#a fisherman of the inland sea

[theentertainmentfeed]

#favs of the year 22 #books #goblin emperor comes with massive caveats attached but i’d be lying not to include it lol #6 SFF books I really liked this year #Out of about 80 of them 💀😭 #i read so many terrible books this year lol #tender is the flesh made up for everything though WHAT A BOOK #the goblin emperor #water logic #ammonite #tender is the flesh #eyes of the void #a fisherman of the inland sea #city of bones

[chartreusebird]

Dating but only for people aspiring to live in the fashion described in an Ursula k leguin short story from the mid 90s

#file under reasons im single #this is a joke but anyway stan mountain ways published in a fisherman of the inland sea/birthday of the world collection

[mawhrin-skel]

maybe i should stay in stem because doing 48294828 hours of math/physics whilst being a crazy guy is making me too le guin pilled

#as in the analogies/cant think of the word. you know. her psychophysics stories #just finished fisherman of the inland sea #i cant put a hashtag in a tag as punctuation but hashtag literallyme hashtag i have complicated feelings about going home

[vitos-ordination-song]

Birthday of the World is really so good, so many thought provoking stories. I read it first in 2020 when I was teetering on homelessness and other stress but damn. Idk Le Guin has always helped me find clarity and sanity in the darkest times, she brings me back to the source and to my zest for life. Birthday of the World didn’t speak to where I was at the time—it helped me think of things beyond myself and my struggles. I think about so many of the stories in it weekly. Must reads:

“The Matter of Seggri.” Set on a planet where women outnumber men 16 to 1. The result is kind of the oppression of men, though it’s a bit more complicated than that. Le Guin manages to flip many of the stereotypical gender dynamics on their head in a way that feels realistic and grounded rather than silly. There’s also a lot of pathos in it. I like it most for how it brings to the forefront things not often thought about wrt gender. For instance, the men in the society are considered precious commodities (benevolent sexism most often directed towards women in the real world), and yet their society contains a parody of the extreme brutality and competitiveness of male gendered socialization on earth. The men are constantly vying to reach the top of a hierarchy through games and sexual prowess. Some reach the top and reinforce the system, while others are forced to take part against their will. The society of the women is fascinating as well—there’s lots that will be said, but the most interesting thing to me is the part where a woman says they would have destroyed the men were they not segregated away from them. It made me think—are women afraid of men? Would we dominate them if we could?

“Mountain Ways.” There are two stories set on the planet of O in this collection. I also like “Unchosen Love,” but consider “Mountain Ways” to be one of the highest quality short stories Le Guin wrote. It’s about a complicated relationship in a world of complicated relationships. O marriages are between four people and require both homosexuality and heterosexuality. In this one, two women wish to get married, but there aren’t enough men around to complete the marriage. So one woman disguises herself as a man in order to marry herself, her partner, a man, and another woman. Crazy stuff. The marriage begins with deception, and one of the partners is more dedicated to making the four-way marriage work than the other. I really felt the love between the women. So much of Le Guin’s writing centers on the importance of heterosexual monogamy, and I do like how she writes that 95% of the time, but it’s so nice to see her branch out.

“Solitude.” One of those Le Guin personal narratives about growing up at the crossroads of culture. A girl’s mother is a scifi anthropologist studying a planet’s culture. She involves her children in her study. As she learns about the culture, she senses that it is backwards—it is not accepting of the new, it is anti-social, and it endangers her children. She seeks to withdraw from it. But her daughter has grown up as part of the culture and understands it—fits in perfectly to it. Thus the mother and daughter must be at odds with each other. It’s about their struggle and about, as the title says, solitude. The planet is inhabited by people who keep to themselves. They fear social power, the mere attempt to influence another’s thinking, which they refer to as magic. Really great one.

“Paradises Lost.” A story about a generation of people who were born on a space ship in between earth and a new home. It’s one of the longest in the book and full of amazing detail. It’s influenced my own writing—for instance, a fascination with our relationship with earth and what would happen if we were cut off from it. There’s also the birth of a new religious movement in this story which is fascinating.

#the collection A Fisherman of the Inland Sea also had a lot of winners #more of a sci fi feel to them if that makes sense #maybe I’ll write about those

[asumofwords]

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Slow burn, pining, kiss.

Note: EEEE! Here is chapter two of my little mini-series! Thank you all so much for your patience for this update, to say it has been hard has been an understatement. An odd thing to put into the notes of a fanfic, but From the River, to the Sea. 🇵🇸

Chapter 2: Unfamiliar Changes

The next few days were the same routine as usual, but with a new addition; A man who had been at deaths door, recovering in your bed. 

The lighthouse, you knew. 

You knew the way to light it, tend to it, care for it. It had been your life for many years ever since your Pa had died, leaving its responsibilities to you.

It had been him who taught you everything. He who had raised you to know what you now do, to do as you now do each day. And you were thankful. Thankful to not be married to a Fishermans son, or market boy at a young age, to squeeze out child, after child, in a marriage that had no love or care but rather a societal duty. 

But now, there was a man in your home. 

A man on your small, little, isolated island which you sought refuge in. An island and isolation that had been all you had known, and yet now, here he was, laid in your bed with hair like spun silk that lay around his head, a violet eye you had only heard in the tales on shore, a scarred cheek and sharp mouth. 

Was he a pirate?

You had heard of those, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to be as brash and roguish as those stories either. And whilst his presence was not all begrudged, it did throw your small little world into a loop. So with the duties of old, came the duties of new. 

You would rest, only shortly, wake, and tend to the lamp, the storm slowly moving away inland, but the winds too high to take your small boat alone, or send your pigeon with a letter to alert them of the wreck and lone survivor.

Thereafter, you could come back inside, fix yourself a tea, and here began the new routine; you would make two instead of one. 

Two plates or bowls of food. 

Two cups or glasses of water, or tea.

Two of everything. 

One for you.

And one for the man. 

A man who still had not told you his name.

That was until that evening.

The winds had begun to yield, but the soft grumbling of thunder still prevailed in the near distance.

You were eating the last of your stew together, though this time, he was seated at the table. You having dragged the only other chair on the island down the many stairs of the lighthouse to the cottage. 

He was still rather pale, and wheezed and coughed on occasion, but after his many days in your presence, you realised that he was not pale because of his ailment, but rather, his skin was just as white as the porcelain William’s wife owned. His cheeks however, gained some colour, and his lips were no longer cracked and dry, but now hydrated.

And plump.

And soft.

And-

“-Aemond.”

The spoon you were holding clinked back onto the side of the bowl.

“Pardon?”

“My name,” The man put another spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewing before swallowing politely, “Is Aemond.”

You tested the name on your tongue. It was definitely not a common name from around your part of the world.

“I take it you are a long way from home?” You chewed on a chunk of potato, watching as the man nodded.

“Aye.”

“Your ship-“

“-Vhagar.” So that’s what its name was, “Sunk to the bottom of the sea, I presume.” His lips pulled down at the sides.

You nodded solemnly, “Was your family-“

“-No. No family. Just me and my crew.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before nodding, “I’m sorry. Though we have the Gods to thank. They favoured you when they washed you ashore.”

Aemond, the man before you, scoffed, “Favoured. Sunk my ship and my men. Drowned me.”

You sucked your teeth, feeling slightly guilty about your choice of words, “Yes, and yet you are here. I prayed-“

“-You prayed?”

A nod, though his gaze seemed more intrigued than mocking, “To the Drowned God. Prayed to anyone who would listen to spare your life.”

You watched as the corner of his lip twitched, “And why should a Lady such as you, pray for a sailor such as me?”

“I’d hardly like to deal with a corpse on my beach." You stirred your stew, "And I am no Lady, I have told you this.”

The snort from his nose made way into a smile that was contagious. 

At least you could be blunt.

And in some ways, you supposed that he liked this bluntness. 

You shared your meal together quietly, the crackling of the fire and sound of rain and occasional thunder outside. You found, much to your displeasure, that you did not mind having his company after all.

He did not talk to fill the space, and seemed to think deeply before he spoke, at least when he was not irritated or slightly offended by your own remarks. All in all, he was a welcomed presence in your modest home.

And that was what scared you.

“Do you often have drowned men wash ashore?” His spoon was delicately placed in his bowl, bread devoured shortly after given to him. The way in which he ate, the manner in which he sat back, rod stiff, indicated to you that he came from some form of high society, far higher than you, and likely came from money and wealth that you could do naught but try to imagine. 

You smiled coyly, “You’re the first. An achievement to some end, I am sure.”

The corner of his lips pulled again, yet this time, it developed into a full smirk, “Then I am honoured to have been the first, Miss.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you had to look away.

The way in which he spoke, the way his voice became deep and smooth like the whiskey in your cupboard, had sent shivers down your spine with the implication that perhaps there was a double meaning to what he said.

To what you had said. 

But then he continued, “And how does a woman of your stature become the keeper of this Lighthouse?”

“My Pa. He was the keeper before I. Taught me all there was to know. It was just me and him on this island for a long, long time, and now it is just me.”

“Is your father-“

“-Dead.”

“I see.” Aemond nodded, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be.” You gave him a small smile, “He died doing what he loved.”

A silver eyebrow raised above the man’s seeing eye, “And what was that?”

“Drinking on the job.” You poked your tongue in your cheek to stifle the laugh as you watched Aemond’s composure become flustered, “It’s okay,” You reassured him, “You can laugh. My father was not a solemn man. I like to think he enjoys my humour.”

A hum was all you received, though he did not smile as you had hoped.

You had not fully seen him do so yet, and although there was glimmers of a more playful and relaxed man, you wondered in that moment if perhaps he was simply just a rather stern and serious sailor after all. That his nature was to be stiff, and bold, and unbendable.

And if he was to be that, a small flicker inside of you wished to make him bend. 

Gods, what was wrong with you?

Had you grown so lonesome in your isolation that the first man to wash upon your shore, literally, was whom you would grow some sort of desire for?

Sure, you were no stranger to pleasure, chasing your own peaks with your hands as often as you’d like, of course, if it did not endeavour to endanger the care of the lighthouse. And now, that a man was sat before you, kept in the confines of your home by storm and ailment, you wished to taste what it truly meant to be pleased. 

It had of course crossed your mind once or twice on your rare travels to shore. Speaking to the locals in shops or on the street, friends of William, or any decent man who cast you a glance. You had thought about it seriously, allowing some sort of dalliance to form, to warm a mans bed and then leave on the morrow to go back to your life of solitude. 

In fact, it had almost happened. 

A sailor named Dalton Greyjoy had caught your eye on the occasions he would be on shore at the same time as when you were. He was sailor from a well known, and well to do family. He came and went as he pleased, and it was no secret that he liked his women. Dalton's hair came below his ear, curling slightly atop his head, the colour as black as night and with his eyes to match his hair; a piercing, deep black which captured and lured anyone who caught his gaze.

And you had caught his, on more than one occasion, and each time, he had tried to woo you. Tried to offer a trip on his sturdy ship which carried more than one hundred men. Or a tour of his home which lay on bountiful lands on shore.

He had even offered a drink in the local tavern, and a meal, with a desire to speak to the ‘beautiful woman who keeps my ship from ruin’. 

And you had thought on it, had almost given in, and when you had rejected him the last time, you had meant to offer him refuge on your island, should he ever so need it. If he was ever so inclined to have a tour of your own homestead, of your lighthouse which kept him from ruin. 

But when you had moved to tell him thus, he was gone, back to the seas for the Gods only know how long, perhaps months, before he returned to shore. And that had been two months ago, and you had almost kicked yourself at the missed opportunity of having a man warm your bed, and then leave. 

The convenience was lost.

You were under no impression that it would be anything more than a release for the two of you, and in your eyes, it was perhaps, a perfect arrangement. Yet, you had strung him for too long, and the seas had called him once more. 

You had thought to wait to look for his ships arrival as it passed from you to shore, and lowered its anchor within eyesight. You had thought that perhaps at the sight of it, you would send your pigeon to her, the large ship, or to shore to send word of your request of his presence. But then, you thought, perhaps you would make a quick stop to the markets, weather permitting, and keep your eyes widened for the dark black hair which you sought. 

But now, as the man you had come to know as Aemond, grew stronger with each day, the desire to meet your desires with Dalton faded, and were now replaced for the desire of a man who was the stark opposite.

No black hair, only silver. No black eyes, only lilac.

Would his lips be as soft as they looked?

Would he hold you passionately? Whisper in your ear? Give you pleasure that you had only read of?

This was what you thought of, thighs clenching as you pulled the old wick from the lamp to replace it with a new one, careful to not spill any oil around the lamps enclosure or yourself. You were exhausted as you lit the flame, night crawling towards you rapidly.

There was not much rest that you could get when sleeping on the worn down lounge of your home, mind reeling at the thought of the handsome man not too far from you in the warmth and plush of your bed.

Once you were positive the lamp was fine and well lit, you trudged down the stairs, eyes struggling to stay open as you made your way back to the cottage, the wind blowing your hair roughly as you closed the door behind you.

The fatigue dragged you down, limbs feeling as heavy as stone as you moved to make yourself some tea, feeling all the more exhausted than before, eyes half shut.

Once your tea was made, you sat on the couch and stared at the fire, blowing the steam away and sipping on it to warm your chilled bones. The lighthouse was cold inside, no warmth but the lamp, and despite wearing your warm layers, the cold still nipped you to your core.

There were no thoughts as you moved half asleep around your home, pulling the heavy waxed coat from your shoulders to place on the hook by the door.

Your boots came next, and then your socks, and finally you pulled away at your dress, untying your stays as it slid down your hips to the floor.

You trudged to your room, having extinguished the lamps and candles in the cottage, leaving the fireplace to burn through what was left of the night.

It was dark as you pulled back the sheets, mind in memory and eyes already shut, as you slid into bed in only your slip, pulling the sheets up to your neck as you lay on your side.

Then sleep came just as quickly as your eyes closed.

-

It was hot. 

Too hot. 

There was a warmth that radiated around you as you slowly rose to consciousness.

Then, came the weight. 

A weight of something wrapped around you, behind you, heat seeping into your spine. You blinked sluggishly, confused as to what it was as you shifted, feeling whatever that warmth was shifting with you. Solid.

Arms. 

Two arms.

One under your head, the other draped over your middle, hand splayed across your stomach as your back was pressed into the flush of someones chest. 

Not someone.

Aemond. 

You jerked, suddenly awake and out of the bed, looking down at the man who looked tiredly up at you, corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he fought away a smirk. Heat rose up your neck and into your cheeks in embarrassment. 

You had been in bed.

With him.

Tucked into him.

Oh Gods.

Your mouth opened and shut as your brain misfired, unsure of what to do our say. 

Do you apologise?

Gods, you had been so tired you hadn’t even realised. 

You were suddenly mortified at the thought of what he must now think of you. 

He must-

“-If you want to get into bed with me, all you must do is ask.” Came the low timbre of Aemond, who now smirked freely at you. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you became flustered, a small squeak escaping your lips. 

Aemond’s eye bore into your own as you stood there, bare feet on the cold flagstones below, chest heaving as you were at a loss of words. His eye then roamed lower, taking in your appearance as you felt the heat of his gaze blanket over you.

It was then, that you realised, you were in nothing but your thin shift.

“Gods. Fuck.” You swore, turning quickly to throw on an old dress, foregoing your skirts, stay and stockings.

You kept your back to him as you hastily did up the many buttons, suddenly cursing each and every one of them as your fingers struggled to do them up the more you become flustered, all the while you could still feel his heated gaze upon you from the bed.

You uttered an embarrassed apology, too ashamed to even raise your eyes to look at him, before you fled from the cottage, forgetting your coat, and not even doing up the laces of your boots as you shut the door behind you and raced towards the lighthouse. 

You had never quite climbed the steps as fast as you had in that moment, desperate to get away from his salacious gaze, and your burning embarrassment.

What had you been thinking? Climbing into bed with him like that? He must think you desperate. Depraved. Unkempt.

Gods be good.

The embarrassment made tears prickle at your eyes.

Though the lamp in the lighthouse was fine, and there was no true reason for you to monitor it, the worst of the storm having moved away, you did not return back to your cottage. You stayed in the cold, no coat and shoes half tied, shivering in the stone walls of the lighthouse to avoid the mortification of that morning. And yet, despite trying to avoid him physically, there was no possible way, you had tried, to avoid thinking of him. 

Thinking of his touch, how warm he had been behind you, how his large hand had completely spanned across your middle as he held you to him, how his fingers had twitched and pulled as you wriggled in first wake. How he smelt of the sea, and sweat, the stew you had cooked him, and the smell of your own sheets, but beneath it all, there was his natural scent, something earthy and musky and like sandalwood that surrounded your every waking moment. 

If it wasn’t for his legs and his near death, you would think the man was a Siren.

You thought of how cold he had been when he washed ashore, how pale and almost blue he looked, and now he burnt hot, and although he was still pale, the flush of life coloured his cheeks and lips. His lilac eye devouring you every chance he had.

At first you had thought you were mistaken, that he was simply looking at you, but now you were sure of it. His eye, the seeing one, unclouded by injury and simmering a bright lilac, watched you almost always half-lidded and ablaze with something you now thought could perhaps be lust.

Gods. 

You buried your head into your hands, deeply exhaling before standing up straighter, trying to erase the images and thoughts of him from your mind, but it was hopeless. He was all you could think of, all you could smell, or see behind your eyelids, and you yearned to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Caress him. 

Your thighs instinctually squeezed together and you sighed, feeling a wetness that had settled between them. 

Gods be good, you were in trouble.

You shivered again, rubbing your hands together as you looked out at the sea, mentally cursing yourself for not having more than two chairs on the island, but you had never needed more than that.

Your legs ached from not having sat in the hours that had passed, and you had turned to pacing the small landing back and forth to try and keep yourself warm. 

A soft clunk came from the bottom of the lighthouse. 

You mustn’t have shut the door properly. 

You continued your pacing, back and forth, breathing into your icy palms as you tried to warm them, mind straying to a body of warmth that you knew, if you pressed your palms against him, would warm in an instant. Your hands coming beneath his tunic to splay against his stomach, working their way-

The sound of rustling came from behind.

You spun on your heel in fright, breath caught in your throat to find Aemond behind you. Now standing straight, the man towered over you, looking down his sharp nose at your shivering form. His hair was slightly wet, stuck down to his shoulders and dripping from its ends onto the floor of the lighthouse. The tunic he wore, stuck to his skin where spatters of rain wet the material. 

In his hands, your coat. 

“Gods be good.” You cursed at him, hand immediately shooting out to press against his forehead, having to rise slightly on your toes to reach, “Have you gone mad? You’ll catch cold and grow ill again.”

Snatching your coat from his hands, you threw it up and around his shoulders, pulling it together tightly at the front, watching as his brows furrowed at you.

His hands caught your wrists as you fussed over him, and you immediately could no longer meet his eye. The warmth of his hands seeped into your bones, and a barely contained sigh fell from your lips.

Aemond was so close, so close to you, you could feel his warmth, smell his-

“Go back to the cottage before you become feverish again.” You tried to pull your wrists away from his hands to push him back to the door, but the man did not budge, his grip only tightened. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Came his low response, jaw tensed as he watched you. 

You swallowed, looking anywhere but his eye, “No.” You lied terribly, hoping he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened at your wrist, “I have to tend to my duties.“

“-You’re a terrible liar.”

You bristled, heat rising in your cheeks again before you met his eye.

Exhaling shakily, you tried again to get him to release your wrists with no avail.

“Please let go of me, Sir.”

Aemond’s cheek twitched, before finally he let go, and you begrudged his warmth leaving you the second he did. 

As his hands dropped to his sides, your eyes flitted to the exposed skin of his chest, if only for a moment, where his tunic was ripped down the middle. He moved, arms coming up again as he pulled your coat from his shoulders, stepping towards you suddenly. 

You stiffened, feeling his warmth envelop you and the subtle scent of salt and sandalwood engulf you as he wrapped you in your coat, pulling it tightly against you at your front. Your arms were trapped beneath it as he kept his hold on you, the coat pulling tighter as he stepped closer.

“You’re cold.” He whispered, head ducking slightly as he looked at you, long strands of silver cascading over his shoulder. 

Okay. You were sure of it. 

Perhaps he was a Siren. 

And now he was going to drag you to the sea and-

You watched in a confusion, or horror and delight as his head began to dip down towards your face, eye watching you intently as you held your breath.

Oh Gods, was this really happening? Was this man-

“Sīr gevie.” Came a deep purr from the back of his throat, and there it was again, that half lidded gaze. 

You parted your lips instinctually, feeling his nose brush against yours, your eyes fluttering as you looked down to his lips which were parted a hairsbreadth away from you, “I don’t know what that means.” You whispered, feeling his breath fan across your lips warmly. 

“Beautiful.” Came his response, less purring than the last, more of a whisper, more delicate, like the silk that spun his hair, ready to break.

His face loomed closer, the tip of his pink tongue coming to wet his lips, and all you could think of was how you wished to close the distance, to press against him, taste him, have him. 

Your lungs ached from the breath you had been holding, and a sudden gust of wind knocked at the windows of the lighthouse. It seemed to have broken the spell, jerking you away from the man in front of you, who blinked longingly at you.

Swallowing thickly, trying to ignore the ache in your core, you uttered, “I need to prepare supper.” Before you dashed away from him and down the stairs, almost tripping over your half laced boots in the process. 

As you wound down the stairs, you felt a pang of guilt leaving him up there.

Would he be fine to get down himself?

What if he grew ill? It was cold, and he had no coat, and you had just-No. If he had made his way up those stairs, then he could surely make his way down them.

You wasted no time preparing dinner, darting about the kitchen noisily as you began to prepare your meal, cutting the vegetables on the chopping board, and moving for some more dried meats to add with it, soaking it in some bone powdered broth you had made days earlier.

When the door of the cottage opened, and then clicked shut, you ignored the mans arrival, keeping your back to him, pretending that you were all too busy preparing the dinner to spare him a second glance, and not only that, you were far too engrossed of thinking what was coming next, and not at all how his lips might have felt on yours. 

You heard him settle at the table by the fire, and without looking, cast your voice behind you, “I still have my fathers belongings,” You told him, voice shy, “Seemed a waste to be rid of them when he passed. You may fit them. I’ll let you look through the trunk after supper so that you may have some cleaner, warmer clothes.”

A hum, and then, “Thank you. You are a gracious host.”

You blushed at his compliment, thankful that your back was turned to him so that he would not see you shy once more. Once your meal was cooked, you brought it over to the table for the two of you, including a plate of some of your scones, as well as the jam from Celia to go with them after.

It was a mostly silent affair, a tension strung between the two of you, pulled taught as the minutes went by. That was until-

“You are not married.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement of fact. 

You blinked, taking your eyes away from your meal as you looked up at him.

He was already watching you.

But there was nothing malicious about his statement, more so curious as to why.

Aemond continued, “You are a beautiful young woman, a shame that you are not out in society.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling vulnerable at the turn of conversation. 

You knew it was unheard of a woman of your age to be unwed, and not only that, alone in a usual mans position. You knew that the townsfolk at shore talked about it, whispers behind your back at why that was.

There had been a cruel rumour once that you simply enjoyed the coming and goings of the many different sailors who came to and from the port. It didn’t help that Dalton was not quiet about his interest in pursuing you, at least, not as his wife anyway.

“I am content where I am.” You sighed, “I have no desire to be flaunted on a mans arm as merely decoration. I have a responsibility to those on shore and on sea, and I doubt any man in town would know more about the mechanisms of working such a lamp than I do. They would be more of a burden than a blessing.”

Aemond blinked before lifting another steaming spoonful of food to his lips, “And do you not grow lonely on this little island?”

Did you?

You didn’t think you did.

At least, not until he arrived on your shore.

“Not at all.” And unconvincing lie, or perhaps not a full one, “William comes to bring my reprieve, and I go to and from shore as I wish for the whims of societal company.”

The man swallowed his mouthful of food, head cocked as he looked at you, “William?”

“An old friend of my fathers.” You explained, watching as he relaxed at the explanation, “Brings food and goods to me when I cannot get them my own, which is more often than not. His wife and daughters join him here on occasion.”

Aemond hummed, “It is a shame you have no feelings of loneliness.”

“A shame?”

The corner of his lip twitched, “I thought you might have enjoyed my company.” Before you could respond, he spoke again, “Though, perhaps it is not a shame after all. There is no husband that I need worry about.”

Heat rose into your cheeks fast, and a flush of hurt crept up your throat.

Of course he would make a comment about you being unwed. 

He was just like the others in town. 

“You mock me.” You grit angrily, hands twitching on the table. 

You watched as a flash of regret creeped over his face.

“I don’t.” His tongue darted out to lick at his lips again, the hungry look in his eye not at all for the food on his plate, “I would worry that my attempt to court you would be burdened by a disgruntled husband.”

Court you. 

Court. 

Your stomach turned tightly, and you found yourself pushing your chair behind you quickly as you stood, grabbing your empty plate as you moved to take it to the kitchen, unsure of what to say, mouth dry and mind reeling. 

As soon as your back turned, you heard a deep chuckle behind you, making your cheeks flush with heat once more. You did not even bother to clean your plate, instead dumping it into the dry sink before you snatched your coat off of the coat hook and moved to open the door.

“You cannot avoid me forever.” Came his low purr, and would if you tried.

The door thumped behind you as you swept yourself outside.

-

By the time you finally returned to the cottage, the night had flown away from you, having spent the majority of it trying to cool the heat in your body that he had stoked, resting your cheeks against the cool class of the lighthouse, anything to soothe the molten blood that coursed through you.

The storm had mostly passed, and your home was quiet as you snuck back inside, darkness filling the majority of the space bar the fireplace as you pulled your coat from your shoulders, back facing the room.

When you turned to walk further inside a small gasp pulled into your lungs. 

“You’re awake.” You blinked at Aemond owlishly, watching as he leant back on the small worn couch, his long limbs stretched out in front of him by the fire, with one arm resting against the back.

“I am.” You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do or say. 

Damn your anxious mind, reeling in circles at the thought of him, and his desires and if he desired you as much as you desired him. And what if-

You shook the thought away, “Well, you must be tired. You need to rest so that you may go home. The storm is passing, and I’d wager that you could return to shore now.” You wrung your hands together. 

You didn’t want him to go, but you knew it was logical.

He would have to leave. He would have to go home. To his family. To his friends. To his land. And then, you would be left alone with the spiralling 'what if's' of his stay.

“You speak of fatigue as if you sleep more than I, and do less.” Came his pointed remark, “I am well aware of my need to recover, and my abilities.”

Speechless. 

That was what you were.

The fire crackled loudly between you as you watched him shift, moving to lay himself down onto the couch which was comically too small for him. His long legs stretched over the arm, feet dangling almost to the floor whilst his head was tucked at an awful angle on the opposite arm. 

He looked like a doll that had been carelessly tossed onto the couch by a child.

“You need rest.” He mused, eye roaming over your body shamelessly, “I shall sleep where I am.”

Your brows furrowed, “You can’t suggest that you wish to sleep there.” Your hand pointed to where he was uncomfortably lain, “You do not fit. You shall see no rest and I will have to nurse you to health once more.”

“All the more reason for me to stay here.” His eye slid shut, seeming to make a point of sleeping on your lumpy and aged lounge.

You guffawed at him and his brazen flirting, mouth hanging open as your hands moved to your hips, “Go back to bed.”

His brow lifted, but his eye stayed shut, “A command or request?”

You blinked, “A request, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Will you be joining me?” Came his purr, eye cracked open at you, the bright lilac having turned as stormy as the sea once had been.

“No.”

Another hum, something you had grown used to by now, his eye sliding shut, “Then I shall stay put.”

You stormed towards him, looking down at him, trying to not notice how soft his hair looked, or how the pale skin of his chest looked like a cozy place to-

“Really, Sir.” You sighed, exacerbated, “I must implore you to sleep in the bed tonight. You will only hurt your neck and back. I am far smaller than you, and-“

“-Sīr byka.”

The language was smooth, the r curling in the front of his teeth, all creamy, and soft like syrup and warm. It sent heat straight into your core. 

“What does that mean?”

His eye opened again as he sat up, “Would you like to know?”

Gods, he was infuriating. 

“Yes.” You grit out, “Or else I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I said you were little.”

Embarrassment curled in your chest, but not only that, something else that sent heat striking through you. 

You tried to blink it away, “An obvious observation. And the bed would fit you perfectly well, if only-“

“-Nyke kessa mazverdagon ziry-“

“-Would you stop that?” You snipped, chest heaving as you blushed, watching as the tall man pulled his legs down and sat up, looking at you predatorily. 

You were in trouble.

Every hair on your body stood up as he watched you beneath his lashes.

“Stop what?”

You wet your lips, “T-that.”

“What, byka ōños?”

“That!” You pointed, running a hand through your hair, “You- You make a mockery of me.”

His head tilted, “I do no such thing.”

“You do.” You countered, looking anywhere but him, “You speak in tongues that I do not understand. For all I know, you could be throwing insult at my person. I know that I am not as educated as you-”

“-Do you want to know what it means? You only need ask.”

“What does it mean?” You breathed, watching as he stood from the couch, sucking all the air from the room as his head slowly came up to your height, then finally looming over you down his nose. 

“What does ‘what’ mean?”

“Fine." You huffed, "You shall stay on the couch, and I shall send word tomorrow-“

“-Little light.”

You lashes fluttered against your cheeks as you felt him step closer to you, your chest heaving as one of his hands reached out to caress a lock of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as his fingertips grazed a path down your neck, his eye intent on you. 

“W-what?”

“Byka ōños,” Aemond purred, “It means ‘little light’.” He took a step closer to you, his chest brushing against yours, warmth immediately seeping into your dress as you craned your head to look up at him, "Byka perzys.”

“And what does that mean?” Your voice was quiet, unsure, the air around you crackling with the tension that had been building for days.

“Little flame.” He translated, large palm moving behind your neck as he gripped the back of it softly, fingers tangling in your hair. Your breath hitched as he moved forward, his eye on your lips, yours on his.

“Byka jelevre.”

“What does t-“

Aemond’s lips crashed into yours hungrily, silencing your question. You squeaked, eyes widening before they slowly slid shut, hands coming to the front of his tunic as you fisted them tightly, rising on your tip toes to meet him. His kiss melted you, a fire being stoked in your gut steadily as the fingers in your hair tightened.

Then as sudden as it came, it stopped. 

You were both panting, looking at one another as his tongue wet his lips.

“Fuck.” He growled, before crashing into you again, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as you sighed into his embrace.

His other hand wrapped around your waist pulling you tightly against him as his tongue licked at your bottom lip. It was unfamiliar, uncertain, and your lips parted in a small gasp, immediately feeling his tongue lick tentatively at your mouth.

You were still, frozen as you thought of what to do as the hand on your waist moved to pull at your skirts hastily, dragging them up your legs.

And then, it was as though the fog was cleared, and your mind re-emerged. You pulled back with a gasp, hand gripping the wrist that was pulling at your skirts, your eyes searching his face with uncertainty. 

And then, slowly, it dawned on him, realisation washing over his features. 

“You’re untouched?” Came his quiet breath.

You swallowed, shutting your eyes to avoid his prying gaze, too afraid of his next reaction as you answered him. 

“Yes.”

The warmth of his body left yours, and you almost subconsciously followed it, eyes reopening. 

He looked at you with a new expression you could not quite understand. 

Your chest ached to be held again, to feel his want and his hands pressed against your body. To feel his chest against yours, his lips on your own, his tongue teasing yours as you sighed into it. You wished to feel the calluses of his hands, and smell the salt and sandalwood that lingered around him.

You felt stupid for having told him, for having stopped him. You wished you hadn’t. You wished you had just let him have his way-

“-Apologies, Miss. I did not mean to overstep.”

Any thought that you had vanished, and you found yourself gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“I shall retire for the evening.” He took another step back, his eye not once leaving yours as he shifted his body towards your bedroom, “But if I do take your bed, I would like to earn my keep around your home as I recover.”

If this man did one more thing out of the ordinary, you thought your head may spin off your neck.

“Your keep?” You echoed, feeling the tingle in your lips from his kiss. '

Did he mean-

“-Work around the island. Cleaning, gardening. Anything that you need or want from me. I am yours.”

You felt that his last offer meant more, but you did not have the wherewithal to ask for elaboration, nor did you have the courage. 

Gods, what was it about this man that turned you to syrup?

You nodded slowly, watching as relief washed over his features, “It is much appreciated, though I will be hard pressed to find things for you to do yet.” You shifted on your feet, hands wringing together once more, “I shall send word soon of your survival to shore. My pigeo-“

“-No.” Aemond said hastily, to which he recovered a moment afterwards, “No need until I am hale and healthy again. There is no point for false hopes, I may turn on the morrow.”

You shook your head, a small laugh falling from your lips, “I see no possibilities of you turning to meet the Stranger tomorrow. You-“

“-Please.” Came his voice once more, rough and quiet, and more strained than before, “Let me stay dead for a while longer.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

[polyamships]

Polyamships is hosting #MultiamoryMarch2023 💞

We’re happy to reblog any polyam creations for the month of March from any fandom or from original works. You can use the above prompts if you need a little inspiration, or you can create something in general for a polyamorous ship of any kind. We also have plenty of prompts from past years we’d still love to see fanworks for if they inspire you better. If you use a prompt, please make sure to let us know which prompt you're creating for somewhere on your post.

At us @polyamships and use the tags #MultiamoryMarch and #MultiamoryMarch2023 in the first five tags so we can hopefully see it. If you don’t see us reblog your post within a few days feel free to send us an ask to let us know, or submit it via our googleform here, in case we’ve missed your post or the tags/notifications are being weird.

All ratings are welcome but anything nsfw/triggery should be warned for and behind a read more, as should very long tumblr fic.

We also have an AO3 collection for the event that can be found here and the collection name is 'multiamory_march_works'.

We can’t wait to see what you create for the month, and please do spread the word about the event. ❤️♾️ QPR on the graphic is the abbreviation for Queerplatonic Relationship. And Sedoretu is a poly marriage invented by Ursula K. Le Guin in her science fiction story "A Fisherman of the Inland Sea," which you can find more out about over on its Fanlore page. All the prompts can also be found as text below the read more. Over the next month or two, we will also be doing a number of posts with expanded ideas for each prompt for anyone who needs a little more inspiration than just the one or two word style we have below.

March 1st - V relationship

March 2nd - Supernatural

March 3rd - Games

March 4th - Affection

March 5th - Awakening

March 6th - Pets

March 7th - Language

March 8th - Sick

March 9th - Declarations

March 10th - Convenience

March 11th - Wedding

March 12th - Cuddling

March 13th - Sharing clothes

March 14th - Sedoretu

March 15th - Adoption

March 16th - Sleepover

March 17th - QPR (QueerPlatonic Relationship)

March 18th - Together

March 19th - Art

March 20th - Grief

March 21st - Treasure

March 22nd -Bonding

March 23rd - Forest

March 24th - Apart

March 25th - Unlikely

March 26th - Argument

March 27th - Shadow

March 28th - Teasing

March 29th - Mark

March 30th - Pining

March 31st - Polyam is the norm AU

#Multiamory March #MultiamoryMarch #MultiamoryMarch2023 #Multiamory March 2023 #polyamshipping #OT3 #OT4 #polyshipping #polyships #poly shipping #poly ships #polyamships #polyam shipping #polyamorous shipping #polyamorous ships #polyamory #polyamships prompts #modposts #prompts #Multiamory March prompts

[snarp]

Do Not: Give unsolicited constructive criticism of my writing. I don't want to grow and improve as a writer - I want to keep getting worse forever - but even if I did, I wouldn't want your help, because I don't know you, your userpic is from a gacha, you thought BNHA was pretty okay, and you haven't read "A Fisherman of the Inland Sea."

Do: Post negative reviews of my work to warn people with taste similar to your own not to read it. This makes it less likely that we will annoy each other, resulting in a small reduction in humanity's net Suffering Value for the quarter.

#this is how effective altruism works

[happyk44]

So I just found out that Poseidon is also the god of droughts and what are your thoughts on a child of poseidon with drought powers, a complete opposite to their more sea based children?

[ID: Screenshot of a google search. The search term reads, "god of drought in gr...". The search term is cut off due to the mobile layout of the screenshot. A featured snippet at the top comes from wikipedia, reading, "List of water of deities".

The core of the screenshot is the People Also Ask section, of which the return is "Who is the Greek god of drought?" This question has been dropped down to show a result from "www.theoi.com". The answer reads, "Poseidon was the Olympian god of the sea, earthquake, floods, drought and horses. He was depicted as a mature man with a sturdy build and a dark beard holding a trident (a three-pronged fisherman's spear)." /end ID]

Oh! I knew this 🙌 I think it's related to him being the god of the sea/water, sort of like how Apollo is associated with healing but also the plague. I always find it funny when that happens 🤣

So for the kids who skew more to the side of drought, obviously they still have their sea powers. They're probably far more dry in tone, less empathic, less emotional. Maybe they're more prone to the earthshaker side of Poseidon as well, and the equine, to make up for the lesser interest in the sea. Plus earthquakes and horses are more land-based and a drought affects the land (agricultural loss, wildfires, increased sandstorms, etc).

In PJO canon, I'd want to say drought-based kids grew up more inland where access to a large body of water was difficult to come across. So it's less about internal nature (as with my interpretation of the freshwater vs seastorm Neptune babies), and more about familiarity and adaptation - sort of like how catci and other desert plants have evolved to handle long periods without water.

Powers that they have an increased capability for over their sea counterparts:

causing earthquakes! they can manipulate them on a small or large scale, but they have higher propensity. it's a little harder for them to cause underwater earthquakes tho (which. can become tsunamis btw)

dehydration - sort of an inverse of drowning a person in their own fluids, they will the liquids inside them to dry up at a rapid pace

as a subset of that, i think it would be so cool if they could pull a tantalus-like punishment with enough focus on someone. no matter how much you drink, you will always be thirsty, you will never be satisfied, you will be captain barbosa and his crew, turning skeletal in the moonlight

they can withstand higher and drier heats than their sea-preferred counterparts (for example, percy would be hanging off of carter in the desert, crying for water, while they're chilling and vibing, truly a cactus of a person)

similarly, they retain water better, and sweat less. their bodies need less fluid to keep going on (this makes them better at giving blood lol, stay juicy everybody!)

while most children of poseidon are capable of piling water in the air into something usable, the drought prone kids have picked up how to pull water/usable liquid from anything available, as dry climates may lack enough water in the air for it to be worthwhile compared to humid climates --- so they're more likely to pull water out of living things, pull water out of the ground, or even find water deep underground (well water!)

due to the above, they're more capable of causing inland floods, they can pull water out from deep in the earth and force it to surround areas that are devoid of rivers, lakes, or even high rainfalls - this isn't just because of the whole "god of floods" thing either, it's because after a long period of drought, sudden rains can cause flash flooding to occur, so they're good at making flood happens

heat generation! they may be able to make things hotter, and/or drier

they have perpetual black thumbs. they are... not very good at growing plants lol

finding/summoning horses. it might take a while, but if there is a horse, they will find it (like the horse version of a dowsing rod, which, lol, they're kind of the human version of a dowsing rod, i guess), and if there are no horses nearby, they will get one to come to them through ✨ vibes ✨

their version of a storm is a heatwave OR extreme rain. yes, they can summon hurricanes or typhoons, but those are much more ocean-based things. so forcing high and burning levels of heat that makes everyone stumble and sag, sweating through every inch of fabric they have OR extreme and heavy rainfall that practically drowns you where you stand and knocks you to the ground is more their instinct

lowkey i wanna give them sandstorms as well, since that can be an effective of long-period of drought, but. you know. idk how much greece was ever getting pummeled by sandstorms for that to be something they associated with drought. (egypt, on the other hand, set, my dangerous and beloved)

(funnily enough set is also the god of foreigners, so like, who knows, maybe he and poseidon struck a funny deal when one of his kids traipsed over there while wandering around)

Since I think the difference between sea-based Poseidon babies and land-based Poseidon babies is just due to their adaptation of their environment, I think someone who is sea-based could easily become more land-based after living in such conditions for a while, and vice versa. Sort of like accents, lol. You know, if Percy decided to up and move to the desert in his 40s, he'd adapt after an initial period of "oh my gods oh my gods where is the fucking water where is the ocean i am dying" lol. it would take him a lot longer to pick up on the accent of the land than if he were younger, and so he'd still maintain his "sea" accent long-term

Because of this, I think it would be really neat if, way back when, it was common for the kids to take a few months away from camp to go living in the desert for a bit so they could pick up some land skills - like a rite of passage for poseidon demigods. one of the older cabin members goes out with them to make sure they don't die, helps them hone into the skills they might not have tapped into before, etc and so on. The kids come back at the end of their outing, more well-rounded and capable of tapping into the opposite side of their powers, when and if needed. Some of the kids might repeat the outing more than once for funsies, but most of them usually just do the one time thing, and then practice their land-based powers on a smaller scale at camp.

If a land-based kid comes into camp when they're much older, they don't typically have to do the outing, but sometimes they'll go out, not to learn anything, but to help the others, since they'll essentially receive assistance with their sea-based powers while they're at camp (presuming every version of camp has been based near the ocean or some giant water mass throughout the years - if not, then it goes the other way around, where they take a few months to go chill out on a beach for a few months).

Thanks for asking! If anyone else has any extra ideas, feel free to add them on! :)

Additionally, just 'cause, here are the four types of droughts I came across while googling "drought causes" because, lol, I'm an island boy, I am not familiar with droughts and wanted to get some facts in that weren't high temps and low rainfall (source):

Meteorological: region-specific; occur when an area receives less rainfall than normal; often measured by comparing the current situation to previous years’ rainfall. Some locations are affected more harshly than others.

Agricultural: when there is not enough moisture in the soil to sustain the growth of crops. Crops need different amounts of water based on their level of maturity, so they can be susceptible to droughts at different times. For example, most plants require moist topsoil to germinate, but this could be less important down the line as the plant matures. So, the effects of an agricultural drought hinge largely on the growth stage of the plants.

Hydrological: when there is a lack of surface and subsurface water supply; detrimental effects can be most readily observed in watersheds and river basins; affect the entire water cycle, take longer to notice, and have effects less immediately obvious than with other droughts.

Socioeconomic: when the water supply is too low to support human and environmental needs; wreaks havoc on the supply and demand of crucial commodities like water, grains, fish, and hydroelectric power.

#happy's asks #chiefkideclipselamp #happy talks pjo #percy jackson #percy watching one of his new sibling running around the desert with carter like it's not driest place in the world #they are vibing he is dying chugging all the water and wondering why he agreed to come out here (oh right his massive crush on carter)

[my-hobby-is-finding-the-source]

hi Ursula K Le Guin is my favoritest author ever and you mentioned reading EarthSea and if you liked it i would absolutely so so recommend her Hainish Cycle which is a looser network of fiction in a shared universe but the left hand of darkness and A Fisherman Of The Inland Sea (an anthology) would be great places to start!

Yeah, I read "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" a while ago, and had her recommended to me many times since, but never got to it. I just started, but will certainly keep it in mind for the future!

#answer

[beatrice-otter]

Dawning Understanding (6870 words) by Beatrice_Otter Fandom: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade & Leia Organa, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Mara Jade & Han Solo Characters: Mara Jade, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa

Additional Tags: Sedoretu, Polyamory, Podfic Welcome

Summary: Leia, Han, and Luke have 3/4 of a sedoretu. Mara would make a perfect addition ... if she decides to take the leap.

On AO3. On Squidgeworld. On Dreamwidth. Rebloggable on Pillowfort.

A sedoretu is a specific organization of a poly marriage created by Ursula K. Le Guin in her short story "A Fisherman of the Inland Sea" aka "Another Story" available in a 1994 short story collection of the same name. It includes four people and specific arrangements of the relationships inside it. All people have a "moiety" that is considered as inherent as gender; the two moieties are Morning and Evening. Sex with someone of the same moiety is considered incest. The expected relationships within each sedoretu are: The Morning woman and the Evening man (the “Morning marriage”) The Evening woman and the Morning man (the “Evening marriage”) The Morning woman and the Evening woman (the “Day marriage”) The Morning man and the Evening man (the “Night marriage”) (i.e. two homosexual and two heterosexual pairings)

Here is the Fanlore explanation of it and the E2 explanation.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fic #star wars #star wars legends #sedoretu #luke skywalker #mara jade #han solo #leia organa

[neopronouns]

flag id: six flags with 6 stripes. the top left flag's stripes are very light sky blue, light sky blue, dull light purple, light pink-red, very light red-orange, and very light golden yellow. the top right flag's stripes are very light sky blue, light sky blue, orange-red, dark pinkish-red, very dark purple, and blue-black.

the middle left flag's stripes are very light red-pink, light red-pink, dull light purple, light pink-red, very light red-orange, and very light golden yellow. the middle right flag's stripes are very light red-pink, light red-pink, orange-red, dark pinkish-red, very dark purple, and blue-black.

the bottom left flag's stripes are very light yellow, faded yellow, dull light purple, light pink-red, very light red-orange, and very light golden yellow. the top bottom flag's stripes are very light yellow, faded yellow, orange-red, dark pinkish-red, very dark purple, and blue-black. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

mornman | evenman mornwoman | evenwoman mornenby | evenenby

mornman(/boy/guy/male): a male gender related/connected to being of the morning moiety; a morning man gender

evenman(/boy/guy/male): a male gender related/connected to being of the evening moiety; an evening man gender

mornwoman(girl/gal/female): a female gender related/connected to being of the morning moiety; a morning woman gender

evenwoman(/girl/gal/female): a female gender related/connected to being of the evening moiety; an evening woman gender

mornenby(/nonbinary): a nonbinary gender related/connected to being of the morning moiety; a morning nonbinary person gender

evenenby(/nonbinary): a nonbinary gender related/connected to being of the evening moiety; an evening nonbinary person gender

[pt: mornman(/boy/guy/male): a male gender related/connected to being of the morning moiety; a morning man gender

evenman(/boy/guy/male): a male gender related/connected to being of the evening moiety; an evening man gender

mornwoman(girl/gal/female): a female gender related/connected to being of the morning moiety; a morning woman gender

evenwoman(/girl/gal/female): a female gender related/connected to being of the evening moiety; an evening woman gender

mornenby(/nonbinary): a nonbinary gender related/connected to being of the morning moiety; a morning nonbinary person gender

evenenby(/nonbinary): a nonbinary gender related/connected to being of the evening moiety; an evening nonbinary person gender. end pt]

more moiety (from ursula k. le guin's 'a fisherman of the inland sea') terms for anon! these are the mornmoiet and evenmoiet flags plus additional stripes to represent manhood, womanhood, and nonbinaryhood. the terms are 'morn' from 'morning'/'even' from 'evening' + 'man', 'woman', and 'enby'!

tags: @radiomogai | dni link

#mornman #evenman #mornwoman #evenwoman #mornenby #evenenby #mornmoiet #evenmoiet #mornboy #mornguy #mornmale #evenboy #evenguy #evenmale #morngirl #morngal #mornfemale #evengirl #evengal #evenfemale #mornnonbinary #evennonbinary #fictigender #my flags #my terms #new flag #new term #mogai flag #mogai term #mogai

[aurpiment]

Hi! I'm new to Le Guin and I am especially interested in the Hainish Cycle. I've read The Left Hand of Darkness and The Dispossessed, but I can't decide which book to read next. Do you have an recommendations?

Ooh yes! The Hainish short stories! They’re collected across a couple different books including The Wind’s Twelve Quarters (early career) A Fisherman of the Inland Sea (came out in ‘94) and The Birthday of the World (came out in ‘02)

I especially like the Churten trio (“The Shobies’ Story,” “Fisherman of the Inland Sea,” “Dancing to Ganam”) and the ki’O stories, of which “Fisherman” is one but the other ones are in Birthday of the World.

If you’re looking for a Hainish novel, though, then The Telling is a fantastic one. It’s really gorgeous. It helps to read “Dancing to Ganam” first for context on what the Unist Fathers/christofascists are up to, even though they don’t feature prominently in the novel.

Not Hainish at all but another great collection of hers is Changing Planes. One of my favorite short story collections of all time.

#mt #asks #ursula k le guin

[cytocutie]

tag game sent over by @chiropteracupola :)

rules: list ten books that have stayed with you in some way, don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard - they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

haha oops it's long. i'll go ahead and put my chain letter bit up here if you folks would like to have a crack at it: @atomic-madness , @the-atrium-of-fools , @another-sad-lieutenant ?

I'm gonna take "books" loosely—some of the pieces of writing that have affected me most were short stories. In no particular order:

1. "There Will Come Soft Rains", Ray Bradbury

is the house, broken, obsolete, and alone, still a house? the gentle death is far more painful than the violent one. oh shit i just realized how much this story influenced my d&d character

2. "A Fisherman of the Inland Sea", Ursula K. Le Guin

i have so many second-/third-generation immigrant feelings about this story. even if you could do it all again, better this time, there would always be something too late to be changed, it was already part of you... when you make a decision there's always something you leave behind... and then there's the ansible and the desperate futility of communicating with a world "you" cannot return to...

3. "A New Refutation of Time", Jorge Luis Borges

this one's an essay! well kind of also a prose poem. one of those works that found me at exactly the right time in my life to punch me in the gut. "The world, unfortunately, is real. I, unfortunately, am Borges." sooo true girlie.

4. Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer

i don't know what to say just please read this if you haven't. it changed the way i love

5. Pachinko, Min Jin Lee

i do enjoy a good intergenerational epic! despite spanning a century, each character was written with so much love and humanity. this book sat down in my stomach in 2018 and has not budged since.

6. The Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer

7. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

speaking of epics with ensemble casts whose humanity breaks me. there's nothing i can say that hasn't already been said. i love People

everyone shut up about victor. the creature is so fucking transgender. i cannot emphasize enough how transgender the creature is. envisioned as Adam, cast as Satan, yet so often paralleling Eve. conceived as the perfect man, meticulously designed, and rejecting the design. bristling against his own body. the monster is Creation itself, creating itself. but i didn't give you that option! none of us are given that option. <-part of an unfinished diatribe ignited by my ap lit teacher

8. A Tale Dark and Grimm, Adam Gidwitz

10. The Unfolding of Language, Guy Deutscher

a silly trilogy and not one i particularly enjoy as an adult, but i found it very cathartic as an unwell nine-year-old with violent fantasies.

9. Superman from the 30's to the 70's

i inherited my affection for Superman from my dad, mostly through this anthology. at one point i had the first couple issues in it memorized. i got some very strange ideas about crime from this book before i learned enough about the modern world to realize that's not quite how things work

words (and art and ideas and loss and transformation) are so fucking cool you guys. this was my comfort book as a tween but i honestly hadn't thought of it in a while. i should go back and reread it

#mine

[varpusvaras]

6, 8, 22, 40 <333

6. Do you prefer drawing or writing?

Probably writing, these days. I did go to visual arts school for 9 years, but I have certainly shifted my focus on writing during the past few years

8. What's your favorite band/artist?

Ohhh this is a difficult one, since I very much listen to music based on feelings (for synesthesia and daydreaming or writing purposes), so I mostly have songs I enjoy. I do like how Yoko Shimomura composes, and Spotify tells me that my most listened artists are Casey Edwards, Kota Suzuki and Yoshiya Terayama (this is because I have listened to the DMC5 soundtrack on loop since 2019 lmao). Jeff Wayne's 'The War of the Worlds' is also my favorite musical ever, and The Cranberrie's Zombie my favorite song ever!

22. How much sleep did you get last night?

Around...6 hours? Though I must admit that it wasn't during last night since I slept from 7 am to 1 pm, oops.

40. Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy?

Do I like the beach? I live the beach. I am literally Ken, my job is beach aksjdjsks. But seriously I grew up on the coast in a city where you can just walk into the sea pretty much anywhere, I learned to drive a boat around 3rd grade, and we have summer houses on both islands and on a property with our own beaches (I'm making us sound super rich but one of the summer houses was built by my grandfather and the other is a little fisherman cottage in the outer archipelago my mom bought, and she intends to make the house on the beach her permanent residence). Also seriously, I went to high school that was inlands and I started to actually feel claustrophobic there. I moved back to the coast immediately after graduating lol. Also I prefer it sunny because I live in the north and cloudy means it's probably fucken wimdy and cold as well.

#personal #can you tell that I am passionate about my beaches asjdkdks #thank you kenzie <33