#it's been like a month and a half i've Run Out of my tolerance for men or at least booker

[onsunnyside]

here's one of the prompts from this ask: presenting... camboy!Rafe

After yet another falling out with Ward, Rafe had to find some other way to make quick cash. He didn't expect to keep this virtual career going for over a year, growing to love the flattery and attention as much as his real-life hookups.

You're Sarah's best friend, a fellow kook-turned-pogue, and spent more time at the Cameron house than your own. This summer, Rafe travels back home from college and gets a little careless, so used to his private dorm where he didn't need to stifle any moans or dirty talk.

It's a late night by the pool, music plays from Kie's speaker and empty beer bottles litter the patio. John B and Sarah are cuddled by the stairs, chatting with Pope as JJ does his umpteenth cannonball, splashing you and Kie as you lounge on floaties.

Unfortunately, it's your turn to get more snacks and drinks. You begrudgingly trek through the big house, already a little inebriated. You gather chips, popcorn and beer on the shiny island counter before a loud noise catches your attention. Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow those strange noises and find yourself in front of Ward's office, the door just barely cracked open.

Rafe sits in his father's chair, pristine white shirt unbuttoned with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. Your eyes drift to his arm, the sleeves rolled up and muscles tense under his tanned skin. He murmurs something under his breath and you creep closer, trying to make out his words.

"Hm, is that so? You think you deserve my cock?" His pink lips stretch into a smug smirk, "you're gonna have to bend over my desk and show me where you want it."

The angle blocks his lower half, but you don't need to see it to know what he's doing—the jerking motions of his arm, the hitches in his breaths, and his blue gaze locked on the screen before him.

"If you beg real nice, I'll let you taste my cum. Shoot my load on your pretty face and claim you, maybe I'll even take a few pictures." Rafe groans heavily, his arm speeding up, "is that want you want? You wanna be daddy's little cumrag?"

For the next few days, you avoid him like the plague, but that's hard to do when it's his damn house. Every time he comes around, you slip away, muttering an excuse about going home or doing an errand. Sarah is the only one partly concerned since you were never at Rafe's throat like the rest of the Pogues.

Your luck had to run out at some point: he corners you at a kegger, you should've known he'd show up at the Boneyard with the rest of his friends.

"I've been back for a month and you haven't said more than three words to me."

You grip the solo cup tightly, nervously peering up at him, "hi, Rafe, how are you?"

He laughs, shaking his head. His new buzzcut makes him appear more rugged and confident. Ugh, he never used to make you weak in the knees, but now you're having trouble standing upright—hopefully, it's just the alcohol.

"I'd be better if you didn't look at me like I'm covered in blood. C'mon, you're Sarah's only friend that I can actually tolerate." He rolls his eyes, "don't tell me they turned you against me in a couple of months?"

me thinks... one thing leads to another and you're making out against his truck, your dress hiked up to your thighs as he hooks your knees around his hips. You pull away for a breath and his hand wraps around your throat, his wet lips trailing down to your jaw: "Is it bad that I want to get caught right now just to see the look on JJ's face?"

At the mention of your friends, you snap out of it and shove him away. Guilty and ashamed, you can't imagine what Sarah would think about you hooking up with her brother, and the rest of the Pogues definitely wouldn't be happy about it either.

You leave the party early and once again, avoid Rafe, going as far as faking sick when Sarah invites you over.

fast forward to the filthy stuff: don't even get me started on you starring in his cam shows. Rafe is all too eager to show his viewers every inch of you, how pretty you moan, how you melt with just the slighest of touches.

He's such a tease: he grinds his hard cock along your clothed cunt, showing his fans just how needy you get, "look at that, she's soaking her panties," he chuckles, reading the rush of comments on the laptop screen, "Yeah, she's gonna ruin them tonight—maybe we'll have a little fun and send them to the highest tipper. How's that sound, baby? You want a stranger owning your messy panties?"

He's obsessed with cum shots: he’ll cum on your pretty, tear-stained face or one of your used holes, "open wider for daddy." And of course, you obey, blinking up at him with his seed on your cheeks and lips. He leans down and spits, spreading his saliva and cum on your tongue, "such a good girl, you'd let me do anything to you, hm? You wanna show our fans how pretty you look right now?"

this au makes me very interested in Rafe's and reader's exhibitionist adventures 😳 ofc fooling around at the country club, mayhaps golf cart shenanigans, and definitely riding him in his truck... this will be a full fic 😌 or a collection of drabbles !! we'll see hehe

#sonny drabbles #camboy rafe #rafe cameron #rafe loving hours #sonny's stories #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe Cameron fanfic #rafe Cameron au #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe Cameron x female reader #college!rafe Cameron #college au #camboy au #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks au #drew starkey #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #college rafe Cameron

[hedgehog-moss]

My second pasture down near the torrent is too overgrown to be used as a pasture, and I've been cutting some trees in order to rehabilitate at least half of it, so I can use the grass to make my winter's supply of hay at some point in the future. Some of the logs I cut were really heavy and I could only carry them two at a time at most (and it's uphill) so I finally decided to ask Pirlouit to contribute.

I say “finally” because my donkey is afraid of everything so it was a very long journey to get to this point! When I got him he was almost a feral donkey and at first I could barely approach him, he’d just run away and hide. After a few months of hanging out in his pasture, looking harmless and not bothering him, I was allowed to stroke his nose but only if I was simultaneously offering him treats (progress! he used to stretch out his neck and lips as much as he could to catch my treats while maintaining a prudent distance.) After maybe a year he started consistently walking up to say hi of his own free will when I went into the pasture, but if I had a rope or a halter with me he’d run and hide. It took nearly three years for him to come to me willingly even when he could see I meant to catch him. I kept our outings pleasant, like taking him to a nice spot in the woods to eat brambles while I sat nearby and read and didn’t ask anything of him (beyond basic landscaping services.)

But I have a lot of heavy logs to carry up a steep slope all the way to my woodshed, and the time has finally come for Pirlouit to get a job.

Pirlouit: "Oh no"

There were a lot of preliminary steps here as well, like showing him the bag I meant to use to carry the logs and waiting patiently for Pirlouit and the bag to get acquainted. (Initial reaction: “AAAAAaaaahhhhh a big red bag” evolving into mere distrust then extremely wary nose-poking, then, when bag failed to attack, serene indifference.)

Pirlouit: "I've always loved this bag. Don't know what you're talking about"

I don’t have a girth to keep the bag in place on Pirlouit’s back but with a balanced weight of logs on each side it was quite stable. Pirou grudgingly tolerated having the bag on his back while standing still, but started freaking out when asked to walk with it. Maybe he felt that the logs were heavy cylindrical children who had been entrusted to him and he feared that they would fall down—he refused to walk if I didn’t keep my hand on the bag to stabilise it. The problem is, he also refuses to walk (in general) if I’m walking next to him rather than ahead of him. And I can’t hold on to the bag if I’m not next to him.

Dilemma.

(“He refuses to walk if I do [X] but he also refuses to walk if I do [opposite of X]” is a very donkey-owner problem to have.)

So, I walked ahead of him but at first we literally moved one small step at a time. Eventually when he realised the bag was solidly weighed down and didn’t wobble from side to side or slide off his back, he started walking more trustingly. (We went up the hill in a wide zigzag rather than straight ahead so the bag wouldn’t slide backwards.) At times he seemed to forget about the bag, then suddenly remembered its existence and stopped dead and became anxious again. It was a slow progress across the pasture, but then we crossed the road and reached Pirlouit’s own pasture, and he relaxed a bit.

The llama children were intensely curious as always and I think Pirlouit felt quite flattered. He didn’t stop walking and didn’t freak out once as we walked up to the house; the llamas followed us admiringly and Pirlouit walked confidently as if to say “Look what I can do.”

Since this experiment proved successful I will try to find some sort of girth to attach the bag (would love to have a proper pack saddle but they’re expensive...!) We made a couple more trips the next day—I was wondering how Pirlouit would greet me, because when he doesn’t like something we’ve done he straight-up sulks for a few days and refuses to let me come near. He did that a lot when I was starting to get him used to the halter. But the day after his first log-carrying mission he came to greet me as usual and let me halter him without a fuss, so he didn’t mind being hired to do this.

A round of applause for Sir Pirlouit, a donkey with a job!

#crawling along #in the background of the video you can see my greenhouse's skeleton! #it should have been completed by now but one of the two people who were supposed to help build it got covid #i am a bit cursed with this greenhouse #but there will be a greenhouse post in the future! :)

[inkskinned]

i had not been taught love, so i couldn't apply it to myself.

i liked the idea of self-love, but it felt sanitized, opulent - white. it was always depicted by pretty people with lots of money; vaguely familiar but entirely at-odds with my lived reality. it was "treating" yourself, long vacations, taking time off of work, reminding yourself that grades cannot hurt you.

but i did get hurt if my grades were low. i could not take the time off from work. i couldn't stretch the budget to run-off-into-the-sunset.

my life is not full of peaceful morning coffee. my life is a string of ants, crawling over the abandoned mugs i've left out for weeks. it is stepping over broken glass over-and-over rather than just picking it up. it is spending a huge amount of money on food because i can't make myself just remember to cook. i have bought a pair of earrings pretty much every week for a month, i keep losing just-one. at the same time, i can never remember that i need to buy a new toothbrush.

self-love was presented to me as a sort of - end goal. a variant self. what the kids are calling "becoming that girl." she works out while drinking smoothies and running around her large apartment in the city. i understood why she would have self-love; she clearly had her shit together. if i also could get my shit together, maybe then i'd be worthy.

i always thought of it as important for others to strive towards, but not really meant for me. when i sit in a long bath, i feel weird and cheesy. i'm not particularly drawn to meditating. i drink water because it's just a necessity. i know my own personality - i am never going to be someone wholly-at-peace. a lot of self-love approaches aren't comforting for me. any time i engage with them, i hear my cuban father scoffing gently: this is greedy. latins don't waste time by sitting in idyllic locations reading poetry - that's a white-people thing.

i am almost 30. i have only just-now realized that i didn't believe i can find self-love because i simply didn't believe i was deserving. that i grew up without an image of what being-loved would even look like, much less how to apply it on a daily basis. that any form of self-love feels false, defiant - because it's foreign to me, and i have always been denied it. i thought it was "not for me" because nobody had ever provided it.

i learned almost a self-tolerance instead - a gritted-teeth approach. i will do the things i have to do in order to prevent my mental illness from dominating my life.

i am treating myself, more and more, like a scared animal. i don't force myself to keep everything perfect. i clean up the glass, but i let myself leave the pile of clothes until later. i let myself "half-ass" things. i treat self-love as the protection of my future self - as taking care of someone who will be here, later. it's okay if i mess up in the process. it is often ugly and unrefined and. absolutely glorious. i am training myself what it is like to have someone care about me. i am training myself to trust in safety.

i am training myself - there is no one image of finally being happy.

#this loses the plot halfway thru i don't like #it #yes i realize the irony of saying that in a post about self love shut up #just come over and kiss me idk #edit: word change bc otherwise it looked like a typo but it wasn't a typo i am just #very annoying

[summer-nights19]

Knb dating headcanons (gn reader)

This is my part of a collab with the lovely @neoo that I've been putting off for months (Aomine, Kise, Akashi, Takao, Momoi)

You can probably tell where my biases lie lmao

Aomine

~ Before dating, you guys had one of those friendships in which you do everything together. If one of you was somewhere, the other was likely not far off. You were also one of the only people he opened up to in any way

~ Even before your relationship was official, everyone half thought you were dating. You both always dismissed these ideas furiously, unaware of your pining being mutual

~ Was definitely a mess when he first asked you out. Despite trying to appear confident, it was clear that he was really flustered and that the nerves were getting to him. When you accepted, his face lit up with one of his rare, geniuine grins and it was one of the most attractive things you had ever seen

~ Definitely the jealous type. If he sees anyone try to approach you romantically, he will put a possessive arm around your waist at the very least while glaring at that person. Has no problem getting his hands dirty, metaphorically or sometimes literally, to remind them that you're his. Usually, he'll take it further by kissing your cheeks and lips, before trailing kisses down your neck. You end up having to remind him that you're in a public setting.

~ Loves seeing you in his basketball jersey, especially if you wear it to his games. He thinks you look adorable in it, plus there's something really hot about you wearing his name and number like that. The first time you did it, he just stared in admiration. Needless to say, it was hard for him to focus during the first quarter of that game.

~ His love languages are quality time and physical contact. He can be a bit closed off at times, so he isn't great with words and emotions, but he finds other ways to show you he cares. For one, you're pretty much always doing everything together: study sessions, relaxing at one of your houses, watching TV, wandering around town... if you're somewhere, he's usually nearby.

~ When you're in a busy place together, he'll hold your hand to prevent you from losing sight of each other. He'll also do this more casually, and, while doing it, he fidgets with your fingers and draws patterns on the back of your hand with his fingertips. It's weirdly soothing for both of you.

~ Side hugs + arm around your waist, so you guys can keep moving while he's touching you

~He's also the type of guy to run his hand up your thigh and kiss you in public if you're comfortable with that

~ Definitely loves it if you sleep in with him during the weekend. You'll spend hours cuddled up like that with his arms wrapped around you or your head on his chest

~ He'll jokingly tease/bully you ALL the time. It was a large part of how you guys used to flirt pre relationship, but it didn't stop after. You can do it right back of course, but he's the kinda guy who always needs to have the last word

~ Tries to teach you how to play basketball. If you're bad at it, he won't mind (he'll definitely tease you though) because he thinks it's adorable how hard you're trying for him

~ Despite not being the best with emotions, he'll try really hard to communicate more with you as your relationship goes on. Makes sure you always know how much he adores you

Kise

~ Even before he realised how he felt about you, he was constantly flirting with you. Initially, you shit him down completely, but, as you guys became good friends, you grew to tolerate it

~ He was definitely confused when he first realised he felt something deeper for you - he usually only had casual relationships and superficial flirting, so when he found out he wanted something more from you, he was pretty stumped.

~ Pushed you away at first, but, as he grew to accept his feelings he set about making amends

~ He was terrified when asking you out- what if you said no ??? To his delight, you said yes without hesitation

~ Forgot about all his fan girls when you two started dating. Now, he just ends the conversation with them as quickly as possible to get to you. He also makes it very clear that he's taken.

~ His main love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. He'll constantly be praising all your successes and telling you how perfect and hot you are. Do the same for him and he melts.

~ Constantly leaving kisses all over your face and either hugging you or keeping an arm around you. If you let him, he'll keep a hand on your thigh whenever you two are sitting together.

~ You definitely have mini parties when one of you sleeps over - you put on a bad film, make some popcorn, do your skincare (Kise definitely has the best stuff from his modelling job) and just relax.

~ He's a textbook golden retriever boy.

Takao

~ You probably met because you were sat next to each other in class or something.

~ Tries to crack jokes/make you laugh to win your heart. The kinda guy to send you 50 memes/reels a day and be like "this reminded me of you,"

~ Definitely tries to use those really lame dirty pick up lines, and says "Only joking," before you even have time to react.

~ Keeps up a confident facade around you, but internally he's panicking. When he finally works up the courage to ask you out, he's so id when you say yes.

~ When you actually start dating, he's by your side 24/7, and, if he can't be with you, he spams your DMs with texts and memes.

~ If you're ever sad, he tries to comfort you by making you laugh

Akashi

~ Was cold towards you at first, as he was still completely in denial about having feelings for you. However, as you grew closer over time and started to open up to each other, he let his guard down

~ You guys were probably friends for a long time before dating, and Akashi already trusted you with his life. You're the only person he's ever properly opened up to

~ Treats you like royalty - to him, princess treatment is the bare minimum. He's the definition of a gentleman

~ Also loves to shower you in luxurious gifts - definitely the type to send you large bouquets of your favourite flower at least once a week

~ will keep up his cold façade in public but becomes a total sweetheart when it's just you two

~ Posessive and overprotective (not that many people try coming near you with the kind of reputation he has)

Momoi

~ You guys were probably already very good friends when she realised she liked you. Eveb efore that, she'd always want to hang out with you and looked forward to seeing you the most

~ Now, she'll be extra friendly and sweet to you, never once leaving your side

~ Becomes a little shy and awkward at times, especially in the beginning of the relationship

~ her love language is quality time - she plans so many exciting experiences and trips for you guys

~ Gets jealous easily and tries not to show it

~ Looks out for you in small ways - she'll cook you lunch or bring you class notes if you're off sick. She's not great with words but shows you she cares through her actions

~ Will never leave your side if you're upset

Masterlist

#knb fanfic #knb x reader #knb #gom x reader #aomine x reader #aomine fanfic #aomine daiki #akashi x reader #akashi seijirou #ryota kise fanfic #ryota kise x reader #ryota kise #takao x reader #takao kazunari #momoi satsuki #momoi satsuki x reader

[fxchild]

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter seven: So now you're back?

A note from Fxchild ! Hi hi so ya I am not dead ! My phone lit broke and I totes forgot my email for this acc but now I'm back and my writers block has never gone away so quickly ! I'm so excited for new chapters to b out soon ! In the meantime while you r waiting for chapters, if you have one shot ideas for characters Finn Wolfhard plays I would b more than happy to write those so you guys aren't waiting forever for a new chapter ! So...finally heres the well awaited chapter seven ! I hope you enjoy this <3

It's the first day of May. It's also been three months since Miles left again. I keep telling Flora that he'll be back soon but I feel my heart break every time I lie to her. I don't think he will be back until I leave for the summer and then he'll leave again when I come back. I feel so guilty..Flora doesn't have a brother that lives with her because of me. But was it all really my fault? He treats me like shit and expects me to tolerate it. Never mind. I don't give a flying fuck about him anymore. He can do whatever he wants, if something happens to him, oh boo hoo not my problem.

It was finally Friday which means I have tomorrow off and I only have to teach Flora a little today because the weather was perfect for horseback riding and I'd promise to let her out today. Today I wore a dark red top with dark grey jeans with black high top shoes. I put my hair in a half up half down clip and did minimal makeup because I was planning on recording myself for an upcoming interview I have for a summer job.

Today I planned out a written test to see Flora's knowledge on geography. I would give her a half an hour to finish up on review and two hours for the test. The test was fairly easy so it shouldn't take her more than an hour or so.

"And begin." I smiled at Flora, setting my timer on my desk which is right across from hers. She immediately begins to read and write down answers while I look over her past work to grade.

Around 45 minutes into the session we hear the front door open. Flora pays no attention to it, I assume it's Ms. Grose coming in from cutting grass or buying groceries so I ignore it and go back to reading old assignments. Around a few minutes went by when I heard footsteps coming to the room. Expecting Ms. Grose I take my feet off the desk and fix my posture without looking at the door. I pretend to be in deep thought with grading when I hear someone clear their throat and hear Flora shout,

"Miles!" She screeches and jumps from her seat running over to hug him. I immediately turn my whole body in my chair with wide eyes. His hair slightly longer and he looks a little taller. He still has the same smirk and dead eyes I saw the night he left. He had on a black coat that ran down to his knees and two bags in his hands that he must have taken when he left. He engulfs Flora into a hug and smiles down at her. I've never seen that smile before. Unlike the ones he had given me this one was warm and loving. I think I had given him that smile before but I wasn't sure. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at me and smiled. It was genuine, his eyes brightened. I knew it was real because it wasn't that same old smirk he put on with confidence, he looked painfully awkward and his eyes kept darting between me and the wooden floor. I didn't smile back. I rose up from my seat and walked over to him.

"Flora, why don't you take Miles bags and put them in his room for him sweetheart?" I smiled down at her while patting her hair. She gladly accepts and runs off with his bags. Miles smiles at me again nodding opening his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"How you been Miles? Where'd you go this time huh? Was it fun?" I say with a sarcastic fake smile, he could tell I was mad.

"Well I-" He begins as I slap his face.

"You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how upset Flora was? She cried for almost a week, blaming herself, poor girl!" I say gritting my teeth with my eyes starting to tear up slightly.

He stared at me with pursed lips before sighing and answering. "He told me to."

I scoff and look at him dumbfounded. "He? Wh-who the hell is 'he' Miles huh? What are you schizo?" I roll my eyes annoyed

"Nobody-nothing. I just..had a dream that's all." He shakes his head staring down at the floor with shame.

"Whatever Miles." I roll my eyes and walk over to Flora's desk to pick up her finished test. "Better go find Flora. Told her she could get out of class early to go ride the horses." I say looking through her test without looking up at Miles.

"You're not gonna come?" He asks quietly, nodding his head to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

I chuckle quietly before placing the test back on the desk. "After the last time?" I walk over to him, picking a pine needle off his jacket. "No thanks." I fake smile before walking out of the room to my own. When I reach my room I fall flat onto my bed before letting out a loud sigh into my pillow. A few minutes later I look out the window. I see Flora and Miles running to the stables and shouting happily. I turn to look at my Calendar, 30 days until I leave. I got sick of sitting in my room bored and decided to go do something, anything in his boring place.

I walk into the kitchen hoping there's an apple or some food sitting out but instead of being greeted with food, it's an unbearable Ms. Grose. I smile at her but she crosses her arms and frowns at me.

"Why are you being so unpleasant towards Miles?" She grits her teeth. "What are you talking about?" I ask trying to pretend I have no clue what's going on. "Talking to him in such an arrogant tone, not accepting his offer and you still wonder why he left? You should be shamed." She spits at me coldly. My face dropped as I start to feel tears in the corners of my eyes.

I quickly ran back up to my room and slam the door. Tears start to stream down my face as I grab my backpack and start shoving stuff into my bag. By the time I zipped it up I hear the front door open again. I quickly put my shoes back on and started heading down the stairs. Walking towards the door I'm wiping my tears, Miles blocks my path.

"Woah woah! Where are you going?" He asks with a concerned look on his face, his hands falling to my shoulders. "Out." I reply while sniffling trying to push past him.

"Um okay, when are you coming back?" He lets go of me, now following me out the door. "I don't know..like..tomorrow? Sunday maybe?" I continue to walk away from him to my car. "Tell me where in case you get black out drunk again and need me to pick you up." He scoffs grabbing onto my wrist.

"You know what Miles? You won't have to worry about me anymore! I won't bother you. It's clear I make you want to leave and you hate me so I'll just leave you alone okay?! Is that what you wa-"

He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine. It was soft and quick, like he was trying to shut me up and this was the first thing he thought of. He lets go of my wrist and stands up straight looking at me sternly. My cheeks are burning red as I attempt to say something but I can't seem to speak, like there's no air in my lungs.

I lean up against my car door for a moment staring at my feet trying to decide whether to leave or not. I finally look up at him, his head in staring at my feet too. His hands are in his pockets and he's biting his bottom lip nervously. I smile up at him.

"Hey..I'll be back in a little while. I promise I won't make you pick me up this time. Want me to grab you something?" I softly smile, hoping he won't hate me. He shakes his head no with a small smile on his face before letting me get into his car. He watches me drive off before heading back inside.

'29 days..' I whisper to myself as I head into the nearest town, smiling to myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was extremely rushed so my apologies if it wasn't as great as one of my last chapters ! I promise the next chapter will b better and have more of a plot than this one. Hope you guys liked this and r excited for the next chapter!

#fanfic #miles fairchild #miles fairchild x reader #the turning #finn wolfhard #the switch #miles fairchild smut #stranger things #mike wheeler #ziggy katz #richie tozier #trevor spengler #boris pavlikovsky #fxchild

[eternalglitch]

Can you tell me about your rats? You have any favourite pictures of the? ^^

My phone storage is half rat photos. I'll go into the creatures under the read more.

I brought home Kili and Ori in early August, 2021. They were sisters, and my intended 7th and 8th rats after a break from owning any due to college.

Unfortunately, there was a slight mishap where their litter sexually matured a week early and surprise... I ended up with eight extra rats two weeks later.

Although Ori took to motherhood without an issue, Kili's three (rat) kittens did not make it past the first 24 hours. As a result, the breeder and I decided to give back Ori to raise her litter until they could be adopted that October.

Rats are not usually able to be kept alone, however, and Kili had been huddled in a corner, unresponsive, after her loss. In an attempt to help her, Thorin was adopted and introduced as my 9th rat while Ori was MIA.

(^ day 1 of Thorin and Kili being introduced.)

They bonded very quickly, and when reintroduced to Ori two months later, all three got along great.

Personality wise, they're all fairly distinct, although the sisters resemble each other a bit more for obvious reasons.

Ori is the most excited to be picked up and held, and will come running for any attention. She is the common culprit that chews holes in my clothes, and has the least interest in high energy activities (I've never seen her use the wheel in their cage.) She enjoys splashing around in their water bowl with her paws and making a mess. She'll also insist on taking all of the bedding at the bottom of the cage and stuffing it in the hammocks.

Kili is the most cuddly of my trio, and I rarely get pictures of just her because she is often curled up with one of the other two rats. She's the most likely to come sleep on my lap when I have them out at night, and boggles the most. She has a funny habit of squirreling away all of the food, so when I feed them in the morning she takes all of the food, puts it in a corner, and the other two just know to go take from her storage. Lately the others have been overgrooming her a bit so she's often missing patches of fur on her shoulder blades despite my best attempts.

Finally we have Thorin, who is the most unique rat I've ever had both markings-wise and personality-wise. She's a bit more like a cat while the other two are more like pocket dogs; she detests being picked up and will only briefly tolerate it to be moved to the play area, and is not particularly interested in being pet, either. What she does do is come running over to lick my hands and arms. It's not unusual for me to be minding my own business and she'll grab my hand / bite my finger to drag it closer to her so she can start grooming me. Incredibly silly animal. She spends hours on the wheel in their cage every night and is half of the weight of Ori, so I can always tell when she's the one perched on my leg.

#glitch answers #my pets #rats #I'll stop here though HAJKHSKD I have literally hundreds of rat photos #brief mention of animal death

[littlemuoi]

The tiny woman with dazzling blue eyes who turned me from a republican to a royalist by Louis de Bernières (September 2nd 2023)

Somewhere in my possession I have a snotty letter I wrote to my mother from university about not being interested in the Queen's 1977 anniversary. I was a young philosophy student at the time and being enthusiastic about the Monarchy was definitely not cool, especially as there was some kudos to be accrued from pretending to be Leftist.

I found myself puzzled and irritated by all the street parties and general celebrations, as if it was nothing to do with me. A few years earlier I had 'enjoyed' five months of officer training at Sandhurst where I had to swear allegiance to the Queen, her heirs and successors and I remember protesting inwardly that if one were to fight, it should be for a cause and not for a person.

However, in the 1990s I won the Commonwealth Writers Prize in three of its iterations. It meant that I had had my books chosen not by the usual London literati, with whom I have never been in favour, but by judges from all over Africa, Asia and indeed the world.

As I found out, the Queen's great passion was for the Commonwealth rather than Great Britain. It had been the means whereby the British Empire had miraculously and almost seamlessly transformed itself into a cultural and diplomatic club, so successfully that by the end of the Queen's reign there were countries in it that had never been in the Empire at all.

As the head of it, the Queen had, let's face the truth, literally charmed a succession of heads of state out of any post-colonial resentment that may have been niggling away inside of them.

She treated them with love and respect and had her love and respect returned. Julius Nyerere [Tanzania's leader] and Nelson Mandela are examples of two people who became close to her.

One of the perks of winning that writers prize was that the winners in all the categories were invited to Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen. You were advised about steps to be taken, how to bow and so on, and then you went in.

Some people are apparently tongue-tied and terrified but I found myself face-to-face with a tiny woman in sparkly clothes, with dazzlingly blue eyes, perfect complexion and a smile that seemed to break her face in half.

If you said anything boring or inane, she would say: 'How fascinating.' She made a joke about somebody important and self-important she had just met, which I am honour-bound not to repeat.

Her voice and turns of phrase were just like my mother's, they being of the same vintage. My problem was not that I was terrified or tongue-tied but that I felt warmly enough, relaxed enough, to want to be over-familiar. As the cliché goes, I went in a republican and came out a royalist.

I remembered how I had adored her as a little boy because she was so outstandingly pretty, and now I reflected that perhaps my previous resentment of her had been nothing more than the pique of somebody who had no hope of ever entering such a charmed circle.

Now that I had entered it for a few minutes, all the pique and sullenness suddenly evaporated.

If you had met the Queen, you assumed that she really wanted to know you and would become a little sad when no more invitations ever arrived. I was relatively lucky in winning that prize three times because I automatically got to see her three years running. Somebody told me she'd read my book Captain Corelli's Mandolin on a long flight to New Zealand but I have no idea if that is true or who told me; perhaps it was a lady-in-waiting.

There was one present on one occasion with a fag in her hand and I remember thinking: 'The Queen must be very tolerant to put up with that.' I bent down to pat the dogs when I should have been talking to her but she seemed unperturbed, as she was when I trod on one and made it squeal.

She had recently invented the Dorgi and was pleased about it.

I can no longer remember the order of things. As I drove (and still do) a Morris Minor, and had even worked as a mechanic in a Morris Minor garage for a year, I had been able to rescue a young woman in a broken down Morris near Richmond Park, who worked for the Royal Academy.

Thereafter I received free invitations to everything as long as she worked there. There was a do where I found myself in the company of the likes of Paul McCartney and Brian May, who are both outstandingly tall, but no one was talking to me until the Queen spotted me and made a beeline.

She was ever conscious of the number of people she had to talk to and would end her conversations very suddenly, even a very entertaining one, by suddenly turning her head to one side. Then the rest of her body would swivel sideways and she was off, like someone in a hurry to catch a train. It should have been very rude but it was both comical and endearing.

She had a party for poets at Buckingham Palace, which struck me as a dangerous and peculiar idea. I was standing with another poet when the Master of the Household approached me and said: 'Don't move, the Queen wants to have a chat with you.'

There was another beeline, another brief conversation, another swivel of the head, another charging away. I got on so well with the Master of the Household that we are still friends years later.

She had a party at Windsor Castle that was, I believe, the first after its restoration. She looked out across the courtyard at my Morris Minor Traveller and said: 'Goodness, we haven't had one of those here for years.'

The dinner party was a kind of glamorous sleepover. My luggage was unpacked for me by a valet who was very unimpressed that I was going to wear the same white shirt to dinner as the one in which I had arrived. 'Economising on effort I see,' he said drily.

The dinner was on silver plates. I hope I have not made that up. I was sitting next to Prince Andrew to begin with and we chatted about golf. I liked him and had no reason not to.

I eavesdropped on the German Ambassador talking to Tony Blair and I was impressed. When the latter stood up to leave with the ladies, the laughing Queen ushered him back into the room with her hand in the middle of his back.

I was struck by how frugal her appetite was; she was no trencherwoman. In her position and with such good cooks, I would have been the most massively globular monarchical flumper that the world has ever known, considerably larger than Edward IV and Henry VIII and Edward VII combined.

I spent the next morning in her library. She had many genealogy books and I found one with an inscription by Winston Churchill, so flowery, elaborate and humble that I felt guilty and embarrassed about the cheery informality of my own exploits on the flyleaf.

There was another party at Windsor for people 'in the Arts'. The Irish poet Seamus Heaney was there, surrounded by admiring young poets. 'Your passport may be green,' I thought, 'but you're as much a sucker for all this as anyone else is, aren't you?' The last time I saw the Queen was when she invited me to lunch at the palace. I think she had had a notion to invite a few people from each county one after the other, so as to work her way around the entire country. One of the guests was a fireman.

On the way, the sole of my shoe came off and I had to buy a new pair from a shop in Oxford Street.

At the gathering beforehand I had a conversation with the Duke of Edinburgh, about death. He said that the older one got, the more one was forced to contemplate it.

I liked him. He was intelligent and humorous, a man who clearly saw the absurdity of pretty much everything. He once teased me about being a novelist and a poet, as if it were altogether unnecessarily too much to do two such fatuous things in the same lifetime.

The Queen had a system for making things happen, which was that she would make a sudden move. When I was talking to the Duke, he suddenly stiffened and looked up because the Queen had made her 'action stations' move, just as I was asking him if he spoke Greek. She said: 'Well, do you speak French?'

I found myself sitting at her right hand side and during my half of her attention (she would switch halfway through a meal) we talked, among other things, about speaking French. We talked about Norfolk and I entertained a brief fantasy of being invited to Sandringham.

I think I may have disgraced myself by taking two quail breasts from the dish. She had only taken one but they are terribly small.

Afterwards I was standing at the gate of the palace when she whizzed out on her next mission, without even the slightest break or smidgen of a snooze. I was standing next to an armed policeman in all the gear and he suddenly looked down at me and asked: 'Ere, do you live in Denton?' I said, 'Yes, how did you know?' He relied: 'I beat you in the Father's Race.' I said: 'It was my sandals. I'd have won if I hadn't tripped up on the finishing line.'

While the Queen was hurtling off to her next appointment, I fell asleep on a bench in Hyde Park to recover from lunch.

That was the last time I saw her, waving from her car.

Thereafter I sent her books via my friend the Master. Books from their authors are just about the only gifts the Royal Family are allowed to receive. We have a large room in my house that we call 'The Queen's Room' because I used to tell my children that that's where we'd put her if she came to stay.

One day my little daughter wrote her a letter inviting her to stay, telling her that we had a very glamorous bathroom, and received a reply about being too busy. I don't think Sophie ever forgave her, and might even still be a republican.

I don't think it is possible to make a friend of anyone in the Royal Family, or make any assumptions if they are kind to you or seem interested in you. All that can happen is the occasional flash of communication or warmth that gives you a glimpse of the person within.

Princess Anne is intelligent and direct, the Duke of Edinburgh had a philosophical turn. The question is, what do they get from us?

I think the Queen mostly enjoyed herself because her enjoyment coincided with her duty. There was an eagerness in her manner as she suddenly looked away and shot off to talk to somebody else.

It's her heirs and successors I worry about. We, their subjects, are just going to try to make them as miserable as we can, aren't we? We are too chippy to speak generously of them and we are piqued about not being royalty ourselves. I found that having encountered the Queen, I was unable to be impressed by anyone else. Madonna invited me to lunch once and I still don't know why. I said no because I had a commitment in Northern Ireland. Sting wanted me to fly to Milan to interview him and I don't know why I said no to that either.

I've met many of my heroes, I've shaken hands with Nicolas Cage and President Clinton and been kissed on the cheek by Penelope Cruz. Only being kissed on the cheek by Penelope comes anywhere close to meeting the Queen.

#brf #royal anecdote #this is absolutely beautiful #the epitome of queen #queen elizabeth ii #prince philip #duke of edinburgh

[pompadourpink]

salut maman!! how long does it take to learn french? i guess it depends but wanted to ask

Hello child,

As I'm sure you can imagine, there is no unique answer to this. Not only because how quickly you'll become fluent will depend on your personality, learning style, tolerance to frustration, and the amount of free time you have and are willing to spend working on it, but also because fluency is a blurry concept, especially for romance languages since they're so dynamic and different from what you find in textbooks.

Starting from scratch, if you work half an hour a day, use the right tools, know how to alternate between activities, and learn things in the right order, I think you can get to about B1 in a year and B2 in two - which doesn't seem like much of a difference, but it's actually the biggest one when learning a language in my opinion.

What do I mean:

Half an hour a day: you need things to stick, so ten minutes wouldn't cut it, but I doubt more would be, first, realistic, because you'll have other things to worry about, sometimes you'll be sick, busy or on vacation, and second, sustainable: if you turn the experience into a burden, you'll be consistent for a few days, weeks, months, take one day off, and avoid your notes for the next eight months because you've stressed yourself out too much.

Use the right tools: my favourite resources are le Wiktionnaire (etymology is a good friend), Wordreference, Lenouvelobs and Deepl.

Alternate between activities: getting a grammar book and reading one page a day will make you miserable and steal your motivation. On day one, you can learn articles and practice, on day two, read a Petit ours brun book with the help of Deepl, on day three learn how to pronounce numbers on Youtube... One tip: start the day by reviewing what you did the day before.

Learn things in the right order: my method with beginners is typically to focus on reading and overlook writing and pronunciation for a while so that they can get a good understanding of our syntax, memorise prepositions, tell tenses apart, etc. If on day one, you decide to watch a dubbed version of Friends or Harry Potter, it will be the equivalent of getting a firearm, shooting yourself in the foot and wondering why it's not helping you run a marathon.

I've been tutoring for almost three years so I'll add this: your worst enemy will be your ego. I've heard many times people six months into their journey complain that they speak like a six-year-old without realising that it took the six-year-old six years.

It will be difficult, particularly if your first language is not romance: sometimes you'll have strokes (I have nearly fluent students who sometimes forget that adjectives can need to be pluralized or casually write il mangé convinced it's imperfect), sometimes you'll try to translate English even though it's generally not an available option, sometimes you'll blank over a basic word and rage.

It's fine. It's all fine. Trust the process.

Hope this helps! x

#ask #reminder that I answer qs on mondays #here's your time to shine

[dark-side-blog3]

From "Phantom Blood" to "Stone Ocean", which JJBA part do you think would be the best to be isekai'd into, and which one would be the worst?

Thanks for sending in the question anon! I've been thinking about it all day and going down a bunch of historical rabbitholes to make my choices (which, after typing out several hours later, I realized wouldn't be much fun for anyone to read).

For me personally, I’d say the best one to be isekai’d into would be Diamond is Unbreakable (part 4), and I think the worst one would be Battle Tendency (part 2).

I give my reasoning below, with some heavy editing, which may make it sound a bit strange. I have a tendency to talk too much, so I've tried to edit it down. It's still a bit long.

++++++++++++++

I can't see any benefit to phantom blood, considering Dio is at full overpower with abilities we never see again in other parts, and everyone else would simply be too easy to force into backing off. Johnathan is easy to manipulate, so is a young Erina. Speedwagon can settle for less than he wants in a relationship if he feels Johnathan will judge him for it. And Zeppeli... Is kinda the only threat, but I can't really fathom what a relationship (platonic or romantic) would be like with him. In any case, not the best, but not the worst.

Battle Tendency has my ass beat. I do not run, I will not run, and what would even be the point when more than half the characters in this arc are superhuman/cyborgs? I can't outwit, lie, cheat, or gross out any of them and expect to survive. Even the ones that wouldn't kill me like Suzie Q just have an impenetrable state of delusion. I cannot win this one. Having a horrible time here. Dare I say, the worst time actually.

Because yes: Vento Aureo is all about the mafia having superpowers, and it's well established that they can be some crazy, creative fucks when it comes to torture and murder. And they should be the absolute worst, because organized crime can do way scarier shit than anyone can in Stone Ocean simply because resources and time aren't hard to get.

BUT! I think since there isn't a world war going on, with cyborg Nazis-- Which is a low bar, but such is life when you overthink-- is what makes Vento Aureo better than battle tendency.

And Stone Ocean is... Bad but tolerable. I'd just try my best to mind my own business, and crumple like a paper ball when someone pulls possessive/obsessive shit. It probably wouldn't even connect in my brain the characters are acting yandere, I would just assume they're doing standard prison things since I got isekai'd into the prison arc.

Now that narrows done the best choices between prt 3, and prt 4.

I'mma go ahead and say it: I'd prefer a small town in Japan to crossing countries and continents.

Diamond is Unbreakable has it all. Modern-ish technology, the original pop culture yandere herself, reliable access to medical care (good luck finding my very specific pills in the middle of a desert), and thankfully: A much smaller cast. Keeping track of all the characters in Morioh? Infinitely easier than keeping track of all the characters in Stardust Crusader. Even if we're including those one-off villains, and random background characters, a-la those twisted wonderland isekai.

Though considering JJBA is a franchise that's mostly manga and anime, it's not likely the multiple characters would become interested in the isekai'd victim, since the mechanics would be fundamentally different. A reader or a viewer isn't really a god, they're more of a prophet, if even that. Or just really good at cold reading someones personality. To continue this tangent just a smidge more, I think if you said you got isekai'd, the only people who would both understand what you're saying and believe you is Toshikazu, and maybe Koichi.

What the hell am I supposed to do being dragged place to place, or sitting in a house for three months? With the tech from the 1980's?

#would you rather ask game #ask game #yandere ask game #yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo

[an-abyss-of-stars]

He saw her at daybreak - Part 7

Summary: The babe is growing steadily, and with merely three moons left in her pregnancy Rhaena begins to feel the calling of a dragon…

Warnings: None for this chapter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.1 | Part 3.2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemian-nights , @neocil , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 , @jordanjanellejoyy , @azaleapotterblack , @yourlittlehoe , @partypoison00 , (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S: AGGHHHH BLEH BLEH I'M BACKK!!

PLEASE, if you haven't been following my spotty updates on Tumblr, I basically wrote this entire chapter about month or more ago…and it totaled out to about 30k words in length…and the I reread it and hated it! LMfAO, so, I've been going through it slowly trying to make it tolerable, and in that process I've realized that I don't mind this first half too much! I think it's pretty good, so I decided I'd cut the chapter in half and let y'all read this bit! For those of you still care about this weird smutty fic!

This half isn't smutty i'm afraid to say, but the next half will have the other 20k words in it…so that'll have the sex scene it! Either way, long time coming! Hopefully you all enjoy it!!!

-

☾

The rest of that evening had been calm and peaceful, mainly due to Rhaena stealing her husband away, to enjoy the serene nature of the grassy fields that faced Dragon mound. 

Aemond had Maester Varion push his last two hearings over to the following day, giving him the free time to lay with her and Vhagar in the grassy fields as the sun slowly began to set on the horizon. Rhaena had always thought this spot, here on the peak, was one of the most perfect spots to witness a sunset here on Dragonstone. The saturated orange glow of the setting sun bathed the grass and anything on it in such an ethereal way, everything glowed like pure gold. 

Truly the Golden Hour.  

With a soft tranquil breeze that ruffled and flowed over against them. Rhaena had leaned herself back against the solid massive heat that was Vhagar's side, while Aemond had comfortably rested his head on her lap. His body laid out on the cool grass, casual and relaxed, as he crossed his arms. 

For once, truly, Rhaena's mind was at ease, sitting here in their shared comfortable silence. With her fingers absentmindedly running through his hair, Aemond had closed his eyes, either just as peacefully soaking in their solitude or just as likely he might have found himself comfortable enough for a light nap. 

Not unlike his bonded dragon, Vhagar, the legendary she-beast could be heard purring soundly, a massaging rumbly feeling that vibrated against Rhaena's back.  

Just off in the distance, Rhaena could see the great King of the dragons, Vermithor, nestled closely with his beautiful mate, the iridescent Silverwing. Seeing them together like this often brought back old memories of Rhaena's childhood, when she'd run these fields with her siblings and their own dragons. Back when they could sit with Caraxes and Syrax, and kepa would tell them all wild and exciting tales from his youth, the many exiles he'd experienced for annoying and angering his grandmother or aptly, his elder brother. Of his battle in the Stepstones, a personal favourite for all of the kids then. Sometimes he'd tell them about muña Rhaenyra in her youth, tales that made her blush and swat him affectionately. 

But most cherished of all, to Rhaena at least, were when he told them all of how he'd courted the girls' other mother, their birth mother, muña Laena. 

It always sounded so fantastical and romantic, Rhaena had always loved to hear of it, even when her muña was still alive. But after her death, she supposed it meant all the more to know that her kepa hadn't forgotten her. That even though he'd found love again, he'd never let go of his previous love…he never let her name or her memory fade into oblivion. 

And she loved him dearly for that. 

It was also never lost on her, the incredibly soft, fond expression Rhaenyra had whenever he spoke of Laena. A clear expression of someone who also once loved her mother.

Though, of course, by now Rhaenyra had been more of a mother to Rhaena than her birth mother, Laena, had ever gotten to be. This coming year, it would be eleven years since Laena died…eleven years since Rhaenyra had respectfully taken her spot in Rhaena and Baela's lives. 

And just as well…this coming year…Rhaena would have a babe of her own. 

Frightful business indeed…but exciting nonetheless. 

Rhaena's little train of thought had swiftly eroded away as a new surge of energy started to spark within her. It started like a low hum…sizzling…sparking in the pit of her stomach, a faint tingle ringing throughout her body like full-bodied butterflies. 

It was a feeling that sought attention…beckoning her over…and as her eyes searched around for the source. 

Rhaena found herself gazing directly over at the glorious iridescent beauty, pink and white, light and regal…the Queenly she-dragon, Silverwing. 

It wouldn't have caught her as off guard as it did…except, the dragon in question was gazing right back at her. 

From across the vast field, their eyes met with fire-like intensity, something Rhaena had never felt before. 

Surely this wasn't…

Not now…

After all these years…

The calling .

No. 

It couldn't be. 

Quickly she broke the line of sight, and tried to distract herself with conversation. 

"Aemond," Rhaena breathed, still slightly startled, still in disbelief over what she assumed might be happening…but Silverwing would not move to her. If this was…what she thought it was…she'd have to make that move herself. 

And for now…she wasn't sure she wanted to. 

She wasn't sure she could…even if she did. 

Eighteen years…her entire life she'd never wanted anything more. And now she was too scared to take it…claim it. 

Maybe it wasn't fear . 

Maybe she found herself existing in a false sense of acceptance. 

Rhaena Targaryen…the only Targaryen in her current living family to not have a dragon. 

This was a fact. 

And it had been for years. 

Was she really meant to change that now? 

"Hmm," upon her lap, Aemond hummed faintly, whether he had in fact been resting or not, she couldn't be sure, but she had his attention now.

So she figured she'd use it, redirect her thoughts into something else, "the babe…do think we'll have a boy or girl? Or perhaps twins…they are quite common in our family…"

Her sentence trailed off into silence…try as she might, she could not focus. 

That electrifying feeling ached and demanded attention. 

Thankfully, she supposed, Aemond hadn't noticed the subtle change in her demeanor. Instead letting her casual question marinade as he turned his head towards her belly and pressed a soft kiss against her. His hand reaching up to caress the curve, "since they're coming from you, I wouldn't care what you birth." 

"I could birth a deformed dragon creature," Rhaena had meant it as a slight jest, but the moment the words left her mouth, she realized there was a true possibility that she could. House Targaryen prided itself on pure Valyrian blood matches…and seeing how both of their fathers' were brothers and indeed incredibly pureblooded. 

A true dragon-like babe was a real possibility. 

Not a likely one…but a possibility nonetheless. 

"I'd love them just the same," had been Aemond's calm response as he pulled himself up, sitting in front of her as he eyed her closely, "why do you ask?" 

"Oh! No particular reason, just curiosity," she smiled sweetly, pulling her legs up and crossing them, "I just know, most men would prefer sons…is all." 

Real authentic, nice work…

It wasn't at all, but it seemed to pass well enough. At the very least, the more she distracted herself with this pleasant conversation…the more time she'd be able to give herself to truly comprehend what was happening within her. 

Softly, her mated dragon pulled her from her thoughts, she was drowning in them but thankfully he provided sanctuary. As he caressed her cheek, his indigo eye held her gaze quite intensely, it seemed as if he was trying to read between the lines. To view something upon her face that she hadn’t purposely realized she’d given in to, an expression, a twitch, a look…something to reveal more than what she had said. 

And part of worried he might have seen what he was looking for…that he would be able to see right through her. 

Her thoughts of callings and Silverwing …

Although, why she felt the need to keep these odd feelings to herself…she couldn't say. 

But she didn't wish to attempt describing this discomfort when she wasn't entirely sure about it herself. 

It had nothing to do with the symptoms she felt due to the babe and even then she’d barely been able to explain herself.

"You should be happy to know that I am not like most men," his voice was so low and smooth, silk-like in its delivery, while his gaze was so intense yet charming. His lips had begun to quirk upwards, something playful mixing in with his usual cunning smirk. As his hand slid from her cheek and down to her chin, his thumb affectionately stroked down over her lower lip to the shallow dimple on her chin. Such a simple gesture had managed to fluster her if only slightly, his tone had simpered down to a suggestive rasp, as he queried,  "now, which were you hoping for, byka ābrazȳrys?" little wife?

Oh, how she loved when his voice did that. 

Such a simple question, and yet, now he had her swallowing thickly and biting her lip.

"I couldn't possibly…" Rhaena spluttered, her voice all airy yet bereft, her eyes darting upwards towards the sky for just a moment, to calm her heated chest and mind. All the while his patience was unyielding…calm and planted like a purposeful current in a rushing river. When her eyes finally returned to him, she decided she might as well divulge a truth she’d once known, "hmm, well…a few moons ago. When I first heard that I was with child, rather instantly I imagined us having an adorable little boy. And it seems, ever since, I’ve only ever been dreaming of him in more vivid detail."

There a mixture of sweet fondness filtered through Aemond’s heated gaze, silently urging her on, clearly he was patiently waiting to hear more of her innocent dreams for their little growing family. 

And so Rhaena thought she would indulge him with the details, letting her own hand reach for his cheek, as a naturally sweet smile grew on her own lips, "well, in my dreams, he always looks like a cute little version of you. And he has your eyes, deep and dark, that perfect indigo shade that so simply draws one in. He has your sharp cheekbones, but with really chubby cheeks. He also has your jaw, and maybe your eyebrows. Really floppy pale blonde curls, and maybe his skin is just a shade lighter than my own. But what I remember most, every time, is his adorable little laugh, it tugs at my heart even though I know I’ve only created it in my mind myself. But he smiles so much…all of the time. He’s such a happy little babe…and his smiles are so much like your own mischievous ones. He’s the most perfect little thing in my mind." 

Rhaena had fallen into a slight daze, practically gushing over every little detail she’d imagined for their child. For even as she was only describing a dream…a fictionalized created image to her husband, one she’d seen a dozen times by now. It still felt oddly cementing to admit it all out loud, as if she was speaking this child into existence…truly cementing the idea that this little boy might be theirs…that he might be real. That her current little gremlin which she carried within her at this very moment, was possibly in fact the very same babe from her dreams. 

Aemond for his part looked as if he had enjoyed her description, his face held an incredibly fond expression as he seemed to be putting her words to an image in his own mind. Especially grinning deviously once she’d gotten to the end of it all, “ mischievous smiles, are they," his free hand slipping around her waist, pulling her close to him, practically up onto his own lap, "wouldn’t you think it’s a dangerous thing to want our son to be the spitting image of me."

Her body instantly warmed, engulfed in the heat of his response with the added feel of being held in his larger more muscular arms. Rhaena might have planned on laughing, giggling brightly really, but his movements were faster. The nimble speed in which he tipped her chin up for his own easy access to her lips, just as fiercely as ever, he devoured her with a deeply passionate yet possessive kiss. She’d sighed instantly, melting against him wholly, as his heated tongue slipped through her parted lips. Delving into the molten heat of her own mouth and she did the same to his, her tongue roving over and syncing into a fire-like dance they’d played a million times over. And even so, her body always reacted the same, sparking live-electric currents through her blood. Like an itch only he could ever scratch for her, with just a kiss he held so much power over her.   

Their rising tension seemed to connect with Aemond’s bonded mount, as Rhaena could hear Vhagar ruffling and rumbling behind her. Not that it stopped her husband, he only tugged her closer. Pressing her against him as much as he possibly could, desperate to feel the heat of their bodies entwined and bound together. 

If he wasn’t careful, they’d end up writhing against one another in this field… once again .

For they’d done it several times before.

It was an active pull of force, to work against the current of energy her body was willing with his own, to deny the primal urge to feel his large member thrusted deep within her again so soon. But by the time Rhaena had found the resolve to want to pull herself back just enough to breathe, it felt as if she was pulling herself out of a heated trance. Her lips still desired to cling to his, latched on with near animalistic intent as her teeth still grazed at his lower lip, a possessive hold she barely wished to relinquish. And only caused him to groan quite provocatively, something deeply seeded from within him. 

It took quite a lot of self control, to trail a heated path of kisses down along his jaw before she panted the words, "you cannot want me again so soon, three times in one day? I thought we were pacing ourselves?”

The incredible low and husky chuckle he’d given her had made her entire body flutter just at the sound alone, nevermind the dark wanting look in his eye, “you haven’t much cared for pacing ourselves during this last moon…if ever,” 

This sort of talk was exactly why she was with child so soon after their wedding.

But as much as she wanted him at this very moment, her body urged rest and…more importantly, her little gremlin urged for more nourishment. 

In just a moment, my little baby , she thought, glancing down at her swollen baby. 

Deciding she still wished to finish their previous conversation, before their ever undercurrent of lust and love overruled them. Rhaena wrapped her arms more securely around his neck, leaning further onto him as she brushed her nose against him, leaning her forehead against his, feeling the innate sturdy warmth he always provided for her. Softly she gazed up into his eyes, practically puring when his indigo and sapphire eye gazed back into her own pale violet eyes, “you do realize that you still haven't answered my question, ñuha gevie zaldrīzes . What have you pictured for our child? What does my valzȳrys dream of, " my pretty dragon, husband . 

There was a beat of sweet silence, as Aemond caressed her back, warm soft streaks drawing down her back as his nose nuzzled hers. As if he only craved to kiss her again, to drown in the senses of tasting her and holding her…forgetting the world around them. 

Eventually his lips curved into a smile, one of those boyish grins that still made Rhaena's heart thump no matter how many times she saw it, "I already told you, I don't have a preference,”

“Well humour me then, my love,” she whined lighty, shifting herself around on his lap so that she’d be able to rest her cheek on his shoulder, “if you were to have a preference, what would it be? When you were most adamant about a fucking a child into me, did you not consider imagining what said child would come to be or even look like?” 

Rhaena was wearing him down, or at least she hoped she was. Not that he needed much. She had her thumb softly caressing his neck as she held him there, pressing her plush lips against the scarred line he had on the other side of his neck. The one he had once earned during the tourney that was set right before their wedding, his final single combat match with Lord Cregan Stark. She still remembered how furious she’d been with him that day, how careless she’d thought him to be to remove his helmet during a match like that. Even now seeing the completely healed mark still evoked a strained emotion in her, one that always simmered into some sort of pride mixed with love, that her idiotic dragon had managed to win and live. 

“Fine, for you, my little dragon," he sighed, drawn out dramatically as if he wasn't anything but excited to speak about their futures, about the child that would soon join their lives, "I suppose I've pictured a little baby girl. Daughters are far more precious, are they not?" 

Her chest had burned almost instantly, primed to burst, for Rhaena hadn’t even dared to imagine her dragon carrying a little baby girl around the castle. But just the thought of it alone…he was indeed right, it would be a most precious sight. The idea of her stoic dark dragon Prince playing little games, sitting for little tea dates or escorting around the castle a tiny little Princess.

Rhaena couldn’t stop smiling over the thought, maybe she was equally hopeful for a daughter after all.  

"Either way I wouldn’t mind, but if the babe is born a girl…then I'd hope she'd have the good fortune to take after you. I’ve envisioned a sweet little version of you," he'd kissed the edge of her jaw as he spoke, but Rhaena hadn't missed a word. Her heart, hammering at the idea of it all…that he could want for such a thing just as much as she did. 

As she pulled herself up to properly gaze at him, his lips began to traverse the length of Rhaena's neck. His hand glided along the curving dip of her waist, and just as the flames of pleasure began to seep in once again…she found her eyes landing on Silverwing in the distance. 

Once again. 

Seemed she couldn’t escape it. That sparking feeling from deep within her, the one she'd spent the last half hour trying to suppress…it had awakened once again. 

Even as she tried to focus in on her husband's affection…on the roaring sound in the distance, where from the corner of her eye, Rhaena could see a pure black dragon soaring out from the direction of the Dragon Mount volcano, most likely Cannibal. 

But all would be for nought…her body longed to brave the scene. 

She couldn't allow it now. 

If she was wrong…she'd be putting more than just herself at risk. She'd be risking her babe as well. So instead she shook the thought from her mind, refocused on the dragon she had before her. Guiding his face back up to hers, brushing her lips over his, teasing the ferocity that laid beneath the surface. 

Just as her stomach audibly growled, Rhaena grinned sweetly against his lips, with a soft contented sigh, "I am quite hungry now…"

"Then let's feed you," he stole one quick kiss, before he pulled her to her feet, walking her back to the castle. 

☾

The next day, Rhaena had felt Silverwing's calling become even more potent…increasing throughout every hour of the day. It felt like a stiffening burn, charring and scorching, the more she tried to ignore it…the more it singed her from the inside. 

As afternoon rolled around, Rhaena found herself perching her back against a cool wall of a corridor in the southern wing of the castle. Her chest felt as if it was constricting her…squeezing her lungs shut each time she tried to breathe deeply. It was in these moments, when the feeling was most intense…she could hear a roar in the distance, one she hadn't known all that well but was familiar enough with to distinguish it from the other dragons. 

It was Silverwing. 

She was calling to her…this was real…this was happening. 

"My Princess, are you well?" Ser Garin questioned, clear concern etched on his face, he stepped forward to her but made sure not to touch her, "shall I alert Wardeness Aelaera, you may wish to retire for the day?" 

A considerate offer, but no, Rhaena did not wish to retire…although she also did not wish to sit through petitions now either. 

Soon enough the burning in her chest would subside, and in that moment of clarity, Rhaena simply shook her head and pulled herself off of the wall. Breathing deeply, collecting herself before she glanced up towards her knight, "I thank you, Ser Garin. But I am fine, I needn't retire…but just as well, I do not feel fit enough to endure through the rest of my duties today. Do inform Wardeness Aelaera she may sit through the farmers' disagreements on my behalf. Anything more, which requires my personal attention, may be moved to the morrow." 

Ser Garin nodded swiftly, and left to relay the message. 

Now left only with Ser Drako, Ser Miklaz and Ser Moredo, Rhaena turned towards them. 

She had a few possible options now that she'd cleared the rest of her day. She could interrupt her husband once again, a very enticing option if only for the possibility that his presence might actually distract her. Or she could go for a calming stroll, summon her Ladies in waiting…or…do the frightening thing. 

Do the one thing she'd wanted all her life… claim a dragon . 

If that was what this was…if that was what Silverwing was truly calling her for. 

She could just go to her…do the deed…but of course it was not that simple. 

Rhaena supposed, she could simply ask Aemond…find out whether this feeling…was truly what a calling felt like. Or whether it was simply another symptom of her pregnancy…the latter of which he most likely wouldn't be able to say definitively.

Although if it was a pregnancy symptom, surely Maester Varion would have informed her of such during her check in with him earlier this morn. Not that she'd bothered to specifically bring up the recent way her body reacted around Silverwing, but if such a thing was ever present in Targaryen women when they were with child. 

Surely he would have mentioned it. 

Then again, she also wondered if it was an average occurrence for a Targaryen woman to claim a dragon when she was child as well. 

The likelihood of either seemed slim to none, but she couldn't be sure. 

Either way, Maester Varion had instead extensively checked over her physical progress. Laid up in bed in only a two-piece ensemble of undergarments so that she could expose her belly, allowing gel-like ointments to be poured and rubbed over it. There he examined the steady growing size of her belly, listened in for the babe's heartbeat and even confirmed that it was more than likely that she was simply growing one babe and not several.

No such luck with twins on their first attempt, but Rhaena found herself feeling slightly relieved when she'd heard it was not to be. One babe would already be a big new experience, two would have been just slightly frightening…just slightly. 

At the very least, when she'd glanced over at her dragon Prince, he didn't seem phased by the news either. 

He only cared that his wife and child were healthy and well.

And after their Maester checked off everything necessary for his examination, he assured both Aemond and Rhaena that she was currently in perfect health as was the babe. He even went as far as to inform them both that Rhaena's salt craving was nothing to be worried about, that women were known to crave all sorts of various things due to their babes…some a lot stranger than salt. 

A fact, Rhaena was sure she already knew, but it did do well to be reassured by a Maester as well. For she knew her husband was more than likely just trying to calm her nerves the other day when he simply offered to give her whatever she wished for. 

During her check in, her Maester had advised that so long as she made sure to stay more hydrated during her days, and kept the rest of her diet leaning more towards leafy greens and hardy vegetables as opposed to harder to digest heavy meats. She would be able to ensure the babe continued to grow healthy and well nourished. With a set of prescribed added vitamins and minerals, as well as mentioning the tonics she would have to start consuming once the next moon arrived. 

All in all, it was assessed that Rhaena was indeed six moons along and that babe would arrive precisely in three moons, during the twelfth moon of the year. 

Some time close to the Ice Winter festival or possibly even Qēlos Bantis … Star Night . A Yule-like holiday reserved for glittering parties, hymns and spiritual worship, gift giving and all. But most of all during the coldest moon of the year, it's reserved as a time for family, peace and love, blessings and good tidings. 

How very wonderous it would be to give birth to a babe then, not that Rhaena much liked the cold, but it would surely make the time of year even more beautiful. 

With sigh, Rhaena reorientated her thoughts. 

She wasn't meant to be thinking of her babe now, even as her hand subconsciously already reached to rub soothing circles along her swollen belly as she thought. She needed to think of her situation. Of the fact that husband, her love, Aemond…he was a fiercely protective man. Especially now that she was carrying his child, if she went to him with her thoughts on attempting to claim a dragon…surely he wouldn't want her risking her life for such a thing.

It'd be her own life as well as their babe's life at risk all on the possibility that this may be a calling . 

No . 

The danger was beyond herself…she'd need to be certain. 

This could not be a simple guess or a hunch, she needed to be truly certain. 

What she needed was…an outside opinion. 

Someone she trusted and loved, who'd know just as well what it felt like to claim a dragon. 

Now all of her siblings were of no use in this case, as all of them had been given the fortune of having their dragon eggs hatch in their cradle with them as babes. 

Her muña, Rhaenyra, had been blessed with just the same fate. 

No, her choices were limited. In fact she had only one true viable option in mind…she'd write to her kepa. 

The only other member of her family who had to claim a dragon, the only other man in her life that trusted and loved her so fiercely that he'd do just about anything for. Her father may be her very opposite in many things, but this was one thing he'd be most qualified in aiding her with, and she knew he'd be glad to.

Or at least she hoped he would be . 

If she could receive a response from him soon enough, then she'd be able to make an intelligent decision. 

Taking a deep sobering breath, Rhaena began to plot out her next set of moves. Starting with her with guards, she needed some space from them. She could do with some peace and seclusion for the next few hours. 

"Ser Drako, I think I shall return to my chambers. I wish to send a raven. Nothing of note, just a letter to my father, the King," Rhaena spoke slowly, crisp and clear, she left no room for discussion before she turned, taking paced steps down the hall, "and Ser Moredo, do summon my Ladies to my chambers. After I'm finished with my task, I'd like to visit the bathhouse. The private hold's bathhouse." 

"Of course, Princess," Ser Drako had grinned as he bowed, she could hear the joviality in his tone. 

While Ser Moredo simply affirmed, "as you command, your grace." 

Certainly a far more stoic young man than her two favoured knights. 

Once Rhaena had returned to her rooms, she sped over to her seat by her vanity table, finally within the privacy of her bed chambers. With the remainder of her guards waiting outside in the hall, Ser Moredo only left to summon her Ladies a few minutes prior.

It was in that time, between her Ladies arriving to greet her here at her chambers, that Rhaena aimed to complete her letter to her father and have Ser Drako send it. 

It was most definitely feasible, and Rhaena only assured herself of that as she shifted on her rosy toned cushioned chair, hoping to find at least one angle comfortable enough to perch herself. 

It seemed her babe insisted on shifting uncomfortably within her today. 

But she'd remained focused, already envisioning the words she'd put down on the page once she was ready. Pulling a clean sheet of parchment from her drawer, she began dipping her quill into some fresh ink: 

To his Highness, King Daemon Targaryen, 

Kepa, 

I write to you with news, at least I believe it to be so. Over the past day or two, I have begun to feel something. Something seems to be drawing me towards Silverwing, I can feel her calling to me. Like stoked flames rising in my chest that burn all throughout me. It feels all-consuming, but I cannot seem to bring myself to her. 

What if I am wrong? 

And she does not in fact wish to bond with me? 

Could I not be putting myself and my unborn child in unnecessary danger by risking such an encounter that may not be what I think it to be? 

I sound a coward, I know I do. You've taught me better than this surely, as a true Targaryen, I should go to her. Take my chances, and should I perish, it would be a true dragon rider's death. 

Even saying so evokes dark memories of my muña. 

I'm not frightened of dying per se, not entirely. I'm more frightened of being wrong. And so I suppose, I'm writing to you in hopes that you might tell me that I am right. That is this is without a doubt the feeling I've been waiting for. And that if it is, I will not stall on it any longer. I will face my fate and I will go to Silverwing. 

Until then, I shall wait…I am a patient one, that you know. 

In all, I hope you are well, my dear kepa. I do miss you all, muña Rhaenyra as well, I know you both have suffered at the loss of little Visenya. We all have.

My heart also calls for all of my brothers and Baela of course. It's ridiculous I'm sure, but I hope my little brothers Aeggie and Vis have not forgotten me. I receive letters from Joff with their little questions from time to time, and it is most heart warming. 

I have, as you've requested, been careful not to overly exert or stress myself. As you and my husband clearly are of the same mind, if it was up to him, I'd have no duties to attend to at all. I'd simply be sentenced to bed rest for my safety for all days until the babe was born.

In all, I hope my missive finds you well, kepa. 

With all my love,

Your beloved daughter, 

Princess Rhaena Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone  

When she was done, she waited a few minutes for the ink to dry. Skimming over her words once more before she rolled the parchment, sealed it closed with a red and black swirled wax, pressing down Dragonstone's own Targaryen three-headed dragon seal stamp. 

She hadn't mentioned why she hadn't spoken to Aemond about all of this in her letter, but she hoped her father would have the sense not to mention it either.  

Feeling she'd said all she possibly could, covered all of her bases. Rhaena slowly pulled herself up from her seat and waddled back through her rooms. Stepping back through her chambers, opening the door, and finally, handing her letter off to Ser Drako for it to be sent.

As he left, Rhaena's Ladiesmaids entered to prepare her for the bathhouse. 

Perfect timing. 

Preparing for the bathhouse meant removing her ornate pink blush-toned jeweled gown, as well as undoing her elegantly done fishtail plait that had trailed down her back. Slipping off her jewels, her earrings, bangles, rings and bracelets, as well as her prized sapphire necklace. 

The last of which Rhaena supposed she could take with her, but at the risk of her sapphire, possibly, to her horror, slipping into the waters of the bathhouse. Sinking away from her, lost to her forever. 

No, she could not risk such a thing. 

Even though…knowing her husband, he'd never let her shed a tear over the lost item, he'd instead, most likely in secret, find a way to either retrieve it or replace it. 

Though that wasn't an outcome she wished to invoke, as Rhaena was just as much attached to the item as she was with the memory of how she'd received it. To have spent her life receiving gifts and jewels from so many suitors and expectant eligible Lords. All meaningless frivolous glittering gifts, all meant to show the wealth they and their house was capable of. 

Gifted like a trap meant to lure in a Princess …but not a dragon . 

And to think this one simple yet elegant necklace had been the one gift that meant the world to her now. 

Given to her by a man she never thought she'd have such intense feelings for…yet. 

How the Gods worked in the most mysterious of ways. 

Rhaena would always cherish the memory. How during the moon of their engagement, Aemond had made no fuss or spectacle on the day when he gave the necklace to her. He'd spent three whole days away from the castle, only to return and sneak into her chambers late at night. She'd been awake, reading as per usual. But the look in his eye told her that he had something for her, he hadn't said what, he only asked that she close her eyes and lift her hair to give him access to her bare neck.

She could still remember how she'd felt as the cool smooth steel graced her skin for the first time, how her mind could only focus on the warmth of Aemond's fingers. The way they'd grazed against her collarbone and slid along her shoulders, making her shiver with arousal, gooseflesh prevalent and prickling. All while still simultaneously offering her an odd yet all consuming sense of comfort with just his touch alone. 

To think so soon in their newly made romantic relationship, he'd managed to have such a power…such a thing that came to easily. 

Allowing her to naturally ease back against him, his sturdy heated chest, like a gravitational pull, she could do little else but meld against him. 

By the time he'd bade Rhaena to open her eyes, she found that she could barely speak. In her mind, she had ideas of what sort of necklace this may be. What jewels may have been used, what cut of the gem, design of the steel or gold or silver. 

But she'd been wrong.

The choice to use Valyrian steel should have crossed her mind, at the time she was preparing to marry a man who was most proud of his pure Valyrian blood. It was not uncommon for Targaryen men to court their Ladies with jewelry made of Valyrian steel, just as her kepa had done with her own muña, just as he'd done with current muña, Rhaenyra. 

It was an apparent trend for most Targaryens, going all the way back to even some of their earliest ancestors. 

And yet, it hadn't crossed Rhaena's mind that she might have such an opportunity. An opportunity that was now simply her reality. To be gifted a piece of her dragon, part of the very Sapphire he wore in his left eye, used to complete this necklace. Made to be an offering that would allow her to carry a part of him wherever she went…whether he could be with her physically or not. 

It was her one precious item…her only jewel which she treated like no other. She’d never risk damaging it or losing it. 

So she removed it, everything really, including her undergarments was stripped from her. With her silver curls undone, let loose, flowing down her back and slipping over her shoulders. Once she was ready, she simply donned a thick silky robe and soft cozy slippers. 

Soaks in the bathhouse were meant to be calming affairs. So Rhaena dismissed her maids afterwards as she waited for her Ladies-in-waiting to enter the Dragon's Nest. It wasn't customary for anyone unauthorized to enter this area of the castle, it was always securely guarded as the one safe haven for any members of the royal family. 

Rhaena even giving permission for her Ladies to enter beyond this point was a blessing in itself. 

As it was, Dragonstone held two bathhouses. One that was welcome to all courtiers and noble visitors alike, located in the northern wing of the castle. It was on the main level of the castle. Warmed by the volcano's heat well beneath the building’s structure, but as it was built on the main floor, the water’s temperature remained more of a Lukewarm temperature than a true quality Targaryen heated spring bath. 

Which, Rhaena supposed, made perfect sense. 

For that bathhouse was not meant for the royal family…it wasn’t meant to appease true dragons. 

No, there was another bathhouse. On the main floor, down in the southern wing of the castle, one corridor led to the securely blocked off and guarded Dragon's Nest. Passing through that corridor, which led to several rooms, chambers and solars that were reserved for the royal family alone. There, there was a hidden door at the end of the corridor, smoothed in with the slick granite walls, missed by all who did not already know of its existence...for behind that door there were special specific steps. Steps that led down a level to the private Targaryen bathhouse, known as The Springs Of Caraxes . A true hot spring, one that allowed the heat of the volcanic magma from the Dragon Mount, deep below the castle, used directly to warm the waters of the bathhouse. 

It was a far lovelier room as far as Rhaena was concerned. 

It was a bit of a walk, through a hidden corridor or two, but once inside it was the brightest, most beautiful of places. The size of a large grand hall, the halls were once again made of smooth white marble. With pillars and archways that held smoothly carved statues of the Fourteen Flames in their most grand humanoid forms. The ceiling arched and curved with a cascaded glass ceiling that allowed in glowing sweet daylight. This ceiling did not face the grounds' of Dragonstone though, it seemed to be crafted upon the cliff's edge. 

For it only ever faced the sky.

Along the edges of the crisp blue bath water, along the borders, were small steaming water fountains that helped to steam the air. Rhaena had also, of course, decorated the borders with more potted plants. Pale blue Hydrangeas and pale violet Wisterias mixed in with pink Roses and Dragon Spittles, a thorny green plant Rhaena found, looked quite eye-catching in floral arrangements. 

Yes, this bathhouse was where she felt the most at peace. 

Eventually her Ladies would be given passage to her chambers, and once they had, with Rhaena's two remaining guards in tow. She guided her Ladies to the hidden bathhouse. 

It was a bright sunny day, so the bathhouse was illuminated beautifully. The afternoon sun reflected so brightly against the water and the white marbled room. 

The guards would remain outside the doors of the bathhouse, while Rhaena and her Ladies would unsheathe themselves from their robes and enter the steaming water of the bath bare. 

Of course, Rhaena's own tolerance for the water's temperature was higher than the others. Lady Kyra couldn't take the heat in particular, so she usually sat in one of the cushioned chairs along the side with a book in hand. 

Lady Ellyn's tolerance was much better; she'd always stay in the water the longest alongside Rhaena, while Lady Lelia and Lady Victaria would periodically remove themselves from the steaming hot water. 

Rhaena had taken to floating on her back, looking up and out at the sunny blue sky. Bright and exfoliating. Lady Ellyn stayed seated on the steps that entered the water, letting her legs soak while she laid back. As Lady Lelia had chosen to lay out on a pale pink chaise lounge, opting to let her skin take in some sun, as she claimed she felt 'too pale'.  

A sentiment Rhaena and the rest of the girls found to be a bit comical, as women from her region were meant to be celebrated for having pale skin. 

"Princess, I've been meaning to ask. But how have you been, pregnancy wise…each passing day is a day closer to your due date," Lelia Lannister asked, her voice floated in, echoing in slightly with the crisp acoustics of the room, "I know I was quite frightened when my late husband had placed a child within me. Though I suppose I never did get this far along, to know any true symptoms beyond nausea." 

It was true, Lady Lelia had lost her child early on…early enough that she'd never been too distraught over the loss. Not as distraught as her late husband had been. 

"I'm fine, I suppose," Rhaena sighed, her discomforts with her pregnancy came and went like the wind sometimes…and sometimes they stuck to her like glue and bogged her down for hours if not days. But that wasn't a feeling she felt she could convey all too easily with just words. 

"Truthfully you're handling it quite gracefully," Victaria smiled, slipping back into the water as she'd been sitting on the edge, "I've seen some of my brother's salt wives, and I recall some of them being incredibly irritable." 

"Oh I've been irritable," Rhaena laughed, "you've only missed the worst of it. I broke down crying to Aemond over salt just yesterday. Apparently the babe only craves the oddest of flavours." 

"Really!" Kyra giggled, "what is it with babes in the womb always making their mother's consume the oddest of foods. My cousin, who lives in the North, she once wrote to me upset that her babe only craved sweet cream and mint leaves. She'd lamented having eaten a whole tin of only mint leaves!" 

At that, all of the girls giggled.

And Rhaena's chest felt lighter…warmer.

"I suppose I can relate, this morn, I'm sure I poured a bowl's worth of salt into my porridge and then drizzled it all with honey," Rhaena sighed with a smile, "I have no idea what sort of creature I'm feeding, but surely this is no regular babe." 

Lelia turned herself over so she could look at Rhaena when she spoke, "Princess, if anything is certain, you shall give birth to a most beautiful child." 

"Such flattery shall get you nowhere," Rhaena grinned, but her cheeks had warmed at the compliment nonetheless. 

Lelie was unfazed, only shrugging, "come now, everyone knows house Targaryen only births beauties. You're already one of the most beautiful women of all the realm, and you've gone and married quite possibly the most handsome member of your family. There is no doubt you shall birth a lovely babe." 

"Absolutely, a babe that only loves for salty foods!" Victaria giggled, and Rhaena joined her, splashing a wave of water over her. It was so close to Kyra that she shrieked.

In the aftermath, Rhaena only sighed a soft smile, relishing in the comfort of having such kind ladies in her company. 

"But Princess, you shall tell us if things become too much, yes," Lady Ellyn who'd remained quiet thus far had spoken so elegantly, stoically nearly, "the pressure of pregnancy is not one any woman should be bogged down with. Especially not as you enter your later moons. And I could understand the fear a Targaryen woman may feel as she enters motherhood…" 

At a glance, Rhaena caught her smokey grey eyes, and nodded softly, "I'm not sure anyone but another Targaryen woman may truly understand this fear…but nonetheless, I thank you. All of you. You four are my trusted confidants." 

She didn't wait for their responses, instead Rhaena dipped herself below the water's surface and swam to the further edge of the pool. 

In the silence of the water, one thing was certain…soon enough she'd have to face the things that frightened her. 

For one could only run so long. 

☾

It was getting worse, at night Rhaena would only dream of Silverwing. As if she could see her great-grandmother in her youth, gloriously riding atop the beautiful glistening dragon. A true Targaryen Queen of old riding a mount that was most fitting for a Queen. 

Surely, Rhaena thought, she herself was no such Queen . 

Formidable and ethereal. 

Did Silverwing truly wish to be claimed once again? 

By Rhaena Targaryen no less? 

It was a thought that plagued her, rounding its way through her mind, her body, her soul. 

If it was to be…it'd be all she ever wanted. She'd finally feel right…true…worthy of her name. Worthy to be the namesake she was, to be named after the great Queen Rhaena …rather than to live her life of eighteen years with no dragon. 

Surely her ancestors must have been disappointed…even if her parents and family claimed not to be. 

Even if her husband claimed not to be. 

Aemond would always say it didn't matter to him, that he was happy to be her dragon, that she'd claimed rightfully so. 

A sweet sentiment she'd believed in most days…but ever since this burning feeling from Silverwing…Rhaena was beginning to doubt things. 

He'd chosen her above all others, and of course, deep within herself she knew that he'd chosen her because he found something kindred within her. Because they could relate to another, had things in common with one another…found one another deeply attractive, like a magnetic pull that neither could deny.  

All that she knew.

But she also supposed that her pure Valyrian blood held more weight than whether she claimed a dragon or not. Either way, the fact remained that whatever hole existed within her…however the realm would view a Targaryen Princess…things would be exponentially different if she were to claim Silverwing. 

"Skoriot emagon ao geptot naejot," where have you left to , Aemond's low voice pulled her from her winding thoughts about Silverwing. Bringing her back to the clear present, where she stood behind her seated husband in their chambers. 

That morning had been a rather average one, Rhaena had awoken alone as Aemond had woken himself earlier to train. Upon his return they'd bathed cozily together, in the heated water Rhaena had allowed herself to melt against her dragon . She'd let his strong arms secure her fears and wandering insecurities. 

But even still…she hadn't been able to broach the topic of dragon claiming . 

Afterwards, they'd helped to dress one another, an activity she'd missed from their earlier days of wedding to one another. It always made their mornings feel more comfortable, when they could spend their time together before they had to step away from one another to take care of their duties. 

It also gave Rhaena the time to braid her husband's hair, something she really loved doing. 

She had him seated at her vanity table now, as she brushed his still slightly damp pale hair. Combing her fingers through the silky feel of his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails the way she knew he liked it. She then messaged in small amounts of her own hair milk and oils. He never did oppose to her using her own products on him, creams and oils or otherwise, even when they were sweetly or floraly scented. 

It was both heartwarming and slightly amusing to think of her husband storming around the castle, intimidating nobles, servants and subjects alike…all while partially carrying her scents around with him. 

"Iksan vaoreznuni, ñuha jorrāelagon. Ñuha bartos…nyke've sepār issare tubis ēdrurys," I'm sorry, my love. My mind...I've just been day dreaming, Rhaena hummed softly, it wasn't a complete lie…as far she was concerned at least. She had been lost in thought…thinking of her odd dreams and the weird feelings her body had been giving her. 

Aemond only hummed as a response, leaning his head back just a bit so she could begin braiding, "hmm, ēdrurys hen skoros, ñuha gevie dārilaros," hmm, dreaming of what, my beautiful Princess.

Rhaena couldn't help the bright smile that formed on her lips as his voice rasped handsomely at the word beautiful . 

She wondered if she should have been used to his casual compliments by now…they'd been together for several moons now. Surely the honeymoon phase had come and gone by now…although Rhaena could concede to herself that no amount of time could pass where she wouldn't feel so affected by him.  

So she sighed, a peaceful dreamy sound, soft and demure, "the usual by now, I suppose. Of dragons and babes. The Harvest Festival too, preparations may be all but complete for the feast itself, but then there is the ceremony and the sacrifices…" 

Rhaena had nimbly and neatly braided his hair down in one single plait, tying off the end with one of her thinner black hair ribbons. 

Once he felt she was finished, Aemond leaned himself back so he could look up at her truly, "you're thinking the sacrifices will be a problem," 

It was a loaded question. 

His voice had simmered into a most sympathetic tone for it just as well, because he wasn't really asking her about the sacrifices themselves. He was hinting at the true center of the issue…her aversion to situations that dealt with large quantities of blood. 

During their time here, he'd been most considerate if not entirely conscious of his decision to perform any and all approved executions without her present. It'd been a decision they'd never had ever really discussed or cemented as an agreed upon move to go forward with. But either way, Rhaena was most thankful for it. Ever since Criston Cole and his plot to steal away Aemond and possibly even slay her in the process…she'd never really been able to put that night behind her. 

Maybe the aftermath and consequences of it all…but the actual events that occurred that night. They still haunted her at times…some nights still. 

And now, as they approached their first celebration here that would require a blood sacrifice for the Gods…it would seem Rhaena would be forced to face her fear once again. 

"Only slightly," she leaned herself over him, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of his head, draping her arms over and around his shoulders as she nuzzled her chin atop his head, "but I shall overcome it. Even though, for the ten years that I lived here exclusively with my family. Every year, every solstice, there were four festivals that required blood sacrifices to the Gods. And a handful of others that encouraged them. It's never stopped me from liking the ceremonies, I always have, I'd just turn my head away or close my eyes for the sacrifices. If I should feel uncomfortable tonight during that portion, I'll…simply do the same." 

Aemond's hands held hers, his thumbs caressing the palms of her hands. He wouldn't ask her, he'd simply guided her arm, and her body to step around from behind him. Allowing him to smoothly swoop her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed slow heated kisses along her jaw and throat. Rhaena found herself sighing contentedly, relishing the feel of him, his body burned hot and hard against her but he felt so soothing nonetheless. With his chin nuzzling along her neck and against her shoulder as he breathed deeply, seemingly settling himself. Tempering whatever wishes or thoughts he might have had in the moment. 

In the reflection of the mirror on Rhaena’s vanity, she met Aemond's eye, watching as his jaw rolled while his lips twisted. He was mulling over the various things he wanted to say to her, figuring out how to word his thoughts, as if he was sifting through a million emotions he'd never be able to verbalize to her. 

Not that she ever needed him to. 

"Ñuha dārilaros…ñuha vok byka ābrazȳrys," my Princess...my perfect little wife , his voice was all low and somewhat husky, like a near sultry growl that worked its way from the back of his throat, "I don't want you to feel any discomfort, not if I can do something to help it. I can have the High Priestess perform the ceremony another way…" 

"I love you, so much, oh, how you know I do," Rhaena wasted no time attempting to turn herself just enough to grasp his chin and kiss him sweetly, smiling against his lips as she did, "but…there is no need to ask the temple for such a thing. The Gods only respond to blood anyhow, and by rights of our ways, I must be present for it. Whether I gaze upon the slaying exactly or not has never been specified in any text, but physically I must bear witness with my presence. It is the way of things." 

He loosed a far more weighted hum accompanied with a heavy sigh as his arms tightened their hold around her. 

She could tell that wouldn't be enough for him, he'd want to offer her something…anything. 

So, Rhaena did her best to think of something, thinking back to the many ceremonies she'd attended as well as the many texts she'd read on the topic. She couldn't see a clear way to avoid anything.

"The other day…" Aemond had started, the way his breath warmed the exposed skin on her shoulder made her shiver just slightly, "I found in most texts, the ruling sovereign may perform the sacrificial act instead of the High Priestess. I carry Blood Moon now, either or, it would be most fitting if I do carry out the deed by my hand, my blade. Besides, I'll be quicker than the High Priestess. I'll be fast, it'll be painless for them, and that way you won't have to witness it for long."

It was true, Rhaena's own father had always taken the task honorably during most ceremonies that required such large sacrifices. 

So, she supposed the fact that her husband may want to handle this task himself as well…it made sense to her. 

And in this case he intended on doing the duty quickly…for her sake. 

For a moment, Rhaena gazed out the window beside the vanity, her eyes trailing along the lovely cliff side view, the crashing deep blue sea several leagues down below them. The sky was clear this morning, with only a few scattering clouds floating across the pale blue sky as the sun beamed down bright rays through the open windows of their chambers. 

And there flying off in the sky…off in the distance…there she was. 

Silverwing.

Flying, circling loops around her mate Vermithor. 

Picturesque as always. 

The might of house Targaryen. 

So many things…so much clouded around her mind. Here she was in her husband's embrace, as he worked to please her as much as possible by making her life easier. And even now…she couldn't even imagine bringing up the one true thought that plagued her. 

This might be her chance, her only chance, and here she was letting it pass her by. There was no telling what happened to one's body if they ignored the calling of a dragon. This flame that coursed its way through her, all fury and wanting, if she left it unquenched…would it engulf anyway?

Would it kill her if she didn't act on it?

Would it kill her to share these thoughts with her own bonded mate, the man she'd grown to trust with every part of herself. She'd given him access to every inch of her body, her heart and her soul. Her mind was usually so open to him, her thoughts and emotions on clear display for him and only him. 

And yet…with this one thing…she still felt the need to keep this hidden. 

At least for a little while longer. 

"It's true, my father used to be the one who'd make the sacrifices. I trust you'd do them quickly, swiftly," her voice was so close to straining, such a lump had formed in her throat but she managed to fight past it, leveling her sound out as she pulled her lips into a soft smile. She hoped desperately that Aemond wouldn't see through her now, she wouldn't be able to cope if he did. Rhaena was in no mood to shed tears now, so early in the morning over a matter that seemed to overwhelm her entire being. 

So instead she quickly aimed to shake off the discomfort, feeling his hands caress her belly, she placed her own warmly over his. Nuzzling her cheek against his, "after the feast and ceremony are done with. Next we shall have to redecorate the nursery, we only have a few more moons before our little gremlin arrives," 

Rhaena could feel his smile, his warm chuckle reverberating against her back, "sepār hāre tolī hūrus, byka mēre," just three more moons, little one.  

There, Rhaena felt her heart burn sweetly, a truly happy smile graced her lips, especially as she knew that sentence wasn't for her. 

It was for their babe. 

Bit by bit…she'd have to remember to think of her babe when things felt too overwhelming.  

She’d have to learn to embody what it meant to be a mother.

☾

-

P.S: So overall, I think what was really obstructing me with this fic was the arbitrary "40 chapters" total I gave this fic, so if you've noticed, I've taken that off and I'm just going to let this fic go on for as long as it needs to. That way I won't feel too bad if I split things up or meld things together, and I won't be fighting myself to stay on target with the number of chapters I'm writing/creating.

Anyways, this just means the initial plan I had for when baby Vaella will arrive has been pushed back one chapter so far, so instead of her arriving around ch.10 it'll probably now be ch.11. Nothing too major. (This effects Ao3 only really...)

And now I've just got to go through/edit the 2nd half of this chapter! Honestly, I like what I've written, and the plot and everything is fine. It's just the sex scene that's bothering me!! Like I don't know what it is about it, but I hate something about it…the things they do is all fine, like the sex itself is what I wanted to happen…it's just the way I've described it or something…I can't really explain it. But something about it just lacks feeling or true eroticism…it just reads like I'm describing things that are happening…but I don't think it sounds genuine…if any of that makes sense.

#aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #aemond x rhaena #rhaena x aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #rhaemond #hotd #he saw her at daybreak #hshad

[cardworksartblog]

Last night, I heard your terrifying howling. I felt the earth tremble, as if to shake me awake as you let loose the enchanting song of demise you sing when you catch someone in your woods.

It was followed by the townsfolk pounding at my door in a panic. A child had stumbled into your woods at sunset, and had yet to return now at midnight.

Your howling had convinced the useless brutes who guarded the village that you'd claimed the child as a casualty in your forest, but the villagers had managed to convince them to let me investigate first.

Thank the sun they had.

As I ran down the path to the fields, I saw you in the moonlight. In the middle of the wheat field, standing, with a dove pale as the purest white paints in your jaws. The brutish guards had followed me, and panicked, readying arrows and shouting for the rest of the village as I ran toward you.

Then, the child peeked out from behind your hulking form, looking up sleepily as if they were not standing by wilderness incarnate. The villagers chastised the brutes angrily, the child's mother running down yelling for them as your gaze pierced straight through me.

Toward the brutes.

You dropped the dove into my hands, black ichor staining my palms as you turned and nudged the child forward into their mother's embrace. When their mother asked the child why they'd taken so long to come back with you, they'd told her that something bad had tried to eat them after they got lost.

But then the angel, the child had pointed up at you with wonder in their eyes, had saved them. You glared at the brutes, and I shared your baleful gaze. Their disrespect would not have been tolerated if the child had not been present.

You bow and snort playfully at the child as a farewell, taking the dove in my hands back into your jaws before running off back to the forest. Your home.

I help the child's mother up from the ground, and carry the child up the hill. They're tired, it's past their bedtime. The brutes stare at me incredulously as I glower at them while walking past.

I spend the night awake after that. The scentless ichor that dripped from the dove's wounds, the visceral unsettlement I'd felt while holding it, how its figure had shifted unnaturally in my hands and your jaws keeping me from resting.

That was an angel. They'd sent an angel to kill that child in your forest.

Such a tiny child, incapable of doing any wrong, and yet they'd been all too willing to sacrifice them to instil the fear of the wild, the fear of you, back inside this village. After all the good you'd done, the successful hunts you'd sanctioned in the hunting grounds of your home....

I grasped my bone-steel knife you'd made for me after I'd helped you bury one of your kin, infused with your very power and strength. It's stayed under my floorboards for months now, I've not had the heart to use it. I felt as if any usage of it would be of disrespect to you.

But now, as I steel myself and begin gathering salt, candles and half of my money from where I store it? As fury burns inside of me like a pyre at the utter guts they had to try and kill one of my own to prove naught but a silly little argument that they were too stubborn to admit they were wrong about?

I feel a wild energy pulse through the knife as I stare out my window, gritting my teeth as I think of plunging the knife I clutch in my hand into the chest of a bastard who ruined my life before and seeks to do it again. I think of watching as black ichor streams out of their wounds as you and I raid their sacred halls of false innocence and purity.

This use for our knife is a compliment to you.

#Cardwork Poetry #not rw #tags from last poetry thing still stand btw #no romantic intentions here it is Purely like. me thinking about Myself and how I Am and using this to communicate that #and as such the Guy and the Beast are both technically Me. They are both Me and its weird but they're kinda like siblings #so. yea :3c #this is related to the last writing thing btw!! a bit of a darker thing but yk #writing #writers on tumblr #btw if you get the lil reference to lead poisoning i put in here ily <33 it was intentional. #ALSO ok ok last part but. its meant to be ambiguous whether or not the people who Sent the angel are like. #religious people or just straight up A God and their archangels. like it can be read either way bc it doesnt matter #since the Dude is gonna fucking kill them anyways <3

[e2019]

okey well i didnt think it was gonna happen especially not so fast since i have NOOOO fugging money etc but i finessed it got some more subs which is very good considering i somehow lost the 2mg i had last night like i went to bed and woke up several times in the night and it was there then i remember one time touching it because i was like hey wait why is this here i should put it somewhere else and when i woke up for real it was not there... not sure if i moved it and forgot but who cares now.

the sub doctor was kinda mad at me i think lol he sighed really loudly and was like "please stoppppppp relapsing u know there's a fentanyl crisis going on you're gonna die!!!" and talked to me like i was some naughty 5yrs old child who needs to be put in the timeout corner. ummm yes sir i'm so sorry wont let it happen again capiche?

anyways i feel ok right now still a little bit sick but very manageable... not like yesterday when i only took 2mg it was like almost nothing... or i guess it was kind of like i was on day 2 of withdrawal but it felt more like day 1. which still kinda sucked but it was ok because i can work on day 1 but day 2 no fucking way jose.

i've been thinking a lot about what's the best way to do this and i think this is it... so as soon as u can tolerate the sub without going into pwd load the fuck up on it. like 8mg-16mg. then every 3+ days take half of your last dose until you're at 1mg or less, then jump off... the reason why is cuz u wanna get ~100% receptor occupancy asap obviously. then the half-life is 1-3 days. so if u don't wait an entire half life and/or you take more than 1/2 your previous dose, you'll be increasing ur effective dose.

i'm a little bit stupid but i think my math is correct here. you take 1 dose then after 1 half-life you're at 0.5 dose + 0.5 = 1. 1 more half-life you're at 0.5 again + 0.25 = 0.75. 1 more half-life is 0.375 + 0.125 = 0.5... etc etc. that should be real fucking easy. it wasn't so bad last time and my max dose was 4mg. so maybe tonight or tomorrow morning i will take 8mg and start tapering from there and it should be a frigging cake walk. after that depending on how i feel i might take like 2mg or less 1-2x a week for like a couple months but idk we'll see.

oh and yeah i'm not even gonna think about shooting them anymore cuz i don't wanna open up that can of worms that would be so fucked. it's really better if i stay convinced it will be a painful & disgusting death... iirc i had waited 12-24hr last time so pwd should have been out of the question anyways. right. and i had enough benzos to kinda knock myself out which was the only thing that kept me from going crazy. which i don't have any now so if that was to happen again well i'm weighing my options rn and none of them are desirable... slit my throat with a knife or toaster bath i suppose. running in front of traffic is not within the realm of possibility, and it takes at least a 3-story building for the fall to kill u i think. really unfortunate, we need some more effective/immediate/less painful suicide methods at our disposal at all times...

#update immediately after posting i found the sub from last night it was on the floor so mystery solved

[encrucijada]

PÍA RAMBLES #6

nanowrimo is technically over and i barely made a dent on what was supposed to be my main wip during november. but one thought led to another and i made some changes that contradict the powerpoint i posted at the start of the month... so let me tell you about evergreen lung!

if you're new to my writing updates: because of how inconsistent i am with my progress i just label everything as a writing update and then theme them accordingly.

disclaimer: this is my original work, plagiarism of any kind won’t be tolerated.

[ all images ids in alt text! ]

i was having a lot of trouble making the relationships between characters work, which is a problem considering character relationships would make or break this book in particular. i've only written one and a half chapters which, i know is too soon to know if the dynamics were really as bleh as they seemed in my head (especially considering i've only barely introduced the character of raquel)... but things just weren't clicking in an appealing way.

so what did i do? i opened my phone's notes app and started typing naturally lmao. i laid out all my troubles and i think i've found it now! the version of evergreen lung i like.

these are the changes

august is now a completely different character! originally she was supposed to be ezra's "friendship interest" (like love interest but for friend) but i was having this problem about their relationship being too similar to that of ezra's mums xiomara and katalina. something that was bothering no one but if i didn't do something about it it was gonna bother me for all intended 70k words of this. i've aged august up and now she is running the radio station mentioned in the powerpoint (there's also something new and magical about her but [spoilers]).

it also allowed me to implement a dynamic i would have otherwise discarded with the changes i did to ezra's family, which makes me happy as i really liked it. see, since her inception august has been the someone new by hozier sorta character where she falls in love with pretty strangers on the bus. in the earlier versions of evergreen lung, ezra was supposed to live with her aunt who couldn't really hold down a partner and that was going to contrast with ezra who didn't want a partner. now that dynamic is the one shared between ezra and august! they have more of a "queer neurodivergent student who imprints on their cool teacher" vibe

juan diego figueroa! you may remember him as santiago figueroa from the powerpoint, i changed his name. the obligatory adam parrish-esque character because this is a book about a sentient forest. he's ezra's new platonic soulmate. a story about two aspec kids with lots of nature imagery surrounding them and whose relationship people are being extremely amatonormative about. after all, they're a boy and a girl so they should be falling in love

not only are they extremely cute, but their dynamic immediately puts me at ease with being Different(tm) from xiomara/katalina/caleb, which is what was bothering me if i had made a little trio out of ezra/august/santiago. as said in the powerpoint, his family runs the greenhouse where xiomara buys all her plant babies and it gives juan diego and ezra a fun thing going on. where they know each other but will grow to be each other's best friends much to their surprise

okay! let's talk chapters

i have named a few scattered chapters. these are the first five (at least for now some titles could be moved around later). as of rn i have only written chapters one and i'm working on finishing chapter two. yes, in my head that is more than enough to talk

I: CREATION ACT

so for the uninitiated: evergreen lung is about this girl named ezra who died and then undied. what felt like passing out overnight in the forest for her turned out to be a year of her being missing.

i'd written the opening scene of the book many moons ago, around the time when i first had the idea for this story. it remains one of my favourite openers. here's an excerpt!

I woke up again because I couldn’t breathe. It turned into crying. Blood smeared on my cheeks, my nose, my mouth. I think… I might have been having nightmares, but I couldn’t remember. The sun made nightmares go away.

Checked my phone again, mechanical. The dead screen spiderwebbed and mosaicked with the honeycomb light through the canopy of branches. I did that three more times, forgetting each time, until I sprung panicked because the weight of my own body made my arm fall asleep and I thought the fox was back and had taken it along this time. I pressed the power button on the phone like that might will it to work.

I also got bitten on the leg, the tender tissue on the back of my knee, and I kicked. A fox with shamrocks as way of ear tufts whined and sprang away. That made me sit up and I cried, whimpering apologies. Whimpering please forgive me’s to an animal that wasn’t there anymore.

i'm now gonna shout out @rxinbowbright and @chaoticdecember because it's thanks to them that i even conceived making any progress with this book at all. and it's all thanks to the characters of ezra's parents who are actually our ocs for a personal project we share. with katalina being teddy's and caleb being fluffy's, xio is mine. it makes sense for a story about the importance of queerplatonic relationships for our main character to be born into one imo.

a while back (a long while back) i decided to start using chapter titles. they add so much personality and i think they need to do a comeback in books. i'm especially fond of the two words structure which is what i'm gonna be doing with evergreen lung. it creates such vivid imagery with something as simple as creation act, especially considering the subject matter. ezra coming back home and all.

II: PRESSED FLOWERS

aka ezra takes a walk around town and reunites with raquel, they go to a concert. alternatively: sometimes the main conflict is the fact your best friend has a boyfriend.

the plot truly begins here: ezra realises there's a disconnect between her and the person who's her best friend, she missed graduation and we all know how much things change in not even a year of being done with high school. the people you saw 5 days a week aren't part of your routine anymore, friend groups don't survive, everyone's got their own goals and no one's worried about the same homework as you.

other stories might turn raquel into the villain but there are no villains here (except for amatonormativity). i love raquel, and i love the relationship with her boyfriend like i love any other ship in my wips. they've got this fun garage band aesthetic going on and damian is friends with ezra... sadly while she was gone they planned and agreed to move out of town together. and now instead of having time to process this, ezra's arriving a month (or so) before it happens.

the title of pressed flowers is supposed to be a metaphor about preserving things.

Raquel’s mum was a redhead like her two daughters. She was wearing an apron and a dress, hands clad with rubber gloves, she looked as if she’d stepped out of 50s USA nuclear family propaganda. Wendy was forced to stay outside and I stood in their kitchen on the verge of tears for an agonising ten minutes.

I kept asking them: Raquel? Raquel? Raquel?

And they put a glass of pink lemonade in my hands and hugged me until I spilled it on the floor anyways. You went missing, they said, as if I was a third-party stranger who hadn’t heard of the local tragedy. Instead of being the very subject of it. Yeah, I know, I said, objective, like speaking of the weather. Your parents— Raquel's mum started to say. They know, I said.

“She’s going to be so happy.” Marianela was holding the baby to her chest.

“Where’s Raquel?” I asked again.

“Not here,” her mum said. “She got this crazy idea in her head when she turned eighteen. Moved right out, said she was ready to be independent.”

“Where’s Raquel?” I asked again.

“She didn’t even have a job!” her mum said. “Now I think she’s working as a cashier.”

“Where’s Raquel?” I asked Marianela directly.

“The shopping centre downtown,” she said, patting the baby’s back as she became fuzzy. Warning of a wail. “They have these empty rooms serving no purpose at all.”

okay! i think that's gonna be it for now. i mainly wanted to talk about the changes i made (which also helps me it's the rubber duck method). and also hopefully this gave you a better idea of what the book's about, where it's headed.

the other chapters will tackle the following:

dead heading: the real weight of being gone

organic bodies: trying to reconnect

blink twice: ezra goes to a party with her old classmates

the sentient forest is coming, i promise.

cheers, pía

#pia rambles #pia.docx #( wip ) evergreen lung

[zablionsea]

My Feelings on Employment

I was reading the last post I reblogged, which was about the frustration with being alienated from the results of your work.

Now, I suppose I have a higher tolerance for bullshit that doesn't matter, after all, I was a good student in high school, haha.

Even so, I really feel this with my work, very funnily enough, on a certain fan wiki. Yes, I trudge through tedious tasks nearly every time I touch that thing, and often, the biggest tasks are the most tedious ones like summarizing every chapter or compiling song information.

However, even if it's something like logging months worth of Twitter information into a spreadsheet, I still can find it incredibly rewarding because it has a tangible result (in that case, creating a near-complete log of SL's update history).

Obviously, I'm not paid for this, but gosh, I wish I could do stuff like this for a living: trudging through the tedious bullshit for everyone else's sake. Repetitive, tedious, and invisible work often scratches an itch in my brain anyway, making it more enjoyable for me than others.

Unfortunately, my interest solely lies in video games in a way that's just plain unmarketable. I couldn't even list my experience with the wiki on a resume for a whole host of reasons, least of which valuing my separation of online life from brickspace life. It's been a substantial part of the past few months, and yet, it's not really there.

I've had to accept the fact that any job I take is going to have that feeling of isolation and pointlessness, and at this point, I'd be grateful to be capable of getting one at all. I feel as though my autism, mental illness, and low spoons as a result mean that I'm not very employable in the first place. I worry that I'm fundamentally incompatible with "work," and that hopelessness runs so deep that I can't be assed to apply anymore.

Hell, I'm so sure I can't get a job that I'm half-contemplating attempting to get art commissions set-up again, even though the reason I shut them down was having a severe anxiety attack over the mere idea of having a client (in addition to those factors that would make me unappealing as an employee kicking in hard). I know I'd hate it. I know it'd be just as overwhelming and frustrating and genuinely miserable as was obviously going to be the case before. Therefore, I haven't done it: because I respect my own well-being. But, really, it's better than having no income at all, right?

There's this painful tension with my college education, knowing that it's all gearing up for a big job hunt as I finally make an attempt to move out. I have such a deep contempt for what "work" is in the modern day, what profit-seeking and worker-diminishing trends have done to it. I wish it were better, for my sake and everyone else's.

#vent #zab.txt

[sangrewrites]

my own work tea

okie so i'm a barista in like amazon hq right??? and i've been with this company since i was 23 gag so i've seen everything you could think of. anyways since reopening from covid they've been running like this free coffee bullshit and it was only supposed to be like a 3 month program the lies!

well here we are nearly 3 fucking years later and it's still free!!!! last year they were going to end it but some cry baby amazonians literally made a petition and so they kept the program. well back to office happened and it was supposed to end again AND THEY FUCKING LIED AGAIN they decided to keep free coffee bc god forbid these rich tech fucks pay for anything at this point.

we're already busy right with the people in the building but adding to that with all the people they're making come into the office it was a recipe for disaster which is what happened lmao these fucking higher ups make decisions and then they're all pikachu faced when it doesn't play out how they expected.

don't even get me started on this chick sam and her bestie kristen who are both rat snakes and i hate them. when they first started we didn't have a good first impression of each other and sadly that's stayed even years later. i'm completely over coffee right and wanted to go back to my old job as market supervisor. which an opportunity came up for me to interview for it again which i did. it was so pointless bc kristen still has this fucking grudge against me for something i did when she first came into the company. so sam was like "we'll talk again in a few weeks" well guess what we have yet to talk and my poor friend kass is literally doing two supervisor positions while getting paid for just one.

lets move on to the people i work with. you have sadie who is my ride or die but also i've began to notice things about her as a supervisor that i don't like. then you have stevie who is literally the best but she can also have her annoying moments. then there is kelly who is a fucking doorknob a lot of the time and tyler who is somehow the oldest of 6 but acts like a literal child. now sadie and tyler are like two peas in a pod which isn't a good thing. they feed off of each other and when together can be annoying af. like so much so that kass even came to me and was like "whats going on with you and sadie???" bc there was def tension for a while with how those two acted.

i love sadie but as a supervisor there is a reason our bosses question if she can run a shop. she makes excuses for tyler instead of holding him accountable for doing a shit job closing. we had a new person start last week and literally on her 3rd day he was rude to her for no reason. like obvi she's not gonna know what fucking pastery is what. so when she heard about it the next day instead of holding him accountable she made excuses for him. he's a closer and i used to be a closer, and she allows him to get away with not doing shit or doing a half assed job. but when i was closer that shit wouldn't fly, and again she makes excuses about how it was a different time.

i literally feel nothing about tyler, like i tolerate him but outside of work he is not someone i would ever interact with.

the thing about sadie also she has said some outta pocket shit to me that i don't even think she realizes is outta pocket. sometimes i'm quiet, it doesn't mean i'm in a bad mood. i just don't feel like talking and one time she was like 'gosh she has an attitude today" and i snapped back like "i don't but i can get one real quick." then i was gonna call out to finish packing and clean up my apartment before moving but she literally guilted me into coming. and made some remark like "it's not my fault you're not done packing" i'm lowkey reaching the point that outside of work i won't be speaking with her either if i were to leave.

BIG SIGH. i love working with a few people and like all of my regulars who come get coffee. but like at some point that isn't a valid excuse to stay somewhere that stresses me tf out and where i am not happy. sure i make good money but at what expense??? i would rather make less and be happy going into work.

[bogdan522rp]

Roleplayers are Mentally Unstable

(I'm greatly exaggerating, but the title isn't all that far off from reality.)

Throughout my years on Discord, I've met all kind of people - and I can safely assume that at least half of them either have a mental health problem, they're just massive pieces of shit, or both. To be fair, I've met loads of incredible people, but even the best have their failings.

I'm no better - hell, I'm probably worse than some of my friends; I'm an emotional wreck reliant on other people's validation to continue functioning. But I've recognized that, well, roleplayers can be, in a lot of cases, vulnerable escapists who might not easily tolerate critiques.

Creative people aren't exactly the models of mental health, and with roleplaying, the problems only multiply. It's a hobby for those who want to escape the daily struggle of reality, to forget their troubles and just do stupid shit. That's generally fine, really - but very often, escapism doesn't seem to be a healthy way to approach roleplaying, let alone the rest of the world.

I think that comes due to an issue with one's mentality. I've also started roleplaying partially to get away from the monotony and pain of high school (cursed be it's name), but as I became older and more experienced, the other reasons for having this hobby - curiosity, a sense of community - trumped escaping the real world. Hell, while I'm still generally isolated from other people IRL, I no longer see roleplaying as an avenue for running away from real life; it's 'just' a passion that takes some of my time away and helps me make friends.

I admit, though, I spend too much time inside a cramped room.

Obviously, other people aren't so lucky. I'm generally well off, but some of the acquaintances and friends I made are worse off; hell, I've seen a handful of them basically melt down, go off on really unhinged rants, and admit to thinking some really fucked up shit, which... yeah, that happens. I've done that too a couple of times.

It also doesn't help it's full of youngsters over there. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but teenage drama, combined with escapism, leads to some pretty cringey or even outright terrible events - 2019 wasn't the brightest year in my life.

That, and when you start roleplaying, you're generally bound to have terrible ideas and shit writing; it happens, and you shouldn't ashamed of it, but remembering the teen edgefests and the power-ups and abilities I ripped off of Dragon Ball isn't exactly uplifting.

I still remember my first romantic relationship, and holy shit, it's kinda hilarious to look back on.

Yeah, it was a long-distance relationship on Discord of all damn platforms; it wasn't perfect, we were too horny for our own good (especially myself), and we were both emotional crutches to each other, but it was a positive experience overall for me.

Then, after a strange breakup some months before, she vanished, and soon after I found out she had cheated on me with other friends in the server we were a part of. I wasn't terribly upset about it, but I do know one of my friends was pretty fucked up once he found out.

I'm not mad at her. I think she was just too desperate to connect with other people for her own good. I think she was generally honest about who she was or the life she lived; but I wish she had at least been honest and admitted this to all of us before she left our lives.

If you're reading this, old friend, I'm not upset. I'm just confused about why you did all this.

Sorry for going off on a tangent like that (and that this isn't a coherent rant), but yeah. That's about it, really; you'll get better at roleplaying, but you can also slowly get better as a person. It just takes effort, dedication, and a couple of good friends. That, and maybe a change of mentality.

Don't get upset when you people critique your MHA knockoff OC (not to be confused with outright insulting you, obviously); just ask for feedback. Besides, with enough practice and time, you'll get better at it, and you'll even come up with your own ideas. Don't expect them to be (wholly) original; but that's not an issue on it's own, it mostly depends on how you implement those ideas.

#roleplay #discord rp #bad advice #ranting