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lilygoat · 2 years

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Rob.pope.art

#black cat #rob pope #dark art

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alfairb · 1 year

Video

And I got nothing to lose but darkness and shadows Got nothing to lose but bitterness and hang-ups The flowers blooming, the trains collide I don't got a thing to lose

#Spoon #Got Nuffin #2010 #Britt Daniel #Jim Eno #Eric Harvey #Rob Pope #indie rock #art rock #rock #alternative #alternative rock #punk rock #transference #music #song #video #video music

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vasquez-rocks · 5 months

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the episode where Kai Opaka gets stranded on the zombie planet

i love the deep space nine episode “battle lines” because its premise is basically that the pope is visiting your office just to like hang out and then while visiting the office the pope sees a car out the window and mentions that they’ve never ridden in a car before and demands you take them on a drive. and then like IMMEDIATELY once you’re on the road some no good teens pull up next to you and are like “hey old man wanna drag?” and you gesture to the pope and say “no thank you, this is the pope’s first time ever in a car” but the pope gently takes your hand and says “you must drag, my child” so with a weary sigh you drag with the teens and the pope just fuckin dies

#ds9 #kira nerys #kai opaka #benjamin sisko #bajor #battle lines #and then it turns out the pope gets resurrected because the planet works on rob zombie dragula rules #kira suffers more than o'brien ngl

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feignedhues · 2 years

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open to: everyone and anyone location: local cemetery

“Visiting hours are over.”

Pope’s voice cut through the small hum of the cemetery. Many believed it was too quiet, a collection of noise that was too subtle to be given much thought by minds so accustomed to the buzzing of florescents and bustling company. They believed it was silence, but Pope knew better. It could be louder than the streets of Deadwood if anyone paid close attention.

He didn’t move, but the flickering of the flashlight over one of the tombstones he was crouched near revealed where he lingered. Later shifts allowed for some peace of mind, and more importantly, isolation if he was lucky. Isolation from the living, at least. Pope’s primary motivation for it, though, was that it kept him awake. Nothing good ever came from sleep unless it was forced by exhaustion.

“Which means you’re probably here to rob a grave.” It was a bold assumption, but it was still dropped into the air with blatant certainty. “It’s not the felony you need to worry about, though. It’s what the people here are gonna do in retaliation that you need to be weary of.”

#pls assume connections (:#and you def dont need to be robbing a grave he's just worst thought first #deadwood.start #━━ pope interactions ｢these are the day dreams that keep me clean｣

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thebadtimewolf · 2 years

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@lesbiandiegohargreeves and @allkinds-oftrash:

you. i see ur tags. u r right...

yall opened the gates a little and i gave you water damage, im sorry for this

and his prev. hatred of donna is glaringly so... byherchoiceofhusbandtwice and how mickey is treated and how the dr is mimicking rose’s behavior in a boisterous way in his 10th self because thats how she acted towards princess gabe of the cheem and how she openly cheated on mickey and THEN giving martha the ONE SEVENTH DR ADAPTION WHERE HE IS UGH AND THEN THE MASTER (who quite frankly is mimicking the dr mimicking rose’s 2006 microaggresive racism but the master cranks it up to 3000) TAKES 80 FEET FORWARD PERSONALLY ENSLAVING MARTHA’S FAMILY (take note that martha’s blonde and yt step mother that her father was with is notably excluded?? martha’s brother and his fam escaped but. where is she? hm.) AS THE HELP (though jack is there its more like jack is very much implied to be ‘this is what i would do to u joneses too bad ur not immortal. jack will have to do.’ vibes).

#tv: doctor who #bw: out of ethos #{i can make a whole breakdown of all three writers in three words: antiblackness misogyny and copaganda ish (vigilantismish)}#{the way he described donna was very ... yikesarooney and ms. tate dropped kicked him via being the fave by performance}#{really turned his implied intention into a self drag}#{also the companion after donna was named penny who was also black but 10 fell for her but SHE wasnt interested}#{and then she got scrapped as soon as tate was available for s4 with a lil nod to it by the reporter with the same 1st name}#{yet personality wise was claire 'u be health ill be safety' pope. sidebar: i. a g a i n WE WERE ROBBED}#{not every day i get 2 anti [insert societal racial issue here] dt that are also very goodlooking with a gag over their mouths. hm?}#{oh good aint out yet. my bad still the one}#{I DO LIKE THE FACT THAT NOW CHIBNALL LOOKED AT TEN AND SAID: u were poc in abusive adoptive household}#{cont. of course u have internalized self hatred that you project onto others if not your self and this is about livin beyond it}

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biglisbonnews · 1 year

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Pope John Paul II covered up church child abuse in Poland Karol Józef Wojtyła, Pope John Paul II, the subject of unlimited fawning praise and glorification, covered up child sexual abuse in the Catholic Church as a cardinal in Poland–a fact long-suspected and finally demonstrated through newly-released Communist-era police records and leaked Church documents. — Read the rest https://boingboing.net/2023/03/07/pope-john-paul-ii-covered-up-church-child-abuse.html

#Post #catholic church #child abuse #john paul II #pope #Rob Beschizza #Boing Boing

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paradise-bi-the-dashboard-lightt · 2 years

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youtube

I saw Bat again today and it was my 15th show and I finally got a Good Girls encore!!

#bat our of hell #sam pope #martha kirby #franziska schuster #rob fowler #Joelle moses

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fangirl-writes · 6 months

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Small Spaces

JJ Maybank x Reader; John B. Routledge x Routledge!Reader

Warning(s): claustrophobia, anxiety attack, swearing

Request: jj maybank dating jb’s twin sister and her joining in on their adventures but she has severe anxiety so just him being super sweet and loving to her?

Notes: This is totally based on another fic I read that I can't find rn but it's my spin on it so I hope you like.

Fuck this, you thought. Seriously, fuck this.

You were squeezing yourself through a small hole in a mausoleum that had "Redfield" written across the top, just to see what was inside.

For John B., of course, because he was your brother, and he needed to find this clue almost as much as he needed to be breathing.

But god damn it, this was all you needed.

Between the near visit from child services, the hurricane, the dead guy's boat, the guy's gun, getting shot at, and surely more to come, you were due for a panic attack.

Your feet hit the ground with a loud smack and you winced at the noise.

"Still alive?" John B. asked.

"Oh my god, shut up,"

"Yep, she's alive."

You rolled your eyes and took the flashlight that Kie was offering you.

You shined the light around the space, bigger than you were expecting, but the fact that your exit was so small and that it would be a struggle getting back to it was making the anxiety stir in your stomach.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you replied. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

"Real helpful, JB," you mumbled, shining the flashlight around and trying to focus on finding whatever it was rather than the darkness and the walls that felt like they were going to close in on you.

You gasp when a flash of white catches your eye.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked

"Oh my god," you whispered.

"Y/N?" JJ asked again. "I'm gonna need some word confirmation that you're okay."

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," you replied. "I think I found it."

"What? Really?" John B. said, peaking into the space you'd crawled into.

You pulled out a long white envelope from a small space in the crypt, the words "FedEx" and "Bird" written on it.

Thanks for including me, Dad, you thought before taking the envelope over to the space and handing it to John B.'s outstretched hand.

"That's not gold," Pope said, a little disappointed.

But John B. was looking at it like it was. "Holy shit."

"JJ, a little help?" you said, reaching a hand through the space.

"Yeah, yeah, I gotchu, babe," he replied, helping you out of the crypt.

"This is from our dad," John B. said, looking around at the group.

"Yeah," you said, trying to catch your breath. "To you."

"Code red. Code red." JJ warned, the smoke from his joint fluttering up into the air. "Square groupers! Square groupers!"

Your stomach drops as the five of you start moving, JJ's hands grabbing your arms rougher than he probably meant to.

"It's the guys who robbed your house," JJ said.

Fuck, you think. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You guys hide on the side of the mausoleum, turning off and tucking the lights under your shirts.

You can feel it start to bubble up, your breathing becoming unsteady.

"Hey, I see something!"

"Do you think it's them?" Kiara asked.

"Homie's got a gun," JJ said as he and John B. peaked around the corner.

"Screw this," Kie said, taking off. The others followed her, including you, who was on the verge of breaking down.

"Right here!" One of the men shouted.

JJ's hand was on your back the whole time, but it did nothing to calm you down.

You each scaled the fence with little trouble except for Pope, who got his pants stuck on the gate.

It was funny until you were in the van and that anxiety attack had caught up with you, the adrenaline fix going away.

Your hands shook. Your chest tightened. Tears began streaming down your cheeks.

You were starting to hyperventilate, and your head was spinning. Even though you knew you were safe in the Twinkie now, you couldn't help the dread that was washing over you, the fear for your life that coiled around you like a snake.

"Hey, hey, hey, Y/N," JJ said, quickly catching on to what was happening. "You're okay, you're okay."

He made you look at him and took a few deep breaths for you to copy, which you did over and over.

"Shit, get this joint out of here," JJ said, handing it off to Pope.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked.

"Throw it out the window or something, get it outta here. It only makes her worse."

You'd tried that anecdote before, and, as he said, it really did only make the panic attack worse. Through trial and error, JJ and John B. found the only things that helped you through a panic attack were calming words, help getting your breathing back to normal, and hugs.

So, JJ did just that. He held you close and whispered in your ear, rocking you back and forth slowly.

John B. checked your state in the rearview, feeling bad that he'd brought you along at all, even if you had insisted. Then he looked at the envelope sitting next to him and knew that, somehow, it would be worth it.

#jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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foone · 4 months

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What do you think Jesus meant when he said this

Jesus was a strident anticapitalist and he said "stealing from the rich is okay". He was just trying to give you some very basic instructions on how to do it. His moral point, if any, was basically just "you can rob the rich but don't, like, kill them. Don't go into someone's house and murder them and take their stuff, no matter how much money they have. Just tie 'em up, take their stuff, and let them live."

You can trust me on this, I'm a pope, and I've got a hotline to God.

This is the hotline, btw. It's Orange, the official color of heaven.

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restless-historian · 2 months

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There are three types of Ukrainian artists. Those who were killed by russia, those who were repressed by russia and those whose legacy was stolen by russia. Armenian-Ukrainian artist Ivan Aivazovsky belongs to the third category. So here I present 6 fun facts about his life.

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1. For almost an entire life he lived in the city of Feodosia in Crimea. He loved the city and was its patron, he financed museums, galleries and the development of the city.

For example, when the ancient Armenian church of Surb-Sarkis burned down, the restoration was carried out at the personal expense of Ivan Aivazovsky. From year to year, the painter donated the author's icons to the Church of St. Sergius - "Walking on Water" (1888; oil on canvas, 70 x 50), "The Last Supper" (1890; oil on canvas, 44 x 60), "The Virgin and Child ” (1891; oil on canvas; 125 x 103 cm), “Prayer for the Chalice” (1897; oil on canvas; 94 x 72).

Feodosia. Moonlit night, Ivan Aivazovsky, 1852, 29x36cm, oil on canvas, private collection

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2. History and archeology were his huge hobbies. He even participated in archeological digs. Though he hated reading.

Chumaks leisure, Ivan Aivazovsky, 1885, oil on canvas, Belarusian National Arts Museum

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3. He created his marine landscapes not on the coast but in his workshop from memory.

The Ninth Wave, Ivan Aivazovsky, 1850, 221x322cm, oil on canvas, State russian museum

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4. He was the first Ukrainian artist to be exhibited in the Louvre.

View of the island of Capri, Ivan Aivazovsky, 1845, 40x57cm, oil on canvas, Kyiv National Art Gallery

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5. Pope Gregory XVI (Gregorius PP. XVI; 1765-1846) unexpectedly wished to purchase a painting by an artist from Feodosia for the Vatican. So, at the beginning of 1841, the marinist repeated the seascape in his own way and, kneeling down, personally presented it to the Pontiff. Touched by the artist's noble gesture, in the late autumn of 1841, the governor of St. Peter personally awarded the Ukrainian Armenian with the Order of St. Sylvester and the Golden Militia.

Chaos. Creation of the world, Ivan Aivazovsky, 1841

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In 2023, during the bloody occupation of the Ukrainian city of Kherson by russians, not only were thousands of civilians tortured and killed, but numerous museums were also robbed. Three paintings by Ivan Aivazovsky were stolen from the Kherson National Museum of Art, along with thousands of artefacts from all over the country. The stolen paintings are: "The Storm Subsides," "The Sea," and "View of the City of Odesa." Reminder: Such actions are a direct violation of the Geneva Conventions.

Support Ukraine!

In Ukrainian text states: STOLEN! Ivan Aivazovsky, View of the City of Odesa, oil on canvas

In Ukrainian text states: STOLEN! Ivan Aivazovsky, The Storm Subsides, oil on canvas

In Ukrainian text states: STOLEN! Ivan Aivazovsky, The Sea, oil on canvas

#art #art history #painting #artwork #museum #sea #ivan aivazovsky #ukrainian art #ukraine #support ukraine #russia is a terrorist state

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ohforficsakelibrary · 6 months

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Barbados

Summary: You've been carrying on with whatever this is for months, pushing and pulling, until one night Frankie wants control.

masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2K

Rating: Explicit 18+ for smut/ Unprotected piv, edging, multiple orgasms (f), creampie, a hint of dom!Frankie, a dash of brat-tamer!Frankie, still a Consent King, a pinch of blasphemy, y'all are gonna get a noise complaint / Minors DNI

A/N: As with Dominica, this is written about these two idiots, but flipped to the reader's perspective. Can be read as a standalone, only a few tiny, non-critical nods to the series.

Happy Frankie Friday to all those who celebrate.

Eight months into whatever this is, Frankie pulls noises from your throat that you’ve never made in your life.

And to think, you had fought him on it.

You’d been working each other up all evening, spiking heated glances over the dinner table as you listened to Pope go on about something.

Can’t remember what.

You’d both unceremoniously deposited Santi in his room next door, each smacking your key cards against the reader so quickly that it took three tries to unlock as Frankie groaned into your mouth and you pawed at his belt. This room was one of yours.

Can’t remember whose.

It doesn’t matter, one key eventually worked.

In your haste to have each other after a month apart you’d skipped his mouth, and his fingers, and everything you would have demanded if you’d had more sense.

Sense. The thing he simultaneously robs you of and delivers in spades to every starving nerve ending.

The two of you hadn’t even made it to the bed.

Frankie’s behind you on the couch, your upper body draped over the armrest as he works his way inside you.

“Mmfh, hold on, wait, wait, wait,” your hand finds his where it’s wrapped around your hip and immediately he stills as you hiss through clenched teeth.

“Shit. Baby, talk to me.”

“Just. A little sharp.”

“No, I should have…” he makes a move to pull out completely.

Your hand flies back to his hip, “Francisco Morales, don’t you dare.”

“Baby, just let me taste you,” he barely has the tip of his cock inside you now as he cranes to drop kisses along your spine, “get you all warm and ready for me. ”

“I’m fucking ready for you now.”

Stubborn as a moose is not the saying, but Frankie reckons it should be.

“Baby, please, I’m not doing this if it hurts.”

He’s mad at himself, more than anything. Frankie doesn’t fuck around with this. He knows what he is.

He’s normally so methodical. He has his procedures. His checklist. You blew right through it and in his haze of want—he let you.

You’re doing it even now as your nails bite into his hip when he makes a move to pull away.

“Baby…” he urges again.

“No.”

Talons of irritation tug at the back of his scalp.

And he gives in to them.

“You know what, fine,” he growls, hands leaving you completely as something shifts, “you do it then.”

You move to bring one of his warm palms back to your skin but he snatches it away.

“No. That’s all you. You wanna take me? Take me. Go ahead.”

Oh.

A Frankie Mood.

He hasn’t had you in a month and already they’ve returned with a vengeance.

You throw him a look over your shoulder, half expecting to see his arms crossed over his chest. One hand’s braced on the back of the sofa, and you can feel the heat from the other where it hovers over your hip.

His bottom lip is trapped between teeth.

Okay, Frankie.

You prop yourself up off the arm of the sofa with one hand, reaching down with the other to guide the tip of his cock against your entrance, gently shifting your hips and rocking back onto his hard length at your own pace, moaning as you do.

A pace you’ve slowed way down for his torture benefit.

It smarts a little less and you take a little more.

But this stopped being about that a few inches ago.

You can hear Frankie sucking sharp breaths in through his nose. The back of the sofa creaks with the white-knuckled pressure he’s subjecting it to.

While his words are bold, his body’s barely held together.

But he’s composed enough not to give you the satisfaction of the moan that’s bursting at the back of his throat.

“God, Frankie,” you breathe when the curve of your ass meets his stomach.

He barks a dark laugh.

“Oh, I thought you could take this whole thing,” he leans to cover you with his body, nose skimming the shell of your ear.

“I’ve still got two more inches here for you, babe,” he continues to taunt just before he bites down on your earlobe, soothing it with his tongue.

“What are you gonna do about that?”

You have half a mind to flip him off of this couch and onto the floor.

Instead you drop your chest back down to the arm of the sofa, tip your hips forward, and squeeze around him.

It makes him give you the last two himself.

It hadn’t taken long for you to discover how to short his brain and send his hips slamming into yours in search of more.

“Ohh, you little…” he’s growling but you can feel the smile against your ear.

He loves this.

The push and pull.

You guide his hand to your clit, where he immediately starts rubbing slow circles with his middle and ring fingers.

He’s gonna drag this out.

You tip your face to meet his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip before he gives you his tongue.

“You okay?” He whispers softly when you break for air.

“Yeah, baby.”

Frankie drops a kiss in your hair before he bucks his hips against you without pulling out.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“Mmmm,” he rumbles, sitting up and holding your hips with both hands. He gives you a few tentative strokes, slowly, palms mapping the contours of your back until you take it upon yourself to push against him.

“You’re so fuckin’ impatient, aren’t you,” his hips don’t falter from their lazy pace as one hand grabs the back of your neck. “So fucking greedy for me. For this cock.”

You clench down around him to make your point, smiling when he groans, his hips stuttering.

“You know what?” He brings his face to your ear, “let me have it, baby.”

Control.

Let him have control.

He can’t see the way you arch an eyebrow in challenge, but he knows it’s there on your face.

“Fine,” you whisper and cant your hips back against him.

“Need a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ gatita.”

“Yes. Frankie.” It’s sour in your mouth as you say it. But you trust him. Trust that he’ll take care of you. That he’ll work you up and over and through until “yes Frankie” is all that you can scream.

You trust that he’ll take you past the point of words.

And so “yes Frankie” it is.

He rewards you by picking his pace up to something you luxuriate in, humming with approval as warmth builds low in your belly. You instinctively reach down between your legs and Frankie immediately pulls your hand away.

“That’s mine,” he growls, “and I’m not ready for it yet.”

You bury your face into the armrest and moan in petulant protest.

The hand on the back of your neck soothes, rubbing down over your shoulder blades. He follows the motion with his mouth and you arch up into him.

You can feel his eyes on you, reading your body in the absence of your face. He slows his pace when your breath goes shallow and waits for it to deepen again before building you back up.

When your fingers dig into the armrest, he nearly stops, holding you in place by the hips, grinding his pelvis against you. He leans forward to drop kisses at the base of your neck and scrapes the scruff on his chin down your spine, the prickle of it giving you another sensation to latch on to. After a few moments, he skates a massive palm over your skin to wipe the feeling away, hooking it over your shoulder and yanking you backwards faster against him.

The next time he pulls you back from the brink it’s with a hand in your hair and teeth in the curve of your shoulder.

He unwinds you like rope, pulling at each cord, twisting until it frays, until all that’s left is you pleading and panting in front of him.

By the fourth time you’re telling him to go fuck himself, and he’s purring in your ear that no you feel much better between thrusts that drag the crown of his cock over every spot inside you with the capacity to light you up, he’s just doing it too slowly to cause a spark.

“Frankie, I swear to God…”

“You can swear all you want, gatita, God isn’t here. Just me.”

And oh but He is, in the searing palms that hold you firm, the thick, clever fingers that finally slip down to where he fills you to rub tight circles against where he knows you need him most.

In the way your ears ring when he speeds his hips and his hands up—and finally allows you to break.

A gasp, a captured breath, and a cry when you exhale again.

Except now, he doesn’t stop.

“Frankie, fuck, Frankie, Frankie, Fr…Fran…FranKIE,” discretion abandoned in favor of open-mouthed pleasure. His pace is brutal and you don’t care who knows that he handles you with a pilot’s precision, one hand encouraging the arch in your back, pulling where it’s wound in your hair, fingers of the other working faster over your clit.

You’re keening as you claw at fabric and bury your face in the armrest, Frankie never letting up as your walls clamp down around him again.

He grits his teeth through your torture, grunting as he continues.

He continues until you’re laughing deliriously.

Until you’re growling.

Whining.

Sobbing.

Jesus, Catfish. Don’t kill her. Frankie’s phone buzzes with a text from Santiago.

Neither of you notice.

You’ve angled your hips to take all of him, hair in your face, death-grip on the armrest because it’s the only thing keeping you here.

He cracks you one last time, has you crying and moaning and screaming for him in the seconds before he holds you fast, deafening you with the guttural scream that rips from his chest as he pumps you full of him, stuttering hips fucking hot spend into you as desperate cries escape his throat.

His teeth sink into your shoulder and his weight becomes yours to bear when he finally quiets and collapses, sucking open-mouthed kisses into your sweat-damp neck between gasps for air.

You stay a moment like this.

Feeling his lungs fill at your back.

Feeling his heart hammer against your spine.

He finds himself enough to take his weight, but your hand grips his hair before he can move much further.

“The couch,” you pant a warning and he catches your logic in his hormone-addled brain, wrapping an arm around your waist and rolling you with him down to the hardwood floor.

His body breaks your fall.

Broad palms roam your stomach, up over your breasts and down again, hot, ragged breath rasping over the shell of your ear and catching in your curls.

He guides your hips up enough to allow him to pull out with a groan before he encourages you over, one hand immediately flying to the base of your skull to bring your mouth to his.

You can feel the warm rush of him between your thighs.

“Was that okay?” He sighs against your lips.

“More than, baby.”

“I missed you.”

And you hum with a smile, raking damp hair out of his face.

You missed him too.

Both of your phones clatter repeatedly against coffee table glass and it finally spurs Frankie to his feet.

You both still alive?

You need electrolytes?

Fish, rub some sugar on her gums.

You read the group texts aloud from your back on the floor and Frankie laughs, returning with a warm washcloth and your underwear.

All good, Santi. So good.

Frankie sits on the couch and kisses your stomach as you stand and shimmy your panties up your legs. He pulls you to curl against him where he can still trail his nose over your sweat-slick neck.

How do I know Fish didn’t take your phone? Proof of life.

It’s tossed offhandedly with a smile. He doesn’t expect his screen to light up with a photo from Fish.

The look on your face in the photo is apologetic, one hand raking the hair out of your eyes, the other holding your phone with the screen lit to display the date and time. Frankie is behind you with his nose pressed into your hair and a Cheshire cat grin playing on his lips.

God, on the COUCH?

Sorry, not sorry, Pope. Is his answer.

Santi offers only the eye-roll emoji in response.

_____

Fifteen minutes later, when you’re both showered and in bed, Frankie’s head resting on your stomach and your hand gently raking through his freshly washed hair, your phone fills the room with blue light.

From Santiago to you alone.

You’re better for him than you know.

The truth is, he hasn’t seen the man smile like that since his daughter was born.

I can’t save him, Pope.

No. But you can make him feel.

And you understand exactly what he means because someone once did the same for you.

You stretch and Fish moves, rolling you onto your side where he can fit against your back, solid arm locked around your waist, breath brushing peacefully against your neck.

Yeah.

You can make him feel.

And sometimes that’s enough.

#frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake

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flowerandblood · 7 months

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✨ Finished Series Masterlist ✨

[ Fanfiction Fanmade Content ]

List of my finished series with Aemond. I update this list on a regular basis. Only for 18+, minors please do not interract. Thank you.

Smut: 💦 | Angst: 💣 | Dark: 💀 | Fans favs: ✨ | Top rated: ⭐

Following, reblogging and commenting is always welcome. I'm trying my best to always reply to reblogs. If you want my direct answer, comment or send me messages and questions on my inbox.

✨ Modern Aemond Mini Series ✨

The Knight & The Judge 💦💣💀✨

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

The Gate of Salvation 💦💣✨

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

The Taste of Shame 💦💣⭐✨

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

Rage | Revenge | Relief 💦💣⭐✨

[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]

The Pearl and The Sapphire 💦💣⭐

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

The Vanity and Variability 💦💣

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

Robbed and gifted 💦💣⭐✨

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

The Golden Cage 💦💣💀⭐

[modern! mafia boss • Aemond x female ]

Wicked prayers, sweet penances 💦✨

[modern! priest • Aemond Targaryen x Strong female]

Girl with a Pearl Earring 💦⭐✨

[modern! photographer • Aemond Targaryen x female]

✨ Modern Aemond Long Series ✨

The Man in the Black Mask 💦💣💀✨

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

The Prince and The Fox 💦💣

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

Glass Cuts Deepest 💦💣⭐✨

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

Green Snake, Red Lion 💦💣⭐✨

[ Slytherin • Aemond x Gryffindor • female ]

The White Flame 💦💣

[ modern! rockstar • Aemond Targaryen x female ]

Sweet kiss, sweet blood 💦💣💀✨

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

The Crime and Punishment 💦💣✨

[ modern! lawyer • Aemond x female ]

My Best Friend 💦✨

[ modern! club owner • Aemond x female]

✨ Canon Aemond ✨

Object of Desire 💦💣💀⭐✨

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

The Impossible Choice 💦💣⭐✨

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

A Winter Beauty 💦💣⭐✨

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark • female ]

The sweetest fruit 💦💣⭐✨

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Valyrian! • female ]

Song from the Sea 💦💣

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Greyjoy! • female ]

272 notes · View notes

starfxkr · 2 months

Note

what do the girls do with the boys on spring break??

ooo great question actually!!!

Scooby and the gang ( jj/kitten + john b/pup) stay on the island and just fuckin kick it. parties constantly, spending all day at the beach, the whole thing. that doesnt mean some fuck shit didn't go down because it absolutely did. im talking like they got shot at and robbed hella empty houses (well jj/kitten did. the other two just drove the Twinkie)

foxy actually visits pope on campus and stays with him because she needed a break. he has a few people hes friendly with but he focuses more on showing her around and spending time with her

if its lamb she doesnt do much of anything on spring break so pope gets her out the house and has her make a list of all the things she wanted to do on spring break but never could. they accomplish a stunning 65% of the thing on there because she got a little overzealous on the list.

rafe takes his bunny out the country for sure. they go to somewhere like the French Riviera and have a ball away from the sameyness of obx. they go to dinner every night and she convinces hi to go dancing. he doesnt dance he just watches her but he likes doin that anyways

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #rafe cameron prompt #john b prompt #pope heyward prompt #kitten!reader #bunny!reader #lamb!reader #puppy!reader #fox!reader

79 notes · View notes

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