#thoughts from the dome of madness

[wordsbyrian]

I've decide that almost everyone on this website has terrible taste in music except for me

[serendipitous-syzygy]

you know i was only seeing pics of v3 itself and was just resigned to my dislike of it (cheap looking, colors suck, nothing is cohesive) but then i saw a picture of the box and was reminded that the fucking BOX is rose quartz and serenity and now i’m just seething with ANGER

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (13)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: Expect daily updates until the story is done.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 12

- Next part: 14

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The Dragonpit is alive with the unmistakable roars and calls of dragons, the air thick with the scent of charred flesh and the earthy smell of caves below. You, the Prince of Dragonstone, circle high above on Silverwing, your gaze fixed on the large domed structure below. As you descend, the faint shapes of your sons and their half-uncles grow clearer.

Jacaerys and Lucerys are near Vermax and Arrax, offering the young dragons chunks of meat. The boys’ laughter echoes through the pit, a rare sound of joy in these troubled times. Nearby, Aegon, the eldest of Viserys and Alicent’s children, watches his dragon, Sunfyre, with a detached interest, his eyes more on his nephews than his beast.

Aemond stands apart from them all, a loneliness clinging to him like a shadow. His eyes flick between the dragons and the older boys, a longing so stark it almost cuts through the distance. It is a sight that tightens something in your chest, but before you can give it more thought, a movement from your sons catches your eye.

Jace and Luke exchange glances, their faces lit with mischief. A few whispered words later, a stable boy wheels out a wooden cart. Perched on it, adorned with crude, makeshift wings, is a pig—a mockery, a cruel jest. The "Pink Dread," they call it.

“Here you go, Aemond,” Jace announces with a grin. “Your very own dragon.”

Aemond’s face turns scarlet, a mix of shame and fury. “You think this is funny?” he spits, his small hands curling into fists. The other boys snicker, even Aegon’s mouth twitches into a half-smile.

“You don’t have a dragon because you’re not a true Targaryen,” Jace continues, his voice taking on a mocking lilt. “Our father is a dragon, our mother a dragon, but you? What are you?”

The words hang in the air like a poised dagger, and in that moment, you see Aemond snap. He launches himself at Jace, fists flailing, the smaller boy’s speed taking your son by surprise. They tumble to the ground, a blur of limbs and angry shouts. Lucerys tries to pull Aemond off his brother, but Aemond’s rage is wild, untamed, and he shoves Luke away, his eyes burning with a desperate fury.

Aegon stands back, arms crossed, watching the scuffle with a mix of amusement and boredom. It’s only when he sees Lucerys getting pushed that he steps forward, his smirk dropping. “Enough, Aemond,” he says, voice sharp, but it’s too late—the fight has already spiraled out of control.

It’s then that you make your entrance. Silverwing’s massive form swoops down over the pit, her shadow casting a dark blanket over the scene. She lands with a thunderous impact, the ground trembling beneath her weight, and the boys scatter like leaves before a storm.

You dismount, your boots hitting the ground with a solid thud, and your eyes, dark with disapproval, sweep over them. “What is this madness?” Your voice, though not raised, carries the full weight of your authority, and the boys freeze.

You move toward Jace and Aemond, still tangled on the ground. With a swift motion, you pull Aemond away, lifting him to his feet with a firm grip on his shoulder. Jace scrambles up, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, his eyes wary as he meets your gaze.

“A prince does not behave like a common brawler,” you say, your tone cold. “Nor does he taunt his kin like a street urchin.” Your eyes shift to Jace, your voice softening but still firm. “Words have power, Jacaerys. Do not use them to wound your own blood.”

Jace’s head lowers, his face flushed with shame. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” you interrupt, “but you will think before you speak next time.”

You turn your attention to Aemond, who stands stiffly beside you, his small frame trembling with barely suppressed emotion. His eyes, a mirror of the Targaryen fire, meet yours, and you see the pain and anger there. “Aemond,” you say, your voice gentler now, “having a dragon does not make you a true Targaryen. It is the blood in your veins, the strength in your heart, and the courage to face whatever comes your way.”

Aemond’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes dropping to the ground. “But I don’t have one,” he murmurs, the words almost lost in the vast space of the Dragonpit. “Not like them.”

You crouch down, bringing yourself to his level, your hand resting on his shoulder. “You will,” you assure him, your voice firm. “And when the time comes, your bond with your dragon will be stronger for the wait. Do not let their words make you forget who you are.”

Aemond nods, his jaw still clenched, but there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. You straighten, turning back to the other boys. “And you will all treat each other with respect,” you command, your gaze sweeping over them. “You are family, and you will need each other in the days to come.”

With that, you mount Silverwing once more, her silver scales shimmering in the dim light of the pit. “Return to your mothers,” you tell them, your voice carrying across the distance as you take to the sky. Below, the boys watch as you rise, a reminder of the power and legacy that runs through their veins.

As Silverwing ascends, the wind whipping past you, you glance back down at the shrinking forms of your children and their half-uncles. The weight of what is to come presses heavy on your shoulders, but for now, at least, the skirmish is over, and the fires of their tempers have been tempered—if only for a time.

The door to your chambers swings open with a soft creak as you step inside, the cool air of the Red Keep a welcome contrast to the heated anomasity that still lingers from the Dragonpit. Rhaenyra is seated by the window, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. She looks up, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern as she sees your face.

“What’s happened?” she asks, setting aside the book she’s been reading. Her voice is calm, but you can sense the undercurrent of anxiety. It’s a tone you’ve grown used to, living in the shadow of your father’s choices and the precarious balance of your family’s position.

You take a deep breath, crossing the room to stand before her. “There was an incident in the Dragonpit,” you begin, your voice steady but weary. “Our sons and their half-uncles got into a scuffle.”

Her brow furrows, and she rises, her eyes searching yours. “Are they hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” you reassure her, though the memory of the boys’ clash flashes behind your eyes. “Jace and Luke were taunting Aemond. They brought out that pig—‘The Pink Dread’—and made a mockery of him.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen, her lips pressing into a thin line. “They did what?” There’s anger there, protective and fierce, but you hold up a hand.

“They’re children, Rhaenyra. Foolish and unthinking,” you say, though your tone carries its own frustration. “But I won’t have them tearing each other apart, especially not now.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she reaches out to touch your arm. “And Aemond?”

“He fought back,” you admit, a trace of admiration for the boy’s spirit despite the situation. “He feels out of place, without a dragon of his own, and Jace’s words struck deep. He thinks it makes him less of a Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.” Her voice drops, a whisper of frustration mingled with sorrow. “It’s Viserys. He should have known this would happen, bringing us all under one roof again. It’s like throwing oil on a fire.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the flickering candles that cast long shadows across the room. “I don’t like this any more than you do. You know how I feel about his choice for a wife, and her children.” There’s a bitterness in your words that’s hard to swallow. “But Viserys made his decision, and now we have to navigate this storm without letting it drown us.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tighten around your arm, her eyes searching yours. “And the boys?”

“They must learn to control themselves,” you say firmly. “We cannot afford to have them fighting amongst each other, not with the eyes of the court watching. They need to understand what’s at stake.”

She looks at you, her gaze fierce. “They’re just boys. It’s not fair to put so much weight on their shoulders.”

“It’s not,” you agree, your voice softening. “But fair or not, it’s the reality we live in. They’re Targaryens. They’ll have to grow up faster than others, and they need to be stronger for it. We can’t have them tearing each other apart when the real threats lie beyond these walls.”

Rhaenyra sighs again, her hand slipping down to clasp yours. “I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You pull her closer, resting your forehead against hers. “We’ll get through this,” you murmur, your voice a low promise. “But they need to see us united, strong. They need to know that we are their foundation, no matter what happens.”

She nods, her eyes closing for a moment as she takes in your words. When she opens them again, there’s a steely resolve there, a reflection of your own determination. “We’ll talk to them together. Make them understand.”

You press a kiss to her forehead, a brief but tender touch. “Yes.” You step back, your hand still holding hers as you lead her towards the door. “Let’s find them. The sooner we set this right, the better.”

As you leave your chambers, side by side, the weight of your shared responsibility settles between you. 

You and Rhaenyra find Jace and Luke in their shared chamber, their faces drawn and tense. The playful spirit that usually fills the room is absent, replaced by a silence that feels heavy with guilt. The boys stand as you enter, their eyes flicking nervously between you and their mother.

“Sit,” you instruct gently, motioning to the chairs by the hearth. They obey, exchanging uneasy glances. Rhaenyra takes a seat beside you, her expression a careful blend of concern and firmness.

“Do you understand why we’re here?” she begins, her voice calm but edged with disappointment.

Jace nods slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “We do, Mother. We… we shouldn’t have done what we did. It was cruel.”

Luke shifts uncomfortably, his voice a soft murmur. “We didn’t mean to hurt Aemond. It was just a joke…”

“A joke?” Your voice is sharper than you intend, and both boys flinch. You take a breath, forcing yourself to soften your tone. “You’re Targaryens. You know the power words hold. Mocking someone, especially your own blood, for something they cannot control—it’s beneath you.”

Jace’s eyes glisten, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “I’m sorry, Father. Truly. We just… we didn’t think.”

Rhaenyra leans forward, her hand resting gently on his. “I know, my love. But you must start thinking. You are not just boys playing in the yard. You are princes, and with that comes responsibility. People look to you, they judge us all by your actions.”

Luke’s lower lip trembles as he looks up at her. “We won’t do it again, I swear.”

You nod, reaching out to place a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You need to remember that Aemond is your family. You will need him, and he will need you, in the days to come. Strength lies in unity, not division.”

Jace nods fervently. “We’ll apologize to him. We’ll make it right.”

You’re about to respond when the door creaks open, and a servant enters, his expression tight with urgency. He bows quickly before speaking. “Your Grace, my Prince, the King has requested your presence. He wishes to speak with both of you privately.”

Rhaenyra frowns, a flicker of unease passing over her face. “What is it?”

The servant hesitates, glancing at you both before he answers. “There has been… troubling news from Driftmark. Lady Laena Velaryon has passed away.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, the words hanging like a heavy shroud. You feel Rhaenyra’s hand tighten around yours, her grip almost painful. The boys look between the two of you, confusion and fear mingling in their eyes.

“Laena…” Rhaenyra whispers, her voice trembling. “How?”

The servant bows his head. “I’m not privy to the details, my lady. But the King has asked for you both. He wishes to discuss this matter personally.”

You nod, your throat tight as you glance at Rhaenyra. “We’ll go at once.”

Turning back to Jace and Luke, you force a calm smile, though it feels hollow. “We have to speak with your grandsire. Stay here and reflect on what we’ve spoken about. We’ll return soon.”

The boys nod, subdued and solemn. As you and Rhaenyra leave the room, you feel a heaviness settle over you. Laena’s death—Daemon’s loss—hits harder than you would have expected. She was family, in her own way, and her passing feels like another thread unraveling in the fragile tapestry that binds your House together.

Rhaenyra’s hand slips into yours as you walk, her grip cold and trembling. “Daemon,” she murmurs, her eyes wide with sorrow. “How will he…?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” you say, though your voice is filled with uncertainty. “We must be strong, for him and for the children.”

She nods, drawing in a shuddering breath as you approach the King’s chambers. The door opens before you, and you step inside, the gravity of what’s to come pressing down on you both like a weight you can barely bear.

The heavy door to the King’s chambers swings open, revealing a somber scene within. King Viserys sits slumped in his chair, his face pale and drawn, a ghost of the man he once was. Alicent stands by his side, her hands clasped in front of her, the very image of dutiful silence, but you catch the brief flicker of her eyes, the smoldering anger beneath her composed exterior. No doubt Aemond has already told her about the incident in the Dragonpit.

Rhaenyra tightens her grip on your hand as you both step inside. You bow your head respectfully, feeling the weight of the room’s tension settle on your shoulders. “Father,” you greet, your voice steady despite the unease coiling within you.

Viserys looks up, his eyes clouded with grief and exhaustion. He waves a trembling hand toward the chairs across from him. “Sit, both of you. There is… there is news from Driftmark.”

You and Rhaenyra exchange a glance, the unspoken worry already taking root between you. You take your seats, your wife’s hand never leaving yours. Alicent’s gaze flickers between the two of you, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she remains silent.

“Laena Velaryon is dead,” Viserys says, his voice cracking. The bluntness of his words cuts through the silence like a knife, and you feel Rhaenyra tense beside you. “She died in childbirth. The labor… it went wrong. She tried to get to Vhagar, but she collapsed on the steps. Daemon was with her, but there was nothing he could do.”

There’s a strangled sound from Rhaenyra, half a gasp, half a sob. You tighten your grip on her hand, your own heart aching at the thought of Daemon, your uncle, watching helplessly as his wife—a woman of such fire and strength—was taken from him in such a brutal way.

“We’ve all been summoned to attend the funeral on Driftmark,” Viserys continues, his gaze distant, as if speaking to himself as much as to you. “It is our duty to pay our respects, to support House Velaryon in their time of mourning.”

There’s a pause, thick with the unspoken implications. You and Rhaenyra share another glance, the memory of your conversations from two months ago flashing between you. Conversations about the Hightowers’ growing influence over Viserys, about the way Alicent’s words seemed to carry more weight in the council chamber than they should. And now, with the eyes of Westeros surely turning to Driftmark, you can almost see the challenges that will rise like shadows at the edges of the funeral.

“Father,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice strained, “what of Daemon? How is he?”

Viserys’s eyes close for a moment, as if gathering himself. “He is… shattered, as you can imagine. They had come to Pentos, seeking a different life, but it was not to be. Now he returns to Driftmark, to bury his wife and face his loss.” He opens his eyes, fixing you both with a weary, almost pleading look. “You will go, won’t you? You will show the realm that our family stands together, despite… everything.”

Despite the divisions, despite the whispers, despite the presence of your father’s new family, his new children. The words remain unspoken, but they hang heavy in the air.

You incline your head. “Of course, Father. We will be there, for Daemon and for Laena. Our families are tied, and we will honor that bond.”

Rhaenyra nods beside you, though her eyes are still shadowed with grief and apprehension. “We will pay our respects, and do what we can to support him.”

Alicent’s gaze sharpens at that, her hands tightening around the hem of her dress. “It is good that you will be there,” she says quietly, her voice steady but tinged with something else—something brittle. “Daemon will need his family, all of them, during this time.”

There’s an edge in her tone, a pointedness that isn’t lost on you. You meet her eyes, seeing the silent fury simmering just beneath the surface. No doubt she’s already heard from Aemond about the cruelty he faced today, about the boys’ taunts and the mockery of the “Pink Dread.” Her eyes seem to dare you to address it, to acknowledge the simmering tensions that threaten to fracture this already fragile unity.

But now is not the time. Not with the shadow of death still hanging over the room. You give her a curt nod, acknowledging her words but not engaging further. There will be time enough to address those grievances, but not now.

Viserys exhales slowly, as if some great weight has been lifted from his shoulders by your assurances. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you both. I know things have been… difficult. But we must hold together, now more than ever.”

You and Rhaenyra rise together, a unified front, as you bow your heads in respect. “We will be there, Father,” Rhaenyra repeats softly. “You have our word.”

As you turn to leave, you feel Alicent’s gaze burning into your back, a silent promise of words yet unspoken. But for now, you push it aside, focusing on Rhaenyra, on the grief and worry etched into her face.

The corridor outside is quiet, your footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. 

The door closes behind you and Rhaenyra with a soft thud, leaving Viserys and Alicent alone in the low lit chamber. The silence between them is heavy, almost suffocating. Alicent remains where she is, her knuckles white as she grips the back of a chair, fury barely restrained. Viserys looks at her with weary eyes, as if already exhausted by a conversation they haven’t even had yet.

“Are you truly not going to address it?” Alicent’s voice is low, but the bitterness in it cuts like a blade. “Your grandchildren taunted Aemond, humiliated him, and you say nothing?”

Viserys sighs, the sound carrying the weight of years of burdens. He rubs a hand over his face, the lines of his age more pronounced in the flickering candlelight. “Alicent, they are children. They act thoughtlessly, all of them. Jace and Luke’s actions were cruel, yes, but Aegon was not innocent either. He stood by and let it happen, perhaps even encouraged it.”

“Aegon is a boy, Viserys!” Alicent’s voice rises, her eyes flashing with a fury she can no longer contain. “He’s still learning his place, his responsibilities. But you—” She pauses, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. “You always defend them, defend him and Rhaenyra. No matter what they do, you find a way to excuse it.”

Viserys’s face hardens, the tired king giving way to the father who has been pushed too far. “This is not about sides, Alicent. They are all my children, my grandchildren. Aemond needs guidance, not vengeance. As do Jace and Luke.”

Alicent’s eyes narrow, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Guidance? You think that’s all they need? You allow them to humiliate Aemond, to hurt him, and do nothing. Just as you did nothing when he—” She stops, her words catching in her throat, but the venom in her eyes makes it clear what she’s referring to.

The image of Silverwing descending upon the sept outside Casterly Rock flashes in her mind. The stones still bear the scars of dragon’s talons, a testament to that day when you stole Rhaenyra from her impending marriage to Jason Lannister. You, the prodigal son who had left for the Dorne border, returned with the ferocity of a storm, claiming what you believed to be yours without a thought to the chaos you left in your wake.

“There were no repercussions for what he did, Viserys,” she continues, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “He defied you, humiliated House Lannister, and shattered a political alliance. And you did nothing. You welcomed him back with open arms.”

Viserys’s gaze drops to his lap, his fingers twitching as if the very memory of it still pains him. “He is my son,” he says quietly. “I did what I thought was best to keep our family whole.”

Alicent’s laugh is sharp, almost hysterical. “Whole? You call this whole? You let him and Rhaenyra do as they please, and now their children are just as wild, as ungoverned. Aemond will grow up believing he’s less than them, that he’s not a true Targaryen, and you’re content to let that happen because it’s easier than admitting you’ve lost control.”

The king’s head snaps up, a flash of anger in his eyes. “And what would you have me do, Alicent? Punish them? For what? For the mistakes of youth? For the passions of their blood?”

“Yes!” she almost shouts, her voice breaking. “Yes, if it would show them there are consequences, that they cannot simply take and destroy as they please. There are scars on that sept, Viserys. Scars left by the dragon, by your son’s defiance, and you—” She swallows hard, her eyes blazing. “You allowed it. Because it was Rhaenyra. Because it was always Rhaenyra.”

A bitter silence falls between them, the air crackling with all the things that have been left unsaid for too long. Alicent’s hands tremble as she grips the chair, her knuckles pale against the dark wood. She forces herself to breathe, to steady her voice.

“You know, I thought… once,” she begins, softer now, almost as if speaking to herself, “that he would see me differently. That when he came back from the border, when he returned from Dorne, I could show him that I was a better choice than her. That I could be what he needed, what he wanted.”

Viserys’s expression softens, a sorrowful understanding in his eyes. “Alicent…”

But she shakes her head, cutting him off. “No. Don’t. I was a fool, Viserys. A fool for thinking I could compete with her, with whatever hold she has over him. She enthralled him, from the moment they were children. And now look at us.” She gestures around, as if the very walls of the chamber bear witness to her frustration. “Look at this family. Torn apart because you cannot say no to them.”

Viserys leans back in his chair, a look of profound weariness on his face. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I’ve failed in many ways. But I will not see this family destroyed by bitterness and blame. Not by yours, and not by mine.”

Alicent’s eyes fill with tears, her fury burning out into something raw and painful. “Then what will you do, Viserys? How will you keep us together when we’re already breaking apart?”

He doesn’t answer, and the silence stretches between them, heavy with the weight of a thousand unspoken regrets. For once, the King of the Seven Kingdoms has no words of comfort, no easy solution. He simply closes his eyes, his hand still resting over his face, and lets the silence speak for him.

Jace and Luke make their way through the corridors of the Red Keep, their footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. They had left their youngest brother, Joffrey, with the servants, trusting them to keep him safe while they faced what felt like an impending storm. Their father’s stern words still ring in their ears as they approach the courtyard where they were told Aemond and Aegon could be found.

They spot their half-uncles by the training yard. Aegon leans casually against a wall, his expression bored as Aemond practices with a wooden sword. The younger boy’s movements are fierce, each strike of the blade carrying a force that belies his small frame. It’s clear he’s still angry, his face flushed and his jaw clenched.

Jace and Luke exchange a glance, a shared determination in their eyes, before they step forward. Jace clears his throat, drawing the attention of the brothers. Aemond stops mid-swing, his eyes narrowing as he sees them.

“We came to apologize,” Jace begins, his voice steady though the words feel strange on his tongue. “What we did in the Dragonpit was wrong. It was cruel.”

Luke nods, looking at Aemond with genuine remorse. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. We’re sorry.”

Aemond’s eyes flicker with something unreadable—perhaps surprise, perhaps something darker. He lowers his sword but doesn’t put it away. “Sorry?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think words can fix this?”

Aegon snorts from his place against the wall, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “They’re just doing what they were told, Aemond. Daddy and Mommy sent them to make nice, didn’t they?”

Jace’s cheeks flush with anger, but he holds his tongue, determined to do what his father asked. “We shouldn’t have treated you like that,” he insists. “We know it’s not easy, being without a dragon, and—”

“You think I care about your pity?” Aemond snaps, his grip tightening on the sword. “Your father, the great Prince of Dragonstone, thinks he can send you to smooth things over, like everything is fine. Like he’s some perfect, noble hero.”

Jace stiffens at the tone, his eyes narrowing. “He defended you, Aemond. He told us we were wrong and that you deserved better. And you dare insult him?”

Aemond sneers, his eyes blazing with a mixture of hurt and fury. “Defended me? Your father’s only ever cared about himself and his precious Rhaenyra. He never cared about us. My mother says—” He stops abruptly, as if realizing he’s said too much.

“Your mother says what?” Jace demands, his voice rising. “What lies has she filled your head with?”

Aemond’s face flushes red, his expression defiant. “She says your father is nothing but a selfish, reckless man who took what he wanted, no matter who he hurt. That he only ever looked out for himself.”

“That’s not true!” Jace barks, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “He’s a better man than you’ll ever know. He was more fair to you than you deserve, especially when you speak like that!”

Aemond’s eyes flash dangerously, and he takes a step forward, his sword still in hand. “You want to say that again?”

Before the situation can escalate further, Ser Criston Cole appears, his eyes sharp as he steps between the boys. “Enough,” he commands, his voice firm and brooking no argument. He places a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, pulling him back gently but firmly. “This is not the time or place for fighting.”

Jace glares at Aemond, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. “You’re right, Cole. It’s not the time.” He turns to Luke, who looks equally shaken and angry. “But this isn’t over.”

Luke steps forward, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “We’ll settle this on Driftmark. We’ll see who’s truly worthy.”

Aemond’s eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of something—perhaps apprehension, perhaps excitement—behind the anger. “Anytime, anywhere.”

Ser Criston’s gaze sharpens, and he steps in between them fully, his voice a warning. “You are all princes of the realm. You will act like it, or there will be consequences.”

The boys glare at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges, before Jace and Luke turn and stalk away. The anger in their bodies is visible, the fire of the argument still burning hot within them.

As they walk, Jace glances at Luke, his expression grim. “This isn’t just about us, or Aemond. It’s about our family, about what’s right.”

Luke nods, his young face set with determination. “We’ll show them on Driftmark. We’ll show everyone.”

And as they leave the courtyard behind, the promise of another confrontation lingers in the air, a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [2/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After her meeting with the Pope, she had been writhing around all night, terrified and humiliated, unable to sleep. She couldn't forgive herself for her stupidity, for not seeing in time that it was obvious her uncle was trying to slip her over to the head of the Catholic Church like a snack he might be tempted to focus on.

The worst part was that he had hired her and she didn't know how she could take it back, defy the Pope himself, communicate that she was rejecting his proposal.

She got up before dawn, recognising that she would not get any rest anyway, and decided to take a warm shower. She thought while standing under the stream of hot water that she would try to distance herself, be professional and not give satisfaction to either her uncle or the Pope himself.

She hoped that when he finally decided to give any sort of interview the commotion around him would quiet down and she could quickly offer her resignation.

She sighed heavily, running her hand over her wet face, wondering how she was supposed to reconcile this madness with her classes at the University.

A car with the same driver as the day before arrived outside her townhouse again and took her straight to the Vatican; driving through its streets, she noticed that many people had pitched tents in and around St Peter's Square, waiting for any new information about their Pope.

She sighed quietly, resignedly thinking about how unnecessary his stubbornness actually was.

This time it was not her uncle waiting for her in the square, but a middle-aged priest who could have been her father, dressed in a plain black cassock. He smiled at her in a way that seemed genuine to her and she reciprocated the gesture when he indicated with a movement of his hand that she should move to follow him.

"The Pope is just having breakfast in the garden and he will receive you there." He said as they walked along the marble corridors filled with works of art; she looked at him surprised and sighed quietly, glancing out of the window, finding that it was indeed pleasant warm weather, the sky was cloudless.

They walked out one of the back exits to the cloisters into a small garden consisting of a maze formed of walls of shrubbery, which, however, easily led them to its centre, on which stood a large arbour styled in antique manner, with a dome and Corinthian-style columns.

She grinned with some kind of disbelief when she spotted his figure seated at an ornate small white table, his cassock also white, he held in his hands a newspaper he had just been looking through.

She thought with amusement that he was reading about himself.

Only when they got closer did she notice that other gazettes from different countries lay folded on the table top; the front pages of each asking who the new pope was, why he wasn't showing himself, why he was silent.

"Your Holiness." Said the priest standing next to her and nodded; the young pope, however, did not even bestow a single glance on them.

She pressed her lips together as she saw his thumb go to his mouth, he licked it and then used it to flip the page of the newspaper.

The priest who had brought her left them alone, as if he had already become accustomed to the lack of reaction and any culture on his part. She stared at him in silence for a moment, standing in front of him in the same dress as the day before, not having time to buy anything else.

"Holy Father." She said softly, wanting to get it over with, standing a few steps beside him.

He did not look at her, instead lifting his hand and extending it towards her, a signet ring of pure gold on his heart finger.

She looked at him for a moment in disbelief, then swallowed hard and walked towards him, grasping his warm hand in hers.

She leaned in, placing a quick, brief kiss on his ring and let him go immediately; he took his hand without even giving her a glance and went back to reading the newspaper.

She pressed her lips together feeling his intense, pleasant-smelling male perfume again.

"What do you think of what they write about me?" He asked, carelessly tossing the newspaper he had just read onto a pile of others, the discouragement on his face bordering on disgust, as if what he had read made him sick. "They are already reaching my family. Day and night they chat outside my mother's house."

She felt a tightness in her throat at his words and some kind of sympathy, because although he must have known what his decision entailed and what the consequences would be, some journalists crossed all possible boundaries, recognising no sanctity.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the French croissants that lay on one of the porcelain plates and a jar of strawberry jam, and reminded herself that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She grunted quietly, looking away, staring at the field flowers that grew around them – she spotted a gardener in the distance who was cutting the shrubs with his big steel shears.

"They won't stop until you give them something, Holy Father." She replied truthfully, hearing him snort under his breath.

"They will always want more." He replied dryly and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye – he was staring at her sitting with his legs crossed.

She shuddered and looked at him in disbelief as he pushed the other chair in front of her with his foot clad in white elegant shoes, moving it away.

"Sit down, child. You are pale. Did you eat breakfast today?" He asked disapprovingly, like a parent expressing their discontent. She shook her head and he sighed heavily, indicating with his hand gesture to the seat next to him.

She thought that this certainly had nothing to do with behaving according to protocol, but decided that it probably didn't matter much to him. She sat down next to him, smelling the intense scent of his perfume again, adjusting her dress, remembering not to sit with her legs crossed.

"Eat." He said dispassionately; she wasn't going to argue, figuring that since she was being forced to be at his every beck and call now, she could get something in return.

Therefore, she reached for the croissant and jam, which immediately drew the attention of her stomach – she casted him a wordless surprised glance as she heard the sound of the lighter being lit and the hiss of the cigarette he held in his mouth.

He took a deep drag and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully, letting the smoke out through his nose. He smirked, as if something in her gaze amused him.

"My chancellery contacted your University. They were happy to hear that you will be doing a sort of…internship here. You don't have to worry about your exams or classes." He hummed as if he was talking about something trivial and uninteresting, an irrelevant piece of information he had to convey to her, and took another drag, the tip of his cigarette igniting red.

"− what − but −" She started, but decided it made no sense; whoever he was, this man had clearly already planned everything for himself and had no intention of changing anything, much less asking her opinion.

"I thought you'd be pleased. Your uncle arranges for you accommodation and studies, the Pope makes sure you pass your exams without your personal involvement. Isn't that beautiful?" He asked with a sneer, and she felt a tightening in her throat, a cold sweat on her back; she stared wide-eyed at the half-cut croissant on which she had just spread jam, but lost the urge to eat.

He knew everything about her and thought she and her uncle were the same.

She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the backrest, placing her hands on the armrests even though she shouldn't be doing so and crossed her legs. She saw his gaze drop involuntarily to her bare knees, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

"My uncle wants you to take me to your bed, Holy Father." She said quietly, recognising that she didn't have the strength for this, for their games, their hookups, the secrets they obviously adored, of which the entire Vatican was made.

She blinked when he chuckled, his pointing finger hitting his cigarette so that the ash from it fell to the stone floor beneath him.

"Tell me something I don't know. Eat. We have a lot of work ahead of us." He muttered, taking one last drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke out through his nose, extinguishing the remnants of it on his plate.

She stared at him with her heart pounding fast, thinking in disbelief that he really was a few steps ahead of everyone else.

He was perfectly informed, and although his words and actions seemed chaotic, there was purpose in them.

"What do you want, Holy Father?" She asked lightly, taking a piece of croissant into her mouth. He threw her an amused look and raised an eyebrow.

She had the impression that he took satisfaction in teasing her, his gaze fixed on her lips, which she involuntarily licked.

"Many things. Above all, holy peace and quiet, but I am not afforded it. Get up, let's take a walk." He said matter-of-factly and rose abruptly, putting his hands behind him, moving ahead without looking at her towards the corridors made of tall, evenly trimmed bushes.

She quickly swallowed the piece she just had in her mouth and stood up, following him, levelling her step with his, sunshine and birdsong all around them.

"We're being watched. It's harder for them to eavesdrop on me as I walk." He said coolly; she turned behind her and saw the gardener she noticed before, who was apparently just pretending to water the flowers around the arbour.

She looked at him in horror, realising that he must have been spied on all the time.

That they all wanted to know what he was going to do, surely he must have kept them in an iron grip since no picture of him had leaked to the press yet.

"What's going to make the atmosphere calm down and the journalists back off?" He asked discouraged, and she sighed quietly, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"Your private invitation."

She was surprised that her idea that he would hold a press conference where he would be invisible and only his voice could be heard appealed to him. He felt that, in fact, his faithful should hear his words and what he has to share with them, and this did not require his image to be revealed at all.

He decided to receive the TV and newspaper envoys in the Sistine Chapel, recognising that this was some kind of milestone moment that required a special place, a black veil was placed in front of his papal throne.

Although on the one hand it looked comical, on the other it added a sort of solemnity and impression of holiness, something tangible and yet inaccessible.

The cardinals and his office workers had prepared a script for him, which he tore in front of her eyes before the speech itself, handing her the shreds that remained of the pages, staring blankly at the black fabric in front of him. She took it from him, not knowing what else she could do; he demanded she be by his side in case someone asked an uncomfortable question.

Her heart was pounding like mad, she could feel the cold sweat on her back and wondered if he felt a similar anxiety.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and although his face was stony, he seemed even paler to her than usual, his large hands on which she could clearly see the outline of his veins clenched on his armrests – he sat comfortably on his throne with his legs crossed.

"Holy Father, why don't you want to show your face to your faithful? Is this some new kind of Vatican policy, a way of getting the whole world's attention?" They heard the question echoed by the first journalist on the other side of the curtain; she saw him press his lips together and swallow loudly before his cold, matter-of-fact, dispassionate voice began to spread around them.

"My face is not useful to my faithful for anything. They need my action. My causality. They need my intervention in matters of urgency, in the problems of paedophilia in the church, in the embezzlement and misuse of church assets, in the restoration of law and order, in the opening up of the church to young people who feel forgotten and unwanted. My face, my history, my personal views will distract them from all these things."

He said without stammering. She looked at him in disbelief, realising that he couldn't have prepared this answer beforehand.

He was saying straight from his heart what he was thinking and there was something touching about it.

Somehow she understood what he meant.

"What about the pilgrimages, what about the Sunday masses celebrated by the Pope?" Asked another journalist. She heard him sigh heavily, noticed that his hand trembled as he raised it to his face, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose.

"The Pope is not alone, he has his cardinals who can assist him in his missions around the world. As for the masses, I will attend them as a guest, but I will not be visible. The Pope is not unique. The Pope is chosen as first among equals. As Pope, I still remain a cardinal, one of the apostles. I am not Christ. I am not God."

She looked at him in pain, breathing unevenly through slightly parted lips, remembering what she had told him a few days earlier.

They need a guide, not another invisible God.

She couldn't believe that after what she had heard she had begun to feel sympathy for him – his answers seemed thoughtful and sensible, and she wondered if she had just seen his true nature, or if he was as perfect a manipulator as any of the cardinals.

She wondered how he had convinced them.

How he became Pope.

When it was all over he left without a word; the journalists were led away, and she prayed that it would help, that public opinion would calm down a little.

She watched all the news editions that evening with bated breath – the whole world quoted his statements and his decision, to her relief, most of the experts spoke warmly of him. The newspaper headlines also left her under no illusions.

The Pope has spoken. He doesn't want to show his face, only his actions.

The Pope who chooses the fight against paedophilia over the glamour of glory.

The Pope without a face − a new beginning.

The end of splendour − the Pope retreats to work like any of us.

The end of the church as we know it. The Pope at last again the voice of the weakest.

The next day she arrived in the Vatican with a stack of newspapers, eager to show him the result of their work, hoping it would satisfy him and allow her to return to normality.

"The Pope is exercising, but he said he would receive you." Said the priest, who was called Father Lenz, and who was apparently his private secretary, always waiting for her to lead her wherever he just happened to be.

"He's exercising?" She asked with amusement, and he just raised his eyebrows, himself clearly not knowing what he thought about it.

He opened the door for her and she stepped into a large room, with a beautiful baroque vaulted ceiling and hundreds of paintings on one side, rows of tall windows on the other, illuminating an exercise machine consisting of a small bench with a mattress on which he placed his back as he pulled on the railing at the end of which the weights hung, his legs braced on either side of the machine for balance.

He was dressed in white tracksuits.

She stared at the sight in disbelief, waiting for him to notice her; it only happened after a while when he took a break and sat down, reaching for a bottle of water standing on the old wooden floor. She lifted up a bundle of newspapers and he nodded, running his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing after his exertion.

She walked over to him and handed him the magazines she held in her hand; she felt a pleasant throbbing between her thighs feeling the smell of his sweat mixed with the scent of his perfume, his lips slightly swollen and pink from the blood that pulsed faster through his body.

He flipped through the front pages of the papers one by one and sighed quietly; she thought with surprise that there was a sort of expression of relief painted on his face, as if what was happening frightened him somewhere deep inside and filled him with anxiety.

He put them down at last, looking ahead, grabbing the white towel that hung over the railing at the other end of the machine.

"I prayed to God after I was elected. I prayed that he would show me the way, and although he usually answered me in some way, that evening he was silent. It was a silence full of rejection, as if the heavens did not agree with the decision of the conclave. How was I to go out to the crowds in such a situation, to convince them that Our Father in the heavens was sending me to them?"

He asked, rising with a quiet creak from the metal bench, surprising her completely with his words; because of his clothes and the way he spoke she had cognitive dissonance and had to remind herself that he was the Pope and not just a young man close to her age.

His confession touched her in some way – she was able to imagine his despair on the evening he was elected as people chanted his name, but it was the voice of God that he wanted to hear.

He stood a few steps away from her, drinking the contents of his small water bottle to the end, and stared ahead, as if he had returned with his mind to that time, as if he needed to get it out of himself.

"That's why I asked my faithful to pray from me. And what did they do? They despaired. They despaired that they could not see my face, that they could not touch me, tear me apart, dissect my private life and my past. I have never felt so lonely." He said with a regret from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and lowered her gaze, not knowing what to say, reminding herself with shame that she had thought the same thing about him as all those people.

"Perhaps it was also the will of the heavens. In the end, when the time comes everyone will face God alone. Maybe it was his words: don't follow the crowd, don't conform, that's not why I sent you." She said softly, but immediately regretted her words, recognising that she had no right to interpret anyone's spiritual experiences, much less those of the Head of the Church.

She heard him snort with amusement; he pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket and for a moment she thought he would want to smoke in this beautiful baroque chamber, however, he moved ahead towards a small door other than the one she had entered through.

"Come." He hummed, so she moved after him, knowing that it was pointless to resist.

For the rest, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

They passed through a narrow corridor and began to climb up a stone staircase that spiraled around a large pillar – it seemed to her that they were in some older part of this great complex. They reached a small wooden door, and when he opened it they emerged onto the roof of one of the buildings located to the right of St Peter's Square.

The view in front of her struck her –the sun was rising over the Vatican, lazily leaning out from above the church standing in the centre of the square like a nimbus, the air around them pleasantly cool and crisp.

She watched as he moved ahead and walked closer to the stone wall, firing up his lighter and leaning forward with a cigarette in his mouth – there was something so obscene about the sight that she smiled involuntarily.

He looked at her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, taking a drag, then slid his cigarette out of his mouth with a motion of his hand and let the smoke out silently through his nose, shaking the ash to the ground with a flick of his finger.

"It has been reported to me that journalists are slowly making their way into my past. Don't worry, I don't think it's your fault. I knew it would happen, but I thought I had more time." He murmured lowly seeing her surprised, horrified face, suddenly as if tired and discouraged, taking another drag with a quiet hiss of fire.

She thought looking at his silhouette illuminated by the first rays of the sun, that he looked like a saint.

"I want you to hear it from me. Will you listen to what I have to say?" He asked calmly and she nodded, feeling her heart pounding fast, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, terrified of what he wanted to tell her.

"My mother I told you about is a nun. She adopted me a few years after I was placed in a convent orphanage." He said calmly, looking away, staring at the crowds of people walking around St Peter's Square.

"They took me from the woman who gave birth to me because she liked to inject various stimulants into her veins. She was asleep when one of her men decided he didn't like the way I looked at him, that I was complaining about being hungry. He decided that he would gouge my eyes out, but he only succeeded with one, my screaming would wake even the dead."

He muttered, not looking at her but somewhere in the distance, letting out a puff of smoke with a deep breath; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain feeling the squeeze in her throat, her cheeks red with emotion.

She wanted to say something but was afraid to interrupt him, she knew that what he was telling her was of the utmost importance and she wondered if anyone else knew about all this, if he had confided in anyone.

"Sister Alicent after I was brought in wouldn't let me call her my mother. So I called every woman I saw that, cooks, cleaners, teachers. She adopted me in the end, unable to look at it anymore. She got a dispensation from the Pope." He said lowly, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it with his completely white Adidas.

"Some trashy, cheap magazines are already writing about the fact that I am the son of a nun and the Pope, others with mockery recognise that I am certainly her immaculate conception. That they mock me doesn't bother me, but it fills me with sadness that journalists stand outside her house all day. She can't even go out shopping or gardening. I guess you think the only way out of this situation would be an interview where I would tell my story?"

He asked disapprovingly, looking at her finally; she was shocked and horrified that he was asking her opinion on such an important matter. She shook her head helplessly, shrugging her shoulders.

"You cannot allow them to make your mother a hostage, Holy Father. You must show strength. Call press conferences where you talk about what decisions you make, but don't answer questions about your family. In the Vatican, you are Pius XIII, not Aemond Targaryen. When they see that they cannot blackmail you, they will let go. In my opinion, you both have to bear it." She said what she thought, thinking in the back of her mind that journalists would always want more and the matter would only get worse.

He looked at her silently as if analysing her words and sighed finally, kicking a stone that lay under his feet with his shoe.

"Have you ever kissed?" He asked lightly and she looked at him with shock written all over her face, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, her cheeks burning with heat.

She couldn't believe such a question had come out of his mouth.

"You don't have to answer. I'm just curious. I've never kissed anyone." He replied after a moment, seeing her embarrassed reaction, as if he wanted to clarify and elaborate that his interest was purely scientific and theoretical.

She swallowed loudly, pressing her lips together, thinking that he had told her about himself, about the most private aspects of his life, and decided that nothing bad would happen if she answered him.

"Once, in high school." She muttered, stroking her arm in a gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, looking away. She heard him hum under his breath, intrigued.

"Did it feel good?" He asked softly, standing a few steps away from her with his hands tucked into his snow-white tracksuit bottoms, cocking his head.

She looked up at him in disbelief, breathing erratically, clasping her hands tighter, involuntarily her gaze escaped to his full, glistening lips.

"It was a very moist, soft and warm sensation." She muttered feeling a tightness in her throat, her gaze fleeing from his eyes to his lips, unable to stop herself from imagining how wonderful it would be to feel how they tasted.

"Hm." He murmured, looking away thoughtfully.

They stood like that for a moment in silence – she could feel the wordless tension around them, as if electricity flowed through the air with their every word and movement.

"Did you confess this deed?"

She blinked and felt her heart stop. She shook her head, looking at him with slightly parted lips.

"Pardon?" She asked in disbelief, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and a cold sweat on her back, not believing that he was suggesting such a thing.

"Failure to maintain chastity before marriage is a sin." He replied indifferently; she pressed her lips together, feeling tears of shame and humiliation under her eyelids, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"So I am a sinner, Holy Father." She said coldly, and turned away, leaving without any pleasantries or even a simple goodbye.

She burst out sobbing as she ran down the narrow stairs.

It was only a kiss.

She just wanted to see what it was like.

In fact, she felt bad afterwards, but not because she thought it was a sin, but because she was not in love with this boy.

She asked Father Lenz for any of the drivers to take her home; seeing her face red from tears he asked what had happened, but she did not answer him.

She opened up to him, spoke about an intimate part of her life, and he could only judge her, make her another Eve, a fallen woman.

It was only a kiss.

She returned to her flat filled with regret and disappointment – she angrily pulled off her long dress she had bought and chosen specially to be able to present herself as expected, to keep herself humble, but for what?

She decided that she would never appear there again.

There was no kind of real contract between the two of them, she had only signed documents regarding her collaboration with the Pope's secretaries and a confidentiality clause.

She changed into her pyjamas, undid her hair, took the box of leftover cakes from the cupboard and lay in bed, browsing social media platforms on her phone, trying not to think about what had happened.

She tilted her head back and groaned in frustration when she saw that her uncle had started to call her. She muted her phone and flipped the screen down, sighing.

She lay back on her bedding, staring blankly at the window, and thought with pain that the man who should be giving her the strength to be a better person had made her doubt herself, made her feel sinful and dirty.

She started to think that maybe she should go to confession after all, that maybe he was right, that she was only making excuses for herself without wanting to admit that she was wrong, but she felt even worse at that thought and just burst out crying.

Exhausted by sobbing and remorse, she finally fell asleep, seeing only through her closed eyelids that the phone display lying next to her glowed again and again.

She shuddered, rising quickly to sit up in complete darkness when she heard someone's loud knock on her door; she looked around with a pounding heart, not knowing where she was, whether it was evening or morning.

She glanced at her phone and saw that she had slept for several long hours and the sun had set, on her screen 20 missed calls from her uncle and a plethora of text messages that she didn't have the energy to read.

She sighed heavily and got up, walking reluctantly to the door, knowing her uncle would now make a litany for her; she turned on the night light on the way so she wouldn't trip over anything and she turned the lock, opening it.

"Oh God."

She muttered, seeing the figure of the young Pope in front of her, still in the same white tracksuit and sneakers.

He had his hood up over his head.

He pulled the white earphones out of his ears with a soft flick of his hand – she could hear the heavy metal music playing from them.

"Will you let me in?" He asked indifferently; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking he was risking a lot by going outside just to see her.

She sighed quietly and stepped back, allowing him to go inside. She leaned out wanting to check if anyone had seen him and closed the door quickly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw that he had turned off the music on his player and put it back in his pocket.

They stood for a moment in silence, his gaze focused on her naked thighs; she swallowed loudly with shame at the thought that she was standing before the Head of the Catholic Church in nothing but pyjamas consisting of cream shorts and a shirt buttoned up the front, under which she didn't even have a bra.

She turned her head, running her trembling hand over her face, her heart pounding like mad.

"I made a mistake." She heard his voice full of regret. "I wanted your uncle to pass it on to you, but you didn't answer."

"I didn't and don't feel like talking to anyone, Holy Father." She muttered, feeling a tightening in her chest, fiddling restlessly with the cross hanging on her neck.

She heard him swallow loudly and look to the side, pulling the hood off his head.

"I made you doubt in yourself. In your purity and your value in the eyes of God." He said lowly, and she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She closed her eyelids and tilted her head back, trying to control herself, not letting them flow out.

She did not reply.

"My words arise from my depravity, which I fight unsuccessfully. From my vanity and jealousy. I would rather have you locked up in a convent. You could then be by my side and no one would ever touch you again. You could be mine." He said softly, thoughtfully, looking at some point on the floor, as if he had drifted off completely in his musings – she felt her lips part in disbelief, her brow arching in pain.

I would rather have you locked up in a convent.

You could be mine.

What was she to reply to such a shocking confession?

She shuddered when he finally turned his attention to her, the gaze of his healthy eye sharp and piercing, while his artificial one was empty, white, lifeless.

"Though never before have my members reacted to the sight and thought of a woman, when I see you, I long to touch you, to taste you, to smell you. I have become addicted to your scent and try to recall it after evening prayer before I fall asleep." He spoke calmly, as if it was not an emotionally driven statement but something thought out, something that had been going on in his head for a very long time.

She felt with fear how her body reacted to his words with a greedy throbbing between her thighs and a moisture from which the material of her underwear was getting wet, her nipples hardened, more clearly visible from under her shirt.

She froze when she saw his gaze flee to her breasts, seeing exactly what she feared, his full lips parted slightly; she could hear his breathing clearly, fingers of his hands rubbing against each other in an anxious, nervous gesture.

"What do you feel now?" He whispered and she drew in the air loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat. She licked her lips dry from stress, taking a step backwards, hitting her back against the wall, feeling that she had nowhere to run. She helplessly clenched her thighs together, wanting to stop what was happening, seeing that his pupil widened at the sight.

"I'm wet." She confessed in shame, recognising that there was no point in pretending that there was something innocent in what was happening – her body was twitching with desire, begging for his touch and relief, her heart pounding like mad.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at her words while looking straight into her eyes, she saw fire in them, heavenly or hellish.

"Does it feel good?" He asked softly, gazing shamelessly at the spot between her thighs – she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen and a tickling inside her, her walls were clenching around nothing at his question.

She thought helplessly that she had never felt anything like this before in her life.

"Yes." She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her whole body quiver and pulsate, feeling desire in her fingertips, in her lips and down there, deep, deep inside her.

She shuddered as he approached her with a slow step and lifted her terrified gaze to him. His lips were parted in an anxious, hitched breath, in his eyes heat and darkness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and between her thighs.

He stood over her, for a moment just looking at her – his trembling hands finally raised, reaching for the buttons of her shirt. They looked at each other with some kind of pain and suffering from which she felt a sting in her heart as a coldness enveloped her naked skin.

It seemed to her that it lasted an eternity – he took his time, his gaze fixed on the line of her bare body as he unbuttoned her shirt fully; he didn't expose her breasts, he just looked at her.

She gasped when he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips slowly over her sternum down to her stomach – she closed her eyes and sighed quietly, feeling her lips pulsate with desire, swollen and thirsty.

"− so soft − so warm −" He whispered; her quivering palm rose and touched his fingers, his hand larger and more massive than hers, she could feel the outline of his veins clearly under her skin.

She pressed his hand to her heart, heard him draw in the air hard as he felt it beat beneath his fingertips.

He looked at her, remaining still, as if frozen, knowing that one word from him, one expression of hesitation and they would be left with only shame, only regret, only disappointment.

She felt the tears under her eyelids, which involuntarily one by one ran down her face; he noticed it and shook his head, his breathing shaky, uneven, despairing.

"− you're so pure −" He whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her cheek as if seeking refuge. She clenched her eyelids in shock at how intimate and desired this closeness was, his scent filled her entire lungs, his warm breath enveloped her cheek.

"− looking at you I feel terror because I regret − I regret that I will never feel you − that I will never give you what I want −" He muttered in a trembling voice; she felt his warm tears running down her skin.

They both gasped when his shaking hand tentatively began to slide lower and sobbed in pleasure as his fingers slipped hesitantly under the material of her shorts, deep between her thighs.

They were panting and quivering with desire, her trembling hands clenched on his arms as his fingertips pushed the material of her underwear aside with a shy gesture full of shame, she heard his low, helpless groan as he felt how wet she was.

"− God, help me −" He mumbled in a broken voice full of guilt – she tried but was unable to stop the moans of pleasure that left her mouth with each tentative movement of his fingers that brushed her swollen, throbbing womanhood, her body was so tense she felt she was on the edge.

"− please −" She whimpered pleadingly, placing her hand on his with a gesture full of desperation, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.

She tilted her head back as she finally felt him the way she wanted to, his fingertips digging into her fleshy, hot, moist folds with intense, circular strokes – she could feel his hot, ragged breath on her skin, his face pressed against her cheek, her hands clenched in a helpless gesture on the material of his sweatshirt.

Tears of despair and delight streamed down their faces, tired of pretending and fleeing, shivers ran down her spine every time the tips of his fingers teased again that tender bud from which her sobriety of mind was taken away; it seemed to her that their bodies were moving on their own, something hard and throbbing under his trousers rubbing against her thigh with desperate strokes.

"− forgive me − say you forgive me −" He mumbled pleadingly in a breaking voice.

She felt him trembling all over just like her, unable to stop now, knowing there was no way back, her face wet with her and his tears.

She reached her palm into his hair and combed through it with her fingers, letting out her breath with a loud sob, moving involuntarily to the rhythm of his hand as it pressed harder and harder against her fleshy skin with the lewd click of her moisture.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for forgiveness −" She gasped as she felt something approaching, moaning louder and louder.

She thought that despite the fact that he was touching her in this forbidden, sinful place, some incomprehensible kind of intimacy and innocence was added to what was happening by the fact that he hadn't exposed her naked body, that he hadn't wanted to possess her, only to experience something with her and in her presence.

"− good God, you're leaking − so sticky − I'll lick it off my fingers −" He whispered with a kind of awe, as if he were talking about something sacred and mysterious.

She felt that his words had done something to her – she cried out loudly, parting her lips in disbelief when suddenly a wave of warm pleasure surged through her body like a lightning bolt.

She felt wonderful tickling in her lips, in the tips of her fingers, in her breasts, in her chest, her inside's clenching greedily around nothing, her moisture trickled down onto his hand, she heard his low, surprised groan.

Her body suddenly became numb; she would have fallen if he hadn't put his arm around her in time, his hand ran over her cheek heated from the exertion.

"− you look like Bernini's Saint Teresa − so beautiful −" He mumbled in a trembling voice, panting hard along with her, looking at her dreamily. She sighed sweetly, laying her head on his chest, letting him embrace her tightly.

She could feel his manhood throbbing under the damp material of his sweatpants.

He came.

She stayed in his embrace not daring to look at him, not daring to think about what they had done, wanting to push back the moment when they would feel remorse, pain and regret, sinking only into this wonderful relief.

You look like Bernini's Saint Teresa.

A sculpture in which a holy woman curves in ecstasy after an angel pierces her with an arrow of Divine Love.

God's Delight.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

[partycatty]

bit of a niche request but older johnny getting you an engraved tag/pendant to show others that you’re his? i just think it would be so cute if he did that 🫣 could be vaguely nsfw if you wanted ok im running away now bye!!!! 🏃‍♂️💨

dark star!older!johnny cage > mine all mine

warnings: ohhhhh evil sick and twisted and fucked up dark star johnny but hes the DILF THIS TIME!!!

notes: someone put me down where i stand im going batshit insane.,. also sorry this is small i only have so many ideas in my chrome dome.,. more fics otw if this gets received well :3

[ masterlist ]

• older johnny is more emotionally mature than our usual dark star younger counterpart, he's just more... possessive.

��� he was a fine man before he met you, kind and honest with a pretty smile, toned down after his youth escaped him, but you sparked some kind of life in him that ate away at everything he considered to be good about himself. you needed to be marked up, labeled, tacked to a wall with his name painted across your body or he'd lose it.

• johnny's intentions were pure at first but had gone completely unchecked, letting him spiral into madness at the thought of losing you. he knew he was an attractive star, it was others he was worried about. you were his.

• dog tags with his name, necklaces, anklets, rings, clothes with your anniversary stitched into the sleeve, this man will give you anything that shows off you're together. matching outfits are a must when you're able to dress up, and he will happily throw you every credit card under his name to get your hair and nails done. all you have to do is make a passing comment about being in disrepair and he's already licking his thumb to count the cash in his wallet.

• johnny's a tracker, always worried you'll be lost to him at any given moment. location sharing apps, maybe a tracker or two in your car... not that you knew they were there.

• hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the large crowd that's more focused on him anyway. he becomes animalistic, unironically baring his teeth at those who spare an extra glance at your form in that pretty dress he splurged on for you. his grip on your back turns into fisting the fabric, bunching it up between his fingers as he contains his anger.

• wants you to be no more than his trophy. even if you're functional and capable, johnny insists to be the sole provider of everything. everything. you barely have to lift a finger for the rest of your life. trying to offer otherwise may result in an argument that digs at his ego.

• to everyone else, you're the ideal couple. he's a hard worker, dedicated, strong, loyal, and literally so jaw-droppingly fine. you'd know he has a nasty side, one he fights to keep between the two of you.

• "you don't need me," he hisses through gritted teeth. "you think i'm just some weak man, can't provide for my woman? is that what you think?" his arms are crossed, looming over you with a foul expression. "what part of 'i'll take care of everything' is so hard to understand? it's like you try to test me."

• unlike mk1 dark star johnny, this version is focused solely on your pleasure during sex. for once, he feels irrelevant, drunk on your whimpers and squirms under his big arms. he hones in easily into your cunt, his fingers buried deep inside and pumping to the point of pain. if his arm is cramping, he's not feeling it. he's too occupied trying to make you cum... again... and again...

• you're all he lives for. you're above cassie, above the special forces, leagues above earthrealm as a whole. you're his universe, his oxygen and everything that keeps him alive. if anyone or anything spares a passing thought about harming you, or worse, taking you away from him, johnny would fully consider falling to darker tactics and morals to keep you by his side.

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: DARK ROMANCE

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: This is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary: A sub needs a dom, a dom wants a sub but what happens when feelings overlap with contracts and love creeps in? Will a contract remain only a contract? Or are emotions like love too hard to keep in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath​ , thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me. Also thank you so much for writing my summary xx

You walked into the living room, relieved to be out of that uncomfortable outfit. The shower helped you relax, but you were still uneasy about the situation. Chan smiled at you from the couch, gesturing for you to join him. "Come, Princess."

You snuggle into his warm embrace, nestling your head on his chest. His strong yet gentle arms wrap around you, making you feel safe and cared for. As you listen to the steady beating of his heart, he leans down and places a tender kiss on the top of your head.

"I uh want to talk to you about something," he said, adjusting his body and causing you to sit up straight. 

"Sure, what about?" You say, getting comfortable on the couch, turning to face him and crossing your legs.

"Last night….I ah," he was really struggling to get the words out. You grab his hands in yours, hoping it will help him get them out, lightly stroking your thumb over his knuckles. 

He takes a deep breath before saying, "I heard you crying. . . because of me." You smile lightly but think to yourself that's only half true. Chan had yelled, and that's what started the tears at first. But really, you were mostly mad at yourself.

You take a deep breath. "It wasn't your fault. I was disappointed in myself for not being honest." Your gaze falls to the ground as you speak. You never wanted Chan to feel guilty for expressing his feelings.

Chan looks at you with soft eyes. "All I want is for you to trust me. That's been my goal this whole time." He gently lifts your chin up so you're looking at him. You notice his gaze drift down to your lips briefly before returning to your eyes.

You looked at him, unsure of what to say. "I don't know why I didn't tell you earlier."

He softly caressed your lips with his thumb and whispered, "It's okay. I just want you to know I'm sorry." 

Leaning in, placing his lips on yours, time seems to stand still. Chan's soft lips press against yours, consumed by the intoxicating feeling of his hands caressing your hips. His tender kiss leaves you breathless. 

Your eyes remain shut as he pulls away, giggling cutely as he realises you are chasing his kiss. 

……

"I have to go", you said, trying to grab your bag from Chan's hands. 

In an effort to keep you there longer, he pulls it away from you playfully as you attempt to grab it. "Chan," you say, pouting as he laughs, "I really have to go. I have to pack. The movers are coming next week." 

"Oh, that reminds me." He placed your bag and did a light jog to the main bedroom.

"This is not how I wanted this weekend to go….but I was supposed to give you this last night." He came down the hallway with a jewellery box, running his fingers through his hair.

"Open it", he smiled as he handed it to you. You snap open the box, and inside is a key. Your head shoots up to look at Chan as you blush. "It's the house key….I wanted to give this to you last night at dinner, but….we got rudely interrupted." 

He was right. This weekend did not go according to plan at all. The fact that you may not see each other for a couple weeks while Chan goes to Japan for his dome tour, resulting in you having to pack up your apartment alone, makes you sad. You thought this weekend was going to be some sort of sex-filled dream. However, that did not end up happening for obvious reasons. "I may not see you for two weeks", you pout as you suddenly become in no rush to leave. 

"Mmm," he hummed as he pulled you closer to his body. "See, you should stay," he smiled as his nose brushed your cheek, giving you goosebumps. "I have a lot of other things I was planning this weekend that we didn't get to do." He placed a light kiss just below your earlobe.

"We can't. You have a flight at 6 am tomorrow….and I have the movers coming at 9," you said, placing my hand on his chest, trying to put some space between the both of you. 

"But 2 weeks without you may just kill me." There he goes again, being all sweet. 

"But when you return, I'll be fully moved in." You smile, kissing his lips with a light peck. 

He glides his hand down your back, realising you're not wearing a bra. He pulls you in closer, lightly brushing his thumb over your nipple, instantly making it hard. 

"When I come back, I want to take you out on a real date," he said out of breath.

"I'd love that" you smiled, gripping your bag and stepping out of his reach, his hands falling to his sides. "Bye, Channie," you say sweetly.

…..

Monday 

M🥰

"About to leave for the plane… I'll text you when I land." 

You send him a picture of the live YouTube video you are watching of the airport. 

M🥰

“Are you watching me 😳…..are you sure you are not a stalker 😉” 

Y/n 

"Fine, I'll turn it off." 

M🥰

"No, I find it adorable." 

Y/n 

"Safe flight, sir." 

M🥰

"I'll call you tonight." 

It was only a short time before the YouTube live you had streaming on the TV went active, showing the guys rocking up to the airport. 

The camera zoomed in on Chan, making a heart shape with his hands. "Dork", you laughed, shaking your head. 

As they walked through the airport, you couldn't help but be nervous for them as people started swarming around them to get any sort of photos or even a quick touch from them. 

Your heart beats so fast in your chest as one of the members falls; you can visibly see the frustration in Chan's face as he struggles to keep himself calm. Eventually, they push through the crowd and head to security clearance. 

Y/n

"Omg….are you all okay?" 

M🥰

"I'm fine" 

Y/n

"Is it always that hectic?" 

M🥰

"Yes" 

His short answer makes you believe he is indeed angry. You decided to call him.

"Hello," he must be in professional mode.

"I know you said you're fine….but you're texting like you're angry." You just came out with it. 

"Guys, I just have to take this. I'll be back…order me something," he excused himself from the group. 

"Did you see the way they just swarmed us?" He snapped. "They could have hurt Ji", he growled.

"It's okay…just breathe." You could hear him take a deep breath in. 

"Thank you," he said, breathing out. 

"Okay, good….now have a safe flight," you said, about to hang up. 

"Wait…" He said quickly. "Did you see my heart? I did it for you?" Even through the phone, you could see him blushing. 

"Mmmmm….I did…. You're a dork," you laughed. "I better let you go. Text me when you land", you smile.

"What… you're not going to watch YouTube live", he chuckled.

"I ah…think I'll give it a miss….it made me nervous," you said 

"Cute, you worried about me." You could tell by how he said that sentence that he was grinning. 

"Bye, Channie," you said before hanging up. 

But you couldn't help yourself; when the video of the boys arrived in Japan, you ran to the TV; this time, it was a much calmer arrival.

They looked so happy and excited to be there. Chan even smiled and waved at the camera, almost like he knew you were watching. Chan pulls out his phone as they walk outside and into the car.

M🥰

"I made it, princess….in the car on the way to the hotel." 

Before you could reply, your doorbell went off. "Coming," you said, running to the door. 

……..

You had been so busy moving that a week and a half had gone by in no time, and it was finally time to move your stuff into channies officially. Well, the things you took with you. 

When you arrive at his house, Chan calls you to meet the small moving van you hired. 

"Hello," you say sweetly.

"How's the moving going?" You know he is watching you on the camera. He has them everywhere. 

"Are you watching me?" You laughed. 

"I'm always watching you… it's my favourite pastime." 

"That's creepy, Chan," you say as he laughs. "But while I have you…where would you like the couch you requested me to bring?"

"In the living room," he laughed.

"Chan, don't we should just get a new couch? Mine is so old." 

"I love that couch..." 

"It's ugly," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"It's not ugly… it's perfect." 

"Whatever?" you mumble. "I have to go….. they're here." 

"Okay, I'll see you in a couple of days", he said before he hung up. 

CHAN POV 

Ting Ting

I open my eyes to check my phone. "Fuuuckkk", I growl as tears begin to form in my eyes from the light's rays. 

"Unknown number", I whisper to myself. I don't want to wake Minho up from his sleep. 

Unknown number

"Don't worry, buddy…. I've been looking after her."

My heart races as I re-read the message, desperately hoping it wasn't meant for me. As I clumsily grab my phone, almost hitting myself in the process, I frantically open the camera app with shaking hands. Scrolling through the outdoor security feeds, my blood runs cold when I don't see her bedroom light on. Dear God, where could she have gone? The house sits empty as I plead for her to be safe inside. I feel a sense of dread wash over me - where is she? Please let her be here. 

I flick the camera into the master suite, and my panic subsides. "Oh, thank God," I breathe. She's curled up all cozy under my silk sheets. I watched her breathing so calmly and peacefully for a few minutes. Her chest rose and fell with such grace; she was simply stunning with her lips pressed together in the cutest sleepy pout. If I were there right now, I would not be able to control myself from planting the biggest kiss on those beautiful lips. My body gets all tingly just thinking about it, and I can't help but push those thoughts aside for now. The worst part about sharing rooms on tour is honestly not being able to care for myself whenever the urge hits. But now that I know she's safe and sound asleep, I continue to check the house for signs that she is alone. I don't care if I have to watch these cameras night and day; I will not let anyone touch her.

………

Morning finally arrives, and I open my eyes to find that Y/N has left our bed. This is the first time I've even had a thought like that about a woman… "Ours," I say softly, still staring at my phone screen. It's such a strange concept to me. The thought of sharing with a person makes me so happy. I look over at Minho, who is still asleep. Thank God…the last thing I need is for him to wake up and find me staring at my security cameras like a possessive monster. 

But that's what I am, a man obsessed with her, and after last night's text message, I need to hear her voice. Seeing her on my house camera is not enough. 

I step into the hallway as the phone rings. Minho is still sleeping but shouldn't hear me if I keep my voice low. 

"Hey you", her sweet voice was like music to my ears.

"Hey," I say back, and my nervousness vanishes. 

"What's up?….why are you calling so early?" I can hear her talking with her mouth full. 

"Is now a good time to talk?" I say, and I'm hoping she agrees to continue this conversation because now that I have her, I don't want to let her go. 

"Sorry…. I'm just eating breakfast….is everything okay?" I can see her now in my kitchen, eating toast and frowning. 

"Yeah…..I just ah," fuck how do I say this without seeming like an utterly love-sick puppy? "I ah", I keep choking on my words. Why can't I just say it? 

"I miss you too, Channie." I can hear her giggling on the other end, and it makes me smile to know she misses me just as much. 

"That obvious, huh?" I look at the floor as I kick my foot out. 

"That, and I figured you'd call me after I heard you snoring through the camera system this morning" My eyes widened…..could she really hear me snoring FUCK. 

"I ah….I can explain," I panic, fuck, who am I going to explain this without her thinking I'm an absolute creep.

"I'm just joking, sir….When I woke up this morning, I saw the red light and figured you were just checking in." The strain in my chest subsides as I relax my muscles. 

"I hope it's okay that I slept in your bed last night." I want to correct her and say our bed inside. I chuckle.

"Of course….keep it warm for me." I smile and hear what sounds like Minho walking towards the door.

"I have to go, but I'll call you later, okay?" I hang up the phone before she can answer me, and just in time as well….because as I place my hand on the door handle and open it, Minho practically falls out. 

"Spying on me…are we?" I laugh as Minho groans on the floor.

"Who are you even talking to this early?" He squints his eyes as he looks up from the ground. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I say, stepping over him and back into the room. 

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." Minho gets up off the floor as I charge my phone. 

"I'm going to take a shower", I say, grabbing my towel and heading into the bathroom. 

"Oh, and Minho," I say, peeking my head out and catching him red-handed, looking at my phone. 

"No peeking, yeah", I laugh as I turn back into the bathroom; he could try to get into my phone; however, I changed the code as soon as Y/N and I got together. 

……..

For the first time, I think I actually miss someone. All the boys have gone out to eat and walk around Tokyo sitting, and I can't help but lay here in my shared hotel room and watch CCTV footage of y/n in my house. 

I wish I was there to help her; it's not like I can go home early, either. We have our show tonight. However, after our last show in Tokyo, the boys decided to stay for a couple of days. Still, I was reluctant to because everything I needed was at home. 

I've been sitting on the Korean Air website, deciding if a 6am flight back home is going to piss the boys off or not. They would be supportive if they knew why, but it's too early to let them know I'm seeing y/n. Especially when they only know her as a JYPE staff member.  

"What are you doing?" Minho said, coming out of the bathroom.

"Do you think the guys would be offended if I left tomorrow?" A question I only trust Minho to answer.

"Want to get home that fast?" 

"I just have so much I need to do….I just really don't have time for a holiday right now." A few days off with the boys would be fun; a few days off with y/n is my priority. After we had that huge fight before I left, I felt I needed to make it up to her. 

"I think they won't mind", he said, drying his hair with the towel. 

"Okay, I'll book this ticket then," I said, moving my hand to click the checkout button. 

Minho smiles. I know he's onto me, but he will never immediately ask me. That's not what Minho does. 

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a girl, would it?" He grins.

"No, Minho", I say, pretending to be annoyed and rolling my eyes. 

"Because we will support you 100% if it is?" 

"I know…but it's not." I smile, knowing it has everything to do with a girl. 

Master list: @bellamuerte1987 @nightrayseishina @9900z @armystay89 @dreamstarsandskz @fosfopirite @neyangi @princesspanda16 @krishastumblernow @agnes-king @bangtanmix73 @khemrose @fawnpeaks @missrobyn81 @dreambelieveinme @umbreonwolfy @jisungiexx @scarletrosesposts @choisoorin @izzathequeen @binnies-minsung-fanclub @jetblackbelle @bunnyxoxodarling @berryberrytan @sky-outta @zerefdragn33l @shiningnono @tinys0ftie @zinnichong @tuggybug @nokacchan @amaranth-writing @seungbinis @jisunglover3409 @kimseungminsprincess @goblin-waifu @skzswife @uwuitsjungwoo @marrivmel

[dogtoling]

RE: Question about whether the Deepsea and the Octarian Domes are directly connected to each other. sorry i'm stealing your reply @bucketsquid but i see a chance to talk about this i have to take it. So idk let's try to decode how they might actually be connected.

This is the obvious conclusion. For the record I think it's the RIGHT conclusion after Side Order because they seemed to REALLY imply it this time. I thought for a really long time that the Deepsea and Octarian domes HAVE TO be connected because not only are they both subterranean but also literally how else do you get that many freaking Octolings in there? Since the metro is connected to the Inkopolis subway anyway wouldn't it be WAY EASIER TO JUST GET SQUIDS? (though to be honest i still stand by this.)

Anyway the obvious assumption is that the Deepsea and Octarian domes connect to each other. though it's not so straightforward. How they connect to each other exactly? we don't really know. Anyway let's get back into this in just a second i need to show what absolutely dashed my hopes and made me really mad when it happened

THIS MAP. THEY POSTED THIS MAP. Before this map I was having a great time because this is what the map was in my head:

"why was that the map in your head" idk. the giant stretches of water surrounding both canyons and inkopolis stretching into said body of water gave me the mental image that the canyons were in the ocean by inkopolis' coast. alongside some of the very old concept art that shows some of the domes even being underneath inkopolis if i'm not mistaken!

from the art of splatoon 1. this is an ancient and I MEAN ANCIENT manga depicting what is obviously an early concept of the story so it shouldn't ACTUALLY be taken as fact (almost nothing in this manga holds up anymore). But some of the things WERE kept! I have to assume this is also why you get into Octo Valley through the sewer in the games because the story mode was meant to take place literally straight underneath Inkopolis... it makes a lot less sense in the final result when you supposedly take the sewer like 50 kilometers (i dont know the actual distances but i think they're able to be deciphered) underground to a canyon in the middle of nowhere.

Why is there even continuous sewage all that way. What is happening. Is it even a sewer or a really long underground secret tunnel that Captain Cuttlefish dug because he's been really bored for 100 years.

kind of besides the point. back to the issue of the deepsea and the octarian empire being connected. You know, with the Deepsea Metro being located in Inkopolis Bay and the domes supposedly being all over the Inkopolis underground and the surrounding locations, it didn't seem that far fetched that they could siphon Octolings from the underground (where they live) to another very close-by fork of the underground (the Deepsea). However,

1. the Deepsea is NOT Octarian territory, but its own type of society. which is really weird considering how much Octarian iconography is down there, let alone how many OCTARIANS are down there

2. We have SO LITTLE knowledge about the true scope of the Deepsea that you can't even say for sure whether the Deepsea is *JUST* the Deepsea Metro and the facilities and industrial cities in that exact specific area, or if it's a big underwater and underground empire similar in scope to the Octarian domes, maybe even built in the exact same dome network - or a neighboring one. (This would mean they have a border somewhere undefined, underground.)

3. At face value with only the map, this is the distance for a Single Octarian to travel in order to get from where they live/are stationed, to get to the Deepsea Metro which is cluttered with one billion octarians

HELLO? THAT IS SO FAR. it's even worse than the distance Agents 3 and 4 are swimming through the god damn sewer. This also makes very little sense if we assume all the subterranean domes in all of these locations are exclusively under their surface counterparts... which... well, we don't know.

We know that the Deepsea Metro is connected to the Inkopolis Underground (it even shows this on the map with the little dotted line). I don't really know the significance of that but I've taken it to mean that the Deepsea Metro that is highlighted in the map shows specifically the area covered by the Kamabo Corporation and the tests there, and honestly again, I don't even know if the Deepsea is any bigger than that. Since it's been stated to be an independent society from Inkopolis or the Octarians, you would ASSUME there'd be ample space for people to like, live, and maybe work, and produce stuff you need to like, live. Instead of the test facility being literally the only place that exists plus a city built around only that to sustain everything.

Furthermore, we don't know if Octarians have cities on the surface in their part of the surface world! This is something that really bothers me because I think knowing whether or not this is the case would change SO MUCH (i'm currently under the assumption it is a barren wasteland with Literally Nothing). However given the location of the Salmonid Swim Zone, we can SEE cities in the background of multiple stages, and judging by this map those would be mainly on the Octarian coasts. This could mean that Octarians have surface cities where they coexist with the Salmon, it could mean that they USED TO have surface cities and abandoned them, OR it could mean that Salmonids actually live on Octarian surface turf while the Octarians themselves live underground! Idk! There's a lot of options!

I kind of doubt Octarians have cities on the surface because if they did, then it would feel redundant for the game to keep coming back to "the Octoling world" being this horrible military regime underground that people try to get to the surface from. If it was that easy to get to the surface it feels odd that it would be a big deal. We know that the Octarian domes, at least in Octo Valley, are specifically an underground *secret* military base.

(*Secret* being explicitly stated before and it would imply that they wouldn't necessarily NEED to live underground, but it's just way easier to do Secret Things underground. Plus the surface is a wasteland so honestly not a lot to lose there.)

We still haven't really seen what they have aside from that. We don't know where they get their food, for example. There's got to be farmers in a society. There HAS TO be some kind of surface access or activity, and if you squint, Octo Canyon IS a surface city that they seem to have free access to. So why not have others? It seems only logical to have more. In this case the oppression of the Octoling world and being forced to stay underground feels really case-specific, but it seems to also be an overarching thing that's quite widespread, so... I don't know, I WANT MORE OCTARIAN WORLDBUILDING *PLEASE* i'm working with crumbs here.

Anyway. my current assumption of the subterranean areas of the Deepsea and the Octarian empire goes something like this, all things considered that I've talked about...

(Not exactly that but you get the general picture)

When you put it this way, it suddenly makes a lot more sense that Octarians would be getting into the Deepsea. Generally I tried to keep the locations of Octarian tunnel systems to their turf, and the locations of Deepsea tunnels under the ocean floor, though with Octarian domes explicitly stated to have been dug by humans there's. really no reason they couldn't stretch into Inkling territory. We have no idea how big these tunnel systems are in scope, NO idea.

And that's also the problem with trying to solve this part of worldbuilding, because my concept could easily be right but it could also be COMPLETELY wrong! It's totally possible that the dome networks are actually secluded and tiny and are *just* under the Octarian craters and nowhere else, and it's totally possible that the entirety of the Deepsea is JUST Kamabo Co and the few settlements surrounding it. I'm not that confident that I'm right but I'm not really confident that we'll get answers to these questions either, at least as long as the story modes keep intentionally avoiding expanding on existing game locations and pretending theyre not in the splatoon world at all by making their key locations abstract and closed off bubbles on purpoCOUGH HACK who said that

There is 1 thing I've completely failed to mention in this post and it's that Octo Valley and the Deepsea Metro are like, explicitly connected. Which by the way makes NO SENSE given they're on opposite corners of the map. But between what we know from Side Order and from this Official Snippet from Splatoon Base, the Official Splatoon Story Resource By Nintendo,

Ignoring that none of this makes sense anymore or is intentionally misleading compared to what we know from Agent 8's memory loss now. Anyway. This seems to just imply the Deepsea is *under* Octo Valley. WHICH WOULD LINE UP WITH SIDE ORDER, weirdly enough. It is possible that the Deepsea domes could actually OVERLAP with Octarian Domes, it's just built FAR under sea level, not bound to the actual location of the sea itself.

I want to point out that this segment in the splatoon base and the game itself and dev interviews all tend to contradict each other in some ways when you look at them side by side, which is frustrating, but also serves as a reminder that sometimes the official resources don't know exactly what they're talking about either. so it's often not worthwhile looking them up and trying to conclude something based on it just to find out that it's literally contradicted in the game itself.

anyway, we know One Thing now and it's that there's at least no way that Octarian domes and the Deepsea AREN'T connected to each other in some way. this post doesn't exactly solve the issue of How but there was an attempt. I don't think this is ultimately something you can come to a concrete foolproof conclusion on until there is more information. But in the meantime I guess there's speculation.

[mooishbeam]

ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎『♡』 Ode to Rue

♡ featuring: pianist!sunday x reader

♡ synopsis: In the dazzling Penacony Grand Theatre, a fallen angel known for his haunting performances captivates you with his music.

♡ wc: 3.3k+

♡ tags: slight angst but mostly fluff, sunday pianist, canon-divergent

notes: I highly recommend you listen to La Solitude during the piano scene. It was my inspiration for the fanfic. its been a while so im a little rusty, pls forgive me :( thank you all! art by snifflesmp4 on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

song link (Spotify): La Solitude

The Penacony Grand Theatre hangs like a thoughtless prayer in the deep expanse of dark and starlight. Gossamer hangs from the bronze halo, tethering the theatre to the sparkling planet it threatens to ascend from. It is just as outstanding, however, covered in stained glass and benevolent sculptures, with a pair of angel wings that rise above the domed roof.  

Seeing it up close, you can barely pick up your slacked jaw. Nothing like you’ve seen before, an attraction that stands as the centerpiece of Golden Hour and commands the attention of all who encounter it. You’re reluctant to tear your eyes from the telescope, enraptured by its elegance. Still, residents walk by as though it were the dim alleyways of the Fading Echoes. The muffled voice behind you utters something you don’t quite register. Dainty layers of your cream petticoat brush against the unusually slick concrete, and you push your knees together as you squat to match the angle of the telescope. You can hardly contain your excitement.  

Because today would be the day you witness the renowned pianist in action.  

The rumors carried itself back to Belobog. You seldom cared for gossip, or the dwindling appeal to venture away from your warm manor into the bitter cold. But even the maids began to wonder.  

The talebearer tended to the kitchen as she spoke. A nameless angel, who must have descended from heaven, had been driven to madness by a catastrophe so devastating he could not prevail against it. Caught in the midst of a dying planet, he turned to music to expel the torture wracking his shattered mind. She claimed to have seen it, the room of the pianist. Walls etched with forgone prayer, a rushed and messy verbal overflow. There were said to be crosses methodically placed around those prayers, with sickening, glowering eyes that seemed to judge your every waking move. Music sheets haphazardly scattered with compositions he’d never finish, scores that could never be.  

Penacony, the planet of festivities, home to the Charmony festival. It made your eyes roll to indulge in such frivolous matters. On either end, you had no one to accompany you, and so you never attended. But the prospect of witnessing his madness in action piqued your interest, and ever since you’d been calling the theatre, hopeful for a reservation.  

The angel was unpredictable, though, sometimes choosing to cancel at the minute of his expected arrival. He was not without criticism, some enraged at his pure disregard towards the audience. After each show, he disappeared behind the curtain and left without a trace. Others said he appeared to loathe the very thought of being onstage. It made you all the more interested. To have such varying perceptions meant he had a gift far greater. To hear his genius was the highest privilege.  

A gentle chorus whispers from the hypnotic depths of the arena. “My lady.” You turn your head to face the voice, yet your eyes remain glued to the lens, as if the music will cease to exist should you avert your gaze.  

“The show will start soon.”  

You’ve taken your plush seat front row, beyond the crimson portiere and into the theatre. The seats are occupied by impatient, rather loud elite. Pocket watches and monocles, ridiculous top hats that earned a soft snort under your breath. Their attire wasn’t made for a place such as this, but you couldn’t say much yourself. It is more akin to a house of prayer than an outlet simply for singing. Decorative columns with lavish scripture rose to the ceiling where they came together at the corners to form the shape of a sun. Your eyes trail up, to the embossed medallion art of flying doves chasing the never-ending cycle of day. In the middle, an opulent chandelier dangles thousands of twinkling diamonds and dimly lit wax candles.  

“Marvelous” you gasp, panning to the stage before you. Rows of long, bronze organ pipes line the back wall, framing the massive stage. A divine glow peaks from behind the curtain, spearing slivers of warm, glimmering light.  

This space is incomparable to any opera house you’ve attended in Belobog. You feel unworthy to speak above a whisper. It’s almost sacred, crawling with benevolent structures and hymns you couldn’t decipher. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to decipher—meant to find you instead.  

You’re restless with anticipation bouncing around in your churning stomach. Its halls play a generic tune as more are seated. A million questions run through your mind. Who was he? Were the rumors true? What horrors did he see? Who was his teacher? You weren’t afforded the smallest of glimpses. Even the gaudy posters promoting the show didn’t show his face, choosing to represent him with a pair of angel wings. He must’ve declined a photo shoot. A pianist…who hated the piano? Or maybe it was the lack of tact, or genuine appreciation for the music. The pictures that received more attention for the scarcity of the show than for the soul of the symphony.  

You’re fiddling with your gown when suddenly the lights fizzle out, leaving only the meager glow of the chandelier above. Hitches, then nothing. A silent audience in the wake of a brighter stage. It reflects in your eyes, an unshakable longing reaching just behind the curtain. The same pit you felt, at the foot of a frosted cathedral on your last shred of hope; the deadly hands of a loving Aeon.  

The tableau, adorned in gold trimmings and tassels, begins to waver, and your breath tugs like molten iron in your chest. It begins to scale upwards into the cornice board, offering sight to the set.  

A simple, black piano with a stool to match takes center stage. You hear an audible sigh. A snicker. You wait, glossy eyed, infatuated by the sight. It’s truly barebones, no ball peonies or accompanying ensemble. Everything he needs awaits him. Everything he has exists on that stage.  

The spotlight casts onto the piano, spurring dust particles.  

The right curtain moves slightly. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have noticed the hooded angel come into view. It’s eerily quiet as the audience is hushed quickly in his presence. A few vague murmurs here and there, but nothing more. Hardly the footsteps of the angel, stepping in airy, elegant movements across the stage. Had you closed your eyes, it’d be lost to the background.  

He’s burdened by a navy hood, draped across the expanse of his laden shoulders. You can’t remove your eyes from the hovering blessing bobbing behind his head between movements. Black gloves embellished with gold and silver rings arranged so they wouldn’t clink. He walked with professionalism unexpected of just a pianist. The cloak seldom flared by his stride, though when it did, you caught the dark patterns of his boots, a garter taught on his thigh. The faintest strands of grayish blue peak from under the hood, soft and silky.  

One foot after the other, silent and orderly—comfortable with being invisible.  

As expected, he doesn’t regard the crowd. He smooths his cloak under his thighs and takes his seat in front of the piano. The minute details surrounding him worked with intent. A calculated click to his side releases a book with intricate detail, similar to his halo, with an eye on the back cover. A songbook? Notes? You can’t tell. However, the moment he places it on the rack, it fans open on its own. The front cover slams against the piano, and you’re stunned to see the pages flicking wildly, a mild radiance on the edges. The sound of paper fills the air. Then it stops.  

He brings his slender fingers to his hood, and in one fell swoop, the fabric slips away.  

The empyrean feathers of once cowered wings unfurl at the taste of newfound space. Broad, downy wings extend like a stretch, as if preparing to fly. The canary-colored spotlight enacts a seraphic air onto the pianist. Half of his face is lost to obscurity, but you still study his perfect ivory skin, drawn to subtle pinkish hues near his eyes and downturned lips. His hair spills over his shoulders, meeting with fluffy wings now comfortable on his sides. He wore an expression both content and lost, a soul far removed from the scene before it.  

Suchlike a painting you think. Whether it be the growing swell in your heart or unforeseen heat, his presence itself was breathtaking. You’ve seen art reminiscent of this in the Everwinter City Museum, oil paintings of angels in effortless beauty. Divinity just out of reach.  

His long lashes flutter for a second, and you watch his chest heave deep before expelling an extended breath. You hold yours.  

His eyes close. The audience goes deafeningly silent.  

He starts. Near machine with zero hesitation, a graceful melody waltzes to the keys summoned by lissome hands. Sweet, airy in tune as it graces the walls of the opera house.  

It evokes a childlike dream. Carefree summers, a vacation with no winter, planets with no struggle. You marvel the way his wrists roll over the keys. Refined, fluid, but commanding. Deserving of honor. His expression never changes, but his eyes—stirring with vibrance, like he was coaxing notes from the harmony itself. Captured by song, weaving a tapestry of forgotten memories.  

Still, there’s a harsh end to them, a teetering peak that keeps you on edge. Pads confidently moving under the swift turns of the music. The piano seems to come alive on its own, unbroken as the emotion pours from his veins to the object. Each high point, a reminder of a dream's eventual death, a memory lost to the throes of time.  

Suddenly, the deep clashing of the piano raises the hairs on your skin. He slams with graceful power, a note that should be out of place. It sends shivers up your spine.  

Your mind is heavy. You feel it in every sense of the melody. In the crooks of your walls, buried in the cracks where no one could see it but you. You saw him, filling your world and becoming of nothing. The knot that crumpled in your throat at the gravestones of your family, or the corners of the home you became accustomed to as you isolated yourself from the world. The tears you rarely shed for the sake of your family name, only allowing them to fall when a blizzard hammered against the windows loud enough to subdue your wails. Desperate for the kind words of anyone who’d spare a glance. You’ve tasted it countless times. A pitiful, bitter drink.  

Inexplainable, profound sorrow.  

He’s faced it, too. His wings appear stiff, flared and fire-scorn. Taut with the tension in his fingers. Alone and forgotten, dancing across the piano with such aloofness, shouldering the weight of the notes. A pause in between, and you shifted to the edge of your seat unconsciously. His fingers were methodical, searching for an answer he hadn’t fully discovered, finding belonging on the notes. This was his signature way of scribbling. There was no fated wall or room of eyes, nor the frantic manifestos of a madman. The piano was his journal—seeking meaning in the music.  

You aren’t sure what draws you to him. If it’s the chaos of his song, the unnerving focus, breathing in the melody for a second time. Wrapping himself in a sound of pure calamity, and somehow looking beatific and at peace, as if whatever he’d given up on was already somewhere underwater, out of reach and destined to drown.  

You understood now, why the audience was the most insignificant part of the performance. He played for no one. It was a a prayer to the choir, the last crumbling wish of a fallen angel.  

The crescendos landed harsh, unfinished, dying brutally in your ears. Tortured overtones ran soft, unexpected and fleeting before another crash. War across the keys, fighting a battle he wouldn’t win. On the piano there was bloodshed. And in this moment, he shares that war with you. Your eyes swelled before you could notice, splitting goosebumps across your skin.  

He throws his head back, letting his wings droop as he plays. Trailing his digits from the highest octave to the lowest, slowly closing his eyes once again. His posture reads of a Greek tragedy—falling from the sky, allowing fate to capture him or embrace the awaiting darkness. Was there anything left for an angel forsaken by an Aeon? Who could the fallen turn to for comfort?  

There’s a pit in your stomach.  

He throws both hands on the keys for the final crest, a booming sound sending vibrations through the floor. A dreams end.  

Then it’s quiet.  

His head returns to its rightful place, hanging low past his shoulders. Poised hands slump away from the piano, and the book closes to mimic.  

Hood coming up over his head in the aftermath, and he slumped away from the piano.  

He takes the book and tucks it back on his side. He stands, and the audience erupts into cheers. He flinches at the sudden noise. Pulling his hood over his head, he uses his fluffy wings to shield his face. Whistling, praises, and pleads for an encore can be heard from the whole interior. You barely hear it, muffled to the chatter around you.  

Because you’re sobbing. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision, resemblant to a small child with a scraped knee. In this noise, no one can hear you cry. It didn’t matter anymore, reputation or not. You needed to cry.  

But you swear you see it; a single tear trailing down his cheek, below his pouty lips, dropping with a shimmer. It couldn’t be a trick of the light. You find yourself staring past his wings. His eyes were Baltic amber, spiced honey with warm hints of midnight brilliance. Your heart skipped a beat.  

He steps away from the spotlight and exits just as fast, to the tragic dismay of an applauding crowd. 

He was but a stranger. Gone as he was, gone as you knew he’d be, your mind rejected it. A ridiculous impulse tests your restless legs, pushing you up out of your seat.  

You needed to know something, anything about him.  

His name.  

You’re on your feet quick, barely picking up your dress as you skip steps towards the hallway. The gem encrusted hair pin securing your updo slips to the floor when you whip your head towards the back exit. You don’t bother to go back for it. A hairpin was replaceable; this is a once in a lifetime opening.  

Pushing the exit, a fit of cold graces your shoulders. You forgot your coat in the theatre. It may be cold, but it’s not Belobog. You keep running around the end of the building, skirts picking up in the wind, a cool breeze biting your tear-stained cheeks. You stop in your tracks.  

A small boy with a head full of hair looks up at the man with a halo. You watch as the black gloves you studied carefully hand a stack of coins to the child. He flashes a gapped tooth smile, and the hand interlaces through his hair, ruffling it.  

You approach steadily. You’re clammy now. Struck with the chance, you can't formulate a string of words to save your life. The conversation shifts into focus.  

“Run along, now. It’s getting late” he says. That glacé, somber cadence stops you in your tracks. A voice befitting for an angel. The sentences elude you. You’d forgotten what you came to say. Aeon's help you.  

The child skips away, and you’re trained on him until your eyes snap back to the man now observing you. His eyes. On you.  

“Oh…um, sorry…” You can’t maintain the gaze imparted onto you. It’s much more intense without hundreds of eyes doing the same, even with his face somewhat obscured.  

“My apologies miss, was I too loud?” He asks with a courteous hand to his heart, tender voice sticking to your brain like thick pools of honey.  

You shake your head wildly “Ah, no! I’m sorry,” you hesitate, unsure if you should divulge your recent attendance. Granted, you understood how weird it may come across to search for the performer post-show, but it was too late for you to retreat. “I was just at your performance.”  

“Ah…” He pans to the floor, lashes fluttering underneath the street lamp. This version of the pianist is unsure, a confidence reserved for the stage. Then he regards you for a second, unmoving. “Was it enjoyable?”  

Enjoyable…that wasn’t it. It was suffering, a beautiful torture for those who’ve survived hell. You have to physically bite back to words, and yet they pour out of you.  

“It was lonely” you blurt, rubbing your arm to soothe your awkward disposition.  

His eyes widen briefly. You watch his flushed lips part and close. He felt human again. He, too, could be lost for words. When he doesn’t speak, you continue.  

“I am also…”  

“…going through things.” His earrings dangle in the wind, and you feel like a fool right about now for wasting his time. You manage to look everywhere but his face. Two studs on his left wing and lustrous curls meeting around his neck near a thorny choker. Such beauty should be forbidden.  

“The only way to go is forward. I hope you will do the same” he lilts. You gaze into his eyes.  

“Have you uncovered…what you’re searching for?”  

He pauses a long while, wind picking up in the space between you. You aren’t sure if he recognizes that he’s touching his book cover. “Not yet. There is a long journey ahead of me, lined with plenty more mistakes. But I’ve been given a second chance. I will do what I’ve set out to do.”  

It’s an answer enough for you. You nod, leading into a half-curtsy. He interrupts, “May I ask you…is there something you found within my music?”  

You aren’t sure. It could’ve been nothing at all. Or maybe the winter snow was worth treading, if it met unlatching from those hopeless shackles. “I don’t know. I think I’d have to find it within myself first.”  

His eyes crinkle and his lips curve into a cloying smile. The gentle undertones in his face burn rosy tonight, resembling a blooming carnation. “That’s a great answer.”  

Heat creeps upon your ears, and you look away, a slight crack in your throat. “I’m assuming you won’t play again, then? Since, your journey…”  

“Yes. That is correct.”  

Sad but not surprised, you’re grateful for this opportunity alone. “Alright, then”, you clasp your hands together, “May the Aeon’s guide you to safe planets and safer skies.”  

“You, as well” he smiles. You toy with your fingers, ashamed to ask for extra beyond this.  

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind?”  

“Sunday.” An odd name. So odd you believe it to be a lie. Nevertheless, you accept it.  

“Okay. Goodbye, Sunday.” You return a grin before turning on your heels.  

“Goodbye.”  

You’re walking back, but footsteps are coming towards you. When you look, a royal blue tweed restricts your eyesight. It binds you, heavy and warm to stave off the chill. Sunday puts the cloak over your body. He’s inches away from you, securing the tie near your neck. The light peaks behind his halo, streaks of gold aside the night kissing his delicate features. You feel his breath on your frosted nose, hot despite the air. He smells of salt and sugary pudding. Thankfully, the weather prevents your blush from being too obvious.  

“And do be careful tonight. It’s rather cold…” his voice trails off, waiting for you to catch the hint.  

“Oh! I-it’s (Y/N).”  

“It’s rather cold, (Y/N)” he puts an emphasis on your name. Each syllable, smooth and undeniably gratifying from his lips. He pulls the hood over, a finger ghosting against your cheek as he retreats. “Sweet dreams.”  

He leaves this time, never looking back.  

The ill-fitted garment about your shoulders. Heavy on your heart like a stone. You breathe into it. Salt and toffee pudding. Something blooms in its barren embrace.  

Pleasant, snug and all encompassing. Yet bittersweet. A final farewell to no destination.  

A hug. A hug is what it was.

[queenburd]

The use of color in The Stanley Parable: HD and Ultra Deluxe (with honorable mentions to the Demo)

dedicated to @squuote who needs more TSP analysis to rotate

A little over a year ago, I (only somewhat jokingly) lay out the argument that while The Stanley Parable is notorious in its use of yellow, the color yellow is not actually associated to the Narrator. The color most associated with him, I argued, was red. [1, 2]

I've had plenty of thoughts regarding color and TSP in the interim and I want to go over those thoughts today in as much depth as I can manage. You know, for fun. None of this is to argue about creator intent, but it's a fun way to stretch the critical thinking and literary analysis portions of my brain. It's also super cool if you don't agree with my readings, since the point is to get you thinking about these things and studying them to interpret for yourself.

Anyway let's gooooooo

(note: all images are embedded with a link to the source page I pulled them from. For those on mobile, be careful with your scrolling and tapping!)

Yellow

Okay let's start with the “obvious” one. Yellow is seen as one of the main colors in the game, it's the color of the main office and the primary assets associated with the Parable. We see yellow PRIMARILY in the beginning of the office, before the two doors room. It lines the cubicles and the walls are often interpreted as yellow (eh, they're more of an off-white. They're actually absorbing color from the brown-yellow carpet, and they do the same in the lounge).

It's the color of the Line(TM), it's the color of the cargo lift in the warehouse, and, most strikingly, it's the color of the SKIP Button.

We'll get to you.

Okay, so yellow is a color with conflicting interpretations, which is par for the course for all of them, we're not going TOO insane on color theory and color psychology we will be here ALL DAY and I was an ART student. So let's just look at the most basic reading. Bright, oversaturated yellow is a color that can exhaust the eyes easily. It grabs our attention like a highlighter and burns our retinas.

It can be a color of excitement, but it can also be a color of sickness. I've been thinking about the short story The Yellow Wallpaper the past couple days. Or maybe I've been thinking about it for longer. It's just that I haven't reread it in actual years, but every time I saw someone talk about the wallpaper in TSP, I thought about the story. Here's some passing thoughts on the short story in comparison to TSP. [3]

Sickness, and madness, and beginnings, and infinity. In the end, yellow, to me, is the color of the Parable grabbing the player (and by extension the Narrator) by the nose and saying “let's get moving. We have a story to play. Play the game, and keep playing.” Notable to me is how the SKIP button is almost scathingly yellow in contrast to the room it's in, and as the room gets darker the glow gets more foreboding. The Parable did this. The Narrator might think he made it, but he doesn't control it. Yellow isn't his color, and it never was.

Red

“Stanley walked through the RED. DOOR.”

The use of red in TSP is probably the most interesting and fun to analyze for me. It's used extremely intentionally and it's commonly associated with power, anger, and passion. We see red in the Boss's Office, in the Countdown ending, as the door to the Starry Dome, and a TON in the TSP2 Expo. There's red doors and signs in the Escape Pod Bay.

So I've joked that the color red is the Narrator's color, and while it's still a fun interpretation, it's not one I'm married to. I think it's more accurate to say red symbolizes control. The Zending Door is you letting him control the story. The Countdown screens are him taking control from you. And TSP2 is the Narrator trying to exert control over what the developers have made. It's a response to New Content and to the SKIP button. I have a million trillion thoughts about the TSP2 Expo but I won't get into them here.

Anyway, red feels very obviously to me associated with the Narrator trying to take control, or things only being possible when he has control. I'm thinking about the signs in the Escape Pod Bay telling you that it won't work without him. (I'm thinking about how the same door asset for the Zending is used in the Escape Pod Bay. No. shhh. Staying on topic.) So I don't have much more to say on the matter because I feel like I've tread this ground before. Red is about control, and it is held in direct contrast with blue.

Blue

Oh, blue. Soothing blue, sweet relaxing lounge and ocean paintings and boss's bathroom and blue door that leads to broken textures and an irritable Voice.

If red is the color of control, then blue is the color of rebellion. Small rebellion, sure. Rebellion that means nothing in the scheme of things. Blue is the stepping stone to bigger deviations from the path. I mean, the lounge is only the first step to the right, and you can still get on the “correct” path. The blue door you have to go through repeatedly, you have to make the choice multiple times, for it to lead to the Games ending. The boss's bathroom doesn't GO anywhere until after the epilogue. These are “rebellious choices” in a game where you don't really have a choice, and it's the closest you get to defiance.

I like to make it Stanley's favorite color for obvious reasons.

(Hey, fandom, why you keep associating it with the Curator? The only blue in the Museum is in a couple assets on display.)

Green

I gotta admit, while there's definitely something to green and its use in TSP, a clear meaning for it is eluding me, and I've been thinking about it on and off for a couple days now. It's a fairly infrequent color in TSP as a whole, but it does make an appearance. Besides being the color of plants (such as the ever important fern, the potted plants scattered through the office and the ones in the TSP2 expo, and of course the growth in the SKIP button room), it's also the wallpaper in the Demo, and the same wallpaper is used in the Boss's Office in the Real Person Ending. Thinking further, it also appears in the small room before the stage in the Press Conference Ending, and it's the color of the carpet in the HL2 Office that is found under the Games ending. (It was also brought up by my pal glitch that green is the color of the cursor on Stanley's screen, the first thing you see before gameplay begins. Good catch!)

Thinking about it, it's hard to find a throughline. There's something familiar about the green. Not necessarily safe, but it usually comes before something much bigger. Maybe this is a bit of a stretch, though. Let's say for now green is associated with the familiar in the face of the unfamiliar.

(There's possibly a thesis here about green being associated with gifts and surprises. The Narrator makes the Press Conference ending something that teases but also praises Stanley, the Green Room in the Demo is the space where the Demo is meant to be revealed to you, and that alternate Boss's Office is supposed to, in the Narrator's mind, be the first step to a wonderful story made just for you.)

White

Most people, when they think of white in The Stanley Parable, immediately think of the Museum. And they're right to! It's one of the most prominent environments that uses white. With that in mind, we can't forget the other places it appears, since it's best to keep everything in mind when trying to formulate a meaning for it.

So, other places where white is prominent: We have the out-of-bounds ending, and the Art ending (aka play that Baby game for four hours). We also have a massive part of the TSP2 expo.

Honestly, there is a lot of white in the rest of the office, but it tends to be absorbing the colors of the environment in ways that make it less noticeable. White's really good at that, which means the times where it's by itself as the outstanding color are outliers and feel intentional. So what do these things have in common?

Well, they kind of show the seams of the game? Take this with a grain of salt, but the Museum is designed to show you some of the design process for the game, effectively taking you out of the setting to give you a top-down perspective (hehe, literally in the case of the diorama of the office up to the two doors), and the out-of-bounds ending is a joke about breaking the map, falling out of the world , which can break immersion in other games. The TSP2 Expo is the Narrator showing off all the features for his sequel idea, giving a “sneak peek” of what will be included.

The Art ending doesn't fit with this thesis, but it does involve the... revelation, I suppose, of the “character” of the Essence of Divine Art. What I'm trying to get to is that white is a color of revelation and display.

Gray

Gray is not a color that tends to stand on its own merit in The Stanley Parable, and that in itself is intentional. Gray is used as a texture of “unfinished” things, things the Narrator doesn't want you to look closely at, and would prefer you move past Right Now Right This Second Please.

It's the walls of the Broom Closet, as well as the walls of the maintenance room. It's also the walls of the room right outside the Starry Dome—the hall that leads right to the stairs. (Honorable mention, @chirpbudgie brought up that the desks in the office are gray, which is also an implication of the way Stanley's coworkers seemed to disappear with work unfinished. There is a sense of “wrongness” in how they've all vanished. Nice eye, bud.)

You're not supposed to dwell in these places. Go back to the story, please!

Black

“Blackness, and a rising chill of uncertainty. Was it over?”

Last and least is black, less used as a color in its own right and more a use of shadow. It really stars primarily in the Mind Control Facility, dark rooms with a sense of foreboding. Honestly, what is there to say about black?

Only, I tell a lie. You see quite a lot of black in this game, don't you? After all:

It's the Loading screen.

Blackness is uncertainty, and mystery, like the game tells us, because anything could be hiding in the darkness, and anything could happen when that screen is finished loading. It's white's opposite not just in value but in meaning. You don't know what's going on, you just have to wait and see. Any time you might have an answer, or an ending, here comes that loading screen to wipe the slate clean and say “hey, what haven't you found yet? What haven't you tried? What tricks does this game still have up its sleeve?”

(And now I'm thinking about the Figurines ending, and how the Narrator shouts to stop the loading screen, to go back and stay in the familiar please!! Because the fellow hates uncertainty, really he does. But that's a thesis for another day.)

(We also can't forget that Ultra Deluxe's Setting the Time is also set on a black background, and there's always, to me, a sense of foreboding and uncertainty there too. What happens after this is the game, right? Is this for something? Is this doing anything? Is it changing anything?)

Silver

It's a bucket :)

Okay that's the end of this post. There's probably plenty more to say about this subject, this isn't exhaustive by any means. Color is an incredible tool, and visual storytelling and color interpretation is not in any way a science. As I posted bits of this in my server for extra feedback and examples of color, other folks brought up an entirely different interpretation of the color green. And I didn't even bring up Mariella being dressed in full green!

Anyway I didn't bring up orange because there's only a couple instances of it in the game but its always about unfinished things/assets (Baby game, just a lot of Games ending things) but it also shows up in the TSP2 Expo (Button That Says The Name of the Player Playing The Game (Jim)) for features that uuuuuh. Aren't done. So that's funny.

Like I said, there's almost certainly more to say about color theory and the game, but this thing is hitting 4 pages long and that's not including images oops.

I hope this was a fun read! Some of this stuff has been percolating in my brain for a while and it's good to finally get it on the page. Talk to me about TSP I love this game.

[wordsbyrian]

twitter is where people with horrendous takes go to get their egos inflated

[mymindcreatedthis]

Bet with Kerr 18+

Reader x Sam Kerr

Warning: Smut, Daddy kink, Dirty talk, R doming Sam, Sam Receiving, Rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, leg trapping, Blow Job, Throat pie, bonus tit fuck from Georgia Stanway, tit fuck, facial, cum shot, clit teasing, squirting, hair pulling, Positions: Missionary, On Side, Doggy, Reverse Cowgirl

Word count: 6.4k

Not proof read, so I apologize if there’s any mistakes.

*Y/n's pov*

It was game day today, we were playing Australia, Me and Sam have been texting back and forth all morning talking mad trash to each other.

Sam: I would easily score 4 goals on you love.

Me: Bullshit, I'll steal the ball from you and make you watch as I score on your team.

Sam: Well yeah of course I'd be watching 😂 watching you fail 😂

Me: Wow that's harsh. You think I would fail to score on you?

Sam: Oh shush. You're the one who started this argument.

Me: Yeah right, you're a cocky player love. I'm gonna put you in your place when we play each other.

Sam: Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try 😉 good luck Paige.

Me: Yeah yeah yeah. You're the one who's gonna lose.

Sam: fine! Let's make a bet!

Me: I'm listening.

Sam: okay fine, first one to get 3 goals, wins, the Winner gets to do whatever they want sexually to the loser.

Me: Aww is Sam Kerr in love with me?

Sam: Shut up. I am not, do you agree to the bet or not?

Me: Yes I'll take you on that bet.

Sam: Okay bet.

Me: Bet.

I turn off my phone and set it off to the side. I sigh and rub my face, Georgia notices this.

"What's Wrong Y?" Georgia asks.

Me and Georgia are best friends. She is the only one who is allowed to call me Y. Truth is I've been sexually frustrated and have had trouble getting a release for the past 3 days.

"Kerr and I made a bet. Winner gets to do whatever they want sexually to the loser." I say.

Georgia looks at me confused. "Okay? And I mean what's wrong with that? I don't see the issue."

"I haven't been able to.... You know in the past 3 days." I say. I was embarrassed to say it.

I was hoping she knew what I was talking about. Georgia looks at me confused.

"But no nut November is over." She giggles.

I giggle at her joke. "N-No I know that. I um am having trouble cumming." I say, rubbing the back of my neck and looking away in embarrassment.

"Well that's nothing to be embarrassed about." Georgia says, she pauses for a moment. "D-Do you want help with that?"

I look at her eyes wide and blushing. "W-What?"

Georgia giggles as I blush darkly at her comment. "I said do you want help with your boner babe?" She asks again.

"I-I uh I mean are you sure? I don't want to bother you with it." I say.

"Yes babe. I'll help you out with your boner, you need a release. You've been needing to cum for 3 days, let me help you." Georgia says.

I blush darkly and nod. Georgia takes off her shirt and bra and lays on the bed. I get the hint, I take off my shorts and boxers. Once my boxers are off my boner springs out and at attention.

Georgia giggles and sexily motions me over with her finger. I smirk and join her on the bed. "Come on Y/n." Georgia says and grabs her boobs. "Fuck my tits."

"Well that may have been the hottest thing I've heard." I say as I straddle Georgia's Sternum.

Once I'm straddling Georgia Sternum I stroke my dick until I'm hard then lay my dick in between her boobs. The brunette then grasps her tits and wraps them around my Dick then I start slowly sliding my dick in between Georgia tits.

"Does that feel good Y/n?" Georgia innocently questions.

"Fucking incredible." I say as I continue to fuck her tits.

As I keep fucking her tits Georgia starts talking Dirty to me which is really hot. It also makes me cum a lot faster than I thought it would.

"Where do you want me to cum?" I question.

"Just cum on me." Georgia says.

I nod and continue to fuck Georgia's tits. I moan loudly as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

"Mmm someone's close huh? Hehe you gonna bust your load all over me? You gonna shoot ropes of cum all over my tits and face?" Georgia questions and talks seductively.

I moan and continue to fuck her tits, Georgia continues to talk dirty as she keeps her tits wrapped around my dick. I moan loudly in pleasure after 2 more minutes I feel my balls tighten.

Cumshot/Facial:

I moan and bust my load all over her tits and face. Cum coats her tits, k moan as cum oozes and spurts onto her face coating her forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, lips, and eyes some even goes in her hair and in her mouth.

Georgia giggles as I cum. "Hehe that's it Y. Let it out."

I moan, Georgia slowly strokes my dick with her tits helping me ride out my high. The last of my cum spurting and oozing onto her face and tits.

"Mmmm hehe good girl." Georgia says.

I blush darkly at her comment. "T-Thank you."

Georgia giggles and kisses me. "Mmm you're welcome. Now let's get ready."

I smile and nod. I help her get cleaned up and then clean myself up. We brush our teeth again, we brush our teeth and then change into our kits. We put our shoes on and grab our bags, we grab our phones, wallets and key cards and leave the room and down the conference room we get lunch and then head to the stadium.

We go to our locker room, and the go out onto the field and start stretching. Australia was already on the field and were glaring at us, fuck if looks could kill we'd definitely be dead by now.

We finish stretches, and start the game. Both teams immediately start going for the ball, Sam gets the ball she nut megs Keira and runs up the field with the ball. She slams her foot into the ball, the ball flies past Mary and goes into the back corner of the next.

1-0, Sam looks at me she smirks and winks at me. I shake my head, wow she was extremely cocky. Made me want to fuck her even more. We get back into our positions and continue the game. Georgia gets the ball and passes it to me, I nut meg Sam. I get to the goal, I nutmeg Mackenzie Arnold and smash the ball into the back of the net.

1-1, I look at Sam I smirk and wink at her. Sam bites her lip and smiles. We continue the game, Sam and I continue to score goals. The score was now tied 2-2, we continue playing. Sam tires to nutmeg me but I steal the ball from her and run up the field with the ball. I smash my foot into the ball and the ball flies past Mackenzie Arnold and into the of the net.

Sam blushes and acts pissed but she's smiling a bit. I smirk, I look at her and wink at her as I had just won our bet. The game ends and we end up winning 4-2.

We shake hands with Australia and tell them good game. I get to Sam, she shakes my hand and grabs my ass. I blush as she does this, Sam giggles. "Good game babe. I'll text you my room later here in a bed. Come to mine at 12 am." Sam says.

I smirk and nod. "Okay babe, see you then." Sam giggles and nods, and walks away Australia goes back to their locked room while some of the players stay on the field and sign some stuff for the fans.

Sam was off in the corner signing some stuff for fans. She takes off her jersey, I bite my lip and check out her toned body and abs. Fuck she looked so good in a sports bra, I bite my lip as I think about her tits and fucking them.

she signs her jersey and gives it to a little girl. I smile as I watch her do this, the little girl light us and hugs her. Sam smiles and hugs her back. They take a picture together, I smile I get an idea and walk over to them. I take off my jersey and give it to Sam so she could at least get a bit over privacy, Sam smiles and blushes a bit. She thanks me and puts my jersey on.

I smile and hug Sam. "You look so fucking good in a sports bra. You've been a good girl baby, I think you deserve 4 creampies later." I whisper in her ear.

Sam blushes darkly. "F-Four?"

I smirk. "Yes baby, five. Even though you lost I'll still reward you, you played a really good game."

Sam cutely giggles and smiles. "Thank you baby, so did you." Sam whispers back.

"You look amazing in my jersey." I whisper.

Sam blushes. "Thank you. Later can you bring your clothes. After we're done fucking, I want to wear your clothes and keep them as a reminder of the girl who fucked me."

I smile and nod blushing a bit at her comment. "Of course." I smile and kiss her cheek and walk away. I grab my stuff and head back to the locker room. I strip my clothes and shower, I dry up and get changed into new clothes.

I grab my things and get on the bus. Soon the rest of the girls get on the bus and we head back to the hotel. Us and Australia were staying in the same hotel. We get to the hotel and I go up to my room.

I set my bag off to the side, I take off my shoes and plop onto the bed. I grab my phone, I set an alarm and end up falling asleep. I sleep for 5 hours and then wake up to my alarm. The game was at 1 pm and it was now 6 pm.

We had the option to get room service. I call the lobby and place my order, 45 minutes later my food shows up.

*Sam's pov*

Katrina and I go back to our room. "Hey Gorry." I say. Katrina looks over at me.

"What's up?" Katrina asks.

I was coloring with Harper. I cover Harper's ears, "Is there any way you can stay with Kyra and Charli for the night? Y/n is coming over and you know." I say trialing off.

Katrina smirks. "Yeah, sure. I can stay there for the night. Please don't fuck in my bed."

I giggle at her comment. "We won't, we'll be in my bed."

Katrina nods. I uncover Harper's ears, she was oblivious to what was being said cause she was still coloring as I was covering her ears. Katrina smiles and kisses Harper's head.

"Harper. We're gonna pack our bags and go to older sissy's room." Katrina says.

Harper cheers. "Yay Kyra!"

I giggle, they pack their things and leave the room. It was 10:30 pm. I sigh, fuck I was so horny. I kept counting down the hours and minutes waiting for Y/n to be here.

She looked so sexy in her sports bra. Fuck she had so many tattoos, her abs, chest, arms and legs were covered in tattoos. So were her hands and fingers. She was built like my mate Millie.

I lay down in my bed and turn on the tv. I was chilling out in my sports bra and Boxers, I smile when there was a knock on the door. I look through the peephole and see Y/n.

I open the door, she smirks when she sees me in my sports bra and boxers. "Sexy choice of clothing babe."

I blush at her comment and let her in.

I smirk and slap her ass, Y/n giggles and jumps as I slap her ass and blushes darkly. I giggle, I close the door behind her and lock it.

Y /n sets her clothes to the side and immediately pins me against the door and makes out with me. I immediately start kissing back, I lower my hand and rub her bulge over her shorts. Y/n moans in the kiss as I do this.

I smile against her lips. I moan and gasp as Y/n breaks the kiss, she kisses and suck on my neck. I moan as she marks my neck and claims me.

She kisses from my neck down to my chest. She leaves hickys on my chest. Y/n slips off my sports bra and tosses it off to the side. Y/n picks me up and kisses and sucks on my tits, I moan in pleasure as she does this.

Y/n walks us over to my bed and lays me on the bed. I make out with her and squeeze her ass, Y/n moans in the kiss as I squeeze her ass. I take off her shirt and sports bra and litter them on the floor next to the bed. 

Y/n pauses for a second. "I know we made a bet. Are you sure about this?" She asks making sure this is what I wanted.

I smile and nod. "Yes babe. I'm sure."

Y/n smiles and nods. Y/n kisses from my chest down to my stomach/ abs. I moan and run my fingers though her hair as she kisses and sucks on my abs leaving hickys.

She smirks and licks my abs and scratches them, I moan and get even more wet as she does this. This was a major turn on for me. Y/n kisses from my abs down to my Boxers, she kisses my pussy over my boxers. I moan as she does this.

"Y-Y/n... P-Please." I moan.

Y/n smirks and looks at me as she rubs my pussy over my boxers. "Please what baby?" She asks.

"Please stop teasing... I-I need you." I moan, begging for her touch. I was soaking wet and needed a release. 

Y/n smirks, she slides my boxers down my legs and tosses them off to the side. I moan as she licks my folds, Y/n giggles and swipes her finger up my folds collecting some of my juices on her finger.

"Fuck baby, you're soaking wet." Y/n says.

"Mmm all for you daddy." I say.

I moan as Y/n licks my folds. She smirks, she slips in a finger and slowly fingers me as she eats me out. I moan and run my fingers through her hair. Y/n locks eyes with me as she fingers me faster and continues to eat me out.

Fuck that's so sexy, I've never had a girl lock eyes with me while eating me out before. I could cum just from that alone, Y/n slips in a second finger and continues to go to town on my pussy fingering me faster and eating me out.

I moan, I rest my legs on her shoulders and wraps my thighs around her head. I roughly massage my tits and slowly grind against her face and fingers as she continues to eat me out and finger me.

"F-Fuck.... Mmm fuck right there just like that." I moan in pleasure.

I moan loudly in pleasure and grip the sheets as Y/n fingers me faster as she continues to eat me out. I moan as she rolls her tongue on my clit adding different amounts of pressure.

"Holy shit, Fuck daddy." I moan in pleasure.

Y/n sucks on my clit as she fingers me faster. I moan loudly in pleasure as I feel that familiar knot forming in my stomach.

"Fuck....Y/n baby I'm gonna cum." I moan.

Y/n continues to suck on my clit and fingers me even faster than before. I can't take it anymore, I cum all over Y/n's fingers, face, and chin. Y/n helps me ride out my high.

Y/n smirks, she takes her fingers out of me. Y/n licks and sucks my juices off her fingers and wipes my juices off her face. Y/n comes back up and kisses me, I moan in the kiss as I taste myself on her lips.

"Mmm you taste amazing baby." Y/n says.

I smile and kiss her. "Fuck you really know how to eat a girl out." I mutter panting and trying to catch my breath.

"Breathe baby, catch your breath. We will continues  once you get your breath back." Y/n smirks teasing my folds with her fingers.

I moan as she does this. "Y-Y/n don't t-tease." I moan.

*Y/n's Pov*

Fuck Sam was super wet. I smirk and tease her folds as she tries to catch her breath. "Y-Y/n don't t-tease." Sam cutely moans.

I giggle. "Sorry baby."

Sam catches her breath and flips us around. She was on top now. "Your turn now, I wanna get a taste of that dick."

Sam kisses me deeply, I smile in the kiss and kiss her back. Sam breaks the kiss and kisses my neck. I moan as she kisses and sucks on my neck leaving a few hickys. I moan as she leaves some hickys on my neck.

I moan as she leaves hickys on my neck claiming me. Fuck I really wanted her to claim me and make me hers. Sam kisses my neck down to my chest.

Sam kisses and sucks in my chest and boobs leaving hickys. I moan in pleasure as she does this.

"Mmm fuck." I moan.

Sam kisses my chest down to my toned stomach and abs. She kisses and sucks on my abs leaving hickys, I moan in pleasure as she does this and run my fingers through her hair. Sam's hair was in a ponytail, I take the hair tie out of her hair and let her hair down.

"Mmm sexy." I say.

Sam giggles and kisses my bulge over my shorts, I moan as she does this, she playfully tugs at the waist band of my shorts silently asking for permission. I nod, Sam slides my shorts and boxers down my legs and tosses them off to the side.

My dick springs out once it's freed from its confinement. "Wow baby you're huge." Sam says measuring my dick with her forearm.

I blush darkly at her comment. "T-Thanks." I stutter a bit.

Sam licks her palm, she wraps her hand around my dick and slowly strokes my dick. I moan as she does this.

"Mm fuck." I moan in pleasure.

Sam giggles and strokes my dick a bit faster, I moan in pleasure once I'm hard Sam takes my dick in her mouth and slowly bobs her head.

"Mmm fuck." I moan.

Sam hums against my dick and bobs her head a bit faster as she starts playing with my balls. I moan in pleasure and run my fingers through her hair.

"Mmm shit." I moan.

The tip of my dick hits the back of her throat, I moan and hold her hair up in a pony tail as she continues to give me head.

"F-Fuck." I moan as she bobs her head faster. "Fuck Sam, just like that." I moan.

Sam sucks the soul out of my dick and bobs her head faster and massages my balls, I moan in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer to cumming.

"Sam baby, I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

Sam continues to give me head, I moan as I feel my balls tighten.

Throat pie:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load in her mouth. Sam chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth, Sam swallows my load and sucks me dry. Sam collects every last of my cum.

My dick falls from her mouth, Sam smiles and shows me a mouth full of cum. Some of my cum drips down her chin.

I smile and rub her chin. "Swallow my cum baby."

Sam smiles and swallows my cum. "Mmm daddy you taste good." Sam says.

I smile, and blush at her comment and her nick name. I grab the condom and the pill off the night stand but Sam takes it from me and throws them away.

"No pill and no condom." Sam says seductively.

I giggle and bite my lip. "Fucking hell that might've been the hottest thing I've heard."

Sam giggles, she joins me on the bed Sam lays on her side and scoots her ass back against me. Sam lifts her ass cheek up a bit.

I smirk and slide my dick Inside her wet pussy, I moan as her walls immediately clench around me. Sam moans as she takes my length deep inside her. I moan, I rest my head against hers and massage her tits as I slowly thrust in and out of her.

"Such a good girl." I tease her.

"Mmm fuck, all for you." Sam moans In pleasure.

I smirk and look into her eyes full of lust, as I continue to thrust in and out of her. I lift her leg up a bit as I thrust in and out of her tight wet pussy faster and faster.

Sam moans and looks deep into my eyes. "Mmm I've been such a naughty girl. Mmm fuck." Sam moans seductively.

I moan and thrust into her faster and faster, my balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room. Sam moans and looks deep into my eyes as I continue to fuck her brains out.

"Fuck....fuck....fuck." Sam squeaks out with each thrust. Sam's mouth hangs open, her eyes roll to the back of her head as I continue to pound her pussy.

Sam moans and screams in pleasure as I hit her g spot. "Ahhh I'm gonna squirt." Sam moans in pleasure. I hold her leg up and thrust into her faster and harder, her boobs bounce up and down as I continue to fuck her.

I reach down and rub her clit with my thumb. Sam legs lean against mine. "Oh fuck." Sam shouts as she squirts like crazy all over the bed and sheets.

I smirk and kiss her neck and gently slap her pussy, Sam moans and shudders as I do this. I smirk and moan in her ear, I wrap my arm around her waist and continues to hold her leg up as I thrust in n's out of her harder and faster.

"Mmm fuck it feels so good." Sam cries out in pleasure.

I moan in pleasure and keep going. I moan as I feel myself getting close to cumming.

"Ahhh I'm close." I moan.

"Me too." Sam moans.

I moan in pleasure, my breathing gets heavier letting Sam know that I'm close to cumming.

"Yes cum in me. Cum in me." Sam moans begging for my load as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

"S-Sam baby I'm gon-" I try to warn in her in time but I'm unable too.

Creampie #1:

I moan in pleasure and bust my load deep inside her. Sam moans and cums all over my dick, we both moan as I shoot ropes of cum deep inside her and paint her walls white.

"Mmm fuck there's so much cum." Sam moans in pleasure.

I moan and lean in and kiss her. I moan in the kiss as the last of my cum oozes inside her. I help her ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out of her.

Thick cum oozes out of her and drips down her thigh and onto the bed. "Fuck there's so much cum deep inside me." Sam moans in pleasure as my cum oozes inside her.

I smile and kiss her. "Mmm fuck baby, your pussy feels like heaven." I moan.

Sam giggles and kisses back. "Mmm you have amazing dick game."

"Yeah?" I ask laughing a bit.

"Yeah you can really make a girl cum." Sam says panting and trying to catch her breath.

Sam catches her breath, I smirk and lay her in Missonary. I rub my dick through her folds. I slowly slide my dick inside her. We both moan as her walls immediately clench around my dick.

"Mmm tell me when to move baby." I moan in pleasure

Sam nods, she takes a moment to adjust to my size. "Mmm fuck I thought you were big in my mouth but you feel even bigger inside me."

I smirk, I lean down and kiss her. Sam kisses back. "M-Move." Sam moans.

I rest my head against Sam's  and look deep into her eyes as I slowly thrust in and out of her.

*Sam's pov*

I moan in pleasure as Y/n slowly thrusts in and out of me. Fuck she's really deep inside me, I can feel her massive dick throbbing inside me. She really needed a release, I moan and rest my head against hers.

I look down and watch her dick slowly slide in and out of me. Fuck she was balls deep inside me, she was so sexy her cute moans as she thrust into me a bit faster than before.

I moan, I reach down and grip her ass as she thrusts into me a bit faster than before. I moan loudly in pleasure.

"Mmm fuck you're really deep in there." I moan in pleasure.

"Yeah? You like that baby? Daddy balls deep inside you stretching out your walls?" She questions as she goes faster and faster.

"Mmm I love it." I moan in pleasure as her balls slap against my skin and our moans fill the room. Fuck she was so sexy when she is a Dom. Her being a Dom made my legs weak and made me super wet.

It was a major turn on. I moan in pleasure, my walls clench around her. It's only been 10 minutes and I was already about to cum.

"Mmm someone close?" Y/n asks seductively.

"Mmm I'm close baby, I'm gonna cum." I moan in pleasure.

"Let go baby. Cum for daddy." Y/n sexily whispers in my ear.

I moan and she kisses on my neck leaving hickys. I moan as I feel myself getting closer to cumming.

"Mmm I'm gonna squirt." I moan.

I squirt all over her abs, her dick and all over her thighs and all over the sheets. Y/n smirks and keeps going. Y/n goes at an angle and starts to hit my G spot.

Y/n and I both moan in pleasure. I moan and wrap my legs around her waist and pull her closer to me and leg trap her so she can't pull out.

"Mmm fuck so tight." Y/n cutely moans out in pleasure.

I pull her down and wrap my arms and legs around her as she continues to thrust in and out of me faster and harder. I moan and kiss her, we both moan in the kiss. She breaks the kiss and places her face in the crook of my neck.

Fuck she has amazing dick game. Y/n moan and kisses my neck as she thrusts in and out of me harder and faster. Her balls slap against my skin as our moans fill the room.

I feel her dick throbbing inside me, she was super hard and really needed a release.i moan as I feel that familiar knot forming in my stomach. I moan and grip the sheets.

"Y/n baby, I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

"Ugh me too baby." Y/n moans.

I feel her precum leak inside me letting me know that she was close to cumming and desperate needed a release. My legs shake in pleasure as she continues to pound my g spot.

I feel my walls clench around her dick. "Need to cum baby?" Y/n asks as she moans in pleasure.

"So damn bad." I moan in pleasure.

"Let go baby." Y/n moans as she fucks my brains out. I moan and squirt all over her abs and dick y/n moans in pleasure as she goes as fast and as hard as she can go.

Y/n's breathing gets heavier letting me know that she was close to cumming. "Yes, yes cum in me, I'm not letting you go until you cum in me." I moan in pleasure.

I was as I see pleasure on her face. Her face cutely contorts as she is about to bust her load deep inside me.

"Mmm f-fuck." Y/n cutely moans in pleasure.

I giggle. "Cum baby, cum in my slutty pussy."

*Y/n's pov*

I moan in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer to cumming. My breathing gets heavier letting her know that I was close to cumming.

"Yes, yes cum in me. I'm not letting you go until you cum in me." Sam moans in pleasure.

"Mmm fuck." I moan in pleasure.

Sam giggles. "Cum baby, cum in my slutty pussy." Sam moans loudly in pleasure. Sam moans and leg traps me so I can't pull out.

Creampie #2:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside Sam. Sam moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as I dhoot ropes of cum deep inside her and paint her walls white.

"Mmm fuck." Sam moans.

I rest my head against hers as I continue to slowly thrust in and out of her slowly pumping her full of cum. I help Sam ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out of her.

Thick cum oozes out of her and onto the bed. We both lay there panting and trying to catch our breaths. "Fuck you are amazing in bed." Sam pants out.

I giggle and kiss her. "Mmm so are you." I smile and look into her eyes.

Sam giggles, she moves to the middle of the bed and gets on all fours. I bite my lip as she shakes her ass, some of my cum continues to ooze out of her and drips onto the sheets. I bite my lip and check out her ass. I smirk, I move behind her.

I slap her ass, Sam moans and jumps as I slap her ass.

"Fuck daddy I love when you spank me." Sam moans.

She moans as I slap her ass again.i smirk and rub my dick through her cum filled pussy.

"Such a good slut." I moan as I slide my dick back inside her cum filled pussy.

We both moan, I place my hand on her hip. I grab her hair with my other hand I wrap her hair around my hand. I slowly thrust in and out of her as I pull her hair.

"Fuck....fuck....fuck." Sam squeaks out with each thrust.

"Like that baby? Daddy's dick deep inside you stretching you out?" I ask teasing her.

Sam moans and nods. "Fuck yes, I love your dick deep inside me stretching me out."

Sam moans and throws her ass back against me as I continue to fuck her cum filled pussy faster and faster as I pull her hair.

I pull her close to me. We both moan as this causes my dick to go a bit deeper inside her. Shit this is so good I'm balls deep inside her.

"Shit I don't think I'll last long babe. Ugh your grip is amazing." I moan loudly in pleasure.

Sam giggles and moans throwing her ass against me sliding back and forth on my dick faster helping me out.

"I guess I should help you out and make you cum deep inside me huh?" Sam moans.

I moan loudly as I feel myself getting closer to cumming. Fuck her pussy was tight and warm and felt like heaven.

"Mmm I'm close." I moan.

"Ugh shit....me too." Sam moans.

I moan loudly my balls slapping against her skin as our moans fill the room. I moan loudly in pleasure her walls clench around my dick.

Sam throws her ass back against me as she slides back and forth on my dick faster and faster. Fuck shes really gonna make me cum.

"Ahh Sam baby I'm close." I moan in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer.

Sam moans and goes faster and harder. I moan in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming.

Sam screams in pleasure and squirts again. Sam squirts all over my dick, and on the bed sheets.

"Baby, I'm really close." I moan.

I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls as Sam goes faster and faster.

Creampie #3:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Sam moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as I shoot ropes of thick sticky cum deep inside her painting her walls white.

"Fuck I feel so full." Sam moans.

I smirk, I help Sam ride out her high. Once we both come down from our highs, I slowly pull out of her. Cum oozes out of her and glazes her folds and drips down her thighs and onto the bed.

I slap her ass again. Sam moans as I slap her ass, I lean down and kisses her ass. Sam moans as I lick her pussy from behind and lick up some of the cum, Sam gasps and moans and pushes her ass back against my face.

I wrap my arms around Sam from behind. I smile and kiss her back and neck, I pull her back and smirk as we are both laying in Reverse Cow Girl position.

I lay her on top of me, her back against my tits. I spread her legs with mine. I smirk as she's now in reverse cowgirl. Sam moans and shudders as I rub her clit with my dick. "Mmm fuck." She moans. I smirk as her legs shake and buckle in pleasure as I do this.

"Put it back in. Put it back in daddy." Sam cutely begs.

"Mmm yeah slut? You want daddy's dick back inside you?" I ask teasing her.

"Mmm fuck please daddy, Ive been such a good girl. I'm such a slut for your dick and cum. Please I want more." Sam says.

I smirk and grant her wish. I slide my dick back inside her, Sam moans as she takes my 11 inches back deep inside her. I moan as her walls immediately clench around me.

Sam moans and leans back against me as my dick is back inside her cum filled pussy. I place my hands on her hips, I spread her legs a bit more with mine and slowly thrust up into her pussy.

"Mmm fuck, right there. Ugh just like that." Sam moans.

I moan in pleasure and thrust up into her faster. My balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room, fuck her pussy felt so good. She had amazing grip, her pussy felt like heaven. Mmm so Wet and warm.

"Fuck baby you're so tight and warm." I moan.

I thrust up into her faster and harder. Sam screams in pleasure and grips the sheets, I make her look at me and make out with her. We both moan in the kiss as I continue to bottom out in her pussy.

We break the kiss, we rest our heads against each other's. "Feels so good. Don't you dare fucking stop, don't you dare stop. we aren't stopping until you give me every last drop of cum." Sam moans in pleasure

I smirk. "Yeah slut? You want more, such a naughty girl."

We both moan as I thrust up into her pussy faster and harder. "Fuck, I'm gonna squirt!" Sam screams in pleasure

I smirk, I slap and tease her clit. Sam moans and shudders as I do this, Sam moans loudly in pleasure and squirts. I smirk as I feel some of her juices go on my thigh. She squirts on the blankets and sheets.

We both moan, I continue to thrust up into her faster and harder. I moan as I feel myself getting closer to cumming. "S-Sam baby I'm close." I moan.

"Me too. Don't stop don't stop." Sam moans.

My balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room. I rub her clit with my thumb at a fast pace. My breathing gets heavier letting Sam know that I was close to cumming.

"Yes cum in me, cum in me." Sam moans.

I moan loudly In pleasure as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

Creampie #4:

I can't take it anymore, I thrust up into her and bust my load deep inside her. Sam moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as cum oozes and spurts inside her painting her walls white.

I slowly thrust up into Sam. I help Sam ride out her high. I slowly thrust up into her as the last of my cum oozes and spurts inside her.

I moan and slowly pull out of her, my dick falls limp. Cum immediately pours out of her. Cum coats her folds and drips onto the blankets and sheets.

"Mmm fuck there's so much. I feel so full With your cum inside me." Sam moans.

I smirk. "Good,I stuffed you full, like the loser slut you are." I say rubbing her sensitive clit.

Sam giggles and shudders as I do this. "Mmm fuck, that was amazing." Sam looks at me and smiles. "Wanna shower together?"

I smile and nod. We go into the bathroom and shower together, we get dressed. Sam changes into my clothes, I smile and kiss her deeply and lovingly.

"Mmm you look good in my clothes." I say.

Sam blushes and smiles. "Thank you babe."

I smile. "I can get used to this."

Sam smiles. "Me too." Sam rests her head against mine as we lay there and look into each others eyes. "Y/n, I've had the biggest crush on you.... Will you be my girlfriend?" Sam says.

I smile and nod. "Yes, hehe I had a crush on you too. Yes Sam, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

We smile and kiss again. We order breakfast, we go get coffee and do a little coffee date. We come back to her room and just cuddle and watch movies for the rest of the day.

[cassieoz]

Pushing With A View

The sun was streaming through the huge window when Tanya woke and felt down her massive pregnant frame. She was warm under the covers but her body was restless. The gentle ripplings of early labor was turning into something stronger and more powerful. Tanya rubbed her throbbing orb as she tried to sit up. She was slammed back into the sheets with a mega stab of agony. She ran both her hands over her contracting core and panted heavily. The pain was twisting and expanding rapidly. Another sharp pain exploded that travelled all the way to her pounding opening. She thought to herself in sheer panic, "This is it!"

The laboring mother felt feverish as she initatively felt between her legs and pressed her fingers inside her folds. It was damp! Her waters had broken while she slept. She rocked on the sheets for a brief time, playing with her clit. She was enjoying the pleasurable sensations when the next surge exploded. Tanya threw her head and yelled from its violent shock wave. She opened her folds again to felt a massive dome pressing towards her entrance. Her mind was spinning. Her thoughts went insane. "It is time! I need to birth! I need to push!"

Tanya pulled back the quilt with shaking hands to find her quaking belly rocking wildly. The intensity of the present contraction was breathtaking. Her middle was covered in beads of sweat. She gasped and panted frantically as she clutched the fitted sheet underneath her naked form. Tanya breathed faster and faster as the surge increased its savage bombardment. She gripped the cotton material with tight fists. Tanya grew desperate as the surge became unbearably stronger. The pain suddenly erupted in a tremendous peak. The laboring woman bellowed and threw herself against the pillows. She cried again as the need to bear down commenced. She could feel the heaviness in her vaginal cavity as she pushed against it with incredible determination. The head was huge! The need to free it was her only priority now. She squirmed and grunted aggressively as more efforts followed with strong pushing groans.

Tanya struggled to arrange pillows around herself when a brief break was granted to her. She was sweating profusely with cold, clammy hands as Tanya prepared for the next onslaught. The birther didn't have to wait long. The next brutal pang took hold with full ferocity. Tanya went back to work with focus and strength.

The pushing was hard and exhausting! With each incredible effort, the enormous head slammed against her burning lips, spreading her wide and open. The small attic room filled with cries of birth as the progression lead to screams of sheer terror. The torturous contractions came relentlessly. The battle of childbirth was taking over completely. The painful surges raged through her stretching core. Her baby was aggressively trying to escape through her slowly, opening passage.

Tanya grunted loudly before pushing against the gigantic shape of the head. Grunting sounds rapidly companied agonising cries. Tanya frantically moaned and panted as she rose and shoved down on the birthing head with all her physical stamina. The stinging, shooting sensations exploded all through her vaginal cavity as the mega sphere grow wider and wider......

Her hands clutched the sheets with great fear. When the pain grew too much to handle, the preparing mother pressed her long fingers into her aching clit. She rubbed wildly, bringing on orgasmic pressure to power the need to keep birthing her entrapped offspring.

Birthing screams filled the entire upper floor of the estate. Howling cries vibrated off the wooden walls as more of the head became visible between her thighs. Tanya was driven mad with the excruciatingly strong efforts. It was coming! It was so close! It was about to erupt any moment now.

Tanya spread her legs as wide as she could as the worst pain gripped her womb with unimaginable torture. She pushed against it with the loudest shout ever. She roared out at the top of her lungs as the pain repeated. She bore down as her entire body exploded into a million pieces. Orgasmic pressure along with birthing agony forced her open fully. The head erupted forward. She gasped as the rest of the baby kept birthing out of her vagina.

The baby cried between her legs as her son announced his arrival. He was gigantic, healthy and full of energy. Tanya quickly cradled him in the surrounding sheets and blankets. She nursed him agsinst her chest as she slowly regained her composure.

Wow! What an incredibly powerful morning! She smiled weakly as her partner's footsteps followed with the opening of the attic door to discover his morning surprise!!!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Rev. 22:20 - Chapter Two: Martyr

Warnings: Talk of religion, unhappy family circumstances, male masturbation. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Aemond keeps a promise to Helaena and makes a confession.

Author's note: I do not have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications to be updated when I post a fic. Community labels are for cops.

For the next seven days, the young woman he’d seen in the Sept is all Aemond can think of. He has never heard her voice and has no idea of what her name is, yet the image of her beauty is burned into his mind like a brand.

When he trains in the yard and the sunlight reflects upon his blade, he thinks of how her hair had shone in the dappled light of the windows as she’d moved about the Chancel. When he retires to the library to read, and the pages of his book slip between his fingers, he thinks about how delicately hers had wrapped around the wick she’d used to light the candles.

Perhaps they’d appear just as dainty when wrapped around his manhood.

He thinks of her when they bow their heads in prayer before supper, of how his eye had met hers as he’d left the Sept. He wonders if she thinks of him.

Do her thoughts wander to him, as her hand drifts between her legs?

She dominates his thoughts as he strokes himself to completion - a much more frequent occurrence since laying his eye upon her - he imagines spreading her out upon the altar, her wanton cries echoing off of the domed ceiling of the Sept as he spears her open with his cock. He drives himself to release after frenzied release, spilling over his knuckles and wishing it was deep inside of her instead.

Even in sleep, she gives him no respite. He dreams of her beckoning him to touch her, yet every time he reaches for her she slips away, always a hair’s breadth too far for him to grab. He wakes up each time sweating and painfully hard.

By the time Alicent’s weekly visit to the Grand Sept is upon him once more he almost doesn’t want to go. He fears that the reality of her will never live up to all of the ways in which he’s fantasised about her, that she will not be as ethereal as he remembers and he will leave disappointed, his illusion shattered.

Yet at the same time, the need to see her again is all consuming. He feels he may go mad if he doesn’t have the opportunity to look upon her face, to reassure himself that she is real and not something he has imagined. He longs for the opportunity to hear her speak, to know if her voice is as beautiful coming from her mouth as it is in his head.

The decision is made for him when Helaena asks that he visit the Dragonpit when accompanying their mother to the Sept. She has not seen Dreamfyre since giving birth to the twins, and misses her dearly. Though she knows the Keepers will be taking good care of her, she would like the reassurance of Aemond having seen her to put her mind at ease.

He agrees, wondering if the big, blue she-dragon will be filled with as much fury to see him as she was when he’d pestered her as a child, eager to see if she might have laid an egg for him to claim. He has Vhagar now, so he hopes not; his intentions are not quite so intrusive, and his mind is otherwise occupied.

As the carriage rolls through King’s Landing, Aemond is filled with restless energy, overwhelmed by the urge to burst into laughter with how rapidly his pulse races and the way his thoughts blur together, too quickly for them to be coherent. He purses his lips, remaining outwardly stoic, the drumming of his fingers upon his leg the only indication that he feels ill at ease.

“Did you hear me, Aemond?” Alicent leans over, brows knitted together in concern and mild irritation.

He startles out of his thoughts, her face swimming into focus as he finally looks at her. “Hm?”

She sighs, leaning back and smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I said, I need to speak with the Septas today. We must appoint one to aid Helaena with the care of the twins.”

Aemond simply nods, thinking it was barely worth the effort to listen to. He has no interest in talking to any of the withered old crones his mother will likely end up conversing with.

Casting his eye around the Sept as they enter, the crushing disappointment he experiences upon not seeing her is enough to drive him to violent rage.

How dare she not be here when he has spent the entire week thinking of nothing else?

The urge to topple the idols, tear down the tapestries and break apart the candlesticks has Aemond’s fingers flexing at his sides. Instead, he exhales sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw and stalking away as his mother takes up her position of prayer. He is in no mood to pretend to pray today.

He paces the sept, his eye fixed upon the tapestries, though he does not comprehend the images they depict, too engrossed in his own thoughts as he tries to calm his temper and pounding heartbeat.

Perhaps it is for the best that she is not here. He has likely misremembered her beauty, built her up in his mind to a standard which is simply unattainable. Even if she were here, what could he say to her? He is a Prince and she is a woman of faith, the two are destined for very different life paths.

Still, it does not stop the ache inside of him that yearns for her. He ponders on what her name could be, if her hair feels as silky as it looks, if the smooth skin of her cheek would be as soft as he imagines it to be. He imagines how the plushness of her lips would take shape as they round out the syllables of his name, coated in his spend.

He loses all track of time, as he wanders, fingertips grazing the stone pillars, until he is broken out of his reverie by the voice of his mother. His own curiosity gets the better of him and he steps closer, wanting to listen in.

She stands talking with one of the Septas, leathery skinned and sour faced, but it is not that that captures his attention, beside them is her. Her shiny hair and bright eyes are just as perfect as he’d remembered - no - better. His imagination is not capable of conjuring such a vision.

From the way she looks between Alicent and the Septa it is clear they are talking about her, and he does his best to hear what they’re saying.

“...as part of her training, she hears confession each day during the hour of the crow–”

His eye widens. She takes confession. He would have the opportunity to speak to her, if only he can delay his return to the Keep by an hour. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears as he struggles to regulate his breathing, and then he remembers his promise to Helaena before he had left earlier that day. He has the perfect excuse, and his mother’s hatred of the Dragonpit means she is unlikely to hang around.

When he feels Alicent’s gentle touch upon his elbow, the softness of her voice enquiring as to whether he is ready to leave, he turns to face her, taking her hands into his, doing his best to sound apologetic.

“Forgive me, Mother. I made a promise to Helaena to check on Dreamfyre for her, and I had quite forgotten. Return home without me, I am unsure of how long I will be.”

Alicent’s mouth tightens in displeasure and she sighs. “Very well. I’ll have the carriage sent back for you once I return.”

He nods, thanking her and watching her go, before making his way to the Dragonpit.

He has not been here since he was a boy, he has had no need to since claiming Vhagar. She is much too large to be confined here and he himself is struck by how less vast it seems now that he is a grown man and no longer a child.

The dustiness and dank smell takes him back to the day that Aegon and his nephews had presented him with ‘The Pink Dread’ and he scowls at the memory, remembering how they’d laughed as his cheeks had burned hot with humiliation.

He shakes the thought away, making his way towards the tunnel in which he remembers his sister’s dragon prefers to nest. He wonders if Aegon has checked in on her for Helaena since she made him a father. He knows Aegon must come here for Sunfyre, but if that were the case then why would Helaena ask Aemond to look in on her? Another of Aegon’s failings. Too selfish to accompany their mother to the Sept, too thoughtless to check upon the wellbeing of his wife’s dragon.

The last time Aemond had intruded upon Dreamfyre’s rest, she had roared at him, shooting fire towards him and causing him to stagger backwards. This time she is subdued, remaining curled upon the earthen floor, one cat-like eye regarding him reproachfully.

“What is wrong with her?” Aemond asks the Keeper.

“She is missing her rider, Your Grace,” he responds, leaning heavily on his staff, “It has been many months since Princess Helaena has ridden her.”

Aemond cannot help the pity he feels for the poor creature. “She will return soon,” he says, “The birth was a difficult one and she is still recovering, but my mother is enlisting help for the care of the babes, so Dreamfyre will have her rider back soon enough.”

He departs with a nod towards the Keeper, unsure of what to tell Helaena. It would crush his sister to know that her dragon is suffering in her absence, though he senses she is probably already aware of that, otherwise she would not have asked him to check. Perhaps she will feel better if he simply tells her that her dragon is eager to have her back.

The idea is pushed from his mind as he reenters the Sept and sees her making her way towards the confessional box. Commonfolk have yet to gather, so if he hurries he will get to be her first of the day.

His stones ache and his throat runs dry at the thought that he will finally hear her voice, finally speak to her. It strikes him as he walks towards the box that he has no idea of what he will confess, so fixated on the notion of speaking with her he has not even begun to think about what he might say.

It is too late to ponder on it as he finds himself seated on a wooden stool, the latticed opening in the centre of the box obscures her from his view and he despises it, wanting nothing more than to look upon her face as he speaks to her, to watch her pretty mouth as she talks to him.

“Blessings be upon thee,” comes her soft voice through the partition, “Are you here to confess?”

His chest tightens at the dulcet tones, it is as though he has forgotten how to breathe. He knew her voice would be every bit as lovely as she appears, but he never imagined it so sweet. His eye flutters closed, as he imagines how it would sound moaning his name, the slight upward lilt of how she would sound out the first syllable.

Aemond draws in an unsteady breath. “Y-yes, I am here to confess.”

“Then unburden yourself to me, and be cleansed of your sins.” She invites gently.

I’d martyr my own mother to ride through all seven Hells between your thighs.

He swallows thickly, thinking of something innocuous he can tell her that won’t identify him to her. “I-I covet what my brother has, and I am resentful that as first born he is given everything and squanders it.”

There is a slight pause before she replies. “You must pray to The Smith for the strength to overcome your jealous nature.”

Aemond bites back the urge to chuckle. 

Utter nonsense. 

But he is enjoying talking to her, and he is eager to continue. He realises that he wants her to know who he is, to be aware that there is a Targaryen Prince seated beside her, so he presses on.

“I harbour ill intent towards my nephew. I have never forgiven him for taking my eye. I wish for his in exchange.”

He hears her breathe in suddenly. She knows. How could she not?

Her tone is slightly unsure as she advises him, clearly rattled by what he has said. “Pray…pray to the Father for the wisdom to accept the justice you will never receive, and to the Warrior to have the valour to forgive such a slight.”

Aemond smirks at this.

Never.

He is beginning to enjoy himself, however, so he continues.

“I have been having lustful thoughts…about a woman, a novice from this very Sept.”

He hears her breaths begin to become more rapid and feels pride swell within his chest.

“I imagine taking her virtue on the very altar to which the people of King’s Landing offer up their prayers, I think about how she’d feel writhing beneath me as I rut into her, I–”

“P-please…” Her voice is trembling, her breathing ragged.

The reality of the situation hits Aemond like an icy jolt and he knows he has gone too far, he has frightened the poor girl.

Not giving her a moment to say anything else, he hurries from the confessional box. His leather boots echo off of the flagstones as he makes his way back out onto the street with long strides, grateful to see the carriage ready and waiting for him.

Despite the shame that blooms heavy within his chest, he strains against his breeches, the thrill of his confession heating his blood in a steady thrum. 

The moment his chamber doors close, his cock is in his fist bringing himself to the edge with thoughts of everything he’d described to her, the sound of her voice, the image of her lips wrapped around him. As his breaths become less controlled he pauses, struck by recognition at the similarity in pace and depth, and that is finally what pushes him into oblivion, spilling over his knuckles with a strangled groan. He recognised those laboured breaths, breaths of pleasure, breaths of a salacious nature.

Had she been touching herself to what he’d been telling her?

Part one || Part three || Series masterlist

[snowywolf1005]

JOYBOY LUFFY X LUNALA READER VS KAIDO PT3

You and luffy are still again fighting kaido. Kaido is still mad at you two. "The King of the Pirate?!" Kaido yelled.

Luffy looked at kaido. "It's good to know that you two still impudent, Straw Hat! When you two mind and body catch up to your power, Awakening occurs! How ridiculous you two powers is!" Said kaido.

It made you pissed off that you wanna kill him so bad and for talking shit you two are. Kaido remembers the flashback of how you and luffy beat with you powers.

Luffy laughs for a moment. "I've already lost so much... I've lost so much of what I've built." Said kaido, he was pissed off what you and luffy, his crew did.

Luffy crew killed each one of kaido crew members. "My subordinates and the castle! You two lost a lot, too." Said kaido.

"Even so, there are things I have to take back!" Luffy yelled. Kaido turns to pruple lighting you and luffy turn to red lighting, lighting storm come out.

"You'll lose more and more! Because I will take more from you two!" Kaido yelled. Kaido jumped forward towards you and luffy.

"Kundali Dragon Swarm!". You transform your shadows' monster form. And use your wings to cover luffy as a blanket.

Your shadows monster:

Kaido hits each one of your wings, but you didn't let him stop you. You fly back, "Air Slash!" You scream, air slash:

The air slash hits kaido every each of his body, causing him to cough blood. Kaido walked back. You landed, you put luffy on the ground, and kaido got up a little.

Then you smell smoke, and you cough so as luffy. You look to see, a ground and a fire lit up. You and luffy were so confused.

"The floors and the castle are all on fire below. I'm sure thousands of your soldiers are stuck there, too. They'll all burn to death!" Kaido yelled.

"Don't underestimate them, kaido!" Luffy smiles, "Cause we believe in them, and they believe in us!" You smile too. Kaido was shocked.

"We left everything below in their hands! So we'll just... focus on kicking your ass!" Luffy yelled. Luffy runs forward, and he laughs, "The way you laugh annoys me! Demolition Gust!" Kaido yelled.

Luffy screamed, and he pulled his crotch up, and the slash missed him. "It almost hit my crotch!" Said luffy. Kaido was about to hit luffy, but luffy jumped behind kaido.

Luffy Bounce, really high, kaido turnaround was in shock. Lighting struck, luffy smiles. "I have an idea!" Said luffy.

"Oi! (Y/N)! I've an idea, and I hope you love it!" Luffy yelled. Oh yeah, you were flying watching Luffy beating kaido, making sure he okay. 'I hope it isn't stupid,' you thought.

At the bottom of the castle, everything is on fire. In the performance floor inside the dome, "it's not just the castle anymore! All the towers are burning! " Someone yelled.

"Everyone! Where are you?!" Chooper yelled, looking for his teammates. Then Nami heard Chooper voice, "Hey!" Chooper yelled again. "Chooper!" Nami yelled as she walked behind Chooper.

"Nami!" Chooper yelled, Chooper burst out of tears on his eyes. Chooper ran toward Nami and hugged her. "Are you alright?! Otama, are you hurt?" Chooper asked, "everyone protected me, so I was only slightly wounded." Said otama.

"I'll treat your wounds later." Said Chooper, "what about the others?" Nami asked. Chooper started crying, "What should we do? The fire can't be put out! Zoro, Sanji, Franky, Brook, usopp, Robin, and Jimbei! I can't find any of them!" Chooper cried. "Really?!" Nami asked.

"But... even if we tried to find them, the whole of Onigashima is on fire now! It's not safe here, either! Unless it lands, we have nowhere to go!" Said Nami, Chooper jumps off of Nami.

"Zeus, can't you use your rain to put out the fire?" Chooper asked, "the fire is too intense, I would get burned!" Said Zeus. "We all worked so hard to get to this point. It's so frustrating to see it end like this." Said Otama.

"Don't worry!". "What?" Otama question, "it's gonna be alright, so don't give up!" Said Nami, Otama smiled. "You're right! We have to see Big Bro, luffy win! And (Y/N)!" Said Otama, "wait? (Y/N) is alive?!" Chooper yelled.

Nami, look at Chooper, "Chooper, have you seen a gaint pruple bat?" Nami asked. Chooper thought for a moment, and he nodded his head. "Well, that gaint pruple bat was (Y/N)." Said nami. "WHAAAAAA!!" Chooper screamed in a surprise look.

In the basement inside the castle, everything is burning, and it starts to break. "We can't escape! The fires are everywhere!" Said the blondeguy.

"There's nowhere to run!" Said the guy with black clothes. (Forget his name, too) "Damn!" Blonde guy yelled.

On the first floor of the castle. Bepo was beaten up. "I can't take it anymore! I can't stand the heat..." He said. "You're giving us too much trouble, Bepo!" Said penguin, then they stopped to see they were dead end cause the fire is blocking their way.

"Ouch!" Penguin scream, "maybe this really is it." Said shachi, "I don't think we can get out of here!" They yelled. "Help! Captain!" Said Bepo. In the basement, where Brook and Robin were trapped by the fire.

"My precious afro is getting frizzier!" Said brook, "yeah! I don't want to end up like you." Said Robin, "what?" Said brook. Then, someone burst out of the door, "what?! Uh! A skeleton!" They scream.

"I know you're frustrated! "

"Look at you!"

"I don't know what to say... I feel sorry for you... you must have failed to escape and got burned!" They said.

"I'm not a burnt corpse! I am dead, though..." said brook, and then more fire became bigger.

"It's burning intensely! Maybe there's no way for all of us..." said brook.

"...to run." Said Robin.

On the fourth floor inside the castle, "I'm sorry. I can't die just yet..." said raizo, "don't mention it. I like helping people." Said jinbe."I was extremely lucky to see you here." Said raizo, "I'm in on your secret plan with pleasure!" Said jinbe.

"With my ninjutsu, now is the time to salvage this situation! Now is the time!" Said raizo. Jinbe and raizo walk until the building falls apart. "Everyone, endure it a little bit more... these loathsome flames... I'm going to put them all out!" Raizo yelled.

Pleasure hall, left-brain tower. Sanji is running with a group of girls behind him. But they were dead end, "Oh, no. We can't get outside because the yard is gone." Said sanji, "no, " said some.

"An abyss in front... And a hellish fire behind..." said sanji. He looked to see the woman who was scared. "We can't even turn back!" Sanji yelled, then the roof started to break and was about hit Some.

Some scream, "Careful!" Sanji yelled as he kicked some wood. "Don't worry! I'll protect you, ladies!" Said sanji.

"Thank you," she said. 'We're in the air, so there's no place to go... the fire and the collapse and the ladies... What should we do?' Sanji thought.

On the basement. "Stop complaining that it's hot! Break the wall! If we stay here, we're gonna die!" Yapoo yelled. The gaint cry as his arm hurt, "Just sacrifice one of your damn arms! That big body's so useless, you idiot!" Yapoo yelled.

The gaint told Yapoo to stop, "Do you wanna fight, you bastard?!" Yapoo yelled. On the basement again. "The heat and the flames have us backed in a corner! Is there a way for us to survive?!" Said hemlet.

"If we knew that, we wouldn't be having a hard time!" Said usopp, "we're gonna die from the heat if nothing's done!" Hemlet yelled. "Just run!" Usopp yelled back, then more building came blocking their path.

"Please do something, mister!" Hemlet yelled. Usopp doesn't know what to do. He got off, "I'm gonna put out this fire! Special attack green star! Sprinkler!" Usopp yelled, the flower trying to put out the fire.

"How's that?!" He yelled, but the flower was on fire. Usopp was surprised, "This is what 'a drop in the bucket' means, mister!" Said Hemlet.

"Shut up! I gotta figure out a way! I promised izo! I wanna save Kin and Kiku and myself as well!" Usopp screamed as he started to cry. "What?! Mister! Please include me in the list!" Hemlet yelled at usopp.

"Don't depend on me! You have to save me!" Usopp yelled back. Right-Brain Tower. Franky was running, holding zoro, who was passed out. "The castle is burning ridiculously!" Franky yelled, "Wait for us, big bro!" She cried, "where should we go?!" Franky question.

"Zoro's life is in danger! I have to take him to Chooper as soon as possible!" Said Franky, "we're all gonna get burned to death before that!".

"It's hot! It's hot! I don't wanna die!"

"Help us, big bro!"

"Who's whining?! I'm gonna burn you!" Franky yelled, "Please don't do that!" They whined. Third floor inside the castle.

"It's a dead end again! Damn! The flames and the debris keep getting the way! Did someone go around and set fire?!" Someone yelled. "There is no way I'm gonna be killed by fire and the enemy in a raid!" Said the bull.

"We're not gonna get defeated by fire!"

"Yeah! Let's survive!"

"Yeah!"

Fourth floor inside the castle. Jinbe is standing the hallway, "I'm ready, jinbe-dono! Thank you for trusting me!" Said raizo. "Luffy chose to form an alliance with you, samurai! There's no way I'd doubt you. Okay, come on!" Said jinbe.

"Yeah! I'm trusting you, too!" Raizo yelled, 'I was ready since that day...' Raizo thought, thinking his flashback.

'Toki-sama!'

'Momonosake-Sama!'

'Hiyori-sama!'

'Come on! Hurry up!'

"I couldn't save oden-sama that day! And I let Momonosake-Sama and the others suffer in the building castle. Even if I could use ninjutsu, I couldn't save anybody. That was a big blunder that I regret!" Raizo yelled.

"I never ever want... to feel that way again!" Raizo yelled, thinking of his flashback.

'Zou?!'

Zunesha pulled out some water in his trunk.

'Dogstorm, what kind of rain is this?!'

'Zunesha is bathing itself.'

'That's a lot of water! May I take some?!'

"I won't let those who took part in this raid die... in this damn fire! I'm sorry that it took so long, everyone! Let me show you the incredible water flow! Nimp: scrolling jutsu! The Elephant's Bath! Restoration!" Raizo scream.

Then, a bunch of water came in raizo scroll and is sucked jinbe making him swim. "This is enormous!" Said jinbe, "water heart! Fish-man jiu-jitsu! Ocean Current Shoulder Throw!" Jinbe yelled as he threw the waters, with his bear hands.

The roof crumble of more water coming, "run through every part of the castle!" Jinbe yelled. "Make it in time and save everybody, zou's water!" Said raizo, more water keeps pouring, putting out the fire.

First floor inside the castle. "Let me down, guys!" Said killer, "you have to let us do this for least, killer-san!" Said the crew. "Ouch!" They yelled, "What should we do?! There really is nowhere to go!" The crew yelled.

"What is that?! I feel a rumble..." one of the crew yelled, the water splashing them behind. "Water?!" They said, "we're okay now!" One of them yelled.

The whole castle started to rumble and broke apart. Chooper lost his balance, and Nami hold Otama. "Hurry up, Momonosake-kun!" Yamato yelled.

"Why?! Kaido is still alive!" Momonosake asked, "You have to sustain the island with your Flame Clouds!" Yamato yelled. "Sustain the island? That's impossible!" Momonosake yelled back.

"Kaido is reaching his limit... his flame clouds won't last much longer!" Said yamato, "What?". "You must create flame clouds to sustain onigashima!" Said yamato.

"What?!" Momonosake scream, "that way the only option from the beginning!" Yamato yelled. Momonosake lost his words. He couldn't say anything. Yamato, look at Momonosake.

"Otherwise, onigashima will fall," said yamato, Momonosake didn't want onigashima to get destroyed.

As for you and luffy, you watch luffy fly up, say he got an idea. Luffy grabbed a lightning strike, and it turned to blue. Kaido was shocked to see, then smile.

Hey guys, that is the end of episode 1073, but it is not over yet. So here is an episode 1074.

"You can do it, Momonosake-kun! Create flame clouds!" Yamato yelled, Momonosake tries to make the flame clouds, but it keeps disperse. "That will not be enough to sustain onigashima!" Momonosake said.

And a loud explosion erupted, and Momonosake was shocked and scared. "Momonosake-kun! Flame clouds!" Yamato yelled, "it is easier said than done..." said Momonosake.

Momonosake is still trying to make flame clouds. "I can't do it! They will not come out! I can't do it!" Momonosake cried, truma from his childhood.

When his house was on fire. 'The future? But I do not want to be apart from you!' Little Momonosake cried, 'Momonosake! Go along with kin'emon and the others. Leap 20 years into the future and rebuild the Kazuki Clan!' Said toki.

'I can't do it!' Little Momonosake cried, turns around but turns back hugging his mother. 'Then why will you and hiyori not come with us?!' Momonosake asked, still crying.

Toki look at Momonosake, 'I can't do it!' Momonosake cried. 'Momonosake-Sama! Your mother is suffering more than you!' Kin'emon yelled, Momonosake turnaround.

'This is the land of samurai! Where shame alone could end your life! For a man to complain after women set resolve... is mortal shame!' Kin'emon yelled.

'Now, let's leap into the future together! The future of the land of wano rests on your shoulders!' He yelled, 'I am only a child... I am only a child, so I can't... do anything!' Momonosake cries.

'With all due respect, since oden-sama is gone, you are no longer an ordinary child!' Kin'emon said, 'What?' Momonosake asked. 'You are the son of the great samurai! You will govern this country someday! Oden-sama ordered me to open the border of the land of wano! I shamelessly lived... at my lord's expense...' Kin'emon cries.

'Now it not the time to die! I am not allowed to just die! Allow me to speak plainly! Will you let us have another chance to fight?! If I am going to burn to death anyway, I would rather die wielding my sword for my lord! Will you please give us a chance to die as samurai?!' Kin'emon cried.

All samurai started to cry, waiting Momonosake answers. 'Momonosake!' Toki called, 'Mother... mother... I am going!' He yelled.

Toki cried, 'Yes... please, live on...' she said. "I am too ashamed to face Mother!" Momonosake yelled. "Momonosake-kun?" Yamato asked.

"Stop saying 'I cannot,' Momonosake! You made your own decision! I am not an ordinary child anymore! I am the man who will become the shogun of this country!" He yelled, "uh-huh!" Yamato said.

"I will save the land of wano! Stop! Onigashima!" Momonosake yelled, then the onigashima began to fall. "Wait! No!" Yamato yelled, "No! Don't not head towards the capital!" Momonosake yelled.

"Gum-gum... lighting!". Luffy throws the lightning strike at kaido, but kaido dodges the attack. And Flys toward to luffy. "You mean you can grab lighting?! How absurd!" Kaido yelled.

But all of a sudden, six lighting surrounded kaido. Luffy jumps each on of lighting and hits kaido. Then kaido was hit all six lighting.

'What an absurd power...' kaido thought. But kaido felt someone behind him. He turned to see you, "Moongeist Beam!" You yelled. Moongeist Beam:

Kaido was hit back, and he coughed some blood. Kaido turned around to see luffy, "Gum-gum...". Kaido hit luffy with his hassaikai. Luffy was thrown away, but he was lucky when you caught him.

Luffy was behind your back, and then you warp around your wings to make spend ahead. And you hit kaido stomach.

Kaido was lunch back, luffy grabbed kaido legs and threw him by rocks. Luffy went behind kaido and punched him in his face.

But kaido opened his mouth and blasted fire at luffy. Luffy was blown away, but luffy grabbed a lightning strike, spins around, and lunch himself to kaido. Kaido went toward to luffy.

Kaido hits luffy again, and luffy is lunch back. Luffy was on the clouds, smiling, and grabbing the thunder strike. Luffy throws all thunder sticks at kaido.

But kaido dodges all stricks, "Night shade!" You shot out some pruple laser eyes. Night shade:

It hit on kaido's chest, and kaido is getting weaker. Then kaido disappeared, you look around to find kaido, "you two can play around... all you want! But..." kaido.

Kaido was right behind, and he hit your chest with his hassaikai. You lunch back, and you were hit behind a rock. "(Y/N)!" Luffy yelled, luffy Flys toward to kaido, "a Devil Fruit power will never conquer the world!" Kaido yelled.

Kaido hit luffy cheeks, luffy hits on the ground, but bounced back, really flied up. "It's amazing how things work. Just like how Roger was not a Devil Fruit power user... Only haki... can trump all else!" Kaido yelled.

"Destroyer of Death..." Kaido hassaikai turn pruple and was about to smash luffy. "...thunder... Bagua!" Kaido yelled, kaido hits luffy once more. The pruple thunder destroyed all rocks building and made a loud explosion.

In the land of wano, people were celebrating. There was music, dancing, food, everything, people were holding sky boats. "To the deceased! Set sail!" The man yelled.

"Let go of your sky boat!"

"Steady!"

"Steady! Steady!"

"The festival is almost over... we must return to slave labor tomorrow..." the men said, everyone let go of the sky boats. And the sky boat went up high, "I hope I can survive another year..." he said.

"Steady! Reach Father!" Toko yelled. On the onigashima above was destroyed, cracks, holes, and rock mountain were everything.

Kaido was catching his breath, 'a Devil Fruit power will never conquer the world! He didn't have one, either...' kaido thought, remembering when he fought with oden.

But all of a sudden, kaido saw a hand grabbing his chest. "What?!" Kaido question, Kaido above the sky to see the arm lead top of the clouds.

"What are you doing?!" Kaido ask, the hand pulled kaido, "Damn! Let go of me! You're only betraying your location!" Kaido yelled. Kaido keeps hitting the arm with hassaikai, and he turns to his dragon form.

"Dragon Twister... Demolition Breath!" Kaido screamed, "Your vulnerability to cutting attacks hasn't changed." Said kaido. The demolition breath cut luffy.

luffy body started to bleed with cut all other his body. "Come down! Straw Hat!" Kaido yelled, kaido blast a gaint fire ball. Luffy wide eye, but you came and "MoonBlast!" You yelled.

Moon Blast:

The moonblast hit fire ball, causing it to explode. Luffy looked to see you're alive, "(Y/N)? You're alive!" Luffy cried, you smiled at luffy. "Of course I am, remember I make a promise that we always stay each other when we little?" You said.

Luffy nodded his head. In the house were on fire, where hiyori was at with orochi. Orochi was on fire, screaming in pain. Hiyori stand there watch orochi suffering.

Then, a loud burst, hiyori drop the needle. "Hey, it come off! Some kind of tremor pulled the Sea Prime Stone nail out!" Orochi yelled as he transformed a eight-headed dragon.

"Damnit... I'll at least take you down with me! Are you watching, oden?!" He yelled. Hiyori, fall back, "I'll take..." orochi was about to bite hiyori. "... Your daughter, along with me!" He yelled.

During the fight, hyogoro fell back. "Boss hyogoro!" The man yelled, "I heard onigashima's gonna fall!" The man said. Hyogoro chulked, "That means they cornered kaido... hey, guys! Which one do you prefer? If the straw hat and (Y/N) take down kaido down, we'll fall and die." Said hyogoro.

"If we survive, that means kaido wins!" Hyogoro said, the whole samurai laughed. "Oh, that's an easy choice." The man answered,

"I have a kid in Hakumai."

" I have a wife in Ringo!"

"If kaido gets taken down, they can live happily ever after!"

"That would be great! It's gonna be a good country!"

"Are you guys crazy, you damn samurai?! That means you're all gonna die!"

"That's fine." Said hyogoro, "Straw Hat, and (Y/N)-san! Kick kaido's ass with all your might!" Everyone cheered. Kid and law heard the samurai cheering.

The building is falling apart. "I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" Usopp screamed as he ran, "ow, ow, ow!" Hemlet yelled and also ran. "I don't wanna die!" Usopp yelled.

"The flames!" Hemlet yelled, "Don't give up, You fool! I'm not gonna die!" Usopp scream. Usopp ran through the flames, "Mister!" Hemlet yelled.

"I'm gonna survive no matter what!" Usopp yelled, "You're the best!" Hemlet yelled. Then, Usopp was splashed by the big water, so as Hemlet. "Water!" Usopp yelled.

"Kiku! Kin'emon! I'm not gonna give up!" Usopp yelled. At the wano place, everyone looked at the sky to see Sky Boat high up in the air.

You and luffy remember people voices and what their dreams is.

"To be able to drink clean water."

"I want to see my mother again."

"May my children grow up happily."

"For grandpa to get better."

So many people dream, you and luffy want them to be happy.

"You can do it!"

"Straw Hat-san!"

"(Y/N)-san!"

"Defeat kaido!"

"Straw Hat and (Y/N), you two truly amazing..." said hyogoro, remembering the words you and luffy said.

"We made a promise! We'll make this country a place where she can eat as much as she wants! We're here to take down kaido!"

"And we'll protect the weak"

"This battle... is not only meant to take down kaido... to take back... the country that stood still 20 years ago, we fought... if we can bring smiles back... to our families, our children, and our country," said hyogoro.

"We..." Hyogoro, watch the samurai cheering you and luffy telling you to defeat kaido. Hyogoro chulked, "Hey, (Y/N)! Straw Hat! A new dawn will surely come to Land of Wano. Right?! I can hear... your voice!" Hyogoro yelled.

"What are you two doing? Straw Hat? Why aren't you coming down?" Kaido ask, then a thunder strike. Kaido looked up at the sky and saw a large shadow.

"Stop! Onigashima!" Momonosake yelled, holding the kaido flame clouds. "Hey, momo!" The sound of luffy, Momonosake look at the sky.

Momonosake was shocked. A large big hand feist, "Let's finish this up! Shall we?!" You yelled. It revealed that luffy makes his fist larger, and you got larger with your shadows monster.

"Onigashima is in the way! Move it!" Luffy yelled, kaido chulked. "Look at that... they can destroy the whole onigashima." Said yamato, "Stop! Wait, luffy, (Y/N)! I still cannot -" as Momonosake was about to say something.

"Momo!" Luffy yelled, "we trust you!" You said, smiling. Momonosake was surprised, remembering his mother's smile. Momonosake has a tear on his eyes.

EPISODE 1075! Boy, it will take me a while to write this...

"Look at the size of that... they can destroy the whole onigashima!" Yamato yelled. Kaido was shocked to see. He knows he will get defeated from your attacks.

"Momo! Move onigashima out of our way!" You scream. "Do not do it, (Y/N), luffy!" Momonosake scream, "you can do it, right, momo?!" Luffy asks.

"Wait! Move onigashima out of your way?" Momonosake asks, he look at onigashima and the wano. He isn't quite, he can move onigashima.

"I... I can't do it!" Momonosake scream, kaido watch as luffy still holding his chest and look at you and luffy.

"Let's settle this!" Luffy yelled, but kaido got an idea. 'I got it.' He thought 'bring it on.', kaido mouth started to flame. And it burned Luffy hand, luffy let go of his hand.

"That burns!" He yelled, luffy blow at his hand. "That right!" Kaido yelled, you and luffy look at kaido, "you don't have to grab me! I'm not gonna run away!" Said kaido.

Kaido body cover with flames, "You know something, Straw Hat? 20 years ago, a hero of this country was burned to death! Since then, this country has been lawless! You guys are the heroes that they've been waiting 20 years for!" Said kaido.

Kaido Flys up, making himself bigger. "Flame Dragon Torch!" He yelled. "You're not going to throw your powers. Because you two gonna melt away." He said.

"We see about that!" You scream, yamato was surprised to see that the onigashima skeleton horn has been broken. And it falls towards her and Momonosake. They move away from the horn.

Kaido laughed. Burning luffy and you, "luffy! (Y/N)!" Yamato yelled. "We're... not gonna melt!" Luffy yelled, "I learned from the old man how to throw a punch without even more punch" he said.

'You call it haki, but we call it Ryuo in the land of wano. Don't strain yourself! Allow the unused Haki in your body to flow to your fist!'

"We're gonna knock you down to the abyss!" Luffy yelled.

"Gum-Gum..."

"Menacing Moonraze..."

"Rising Dragon!"

"Bajrang... Gun!" Luffy throws his fist at kaido.

"... Maelstrom!" Your turn to light skin. Menacing Moonraze Maelstrom:

"Flame Bagua!" Kaido yelled, then an impact of flash. Yamato was shocked. You and luffy try all your strength and power.

Inside of the castle, Usopp gasped as he finally survived from drowning. "What? What's going on?!" He yelled as he felt an impact grumble. Everyone felt it, too.

"What's happening out there?!"

"Is it (Y/N) and Straw Hat-san?!"

"Straw Hat!"

"It must be them!"

"I think it's Straw Hat, (Y/N)-san!"

"(Y/N)-san!"

"Straw Hat-san!"

"Go!"

"Please, Straw Hat, (Y/N)-san!"

"Go, (Y/N)-san!"

"Please, Straw Hat, man!"

"Take him down!"

"Please!"

"I'm begging you! Please!"

Kawamatsu rember oden say to them.

'I'm counting on you guys!'

'Run! To kuri!'

A loud shot bang.

'Oden... sama!'

'Don't look back!'

'Run!'

'Haha! It's easy to guess where the samurai are heading!'

'It's kuri!'

'The Kozuki Clan's heir is at the castle! Kill them all! Eradicate the Kozuki Clan!'

'Exterminate! Exterminate them!'

'He had a child?'

'I'll go finish things up.'

'Stop! Don't mess with the Kozuki Clan anymore!'

'Move!'

'Hahaha! You can shoot whoever stands against the shogun!'

'Hahaha! Witness how deep the kurozumi clan's grudge is! Take this!'

'Suffer!'

'You stupid Kozuki Clan admirers!'

'What happened to oden wife?!'

'We confirmed her death in Bakura town!'

'No one else escaped from Oden Castle.'

'Haha! Now the Kozuki Clan is gone! So you Daimyo, choose! Whether to enliven our Land of Wano...'

'You know what we'll say... that's nonsense question! The Kozuki Clan is our only shogun!'

'Avenge Oden!'

'Protect the land of wano to the end!'

'Don't be afraid of the enemies! Charge!'

Hey guys, sorry to interrupt. But I'm going skip of the story this cause it hurting my feelings when I watchand I don't wanna write it . And is it okay for guys how you love this story.

Hiyori stab orochi, "komurasaki! Everything was exactly as I wanted it! You started working at the Pleasure Hall of your own will, you slut!" Orochi yelled.

"Do you wanna get your revenge on me that much? Stop playing the victim! I still remember my grudge against the Kozuki Clan and what they did to me! What you're doing is the same as what they did to me! I'll kill everyone who rebels against me!"

"I'm not gonna just die! Komurasaki! I'll take you with me! Let's drink together again in the next life!" Orochi yelled as he ran toward hiyori. "Those eyes!" Orochi scream, remembering oden eyes.

"Stop!" He yelled. And orochi is dead, I hate that mf.

'Move onigashima out of the way? What should I do? I was right... I can't do it! I can't! I tried many times, but I could not do it!' Momonosake thought, then he heard someone called his name.

'Momonosake! Leap 20 years into the future and rebuild the Kozuki Clan!'

'Mother!'

'Don't worry. I know you can do it. Your hard work and dedication will touch everyone.'

'Hiyori!'

'Father!'

'I'm counting on you'

Momonosake cries as he hears his father, counting on him. "I have to hold on now! Or I will bring shame to the Kozuki Clan!" He yelled.

"Momonosake-kun!" Yamato yelled, Momonosake hit his head, "Everyone is believing in me! I am not going to give up!" Momonosake yelled.

Usopp heard a loud explosion. "There! There they are! Kin'emon! Kiku! You're still alive, right?! Don't ever die! Don't you ever die!" Usopp yelled.

The samurai was on their knees, praying for you and luffy.

"Please, Straw Hat, (Y/N)..."

"Take down, kaido!"

"If only kaido were gone!"

"Please... (Y/N), Straw Hat..." said hyogoro, "our 20 years battle... until kaido is gone... it will never end!" Kawamatsu yelled.

You and luffy are still struggling to defeat kaido.

PART 4 COMING UP!!!!

[baggidude]

Currently watching into the dome and just got to season 2 and just gotta say this show sucks alot lmao (Did enjoy season 1 tho) Like ive only seen the first episode of it and in this one episode it:

- Forgot a major plot point

-Introduced a character that is very important to the plot (He hasnt been seen anywhere before, he is shy >-<)

-what do you mean the dome turned white as a cliff hanger? undo that shit now

-Main bad guy is still here? Just make the dome force them good or whatever

- "Hey guy the entire town has been trying to find and hang cause we thought you murdered a bunch of people that was a plot point for the entire later half of season 1, Lets be friend and completely forget everything even tho we still havent learned the truth and its only episode 1"

-" Hey why are you trtying to steal my car and arent you the guy the entire town has been trying to murder cause we were lied to and still dont know the truth in season 1? Huh what do you mean youve never seen me before ive always been here and am gonna be important character anyway MAGNETIC WAVES I HAVE BEEN STYDYIGNT THE DOME THIS ENTIRE TIME"

-Main bad guys son was fully agreeing with him at the end of season 1? Nuh uh cause i said so

-The dome is now magnetic! so it effects peoples brain with magnetic waves!!!!! Huh what do you eman it dosent work like thta stfu

-What do you mean we are basically back to nothing happening? Lady that might have been born from egg

"Lets build in the center of the dome!!! What? but in the first season the center was somewhere else? Uhhhhhhh the magnetics field changed it or whatever or magic.

-Killed a characteer when they CLEARLY had time to jump before the car crushed them and DIDNT FUCKING NEED TO SACRIFICE THEMSELF YOU DUMBASS LIKE YOU 2 WERE LITERALLY ALREADY RUNNING OUT OF THE WAY YOU DIDNT NEED TO PUSH THEM OUT OF THE WAY THAN PROCEED TO STAND PERFECTLY STILL FOR 5 SECONDS

-maybe killed other character (The dome will be mad)

-Season 1: "You need to keep the egg safe" season 2: Egg? What egg? No egg egg never existed"

-Dome: Kill your parents. Them: No >:c Dome: You ahve passed the test well done

Honestly believe the dome has filled with gas and everyone is like just barely there

hoping they fail and just explode in the end (Im gonna watch the rest of the hot garbage as its still entertaining and the dome itself is interesting)

First season also wasnt the best but i think i noticed these with the switch to season 2

I can just tell this show prob just suddenyl ends with alot of plotholes

[meirimerens]

what is something in English (language) that you like (specific words, sounds, turns of phrase, etc) that doesn't exist in French, and the other way around. asking because you write prose in your (second?) language; thank you; hope you had a horsesome mountaincation.

favorite type of question but equally there's so much to be said i don't even know where to begin.... cometh off the top of the dome:

in english that doesn't exist in french:

the sound th in english. inexistant in french, which is why you can recognize a french speaker by the fact that the "th" sound will be switched for a "s", "f" or "z" depending on the word. it's not as sibilant as sss, not as ethereal/light as fff. it can be subdued or it can be overt and wide, baring all the upper teeth, almost animal. it's also very common, so you can very easily use it for alliterations and the like.

an easier time "building" words, especially color-related adjectives, as well as the -ness, and the -less. ironblue eyes. rustred skin. chalkwhite, bloodblue, almost comes naturally to the english syntax due to the position of its adjectives relating to the noun.

the pronoun "it" in the meanings of "it ought to", "it should be", etc. french doesn't have a neutral grammatical gender and all neutral statements that in english are formed around "it ought to", "it is raining," etc are created with "il" (masculine singular), which sometimes just doesn't fit the vibe. doesn't fit the syntax, the atmosphere, the statement, the mood.

verbs that, regardless of tense, are similar in tones and construction enough that you can deploy multiple in a sentence while still keeping a rhythm. french grammar & conjugation is, for that, a headache.

in french that doesn't exist in english:

a distinction between a singular informal you, a singular formal You, and a plural yous (tu and vous). this exists in so many languages and lacks in english. it is so wonderful for all matters of multiplicity, of power struggle (inherently Oneirotects-esque), it is inherently erotic in the way it codifies language between two strangers that get closer. there is a line in P2 where, in the russian version, Burakh slips from formal You to informal you when speaking to Dankovsky, immediately catches himself, and Dankovsky reassures him that no, go on. it has been changed for a curse word slip-up in english, but that decimates imo the change of the power dynamic that is implied with a change between You and you.

the word Cyprine. if you were #there when i wrote my yulieva piece, i was sooo mad about its nonexistence in english i just ended up using it as it exists in french, because all the translations in english are so neutered, bordering on crass, and not even in a sensual way. ptoo!!!

the phrase "entre chien et loup". my fave among all. literally, it means "between dog and wolf". figuratively, it is used to speak about this hour of the evening where the light begins to dip, and all forms and shapes begin looking alike: a light in which you would not be able to differentiate between a dog and a wolf. the "between" also has a double meaning: it is the between of "picking between one & the other", and the between of a physical space that one could inhabit.

an ABUNDANCE of ways to have the sound "eh": é, ée, és, ées, ai, ais, ait, ez, er, aient, ..., and to have them often. this makes it so writing, even without trying, can have a rhythm, pleasant sonorities, assonances. this is something i found when writing PSLR, i was constantly running into the -é- sound, and it ended up giving this "rocking" motion of a boat, of waves... fitting for the subject matter. it is a very easy rhyme/assonance, demands basically no thought, but because it is so simple & common, it gives a sense of pleasant and familiar motion. almost lulling.

off the top of the dome here's what i can find... there's prolly so much more. i could talk about how french is so much more fitted i find to long sentences, to déambulations, to wordy wanderings, to sensible introspection, which Does Not Stop Me from writing this way in english, and reciprocally english is fitted for abrasion, swiftness, for a bounciness that french sometimes lacks, for sentences without a subject that appear like gashes or bruises... i have to learn every language on earth ever.

and THANK YOU + you know it yourself. watch this