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fans4wga · 9 months

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"The studios thought they could handle a strike. They might end up sparking a revolution"

by Mary McNamara

"If you want to start a revolution, tell your workers you’d rather see them lose their homes than offer them fair wages. Then lecture them about how their “unrealistic” demands are “disruptive” to the industry, not to mention disturbing your revels at Versailles, er, Sun Valley.

Honestly, watching the studios turn one strike into two makes you wonder whether any of their executives have ever seen a movie or watched a television show. Scenes of rich overlords sipping Champagne and acting irritated while the crowd howls for bread rarely end well for the Champagne sippers.

This spring, it sometimes seemed like the Hollywood studios represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers were actively itching for a writers’ strike. Speculations about why, exactly, ran the gamut: Perhaps it would save a little money in the short run and show the Writers Guild of America (perceived as cocky after its recent ability to force agents out of the packaging business) who’s boss.

More obviously, it might secure the least costly compromise on issues like residuals payments and transparency about viewership.

But the 20,000 members of the WGA are not the only people who, having had their lives and livelihoods upended by the streaming model, want fair pay and assurances about the use of artificial intelligence, among other sticking points. The 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists share many of the writers’ concerns. And recent unforced errors by studio executives, named and anonymous, have suddenly transformed a fight the studios were spoiling for into a public relations war they cannot win.

Even as SAG-AFTRA representatives were seeing a majority of their demands rejected despite a nearly unanimous strike vote, a Deadline story quoted unnamed executives detailing a strategy to bleed striking writers until they come crawling back.

Days later, when an actors’ strike seemed imminent, Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger took time away from the Sun Valley Conference in Idaho not to offer compromise but to lecture. He told CNBC’s David Faber that the unions’ refusal to help out the studios by taking a lesser deal is “very disturbing to me.”

“There’s a level of expectation that they have that is just not realistic,” Iger said. “And they are adding to the set of the challenges that this business is already facing that is, quite frankly, very disruptive.”

If Iger thought his attempt to exec-splain the situation would make actors think twice about walking out, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he handed SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher the perfect opportunity for the kind of speech usually shouted atop the barricades.

“We are the victims here,” she said Thursday, marking the start of the actors’ strike. “We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly: How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they’re losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.”

Cue the cascading strings of “Les Mis,” bolstered by images of the most famous people on the planet walking out in solidarity: the cast of “Oppenheimer” leaving the film’s London premiere; the writers and cast of “The X-Files” reuniting on the picket line.

A few days later, Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC and Expedia Group and a former Hollywood studio chief, suggested that studio executives and top-earning actors take a 25% pay cut to bring a quick end to the strikes and help prevent “the collapse of the entire industry.”

When Diller is telling executives to take a pay cut to avoid destroying their industry, it is no longer a strike, or even two strikes. It is a last-ditch attempt to prevent le déluge.

Yes, during the 2007-08 writers’ strike, picketers yelled noncomplimentary things at executives as they entered their respective lots. (“What you earnin’, Chernin?” was popular at Fox, where Peter Chernin was chairman and chief executive.) But that was before social media made everything more immediate, incendiary and personal. (Even if they have never seen a movie or TV show, one would think that people heading up media companies would understand how media actually work.)

Even at the most heated moments of the last writers’ strike, executives like Chernin and Iger were seen as people who could be reasoned with — in part because most of the executives were running studios, not conglomerations, but mostly because the pay gap between executives and workers, in Hollywood and across the country, had not yet widened to the reprehensible chasm it has since.

Now, the massive eight- and nine-figure salaries of studio heads alongside photos of pitiably small residual checks are paraded across legacy and social media like historical illustrations of monarchs growing fat as their people starve. Proof that, no matter how loudly the studios claim otherwise, there is plenty of money to go around.

Topping that list is Warner Bros. Discovery Chief Executive Davd Zaslav. Having re-named HBO Max just Max and made cuts to the beloved Turner Classic Movies, among other unpopular moves, Zaslav has become a symbol of the cold-hearted, highly compensated executive that the writers and actors are railing against.

The ferocious criticism of individual executives’ salaries has placed Hollywood’s labor conflict at the center of the conversation about growing wealth disparities in the U.S., which stokes, if not causes, much of this country’s political divisions. It also strengthens the solidarity among the WGA and SAG-AFTRA and with other groups, from hotel workers to UPS employees, in the midst of disputes during what’s been called a “hot labor summer.”

Unfortunately, the heightened antagonism between studio executives and union members also appears to leave little room for the kind of one-on-one negotiation that helped end the 2007-08 writers’ strike. Iger’s provocative statement, and the backlash it provoked, would seem to eliminate him as a potential elder statesman who could work with both sides to help broker a deal.

Absent Diller and his “cut your damn salaries” plan, there are few Hollywood figures with the kind of experience, reputation and relationships to fill the vacuum.

At this point, the only real solution has been offered by actor Mark Ruffalo, who recently suggested that workers seize the means of production by getting back into the indie business, which is difficult to imagine and not much help for those working in television.

It’s the AMPTP that needs to heed Iger’s admonishment. At a time when the entertainment industry is going through so much disruption, two strikes is the last thing anyone needs, especially when the solution is so simple. If the studios don’t want a full-blown revolution on their hands, they’d be smart to give members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA contracts they can live with."

#sag-aftra strike #sag strike #fans4wga #writers guild strike #actors guild strike #union solidarity #wga strong #i stand with the wga #wga strike #writers strike

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daycourtofficial · 5 months

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Capture the Mate

Summary: Azriel has to leave on a mission for a few days, but he asks Cassian to help look after his pregnant mate while he’s gone. Someone ambushes you and Cassian, taking you as prisoner.

Author’s note: this was requested by this lovely anon!!

“You look massive today.”

You snort at Cassian as you walked in, your giant belly making sitting down a bit difficult.

“And you look extra stupid today,” you retort, “guess we’re both glowing.”

Cassian laughs, going back to his cereal. You were in the last few months of your pregnancy and you were ready to meet your baby. You loved being pregnant, you loved how hot sex with your mate was because of it, you loved cradling your bump and the way your mates hands always find your bump.

But you didn’t love Cassian’s comments comparing you to a whale, the back pain, the inability to get comfortable, and your mate’s overprotectiveness being dialed up by a factor of a thousand.

Azriel was going on fewer missions these days due to your pregnancy, opting to delegate most of them to his most trusted spies. There are occasionally some missions he has to do himself, not happy about leaving you, practically throwing temper tantrums in the lead up to being gone. When he comes home it’s as if he’s been off at war for decades, checking every inch of you, asking you about every detail of your time in his absence (even down to what you ate exactly - he thinks you don’t eat enough vegetables in his absence).

This is the fifth mission during your pregnancy he’s gone on, and each time he can’t bear to leave you without someone who can protect you. Whenever Azriel has to go, he ensures one of his brothers or Feyre will be present with you at all times. Whenever he’s gone, you just stay in your old room at the House of Wind or at Feyre and Rhys’s new house.

At first it sounded a bit like needing a babysitter, but now it’s more like just staying at someone’s house for a sleepover. Feyre and Nesta always tried to help you have fun, spending the days you’re with them doing the things you love. Cassian loves you being there because he likes to have eating competitions with you, and Rhys likes it because he spoils you rotten.

Before Azriel left, he spent probably an hour saying goodbye to you and the babe. He’d kiss you, then move down to talk to the babe. “Stay in there until I return,” he’ll whisper. “Be nice to your mom while I’m gone, okay? Let her sleep, I won’t be here to rub her back when you kick her in the kidneys.”

This time he actually tears up a bit at leaving the two of you. He looks at you, grabbing your face in his hands, “I shouldn’t be too long, sweetheart. Be safe, I love you.”

“Any plans for the day, Cass?”

“Mmm not really, I already had training, so my day is free to be spent with you, my favorite sister.”

You smile. “You say that to both me and Feyre,” you reply, rolling your eyes fondly.

Cassian lifts his spoon to finish off the last of his cereal. “It changes day by day - today you’re the favorite.”

You had asked Cassian if you two could go back to your home with Azriel, you had some chores to do and you also wanted to work on setting up the nursery.

Looking around the nursery you take in what needs to be done. A month out from the baby’s arrival and your mate still hasn’t set up the crib. But if you set it up without him he’d give you a big lecture about how he was going to do it and how you could get yourself hurt doing it, so you’ll just leave it be.

You have a dresser set up and a wardrobe that practically rivals your own, so you decide to spend the day folding and putting away baby clothes.

Cassian graciously offered to clean the dishes that were in the sink, along with sweeping and mopping your downstairs floors.

After telling him he didn’t have to do that, he responded, “well I don’t want dirty floors for Cassian Jr. here when he starts crawling, and I don’t want you mopping because if you slip you might hurt Cassian Jr.” He finished his statement by reaching out to rub your belly.

You rolled your eyes at him, as he smiles at your belly. “Cassian, aren’t Jr’s supposed to be named after their father or mother? Last I checked, this wasn’t your baby.”

He strokes his thumb over your bump, hoping to feel a kick from within, “we could convince Az it’s mine. I think it’d be hilarious.”

You snort, “he’d kill you in a heartbeat.”

Cassian sighs, “I suppose. Maybe the next one can be Cassian Jr.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he tries to look at you suggestively.

You fling your arms, bringing on of your hands to your forehead dramatically, “Oh Cassian your powers of seduction are too strong, I’m irresistibly drawn to you! I must flee, to keep myself from pouncing on you.”

Laughter from the both of you echoing through the house as you attempt to scuttle away but it becomes more of a waddle as you climb the stairs to your nursery.

An hour or two had passed and you made a remarkable dent in the amount of clothing your baby had. The vast amount of clothes are mostly Rhys’s fault, no one alive loves buying clothes more than that male, but your mate was also quite fond of picking up clothes on the rare occasions he left your side.

He loved watching how happy you got, realizing just how much he was thinking of you and the babe while gone.

You decide to go check on Cassian, not having heard much of anything from downstairs since you’ve been in the nursery. You waddle down the stairs, holding the railing for support. You get to the last step, and you see Cassian in your living room, face down, wings splayed out, blood gushing from his head onto your rug.

You yell for him as you run to him, sitting next to him, checking for a pulse. He’s still alive, but he has a considerable amount of blood.

You press on his head wound, trying to cradle his head in your lap to apply pressure to the wound. He’s starting to wake a little, you can feel his hands squeezing on your thighs.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, and a cool metal graces the skin of your neck.

“Here’s the pretty little thing we were looking for.”

When Cassian came to, his head was pounding. He sat up on the floor of your living room, trying to assess the situation. He was mopping the floor of your kitchen when something struck the back of his head.

He never got a good look at the assailant, the blow leaving him stuck on the floor. He was, however, able to crawl into your living room in an effort to reach you.

You.

You had cradled his head, you had come down here.

Cassian bolts up, causing him to go a little dizzy from the blood loss. He gets up, darting up your stairs.

“Sunshine? Are you here?”

He ran into the nursery, checking all the spots you could be hiding in there - the wardrobe, the closet, amongst the bags and boxes littering the floor.

His panic was starting to rise. “Sunshine, are you here? It’s me, Cassian.” The desperation was leaking through his voice, “please be here, it’s okay to come out.”

He combed through your shared bedroom with Azriel, checked every bathroom, Azriel’s study, your spare room, your library, the kitchen.

He combed through his memories, knowing Azriel kept hidden nooks everywhere. When the two of you moved in together, he remembered Azriel made several small pockets in this house so you could hide if anything were to happen.

You came to training, but you were no warrior. You couldn’t hurt anyone, and Azriel knew you’d have a hard time attacking anyone. He knew that Azriel drilled into you if anything were to happen to hide immediately.

The library.

It’s Cassian’s last hope. Of course Azriel had stuck a hidden panic room in the library. Cassian bound into the room, trying to remember what book it was that opened the secret entrance.

Combing the spines, he’s trying to remember. It was green, something that stands out a little, but not too much. Something someone who knew Azriel would know that this is off.

A book of Prythian maps. Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian had all of Prythian memorized, there was no need for it.

He slides the book from its spot, watching the case move, exposing the empty tiny room.

Cassian wasted no time jumping off your balcony, flying like a bat of hell to Rhys and Feyre’s house, screaming mentally, hoping Rhys would pick up on it.

He lands on their balcony, bursting into Rhys’s study, interrupting the intimate moment between them. Feyre was perched on his lap, feeding him grapes, Cassian’s entrance causing her to drop the bowl, the ceramic shattering on the ground, a dozen or so grapes spilling across the floor.

“Cassian!” Feyre yells in shock. She didn’t even know anyone else could burst into Rhys’s office.

Rhys stands up, immediately knowing something was wrong. “Where is she, Cass?”

Cassian points to his head, allowing Rhys to see everything. Your rug he stared at after the blow to his head, hearing your distress, him going in and out, feeling your hands press against his wound, him waking up alone, his frantic search of your house.

Feyre gasps, having also seen all of it.

“Bring Azriel home now.”

Your captors had thrown a bag over your head, not allowing you to see anything as they took you away from your home, away from Cassian bleeding on your rug.

They left Cassian, probably as a message that they could take him down if they wanted, but that he wasn’t who they wanted.

Your only hope is that Cassian wakes up soon enough and alerts Rhys and Feyre about what happened, and they could get into contact with your mate.

You were filled with a mix of emotions, between fear, concern, and anger. Afraid for your life, what your captors will do to you, concern for your unborn baby, and anger for Azriel.

Azriel closes off the bond between you two during missions, a decision you both agreed to. However, the second he is available, he opens it, letting you know how he is. Your biggest hope now is just sending him how you’re feeling, hoping he’ll feel that you’re alive whenever he reopens the connection.

They had picked you up and flown you somewhere, so they’re most likely Illyrian.

They land, not nearly as gracefully as your mate or his brothers, emitting a soft ‘oof’ from your lips.

They carry you for at least ten minutes, through what you assume is decently packed area.

Are you in one of the camps?

You knew relations between Rhys and the Illyrians were bad, but would they really kidnap the spymaster’s mate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you realize they’ve brought you into a building and have set you down in a chair, shackling you to it.

You haven’t spoken a word, barely eliciting a sound, just like your mate would do. You’re not sure if it’s what you should do, but the thought of what he would do holds you together.

You have to be strong, for yourself, for Azriel, for the baby.

They pull the bag off your head, your pupils dilating due to the sudden change in light. Four Illyrian warriors stood before you, 11 siphons glowing throughout the room.

“Hello, beautiful.”

The one who had been carrying you and taken you from your home approached you, caressing your face. You kept a stoic, neutral expression, not letting anything slip.

Just like Azriel would.

Your only response is the eye contact you refuse to break with him.

“That piece of shit struck gold when the cauldron bonded you to him,” practically spitting out the last word.

“Your little shadowsinger won’t stop snooping around our camps, won’t stop telling his precious little high lord everything he sees. They’ve been meddling in the way we deal with our women, the way we govern ourselves. We thought it was time to uh explain to them why they should just stay in their precious little city and leave us alone.”

The second the words left Cassian’s lips, Rhys was trying to reach Azriel telepathically. Within seconds of Cassian’s words, darkness was clouding the room, creating an impenetrable black, the only light shining being several blue siphons glowing with rage.

Cassian recounted the whole thing to the darkness, knowing his brother was somewhere in there. Once he got to the part of the story where you were gone, the room exploded even further, making Azriel’s siphons impossible to see now.

A few shadows whiz by Cassian, he’s assuming to double check you aren’t in their home. The rage Azriel feels is coming off in waves, when he remembers the bond is still closed.

He closes his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the mother. Please, please, please.

The bond opens, your warmth filling his chest. He can feel the initial fear you felt at being taken, but he can also feel your constant reassurance that you and the baby are okay.

Azriel feels his eyes prickle with tears as he chokes out, “they’re alive.” His brothers reach out to hug him or soothe him, but he steps back, his male instincts kicking in.

“I can feel it,” he says, holding a hand up, “the protectiveness is ramping up. I want to kill any male in sight.”

Rhys and Cassian start protesting, telling Azriel they want to come with him, but he stops them again.

“Give me a five minute head start. Then I’ll give you my location.”

Your silence was an interesting strategy, one your captors did not like one bit, their irritation with you growing by the minute.

“Maybe we should rough her up then drop her back on their door step. Pretty loud and clear message, don’t you think?” He circles around your chair, sizing you up like prey.

“We could show her how women are supposed to be treated by us,” one in the corner shouts.

The one circling you spits at your feet before he says, “those half-breed bastards have gone soft, they forget what it means to be Illyrian.”

In a flash he steps forward, his hand slapping you across the face.

Azriel used the bond to find you. He kept tugging, the bond offering him a direction to go. He kept winnowing into the direction of the tug, when he began realizing where the bond was likely taking him. He growled with anger, unable to believe they could be so stupid as to take his mate.

He disappeared into his shadows, sending a few to find out exactly where you were. Once they returned, sans the two that wanted to stay with you, they whisked him away to the room you were being kept in.

The big one who had struck you earlier was mid-strike when the shadowsinger materialized out of the shadows in front of you, his hand catching the brute’s wrist.

“Lay another hand on my mate and your hands will become trophies I hang on the wall.”

You can feel his shadows enveloping you in a soothing wave, checking you head to toe for injuries, but only finding the stinging cheek and the pain from the shackles.

The twirl through your hair, eventually skating over your swollen belly, where they settle and stay.

Your mate’s shadows were very attentive of the baby in your belly, as if your unborn babe were calling to them, too. They reacted to everything the babe did, every kick, every movement, as if telling your babe, “we are here, little master.”

The anger radiating off of Azriel was palpable, but his demeanor was terrifying. A feralness to him you’ve never seen before.

“Whose idea was this?”

Nobody in the room speaks, the assailants just gaping at your mate.

“Speak.”

One of them points to the leader, the one whose wrist was still in Azriel’s hand.

Azriel looks into the male’s eyes, piercing through his soul, as he flicks his arm, breaking the male’s arm.

He screams, shocked at the swiftness of the break. Azriel takes the moment of surprise to pull the first assailant’s head into his knee, bashing his head into his kneecap, throwing him on the ground.

He looks to the next closest one, tilting his head, deciding how he wants to play this. He decides to leave truth-teller sheathed at his side, opting instead to use his bare hands.

“I wanted to savor this, however I don’t want to keep my mate waiting,” he states, coming up to the next closest one and swiftly wrapping his hands around his head, twisting until a sickening crack echoes through the room.

One of them lunges for Azriel, fists raised to fight him. Azriel moves to the side, causing the running assailant to run into the wall behind the shadowsinger. Azriel grabs him by the back of his neck, pulling his arm back, and with all of his force, pushing his head into the wall. Over. And over. And over. His blood splattering the wall, an actual crack in the wall forming from where his head kept hitting it.

He releases his hold, allowing his body to fall to the floor. Azriel turns and looks at the last one, the one that had pointed to whose idea this was, as some of his shadows finally break free from you. “Now,” he says, as they begin pooling at the last captor’s feet, “I’ll deal with you later.”

The shadows at his feet begin pulling the male into the pool of darkness, assumingly to be questioned further about their failed plans.

Azriel undoes the shackles keeping you in place, hoisting you into his arms, the belly making it a bit more difficult.

The second he reopened the bond to find you, he began sending you a constant stream of love down it, trying to convey to you that he was on his way to you.

Being gathered in his arms, the bond was humming a sweet melody, a soft duet that can only be heard when you’re together.

He pulls back, grabbing your face in his hands. “I have never felt fear quite like I did when Rhys made me come back. I knew something was wrong, I was hoping that the babe had just come early.”

He puts his left hand on your belly, the babe inside kicking the exact spot his hand is in. Your mate laughs.

You look at him, seeing the fear and adrenaline in his eyes as he continues, “but when I got back and Cassian said they left him behind and took you, I thought ‘okay, if they’re gone, I have nothing left to live for.’”

“But then, I opened the bond, and I felt you, and I-“ he chokes up a bit, continuing, “I almost started crying. You were alive, and you were okay.”

He pulls your head in, kissing the top of your head several times.

“You’re both okay.”

You reached up, stroking his cheek, “we’re okay.”

He smiles, and you laugh, “I guess this means you’re never leaving my side again, huh?”

He laughs, a tear falling down his face as he does so. “Oh no, sweetheart. You thought I was overbearing before, just wait. You won’t remember what personal space was soon enough.”

You laugh, “at least tell me you aren’t upset with Cassian. He’s a sweet guard dog.”

He smiles at you, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “They ambushed him, I could never be upset with him over that. Now come on, let’s go see my brother before he gives himself a heart attack with worry over you.”

“He is quite fond of me, isn’t he?” You ask, his arm going around you, preparing to embark through the shadows to go back home.

“He told me he prayed every night that we would be mates,” he says, the shadows beginning to engulf the two of you.

“Why?” You ask, wrapping your arms around him.

Azriel looks into your eyes as he says, “he told me he never thought anyone was good enough for me until he met you.”

#azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel angst

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noneorother · 5 months

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I went dumpster diving into the posters for Good Omens Season 2 and found a few pearls.

I found it odd that this season had SO MANY official posters. Hours and hours of work and real dollars from Amazon went into the production of these things. This one won a freakin Clio award. I know Neil confirmed he didn't have a lot of control of what went into these 21 (Or 22 depending on whether or not you count the umbrella piece that was made before season 2 shooting began. Personally I don't!) pieces, but I will leave no stone unturned, so here we go. I combed through every single season 2 poster I could find so you don't have to. Here's everything I've found so far:

1. The allegiances poster

After having watched season 2, knowing what we know now, this poster seems very much to me like a Game of Thrones style family at war image. We have a perfect mirror down the center, with Aziraphale/Angels/Nina&Maggie on Aziraphale's traditional left side, and Crowley with Beelzebub & Jim as reflections of Maggie/Nina, and Shax and Michael(?) as reflections of the three angels on the other side of the mirror. It seems unbalanced, unless you count the floating white head (conveniently watching in the background) as The Metatron...

Which means Michael is... not on the same side as Uriel and Saraqael? She's also grouped in with the Metatron and Shax, on the side of the demons. How very odd. Gabriel & Nina also have a mirror in that they've both turned their backs to the crowd. Gabriel is willing to go live with Beelzebub in hell, and shut down Michael's plan and the Metatron's scheming for a second Armageddon, so that literal turn towards Beez and away from everyone else makes sense to me. The Nina one however? Not so much from what we've seen. Why is she turning her back on the angels & demons? 2. The individual posters

Interestingly, the individual posters all line up pretty much exactly with the all the allegiances this season. You just have to look at the way the characters are slanted vs. how the backgrounds behind them are slanted. All 3 bookshop posters and all 3 street posters are slanting left, with their characters also slanting left. They are who they say they are, and they're on the same side.

Michael and Uriel have right slanting backgrounds, so odds are heaven is supposed to slant right. Uriel is following the rules and slanting right, but of all the characters on the posters, Michael is the only one really betraying the background slant, and is slanting left against her background. Something's up with Micahel. They're not on the same side as they claim to be. Saraqael is more mysterious, as the only one sitting straight, and the only angel to have a left slanting background. Shax seems to be slanting left with a left slanting background, which puts her in the same pose as Uriel, but mirrored. While Beelzebub is weirdly slanting right with a right slanting background, making them a bit of a traitor, like Michael. Shax, Saraqael and Michael have some explaining to do. Lastly, and I think mostly obviously, there's clearly a missing poster in the set. Why doesn't hell have a third green poster? Is it supposed to be the Metatron, and they didn't want to spoil the surprise? Furfur maybe? Why wouldn't poor old Furfur get a poster when he has more screen time than Uriel? I don't think this is very important other than it's funny : everyone single person is holding something in their right hand, except for Shax and Crowley, who are holding things in their left hands, and Muriel, who's holding fucking NOTHING. Poor baby Muriel lolsob. One thing I do think might be important is that there are 21 posters in total + 1 missing one. So maybe 22 posters for season 2? How appropriate. 3. The triple phone box

In both the Nina street poster and the group street poster, there's are a set of 3 red phone boxes down the street. We never see phone boxes in series 2. Seriously, not once. Every other detail in these ones is from Whickeber street footage: gumball machine, post box, newspapers, coffee sign, puddle, walking extras... The only thing out of place is those blasted phone boxes. As far as I can tell it's literally the only thing in all 21 posters that never appears in the show in some form, and this background plate is used for all the street posters, so the phone boxes are in quite a few of them.

4. Crowley is showing his good side, Aziraphale is always facing away from Crowley.

Crowley is always shown with his head tilted to his right this season, body tilted towards Aziraphale and always with long sideburns. Even in the illustrated poster his default is head to the right, sideburns long.

EXCEPT for this poster. This is the only time he's looking away from Aziraphale, and his snake tattoo is visible. And his sideburns are short. Either nobody noticed this or they refused to fix it. There's also the matter of Aziraphale facing his body away from Crowley in every single image except the allegiances poster, where they face each other. So cute.

5. The sneaky details posters

This one has: 1. Pride & Prejudice 2. Treasure Island 3. A tale of two cities 4. The Crow Road 5. Catch-22 9.

AND whatever the hell this photoshop artifact/invisible thing coming out of the scroll on Aziraphale's desk. I checked every version I could find of this poster and it's always there. It looks like someone tried to edit out something that was there and sort of got it mostly right. Which is completely ludicrous given the amazing amount of flawless photoshopping and collaging going on in this image. These are the magicians linking rings from the 1941 magic shop. Mystery solved!

This one has the yellow book on the bookstand, the record, and : 1. Only one clock hand on the grandfather clock, facing 6. 2. A feather duster on the floor (but weirdly it's grey not yellow). 3. The dark horse statue with Crowley's old sunglasses on it. 4. Aziraphale's bowtie ON THE FLOOR. What. Why. I can only conclude that in this poster either A) Aziraphale and Crowley have left these things behind (meaning no more bowtie for Aziraphale in season 3) B) They are currently not wearing these items somewhere else in the bookshop....

_____________________________________ I ran out of images. So the dome poster will have to be it's own post!

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #go2 spoilers #go 2 speculation #aziraphale x crowley #ineffible husbands #good omens s2

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troublesomesnitch · 1 month

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Make Your Hands Unclean

Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble

Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.

Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.

Words: 2300

idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.

You were supposed to marry a lord.

That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn.

For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations.

To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills.

This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.

You do not like it here.

The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay.

Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity.

Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly.

You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.

Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph.

You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body.

It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood.

They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken.

In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour.

You know very well what he has come for, too.

“We can’t tonight,” you sigh.

“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous.

“My blood - I am bleeding.”

Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands.

He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this.

“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “

“I am not most men,” he scoffs.

There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right.

He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -

“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.

You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please.

Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.

You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift.

“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all.

“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says.

You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet.

He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.

“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead.

You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife.

You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment.

The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you.

This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care.

With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs.

Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?

“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside.

You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks.

Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker.

It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening.

He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat.

“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “

He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar.

He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening.

You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs.

“I’ve made you dirty,” you state.

“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.”

You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.

Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world.

But you must at least try.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”

“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company.

He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs.

“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”

You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion.

“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”

Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before.

“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise.

It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content.

You did well tonight.

Notes

“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias.

“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic

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milksnake-tea · 4 months

Text

━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.”

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time.

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#a date with death #a date with death x reader #adwd #adwd x reader #adwd casper #adwd casper x reader #casper x reader #casper #x reader #y/n #reader insert #grim reaper #grim reaper x reader #archives 🏵️

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storiesfromgaza · 6 months

Text

Hi, everyone.

Yesterday, I shared here a series of posts written by a girl named Nada Bedair on Twitter, where she discussed new information, she learned after watching a documentary.

It was revealed in this documentary that Israel has something called the "Bank of Skins," which is the largest skin bank in the world, specializing in treating burns, skin cancer, and more.

In this documentary, it became clear that most of these skins did not belong to Israeli soldiers but were taken from the bodies of deceased Palestinians, their identities deliberately obscured through disfigurement or lack of proper autopsy.

At the same time, numerous reports emerged from Palestinians, stating that after the arrest of individuals from Gaza and the West Bank, their families were surprised by their return as deceased, with their bodies missing certain body organs!

Simultaneously, an article was published by the head of the Forensic Medicine Institute, claiming that Israel kills and harvests organs from deceased Palestinians without their consent or their families' consent!

Here is the link to the complete post, including the sources: https://www.tumblr.com/storiesfromgaza/732558400585613312/today-i-learned-about-something-terrible-and-i?source=share

It is crucial that you read this before continuing with this article.

After I shared it yesterday, @chimaeraonwards wrote a comment, attaching a link to a Journal Article | Social Research by anthropologist Nancy Scheper-Hughes titled, "The Body of the Terrorist: Blood Libels, Bio-Piracy, and the Spoils of War at the Israeli Forensic Institute." In this article, the author describes in detail what happened and how it happened in around 38 pages.

you can read it here:

Scheper-Hughes, N. (2011). The Body of the Terrorist: Blood Libels, Bio-Piracy, and the Spoils of War at the Israeli Forensic Institute. Social Research, 78(3), 849–886. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23347019

Your reading of it won't take much of your time, but it will significantly increase your awareness of things you might not have imagined happening!

If reading it is a challenge, it's worth to mention that yesterday, @chimaeraonwards did an amazing thing. She wrote a breakdown of some of the content of the 38-page article. Ensure you read it; it's not very long, but it's highly enlightening. Link: https://www.tumblr.com/chimaeraonwards/732568635164524544/whatever-youre-thinking-about-this-its-actually?source=share Support her by sharing it because she truly deserves it.

#gaza #palestine #gaza strip #free gaza #free palestine #storiesfromgaza #غزة #فلسطين #genocide #humanitarian crisis

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novalizinpeace · 2 months

Note

Since you said you like Queen Gaia, would you mind spilling some things about her for us?

We don't know much about her or the other parents.

Well, since a lot of things for her come mostly from retellings ('cause she officially only appear in like 5 episodes, having a important role in just 2), 'm gonna give some details of her:

-First of all, the Kingdom is from her side of the family, King Braveheart was a simple civilian that she decided to marry 'cause she fell in love with not only with for his bravery, but for his kind heart (he tried to become part of the royal army, but he wasn't able 'cause he couldn't make it to the final stage: Kill a wild).

-Catnap take a LOT from her, so she's kinda sassy but also wild, the king was the one that love to dialogue and try to make peace with everybody before taking the sword, while she was the one to recommend the guillotine the moment somebody look at her the wrong way.

-This is from family, the past rulers couldn't be soft due the constant problems with the Alicorn Kingdom, but Queen Gaia's heart got soft thanks to her husband.

-Sadly, she let her love for Braveheart blink her common sense, and when he decided to take the lead in this new war and ask for a conference with King Canvas to understand why he was attacking the kingdom without a provocation, Gaia let her husband go, thinking that just like she was able to listen to his words, King Canvas would be able to listen to him.

-She was prove wrong, so then she fight back, hard.

-The last time she used her Sun&Moon Pendant was in a direct fight with King Canvas in hopes to get back her husband's pendant ('cause his bodyguards came back with a body, but not a pendant), where she was able to give him a scar, making him back off and stopping the war there.

-She's really protective of her children, and she knows this is not good, 'cause thanks to it is that Dogday is this clumsy and catnap this spoiled ('cause they never had to lift a finger for anything before in the castle), so she's trying to let her little men grown on their own in town.

-One of the scrapped concept i had for her was the idea of King Canvas been jelaous of Braveheart, 'cause he was hoping to ask for Queen Gaia hand in marriage to ''united the kingdom'' (actually 'cause he had a crush on her), but Gaia decided to marry a mere peasant, so he took that badly. This isn't mentioned in the final script, but Canvas's actittude with Gaia could be read as bitter.

and just 'cause i can, some young Gaia and Braveheart

#poppy playtime #smilingcritterslostmedia #smiling critters #smiling critters oc #ask #nova say

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misguidedasgardian · 5 months

Text

The Hour of the Wolf (6)

VI. My love, my duty

MASTERLIST

Summary: There is a fine line between protection and betrayal

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, war, smut, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4 k

Notes: Alright…. In the last chapter, I rushed it a bit… like I said… I’m traveling and it was getting late and I wanted to post it… but anyways… I’m here to write smut, angst and fluff and I will deliver! so hopefully from now on I can be more detailed jejeje

“Are you alright?”, he whispered wetly against the side of your face, you barely nodded, trying to regain your composure…

It had been such a mix of feelings… nervousness, shyness, pleasure, then pain, sharp, blinding pain, then fullness, then pleasure again, and now, as your husband laid still on top of you… still inside you… you didn’t think you’d want to let go of him, this felt so right, like you were born to fit together that way.

But he retrieved himself from you slowly, making you wince when he released you, you felt so empty, you didn't like it, it showed on your face

“Are you alright?”, he asked softly, you barely nodded, he looked in between you, and rose from the bed, abandoning it and that made you shift uncomfortably, you grabbed the soft sheets and pressed them against your chest, suddenly conscious of your nakedness.

The candles were still shining brightly, and that made you and him able to see everything very clearly… he turned his back to you and you could see his toned muscles there, right down to his buttocks, that made you feel your cheeks heated

He was as handsome from behind as he was from the front.

You felt a tightness when he walked away from you…

“Don’t leave me”, you demanded, it came so quickly you barely thought the words before they left your mouth, and you almost regretted them

“What did we just discuss?”, he asked, amused, turning to you, you looked down at the sheets, ashamed, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving, my love, I was just fetching something to clean you”, he said gently, grabbing a rag, and pouring water from a decanter in a bowl

“Oh”, you said softly, smiling silly

He returned to you, taking the sheet from your body

“Spread your legs wife”, he demanded in turn

“I already did”, you joked and he chuckled, placing his big hands on your thighs and spreading them softly. You couldn’t look away, as you saw his seed and your blood leaking from you. He took the rag, got it wet with a bit of water, and softly, placed it in your intimacy

You whined, pain and soreness blooming

“Sorry”, he said, cleaning you softly, “I don’t want you to be even more uncomfortable”

He finished with you, leaning in and kissing you in the inside of your thighs making you moan, and then he put those things away, to return to you after cleaning himself

He accommodated himself under the cover after he made sure you were too, and then he surrounded your body gently with one of his thick arms and pulled you towards him. You hugged his side, resting your head on his chest…

Again… it felt like you were made to fit together

He leaned in and kissed the top of your head

“This was Jacaerys’ room”, you whispered sadly, looking around, Cregan did the same

“I didn’t know”, he said back, “I just took it because it was close to yours, and has a nice view”, the room itself was comfortable, painted in a deep red, it felt like home.

“My grandfather gifted this room, one of the nicest in the palace, to his favorite daughter’s first son and heir”, you said with a chuckle, he chuckled too

“Is it true that the King sometimes held him in his lap while he sat the Iron Throne?”, he asked then, you smiled

“It was”, you whispered

“He would be proud of you”, he assured you, caressing your back

“Thank you”, you said

You felt such a familiarity to him, you knew him for barely a moon, you had seen him naked for the first time an hour ago, yet… you felt like it had always been like this, this felt comfortable, and right, as you cuddled even more into him. He encouraged it, holding you even closer and caressing your skin with his rough fingers, the touch wasn’t rough though, it was so subtil and warm

You fell asleep in his arms… he didn’t want to disturb you, managing to fall asleep as well, letting the candles burn until they completely melted.

You woke up feeling a warmth… a soft… wet… caress, when you came to your senses, Cregan was kissing your neck, and the side of your face, the sun wasn’t even over the horizon yet

“I want to have you again wife”, he purred, you managed to giggle to stifle a moan

“So soon?”, you whined childishly, but playfully

“Are you alright? sore? hurt?”, he asked, concern tainting his voice, you couldn’t see him, as you had turned in your sleep and now he was hugging you from behind

“No”, you admitted, you were a bit… but you also… wanted more. You felt his hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance again, making you moan, and relax in his hold.

In this position, it was a tight fit, but this time, pain was not there when he pushed himself inside of you, slowly and gently, caressing you softly and kissing the side of your face.

“Mmmmm Cregan”, you whispered like a prayer, as he retrieved himself from you, and then started thrusting into you, slowly but sensually, in one movement, the tip of his cock grazed a spot inside of you that made you whine, turning in his embrace, your eyes rolled to the back of your head

“Oh”, he purred, you could see the smirk on him, “there it is”, he said decisively, and now that he had found that special spot, he wouldn’t let go, fucking you in that angle that make you whine and toss in pleasure, loosing yourself in his arms.

But he gave no quarter, hugging you tightly and fucking you even rougher.

This position made it tighter, but more intimate, as his body was completely stuck to yours, he was holding you tightly, kissing the side of your face, you held onto his thick arms that were around you, trying to ground yourself.

You had touched yourself, you had made yourself feel pleasure…

But nothing like this

You cummed, hard, squeezing him so tightly that triggered his own orgasm.

His hand was placed on your lower belly

“I will give you my seed, and you will give me a child, right?”, he asked

“Yes”, you murmured

“Do you want that?”, he asked softly, “to have my babies?”

“Yes”, you whispered

“You sure?”

“Yes please”, you begged, as you came down from your high

He didn’t exit you, he stayed like that, inside of you, your bodies connected

“If you agree…”, he said softly, hugging you tightly against him, “I would like to share your chambers, I’m aware that those are the King’s chambers, and it’s not why I’m asking but rather… it is because I want to sleep every night with you, you being the first thing I see in the morning, and the last thing I see at night”, he whispered against your temple

“Are you sure?”, you asked, fearfully, “I’m afraid you’ll soon tire of me”

“Impossible”, he said, “the Lords and ladies of the realm do not need separate chambers, neither should we”

“You are right”, you whispered, he kissed your shoulder softly

“Now sleep, wife, you’ll need your strength”, he said cheekily, and as if he could control it, you fell asleep again immediately, as the sun was rising in the horizon.

. . .

It had been some sort of a blur, you weren’t quite sure of what day it was, or what time it was when you finally left Cregan’s chambers

Now you had a funny limp and a silly smile on your face, he had grumbled and whined about you leaving, but you had things to do

You needed to get back to being Queen, not only a wife

The Baratheon did not take kindly to your threats, but some sweet words and places for some of them at your court had soothe them, Jahaera was set to arrive in the Keep later this day, and you were so happy

That little girl, as did Aegon, had been through enough

You went to your chambers to bathe and change, and then, you received the happy news, Jahaera had arrived

You dismissed all protocol and tradition, you went looking for her like you were a little girl, you received her as soon as she got out of the carriage, with the help of Baratheon soldiers

She looked everywhere, at everything, she was young, six name days, you didn’t know how far she could remember though. Her eyes finally landed on you and with only a look, the soldiers released her hands and took several steps back, nobody in the way of you and the little one

“Hello Jahaera”, you said gently, leaning down almost kneeling so you’d be in the same height as her, “remember me?”, you asked with a soft smile, you were speaking and moving as she was a scared little animal, she looked at you with her big violet eyes, and then, from one second to the next, she ran and hugged into your skirts with strength

“mama!”, it was the only thing she said, you managed to grab her little arms and made her hug you around your neck, hiding her little face in it

“Shh, you are alright now, my love, you are safe with me”, you chanted into her beautiful silver hair, “my sweet girl, you are home now”, you said

She wouldn’t let go, so when you raised her and took her with you, she clung into you like a koala. You hugged her tightly securing her legs around your torso, so she wouldn’t fall, and you turned to enter again into the Red Keep

You shared concerned looks with Cregan who was walking to meet you, and then he looked at the little girl

“And this little one?”, he asked softly, Jahaera barely lifted her head to look at him but then she hid it again, growling.

“This is Princess Jahaera”, you said simply, but you just kept walking with difficulty, towards the old nursery that was now inhabited by Aegon, it was the only room that he liked to be in, two rooms, connected by a common space where there were childish drawings in the walls, and many toys for the children of the family… now to be Aegon’s and Jahaera’s rooms

You didn’t know it then, but Jahaera would clung into you, not ever wanting to leave your side

The first day you would understand, but as night came, and you tried to leave her abed in the company of the nannies and Aegon, she cried and shrieked when you intended to part from her side

So you stayed, even in her sleep, her tiny hands wouldn’t release the fabric of your dress.

You managed to release yourself from her grasp, and exited to your rooms well past the hour of the bat

Cregan said nothing, but demanded your care, to satisfy his hunger for you.

You were woken in the middle of the night by sorry maids and a crying Jahaera who climbed onto your bed and into your arms, Cregan watched the scene mildly entertained. Luckily you had dressed back after your night activities

She cuddled in between you two, finally calmed, hiding her little face in your chest, you only caressed her soft silver hair.

Many would be thankful of the little one, that kept you entertained from matters of grave importance, as when you were trying to make Jahaera sleep without you, nightly meeting were taken place in the small council chamber

“We cannot tell her”, demanded Cregan

“The situation could be easily fixed”, said then lord Redwyne

“But quickly!”, demanded Jason, “it is the Westerlands those savages are pillaging”

Another house had not answered your call to sworn allegiance…

The Greyjoys

Who had taken to the seas and started raiding the Western coasts

And the small council would not tell you after receiving alarming reports

“She will feel like they are questioning her instead of them being just… Ironborns”, said Cregan

“They were on Rhaenyra’s side, where they not?”, asked the Lord Reyne

“Rhaenyra, for their alligiance, gave them free reign upon the Westerlands who, on that time, where sworn to the Greens”, remembered the Maester, “but they never signed any pacts, the Ironborns are and always been… unpredictable and not worthy of trust of civil men”

“We need to end this swiftly, and rapidly”, demanded Cregan, “Lord Redwyne?”

“My fleet is the closest, and the mightiest on the West side, I will send word and have them take to the seas”

“Good”, muttered Tyland, “we shall asist you”

“She doesn’t have to know”, said Cregan

“This is a mistake”, muttered Arryk, the people of the small council looked at him, “She is the Queen! she has to be told of military action taken under her reign”, he said

“This will only worry her”, said Cregan, “and there is nothing she can do”

“She has a dragon”, muttered Arryk, “she might prove herself”

“Arryk, by order of this counsel, you will say nothing”, commanded Cregan

“As the Lord Commander of the Queensguard I too hold a place on this table, and I say, this is wrong, not telling the Queen about this urgent matter in her own kingdom”

“I agree”, said the maester, “she is no child”, he chided, “she is a Queen, a Targaryen Queen, a dragonrider, a wife now…”, he said looking at Cregan, “you will give her no credit”

“She is still filling in her role, I will not challenge her to take to the skies, to place herself in danger, and burn armadas to the bottom of the sunset sea”, said Cregan, “she is better now, better than when I found her, if we want her to keep getting better and more grounded, this is the way to go”

“This is why she chose us”, muttered Lord Redwyne, “to deal with situations like this”

Both men were outnumbered, so they kept quiet.

In the meantime

You were trying to keep the peace between your children

“Move!”, Aegon demanded, “she is my sister, not yours!”, he pushed Jahaera away who whimpered

“Hey, that was unkind”, you chided, “there is enough of me for the both of you”, both children climbed into your lap, hugging you tightly, cuddling into you

“I’m here, I will not leave, I will not abandon you”, you said softly, Aegon haden’t given you the time of day before, only now that Jahaera presented competition for your affections is that he was visibly annoyed with the girl

Now, as you tried to take counsel with Jahaera perched on your lap, your main focus on the weeks to come where her and Aegon, two small children who now the only family they have was you. The small council took confidence in their work, and lead amazingly, with you only being able to barely participate in the meetings

You could tell that what Cregan found comical and endearing at first, now he found a bit annoying, as the little girl would not sleep without you, would cling to your side. You had barely been able to put on your night dress, and now Jahaera rested cuddled against you.

Cregan entered the chambers, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he growled, you could tell he was frustrated

“I would like to bed my wife tonight…”, he said gently, looking sheepishly at the sleeping girl in your arms

“She wakes up in the middle of the night, and if she is alone, she cries”, you explained softly, “she needs me”

“Being a mother suits you wife, I’ll fill you with my own child soon enough”, he said, his voice made you tremble, “If I could breed you that is”, you sighed

“You should be softer to her”, you demanded

“Everytime she sees me, she growls and hisses at me”, he said, annoyed

“You have done nothing to earn her affection”, you chided

“You made a promise to me, that as soon as you are within this walls, you are mine, my wife”, he said softly, “we need to discuss the fact of having someone else affecting our.. time together”

“I’m aware Cregan, but what would you have me do?”, you asked, “she is small and afraid”

“She needs to know there is nothing to be scared of”, he said, “how is she going to learn if you cuddle her so much?”

“I know she needs to regain her strength, but slowly”, you muttered

Cregan was frustrated, not only by the little girl who prevented him from bedding his wife, but also, from everything else.

The raids in the west had not dwindled, if anything, they have gotten worse, a small army from the Lannisters had been completely destroyed, and the Tyrells were getting involved, at the fear of being affected.

Now more than ever, it was too late to tell you, it had gotten so much worse, Lord Redwyne, soon, was going to need to go home to lead his armada, and he was going to go with him, he needed an excuse to leave your side, as did Tyland

So that, added to the fact that he was failing you as a husband not being able to bed you, yes, he was very frustrated

Yes he was the biggest supporter in actually lying to you, but… his fear was true, if you believed that someone was causing rebellion against you… he didn’t know how you were going to react, so far, you had been good, you had been improving, he had managed to pull smiles from your lips and gleams in your eyes.

You were getting better, comfortable in your role

But you were not ready to deal with this.

He, was doing what he thought was best.

He wanted to protect you

You stood up grabbing Jahaera in your arms, and laid her in a small bed placed in the corner of the huge room, behind a screen, and then you looked at Cregan

“Better?”, you asked

“Yes”, he sighed, but smiling softly at you

“What’s on your mind?”, you asked, “you seem frustrated, and I doubt is all directed at me”, you murmured

He stopped his movements, only looking at you softly

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, he walked towards you surrounding the bed, he grabbed you softly, leaning in and trapping your lips on his, “its not all you”, he teased. He led you softly to the bed, covering you both under the covers, hiding yourself.

He took you softly, slowly, quietly.

The very next day, when you woke up smiling in his strong arms, you realised Jahaera had slept trough the night, and that was an improvement

Another week had passed

And between meetings and focusing on your children, time had passed fleetingly

But something was going on under false pretences and distractions, you couldn’t tell what exactly, so you found it strange when three of your small council members came to you with a request

“My army is sitting idle, I shall send them to secure the Hightower gold coming from Oldtown”, said Cregan, “I shall go with them”, you barely nodded

“Me as the master of coin, shall accompany him”, muttered Tyland, you looked at Cregan, the prospect of being without him did not appealed to you, but you didn’t want to show it

“Very well”

“Matters of importance call me home, your grace, I think is a fine opportunity to take to the roads with the rest of these noble men”

Who were you to deny them of such reasonable request?

“You leave me with only a Grand maester and Ser Arryk?”, you said aloud

“Many Lord from the main houses remain, everyone is returning home for the winter, we had just finished long weeks of audiences, I believe this is the best time”, said Tyland

“Very well, I shall see you in a moon’s time”, you demanded, and they barely nodded, evading your gaze

You didn’t understand why Cregan needed to go, or why you couldn’t go with him to organize his troops who had been camping and resting in the Riverlands, but you stayed within the Red Keep’s walls as requested, the people needed you here apparently.

So with a longing kiss, your husband left you, as did the majority of your small council, you felt sad as he left, but also relieved, thinking now you could aid Jahaera in getting better, teaching her how to sleep in her own chambers

But something was off, you didn’t want to think anything of it, meaning, you were no dreamer, you were not close to any gods for them to grant you special power to highten your senses, so, there wasn’t anything else… except… the looks of concern of Arryk and the Grand Maester in your first meeting after the rest of the council had left, after fourteen days

“What?”, they too avoided your gaze in shame, and now you were getting truly concerned as you stood seated in front of them in the small council meeting.

“Your grace…”, started the Maester.

He did not dare to speak the treason they had commited, but they had received pressing words of concern from the west

It was only two weeks after, not enough time yet, Dalton Greyjoy, the Red Kraken had savaged the Westerlands, not being able to gain entrance to Casterly Eock, he decided to pour his anger to Lannisport, and then, down the coast towards the Reach.

Tyland, Cregan and lord Redwyne we’re barely able to get to a vessel to face the most dangerous armada in the seven Kingdoms, the Arbour stood almost defenseless as the ships were not ready with the men to sail them. But took a ship downriver from Tumbleton managing to arrive in time to sail and meet their enemies

And yet, in a desperate attempt, with the army of the northerners not able to gather with the forces of the Reach… they were looking at a great defeat, a disastrous one.

“And you kept this from me?” You asked looking forwards, further than this very room

“We agreed we could handle it your grace, Ser Arryk and I were outnumbered, we did not want to concern you…”

“Yet my husband and Master of coin and ships… are in sure danger of death… sailing to their doom, Lord Celtigar in Harrenhal…trying to bring the castle and its habitants back into the fold… and I stand here, trying to put order into my own house”

The old man and your sworn sword stood quiet

“What will you do, your grace?”, you only looked to the dragon eye in front of you

“What are the words of my house, Gran Maester?”, you asked, slowly and calmly

. . .

Striking a deal, or bargain with the Greyjoys was like striking a pact with the sea itself.

That family, could not be trusting, they were like the tides, changing and ever turning.

No, there was only war they craved

It was only defeat they understood, for a generation at least

Cregan did not liked the sea in particular, he referred to keep both feet on land, and yet, here he stood, watching the sunset sea in front of him.

He never thought he was going to be this south

“The men are prepared”, he heard a commander of the Redwyne forces for heir lord

He had never even been on a war vessel before, the sigh was overwhelming

“Sails!” Someone’s screamed from the eagle’s nest, and soon enough, in the horizon, black sails, a red kraken flying over them

Dalton Greyjoy

“I hope wolves can swim, pup”, mocked Lord Redwyne as he saw how pale the Stark stood

“This is a mistake, if we fall… she will loose half her smallcouncil”

“That should be the least of your concerns, they just likely take us prisoners and make her pay the Hightower gold for our release” he said dismissively

The old man stood calm, as Cregan never saw him before and he didn’t know if it was because he was certain of their victory, or had given up to certain death…

The Greyjoy’s closed on them by the second, and the soldiers on boards began to prepare for certain colisión with the enemy, gathering long spears, hooks and swords, arches and everything they could arm themselves with

He unsheathed his long sword, delivering a small prayer to the old gods, wondering if their reach went this far…

They were going to die.

Did he managed to plant his seed in your belly? Were you going to be able to put together another small council? Lord Celtigar still was going to be there, as the maester and Lord Arryk, he wanted to believe you were going to be fine…

The last thing in his mind before facing death… was of your well-being…

And he really wished you were not going to be affected by his untimely departure, for a second he wished you had not developed affection for him… because he truly wished you were going to be able to survive this, yet, another loss in your…

The image of your face disappeared from his mind when he heard a screech.

It was far away yet… from one second to the next, everything was quiet…. And then it could be heard again, this time… closer

Cregan raised his eyes to the skies, it was midday, the sun shinning brightly at the top of the sky, it was clear, barely any clouds… and yet… a singular dot, coming down at high speed

“Gods!” Cursed Lord Redwyne

“Dragon!” Someone screamed when a screech turned into a loud growl, and the dot took shape of body and wings

“Take cover!”

Vhaelar took form, its unmistakable color making it shine like a field covered in snow under a winter sun

He flew diagonally, passing over the Redwyne fleet

“Dracarys!”, your form unmistakably upon her back

She breathed a column of fire so strong it broke the first Iron ship in half without much thought, it was so quick then when everyone realized what was happening a second and then a third where burning, people screaming, the Ironfleet, less than a kilometer away, started bursting into flames as the huge dragon dance above them, flying higher than what the scorpions could reach

“Our queen!” Screamed Tyland in the middle of nervous and relieved laughs, “Our Queen has saved us!”

The next thing Cregan heard above the screams and wood collapsing and burning, where people cheering.

His icy eyes followed every move of your dragon, guarding every bolt and arrow that was flying your way but none could reach you.

It took your dragon less than a hour to burn a hundred ships

You left but one, the flagship, where Dalton Greyjoy was, you let him live, because the Ironborn needed someone to guide them, to prevent them from rising again in rebellion, you hoped he learned his lesson.

And then, you flied home, away from your own fleet.

You did not had the strength to face your treacherous council yet, and they did not see your face, nor two weeks after, when they themselves arrived in Kinglanding

They entered the chamber as your were seated on the head of the table, lord Celtigar on his place, Ser Arryk behind you, and the grand maester on his seat.

Lord Tyland, Lord Redwyne and Cregan entered the room slowly, gazes down not daring to face you

As they saw no denial from you, they took a seat, you were deadly quiet, but let them.

“Your grace…” Cregan began

“Lord Redwyne”, you called, interrupting him, “I must thank you, it is a relief to know your armada can be assembled as quickly as you had proven it to be”, you said, ignoring your husband completely, “this will not be forgotten, the loyalty you had proven”

“Thank you your grace” he said shakily

“Your grace…”, called Cregan again

“Lord Tyland”, you called this time, sliding a parchment over the table to his surprise gaze, “the grand maester, Lord Celtigar and I had designed a plan to aid and help in repairing the damage made by the Ironborns in their raids, of course, is not only a monetary package, but resources from the adóbela de, from the tullys and the Tyrell’s that will aid in reconstruction”

“This is wonderful your grace”, he said, visibly relieved

“You are dismissed”, you stood from the table and walked towards the exit, but stopped in your tracks, “I assembled you to advice me, because I value your opinions above all others”, you said calmly but surely, “keep information like this away from me again, and I shall find advice I deemed even in higher steam , is that understood?”, you asked angrily, and they all, all those powerful men, just looked down at the table.

“Yes your grace”, you heard the Choris, and finally left the room.

You went to your own, because they was yet one person you needed to speak to, and you needed to do so on equal ground.

As expected Cregan entered right after yo

“You lied to me”, you accused

“I wanted to protect you, from exactly that! You flying into battle without even a strategy!”, he fought back, making you even more angry

“Don’t you dare turn this on me”, you said firmly, “you lied to me, conspired against me”

“I thought we could end this without making you worry!” He growled, “we could have defeated the Ironfleet”

“Yes sure”, you mocked, “people rises on rebellion against me, and you’d think you’d be best not to tell me!?”

“I told you I did not want to worry you”

“You wound me, it appears that not only half the lords of the realm, but also my own husband and hand doesn’t think I’m worthy of the throne!”, you said, eyes filled with angry tears

“You know very well that is not what I think!”, he said back, angry, not at you, but at the situation

“Then why did you intented to keep this from me?”, you insisted, “You don’t know what is like!”, you shouted, “that the kingdoms would rather go to war that surrender to your reign, for what you have between your thighs!”, Cregan sighed

“The kingdoms love you! They loved your mother”, he said, exasperated, “this is exactly why I didn’t tell you!”

“Not half the lords no”, you said bitterly, “If I was a man, nobody would have batted an eye!”, you continued, “everyone would have praised me for my valor!I would have been there leading the attack!”

“If you were a man I wouldn’t have cared!”, he exploted finally, grabbing you by your upper arms, “I wouldn’t be married to you if you were a man!”, he continued softly, and you gasped softly when you realized

“Oh”, you muttered

“What if something had happened to you? If an arrow had gotten to you? Jace died in the narrow sea, his dragon hooked like a common salmon…”

“I was better than him”, you said sadly, “my dragon is bigger… I flew higher…”

“I know that now” he said, “but the very thought of you, angry and worried because of those thick skull fucks, you leading the charge, in your dragon like you did, putting yourself in danger…”, you looked into his eyes and you saw desperation, “they would have risen against you, or Aegon the usurper, or your mother even with Daemon by her side, that is what these fucks do!”

You got quiet

“Don’t ever hide this from me again”, you demanded

“Don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again”, he growled , “I could not bare it, if something had happened to you”, he whispered leaning in

“How do you think I felt?”, you said more teasingly, “when I learn the danger my husband has put himself on”

The mood had lighten, you shared smirks

The line between protection and betrayal was very thin apparently

Lucky for you it was the first one.

I did not check for errors, I’m writing this from my phone 🤭

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries @duds31

#misguidedhour #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan #targaryen!oc

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helix-studios117 · 2 months

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Halo: A Beginner's Guide

For all of you newcomers out there, here's a list that I've wanted to do for a while now. For those who are new to Halo, likely introduced by the TV Show, and want to get into it, here's my 2 cents on how to ease into the franchise.

The Games

Play the original four games PLUS Halo Infinite in chronological order. The spin-off games (Reach, ODST, the Wars games and the Spartan games) are all completely optional, but they are there for people who want play other games that aren't centered around the Master Chief. I recommend just watching all of the cutscenes of Halo 5: Guardians in some supercut "movie" Youtube video, since the 5th game is... bad and, story wise, you're not missing much.

So in this order WITHOUT the spin-offs:

Halo: Combat Evolved

Halo 2

Halo 3

Halo 4

Halo Infinite

If you want to play the games WITH the spin-offs included, then in this order:

Halo Wars

Halo Reach

Halo: Combat Evolved

Halo 2

Halo 3: ODST

Halo 3

Halo: Spartan Assault

Halo: Spartan Strike (Note: This game takes place in two different time-periods, so just play this after Spartan Assault for convenience sake)

Halo 4

Halo Wars 2

Halo Infinite

My advice: Play the main four (+ Infinite) FIRST, then replay the main-games WITH the spin-offs in chronological-order.

Books & Comics

Here comes my favorite part!

Books

Halo: The Fall Of Reach, Halo: First Strike & Halo: Contact Harvest - The FIRST books in the entire franchise, these books set the stage for the entire setting of the Halo world. The first half of The Fall Of Reach is Master Chief's origin story, while the second half is about, well, "the fall of Reach." First Strike is a book that takes place in-between the first and second game AND, for a high-octane action-book, has a shocking amount of shipping material. And finally, Contact Harvest details the early years of the Human-Covenant War AND further fleshes out the Covenant as an antagonistic force by showing their side of things.

Halo: Silent Storm & Halo: Oblivion - For those who want MOAR Master Chief, these two books focus on a younger Chief fighting the Covenant in the earlier uears of the war. These two are probably my favorite Halo books thus far.

Halo: Ghosts Of Onyx & The Kilo-5 Trilogy - It's crucial to read Ghosts Of Onyx first BEFORE delving into Glasslands, the first book in The K5-Trilogy, since Glasslands takes place IMMEDIATELY after Ghosts Of Onyx. Anyways, these stories are for those who are bored of Master Chief and want to read about other, admittedly more fascinating Spartans. Kurt and Naomi are definitely among my favorite Spartans that aren't named "Master Chief," "Blue-Team" and "Silver-Team."

Halo Evolutions - An anthology book with each story taking place in some corner of the Halo universe or another, this is a book I recommend for world-building purposes.

Comics

Halo: The Graphic Novel - Just like Evolutions, Halo: The Graphic Novel is an anthology series thay tells different stories from different corners of the Halo universe for world-building purposes. These stories are all new stories and are NOT comic-adaptations of any of the stories in Evolutions, so don't worry about basically reading the same stories twice; The Graphic Novel has a similar concept, but all of the stories are different.

Halo: Blood Line - Black-Team is the coolest group of Spartans in the entire Spartan-II Program; they're group of misfit loners (who secretly have feelings for each other) who answer ONLY to ONI (the CIA of the Halo universe) and wear black suits of armor with roman-numerals etched onto their visors. They do cool-guy shit together, and this comic follows their story.

Other Material

Audio-Dramas

I Love Bees - Taking place in various different points in time, I Love Bees was an ARG that was turned into an audio-play long after it was deciphered. I won't spoil anything that happens, but I will say this: Shit gets kinda crazy.

Hunt The Truth - Another ARG. This fictional podcast was made to promote Halo 5: Guardians and... it's the best damn part to come out of that stinker of a game; Hunt The Truth's narrative is SO much more interesting than Halo 5's story, it HURTS. Anyways, it's about a reporter uncovering the truth of the Spartan-II Program as ONI starts a smear campaign against the Master Chief to cover their own asses.

Movies & Shows

Halo 4: Forward Unto Dawn - This web-film was promotional material for Halo 4 (as it's title suggests), and it follows a group teenaged military-school students going about their lives as Lasky, a confused cadet who is struggling to find a direction in life and live up to his family's reputation, grapples with the struggles of military-life in his academy.

Halo: The Series - If, by some off-chance, you WEREN'T introduced to Halo via the show, here's the recommendation. Form your own opinion, but here's my advice: Like what you want to like and don't follow the word of mouth.

Halo Legends - An anime anthology that, just like Evolutions and The Graphic Novel, world-builds the mythology of Halo by telling different, disconnected but ultimately in-continuity stories set within the game's universe. Odd One Out, Homecoming and The Package are my favorite shorts in the film.

Machinimas

Red Vs Blue - What else? Seasons 1 - 14 are my recommendations, don't watch anything else beyond that because it SERIOUSLY drops in quality. Just wait for it's final season, Season 20, to come out; you're not missing much with seasons 15 - 19.

The Spartan Legacy - A seriously underrated series. Made by a Youtuber under the name: 'Chronicler177,' The Spartan Legacy takes place in an alternate-continuity where Chief disappears and never comes back after the events of Halo 3. As a result, the Spartan-IVs and Vs (both of which are more interesting than in-canon; and the Spartan-Vs are a new creation within this web-show itself) are created to take his place.

WHEW! That's all, ladies and gents.

@authortobenamedlater, @silverpelt3600, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites, @mrtobenamedlater, @biomecharnotaurus, @killer-orca-cosplay, @cheezbot, @caffeineyum, @asimplesimpsimping.

#halo #halo the series #halo infinite #halo au #halo expanded universe #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #halo series #halo tv #halo tv series #halo tv show #halo reach #halo 3 #master chief #john 117 #halo reloaded #helix studios117

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dracobrooklyn · 4 months

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Call of Duty Recommending Writing.

These are my recommendations on these amazing COD x Reader or Oc x Cannon Writing. These are the best of the best :D Light on by @peachesofteal

Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.

|| MDNI|| 18+

This anthology is just so damn beautiful, when I jumped into the COD x reader train this one was the first one, and I LOVE IT! the writing is so in character of Mister Simon Riley and by god, he still his grumpy self but still minds his manners towards the single mom reader with her baby <3. The relationship between Simon and the neighbor is a slow burn romance and by god it's so good, the way he is soft towards her. Fighting his feelings but letting them go. How he treats the little baby, as if he was father the whole time, god damn it, it's so sweet. There is very much Smut in this, the kinks are just fabulous. I will not spoil much but please read read!! Worth the love and the time spent onto this!!

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT by @kneelingshadowsalome || MDNI || 18+

{Historical AU. Roman Auxilia soldier!König with his spoils of war gf. Slow burn, romance, violence, fluff, eventual smut, 18+}

König x F!Reader | The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

Man on Man... where do I start with this. This is a four Part Story so there is more slow burn romance to eat. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and Dessert. The writing in this is so good! It's the right amount of character development, the way they use the language barrier in this is so creative and fun! Konig in this is just a treat, brash but loving, he's a man, course he's not gonna be a total prince charming. His interactions with the reader is very spicy and also sweet. The detail into the interactions *chef kiss*. Give me more! The Kinks are real good in this, reading this while curled up in my burrito blanket oof. Please do give this a chance, well worth it!

mafia!John Price x fem!wife!Reader by @cordeliawhohung || MDNI || 18+

All you wanted was to be able to see your husband after a long week at work, but when he stands you up at dinner, that's the last straw. You hunt him down and find him at a club that he owns, where you very quickly learn why he told you to stay very far away from the place. - Or, mafia!Price defends his wife's honor then fucks her in the VIP room <3

you want a fun horny but sweet/steamy Price x Reader one shot. Here have this wonderful snack, it's a big one :3. Just the way the reader was concerned for good ol Mr. Price with being a mafia boss. But then then smut goes in, yis :3. It's dirty but a good dirty! you want a man like John to treat you like a gentleman, this is it! <3

Price x Young Reader by @luvit || MDNI || 18+

This is short but sweet! Just a fun headcannon that the reader who is in their mid/late 20's so this is an age gap headcannon. It's not off portions with the age gap. The description talking about the reader having more energy than him onto their second or third round and he is milked dry oof, and then the reader becomes bratty and he takes the reigns despite his low energy <3 it's good :D.

Fae!Price x Witch!reader by @ghouljams || MDNI || 18+

Hear me out hear me out... fae!price... cool? Cool! The writing in this is so good! Price teasing the reader when the fae try to give you a gift and you know better to. Not giving out their name, or even your name. The Fae know how to be tricksters. And the smut in this, oh it's so spicy! I love it! I'm a slut for magic based writing. especially AU's like these!! Please give them a shot! I know I LOVED.

WICKER PYRE | Dragon!Price x Reader by @yeyinde || MDNI || 18+

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons.

Ah Ha, you see if you know me (or don't) I LOVE dragons!! Dragons are my favorite creature! I love them, and what's better when you can romance a dragon! I mean come on! Good shit my guy! And I love and accept the headcannon that Price would be a dragon 100% not because of the smoking of a cigar that's the 5%, it's the personality, the vibe, and the voice fits so perfectly. The writing in this is so damn spicy!! How rough and hot it is (no pun intended). The way he teases the reader, ah. Very nice~ please give his a read!

woe to the deer who is courted by the wolf . . . by @toshidou Vampire!Konig x reader || MDNI || 18+

You want Vampire!Konig in your pallet, say no more. Here have this damn meal! The beginning is very silly in a good way! But when you finally come across the man himself, it get's good. I love it when Writers use his German language in the writing, it's adds the mystery where I have to look it up and I go "OH!?". It's so good! I love it! It got that size difference and the a little blood play cause of the vampire thing but please read this! indulge thyself!!

Faint Jingling Brass by @cowyolks || MDNI || 18+

Prompt: There was something about you, something that urged the beast to enter your cottage. It was intrigued, sniffing the anguish of your very soul- and it wanted you.

Krampus!Konig... yeah uh give me the eggnog with the cookies please, this was a joy to read. Totally wouldn't bang Krampus, I don't know what you are talking about. The fact that the reader was totally willing to get punished, you know it's good. Spanking? Predator/Prey dynamic? Yes Yes!! Please read this!!

Your Grace by @cowyolks Prompt: As a loyal soldier to your King, you follow orders without question. So when the King asks you to kneel— you do as told. || MDNI || 18+

Fun fact, if I am correct Konig means king in German. Why not have an AU where Knoig is the king and you are def his favorite. The writing is so damn hot oof! It is in two parts though! And the reading is so worth it. Made me blush and curl up in my blanket as well! Please please read!!

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