. As much as Regulus wanted to cuss Remus out and tell him to “get fucked” he couldn't. There was something about Remus that Regulus liked. Maybe it was their shared sense of sarcasm on many topics?

“If you knew why I did it you would understand.”

Regulus replied, calmly. Remus leaned back in his chair.

“I have a feeling that I know. You didn’t want her to be harmed in your death eater duties, which is commendable. I do thank you for that. I worried from the moment that my sister was sorted into Slytherin that the dark arts would rub off on her. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.”

Regulus looked down while thinking…”damn it, he's right about everything.”

“I wouldn’t say commendable. I would say that it's anything that anyone who truly cares about someone should do. Even if I looked at Y/n in only a friendly and not romantic way, I should want to care for her safety. Face it, Remus, if she and I were a couple, given our current situation, you know that she would have been target number one. A death eater and an auror is a match made in instant death hell. Everything that I have ever done to Y/n has been out of love and respect for her safety. I never would have been so cruel to her for no reason.”

Remus crossed his arms over his chest. He hated admitting that Regulus was right. If the two of you had been outed as a couple, death would have come to both of you. There was no way that Voldmort would have been okay with one of his followers dating an Auror. You would have lost the job that you worked so hard for…but the question was how much was everything truly worth the risk?

Glazing into the living room, Remus’ eyes locked on Sirius. His lover sat beside you talking quietly.

He would be worth everything…Sirius would be worth everything…just as Y/n would be worth everything.

Remus turned back to Regulus and took a breath.

“You could have gone about it differently. Y/n has been in love with you for so long. Regulus, you don’t realize how hurt she has been. My sister or not, I have seen it all. She has been sitting here praying for a miracle. When you walked through that door, you should have seen the look on her face.”

Regulus’ grey eyes dropped.

“I did. I saw all of it. You don’t have to worry. She probably will never forgive me again.”

Regulus didn’t bring up the kiss in the back of the bar. He didn’t want to totally shit wreck Remus’ somewhat understanding attitude toward the situation at hand. If Regulus could get Remus on his side he would definitely be in a better position.

“I know my sister. Yes, she is a bit stubborn but she cares for you.”

Regulus snorted at the words “a bit.” As much Regulus adored everything about you, your stubborn side was the one thing that he could do without.

At least I don’t have to worry about anyone being mean to her. She will just make them cry.

Regulus thought before speaking again.

“A bit? Do you really know your sister, Remus?”

Remus gave Regulus a smug smile.

“I won’t insult my sister. Seriously though think of a good heartfelt apology and talk to her. You do know what an apology is, right? You know, it's one of those things where you admit that you are wrong.”

“ I know what an apology is!”

Regulus snapped as Remus stood up.

“Good then do it and do us all a favor. Before I go, I must give you my ceremonial big brother speech of you if you break her heart again then I will cut your head off speech.”

“You’ve made your point.”

Regulus commented. He didn’t really want to sit in this conversation any longer. Regulus needed some time to decide what he needed to say to you.

“Good, because I really don’t want to threaten you any further. Anyway, later.”

Remus walked off feeling a lot more accomplished. Did he think Regulus would fuck up again? Of course. Was he willing to give him a shot if it made you truly happy…yes. Remus would never stop being the older brother that he was supposed to be just as you wouldn’t stop being the pain in the ass little sister that you were supposed to be.

Regulus stayed away from the house that night and most of the next day. He was trying to think of anything that he could to possibly convince you to see his way. He had no choice but to come back for the next Order meeting. This would give him a chance to speak with you and just rip the “bandage” off of the gaping wound while hoping for the best.

It was around half an hour before you arrived back home and Regulus was never more happy to see you. He had been sitting listening to Sirius whine about why Regulus was an idiot for letting you go.

“And not a moment too soon.”

Regulus mumbled as you came in and sat down silently. He wasn’t surprised that you wouldn’t speak to him. Once again, your stubborn side was proving its grand existence.

It was Sirius that spoke when he turned to look at you.

“Hey, that’s my sweatshirt!”

You looked down at the oversized blue sweatshirt that you were wearing.

“Bugger off, we have bigger problems. Besides, I do your laundry and my brother’s laundry. If I see something I like then I am borrowing it. It isn’t like you noticed it was missing anyhow.”

Sirius grumbled something as your eyes flickered to Regulus. Internally, you sighed looking at Regulus. After the argument the day before, you didn’t expect him to turn back up…yet here he was. He sat across from you with a frown on his handsome face.

The haughty ass…

You thought before looking down at his hands. It was easier to look at his hands than his piercing grey eyes.

How am I supposed to tell the asshat that I miss him? After calling him a monster yesterday saying “Hey Reg, I miss you” would probably sound a little disingenuous. Fuck, my mind is a pretzel!

You thought with a frown. Meeting Sirius’ eyes, he gave you an understanding nod. You would have paid Sirius anything at the moment to initiate some kind of conversation between Regulus and yourself. Granted, you could have said something. You could easily speak up but it wasn’t that easy…nothing was that easy.

“Y/N LUPIN!”

The sound of Moody stomping into the room yelling your name immediately pulled you from your thoughts. The moment that your boss limped into the room looking ready to set you on fire, you knew that you were in for it.

“I suppose you have read my report.”

You commented idly. Moody glowered at you before slamming the yellow envelope down on the table.

“Yes, I read it! I ought to bench you for those kinds of shenanigans.”

Sirius and Remus both turned to look at you with matching looks of confusion. You absentmindedly scratched your head before turning back to Alastor Moody.

“It was a lot cooler in person.”

Moody looked ready to pass out.

“Cooler in person?! Is that really what you are going to say to me.”

“What exactly happened?”

Remus asked. Moody turned to your older brother with a scowl.

“Miss Priss here thought that it was funny to take a leap off of her broom and land on Dolohov to arrest him.”

You winced as Regulus, Sirius, and Remus all turned to look at you with matching expressions of worry.

“Well, he’s in jail now.”

You murmured. Moody sat down and immediately started pointing his finger at you.

“One more stunt like that and I am suspending you. I’m ordering you to be careful and mind orders as directed. Am I making myself clear to you?”

“Crystal.”

You replied as Remus took a breath.

Awe, great. Now I get to hear from him.

“Y/n, I shouldn’t have to talk to you about crazy antics like that. Use the brain that you were gifted with and stop being crazy before you get yourself killed. Sirius and I wouldn’t make it without you. Don’t you realize how much you mean to us?”

You lowered your head.

“I’ll be careful. Okay? Now this meeting isn’t meant to be about me. Oh! Look it's James and Lily! Let's talk about them!”

James and Lily both looked a bit more put out than normal. Granted, everyone was looking put out lately but they looked pretty bad. Moody took a breath.

“They are actually what this meeting is about. As you lot probably noticed, not everyone is at our meeting tonight. I called all of you here because I know of your friendship. It appears that Voldemort believes that Harry will be the subject of the prophecy of his downfall. It is being suggested that the Potters go into hiding until further notice.”

You had been sitting with your head on the table but sat up instantly. This was not what you were expecting to hear.

God damn, do we ever get a break?

You thought, not being able to meet your friend’s faces. Lily was partially part of the reason why you were a sane human. She was the person that loved you unconditionally without making you feel like a naughty child.

When you were able to meet her eyes, you wished that you hadn’t. All that you saw was fear and you completely understood why. A madman was after her young son. How was she not destined to be afraid?

“I’ll be the secret keeper.”

Sirius immediately said. He didn’t care about himself. He cared about his best friend and his family. If Sirius could keep James, Lily, and Harry safe then he would do anything that he had to. He would go to the ends of the earth if he had to.

Moody frowned.

“Dumbledore doesn’t think that is a good idea, Sirius. You will be the first person that Voldemort would suspect. Peter Pettigrew will be the choice. He’s the most unlikely. While I had other choices, I have been outspoken.”

Your mouth instantly dropped. Peter-fucking-Pettigrew? Did you really hear that correctly? You would trust a stranger on the street before pansy ass Peter!

“Why don’t we just pick some bum on the street to do it? Pettigrew? Really?”

You snapped. Sirius held his hand up to you as if to say “Someone who is on my side!”

Moody turned to you.

“You’re an auror, Y/n. Remus is their other best friend and Regulus…well…he isn’t getting involved in this. Peter is the logical choice. Voldemort wouldn’t suspect him.”

Your eyes immediately looked up to Peter, who nervously walked into the room. The man looked highly uncomfortable as he sat down.

“I would trust Charles Manson or any of those other muggle serial killers before him. I could beat him up with my eyes closed.”

You grumbled. Peter winced, looking at you as if he was wondering whether he should hide or not. You had beat Peter up a few times in the past and he really didn’t want to relive those moments.

Moody, meanwhile, focused his attention on you.

“Y/n, this is an order and we just had a conversation about orders. Trust the process.”

You groaned and sat back in your chair with a huff.

“Fine but mark my words, if he fucks this up I will be cutting his head off and putting it on a stick.”

Moody shook his head while you gave Peter the biggest “try me, bitch” look imaginable.

“I would expect no less of you.”

You checked out of the remainder of the conversation. At the present moment, you didn’t want to participate any longer. You were too close to losing your shit. It was probably in your best interest not to say anything more….unless you wanted Moody to put a foot up your ass.

Nah, I’m good for today.

You thought as Moody dismissed the meeting. Moody had barely gotten the dismissal out before you were on your feet and storming out.

Had someone told you, years ago, that this was how your adulthood would turn out you would have slugged them. Now you were watching your friends' lives be in danger. You had already watched Marlene and Dorcas be killed. Now James, Lily, and baby Harry were in danger and there was nothing that you could do about it.

Stomping into the sitting room, you knew that you had to get a grip on yourself. You needed to breathe.

“Peter looked ready to shit himself when you threatened to cut his head off.”

You turned around to face Regulus. He stood in the doorway with an amused smile on his face. Stepping inside, Regulus closed the door as you turned back to the window.

“I wanted to climb across the table and shake him really good but I didn’t want to piss Moody off any more than I already have.”

“Yeah, about that…seriously, Y/n, what the fuck? You could have been killed.”

You groaned.

“Regulus, save the lecture. I have had a really long day and after that meeting…I’m just not in the mood.”

Regulus moved to join you at the window.

“I know that you’re worried. I also know that you are as pessimistic as me and none of what we just heard sounded feasible.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. Someone is seeing it my way! I like to say that for a pessimist I am pretty optimistic but I can’t be about this.”

You replied. Regulus was quiet for a moment before reaching out to take your hand in his.

“I miss this….us talking the way that we used to.”

You bit your lip before allowing yourself to squeeze Regulus’ hand.

“It never had to stop…you…”

Regulus instantly cut you off. It was time for him to say what he had needed to say for a long time.

“I did what I did for a reason. Y/n, I knew that you would have followed me anywhere. I was not about to let you turn into a dark witch to be with me. No one ever, here, understood why I turned to the dark arts yet you stood by my side. I knew that you were happy but you didn’t turn your back on me. I had to scare you away to keep you safe. That’s why I turned into the cold person that I had to be but look where it's gotten you. You are successful and independent. You weren’t relying on me for everything.”

You were quiet for a moment before speaking.

“You should have let me make my own decisions. Regulus, I supported everything that you did because I loved…love you. I know exactly why you turned to the dark arts…its because it's what you had to do with your family. That isn’t some super secret puzzle to me…I don’t want you to keep pushing me away…when I went to Azkaban the other day I saw Barty. Regulus, that could have been you. You could be sitting in the cell rotting away not knowing anything.”

Regulus’ face softened. Your super bad mood the day before suddenly made sense to Regulus now. You had spent too much time in that horrid place and it brought out the worst in you.

“I’m here with you now.”

Regulus commented in a soft tone. His voice reminded you of the boy that you had fallen in love with so long ago.

“Yeah, but for how long? How long until you turn cold again and shut me out?”

Taking a breath, you immediately wrapped your arms around Regulus and shoved your face against his chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes.

Regulus stood motionless for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. He held you tightly while breathing in your scent. Holding you felt like “home.” It felt like holding everything that any lucky man could have…the little piece of gold that was worth more than anything.

“Y/n, I can’t apologize enough but please trust me. I won’t be going anywhere.”

You didn’t move from your place in Regulus’ arms.

“It’s going to take me time to fully trust you.”

Our eyes may cry. Look what's become of me and my former. Steal away, steal away, remember At least we're all here together

_____

@amelie-black @jessyballet @fific7 @knreidy1 @georgeweasleydumbhoe @criminalyetminimal @justfinishthis @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @siriuslyceleste @golddustwomann @littleshadow17 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @livshifts @bxcndd @jsjcue @stelleduarte @millies0bsimp @coffeeaddictednymph @readtomeregulus @saramaple @missgorldafirst @i-love-scott-mccall @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @s-we-e-t-t-ea @buttercup-beeee @f4iryluvy @panpride @daddyslittlevillain @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @mentally-unstable-hoe @yousmellllikecaca @haroldpotterson @goldensunshineshit @aurorasnape12 @ad-astra-again @dumybitch @marichromatic @ravenhood2792 @play-morezeppelin @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @rubyroscoe1 @lostarc24 @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @moldy-old-boot @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @knight-of-gleefulness @li0nh34rt @tas898 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel-blog @bennyberry @wontlookaway @sprnaturallover @mycuddlycorner

[tojivu]

PLEASE CALL ME [01]

a/n part 1 out of idk.. anyways this was so heavily inspired by phoebe bridger’s songs.. i’m so obsessed with her (=´∀｀) oh and also by a book i finished a long time ago but haven’t gotten over lol. i tried writing this in 3rd person pov but tbh it’s hard for me to display emotion in my writing if it’s 3rd person cus it’s like giving u instructions on how to feel 😭. I KNOW ITS 2023 OKAY I KNOW WE DONT LIKE 1ST PERSON ANYMORE BUT PLS LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT

warnings/tags barely proofread (i tried), if yall don’t like tis i’ll probably discontinue it LOL, childe x implied f!reader, sfw.

listen to chinese satellite by phoebe bridgers.

“Good morning.” Ajax is speaking to you, voice low. “It's a hot day.”

You were shivering, actually. Mornings were always cold no matter what the temperature was. Nevertheless, you nod and agree with him anyway. “Yup, isn’t it?”

You two were standing outside your house, waiting for the other to initiate the walking, to which you end up doing it. He follows behind, the path too narrow to fit the two of you—this was a familiar sound. Heavy footsteps you could only recognise to be Ajax’s only two metres behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know he’s staring at the back of your head.

Such a nostalgic feeling, you think. You and him have been passing by the same trees and the same brown-cream coloured houses for 5 years now.

“Can you believe that we’re graduating in two months?”

He doesn’t answer.

You repeat the question again and he finally responds. You turn around, curious as to what had gotten him so distracted; his phone is in his hand, he’s looking into it and it’s pointing at you—his bright yellow phone case pales in comparison to the smile he has on his face.

“Not even going to let me pose?”

“You don’t need to do that. Your morning face is enough.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’re pretty when you wake up.”

It’s 6 in the morning. Ajax was never one to think before he speaks, especially when the sun had just risen 5 minutes prior. You ignore what he says, assuming he just couldn’t tell that isn’t something you say to friends.

“Sure.”

—

It’s 8:27 am. You’ve been sitting through an hour of English, and you swear you thought the subject couldn’t get any more boring than when it was in middle school. You’re spinning your blue MUJI 0.5 tip pen between your middle and index finger, ultimately failing after 5 seconds and letting it drop to the floor. It rolls away, farther than you could bend and reach for—a soft metal clinking sound is heard when you realise it’s hit someone’s chair.

The red and black coloured backpack on the floor next to the chair made it obvious where your pen had gone and who’s chair it hit.

You whisper-yell, “Hey, can you pick that up?”

Ajax turns around and looks at you and then the floor. You’re thankful as he picks up the pen, but then quickly confused as to why he just turns forward again—keeping your pen at his desk.

—

YOU: It feels as though the evening has been stretched, like time is in slow motion and not in a good way; because I’m looking at Ajax sitting across from me and we have not spoken. I have a cup of coffee in my right hand, much too sweet for my own taste; a cat drawn from the latte art I don’t remember requesting. I’m very sure I asked for a bunny. I’m very sure. I think I left my Math textbook in class. The trees look really lively or something like that, I don’t really know, I am making sure to look away from Ajax because I know he’s staring.

“What?”

“What what?” He acts like he wasn’t just staring at me for the past 5 minutes. “Is there a problem?”

“My problem is that you’re being weird today.”

His mouth is agape, too dramatic to be genuine. “That’s rude.”

I don’t know what to reply to him now, knowing that he’ll just continue acting stupid. My shoes squeak against the wooden flooring as I lean back in my chair, it’s evening now and I’m so exhausted. People from the high school three streets away from ours are filling the tiny place up, passing by our table and some stare at Ajax as they do. The oak tables that were empty just a half hour ago are now full of teenagers, this whole place is infested with us; behind, left and right.

It’s not weird for people to stare at Ajax when we’re out together. It’s not like he’s a celebrity or anything, but somehow every girl I know has heard of him or has heard of him from someone who has heard of him. It’s a big chain of people I find impossible to keep track of. If you mentioned his name anywhere, someone would definitely go “you know him too?”.

I’m drinking my tea slowly and quietly. A group of girls are laughing so loud my eardrums could burst. Another group of girls walk in and the familiar bell sound of the café entrance rings, and it’s no surprise they know Ajax too; he smiles at them, I can’t tell if out of politeness, when they walk by. They’re giggling to themselves and I can’t help but feel a bit lost.

“What’s wrong with you today?” He’s asking me as if multiple things aren’t wrong with him. Suddenly, I’m the one with the problems.

I don’t bother anymore, I think about that moment minutes ago over and over again and I have no idea what to make of it. That giggle wasn’t a “what a coincidence” giggle, more like a teasing sort, the kind your friends do when your crush talks to you.

“Nothing is wrong with me.” I’m lying. “I’m gonna go home.”

He is so clueless, so oblivious to everything it is paining me. Oblivious to the amount of girls that are looking his way in this very establishment, at this very moment in time. It makes me almost angry, somewhat, that he doesn’t know.

—

AJAX: It is 7 P.M. and dark out. I think she’s angry but she’s just slouching over, but I get some sort of sensing that she will explode if I try to talk to her.

“Helllooo.” I’m next to her now, and she doesn’t want to reply to me; her eyes are on mine, eyebrows furrowed and clearly sending a message: Don’t even say anything.

I feel myself smiling because she looks very adorable. She is much shorter than I am. When she’s angry, I’m never able to take her seriously. I don’t think I ever have. Oftentimes in her fits of anger I am caught admiring her, smiling because I think she is so dramatic. When we were 15 she once yelled at me for using her charger, and apparently ‘making her phone charge slower’. She is one of the angriest and most short tempered people I know, yet I think she pulls off the frustrated pout and narrowed eyes very well. It doesn’t matter much to me.

“I’m not gonna ask what’s up with you because you got mad when I did.”

She looks forward again and we are still walking. Her house is still a few blocks down. I think she’s getting tired, too. I shouldn’t have dragged her to get milk tea with me. This path is too narrow to fit the two of us.

I walk in front of her and I can hear her tongue clicking out of annoyance. I bend down and stretch my arms, “Get on my back”.

I feel weight shifting onto my upper back, her long hair is tickling my neck but I don’t mind. Her arms are tired, slow in their movements as they wrap around me too, her head on my right shoulder and she does not say a word in all of it.

“Thank you.” she is whispering to me a few minutes later, and I think I am getting tired too. My legs want to give out. They don’t because I don’t let them.

It’s another 10 minutes and I’m at her front door, unlocking it using the key in her wallet; her parents are on the couch and watching TV and I start to wonder what this would look like to them.

“Ajax?” Her mother turns her head around and is surprised to see me, considering I wasn’t calling to say I was coming over. I haven’t done that in months.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s just tired, that’s all.” I tell her and I try my best not to speak too loud in case the girl on my back wakes up. I can feel her breaths on my back, slow and controlled. I bring her upstairs to her room and I lay her on her bed. Her room has changed quite a bit since I had last been in it, her desk is much more organised than it was a few months ago.

I found myself rejecting her invitations to hang out in her room over the summer break.

I think if I were to be alone in a room with her for too long I would end up blurting it out. I would tell her I’ve loved her since we started being friends, and she’d kick me out of her house and never talk to me again. But now she’s sleeping and I think I’m okay, so I pull her blankets over her and whisper; “Goodnight, I love you”.

—

YOU: I have no idea what day it is. I feel sticky. I look around and after a few seconds I sigh out of relief, realising this is my house, and these are my bedsheets. I don’t remember how I got here, though, my uniform is still on and the last thing I can recall is me on Ajax’s back.

I reach for my phone but realise it’s dead. A post-it note is next to my nightstand, ‘You’re welcome for the ride back. Call me when you wake up You owe me’, and on the bottom right corner there is an ugly and disproportionate cat drawn.

He didn’t even have the courtesy to remove my socks for me, but I guess that’s fair because I don’t think I’d go anywhere near his feet either.

I plug my phone into my charger and wait. I don’t know if he wants me to call him, but I think I should, I want to.

28 days later and i’m back with this shitty fic — 130423

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Hello! Firstly I wanted to say that I'm an old fan since your overwatch days and I've always admired how much depth you're giving all the characters and relationships you touch! I'm talking like, mariana trench DEPTHS. And how confident you seem about just doing the things you enjoy and exploring the themes you want? I really respect that.

I'm having a bit of an art crisis recently and I was wondering If you could offer some advice?

I'm thinking about self-indulgence in art, particularly fanart. I like to dive in deep to expand on characters, I find it as enjoyable as creating my own work. But I fear of people getting angry at me for latching onto these characters, thay they'll say the original work wasn't THAT deep, or that I'm completely wrong or cringe or whatever. And I don't care about being right or anything, I just want to have fun here and tell my little stories? :( The fear is making me keep the work to myself and I don't know what to do. Would it be better to just enjoy it on my own?

Your blog really is goals when it comes to that, so I'll respect your opinion a lot. Thank you for your time!

holy moly thank you so much for your sincerity first of all!! Second, this is making me misty eyed ngl!! I have alot to say about this so i shall put it under a read more bc im gonna ramble

If someone cares about you fixating on your fave characters, then they're usually the fucking weirdos in this situation if they dont just block you and move on. I LOVE making shit up about my faves like i have a modern au hc that kakashi and gai are ddr competition rivals and i gave yeehan 7 dogs just for funsies!! we were in the trenches in early overwatch making up our own lore bc there was none and it was so fun

I've always been like that now that i look back bc when i first started uploading my shitty ms paint fanart on deviant art in like 2006(naruto funnily enough we've come full circle) i was still drawing cringey shit /I/ wanted to see. I don't agree with almost all of it today, but i remember the fun i had while making it, and that's really the trick. Drawing what you personally want to see then people can come and go audience wise. If they like it, they like it, if they dont? oh well! There's people who still follow me from when i was 14 and i follow them even tho we're in completely different spaces now.

The fanart part i vibe with personally bc im really bad at coming up with totally original work and premises. i much prefer having pre-established rules and worlds to work with (plus the characters i love getting massacred in the writing i HAVE to save them)

Just existing online will garner you mean comments or asks, and my best advice is its not worth it to take the bait even if its absolutely absurd and wrong, i just block and go now, and im much happier :) this all being, of course, as long as what you're doing isnt harmful, bc even with good intentions, you'll mess up/blunder eventually. If the heat gets too much for you, no one will judge you for withdrawing your art from social media. thats a perfectly safe thing to do to keep it for yourself.

As an adult, shits not that serious im 28 drawing naruto fanart bc it makes me happy after a long day of work, so have fun!! art's supposed to be fun don't let the fear win i love sharing my art with strangers on the internet!! Hope this made any sense at all and I wish you the best, my friend!!! If you ever wanna dm me, feel free

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 10 Quote highlights:

The soft voice was deceptive—Aedion had learned that these weeks. Perhaps a weapon in its own right, to make people believe him gentle-hearted and weak. To mask the sharp mind and sharper instincts behind it.

As if these troops weren't for their queen, hadn't come for Aelin when she'd called. As if the Bane served anyone else.

Ren blew out a breath toward the tent's high ceiling. A large space, but unadorned. They hadn't time or resources to furnish it into a proper war tent, setting up only a cot, a few braziers, and this table, along with a copper tub behind a curtain in the rear. As soon as this meeting was over, he'd find someone to fill it for him.

Had Aelin been here, she might have heated it within a heartbeat. He shut out the tightness in his chest. Had Aelin been here, one breath from her and the five thousand troops they'd exhausted themselves killing today would have been ash on the wind

None of the lords around him had questioned where their queen was. Why she hadn't been on the field today. Perhaps they hadn't dared.

Aedion stopped long enough to greet those men, to ofter a hand on the shoulder or a word of reassurance. Some would last the night. Many wouldn't. He halted at other fires as well. To commend the fighting done, whether the soldiers hailed from Terrasen or the Wastes or Wendlyn. At a few of them, he even shared in their ales or meals. Rhoe had taught him that—the art of making his men want to follow him, die for him. But more than that, seeing them as men, as people with families and friends, who had as much to risk as he did in fighting here. It was no burden, despite the exhaustion creeping over him, to thank them for their courage, their swords. But it did take time. The sun had fully set, the muddy camp cast in deep shadows amid the fires, by the time he neared Kyllian's tent.

"Aedion."

He'd know that voice if he were blind.

Lysandra stepped from behind a tent, her face clean despite her muddy clothes.

He halted, finally feeling the weight of the dirt and gore on himself. "What."

"Is this some attempt to reenter my good graces?" He was too tired, too weary, to bother beating around the truth.

Her emerald eyes went as cold as the winter night around them. "I don't give a damn about your good graces. I care about this army being worn down with unnecessary movements."

She'd been in some small, unnoticed form. Precisely why so many kingdoms and courts had hunted down and killed any shifters. Unparalleled spies and assassins.

She crossed her arms. "If you don't want me sitting in on your war councils, then say so." He took in her face, her stiff posture. Exhaustion lay heavy on her, her golden skin pale and eyes haunted. He didn't know where she was staying in this camp. If she even had a tent. Guilt gnawed on him for a heartbeat.

"When, exactly, will our queen make her grand return?"

Her mouth tightened. "Tonight, if you think it wise."

"To miss the battle and only appear to bask in the glory of victory? I doubt the troops would find that heartening."

"Then tell me where, and when, and I'll do it."

"Just as you blindly obeyed our queen, you'll now obey me?"

"I obey no man," she snarled. "But I'm not fool enough to believe I know more about armies and soldiers than you do. My pride is not so easily bruised."

Aedion took a step forward. "And mine is?"

"What I did, I did for her, and for this kingdom. Look at these men, your men-look at the allies we've gathered and tell me that if they knew the truth, they would be so eager to fight."

"The Bane fought when we believed her dead. It would be no different."

"It might be for our allies. For the people of Terrasen." She didn't back down for a moment. "Go ahead and punish me for the rest of your life. For a thousand years, if you wind up Settling."

With Gavriel for his father, he might very well. He tried not to dwell on the possibility. He'd barely interacted with the Fae royals or their soldiers beyond what was necessary. And they mostly kept to themselves. Yet they did not sneer at him for his demi-Fae status; didn't really seem to care what blood flowed in his veins so long as he kept them alive.

"We have enough enemies as it is," Lysandra went on. "But if you truly wish to make me one of them as well, that's fine. I don't regret what 1 did, nor will I ever."

"Fine," was all he could think to say.

She shrewdly looked him over. As if weighing the man within. "It was real, Aedion," she said. "All of it. I don't care if you believe me or not. But it was real for me."

He couldn't bear to hear it. "I have a meeting," he lied, and stepped around her. "Go slither off somewhere else."

Hurt flashed in her eyes, quickly hidden. He was the worst sort of bastard for it.

She was a stupid fool. A stupid fool, to have said anything, and to now feel something in her chest crumpling. She had enough dignity left not to beg. To not watch Aedion go into Kyllian's tent and wonder if it was for a meeting, or because he was seeking to remind himself of life after so much killing today. To not give one inch of space to the burning in her eyes. Lysandra made her way toward the comfortable tent Sol of Suria had given her near his. A kind, sharply clever man—who had no interest in women. The younger brother, Ravi, had eyed her, as all men did. But he'd kept a respectful distance, and had talked to her, not her chest, so she liked him, too. Didn't mind having a tent in their midst. An honor, actually. She'd gone from having to crawl into the beds of lords, doing whatever they asked of her with a smile, to fighting beside them. And she was now a lady herself. One whom both the Lords of Suria and the Lord of Allsbrook recognized, despite Darrow spitting on it. It might have filled her with gladness had battle not worn her out so completely that the walk back to the tent seemed endless. Had the general-prince not filleted her spirit so thoroughly. Every step was an effort, the mud sucking at her boots.

[theworldvsyoshiko]

Since I just linked it from my main blog anyway, I guess this would be a good time to do a State Of The Union for the colony. I usually do some kind of summary a week or so into each colony, but never got around to it for this one.

The fine seaside orphanage of Robot's Ocean is fucking huge now.

We've got multiple nested layers of defensive walls, a world-class temple and rec room, three geothermal generators, a tidal generator, a solar generator, a full natural gas helixien system for heating and cooling, a greenhouse, a genetics lab with an extensive gene bank, space for 5-6 prisoners to live in comfort, and enough freezers to keep about a year of food on hand at all times. And an in-colony hot spring, most importantly.

The colony's currently worth is about $400k, which is $50k more than any of the previous ones have hit, so it probably isn't a coincidence that I've needed to burn two antigrain warheads on recent attacks. That growth has stagnated a bit, which is fortunate, because as combat goes we're about at our limits. On the upside, we now have something like seven combat owlbears, a Scyther, a Tunneler, a Tesseron, a Centipede Blaster on the way, and of course Yoshiko's pet thrumbo Chiyo.

On the other hand, after investing about $15k into building and upgrading Spencer only for it to die trying to get to its bedroom, we're pretty strapped for cash. And we need some, because the map is just about mined out, and all of these robots and endgame weapons require a lot of materials. Unfortunately the map being mined out also limits our options for producing trade goods. The current plan is to mass-produce... corsets. If you haven't played the game just trust me when I say that this is a sensible plan, but we'll need to do a lot of hunting to make it work.

Following the terrible Tactical Nukes In The Hospital incident, I've rearranged things a bit. The short version is that we've only got one outdoor orbital targeting beacon now, and it should steer most drop pod raids to a less terrible location. Will this help much if another group shows up with a dozen rocket launchers? Hell no. Eventually I'd like to set up one or two extra beacons as decoys.

The population is currently 8, which is just about the lowest it's been in years. These kinds of things happen when four colonists get blown up in one evening.

Yoshiko "Happy" Russell

is, of course, a forever-22 psychic cyborg vampire foxgirl who controls robots with her brain. (Her actual effective age is now 34, but the game doesn't care about that.) She's currently undertaking her Dark Slumber in her Chambyr of Bloode for the next day or two, as one must when they are a vampire.

She's good at fucking everything now. (And good at fucking too; she's got an implant for that.) Her lowest skill is Plants at a 9, or 'solid professional.' She's rated as Expert or better in Shooting, Melee, Construction, Animals, Crafting, Art, Medical, Social, and Intellectual. She has 827 kills, 34 mechanical implants, maxed psychic potential with 10 psychic abilities, and wields a sapient EMP sledgehammer named Nalorgargur. Thanks to being a vampire, the only way to permanently kill her is to destroy her brain. With so many implants, I think the only other ways to even incapacitate her in combat are with an EMP or by destroying her liver. In theory you could make her bleed out too, but she's effectively immune to that. (You should go for the brain thing anyway, because she has pretty good body armor under that parka, but still insists on wearing a beret instead of, like... a helmet.)

Truly she is... the ultimate lifeform.

Toby Lang

Man, this makes for some real mood whiplash. I mean, look at him. There isn't much to say about Lang.

He was found in the wreckage of a space battle a few years ago. He spends all of his time cooking, doing doctor stuff, or handling the colony's pet rabbits. He's no good in a fight. Yoshiko adopted him and he adores her as much as is physically possible; her opinion of him is 7/100.

Actually though, Lang does have one solid accomplishment under his belt. During the last Diabolus fight, all of the blood bags prisoners staged an escape. Everybody who was good in combat was off doing that, and Lang was the only person nearby. So, he grabbed a shotgun and did surprisingly well at controlling the situation. By which I mean blowing their brains out. Can't get any blood out of them like that, but it's better than having them set the base on fire on their way out.

Saburo Richards

Listen, I can't stress this enough. He was like this when I found him. Unlike everyone else, he's an Animusen, a natural foxboy by birth. What benefits does this give? Well, uh. Not any, really. He's fast in the cold and slow in the heat, which was nice before the climate's average temperature got bumped up by 18F.

Richards is still 12 and I'm really hoping he gets some fantastic growth at 13, because he isn't good at anything. For whatever reason, he apparently gets really abusive when he's in a bad mood, because every mental break he's had has been an insulting spree. So most of the colony has opinions of him like

In fact, Olga and Yoshiko are the only two who would even be sad if he died, I think. Yoshiko, of course, adores him.

Raymond "Raywolfen" Wolfen

... has to be the most colorful kid here, as a slug person who was raised by wolves and then crashed outside during a space battle. Don't let the sprite fool you; the game just doesn't know how to render how fucked up she looks. According to her genes, she's got the body of a slug, but covered in scales, with the face of a fox, slug-style eye stalks, and constantly secretes a foul-smelling substance that decomposes corpses. You'd think that being a hideous slug/fox amalgam who smells like rotting bodies would be horrible for her social life, and you'd mostly be right, but Yoshiko adores her. She didn't even adopt her or anything. This happened naturally.

Raywolfen's only really good at combat, but that's okay, because we desperately need that right now.

Ben "Bush" Nitsiza

... is another adopted son who recently turned 13. He's great at melee combat, and got two mechanoid kills while horribly sick with the flu last night. He's... decent at crafting, art, and research. We're working on it. He's not decent at social stuff, but he's the preacher anyway. For now, at least.

Bush actually gets along with everybody else pretty well, which is surprising for somebody with the traits of 'snob' and 'too smart.'

Cindy

... is a sapient mech (it/its) that has only been around for half a year, as part of Yoshiko's ongoing quest to find true love. (This isn't working out very well.) As a hunter-killer mech, Cindy's only really good at combat, and is incapable of... most other things. It's decent with animals and research though, and is slowly learning how to do medicine too.

Cindy is currently flirting with Yoshiko about once every few days, which would be cute if it would just wait until Yoshiko considered it more than a passing acquaintance. It'll work out some day though. I'm sure of it.

Dae-up "Nerd" Kim

Is it fair for me to blame Nerd for the fact that he was chased here by pirates with rocket launchers? Probably not. But it still happened, and it got four people killed. And Nerd's a completely amoral kid who tortured small animals when he was little, so I'm not gonna pretend that I like him. I genetically modified him to be good at mining, so he could mine out the collapsed rocks that trapped Sora as he burned to death. Take some responsibility, you little prick.

Most of the colony likes Nerd, but he's really rooted in his intensely xenophobic ideology, so he hates almost everybody in return. The one person he actually likes is Yoshiko, and that's only because she's ridiculously pretty.

Nerd's actually pretty competent, unfortunately. He's great at mining, crafting, and medical. He's pretty decent at construction, and he'll pick up art fast if we find the time and resources for him to do much of it.

Olga Keuneke

... is 11 and a pretty recent arrival, so there isn't much to say about her. Unlike certain assholes, the trouble that she brought with her was a machine that warmed up our Siberian-ass climate, so I already like her. She's got a huge passion for animals, but she isn't learning much about it because she's not skilled enough to work with our animals. You can't start out by training predatory owl monsters that weigh half a ton.

[miyrumiyru]

☼ Hello, I love ART and Nature so much!!!💚

🌟 20s, Aquarius ♒ and Snake 🐍 (2025 will be my year!!!) (Miyru / them... but call me whatever you want, I don't care lol)

#my photography - photographs taken by me (daily upload!)

#my artwork - artworks created by me 🌺

#butterfly - butterflies my beloved 🧡

#moth - forest fairies ❤️

[ ʚїɞ I believe butterfly (나비) supremacy ʚїɞ ]

💡📒✏️🎶 Short animation series & Animated GIFs + Illustrations

📸🐛🦋🪲 Nature photography & Observation (South Korea)

⛓️Links (You could find me by searching @miyrumiyru) 📎GIPHY and Tenor (Animated GIFs!!!) 📎Cara.app (Artwork portfolios) 📎Bluesky (Their favicon is butterfly!!!) 📎iNaturalist (Check my iNat for entire observations!) ⚠️WARNING : DEAD & INJURED ANIMALS INCLUDED

🏳️‍🌈LGBTQIA+ and mental disorder friendly user ❤️🩷💛💙🖤🤍🩶

(Fuck Misogynist, Fuck Homophobia. please go to hell)

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crimson-glory-vine (reblog & anything)

© Miyrumiyru

☮ I support PEACE! There is no good war, ever!!! Stop the freaking war, stop the terrible genocide and ecocide!!! I hope all of war criminals WILL DIE IN A FIRE. #freepalestine #standwithukraine

🛇 I don't want and support generative AI. They are viruses that polluting the internet and world. Be ethical, do not use generative ai and then, you're on a right side.

I'm really sorry but I can't donate for someone for now because I'm really really broke!

Below is literally my thoughts and random blah blah things!

Read them if you have enough time & want to know about me :>

ʚїɞ He wants you to join the cult of the butterflies ʚїɞ (✿◕へ◕✿)

◓ I can't always able to back some likes, reblogs and follows but I definitely and absolutely appreciate to all who reblogged, liked and comments my posts. Thank you!

Drawing tablet : Wacom PTH-660 (7 years old)

DSLR camera : Canon EOS 800D (4 years old)

They're old but I love them so much... /_ \

+++ Taxon of my observations on tumblr could be corrected after published! (or just check my iNat would be more accurate :>)

I don't adjust photos that much, like color filter or low saturation or "aesthetic" adjustment… etc, because nature itself is already beautiful :)

*I research the internet to spend many time for provide the right IDs of precious insects, but It can be wrong when their families are so simillar! if you find that IDs are wrong, please let me know ^_____^

🚫SCAMS AND STEALING NOT ALLOWED!!!🚫

My favorite quote "Learn from the past, look to the future, but live in the present." - Petra Němcová Don't seek validation about anything from others when you make a decision and choices! because all of us are free（*＾-＾*） Never dwell on past. Learn from the mistakes and failure, so we can live our lives and reach the dream!

I hope my wildlife observation posts are reveal the true beauty of nature and its live (not just because they're "pretty"), so everyone can be able to preserve the precious nature 💚

(Taxon of my old posts could be inaccurate or outdated because lack of knowledge!Please visit my iNaturalist for accurate taxon)

Again! I don't want, use and support generative AI. It causing so many unethical problems (misuse, copyright infringement and huge energy waste… etc). They are viruses that polluting the internet and world.

I don't and won't use generative ai to my artworks and animation.

Please don't ever support the selfishest "sport", golf, If you thinking about nature and future of all lives in this planet. It's enemy of the nature and lives including human (If you don't know that mass destruction golf is bring, you should search it right now. There is no environmental safety unless it's VR screen golf) because human couldn't live without nature. I say that it's one of most greediest and selfish things humans can commit.

If you play the golf or generate image, video and text with generative ai and don't feel any remorse, remember that your selfish actions are causing the endless surfer to other lives.

[legendzjagz]

Okay so I saw art on here the other day of Deku leaning over a casket with bakugou in it, in his hero uniform. And it inspired this fic. I wrote this in like an hour - it’s not edited, sorry.

FOUND THE ART - beautiful bkdk art by Bleedingivorydraws

You can also blame @z-mizcellaneous-z because we had a quick little idea abt a super angsty fic so they put me in the mood. *no worries bestie! I’m just joking around. I love you! /plat and I’m kinda thankful for getting this out!

Also, please get tissues ready when reading this cuz I fucking was sobbing writing it.

Still The Wonder Duo

“Remember when we were little and we had planned to become heroes together? We would play heroes all day long. You’d always wanna be All Might and you would let me be All Might too. It was nice when we would switch who was All Might. But even on days when I was All Might I still looked at you; still followed your lead. You were my hero even then. You were so overwhelming to watch, but I could never look away.

“I remember when we got our All Might trading cards too. I was so happy we’d gotten the same one. I knew we’d be together forever because that’s how little kids' brains work. We got the same card at the same time and it proved that destiny was real.”

Izuku sniffles and eyes shift to the card currently laying visible under black and orange gloved hands. Izuku’s own hands cover a majority of them and he can barely see the blood on the corner.

“Destiny is a bitch.” He whispers to himself and shakes his head trying to quell the still steady flowing tears down his cheeks. “You think you’ll get All Might to sign it wherever you both go? You know he will.”

Deku swallows tightly, lump in his throat, but he refuses to start sobbing. He needs to have clear enough eyes right now. Needs to keep soaking in blonde hair, the angles of pale skin, the new scar covering the right side of a face he’s known since they were children. Take in the sharp point of a nose and the curve of lips he’s only recently discovered the taste of; he reaches to cradle the cool sharp jaw of his childhood best friend in his palm. His other hand grips tightly to black and orange gloves, placed over a nonmoving stomach.

“We didn’t even get to go on a date yet.” He wishes red eyes would snap open at this confession and Kacchan would glare at him tightly and grumble: “all the good places got destroyed, shitty nerd. But let’s ditch these fuckers and i’lll make something back at the dorms before the extras show up and ruin it”.

Izuku would have laughed and used OFA to get them back to the dorms. They’d get to the kitchen and Kacchan would have him start cutting vegetables for whatever meal he’d make for him. And then yell at Deku when he didn’t like the cuts he’d make. He imagines Kacchan would wrap his arms around him, hands placed over his own to guide him in a demonstration of proper cutting and chopping techniques. And once Izuku would have completed his task he’d have sat on the counter next to the stove while Kacchan cooked for them - stealing as many kisses as he could. Then they’d move to eat at the island, ankles wrapped around the other. He’d try to steal Kacchan’s food, and they’d argue that it was the same food in each bowl. But Izuku would want Kacchan’s because Kacchan’s food was always better. He’d have those wonderful, bright, red eyes on him again. He’d have been happy just to see the intensity of Kacchan’s eyes bare into his soul for one last time. He would have -

“Kacchan - ” Izuku chokes on his next breath, because its a vision of a life they won’t have anymore. One he’ll never have again. Because the person he’s supposed to share his life with is lying before him in a casket. For someone so lively in life it's terrifying and wrong to see him so still. “Kacchan - “ He chokes again, chest tight and constricting. The tears are coming in stronger.

He rests his chin on his bicep. It’s an awkward angle, but he needs to be able to breathe in the caramel, smoke and sweat of Kacchan’s orange jacket without moving his eyes away from his face.

Izuku had been sitting outside the dorms with Kacchan, enjoying one of the last nights before they were sent out to fight. The late may nighttime air had turned chilly and Izuku had just about to suggest they head inside when Kacchan shucked off his favorite orange jacket and draped it over Izuku’s visibly shivering shoulders.

“But what about you?” He’d asked.

Kacchan had shrugged, “I run hot,”

Izuku hid a smile into the collar and breathed in deep. “Kacchan gave me his jacket.”

“Yeah, well,” He’d rolled his eyes, like it didn’t matter but Izuku could just make out a blush across Kacchan’s cheeks, “Don’t expect it everytime, Deku.”

“Okay.” He giggled into the coat.

Kacchan had rolled his eyes again, then lifted his nearest arm. Deku had taken the invitation and scooted the half a foot over to curl up into Kacchan’s chest.

“After all this is over, I’m going to date you so damn hard.”

“You can’t make dating into a competition, Kacchan?”

“Fucking watch me.”

“I already do.”

Kacchan had huffed in embarrassment, but Izuku knew he liked it. He shifted up in his hold and kissed what he could reach - the edge of Kacchan’s jaw. Kacchan of course didn’t think that was enough and had turned his head to press his lips firmly to Izuku’s. Izuku had felt like he was in heaven; the happiest he’d felt in a long time.

Now he’s struggling to find those kernels of happiness as the body under his hands remains cold.

“I wish giving you your jacket back would make you warm again. But I know your pride won’t let you take it back.”

Izuku stares at Katsuki Bakugou and studies his features till his breathing has returned to a relatively normal pace and the tears are no longer destroying his image of victory.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there.

But he knows it’s not long enough.

“Izuku,” A hand appears on his shoulder and Deku jumps and turns to look into a grey and blue eye. Shoto. Next to him stands Kirishima, his own red eyes - not the red that Izuku is desperate to see though - are filled with unshed tears. “It’s time to go, Izuku.”

Fear rises up quickly in his chest and he chokes once more on his breath, “What?” He turns to look at Kacchan, waiting to see an eyes roll and for him to tell them both to ‘fuck off’ till he was ready. But all that remains is a peacefully blank expression. “But… but…” He can feel the panic rise, “It hasn’t been long enough. We only just got here… we can’t…”

“Izuku,” Shoto squeezes his shoulder, “It’s been 5 hours.”

“NO.” Izuku shakes his head. He can’t look away from Kacchan. He has to be with him. Screw Kacchan’s pride, Izuku will walk with him till they get to his resting place. “No, it’s not time. I can’t leave him.”

“We have to go, Midobro.” Kirishima sniffles. “They have to take him back.”

“They can’t have him,” He growls and shoots his friends a glare so sharp he sees them take a tentative step back. Good. His eyes go back to Kacchan.

He hears shifting next to him, Shoto’s hands leave his shoulders; but he doesn’t look away. Trying to memorize blonde hair and how it sits just so, the way it felt to hold Kacchan’s cheek, the arch of eyebrows when doing something stupid, the way pink would tinge across his nose when Izuku would stare too long. He wants to see it now.

“Midoriya, It’s time to go.” A new voice says.

“No.”

“Midoriya, I will lift you out of here. Let’s not make a scene.”

“I don’t care. I can’t just leave him. He promised.”

“Promised what?”

Izuku can feel the tears welling up again, throat tightening and his words are voiced just above a whisper, “That we’d do this together. Side by side. He promised.”

“Okay, okay.” The new voice soothes, “He will always be with you. No matter what. He’ still with you, tied to your soul. So it’s okay to leave; because he has never left you.”

Izuku is surprised at the words and turns to look to his left to see Aizawa-sensei squatting near his knee. His eyes are red and not from quirk use. They shine like he just put eye drops in. “Sensei,” Izuku whispers.

“Come on, Midoriya. One more goodbye.”

Izuku gasps and turns back to Kacchan. Goodbye? No. no no no no no. he can’t say goodbye. It’s not time yet. They stil have so much they need to do.

He didn’t realize he was shaking his head and muttering until Aizawa places a hand on his knee, “You have to. It’s time.”

“NO!” He shouts. He can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t -

“We can do this the hard way or you can walk out of here on your own.”

He doesn’t remember what he answers, just tries to touch Kacchan one more time. Maybe he tried to wake him? Maybe he tried to kiss ice cold lips one last time. Tries to run his fingers through golden hair onc last time. But one second he’s sitting and the other he’s benign held tight to Aizawa’s chest and carried away from Kacchan.

“Kacchan!!” He screeches, tyring to see past Aizawa’s shoulder. “NO! No you can’t make me leave him! He can’t leave yet!!”

He tries to push away, but he’d been pretty week from the fighting and hadn’t been eating much since the final battle. He was weak. Kacchan would be so mad at him. Well he’s mad at him too.

“YOU PROMISED!” He yells, tears are flowing freely now, blurring his vision, “You fucking promised we do this together! You’re not allowed to leave me! You hear me! Please!!”

They’re getting further away, kacchan drifting farther away from him. He can make out other people on the edge of his peripheral; but they don’t matter. No else matter right now..

“Take me back! You can’t leave me! Kacchan please! Please please please! You’re mine they can’t have you!”

He cries and tries to escape Aizawa’s hold but his hold is too tight. Izuku gets one last glance at Kacchan’s bright blonde hair and fitted in his hero suit - looking as gorgeous as ever. As beautiful as he should be as Izuku’s symbol of victory. And then they turn a corner and he’s gone.

“NO!” He screeches once more, “Kacchan! Kacchan Kacchan Kacchan - “ He cries. He sobs. He can’t do this without him. It hurts without him. They were supposed to do this together.

“It’s going to be okay, Midoriya. It’s going to be okay.” Aizawa tries to soothe him.

“Kacchan - “ Izuku sobs into his Sensei’s shoulder. He can only say the name of his future. He thinks of what could have been. Sobs for the person who should be holding him currently. Sobs for his closest person. Sobs for a boy who was gone too soon; for a boy who was only just coming into himself.

Izuku passes out against Aizawa’s shoulder, Kacchan’s name on his lips.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies about our sketches from yesterday, a couple of follow-ups and some stuff about Papa and Mama Leech today~

Anonymous asked:

Thank you for your contributions to the Toddallace fandom!!!

No problem, Anon! Thank you so much for enjoying our Toddallace stuff.

Anonymous asked:

Screaming and crying and on my knees and absolutely losING MY DAMN MIND-

Freminet is my favorite Genshin character and he is so underrated! Seeing him in your beautiful art style has blessed my entire MONTH and I am eternally grateful!

Thank you for the wonderful sketch 🙏 I will now proceed to be insane over it for the next week

You are very welcome, Anon!! I am so happy you liked the sketch! <3

Freminet is cute, his freckles really look good on his face.

irregardlessly-tish asked:

Have you guys ever read/watch Higurashi or Umineko no naku koro ni? Not a lot of cute boys to ship, (especially in Higurashi) but I get the impression that the dark themes in both of them may be things you find enjoyable lol They are both of my favorite mangas I've read besides SnK

We haven’t yet, but we really want to! My knowledge of both of these titles is pretty vague outside of some of the most well-known things, but I am pretty sure we will enjoy it a lot. Thank you for recommending it to us!

I don’t know when we’ll have the opportunity to dive into it, but whenever we do, I’ll absolutely have some sketches to show. I can already feel it…

Anonymous asked:

Wait I think I know which webtoon anon is talking about

The Guy Upstairs by Hanza

I don't like Hanza bc she's an anti but she kinda got stuck with the short end of the stick with the whole situation

The shippers for the main pairing started harassing Hanza and that's why she decided to end the webtoon early

(related to our replies from yesterday)

Oh, I see.

Regardless of an author’s views, it is always unfortunate when they have to finish their story abruptly because of the pressure of the readers. One would think that they would appreciate it enough not to bully the author, but unfortunately, a lot of times people are very demanding and emotional.

Anonymous asked:

I like Idia’s underwear. 😏

Jade loves it too <3

Anonymous asked:

jade move over that's my job.

Oh you can take a break and relax, Jade will gladly do the hard work for you ^^

Anonymous asked:

MOVE, IDIA MOM SAID ITS MY TURN WITH JADE

If Idia wasn’t butt-naked, he would’ve ran away and left the entire Jade for you, Anon…

Anonymous asked:

every day is a good day when I get to see Jade x Idia YEAHHH

Sooo, are they doing anything spicy~? 👀

Thank you, Anon!! <3 I’m glad you liked it!

They’re about to~

Anonymous asked:

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙹𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴 𝙶𝙾 𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝙶 𝙰𝚂𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴

𝙶𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝚈 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃

The way I started counting syllables to check if this was a haiku….

I am very happy you liked it so much, Anon!! <3

Anonymous asked:

Holy fuck ill keep saying it over and over but EEL ABS

Swimmer abs! Meaty boys!

Anonymous asked:

So, I saw a post and I wonder if you've seen it or thoughts of it but a eric/crewel/trein threesome (i think his name was Eric but its vil's dad)

No thoughts so far. We keep getting asked about Eric and Trein (and Crewel I guess), but I don’t even know how or why they would interact. We haven’t watched the event yet, so maybe I just don’t know some crucial piece of information, but… Eric seems like too big of a celebrity to stumble upon these two all of a sudden? And Trein doesn’t sleep around as well, he is a very tough one to crack…

Not completely impossible, I just don’t feel it for now. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany at some point in the future!

Anonymous asked:

NEED to know more about your leech parents!!! do they sleep in the same fish bed? did they even want kids, was it just for traditional family points? she doesnt cook, do the rest of them keep it a secret too? hgrgrhrhrhhhhhh FISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFIFSHFISH

im willing to vote they have a cuck chair (? ...merfolk dont sit tho..)

lol Anon!! I am very happy that you got intrigued by these two; I really like thinking about them too to be honest lol so I guess I better share my thoughts before we get more canon lore about them (god forbid, I wouldn’t want that at all! *reverse psychology*)

Alright, so to answer your questions…

To be honest, I don’t think they sleep in the same bed, mostly because both of them are too damn long and take up too much space to share a bed lol They used to sleep together when they just got married, but quickly decided that it’s just too bothersome.

Moray eels aren’t super social and don’t have the “mate for life” mentality, so their family façade is kind of fake. It also makes them dangerous, because one moray eel is already trouble, but two? Who also have a family? This is one of the things that make them so dangerous. So yeah, I wouldn’t say that Papa and Mama Leech love each other romantically, but they have mutually beneficial relationship, and to them this is probably even better than love. They are also probably aren’t intimate with each other anymore… they are with other people though, when they feel like it~

So yeah, to answer your question about a cuck chair lol Sure, why not, but I feel like with these two it’d be more like one of them is obliterating some poor merman while the other watches it just for the sake of enjoying the show. And some additional intimidation/humiliation 😔

When it comes to family, both of them really wanted kids, but not due to any wholesome reasons: Papa Leech wanted to keep his business going strong even after he’s gone, and he would rather choke on a puffer fish than entrust it to anyone other than his own copies lol And Mama Leech really enjoys the drama of being a mother and a wife. She is a bit of a narcissist, and both of them are kind of sociopathic?? But they love their kids in their own ways.

The fact that Mama Leech doesn’t cook is the biggest secret in the world lol The tweels usually play along, especially Jade, but Floyd is more likely to just roll his eyes whenever she is talking to someone about cooking dinner for her sons. I would say that they have a cook, but actually I feel like the majority of things that they eat are raw…

Anonymous asked:

I wonder if you see the time we ask these at... hmmm

Moving aside NOT A REQUEST DONT GET IT CONFUSED BTW

Female!Jade, in Bayonetta 1 or 2's outfit...

We do~ We don’t check it though, so if you’re worried for some reason, don’t be lol

You’re making this woman way too powerful, please have mercy… she is already tall and scary…