#&fraudulent intent

[thevioletcaptain]

whoever stole my account information in order to spend $127 on [checks notes] roku purchases, i hope you have incurable hangnails on every finger and toe for the rest of your shitty life.

[american-baidu-yandex-contact]

Domain Reputation

[black-fist-order]

THIS WAS ON A FRIEND’S PAGE: An anguished question from a Trump supporter: ‘Why do liberals think Trump supporters are stupid?’

THE SERIOUS ANSWER: Here’s what the majority of anti-Trump voters honestly feel about Trump supporters en masse:

That when you saw a man who had owned a fraudulent University, intent on scamming poor people, you thought "Fine."

That when you saw a man who had made it his business practice to stiff his creditors, you said, "Okay."

That when you heard him proudly brag about his own history of sexual abuse, you said, "No problem."

That when he made up stories about seeing Muslim-Americans in the thousands cheering the destruction of the World Trade Center, you said, "Not an issue."

That when you saw him brag that he could shoot a man on Fifth Avenue and you wouldn't care, you exclaimed, "He sure knows me."

That when you heard him relating a story of an elderly guest of his country club, an 80-year old man, who fell off a stage and hit his head, to Trump replied: “‘Oh my God, that’s disgusting,’ and I turned away. I couldn’t—you know, he was right in front of me, and I turned away. I didn’t want to touch him. He was bleeding all over the place. And I felt terrible, because it was a beautiful white marble floor, and now it had changed color. Became very red.” You said, "That's cool!"

That when you saw him mock the disabled, you thought it was the funniest thing you ever saw.

That when you heard him brag that he doesn't read books, you said, "Well, who has time?"

That when the Central Park Five were compensated as innocent men convicted of a crime they didn't commit, and he angrily said that they should still be in prison, you said, "That makes sense."

That when you heard him tell his supporters to beat up protesters and that he would hire attorneys, you thought, "Yes!"

That when you heard him tell one rally to confiscate a man's coat before throwing him out into the freezing cold, you said, "What a great guy!"

That you have watched the parade of neo-Nazis and white supremacists with whom he curries favor, while refusing to condemn outright Nazis, and you have said, "Thumbs up!"

That you hear him unable to talk to foreign dignitaries without insulting their countries and demanding that they praise his electoral win, you said, "That's the way I want my President to be."

That you have watched him remove expertise from all layers of government in favor of people who make money off of eliminating protections in the industries they're supposed to be regulating and you have said, "What a genius!"

That you have heard him continue to profit from his businesses, in part by leveraging his position as President, to the point of overcharging the Secret Service for space in the properties he owns, and you have said, "That's smart!"

That you have heard him say that it was difficult to help Puerto Rico because it was in the middle of water and you have said, "That makes sense."

That you have seen him start fights with every country from Canada to New Zealand while praising Russia and quote, "falling in love" with the dictator of North Korea, and you have said, "That's statesmanship!"

That Trump separated children from their families and put them in cages, managed to lose track of 1500 kids, has opened a tent city incarceration camp in the desert in Texas - he explains that they’re just “animals” - and you say, “Well, OK then.”

That you have witnessed all the thousand and one other manifestations of corruption and low moral character and outright animalistic rudeness and contempt for you, the working American voter, and you still show up grinning and wearing your MAGA hats and threatening to beat up anybody who says otherwise.

What you don't get, Trump supporters, is that our succumbing to frustration and shaking our heads, thinking of you as stupid, may very well be wrong and unhelpful, but it's also...hear me...charitable.

Because if you're NOT stupid, we must turn to other explanations, and most of them are less flattering.

- Adam-Troy Castro

(To all who agree with its content, I ask that you PLEASE SHARE IT on your own post, and ENCOURAGE OTHERS to do the same.)

[inkskinned]

it is totally okay to be hurt and tired and fed up with the american schooling system but i need you to understand that we need to be better about loudly and routinely defending public education.

yes, many teachers suck, many schools utterly suck. i also got bullied and was absolutely not given the right support for my needs. i am not defending public education because it was kind to me. i am defending it because it needs to exist.

right-wing republicans do not want an educated population. they want kids to be homeschooled or in private school. there is a huge religious undertone to this.

the most common argument is that despite high costs, the "result" is not "good" enough. they point to failing schools as proof that public education is just never going to work out. there will be arguments made here that you actually agree with: that teachers can be bullies, that we taught online for 2 years and still charged the same amount of tuition, that we have no recourse for students to actually have agency or a voice, and that schools are now unsafe for kids due to risk of illness and gun violence.

these are all placing the blame in a fraudulent way, one intended to get your parents to homeschool you. the less kids in a school, the less federally-awarded funding for that school, the less any school succeeds. they will not mention the fact it is their legislation that takes away important funding opportunities, that teachers are living at or below the poverty line, that buildings are not kept up to code, that administration is overpaid and forces specific curriculums, that corporations like (my personal enemy) Pearson Education control certain classroom goals because teachers can't afford other options. they pretend to be ignorant of the gun violence and say "oh just get a gun" - but these are the same people who will be sending their child to a private school with a bulletproof backpack. they don't care if your kid dies, though. they "don't believe" in covid, but they did get their kid vaccinated, because of course they did.

it is a closed loop. conservative parents hear the fearmongering and remove children from the system. frequently these parents are also deeply religious. the kids are raised without access to other media & learn to parrot their parents. you have now created a new generation of conservatives. additionally, one of the parents/caregivers must stay home and homeschool the children, usually for free. i will give you 1 guess which parent tends to stay home to homeschool the children. these parents are encouraged to have many, many children. those children are most likely not getting access to safe sex ed.

we might laugh at fox news suggesting teachers are forcing children to use kitty litter but: first of all, there is kitty litter in the classroom. it's part of an emergency kit in case children are locked in due to a shooter. so that's fucking dystopian, and the fact they've completely reimagined the scenario to somehow make the teachers look bad when it's instead a fucking huge symbol of our failure as a country to protect our children.... it feels a little intentional.

secondly: don't just dismiss the situation. because, yeah, obviously, no teacher is encouraging kids to be a catboy. but the actual undertone that fox news is trying to sew is an outright distrust of teachers and of public education. they rely on the dehumanization of trans people as a common touchstone to hide the fact they're pushing two agendas at once. (which is ironic. because the thing they accuse teachers of. is pushing. an agenda.)

whenever someone tells you they want you to read less, you should be suspicious of that. when someone tries to separate you and your education, you should be suspicious of that. i don't even like incel rhetoric nor would i want my kids exposed to it - but i would not take away my child's (age-appropriate) access to the internet. i would just provide more educational materials, not less. the difference here is that i believe we can resolve ignorance with knowledge; whereas conservatives believe that ignorance is bliss.

they misappropriate funding and demonize teachers. they pull the same trick each time - the same thing we are seeing with anti-trans rhetoric. they do not want you to have access to safe sex ed, so they act horrified, claim sex ed teaches you how to thrust deep, claim that we have no idea what "age-appropriate" means. since the mid-nineties, the united states has spent at least 2 billion dollars on abstinence-only education, even though to quote the above link: "a preponderance of studies has found no effect of abstinence education at reducing adolescent pregnancy". conservatives want you to think less of any person struggling with addiction so they can continue their racist "war on drugs", so they spend up to $750 million dollars a year on the DARE program which has absolutely no effect. acting like teachers "must" be "grooming" children is just the same thing - so they can demand that funding either goes to their causes or the funding doesn't "exist" ("i'm not paying for our kids to learn that thing!")

and they want you to feel uncaring about this. they are aware that you will hate some parts of your school experience. pretty much everyone does. they want to lean into the parts that you hate so that you don't put up a fight about it when they take it away for not being "good enough."

i know i maybe sound like a conspiracy theorist. but truly. truly. it is beneficial for conservatives to reduce your faith in the american public schooling system.

one of the explicitly stated campaign promises of the conservative party: to axe the Department of Education in 2024.

i know we are all tired and burnt out and there is so much else wrong with their entire platform. but maybe just - pay attention to this one.

[spacelazarwolf]

so this is a trashfire for many reasons.

lack of historical knowledge and complete lack of perspective

israel was not created by britain. israel declared independence from britain. israel was not "designed to funnel jewish people out of all other countries." israel is not "puppeted by america for the purposes of colonizing southwest asia" and the insinuation that israel's goal is to colonize the entirety of southwest asia is actually a documented antisemitic conspiracy theory.

"Even before the State of Israel came into existence, Arab leaders accused Zionists of seeking to rule most of the Middle East," a secret Jewish plot to establish a "Greater Israel" extending from the Nile to the Eurphrates and the Persian Gulf, and south deep into Saudi Arabia. Albeit "farfetched" and a "calumny," this notion has "become so routinized and accepted" that it "now serves as the conventional wisdom in all the Arabic-speaking countries and Iran." Pipes 1998, 49, 69. This is one of two maps in the collection alleged to provide evidence of the "Greater Israel" conspiracy. (The other is ID #2411, "Jewish Imperial Ambitions In Palestine and Neighbouring Countries," 1967.) This map, "Dream of Zionism," shows Zionism as a giant serpent, its back decorated with a pattern of triangles described as "Freemasons Eye, 'Symbol of Jewry.'" The snake's circular outline marks the "Proposed Boundary of 'Greater Israel,'" an area including all of Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and the Sinai Peninsula; the Nile delta region of Egypt along the Suez Canal and northwest of Cairo; and virtually all of Iraq, including access to the Persian Gulf. It also includes a large portion of northwestern Saudi Arabia, a corridor well over 100 miles wide along the Red Sea, stretching south more than 450 miles from the Gulf of Aqaba to the Holy City of Medina. "Curiously," the conspiracy theorists "see Greater Israel including Medina but not Mecca; the oil fields of Kuwait but not those of Saudi Arabia; and more of Turkey than Iran." The State of Israel is identified as "Occupied Palestine." Pipes 62. This map first appeared in an English-language edition of the fraudulent "Protocols of the Elders of Zion" - the infamous blood libel against the Jewish people - published in Iran in 1985. Ibid. This version appears in a new edition, "Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion," attributed to "The Representatives of Zion, of the 33rd Degree" and published in Kuwait by the "Scientific Research House." The estimated publication date is 2018. The current version of the map varies only slightly from that of 1985 illustrated in Pipes: the words "Symbol of Jewry" have been added in script beneath the legend "Freemasons Eye," and a partially legible signature ("Mir"?) appears at the lower right.

also i'm not sure what the intention was with bringing up the rwandan genocide because rwanda was colonized by germany and belgium, not the british. unless you think literally everything bad that happens in the world is tied to britain... which just so happens to be another antisemitic conspiracy theory that originated in the ussr. all the while jews were being demonized in the uk for being "communist sympathizers." because jews are the symbol of everything you hate, all the problems in your life. that is how antisemitism functions.

2. tokenizing jews for your own benefit

"i had followed [jewish blogs] in an attempt to better understand jewish concerns ... and i've been unfollowing them one by one ... i was getting genuine perspectives on issues i knew very little about - and now, for those blogs in particular, it's impossible to separate what might be a genuine concern verses wht's being weaponised to justify a settler state"

this is an open admission that you are only able to take in jewish perspectives from jews you agree with. and considering the ignorance that's rampant in the rest of the post, my guess is that what you saw was jews who were scared and angry at the way people acted after october 7th and the way antisemitism is rising, but the non jews you follow were insistent that those sentiments could not coexist with palestinian liberation. additionally, the fact you are unable to separate genuine concern verses "what's being weaponised" is your own problem, not ours. the way jewish pain is being downplayed, mocked, ignored, and demonized, the way people have insisted that any mourning for the victims of october 7th or concern for the hostages must be propaganda is antisemitic. and you are actively contributing to that, particularly by saying that western powers arresting people during protests "has been a setup from the beginning" with the very clear insinuation that it is "zionists" who are to blame for the setup.

3. you are really fucking entitled

you are a british goy (not a "goyim" btw, goy is singular, goyim is plural). you literally admitted that you "don't know how to talk about this with the tat and care [you] should be as a [non jew]" and that "certainly there is a degree in arrogance for [you] to talk about judaism as an outsider." and yet you wrote this whole post full of antisemitic conspiracy theories and antisemitic biases while claiming you know how to protect jewish people and while claiming that zionism is "the biggest danger to jewish people right now."

let us be very fucking clear. the biggest danger to jewish people right now is antisemites and the actions they choose to take, and the consequences of those actions.

you say that "if you tell the general public, who are very susceptible to the broader news cycle, that judaism and zionism is the same thing, they very well will be motivated to do antisemitic things, because they believe they are fighting zionism."

this has already happened and has been happening for decades. framing jews as zionists and demonizing zionism as a jewish ideology is not new. it happened all across swana, even before israel declared independence, including during the farhud which was a pogrom that occurred as part of the holocaust in iraq where jews were executed, beaten, and tens of thousands had to flee from government-sponsored persecution specifically and explicitly targeted at jews under the guise of "antizionism." it also happened in the ussr.

the desire to completely separate judaism from zionism as a jewish ideology is not out of concern for jews. zionism is a jewish ideology founded on one possible solution to global antisemitism, as an attempt to keep jews safe from constant persecution, ethnic cleansing, and genocide. it's not a solution you have to agree with, but trying to completely divorce it from judaism only opens the door for the very people you claim to be concerned about who will use zionism as an excuse to attack jews, as they have been for decades.

i have said it before and i'll say it again. zionism is one of the jewish answers to the question "what do we do with the jews?" historically, the answers gentiles have come up with have been "subjugate them, ethnically cleanse them, slaughter them, genocide them." so when you respond to that question of "what do we do with the jews?" with "i don't really care, but not that! and actually your jewish answer is what's causing this in the first place so really it's your fault!" it's kind of fucking bonkers to expect most jews to respond in any positive way. if you expect to have a productive conversation with zionist jews or with jews as a whole, you must present your own answer to "what do we do with the jews?" and if you're thinking "well how the fuck am i supposed to figure out a plan to get antisemitism all over the world to go away? that’s going to take too long!" you almost understand the point. the eradication of antisemitism is a global effort, and one that won't be achieved in our lifetimes. so the least you can do in the meantime is educate yourself, interact with jews in good faith, listen to jewish perspectives even if you don't agree with them, and realize that you are still going to have only scratched the surface.

so yes, you're right. it was extremely arrogant of you to post this, and you are an example of how ignorance breeds antisemitism among the uneducated masses.

[tyttamarzh]

HELP MISSA, PLEASE.

Tumblr friends, Missa enjoyiers in the world. Today I'm a Missauria asking for help. In his latest Stream Missa told us that he has some problems due some people who reupload his content (principally his streams) in youtube with the intention of profiting from it fraudulently, even using lewd thumbnails and advertising other channels, impersonating him and getting him into trouble with YOUTUBE. Missa has always been kind to people and always allowed to reupload his content because it seemed harmless to him, even his music was never copyrighted, but precisely because of his kindness, there are people who have abused and now he is having problems and receiving STRIKES. He don't Deserve this shit. He even told us that he hasn't been able to release his own songs on Spotify because of that. IS NO FUCKING FAIR!! It seems very unfair that someone as creative as Missa is having these types of problems with his own content, he talked about himself starting to reupload his streams so that this doesn't happen anymore, but in the meantime there are channels that profit from his work, harming him in the process.

I kindly ask the people who like Missa on this page (which I know are quite a few) to help us report those channels (we feel like we haven't been heard enough with this issue).

Of the ones we know at the moment: https://www.youtube.com/@missasinfonialofi https://www.youtube.com/@UnPocodeLaRosa https://www.youtube.com/@MissaElMago I JUST FOUND OUT THAT THIS PERSON ALSO UPLOADS HIS STREAMS ON TWITCH, NO FUCKING WAY!! REPORT PLEASE! https://www.twitch.tv/missaelmago

He didn't ask us to do this (He's too nice to do it), but he did seem very upset and after knowing it we couldn't just ignore it, I think we have to support him somehow. Thanks for the atention, I hope we can support Missa with this shit :(

[la2yn0va]

Yo! I got an idea how with some of the character from the self aware au (honkai) with react with a reader that has 8 pure white angel wings and has a warmth and comforting aura. The aura is soo potent that just by being near or close to the reader can cure or calm anyone down (For example: it can cure or calm Jingliu or blade down from their marastruck state). Basically it removes anyone's bad intentions and cures evil thoughts. However this kinda has a down side as spending too much time with the reader can cause addiction, as the aura is too strong

As if they needed any other reason to be obsessed with you. But then again, what did they expect?

Of course you’d have such divine power. A true and pure healing power, not the fraudulent healing powers of Yaoshi.

When everyone sees your 8 wings of purity, they can feel the addicting effect of them, or perhaps YOU infecting them immediately.

Two smaller wings on the side of your head, like Robin and Sunday. Then three on each side of your back.

Luckily, or UN-luckiky, you’re able to retract your wings into your body, subduing the addicting effect greatly but not entirely.

But, the damage has already been done. The seed planted. Everyone loves you AND your wings, you shouldn’t be hiding your wings! They COMPLETE you!

But, it’s healing power makes the people of the xianzhou alliance deify you more than you already are AND more than anyone else in the cosmos. Your wings are the key to annihilating the abominations of Yaoshi and those filthy borisin.

They pray to you and your statues harder and more perfect then anyone else, They suck up to you whenever your around, on their knees begging and praising you nonstop.

Eventually, you accept their prayers, and let them… ‘cook’ medicine and weapons to kill or cure Mara struck individuals. But, you only allow lingsha and jiaoqiu to touch your wings.

Jiaoqiu is eternally grateful that you allowed him to partake in this… ‘cooking’ and that you accepted his prayers and begging. Lingsha is more so honored and prideful you chose HER to use your wings as a way to make the xianzhou a safer place.

First jiaoqiu tried to pluck a feather from you, but when he touched your wings, your knees buckle as you felt weak instantly, making jiaoqiu yank his hand away.

Lingsha quickly ran towards you as the two healers began asking a myriad of questions. But you stopped their questions, stating that the pain was gone.

This time, lingsha grasped your feathers and immediately noticed how sensitive you were to the mere touch of your wings. Honestly, their first thought was that you were cute like this, before they plucked two feathers from you.

The pain was unbearable but quick. It came and yet yet the shock from the pain even if it was just for 5 seconds, knocked him on the floor unconscious, due to the shock from the pain.

The two panicked, seeing that they had cause indescribable pain to you. They immediately put you on the table, getting rid of your shirt and beginning to perform CPR, But they stopped once they felt your breath and pulse.

They felt guilty, wondering if they should even use your feathers for what they wanted. But, after only two minutes, you woke up and…didn’t feel pain?

Seeing you not in pain seemed to solidify their choice, beginning to use your feathers to make medicine and weapons to cure others. While they did that, you stayed around people like feixiao and jingliu, giving them the freedom they desperately needed.

As lingsha and jiaoqiu took their SWEET SUCCULENT time, feixiao and jingliu slowly grew addicted to you and your wings, fighting each other to be in your comforting aura longer then the other.

It was until the two doctors finished their preparations, the two became normal, cured. Every Mara struck person was cured and you were always treated as a god in the xianzhou, more then you already were.

But, you always stayed around feixiao, jingliu, lingsha, Moze, and jiaoqiu. They treated you like a normal everyday person, and can joke around with you without fear of you ‘smiting’ them.

-The End-

[the-gay-prometheus]

Thank you Dean and Cas, you can go back to superhell now or whatever.

OK. Now that I have your full and undivided attention.

What the &#!* is happening in Pennsylvania?!?

Hi. You can call me Jay or Victor (I go by both interchangeably). Who the heck am I? I'm just a guy who happens to be privy to a few of the finer details about some of the things going on regarding the election here in Pennsylvania due to my proximity to someone who is involved in the electoral process.

Skip to the "keep reading" if you don't care about the how or why I'm making this post and just want the details about what's going on.

You may have recently seen a post going around talking about how somebody has paid for many many many mail-in ballots in Pennsylvania to be challenged and therefore slowing the ability for those ballots to be counted or putting them at risk of being discarded entirely.

Note - the version of the post linked there is the EDITED version that includes my initial responses (thank you to OP @/feralcringeman for editing my addition onto the post!!!! and also a massive thank you for making the post in the first place!!!!! I'm glad more word is getting out about this situation!!!!)

I am not trying to undermine this individual's post by any means. However, thanks to the way Tumblr works, I am concerned about the fact that most people are only seeing the initial unedited version of the post and are not looking into the reblogs to see my responses.

THESE RESPONSES ARE IMPORTANT.

I'm not just saying that to be self-important or whatever - I'm saying that because it is extremely important that people understand exactly what is going on so that, if and when they take action, they take the correct action and don't start throwing accusations that will ultimately end with them not being taken seriously.

To make sure this updated information gets out to a broader audience, I am making my own post with everything you need to know included. Find out everything you need to know that I am able to tell you under the cut.

Here are the key things you need to know:

The emails in the original post are legitimate. Mail-in ballots are in fact being challenged in Pennsylvania, and there will be court hearings regarding the legitimacy of these ballots

These challenges are not being made by Donald Trump himself - they are being made by avid supporters of his.

These challenges ARE LEGAL by Pennsylvania law, and the law does require a payment to be made per ballot being challenged by the challenger

There was recent news about fraudulent voter registrations being received in Lancaster County. These have absolutely no connection to the individuals responsible for challenging the mail-in ballots

In Pennsylvania, there is a law stating that any Pennsylvania citizen may come to their county's director of elections and claim that certain mail-in ballot applications may be fraudulent. When they do so, they must pay cash out of pocket per ballot application challenged. This money will go toward whatever the county needs to put it toward (usually paying off debt). The amount required to be paid per challenge is $10.

A group of avid Trump supporters worked together to make use of this law in 14 counties:

In my county specifically, I am aware of an individual who paid over $7,000 in cash to challenge ballots - that is between 700-800 challenges in my county alone.

Across these 14 counties, the number of ballots being challenged is over 4,300. That is over $43,000 paid in cash out of pocket by Trump supporters in Pennsylvania specifically with the intent of attempting to, at worst, nullify perfectly valid mail-in ballot applications and void valid votes, or at best, slow down the vote counting process by forcing the counties to conduct court hearings regarding the legitimacy of these ballots.

The good news is, many of these counties are not taking these challenges seriously whatsoever. In some cases, the judges are literally just throwing out the challenges. In other cases, the ones who made the challenges are withdrawing their challenges because it's clear that their challenges won't be taken seriously. That said, some counties may take them more seriously and hold more intense trials. In some cases, the challengers may appeal the more swiftly made court decisions and force yet another court case, slowing things down even more.

What does this all mean?

Trump didn't cheat (at least not in this specific case). Technically his supporters that made these challenges didn't either. These challenges are 100% legal under Pennsylvania law. They're ridiculous, but they are legal.

So does this mean you shouldn't raise your voices about it? That you shouldn't contact the White House and include this situation in your note about how there was foul play in this election? Absolutely not. You should include this situation, but do not frame it as cheating, because it isn't. Frame it as just another way that this election has not been run entirely fairly, because while it is legal, it means that there are perfectly valid votes that are still waiting to be counted while extremely tight races are already being called.

~~~

With all that out of the way, what was that thing I said about fraudulent voter registrations in Lancaster?

This is a completely separate issue, as I've mentioned, and it's already been discovered that the vast majority of registrations flagged as potentially fraudulent have been verified as legitimate. What is important to note is that these were voter registrations, NOT ballots.

News of this situation has gone national, so of course Trump picked up on it (and visited Lancaster not once but twice after the entire issue came to a head). But Trump is Trump, so what did he say? He said that these were fraudulent ballots, fraudulent votes. That is not true.

The issue was voter registrations, potentially being conducted by paid political canvassers that were being given quotas on how many registrations they needed to get in order to be paid. Whether that bit is true or not is still being investigated - if it is true, it's very much illegal.

As I said, the good news is that the vast majority of the over 2000 flagged registrations have been verified as legitimate, and the number that actually does seem to be fraudulent so far is hovering below 20% of the number of registrations initially flagged.

Again, this issue is completely separate. You may see it being lumped together with the current issue of ballots being challenged, but these fraudulent registrations are linked to an entirely different situation and have nothing to do with Trump or his supporters.

~~~

So! That's the tea on what's happening here in PA. It's not as bad as it initially might sound - not to say it isn't bad, it's just not as bad. Feel free to ask questions, I'll do my best to answer with the information I have/the information I'm allowed to give.

And also, on a slightly lighter note, I think we should all collectively laugh at the idiots who paid a grand total of $43,000+ in cash for literally no good reason considering most of these challenges are just being or going to be thrown out. Lmao. I hope our counties' treasuries are enjoying those donations.

[retirementhomewriting]

Fraudulent Flowers

Features: In which the author decides that Valentine's Day is today

Fem!Reader, poor attempt at dialogue, can you tell I haven't written anything in a long time it's been literal years

"Neuvillette?!"

You felt your eyebrows raise and your heart leap all in one second.

In your hand you held an exquisite bouquet of red roses, having been delivered to you just a few moments ago on this morning of Valentine's Day.

You hadn't expected the breathtaking delivery. You weren't seeing anybody.

But what you expected least of all was that when you read the card that came with the flowers, the sender's name was written as Neuvillette—in other words—the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and although you hadn't admitted this to anyone yet, the man you loved dearly.

Never in a million years did you believe you would receive such a gift from him. Still staring at the bouquet in shock, you tried to make sense of the situation.

Neuvillette had sent you flowers. Roses, in particular. Red ones. On Valentine's Day.

This gift could only mean the sender had feelings for you. Neuvillette must have feelings for you.

For a moment, you felt that familiar flutter in your heart, only for it to be stopped by your mind.

Had it been anyone else, you wouldn't have questioned their intentions. But Neuvillette? How would he have known to send such a present? Could there have been a misunderstanding on his part of the flowers' meaning?

No, you thought. Although not a human himself, Neuvillette had lived amongst humans for centuries. Surely at some point, he must have observed the habit humans had of gifting flowers to the object of their affections on Valentine's Day.

...

Oh my.

You felt the corners of your mouth pulling into a smile. You had to see him right away. Quickly reaching for the first vase you could find, you arranged the flowers neatly, sending their beautiful blooms one last glance over your shoulder as you hurried out the door.

"Lady (Y/n)! Good morning!"

Your feet gradually came to a stop as you walked through the halls of the Palais Mermonia, a group of Melusines calling your name when you came into view.

Chuckling affectionately, you gave each of them a smile.

"Hello dears. Would Monsieur Neuvillette happen to be in his office right now?" You asked, your heart beating in anticipation.

The Melusines glanced at each other and quickly nodded.

"Monsieur Neuvillette would be happy to see you!"

"Thank you," you told them. "I'll be seeing him now."

With a mixture of anticipation and giddiness rising in your chest, you lifted your arm to knock on the doors of Neuvillette's office, not even noticing the giggles of the Melusines as they trotted happily away.

Knock knock.

"Enter."

The mere sound of Neuvillette's voice was enough to cause your heart to jump. In just a few moments, your relationship with him could change.

"Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette," you greeted the Iudex warmly as you walked into his office, shutting the door softly behind you.

The sight of Neuvillette poring over paperwork cut as regal a figure as always, you vaguely noted.

"Good morning, Lady (Y/n)," Neuvillette responded, his gorgeous eyes flitting up to meet yours. "I was not expecting your presence today. Not that your presence is unwelcome," he added, the faintest of smiles ghosting his lips.

His words cycled through your brain as you took a seat in front of him. He wasn't expecting your presence today?

"Well," you began carefully, "I believe these types of matters are best not delayed." You inhaled quietly, facing these next important words. "I received your flowers. I must say, I was touched. They were beautiful. And... I really appreciated that you would send them to me."

You smiled, albeit a bit bashfully, at Neuvillette.

Neuvillette, for as much as he wanted to bask in that beautiful smile of yours that threatened to purge all other concerns from his mind, could not combat his confusion.

"I'm afraid I do not understand," he said. "I do not recall sending you any flowers, and yet you say you have received them from me?"

"... I'm sorry?"

Neuvillette... didn't send you any flowers? The information hit you like a bucket of ice water, the bashful smile on your face rapidly turning into a frown of mortification.

"I... well..." you stumbled miserably around your words as you tried to make sense of the situation while also fighting the confusion and shame that tore at your dignity. "I received a bouquet of roses this morning that were supposedly sent as a Valentine's gift...from...you...."

Your final word slipped out weakly from your lips.

You couldn't believe what was happening. That bouquet you got wasn't from Neuvillette. But then who would play such a cruel trick on you?

Oh you felt like such a fool, having gotten your hopes up when Neuvillette wasn't even thinking of you.

Suddenly straightening in your chair, you forced yourself to make eye contact with the Iudex.

"I'm sorry," you choked the words from your throat.

Neuvillette only looked at you in confusion.

"I do not believe you have anything to apologize for. It was not you who falsely sent those flowers in my name, after all."

"I know," you muttered, "but I apologize for charging into the matter so blindly and being so quick to believe in a lie. I in no way wanted to make you uncomfortable by misreading the situation. Please," you swallowed bitterly, "disregard my intentions in coming here to see you today."

Your intentions? Your statement gave Neuvillette pause.

If he stopped to think about the situation clearly, what were your intentions in visiting him?

You believed you had received flowers from him, specifically Valentine's Day flowers. Neuvillette had personally never celebrated Valentine's Day himself, but he knew at least the basic significance of the holiday for most Fontainians.

It was a day to celebrate love.

You thought he had sent you a gift... to celebrate his love for you?

And you had accepted that gift.

Had you perhaps come here to... reciprocate his love?

At the thought of that possibility, Neuvillette felt a warmth bloom across his chest, a warmth that seemed to awaken often in him these days.

He quietly breathed in and out, trying to regain his composure and quell the urgent tremble he knew would break his voice if he spoke too soon.

"Lady (Y/n)."

At the sound of your name, you reluctantly looked up.

"If it would not incommodate you, I would prefer not to overlook your intentions in coming to visit me today." Neuvillette gazed into your eyes steadily. "In fact, would you be willing to tell me your favorite species of flower?"

"My favorite flower...?"

"If you would allow me," Neuvillette continued, the tips of his ears turning the lightest shade of pink, "it would be my honor to truly gift you a Valentine's bouquet. I may not have the most experience in these sorts of human customs, but... I would be willing to learn more about them if it pleases you."

Two beats later and you were staring at Neuvillette as if on today of all todays your ears chose to fail you.

Two beats more and Neuvillette was graced with what surely must have been the most precious gift of all: your smiling face, which could evaporate the rain from the sky itself.

You were right.

Your relationship with Neuvillette was about to change.

And as the Melusines listening from the hall giggled triumphantly to each other and took note of what your favorite flower really was, the love you shared with the Chief Justice allowed itself to grow.

[just-jordie-things]

Hiiiii I love all your writing sooo much !!!!!!!!! Pls can you do No.26 with Yuta I am so obsessed with him rn..... the brainrot is too much

i'm obsessed w/ jealous kisses in party settings 26: Jealous Kiss **aged up characters!!** **cw: yuuta calls you a slut but it's in a hot way. also it's not full smut but this is smutty asf. i got quite carried away. this shit is delicious. ___

yuuta is so friendly. it was something that had attracted you to him when you first met, the way he'd gotten you both lost in conversation like you'd been old friends, how polite he was, you were drawn to him right away.

but you're realizing now that you were not the only recipient of this kindness.

"you're gonna break that cup"

you jolt from your frozen stupor, turning to look at yuuji, before looking down at the red plastic cup in your hands. it crinkled in your grip, parts of it jutting out at sharp angles that could snap the plastic if you kept it in the vice of your hand.

"oh" you mumble to yourself, relaxing your grip, before throwing back the drink and swallowing the bitter alcohol hard.

yuuji's eyes widened in astonishment at your bold displeasure. he'd come over to you because you were hanging out by yourself, and this was a party, so he thought he'd come keep you company. but as soon as he was within a few feet of you, he could practically feel rage emanating off of you in thick waves.

"you uh... you okay?" he asked as your jaw locked up, your teeth gritting together roughly.

you turned towards the pink haired boy again, your features brightening as you gave him a pleasant smile along with your attention. but the smile didn't reach your eyes. they remained hard, an anger buried in them that yuuji didn't understand but was frightened by.

"course i am," you say, your tone as chipper as your fraudulent smile. "it's a party"

you take another swig of your drink, yuuji's eyes following the jerky movement with concern.

"you just seem, uh, a little upset," he says, raising a hand to the back of his neck nervously. "did something hap-"

"you wanna dance with me?" you ask him suddenly, before he can finish his question.

he blinks, eyes wide in surprise, but yuuji's a good friend, and he supposes his intentions when he came over to you had been to make sure you were having a good time, so he nods back at you with a smile.

not needing more confirmation than that, you grab him by the hand and drag him into the living room where the music is the loudest.

coincidentally, you strut right past yuuta and whoever the chick was that he was talking to. you don't pay him any attention as you brush right past him, towing yuuji behind you, right on display.

you do, however, feel his eyes follow you as you walk off. they burn into the back of your head, but the sensation fades away quickly. you assume the glare is being targeted at your new dance partner, now.

yuuji's fun to dance with. you're kind of surprised when it turns out he actually has a sense of rhythym, and he also seems to know all the songs blasting through the speakers, singing along with glee while he twirls you under his arm and spins you around.

you've never really let loose like this, but your jealousy had mixed beautifully with the alcohol in your system and dancing seemed to be just what your body needed.

your hands run up your body, into your hair, throwing it to the top of your head before letting it fall as the beat you're feeling yourself to drops, and you even find yourself singing along with yuuji.

and poor yuuji, he thinks he's doing you a service with his company. he'd just thought you were bored at a party, and as a good friend was happy to dance with you if that's how you wanted to enjoy your time. he has no idea that when you press the front of your body into his and throw your arms around his neck that you're pretty much putting a mark on him. he thinks you're enjoying yourself! he thinks you're feeling the wonderful music of shakira as you grin up at him and roll your hips from side to side.

sure maybe he should have found the sensual move a little out of character for you, but it's shakira! and he can't argue that hips don't lie is a beat you just have to roll your body in tune with. so sure, he's matching your movements with his hands on your waist.

but his intentions are nothing but respectful! and honestly, yuuji's having genuine fun with you. he's never seen you so carefree before, you were always the reserved upperclassman he'd honestly been a little afraid of when he first met you. like maki, there was a confidence about you that told him you could be a force to be reckoned with. so to him, he was happy to get to know you better.

unbeknownst to him, yuuta was across the room with something buzzing through his bloodstream that he could only describe as violent. he didn't know yuuji all that well yet, but he didn't feel like he needed to know more than what he was seeing right now.

and right now, his girl was grinding her hips against yuuji's, while her hands carded through his undercut and then into the longer strands of pink hair.

when this little performance first began, yuuta tried to pay it no mind, and continue the conversation he'd been having with a girl from the kyoto school, but eventually his attention just couldn't be torn away from you, and he had to apologize to her before she walked off to the kitchen for another drink.

he'd remained glued to his spot at the wall with the other non-dancers and people trying to mingle, watching your every move as you danced with yuuji like you thought that was okay.

yuuta's not a possessive person- of course not! you weren't exactly his, perse, but he knew you had to admit that the lingering touches and longing eye contact had meant something. he knew that you knew there was something more than friendship between you- and now here you were twirling yourself under yuuji's arm, and pressing your back to his chest.

his last straw should've snapped long before now, but the slow drag of your hips, and ass, against yuuji was just far too much, and yuuta's moving before he can think through what he's even going to do when he gets to you both.

you turn again, throwing your head back as you belt out your favorite line of the song, and you miss the way yuuji's face is flushed from just how loose you'd let yourself become, because over his shoulder you see the holder of the attention you really craved coming towards you in fast strides.

your eyes meet over yuuji's shoulder, and you slither your hand across the back of yuuji's shoulder blades just because yuuta's clearly watching you now, before you turn your focus back to your dance partner.

you give him a wide grin, taking note of his pink cheeks and nervous smile.

"thanks for dancing with me," you say, still rolling your hips to the beat. "but i'm parched, so i'm gonna go"

yuuji nods back at you, and you stand on the tips of your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek before heading off through the crowd. your eyes lock on yuuta's from across the room before you're heading for the stairs. he picks up his pace to follow you before you can escape from his sights.

the boy you left is standing still on the dance floor, completely lost by what had just happened, but hey, he wasn't complaining.

"you know you're gonna die, right?"

he jolts as he turns around, seeing maki behind him, nobara giggling under her arm.

"w-what?"

"yuuta's going to kiiil youuu~" nobara drunkenly sing-songs, sending maki into a fit of giggles too.

meanwhile, once you're upstairs, you're pushing into the first open door you can, finding yourself in the bathroom. you barely had time to catch your breath from your eager dancing before the door is swinging open again. not to your surprise, yuuta's entering the bathroom, too.

"yuuta!" you gasp in a mock-scolding tone, although a smirk of intrigue curls on your lips. "i could have been peeing!"

the door's shutting behind him with a swift kick of his foot and the loud slam make you jump a bit. however the slam of the door is nothing compared to your surprise when yuuta's towering over you, grabbing you by the waist in a fast, rough movement. your breath hitches in your throat, which is what makes you squeak when he's pressing you back against the sink's counter.

"what the hell was that?" he mutters in your face, and he's practically glowering down at you, but it's making you weak in the knees.

he's so close to you that your senses are flooded by him, the smell of his cologne and the rum on his breath wafting in your nose, and you have to fight to keep your eyes focused on his.

"what was what?" your voice lilts as you tease, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

it's safe to say he doesn't find it cute, or maybe he does. either way, he's lifting you by your hips and planting you on the counter, only to pull you close to it's edge. and either way, he's man handling you, and you're falling for it.

moving like it's second nature, you rest your arms around his shoulders. you want to run your hands in his hair, you want to grab him by his neck and kiss him fucking senseless, but you don't. you're too curious to see just how riled up you'd gotten him by dancing with yuuji, and so far you quite like where it's going.

"you know exactly what i'm fucking talking about" yuuta snaps back at you, his hands grabbing you by the thighs, tugging you again until you're chest to chest, your legs hooked at his hips.

you want to catch your breath, but you'd have to take in heavier breaths, and you don't want to give him the satisfaction of making you pant so easily.

"i don't think i do, yuu," you feign confusion as you peer up at him from under your lashes. "but you must've followed me for a reason"

you tilt your chin up at him as you present him with a sweet smile that he wants to wipe off your smug face.

his hands grip tight at your thighs in an attempt to channel his anger, but as he leans into you, only to stop before giving you what you wanted, he can't help but run them up your legs and back to your hips.

a small whimper dies in your throat as you try to tilt forward enough to kiss him, but one of his hands snatches you by the nape of your neck, drawing you back before you could be successful.

your brows furrow as you pout.

"you grind on yuuji and expect me to kiss you?"

you smirk up at him with pride.

"so you are jealous," you muse. "i wasn't so sure,"

yuuta's fingers twitch and flex against your waist.

"yuuta, i would've happily danced with you," you tell him, fluttering your lashes again, just to be a tease, just to remind him again of why he was really here. "but you were so busy with that girl, and yuuji was there, and, well, he was more than happy to keep me company-"

"if you don't stop fucking talking about itadori i swear to god (y/n) i'll-"

"you'll what?" you ask breathlessly, your eyes glittering with excitement, and mischief. your pupils are blown wide as you stare up at him, and goddamnit you're so pretty when you're acting so needy for him.

yuuta hates this game, he really, really does, but if he gave in to you this easily, how would you learn your lesson?

"so what, i talked to one person and you think it's okay to be act like a slut with the underclassmen?"

"you were being a slut first" you mumble back pathetically.

"well for the record, that girl was asking for maki's number. she's gay," yuuta tells you, and now your face feels hotter than before, because that little piece of information made this whole thing a little embarassing. maybe more than a little. "and while we're on that record, you're not allowed to dance like that with anyone. ever"

he mutters it into your ear, warm breath fanning over your neck in such a blissful sensation that you're shutting your eyes and rolling your head back lazily.

"okay" you breathe out, compliant to any instruction he had for you.

"and after this, you're not going to talk to itadori for the rest of the night" yuuta says, ghosting his lips over the side of your neck.

despite trying to keep some of your resolve, you can't keep your hands from grabbing his shoulders, gripping onto them for dear life.

"okay" you repeat, your chest rising and falling as you try desperately to catch your breath that you hadn't had control of since you'd gotten to this bathroom.

"you're going to stay right with me for the rest of the night, since clearly you need someone to keep an eye on you"

he punctuates his last rule by pressing his open mouth against the side of your throat, kissing and sucking at your skin slowly. you hum through a soft moan, feeling your heart beat in your ears at the new sensation.

when yuuta deems the mark on your neck warning enough to itadori and the rest of the party-goers that had watched your little display of a dance, he pulled away.

your hooded eyes meet his for only a moment before he's slamming his lips into yours. you both moan at the sudden impact, and your hands finally grab at his neck, pulling him further, further against you until your legs are crossed at the ankles around his hips, and he's making you lean back with how his tall stature towers over you.

between heated kiss you're panting for breath, moaning in pleasure as the tension that had been growing between you finally, finally snapped. one of his hands is tangled in your hair, keeping your lips firmly on his, not that you'd ever pull away from his intoxicating mouth, and the other is pushing up the hem of your shirt so that he can grip the bare skin of your hip.

he bites experimentally at your bottom lip, smiling to himself with satisfaction as you moan into his mouth, your hips stuttering up against his. he rolls his tongue over the now sensitive plump of your lip before he's pulling your hips into his again, grinding into you shamelessly.

"yuuta~" his name rolls off your tongue in a moan so pretty you have him whimpering into your mouth, before he's reaching to tilt your head back so he can deepen your kiss further.

yuuta licks his way into your mouth with abandon, dominating over yours before you could even try to return the favor. he maps out your mouth like he's a lost man, and when he pulls away, there's a lewd string of saliva connecting your mouths.

he takes a proper look at you now, at your rocking hips, your heaving chest, disheveled hair, swollen lips, and finally, when you open your eyes, he thinks your blown pupils and heavy eyelids have him at another loss of air.

you give him a lazy, drunken smile, before you're fisting the material of his shirt to pull him in close again. you prod your nose against his before giving him a long, slow kiss. your hands relax against his chest, before smoothing down his abdomen. you just barely ghost over the bulge in his pants before he's pulling out of your kiss and tugging you against him before your hands can wander further.

you pout up at him prettily, and he can't believe what he's about to say.

"not here," he mumbles into your mouth, before stealing a kiss. "later"

you whine into his mouth as you chase his lips before he could go too far. you're making it hard on him, that's for sure, but this whole thing started because you clearly get a kick out of making him suffer over you, so this shouldn't come as a surprise to him.

"we should go back," he sighs into your mouth, sloppy kissing you with his open mouth.

your hands are pulling at the hem of his shirt, before they explore the skin underneath. he's shuddering under your touch, and it takes a great effort to remind himself of why he can't hook up with you right here in this bathroom. who's house was his again?

your fingertips drag over every inch of his skin as you nibble playfully on his bottom lip. he hums in pleasure at the feeling, understanding now why you had seemed to like it so very much.

did he lock the door when he'd come in here?

"fuck- okay- we have to-" he tries to the best of his ability to pull his lips off of yours, but they're addicting. rum and cherry flavored, soft, hot. "baby- we have to go back"

you sigh in irritation, but ultimately give in as you lean back, your back hitting the mirror behind you. yuuta's also huffing as he begrudgingly pulls his hands off of your hips.

you look at each other for a minute, taking in the other's swollen mouth and blown pupils. you both know if you leave the bathroom like this, everyone will know exactly what happened.

(you forget that the love bite he'd left on your neck is damning evidence enough)

your legs are shaky when you finally slide off the counter, but yuuta's arm is a firm presence around your hips as he pulls you out of the bathroom, keeping you completely tucked against his side.

it seems all of your peers' eyes are on you as you both make your way down the stairs. the rest of the party is in full swing, but those who know the both of you follow your movements with wide eyes and open jaws.

you pay them no mind, whispering into yuuta's ear to let him know just how much you'd like to dance with him now. your lips brush his earlobe before you plant a kiss at the spot on his neck just underneath it. yuuta agrees to the offer instantaneously.

however unbeknownst to you, his eyes are focused on a certain pink haired boy that was staring right back at him.

yuuji swallowed nervously while yuuta let you press a sweet trail of kisses down his neck, blissfully unaware of yuuji's watchful eyes- you were blissfully unaware of anyone in the room. the younger boy could see the red and purple mark on your neck and he'd known exactly that it's purpose had been served as soon as he saw it.

he was quick to find megumi and leave the room to hang out in another part of the house. he was too afraid of the warning looks yuuta would send him while he danced with you.

but of course you were happily lost in the feeling yuuta's hands on your hips as he followed the push and flow of your body rocking to the beat.

and poor yuuji spent the rest of the night thinking he was hiding from yuuta, when in reality the two of you left that party after only one dance, feeling your tension would be better released in the privacy of your car. ____

a/n" y'all i got CARRRIED AWAYYY JESUSCHRIST also i can't write smut i'm too awkward at it but if anyone wants to make a smutty second part to this or their own smutty rendition of this PLS do and PLS tag me bc. like. i need it now. i had hips don't lie on repeat for so long while i wrote this bc it was just too good for the move and the tension.

xoxo ~ jordie

[bakerstreethound]

What if Mornings Were Good?

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x gender neutral reader

Warnings: melancholy, brain fog, themes of anxiety & depression, yes the car has a CD player, sherlock is soft, and cuddles and kisses

Summary: Days pass in a blur, and they've been hard to find joy in, each one passing slowly, yet quickly simultaneously and you want it to slow down. Luckily, Sherlock is there to comfort and support you along the way, though your mind is intent on bullying you and causing you anxiety for the future and everything in between.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: Hello lovelies. Was this fic perhaps a projection about how I have been feeling the past few weeks? Perhaps. Alas, it is better to get it out and create from the doubt and worry. This is only a brief example of my own experience and everyone processes differently. Your experiences are valid. Please enjoy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Mornings were a struggle. Getting out of bed, battling your mind for the things you should do then not doing them. It was annoying so much that you’d rather sleep the day away the anxious ball of depression pressing down on you not wanting you to breathe, not wanting to let you go.

It was hard to eat too, forcing something down and swallowing while trying to enjoy it never helped either, but it was the best you could do. 

Such a morning as now where you got yourself out of bed at noon, feeling less than groggy, yet your heart ached less. As you went through your morning routine or half a semblance of it, making your bed, changing into shorts and a comfortable graphic tea, you looked at the list you conjured on your phone the late hours of the night prior. 

Gas, coffee, flowers, craft (maybe watercolors)

It was a doable list and you gather your things, your large satchel filled with your notebook and a paperback, before going to check your mail. 

Your mail made you cringe at the tax return, making you worried if it was fraudulent. You would worry about it later. You had to. You did not want to cause any more trouble for yourself than you had the past few weeks with the University starting up for the last time. The last time, was your last semester in academia. How terrifying. 

You shove these thoughts away, adamant not to dwell on them, for your mind would spiral and spin. That was not a good outcome, either, to worry about that which might not come to pass. 

So you do what you do best and breathe, pushing the intrusive thoughts aside, and let yourself wander up and down the aisles of the grocery store, smelling the flowers, and picking a selection of purple and white. You smile to yourself, wondering at the quiet joy, and add a frozen pizza to your basket and checkout, looking forward to the rest of your adventure. 

A trip out of the apartment is what you usually need to curb the fog and storms that hover in the furthest reaches of your mind. It can be cruel there to you, endless worry. Someway you will feel better.

You repeat this mantra as you find yourself stuck in traffic on the short drive home, slightly cursing at your beat down car that hobbled along for seven years, on the verge of breaking down with an engine struggling to keep up, another expense after the other.

Your check engine light going off the other day didn’t help matters, either but your mechanic assured you he would get a better look that weekend, especially since it is an exhaust leak. 

You breathe tuning in to the CD player thrumming with the rotation of your favorite band’s music, a soothing balm to your soul. Then you are singing alone and then, you’re back safe at home. The craft store was closed so you couldn’t fetch your watercolors, but it doesn’t matter now. 

The door of your apartment opens and Sherlock is there greeting you with a soft smile, gentle and warm. He is not supposed to be back until later in the day, but you aren’t complaining, especially when his eyes lock onto yours in question, his lips twitching in eagerness. 

“Welcome home!” 

“Thank you, my dear.”

“Find anything interesting?” He takes your bag from your shoulder, a welcome relief before pulling you into a gentle hug, his scent a comfort, stirring a warmth within you. You can stay like this for hours and he knows it. 

You murmur against his neck, pressing a kiss there and nuzzling further. Your mind is exhausted for no reason, well besides the panic and worry over an uncertain future, but you have five more months to figure it out, apply for jobs, and trudge on. It is all you can do. That and prayer. 

He brings your bags to the kitchen, putting your purchases that need to be refrigerated away. He stops when he sees the flowers and holds them out to you. 

“Where would you like these?” he asks almost sheepishly, mentally kicking himself that he didn’t get you any, let alone stop to think about it. John would give him an earful about it, later. 

“In this vase,” you say, pulling it from the sink from where you had left it to dry the previous night. You find a pair of scissors and set those on the cluttered table as well, watching Sherlock carefully unwrap the flowers, trimming their stems like so, while you gently arrange them to your heart's content. 

You can’t think of a more perfect time than this - a moment of peace, though your stomach involuntarily coils in knots, overthinking the rest of your week, wondering how the hell you are going to make it and do your school work and tasks. The thought makes you ill as you think back to your topic assignment, the reminders of revisions going through your mind.

You have sent the email to change the topic and you are hopeful that the change will be allowed. You wish your mind isn’t so insistent on choosing one thing then letting yourself fall, then wanting to pick another topic better suited for your interests.

You don’t know why it insists on throwing you into a box for no reason, and consequently making your mind and body become at war again.

A ping goes off from your phone email. The knots in your stomach clench and unclench as you read the new response from your professor. All will be okay, the request for topic change is approved along with an extension for the literature review preview. You almost cry in relief, your shoulders sagging, tension bleeding from you when Sherlock locks eyes with you. 

“I knew you’d be okay, my dear,” he rumbles. 

You hiccup, “I never feel like I will be. Brain is insistent and rude yet here we are. Everything has turned out okay.” Perhaps some mornings can be splendid, after all. 

You fall into Sherlock’s waiting embrace, clinging to him as you wrap around him while he stumbles to the living room, depositing you on the sofa before turning on the telly and fetching an assortment of DVDs. These are the DVDs you recognize from your childhood, along with an assortment of your favorite spooky season picks. You pick up The Corpse Bride, watching Sherlock’s lips twitch in amusement. 

“Knew you’d choose it.” 

“Who said I wouldn’t?” 

“John,” he says matter-of-factly, sliding the movie into the console. 

You chuckle. Of course, they bet on your movie selections. It’s what they do when Sherlock is bored, or John can’t get Sherlock motivated to work on what he considers a “boring, good for nothing case.

Regardless, you open your arms to him, smiling as he sets a favorite book of yours on the coffee table, before settling in your embrace as you wrap the two of you in a well-loved blanket. 

Yes, perhaps an entire day can be splendid indeed. 

******

[hallowpen]

I genuinely forgot that I hadn't done one of these for episode fifteen...

I want to start off by taking a moment to discuss Khun Savitree.

She was put in a very difficult position where both action and inaction weren't entirely viable options for her, as it would affect her relationship to Kuea (and his willingness to provide for her and their unborn child). Another instance of class dynamics was put on display when Kuea, a man of higher status than Savitree, tried to discredit her in order to continue to conceal his indiscretion. Ultimately, her choice to reveal the nature of their relationship forces Kuea to marry her by order of the Prince, but the full consequences of that decision won't play out on screen.

I've been seeing a few misunderstandings surrounding Anil's father (possibly from the English translated version of the novel), so I just want to clarify: While His Royal Highness is considered to be the head of the Savettavarit Grand Palace, he is not the King... he is the son of the King.

With that being said, there are two forms of address that I did not mention previously that I should have: You might have heard Kuea and his family address those of royal rank by using the term กระหม่อม (pronounced 'kra-mom'). It is a formal and more official way to address members of royalty who would be referred to as 'his/her majesty'. Another formal address is ฝ่าพระบาท (pronounced 'faa phra-baat'). It is an expression of reverence toward royalty which can be translated as 'one who is representative of the foot of Lord Buddha'.

Figures who hold higher rank within the royal hierarchy are considered closest to the 'realm of heaven' and treated with almost god-like reverence (Which makes sense in regards to Patt's argument against Pin's pursuance of Anil, who should not be tempted to stoop below her station for one of lower status). As head of the Savettavarit Palace, His Royal Highness the Prince has final word amongst those who live within its walls and anyone who wishes to associate with them.

We're going to be talking about karma again, because it is sooo very rooted in all of the decisions Princess Patt and Khun Pin have made thus far. I know that it's hard to sympathize with a lot of their choices and how quickly they turn around from them, but hear me out.

Karma is defined as the concept where the intentions of our actions create consequences that affect both our present and future lives. Positive actions lead to positive consequences or 'good karma' and negative actions lead to negative consequences or 'bad karma'. I've been saying that Patt viewed her intention to love Im as a 'negative' action because it ended in what she believed was karmic tragedy. Flash forward to her insistence of Pin pursuing the opposite 'positive' action... which ultimately led to a void and fraudulent marriage. The law of karma would have Patt (and Pin) believe that Pin being saved from an unhappy life and marriage is a karmic reward for Pin AND Anil's good intentions toward one another... which would mean that the fates always intended for them to be together. It basically throws a wrench into Patt's entire belief system because she was wrong (and that's why she tries to make up for it). I can't think of a more coherent way to explain it unless you jump into my brain, so I hope that makes sense hehe

[demonicintegrity]

Truly apologetic for what I did to yalls dash tonight. I genuinely did not think I would spam that much because I didn't think I'd hear something bonkers every other minute.

I think theres a couple key take aways here though:

Kamala Harris was able to circle back to what policies she wanted to enact just about every time. Where as Trump would only refute her and attack her (or Biden)

Trump would repeatedly dodge yes or no questions

When talking about Israel and Palestine, Harris brought up wanting the war to stop, wanting a ceasefire, a two state solution, and that although Israel had a right to defend itself it has gone too far and should abide by international law.

In response Trump said she hated Israel and Arabs? For some reason?

Trump kept interrupting and for some reason they kept turning on his mic when it wasn't his turn

Trump said he didn't have a plan for healthcare, he only has concepts of a plan, because he isn't president. (This was in response to the fact that he said he would do something about the ACA during his presidency)

Trump claimed Democrats wanted abortion in the seventh, eighth, ninth month as well as "execute" babies after theyre born. (He was immediately fact checked)

"She wants to do transgender operations on illegal aliens in jail"

He got mad so very often. She was clearly frustrated with him near the end

He said that crime was on the rise and the reason the FBI says its going down is because the FBI is fraudulent. He also said migrants were eating our pets.

In general, I knew Trump was a bad politician and bad speaker before this but holy shit. I've never sat down and watched him speak for an extended amount of time.

"Lesser of two evils" "No perfect candidate" yadda yadda yadda, the difference between them is night and fucking day. And the difference comes down to intent and competency. There is no excuse for anyone to vote for Trump after that embarrassment of a debate he tried to do.

[alastorsfuckassbob]

Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

[argyrocratie]

November 28, 2024

The Hong Kong government finally issued its verdict to the 47 members of the pro-democracy camp who have been detained for over three years—a long-awaited trial punctuated by multiple delays. The 47 were arrested in 2021 for organizing an unofficial primary to field pro-democracy candidates, so that the movement could consolidate candidates to maximize their chances of victory in the city’s Legislative Council elections in 2020. The strategy was intended as a legal way to continue Hong Kong’s democratic struggle, in light of the increasing repression of political dissent with the passage of the National Security Law (NSL) in 2020, which concluded a fiery, nearly-year-long mass movement between 2019 and 2020. 

Benny Tai, a key pro-democracy figure who also organized open mass assemblies that led to the Umbrella Movement in 2013, received the highest sentence—10 years, shortened from 15, as Tai pleaded guilty. Those charged come from a variety of ideological backgrounds, reflecting the political pluralism of Hong Kong’s pro-democracy movement. Some are the most visible figures of the city’s labor movements and the progressive left. “Long Hair,” Leung Kwok-hung, the city’s most prominent left-wing and Marxist activist, received one of the highest sentences among those not considered as one of the primary’s official organizers. Leung has been a longtime participant in militant struggles since the 1970s, organizing actions against the British colonial regime as a member of the Revolutionary Marxist League and later, April Fifth Action; and as a convenor of the League of Social Democrats (LSD), demonstrating against multiple US-backed imperialist wars from Iraq to Gaza, neoliberal globalization, and other local progressive causes.

(...)

The recent (revival of and) passage of Article 23 further reinforces these legal ambiguities to enable this unprecedented state of repression. For one, the article strengthens the state’s prosecution of “seditious” acts, identified as “the intent to endanger national security.” Even before the trial of the 47, the state has shown great willingness to capitalize on the vagueness of such wording to indict people for what it considers national security crimes. In 2022, two people were arrested for committing “acts with seditious intention”—posting messages on social media that “promote feelings of ill-will and enmity between different classes of the population of Hong Kong.” Apparently, simply naming social antagonisms between classes in one of the world’s most hyper-capitalist and unequal cities, in other words, counts as “sedition.”

(...)

What these examples and this trial’s verdict show is that the Hong Kong government has abandoned any remaining semblance of democratic norms—even as the rule of law has never really existed in the first place. Even before the passage of the NSL[national security law], unelected professional business sectors composed nearly half of the city’s legislature (a colonial-era system pro-Beijing forces lobbied to retain in the final years of British rule), while the government in Beijing reserves the final right to interpret any laws or legal decisions in Hong Kong. Many of the laws used against opposition figures and protestors are also ones directly inherited from the colonial era: for example, prosecutor Laura Ng directly cited an 1868 British law used to quell Irish rebellions to justify her verdict of the pro-democracy media outlet Stand News as “seditious” in 2022. In the first comprehensive study of the NSL, legal scholar Han Zhu describes these laws as “an unprecedented experiment,” and “a bizarre mixture of elements from socialist civil law, Hong Kong common law, and British colonial law.” The NSL’s improvisatory nature demonstrates that legality only serves now as a poorly assembled set of fictions that barely mask the state’s naked rule by totalitarian force. 

(...)

However constrained Tai’s political horizon is, some of his organizing solutions inadvertently opened avenues for the everyday masses to participate in collective self-activity and democratic deliberation. Acknowledging this allows us to understand why the state gave the heaviest penalty to the proponent of such a toothless and moderate tactic. The state was not really threatened by what such candidates may do in the legislature if they win—but by the potential resurgence of a militant, possibly revolutionary, mass movement that organizes beyond the chambers of LegCo, which it had only just contained by force. In 2020, the primary turned out 600,000 voters, making it the most-participated one in the whole history of Hong Kong. This renewal of energy after months of uncertainty and fear wrought by growing repression and the early stages of the pandemic threatened to revive the mass movement anew.

Tai and others’ political repression shows that mass movements that expose and challenge the hypocrisies of sham legality, rather than confinement within participation in legalistic or electoral politics, threaten the ruling power. In this vein, the most effective avenue for international solidarity is not appealing to the sham “democratic” institutions of the West, which have been eager to co-opt critiques of China for their own imperialist designs. And so, in this particular conjuncture, we must contextualize our critique of China’s further crackdown on Hong Kong activists in the ongoing genocide of Palestinians by Israeli occupation forces. Not merely gestural, it is a forceful recognition of the United States’ shameless hypocrisy that sees State Department officials condemning the kangaroo courts of Hong Kong while supplying an endless stream of arms and defensive technologies and vociferously shielding Israel from any legal consequence for its war crimes. 

...

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 18 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: A dinner that shall forever be known as the Battle of Passive Aggression. Word Count: 4319 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Sass.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Happy Thanksgiving to all my Northerners (Canadians) out there!

Valeana had readied herself to be nervous and overly shy under Aemond’s stare that evening. However, the moment she saw him perched next to Maris Baratheon, of all people, that quickly changed. There was a distinct ringing in her head that made it difficult for her to hear others as they introduced themselves. She found it particularly hard to say anything coherent to Samantha, who had recognized her in name only. 

Her green eyes bored into Aemond’s scarred face and the position of his body. Arm draped on the back of the settee, behind Maris, with his body poised in her direction. It was way too familiar. Too intimate.

Then Shyla acknowledged her, and when the confirmation came out that Maris was indeed here because of Aemond, Valeana couldn’t help herself. 

“Invited you?” It came out like bile after drinking something vile and putrid. She had meant to think that, but it came out nonetheless.

“I did,” Aemond had said, baring his scared cheek at her. 

It took every ounce of strength in her to keep her face unreadable, but her flickering eyes between the two likely betrayed her thoughts. Maris seemed to pick up on the contentiousness that radiated off of her, because the Baratheon was quick to respond.

“Does that surprise you, Lady Valeana?” Her brows furrowed in challenge.

The Celtigar pursed her lips before giving Maris an fraudulently innocent smile,  “Only by a little. I was not aware Prince Aemond had friends.”

If any of the Hightowers were aware of this silent but deadly battle between ladies, they did a very good job at pretending nothing was going on. Aegon, however, was enraptured; his eyes darted between the two, and then finally to his brother when Aemond started to speak.

“Hm, a reasonable assumption, Lady Valeana. Though, I merely am conservative on who I call friend nowadays. One cannot always be certain of another's intentions in court. And…Lady Maris’ presence has been such a delight that I did not wish to part with her this evening, so I had no choice but to invite her.” 

The way he looked at her and she at him made Valeana’s fingers curl so savagely into the fabric of her skirt, she was sure that her nails were tearing through the thread. The strength of keeping her face straight was all put on her jaw, which clenched at her teeth so severely it started to get sore. A slow rumble of a growl was vibrating in her throat, though it was completely unnoticeable to anyone but her. Perhaps it was her Lannister blood, because all she wanted to do was lunge at Maris like a lioness hunting a doe the moment Lady Sam made her comment about sweetness and love matches. 

It was Aegon’s hand wrapped itself around her bicep that stopped her from moving forward, and then it was Otto’s declaration of dinner being served that brought her back to reality. 

Valeana barely registered Shyla as she fluttered to Daeron’s side, away from them and towards the table. Her eyes bore into Maris’ back, where Aemond’s hand found purchase. 

“I have an idea,” Aegon whispered conspiratorially to Valeana as they followed the Greens over to the large dinner table. “Follow my league.”

Her mouth popped open to ask what he was doing, but she felt his arm snake around her waist and guided her around the table. The circular table was large, but with the additional three to the party, the chairs were closer together. Otto took claim of the largest chair at the far left, between Ormund on his left, and Lady Sam on his right. From her, sat Lyonel (a bit too close to Samantha, Valeana noticed), Daeron, Garmund, and beside him is where Aemond was pulling a chair out for Maris. 

“Trust me,” Aegon whispered from behind as he guided her into the chair and tucked her in before moving to her right side. Shyla sat to his right beside him, leaving her directly across from Daeron, which might have been by her design. 

When Valeana’s eyes swept over the table, she had realized that everyone had sat down save for Aemond, and the chair next to her was the only one available. She was bitterly reminded of her first evening back, where she was forced to sit in front of him. 

At the moment, she did not know which was worse. 

Aemond stiffly sunk into the seat next to her, and the proximity of the chairs seemed far more tighter now for it. At the very least he remained in her peripheral, so she didn’t have to worry about accidentally catching his eye, but that was a different case for Maris. She was just within sight that she would have no choice but to regard Valeana too when she addressed Aemond. 

Shyla was quick to begin conversation the moment food was placed on the table and served to the guests. Of course, her line of questioning was all about Daeron, and the prince was eager to provide answers for it. What it was like to grow up in Oldtown, what Tessarion was like, what were his hobbies, etc. Occasionally, an anecdote was provided by the nephews, and the four boys would fall into a reverie about past escapades. 

Aegon leaned into Valeana’s ear, “Arrogant prick.”

Val eyed him, a secretive smile placed behind her napkin as she whispered back “Just like his brothers.”

Aegon also smiled, but rolled his eyes and brought his goblet to his lips. 

“It is a shame Gwayne could not join us,” Ormund said through bites of his food. 

“He had prior engagements,” Otto explained, eyes cast to his food. “He rather spend his first night in the city with a bunch of drunken knights, pretending to prepare for a tourney that does not start for sinnight.” 

Samantha chuckles, “Good uncle, please. He sees his family every day, and just simply wishes to be among like minded men.” 

Valeana spotted the smirk on the corner of Aegon’s lip, switching at his attempt to hold it back. 

Otto merely scoffed at this. 

“Will you be competing in the tourney too, Prince Daeron?” Shyla asked immediately, once again shifting attention to the youngest prince. 

“Of course!” Daeron beamed, “Should they participate, it would be an honour to compete alongside and against my brothers.”

The attention was put onto the two elder princes, who both pursed their lips in response. 

“I have not yet decided,” Aegon replied first, then looked over at the other, “But Aemond has shown eagerness towards it, haven’t you, brother?”

“And what gave you that impression, Aegon?” Aemond asked with a turn to his brother, though Valeana kept her body’s position to the right so she could not see him when he did. 

“Well, you dragged me out of my quarters demanding that I train with you in preparations for the tourney, did you not?”

Shyla craned her neck to look around Aegon and Val to see Aemond, “Is that what that whole business was about that other day in the training yard?”

“What business?” Maris tilted her head at Aemond. 

“Aegon and Aemond were sparring viciously in the training yard,” Shyla giggled, “For a second I thought they were going to maim each other.”

Daeron laughed, “I wish I witnessed that. I did not think you a fighter, Aegon.”

Aegon’s head whipped in his direction, “I am just as fearsome as Aemond. In fact, I bested him that day, did I not, Lady Valeana?” 

Valeana was leaning back in her chair with her fork twirling in her fingers when she was acknowledged. Aegon held her gaze for a moment after the question was directed at her, and then she moved her eyes around the table before landing on Aemond. 

“He did.”

Aegon beamed back at Daeron, brows raised in victory, “See?”

“I would hardly count that as a fair victory,” Aemond responded as he leaned back in his chair and mimicked the position of the woman at his right. “I was distracted.”

“Mm,” Aegon hums as he swallows his drink, “Quite the distraction, though, I might say.”

Valeana shot him a look. That day was a horrible reminder of a bitter truth that she was still trying to swallow. 

“I do not give a shit about her. I never have, and the Seven knows I never will.”

Sometimes in these last few days, she wondered if that were true. He’s made it clear in very blunt, obvious ways, such as their painful discussion when she had tried to make amends with him near the stables. But then he would go around and volunteer to bring her safely back to her apartments, out of concern for her virtue at the hands of his brother and the untrustworthy guards. Then he would touch her and kiss her skin, and leave her with bruises before pulling away from her as if he realized she was a pig in a dress all along. 

Val chanced a glance at Maris, who thankfully wasn’t looking in her direction when she did. Maris… another odd, annoying development. Is that genuine, or was he playing at something? Why would he, if he wanted nothing to do with Valeana? 

Maris tilted her head at Aemond and the moment she did, Val turned away before she was caught staring. 

“What could have possibly gotten you that distracted?” Her tone had a lace of amusement, and from the corner of Val’s eye she could see the Baratheon’s hand reach out and land on his elbow.

Aemond had to turn his head fully in Maris’ direction to answer her, but before he could, it was Aegon who did in his stead. 

“Only the most beautiful distraction of all the Seven Kingdoms.” 

Valeana’s mouth popped open and her eyes flashed widely at Aegon as he took her free hand in his grasp and brought it to his lips. Her face flushed rouge, and a pit of something settled in her gut. Fear? Embarrassment? Shyness? It felt a bit like a moth fluttering around the glass of a lamplight. 

Aegon kept her eye for a moment. His own mischievous and playful, but when he shifted to the presence behind her, it darkened. Valeana remained frozen in her place, save for her eyes that flickered away from the prince and focused on the older man at her far right. Otto Hightower was looking directly at her, brows shadowed over his eyes, hand cradling his glass goblet in front of him, but not quite reaching his lips. 

He stared at her as if she were the cause of this. Of everything. Every damn misstep and inconvenience in court. And perhaps she was. No, she knew she was. She was dangling herself like a piece of raw meat between two snarling dragons.

The staring contest in which Aegon held with Aemond lasted mere seconds, but it felt like a hundred year war. Oh, Aemond would loath to admit how much Aegon knew him. How easily he could get possessive over things that he believed belonged to him. A trait that likely stems from him being the middle child, Aemond was always expected to be given leftovers and to share. Whereas both Aegon and Heleana were often given everything freely, as both the oldest and the only daughter. Daeron, of course, was the shining example of a spoiled youngest sibling. The first to claim, and the last to own. 

Aegon knew well enough that Aemond longed for Valeana the moment she left King’s Landing a decade ago. He had a visible shift in his personality since then; more sullen, more phlegmatic, more self serious, and he smiled considerably less. However, Aemond swallowed his regrets and gave a stiff upper lip to it all, even after his lashings. But, the fact of the matter is, Valeana was the most important person in his life at the time. Aemond tried to hide it as best he could, always keeping his companion hidden from his brother and nephews as much as he was able. They teased him relentlessly due to Valeana’s blatant affections for him, forcing Aemond to keep his friendship in the shadows, but it was still painfully obvious. So, Aegon would tease Valeana when he could, knowing it would rile up Aemond, though he would not be able to defend her out of fear of catching the blows as well. It was like mocking starved pit hounds through the bars of a cage, only the cage was of Aemond’s own making.

Oh, how things never change. The title was different, but the story was the same. Aemond’s pride still prevented him from acting upon his evident possessiveness, but those bars of his shuddered against his snarling, evident by the flared nostrils and upper lip curling. 

Time spun back to life when Lady Sam cooed and shared a look with Lyonel, then her husband quickly after. She jutted her bottom lip at him with a hand clutching her step son’s arm, shaking it gently. Completely oblivious to the affection his wife had with his son, Ormund tilted his head lovingly at his wife’s reaction. 

“This is so sweet. Both princes are completely smitten already. Love is in the air in King’s Landing, is it not, husband?”

Aegon wretched his eyes from Aemond, and gently placed Valeana’s hand back down, but did not let it go. Briefly, he caught sight of Maris with a stitch in her brow over the exchange, giving him some satisfaction that this also affected the other woman, if only that it would please her fair-haired opponent. 

“Now it is just your turn, Daeron,” Lyonel laughed, giving a playful punch to the younger prince’s arm. 

Daeron chuckled good naturedly, “Perhaps my love story has already begun, eh?” 

Beside him, Aegon could hear Shyla give a soft squeak as she stiffened straight in her seat. He gave her a brief glance, pleased to find her still enraptured by his stupid brother, and that she had completely dismissed Aegon’s earlier affections towards her sister. Aegon was now free to unleash as much chaos as he’d like without the threatening presence of the youngest Celtigar daughter and her unsettling aura. 

Passing Shyla, Aegon caught his grandsire’s eye, which instantly wiped the smile from his face. Otto’s glower was filled with a hundred words of scolding for ruining what should have been a fine dinner with family. The silent berate went ignored, however, for Aegon’s prize was far more valuable than the approval of the Lord Hand.

 He was aware that his grandfather was the one responsible for his mother’s urgency for Aegon to marry Helaena, despite the two of them and the King himself having no desire for the match. Whilst Aegon wasn’t the brightest of the Targaryens, he still lived in court long enough to understand how it works. It also helped that he was made aware at a young age that his existence was a weapon to usurp the Throne for the Hightowers, and one of the paths to that was to marry his sister and sire more pure, direct heirs. 

But Aegon did not want to be king. He wanted–

“Could you imagine?” Garmund spoke excitedly, “Three royal weddings at once?” 

“Heavens, the food alone would deplete the royal treasury,” Ormund chuckled. 

Valeana cleared her throat, “I would not get ahead of ourselves. The Conclave hasn’t even started.”

“I agree, Lady Valeana,” Otto spoke at last, “It is early still, and no formal declarations have been made. The Crone may have other plans by the end of the event.” 

Aemond’s eye was burning a hole in Aegon’s hand, which still had not declawed itself from Valeana’s. What was this, this sudden display of affection? They waltzed in the dark, and now, all of a sudden, Aegon was essentially announcing their courtship. Was this part of her game, or his? 

Or theirs? 

Aemond’s eye widened at the revelation. Now his mind was a tempest of moments of the time past since the arrival of the Celtigars; everything he has bared witnessed that others have not. The moments between her and Aegon began to pile up in his head, along with Floris’ warning about her step sister. Aemond came to one only conclusion: They were both in on this. Valeana with her petty revenge, and Aegon’s unsatiated hunger to remind Aemond that he is lesser to him. While Valeana’s motivations were valid in its childishness, he could not help but wonder what Aegon’s were. It could not simply be for the enjoyment of watching Aemond be miserable, there had to be another reason. 

Once again, Aemond glanced back at Aegon’s hand clasping hers, and it brought him back to the moans he heard beyond his brother’s door that night. He took a steady breath through his flared nostrils, and slowly lifted his chin until his eye was forcibly piercing into Valeana’s profile. Lips pouted neutrally, eyes casted over her plate, and body poised away from him, all keeping up an impartial visage. Would his Valeana really stoop so low as to literally sleep with his brother in order to get back at him? Or at the very least, allow Aegon’s hands on her in ways that Aemond dared not think of? Then again, his Valeana would not have drank herself into a stupor and allowed him to ravish her tits in the dark like some common harlot. 

No, this was not his Valeana at all… That girl died long ago, and before him was the girl set out to avenge her death. He had no one else to blame but himself, but he also was not the same Aemond as before. That Aemond died as well, though he couldn’t pinpoint when and where that happened. Perhaps it was that day as well. But either way, the final nail in the coffin was when his eye was plucked out of his socket by the tip of his nephew’s dagger. That was when he truly lost himself.

Sound rushed to his ears when at last Valeana pulled her hand away from Aegon’s to reach for her goblet and take a sip. The conversation that was being had somehow delved into small talk about this and that. The warm weather they were having, the nobles from the Reach that would be arriving soon after the Hightowers, Cannibal’s unsettling presence that has caused smallfolk quite the stir, and Daeron’s assurance that he and Tessarion could probably take him. Aemond was too preoccupied with his stewing to make a comment about how ludicrous that was.

Finally the pot reached a boil, and Aemond simply could not help himself. 

“I believe tonight can benefit with some music,” He sat back in his chair, his food almost largely forgotten. He turned to Maris and smiled before he looked over at his grandfather, “Don’t you agree, Lord Hand?”

Otto raised an eyebrow at him, not entirely sure what Aemond was trying to achieve, “It would, but alas, we are fresh out of bards.”

“But we are not,” Aemond’s words bristled the woman to his right. “We are in the presence of great talent right now.”

Daeron, irritatingly guffawed and waved at him, “Please, brother. I am a fair lutist at best, but that is flattering to say.” 

“I was referring to the Celtigar sisters, brother,” it took a great deal of power for him to rein in the ire from his tone, and the desire to call him a buffoon was on the tip of his tongue. “The Sirens of Claw Isle, they are called, and we are in the presence of two of them.” 

“Oh, that is right, of course,” Samantha perked in her seat excitedly. “How could I forget – My father remembers you three singing as children when he visited here many years ago. He likened it to being lured into the sea by mermaids.” 

Daeron’s eyebrow raised, “Is that so? Well, now I must hear a song or two, so that it will put me and my silly lute to shame.” 

Maris softly scoffed and sarcastically remarked, “Please, do not exaggerate, I fear it will raise my expectations too high.”

Valeana slowly turned towards Aegon, hoping that he could recognize the plea in her wide eyes. She knew immediately what Aemond was doing as soon as he had mentioned music – he means to put her in an uncomfortable position, a humiliating one where she must again explain why she no longer sings, a fact she is not proud of. Along with her embroidery skills, her voice was the only thing she had liked about herself, and time and shadow robbed her of it. 

Aegon merely raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, clearly not reading her mind. Some partner in crime he was. 

So her eyes flickered over to her only other ally at the table: her sister. Her large doe brown eyes found Valeana’s after prying them off of Daeron for once. With a skill that really only women knew, Shyla read her mind in an instant. 

Unfortunately for Valeana, Shyla had her own solution to the problem. 

“My mother taught me it is unseemly to brag, but,” Shyla beamed brightly at her sister. “We are quite good together. Even if Floris is not here, Valeana and I make great harmony.” 

“I was under the impression Lady Valeana has retired her voice,” Otto’s inclusion of the truth causes Valeana’s cheeks to redden, and she bows her head and opens her mouth to confirm his statement. 

But Shyla continued. 

“She says that, but she is modest. She sings all the time in her room. My sister is a good lutist and harpist, of course, but she also writes the songs we sing at Claw Isle, and practices them on her own time to make sure they sound right.” 

“You write, Lady Valeana?” Maris’ question forced the elder Celtigar to turn in her direction, nearly catching Aemond’s profile in her line of sight. She felt she was getting whiplash, though she wasn’t entirely ungrateful for Maris’ change of subject. Anything to cease the possibility of her singing in public. 

“Mm, I do, yes,” Val cleared her throat when her voice sounded too tentative and small. “Creatively; mostly songs, and bards tales.” 

“My lady is full of talents,” Aegon spoke finally, hand moving now to rest on the back of her chair. “Singer, songwriter, seamstress. Almost all the good ‘s’ words.” 

Valeana hit his thigh with the back of her hand discreetly under the table. 

“Lady Maris is an accomplished writer as well,” Aemond added, “She was just telling me earlier about her progress on the book she is writing. I am eager to read it once she is finished.”

Maris glowed under his praise, “That is lovely for you to say, my Prince.”

“Do you write creatively too, Lady Maris?” Samantha asked before taking small bites of what remains on her plate. 

Maris shakes her head, “No, and I mean no offense to Lady Valeana, but I find creative writing to be… a bit frivolous, and not very productive of my time. I much prefer fact over fiction. My current work, as Aemond mentioned, is a book about medicinal uses of plants and flowers.” 

Pretentious cunt, Valeana bit her lip before her thoughts became reality. 

“I was just speaking with Prince Aemond earlier today about the common bush flower, Hydrangea, and how in large doses can be toxic, but it’s roots–” 

“Hydrangea,” Valeana corrected her. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Apologies, Lady Maris. Your pronunciation is incorrect. It’s Hy-drain-juh, not hy-dran-gee-ah.” 

“Hm,” Maris shook her head. “No, no, it isn’t. It is hy-dran-gee-ah.”

Valeana smiled condescendingly, and nodded after taking a large gulp of the rest of her wine before motioning Aegon to fill her cup for her. Which he obliged without hesitation. “It isn’t, and I would know because they are in abundance on Claw Isle. It’s widely considered to be our national flower, and everyone pronounces it as hy-drain-juh.” 

Maris gave a lofty chuckle, “Then I am pained to tell you this, Lady Valeana, but it seems like everyone on Claw Isle has been mispronouncing your ‘national flower’.” 

Everyone in that room might as well not exist, and frankly, Valeana did not care if there were more in attendance to this asinine debate that Maris insisted on having, instead of simply admitting she was wrong. The audience would make it all the more satisfying. 

 Val’s eyes narrowed at the shrew, then she leaned forward with her hands braced on the table.  

“Hydrangea is a Valyrian word, because it is a flower that came from Old Valyria, and was introduced to Westeros when my ancestors settled here, a century before the Conquest. It exists here, because my forefathers brought it here. Hydrangea means cup or vessel, because the seed capsules resemble cups,” With a flourish of her hand in Maris’ direction, she swiftly grabbed her now full cup with the other, as if for emphasis. “Though, you are an Andal, so I do not expect you to know much of the history and flora of Old Valyria, much less the pronunciation of our words. Perhaps that is something you should include in your book, Lady Maris. Se pār kostā tāemītsos ziry bē aōha gundja.” (And then you can stick it up your ass) She raised her glass in mock cheers and brought it to her lips.

But before the liquid touched her tongue, her green eyes flickered over to Aemond. She instead drank up that. Lips parted, pupil blown wide, and chest barely containing his deep steady breaths. If she looked south, she would have seen his fingers splayed on his thigh, flexing stiffly near the tent in his breeches. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN SNEAKPEAK “Lord Bartimos spoke to me earlier,” He broke the silence at last with a tilt of his head to try to catch Rhaenyra’s eye. She was staring out the window, where Seasmoke flew in the distance, baying into the sea to express his loneliness. When she only acknowledged him with an uninterested hum, he continued. “He had an interesting proposal regarding Jacaerys.” At the mention of her son’s name, Rhaenyra tore her eyes from the window, and acknowledged her husband’s presence. She hadn’t the capacity to show any more interest than a simple, “What about him?”

Notes: Hydrangeas are actually originally from Japan, but the name is Greek. Since Valyrian is based off of ancient Greek and Latin, I thought it would be fairly believable if I just ~pretended~ the flower is from there, or at least that region of the world. What Val says is true though, it does mean cup, or rather "water vessel", because of the seed shape. Also taking a moment to say that some words are not translated in Valyrian yet. It's an incomplete language, so in the future, when it's spoken, the words that do not have a Valyrian translation (and there are many) I will be using an ancient Greek or Latin placeholder for it.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

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