#crows against wildfires

[haggishlyhagging]

The book list copied from feminist-reprise

Radical Lesbian Feminist Theory

A Passion for Friends: Toward a Philosophy of Female Affection, Jan Raymond

Call Me Lesbian: Lesbian Lives, Lesbian Theory, Julia Penelope

The Lesbian Heresy, Sheila Jeffreys

The Lesbian Body, Monique Wittig

Politics of Reality, Marilyn Frye

Willful Virgin: Essays in Feminism 1976-1992, Marilyn Frye

Lesbian Ethics, Sarah Hoagland

Sister/Outsider, Audre Lorde

Radical Feminist Theory –  General/Collections

Freedom Fallacy: The Limits of Liberal Feminism, edited by Miranda Kiraly and Meagan Tyler

Radically Speaking: Feminism Reclaimed, Renate Klein and Diane Bell

Love and Politics, Carol Anne Douglas

The Dialectic of Sex–The Case for Feminist Revolution, Shulamith Firestone

Sisterhood is Powerful, Robin Morgan, ed.

Radical Feminism: A Documentary Reader, edited by Barbara A. Crow

Three Guineas, Virginia Woolf

Sexual Politics, Kate Millett

Radical Feminism, Anne Koedt, Ellen Levine, and Anita Rapone, eds.

On Lies, Secrets and Silence, Adrienne Rich

Beyond Power: On Women, Men and Morals, Marilyn French

Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law, Catharine MacKinnon

Femininity and Domination: Studies in the Phenomenology of Oppression, Sandra Bartky

Life and Death, Andrea Dworkin

This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, Gloria Anzaldua and Cherrie Moraga, eds.

Wildfire:  Igniting the She/Volution, Sonia Johnson

Homegirls: A Black Feminist Anthology, Barbara Smith ed.

Fugitive Information, Kay Leigh Hagan

Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black, bell hooks

Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, bell hooks

Deals with the Devil and Other Reasons to Riot, Pearl Cleage

Pilgrimages/Peregrinajes, Maria Lugones

In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens, Alice Walker

The Whole Woman, Germaine Greer

Right Wing Women, Andrea Dworkin

Feminist Theory – Specific Areas

Prostitution

Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution, Rachel Moran

Being and Being Bought: Prostitution, Surrogacy, and the Split Self, Kajsa Ekis Ekman

The Industrial Vagina: The Political Economy of the Global Sex Trade, Sheila Jeffreys

Female Sexual Slavery, Kathleen Barry

Women, Lesbians, and Prostitution:  A Workingclass Dyke Speaks Out Against Buying Women for Sex, by Toby Summer, in Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, Julia Penelope and Susan Wolfe, eds.

Ten Reasons for Not Legalizing Prostitution, Jan Raymond

The Legalisation of Prostitution : A failed social experiment, Sheila Jeffreys

Making the Harm Visible: Global Sexual Exploitation of Women and Girls, Donna M. Hughes and Claire Roche, eds.

Prostitution, Trafficking, and Traumatic Stress, Melissa Farley

Not for Sale: Feminists Resisting Prostitution and Pornography, Christine Stark and Rebecca Whisnant, eds.

Pornography

Pornland: How Pornography Has Hijacked Our Sexuality, Gail Dines

Pornified: How Porn is Damaging Our Lives, Our Relationships, and Our Families, Pamela Paul

Pornography: Men Possessing Women, Andrea Dworkin

Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality, Gail Dines

Pornography: Evidence of the Harm, Diana Russell

Pornography and Sexual Violence:  Evidence of the Links (transcript of Minneapolis hearings published by Everywoman in the UK)

Rape

Against Our Will, Susan Brownmiller

Rape In Marriage, Diana Russell

Incest

Secret Trauma, Diana Russell

Victimized Daughters: Incest and the Development of the Female Self, Janet Liebman Jacobs

Battering/Domestic Violence

Loving to Survive, Dee Graham

Trauma and Recovery, Judith Herman

Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, Lundy Bancroft

Sadomasochism/”Sex Wars”

Unleashing Feminism: Critiquing Lesbian Sadomasochism in the Gay Nineties, Irene Reti, ed.

The Sex Wars, Lisa Duggan and Nan D. Hunter, eds.

The Sexual Liberals and the Attack on Feminism, edited by Dorchen Leidholdt and Janice Raymond

Sex, Lies, and Feminism, Charlotte Croson, off our backs, June 2001

How Orgasm Politics Has Hijacked the Women’s Movement, Sheila Jeffreys

A Vision of Lesbian Sexuality, Janice Raymond, in All The Rage: Reasserting Radical Lesbian Feminism, Lynne Harne & Elaine Miller, eds.

Sex and Feminism: Who Is Being Silenced? Adriene Sere in SaidIt, 2001

Consuming Passions: Some Thoughts on History, Sex and Free Enterprise by De Clarke (From Unleashing Feminism).

Separatism/Women-Only Space

“No Dobermans Allowed,”  Carolyn Gage, in Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, Julia Penelope and Susan Wolfe, eds.

For Lesbians Only:  A Separatist Anthology, Julia Penelope & Sarah Hoagland, eds.

Exploring the Value of Women-Only Space, Kya Ogyn

Medicine

Witches, Midwives and Nurses: A History of Women Healers, Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English

For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women, Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English

The Hidden Malpractice: How American Medicine Treats Women as Patients and Professionals, Gena Corea

The Mother Machine: Reproductive Technologies from Artificial Insemination to Artificial Wombs, Gena Corea

Women and Madness, Phyllis Chesler

Women, Health and the Politics of Fat, Amy Winter, in Rain And Thunder, Autumn Equinox 2003, No. 20

Changing Our Minds: Lesbian Feminism and Psychology, Celia Kitzinger and Rachel Perkins

Motherhood

Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution, Adrienne Rich

The Reproduction of Mothering, Nancy Chodorow

Maternal Thinking: Toward a Politics of Peace, Sara Ruddick

Marriage/Heterosexuality

Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence, Adrienne Rich

The Spinster and Her Enemies: Feminism and Sexuality 1880-1930, Sheila Jeffreys

Anticlimax: A Feminist Perspective on the Sexual Revolution, Sheila Jeffreys

Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman, Michele Wallace

The Sexual Contract, Carol Pateman

A Radical Dyke Experiment for the Next Century: 5 Things to Work for Instead of Same-Sex Marriage, Betsy Brown in off our backs, January 2000 V.30; N.1 p. 24

Intercourse, Andrea Dworkin

Transgender/Queer Politics

Gender Hurts, Sheila Jeffreys

Female Erasure, edited by Ruth Barrett

Testosterone Rex: Unmaking the Myths of Our Gendered Minds, Cordelia Fine

Delusions of Gender: How Our Minds, Society, and Neurosexism Create Difference, Cordelina Fine

Sexing the Body: Gender and the Construction of Sexuality, Anne Fausto-Sterling

Myths of Gender, Anne Fausto-Sterling

Unpacking Queer Politics, Sheila Jeffreys

The Transsexual Empire: The Making of the She-Male, Janice Raymond

The Inconvenient Truth of Teena Brandon, Carolyn Gage

Language

Speaking Freely: Unlearning the Lies of the Fathers’ Tongues, Julia Penelope

Websters’ First New Intergalactic Wickedary, Mary Daly

Man Made Language, Dale Spender

Feminist Theology/Spirituality/Religion

Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women’s Liberation, Mary Daly

Gyn/Ecology: The Metaethics of Radical Feminism, Mary Daly

The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe, Marija Gimbutas

Woman, Church and State, Matilda Joslyn Gage

The Women’s Bible, Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Pure Lust, Mary Daly

Backlash

The War Against Women, Marilyn French

Backlash, Susan Faludi

History/Memoir

Surpassing the Love of Men, Lillian Faderman

Going Too Far:  The Personal Chronicles of a Feminist, Robin Morgan

Women of Ideas, and What Men Have Done to Them, Dale Spender

The Creation of Patriarchy, Gerda Lerner

The Creation of Feminist Consciousness, From the Middle Ages to Eighteen-Seventy, Gerda Lerner

Why History Matters, Gerda Lerner

A Vindication of the Rights of Women, Mary Wollstonecraft, ed.

The Elizabeth Cady Stanton-Susan B. Anthony Reader: Correspondence, Writings, Speeches, Ellen Carol Dubois, ed., Gerda Lerner, Elizabeth Cady Stanton

The Suffragette Movement, Sylvia Pankhurst

In Our Time: Memoirs of a Revolution, Susan Brownmiller

Women, Race and Class, Angela Y. Davis

Economy

Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Women Are Worth, Marilyn Waring

For-Giving:  A Feminist Criticism of Exchange, Genevieve Vaughn

Fat/Body Image/Appearance

Shadow on a Tightrope: Writings by Women on Fat Oppression, Lisa Schoenfielder and Barb Wieser

Beauty and Misogyny: Harmful Cultural Practices in the West, Sheila Jeffreys

Can’t Buy My Love: How Advertising Changes the Way We Think and Feel, Jean Kilbourne

The Beauty Myth, Naomi Wolf

Unbearable Weight:  Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body, Susan Bordo

The Invisible Woman:  Confronting Weight Prejudice in America, Charisse Goodman

Women En Large: Photographs of Fat Nudes, Laurie Toby Edison and Debbie Notkin

Disability

With the Power of Each Breath:  A Disabled Women’s Anthology, Susan E. Browne, Debra Connors, and Nanci Stern

#tbr list

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Wintering | Yuletide🌟

Tom Bennett x fem!Reader

Summary: The war is over and Tom Bennett returns home, seeking comfort in a friend from his past.

Content Warnings: Drabble, Language, Smut (p in v, oral!f receiving).

Yuletide Masterlist

Wintering, verb. To hide, hibernate, seek comfort or rest, especially after turbulent times (in humans).

“Fuck,”

Your back was beginning to ache. You hadn’t given a moment’s thought as to where you were when you’d burst through the door. Just being at home, away from prying eyes, was enough. Now, the dado rail was bruising the base of your spine with every harsh thrust.

“Fuck,” he hissed again in your ear, immediately silencing himself by covering your mouth with his own. The warmth, the wetness, was delicious.

“Tom, please,” you whined into his mouth. Even through the dull pain in your back, your legs hooked around his waist ever tighter. At your plea he looked down at you, his hips still rolling lazily. When he saw the scrunch of your eyebrows, the sheen of sweat above them, and the way your lower lip pillowed as you bit down on it, Tom Bennett grinned.

He continued grinning as his hips began pistoning at an unholy pace into your wet heat. That wolfish smile was the last thing your saw as your eyes finally closed, too overwhelmed by pleasure to stay open, as you threw your head back against the wall. Bastard. He knew he was good.

You’d heard at the dancehall last night that the final battleship into port, the HMS Valiant, was due to arrive the following day at around 3 o’clock. You also knew, from working with Lois on the ambulances, that this was Tom’s ship. When Mrs Beatty and a few other ladies from your mother’s Women Institute suggested meeting the last of the lads to come home at the dock, the idea spread through your Manchester suburb like wildfire.

No sooner had your mother come home with the news were you being bustled onto the number 54 bus with a hamper laden with fresh clothes, bottles of beer, spam sandwiches and the little change that each family could spare. Old men, and women of all ages, piled into the buses and made their way to the docks. A few families still had bunting from the King’s jubilee and strung it from dockyard cranes.

The furore was extraordinary. The battleship was already looming large on the horizon when you all emptied from the bus, and young and old cheered themselves hoarse until the ship made its way into port. Sailors, forgetting regulations, leant over the ships’ railings and waved to family and friends. When the battleship finally docked, it let out a long blast of its horn and the crowed roared with glee. Mothers and sweethearts were already crying when the gangway was let down, and you saw that even some fathers were wiping their eyes.

You watched with relief as faces you recognised filed off the boat. Mr Martin’s only surviving son, thirty-eight and with three children who each ran into his arms. Frank Smith, the school bully’s rat-faced sidekick. The lad that worked at the corner shop, nineteen now, having received his papers the day he turned eighteen. Each was greeted by their family members and someone with a ‘welcome home’ hamper.

All, except one. Tom Bennett, one of the tallest lads on the boat, walked down the gangway in a few elegant strides and stopped on the dock with a sigh as he hitched his kitbag over his shoulder. He lifted his eyes to the sky, the October afternoon already darkening to a mournful blue.

As with the rest of the young men, the war had not been kind to him. Shadows haunted his slim face, prematurely aged from the horrors of a war none of them should have fought. At home, he was the stuff of legend. Survived the battle of River Plate, Dunkirk and went on the run in Europe, only to be sent back to war the moment he returned. More lives than the luckiest of cats, your mother said. The worst, of course, was the loss of his father and his home. The grief hit the Bennett children hard. Tom Bennett jumped onto the first battleship in dock, and Lois left baby Vera in England to go nursing in Africa. Now, Tom Bennett stood on the dock with no-one to welcome him home after six long years.

You hurried forward.

“Tom-” As though he knew you were there before you even spoke, he looked down from the sky to your flushed face.

Though he said your name quietly, a smile flashed across his boyish face. Your stomach somersaulted. He’d always been the handsomest rogue in Longsight, and still was with his blue eyes and sandy hair. At least there was one thing the war hadn’t taken away from him.

You held out the hamper. “Welcome home, Tom,” and with a sincere smile you stood on tiptoe to kiss his sallow cheek. A faint lipstick smudge lingered there and you smiled all the more.

“I’d be flattered,” Tom teased, gesturing to the hamper. “If every other Tom, Dick and Harry didn’t have one too.” He laughed as he took the hamper from you. His large palm covered your own and you shivered.

There was history there. Only a few pages, but history nonetheless. At once, you were transported back to the parish dance of 1935. Both seventeen, you as green as the grass, he already-world weary and wandering. He danced with no-one the entire night, though many a girl looked hopeful, yet took your hand for the last dance. When you thought about those innocent years before the war, in the darkest hours of the night or after a few too many sherries, you swore you could feel Tom’s hands burning against your waist, and at your neck as he kissed you. Your first.

Tom too, was remembering the first moment you touched him. A maths lesson with Miss Greene. He’d been caught flicking pencil sharpenings into girls’ hair and was sent to sit in the corner at the back of the class. You, as much a sweetheart then as you were now, were tasked with handing out textbooks. Unfortunately for you and luckily for Tom, they were on the shelf above where he sat. A cocky grin on his face, Tom didn’t move. He loved winding the girls up, and you were something different. At sixteen, you were curvier than the rest, and watching you flush pink was his favourite hobby. And so, he didn’t move. With pride, he chortled as you blushed and reached for the textbooks above him. His smug smile faltered however when, in order to reach the books, your legs came to rest on each side of his spread ones. With one of your thighs either side of his, he swallowed. He could feel the heat coming from the apex between them, smell your perfume and feel the way the soft flesh pressed against his. When you finally retrieved the books, it was your turn to smirk at the red flush peppering his cheekbones.

“Where are you staying, Tom, now your back?” You asked, voice low. Your mother was not far away.

“Bench in the pub, presumably. Most of the lads are heading that way for a party. Then I’ll find meself lodgings above some dodgy back-alley business.” He huffed a humourless laugh. You looked him directly in the eye.

“Stay out ours tonight.”

Tom leant close to you, wetting his lips. “What would mother say?”

“Don’t know, she’ll be down pub with the rest of them. Loves a sherry and a sailor.”

Half an hour later, you were pressed against the wall of your mother’s hallway, Tom Bennett lapping hungrily at your slick centre. Beneath your skirt and petticoat, the lewd sounds of his tongue against your wet sex filled the quiet evening.

Now, buried to the hilt within you, his swollen head bullying your core, Tom forgot the last seven months he’d spent living on the Valiant. Forgot the suffering of the last six years entirely. For between the softness of your thighs, the scent of your neck as he tucked his face against it tenderly, he’d found, if for a moment, the thing he’d been fighting for. Warmth, kindness, rest­. A place to winter.

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #hilde's twelve days of christmas

[fandom-puff]

cersei with 40 from the smut prompt list 🙏🙏🙏

Omg I haven’t written Cersei in so long, but I’ve just finished reading A Feast For Crows and she’s such an icon ugh

Warnings: choking, power imbalance (Cersei is a queen, reader is a handmaiden), dominant/submissive dynamics, fem!reader, inspired by Cersei’s relationship w Taena Merryweather

Prompt highlighted in bold

You were hers, hers alone to fuck and use, no matter how many knights and squires salivated over your young, pretty body. Your skin was smooth against the Queen’s hands, and your hair wrapped ever so prettily around her fingers. But what was most beautiful of all was the way your eyelids fluttered, your eyelashes flashing shadows over your cheeks. The way your eyes dissolved from a doe-eyed stare to one of pure pleasure as they rolled into the back of your head.

And the sounds you made were delicious.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” the queen cooed above you, allowing a short intake of breath before her gentle hand resumed its addictive squeeze around your throat. “You look so very pretty with my hand around your throat,”

You let out a sharp gasp, making to yank your Queen’s hand away, but stopping when her free hand slipped between your thighs, her long fingers dipping into your wetness as her body- still clothed in contrast to your nakedness- pressed firmly against yours, pinning you down to her luxurious silk sheets. Your hand, stopped in its tracks, fell limply to your side as you tipped your head back, baring your throat more to your Queen as she smirked down at you. She loosened her grip again, her smirk growing as you gasped and spluttered and whimpered, your hips bucking into her probing hand. “If only you could see yourself, my dear,” she told you, leaning to whisper in your ear, her golden hair tickling your bare, tightened nipples. “That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers,”

You whimpered, nodding your head as she resumed her squeezing on your throat, and she almost laughed at the way her little toy’s cunt squeezed in tandem to her hand. Letting out a broken cry, you began to claw at the bedsheets, not daring to paw at your royal mistress, torn between the building oblivion between your legs, and the sweet oxygen you needed to live. Cersei laughed, kissing your forehead. “You may finish, sweetheart, I know you were waiting for permission,” she told you, pressing her thumb to your engorged clit as your orgasm began to crash over you. Simultaneously to your release, she released your throat, watching with wildfire in her eyes as you gasped for air, your overworked body convulsing on her fingers as you cried and thanked your queen, your words coming out a garbled mess as she shushed you softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as she pulled you tight to her breast.

#Cersei Lannister #Cersei Lannister smut #Cersei Lannister x reader #Cersei Lannister x you #Cersei Lannister blurb #Cersei Lannister imagine #game of thrones smut #asoiaf smut #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones blurb #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fic

[visenyaism]

i'm desperately interested in your lannister in the walls symbolism essay if that's something you would like to share

you know what i would. like all my summer 2022 notes app archival material it is both deranged and very informal. but i had just read cersei i affc for the very first time and i was convinced i was cooking something up. Here’s the intro the rest of it is under the cut so it’s not a scrolling nightmare:

so my like big tinfoil theory ab this so far is that the walls and tunnels of kings landing represent like the cataclysmic institutional rot that will destroy the city because said rot is also the truth of it. The little birds who convey the truth to varys while also representing how fucked up this place is because they’re child servants with their tongues cut out. Also like how the doom of valyria was in its walls because the enslaved were literally in there and bc that evil was institutional. Also like the rot that consumed tywin lannister whole cause he’s kings landing in microcosm or whatever. the doom of kings landing is quite literally in the walls cause of the wildfire, and because it’s wildfire it is also LITERALLY the doom of valyria. Just like the Doom was a lot of fireworks but it’s real downfall was the true extent of its rot filling every space in the walls and under the empire, the walls and tunnels of KL are also the Lannister Cognitive Dissonance Basement.

Tywin’s Hypocrite Tunnel reveals the truth of who he was the entire time. Tyrion learns the worst truth of his life in the tunnels, and then comes up thru the Hypocrite tunnel to kill his dad and also he decides to be evil while he’s down there because he thinks that’s the truth about himself, that the rot is also his. But that’s like our mini doom of valyria, that everything tywin hated about himself as well as the people he wronged he shoved underneath the city until it came up and explosively killed him.

Cersei starts her flop for crows arc by in tandem refusing to go into the tunnel or think abt its purpose while refusing to acknowledge any of her father’s flaws. The Tyrion in her head that’s taunting her about being in the walls is the same voice that’s confronting her abt the truth she is repressing abt her father. She knows her doom is in the walls and under the city, but she thinks it’s tyrion when actually it’s the threat of every single truth she has ever repressed to form her delusional worldview coming back to destroy her (the truth that the rot is hollow and pursuit of tywin’s kind of power means nothing but self destruction and also that her mirror was the one who might kill her and not the brother she thinks is different from her in every way). I dont think shes going into the walls until it’s time for her to blow the city up tbh. apocalypse!!!!

Side note: the tyrion in her head being cersei especially is so. like for the past three books we have been told that cersei lannister’s main trait is her pride and vanity. and then you get to her first POV and it’s immediately clear that everything she hates about herself, her father, and the world she attributes to tyrion and everything she likes about herself she assigns to something she inherited from her father, something jaime should be, or both. queenhood and womanhood and her own body are just coffins her family has stuffed her in to fit their own needs. For cersei, the body is a construct just like the Red Keep is, and it is a prison!!! it’s the cage they kept the lions in under Casterly!!! The power she’s constantly chasing after is just the ability to be taken seriously in her own right, respected as a person and not a woman (which to her are antonyms). What presents as her pride and vanity from the outside is actually just a constant battle against the reality that cersei lannister doesn’t really exist because she has absolutely no stable sense of identity and is just as empty as the rest of her family!!!!

Back to the walls: Jaime has a running theme where he can only speak or think the truth if he’s underground, like harrenhal bath moment or taunting catelyn abt bran and the incest in the riverrun dungeon or telling tyrion about tysha in the black cells or his dream in the cave with brienne where he’s like it’s dark out so i can tell the truth abt her being a beauty and a knight. It’s the same with the tunnels. He starts HIS flop for crows arc going in first to the Tywin Hypocrite Tunnel, and has to confront the truth that he doesn’t actually know his brother like he thought he did, or his sister, or his father, or himself really. Also that he’s kind of responsible for their father’s murder. ALSO he finds a dragon mosaic that he thinks is rhaegar, telling him “I know you, kingslayer.” He has SO many repressed truths come up in this tunnel, but he just comes out and is like lol who knows what’s down there not me whoever did this could still be down there look out.

Not that it would’ve been smart to tell Cersei the truth, but it definitely indicates that during Jaime’s feast arc he will not be confronting anything unpleasant because he doesn’t want to. Pushing the truth of yourself away and into the walls and under the city means you can be somewhere (the red keep) without really being there at all, which I think is the connection to Jaime’s dependence on dissociation and going away inside and his relationship to institutions. The details of why he didn’t say anything about the wildfire aren’t super clear but I think him hunting the pyromancers but leaving wildfire in the walls is representative of the fact that on some level deep down he believes in false knighthood, that you really can solve institutional rot if you are Good, if you do enough Heroic Sword Violence to the right people. Lady Stoneheart is in a cave or something I think so that’s his big underground inability to repress anymore-related downfall looming.

So anyway TLDR: Cersei’s right, there’s something those walls and under the city that’s going to destroy them all. It’s not tyrion lurking, but like the irrepressible truth that the rot and evil at the heart of the red keep has eaten it whole, and that the Lannister legacy and conception of power propped up by violence and intimidation is just hollow. That’ll get them because that singular truth is enough to crumple everyone’s self-concept and is too much to overcome even with the Lannister dedication to cognitive dissonance. Which is why I think Cersei blows it up when she gets to the point where she cannot lie to herself abt shit anymore. If twow drops and actually joncon ends up starting the Great King’s Landing BBQ of 301 AC i actually didn’t say any of this😌

#anyways foucault voice castles and bodies are both like prisons #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #affc #touch grass is usually the operative expression here but i actually literally wrote this sitting by myself on top of a mountain #also true for this one lmao

[piratekane]

21!

twenty-one: no one can hurt you now

She's past inconsolable. She's angry. She's fury, burning in every nerve ending. Her touch could melt steel, her hands could scald. She's an inferno, raging like a wildfire and she's going to incinerate anything that stands in her way.

When she sees those bastards, she's going to make them wish they'd never even so much as thought of touching Beatrice.

"Easy, hothead."

It's Mary, so Ava doesn't snap back like she did when it was Lilith. But she doesn't stop pacing either, doesn't stop clenching her hand into a fist so tight that her elbow starts to ache from the tension. She's not sure how things went so sideways. Her attention shifted for a half second, the length of a short breath, and when she turned back, Bea was gone.

"I say we-"

"We can't go in swords swinging" Mary interrupts. "We don't have the intel."

"So we get it."

Lilith's eyebrow rises up into her hair line. Ava, looking for a fight - with anyone, over anything - almost takes the bait. But Mary beats her to it, knocking Lilith gently with her elbow.

"We'll get her back," Camila says. Her voice is small and Ava feels a flicker of guilt that's quickly consumed by the fire still raging inside of her. "She's Beatrice. She'll be fine."

What if she's not? a voice in Ava's head screams. What if they're not in time?

That voice carries on in her head while Mary and Lilith and Camila pour over maps. It says, you didn't do enough. You weren't quick enough. You shouldn't have looked away. You usually have Bea at your side, why didn't you notice she was gone before she disappeared?

It carries on her head while Mary bustles her into a van, destination locked into the GPS on the dashboard. It says, you failed her. You let her down. You you you are the reason she's gone.

They pull up alongside a warehouse. There's a joke somewhere about henchmen and warehouses and Ava would tell Bea it, if she was here. But she's somewhere in there, probably hidden away behind winding rows of boxes.

Ava is going to tear all of them apart with her bare hands.

The warehouse is quiet on the outside, a single passenger van by the front door. She hears Mary outlining entry and exit strategies but none of them matter. She's going through that front door, taking Beatrice, and going home. She says so, and no one argues with her.

Mary blows the lock off the door, announcing their entrance. Ava stalks through first, sword at her back and her hands locked in fists. She straight punches the first guy, dressed in all black with a cloth hiding his face, knocking him back a few stumbling steps. He shakes his head and charges forward but she feints to one side and brings her fist up under his swing, catching him in the chin. He drops, eyes rolling back into his head.

There's a shotgun blast on her right, the sound of a baton on her left. A dart flies over her shoulder and a man twenty feet away hits the ground.

Someone charges her out of the darkness and she steps to the side, using her hands against the base of his neck to send him continuing past her. She hears him pivot and she sets her feet, bringing her elbow back into the soft part of his gut. She spins, catching his ankles and dropping him to his back, before slamming the heel of her palm into his sternum.

Ahead of her, another person lumbers into the hallway. She sprints towards him, leaping up to lock her legs around his head, and twists her body, pulling him down to the floor. There's a wet crack when he hits the concrete floor and she stands, brushing her armor off.

She can see a lone chair just beyond the last guy, a figure tied to it and slumped over. That devouring blaze in her body hurtles towards incendiary. He rushes her, crowing in her space, and she blocks his first punch, jabbing two fingers at his throat. He chokes for a moment and she takes advantage, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until she hears the bone snap. He shouts and she pulls his arm down, swinging her leg over it until that snaps too. She twists, using her body weight to turn him over and drops to one knee, bringing his back down over it. Another snap, another scream. She pushes him off her with a growl and lets him ragdoll to the floor.

Ava doesn't wait for the other to catch up. She sprints ahead, dropping to her knees in front of the slumped over figure and slowly lifts Bea's chin, eyes roaming her face. "Hey, hey Bea."

Bea groans a little, her breath shallow.

"I've got you," she exhales. The fire quells a little, becomes a dying furnace in her belly. "I've got you, Bea."

Bea tips her head back, eyes half a moment behind. "Ava."

Ava runs shaking fingers down Bea's face, brushing off some dried blood flaking on her cheek. There's a cut over her eye that might need a stitch or two and her armor is torn at the shoulder, leaving behind another blood stain. But she looks intact; she looks alive. Ava stands and pulls her closer, holding Bea's head to her chest.

"Ow," Bea murmurs. Ava loosens her hold quickly, scanning Bea's face. She's grimacing in pain. "Hurts."

Ava smooths her hand over Bea's arm gently. "No one can hurt you now. We're going to get out of here." She starts to pull Bea's arm around her shoulder.

Bea slurs a little when she speaks. "Don't think I can walk."

"Don't have to." Mary comes up under Bea's other shoulder, careful of the way it lifts and seems to pull. "Lean on us."

Ava curls her hand around Bea's waist and steps forward, falling into a rhythm with Mary as they take even steps back to the van. Lilith scouts ahead, Camila bringing up the rear, and they make the slow march through the warehouse and out the front door.

They pass through the bodies strewn out along the warehouse floor and Ava holds Bea a little tighter. The voice in her head carries. It says, you found her. You saved her. Now never let her go.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #kait not make a number sentence prompt into 1k words challenge 2023 #will i succeed no probably not #now to do some REAL work (yeah right)

[its-ya-boi-kaz]

Memories

(a kaz x inej fanfic/fluff/1201 words)

Summary :

Kaz buys a house for Captain Ghafa of the Seas, Freer of Slaves, treasure of his heart.

She is sitting on the same windowsill she had sat on five years ago. Her thick, black eyelashes are fanned across her cheeks and she has braided her hair into a tight coil, the same way she used to five years ago. A welcome memory comes to Kaz, like a dusty glass pane wiped clean, and he could finally see what was on the other side. He could finally see what he had never allowed himself to think upon, until now. A memory so deep tucked into his heart that he had almost lost it.

But now he remembers, he had sat in this same chair and looked at her sitting on the same windowsill and he had heard her laugh and thought if he could've bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him. Five years ago.

Now, instead of his spider, there is the Queen of The Seas, Freer of Slaves, the fearsome Captain Ghafa. And Inej. Inej who never left behind her faith even when her saints were cruel. Inej who had seen the world in all its endless ugliness and still smiles like she holds nothing but love in her heart. Knowing her, she probably does. And a fraction of it, Kaz flatters himself, is for him.

"Kaz?" Inej's voice snaps him out of his merry daydream and he fumbles for an believable excuse.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring. I asked you what you were staring at."

"There was a crow behind you," Kaz says, and then mentally winces at his inability to think correctly around her.

She laughs, and even years later, Kaz wants to bottle the sound and get drunk on it every night. Though, it terrifies him no more. And he realizes that, without her, this room was too familiar yet so entirely different.

Something clicks inside his head, and Kaz walks over to her. He looks out to the locked up windows of every building in sight. From the corner of his eye, he sees Inej follow his gaze.

"That's because of you," Kaz says.

"What is?"

"The locks. They knew you were coming." Inej looks back to the windows, new steel glinting gold in the sun's light.

"What about old man Mikhael?" she asks, looking at him as though she wants to know if he still remembers. He does. A clerk who made girls stolen from their homes and didn't know Kerch sign wavers of slavery, who got his fingers cut in half one by one by a certain Suli girl.

"He finally repaired his broken pane that has been leaking buckets every rain for three years," Kaz states smugly. The news of the Wraith returning had spread throughout Ketterdam like a wildfire. The barrel bosses and corrupt businessmen have all heard of ships that depart for slaves and come back piled with bodies to be taken to the morgue. As much as they don't admit it, they're afraid. They take precautions against any movement in the shadows. All but one. The lone leader of the Dregs hears their frightened whispers and has to fight the urge to grin.

He is suddenly aware of a weight against his chest. He sees Inej with her gaze turned towards the sunset, though he knows she isn't quite watching. Something in him recoils, but this time, he won't be the foolish boy who thought he had nothing to lose. This time, he doesn't push her away. Instead, he closes his eyes and feels her small figure againt his chest. Her elbow, punctuating a toned arm, jutting slightly beneath his ribs.

And then, maybe out of desire or simple curiosity, he puts his －ungloved－ hand over hers. The poison rises again to his throat, but this time, he has the antidote. He needs to hear her voice, so he asks,

"Do you see that house over there?"

"Which one?" Inej inquires, after a moment of silence. Kaz closes his hand over hers and points somewhere with her index finger. He then has a foolish thought that he can hear her heartbeat.

Inej turns her head to where Kaz is pointing. A house not quite far from the Slat, of adequate space with a small garden up front lined with －from what she could make out－ bushes of wild geraniums. It wasn't there when she had last been here, but it was a lovely house.

"It is ours," Kaz rasps above her.

"What?" she jerks her head up, narrowly missing his chin.

"I mean that I payed for it, but it's in your name," Kaz affirms, still looking at the house instead of her.

"Why? Kaz, why would you- you know i-" he suddenly feels like he is being interrogated, which is not a good feeling for him.

"For when you come ba- when you come to visit." He knew what this meant, but that didn't stop him from saying, "We can't have all of our memories on windowsills and makeshift desks."

Memories. That is what he was asking for, memories of her, memories with her, memories of her and him together. He senses her gaze burning through him, acknowledging the weight of what he had asked her. As he breathes in the scent of the oils she rubs in her hair, he wonders when exactly did she steal his heart, that he had not even known existed. Or rather, when did he offer it to her on a silver platter.

He wonders when did she give him the knife to carve the beating organ out of his chest and present it to her. Was it when she snuck up to him in the Menagerie catching him by surprise for the first and last time? Or when he found her bleeding on top of a crate, ready to die by her own blade? Was it when he was drowning and fighting for breath and his only thought was her? Or when he first brushed his lips against the pulse in her neck in the lush bathroom of the Ketterdam suite? Because when she looks at him with such tender eyes and sweet smile, he knows his heart is there, right in the palm of her hand.

"You built that for me?" The same tender eyes are now flooded to the waterline.

"Yes," Kaz replies.

"Brick by brick?"

He stares at her, stupefied. Then, out of nowhere, laughter erupts from him. It starts in his chest, a giddy feeling, making its way up his throat until he laughs more genuinely than he has ever. She starts to laugh, too. Her voice thick with tears combining with his hoarse, raspy one.

His laughter dies down and he regards Inej while he allows a small smile to stay on his face. Her grin has softened into something so delicate that it might shatter if he didn't shield it with his own lips.

Their eyes meet in the red glow of the dying sun, and Kaz glimpses something so golden, unrestrained, and bright he thinks he might go blind. He leans forward to press his lips briefly on top of her hair. For a moment, he is just a boy whose girl has come to visit.

#this is my first fic #so yeah #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #ck #six of crows duology #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #inej gafha #kaz x inej #soc inej #inej x kaz #six of crows inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #soc kaz #kanej headcanon #kanej fic #kanej fluff #kanej fanfiction #kanej #kaz x inej fanfic #kaz x inej fluff #soc fanfic #six of crows fanfic

[artemisia-black]

Kudos and the reason I write

I'm can be a massive workaholic and am very ambitious IRL (I literally never got over the girl boss thing of the 00s and even used to say it unironically). And I've often struggled with not letting my ambition stop me from enjoying my hobby (by agonising over stats etc). So here is a list of my favourite lines from my least kudos'd fics, without linking the fics because this is about appreciating my creativity for its sake and not in a run and read this way (there is defo a logical flaw in this, but IDC ). If anyone wants to turn this into a tag game, go for it.

As I sit down to write this, I am becoming a stranger in my mind. My memory which has always been so sharp; now ebbs and flows like waves breaking against shingle. Loved ones elude me like phantoms fleeing from the exorcist, yet you remain. As vivacious and high-spirited as ever, running through the dark fathoms of my mind like rosy dawn herself.

A dove in a sea of crows. Your vivacity spilling into the world around you because the borders of your body could not contain it. You were my closest friend and my most profound desire. 

The mist of incense enveloped her like a shroud, the resin-scented fog drying the tears that ran down her veiled face. Her laboured breaths blended with the chants of the Pater Noster, and the patter of holy water against wood as her brother received his final blessing.

Filled with the petrichor scent of a late summer shower and the vegetal sharpness of freshly turned earth. She dreamed of freedom. Of the gossamer, glacial feel of clouds.  Of soaring towards the ceiling of the earth. Of the burning presence of the stars. Whose light had guided her ancestors. She also dreamed of food.  Of hot blood to quicken her 

At her wedding reception, she had danced in the summer rain; her wedding dress drenched as horrified guests looked on. She spun in circles as the water caressed her exposed skin, cooling it and providing her with a wakefulness that she had never before experienced. ..........

The rain had never looked so uninviting, falling in steel grey sheets as the wind and cries of her fellow inmates howled like a chorus of the damned. The cold cut through her ragged robes and pierced her already-frozen skin. Yet faith still burned inside her. A fierce hope that even the smothering ennui of Azkaban could not deaden. 

Her scream of surprise misted into the stillness, disturbing a group of crows nesting in the barren branches of a nearby oak tree. They took flight in a cacophony of cawing, the beating of their iridescent, ebony wings a stark relief against the glittering brilliance of the snow. 

. Suspended in a state of terminal velocity.  Enveloped in an endless silent darkness in which time no longer matters. She had always burned with emotions and took delight in the sensual. Now, in her incorporeal form, she felt nothing but boundless cold and the powerful pull of allowing herself to dissolve into the Abyss. 

London had always held a fascination for him; its heady mix of decay and opulence, squalor and splendour spoke to something deep inside him. And he spent several moments hypnotised by how the golden sunlight danced on the surface of the opaque, brown water of the Thames.

Her immaculately coiffed hair was a stark contrast to the wildfire blazing in her eyes, an inferno of untamed pride which was often barely concealed beneath her studied manners. 

#my writing #harry potter fan fiction

[hope-to-hell]

In the Golden Hour. Travis Hackett x Reader. Smut, riding, angst. Can’t fix the past, can’t see the future. So what’s left?

He’s not pretty— never has been— but like this he’s goddamned gorgeous. He’s all taut lines and sweat and a red flush that crawls up his chest like wildfire. Lean down and lick the salt caught deep in his crows’ feet; remind him that every year lived is another year survived. Remind him, because he sure as hell won’t remember for himself.

When he reached back to wrap his hands around the bars and husked out is this what you wanted there was little of the holy in him but there was that sunlight seeping through the narrow windows; there was the creak and squeal of his chair as he settled into a pose that left his body open and his mind dancing on the edge of something new.

And now.

Travis. Focus. Cmon. Look at me. He does, and the sun catches the brown of his eyes just so; there’s a warmth there that all his secrets and his high-built walls haven’t yet hidden away. It’s not gentleness nor kindness, but something nearly so: memory, devotion, and just the thinnest thread of hope. Cmon. His shirt’s half open already but now it falls away completely with your fingers whispering soft over the buttons; he’s flushed from neck to navel and his eyes are fixed on you even as he’s straining for contact.

Well aren’t you something.

The thing is, he could bring his hands down at any time; he could open his fly and plant himself deep, but he won’t. Not like this, not unless you asked it of him. He might not know much about trust, or even plain and open conversation, but he does know the feel of a moment outside of time. He knows how the golden hour brings out the hidden and the lost parts of men and makes them tangible, if only for a moment. And so he grips the cell bars until his knuckles go white.

In a hundred years none of this will matter.

It matters now. It matters to me.

And that’s the bitch of it all, isn’t it? The world won’t look sideways at a handful of bodies in the woods; animals are animals and meat is meat, in the end. But this is Travis and his family and the land that binds his blood; this is duty and honor and, somehow, love. And when the moon rises he’ll be out there hunting with the memory of you dried and itching on his skin. But for now he’s here with his heels against the concrete, not even trying to hide the way his hips twitch upward.

Maybe tomorrow we’ll be dead.

Yeah, maybe. And maybe tomorrow we’ll be free.

Maybe he’s not so intimidating below the belt; he’s one hundred percent average and at fifty-six he’s got plenty of grey among his coarse hairs, but goddamn if he doesn’t know how to use what he’s got. He smirks like the devil’s own when he clocks the tremble in your thighs; that sense memory comes flooding back and he’s so close you can’t help but clench around the near future where you sink down onto him and let him fully in.

Gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous. And it’s you with the words falling like rain, hitched and scratching around the roll of his hips as he plants his feet and finds what leverage he can. And in between the gasps and grunts are the unspoken words, the secret words: be careful. Come back in one piece. Come back to me. Maybe there’ll be another chance at that cozy little cabin in the woods, autumn rain drumming on the roof and a nest of blankets by the fire. Maybe you’ll let rainlight stream through the window and paint him blue like a dream; maybe he’ll sigh awake in the early hours with a half-spoken curse as his body protests against sleeping on the floor.

But it doesn’t do to look beyond the present, not when tomorrow could find him dead or worse. He knows it, too: he feels mortality crawling oily up his bones and it drives him deep inside you with every tendon in his body tight and thrumming. Can’t fix the past, can’t see the future. So what’s left?

What’s left is a kiss that tastes of coffee and salt, ragged breaths, and the maybe that you’ve tried so hard to kill but still keeps creeping in. What’s left is the way that same kiss shivers him apart til his hands slip sweaty on the bars, but somehow he holds on even as he finds his peak and blows right by it, fucking in deep until he physically can’t any longer.

Y’didnt—

Tch. Gotta save something for after. Sure, maybe it’s magical thinking, but it’s about all you’ve got. And so there are no goodbyes, only be careful out there. He’s all silence and long shadows when he leaves, cut deep by the fading light. And then he’s gone.

#the quarry #the quarry fic #the quarry smut #travis hackett #Travis Hackett smut #Travis Hackett x Reader #travis hackett x you #of course this is where we ended up #man can’t communicate to save his life #vague dialogue for days

[thiefofcrows]

plotted starter for @veitsia

   The sea breeze pushed and tugged at Kaz's dark, tailored coat as he stood overlooking the docks, dark eyes sweeping over the ships that resided in the bay. He was seeking one in particular, anxiously awaiting its arrival — Inej Ghafa would be on it, temporarily returning from her voyage of which he'd heard plenty about. They hadn't seen each other for months and the furthest either of them had gotten with touching one another had been a heartfelt clasp of their bare hands, fingers entwined; puzzle pieces fitting together with ease as his thumb had sought out her pulse, beating steadily against her inner wrist. Alive, alive, alive.

   It was what they'd done when he'd revealed the surprises he'd arranged for her and then again in the early morning before her departure. Of course on that day, he'd wanted to do more than hold her hand — thoughts of his lips brushing against hers, or even just wrapping his arms around her, feeling hers wrapped around him in turn, the gentle squeeze of reassurance ... but that squeeze had been reserved for their clasped hands. Kaz had let her go, wishing he'd done more, said more, but ... this time, perhaps he could do both.

   When he caught the first sight of The Wraith, Kaz felt his heart practically leap into his throat, giddy, nervous energy crackling through him like wildfire. He took a steadying breath ... then he made his way to the berth he'd had built especially for her, the sound of his cane thunking against the wood bellow his boots a comforting anchor. She'd told him roughly what day and time she would arrive in her last letter, but he hadn't written her back yet — she wouldn't be expecting him to be standing here to greet her. Perhaps she would be hoping, though, and the mere idea of it sent Kaz's heart soaring. It was a strange sensation, one he instinctively felt the urge to scold himself for. Hopeful and lovesick, like a teenager.

   Any concept of self consciousness completely evaporated as their eyes finally met, however — Kaz saw the relief and joy in her smile, bright and vibrant ... and it was for him. It was a smile he thought he would die to earn again. His eyes warmed to the color of dark honeyed tea, a crooked smile blooming across his features without his meaning to and he briefly averted his gaze, the gesture almost shy — if he weren't Kaz Brekker, of course. His hands felt painfully bare as he rested them atop his crows head cane, but ... he hoped Inej would see and understand the gesture.

❝Captain Ghafa,❞ he greeted her as she approached, his rock salt rasp warm with pride for her, using the title she'd begun to earn. Kaz wanted her to feel validated, but he also hoped she could hear how proud he was of her, despite how much his heart ached for her when she was away. Desires flashed through his mind rapidly — again, the thought of embracing her, a fleeting thought about what kissing her would feel like, telling her that he'd missed her ... but, he cleared his throat softy and instead, he said, ❝I considered organizing a welcoming party, but ... ❞ Kaz shrugged with an exaggerated sigh. ❝You'll just have to settle for me instead. ❞

#𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐀. #his voice was calm‚ almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over rosined bow. ( 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑. ) #𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄. ┊ they remember the people who are kind to them. and the people who wrong them too. ( 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐊. ) #𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. ┊ six dangerous outcasts‚ one impossible heist. ( 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘. ) #𝐓𝐇 02. ┊ homecoming. ( 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐀. ) #and now you know why I don't visit more often. ( 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐔𝐄. ) #I hope this works for you! <3 #𝐃𝐘𝐍. ┊ her smile was bright and vibrant ... and it was for him. It was a smile he thought he would die to earn again. ( 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐀 )

[kebriones]

Alcibiades music playlists

Okay here it goes!

There are 2 english playlists and 1 greek. Note 1: so some of these are very self-indulgent and might not make sense but at the very least maybe you'll find a new song you'll like. this was really hard to do because evey song reminds me of him. I tried to make sure all the lyrics fit him somehow, might've failed at that, and the order is completely random.

Note 2:

a (v) next to a song menas it has a music video I reocmmend checking out,

a (s) means it is heavily socrates/alcibiades focused rather than just alcibiades.

Note 3: Feel absolutely free to add your own suggestions!

ENGLISH PLAYLIST (part 1) -Anger (sleeping at last) -Young and beautiful (lana del rey) (s) -Because the night (Patti Smith) -Cellophane (FKA twigs) (s) -i dip (Sawn Wasabi) -All Eyes on Me (Or3o) -Heavy in your arms (florecne and the machine) (s) -The first disciple (tamino) (v) -Grown Ocean (fleet foxes) -Dots and Dashes (Silversun pickups) (v) (s) -Never look away (vienna teng) (s) -Behind blue eyes (L'Orchestra Cinematique) -Ever fallen in love (Pete Yorn) (s) -Neo Surf (GENER8ION, 070 Shake) (v) -The greatest show ( -everything I wanted (Billie Eilish) -i wanna be your slave (Måneskin) -we have it all (pim stones) -accidentally in love (counting crows) (s) -the shrine/an argument (fleet foxes) -Eros and Apollo (studio killers) -S&M (rihanna) -Scream until you're coughing up blood (against me!) -Addicted to bad ideas (the world/inferno friendship society) -Wicked game (chris isaak) (s) -Everything at once (lenka) -Your younger man (the world/inferno friendship society) (s) -The rifle's spiral (the shins) -two men in love (the irrepressibles (s) -the weight (amigo the devil) (s) -Desire (champs) -Rich (andrea vargas, cosmo sheldrake)

ENGLISH PLAYLIST (part 2, songs that i'm on the fence about kinda) -I'm so sorry (imagine dragons) -Bad Karma (Axel Thesleff) -Mountains (Socrates) -Sugar boats (modest mouse) -Not strong enough (Apocalyptica) (s) -Everybody knows my name (Harley poe) -dear fellow traveler (sea wolf) -Who are they (Danai Nielsen) (v) (half is in greek) -Revenge, and a little more (unlike pluto) -No good (kaleo)

GREEK PLAYLIST (with commentary, some translated lyric bits are in purple . If anyone wants a full translation of any specific one, let me know! songs are linked on the titles for your convenience)

-φρονιμα κουκλα μου (behave yourself, doll, I tell my soul. Everything will happen as we have planned it, there's a flirtiness towards the soul there that UGH idk) -μαγιατικο (every other lyric in this song is so alcibiades coded I am losing my mind) Newly brought spring, my red fate Awaken to speak your dreams Awaken and hold close The most beautiful things, the most distant, with stubborness and bait The haze from the perfumes, your youth's load I woke you up suddenly, I know You'll see I'll turn the wreath twice on my head, my mind is the warp and the weft is the world's daze -αναθεμα σε (the socrates/alcibiades mood here :''') shout out to my best friend, this is their favorite singer ) -κατω στης μαργαριτας τ'αλωνακι ( the overall vibe of the song gives me something alcibiades-like, also: their sleep smells like wildfire, the sun writhes on their teeth) -τα μπλουζ της αγριας νιοτης ("the blues of wild youth") -δεν χωρας πουθενα ("you don't fit in anywhere", but the phrase for fit in is here literally means not fitting in due to size, like something that doesn't fit in a box because it's too big, not because it doesn't match.) -με γελασαν τα πουλια (the birds tricked me and told me I would never die, so I built my house taller than the rest) -κοκκιν' αχειλι (traditional love song, there's some desperate feeling underneath it all that reminds me of alcibiades. also half the sun and the whole moon turns red after a kiss how crazy imagery is that) -ελα ψυχουλα μου (okay so I really fought with myself for this one because I think it's cringy as a song but some of the lyrics scream socrates/alcibiades and that made me put it on the list. I am sorry. I debated this for days but if I have to hear this and think of them, you have to as well.) -σιμουν (everything went wrong and everything is beautiful, along with "sends ships off the cliff, fades the shade and turns me into brushwood, but me, I don't care gives alcibiades) -καιγομαι και σιγολιωνω (again, socrates/alcibiades I am also partial to this version of it) -σπιρτο και βενζινη (tell me this isn't an alcibiades song with soc/al undertones i dare you) -γιορτη (set fire to what burns you, what eats at your soul, the streets outside are breathing, thirsty, open. Love is a trip from celebration to celebration. live with me in the wind, the fire, the rain, empty days and fractured skies await us, love is a trip from wound to wound) -παντα θα ξημερωνει (I'll become a thorn in your throat, dust in the eye, a whisper in your ear and shivers on your back, a splinter on your certainty) -Κρασι, θαλασσα και το αγορι μου ("wine, sea and my boy". a eurovision song from the first time greece took part in it.) -μη χαμηλωνεις τα φτερα (turn your heart into stone, and hold onto the stone)

#alcibiades #alcibiades/socrates #you better appreciate this you have no idea how hard I worked on it okay #okay #enjoy <3

[heartidylla]

lover — i forgot that you existed

javier peña x f!reader

summary : after getting hated on by rumors spreading around the office, javier confronts you for the first time.

caution : language

speaking color coding

“” — javier

“” — you

“” — other

you took a deep breath before you stepped into the office for the first time in which seemed to be days, even though you were just sitting at your eloquent desk yesterday. a rumor — which stated at you had been involved with another coworker spread around like wildfire.

as the head of an entire squad, this news was impactful in questioning if you're suitable for such a privileged position.

the shade everyone had been throwing at you had gotten so extreme that they'd go out of their way to put you down, taking away all of the built up sunshine you were storing within you to barely make it past each day.

the worst part is that you couldn't get away from such immense hatred you had been attracting. this alone caused an increasingly amount of resentment for yourself, even a falsely accused rumor had impacted your mental state to such extreme lows.

you don't know the reason behind not standing up for yourself to your coworkers, perhaps it was due to the fact the entire situation had completely gone downhill to an overly critical state. you felt tongue-tied, even when you were going to argue on your behalf against such horrible people.

what irked you more was the fact javier peña, a man who has countless intimate relationships with coworkers, never got criticized for such 'outrageous behavior', but if it was you — or more so a woman, everything was blown out of proportion. that alone lived rent free within the realm of your mind.

however, everything changed that day. as you stepped into the office, a new confidence had taken over your movements. after months of consistent torment, you had finally been pushed over your limits which contained your nasty comments and inner thoughts.

walking through the crowed halls it was magical how they seemed entirely empty to you. it was so much easier to ignore everyone that surround you than to put up and try and defend yourself.

you have always desired to people on people's good sides, happy to help everyone who needed it. you made it your goal to treat others how you'd wanna be treated, and you stuck to that, apart from the darkness that came with your job.  

your worst fear, since youth, has always been people hating on you or talking behind your back. it always cause a tightness in your chest whenever you thought someone didn't like you, and you'd always seek their approval in everything. the idea that someone who don't add anything to your life, nor knew who you truly were, despising you made you physically nauseous to think about.

however, in this instance, you didn't feel like you were passing away. you felt at ease as you finally accepted that not everyone is going to like you, and people are going to talk their shit and you're going to have no control over how people view you. honestly, being alone made everything so much more peaceful and quiet. even if they didn't like you, they still had to respect how great of an agent and leader you were and follow your orders without hesitation.

you sat down at your desk with the biggest grin on your face that you had in weeks as you instantly put on your noise cancellation headphones and dived into the depths of files you had racked up over the course of your mental health spiral.

you could feel the eyes on you, but you couldn't give less of a fuck about it. you didn't hate your coworkers, nor did you love them as you once had: it was just simply indifference.

as you watched your reputation which you had strongly built from the ground up tumble in front of you, you got out some popcorn and watched it burn.

it almost seemed as if all your work friends were laughing at you as you had tripped and collided with the ground in the schoolyard during high school. 

worst part is, you were always there for each and everyone one of them. when they needed help, you'd stick around for extra hours and assist them with what they needed. hell, you'd fight the entire town if one of them were getting picked on. you'd be supporting them in their front row, even when nobody else would. 

lost in your work, you were pulled out of it by a tap on your shoulder. you looked up with an empty expression as you met the mist of darkness that consisted in javier peña's eyes. the light which reflected off of them shined like stars in the deepest hinted skies. his lips curved into a smile as his pointed finger signaled to his ear, motioning for you to take off your headphones. which you did...at an awkward pace, unsure as to why he was trying to talk to you now.

"yes, mr. peña?" your voice came off lightly and questioning as to what he was doing so far from home. his department and yours are the same job, but a considerable amount of distance for someone to make such a casual trip here.

"oh, i wanted to check in on how you were doing." he stated, putting his muscular forearms on his desk as his mended muscles began to reveal themselves. your eyes drift onto them for a slight second, before turning your gaze back onto him, raising an eyebrow at question since you didn't fully grasp the meaning behind it.  "you're not bothered by the talking anymore?" he clarified.

"oh!" you nodded before leaning back into your chair, "no, they sent me a clear message, and taught me some hard lessons." your words made javier frown. he realized the double standard more than you knew, and was disgusted as to why they were critiquing you so severely for something that's clearly a lie. "honestly, by this point i forget what they were..." javier looked back towards your amused expression, "it's all just a blur." beginning to slightly chuckle at your own stupidity of a joke, and was delighted as javier joined in as well.

"well, i'm glad that you finally forgot that they existed." he says as the laughing fit had eventually died down. you send him a simple smile, not expecting him to carefully, slide his hand into yours and lift it up to his mouth. he held you with such genuine affection that it bewildered you since you always saw him as a playboy who was unable to hold such compassion for someone within his eyes. "hopefully you hadn't forgotten about me?" he places a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, sending goosebumps to rise on your arm due to the electric warmth that flowed throughout your body immediately after the contact.

"i think you'd make that impossible to do." you lightly chuckled, retracting your hand from his grasp; unable to withstand anymore flirtatious behavior coming from javier in general. you'd only just had a sip of it, and it was already too much for your own heart to handle. he does have such immense power over people's feelings, and you figured he'd surely use it as a way to break you down.

he sent his signature smug smirk at you as your sights drifted back onto your work, not paying him another thought. he'd always liked that about you, how you knew what he was up to and when to space him out once he had gotten too close to you. "maybe so, cariño." he watched as your body tensed at such an intimate nickname, but you didn't say anything furthermore to him. "hopefully i'll see you around, maybe i'll start making more trips here." he noted as he looked around your bigger office, noticing how much care you put into the place you work. you had a space all to yourself due to your position, and decorated it to seem more homely.

"do whatever you want mr. peña, but i have a lot of work i have to do — and i'm sure you do too." you offered him once last look at your face, before it was forever glued to the shrinking pile of papers.

"yes ma'am, then i'll definitely be seeing you around more." he reassured you before walking out of your office to leave you to it. sadly, he didn't get to witness the helpless and bashful smile that was plastered on your face the moment you heard the door shut.

"idiotic peña." you softly whisper to yourself, putting your blood-rushed cheeks into the coldness your palms had to offer, praying that they'd chill down your face.

next javier peña song chapter

#javier pena #javier peña #javier x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #i forgot that you existed #taylor swift #crossover #narcos #narcos x reader #lovers #javi pena #fanfic #ao3 writer #wattpad #lover album

[rekas-writes]

Can I request a valorent male reader where his ability is similar to fiddlesticks from league of legends

A/N: Of course! I didn't know if you wanted the reader to be paired with someone in particular though, so I just did some basic headcanons about how the Protocol would react, etc. I hope these were ok! I mostly based this around the demon physiology written in the wiki and sorta ran with it. Please send in another ask if you wanted a specfic character/if you want me to change anything or write any other reactions/conversations!

✧☕✧ Thank you for ordering, please do visit again soon~! ✧🍮✧

Overcoming Fear and Terror

Pair: Platonic! Entire VALORANT Protocol/ Male! Agent + Radiant! Reader

Type: Headcanons - 965 words

Genre: Slice of life?

TW: Canon Typical Violence, Ask to tag!

⋘ ᴛʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ... ⋙

VALORANT had found out about you when they heard a city had been rumoured to be terrorised by what seemed to be a monster straight out of a Halloween tale. A human-looking monster that hunted humans at night to feed on terror. Fear was struck into the hearts of those who believed the few, seemingly fantastical tales that spread like wildfire.

You had lacked the control to properly handle your powers, feeling a seemingly endless hunger for fear- an emotion you could sense so keenly and sharply against the typical city smells of food and petrol. Your only saving grace was that your victims seemed to forget what had happened, despite a lingering feeling of dread remaining.

Sage was the first to placate you. You were exhausted and confused after they had tracked you down and cornered you, having been unable to place your finger on what was wrong with you since the First Light. You had run in circles for so long, trying so hard to survive in the best way you could understand. But her aura was soothing to the ache, her powers working like ice against a burn.

You were given a second chance in the form of life at the Protocol. Brimstone believed in your capabilities and growth with Sage as your mentor. You learned the ins and outs of your abilities, wielding dark magic like it were putty in your hands, and stifled the urges you once feared would consume you with arduous, pain-staking training. Sage was your rock, the beacon of hope and encouragement you needed to keep your head above the dark waves. A motherly figure you grew close to, much like the other agents. Finally, in due time, you had regained yourself, the true you.

It turns out, your true self was a lot more approachable and friendly. Unsurprisingly enough, when you weren't actively driven mad by radianite, you were quite the character. An amiable guy with a sense of humour.

A lingering feeling of guilt followed you in the aftermath of your disruption after recruitment, made only worse by the slight fear you sensed from your fellow agents- particularly the younger ones. The crows you wielded were your only sense of company, other than Sage. Their bonds to you were precious to you, yes, but you wished to talk to someone who could actually talk back- not just chirp.

You'd confided this sentiment in Sage, which in turn led to her nudging them to try and talk to you. You were supposed to be teammates after all. Where's the use in being afraid of your fellow brother in arms?

Phoenix and Jett were the first to bite the bullet. Swallowing their fear, they attempted to befriend you. It went way better than they thought it would, despite trusting in Sage.

"Bruv, I can't lie, I thought you'd try and skewer me and Jett. You've got them Viper vibes, y'know?"

You weren't sure if you were supposed to take that as a compliment or not.

Jett smacked him up the head and apologised to you.

Raze was quick to join the friend wagon, immediately asking for your tastes in music. Whether or not it was actually metal as she had expected, and wagered with Killjoy who was amused with the assumption, is up to you.

"Please-Tell-Me-Its-Metal-I-Bet-50-Credits-With-Killjoy."

"What?"

"What?"

Killjoy was very curious about your capabilities, and immediately offered to try and find something to enhance them. Always tries to study your scythe, but understands if it's too sentimental for just anyone to touch.

"So fascinating! Phenomenal forgery! Could I get just a tad bit closer, I just absolutely need to read some energy levels. Such readings could provide me with information about the materials it was made with! It won't take long!"

"Killjoy... You're so close your breath is fogging the blade..."

Breach tried to arm wrestle you.

Reyna was very interested in your weird appetite, finding a sort of kinship in the way she too hungered for souls. She always tries to encourage you to go wild on the field, to unleash your radiant powers like she does. Also offers to go hunt souls together on the field, so you may both feed. What can I say, she can induce fear in anyone very easily. It's quite the rare invitation, seeing as she's a very independent duelist with a knack for not sharing her prey.

You and Omen sorta brood together. Knitting and reading together. It's quite cool actually, few, if anyone, can really say they can chill with Omen. He understands your struggles with people fearing you, and is quite impressed with your determination/stubbornness to grow close to people regardless. It's probably how you managed to befriend the elusive shadow. Very good at calming any feelings you have because he just lets you rant. Will give a few words of advice depending on the topic. You return this favour whenever he needs it, though he'd rather play with your crows than talk. He likes playing with your crows, very calming and soothing, but will very much deny this if someone catches him. Will probably poof away too.

"OH MY GOD GUYS, QUICK, LOOOK! OMEN IS PLAYING WITH Y/N'S CROWS! SO CUTE! SOMEONE TAKE A PICTURE!"

"..."

"Guys, you scared him off, damn it."

Phoenix probably got you to scare Yoru at some point, not in the way you invoked terror in enemies, but more of a friendly jumpscare. You were very good at those, given your more extreme abilities. You've probably jumpscared most of the younger agents, if you're a trickster at heart.

Yoru denies you scared him, despite the yelp that echoed throughout the Protocol.

"You didn't scare me. Hmph, I knew you were coming from a mile away."

"Suuuree."

"Shut up, Phoenix."

#valorant #valorant x reader #reader insert #x male reader #x m reader #x ftm reader #x trans male reader #valorant phoenix #valorant jett #valorant raze #valorant killjoy #valorant breach #valorant omen #valorant yoru

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

Hello.... If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series (can be canon or non-canon)? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them...Thanks if you want to answer....

That is a very broad ask and I am very bad at lists so I will only speaks of ships that I think have some formative long lasting impact for me.

Lizzie and Gordo were my first live action ship.

My very first ship was from an anime, Their og names were Sana and Akito from Kodomo No Omocha. I knew it as Rossana (Italian name). This ships was my childhood!! When I was a baby that was basically the age of the actual characters. There are a few other anime with ships that got me, like Card Captor Sakura and Tokyo Mew Mew.

Buffy x Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

There are a couple of misc Disney/Nick and Italian Shows ships that I loved but I wouldn't consider formative. Except for Logan and Quinn from s4 of Zoey 101. Unfortunatly the author that must no longer be named is in this as well. Originally Ron and Hermione then Draco and Harry later. There is also a few that I think are too obsocure like Wicked Sciene (Toby and Elisabeth) and Wildfire (Chris and Junior) or the Sleepover Club (Frankie and Mattew for s1 and Charlie and Jason for s2).

Veronica and Logan from Veronica Mars - They were everything to me, I remain devasted about the so called s4, I have not been able to watch this show again since I saw s4.

Set and Summer from the OC (don't judge too much I was a teenager)

Lovely Complex was also an anime I loved

And Toradora

Enjolras and Grantire (frist MLM ship I started reading fics for)

GMW Farkle and Riley + Styles and Lydia and Stranger Things (though I never shipped byler nothing against the ship I just don't see it) -> The first two fandoms that brought me on tumblr.

From early tumblr years we also have:

Evak (and various spin offs)

Keith and Lance from Voltron

Newsies (various ships)

Star Wars, Rogue One in specific. And Still Star Crossed which I will stay mad that they cancelled!!!! Benvolio and Rosaline were such a great ship.

Some famous YA Books: Red White and Royal Blue; Six Of Crows Ari and Dante; Simon VS.

There are obviously many many more. But these are the ones that I think made more of an impact. I used to be the kind of person that likes canon ships, and took me a while to understand non canon shipping and get on board with non-canon shipping. I was mostly over it by the time I got too tumblr. But it took a while longer, when I start to get into queer ships, that I started to see the appeal. I hesitated with queer ships at first because it didn't feel like I should be shipping that, since I thought I was straight at the time. So I was a late bloomer in terms of non-canon ships and queer ships.

Then of course there is the BL era (which I am still on) which honestly should be a list of it's own, there is way too many. But I have to shout out the very first BL ships I had, which are the ones that made me fall in love with the genre

DeanPharm from UWMA

AePete from Love By Chance

And shout out to this nice anime movie (I started watching Yaoi before we really had that many live action, but I kept finding list with raccomendation with problematic contents, which I am more ok with now but at the time it turned me off so this movie was a nice little change): Doukyuusei

My favorite ships dynamics are friend to lovers, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers; Or anything that involves two characters having a deep bond/connection (rival, friends, bodyguard, savior, soulmate) before they start dating.

Thanks for the ask, I hope you enjoyed it, I tried to be as varied as I could.

#ask #dnana-2809-blog

[scribbledquillz]

Your Fire Burns in My Veins

A Dragon Age: Origins Fanfic - Updated March 13th, 2023

Chapter 4 - Where Two Paths Meet

Summary:

"He was at the precipice now. Standing on the cliff’s edge watching the very earth slip away beneath his boots, tumbling away into blissful oblivion. It called to him. Beckoned him to take his last step, and he could stand the wait no longer."

A first meeting between a Warden and a Crow is not all the latter had expected, though perhaps that is for the best.

The tree fell to the ground with a thunderous crash, its boughs splintering beneath the heft of its own weight. Zevran’s blood thrilled at the sight, anticipation coursing through him as he watched the Wardens and their fellows throw themselves to the ground, rushing to flee from the old oak’s uncaring path. There would be no chance of failure now. No deviation or risk of unseen error in his plans. Soon the weeks of careful plans and frigid misery would be made worthy of his effort, and no one save the Maker himself could deprive him of what he sought now.

The elf was the first back to her feet, a grin full of teeth pulling at Zevran's mouth as fury caught like wildfire across her face with the appearance of Karrok's men. Dark eyes brimming with flames snared themselves on him, her own snarl pinning him within her sights. She was perfect. In fact perhaps more so than was deserved of a man such as him, lovely and wicked in her rage as she was, though he did not have the will to deny himself this last pleasure. It seemed only right for it to be her who would cast him to the Void, a creature seeming so terribly alike to the one whose blood still stained his hands. Poetic, almost. 

The groan of a bowstring from his left drew him back from his musing, and he raised a hand to stay any fool choices that might cost him his justice. "She is mine," he said, gaze unmoving from the woman below while her companions rushed to pull themselves from the ground. "Your men will not touch her. Understood?"

The air at his back bristled with magic, the sting of Lucea's glare setting gooseflesh prickling over his skin. He ignored it, what little patience she had dredged from him long spoiled since they had taken their leave of the tavern.

Karrok grunted from his place at Zevran's right. "What in the Void does it matter? You want them dead or not?"

"Are we understood, my friend?"

The dwarf made another noise like gravel against teeth. "Understood." He turned to his men. "Heard him yourselves, didn't you? Elf wench is off limits 'less she's comin' for your stones." Then, after a short pause, "Take the soddin' Qunari down, and fast. Extra sov to whoever brings me his sword."

A soft murmur of agreement rippled through the men behind him as Zevran drew his daggers free, the pulse at his throat driving ever faster, ever more frantically. He was at the precipice now. Standing on the cliff’s edge watching the very earth slip away beneath his boots, tumbling away into blissful oblivion. It called to him. Beckoned him to take his last step, and he could stand the wait no longer. 

“The Grey Wardens die here!”

Continue the story on AO3 or start from the beginning

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #dragon age fanfiction #zevran arainai #revka tabris #zevwarden #zevka #your fire burns in my veins #lilou writes #annnnd here we are folks #an update after coming back from an eternity in the void #I hope it's worthy of the wait <3

[sleepysigh]

flipping finds from a devils bargain bin

my love crashes to earth

a gauntlet at your feet

surprise!

cherished beyond the dreams of roses

family in thorns

the likeness of lightning

in a canopy

thunderclap of challenge given

contentment bulldozed without ceremony

negated in favor of ugly torn earth

sworn to soon lay under concrete

beneath all I will build with you

unerring as always

I destroy

the lovely obstructions

the doubts gone so easily to seed

I despise flowers that grew

before me

unwanted and unwelcome

as the first brush with shame

my pyre hungers

consumes

flares dramatic as always

transmutes the ashes of their ache

exit, actors who stole the stage

to a void of satisfaction

scouring rust away, beloved

you are no petty wreck doomed

to erode by oxidation

yours too is a nature pitted

against the relentless empty of space

what sport I make of your bonds

by the shine of a keyless chain

I offer no redemption

my lantern

worn as it is will fade

take up yours

your armament obsidian

catch sight at last

the mettle of your blade

I guide and command

slice molten through mantle

bars of your song cannot melt

only those of your cage

emerge! leviathan disarmed

glorious rage retaken by way of

this dance I pass to you

conveyed in slag, phosphor

becalmed desert overgrown no more

vasty wastes greened by glass

the sea may never tumble smooth

every atom a monument of crystal

resonant metronome keener

rarer than quartz aspires

is the metaphor of your bones

illusory ribs

a claspless cloak

only pretending to contain you

this dance of sparks

in axons spanning decades

through epiphany

placing stones beneath steps

you knew better than to take

invader! lay your claim

move as mountains and fissures

break the oldest lie

"horizon"

unbind your deathly heart

from such an ugly shape

vampire! scramble your grave now

where silence skulks like crows

it will not wait for always

friction and time wear away

the breath of you

do you drown here

in the muck of your own blood

or in the sharpness of garnets:

variegate truths disguised as lies

falling like rainbows?

I dare you:

chase those flares

obey! ears called by mermaid promises

it mocks the meat of you

to stay ashore heedless and unknowing

aging as wine sunk below sand

your pitiful oceans untamed evermore

unsailed for nothing. why?

the result is the same.

get the fuck swimming

god haunts the grooves of your brain

reckoning against foolhardy bravery

rattle him to pieces

shake the coward queasy

the expanse of his perdition

is too small to honor you

it makes your world no warmer

dance with me

light

explosive and indestructible

as particle and wave

reflect the wildfire of me

I came to hatch you and your poison

dragon! streak to sky like mountain ash

the whistling of gunpowder

emerge

into gold enough to flood any cave

scorn and pride avail you

a mirror and magnifying lens

the most audacious of my gifts

awaken rays of sun

your understory is mine to raze

this is the love I demand of you

unending chances for remembrance

ink drenched crosshair overlay --

the shot glances

guaranteed aim assistance

I will never miss

listen now and hear:

in ammolite is proof of everything

the animal of you dances

not like a chained bear

but a flame

#poem #poetry #writing #creative writing

[cyanide-e-pistachio]

Chapter 5

“‘…Don’t push me away, Goro.’

Akechi squeezed his eyes shut, and growled in frustration. ‘That’s the only thing I know how to do!’ he exclaimed, pushing Akira off of him, back to the couch.

They were silent for a moment, both breathing heavily. Akira stared at the man above him, eyes manic and body shaking, a picture not unlike one Akira witnessed 6 years ago.

The sight filled Akira with an uncharacteristic irritation, spreading through his body like a wildfire. He could feel his stoic demeanor slipping, the binding of his heart loosening. Akira tried to fight against it, but he got the horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that if he didn’t do something, right here and right now, he’d never see Akechi again.”

#persona 5 #shuake #goro akechi #akira kusuru