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#but I do really miss this account more and more

slut4lrh · 1 day

Text

so american ; CL16

pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader

summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver

warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF

note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)

instagram !

liked by friend1, charlesleclerc, and others

youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨

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friend1 monaco is so so beautiful

yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us

youruser but…

charles_leclerc im stealing her

yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks

charles_leclerc whats your point ??

friend2 the states miss you come home

friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????

yourbff i feel cheated on

charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️

youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶

yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…

charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me

friend4 you look so happy😁

instagram !

liked by fan1, fan2, and others

cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!

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fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances

fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us

fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco

fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird

fan5 imma steal that dog

fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭

fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk

imessages !

translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’

translation 2: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’

twitter !

instsgram !

youruser added to the story!

charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!

charles_leclerc replied to your story

↳ you always do baby

↳ god you’re so cheesy

↳ i hate you

↳ can we go back home i miss leo

↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours

↳ i know i know

↳ i just love him so much

you replied to charles_leclerc’s story

↳ CHARLIE DELETE

↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭

↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??

↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you

↳ why would you joke about that

↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack

↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me

instagram !

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.

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user1 she so beautiful oh my god

user2 where’s leo

user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere

user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with

user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser

user6 ooo that could be her fs

user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf

user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass

twitter !

instagram !

liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others

charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️

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user1 CHARLES who is THAT

user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️

carlossainz55 whipped

user3 omg is she playing his piano

user4 yes with her feet

youruser love love love you

charles_leclerc chérie💓💓

user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already

user5 who CAREEESSSSS

user6 it’s none of our business

yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD

charles_leclerc are you jealous

instagram !

liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others

youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol

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yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him

youruser wdym

yourbff i hate him

yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him

yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING

youruser you sound jealous

yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend

charles_leclerc FRENCH????????

friend1 miss you 🫶🫶

joris__trouche ❤️

friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu

friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous

charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR

charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE

yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls

charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back

yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me

youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️

charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓

youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭

leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️

youruser he misses you 🥰

imessages !

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theminecraftbee · 2 days

Text

Wels hums as he walks through the shopping district. He doesn't need much, but with the recent release of Overlord, he wants to hear if any of the establishments are playing it. He doesn't expect it somewhere like the Permit Office--Grian's spent too much time and money getting a song that was as perfectly annoying to be put on hold to as possible--and if it is playing in the log shop, he will laugh. But music tends to spread around Hermitcraft fast, and sure, this isn't about anything specific, but who's gonna miss a good opportunity to dunk on Doc?

He hears the backing beats from a nearby shop and hums along with them, walking down the path--

--then turns a corner and leaps back.

"You," Wels hisses.

Hello. Awfully rude of you not to include me, you know, says the specter.

"No, there's absolutely no reason for you to be here. None at all!" Wels says, throwing his hands up. "The last time I saw you was--gosh, I don't even know. Season Seven?"

Yes, yes, and the only time you saw me, you aren't lying to yourself at all, the specter says agreeably. Come on. We both know I was haunting you for what little of Season Eight you bothered to be around for.

"If you were on Eight then you super shouldn't be here," Welsknight says. He shakes his head and looks up at the shop playing his song. Joel's? Huh. Wouldn't have thought he'd have a reason to make fun of Doc. Welsknight removes his shaking hand from his sword hilt again and starts walking.

On account of you leaving everyone there to die, yes, we're both aware, the specter says.

"Oh, screw you, you wouldn't have done any different, get new material," Wels says. "Also, you aren't real? You're like, all of my insecurities or whatever. You don't even have a real body right now, no one's made you one."

The specter shrugs. I mean, if I'm the worst parts of yourself, really, you're the one who needs better material. Abandoning all your friends to die and then abandoning them altogether--it's a wonder they let you stick around!

Wels rolls his eyes and forces his hand to stay out of his inventory. Wouldn't do to give away that still even gets him. He peaks at another shop. They're playing the song too, but it's ever-so-slightly out of sync, which is kind of terrible. As he does, Cleo waves at him. Their eyes sort of stutter right past Helsknight, which definitively tells him exactly how much body the specter even has to possess right now.

"I'm actually having a great time with my friends this season, so like, the whole 'abandonment' song and dance isn't going to work this time. Started the season with them and everything; hard to even go for 'they'll forget me at the first opportunity' or whatever."

The thing is, the more Wels says it, the more its true. None of the insecurities and pain points that the specter is echoing back at him are what he was actually thinking about. He's been like... fine? Sure, he's definitely still got repressed negative traits, but nothing like "Xisuma's evil twin brother playing around with his head" or "the moon crashing and killing everyone" or "too depressed and burnt out to get out of bed" or "sort of considering abandoning everyone because that's like, his thing" these days. None of the things that should bring the specter that had haunted him since Beef's cloning machine back to him without a body. But Wels is careful about clones outside of something like Vault Hunters, where they're explicitly under his control. He, like, doesn't even armor stand much. So that can't be this either; Helsknight clearly doesn't have a body to be messing with Wels yet!

...Helsknight doesn't even have a body or an actual insecurity to be poking at Wels with yet.

He stops. He puts his hands in his pockets, and turns around to face Helsknight. He is no longer shaking at all.

"Dude, why are you even here?" Wels asks.

I told you, it was rude to leave me out, Helsknight says.

"What," Wels says.

The final bars of Overlord play over the speakers. Welsknight hums and nods before it suddenly clicks.

"What," Wels says again.

Honestly, you're not normally this much of a moron. It was rude to leave me out. Rapping is also my thing.

"Dude," Wels says.

I could totally destroy Docm77 any day. I would obliterate the fool you call a "friend" in ways you cannot comprehend. You invoke a sacrificial goat? I know ways he'd never recover, gods he'd never be able to retrieve himself from. It would be laughable. And you left me out.

Wels stares at the demon from his nightmares.

"You're mad at me because you didn't get to be in my diss track," Wels says.

You let me be in the last one, Helsknight says.

"Dude," Wels says. "Dude, that's pathetic."

Helsknight sniffs. I'm your worst qualities. What does that say about you.

"I didn't even write this for this season," Wels says.

That makes it worse, Helsknight says.

"I don't even know where to start? For one--no, I still don't even know where to start," Wels says. "This is like, the lamest reason you could possibly have to come haunt me. Go away, I'm basking in my like, top 3 charting hit on the Hermitcraft server."

Top three? Pathetic. There are only three songs. You'd be the top song if you'd simply included my power, Helsknight says.

"I can't beat the streaming minutes Grian puts on that hold--look, uh, dude. You're, uh, a very scary representation of my fears and worst qualities and all. Appreciate that. Next time I need to do a diss track, I don't know, maybe I'll invite you? First you've got to stop appearing solely to make my life worse, though. Bring me a cookie or something. I don't know, whatever demons do."

I'm not a demon, I'm a Shadow. We're different, Helsknight says. ...I'll think about it.

When Wels turns the next corner, Helsknight has vanished again. Wels stops in the middle of the street, looks around, confirms the specter has vanished, and then bursts out laughing.

"What the Hels," he says, somehow feeling lighter and more bemused than before. That's a new feeling with his doppleganger. Then, he goes to visit Big Wood. While Doc definitely isn't playing the song of his own accord, Wels figures that Beef just might, and given the day he's having, that would feel like a kind of irony Wels isn't sure how to describe. Besides, he wants to see if Doc will notice if Wels sets the song on loop or something. What can he say--the man's reactions to being taunted are spectacular, and Wels loves seeing them. Call it a bad quality of his or something.

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsknight #a bee fic #hermitfic #unreality #LOOK MAN I HAD TO.#...APPARENTLY.#i put slightly too much thought into what is effectively A Dumb Bit. i mean not the rap. this fic. this fic is the dumb bit.#i mean the rap is a dumb bit too but not the one i put too much thought into. the fic is #YOU KNOW WHAT NEVERMIND THIS JUST CONFUSED THIS FURTHER. anyway that helsknight huh.

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superprincesspea · 1 day

Text

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 15 - Forfeit

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

When your mother and sisters break away to join the queen in the wheelhouse, you’re taken to the stable where the horse waiting for you is a chestnut mare with a little white patch between her eyes.

“Flare,” the groom calls her, and she does not look pleased to see you.

In fact, she snorts when you offer her your hand, her foot stamping on the hay, and you think the only thing worse than a long ride to the Kingswood, was to do it on a horse that already hated you.

Still, it wasn’t really the riding you minded so much as the company, Aemond’s company to be precise, though you had not yet seen him.

“Your saddle, my lady,” the groom says, interrupting your thoughts before presenting you with a fine brown side-saddle, its leather work embossed with dragons and ivy.

“I shall be riding astride this morning,” you tell him, deciding there was no way you would ride an untested horse without the complete control of both your legs.

“But this saddle is a gift from the Queen!” The groom retorts, looking completely aghast at your suggestion, his brow knitted and his words curt despite your rank.

A gift? Surely not.

Yet , the brass work is all shiny and new, the leather without cracks or marks to sully the pattern. But the most startling detail, which you’re not quite sure how you’d missed before, is the pommel, where the first letter of your name entwines with a dragon.

For a gift, it’s certainly an extravagant one and hardly fitting for the third daughter of Borros Baratheon.

You’ve never even had your own saddle before and refusal feels so awfully rude you hardly dare to say it, yet, if Alicent wanted you to travel to the Kingswood with the men, then you should be free to ride like one too.

“That may be so,” you say, chin up, defiant , “but I shall be riding astride or not at all.”

And to be perfectly honest, you didn’t want to be riding around on a lavish gift detailed for a Targaryen either.

What would people think?

What was Alicent thinking?

“You heard the Lady,” Aemond’s voice causes you to start as he appears by your side, his presence enough to force the groom to submit to your wishes without another word.

But you don’t thank him, you’re too busy trying not to think about how he’d asked you to marry him the last time you’d spoke. Yet you can think of little else.

“This is the horse they have given you?” he says, his foot easing onto the bottom rung of the fence, his tone enough to confirm your fears.

“Is there something wrong with her?” you ask, a sinking feeling pulling at your stomach.

“Not if you enjoy unruly beasts.”

You meet his eye, and a smile twitches at his lips before he glances over your shoulder.

“Boy ,” he calls to the stable hand hovering in the background, “is there no other horse to saddle for the lady?”

The boy shrugs, his attention darting around nervously before finally admitting, “the queen requested Flare personally , my prince.”

“Hmm ,” Aemond’s jaw tightens, his finger drumming on the fence as the groom returns with a new saddle. This one black with yet more dragons.

“Have my lady saddled on Ōños and I shall ride Flare,” Aemond tells him.

“But -” the groom half protests, neither wanting to disobey his queen or his prince.

“You'd rather my lady was thrown from the horse?” Aemond says, and it's not a question, his tone is sharp, commanding.

Aemond gets what Aemond wants.

“You need not switch horses with me,” you tell him, when the groom scurries away again, thinking you do not wish to have a prince of the realm thrown from a horse on your account.

But he shrugs, unconcerned, “I am the superior rider, so it only makes sense for you to have the easier horse.”

You can’t help but laugh, amused by the utter certainty of the words coming from his mouth and, even if you were quite sure they were true, it was such an arrogant thing to say that you felt compelled to refute it.

“Tell me,” you say, eyes wide, “is there a reason his grace already considers himself superior when he has never even seen me ride?”

“You have seen my dragon, yes ?”

“Briefly , but this is not a dragon, it's a horse.”

His eye slides to Flare then back to you, “I trained on horseback every day of my childhood before acquiring Vhagar then three times a week after that. How often do you ride, my Lady?”

"Six times a week, when I am home,” you answer, with so much confidence you almost believe it. But you would not be bested yet again, and you were certainly no novice since your father, who’d always longed for sons, had insisted on frequent practice.

A fresh smile quivers at Aemond's lips, his brow raised, "is that so? Then perhaps my lady will need to come to my aid when I am struggling to keep up with her?”

You picture Aemond on a wild bucking horse and can’t help but laugh, “I must say, it shall be difficult to aid his grace if I am too busy making fun of him.”

“Oh, I have no doubt in that regard, Lady Baratheon,” he says, seeming to almost enjoy the prospect, before the groom returns with the new horse, all saddled and ready, and certainly not what you expected.

The horse Aemond had ridden at the tourney was a destrier, strong, fierce and entirely black. But this one is smaller, a palfrey perhaps, with a pure white coat and mane, so bright and unblemished, he almost looks as though he cannot be real.

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, words formed with a gasp.

“Ōños.”

“Is that Valyrian?”

“It means ‘Light’,” he answers, his hand pressing to your lower back, guiding you closer, “he was a name day present from my Grandsire when I was a boy.”

“Hello Ōños,” you whisper, stretching your arm to offer him the scent of your hand and he nuzzles into you, allowing you to stroke the spot right between his big dark eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him, moving to pet his neck and run your fingers through the wiry bristles of his glossy mane. “And such a good boy...” you add, admiring him more with each pet, “so gentle... so calm...”

“You offer more praise to this horse than you have ever given your prince,” Aemond says and you’re not sure if he’s scolding you or teasing you, as he moves to ensure your saddle is tight around Ōños waist.

“Are there not ladies enough at court who praise his grace?”

“None that matter .”

��Very well ,” you say, clearing your throat as though your heart isn’t fluttering, “I believe my prince has the most wonderful horse.” Then you laugh, petting Ōños again, “or is that just further praise for you, sweet boy?”

Aemond snorts and you look back at him with yet more laughter.

“If my lady offers crumbs, I shall eat them heartily,” he says, extending his hand to help you mount.

“I have no need for assistance,” you decide, thinking you were finding his company unbearable enough without the touch of his hand, as you take the reins and secure your foot in the stirrup.

But Aemond grasps your waist to help you anyway. Easing you up and over, the skirt of your gown rising to the very top of your thigh with the motion, so you feel the coolness of the air as it hits the bare skin above your stocking.

Gods .

You look down, just in time with Aemond, who reaches eagerly for your hem, as though he is a gentleman.

Yet , as he pulls the skirt back down the length of your leg, his progress is marked with the delicate touch of his fingers in a way that cannot possibly be accidental.

Gods. Gods. Gods.

He meets your frozen stare, his eye dark, and you should say something.

Anything !

But your breath is trapped in your chest, and you can only give thought to the almost unbearable rush of tingles which have hurried excitedly to some deep, unreachable place in your core.

Then he smiles, and it's not a wicked smile, its content , satisfied , and you hate it, almost as much as you hate the way he takes hold of Ōños’ bridle, leading you out into the yard as though nothing is amiss.

Yet, what was the alternative? For him to gloat? Or worse, for him to say one of the thoughts which seemed to race behind the look in his eye?

You didn’t want that . What you wanted, was for you to say something. To react. To scold him. To remind him you were a Lady of house Baratheon and not to be treated as such.

With all of this in mind, and the tingles subsided enough for you to breathe, you shift forward in the saddle, so your words can reach him despite your hushed tone.

“Do not imagine you can take such liberties with me again,” you say, and Aemond stops before he turns to look at you, his smile more wicked than you have ever seen it.

“You give me little credit, Lady Baratheon, my imagination is far more creative than that.”

You frown, not quite understanding his meaning, then understanding it all at once and your gasp is quickly followed by a glare.

“If I told my father what you just did, he would have your hand!”

“If you told your father,” he begins, the wicked look on his face turning decidedly smug, “he would give me your hand, and I’m quite willing to test the theory if you are, my lady?”

He's right, of course , and that only adds more fuel to your temper, though in a yard brimming with people, you can only seethe in silence. Looking at anything but the prince as the morning sun beams down so pleasantly you could scream.

Seven Hells!

You’re beyond grateful when the groom arrives with Flare, providing you momentary relief from Aemond’s unwavering attention, as he moves to inspect his own saddle, before mounting her in one smooth motion which she does not take kindly to.

She stomps in protest, and Aemond pulls at her reins, his hand on her neck, his words low and inaudible in the busy yard, as he gets her under control.

“We should leave before everyone else,” he says when she has calmed, reaching for Ōños’ bridle again and pulling him in time with Flare.

“We should wait,” you insist, glancing to where Ser Maurin is talking with some of the other men, none of them yet mounted on horseback.

"And get stuck trudging through the droppings of a dozen horses all morning?”

Your nose crinkles at the idea and, when Aemond smiles, you imagine he’s thinking something along the lines of, ‘that’s what I thought’ , as he continues to lead you towards the open gates.

When you make it as far as the wheelhouse, you peek in through the slatted windows, catching just a glimpse of your sisters talking excitedly with the queen before Aemond releases your bridle and kicks his horse into a trot.

But you don’t follow, you pull on the reins, stopping Ōños since you’re in little doubt that following Aemond will be a mistake.

Yet, you can’t deny the part of you that wants to do it anyway. Because despite what you like to think about yourself, or honour and decorum, there’s a thrill to Aemond’s company that you find irritatingly compelling.

Why was that? You wonder, thinking how safe and easy a ride would be with Tyland Lannister by your side. But he isn’t even invited, you realise now. It’s only your family, Aemond’s family and the guards.

Drawing your hand across the reins, you half-heartedly tell yourself to turn back towards Ser Maurin, where you will be safe from any further improprieties or proposals of marriage, but that’s not what you do.

Perhaps you can blame Ōños, who reacts quickly to even the slightest hint of pressure from your feet. But that would be a lie.

It's your decision to chase Aemond, and Ōños is only too happy to gallop through the yard, as you were sure he’d done countless times before. And it's reckless to ride like this, with so many people in your path, but you seem to have left all common sense in the stable, so why stop now?

You jump a cart filled with apples, overtaking Aemond’s lead, and he was right . You didn’t want to spend the morning trudging behind the wheelhouse. You wanted to fly, and the Kings Road stretches ahead with barely an obstacle in your path.

Ōños, seeming to sense your excitement, picks up speed with little encouragement, dashing through the gates, his hooves pounding the earth so hard you can feel your hair slipping from its pins.

Your horse at Storms End could never run like this , he’s far too old and far too lazy. But Ōños is so powerful he feels unstoppable, yet you must stop, knowing you will quickly leave the procession behind entirely if you keep going.

You tighten your legs, pulling at his reins and he comes to a halt quickly, obediently, turning when you pull the rein again, so you can look back, and see that Aemond’s horse has barely run half the length of yours.

Instead, she’s picking at the brambled hedges which flank part of the path and Aemond is trying desperately to coax her back into his command.

You stifle your laughter, trotting closer.

“Does his grace require my aid so soon?” you tease, more than a little pleased by the look of frustration on his face.

Aemond bites back a grimace, his words laced with exasperation and spoken in High Valyrian as he pulls tightly on the reins. But Flare gives into his insistence at her own pace, taking one last bite of the sun ripened fruits before moving on.

“Perhaps you should ride at the back of the procession after all?” you tease again, noticing the wheelhouse is now ambling its path through the gate.

“Or perhaps I should abandon Flare with a squire, and we can ride pillion as I’m sure my mother intended?”

“Ha ,” you scoff, your eyes narrowing with a dare which should not be coming from your lips, yet you’re feeling so pleased with the situation that it sneaks out anyway, “you’ll have to catch us first.”

Aemond’s eye darkens, his hand snatching to grab your wrist before missing entirely, “is that a promise?”

You don’t answer but you enjoy the adrenaline which pumps in your veins. Yet, why not enjoy it? For once, you’re the one with the upper hand and it feels good, you want to toy with him like he always toys with everyone else.

Unable to contain your smile, you lead Ōños in a circle around Flare, careful to keep just out of reach before you kick him into another gallop which Aemond tries, but fails, to keep up with.

Yet, as always, Aemond is not interested in losing. So, instead of chasing you for miles of road, he turns, heading back to the gold cloaks who are leading the procession before dismounting to switch horses with what looks like Ser Willis.

His new horse is a deep hazelnut brown and much more obedient than Flare, so now the chase is really on, as he seems to fly towards you without any hesitation on the horse's part.

“Come on,” you say excitedly to Ōños, adrenaline still beating in your veins as you kick him into action, charging down the road and leaving Aemond to race through clouds of dust instead of the ones you’re sure he’s more accustomed to.

You keep your lead, all the way to where the road splits into a fork, and you’re forced to slow into a trot, unsure of which route to take.

“Caught you,” Aemond says, grabbing Ōños’ bridle so he can pull you both towards him and you roll your eyes.

“You didn’t catch us,” you tell him, allowing yourself to feel as smug as Aemond usually is, “I stopped.”

“A promise is a promise, Lady Baratheon,” he tries to remind you, your horses turning in a tight circle to keep you together.

“I don’t recall promising you anything .”

His jaw tightens, frustrated, but his eye smiles, “you’ll deny your prince his reward?”

“I’ll deny a cheater ,” you retort, nodding to the horse between his legs, “you were supposed to be riding Flare.”

He releases Ōños’ bridle, a long breath blowing through his nose, “I did not wish to lose.”

“Nor have you won.”

He laughs, his gaze scraping across your lips, “how about a race then? First to the camp shall choose a forfeit for the loser.”

You scoff, feeling a little uneasy at the prospect.

You were already too far ahead of the wheelhouse and feeling quietly certain that there would have been some raised brows at the way you and Aemond had raced ahead of the procession.

Yet, that’s not what you say, or what’s really holding you back, “I do not know the route.”

“It’s only one road from here to camp and Ōños has done it a hundred times.”

You give him a pointed look, “as have you .”

Aemond bites back whatever expression wants to grace his face, “you’re afraid I’ll win? You have the better horse.”

If you refuse him, it would be as good as admitting you thought he was the superior rider after all, and you were not about to do that . “I’m not afraid.”

“Then prove it.”

“Well...” your heart pounds, “what exactly is the forfeit?”

His smile fills his cheeks, his eye looking as blue as the sky behind him.

“When you win, you can tell me,” he says, and you pretend you’re only half considering the bet as you line Ōños up, so it will be a straight shot when you kick him into action.

“See you there! ” you call over your shoulder, racing ahead and unable to contain the burst of laughter which cackles mischievously from your chest.

Now was your chance to best him once and for all and you were not going to squander it, except , Aemond doesn’t follow behind. He jumps the farmers fence, racing his horse through the field and you really should have known better.

In Cyvasse he was always ten steps ahead, so why should this be any different?

Yet, instead of giving up, you only push harder, pressing Ōños to go faster, leaning into every turn as tightly as possible and trying to keep your eyes ahead instead of searching for a dragon. Perhaps that's what he wanted, for you to lose focus, for you to assume his victory. But he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed winning.

You can see the clearing in the distance, see white tents and staff already milling around to ensure everything is prepared for the queen’s arrival. But you can’t see Aemond and that makes you nervous.

You shift your weight forward, almost crouching to gain momentum, just as Aemond’s horse jumps through the trees, landing mere paces ahead of you on the road.

But, while his horse must slow to right itself after such a jump, you and Ōños are only moving faster.

You speed ahead and you can feel him tight on your heels as you make it right into the centre of camp.

“Woah,” you tell Ōños, who seems intent on charging straight through the clearing and beyond, and you're grinning from ear to ear when you circle back to meet the miserable expression on Aemond’s face.

Victory had never felt sweeter, and you intended to gloat.

“You look quite unhappy, your grace,” you say, panting as you try to catch your breath.

Aemond doesn’t reply, and you suspect he is a sore loser of the worst variety, as he kicks his leg over the horse with a frown, before handing the reins to a groom whose probably been standing around since dawn.

“I only wish everyone was here to see how I beat you,” you add, determined to salt the wound but Aemond’s frown is soon smoothed into a reluctant smile.

"Congratulations,” he says, taking your waist and pulling you from the horse so you’re securely in his embrace.

“Though I must admit,” he whispers, still holding you tightly, “I would much prefer my lady to be the one doing the forfeiting.”

You’d forgotten about that part, winning had been pleasure enough alone but a fresh smile brightens your face before you push his arms away.

“Hmm ,” you say teasingly, strolling through the small stretch of camp with Aemond as your shadow, “what's a good forfeit for the most repugnant man in the world?”

He coughs out a laugh, and you already know precisely what his forfeit needs to be, if you are to make it through this picnic with any sense of decorum, but you don’t say it, not yet .

You keep walking, and quickly make your way past the clearing, to where the forest grows beautifully lush and dense, and if you were to choose a picnic spot, it would be this . Not the cover of a tent with servants to bend to your every whim, but here, where the trees tangle with the undergrowth and the only thing you can hear is the unmistakable chorus of the woodland.

“Are you going to tell me or not?” he says, and his impatience makes you want to hold your tongue for as long as possible, but you take small comfort in knowing you’re just about to annoy him.

“Your forfeit,” you say, turning to look at him, “shall be to stay at least 20 paces away from me for the duration of the picnic.”

It might not be very exciting, but it was the only forfeit which made any sense if you didn’t want to spend the entire day wrapped up in his company.

His eye narrows, his head tilting, “and if I don’t?”

You laugh, half amused, half annoyed, "then you shall be obliged to complete an even more humiliating feat!”

Aemond’s jaw ticks, “such as?”

You glance to where the river rolls lazily in the distance and think of all the times he’s mocked you for that day on the beach, “how about a dip in the water, since you like suggesting it so much?”

Aemond snorts, moving closer, “my lady only wishes to punish me when I think she would have found her forfeit very enjoyable indeed.”

Now it's your turn to snort, “if my forfeit was to marry you, then you are mistaken.”

He grins, his eye meeting yours, “I cannot marry you in the Kingswood, but I do find it interesting that you would conjure the idea so readily.”

“I -” you start, your cheeks reddening but he was right. He hadn't said anything about marriage, that was all you .

Seeming to eat up yet another portion of your embarrassment, he unclasps his cloak, letting it fall to a pile on the forest floor.

“What are you doing?” you say, confused , though your gaze holds a keen interest in the way his long fingers begin loosening the buttons on his doublet.

“You said so yourself, if I cannot stay away from you, then I must take a dip in the river.”

The blood drains from your face, your heart stopping just as you meet the determined look in his eye.

“Because I didn’t think you would do it!” you gasp, and the smile that fills his face is made up entirely of mischief.

“Do you not take your bets seriously, Lady Baratheon?”

“Apparently not as seriously as his grace!” you exclaim, reaching to swat his hands away from his chest and dissuade any further progress along the buttons.

But Aemond is resolute and, as each button comes loose, he steps closer, forcing you to back away.

“My lady must believe I would have ensured she took her forfeit very seriously indeed,” he says, his doublet falling open to reveal the stark white linen of his tunic, the strings bound tightly at his neck.

You take another step away from him, your back colliding with the rough bark of a large tree.

“Do you want to know what it was? Your forfeit?” he asks, slowly loosening the long strings with a single pull.

“No.”

A smile quivers at the edges of his lips, and he inches right into your personal space, while the tree holds you still. And you can’t move, only watch, as his tunic unravels enough for you to see there are no bandages across his chest, only the bruise. Faded to a bloom of green instead of purple and so striking against his alabaster skin that you inhale a sharp breath.

Yet, you’re not looking at that . At least not for too long. You're staring at his hands, as they sink downwards to slide the end of his belt through its loops, each click of his buckle making your heart jump.

“This is absurd,” you whisper, your body tensing.

"Really ?” Aemond’s voice is low, seductive . “When I watched you undress, I found it quite mesmerizing.”

Your eyes flick to meet his and he must see the puzzled look on your face.

He had found you in the water, had he not?

“I was on the clifftop, resting Vhagar,” he says, answering the question which had not yet left your lips, “and just before I turned to leave, there you were. Wearing the black and yellow of house Baratheon.”

He pauses, letting the information sink into your bones, and you can hear the tightness in his breath before he laughs softly and continues, “I already thought it unusual for a high-born lady to be alone, so imagine my surprise when you began to take off all your clothes.”

He watched you. From the very first moment. He watched you.

You remember the way your chemise had billowed from your hands, forcing you to chase it down the beach. On the cliffs, he had certainly not been close enough to see every detail, but he had seen you. Your freedom, a moment that had felt so pure, so private .

Your temper burns and you push him with all your might, the action not surmounting to much considering the man you’re trying to repel, and his strength only serves to frustrate you further.

“You really are the worst man that ever lived!” You say and you mean it, but Aemond only smiles, enjoying the suggestion and possessing not an ounce of shame in his actions, past or present.

“I'd say there’s hardly a man alive who could have resisted watching you.”

Perhaps he was right. But he was the man who had been there that day and, though he could have left without saying a single word, he chose to fly closer, to stand where you could see him. To humiliate you.

Still, that is the least of your concerns as his belt comes free and his hand moves to rest beside your head on the tree, the hairs on the back of your neck pricking to attention.

“You’re out of your mind!” you tell him, thinking there was no way you were going to stand around while he took off all his clothes, and when you push him again, he doesn’t budge. He inches closer, his other hand tangling in your hair.

“From the moment I saw you on that beach, yes, ” he concedes, a spark of warmth flickering across your chest, but you ignore it.

“I hope you jump in the river, and it carries you out to sea!”

Aemond bites back his laughter yet he’s so close you can feel the echo of it rippling across his chest, and smell that all too familiar scent of his skin.

“It would be most unfortunate if I were to die without first kissing my lady, do you not agree?”

“I am not your lady.”

“But you have no objection to the kiss?” he shifts slightly, his nose brushing with yours.

“Yes ,” you’re barely breathing, “I have an objection. I- ”

But Aemond doesn’t want to hear what you’re about to say, he wants to kiss you, and you anticipate the touch of his lips with more desperation than you thought yourself capable of.

Yet , as his head tilts, and you feel the heat of his lips searching for yours, you come to your senses and turn away, his kiss landing on your cheek with a low groan.

Still, it is a kiss, Aemond’s kiss, and even if it hadn’t intended to land as such, it was still warm and delicate on your skin, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted. Wanting more, wanting so much more that you were afraid of your own desires.

“I think his grace is forgetting himself,” you scold, your words no louder than the flutter of a butterfly wing, but really, it is you who is forgetting yourself .

“If I am forgetting anything,” he argues, his breath hot on your cheek, “it is why I did not kiss you sooner.”

“I'd say it’s because I do not want you!”

“Need I remind my lady that she has the most terrible face for deception?” His voice is strained, a single finger pushing along your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Need I remind his grace that I still find him the most repugnant man in the entire world?”

Or was that just another lie to crumble under his scrutiny? Surely not. No, you find his behaviour mostly smug and sometimes downright appalling. Yet that didn’t stop the way your skin ached for his touch; it didn't stop it for a heartbeat.

“You can remind me every day when we are married,” he promises with a slow, easy smile and, just as you think he might try to kiss you again, you hear a noise. Both of your heads flicking towards the sound.

It’s the wheelhouse, you realise, innocently ambling its way towards the clearing, while you’re standing hot and breathless, pushed up against a tree with Aemond’s clothes half undone and decorum fully discarded.

This was madness! Complete and utter madness! And you only had yourself to blame.

“I’m never marrying you!” you say, resolute , before his gaze returns to yours and he stares at you for a long moment.

“Then my lady must allow me the honour of proving her wrong,” he vows, stepping back so he has room to refasten the strings on his tunic.

You scoff, trying not to look at anything but his face, “I have quite made up my mind on the matter.”

“As have I.”

“This is not a game Aemond, you will not win.”

He pauses, surprised, delighted , “ what did you say?”

His name, you realise. You said his name. Not his grace or my prince or even Prince Aemond, just Aemond.

Your fingers press across your traitorous lips but it's too late to take it back now. So you don’t try. You don’t even dare to say another word.

You’re free to move and you do so assuredly, hurrying back towards camp with your hands brushing through your hair to hide any evidence from your little misadventure in the woods.

Seven Hells!

If Alicent had contrived to force you into Aemond’s company, then she had succeeded entirely.

You’d made one bad decision after another from the moment you’d laid eyes on him in the stable, and if you were being completely honest, you didn't trust yourself not to make another one.

No, what you needed to do was find Cassandra and stick to her ladylike manners for the rest of the day. Perhaps she would even switch places with you in the wheelhouse? Yet, as you think this, you remember how you’d insisted on riding without a side-saddle. Of course you had, because you were just as Septa Orella had always told you. A defiant, ill-tempered girl.

~~~

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond #slow burn

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sapphoscorner · 2 days

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I know I sound like I fucking hate Baxter, but I don't, not really.

If you scroll back to my ol tag you will see that I played his dlc and enjoyed it, and I did but people pointed out some criticism that I couldn't help but agree with because, while I enjoyed it, It did made me feel ...empty, unsatisfied, something was missing.

And something was missing and that holding baxter accountable, granted this time I'm going off my memory so I might be wrong, but MC constantly reassesses Baxter and never once do they hold him accountable for what he's done, I understand why he did it, it doesn't make it fucking ok and MC should be pissed about it especially if they dated Baxter.

I'm happy if your MCs can forgive him, mine can't because they're OCs that are very feelings driven people who will hold him accountable and will force him to talk about what happened and why it happened, AND ONE OF THEM WILL GO NO CONTACT WITH HIM AFTERWARDS BECAUSE THEY JUST WANTED CLOSURE.

What pisses me off is that this dlc is not for every MC is not thought for those MCs who would just want closure and move on "you could also not play the DLC" I hear you but we meet Baxter as the wedding planner if my MCs end up with Cove so they'd still want to have closure.

My MCs should still be able to have a Baxter route where they just talk things out with him because that's just life, I don't want my MCs to be forced to be ok with his shenanigans because the game said so because my MCs don't act like that, it would make my own characters out of character and I wrote these bitches.

I just need people to be more aware that as much angst Baxter has is not a justification for what he did and he should still give MC a proper apology and not the one we got in game

#our life #our life beginnings & always #olba #baxter ward #im not scared of his fans<- is terrified #y'all pls accept criticism im not saying i hate him im saying it could have been handled better #free to do what you want for your mcs have im frustrated bc mine are unplayable in his dlc

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ohfallingdisco · 20 hours

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That “Steve, you need to RUN” leak video doing the rounds right now. That voice has got to be either Jonathan or Will. And there’s more people there.

The Disappearance of Holly Wheeler would motivate every single character to get out and do something more than anything else. I feel sick. Even with a time jump, she’s going to be so young, and how are the Wheeler parents supposed to understand it? And so Nancy asks her friends for help, or she doesn’t need to, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because we know they’ll all be there.

Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Robin—who else? The line “grab him by the throat” in the second recording? I can see the second ‘run’ scream, which sounds even more desperate, being denial, with music in an episode.

Is it Steve’s death scene? Is he just getting Vecna’d? Or is something happening to Jonathan? Is it a ‘go, save yourself’ plea? it’s safe to say Vecna is there, and active, if someone is getting grabbed by the throat.

A darker, compelling thought—Lonnie Byers. If Steve and Jonathan snuck off somewhere in the middle of the night to investigate, and Lonnie followed, he could have messed up a plan and caused one of them to get hurt. That’s probably just the fanfic author in me thinking, but at least all options are accounted for lol.

Anyway, if Holly goes missing and then this turns out to be a death, you can say goodbye to me too! Please give us a break :’)

#stranger things #st5 #st5 speculation #jonathan byers #steve harrington

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 47 minutes

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the girl next door 7

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your body is stiff. You blame your late-night drawing session hunched over the folding table. You feel it in your neck and shoulder. You sit up and groan, rubbing your muscles as you try to loosen the knots. You roll your arms as you stand up, yawning as you rub your eyes.

A dewy breeze flows in. The air feels like rain but the density has yet to break. You remember vaguely in the middle of the night cracking the window to cool off, your room stagnant and stale.

You near the window in your baggy shirt, dampened slightly with your sweat. It’s caught under your chest as you bulge against the fabric. You pull it free as you stand in front of the pane and blanch as you see movement on the other side. Shoot.

Your eyes meet Steve’s as he closes the window across from yours. He can feel the approaching storm too. He smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You lift your hand weakly, barely extending your fingers before you tug shut the curtains. How much did he see? How much could he see?

You go out to get the day started. The overhead light of kitchen blares yellow across the space and you put the coffee pot on to brew. As you wait, you tidy the table, once more cluttered with your mother’s forgotten distractions. The crossword book, several pens, a home magazine, and several wrappers.

You slow the pour of coffee into your mug as you hear your mom’s bedroom door. You stare at the doorway until she appears. She limps to the table and sits heavily. You put the cup before her and grab another for yourself. She mutters and leans her head in her hand. She was home late last night.

You go to grab her inhaler from the bathroom. Once more, it’s missing. You return and find it on the counter hidden beside a used plate. It's only then you notice the blackened frozen fries on the cookie sheet. What the heck?

“Ugh, that man,” she croaks, letting it roll into a laugh, “he convinced me to have a little wine after the milkshake.” You put her inhaler in front of her. She raises her head and scowls. She rubs the furrow between her brows. “And then another. And another.”

You don’t even remember her getting home. You were up until one in the morning drawing. She must have been much later. How hadn’t you heard her make all this mess?

You sip your coffee around cleaning up. You wash the glass from the milkshake Steve brought over and set it aside. Your mother hacks and clears her throat.

“Mm, he’s too nice,” she mutters, “told him you didn’t need that. Too much sugar. You don’t even like strawberry.”

You hide your frown. You like strawberry. You’re not sure why she thinks otherwise. She’s never really asked.

“I’ll bring the glass back--”

“You remember your manners,” she girds before she hums into her coffee cup. She gulps through her wet lips noisily. “I don’t need you ruining this.”

“I will, mom.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with a groan, “I need my chair.”

Her hand trembles and the cup with it. She spills a little over the sides but doesn’t pay attention to it. You dump the tray of burnt fries and put it in the sink. You just cleaned this place top to bottom. You don’t think you’re that messy but it’s always a disaster.

You clean the rest of the dishes and put them away. Your mom hollers for more coffee and you bring the pot with you to refill her cup. She leans it on her chest and closes her eyes.

“I’m going to take the glass back now, I guess.”

“Mph, do whatever,” she utters irritably.

You trod back to your room and change into real clothes; straight-legged jeans and a stripped jersey tee. You just want to get this over with. It’s so awkward. You would rather your mom just take it back the next time she goes over but she’s in rough shape. It must be the alcohol. She’s not really supposed to have any.

You grab the glass and put on your shoes. As you come out, there’s a speckling of rain falling from the sky. You go up the walk and around the sidewalk, coming back down the pavement squares to Steve’s porch. You stop and look up at his front door. You climb the steps and drag your feet to the door.

You tap the bell. It’s one of those ones with the camera built-in. You feel overly conscious as you stand before the lens. The door opens before you can prepare yourself.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve greets, “how are you?”

“Erm. Okay. Here.”

You hold out the glass. He doesn’t take it. He leans on the doorframe and smile.

“Crummy day, huh? Supposed to thunderstorm soon,” he comments, “too bad, I was really wanting to get that pool going.”

“Mm, yeah,” you keep the glass raised before you.

“Oh well, guess I’ll have to figure out what to do all pent up. Maybe a movie night? With all this moving, I’m way behind.”

You look at his chest, staring at the short-sleeved button up with chagrin. What is he talking about? Why is he talking so much?

“You got any suggestions? You youngins always know what’s hip,” he shakes his head and laughs, “sorry, I sound old, don’t I?”

“No,” you answer dully.

“No what? No suggestions or no I don’t sound old?” He challenges.

Your eyes go round and you look him in the face. “I don’t know.”

“I’m teasing--”

“Here,” you wiggle the glass at him.

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. You let it go and recoil. You bare your teeth strangely and back away, “thanks, er. Bye.”

You turn and cringe at the grey sky. You trudge off the porch and cut across the lawn, too mortified not to trod over his grass. You clamber up the front steps and quickly shut yourself inside the house. You hiss at yourself as you press your back to the door.

“Don’t slam the goddamn door,” your mother sneers, “Jesus. No wonder this place is falling apart.”

🏠

It’s one of those days where you’re just sad. You can’t pinpoint why. It’s just a vague malaise that won’t leave. Even as the sun beams and deepens to a soft evening hue, you can’t see a light among the dark.

You don’t know how long you’ve been like that. Under your covers, crying for no good reason. It just hurts to be. You keep your arm folded over your pounding head. You just want to sleep and yet you can’t cross the barrier into unconscious.

You give up and roll onto your back, pulling the blanket to your waist. You exhale and stare up at the ceiling. You’re head swims from the deluge of tears. You sop them up with the sheet and sit up. Your head is full and throbbing.

You get up, bleary-eyed, and muddle your way through reality. You pull open your door and find the bathroom on instinct alone. You shut yourself in and blow your nose. The effort has you even more dizzy. You shake your head, trying to clear out the fog, and turn on the cold water. You throw it across your face, holding a wet palm to your forehead to try to ease the tension.

Your ears tickle with a strange noise. A low drone. Like bass on the front television. Now and again, your mom will amp up the TV but it’s unexpectedly loud. You twist off the faucet and stand straight. You dry off and head back into the hall, peering down at the shifting light glaring from the living room doorway.

“Woahhh,” the voice catches you unaware as someone collides with you from behind in the dim hallway. You stumble and turn to face Steve as popcorn scatters onto the floor, tumbling over the brim of the bowl. The smell tugs at your stomach, “sorry sweetie, I didn’t see you there.”

You look at his silhouette, unable to make out any of his features. You didn’t even know he was there. Your mother didn’t even warn you. You suspect that may have been purposeful.

“Sweetie?”

“Sorry,” you back up, “didn’t mean... to get in the way.”

You turn and shuffle back to your room. He follows, “your mom said you weren’t feeling good. Hope you get better soon, but if you’re interested, we’re watching a movie.”

Your bedroom door is wide open. If you’d known, you would’ve been sure to shut it tight.

“No, thank you,” you grab the handle and slowly shift the door behind you.

“No problem,” he calls after you, “offer stands if you change your mind.”

You click the door shut gently and stay on the other side, listening for his footsteps. He lingers, a bit too long, and it’s only as he walks away that you go back to your bed. There’s something strange about him. Or maybe it’s just you.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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3xiles · 15 hours

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Sweet lies

Pairing • Toji x gn!reader

Warnings • Angst!, Cheating mentioned, suggestive, manipulation, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP!, Cursing, not proof read sorry!! lmk if i missed anything >.<

Word count • 405 words

A/n • This is my first time writing in a while LMAO. I hope you all enjoy! :)) Repost are always appreciated!

You knew your marriage was going downhill the first time you caught him but, you being young, naive, and stupidly in love you let yourself believe the foolish lies that he would spill to you every night. The tongue that was used to pleasure another being the same one let the words “i love you” effortlessly roll off.

You met Toji when you were fairly young. A fresh college graduate moving away from home to a new city to start your new life. Things were going great! You were able to snag a great job as an accountant and you were making good money. You got a beautiful pent house apartment and were wearing clothes that years ago you thought you would never be able to afford and not to mention all at the age of 24. Yeah, things really were going great for you and things would still be that way if you just hadn’t gone out that night.

You had met a group of girls from this dance class you joined when you first moved and they somehow convinced you to go out clubbing with them one night. ‘What’s the harm in one night out?’ you repeated to yourself in your head, you were never really the clubbing type. Little did you know that one night would somehow change the course of your life. You met Toji on this night out.

He had this charm to him. Maybe it was something about a man that was older that got it you or the strong cologne that hit your nostrils as soon as he walked up. It could’ve been how smooth he was with his words and how dominating his presence was. At first glance he seemed scary but something about him made you feel… safe. Using that deep rasp voice and smooth combination of words he managed to bring you home that night.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, you didn’t like one night stands. Afterwards you were ashamed you would let yourself go like this, especially with a guy you just met not even 2 hours ago! You can’t lie tho, he was the best fuck you’ve ever had. He fell asleep shortly after so you took that as your que to leave. Before you leaving you left your number on his nightstand, you wanted to see more of him but it also made you feel better about the situation. Much to your surprise he ended up calling a few days later and asking you out on a date. It made you feel good, he wanted you. He wanted to turn into something. All that talk at the club wasn’t just to get in your pants, he actually liked you! You both went on more dates and shortly after began dating. It was a very nerve wracking experience for you, him being your first relationship since high school.

You fell hard. He made you feel things you’ve never felt before. He was all you wanted and more. He was nothing like the guys your age, he was grown. He was doing things for you that you’ve only seen with TV couples. Bringing you flowers while you were at work, random dates and gifts, and so much more. Toji was the man of your dreams but like every couple you guys had your ups and downs. The thing that made them all better, that damn mouth of his.

Toji’s words were your drug. He just always knew the right things to say. He had you right in the palm of his hand and you didn’t even know it. The things he has convinced you to do are unbelievable and looking back on it now you definitely wouldn’t have done them. Cutting off all your friends because in his words “They are all too immature” and “bad influences”, moving out of the apartment you loved so so much because he says would be better to wake up with you by his side and even quitting the job of your dreams.. because he promised he would take care of you. He didn’t want you to ever stress your pretty little head or lift one of your polished fingers. You began to rely on him, you began to need him.

About a year and a half into your relationship he proposed and of course you said yes! who were you to say no to him? He was providing for you, keeping you safe, the least you could do was tie the knot with him, right?

Biggest mistake of your life.

part two???

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n7punk · 9 months

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Cancelled She-ra (2018) Action Dolls

In 2019 Mattel released eight fashion dolls for the 2018 She-ra reboot featuring Adora, Glimmer, Bow, Catra, Shadow Weaver, and 3 versions of She-ra (there was also a Swift Wind model). However, the line was planned to be more extensive before being cancelled (and we all know how disastrous the rollout of the completed line was). Prototypes were made of Mermista, Queen Angella, season four Glimmer, and Entrapta, though no photos of the latter have emerged.

All photos come courtesy of the Instagram of (at the time) Mattel employee and packaging designer Darren Sander (who also worked on the mainline She-ra designs), but Dollect did us all the courtesy of pulling the photos since it's a pain to do with Instagram. Some of these photos feature unfinished doll parts that might be a bit disconcerting.

Mermista:

Designed by someone named Annalise (no last name given, but probably this Annalise since she did the core line), Mermista was probably planned for a second wave of toys that never came to be. This is her prototype. It's unknown how "finalized" she was or if there would have been more passes on her design.

Queen Angella & Queen Glimmer 2-pack:

First two photos are earlier prototypes on immovable dolls, the more unfinished photos feature the "powerfully poseable" bodies and sculpt.

Angella's forehead gem was going to be a separate inset piece (as shown in the head sculpt in the 4th photo). Her wings were going to have an aurora borealis effect on them and both outfits were covered in glitter. Darren Sander seems to have done more work for these two.

Alas, Entrapta's prototype was never shared, but suffice to say, we were robbed.

#she ra #spop #spop meta #merch #words and things #im REMAKING THE POST since it was suppressed/missing??? on my own dash??? idk if that was true for everyone but im trying again #if it keeps happening then idk man i dont know why that's happening #OKAY IT WORKED. HI. LOOK AT WHAT MATTEL TOOK FROM US #i dont really like angella but fucking MERMISTA??#mattel can catch these hands im done playing #doing dives into their instagram accounts i found more info on details of the dolls and now i might have to make a separate post about them #my hell is unending

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windywooshes · 7 months

Text

Kaveh x Reader

Trigger and content warning: mention of metaphorical death; burn out and hints of depression

It's a bit self-indulgent and a downer, so I apologise if it’s not that fun to read. I still want to write a more cute Ayato fic which is carrying dust in my folder. Gender neutral pronouns are used.

„I died.“

„I am long dead.“

Was the first thing that ringed through that tired individual in front of him. Their eyes empty, eyebags heavy, shoulders slumped.

As if the world was carried on them. As if breathing without purpose, standing without stable grounding. Choking on water while on plain road, bubbles rising and plopping one after the other to create a shower of despair one could only drown in.

His lover died; quiet recently much in contrast to what they believed in. Kaveh saw it with his own rubellite gems, orbs dimming with each new return home, with each new arrival into their shared chambers. His beloved hollow, much like him. Yet he was still hanging in, he was still holding up while his loved one snapped from the rope which was securing their wobbling feet on the trapeze of life. Falling. Swallowed. Whole.

They have died that day when the burden was too much of the talent which they were gifted with, which brought them misery over the years. Constant disappointment and fighting for survival. The passion which once rung through them and lighted their path, deminished with the flick of the first words of their professor. The hopes and dreams slowly pulled apart once the feet started to stray from a concrete path to take, no idea where to go, what to do with that love they once held for the hobby they polished so tenderly at their budding time as a flower.

This flower did not survive long. Destroyed by the harsh winter of critique and self doubt. Burried under the snow of helplessness. Lost in the white storm called life and adulthood. The competition leaving it freezing to a breaking point.

Kaveh saw them die recently as they broke down one evening, not able to explain; not needing to explain. But he caught them as they had caught him before at his lowest. At his days when he was dying out of thirst in the savana of life. In the dunes which scorched his heart to crisp by loneliness. The harsh sumeran summer which almost devoured him whole when everything he had left was stripped from him.

Their cold hands already reaching out to cool his head full of hatred for himself, to swell the burning in his heart. Balancing. Tending. Cooling.

So it was. So it will. Kaveh was the summer to their winter. And as he was saved and resurrected a phoenix by their hands, he was now as well tending back the liege of ice back onto their feet so they could dance around the campfire once more as in the fairytales described.

They have started a new life; quiet recently in fact.

And he would do anything to cling onto it this time, with them. Both healing. It was a painful time to see your passion diminish before you but it was not a lonely one. Both, rising back to glory and humble life as they were reborn once more to walk their new life together with entwined fates and hands.

#tw death #cw death #kaveh x reader #kaveh genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #I've been missing writing but knowing that I have like what…3 requests waiting for years now to be written really put a dump on the lid #life has been exhausting as well #maybe I can get back into writing #since I lately remembered that I made this account for self indulging fun writing instead of binding myself onto something #I grew so tired about social media but I really want to write and do art for myself at least again and share it for whoever feels #like looking on it #anw kaveh reminds me of a phoenix a lot #he is probably someone one could sympathise the most to for some reason #he is more human than being just a cartoon 🧍#someone poured their heart into that guy

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allgremlinart · 20 days

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re ur last rb tags, i came across this a coupla days ago: https://www.tumblr.com/simon-eriksson/635059462829408256/fanfic-writers-my-friend-send-me-this-link-is-a

haven’t tried myself but hopefully helps?

THANK YOU and thank you to everyone on here sharing resources (and to those of you who have tried to help me with this to no avail asdsdjhh. bad at most things on computers...) I will try this stuff out when I have time/art that even I would feel embarrassed posting to here 🫡

#it really is something I have to figure out cus atp I feel like more people on here have an ao3 than they #do a pixiv or a twitter account - which is where I've been posting my r18/rarepair art that gets reported on here....#allgremlinasks #<333 #to read #also cus I wanna post my nsft art in chapters/dumps by pairing - I think it could be a fun way of organizing my art as opposed to #tumblr's hit-or-miss (reliability wise) system of tags

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coldgoldlazarus · 11 months

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Okay, so now people are going from "The jedi never did anything wrong ever and are perfect and flawless and made zero mistakes and literally everything was Palpatine's fault even when there were moments he was clearly speed-chess-ing to account for the unexpected," a kinda dumb but not unreasonable take, to "Everything is Anakin's fault and he never had the potential to be better and we're just gonna ignore his slave upbringing and Palpatine's influence and just decide he was always the worst person alive and his redemption at the end-" (which I will admit was kinda small in comparison to his crimes, but also was still the centerpiece of the movies that are the centerpiece of the franchise) "-does not matter at all, fuck that guy, and also the Jedi are still 100% perfect btw". And I do not like that.

I really don't wanna get into the weeds here, but there's something about this that really doesn't sit right with me. I will happily call Kylo Ren a neo-nazi school shooter all day, because his awfulness was established and reinforced as his own choice, (no matter what RoS may retroactively claim) and while I could understand the argument for Palpatine being to blame for literally everything in the Prequels, (he is the big bad for a reason, after all) and I won't deny that Darth-youngling-slayer-Vader isn't even remotely close to innocent either; idunno, it still feels off.

There's just, this weird undercurrent of pushing the blame, or the idea the Jedi may have been even the teensiest tiniest bit less than perfect, or provided any ammunition for Palpatine to use against them, off to anyone and everyone else. And not only does it feel divorced from the actual subtext or even text of the Prequel Trilogy, the context of all the different factors that led to Anakin becoming Vader, (some of which he was responsible for, some of which he was not) or the ending of RotJ; but it also just feels increasingly bizarre outside of that. Like y'all are projecting onto the Jedi so hard that anything said against them feels like a personal attack, and the response is to refuse all responsibility on their behalf. And pardon the pun, but that feels very irresponsible when taking into account the political aspect of some of what the prequels were trying to say about complacence in the face of rising fascism.

I can sorta get why people would be like this, I have heard horror stories about Karen Traviss's Jedi-bashing nonsense, but this is going too far in the other direction at this point. I can also understand how RoS dropping the ball with TLJ's setup could aid in this, since I think TLJ's overall point that the Jedi are still good, but do severely need to evolve and change, was undercut by JJ's own blind worship. But that doesn't make the point any less valid at the end of the day, you're just missing it completely.

#not a reblog #star wars #star wars discourse #jedi discourse #maybe there's some vital context I'm missing #in the clone wars or whatever #since I am a movie-only gal #but this really reads to me like people #who took the OT's stilted and biased account #of them at face value #but instead of getting mad at the prequels #just decided to completely misread them #to align with that prior perception #for the record I do not think the jedi suck #I think they were trying to do the right thing #but made a fuckton of mistakes #that Palpatine was more than happy to exploit #thus this trend of completely denying those mistakes #is really really fucking stupid #and honestly a little uncomfortable #and I just hope that y'all don't approach #important irl issues the same way #really. every time I see stuff like this #it reminds me that at the end of the day #while TLJ made me appreciate #and even love the movies again #I will always hate 99% of star wars fans

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