#truly i am loving this thread

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[ravellaarryns]

♟

the andal influence within the queen of the mountains of the moon meant that she did not seek a deeper knowledge or understanding of the practices of which the lady of upcliff took to; and yet, the fact that she were even sat within a darkly lit chamber made the walking hypocrisy that was ravella arryn so painfully obvious. she would look in judgement toward the women who made such a thing their main source of living, believing them to be stains in society as the clansmen; untrustworthy, and yet, she believed in the ancient roots of their ways deeper than any faith she held in the seven who are one.

the practices of the ancient took no moral stance, did not offer them guidance, lessons and rules to follow in their everyday lives - as opposed to seven stone statues, who had long since turned their gaze away from their creation if they were ever truly living.

she could make her way into the nursery with ease, and order to be left alone - with as much ease. it would not take long, and it would be over with within a matter of mere moments. she could count on one hand, whilst the other forced the pillow down upon the abhorrent mistake of nature. "my father too sired four children of house arryn." she uttered, wondering again what it was with the number four that seemed to seep it's way into her life through this abomination. rosalyn in the north, rhys in braavos, and rowan nowhere - as he belonged.

and it showed, in the way the queen remained silent as her high lady spoke; her hand gripping onto the pillow that lay beside her, feeling as though she were soon to rip into the velvet itself. ravella arryn cared not for yiti. she cared not for the beliefs from across the narrow sea, or another other realm; for westeros was the centre of her realm, and at it's heart was the lands her ancestors had come to take. the risk in burning the kingdom down, in wiping everything out: they did not wipe it all away, though their trees were uprooted. but the words of the woman sat before her resonated deeply within her, a sense of slow, steady realisation coming across her; it felt as though the clouds had moved from the rays of the sun, and now the rays of the sun were scalding.

babies died in their cots. infants passed suddenly in their sleep, with no inclination as to an issue. would she be able to present as a person who had just found the her own child dead? she thought of the ways in which mothers had been reported to scream and cry over their lost sons in the war. it was not the same. she knew none who had lost a baby - there was nothing to mimic. "it is not for her to be powerful. she is not to be the heir for the rest of her life." however short it was. for ravella arryn was determined to provide sons for the realm. strong princes, the image of a knight of the vale. of unwavering strength.

for all of the sternness of graham royce, he was not like her; and any that were sired by him would have some remains, some semblance of their father beyond that of physical looks: there was a guttural rejection that came deep within the queen of the mountains of the moon in the presence of the infant. as though she had not come from her own womb, but still; there came the seeping, quiet understanding over her that it was all too possible the princess avalon of the kingdom of the vale had not been sired by the ancient lineage that was house royce - but by another. whose blood was stained, whose origins she did not know of until it was already too late.

and suddenly, she found herself reeling; everything in her reality seemed to swirl, and seek to not only reject, but remove the runt. the mistake. the same way the instinct of animals was to protect their survival, and remove what would not prove credit to them. "is there anything that can be done?" ravella asked, a final question - of which the answer would prove to have consequences. the human instinct was something ravella had always trusted, and believed, more than the words of her septon. she would not stop now.

the lady of witch isle watched the arryn queen as she sat still, her marble face giving nothing away. the darkness of the chambers did not engulf ravella arryn, as it would do to most. it was as if the woman was part of the darkness, embracing the abyss ready to swallow her whole. she fascinated yuna, this monarch who seemed to want for nothing, feel nothing. like a current of the seas, she simply existed to maintain order, and to destroy at will. yuna remembered her ancestors, the scholars and the mages of the ancient province of xing. the men and women who dabbled in the strange and the unexplained. what would they say about the falcon queen with a glass heart?

she listened to the queen name her as the high lady. it was more a statement than a command, but yuna felt the importance of the words immediately. the place was one of significant importance, and it put her in a higher position than the rest of the ladies. she wondered how little it would take for her to start exercising her privileges, for she could now control the people who resented her the most. yuna had little love for the women she spent her time with. strange little jeyne waynwood was the exception, yuna could feel the restless spirits gather around the melancholic soul. but with others, she could see their disdain, their hatred of her strangeness. they would like it if they were all the same, made out of the same boring mould. living the same boring life, and hating others for not conforming to averageness.

she could now control the people who resented her the most. what a tempting proposition. "as you wish, your grace," she answered and smiled a little smile. and then the queen spoke of what she needed to do if the women spoke ill of the little princess. yuna kept her expression neutral, but in her mind she could not help but be curious. did ravella speak like that because she cared about avalon? yuna doubted that. she saw mothers who cared, and their queen did not fit the description. maybe it was because avalon was an arryn, and the name meant more that the person holding it.

"of course." she responded, her hands on her lap. in a matter of moments she gained more power. fate was fickle, and strange. "their names will not shield them from proper punishment, your grace."

if she were truthful, yuna would admit that the child princess had an peculiar aura. it was as if the babe did not belong to the world she came to, as if she were fighting her leaving the realm between life and death. but there was no logical explanation to the feeling of yuna royce. it was instinct, a feeling deep in her gut. and she would keep it to herself. the princess was not of her blood. she would not speak ill of the child to anyone, but yuna was determined to keep her distance.

the queen had made a request some time ago, right after the birth. yuna was to make a birthchart. the affair was kept private, yuna did not need any more rumours of her being a witch, poisoning the eyrie from within. she knew it was not witchcraft, but an ancient art, a skill one ought to be proud of. so she worked the chart dilligently. and the results were like nothing she had ever scene before.

"the princess has a powerful energy surrounding her. a powerful aura, but it is not necessarily a good thing," her voiced was quiet, even if she knew no one would dare to eavesdrop. she wondered if the truth would set the mother and the babe further apart, but yuna believed ravella deserved the truth. "during her time of birth, the planets gathered around in groups of four. there is an old yitish belief around the number four." she paused for a moment, looking at her queen. "four means death. whose is unknown"

[anthony-crowleys-left-nut]

rory williams aka the greatest partner who ever lived (stills from @eIevenriver on twitter)

[joshhutchersonseggsalad]

its so cool logging on tumblr seeing notifications + posts from thee clapton davis

god i love this pookie shmook 🩵🛹

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another day another "applying the concept 'disposability' to 'someone withdraws from a personal relationship, & that wasn't signed off on by the other'" kill me

[sapphiclizziebennet]

GUESS WHAT THE RARE BIRD (for the season) CAME BACK!!!! the summer tanager came back to the suet feeder today!!!! i managed to get some really cool pictures of her through the binoculars

i'm so so so excited that she came back, i really can't believe it!!!! she is so beautiful and i feel so lucky that i can see her at this time of year. we really think she has a nest or something nearby!

with these clearer pictures i am absolutely certain now that she is a summer tanager, which is so exciting as well. yay!!

[curiosity-killed]

while i am preemptively stressed about how my balcony plants are going to go over the winter, it is rather nice to sit in my little jungle now

[ofgentleresolve]

me, bowing to lynnie ( @uroborosymphony )'s writing prowess like:

[headspace-hotel]

Y'all

Im not on tiktok and never have been, but I downloaded RedNote just to see what is up, and I am witnessing something truly amazing

The Chinese user community is giving the American tiktok refugees an overwhelmingly warm welcome, meanwhile the American users seem to have collectively agreed that not only will they not let the app be taken over with English and they will provide Mandarin subtitles for everything, they are LEARNING MANDARIN. Ive scrolled through so many videos of Americans offering greetings in Mandarin to try to acclimate to the new environment and be respectful, and speakers of both languages are posting lots of tutorials on language basics and internet slang in Mandarin

My God, there is an AMAZING outpouring of curiosity and delight among everyone to learn about each others cultures and daily lives. People are posting videos of landscapes, cities, towns, and natural areas in USA and China, posting recipes and traditional foods, vlogs of everyday life, and reaching out to find people with similar hobbies.

And it's not just young people! There are loads of videos from middle-aged American guys who have come to post about fishing or motorcycles and are now happily chatting with Chinese users sharing the same interests using Google translate

One American guy who was like. in his 60's had a comment on one of his videos that was like "Red Neck?" and he replied "Yes!" and I just about fucking lost it

Also the Chinese users love, and I mean LOVE, Luigi Mangione. He is apparently broadly adored in China. There is SO much fanart and SO many edits.

There are many threads initiating Chinese users to ask questions of American users about the USA, and vice versa, and everyone on both sides is clearing up a lot of misconceptions. Some of the questions I saw a lot from Chinese users were: "Is it true that American parents kick you out of the house as soon as you turn 18" (not often, but sometimes) "Do you all really wear shoes in bed" (NO!!! Apparently a lot of characters in American sitcoms are shown lying in bed with shoes on which I never noticed before!) and "are there really guns everywhere" (yes).

For the most part Chinese content creators seem just overwhelmed by the sudden influx of hundreds of followers that are super enthusiastic about what they're doing. A lot of them have made posts about how initially they thought the uptick in follower count was some kind of error, or that there was some kind of joke or prank, but then they realized the interest and enthusiasm was genuine and now they're welcoming all the newcomers.

I found several posts by Chinese users saying that this felt like a really profound historical moment, where these previously separated worlds are suddenly smashing together and suddenly there is freedom to learn about each other's cultures and connect. One of them said something along the lines of "This is a 21st century Tower of Babel and even though I'm an atheist I hope God lets this tower stand." OUGH MY HEART.

The app itself works a little bit like a video-based version of Pinterest. It's not really my thing so I probably won't be on there long term but it's been amazing to see what's happening.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

just to add:

Using Poe rather than any other Dark Romantic writer that was his contemporary to pull a quote from was such a good choice. Of his sotries, "The Tell-Tale Heart" was the perfect one for Astarion, but Poe very specifically believed stories should be written in a circular manner - like a snake biting its tail - which fits so perfectly with all the little ways Astarion's story and romance references itself.

Direct quote from my source:

Poe believed in “fashioning a tale like a kind of ouroboros, with its tail in its mouth, beginning with the final effect and working backwards to that the story’s beginning is a natural derivation of its conclusion.”

It's the setting up of the Romantic Astarion in act 1, finding out he's not as fine as he keeps insisting as the narrative swings into Dark Romantic territory, the paranoia starts to really come out (relating back to tell-tale heart), and then he is literally given a choice: continue the cycle or break free. The cycle of abuse is literally a circle here. He can take up Cazador's place in the ritual and step into his role entirely, reentering the ouroboros I mentioned earlier.

The "Thank you" when he first bites the player being referenced later when they see past his paranoia and how unreliable of a narrator he is about his own feelings and seeing that he doesn't want power. He wants safety in a world that he believes isn't capable of kindness or good.

I love how Astarion quotes The Tell-Tale Heart every once in a while. It's a rarer line, and initially I thought it was out of place (Neil is very well versed in theater, so I assumed it was a riff from him), but since reading an analysis of the work I think it was pretty purposeful.

The piece is all about fear and paranoia, things we know Astarion is plagued by despite how he might act. Similarly, the narrator of the story also tries to convince the reader that they are not as troubled as they seem. In the end, the narrator is consumed by the beating of the heart of the old man he killed and dismembered, the sound growing louder and louder until in a fit of rage he reveals the body to the police to absolve himself from the persistent beating.

Except the police never heard the heart beat, because it wasn't the old man's heart at all. The narrator was consumed by the sound of his own heart beating more and more rapidly in his chest from fear. He was the owner of the thing that forced him to reveal his true nature, he is the owner of the tell-tale heart.

And what happens with Astarion after you romance him? He realizes over time that, while he tried to deny his feelings and was initially only interested in manipulating you for his own means, he actually has grown to care for you. You have done something to his heart that hasn't happened in centuries, you have made it feel as if it has started beating again.

Therefore, his tell-tale heart leads him to admit his transgressions, which were committed out of fear and paranoia for his safety.

So the line is actually very, very apt. His confession during Act 2 is his own version of "Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!" Except, of course, it is his own heart that he is unearthing for us (and it's not so hideous, after all).

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y��all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

[drchucktingle]

From Chuck Tingle, author of the USA Today bestselling Camp Damascus, comes a new heart-pounding story about what it takes to succeed in a world that wants you dead. Misha is a jaded scriptwriter who has been working in Hollywood for years, and has just been nominated for his first Oscar. But when he's pressured by his producers to kill off a gay character in the upcoming season finale―"for the algorithm"―Misha discovers that it's not that simple. As he is haunted by his past, and past mistakes, Misha must risk everything to find a way to do what's right―before it's too late.

----

BURY YOUR GAYS cover has been released today and theres something TRULY INCREDIBLE about it, something that bends timelines and melts away the edges of the void and brings tears to my eyes. can you see it? let me explain in a thread as you PREORDER NOW... 

for nearly ten years i have been publishing my stories despite pushback that they are too odd. us buckaroos are the outsiders, but this community has kicked open the door for art that is sincere and strange and beautifully unique. that is my trot and that is OUR trot as buds

we came out of nowhere and made CAMP DAMASCUS a usa today bestseller. every step of the way that book overperformed. buds were CONFUSED that a book from ‘silly meme erotica author’ could take flight. but us buckaroos knew it was inevitable because we know the power of love

i still recall the question ‘are you SURE you do not want a new horror pen name?’ HECK NO i am proud of the tingleverse. i am not ashamed of these queer erotic stories i drag up from bottom of my heart and spill with raw sincerity across irony poisoned timelines

i have been mocked my whole life as author that is ‘ridiculous no-content meme’ by those who have never read it. that my work is ‘not real’. i have been mocked for my autism and queerness and told THIS WOULD NEVER WORK. which brings me back to cover of my new book BURY YOUR GAYS

looks like the name chuck tingle is NOT a liability for the mainstream. all devils who doubted can gaze upon this cover and see bold CHUCK TINGLE staring back at them PROUDLY from the shelf in all its queer autistic glory... HOVERING ABOVE THE TITLE AND JUST AS BIG AND PROUD

thank you nightfire and chucks manager and chucks agent for believing in me. these buds have always had my back. thanks to BUCKAROO COMMUNITY who have always supported my way, this next step in our trot is not just about me IT IS ABOUT US. we kick open these doors together

so heres to making this world a little more unique and strange for those of us who are, ourselves, unique and strange. heres to bending timelines to us, instead of us bending to them. heres to name CHUCK TINGLE big and bold ABOVE the title on a big five traditional published book

and remember the best way to support an author, especially someone on outside pushing their way in, is to PREORDER THEIR BOOK. because of publishing business model it is SO IMPORTANT so if you would like to support chuck then PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS NOW

[hearthtales]

Sow'in’s reassurances earned a grateful smile from the bookbinder. Always a relief to have a customer who understood. It eased the pressure of a deadline as he worked. Still, Hugh would do his best to finish in a timely manner, not wanting to disappoint someone so kind. (The invitation to peruse the books came as a welcome surprise as well.)

When Sow'in put the cat toy down, Porridge gave him a look of clear disappointment. She sat on the desk and stared at the toy, her fluffy tail swishing as she waited for it to begin moving again.

Hugh listened to Sow'in’s request and squinted at the brooch. Quite a pretty design. Making it into a stamp… the bookbinder nodded, pleased with the challenge, and jotted a reminder in his notebook. “Yes, of course. No trouble at all. If you don’t mind, do you think I might be able to borrow that brooch of yours? Just long enough to sketch it, at least.”

The lamp on his desk flickered and went out.

Porridge, startled, leapt to the floor and trotted off. Hugh blinked at the dark lamp, his pen frozen on the page. A soft, nervous laugh escaped him. “Ah-ha…. our lights seem to be in a dreadful mood today. I don’t know what’s the matter with them.” What had irritated the wisp so much this time? Such rotten timing. He imagined it looked like the whole place was falling apart. How unprofessional. He hurried to add, “I’m sorry. I promise it’s not always like this.”

Samhain smiled. It wasn't often he had the chance to share his findings to anyone besides Nightshade. It was only when he had to teach her or when a case called for his insights did the notebooks come in handy, and even now such chances were few and far in between. "Feel free to peruse any of the books on hand. An' if I remember it, ah'll be sure to bring one o'me personal notebooks to share, Mr. Filigree."

Three to four weeks. The ghoul nodded when he heard it, not knowing if that was a relatively short or a long time since the process was unknown to him. He didn't mind it at all. Like he said, he was in no rush and he didn't need the materials for work (at least for the time being). Then Hugh continued, mentioning the pressing and drying. Samhain nodded again, assuring the bookbinder "Please, take all the time ye need."

When asked about special requests, Samhain looked at him quizically. He hadn't expected the question and never had any thoughts on customizing the books. He thought they already looked fine as they were. "..Ah dun really have any preferences... Oh!" He just thought of something and had put the cat toy down (much to Porridge's dismay).

He undid the brooch that hung from his left shoulder and showed it to Hugh. "Would it be possible to turn this into a stamp of some kind? Perhaps... print it on the inside of the covers?" Upon closer inspection of the brass brooch, it looked very much like the 'Crann Bethadh', though the details were embellished with celtic knots. "It's a... 'calling card' of sorts. If it's not possible, that's all right too. Ah just thought ah'd ask."

[alilarew23]

it is so easy to shift your state - let's practice!

ok beloveds.

it is tiiiiiiiime for a little exercise.

i want you to imagine real quick what it would be like to truly be a master at manifestation. yes i know we know we are all masters because we are always manifesting but! i mean a master at conscious manifestation. like, you ALWAYS get exactly what you want in the quickest and easiest way possible no matter what. you just imagine something, decide what you're going to experience next, and boom, it shows up. faster than fast. ayeeee, you did that.

ok, so now that you ARE that person, what's your experience like? what's your way of being within yourself, within the world? you're probably super fucking relaxed, even playful. you probably never worry about anything at all because what would there be to worry about when you know you always get what you want? you probably hardly expend any mental energy on your "desires" because the second you desire something you just--beep boop--claim it as yours and, well, now that's taken care of! you're probably the most present and loving person anyone has ever known. you probably have everyone around you not-so-jokingly asking you to manifest for them (iykyk). you probably feel like god. but not god who's desperately trying to assert some kind of control over a supposed-"outer" world. no. god who knows I AM the world. I AM all. how fun.

how fun indeed, that you just shifted your (drum roll please) state of being!

did that feel good? did you like being that person?

all that took place in your imagination.

you went from being an imaginal self who was maybe stressing about manifestation, watching too many tiktok vids and reading too many twitter threads, affirming affirming affirming but at what cost, to being an imaginal self who--in an instant--already had it all. and therefore could just kick it and watch a show or eat some tacos or go candlepin bowling (my new obsession) without stressing at all.

if that felt good, why not practice being that person? by which i mean consciously choosing to embody that identity until it's so natural that it no longer needs to be a conscious decision because you simply ARE it.

don't attach anything to this. just try the state on as if it's a new hoodie and see how it feels, and if you like it--you prob will, it's pretty snuggly in here!--well, keep wearing it.

[valalice]

ᥫ᭡ waking caitlyn up with birthday head.

cw. smut nsfw. fem!reader. somno (all consent). cait gets eaten out like the queen she is. fingering (barely). cait has a glorious bush.

it was too tempting, too alluring. you felt, no understood, eve's reason to take the apple, but in this scenario cait is the apple and snake is your conscious.

when you had woken up, as you wanted, feeling proud to have finally woken up before cait on her birthday. wanting to sneak downstairs to wake caitlyn up in bed with breakfast, but when you turned to her, intentions of a quick peck on her forehead. you're met with the sight of cait spread on her back, arms and legs sprawled out, blue locks spread across her pillow in a halo, and the silky light grey night slip she'd worn to bed had ridden up above her belly button, exposing her pretty maroon colored panties; you'd favor waking her up a different way than you had intended.

now her panties are discarded somewhere and making breakfast will have to happen later; slotted between her legs, tongue swirling around her bud, all your movements so far have been light, teasing even. eyes staying hyper focused on cait's sleeping form, her face twisted up in a cute furrow, chest rising and falling shallower by the moment, nipples pebbles beneath her slip. closing your mouth around her and sucking, cait twitched, hips bucking up, her head turning to the other side of her pillow, a loud moan rips from her throat. you pushing further into her, arms hooking under her legs, and pressing the blunt ends of your nails into her thighs.

and when she subconsciously tries to close her legs, squeezing your head in the process you moan into her cunt, the vibrations from you mouth sending shocks through her body to jolt away, eyes snapping open, her head moving from side to side.

"what—" she gasps, her gaze finally falls on you between her legs lapping up her arousal. "shit." realizing that 1.) you've woken her up the best way possible and 2.) she still has her thighs clamped close around your head, not that you minded, you were still busy at work getting her close to her peak. cait spreads her legs wide across the the sheets, an arm outstretching to caress the top of your head.

"you're more eager for my birthday than i am." she husk, accent still laced with sleepiness, a lazy smirk displayed on her face.

nodding your head, knowing it'll add to her pleasure when she sighs. her hand leaving your head and follows her other hand as it pushes up her slip, her tits pooling from underneath, and groping them, lowly buzzing off of the pleasure you're giving her; you always treat her so well.

"already s'close, love." a hand returning back on top of your head, pushing your further into her needy cunt, your nose pressed into her neatly trimmed blue pubes; maybe it makes you a sicko, but cait's natural musk rials you up, makes your absolutely feral for her, it's intoxicating truly. "doin' s'good. go on make me cum." she hums, throwing her head back into her pillow, yet a hand still remains threaded through your hair, tugging at it tight.

her words egg you on, the light sheen of sweat covering glistening over her body also achieved the same effect. you're so unbelievably turned on right now, but today isn't about you, so you resort to humping agaisnt the bed, trying to get any kind of friction agaisnt your clothed cunt. and of course, any ounce of please you get from this is given to cait as you release muffled moans into her, eyes shutting as you savor the taste of her slick against your tongue.

cait's hips buck, and if somehow the grip on your hair becomes even tighter; she's close. you're jaw begins to ache, almost as bad as your cunt, but you don't let up, and knowing her sweet release is just upon her makes you keep up, eyes fluttering open to behold the beauty of cait's head pressed deep within her pillow, body angled up into your mouth, and hard grip on her tit, her perky nipple peeking from between her fingers, mouth agape.

in the midst of the moment she clamps her thighs around your head once more, a breathy release of air is released from her mouth, body shuddering as serenity washes over her; her entire body relaxing, letting go of her grip on your hair and thighs falling weak. a string of groans following after from your mouth lapping up her release, letting your tongue flatten over her puffy clit, arms untwining from her legs and pushing yourself up. crawling up the length of cait's body, hovering above her. "happy birthday, baby." you grin.

the woman below you doesn't hesitate to pull you into a messy kiss. the essence from her cunt still left on your lips and down your chin, the taste of her dancing on your tongues. letting up, you laugh at her lips and chin now also being glossy.

"happy birthday, indeed." she purrs, a hand snaking up your arm to hold onto your bicep, attempting to pull you into her, but you resist.

"i'm not done yet, birthday girl." you smirk, basking in the shocked expression on cait's face when she feels a fingering prodding at her hole before dipping in, her cunt squelching in the process.

caitlyn's birthday bash has just began.