#NOR claimed language didn't matter at all

[aeide-thea]

i've said this before but i don't understand why people so often want to frame language vs material action as a zero-sum game

like maybe it's just bc i have lifelong words person brainrot but the way we describe things does matter actually—it has an impact on how ppl frame things in their own minds, which has an impact on how they treat people affected by those things, craft legislation around those things, etc etc

#i've seen this a lot around disability especially and i just feel like #if the issue is that people aren't doing enough wrt material support? fair! #but let's address that as its own issue without being like #'actually ppl would have more energy for this if we stopped making them work really hard to repress all the r-slurs they'd otherwise drop' #like i'm pretty sure the ppl who are dropping slurs are not also fighting for the rights of yr marginalized group #speaking from eg my experience of the 'that's so gay' era #idk. i get why ppl get annoyed abt overzealous language policing esp by allies who picked up an inflexible standard and ran with it #but like. eg misgendering people is 'just language...' #anyway there are lots of other things i could bring up but it just seems like. what if we neither cancelled ppl for language they don't mean #NOR claimed language didn't matter at all #AND framed material change as a goal on its own‚ separate from whatever was or wasn't happening with language? #idk. i'm open to actual discussion here but i'm not sure i've ever seen a nuanced conversation abt this #seems like it's mostly the same folks who are like 'we gotta riot which for some reason means we can't also vote' #anyway i'm just that road to el dorado 'both? both is good' gif #language #theory

[llyfrenfys]

I'd like to preface this with that this is a screenshot of a post I saw a few days ago in the #welsh tag and that the OP has since deleted this post, but the sentiment is something I'd like to address since I see a lot of parallels with this kind of thinking in other contexts, such as in LGBTQIA+ rights conversations.

So, the most obvious elephant in the room is the idea that Welsh is super widely spoken in Wales now and that it isn't in as much danger as other Celtic languages. This idea is wishful thinking at best and erases the very real danger that Welsh is in and that it could be lost just as easily as Irish or Scottish Gaelic. Cornish (which is related to Welsh) actually did die out and has had to be revived. To make a metaphor out of this, we classify languages on a scale of non-threatened to endangered in a similar way to how we classify species.

Here are the statuses of Welsh and Irish as of 2010 (above) and the statuses of Lions and Tigers (below).

On paper tigers are more 'in danger' than lions. But that does not mean that lions are suddenly not in danger at all. The little bracket above CR, EN and VU labels all of these classifications as threatened. It isn't (and definitely shouldn't) be a competition of 'who is most in danger' because you do not want the thing you care about (whether it be a species or a language) to be in danger.

To come back to the original screenshot "they* [Welsh speakers] have always had the means and the ways because the English didn't beat or slaughter them for speaking it"- on the most basic of levels, this is just incorrect. The Welsh Not was a wooden token hung around schoolchildren's necks if they spoke Welsh in school. If someone else spoke Welsh the Not would be hung around their neck. At the end of the school day, whoever was wearing the Not would be beaten and caned by their teachers. I needn't go into much detail but there have been concerted efforts to beat Welsh out of schoolchildren. With the lions vs tigers metaphor, making the claim Welsh speakers have never been beaten for speaking Welsh because they always had the means and ways, while Irish speakers were beaten and never had the means or ways is like claiming poachers have never shot lions, only tigers. Bottom line is, lions and tigers are both victim to poaching and both species have suffered as a result. Similarly, Welsh and Irish have both suffered language loss and both need conservation efforts in order to survive.

(*sidenote- the consistent use of 'them' and 'they' in the original post is definitely indicative of a 'us vs them' sentiment which is a deeply unhelpful attitude to have when it comes to endangered languages and the Celtic languages in particular)

I see parallels with LGBTQIA+ rights in this situation. When equal marriage came in for gay and lesbian couples in the UK in 2014, many allies began to act like gay rights had now been achieved and that gay issues had been done, they're solved. Except, they really weren't (and aren't). Progress has been made in Wales and undeniably Welsh is doing the best out of the living Celtic languages. But that doesn't mean Welsh has been saved or that full equality for Welsh speakers has been achieved. It very much hasn't. The sentiment of the post in the screenshot is not conducive to helping Irish or Scottish Gaelic. Putting down Welsh speakers and erasing Welsh-language history will not save Irish or Scottish Gaelic. Pretending Welsh has had it easy in some kind of lap of luxury is a deeply harmful and bogus claim.

I'll address the tags under the cut as this post is getting long.

To address the tags, personal feelings ≠ an accurate reading of a situation. Nor is it praxis, for that matter. Why is pride in Welsh different/less good than pride in Irish? Is it the assumed proximity to England? If so, that's a terrible claim to make. Not only that, but Scotland is also next to England- does that make pride in Scottish Gaelic the same as pride in Welsh according to this metric? It's a ludicrous thing to say and deeply insensitive to the needs of Scottish Gaelic and Welsh speakers, who cannot help any current or former proximity to England.

Additionally, proximity to England ≠ worse. I know it's a popular internet joke to hate on England because of English attempts to eradicate the Celtic languages, but when the joke becomes praxis, it does not help. England ≠ a place devoid of Celtic languages either. Many English counties near the Welsh border actually have communities of Welsh speakers, such as Oswestry (Croesoswallt) in Shropshire. Cornwall is also home to many speakers of revived Cornish. It does a disservice to Celtic speakers in England to insinuate that proximity to England taints or corrupts them somehow. This is how ethnonationalism starts and we ain't about that.

And "#it feels a little.... blehhhhh you were seen as sophisticated and english enough and you assimilated however the Irish and the Scots? #brutish animals that need to be culled". So, this is arguably one of the worst things to say about a Celtic language- or any threatened language in general. First of all, the 'you were seen as' - 'you' is very telling. The switch from 'them', 'they' to 'you' indicates that this sentiment is aimed at Welsh speakers directly. This was likely a subconscious thing that OP wasn't thinking about when they wrote this. But it does indicate unhealthy feelings of jealousy and bitterness unfairly directed at Welsh speakers, who are also struggling. This righteous anger at the decline of Irish and Scottish Gaelic would be better directed at efforts to help promote those languages- some useful things to get involved with are LearnGaelic, similar to DysguCymraeg but for Scottish Gaelic or supporting channels such as Irish channel TG4 by watching their programmes.

The idea that Welsh speakers were or are 'sophisticated and english enough' is insulting and carries with it a lot of baggage of how any of these assumptions came about. Welsh speakers were definitely not seen as sophisticated. Where Welsh was 'tolerated', it was treated as a curiosity, a relic of a bygone age. Classic museification which all Celtic languages and cultures suffer from as well. Welsh was not tolerated in any legal sense since 1535- with English becoming the only valid administrative language and the language of Welsh courts after England annexed Wales into its Kingdom. Monolingual Welsh speakers suddenly had no access to any legal representation, unless they learned English. This is no voluntary assimilation- it is an act of survival for many speakers of minoritised languages to 'assimilate' into the dominant culture, or else risk losing access to legal security and other kinds of infrastructure. You need only ask any non-native English speaker living in an Anglophone country what that process is like. Welsh people did not see English incursion as an opportunity to become 'sophisticated and english enough', they had to assimilate in order to survive.

The "Irish and the Scots? #brutish animals that need to be culled" is also painfully misrepresenting a very complex social and political process that unfolded over the span of hundreds of years. The phrasing itself of 'brutish animals that need to be culled' speaks to righteous anger at the damage done to these languages and cultures, but it reinforces negative stereotypes about the Irish and Scots themselves. It also is more complicated than a simple English hatred of anything non-Anglo, since the English conception of particularly the Irish changed a lot over the centuries. It was (and still is) rarely consistent with itself. See: the enemy is both strong and weak. The very earliest Celticists were by and large, Anglos or French.

Ernest Renan (1823-1892) for example, was an early French Celticist who published La Poésie des races celtiques (Poetry of the Celtic Races- English translation) in which he says:

"... we must search for the explanation of the chief features of the Celtic character. It has all the failings, and all the good qualities, of the solitary man; at once proud and timid, strong in feeling and feeble in action, at home free and unreserved, to the outside world awkward and embarrassed. It distrusts the foreigner, because it sees in him a being more refined than itself, who abuses its simplicity. Indifferent to the admiration of others, it asks only one thing, that it should be left to itself. It is before all else a domestic race, fitted for family life and fireside joys. In no other race has the bond of blood been stronger, or has it created more duties, or attached man to his fellow with so much breadth and depth"

Yeah. This guy (unsurprisingly) was a white supremacist. Note that this sentiment is being applied to all people considered Celtic by Renan- Irish, Welsh, Breton, Scottish, Cornish, Manx etc. None unscathed by the celtophobia of the day. In this period, Celticity was romanticised (yet disparaged at the same time). It is less 'brutish animals' and more 'archaic, time-frozen peoples' in this period. Of course, 'brutish animals' attitudes towards Celticity did still exist, but it is disingenuous to act as if it was this attitude alone which drove English celtophobia. Like many things, it is always more complicated and never clear cut as it might seem.

I'll bring this to a close shortly, but returning to OP's suggestion that the Welsh assimilated and the Scots and Irish did not, is also incorrect in that some Scots did have to assimilate to survive as well. The Statutes of Iona (1609) required Scottish Gaelic speaking Highland chiefs to send their sons away to be educated in Scots and/or English in Protestant schools. Many did as the statutes required, which led to further language loss in the Highlands of Scottish Gaelic. These are acts of survival- and not ones always taken willingly.

This has been a long post but it's one which I felt I wanted to address. There's no need for infighting between speakers of Celtic languages over who has it worse. There isn't any answer to that question, nor is it a good use of time or energy. All in all, the Celtic languages have suffered greatly over the years and its only just now that some of them are turning a corner. If you care about these languages, put your energy into something good. Only through active work will these languages be saved for generations to come.

#long post #lukes originals #cymraeg #gaelige #gaidhlig #Irish #Welsh #Scottish Gaelic #politik #not dictionary related #Celticist #Celtic Studies #This took a lot of energy to write so if you found this post useful please consider reblogging

[scekrex]

Consider chasing dick instead of pussy

prompt by @akiriyo

pairing: Adam x male!angel!reader

warnings: language & implied sexual intimacy I guess

note: not beta read bc idc

You were completely zoned out, your hand was supporting your head so that it wouldn't slap down on the table.

It was yet another day of Adam complaining - seriously the guy was complaining more about his ex wives than you two were having a normal conversation about anything else. Because no matter what you were talking about, Adam somehow always found a way to talk about Lilith and Eve. And once started, his ranting could go on for hours, there were countless nights without sleep simply because the man wouldn't stop talking about his fucking cheating bitches of ex wives. And with every other sentence he then claimed that ‘he’s totally over it’ and that he doesn't need them anyways.

Fucking bullshit.

“Yo, are you even listening, bitch?” the first man asked all of a sudden, fingers snapping in front of your face to get your attention.

“You should've dated a fucking guy instead of these bitches, y’know. All fucking day you keep complaining about how awful they were, how they cheated on you with Lucifer, how they betrayed you and how you'll never be able to get into a healthy relationship with a woman ever again because of those two cunts. Well then fucking quit chasing after pussy and try dick, you fucking idiot.” In all honesty? You really didn't know where that came from nor were you sure if Adam had been able to understand you because of how fast you were talking but by God it felt good. 

Because for once there was silence. Pure, blissful silence.

“What?” was all that came from your counterpart. His golden eyes were widened, confusion was written all over his face and he seemed truly taken aback. You simply huffed, now that you had started it, you might've might as well finish it.

“Y’know all I hear from you lately is ‘That whore Lilith did this’ and ‘Fuckin cheating cunt Eve did that' fucking quit it already and date guys. If you would've looked at me back in Eden for once, just fucking once, you would've been able to save yourself a lot of trouble. But instead you were chasing bitches that were rather bouncing on fucking Lucifer's dick than yours.”

His expression changed, confusion was replaced with realization and you just thanked God that this man seemed to have enough of his brain left to catch on to what you were saying.

“Fuck, you-” the brunette started. He had sure been expecting something but this? This wasn't something he had been noticing, not until you brought it up that was. “You were visiting Eden because of me?”

“Ding, ding, full points. You want a fucking trophy for being able to follow my words?” you bit back, slightly annoyed by his oblivion. Had Adam really been that blind to not notice the ways you've been staring at him a little longer than friends did? That you were always there for him, no matter how late, no matter what?

Adam's expression soured slightly at your choice of words and he shot a quick “Fuck you” your way. “You could've just fucking said so y’know.” Another huff escaped you as you got up from the chair you were sitting on to be on eye level with him - Adam was still sitting on the chair across the small table. “I could've just said so? Are you kidding? I've been fucking trying to but every time I tried you brought up your ex whores.”

Adam was silent again, he did nothing but to simply look you in the eyes.

That was until he grabbed you by the collar of your robe and pulled you in roughly. You stumbled slightly forwards, your knees hitting against his as your arm shot towards the backrest of the chair Adam was sitting on in order to not collapse on top of him. And then his lips brushed against yours, harshly and firm, far from soft and lovingly. One of his hands wandered to your neck, he made sure you wouldn't pull away too soon. But you weren't thinking about ending the kiss, you had been waiting for thousands of years for this to happen.

Adam parted his legs to pull you in closer, your chest was now flush against his and his hand that had been gripping your collar just moments ago was now on your ass.

And all you were able to think about was that you now had an effective method to shut Adam up properly.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #adam x y/n #adam x you #male reader #adam x reader

[mall0ww]

Bad habits ~

Simon " Ghost " Riley x Gn! Reader || He catches you smoking

CW's : smoking, insecurities, slight argument, ooc || lmk if there's anything else

Not proofread and I can't write his accent ffs :(

- - -

" There you are. "

Exactly that voice, that would usually make your eyes light up, that made your heart beat just the slightest bit faster whenever you heard it-

That voice was what made your body visibly tense up in this very moment. Your breath seemed to get stuck in your throat, combined with the little smoke cloud that you were just inhaling. The nicotine scratched just perfectly, the taste so disgusting yet so addicting at the same time.

But that's what it took for you to relax. Seemingly the only thing that helped, even if you knew damn well that it wasn't healthy at all. You couldn't care less in those moments.

You blinked once, twice.

Then you remembered that you have a visitor here, in the middle of the night, somewhere near or far from the base. You couldn't even remember how far you went, so lost in your own thoughts. Hell, you wouldn't even be able to recall how to walk back and since when you went outside.

You just wanted to feel at ease again.

" Guess so. "

Were the only words, spoken in a broken whisper, that you gave as answer. You didn't even turn around to face your Lieutenant, your silly crush or whatever.

It wasn't like you to be this dismissive towards Ghost. He knew it, you knew it.

And that's what raised his suspicion even more.

" You should be in the base at this hour. "

The Lieutenant spoke. As if he actually cares about those kind of rules. As if he didn't know about how often you've already sneaked out at night.

You took another pull of your cigarette, finally turning in his direction.

Maybe you didn't want him to see the glassy hue of your eyes in the dim light of the moon and the stars, maybe you didn't want him to see the paleness of your skin from the cold wind, maybe you didn't want him to see your shivering hand that held oh so tightly on the little cigarette between your pointer and middle finger-

But you did.

Never did you want to appear weak in front of the squad, always keeping your tough and maybe even sometimes cold facade. Yet it seemed like you couldn't fool them with that anymore. Especially not Ghost.

You couldn't read his expression, his balaclava staying on as always, even at this time of the hour. The hoodie was casting a shadow over his eyes, making you unable to read just the slightest bit of his emotions.

Even though his body language didn't speak much, just being slightly tense as usual, there was something off. Something was different about him. Or his emotions. You couldn't decipher more than those little informations.

" And? ", Your voice sounded shaky. Even more than before. Unsure, if you might say.

" That's none of your business. Lieutenant or not, you've never stopped me before. So why do you act like you care now? "

There was no judgement in your voice. Neither anger nor similar. As if you were speaking some kind of fact.

Maybe it was the frustration, maybe just the desire to finally feel better, that you decided to take the next pull of your cigarette more quickly.

There was a low sigh to be heard.

" Look, I couldn't care less about whatever you do. I could easily get you punished for disobeying the simplest of rules like staying at the base at this time. "

His voice sounded like he didn't care. Just like he claimed. Yet, there was some kind of emotion flickering in his eyes for a moment. So brief that you missed it. In the end you couldn't have noticed it either because of the shadow his hoodie was casting over his face.

And so, even though you'd never admit that out loud, his words stung.

" Well then, get me fired or whatever. I don't even care anymore. No matter how hard I try, I'll never fit in with any of you. Y'all might get along oh so well, but I'll never truly belong here. So what even is my purpose? To be humoured from everyone here, to not be taken seriously for whatever reason? I've been with y'all here for over a year. Yet I'll never fit in. So do you seriously think I'll care if you fire me? "

Finally, your words held some kind of emotion. Even if it only was some frustration.

Once more, you were close to tears. The shaking of your hands got more prominent as you threw your cigarette down to the ground and put it out with your foot.

The next words he spoke were like a slash in the heart. They were cold, devoid of any emotion.

" It's not my problem that you think acting all tough and cold will get you the attention you seemingly need so much. Quit whining and get back to the base, if you do that I'll let you of without any consequences. If you don't, then you'll have to live with the consequences. "

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #x reader #gn reader

[pikahlua]

Thoughts on the official translation of 405?

Yeah, thoughts abound.

1. Is the official translation of the final line in chapter 405 accurate? No.

2. Regardless, some people think it's inaccurate in really blatant ways that it actually is not. For example, some people think the official translation is changing some explicitly used pronouns around. If there's EVER anything about Japanese that isn't completely clear, it's what the pronouns should be--because the vast majority of them are implied.

3. Re: the "yeah yeah" line, I can conceive of a delivery of the line that does not sound disrespectful. That doesn't mean that's how the translator meant it, and this translator does have a habit of translating Katsuki's rude language with a certain *VIBE* that I don't always agree with--but that doesn't change the fact that Katsuki does speak very rudely and the translator clearly tries to capture that in the way they seem to think is best.

4. It's quite a leap to claim that this official translation is inaccurate due to deliberate malice, which I see a lot of people doing. From what I can tell, the translator just didn't realize the final line is a callback to chapter 322. Without that context, yeah, I can see how it'd be difficult to fully understand what's being said there, because enough of the words are vague or implied that it'd be confusing what Katsuki's talking about without that realization. Katsuki doesn't say "I (ore)" in the line, he says "kocchi (this/here)," which depending on the context can mean "I, we, us over here on this side (of the line, of the argument)." He also doesn't say "Izuku/Deku/that nerd" specifically, he says "aitsu (that guy over there)" with the kanji reading as "One For All." Without the context of chapter 322, it could easily read like "we'll wipe the floor with you where those One For All guys couldn't."

5. Building off #4, we need to be a little more self-aware as fans. When you are a big fan of something, you're gonna be more likely to remember specific lines and notice callbacks and be keyed into the little details. First of all, not everyone is capable of that, especially with respect to a long 405-chapter-and-counting manga. This line is referencing something that the translator hasn't necessarily seen in over two years. Should the translator have to comb back through the entire manga every week just to be safe? Is that really feasible? Of course I'd love for the official translation to be as accurate as possible, but when you're translating something on a weekly basis that isn't even finished yet, it's just a fact that there will be times you miss things. You don't always have the luxury of time to go back and check for things you've missed that need to be tied together. I've messed up lines in my translations before too. Please keep in mind this is the translator's JOB, not necessarily their PASSION. They're likely translating multiple projects at the same time for a meager paycheck. They've got a lot of stuff to remember from various projects at the same time, and they're gonna miss stuff on occasion. Did the translator "not care" in this case? I think it's far more likely the translator cares enough, but if they're not in the fandom they're not gonna care more than the fans nor should we expect them to.

The proper response is not to ATTACK THE TRANSLATOR'S LIVELIHOOD like I see MANY people doing, holy crap.

Translating is often a thankless job. No one writes Viz telling them how good of a job the translator is doing when they get 99% of the translations right. The most obsessive fans often jump on mistakes as if those mistakes are personal attacks. But we're complaining about 1 or 2 lines out of the whole chapter. The rest was pretty good. That's the case for most chapters. It's hard to justify claiming malice when the translator far more often than not gets it right. But goodness, attacking the translator is not going to endear you to anyone who matters. If the translation is something you truly care about and you want to foster nontoxic fandom spaces and have good relationships between the fandom and the producers, a more proper response would be something like:

"Hey Viz, I think the translator missed this key bit of context which could have helped him with this line's translation. I love Horikoshi's work and want the best for it, and I think the translator cares about doing a good job. Would you please let the translator know about this and have him look into it for the official print tankoban release in English?"

The more you alienate and dogpile the translator, the less they're gonna care about doing a good job.

#ask pika #anon ask #my hero academia manga spoilers #final showdown spoilers #linguistics fun

[skyeslittlecorner]

Point to point - Andrealphus

Writing for him relieves my stress, so he will be my scapegoat until February. Sorry dear, love you. You're lucky I can't write smut.

Words: 866

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Living with a demon is different than you thought.

Is it constant sex and idyll? Neither one nor the other. But that doesn't mean it's not fun.

"Don't touch me by surprise." He asked when he first stepped foot in your house. "I don't want to hurt you."

You tried, but couldn't get used to it. Touching and cuddling was your love language. Even if you managed to warn him, there were times when you forgot and hugged him unexpectedly. He never hurt you, but always stiffen.

"I have an idea how to solve this." Dusting the shelves one day made you inspired. "Let's set a sign!"

"Sign?"

  "Yes! It's about the surprise touching." You reminded him, words coming out faster than your thoughts.

Leaving the cloth, he wiped his hands and came closer.

"What do you mean?"

You stroked his cheek with your finger.

"What do you say to that? I'll remember to pet you more than to talk to you."

With a calm smile, he reached for your hand and cuddled up to it.

"I like this idea, and now..."

He moved your fingers to his own lips, that were soft and hot. Long tongue wrapped around your fingers. The bolt of pleasure rushing through you to the bottom.

"Cleaning can wait."

Point for him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

He gently bandaged your wounds. The stitched hand already looked good, but you still refrained from hissing in pain. His alert ears picked up on it. Leaning down and gently moving his lips, he kissed your skin over the bandage.

"What are you doing…?"

"Giving you painkillers."

You blushed. Such a strong medicine always worked. Of course, he couldn't see your red cheeks, but you made sure to show him. Rough fingers felt warm on your face. He chuckled, leaned down and kissed you.

Point for him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You found a new hobby. What's better than a men's shirt? A men's shirt for sleeping, of course. It's baggy. Comfortable. Smells like him. Touched his body. You could walk around like this all day, and you were going to, if you had the day off. You wondered if he would ever find out. Three days passed, and you felt brave enough to put on the shirt from his uniform and didn't bother with the buttons. He had no idea anyway, right? Excitement consumed your spine and abdomen. 

While you were making coffee this morning, he walked behind you, and you felt a tug on the collar.

"You think I don't know?" He pulled the fabric down. Of course, the unbuttoned shirt came off. "It doesn't smell like you."

You grumbled something under your breath in response, but not very clearly, because his hands landed on your waist and his lips on the back of your neck. Legs buckled beneath you as his grip tightened.

Point for him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

The bathroom had always been a battleground, and you had the impression that he was doing it on purpose. He could tell from a distance if you were wearing his clothes, but he couldn't smell if he was using shampoo or soap? And this text that "the smell doesn't matter here"? Of course, it does! There are no nettle soaps. But he stubbornly claimed that it was impossible and that you have to show him what's where.

You would understand if you were to stay in the bathtub with him, but that wasn't the case. Sometimes he would just ask you to help him wash his hair. You had a small bathtub, and he didn't want to splash everything by the shower. But he was always polite. Way too polite. Never tried to pull you in. 

But finally, you understood why, when from under the foam you saw beautiful, shiny and black horns.

"Ready?" He gurgled from somewhere below.

"Just a moment. We have to do this carefully."

You changed the angle of the shower and ran your hand through his hair, lazily stroking the base of the horn. He shuddered. You felt it under your palm and saw him hunch his head in his arms.

"I think it is enough…"

"I think not!"

It was too big to wrap your hand around, so you stroked it in a long motion, from the base, through the spirals, to the tip. You put the shower down and turned it off. No water needed anymore.

Andrea was breathing heavily. You could see cuts from his claws on the porcelain where he held his fingers. Suddenly you envied the furniture. These scars should be on your body. And you’ll get them. You leaned in to whisper sweetly into his ear.

"Almost."

Then you started massaging his hard shoulders and ran your tongue over his black horns again. You took the tip in your mouth, it was surprisingly sweet.

"If you don't leave..." He growled throatily.

This threat only awakened your own inner demon.

"Make me."

A strong grip pull you into the bathtub. You were wet, and not just from water. He kissed you deeply before you could protest; hungrily, like his life depended on it. You forgot that you were supposed to tease him, but your blacking memory didn't change anything.

Finally, a point for you.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb andrealphus #he's like this squeeze ball to relieve stress for me #hades boys tomorrow

[xreaderbooks]

Always (2)

Pair: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Language (?) and angst

Summary: Y/n takes some time to reflect on the decision she needs to make and confronts Azriel.

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, I tagged those of you who asked for a part 2. Let me know what you think <3

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Part 1

You were gone. No one had heard from you for a whole 2 weeks and to say they were confused was an understatement. One second you were laughing along with them, wine drunk with Azriel by your side helping you stay steady enough to watch the stars fall, and the next you had given them no sign of life. Azriel could feel from the bond that you were in fact alive, you just needed your space and so that was what he told the others.

He left out the part that he had royally fucked up in his delivery but you hadn't given him the chance to explain himself, you had always known when something was wrong and as closed off as he might be, you were the only one who could read him like a book.

You closed yourself off in your apartment, and when you were in need of fresh air you went out for a walk by the sidra, you tried out new places that were opening up around Velaris. Everything and anything to keep your mind off of him no matter how much you needed to way out your options.

You were engaged. To Eris of all fae. Eris was your sister's fiancee once upon a time too, not that you wanted him in the first place. You couldn't help but think that Mor's tragic history was now your plot line.

You and Eris worked together to infiltrate Keir's secrets in the court of nightmares, your father trusted him and because you allowed yourself to be under his control, the result was your betrothal to the heir of the Autumn Court. It worked in everyone's favor, though when you had told the rest of your family it had not gone over so well. Mor couldn't be in the same room as you- much less you and Eris- for months.

Eventually, you had opened up on the advantages it would serve, Eris was already allied with the night court privately now no one in the court of nightmares could suspect your deception. It was a whole twisted mess of double-crossings.

You and Eris teamed up as a couple pretending to be spying on the inner circle and feeding false information to the enemy while in reality, you were spying on your father, giving Rhysand everything. It was enough to give you a headache. Now adding Azriel into the mix- Would ruin everything you worked so hard to build.

All these years of faking your loyalty and devotion to your father with everything he has done to you and your sister so that you can be the eyes and ears in places your high lord cannot, the one goal in your ruse was to be free of him without breaking what you built. Eris was the way to do that, he was technically on your side and you've spoken of the past, he was a handsome male that could please you just fine.

It didn't matter that he wasn't the one you wanted because, for all you knew at the time, the one you longed for's heart, beat for someone else.

You had never known Azriel to be selfish but lately, he had made it a new habit that you weren't so sure about. How dare he? How dare he do this to you!

The audacity of this man! Azriel would cost you everything and you would pay for it, willingly. He hadn't needed to speak for you to know what he wanted from you.

What you would have given to have him reach for you the way he did that night. The way you pined for him, in your 500 years of living your heart beat for no other male. Fae, Illyrian, both, human, even High Lord at one point. No one could compare to Azriel. Your mind, body, and soul were are his. However, it was time you gave up your unofficial claim on him he wasn't yours nor you his- or so you thought.

Nothing would become of this childish infatuation you grew accustomed to. And so you worked to keep your thoughts on your future without him, a future you knew where Azriel would find someone who would love him.

A century later and here you were, clutching your chest to keep from the panic crawling up your throat.

If only this had happened sooner-

Before it got so messy before you accepted Eris' proposal and appeared before your father claimed your hand. He so eagerly accepted, his hunger for power clear in his eyes, so blind for it that he's unaware of the upper hand you and your soon-to-be husband have.

If only he had loved you when you didn't have all these responsibilities that a relationship- mateship with him would tear down.

After a week of shutting yourself out, you spoke to Eris. He knew all about your feelings for Azriel and though he was jealous, you were his- at the time. When you told him you needed to speak to him he already knew. He gave you one last kiss before making a smartass remark about how he'd be there when you got bored.

You didn't know how you were going to deal with your father just yet but you would clean up one mess at a time.

Days later you finally gathered up the courage to speak to him. It was almost dusk when you had opened up the bond and willed him to come to you. The wind brought him to the middle of your sitting room within a minute.

His head was bent, he looked like a little boy who was caught in the pantry. You sighed and took his hand leading him to your couch and pushing down his broad shoulders for him to sit in the middle. His brows furrowed in confusion as you backed away and intertwined your fingers.

"I am going to talk and you are going to listen," Your eyes flickered between both of his hazel ones. "Got it?"

He nodded eagerly, though he wouldn't meet your gaze.

"I cannot accept the bond-" From your side of the link, you felt his heart clench, "Not yet at least. I need to know this is real Az."

You could tell he wanted to speak but you knew that he wouldn't, not until you've said your peace. Tears begin to well up at how hard it was to say this out loud, "I will always love you. More than you will ever know Azriel, but I will not be a replacement for all the women you could not have. For all, I've known you never showed the slightest bit of interest in me prior to Starfall. Now I'm going to ask you- and I want the truth Az- Do you want this?"

His eyes were glossed over as he looked up at you through his lashes, "Do you want me?" Your voice broke.

He stood from his place on your couch, sauntering over to you, and he reached a hand out. Fingertips softly brushed fallen strands of your hair from your face, behind your ear, tracing a finger from your ear to your jaw. Slowly and painfully he dragged his finger to the tip of your chin forcing your eyes to meet his and you are weak.

"I have been so blind Y/n," He whispers.

"That's not an answer," You shake your head, and he drops his hand. Your voice was like stone though your nerves were on fire, "Do you love me Azriel?"

"I love you, Y/n L/n."

You wanted so badly to believe him. The thought of the mating bond forcing him to make him feel this way made you sick. "What about Elain?"

Azriel winced but spoke cooly, "An infatuation that is over and done."

"And Mor?"

"I loved her," Your stomach turned. "But the love I had for her, in that way, is gone and it does not compare to how I feel for you. The bond does nothing but intensify the love I have for you, the love that I have hidden away long ago."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" You scoff. "You forget that I've been there Az, throughout everything. You are not shy with your love, I should know, I've seen the way you love."

He shakes his head in denial, "I love you Y/n."

"What happens if one day Mor decides she loves you?" Something you knew would never actually happen but you needed to know.

"I love you-"

"Azriel-"

"I love you."

You playfully push him away from you, "You can't keep saying that when you have nothing to back it up with." He takes a hold of your waist with one hand and grabs the back of your neck, attaching his lips to yours. He kisses you with an intensity you've never felt from any other male, you melt into the kiss wrapping your arm around his shoulder and running your hands through his hair. Your body was pressed against his, adding heat to a situation you weren't sure you wanted to add to. His lips were intoxicating, you didn't want to stop but your mind wouldn't stop thinking about all the unanswered questions.

You broke away from the kiss, pushing him an arm's length away. "You said I talked too much."

He barked out a laugh, "What?"

"You told me that a couple of years ago," He took a step toward you but your arm held strong.

"I love you Y/n."

"I snore-"

"No you don't," Azriel snorted and removed your hand from his shoulder, bringing you into him with an arm. He pressed kisses up and down your neck, "I thought you wanted me to prove my love and here you are trying to give me reasons not to love you."

Azriel added his tongue to his kisses and began to suck on one spot in particular that had your knees weak.

"You said it yourself that I'm too much for you."

He paused his attack on your neck holding your face in his large hands, "Because I love you and you deserve better. Besides, I've dealt with you for well over two centuries I think I can deal with you for the rest of my life."

"I need you to prove it."

"I'll prove it to you for as long as I live," Azriel bent his neck down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Taglist: @mulansaucey - @jadepearsonn - @benbarnes-supremacy - @seppys-return-to-madness - @azriel-luvr - @marina468 - @zealousballoonfox

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x azriel #azriel x morrigans sister reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagines #mor acotar #elain archeron

[lordadmiralfarsight]

I (main blog of avantlalettre) will butcher you my beautiful saber and throw your remains in a river if you dont publicly denounce vaspider for calling ME,a female of 16 years,a perverted man. And furthermore your soul shall go to hell afterwards where it shall forever be trapped in a pool of flie's larvae,ice,and human refuse wherein you shall be tormented by your demonic hosts and force to pursue the Adversary's standard through this ocean of purulence for the remainder of eternity. However you can avoid this if you denounce vaspider,apologize to me,and delete your reply

Don't be surprised that people assume you're a guy when the name of your blog is Karl prince of darkness, Karl is a typically male name and people are gonna assume, doesn't matter how long you've been a female.

I didn't see anything about perversion in Vaspider's reply, so I'm going to guess you tacked that on yourself and that it's your opinion of all men. Nice essentialism there dipshit, but switching "woman bad" with "man bad" doesn't make you a genious or anything close to good, it makes you a narrowminded asshole. As a man, vas te faire retourner par une chèvre, suce-merde.

I don't believe in your soul thingy, so your threats mean fuck all to me.

Even if I somehow took into account your worldview, calling you an idiot on the internet wouldn't justify that severe of a punishment, especially for eternity, so you claiming that shows you are either exaggerating or you have an incredibly inflated opinion of your own worth on a metaphysical level. Either way, your threats are worthless even in your own belief system.

Reading the first line made me wonder if I had somehow gotten a yandere stalker. If you want people to give you the time of day, try not to talk like a deranged lunatic.

The overly wordy way you write is also doing you no favor, as it makes you sound like a melodramatic twat. You don't sound smart, you sound arrogant. Just in case, and so you understand, here's a TL;DR in your own language : I, Farsight, Lord Admiral by the Grace of my Shipping Heart, do declare that your vile perfidy and obtuse demagoguery are most unwanted upon these hallowed piers, that your hackneyed threats are as void of meaning as the soul of a gull is of decency, that your biases are a stain most revolting and that your very presence is neither wanted, nor tolerated. Begone from my dock. Or, for normal people : blocked. And if you somehow contact me again, I will contact the police regarding the very real and actual death threat in the first sentence of this bullshit. And as I live in France, where death threats ARE legally penalized, that means legal consequences :) So fuck off my dock, and never come back. Vas te faire voire chez quelqu'un qui en a quelque chose à foutre de tes conneries.

#My first death threat on tumblr! #This feels like a rite of passage #and it's pseudo-spiritualist religious bullshit too #I wonder if that's a collector #can I sell it ? #I'd make an NFT of it if NFTs were still around #it's utter worthless bullshit #which makes it perfect for an NFT #“ME; a female of 16 years!” #So what #I've been a man for almost 32 years #gender + age ain't an achievement #but seriously death threats have legal consequences in France #if that moron comes back or tries anything I AM going to the police station #and I'm a teacher #and considering how many high profile teacher murders have happened in recent years #they'll listen #they kind of have to

[profeyandere]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 𝐊. ─── ☾ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃

Masterlist || Daniel Brühl Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, panic attack, murders

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

That little building in New York no longer felt like the warm, sweet home he loved so much. Now, everything around him had been covered in a dark thick icy mist that had appeared once he had made sure that you were gone. He didn't expect to be able to blame you for it, either.

Laszlo, no matter how hard he tried to search his innermost thoughts, could not remember having felt such sharp and persistent pain in his life until he finally found the courage to return home and face the situation in which he had found himself. He had become immersed because he was unable to keep his mouth shut and the comments at bay, finding that tragic December night a home that was no longer what he had left that same morning. In the depths of his heart he hoped to see you in the living room, sitting in his armchair or on the soft sofa that characterized the room, with one of his many blankets in your lap while you tried to calm your usual nerves about meeting him again or doing one of the many activities you planned for the afternoons, perhaps reading one of the various astronomy books in which you had shown special interest in recent months with a cup of chamomile to soothe your headaches or trying to finish knitting the dark wool gloves for him with the excuse that even if you didn't like that activity, you wanted him to stay warm enough during the harsh winter that was lashing New York while investigating the latest case he had been involved in, even if he knew that your disgust for the last mentioned activity was a little lie that you had developed over the years and that he had discovered by having seen you smile on more than one occasion while you practiced with Mary a new type of stitch; you always showed a particular distaste for activities that were characteristic of women, but he had learned to observe that you were actually quite content with them and that you could come to appreciate them even if you claimed otherwise.

But now that he had returned home, he felt an emptiness in him, not hearing your playful laugh resonate because of some joke that Stevie had told you, nor could he distinguish your quick and agile steps becoming louder and closer that indicated that you had heard him home, much less was he able to feel the warmth that enveloped his home when you were in it. He noticed the lack of your presence, and it was not necessary to be very intelligent or have a university degree to make sure of it because he only had to analyze himself to realize it; Anguish had been the feeling that had taken over his body, then eliminating the anger that had been controlling him for much of the day.

Laszlo hadn't wanted you to get involved in the case of the missing children, the same ones that days later turned up murdered wherever the maniac who ended their lives wanted to show them. He assumed from the beginning that the scenarios in which he would be involved would be dangerous, after all, they were looking for a murderer, and he knew that the places they would visit would be quite unpleasant judging by what John Moore, his dear friend, had previously described. He just wanted to keep you safe, in the comfort of his home, while he and the small team he had assembled took it upon themselves to put an end to the wave of murders that was causing so much fear in the inhabitants of the splendid American city.

All he did was try to keep you away from the monsters beyond the gates of his home, but he didn't make sure that the most horrible being you had at your side. You had him, and he wasn't able to protect you then.

Tension, nerves, and anxiety had taken over his body, being felt that he was unable to control for not finding a solution to the case on which he was working so hard. He felt devastated for not finding a solution to such a problem, being forced to constantly search and review the same psychology books that he had read so many times and that, on this occasion, were not providing him with the required help. Barely a few days had passed since the death of the first young people belonging to rather unfortunate families was announced, but the desire to end it became more palpable as the hours passed; The only thing the doctor wanted was to end the case with a happy ending, return home as he usually did and hug you, thus eliminating the intrusive thoughts that crowded his mind and that prevented him on many occasions from resting as it should. You, being aware of the latter, had decided to visit Laszlo at his usual place of work to check his state of health.

He would have appreciated your visit on other occasions, he would have felt a familiar tingle once he had seen you open the door of his office to greet him with your loving smile, and he would have watched your bright eyes that would light up more and more as the seconds passed, and you watched him, but at that moment all he saw in you was a distraction he didn't want to deal with; he didn't want to be with you at that moment, and he wanted you to leave as soon as possible. You greeted him excitedly, asking about his day, and soon after you started talking about how worried you were that he was so deep in the case that he wasn't even taking care of himself, which you assumed all along and which is why you asked John and Sarah to take care of him while you weren't around; Although your innocence, concern, and dedication to the doctor could be seen as a blessing in most cases, he just wanted you to shut up at that moment, turn around and go home, he just wanted you to understand what his cold look wanted to tell you, but it was not like that.

You didn't understand him, or you didn't want to, and Laszlo took it out on you.

You saw his shoulders tense as you approached him and his desk, this time lowering your tone of voice as you presumed that a new wave of emotional headaches was at work again in his head. You sighed softly and walked around his desk, positioning yourself on one side of him with the intention of easing that pain by massaging his temples. It was when you finally placed one of your delicate hands on top of his, gently stroking the knuckles of his left hand to calm him down and show your support, that you finally saw how the beast he seemed to have kept hidden finally came out to unleash its full wrath on you. He quickly withdrew his hand from yours, surprising you with the movement and causing you to take a step back to give him some space, then raised your head to meet his gaze with yours, his being the one that flashed with feelings of anger and rage that ran through his body and that was impossible to control. He raised his voice at you in a way you didn't expect, ordering you to get out of his office, leaving you completely shocked by what had just happened and by what you had heard. You tried to refute what he had just told you, asking and begging him to let you stay and letting him know that you wouldn't speak anymore if he required it, but then he started to hurt you with the words that you would have least imagined. You had always had certain limitations in learning, you always recognized that obvious fact, and many times you doubted that your intelligence was the same as that of an average person your age, you had even felt bad enough on several occasions to question yourself if it was enough for Laszlo for that small impairment, but it was his words of encouragement, full of affection and always sincere that made those intrusive thoughts disappear, but now he brought out that insecurity to make you see that perhaps your assumptions were correct; He pointed out how stupid you looked around him and how you tried to keep people from seeing that big flaw of yours through the kindness you showed, trying to make witty comments but only making others laugh at how silly you seemed and that The fact that people were so sweet to you was because they found you as silly as a 3-year-old.

In short: Laszlo confirmed your biggest fear.

From the moment the doctor began to bring up that insecurity, placing special emphasis on what others thought of you, you felt how you stopped hearing from one moment to the next. You could perfectly see your fiancé open and close his mouth, and move his hands to express himself more freely, but it was impossible for you to understand what he was saying due to the feeling of sadness and anxiety that had begun to devastate you. You had heard of anxiety attacks, Laszlo had explained them to you after you had had to calm down one of the many children at school who had sought refuge in you the first time he attended the doctor's therapy, and, now if you were suffering it in the same way that young man suffered then, he made you understand that Laszlo was no longer a safe place for you; he was the one who was causing that to you, and you didn't want that to happen again, you refused.

When Laszlo watched you leave with teary eyes, your chest rising and falling at an alarming rate, and your hands slightly trembling, he knew he hadn't been able to protect you the way he wanted. He had failed you.

Now that he was home, remembering those agonizing minutes you'd suffered, he couldn't help but grit his teeth at the rage he felt at himself, letting out a snort to calm the anxiety that had begun to take over him. With his heart in a fist, he began to walk slowly towards the living room while he prayed that you were waiting for him there, just as he had previously imagined when he had entered his house, but it was not like that. Stopping on the threshold that separated the living room from the hall, he made sure that the vibrant colors that were always in that room were just a product of his imagination because now that you weren't there; everything had taken on grayer and sadder colors, only having a small flash of crimson in the small ring that was on the coffee table in front of the sofa that you always occupied to talk about your busy mornings and afternoons, both of you using that precise moment to appreciate to the other in the way you longed for, but now you weren't there, just the reminder that you were once there.

Laszlo realized that he had lost you forever and there would be no way to get you back.

The house felt cold again and as lonely as it had before I met you.

#laszlo kreizler #laszlo #kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x oc #reader #you #oc #daniel brühl #laszlo kreizler imagine #daniel brühl imagine #the alienist

[marsprincess889]

Please, please, read.

Saw something dissapointing and not surprising online.

There was a post on insta about the Barbie movie's oscars snubs. One woman goes on to write about how she didn't like the movie and how she feels forced to love it because it's everywhere and everyone seems to love it. Granted, she did use a rather strong(but still polite) language, but I do agree with her.

A man replies to her, not knowing her gender, something along the lines of "you should just admit you're an insecure male."

The woman replies that he, in fact, is a she.

And believe or not, he then proceeds to reply that "no man would type so much nonsense" and that "only a woman who has spent her life realizing that she's inferior to men would go on and on."..............

I was going to reply to him that he had managed to write way more nonsense with way less words but he's so not worth interacting with. And yet I feel insulted.

First of all, I don't care if any if you love this movie and want to defend it. I just don't like it, and that's not the point.

The point, to me, is that maybe we should stop encouraging the surface-level, superficial feminism, when the very thing that people believe is helping equality does virtually nothing. A lot of you are going to argue that its impact was enough, but was it really?

I, personally, felt alienated by the whole hype. Very happy for those people who loved the movie and found meaning in it, but that was not my experience. I did not in any way feel represented while watching it. I definitely did not feel empowered and I don't think that there's anything wrong with that. People are allowed to have their their own taste, and everyone should be allowed to express their opinion, and if a woman is silenced like that just because her opinion is not popular, then maybe everyone should think twice about the whole situation. The vast majority of the world claims that, or at least acts as if the movie has helped the whole female population.

I've seen so many posts online defending the movie to the point where anyone who dislikes it is attacked.

I'm not an activist, nor do i write stuff like this, nor do I engage in debates about this subject online or in real life, but this felt personal.

Maybe it was because throught witnessing that woman's experience, I felt silenced myself.

Why shouldn't I call out an ignorant, arrogant, mysoginistic scum?

The ones like him are those who keep the inequality going.

And equality IS DEFINITELY NOT ABOUT MAKING WOMEN SIMILAR TO MEN, IT'S ABOUT EMPOWERING FEMININITY AND EACH AND EVERY WOMAN, despite what they're like. It's about giving each and every one of them voice. Men have no business teaching women about feminism.

Yes, I feel angry about it. So what?

But I'm also not going to allow him or anyone like him to diminish my self-worth or spirit.

I feel confident that there are people, no matter their gender(if they even have one) who agree with me. There must be.

The movie might have dabbled in gender equality, but at its core it is business, not activism.

And if some actual "inferior" male like that one uses this movie as a shield for his blatant sexism, then I think it's for the best if people stop forcing others to like the movie and allow everyone to dislike popular things.

And also, I have that post saved. If I get enough people to support me, I might drop his @, then we can all spam and humble him lol, if you guys feel like it's worth to spend your time and energy on that. We will have one less mysoginist, or at least a humbled one.

In all seriousness, replies to this will mean a lot.

That's all for now, I guess.

PS: I won't argue with anyone about this, as I really wish the conversations around this movie in context to sexism would stop.

#barbie #barbie movie #margot robbie #greta gerwig #greta gerwig barbie #ryan gosling #ken #oscars #the oscars #the oscars 2024 #academy awards #the academy awards #the academy awards 2024 #feminism #sexism #femininity

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Good deeds, virtues don't sell.

The idea of talking about Virtues and Good deeds isn't as big or popular but it's a good enough topic that I feel deserve a post here. Mainly that the results from our livelihood deserve this aspect of action in the world...that sounded a bit weird writing it out. What I am saying is that your action in the world, your behavior with other, and a lot of the stuff you do "off the cushion" or "with normies" matter a lot when you go and do the rituals or even meditate.

The essence of all the practices is some kind of finicky adjustment and the real meat is what you do when you talk to people, when you act with people, and how this feed back into the whole equation. It doesn't matter how you talk to random people politely, what matter is how you talk, deal, and act with people close to you.

What are you doing in the world, how are the stuff manifesting in the world, is it all internal? you have to ask yourself these questions.

"The wrong person even with the right knowledge will come to no good end. But the right person even with the wrong (or incomplete) knowledge will make it work."

Some people might think of it as "oh I don't have a lot of money", it's not even about the money, if not by the money then you can help with time, with effort, with talking, with guiding, etc. It's not about always gain and loss in that sense. I think you can see it yourself, but if you don't do anything bad or anything good which is most of population they just tend to "blob" along the sea of life not sinking nor floating, most of their action are morally ambivalent or not even considered "actions" just motions. Paul Sedir in his book about how to Pray have a very good quote on this:

To make ourselves heard, our heart must speak the language of Heaven, and that language is charity; our person must become aware of his nothingness, and in this inner void infinity rushes in to fill it. Thus, belief is not enough; believing in God and not obeying Him is what only too many Christians do. I prefer those who claim not to believe yet obey the Divine Law. Praying without previously performing an act of charity can do nothing; whereas charity without faith still moves Heaven. Remember the wonderful stories of the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan. It isn’t faith that begets charity, it is charity that begets faith. Faith isn’t an opinion of the brain, it’s a conviction of the heart. To have faith in someone isn’t to believe that the person exists; it’s to trust them, and to trust them wholeheartedly.

Faith means love of God, as charity means love of one’s fellow beings. These two flames grow through one another and feed one another.

I hope, this doesn't remove the importance of the experiences, the rituals, the practices, and so on. One of my friend said he didn't appreciate the Quran or wasn't moved by the Quran until he worked with Jaljalutiya prayer. So again it's a very tricky situation, there's no one way to crack this egg and some people who over-emphasize the charity too soon don't realize it could be a bit too bad for the people who didn't have the experience or understand why they would do that. I am not telling you to go out right now and do charity just because you read it in the internet, but think about it and contemplate it. Just like Paul Sedir said, they're two flames(prayer and Faith) working in conjunctions, your rituals, invocation, spellwork, etc AND your behavior irl, how you deal with people and how people see you, your actions, thoughts, and words. You can't just practice 1 hour a day and do shit for the rest of the 23 hours. The WHOLE thing is your practice.

Let me end this two points, first a quote and lastly a technique. The Quote from G.O Mebes' Minor Arcana course:

An isolation for too long could harden your heart and damage the intuition. A period of self-analysis lasting too long, developing the principle of reason, could take place at the cost of sensitivity, which is also necessary. This is the first danger that the disciple encounters on the Way and that you need to avoid, instituting an adequate "modus vivendi" in your environment. Ethical Hermeticism teaches that it is preferable to take just one step forward and advance your environment - even a tenth part of that step - than to take ten steps, giving nothing to the environment. It is by giving that man receives.

The technique is either the Planetary Charity which you can read about extensively here and the other one is that aim to just do one good deed a day, to counsel a friend, to drop one cent in a charity box, to pray for the dead, or to help a friend with a problem. Again, Charitable and good deeds have a lot of ways to come about them so why not try praying to be in the position to help people ;) maybe that prayer can be answered. May the Divine Creator open the way for us to help one another as brothers and sisters.

Sincerely, From the Heart.

#occult #magic #witchblr #invocation #prayer #virtue #planetary magic #planetary magick #astrology #astrological magic #theurgy #tarot #tarot cards #tarotblr #witchcraft #ritual #magick #occultism #hermeticism

[younmexreaders]

~~ Valus x Reader 18+~~

You get really curious about demons and decide to summon an incubus. He's willing to go slow and help you explore.

Fem Reader/Incubus OC | 4k words

Includes:

Demons

Tentacles

Oral

The rumors of witches with the ability to summon creatures of the night have been ringing through the town since long ago. You never believed any of it before, but your friend did. Lilith would adamantly try convincing you of its authenticity, claiming her mother and her mother's mother were a part of the coven and witnessed the creatures themselves. Of course, you didn't believe that, but you let her have her beliefs because she was your friend.

Then she brought a book of shadows to your home. You weren't too comfortable with that... Lilith refused to listen to your complaints and insisted that you would not even remember you were hanging onto it. But she gave no reason as to why she needed you to keep it.

No matter how much time passed, you couldn't ignore its presence. It was almost magnetic. You could swear it was drawn to you and, sometimes, you swore you could even... hear it. Calling to you. In a language you couldn't figure out nor find.

Late into the night you were lying awake, staring at it as it laid on your desk. Your nerves couldn't take it anymore. Every facet of your being begged you to tear it open and see what was inside. You shot upright, throwing your blankets aside and pulling on the lamp chain. The light hurt your eyes for a moment. Blinking it away quickly, you flipped open the book of shadows. The pages were full to the brim of different spells. You were nowhere near skilled enough to understand the differences between anything, but it seemed Lilith had written several notes all over the book.

She had given you an annotated copy of the book of shadows. With everything explained in depth and alternatives to several of the spell ingredients listed out. You felt... something. You couldn't really decipher what your brain was giving you. Thankfulness? It was sweet of her to take the time to explain every little thing in there knowing you were completely unaware of magic. Remorse? You did feel bad that you were so grumpy and scared of the whole thing. Continuing to read showed you that she scribbled over and tore out spells she knew would only make you uncomfortable. Fertility, curses, weird spells that affected the will of others. Things you wouldn't want to touch in your life. Destroyed so you wouldn't even know them.

There was one set of spells that caught your eye though. Summoning, annotated to mention that it was basically a lost art until a witch from decades ago revived the practice. You looked it over, curious what all these creatures with weird names were. Only the minor ones had any drawings attached. Thank you, Lilith. But the page titled "Incubus" gave you the most pause.

...You had grown exceptionally curious. The pages were only annotated to say what things meant, but it didn't mention anything about the creature's appearance or abilities. Lilith must not have summoned it yet. If she ever planned to.

You knew exactly what you wanted to do now.

You stormed to her house the next morning. The book was so comfortable in your hand, as if it were made for you, but the leather was so oddly cold to the touch. Lilith came to the door quickly with a grin that said she was expecting you to show up. There was a puff of incense smoke billowing out around her that carried the scent of lavender. Pleasant in any other light, but it was making you tense.

You stood there, trembling, book in hand, but you couldn't speak. The words refused to reach your throat at all.

"Nice to see you finally. How are you doing?" She said, tilting her head at you and wondering what you were doing there. You were still a shaking leaf without a voice. Lilith raised a brow.

"Did you... want to ask me something?"

...

"Were you just coming to say hi?"

...

Lilith frowned and looked around you to see if you were here for a different reason. She didn't see anyone in the vicinity, but she wasn't going to let you walk away like this just in case there was someone on your tail. That was the only thing she could think of that might do this to you. Taking your shoulder, she ushered you inside and shut the door swiftly, locking it.

"Are you okay? Was someone out there?" She asked, looking you in the eyes and firmly jostling you out of your freeze.

"I-I want to try this." You muttered finally, holding up the book. Lilith breathed a heavy sigh of relief and leaned on the wall.

"Jeez, don't scare me like that! Of course, dude. I'll help you out with any of them. Which one were you thinking?"

You flipped the book open until you found the page and showed it to her. Lilith scanned it before widening her eyes and turning red. She closed the book with your hands and turned her eyes away.

"Summoning is really hard for beginners! A-and who knows how that thing will act? It might get all insatiable with us..." Lilith stammered, finding excuses not to do it.

"Are you embarrassed?"

"D-Don't be ridiculous!"

She set the book on a stand on her desk, flipping to the page, and looking over the ritual. She hummed as she read it and nodded once she was done.

"Hah... well... I really want to try it. Maybe you can just tell me how to do it?" You suggested, hugging the book to your chest. Lilith pursed her lips and looked away. There must be some reason she hasn't done this summon and is so weird about it. You were hoping she would just tell you, but you both kept things from each other sometimes. Just saying how you felt could be really hard.

Lilith sighed softly and offered her hands to you. You handed her the book and followed her to a room near the back of her house where the floral scents were the strongest. There was an altar that was meticulously cared for. Precious gems and various minerals were high on shelves with stacks of different colored candles for future use.

"Alright. I'll show you how this is done... but I might leave before you start, okay? I'll just be outside just in case the Incubus gets... intense. Okay?" Lilith warned as she started gathering the materials from around the room.

"Okay... can I ask why?"

"Why it might get intense?"

"No, why you are leaving."

"Oh... uhm..." she paused, cradling the items in her arms and looking down, "I just don't want to get fucked by a demon. It's a line I won't cross."

"Is it wrong to do? Should I stop?" You were growing concerned. Maybe you made the wrong choice.

"No. It's a personal choice. There's nothing wrong with asking a sex demon for a bit of sex. You should enjoy yourself and they get to "eat". It's fine. I just don't want to be a part of it." Lilith set the items down and started setting up the summon space. She starts painting on the floor. A circle to border the large symbol. the symbol a strange design. A box with a line through it. Arrows on both sides with the top one being much thicker and changing color when colliding with the box. And two sideways S shapes on either side.

"Okay. Now I need you to, uh... undress." Lilith muttered.

"Right now?" You burned in the cheeks and fidgeted nervously. Lilith nodded and took a rose and a vanilla orchid with her to the desk, tying them into a bundle together with a green string. It was all precise and specific. Exactly what the ritual called for. But you didn't recall needing to be naked for it.

"It's an Incubus. It requires you to, uh, "present yourself" to them." She explained, lighting a white candle placed at the tip of the arrow through the box.

"o-oh ok" You say in a very small voice. You start pulling your shirt off over your head and yanking your pants down around your ankles. Once they were all off, you folded them up and set them on the floor beside the circle, just outside of the border. Lilith handed you the bundle of flowers and directed you to sit in front of the candle, leaving the majority of the symbol clear.

"Alright. Here are your notes. After I give you this, I'm heading out. Okay? Are you still sure you want this? You can back out." Lilith took your hand and placed the paper in your palms, looking you in your eyes as she asked for confirmation. You thought for a moment. You looked at the symbol, then the room, holding your opposite hand over your chest to attempt some decency.

"I'm sure. I want this." You nodded firmly.

"Good. Then here. You need to chant this phrase five times. No more, no less. It's in Latin and I have the pronunciation written just in case you haven't been practicing your Latin." A small jab, and yet still thoughtful. You gave a small pout, but you said nothing. Taking the notes.

"Burn the flowers. Wait for them to lose their petals. Then start chanting. It MUST be five times." She reiterated that point with a lot of stress. You could only assume what might happen if you failed to do that. Luckily, you won't be careless enough to forget. Lilith went to the door and waited for you to sit in your position before closing you off into the room alone.

You were a little nervous and shaky, but you were determined to do this.

It's been so long since you had some fun...

You took a deep breath and slowly lowered the flowers over the candle until they caught fire. You held them out and away from you while they burned, scrunching your nose at the smell. Once the petals all burned away, you set them down and opened your notes.

"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul." You muttered.

Once.

"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero s-simul." You shook a little on the last word. You could hear... wind? Was there a draft in there?

Twice.

"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul."

Thrice.

There was a whispering in your ears that made you flinch and close your eyes tightly. You gulped and breathed deeply once more. You couldn't lose focus.

"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul."

F...frice? Four times.

A wind began to swirl around you, picking up your hair and making you shiver. The flame never flickered.

"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul!"

Five.

You shouted, spitting it out before the growing nerves made you freeze up. The wind stopped and the candle went out, leaving you in utter darkness. You sat frozen in the dark. Waiting for whatever might happen. The symbol gradually lit up with a mint green hue. Once each line was illuminated, the circle filled with light. Hands grabbed the edges of the portal suddenly, making you yelp with surprise and slap a hand over your mouth fearfully.

The demon pulled itself out of the portal, flicking a long tongue across his sharp teeth and standing tall over you. There were no eyes in it's face. The back of it's head was hollow and filled with blue fire. It was listening carefully with its pointed ears, turning its head down to face you.

"Good evening." It purred in a low tone that vibrated the visible muscle on its throat.

"G-g... Good..." You couldn't form more than that. You stared at the creature with your mouth agape in surprise and awe. The creature chuckled, bowing to you and waiting for the portal to close before approaching.

"I believe we haven't met. I never forget a pretty face."

"N-no."

"I'm Valus, dear. May I have your name?" He asked, kneeling on the ground to be on your level. You told him your name and reached for the candle. It was so dark in there. You couldn't tell anything about Valus save for what his flames illuminated. You lit the candle using his fires. You don't think he noticed.

He was dressed very formally, which was a surprise. You thought he would be naked too. His hands were rough like the bark of a tree, his flesh green like a forest. He smelled like a garden. You were comforted by the scent and his calm, restrained behavior.

"I am at your command, ____" He said, using your name in order to be familiar with you, "what would you like me to do?"

"Are there limits?"

"Hahah! Only yours. I am bound to do everything you ask."

"A-ah... Well, I'm pretty vanilla, I guess," you admitted with a small laugh, setting the candle on the desk so it didn't hurt anyone, "uhm... I think I wanted to summon a p-person like you so that I could branch out a little."

"I can do that." He nodded. He leaned back to start pulling all of his clothes off, which took a moment and gave you time to decide if you wanted to continue. Seeing his firm chest and the... length... he was working with made you absolutely certain.

"Let's start small. So I don't get spooked."

"Fair. Shall I lead the dance?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. He was very warm. You almost wanted to rest against him and sleep. His hands trailed down your sides to your butt, giving you a little squeeze. You felt your face burn again. Valus smirked before meeting his lips with yours. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be. He kneaded his fingers into your plush flesh as he held you against his chest. Your breasts pressing against him and making him smirk.

Valus's piece was beneath you. With the gentle kissing, it was still rather flaccid. You rested your hands on his upper arms and rocked your hips slowly. Grinding your pussy against his cock. He gave a small groan, separating momentarily to shudder his breath before returning to your lips. With each motion, he grew a bit more stiff. More and more until his cock was flush against your slit.

You started to feel something creeping along your skin. As soon as you realized the feeling is spreading, you pulled back and looked around. Then you saw the tendrils wrapping around you from your back, creeping up to grip your breasts and coil them securely. All the way along your mounds until the vines are tugging on your hardening nipples. You whined and hitched your breath.

"How is this?" Valus asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.

"I-it's nice." You answered, leaning back to allow him room to reach. He lowered his head, feathering kisses down your neck and shoulders until he reached your nipples and gave them some attention. You mewed and closed your eyes. The sensations were minimal. Slowly awakening your nerves for what was to come.

The vines lifted you up with ease. Each tendril gripping you securely so you were not discomforted by the action. His cock stood tall beneath you. Steadily leaking a small pearl of clear fluid.

"I should make sure you're ready." Valus purred. He dragged his tongue along your stomach as he lifted you higher until your crotch was at his face level. Two tendrils slid down to hold your lips open for him. He licked his lips and blew a warm breath across your moistening slit. You shivered and squirmed a little. His tendrils didn't cease with their tugging on her nipples.

Valus lulled a long, flexible tongue out of his cage of teeth and dragged it up and down the whole of your pussy. You snickered and looked down at him curiously. When his tongue caught her clit and began kneading into it. He was relentless. Swirling it. Sucking on it. The warm shudders of pleasure radiating through you and making you writhe.

He rarely left for any breath, giving your clit a relentless assault of sensations. You could barely hold back your moans after a point. Your chest heaved and you tried to hold Valus's head down, but his tendrils took your wrists and held them over your head. Possibly to protect you from mindlessly touching the fire? He buried his face into your pussy. His tongue pushed and slithered it's way deep inside your core.

It lashed at your walls, prodding for your sweet spot. He left nothing untouched. Your body becoming so warm with all the sensations he sent through you. It tightened a coil deep inside you. His sharp teeth threatening your moist lips would inch the coil tighter. You panted and rolled your head back. Your chest heaving and your mind beginning to go blank. You muttered curses as the intensity of the pleasure started to become overwhelming. You hugged your thighs around his face and shut your eyes tight.

His tongue slithered out of your core with a flick against your clit. He pushed his vine-like fingers into you and billowed his breath on your wetness.

"Are you going to cum for me~?" He purred. You nodded but no words could escape your throat. You were tense and ready to break. His tendrils teased you mercilessly, flicking your nub and plunging into you. You could barely think anymore. Valus's voice began echoing in your ears.

"Cum for me, darling. Let yourself enjoy it."

You could hardly contain the powerful rush that made your body spasm. You cried out as you came, gripping the vines tightly and arching backward in the air. You shuddered and gasped, sustaining the overwhelming pleasure until he pulled away from your twitching pussy and lowered you to the ground.

It took a while for the sensations to subside and your mind to finally clear enough to hear your own thoughts. You rested your hand against your forehead and laughed breathlessly.

"Ah... Sorry..." You muttered.

"Don't apologize for enjoying yourself," Valus held himself over you and pecked your lips. He rested on one forearm. His arms were in two separate parts connected by ghostly strings of muscle. He brushed a hand over your arm. Gently ensuring you felt comfortable as you cooled down. "Have you had enough?"

"That was more intense than I anticipated... I might have." You admitted. Though you felt bad that he was erect and unsatisfied. You rolled onto your stomach and pet his thighs, laying your head in his lap. He smirked down at you.

"Hm?"

"It's your turn now." You purred, dancing your fingers up his thighs and gently pulling on him to lift yourself up. He didn't stop you, sitting on his knees with his odd, 3 toed claws tucked under himself so he couldn't hurt you. He was visibly dangerous. Sharp in so many places yet exceedingly gentle and reluctant to hurt you.

You gripped his thick piece and kissed his tip. You stroked it slowly, awaiting to hear some noise that showed that you were doing well. He was quiet. You frowned and licked his head, stroking a little faster. It was comfortable in your hand and the pre-cum that had dripped down his cock already gave it a bit of slickness so you didn't have to spit on him. You didn't like that, it always felt so mean.

But he was so quiet.

Raising your head and keeping your hand's pace, you tilted your head at him. He was grinning, a crack in his lips to aid his breathing. His chest heaved with his breath but he somehow panted so silently.

"Y-You can make noise too, you know." You hummed. His ear flicked and he chuckled, turning away. You could swear there was some pink in his cheeks. Though the flames made it appear just like a darker green which was hard to tell different from his flesh.

"Ah... I'm not very loud. It feels good, you don't have to worry."

"Well," you pecked his lips and returned to his cock, kissing him there before swirling your tongue around the tip, "I want to know you like it." You wrapped your lips around his piece and attempted to mouth the whole length. You lowered to half of it's length, unable to go further. You weren't very practiced with blow jobs. But you were determined to make it good for him.

His cock twitched a little in your mouth as you bobbed on it, your hand sliding down and cupping his hefty sack. He groaned a little, holding himself up with his arms behind him. His face was a little more flushed this time around. The flame on his head flickering as he panted. You inched it further down your throat, but as you started to struggle with it, he placed a hand on your cheek and urged you to pull away. He was still panting, but you knew what he was doing. He didn't want you to strain or hurt yourself just to play with him. Fine. You hoped that what you could do was enough for him.

You bobbed on the first half of his piece and massaged your saliva into the rest of it. As you massaged his sack and rubbed what was left, you found your hand trailing down his pelvis to tease his flesh. You pulled off and licked him as you caught some breath, looking up at him to see how he was liking it. He had a hand over his mouth, his breath billowing out with light smoke, the flickering flames making their shadows dance on the walls.

He seemed close to falling apart. You had some pride that you could do that to someone. You sucked on his tip and swirled your tongue around it, rubbing it with an increased pace and utilizing both of your hands. As you worked he started to arch and groan a little louder. Still no more than a whisper.

"Are you getting close, now~?" You purred.

"Yeah." He breathed the word dreamily, leaning back on one arm and combing through your hair with the other. His tongue dragged over his dagger-like teeth and the smoke billowed once more.

"Do you like it?" You hummed. You rubbed him a little faster. His cock throbbed in your hand, the muscles in his throat visibly tightening as he choked back a sound. You wished he wouldn't.

"I-I love it." His panting was getting worse. He started to buck his hips a little, his nails digging into the floor. You rested his tip against your tongue and held your mouth open, awaiting his lust. The touch of your tongue sent a shock through his cock that finally sent him over the edge. He snapped his teeth together and groaned behind them, his head rolling back as he stuttered his hips. Shots of warm cum coated your mouth and tongue. Much more than you were anticipating. You closed your lips around it to ensure you could catch as much of it as possible.

There was only the sounds of heavy breath as you two tried to cool down. Valus leaned back against a wall and held you in his arms. Your head on his chest and your hand tracing over his toned stomach.

"I had fun~" You laughed.

"As did I. I haven't been called upon in a long time." Valus said, stroking your arm and brushing a finger over your cheek.

"You're far more gentle than I imagined an Incubus to be."

"My specialty. I find the meal is much more satisfying when both parties are enjoying themselves. Thank you."

You nodded and hugged him, nuzzling his chest. You wished you could lay like that for the rest of the night, but his purpose was fulfilled. He couldn't remain there for long. As you settled in to attempt taking a nap, you found the warmth was fading until you noticed his heartbeat was gone. You raised your head. The candle light from the desk showed that you were alone once more in the room. Task completed.

You would certainly have to summon him again.

#younme #reader insert #x reader #oc x reader #monster x reader #female reader #incubus x reader #smut #tentacles

[cilil]

How would a Yandere Fëanor/Manwë relationship work anyways?

𝓐𝓝 ~ A really interesting one to think and write about and I may have gone slightly overboard. Hope you enjoy!

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~ Fëanor being too ambitious and Manwë being too innocent for their own good, sex for "science"; also we're ignoring LaCE for these

𝓣𝓦𝓼 ~ Yandere, obsessive & possessive behavior, possibly infidelity (depending on where exactly you put this on the timeline and how you interpret Ainur marriages), references to avian traits in avian Ainur, breeding kink and potential future mpreg(g)

.ᐟ I put the smut and kink related stuff under an additional divider (watch out for the sparkles) so those of you who aren't comfortable with it can avoid it. You can scroll to the end from there, those are the last two bullet points ♡

✦ Fëanor has always been ambitious in all things and never settles for second best.

✦ Blessed with a sharp mind, a thirst for knowledge and a need to explore and understand the world around him, Fëanor soon found himself curious about the Ainur - beings who are like Elves in many things, yet so different in others.

✦ His main areas of interest in regards to Ainur were not only spiritual matters, but also the mysterious and alien Valarin language, the history of Arda before the Elves' awakening, Songs of Power and the making of the world through the Ainur's angelic abilities.

✦ While there was certainly a whole lot to learn from Aulë who has always been rather fond of Fëanor and the Maiar he came across in day-to-day life, Fëanor decided that none other than the Elder King himself would be an acceptable teacher, especially in matters of song and language, as he's known to be a poet and mighty singer.

✦ Whereas some found Fëanor's request to be quite audacious or even rude, Manwë was swiftly charmed by him and willing to teach. He had always perceived and loved that spark of greatness within Fëanor, being reminded of his brother whom he still misses dearly, and showered him with attention and affection rather quickly.

✦ Under his tutelage, Fëanor proceeded to practice his linguistic skills, worked hard to understand and learn Valarin and asked many questions about Arda, even convincing Manwë to show him some of his own memories so he could get a better understanding than a second hand account could provide.

✦ Shrewd and perceptive as he is, Fëanor didn't fail to realize that the Elder King was rather taken with him, most likely even seeing through him enough to understand why and recognizing that Manwë felt a strong need to have someone like him in his life to soothe an old wound.

✦ He had also long since felt another ambition sparking within him: Being the holiest among the Holy Ones and Ilúvatar's favorite, Manwë was, in his eyes, a most exquisitely designed being, the one the Creator himself considered to be the most beloved offspring of his thought. And seeing Manwë giving him whatever he asked for so readily and willingly, with such innocent trust and love despite his divine wisdom, Fëanor wondered if, just like the light he had trapped in his Silmarils, he might have the Elder King as well.

✦ Some might have called it hubris or folly, but when he began to take control of their relationship and brazenly ask for more intimate favors, Manwë yielded with little to no resistance. In fact, Fëanor got the impression that he was used to submitting to others, most likely his wife and brother, but found that he wanted this all to himself instead and felt jealous whenever Manwë - neither understanding nor perceiving the dark, possessive tendencies he was developing - talked about other people close to him.

✦ It was at this point that even Fëanor questioned himself. Could he really lay claim to the King of the Valar? Yet he swiftly remembered that there were ways to bind and possess even a Vala, just like Manwë's mightier brother had been subdued and captured, and surely someone as good, pure and agreeable as the Lord of Winds could be his.

 ˚ ੈ✧̣̇·˖ 　˚ .　　　✶ ˚　　✦　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　.  ˚　

✦ Fëanor eased Manwë into more intimate scenarios by pretending to be merely interested in studying his anatomy - which was not untrue, but not the whole truth either - and quickly found out how he liked to be touched. Love is freely given and shared among the Ainur, as he had previously learned from those in Irmo's service, so he wasn't worried about incurring the wrath of other Valar; his mind was more focused on taking what he wanted and perhaps even being able to have Manwë to himself in the future.

✦ Aside from bedding the Elder King, Fëanor once again felt the desire to sire offspring returning to him, something he knew an Ainu would be capable of regardless of gender; and he had long since learned that Manwë's avian nature made him prone to going into heat during mating season. He intended to take full advantage of this, not only to satisfy his desires and fulfill his breeding fantasies, but also to bind the Lord of Winds to himself.

I'll leave it at that for now; if you'd like me to write more about specific aspects of this scenario or how canon events would play out, such the Flight of the Noldor or Fëanor raising a half-Ainu or whatever else, feel free to send another ask (that applies to all of you lovely people of course, not just anon).

 ˚ ੈ✧̣̇·˖ 　˚ .　　　✶ ˚　　✦　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　.  ˚　

Thanks for reading!♡ If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!

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#cílil answers #manwe #manwë #feanor #fëanor #yandere!feanor #yandere #tw yandere #cw yandere #feanor x manwe #valar #ainur #silmarillion #headcanons #my headcanons

[opinated-user]

Something that makes a lot of sense now that we know Lily is obsessed with Courtney is the presence of art by amakaraiaji in every single Sankaku account's favorites. amakaraiaji does more shota than loli, but an ongoing theme in amakaraiaji's work is seductive, hypersexual kids who seduce adult or teenage family members, almost always brothers and fathers, and actively enjoy having sex with them. In amakaraiaji's art, eight year olds crawl into their brother's beds and are just so sexual that their brother can't help but give in and fuck them.

I think this is why that's one of the few artists there in every single Sankaku account. Lily can't look away from it because when she sees amakaraiaji's latest 30 second animation, she sees wish fulfillment.

The fact that she has access to children scares the shit out of me. Because I'm very sure that, if she hurt a child, she would tell people later that they started it. And Lily's family has proven that they will not go to the cops when this shit happens, they'll just shrug and try to avoid a scandal.

Sometimes I think about how on amakaraiaji's blog they claim they "instigated a relationship" with their father as a 5 year old and wonder if Lily wishes Courtney could be like this - so thoroughly gaslit that they no longer understand that they didn't start it/deserve it/enjoy it. And I'm sure you think that's just me being too cynical about this because it sounds like a stretch. But I think Lily really likes that idea, the concept of someone having been so thoroughly abused they no longer even can see themselves as a victim.

And then I remember she has access to children as young as amakaraiaji was when they were first abused. And my blood runs cold.

(PS: I know amakaraiaji uses gender-neutral pronouns in Japanese so I'm using they/them as a rough equivalent but I'm not NB, actual NB people feel free to tell me if that's offensive and I'll stop. I'm not trying to be NBphobic, language is just complicated. Also I really hope I don't sound like I'm one of those assholes who goes "oh well if someone grows up to draw this stuff then they deserved to be abused" when discussing these two people because to be clear neither amakaraiaji nor Lily deserved to be abused as a child. No one deserves sexual abuse, ever.)

(sankaku anon, is that you? are you okay, did you have a good break? hopefully you're doing okay! you were missed!)

for the record, if they were using gender neutral pronouns in Japanese then it's correct to use the gender neutral version in English, unless they themselves established a preferences. But I think Lily really likes that idea, the concept of someone having been so thoroughly abused they no longer even can see themselves as a victim.

i believe you hit the nail on the head with this one. people who were already victimized and traumatized are more likely to fall with predators because they have a harder time establishing boundaries or knowing what to do even if they can see a red flag. it takes a lot of work to develop those skills even for the average abuse free person, but for someone who was already taught that their boundaries don't matter... which is exactly why LO preys on those people by pretending like she's a champion for survivors. it's the perfect honey trap. that's exactly what she did with Patch and we all know how that ended up.

#lily orchard

[witchmoon]

by our red string of fate.

Part 4

Pairing: Prince Aemond Targaryen x fem! Reader

Summary: Y/N and Aemond finally reunite on a stormy night in King's Landing. Angst, vague mentions of abuse, then fluff AF.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Multi-part wip - slow burn, language. NSFW is coming! Hope you stick around and enjoy. Comments always welcomed. LMK if you want to be tagged <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

i didn't dream of you, i thought of you! the yearning, the hoping and the wishing was all intentional.

The days had been impossible and the nights were harder still as every thought consuming her continued to revolve around Aemond. If only he would respond.

Her concentration wanes in even the most banal of daily tasks, accompanied by her relatives as the days drag and conversations remain dull. It's disengaging - exhausting, and sleep eludes her at night as she lies awake wondering how his day has been, what he's doing now, and if his minor injury is healing well.

Even reminiscing taking the prince's bruised hand to press her lips against his knuckles compels an ache, recalling that hitch in his breath and the look of surprise he couldn't mask.

Though she can't guess where his mind is at or what he's possibly thinking, feeling, it doesn't deter her from imagining what they could truly mean to each other. And the ambivalence from his end doesn't override the high value she's already placed on him in her life either, for he already means a great deal to her.

Yet, the issue of his silence continues to nag and it brings with it both worry and frustration. It jabs at her ego as well, but more than that, his lack of response works to deteriorate her tortured heart - silently dismantling it piece by piece, hour by hour.

She can't help but wonder why she isn't with him now, why he doesn't want her. These unanswered questions carry her through another sleepless night and on cue, the sun rises once more for her to face another day alone in a city she's begun to despise.

We belong together.

It had been bold, but she had laid that claim and sent the correspondence to Aemond. Simple words, the most honest she'd ever been - full of zeal and impulsive, to the point. Aware that the risk was great, she'd proceeded before rationality got the better of her - spurred by a need to be vulnerable for him.

However, the waiting becomes a slow death. The silence since then all but reducing her to a shell of a person.

She's plagued with anxiety and a significant amount of doubt as her hope drastically depletes waiting for him, for a sign - anything while waiting for a love that may never come.

And so soon, the cynicism begins to set in, a slew of malcontent nerves clawing ceaselessly at her from within to leave her sick. It all conspires to fuck her up and it does, stealing her appetite, her rest, her absolute sanity.

She curses Aemond for doing this to her, though she wants him no less than before.

Am I so easily forgettable to him… so disposable? Fuck him.

Was it wrong to be disappointed, angry? In a way, she is mad at him for putting her in this situation to begin with, for challenging her.

She's never been good at these types of things - of pursuing men romantically, nor being really upfront with her demands. Of course, she knows what she desires, but vocalizing such matters, sharing them in any medium is altogether new, terrifying.

To be forward, unapologetically candid, almost selfishly, especially to someone like him had always seemed unfathomable. But again, she had gone out on that limb, willing to admit that Aems was different, better, captivating - worthy of surrendering her pride for.

He still is, and she can only hope that her brief message has been received well, with enough conveyance regarding the depth of her devotion - how willing she is to be so open with him, ready for love and ready for the fall.

At the time of writing it, the concept hadn't seemed that far-fetched, for she knew people who had love between them. And she just couldn't believe herself truly so defective as to not be given an opportunity to experience the same.

It must exist for me as well, surely.

On a deeper level, she knows obtaining this magic means more for her now. It's important because she's wanted love for so long, and she's patiently waited these many years for the right person to come into her life and capture her heart.

That's what's different this time, she recognizes the way her soul has been bounded to another's. The sensation is new, unripened. She knows it is because there had been others who had tried to come close to her in the past, always coming up short.

And this is why - they had never been the one, they had never been him. Aemond. Nobody had ever made her feel this way, and the feelings seemed vast, electrifying - affecting her in a way she couldn't have been ready for.

Yet, she always thought that when that time and person came, she would know because she would feel it.

This is what's agitating her the most. She does feel it. And what should one do, how does one react when they find themselves to finally be within reach of receiving everything they've always dreamt of?

It leaves her moody and wanting, stressed as fuck, because at a distance, the unlikelihood of such an occurrence had almost been as consoling as the hope for such things to happen. And now that it felt like it was happening for her, she didn't know how to proceed.

It's a fight or flight mentality she grapples with, feeling it imperative to stay and see this through. If anything, get closure in order to move on. But she's also vying to leave, thinking it best to put a time limit on how long she's willing to remain in King's Landing - an unspoken ultimatum.

How long is long enough before she decides to give up on Aemond and all their potential, only to return home - skeptical, with empty arms and a fractured heart?

She wonders and she loathes the doubt that's taken hold, though she can't help to consider that she's been completely off-base this entire time with what she perceived as being created between them that night. A splendidly deep connection, an understanding.

I thought he wanted me.

It's the overthinking that kills, and she could use some advice - anything to help talk her off the metaphorical ledge she's been stuck on. Anything to make her see reason, find logic in the positives of their interaction in order to reinstate some faith.

But nothing comes to interject, and she remains within herself to safeguard the sweet memory of him and their short time together. She knows she will hold onto them forever, come what may.

Those moments are ours and ours, alone.

this could be the beginning of everything for you.

As time slips away, she gains more order over her chaotic thoughts and the insecurities eventually subside, replaced by something more resolute.

Suddenly there's confidence in her once more - an unyielding adamance to remain true to herself, and it overtakes the final vestiges of her uncertainty, all that's lingered and bothered for too many days.

There's a new awareness in the obtainment of something real, worthwhile with Aemond and she knows it must develop from a place of vulnerability. Just as much as she'd been given the choice to pursue, it was now time for him to make his move.

And in doing so, she needed to know that he could want her even at the most basic level, even at her worst, even as no one of societal importance. From where she stood, she had to be enough just as she was, no more and no less.

Really, it had already become this way when she'd confided in him how alone she felt, how grateful she was for the kindness he'd shown towards her. It wasn’t a commodity.

She reflects further on how he had seen her on edge too, merely seconds away from crying or just going off, which surely had demonstrated the breadth of her sensitivities.

It had been clear enough to see with everything so openly displayed at the time. And still, he had approached her - offering himself and his patience, graciously coming to her aid to provide a gentle stability unlike any she'd ever previously known.

He had actually cared.

Their encounter has been replayed several times over in her head, but so many of the small details begin to blur, instilling a new sort of panic.

With the distraction of being so close whilst listening to him speak, she's convinced there are things she's probably missed, undoubtedly so. At times, it had just been so hard to focus, even follow their conversation despite wanting to know everything about Aemond.

But simply looking at him had taken a wealth of her attention, robbing her focus with his undeniable beauty. He had been charming in manner, but also enticingly wry, even borderline cavalier in regards to his royal station, which only made him more attractive to her. Anything but ordinary.

Everything about him still makes her weak, though it's alarming the way the recollection of that night feels both stark and fleeting. And at a certain point, she even considers the idea that she's simply recreating details rather than actual events in order to find validation and feel important, wanted.

Non-sense. The thought is quickly rejected upon reflection of the signs, so many indications that continue to support her theory that his attraction was mutual. That he was investing himself, and had wanted more.

He's the one that kissed me! And yeah, she had wanted it, but he had made that move - executing it with such finesse. That subtle demand that she participate in the physical connection, but not progress it beyond the boundaries he had laid for them.

The restraint had been both maddening and intoxicating with his soft lips against hers, the smoky taste of his tongue new and lingering, so drugging. Everything about that night was pretty fucking real, meaningful.

So real in the way he'd looked at shithead's party - disconnected, disenchanted, a menacing beauty coming for her own soul. And how he'd taken her with him for their escape, even avenging her stained dress and perhaps even her pride by really laying one into Aegon once they'd reached his bedchamber.

Although it hadn't been necessary, she was moved by his physical reaction, even aroused by an obvious inclination towards the wrath he kept. Something about it had betrayed his cool exterior, providing her with a glimpse of the fire within him, the rage.

But then Aemond had also shown extreme compassion, reverting to sweetness as he handled her with amazing care. He had made her feel better, made her laugh, miraculously lightening the mood to an otherwise tumultuous evening - and all without victimizing her.

He had acknowledged that she was tenacious, but had interjected and offered her a hand just when she'd needed it the most. And she really had needed someone - so close at the time to just collapsing in anger and bursting into tears out of sheer frustration.

It would have been a disaster. You cry, and they will know they have won. Just as punching the king probably would not have boded well for her either. She can't even begin to consider the consequences of that action.

Then Aemond had been there, taking her somewhere dark and secluded for some privacy, relief. Even attempting to clean her clothing, to no avail, but no less gallant.

He had relaxed her, moving her with his thoughtfulness and returning a smile to her face with his sarcastic ire. He had been perfect, a natural balm to her frayed emotions.

It had also been so real when he had touched her face, his roughened fingertips light and tender on her skin, though he looked at her with a fiery desire that kept kick-starting her heart. He had stared for too long and she had loved it, even more so when clearly against his better judgment, he had reached out to run his fingers through her hair.

She longs for that again, for even more, falling to pieces over all her thoughts of them together. The immediate ease and comfort from that interaction had meant everything, it still does, and she knows they could have it again - have more.

She knows how wonderful he can be and how perfect they could be too. The compatibility is there and they are both so fucking capable, so she has to remain steadfast in their potential - maintaining the hope that he will call for her or come to her.

He must. He will. In her mind, there is no other outcome and she will not force the issue further.

We were meant for each other, it is our destiny.

and now i wait for love - impatient, terrified, but hopeful.

He is different, she thinks dreamily, in a league all his own. The thought of that truly terrifies her though, it pressures her in an unfathomable way as she mulls silently over tea the following morning.

Even as much as she wants him, wants something with him, she's still so fucking scared. And she's less confident now than she was yesterday, though admittedly there is more assurance since she's ceased arguing with herself over the validity of their encounter.

Aems is an enigma. She doesn't know if that makes it easier or harder, finding it simply intimidating to imagine what he must know, what he is accustomed to and capable of... what he has done.

And what of his needs, his own desires?

The thoughts swirl and with them also the evidence of his sophistication, which had been apparent to her. Thankfully, it was in a way that was neither boorish or patronizing, but rather gave the impression of a deep wisdom beyond his years. It had been unmistakable.

It comforts her to consider him in this way, knowing she could benefit from that type of energy, but with more sleep lost, her annoyance rises once more. There's a lot of feelings at play, particularly her stubborn fear of still not being enough for him.

It's currently at the forefront of her mind, enhanced by mental exhaustion and she wishes she could get a reprieve - wanting so desperately to be laid next to Aemond, wrapped up in his love.

My dear, I cannot stop thinking of you.

Her mind wanders along the lines of what he wears to sleep, if anything, and which side of the bed he favors - all the things she'd love to know.

Such as - does he slumber still, at this late hour? And what about his eyepatch, when does he remove it and for who? What is the extent of the injury that it conceals and how did it occur? She wants to be at a point of trust with him where he is willing to share these parts of himself openly.

I accept all of you, just as you are. I adore you!

In her eyes, he is already so perfect and the musings continue to progress with intimacy as she imagines his hair loosened, disheveled either from sleep or sex, both. She thinks of how his voice is probably deep, raspy at the start of each new day as he comes out of sleep slowly.

Then she's putting herself in the scenario, vivid enough to capture in her mind as she decides he would be the first to wake. He's definitely nude, hair untied, eyepatch nowhere to be found.

And she imagines him snuggling into her, close enough to begin kissing beautiful foreign words onto her lips - persistent and adoring to rouse her from sleep before pulling her fully into his arms.

She's reminded of the actual sensation of being held by him, that heavenly moment when she'd pressed herself against his body and he'd reciprocated the touch in the godswood. She must have that again, her body begs for it.

That moment was so beautiful and I was so vulnerable, but he made me feel so safe, and I -

A solid knock at the door sounds then to disrupt further thoughts. It's loud enough to startle her, causing her to spill some tea as she rises from the table with some urgency.

As she walks to the entry, the pounding of her heart is unmistakable - there's a conflicting sense of dread and wavering expectation when she goes to undo the locks with unsteady fingers. But an alleviation to her emotions takes root from what she finds on the other side of the door when she finally manages to open it.

Ser. Cole at her doorstep. Stately, but personable, he announces himself before placing a small note in her hand with a knowing look.

"A personal message from Prince Aemond, my lady."

Then he takes his leave, gone just as soon as he'd arrived to leave her standing in the open doorway - her hands violently shaking once more, her heart in her throat.

Slowly she unfolds the note, eventually revealing words she feared she might never read, words she knows within her heart that Aemond has written straight from him own. Even his penmanship is beautiful - refined, and it's these words he’s put down in ink that she now presses to her lips as silent tears of joy begin to fall.

'Beloved - join me at the Red Keep tonight. I will send for you at dusk.'

maybe i've always been destined to end up in this place. i don't mean to come off selfish, but i want it all.

Though she can't stop smiling, there's a growing nervousness to her anticipation as the hours pass. She bathes, then struggles with indecision as she tries on several different dresses, eventually deciding on the dark green - her favorite.

There is also a substantial amount of time dedicated to her hair as she works to perfect it in long cascading soft curls, less formal than the night they met but just as elegant.

She conducts these physical preparations while trying not to panic, but a part of her remains in disbelief that very soon they'll finally be together again.

And it's this lovely concept that overrides most other thoughts in her mind, even her trepidations, past the moment when the sun begins to set and the carriage arrives with Ser. Cole as her personal escort.

Then she's en route to the Red Keep, finally returning to Aemond and ready to claim his heart.

This is really happening...

As they pass through the bronze gates and arrive in the middle bailey at time later, raindrops have just begun to descend slow and sparingly from the darkening sky.

She's been told the weather is unusual for the season, though she can't find any complaint in it as the dreariness tends to console her. It's a great comfort and she feels substantially eased by the current elements.

At least until Criston opens the carriage door and she peers out to find Aemond running towards them from one of the covered archways in the yard. It gets her heart racing, for she’s arrived, at last.

My prince, my love.

The reality that she's back at the castle sets in. It hangs in her mind with the concept of intimacy - how she's come for Aemond, called upon by him, alone. It feels significant for them to reunite here, and she knows that it is, because this time, it's not for a celebratory event, it's not for court, it's for love.

And seeing him now just reinstates her belief in this idea as every part of her goes warm. He's a gorgeous sight and he looks...hopeful, energized. After all her worry and incessant reflecting over the past few days, steeped in so much uncertainty, being with him feels like the greatest gift she could ever be given.

There's a moment of clarity as he draws near too - of how he actually exists. He's real! And when he locks his eye on her, his mouth hinting at a subtle smile, every remaining doubt she'd been harboring fades.

The notion that she had dreamt all of this and him is quickly diminished simply by the way he looks at her. There is heat in his stare, a matched longing that he bears and it tells her many things.

She's entranced, re-acquainting herself with how handsome he is dressed in all black once again, but it's more casual than before. There's no leather, no dagger. Even still, the overall aesthetic is dark, completely him and it's so fucking sexy - a stark contrast against the ethereal coloring of his skin and silver-white hair.

His hair. It's a feature she's already obsessed with and her hands get jumpy in their ache to tangle in it, disrupt the silken perfection. She wants it wild by her hand, leaving him a mess in the wake of her unbridled lust.

I want you so much!

He is so fucking hot, assured and confident when he nods towards Cole with thanks, silently commanding his leave. Then it’s just the two of them and it’s even better as he turns to greet her once he’s in front of her - the way his eye appears to sparkle with intentional desire when he looks up, extending his arm out.

She notices that he seems really happy too, taking his hand immediately, as he guides her down the carriage steps attentively. The touch is innocent enough, but a hot current is felt coursing between them at that first contact, nonetheless.

And Aemond is unable to quell his attraction, how satisfying it is to look upon her beloved face again - the very same one that's so exquisitely been haunting his every waking moment.

It's madness the way simply the heat from her stare back onto him stirs his blood - doing so in a way that leaves him ravenous for more pointed attentions. It makes him feel alive.

Heavens, l've missed you!

A simple hello is exchanged and it's natural, the easiest thing in the world to tuck her under his arm once she's got both feet on the ground. They fit perfectly and his heart justifiably flips when she leans further into him, wrapping her own arm around his waist to hold him close.

As they begin their walk towards the holdfast, the urge to kiss her is strong, but Aemond resists for the time being - wanting to ultimately be somewhere more private for such indulgences.

It’s just the way he is - clandestine in nature when it comes to affairs of the heart. Instead, he opts for something more chaste - a sweet nothing to pacify them both when he lowers his face to gently press his lips to her temple.

He tells her she's beautiful, noting the expectant look in her eyes when she gazes at him again, stunning and smiling as rain droplets begin to collect on their skin, her long lashes.

They quicken the pace, reaching the door of the building - their shelter, just as the sky opens up and starts to pour. Both of them blissful, having dodged the rainfall and so ready to begin the night.

the way you move is like a full on rainstorm, and i'm a house of cards.

Once inside, she doesn't know what to expect, but she takes Aemond's hand as they move through the space in an inconspicuous manner.

It's not questionable - they're both hoping to avoid unwanted encounters and she couldn't be more grateful for this approach, though she says nothing.

Her relief is palpable enough. It transfers when she readjusts her hand to lace her fingers between his, another new intimacy that leaves him marveling. He thinks he could get used to this...

She silently follows his lead, recalling the expanse of the Keep - of momentarily being here when she'd accompanied him during his confrontation with his brother that fated night.

The memory of Aegon and his lewdness leaves her bristling as they continue on, and somehow the idea of introductions with Aemond's family begins to infiltrate her mind in a nauseating way. It just isn't something she's given much thought to as a possible occurrence, nor does she feel mentally prepared to take on such an endeavor now… maybe ever.

Luckily, it's clear to her with the way they advance further into the castle, as if exploring through an unknown maze together with hidden traps, that Aemond has no intention of subjecting either one of them to such formalities.

At least not tonight, and this theory is further proven when echoing footsteps begin to sound, growing louder and louder towards them. Her eyes widen and the panic rises - she recognizes that voice.

Seven hells, please NOT him!

She's frozen in place, shell-shocked for just a moment before Aemond unexpectedly tugs on her arm, pulling her sideways just as Aegon and his Kingsguard round the corner, heading in their direction.

The motion is swift and then he's silently giving her a 'keep quiet' signal once he's settled with his back against the wall, holding her to him. It's strategic, probably in more ways than one, but their presence is effectively concealed as they stand together within a convenient alcove off the main corridor.

Although the space is small, it's unassuming and they're hidden enough. But just as a precaution, Aemond capitalizes on the situation, bringing her flush against his body when he reaches around to press at the small of her back.

He loves the closeness, how her ample chest gets crushed against his, threatening to get him hard. Its torturous in their current predicament, but he doesn't care. He needs this.

His hold on her body stays constant to linger along her back, daring to travel over the curve of her ass even as Aegon and the Cargyll twins get closer. She feels so good and he's sparked further when her hands settle low on his hips, just where his belt lies.

Her fingers begin to toy with the leather and he gets wrapped up in the sensations - how his lonely hands ache to feel every part of her, all that's hidden under the fine dress she wears.

Speaking of - the color is rich, the green suits her so well and he wonders if she's wearing it intentionally - for him, for her, for their future. Surely she’s aware these are Hightower colors.

He's musing all of this when she suddenly lets out a small snort at what Aegon's just voiced to his small party of knights, setting Aemond on high alert.

He immediately covers her mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle her laughter and prevent any further sounds from escaping her lips at this unfortunate moment. And he just goes on silently cursing his idiotic sibling in the meantime, praying for them to hurry the fuck up and move on.

“...and I almost drank my own piss because I mistook it for ale when I woke up."

He rolls his eye at the admission, in no way surprised to be hearing this although the beauty before him appears to find it quite comical. He studies her in close proximity - her eyes are smiling, but there's also mischief in them.

All at once, she becomes the cause of his exasperation and his lust when he feels her dart her tongue out to lick against his palm.

Then she does it again - a teasing plea for him to release her and it's proving effective because Aemond looks like he's about to fold. But before he releases her, he mouths a very stern warning - b e h a v e .

When he does, she complies and reinstates her hold on him by wrapping her arms around his waist with the same fervor that he holds her. She breathes better and the moment becomes sweet for them as they pass the time, more patient now as they wait for Aegon's ramblings to subside.

She rests her head against his chest, just above his heart, momentarily closing her eyes to commit this moment to memory. And she’s smiling like never before when he whispers lovingly against her, placing so many kisses on her forehead as his arms wrap around her shoulders to keep her near.

"You fucking brat.”

in my dream, you're mine and in reality, you're my dream.

They remain as they are, allowing additional time for Aegon to put more distance between them and whatever his intended destination is. It's really just a prevision, but the moment extends long enough for Aemond to draw her gaze back to his once the room goes quiet again.

She adjusts and suddenly he's holding her face in his hands. It's lovely - his palms warm against her skin with his thumbs caressing delicately along her cheekbones.

It melts her to feel the way his fingertips begin to edge slowly along her neck in time, eventually landing just below her ears. They are so long, capable, and the effect of this specific hold leaves her entrapped - lost in a touch that could easily turn violent. She’s been strangled before…

But she trusts Aemond to do these things without hurting her, and he doesn’t. He holds her like nobody ever has, touching her and looking at her in such a way that could bring her to her knees - so reverent, adoring. It’s breaking something within her.

She stops thinking, and they're able to bask in the moment of their silent study of each other's beauty.

It goes on for a while, with her watching his eye - seeing how it focuses on her mouth, darkening to a deeper shade of blue. But being regarded with such intensity has never been comfortable, and it eventually gets the best of her.

She doesn't end the moment though, she enhances it, taking him by surprise when she leans in and kisses him softly. Thinking it's the perfect opportunity to convey how elated she is to simply be in his arms, in his life, of how dearly he's been missed.

Surely this is translating...

It's a preliminary kiss, but it's sweet enough to upturn his beautiful mouth when she pulls back. His pout dares her to do it again, so she does. This time, she kisses deeper, trailing her hands up his chest to cup his jaw as she continues on.

Touching his face is so intimate and he seems pleased by her initiative, effectively kissing her back with equal ardor. He allows her to take lead, willingly following her every move as they lean closer into each other with ease and growing familiarity.

When it ends, her eyes open before his and she waits, captivated by the dreamy look on his face as he brings her back into his sight.

She dares to hope he's been just as restless without her - left incomplete by her absence and how together, they can now remedy their combined yearning. Fulfill every desire, grant every wish, make all the dreams between them come true.

He's fucking mesmerizing and when he focuses on her again with a look of pure contentment, unveiled happiness, her heart skips a beat. She wonders if he will look at her this way while making love to her... and she yearns to know, to get to that level with him.

Just being around Aemond makes her want so many things, all the experiences with him and her heart gets heavy with the knowledge that it all finally feels possible for her, for them.

She knows she should speak now, realizing they haven't actually had the chance for many words since she'd arrived - thinking that opportunity is now. And he appears to be waiting, patient as his fingers thread into her hair with soft feels threatening to overtake her again at how doting he's become

Fuck. Her eyes begin to sting and her chest tightens considerably as she mulls over how to start, where to begin. It makes her self-conscious as the heat rushes to her face, her tendency of being an emotional mess annoying her evermore.

"What's this, sweetheart?"

He indicates the mood shift, clear as day on her face - how it draws his concern as he catches the flickering melancholy in her expression.

But then she rises to press her lips to his again, exalting him from a burgeoning worry. The words that follow are too sweet when she whispers them against his mouth, unwilling to move away, to give him any space.

"This is relief, this is happiness, this is me with a full heart. I've missed you so much, darling."

It pulls a moan from him before he returns his mouth hers, solemnly whispering his reciprocation upon her lips. Even a minor confession follows, though he does not elaborate.

"I've been an absolute devil without you, my love."

Then he begins to place affectionate kisses along her cheek, into her hair. Over and over he presses his lips everywhere he can reach in a silent apology for all the lapsed days, the great misunderstanding, and the way certain parties had attempted to keep them apart for their own agendas.

There is such relief in sharing this with her, and it flows through Aemond now as he holds her tighter, trying to make up for all their lost time.

He reassures her of their reality, his commitment, when she admits her own worrisome thoughts - that maybe he hadn't wanted her, maybe she had been too forward in her note and it had ultimately pushed him away.

But no, it had been Aegon… and politics.

Now she knows.

"For a moment, I hated you for rejecting me. I am so sorry."

She's incriminating herself, though it's misguided, he understands. Not that he's sharing, but he can admit to himself that his behavior had been far from exemplary before he'd also learned the truth behind her perceived silence.

During that time, his impatience and neediness had been unreal too, completely out of character. It had also been sobering to understand the power she held over him. Although it still leaves him somewhat uneasy, they appear to be aligned once more, ready to move forward.

He knows they can and he wants to. We have something. He's so sure of this, how it's all conveyed in the things she doesn't say, but has allowed. How it's like she's already collecting these small, but meaningful moments with him, and he's wanting to do the same.

In fact, he's already missing her light touch on his face and the way he'd just been kissed by her with such longing. It had been enough to get him dreamy and he holds onto that in the aftermath of these newly shared confessions.

He's hopeful in their capability to advance with intimacy as the night progresses. After all, it really means something to him that she's here and how special it can be, how it already is. She wants to be here.

"We're together now and that's all that matters."

He doesn't expect a response, hoping his words will be enough to offer her peace of mind. And he thinks they do when she nods in agreement at his statement, allowing him to quietly draw her back into his arms for another heartfelt embrace before they abandon their hiding spot.

She is warm and perfect, though it still feels like a phenomenon to Aemond that she could even be real, much less existing with him here at this moment, on this rainy night in King's Landing.

But it's true, and he's very much looking forward to how much more real this can get, how much more real they can be.

He kisses her hair one last time, unable to refrain from doing this - loving the decadent fragrance, how sweet and addicting it is. He’s already hooked on this feature and the way it feels against his skin, on his lips.

Then he takes her hand to resume their journey, and as they head towards the space he's arranged for them to get reacquainted, he can't help but anticipate the moment when he will bury his face in her hair, just get so fucking lost there.

And also when he will bury all of himself... in her.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd fic #aemond targaryen x oc

[theteablogger]

Andy has stated that he was sexually and emotionally abused by people in the theater department at the first college he attended, which caused him to have break with reality and contributed to his own abusive behavior. In one particular email to a DAYDian, which you linked to in the newest timeline, he references a particular incident that he claims is relatively well-known. Is there any truth to this (as far as you can tell) or more fake abuse allegations?

The way that email is written is confusing--deliberately, I think. Here's the passage that I think you're referring to, from this email:

By the time I got sent off to college - at not quite 17, never previously schooled, away from home for the first time, living in Newport News with a cousin who hated me and constantly derided me as crazy and weird - I was almost never in my own head. I was very seriously contemplating suicide. I was no longer working Colonial Williamsburg. That one went away. A new one showed up, and I hated her tremendously. I wanted to kill her, and I hated the situations she got me into. It’s the one you hear about a lot from CNU - the little asskissing theatre queen who almost married me off and (I can’t believe I’m actually admitting this) did what I honestly feel is rape me several times with several different men and a couple of girls. I call it rape because I DID NOT CONSENT to my body being used that way and had no control over it or ability to say no. But how the fuck do you ever explain to anyone that technically, you raped yourself? Or was it me? Again, I don’t know. They’ve never fit what dissociations are supposed to be.

Bear in mind that this email is only one of several versions of this story that Andy has told. In this version, Andy says that his break with reality started during puberty, when he allegedly began experiencing blackouts and missing chunks of time during which his body was under the control of "alters", for lack of a better word. He claims that these were more developed and more fully realized than typical DID personalities, had skills he didn't have, spoke languages he didn't, etc. Right.

So in the passage above, Andy is actually talking about more alters. One of them was based on the character he played at Colonial Williamsburg, and that one went away when he stopped working there and started college. He claims that a new alter showed up at that point, "the little asskissing theatre queen". Andy doesn't say that other people sexually abused him; he says that this alter did, by using his body without his consent to have sex with other people. This is the only time I've ever seen Andy make this claim and I have no idea what the truth of the matter actually is.

I do know that DID is a highly contested disorder in the psychiatric community, and that even if we assume that it is 100% real and valid, what Andy describes is not how it works. Nor does this description of his symptoms correspond to schizophrenia, his currently claimed diagnosis. I also know that Andy had a boyfriend during college (that's who he's referring to when he says the alter "almost married [him] off") as well as a brief relationship with a woman during that time (see Part II of the timeline). That's about all I can say on the matter, though.

#andythanfiction #thanfiction #andrew blake #andy blake