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hippolotamus · 30 days

Note

Another off the menu request for the WIP game…

🦀🔪🦞🤿

The OGs will know.

-a totally anonymous anon

For you Totally Anonymous Anon

It’s been several (occasionally tense) months since Crab moved in with Lobster. While the space had seemed ideal at first, it became considerably less so as time went on. They often found their claws and shells knocking into each other. Especially during periods when Crab would regress and insist on carrying his knife everywhere. Lobster loved Crab, and treasured his very existence. In fact he often found himself wondering how he had ever lived alone. However, Lobster did not care for being poked and prodded.

I may regret this, but if you have no idea what this means, please go here for something truly ridiculous and fun

Also tagging @stereopticons @lizzie-bennetdarcy @tizniz @statueinthestone @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks

#the adventures of scuba lobster and fight me crab #scuba lobster #fucking fight me crab #knife crab #hippo writes #🤿🦞💞🔪🦀#*deep breath*#*sigh*#you're lucky i love you #edit to fix the link

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signless-selfshipping · 2 years

Text

List of my F/O Tags (if an f/o doesnt havwe a tag they wvont be included here lol)

Quadrants

-Karkat; 🩸- hold my hand to keep me steady, just to be quiet with you (karkat) -Kankri; 🦀- no fighting wars, no ringing chimes, we're just feeling fine (kankri)

-Damara; 🥢- and the day has come where I have died, only to find I've come alive (damara) - Marsti; 🧹- if everything comes crashing down, i pray that you'll still be around (marsti)

-Tavros; 🦋- dream of me and i will let you know, that i am fine here (tavros) -Rufioh; 🦋- lonely hearts club, do you want to be with somebody like me? (rufioh)

-Mituna; 🛹- we're smashing mics in karaoke bars, you're running late with half your makeup on (mituna) -Cirava; 💻- baby run away, run away, to the sun, to the comfort (cirava)

-Azdaja; ⚡- got no heart to break, like it that way (azdaja) -Folykl<>Kuprum; ⚡🔋- yeah, I stole his phone, that put him in his place (foly and kuprum)

-Polypa; 🩹- i heard you talking in the back of my dreams (polypa) -Safe!Lanque; 🌷- come with me, my love, to the sea (lanque)

-Bronya; 🩺- are you falling in love? i've a feeling you are (bronya)

-Tegiri; ⚔- do-do-do do you want me to, spend some time sitting next to you? (tegiri) -Terezi; ⚖- lies are made by stories which we think of when we sleep (terezi)

-Remele; 🎨- when you wipe your tears, do you wipe them just for me? (remele) -Mallek; 💻- tell me how you feel about me, do you like or like like me? (mallek)

-Ardata; 💀- she's posting all the time but the boards are down, it's a burned out building (ardata) -Galekh; 📘- men reading fashion magazines, what a world it seems we live in (galekh)

-Zebruh; ❌- don't go there 'cause you'll never return, i know you think of me when you think of her (zebruh) -Equius; 🏹- mr blue, i told you that i love you, please believe me (equius)

-Horuss; 🔧- so I leave you with a smile, kiss you on the cheek and you will call it treason (horuss) -Marvus; 🎤- ladies and gents, this is the moment youre waiting for (marvus) -Meenah; 🔱- you give me diamonds, i give you nothing (meenah)

Romantic

-Bakugou; 🧨- i don’t wanna go to school tomorrow, i can’t study thinking about you (bakugou) -Marshall Lee; 🪓- i really dont buy that youre that kinda guy (marshall lee)

-Sebastian; 💻- do not enter is written on the doorway, why cant everyone just go away? except you, you can stay (sebastian) -Gasoline; ☠- i know I’m a freak, ripped the band aid, broke the peace (gasoline)

-Jeff; 🔪- something bad is ‘bout to happen to me, i don’t know it, but I feel it coming (jeff) -Teruki; 💜- i wish i could be a girl, and that way, you'd wish i could be your girlfriend, boyfriend (teruki)

-Opal; 💎- if you feel lonely, i could be lonely with you (opal) -Jerry; 🎟- my own personal sunset, to give each day its own diploma (jerry)

-Roger; ☎- i've been working on a unified theory, if I make it through tonight, everybody's gonna hear me out (roger) -Craig; 💡- i'm out on the block again, so hopped up that I can't pretend (craig)

-Oliver; 📽- cast all your spells, and there you have, that good old fashioned razzmatazz (oliver) -Randy; 🩹- a sweet tooth for you, i'm wide awake, the sugar went straight to my brain (randy)

Platonic

-Sundrop; ☀- everybody likes you! (sun) -Moondrop; 🌘- rises the moon (moon) -- Dual-tag is; ☀🌘- hug all your friends, and let them know youre not letting go (sun and moon)

#🩸- hold my hand to keep me steady just to be quiet with you (karkat)#🦀- no fighting wars no ringing chimes we're just feeling fine (kankri)#🥢- and the day has come where I have died only to find I've come alive (damara)#🧹- if everything comes crashing down i pray that you'll still be around (marsti)#🦋- dream of me and i will let you know that i am fine here (tavros)#🦋- lonely hearts club do you want to be with somebody like me? (rufioh)#🛹- we're smashing mics in karaoke bars you're running late with half your makeup on (mituna)#💻- baby run away run away to the sun to the comfort (cirava)#⚡- got no heart to break like it that way (azdaja)#⚡🔋- yeah I stole his phone that put him in his place (foly and kuprum)#🩹- i heard you talking in the back of my dreams (polypa)#🌷- come with me my love to the sea (lanque)#🩺- are you falling in love? i've a feeling you are (bronya)#⚔- do-do-do do you want me to spend some time sitting next to you? (tegiri)#⚖- lies are made by stories which we think of when we sleep (terezi)#🎨- when you wipe your tears do you wipe them just for me? (remele)#💻- tell me how you feel about me do you like or like like me? (mallek)#💀- she's posting all the time but the boards are down it's a burned out building (ardata)#📘- men reading fashion magazines what a world it seems we live in (galekh)#❌- don't go there 'cause you'll never return i know you think of me when you think of her (zebruh)#🏹- mr blue i told you that i love you please believe me (equius)#🔧- so I leave you with a smile kiss you on the cheek and you will call it treason (horuss)#🎤- ladies and gents this is the moment youre waiting for (marvus)#🔱- you give me diamonds i give you nothing (meenah)#🧨- i don’t wanna go to school tomorrow i can’t study thinking about you (bakugou)#🪓- i really dont buy that youre that kinda guy (marshall lee)#💻- do not enter is written on the doorway why cant everyone just go away? except you you can stay (sebastian)#☠- i know I’m a freak ripped the band aid broke the peace (gasoline)#🔪- something bad is ‘bout to happen to me i don’t know it but I feel it coming (jeff)#💜- i wish i could be a girl and that way you'd wish i could be your girlfriend boyfriend (teruki)

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sexydoffyman · 8 months

Note

OMG HIHI OK SORRY FOR MY LIKE REALLY HYPER BEHAVIOR HUT IM WHIPPED FOR THIS SERIES 2 OMGG PLSS MAKE MOREE

😍

FOR PART 3 LIKE UH I DONT HAVE ANYTHING SPECIFIC IN MIND BUT U COULD MAKE IT LIKE A COURTING HC BUT ITS UP TO U BECAUSE WE EATING THIS SHIT UP FR

FIGHTING OVER YOU P3

navigation

p1 p2 p3

genre: romance?

characters: Ghost, Soap, König

A/N: I'm so sorry. I tried to research what courting means and, yes, I know you told me. English is not my first language.🦀 I'm falling asleep as I'm writing this lmao.

artist @ave661 check their stuff out, my fellow humans!

When you catch on that they are following you around constantly, you decide to talk a little with them.

You met Soap the other day and immediately went to strike up a conversation.

"Sup Soap!"

Soap will turn around to face you so fast.

He looks like a puppy waiting for its owner to play with it.

It's adorable.

His eyes just light up. You finally recognised his existence.

He wouldn't even respond right away. He'd just look at you. Love overfilling his eyes.

He just looks so comfortable.

Now Ghost is always near Soap, so when he hears your voice, he's there in a matter of seconds.

You know the meme "He's pretty" "And you're ugly. Now let's get to work."

Yeah, that is basically what happens.

They don't even notice König lurking behind the corner.

He was waiting for Ghost to get Soap away from you. Now he has you all to himself.

You turn around to go to wherever when you meet yourself with Königs chest.

You really have to look up at him.

He smiles. You can't see it, but he smiles.

He just waves at you like he isn't a threat to society.

You also smile at him.

Now König is a little older, so he knows how to keep his shit together.

Now switching back to your POV.

Soap just got taken away from you. And you have another opportunity to talk to one of them.

"Hey König!"

"Hallo M/N (male name)"

"You really fucked them up last mission." You told him, trying to make small talk.

He appreciates that you pronounced his name correctly. A thing that happens very rarely to him.

He turned around and looked back at you "You wanna-"

BANG

Before he could even finish a heavy shoe smacked into his face.

You quickly realised that Ghost took care of another simp. Who was going to get rid of him tho?

Price.

Our g'ol captain Price is ready to put all of them to their senses.

Slapping Soap on the back of his head and pulling Ghost off of Soap.

It was hard for him to get Soap out of Ghost's chokehold. But he managed to do it.

It's Price, after all.

He scolded all of them while you couldn't stop chucking in the corner.

"Leave them to me Price. You've tortured them enough."

All three of them look up at you, to which Price can only laugh.

"That might work just the best. Don't let them tear you apart!" He said as he left the room.

p4 a little date with the trio?

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months

Text

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 6: I Am Missing You To Death]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, a Wolfman update, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, sexual content (18+), dragons, murder, suicide, say hello to the Crab Fam! 🥰🦀

Series title is a lyric from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 9k (she chonky!).

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

There’s fire on the table, ice in your blood. Alicent and Helaena are prisoners in their rooms, and tomorrow Otto will be beheaded in the Dragonpit, but you are here in the Great Hall surrounded by candles, cider and beer and wine, rare roast boar sweating blood like rubies, raucous celebration.

Your father and Clement are laughing with Medrick Manderly, Lorent Marbrand, Luthor Largent, other men of Rhaenyra’s council; when they toast their wine, it sloshes carelessly out of the glass goblets. Corlys Velaryon—whose navy helped secure the city—is pensive and withdrawn, saying very little. At the center of the high table, the woman who calls herself queen is manic: color in her cheeks, light in her eyes, but not a warm life-giving glow, a hollow glint like the flash of coins or swords or moonlight. She is receiving a litany of congratulations for her victory from the lords of loyal houses: Blackwood, Bar Emmon, Costayne, Tully, Frey, Dustin, Cerwyn, Grimm. Frequently and unmistakably, Rhaenyra glances across the hall to where Daemon is conspiring with her military commanders, his back to the wall and arms crossed and face daunting yet distracted somehow, reminding you very much of Aemond. He does not look at his wife. He looks elsewhere, into the future, into the past, into the northwest where Nettles and Baela are waiting for him to return to the cursed corridors of Harrenhal.

“Please eat something,” Everett says quietly. He is carving off the least-bloody pieces of roast boar and laying them on your plate, where they remain untouched. He doesn’t have much to talk about with the other men as long as the topic of conversation hinges on combat. He knows books, not blades. Everett can walk, though only slowly and with great difficulty; he does not ride horses, he does not fight, he does not have a wife and in all likelihood never will. He reads and he watches, sharp eyes like a hawk’s.

“I’m alright,” you reply with effort that feels like lifting iron, stones, the dead weight of a man.

“You’re not,” Everett says, pained.

“Cregan Stark is a good man!” your father is telling his compatriots. He has grey hair and a crafty grin and speaks with dramatic sweeps of his arms. “When he heard of my daughter’s tribulations, borne with such courage, such resilience, he assured me that his intentions to wed her were unchanged. He pledged to forgive her any transgressions suffered at the hands of the Usurper.”

“A better husband than any of us!” Clement trumpets, toasting his wine glass with anyone who will accommodate him. Clement does have a wife—and two sons so far, the infant heirs of House Celtigar—but he spends far more time writing to Lord Stark than his family back on Claw Isle. “Gallant! Merciful! The most clever and civilized Northerner to ever live!”

“Hear hear!” his audience answers spiritedly, though Everett only frowns.

“And soon Cregan will leave Winterfell,” your father continues. Rhaenyra is now listening attentively. “He will finish rallying and fortifying his men, and then march south to crush the last vestiges of this infernal, traitorous uprising!”

Resounding cheers, fists drummed against the table. Clement picks up where your father left off: “Already Roddy the Ruin and his Winter Wolves slaughtered 2,000 Lannister men at the Fishfeed. Can you imagine the carnage when Cregan arrives with his host of young, fresh, able-bodied warriors?! We will eviscerate the Kingmaker! We will avenge Rhaenys, Lucerys and Jacaerys! And when we find the Usurper, when we drag him out of whatever hovel he’s crawled into on his belly like a snake, we will cut him open to see if his guts are green as well!”

As men roar all around you—men who have killed, men who are starving to do it again—you stare down at the reflection in your wine, a vacant face that barely resembles yours. You cannot write to Aegon. He cannot write to you. Where and how he is will remain a mystery until you meet again…or until the Blacks uncover his fate. In your mind, he is both alive and dead; he is sick, he is well, he is suffering, he is finding solace in another woman’s bed, he is lying broken on the side of the road, he is sailing under the cover of darkness into Dragonstone on a borrowed ship, he is drunk, he is sober, he is burning up with fever, his is reunited with Sunfyre, he is in desperate need of you, he has forgotten you completely.

“I bet he’s at Storm’s End!” Medrick Manderly bellows, motioning with a turkey leg as if it’s a dagger. “We should send assassins to slay him!”

“No, no, the Reach!” Luthor Largent counters. “He’s probably on his way to meet his brother Daeron there!”

Theories are lobbed back and forth like the arrows of archers, none of them right. No one asks you. No one has asked about the abuse you supposedly endured either. It was taken for granted as truth; what else could anyone expect from a captor as notoriously depraved and insatiable as the Usurper? Your melancholic demeanor is proof enough. Inquiry beyond that would be impolite. And then Rhaenyra says, startling you: “Is there any chance he’s gone to Dragonstone?”

“He cannot be there, Your Grace,” your father assures her. “It is impossible to take Dragonstone without there being signs, ships in the sea and smoke from the kitchens and the like. We would have heard from the lords of the Crownlands who reside near the island.”

Unless they have silently abandoned Rhaenyra’s cause. Unless Aegon and Larys have won them over. You have to protect him. You have to distract the side you once called your own. You twist the dragon ring on your left hand, gold wings and jade eyes. No one asks about that either; sometimes you think they don’t really see you at all. You say softly: “He spoke often of Dorne.”

“Dorne?” your father muses, stroking his short beard.

“Of course he did,” Clement says. “Degenerates are quite at home there.”

Medrick Manderly is muttering: “We’ll never find him if he gets past the Marches…”

Rhaenyra gazes at her husband again, a hollow, vulnerable sort of desperation, a plea that echoes against stone walls. He knocks back the last of his wine, turns his back on her, and strides out of the Great Hall. Rhaenyra’s pale eyes—a treacherous, oceanic sort of blue like Aegon’s—are glossy with despair. You’ve crossed paths with her before, of course, usually from a distance; but you are fascinated by how much she has changed. With each person she loses—King Viserys, infant Visenya, Luke, Jace—another piece of her is cut away like a man being flayed. The so-called queen is more erratic, more cold. She has had her remaining children brought to King’s Landing: Joffrey, Aegon the Younger, Viserys who is a sickly and disengaged toddler, his eyes and nose always running. They are tucked safely away in their rooms currently. They are glorified prisoners, just like you; they have no role in shaping the world they will one day inherit.

“My lady?” Autumn says, tapping your shoulder. The Blacks know her only as a handmaiden who assisted you in escaping the clutches of the Usurper when he fled King’s Landing. They have no idea who might have fathered the child in her rounded belly. It would not be safe for them to know. Before her time comes to deliver, Autumn will have to go someplace where the Blacks will be unaware if her son or daughter has the silvery hair of a Targaryen. You promised her a new home, but you cannot give it to her yet; nothing you own is truly yours, and Aegon left too suddenly to gift her property on your behalf. Autumn, curiously, does not seem to be in any hurry to leave you.

“I’m alright,” you say again, another leaden lie. The men are now discussing how the Usurper should be executed once they’ve found him: beheaded, hanged drawn and quartered, fed to a dragon, burned alive, some combination thereof. Medrick Manderly is suggesting that they have him flayed alive. When Cregan Stark arrives at last, surely there will be Boltons in his retinue.

“You are exhausted,” Autumn announces, loudly enough for the others to overhear. “You have been through so much. Please, my lady. Allow me to escort you back to your rooms.”

“Will you, please?” Everett asks Autumn. His eyes flick to hers, his fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll check on her before I retire for the evening.”

Autumn offers you her hand. This is a kindness, an escape. You take it and rise from the table.

“My daughter!” Bartimos Celtigar laments, gesturing to you. His spectators, men rabid with bloodlust, nod and murmur sympathetically, like it is almost something too distasteful to speak of. Murder can be discussed openly, torture, weapons, war; but the violence women collect and carry in their bones? Those are details best left unsaid. Perhaps it strikes too near to their own deeds, if they dared to think hard on them. Your father approaches and kisses you twice, once on each cheek. Rhaenyra drinks her wine and stares blankly at the place where Daemon had stood. “So wronged, so mistreated, and yet she is still with us. She will rise again. She has a glorious future ahead of her. We all do. All of us who serve Rhaenyra, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. To the words of my house: Perpetual Resurrection!”

The men lift their cups and shout, none more deafeningly than Clement: “Perpetual Resurrection!” Everett mouths it quietly to himself. Corlys Velaryon says nothing. Rhaenyra holds her head high, sorrowful but defiant. You retreat from the Great Hall with Autumn, the hem of your gown flowing out behind you, black like the faction the Celtigars have aligned with, black like mourning.

“No,” you tell Autumn as she starts up the stairwell that leads to your bedchamber.

She is puzzled. “Where then?”

“Take me to the dungeons.”

“What? Why?” Then she understands. “Oh. Oh no. You don’t want to go down there. It’s awful, dark and grimy, dried blood on the walls, handprints and fingernails. Spiders and bones. Rats everywhere.”

“So you know the way.”

“Yes,” she admits cagily, tugging at a coiled lock of her coppery hair.

Your eyes narrow. “When were you in the dungeons?” You met Aegon there? He took women there? Before the war, before he was burned, before he met me?

“Don’t ask questions you wouldn’t want the answers to,” Autumn says primly. Then she ushers you through doorways and shadowy stairwells that lead down, down, down.

Grand Maester Orwyle is in the black cells. Jasper Wylde has already been executed; Tyland Lannister is being tortured until he reveals the location of the Greens’ stores of treasure. Otto Hightower, condemned to death, is housed on the floor of the dungeons reserved for prisoners of noble birth. There are torches burning in the corridor, rage-orange luminescence like dusk bleeding into the cells through gaps in the iron bars. Autumn does not leave you alone there, but she does wait at the end of the hall to give you—and the man who three times served as the Hand of the King and was twice removed from the same office, first by King Viserys and again by Aegon when Otto proved too cautious for his liking—some semblance of privacy.

Otto peers up at you from where he sits on the floor of his cell, strewn with dirty straw and glowing firelight. He appears old, impossibly old; the flesh has evaporated between his skull and his yellowed skin. He already looks like the skeleton he will be soon. He once counseled Aegon against flying into battle with Sunfyre, and Aegon hated him for it. But Otto was right, wasn’t he? “Did you tire of all the merriment upstairs? Or have they run out of roast boar? I could smell it cooking, you know. All day long as rats chewed at my ankles.”

“I imagine you now regret not running when you had the chance.”

Otto shrugs haggardly. “My odds would have been as good on the road as here. Out there, I might have been descended upon by a bear or a shadowcat or a band of thieves who left me gutted on the roadside. At least my death will be clean and swift.”

“Is there anything I can bring you?” you ask him, gently now. “Anything I can do for you? Before…tomorrow?” Before your life is ended. Before the Greens lose one of their greatest assets.

His gaunt face stretches into a slow, taunting grin. “You have chosen a side, Lady Celtigar.”

That’s true, isn’t it? By not spilling the Greens’ secrets. By falling in love with their king. “If Rhaenyra wins, I have to marry Cregan Stark and Aegon dies.”

“And you want him to live so he can marry you.”

It stuns you so much it takes a moment to find your words again. “Well, that’s not possible.” He already has a wife, no matter how insane she is now.

“I would not assume that any form of depravity is beyond his skill.” Otto sighs deeply. “Before that bitch took the city, I was corresponding with the Dragonseeds called Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer. They claim they will switch to our side for titles that Rhaenyra denies them. Ulf wanted Storm’s End—delusional, the drunk could not manage a fishing village, he spells half his words wrong—and Hugh asked the Blacks for Casterly Rock. Apparently Daemon was actually amenable, but Rhaenyra refused the notion entirely. How fortunate for us. If we offer these Dragonseeds the seats of lesser houses—Costayne and Merryweather, I’d suggest, both traitors to Aegon’s cause—I think they’ll declare for us. Alicent must write to them. With Aemond, Criston, and Daeron on the battlefield, and Aegon gods know where, she must be the one to negotiate for our side now. She is capable of it. I know she is.”

“She can’t get to the rookery.”

Otto smiles up at you cunningly. “I suspect her letters will somehow find their way there,” he says. “And you are now more knowledgeable of the would-be betrayers’ whereabouts than I am.”

You nod. This is true, for the Blacks speak openly around you. While Corlys’ alleged bastard Addam Velaryon—who accompanied the navy into King’s Landing—now patrols the skies above the city on Seasmoke, Ulf and Hugh are currently stationed at Maidenpool in a remote corner of the Riverlands and awaiting further instruction. Rhaenyra dislikes them, you can sense this already. She has heard tales of boasting, drinking, whoring, brawling, bottomless greed. She does not trust them. She does not understand how the gods allowed her sons to be killed and those scoundrels to live.

Otto says: “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“What is it that draws you to Aegon?” He speaks with profound, genuine confusion. “What is there to admire? To yearn for?”

You see him, playful crooked smile and dazed eyes, careful hands, tiny silver braid. Unaware that you’re doing it, you twist the dragon ring on your finger. “He’s brave. He’s kind. I don’t understand why none of you can see it.”

“Ah.” And now Otto at last comprehends. “I was in love once,” he says wistfully, very far away, gazing at the stone wall, gazing at nothing. “I don’t remember what it felt like. But I remember that it happened. I suppose I will see Alicent’s mother again tomorrow. I hope she still recognizes me.” His eyes return to you, reflecting torchlight that shifts and distorts. “These dark, contagious facets of life change us all. They ruins us. Time, heartache, violence. You become capable of inconceivable things. You would scheme and deceive. You would murder.”

You can hear Aegon’s voice in the silence of the dungeons: I ruin causes. I ruin people. I couldn’t do that to you. “I’ll help your side however I can.”

“Do not allow the Blacks to discover your treason. You are far more valuable to us as someone who can drift between worlds than as a professed ally, assuming you cannot turn the Celtigars.”

“I can’t.” You could convince Everett, perhaps. But he isn’t the heir to Claw Isle.

Then Otto smiles, and it is the softest, most tender thing you’ve ever seen him do. “Please tell Alicent that I love her.”

“I will.”

“Now go,” he says. “Before you are witnessed here. Before you endanger what you want most.”

To end the war. To stop this suffering. To be with Aegon again. You hesitate, not knowing how to say goodbye. What is there left to say when the man in front of you is already dead?

“Go,” Otto Hightower orders again; and this time you obey.

He dies at 9:00 the next morning. Sunlight streams fierce and blinding into the Dragonpit. The smallfolk applaud and cheer, though perhaps mostly because Syrax and Caraxes are perched atop the domed roof and waiting, fangs bared, to devour anyone who dissents. In the people’s eyes, you see less savagery than terror. You can read the thoughts that dart between them, infectious like fever: We do not trust Rhaenyra, this ruthless queen, this Maegor with teats. We do not trust her bloodthirsty uncle-husband. We do not want to burn if Aemond and Vhagar return to reclaim the city.

Daemon swings the blade himself. It takes three blows to sever Otto’s head. This must have been intentional; you know what an expert swordsman Daemon is.

~~~~~~~~~~

You sit compliantly with your family at meals, dances, executions. You stroll in the gardens. You bring Helaena flowers, lilies, irises, tulips, daisies, roses. You bring Alicent paper and quills and ink. You take the letter she writes to the rookery above the chambers where Grand Maester Orwyle once resided. As the raven departs for Maidenpool, black wings flapping in cerulean summer air, you stare through a window that looks out onto Blackwater Bay towards Essos, Driftmark, Dragonstone.

Is Aegon there now? Is he alive?

You have no way of knowing; while ravens pass between King’s Landing and the Riverlands frequently, you cannot risk someone noticing correspondence with Dragonstone. But you feel that Aegon is safe on that fearsome, windswept island. You feel that he might even be gazing out of his own window, back towards the mainland, back towards you.

When you return to your bedchamber, Everett is there. He is seated at the writing desk and pointing to pages in a book about animals of the Crownlands, bears and dragons and crabs. The book is for children; the words are large and accompanied by colorful illustrations. Autumn is sitting in Everett’s lap, giggling as she repeats the words that he croons through her firelight hair.

You pause in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Learning how to read!” Autumn replies brightly.

“I thought you weren’t interested in that.”

“I’ve been struck by sudden and forceful inspiration to shed my commoner ignorance.”

“Autumn, dear,” Everett prompts. She climbs out of his lap, sweeps him a teasing girlish courtesy, and sails out of the room. Everett looks to you. “Come. Sit.”

“Not in your lap, hopefully.”

He laughs. “Where on earth did you find her?”

You take a seat at the edge of your bed, toying with your ring. Your fingertips glide over the bumps of those gleaming jade eyes. “A brothel here in King’s Landing. I don’t know what sort of family she was born into.”

“Oh,” Everett sighs sympathetically. Your father and Clement would be viciously pejorative, would demand Autumn’s removal from your service immediately. But Everett is a different sort of man. He was even before he was burned, and he’s far more so now. “The poor thing.” Then his eyebrows leap up. “Wait. How did you end up visiting a brothel…?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You peer out the window that overlooks the beach. You’re always watching the sea now, as if it can tell you its secrets, as if it can whisper to you in a language made of gull cries, breaking waves, starlight and moonbeams reflected on indigo currents in the dead of night.

“It’s strange,” Everett says. There is a soft, sad smile on his face. “Your body is here with us, but your soul isn’t.”

You don’t know how to reply. You don’t know how to explain everything that’s happened.

“The Usurper must have harmed you terribly.” Everett is not asking, but he is opening the door; you can tell him anything that is burdening you, and he will keep it to himself. You once sat with him as he lay dying, or at least when everyone believed he was; everyone but you and Maester Arthur back on Claw Isle. You once helped bring him back to life. That is a bond forged with something stronger than iron, something deeper than blood.

Aegon? Harm me? “He would never do that.”

Now Everett’s eyes are fixed intently on you. He is reading you like calculations of taxes, expenses, accounts, gains, losses. He realizes, hushed and alarmed: “You weren’t taken to King’s Landing by force.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

His jaw drops open, his eyes blink incredulously. “Do you…do you think he’s the rightful king?!”

“It’s not about that for me.”

“You are betrothed to another man.”

“Yes,” you agree.

“The Usurper is married.”

“Yes,” you say again. “And yet…”

“Seven hells,” Everett exhales. He shakes his head. “But…the Usurper…Aegon…he…he…he’s a monster, isn’t he? A rapist, a degenerate, a slothful and selfish wastrel?”

“No. He’s not. Just like Rhaenyra isn’t a sweet, serene mother to her kingdom.”

Everett smirks ruefully. He can’t argue with this.

“Aegon will pardon any Celtigar who rebelled against him. All they need to do is swear fealty upon being captured.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“I know where he was planning to go. I don’t know if he made it there.”

“And you worry for him,” Everett says softly.

You nod, unable to speak. You can feel the threat of tears scorching in your throat, dark churning clouds that forecast lightning, cyclones, floods.

“His burns have healed?” Everett asks. “Everyone knows he was horribly wounded at Rook’s Rest.”

“They’ve scarred over. But that doesn’t mean he’ll be alright.”

Everett understands this, he remembers the discussions the two of you once had with Maester Arthur. Severe burns weaken the organs, even years after the flesh is no longer raw and weeping. Survivors are prone to failure of their kidneys, liver, heart. They must be careful to avoid further trauma. Aegon does not have that luxury. “I don’t know what remedy to offer you,” Everett says remorsefully. “Rhaenyra met with Alicent, and the dowager queen put forth a generous compromise. Alicent proposed that the realm be divided. Aegon’s seat would be at Oldtown, and his jurisdiction would include the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Stormlands. Rhaenyra would continue to rule from King’s Landing and preside over the Crownlands, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Iron Islands, and the North. Both branches of the family would survive.”

“Rhaenyra could have ended it.” You marvel at the simplicity, the doomed slighted possibilities. “Here and now. The bloodshed would be over. Aegon could return to me.”

“Rhaenyra rejected the notion of any concessions whatsoever. Our father and Clement encouraged her. I would advocate for a peaceful resolution, I would advance your interests, sister. I would, I swear I would. But it is futile. You know they don’t listen to me.”

No, not in the arena of warfare. Everett is the heir to your father’s skill with trade, but Clement is the future Lord of Claw Isle, and it is he who wields swords and shields and leads men into combat. Everett cannot fight. Other men will never regard him as their full equal. “You have listened to my treason and not condemned me. I cannot ask for more from you than that.”

Everett stands from his chair, a slow, laborious undertaking. He crosses the room gingerly, lifts your chin to break the trance as you stare down at your ring, beams like the sun. “You want him.”

“Yes,” you admit helplessly.

“You’ve never wanted any man.”

“Just him. It can’t be anyone but him.”

Everett nods, thoughtful, amused. “Then I will pray that Lord Cregan Stark takes a wrong turn on the Kingsroad and ends up in the Vale, or the Iron Islands, or Essos, or perhaps even walks right into the sea. He’d sink, I’m sure. All those furs must be heavy when wet.”

“If anyone asks, you believe Aegon to be in Dorne.”

“I certainly do.” Everett smiles, touches his lips to your forehead, shuffles off to find Autumn and tell her that she can come back now.

Some nights, if you can enter without being noticed, you steal into the bedchamber that was once Aegon’s, the place where you brought him back from the dead, the place where he made you crave things that had once only filled you with dread, fear, revulsion. No one else has claimed Aegon’s rooms. No one else wants them. They make jokes about the debaucheries his walls must have seen, the unholy stains that surely riddle his mattress, rugs, curtains. They don’t know him at all, and nothing can make them want to. Tonight, there are quarreling voices coming from outside. You go to the open window, your lungs expanding with cool indigo air, and look out.

“Where are you going? Daemon? Daemon!” Rhaenyra is raging after him, following him onto the wet sand of the beach. “Back to Harrenhal? Back to your whore?!”

He does not answer. He strides arrogantly, he storms away from her, this woman he once loved for her tenacity and pride. He has no appetite for weakness. He has no patience for pruning those creeping, thorny vines of madness that are growing into her mind, her veins. Already Caraxes is landing in the surf to take him back to his foothold in the Riverlands, to Baela, to Nettles.

“Then go!” Rhaenyra screams after Daemon. And if you can hear this, surely others can as well. “Just go! We don’t need you here! I don’t need you here!”

Lies, lies, lies. Desperate and transparent lies.

Daemon and Caraxes take flight and disappear into the nightscape darkness over the ocean. You climb into the bed that was once Aegon’s, curl up in a nest of his blood-flecked sheets, breathe in lingering wisps of rose oil and the echoes of his low, drowsy voice, thick with wine and milk of the poppy and forbidden desire for a woman who sheds and replaces her skin again and again and again.

~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, you go to the gardens and read under the heart tree about cures and poisons. When you return inside—clutching a glass jar containing sticks, leaves, grass, and a single wriggling caterpillar, a gift for Helaena—the Red Keep is in chaos. Servants and guards are gossiping feverishly. Upstairs, Alicent is howling with grief. You glimpse Autumn racing up a staircase towards the dowager queen’s rooms to comfort her. There are sounds of celebration in the Great Hall, cups being toasted and cheers loosed like dragonfire. You follow them, suffocating terror constricting your throat like a noose. Is it Aemond, Criston, Daeron? Is it Aegon? Have they found him, have they killed him?

At the center of the high table, Rhaenyra is wearing a gown of black and red on her body and a smile of soulless satisfaction on her face. She holds a glass of maroon wine high above her head. “To vengeance!” she calls, and the lords that fill the hall thunder the words back to her. “To victory!”

“Father…?” you say, rushing to Bartimos Celtigar’s side. Clement is shaking hands with Manderlys and Blackwoods and Costaynes, grinning radiantly. Everett and Corlys are peering around grimly, looking uneasy, looking ashamed.

What have they done now? Who have they murdered in cold blood?

“Father, what—?”

“He has no more heirs,” Bartimos Celtigar tell you, as if it is the most joyous of surprises, as if is a gift like a gemstone or a rare book.

“Who?”

“The Usurper. Both of his sons are now dead. Neither of his brothers have children. Aegon has no heirs!”

“Maelor,” you whisper, envisioning that defenseless white-haired child, giggling, affectionate, anxious, sobbing in the arms of Sir Rickard Thorne. The jar tumbles out of your grasp and shatters against the stone floor. “Maelor is…he’s…he’s been killed…?”

“By a mob of Black loyalists at Bitterbridge,” your father says. “The Greens were trying to smuggle the child to Oldtown. Our supporters attempted to seize the boy so he could be brought to us. Alas, they were too boisterous. He did not survive, and neither did his keeper Rickard Thorne.”

They tore Maelor apart? They clawed and yanked at that little boy until there was nothing left but shreds of muscle and moon-white bones? You gape up at your father, unable to recognize him, unable to keep the horror from your face. “You’re celebrating the murder of a child?”

“They did the same when Luke was killed.”

Because Aegon thought they had to. Because he wanted to protect his brother. “It was wrong then and it’s wrong now.”

“You are too compassionate, daughter,” your father says, smiling with a puddle-deep, patronizing fondness. Was he always this way? Has he changed so much, or have you? He touches your cheek, and you want to flinch away from him. “You lose sight of the scale of this war. Each child of the Usurper that dies spares thousands of others. Aegon now has no heirs left, not unless you count that little girl who’s hidden away somewhere, and don’t the Greens reject the right of a daughter to inherit the throne? Isn’t that what all of this havoc has been about, preventing Rhaenyra’s ascension? This is a resounding triumph for our side! This is something to commemorate!”

They tore Maelor apart??

Corlys gets up from the table and leaves the Great Hall. Everett is watching you with wide, fearful eyes. He is pleading silently: Don’t react. Don’t panic. Not where they can see you.

“Are you well?” your father asks you, concerned now.

“I feel ill,” you hear yourself answer. You grip the back of his chair so the floor can’t rip itself out from under you.

“Just a moment,” Everett says, rising in that labored way, the scar tissue straining painfully at his ankles and knees and hips. “I’ll accompany you back to your rooms…”

But you can’t wait for him. The tears are already flame-hot and misty in your eyes. You rip away from the Celtigars, away from all the Blacks, and escape upstairs. Breathless, sobbing, you go first to Helaena’s bedchamber. Aegon’s wife is standing in front of her window that overlooks the sandstone courtyard, cobblestones of muted earthy gold. You can hear courtiers chattering far below. You can hear the carousing reverberating from the Great Hall. Helaena does not turn when you arrive; she does not give any indication that she is aware of you.

“Helaena,” you gasp. “Your Grace, I…I’m so sorry…what has happened…it’s despicable, it’s soulless, I cannot stop Rhaenyra’s men from reveling in it but I would never defend their actions, I would never join them, I am horrified and heartsick and appalled—”

“It’s a travesty,” Autumn says from the doorway, and you glance over at her. When you look back to the queen, she has vanished.

“Helaena?!” you shout. You and Autumn bolt to the window. Down in the courtyard, courtiers are shrieking and fleeing from the mess. On the cobblestones, Helaena lies sprawled; her arms and legs are bent at impossible angles. A pool of blood spreads out from under her like a river swelling in a storm until it spills over. Guards are hurrying to the scene, their armor jangling. “Helaena!”

“She’s gone,” Autumn says, bundling you into her arms before you can make for the hall, the stairwell. Her belly presses unyieldingly into you. “There’s nothing you can do. Don’t go down there. You can’t help her now.”

You cover your face with both hands and scream: for Maelor, for Helaena, for Alicent, for Aegon, for the world full of people who can’t stop paying the debts others incurred.

“Don’t go down there.” Autumn’s voice is warm and hushed, her grasp strong. “You can’t help Helaena now. You can only hurt yourself. You don’t need to see it. You don’t need her blood on your hands.”

Everett appears, looks out the window to investigate the commotion in the courtyard, backs away with a hand covering his gaping mouth. “Oh, gods. All the gods, Old and New. What a goddamn fucking disaster.”

Autumn at last releases you, and you dash into the hallway with Everett following as quickly as he can and Autumn walking with him, one arm looped through his. You find Alicent in her rooms, standing motionless beside her bed in an emerald green gown. She is trembling and speechless, she is in shock. You embrace her. “I’m sorry,” you say, tears falling on the velvet of her dress. “I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I am.”

Everett and Autumn enter the bedchamber and shut the door behind them. “What—?” Everett begins.

“I have to go to him,” you say. You step away from the dowager queen and wipe your eyes with your sleeves, black like onyx, like obsidian, like death.

“Who...?”

“Aegon. The king,” you tell them. “He’s going to hear of this. He’s going to know what happened to Maelor and Helaena. I can’t let him face that alone. I can’t let him fall into despair.”

“But he…I mean…” Everett is trying to choose his words sensitively. The state of the royal marriage was no secret anywhere in the realm. “Was he even…involved with his wife and children? In any meaningful way?”

“It’s not about them, it’s about him thinking that he’s responsible, that he’s a curse to anyone he touches, that he ruins people, I…” You shake your head franticly. “I can’t stay here. I have to go. I have to be with him.”

“Go where?!” Everett exclaims.

“Dragonstone,” Autumn answers for you.

“Dragonstone,” he repeats numbly. “You can’t be serious! How will you get there?!”

“I’ll take a horse to Crackclaw Point and then pay a boat to ferry me across the water.”

“Alone?!” Everett says.

“I’ll have to be. You cannot travel by horse, only carriage. And your absence would be noticed too swiftly. Father would send soldiers after you if he feared you’d been captured.”

“You’ve never gone anywhere alone, now you’re going to travel a hundred miles over earth and ocean to Dragonstone?!”

“She won’t be alone,” Autumn says. You and Everett turn to her. She is grinning. “I mean no offense, my lady, but you know nothing of the world beyond your castles and gardens and books full of naked men drawings. You would not last a day on your own.”

“You can’t ride a horse either,” you object. “You’re with child. It could be dangerous.”

“I’ve done far more vigorous activities while pregnant, believe me.”

“You’re really going?” Everett says, quiet, mournful. It seems that you’ve only just reunited with him.

“I have to. Aegon thought I’d be safe with the Blacks, and I am, I suppose…but I’m not really a Black anymore. And I can’t let him suffer alone. I…I…”

“You love him,” Alicent says. She gazes at you with huge, glassy, void-dark eyes, like those of a doe felled by arrows. She is half-here and half-not, and thank the gods for that. Her loss is too great. She cannot bear it all at once. Part of her knows her only daughter is dead on the cobblestones outside, her last grandson was torn apart by a mob that were more beasts than men. And then part of her is only aware of this room. “Properly. Entirely. In a way he can understand.”

“I do,” you confess. I do, I do.

“I’m glad,” Alicent says dully. “Someone must.”

She staggers to her bed, lies down on it, curls up like a wounded animal, rips away her golden necklace of a seven-pointed star and throws it to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night, you and Autumn leave King’s Landing on horses Everett procured. There is only a skeleton crew of guards left in the Red Keep; the rest are partaking in the festivities that pulse in the Great Hall like a heartbeat, candlelight and music and manic glee. Yet among the smallfolk, no one is celebrating. They are in mourning for their misfortunate, benign queen and her toddler son. They are hissing venomously about Rhaenyra, Daemon, Bartimos Celtigar.

The court will not notice Autumn’s absence, not for days at least, perhaps not ever. Everett will upend your bedchamber before he goes to sleep, knocking over chairs and tables, yanking sheets from the bed. In the morning, he will tell your father that he assumes you are still resting from your illness, from the insurmountable stress of the past months. Women are so fragile, after all; their lives are one tragedy after the next. When at last someone checks on you—hopefully not for a few days—it will appear that you have been taken after a struggle. You did not leave. You were kidnapped by fiends using the secret passageways. You are a prisoner of the Greens again, and likely spirited away to the Stormlands or the Reach or perhaps even the remote, golden sands of Dorne.

You and Autumn travel by night and sleep through the day, staying at roadside inns paid for by the heavy sack of coins Everett gifted you. It is not difficult to blend in among countless travelers and refugees displaced in the wake of the war. You have no distinguishing characteristics, no Valyrian-white hair or ragged burns or sapphires in place of eyes. In fact, Autumn attracts more attention than you do. She is beautiful, talkative, effortlessly flirtatious. Men trail after her at every inn. You receive exemplary service, the hottest soup and the cleanest rooms. She complains to you about how difficult it is becoming for her to rest as her belly grows: perhaps five months along, perhaps six, she isn’t certain, her cycle was already irregular from the lemonweed tea brewed at the brothel.

In a small town called Eagle Harbor at the base of Crackclaw Point, you need to hire a sailor to take you across the narrow strait to Dragonstone. You fumble through stilted inquiries at a tavern until Autumn takes charge, half-drags a bald, bearded man back into the pantry, emerges with him five minutes later, and orders a pint of ale that she sips with a lazy, arrogant smirk.

“May the Mother have mercy!” the sailor says unsteadily, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’ll go to Dragonstone and back ten times for this red-haired demon!”

You and Autumn board his humble vessel at the end of the town’s lone pier and set off through choppy, night-draped waters towards Dragonstone. On the way, the sailor informs you that he’s made this trip a handful of times in the past two weeks, delivering an assortment of workers to the island: servants, guards, maesters, cooks.

“Rumor has it,” the sailor says with a conspiratorial grin. “There is a very illustrious occupant currently holding Dragonstone. He is scarred, but he is growing stronger. Surely you know of whom I speak. He must have beckoned you to join him. Perhaps you are servants. Perhaps you are whores. He has a famed appetite for them.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Autumn offers casually.

“Many here in the Crownlands are aware,” the sailor continues. “But you will not catch anyone being too loose with their gossip. The Beggar King is no enemy to us. The Bitch Queen is an enemy. That money-grubbing Bartimos Celtigar is an enemy. But the Greens will end the taxes he put on us. The sooner the Beggar King is well again, the better. He and his dragon too.”

When the sailor docks at Dragonstone, Autumn helps you up onto the pier and then gets back in the boat. “You aren’t staying?” you ask her, baffled, troubled. You have grown terribly attached to her. Cold night rain falls onto the island, growing heavier by the minute. Lightning snaps through the darkness and strikes near the castle.

“No. I want to be with Everett.” Autumn smiles. “And I know the king would not wish for me to impose upon Dragonstone.”

She’s probably right. “Why is he so cold to you? So avoidant?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Autumn says. “He doesn’t want you thinking about him fucking anyone except you.” She grins, winks, gestures for the sailor to unmoor his boat again. “When the Greens come to retake the capital, please ask them not to incinerate me.”

“I’ll pass the message along.”

“Good luck,” she says, waving. “We’ll wait to set sail until you’ve started up the steps.”

Through the darkness, through the driving rain, you trudge up the beach and then ascend the stone steps carved precariously into the cliffside. The grey stone is slippery; for parts of the climb, you walk on your palms as well as your boots. Your ring clinks against rock. When the clouds momentarily blow away from the moon, the gold wings glimmer in the silver light. There are torches burning in the mouths of iron dragons as you near the entranceway of the castle, towering walls that disappear into storm clouds. There is candlelight flickering in the corridors and chambers within. You can see dots of miniature infernos in the windows.

Aegon is in one of those rooms.

Suddenly, a screech startles you so badly you nearly plunge off the steps. Fire blooms in the night air only yards from your face. He’s clutching the cliffside, glaring at you with molten gold eyes set in an angular skull, snarling, smoke drifting skyward from his nostrils. You scream before you can stop yourself.

Sunfyre!!

You crouch down on the steps, squeeze your eyes shut, and wait for him to burn you alive. Seconds pass, ten, twenty, thirty. When you look at Sunfyre again, scales shimmering in the moonlight, he is observing you not with hatred but with curiosity that is clever, almost catlike. You have never been this close to a dragon before. You’ve never wanted to be, and now is no exception. He smells like smoke and sulfur, earth and ash. Sunfyre clambers nearer to you, his muzzle outstretched. You flinch away, whimpering, but he is not deterred. The dragon sniffs and nudges at you, his breath hot, his snout bumping against your arm and shoulder.

“Stop!” you squeak, petrified. “Sunfyre, don’t!”

At last, he seems to realize he’s frightening you. The dragon retreats with a low grumble from deep in his chest. You scramble up the remainder of the steps before he can change his mind.

There is distant shouting, and someone cranks open the castle gate for you. You hurry into the courtyard, running now, as rain pours down on you and thunder booms. There is a figure in a hooded cloak trotting out of the castle entrance. At first you don’t believe he can be Aegon; he is standing too tall, moving too brisky. You have never seen him so well before. But then he calls to you, and there is no doubt.

“Angel?!” Aegon shouts in disbelief over the drumming of raindrops. He is rapidly closing the distance between you. The wind tears off his hood. Beneath it his hair is longer than you remember and wild except for a single small braid down the left side of his face. His cheeks are ruddy. Tears stream from his eyes. He has heard what happened to Maelor and Helaena; he has been weeping for them, for the impending ruin of anyone he’s ever touched. “What the hell are you doing here—?!”

And instead of waiting for an answer he kisses you, or you kiss him, or you both do it at once, an unspoken covenant written not in ink but in the blood that whispers to each other through the veils of vessel walls, muscle, scarred skin. His hands are cradling your jaw, his lips ravenous. He smells like rose oil; he tastes like wine and rain and the clean salt of tears, the ageless mineral blue of the ocean.

“It has to be you,” you tell Aegon, a ghost of a voice in the maelstrom of the storm. Your thumbprint skates across his full bottom lip before you kiss him again, more slowly now, entwining yourself with him, hipbones and ribcages and handprints that will never wash off. Do you see what I’m offering? Do you feel what I want? “You’re not ruining me. You’re saving me. And it can’t be anyone but you.”

Aegon studies your face, stunned eyes murky like the waves, and then hungry as well: depths that swallow ships, watery graveyards that feast on bones. Then he takes your hand and leads you into Dragonstone. Inside, Larys Strong is waiting under a cascade of torchlight. He blinks at you as if you might disappear. When you don’t, he tilts his head to the side, intrigued.

“Lord Larys,” Aegon says curtly. “Make yourself invisible for the rest of the night.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Larys purrs with a bow. Then he vanishes into the shadows.

“This way,” Aegon says, and you follow him up a staircase and down a corridor to a bedchamber illuminated only by a few flickering candles and flashes of lightning. In the corner of the room, you glimpse swords and armor; on Aegon’s bedside table, there is a glass bottle of rose oil and the hollowed-out shell of a crab, boiled red like fresh blood. And then you are on the bed and Aegon is beside you and there is not a single thread of you, muscle or marrow or nerve, that is afraid. “Are you sure?” he’s asking between deep, insatiable kisses, his fingers working on the laces of your gown. “We don’t have to. We can stop.”

But does he want that? No, no, he’s starving just like I am. “I’m sure, Aegon.” And you uncover each other with hands that rip away cotton and silk like trees are stripped bare in the winter.

His clothes are gone, cloak and trousers crumpled on the floor, and he pauses with trepidation in his eyes. His scars riddle him with uneven swaths of white, pink, red, a burgundy so dark it’s almost the violet of a bruise. The macabre patchwork stops at the lowest part of his belly, where his skin becomes abruptly pristine, pale, velvet-soft. “I guess…” He swallows noisily. “I guess this isn’t what you imagined the man you’d sleep with would look like, huh?”

“No,” you agree, smiling, pulling him in close again. I never imagined enjoying this at all. “And I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Aegon helps you tug off your gown and loosen your hair; it spills freely over the bedsheets. He’s on top of you, his warm weight perfect and welcome and right. Too swiftly for you to be nervous, his hand has settled between your legs. He strokes you, only on the outside where there is no threat of pain, as his tongue darts into your mouth and wetness soon coats his fingers. Then his fingers venture lower, seeking to enter you, the first time anything ever has. And you feel it, though you wish you didn’t, involuntary and uninvited: your body tensing just as his finger attempts to glide inside, a biting pain that makes you wince.

“No,” you yelp softly, a betrayal of your own flesh.

“Okay,” Aegon murmurs reassuringly. “That’s okay. Not a problem. Here…” He sits upright, draws you to him, bites lightly at your throat as you settle in his lap. “You’re in charge. You decide if and when it happens. And if this time doesn’t work, that’s fine, that’s completely fine, we can try again later, I can wait—”

“Are you alright like this? Am I too heavy?”

He grabs your face with his left hand—fingers hooked around your jaw, his eyes locked with yours—and says roughly: “Don’t ask about me again.”

“Okay,” you moan into him as his right hand skims down to touch you, to coax the fear out of you, to draw powerful circles around the place where your pleasure is greatest.

“This is about you.”

“Okay,” you say again, only a whisper this time, obedient, desperate.

“Please let me have this,” Aegon begs, resting his forehead against yours, his silver hair grazing your cheeks. “Please let me take care of you this time.”

“Yes,” you sigh, breathing him in, roses and heat and wine and sharp, oceanic, mineral lust. You lay your palms against the gnarled scar tissue of his chest and Aegon chuckles bitterly.

“I can’t even feel it. I’m a monster.” Then you press your bare hips to his, gradually finding a rhythm, slipping his cock through slick, warm folds that are aching more ardently than you ever knew was possible. “Oh fuck,” he gasps. “I felt that.”

“I want you,” you plead. “I want you, I want you.”

“Not yet…”

You are aware that your tension unraveling, your muscles opening as Aegon massages you until his hand is soaked, until you’re so wet the friction is almost nonexistent. Outside waves crash and lighting flashes and thunder growls like a dragon. I can’t wait. I need him. You lift up and Aegon holds his cock steady, coating it in your wetness with a quick pump of his hand, so you can lower yourself onto him. Slowly, you can feel his cock sinking into you, an indescribably foreign sensation, fullness and stretching and dull, strange contentment that is more like the potential of pleasure than anything else. There is discomfort as well, yes, a burning and a stinging that swells as he fills you. You try to keep it from your face; still, Aegon can read the pain there like black ink on pages.

He shakes his head and murmurs: “Stop, stop, I’m hurting you.”

“I want it. I can take it.”

He’s kissing your lips, your cheek, the slope of your jaw. “Give yourself time to adjust. There’s no rush, Angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You wait until the pain seems to have vanished, then—carefully, tentatively—you rise up and lower yourself again. Yes, there’s definite pleasure now, less sharp than where he touched you before but deeper, more total. You try this again, again, faster now. Aegon’s breath hitches. He’s trembling; sweat glistens on his forehead and dampens his hair.

“I’m going to show you something,” he pants. “But you have to help me out.”

“Help how…?”

“Tell me what I’m doing right.” His fingers are on you again, pressing, circling. And there’s something about this combination of two very different colors of pleasure—dull fullness inside, intense ecstasy dancing over the skin—that lights a spark in you like striking flint.

You cry out, your pace as you ride him quickening, any last remnants of pain banished to distant memory. You are conscious now that you are working towards a peak of some sort; you can feel it building in you like fire in the mouth of a dragon.

Aegon asks: “Faster? Slower?”

“Faster,” you reply, and his hand obeys. You moan, fingers knotted in his hair and lips against the scar tissue of his throat, grisly webs that you cherish for knitting him back together, for saving his life.

“Harder or softer?”

“Harder,” you beg him in a whisper. And all at once, the pleasure is overwhelming, unstoppable, incomparable to anything you’ve ever experienced or ever wanted to, anything you thought was possible, anything you believed you were worthy of. It wrenches everything out of you, desire as well as turmoil, every thought in your skull and fear in your bones. It passes, leaving your heart thumping violently and an involuntary throbbing that squeezes Aegon’s cock, releases it, squeezes it again.

Aegon lays you down on your back and thrusts into you, shallowly at first to make sure you’re alright, then deeper and more powerfully. There’s no pain at all, only a hazy calmness, a need to be near to him, to tangle up closer and closer until you share everything, veins and arteries and the capillary beds of lungs. He’s exhausted already; you notice a few needle-thin split seams in his scar tissue. There are faint stains of crimson blood on your belly, your chest. His fingers link through yours, his moans grow louder and more jagged. He comes so hard tears spring into his eyes, and you feel one more thing you hadn’t expected to: not vulnerability but power, pride, satisfaction.

“It’s like that every time?” you ask, drowsy and amazed as he rolls onto his side and pulls you against him. The rain is still falling outside. Lightning paints the windows; thunder quakes them.

“If it’s done well.” Aegon is pink-faced, breathing heavily, staggeringly beautiful. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

“No wonder you’ve fucked hundreds of women.”

He laughs. “Not that many.” He grins as he kisses you, brushing your hair back from your face. “You’ve rid me of them all. You’ve burned them away.”

“I love you,” you say without planning to.

Aegon replies, but not in words you can understand. He whispers something in High Valyrian, his eyes dip closed, he is asleep before you can ask him what it means.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader

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buckleysbitch · 4 months

Note

hiiii bb!!! i wanted to request a stoner!hazel if you could?? like what hazel would be like if she smoked with reader. Thank uuuu 🩷🩷

-🦀

moaaaaan yall know i have a thing for women who smoke!!

i toyed with the prompt a little so it’s stoner!hazel guiding reader through her first time smoking! hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting .𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹

hazels after school/fight club ritual was always the same: come home, smoke a bowl, and cuddle with her girlfriend.

after watching her blow a cloud of smoke out the window from her bong, your mouth interjects at lightning speed before you even think twice.

“babe can i try?”

her eyebrow raises, intrigued with your out of character question.

“yeah, of course…but are you sure you want to? you know i never wanna make you feel forced.” hazels eyes go softer, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“i-i do. i wanna try.” you reach for the bong, but she pulls it out of the way just in time.

“hey, it’s fine if you want to, but can you tell me what this is about first?….is it about fight club today with pj?”

fuck. you can’t lie to her, it’s practically impossible. pj rocked your shit, which was embarrassing because not only was it pj that fucked you up, but you have some pretty serious bruises already forming. the whole ordeal knocked you out of your usual bubbly demeanor, and you were visibly stressed the whole rest of the time with the girls. you nod timidly, and hazel stops what she’s doing to run her fingers through your hair, pressing your foreheads together.

“i mean…yeah. i don’t know, she’s just aways way rougher to me than the other girls. makes me feel left out, y’know”

“ignore her. she’s probably just jealous because the girls actually enjoy being around you.” her eyes are the most comforting thing in the world to you, always full of wonder. “but, if you really want to, you know i’ll be right here the whole time, okay?” with another nod from you, this time with agreement, hazel scurries off for a couple minutes, and returns with a glass of water, some snacks, and your favorite movie that she keeps a copy of at her house.

watching her prep the bong was already enough for you, with her slender fingers working extra tenderly to make sure her girl gets the best first time. her rings are clinking nearly inaudibly against the glass, and she grabs the lighter, fiddling with it for a moment, before handing you the glass object.

“okay, so you’re just gonna breathe in for me, okay? i’ll do it all for you, sweet girl.” soon your mouth is cooled by the glass pressed around your lips, and hazel tussles with the lighter for a second, eyebrows furrowing, until she finally gets it to flick on. “breathe in…” she whispers, and you do as she commands, inhaling thick smoke into your lungs. “okay, now don’t be scared, i’m gonna pull it, if it gets too much you can stop okay?” with a tender glance of agreement, she pulls the piece out for you, and what feels like fireworks erupt in your lungs, making you cough uncontrollably.

“hey, hey, it’s normal, here honey…” she hands you the glass of water she fetched earlier and wipes your teary eyes with her finger, pondering “how ya feelin?” while rubbing your back.

“i feel okay…how long does it take to work?”

“not long, but…i grabbed your favorite.” she explains, holding up the movie disc.

“you’re too sweet.” you giggle as she takes your hips and guides you to sit facing the tv between her spread legs, her chest lightly bouncing up and down against your back.

after a couple minutes of the film, hazel starts chuckling out of nowhere, which in turn makes you join her. a duet of full blown laughter erupts from both of you, hands intertwined. everything feels like it’s floating, and all you can focus on is your girlfriends soft hair against your neck.

“feeling okay, babe?”

“yeah.” your smiling mouth reaches hers, into a passionate kiss. “thanks…for….”

“hey, that’s my job. love you.”

“love you more.”

“love you most.”

#hazel callahan brainrot #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan headcanons #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #stoner!hazel callahan #hazel callahan au #taking reqs #requests open #taking requests #reqs open

164 notes · View notes

call-me-copycat · 11 months

Text

Kaomojis! ੈ‧˚૮꒰˵• ﻌ •˵꒱აੈ

Here's a whole bunch of funny, cute, and random kaomojis for those that want to use them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

These are not all made by me. I have an app that I downloaded to type in Japanese and English called "Shimeji", which comes with a large variety of kaomojis to use

I apologize for any duplicates! Please let me know if you see any!

Ones I most commonly use:

(*´∇｀*)

( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )

(⑉´ᗜ`⑉)

(、¯▽¯)、

ꉂꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)𐤔𐤔𐤔

(⑉> ᴗ <⑉)ゞ

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

(˶･ω･˶)ﾉ”バイちゃ

٩( ´ω` )و

⸜( ˶'ᵕ'˶)⸝♡

(*´ч ` *)

ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ♪

（⸝⸝> ༥ <⸝⸝)ｵﾈｶﾞｲ♡

(﹡ˆ﹀ˆ﹡)♡

໒꒰ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩꒱ྀི১

໒꒰ฅ́ ˘ ฅ̀꒱১ᦂ

୧꒰*´꒳`*꒱૭✧

ヾ(*´∀｀*)ﾉ

(˶◜ᵕ◝˶)

(ृ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ृ )良き良き

ദി ᷇ᵕ ᷆ )♡

ฅ( •ω• ฅ)ｶﾞｵ-♡

ﾐﾙ(ง ^ω^ )วﾐﾙ

( ˶ˊᵕˋ)

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

(๑´ㅂ`๑)

Angry, Tired, or Upset (Instead of 😡,😴, or 😣)

( ´﹀` ٥ ).｡Oஇ

(๑ ̅᷄꒫ ̅᷅)(｡´-д-)💨💨💨

꒰ঌ(⑉･̆༥･̆⑉)໒꒱

( •᷄ὤ•᷅)

( ･̆-･̆)

(๑و•̀Δ•́)و

( ･᷅-･᷄ )

(๑'-ωก̀๑)ﾈﾑﾈﾑ

(。-ω-)zzz. . .

(๑･᷄ὢ･᷅ ๑)

( -᷄ ˍ-᷅)

( ` ༥ ´⸝⸝⸝))ぷぃ

(‪ᯅ̈)

( ;`ω´) (`ω´;(`ω´; )ﾋｿﾋｿ

(´-ι_-｀)

（ー。ー）ちぇ

(¯―¯٥)

ԅ(¯﹃¯ԅ)

既読無視…( ꐦ•᷄ὤ•᷅)و

(°▽°;)ﾔﾊﾞｯ

(｀⊿´)ﾌﾝ💢

( ꐦ ¯ᑎ¯ )

ヽ`､ヽ`(。・︿・。)ヽ`､ヽ`

( ˵> A <˵ )ねー

ʕ -ࡇ-ʔ.｡oO

( ;ó□ò;)ぁゎゎ💦

ʕ‎๑‎◝ᯅ◜‎๑ʔ

ε3=(-Д-｀疲)【ｵﾂｶﾚｻﾏ】(疲´-Д･)=ε3

( >д<).;':ｲｯﾁｭｷｨｨｨｨ

(∩ﾟДﾟ) ｱｰｱｰｷｺｴﾅｰｲ

ʕ´-ﻌก̀ʔ

〣( ๐_๐)〣

(*•̀‎ࡇ•́)σ めっ！

(੭`꒫´ꐦ)੭

めんど(´-﹏-`；)

\(-Ò｡Ó-”）

エグチ((=ﾟДﾟ=)

(ꐦ°᷄д°᷅)はぁ？💢

Sad or Nervous (Instead of 😓 or 😢)

_( ､´⌓`)ﾉｹﾃ…ﾀｽｹﾃ……

（߹ㅁ߹) 💦ᒡᑉᒡᑉᐧᐧᐧ

｡°꒰ ՞ ´ ᗣ`°꒱°｡

ﾃﾞﾓﾅｧ…(๑•̆△•̆)

｡°(° ᷄ᯅ ᷅°)°｡

ｳﾜｰﾝ(𐊭 ࿁ 𐊭ˋ)

૮ ᐡΘ ꈊ Θ ᐡ ა

( ღ˘͈ ᗣ˘͈)ﾂﾏﾝﾅｰｲ

( T ⩌ T　)

il||li (つω-`｡)il||

٩(･̆ᗝ･̆)ｺﾘｬｰ

(´⌓` ;）

꒰ᐡ´т ‧̫ т ̀ ᐡ꒱🐾♡

( ⌯᷄ ·̫ ⌯᷅ก )

( ˘•ω•˘ )

(๑•́︿•̀๑)‎

૮( ̳ т ̫ т ̳ )ა

ﾄ━━━⸜(๑´͈ ꒫ `͈๑)⸝━━━ﾝ

( ´-ω- )💨

₍ᐢ › ༝ ‹ ᐢ₎

‪(๑◕︵◕๑)

( •́ㅿ•̀ )

(ó﹏ò｡)

(๑•́ω•̀๑)

~( ´•︵•` )~

꒰ ᐢ ◞‸◟ᐢ꒱

(๑ŏ _ ŏ๑)

o(╥﹏╥)o

(● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

๐·°(৹˃ᗝ˂৹)°·๐

( ´ Å ` ; ) ｱﾊﾊ…

(¯―¯٥)

( 'ω'; 三 'ω' ;)

"( ;ﾟ³ﾟ);ﾟ³ﾟ);ﾟ³ﾟ)ﾋｭ

( ´ㅁ` ; )

…(×꒪△꒪=)…

( •᷄⌓•᷅ )

(ㅇㅁㅇ;;)

∑(O_O；)

Annoyed (Instead of 😑, 😒, or 🙄)

"( – ⌓ – )

(｡´-д-)｡o○Zzz｡o○

(｡｀･д･) ﾊｯ!

♡(ㆆ_ㆆ)

" σ(Ⲻⲻ Ⲻ )𓈒𓂂𓏸

考えﾁｩ…(●¯ ꒳¯●)

ｶﾜﾖ( ≖⌓≖ )

( ᯉᯋᯉ)ﾀﾞﾙ

(๑- ༥ -๑ )ぷっ…

( ⌯᷄ ·̫ ⌯᷅ก )

(´-ω-｀;)

( ¯-¯ )

(｡-_-｡)

(´+ω+｀)

(´-ι_-｀)

m(._.)m

m(_ _)m

(ﾟ⊿ﾟ)ﾂﾏﾝﾈ

(・へ・)

ﾖｸﾅｲ!ヽ(´ｰ｀ )ﾉ

ｵｸﾚﾖﾝヽ(´ー｀)ノ

ｲｯﾁｬｯﾀ(-.-;)

(ｰｰ;)

(｀-´)

( ｰ̀нｰ́)ﾑｽ⋯

( ｰ̀ ༥ ｰ́ )

(ｰ̀дｰ́)

(-᷅_-᷄)

(,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )

(。ｰ`ωｰ´)

(○｀ε´○)プンプン!!

(-ω-)

(´-_ゝ-`)

(´-ω-｀)

(¬∀¬ )

(￢￢)ﾎﾝﾄ??

(；￢д￢) ｱﾔｼｲ

（三 ε 三）

(ㅎ_ㅎ)…寝不足

(　･ั₃･ั )

( •ั็ _ •็ั )

(•́ι_•̀*)

(￣−ω−￣)

Love/Blushing

((#♡-♡#))

(灬ºωº灬)♡

(*''艸3`):;*｡ﾌﾟｯ

(*´︶`*)♡Thanks!

す(♡〰️♡)き

(*¯︶¯♥)

(🎀ฅ'∀')ฅ♡ฅ('∀'ฅ★ )੭

(៸៸᳐>⩊<៸៸᳐)~♡

.°ʚ(〃ω〃)ɞ°.

ありがと♡( * ´꒳`ﾉ(´^`° )

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

（○3○)ﾌﾞｰ

(´>//<｀)♡

ﾄﾞｺﾆ?(ฅωฅ)?ｲﾙ

(⸝⸝-ω(ω-⸝⸝ )♡

≡(⊇♡.♡)ﾎｼｨｰ!

(好き´ω`)♥️(´ω`好き )

˚*.✩(〃♡ω♡〃)✩.*˚

(＞♡＜）

ﾀﾉｼﾐ!( ฅ́‎ࠔฅ̀ )ﾆｬﾊおはょ

(♡´∀`♡)(,,> <,,)♡

Σ＞―(⑉︎• д• ⑉︎)♡―――＞

✧˖°*॰ॱ(♡ˊ͈ ॢ꒳ˋ͈)ु(ूˊ͈꒳ ॢˋ͈♡)ʓ৸ʓ৸♪

(っ'-')╮=͟͟͞͞💌

ପ(⑅ˊᵕˋ⑅)ଓ

٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶~♡

꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚‧

(*´艸`)ﾌﾌﾌｯ♡ꉂ(´꒳`♡)ｸｽｸｽ

ゎ‹ゎ‹（๑ ᷇ 𖥦 ᷆๑)♡ゎ‹ゎ‹

(///з///)♡‪

(⸝⸝› з ‹⸝⸝)‬♡

( ⸝⸝⸝¯ ³¯⸝⸝⸝ )♡

(*/□＼*)♡

⁄(⁄ ⁄>⁄-⁄<⁄ ⁄)⁄

(/// ^///)

(ᐢ⸝⸝› ̫ ‹⸝⸝ᐢ)

(*///ω///*)

^>⸝⸝⸝⸝<^

⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

(〃´-`〃)♡

(˶ㅇᗜㅇ˶) ⑉♥

(((*♡д♡*)))ｶｯｶﾜｲｲ.*･♡

♡(๑♡ᴗ♡๑)

꒰ঌ(๑≧ᗜ≦)‪໒꒱

⋆⸜♡⸝‍⋆

( ๑´³`)~‪♡~(´ε`๑)

(♡口♡三❤)

(ㆆᴗㆆ)♡んー

( * ´ ³`)まっ

(っ´>ω<))ω<`)ｷﾞｭｯ♥

(o´艸`)

(๑////๑)

(ฅωฅ*)

(//∇//)

( ´艸｀)

\(//∇//)\

Σ(///□///)

(>ω<〃)～♡

Emoji/Action (Funny Kaomojis)

('▽'* )あ('ㅂ'* )り('▽'* )が('ｏ'* )と

( ^o^)Г☎ﾁﾝｯ

( ͜🐇 ˊᗜˋ˶) ͜🐰うさぎ💕

(੭ु`;ω;´)੭ुバァかぁぁ(怒)

☝ ᷇ᵕ ᷆ )どゆこと？

ﾊﾐｶﾞｷ( ᐙ و(و ｺｯ✩🪥✨

( ⊃💣⊂ )

👈(-_-ｿﾚﾅ

(o 🥥'▽')o 🌴

🍖🥛 🥩🥬🥕🛒(˙꒳˙ )͟͟͞͞ =

(☺️-・`)

✌️(˶｀‪‎‎ࠔ´˵)🙏( •∀< )👍

- ̗̀ 👏🏻👏🏻 ( 'ω' ) ̖́-👏( 'ω' ) - ̗̀ 👏🏻👏🏻 ( 'ω' ) ̖́-👏( 'ω' )

🌀彡🍃彡乁(*´Ｏ`*)ﾉ´彡🌀彡🍃

💪‎( ᐛ )ﾊﾟﾜｰ!

(*･∀-)d🍻b(-ω･*)

🥕▔(*'×'*)▔ﾎﾟｲ

( ᐛ )ノ⌒💣📝

(´•ω•)👉💥👈(•ω•ˋ)ﾑｯ!!

☔️( '-' ☔️ )ｱﾒﾁｬﾝ

(｡´-д-)｡o○Zzz｡o○(｡｀･д･) ﾊｯ!

( *¯ ꒳¯*)⊃💐

(🎤≧▽^))♡)

( っ️ᐛ )╮ =͟͟͞͞🍦 🍨 🍧

🍍(ᐛ 🍍)

寝れない📱(◉︎ɷ◉︎ )ｼﾞｰｯ

🎏┠('◎'зз)彡

(*🔎ω´*)…🔎( ;｀Д´)あれ？(;🔎ω´*)…無い

🍖( '-' 🍖 )

⸜(*˙꒳˙*)⸝ﾎﾟｲ=͟͟͞͞ ✏️📖

🦀⸜( ¯⌓¯ )⸝🦀

fight✨(◍•ᴗ•◍)⚑*ﾟ

- =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ( ´Д`)ﾉ遅刻だァっ

(*・‪꒳・*)💄

c(*'-'*///)💭‎🤍‎ ̖́-ｻｯ

=͟͟͞͞( ๑`･ω･´)_⋆⸜🧻⸝‍⋆

🍺⸜(*ˊᵕˋ*)⸝‬🥟

( ˙³˙)👌~♪

(📞・3・)💬

⊂( ･∀･) 彡

　=͟͟͞͞(🦀)`Д´)=͟͟͞͞🪃

ヽ( '-'ヽ)ｷｬｯﾁ

ฅ(ˊ✨ω✨ˋ)ฅ

( ͜☕️ ･ω･) ͜🍰

(🍄•᎑•🍄)

(ｰ🍟ˊᵕˋ* )ｰ🍔

(📞๑•̀ - •́)

(🎀ơ ᎑ ơ)

🥚ｺﾝｺﾝ🍳ｶﾊﾟｯ🐣ﾋﾟﾖ?

とりあえず(๑˙ⲻ˙)⊃🥚ﾀﾏｺﾞ…ﾔｰﾀﾞｰ

(> - <　)三(　> - <)

Σp📷ω･´)

(-□-□)✧𓌉𓇋 ‎🥩

(o尸ﾞ｀・ω・´)o尸ﾞ

ﾃﾚ…(//v//)／🍫

🌶 ‪🔥๛‪ก(ᐖก )‼️ｱﾘｶﾞﾄｳｰｶﾞﾗｼ節分

(꜆꜄ ˙꒳˙)꜆꜄꜆🥜🫘＼(･o･ )

(っ˙༥˙🍓)

⚠️( ;°‎‪艸｡) ｱｯﾌﾞﾈｰ⚠️ﾌﾞｫﾝ

(っ'-' )╮ =͟͟͞͞=͟͟͞͞=͟͞🥺

∠( ᐛ 🍙」∠)…待機

(〃^∇^)oお疲れさま～( ˙꒳˙ )‪꜆☕️*°🍰*°ʙ𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗼(ᯣ̅‎ᜂᯣ̅)👎

( ͜㊎･ω･) ͜㊎

🎤( ºoº)〜♪♬

( '-' )- ̗̀🤝 ̖́-( '-' )

O(･д･👌)Ｋ

(ง🕶)ว٩(🕶)۶(ง🕶)ว٩(🕶)۶

＼_(-ロдロ-)

( *¯ □¯*)なー( *¯ 罒¯*)にー

✌( ･᷅ὢ･᷄ )✧‬

🥒( '-' 🥒 )ｽﾞｯｷｰﾆｨ

ฅ( ̳• 。 • ̳🎀)و 💕

(っ'-')╮=͟͟͞͞⚾ﾌﾞｫﾝ

🍄⸜( ¯⌓¯ )⸝🍄

🐣→🐥→🐤→🐔

⚡️⚡️⚡️=͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪ ‧̣̥̇)

((っ*｀👅´*))ﾍﾞｰｯだ！

(っ’-‘)╮ =͟͟͞͞💣

📖📚✍️(з_з)

₍₍ ᕕ(´ ω` )ᕗ⁾⁾

[📞・-・] 💬

( ¯⌓¯ )💭

( ´-ω- )💨

(っ˙༥˙🍊ｃ)

(✌^∀^)

♪└(ㅎ.ㅎ )♪┐♪└(ㅎ.ㅎ)┘♪┌( ㅎ.ㅎ)┘♪ﾖｼﾖｼ

( ´｡•ω•)ﾉ"(っ <。)

🌟𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 🎀♡(･O･｡)お(･▽︎･｡)や(･.･｡)ﾁｭ(･ｰ･｡)み

お昼ご飯(っ'-' )╮ =͟͟͞͞🍙

( 'ω'o[ おはよぅございます ]o

🍵( '-' 🍵)お疲れ様

🚬y(◣◢ﾒ)

(＾︺＾💧)..

((( ꒪₃꒪︎︎")ゞ💦

✨️👏🏻(⸝⸝⸝⸝��∀神⸝⸝⸝⸝)👏🏻✨️

(๑˘ ³˘๑)ﾁｭ～-` ̗ ❤︎ ̖ ´-♡´ ³`)ﾉ～❤looº°˚˚°ºve❤(゜ε゜

((((((🤛(゜д゜)

( ๑"・・) ﾔﾊﾞｲ… 🔫( ˙꒳˙ )💢

┐(`А′ ┐💢)ｼｬｧｧｧｧｱ

📣(ˊᗜˋ*)و⚑"

三('ω')三( ε: )三(.ω.)三( :3 )三('ω')三( ε: )三(.ω.)三

( :3 )(☞ᵒ̤̑ᗨᵒ̤̑)☞ 当た～り～ 🎯‼️

♡((*,,•ω(ω<,,*))ｷﾞｭ~ｯ

(っ'-' )╮ =͟͟͞͞♡ =͟͟͞͞♡ヽ( ˙꒳˙ ヽ)ｷｬｯﾁ

（'‐'✋）

ﾊｰｲ💰⊂(￥∨￥)⊃💰

🔥(งσ_σ)ง🔥

🧋( '-' 🧋 )ﾀﾋﾟｵｶｧﾊﾟﾝﾁ

＿✍︎(・𖥦・ )ﾎｳﾎｳ

Please tell me if you end up using any of these! Which ones were your favorites?

(I dislike using emojis...) (｡¬_¬｡)

I might add more in the future... ♡( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )ﾂﾝﾂﾝ

I hope you all have a lovely day! Let's all use more kaomojis!! ୧꒰*´꒳`*꒱૭✧

#kaomoji #kaomojis #📌

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brujaluas · 7 months

Text

What will my wedding night be like?

Pile 1

You may be a virgin or both are virgins and chose to wait to be together, something quite rare nowadays, I see that there are many conflicting thoughts and doubts between the relationship and i need to say that someone people around you that have been place it in your mind or in the mind of the person you are marriage. to get married, some may be lgbt or couples of the same gender, they may have different cultures too, something here is very different, it's as if people looked and were sure that it wouldn't last long as it is something very different with many barriers to Staying together, maybe your family wouldn't approve, you got together as friends and then became an inseparable couple. I don't see intimate contact on the first night of the wedding, it's as if there is something stopping you or someone else. a certain type of tension.

Pile 2

For many I see that it will be something normal, like, you already know each other very well, for many (or few) I see that it is an ex, you already had a relationship with that person, but the relationship ended quickly, I would say that some may have even lived together with that person before getting married, or during the time they were in a relationship, I also see that after reconciling again they may look for a place to live or live in the same place they usually live, something very domestic and routine in this pile, it may have had influences on the relationship but you love each other a lot and got back together, you are in a kind of companionship, you can talk a lot (something that didn't happen before) during the first night, you will ask yourself several questions to try to make the other person comfortable. extremely complicity.

Pile 3

I see someone running away, but calm down! You or this person are very jealous of the possessive type, it's mine! And this may have ruined your relationship for a moment because of a very bad fight, this person or you decided to pack your things and leave, travel far away to cool your head, a lot of thoughts in this jealous person's head, wanting to break up the relationship even though we love deeply, but I feel that there will be a lot of sensuality to bring that person back and you to go back to being what you were, but this time knowing each other better, maybe the fight occurred because someone hid something like that you stayed with a friend and didn't tell that person BEFORE YOU HAD A SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP, but you got back together and are together again, wow with all my respect but you and your future person are a mess, very intense and sensual energy, I see lots of brands and sold out here. MINORS LEAVE BEFORE I KICK YOU TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD.

Hi my little honey sweets, how are you? Are you eating well? drinking water? I hope so, as I said here, I posted two themes here today and also a video on youtube about the appearance and personality of your future partner, if you could watch the video and give feedback that would be incredible!I have to say that I have extreme insecurity when speaking other languages, so if you prefer the Google Translate voice for reading, let me know hahahere

here the link 🦀

#tarot reading #divination #witchy things #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a pile #tarot deck #pick a card #tarot cards #free tarot #future spouse reading #tarot #tarot reader #tarot community #futuristic #pac reading #love reading

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 8 months

Note

So, you don’t have any rules that I can request by. So, um, what if the Reader is a hardcore fan of Dazai and Chuuya?

To the point of having all of their Mayoi cards and a Soukoku-themed room?

When you are a big Soukoku fan

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Chuuya Nakahara

Description: There are things BSD Cast need to acsept with the fact, that they are fictional. Having fans is one of them.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Tiny spoilers for Fifteen arc, DEAD APPLE and The Guild Arc.

A/N: Quick clarification about me 'not having rules for requests'. I got this ask right before I post them.

🪢🦀🍷 There are some things that fictional characters should learn to live with after gaining self-awareness.

🪢🦀🍷 They should accept the fact that they aren't real.

🪢🦀🍷 They should accept the fact that thousands of strangers knew about their lives.

🪢🦀🍷And they should accept the fact, that they have fans.

🪢🦀🍷 BSD Cast quickly learned about BSD Fandom.

🪢🦀🍷 Their opinion about Fandom... varied.

🪢🦀🍷 Something was nice, something was bad. And Cast quickly learned about checking tags before looking at art or reading fanfic.

🪢🦀🍷But, in general, while seeing all this people liking them do feel a little bit strange, BSD cast do feel flattered.

🪢🦀🍷 Their Guiding Light also was their fan.

🪢🦀🍷 Specifically, Guiding Light were a fan of Dazai Osamu and Chuuya Nakahara. And Soukoku in general.

🪢🦀🍷 Characters heard, how you cheered for Dazai and Chuuya during their battles with Rimbaud, Shibusawa, Steinbeck and Lovecraft.

"Dazai and Chuuya managed to win a fight against a professional spy when they were fifteen! They were cool even in teen years!"

"Wow! Now I understand, why Soukoku was feared in criminal world!"

"They weren't fighting together, at least for four years, but manage to win against Lovecraft! Good fighting partners will always be winners."

🪢🦀🍷 They also saw, how you always tried to get all Chuuya and Dazai cards in BSD Mayoi.

"Great, cards with both Dazai and Chuuya on it! I will max 'An Unwanted Coalition' and 'Duo of Darkness' skills and level."

"Pity, that I didn't play in Japanese version of Mayoi. I missed Stage Play Scout and Fifteen Soukoku Card!"

"Boss Battle against Steinbeck and Lovecraft should be cleaned only with Dazai and Chuuya cards, and you can't change my mind!"

🪢🦀🍷 Dazai and Chuuya feel so much love and adoration from you. The rest of the BSD cast were a little bit jealous.

🪢🦀🍷 Especially Fukuzawa and Mori. They can be considered the original duo, they still can fight together and be victorious. Why won't you adore them as well?

🪢🦀🍷 When Ango manage to hack your gallery, they saw pictures of you and your room.

🪢🦀🍷 You had not only BSD manga/LN collection. You also had few figurines and posters of Dazai Osamu and Chuuya Nakahara. There also were paper figurines of Soukoku you made yourself. You also have shirts.

🪢🦀🍷Dazai and Chuuya feel flattered. Your love and admiration felt nice, and having Little Light constantly purring and floating above them make them happy.

🪢🦀🍷 Dazai and Chuuya are competing with each other. Who will become The Most Favorite Character. They mess with each other's scouts, send you in-game presents.

🪢🦀🍷 They can't wait to meet you in person. Chuuya want to show you his powers in real life. Dazai, among other things, plan to tease you a little. Both want to protect you.

____________

You were happy. You finally get your package. You have bought plush Dazai and plush Chuuya. Today, your package finally arrived.

You open the door at your apartment. Time to unpack your package and get your plushies. You go to the kitchen to grab scissors.

You open the package and take both plushies in your hand.

Your phone shined white. The whole room were filled with light.

Then light faded.

BSD Cast were standing before you.

You looked at them. They looked at you. And your plushes. You don't want to think, what would happen, if they saw your room.

You wonder, if putting plushies back in the box wile shouting 'It's not mine and this is not my apartment at all, I'm a burglar' will work and safe you from embarrassment, but decide against it.

Be that as it may!

Dazai take a step forward and grin.

"Hello, [Y/N]! Good to finally meet my biggest fan!"

Chuuya grumbles and move forward.

"You whimp! [Y/N] clearly love me more!"

Dazai and Chuuya start bickering, while Kunikida start explaining the situation to you.

It was something. You don't know how, but BSD cast got into your world. And, it seems, Dazai and Chuuya heard you gushing about them. You don't know, how to react. You just stand there. You manage to whisper.

"Um... Can we talk in the living room? The whole situation is quite bizarre."

Dazai and Chuuya stopped bickering. Dazai nodded.

"Good idea. But I will take mini-me."

Then, Dazai grabbed his plush counterpart from your grasp. You almost dropped plush Chuuya, but real Chuuya got him, before the toy hit the floor. Instead of giving it back to you, Chuuya keeps it. Chuuya smirks.

"Sorry, [Y/N], but plush will stay with me. But, I must add, you looked adorable with them in your hands."

Dazai also chipped in.

"Don't worry, soon you can place them near the rest of your figurines."

You feel embarrassed. You had a feeling, that your life will change. And you were sure, that there will be a lot of teasing in your life.

#self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #Self-Aware Dazai Osamu #Self-Aware Chuuya Nakahara #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai

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issacballsac · 9 months

Text

“Attempting to be Friends with Vergil Sparda„

Honestly he’d never outright call you his friend💀 ! Gn Demon Reader

Origins | DMC3

Let’s be FR he wouldn’t care abt your gender or lack there of he still sees you as lesser than

You’d have to be a Devil or half Devil to even linger around him

Im seeing you just come from Hell to be friends with him🦀

Naturally like any of the devils in DMC3 u were originally gonna attack Vergil bc NPC does what NPC is supposed to do

But you have common sense a pretty mf with a sword is bad news so let’s be friends dear beautiful one

Bear with me right—all ur demon gang gets slaughtered by this mf and you’re just standing there watching fascinated absolutely entranced by this mf

Seeing as you’re the last obstacle he points that big ass katana at you

“Sorry I just can’t fight someone so beautiful man.”

Gives you the MEANEST side eye

Still tries to HARM you and succeeds—but like you regenerate 💀

Mf would let out the BIGGEST sigh and just walk away🪦

You follow ofc bc who wouldn’t (a mf who wants to live 💀)

Bonding

Me when might controls everything 🫦

Despite being a demon yourself you def would try to convince him to NOT open the portal

Bc lets be FR them other devils ain’t shit for nothin‼️

He constantly looks annoyed and has a mean case of resting bitch face

He’s very stand-offish and depending on how long/well you know each other he’ll listen to what you’re sayin

Especially if ur a person that likes to go on rants

DMC3 he’d be more open to a mf who has no attachments as seen during the scene where he stabbed Arkham

New to friendship and sees everything as a transaction

You give me this and I give you that typa thing

Would take FOREVER to tell you abt his childhood and by the time he does u pretty much already know bc of Dante

Would get along better if ur also half demon rather than full demon as he has a complex where he continuously tries to rid himself of his humanity

Bros on a MISSION so u gotta be able to keep up

Obviously being demon/half demon you got some power but if you’re weak he’s gonna drop you I’m sorry 💀(no I’m not)

Daily

Doesn’t celebrate his birthday

Just in general regardless of his childhood I just don’t think he’d like to

So no surprise parties please🫶

Now don’t get me wrong he IS smart but like also a dumbass💀

Constantly makes you think bc he’ll say smth so stupid but make it sound so smart

A very dramatic mf

Always makes dramatic entrances no matter where he goes

Walks into McDonalds with his blue coat flowing, snowlike hair, glistening eyes, arched eyebrows, and a judgmental look

Baby let ur hair down🫦

Bro is effortlessly breathtaking and if u ask for tips or question what he does for his routine he looks you up and down, scoffs, and leaves💀

I NEED MORE POWER

Spars with you bc luckily you can regenerate

Infinite punching bag

Love a reader with no shame(me acting like I didn’t write this)

Idk why but I feel like he can play the piano as just like a pastime thing

When trapped in Hell u just roam around y’know bc you’ve lived there for as long as you can remember 😭

Vergil is in a constant search for more power and ur just chillin watching him

Like those mfs who still calmly sip on their drinks when there is a bar fight

“Woohoo! Go Vergil you’re doin’ great!”

“Shut up!”

He loves you, I promise.

Talks shit abt Dante, lovingly ofc

After the events of DMC5 if he were to come back with Dante(ambiguous ending)

Y’all would prob live together

And they were roommates 😨

FR tho it’s like weird especially with Nero being recognized as his son

“Nero is my son?”

“You have a son?”

“I didn’t know..”

“How did you not know?”

Becomes more vocal during the friendship during/after the events of DMC5

He doesn’t see the need for an abundance of clothes so if ur into fashion your ideas fill 98% of his wardrobe

Honestly I think he can cook

More of a baker methinks

He probably wouldn’t like sweets but he’ll certainly make them himself

No I’m not going to make a berries delight joke.

#fanfic #fanfiction #platonic headcanons #x male reader #platonic #x gn reader #x reader platonic #x female reader #dmc vergil #dmc devil may cry #dmc x reader #dmc fanfiction #dmc headcanons #dmc #vergil #vergil x reader #vergil x you #Vergil x reader platonic

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hippolotamus · 2 years

Text

“Shore” the One

I wish I could say I had an excuse for this but all I have is weird ideas and encouragement from amazing friends. For @stereopticons and @lizzie-bennetdarcy , creator of Fucking Fight Me Crab and Scuba Lobster (For the record I have nothing against manatees)

credit for Profanitee

Somewhere in the North Atlantic

Once upon a time in a land far, far away… no, no, no. We’re not starting that way. We’re in the Atlantic Ocean, baby. It’s a balmy 87 degrees and Lobster wants to go on a swim. He walks on his spindly legs out of his lobster house to retrieve his prized possession: his scuba mask.

Lobster loves his scuba mask. It is blue with a black strap and breathing tube. And it makes him feel daring and adventurous. Does a lobster need a scuba mask? Of course not, but that’s beside the point. Lobster loves it so he deems it necessary.

Once Lobster is fitted with his mask (tricky business when working with claws) he proudly scuttles out to sea. Er, farther out to sea. Lobster loves these daily treks around the ocean floor. He passes kelp forests, coral reefs teeming with fish and anemones. He scurries to hide when whales and sharks drift overhead.

Normally, Lobster finds a rock to go behind or a nice reef, but has never encountered anything too unusual. Today is different. Today Lobster encounters a most unusual creature. Today Lobster meets Crab.

Now, meeting a crab is not so unusual in itself. But when a crab is holding a sharp knife between its pinchy claws… well that’s a seahorse of a different color.

“Oh, excuse me. Can I help you?” Lobster asks.

Crab shuffles around to face Lobster, it’s beady eyes managing to appear menacing. “You got some kinda problem with me bein’ here?”

“No, oh dear. Not at all I just-“ Lobster pauses when Crab points the blade in his direction.

“Fuckin’ fight me!” Crab declares, brandishing his blade.

Lobster backs away until he finds himself against a tall coral with nowhere to go “I don’t think- I’m not- Put that down, sir!”

Crab tucks the handle closer to his shell, eyeing Lobster suspiciously. He’s met very few who dare to challenge him once his blade is pointing their way.

“Fuck!” A voice echoes overhead.

“What in the blazes?” Crab asks, looking at the large, round mass.

Lobster shakes his head, holding a claw over his mask. “That is Profanitee. He curses at random. Can’t say I blame him at all. Happy fellow, but he’s lost. I mean what manatee finds its way this far north? Crazy bastard belongs in the Keys somewhere.”

Crab slowly nods (as much as a crab can) in acknowledgment, and Lobster continues on.

“Do you mind telling me why you’re here pointing knives at random passers by?” Lobster inquires, still quite shaken by the ordeal.

“As a youngin my parents were swept up in a net, right in front of me. I decided then and there I wouldn’t let anything get me. Nothing!”

Unusual creature indeed, Lobster thinks. “Well, I wish you no harm. I’m just out for my daily wander. If you let me pass I shall be on my way.”

Crab doesn’t move or respond, just continues eyeing Lobster like he’s conflicted about what to do. Lobster really does not wish to have to fight. (He can if he has to! He just doesn’t want to.)

“Twat!” Profanitee yelps.

Lobster and Crab both look up at him and notice the square object floating down, down, down until it lands between them.

“What’s all this?” Lobster skitters round to look at the neat type printed on it, horrified by what he sees.

“Whatsit say?” Crab asks. “I can’t read.”

“Court reinstates ban on lobster gear,” Lobster says aloud. He doesn’t read anymore, he thinks of his beloved scuba mask and becomes irate. He can’t not wear it. “This, Crab, is an outrage! I cannot stand for such things! Something must be done.”

“What will you do?”

“We shall go see this Court and demand answers!”

“Who is it? How do we find ‘em?”

Lobster hadn’t considered this. He becomes very deflated once he realizes he hasn’t the slightest clue. Crab takes notice.

“There… there? We’ll figure it out. I guess.” Crab is not in the habit of comfort, only fighting.

“We will?” Lobster stands a little taller. “We will! Come Crab we must be off at once!”

Crab fights the urge to take back his comfort, and stab Lobster instead, when he finds himself being pulled along the ocean floor by an overexcited crustacean wearing scuba gear.

“Profanitee!” Lobster huffs and puffs as he tries to capture the great, stupid blobs attention. “Profanitee!”

Profanitee slows down, rolls on its back, and stares with two large dopey eyes. “Quack?”

“Let me handle this,” Crab whispers to Lobster before turning back to Profanitee. “I know yer a big, dumb sea cow but how do we find Court?”

“Dick!”

“Why you enormous–”

Lobster is horrified, and wrangles a claw in front of Crab. “I’m so sorry for my friend here. What he meant to say is that we are trying to find Court. Do you know where to find them?”

Profanitee continues to stare, then rolls over to swim away, and shouts Steve!

“Well that was no help. I guess we’ll just keep going then,” Lobster sighs, resuming their journey. He’s scuttled about 3 meters when he stops, realizing Crab isn’t following. “I suppose you’re giving up?”

Crab blinks, “You called me yer friend.”

“You are accompanying me to help this cause. And you spared my life. So, yes, I consider you a friend, Crab.”

“No one’s ever done that before.”

“I don’t suppose it has anything to do with you threatening them? Anyway, I’m saying it now and I would prefer it if you continued on with me.”

“Okay… Friend.” Crab smiles his pointy smile and hurries to catch up to Lobster.

Lobster and Crab continue wandering but feel as though they are no closer to answers. Kelp and clams are of little use when asking directions. However, Lobster is quite pleased to be on such a tremendous trek today and to have found a new travel companion. They stop to share a snack of algae and mussels. Yes, Lobster could get quite used to having a friend.

🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞

“Oh, this is taking soooo long!” Lobster wails. It feels as though they’ve been walking in circles for hours.

Crab quite agrees. He doesn’t know how to help, though. Thankfully at that moment a large shadow passes over and Lobster begins to look excited again.

“A whale! Hurry, Crab, we have to catch it!”

This seems absurd, and a little dangerous, to Crab but he follows his friend anyway.

As they come closer to Whale, Lobster is beginning to consider that he may not have thought this through. But he doesn’t want to look like a coward in front of his new friend. “Whale? Hello?”

Whale looks at Lobster then continues swimming. Lobster will not be ignored. He races to keep up and snaps his claw to Whale’s fin, holding on when Whale tries shaking him loose.

“I just need to find Court!” Lobster shouts.

“Court?” Whale stops abruptly, flinging Lobster forward. “Did you say Court?”

“Yes!” Lobster nearly does a jig on top of Whale. “How do we find them?”

Whale vibrates with laughter. “It’s not a them, dear. It’s a what!”

“A what?”

Whale explains that Court is a building on land and she will happily take Lobster and Crab as close to the surface as possible. Lobster is astonished at their good fortune.

“Crab! Come here!” Lobster calls.

Crab is seriously reconsidering this whole adventure thing as he now has to struggle to join Lobster while holding onto the knife handle. He wants to sleep when he finally lands on Whale and promptly collapses next to Lobster.

“Whale here is going to take us to the surface! Isn’t that great news?!”

“The” –huff– “best” –puff.

Crab is not amused by suddenly finding himself barreling through the ocean waters atop a whale, being jostled inconsiderately. He is less amused to find himself suddenly thrust into sunshine and diving seagulls.

“There it is! There it is!” Lobster exclaims, pointing excitedly. In the distance there is a tall sandy colored building with the word Courthouse carved on the front of it. (Who knew Courts had their own houses?!) Huge swarms of people are walking past it, in it, out of it. Crab wishes he had stayed in bed that morning.

“Thank you, Whale!” Lobster calls, once again taking off with Crab in tow.��

The sea waves assist in pushing them closer, greatly reducing their effort, until they can scuttle up the rocks leading to the street. Lobster and Crab brave their way past frightened humans (including a very small one in a wheeled contraption that giggles and tries to play with them), seagulls, pigeons, even a few curious dogs and cats. Unsurprisingly, Lobster has to intervene on no fewer than a dozen attempts of Crab trying to pick fights with creatures of all shapes and sizes.

“Wouldya look at that,” Crab says, his gruff demeanor softened by awe and wonder.

“Indeed, Crab. We’re nearly there. Shall we?” Lobster looks at Crab hopefully.

“Lead the way, friend,” Crab replies.

They manage to make it unscathed up the enormous steps leading to the front doors. Though completing their mission is of the utmost importance it seems ridiculous to deny themselves having any fun. Lobster and Crab take a few spins in the revolving door, ride up and down the elevator and cruise the escalator. They drop by the cafe and greedily snap up pastry crumbs and slurp spilled tea. Cupcakes and muffins will make the return to algae and sea living most boring. Finally, they can avoid it no longer and set about trying to find where to go.

“...no one’s happy about it but we can’t have the lobster people interfering. They just have to find another way or fight it in court.”

“Crab! Did you hear that?! That person is talking about lobsters!” Lobster walks as fast as his spindly legs will carry him toward the tall person in the long, black robe.

“Excuse me!” Lobster yells once he’s next to them. He pulls on the robe when he realizes the person can’t hear him.

The person stares for a moment, blinks, and then screams. They kick and flail, nearly stepping on Lobster in the process.

Oh dear, this isn’t what I wanted to happen, Lobster thinks, scurrying for protection. Crab clacks up beside him, asking if he can poke them.

“No, Crab!”

“Well, can I pinch them?”

“No! We won’t get answers that way. This must be a dignified discussion.”

Lobster decides the only way is to stand his ground and wait for the hysterics to subside. Finally the shrieking person calms down, but never takes their eyes off of Lobster and Crab.

“What do you want with me?” They ask, even as others pass by looking confused, and maybe a little concerned.

Lobster points his claw indicating he needs to be closer to speak. Warily, the person picks him up by the tail and holds him like that, suspended in the air.

“Excuse me, but could you put me down on something? And maybe bring my friend, Crab, too?”

The person looks down at Crab, gulps and leans down to let Crab climb on their other hand. With shaky hands the person carries them both into an empty room and deposits them both on a wooden table.

“Still say we should’ve stabbed ‘em.”

“Thank you!”

Crab and Lobster say in unison.

“Now,” the person starts, still looking quite nervous. “I don’t know what this is or what I did to deserve talking sea life, but I’ll ask again. What do you want with me?”

“We don’t mean anythin’ by it. Just need some help fer my friend here.”

The color drains from the person’s face.

Lobster adds, “You see, I’ve come about the ban on lobster gear. I heard you discussing it and I want to know what I can do to change your mind.”

They blink, processing what Lobster’s said, and then burst into a fit of laughter. “I thought you’d be happy about that. Banning the lobster cages and all that.”

“Lobster cages? I’m sorry, did you say lobster cages?”

“Yes. The ruling was on banning lobster traps so they don’t hurt the whales. The whales have been getting tangled.”

Lobster feels quite silly. “So that means I do not have to give up my scuba mask?” He protectively guards his tiny mask with his claws.

“I don’t know why a lobster even needs one, but yes, you can keep it. You do you, as the kids say.”

This person does not make any sense to Lobster or Crab. Whoever heard of such a phrase? Regardless, Lobster is very happy indeed to keep wearing his prized scuba mask.

“Anything else I can do for you?” They inquire.

“There is one thing,” Lobster suggests. “Could you take us back to the water? It’s awfully dangerous out there.”

“And one of them frosted cupcakes! With extra sprinkles!” Crab adds.

“Well, I may as well lean into it,” the person mutters, picking them both up from the table.

Crab and Lobster share bites of the gloriously frosted treat, tossing sprinkles at each other and catching them with their mouths and claws.

“Here we are,” Person announces.

“If you just sit us on these rocks here we can make it the rest of the way. Thank you for all your help!” Lobster is quite grateful, even if it turned out to be a needless journey.

“Uh huh. Sure. You’re welcome?” Person sets them both among the rocks and flees before they can climb anywhere.

“Well that was rude,” Crab states.

“Indeed, Crab. Indeed.”

The duo aimlessly wander along the ocean floor, past starfish, seaweed, sea urchins and octopi.

“So, Crab. What will you do now? Do you live near here?”

“Don’t know. Just go where the tide takes me.”

Hmm, this will not do. “Do you mean you have nowhere to call home?”

Crab droops a bit, “No, Lobster. But it’s okay. Like I said, I just go where the tide puts me.”

Lobster doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet until they finally arrive at his cozy lobster house. It’s nothing fancy, a small rock pile big enough to take shelter in. Lobster has fancied it up a bit with shiny things he’s found on excursions. Now that Lobster is home he takes off his mask and stores it in the special hiding place at the back of the rocks.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye, Crab.” Lobster does not wish for Crab to leave.

“I s’pose,” Crab agrees. Crab does not wish to leave Lobster. It was nice having a real friend. The trouble is Lobster hasn’t invited him to stay, he can’t very well loiter like a nuisance. “I’ll be seein’ ya.”

No, no, Lobster cannot allow this. He finally had a travel companion. They went whale riding, went on land, ate sugary baked goods and had, well, a real adventure. “Wait!”

Crab stops to look curiously. He dare not get his hopes up.

“Would you like to stay? With me?” Lobster asks.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Crab smiles his pointy smile that reaches his beady eyes and scurries back to Lobster.

Lobster shows him inside (including a very safe place to put his knife for the night, that’s a topic for another day) and they share a light dinner of clams and worms. Then they huddle together for bed and both dream of adventures with their new friend. And cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes.

Somewhere overhead Profanitee bellows, “Cockwomble!”

🤿🦞💞🦀🔪

#scuba lobster #fucking fight me crab #profanitee #misunderstandings #ocean adventures #friends #strangers to enemies to IDK #i... really have nothing to say for myself #💙🦛#🤿🦞💞🦀🔪

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chemicallywrit · 7 months

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Audio Drama Sunday!!!

Again this is far from comprehensive because I am a feral podcast monster, but here’s what stuck out to me this week! Mostly spoiler-free, unless you count vibes as spoilers!

🗡️ Cry Havoc! Ask Questions Later managed to have a happy? Ending? Honestly the way it managed to be a hilarious historical sitcom with an ending that chilling was MASTERFUL. Great job writers, y’all are fantastic. It is obviously not absolutely true to what we know about Roman history, but it is true to the spirit of it in a way that’s really satisfying for me personally.

🦀 @thesiltverses oh MAN. The way this story says again and again that you cannot earn your way out of being trampled by a system that doesn’t care about you hits every. Single. Time. And what are you going to do, try to remake that system? There are always going to be people who can’t handle that and fight against you, to their own detriment. This story is fantastical and exaggerated, but it’s always so real at the same time.

👁️ @hellofromthehallowoods is trying to kill me, straight up. I have no idea what Halloween will bring for this show and i’m dying. It’s very difficult to predict storylines on Hallowoods and that’s something I love about it. Will this pair break up? Will this pair die for their cause? Will this pair find each other again, even through death? Shoutout to the great guests this episode, I always enjoy seeing who Mx Wellman invites into the world.

🔎 @knovesstorytelling okay look, y’all, I have never read Northanger Abbey, so I don’t know why Kit’s being told to pack her bags and get out, and I am so UPSET. What’s going on????

📉 Within the Wires is back!! And my WORD, the juxtaposition of this season being motivational tapes while listening to the current season of The Dream about life coaches?? I am transfixed and horrified, let’s GO.

🎟️ @longcatmedia Mockery Manor. I love these clowns so much. I love that Bette is really smart and really dumb at the same time. Everyone’s acting is top notch, but I’m especially a fan of Karim Kronfli in this show. Everyone knows he’s got the range, but it’s so fun listening to him be this fussy little guy.

👻 One of the shows I’ve been catching up on is Ghosts in the Burbs, a deceptively spooky and delightfully witty single-narrator ghost show. I’m listening through the Lilith arc and….woof. WOOF. I know how it ends and it’s still terrifying.

🩸 IT’S HEMOPHOBIA DAY, omg, everyone please check out Hemophobia, I am so excited for Hemophobia. It’s sitting in my queue staring at me with that creepy-ass logo art. I’ve talked with CSW about this show and heard the trailer—religious trauma horror with amazing sound design and an amazing cast??? You kidding???? I am drooling over here. Join me, won’t you?

🧟‍♀️ This week is also the premier of The Dead! As soon as that feed appears I’ll be putting it everywhere, and I’m so excited to show everyone the first series. You’ve heard of snakes on a plane….

💐 On my end, as Re: Dracula continues its march to the finale, this week I find myself recording Inn Between and The Dead. I am still trying to make rent ahead of my new job’s first paycheck, so if you liked this post or the other things I do, would you consider sending me a ko-fi?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I will be listening to Hemophobia very quietly and very scared by myself in the dark. Until next week!

#audio drama sunday #audio drama #audio fiction #fiction podcast #freaking podcasts

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vestaclinicpod · 28 days

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Audio Drama Sunday - 14th April ✨

Oh my god, the audio sure did drama this week!!

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E7.5) HOW did none of us put this together sooner?! Oh my god, what an absolutely INCREDIBLE little twist. I love the undercurrent of hopeful resilience in Tell No Tales (Leo is going to get with the programme really soon 🤞) and I am screaming, crying and throwing up imagining the end of season reunion 😭 HOWEVER, don’t think I missed for a second that Riley is asking for another packet of painkillers . . . it would be so like him to think that 16 paracetamol is two doses of paracetamol but still! He needs to be okay!!

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (147) hhhhh what a GOOD episode. There’s something different about the horror of season 4 that I want someone with a literature degree to talk to me about for hours. Can we please talk about how the murder victim had a treble clef carved into them . . . i.e. the symbol at the start of a piece of music. It’S SO CLEVER I love the intricate details of this show!!!!! And, can we also talk about how emotional I feel about Clem (namer of everything) is in love with Shelby (has a cat named Cat). There’s something in that which is giving me palpitations.

🦀 @thesiltverses (39) You wouldn’t think one would be happy to have silt in their ears, but I am!! I’ve missed this story so much and I loved the twist in this episode. Carson has practically wrapped Shrue in a bow and handed them to Carpenter and Hayward. I can’t WAIT for that conversation.

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (17) Oh this is so beautiful! Do humans do this with ice?? I think we should 1000% do this with ice! I don’t have voting privileges (yet 💸) but I think they should go easy on their foes in the snowball fight. I would love to see how adorably smug Óli is if allowed to win 🥺

🤴 Inco @itmeblog (S3E20-34) If anyone takes SAWA away from Nova again I am going to throw HANDS. I’ve always considered SAWA to be endearingly overbearing with her prompts to Nova but we got such a good glimpse of how vital she is in the library/archives and I love her 😭

♦️@grottopod (8) Grotto finale! I loved the music at the start of this episode and it was so satisfying to hear David get to express some of his frustrations. Season two sounds like it’s going to be wild.

⚔️ @camlannpod (7) This episode KILLED me. Here are the quotes that made me scream: “GWEN: You can’t love the mental illness out of someone.” (10/10, true, valid, hurts) “PERRY: Eat a dick, Kay.” (11/10 the crowd goes WILD) “RHIANNON: (calling to the group as they leave) Cousin. About your lover. You didn’t fail him. You just needed more time.” (1/10 OW?????? OW OW WHY? OW!!!!) “MORGAN: You’re just as bad as Arthur. Worse. At least he was honest about it.” (??/10 JAW ON THE FLOOR) I need this podcast forever 🥺

🖥️ The Magnus Protocol (11) Oooh I liked this episode!! I love it when you’re left to fill in the blanks in a horror story - my mind is still whirring through so many awful scenarios.

🍎 @notquitedeadpod (XXXIV-XXXV) ah! I’ve accidentally caught up to Not Quite Dead! What will my Sunday afternoons look like now?? There were so many moments in these eps which made me laugh but I’m mostly just so in awe of how complex and real these characters are. Neige genuinely feels 10000 years old and shaped by the trauma of each of them. I need to check the release schedule because I cannot wait for more!!

Have a good week of listening, everyone! 🌈

#audio drama sunday #tell no tales #hfth spoilers #tsv spoilers #travelling light #inco #tmagp spoilers #camlann #not quite dead #the grotto

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