#<- i did NOT find it :( this has just been haunting me

[floylia]

— your highness, my princess

The thrill of danger lingers in Childe’s veins more often than not. Bloodshed does not scare him. His blades have known him for almost a lifetime as he holds them dear day and night. He had once sworn to be used as a machine in battle, and he intends to keep it.

At the moment his blades swing against a wooden dummy as it holds on for dear life. From anyone watching his aggression is not something to be taken lightly. There’s blaze in his eyes, replaced by the lack of sparks. Sweat drips down from every direction of his body. But his stamina doesn’t break. He doesn’t stop. Because once he does, he’ll be back to reality.

A reality where he’s born to protect the crown and its heir.

To protect and serve someone that’s far from his grasp: you.

It haunts him, how his loyalty will forever be yours, but he can’t say the same for you. One day you’ll take up the crown, marry someone of the same status and have children of your own—all while he watches, so close yet so far.

So he swings. For every battle in the field. For every battle against himself to stop his heart from beating for you. For every time he forgets his place. For every time he lets go as only Ajax in your presence. For every time he wishes to be just a boy helplessly drowning in feelings he doesn’t deserve to have.

And for every time you visit him practicing privately in the early mornings.

“How long are you going to keep staring, your highness?” He was trained for this. He would know someone else’s presence, especially yours. It’s always you.

“How long are you going to keep practicing?” You cross your arms, borrowing his smile.

He can’t tell if his heart is beating rapidly from adrenaline or from the sweet smile of your face, “All day if that means I get to have your attention.”

“I didn’t see you this morning.”

“You’re incredibly needy, my princess”

“You’re aware of that.”

It’s bittersweet. How you can talk to each other acting like there’s no consequences. As if you’re walking in a limbo not caring if you fall. If only it was that easy. To cross the line. To push you off the edge so he can catch you and hold you in his arms like he does in his dreams.

He’d stay there for an eternity if he could have you.

“What’s wrong?” You tilt your head and reach up to his head with a cloth, swiping the drops of sweat from his forehead.

He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, “Did my princess miss me that much that she’d take her time to visit me in my quarters?”

“Aren’t you over-doing it?” You ask and he sees the evident concern form in your eyes.

He loves it. He loves your attention.

“You sound concerned, your highness. Do I take it you’re doubting my abilities?”

You shake your head, “It’s hard to find you around the palace. It’s as if you’re deliberately ignoring me.”

“Who would ever ignore the princess?” It almost sounds sarcastic, because maybe it is.

He has been avoiding you, rather he’s been ignoring his feelings and thoughts enveloping only you as he wakes. It’s hard to hold back when every silhouette he sees reminds him of you.

Then he sees a frown on your face. He hates that—that he’s the reason for your pain.

He clears his throat, “Would you like to go anywhere today, your highness?”

“I hate when you call me that.”

“It’s your title.”

“I’m your princess.”

“What difference would it make, your highness?” He’s riling you up the way you do to him as he inches closer to your face, until he can see the blush on your face down to your neck.

You stay there for a minute before you move away from him, “There’s a ball this evening.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. Anything you’d wish for me to do?”

“Don’t attend.”

He laughs but it’s an empty one, “One minute you’re looking for my attention and the next you’re pushing me away.”

“He’s going to be there.”

He flinches. He—the one you’re set to marry. At least that’s everyone’s expcrations, whether you pull through with it or not, only time will tell. He swears there’s an invisible knife twisting itself in his chest, agonizingly slow to make it more painful than it has to be.

“Why does that matter?” He asks and his eyes are burning brighter than before. He leans towards you once again, but this time it’s with purpose. Almost predatory. He’s backing you up in a corner until his arm stretches to the wall, trapping you in, “Why should I care about him?”

“Ajax.” You whisper, staring into his eyes as if you’re not fazed by his sudden action. Perhaps you’ve wanted this, and that thought excites him.

He tilts your neck upwards and his fingers rest there, tracing your jaw, “Why can’t I be there?”

He leaves his hand on your jaw and focuses on removing the strands of hair covering your neck line to get a better view—a part of him wants to dig into it, to claim it and tell the whole world that you’re reserved for him, “Are you afraid, your highness?”

He traces your body—his touch is hot and desperate as he snakes his hands along your waist and on your back, playing with the short ribbon holding your dress together as he loosens it slightly, “Will you let him touch you like this?”

You lean into him, hoping to feel his lips, but his only hovers above yours, “What would you do if I did?”

He chuckles, dangerously low. His hands lowered down your body, passing your dress, now caressing your legs in ways you enjoy—in ways he’s memorized before, “I’d kill him.”

You put your hands against his cheeks, “You’re killing me too.”

“Is that true, your highness?” His hands rest at the back of your thigh, lifting one leg up as he leans in, nipping at your ear. You gasp at his hot breath.

“Will you let him get this close too?” His attention moves to your neck. You tilt your head so he can have access to it, as he trails wet kisses along the side.

You wrap your arms around his neck as your fingers weave through his soft hair.

“You’re not giving me an answer,” His voice is hoarse.

“You’re not giving me a chance to answer.”

“If I didn’t, my lips would be on yours the whole time.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Impatient and needy. What would the people say if they found out the princess acts like this in private?”

You intertwine your hand with his and places it on top of your chest, so he can feel the rapid pace of your heart rising up and down, “You won’t let them see.”

“Don’t be so confident,” He moves up to your jaw.

“I didn’t take you to be someone who shared.”

His lips continued to hover yours. For a minute it feels like time surrendered their hands for the two of you, lending you a moment of peace in each other’s arms where birth given titles are replaced with vows of love.

This, out of all the life-threatening battles he has experienced has to be the most difficult fight he doesn’t think he can survive. But if it’s you holding the blade, if it’s you twisting the knife, then he’ll die happily.

If it means he can hold you like this. Touch you in ways another cannot.

“You’re right, I’m not.” He replies after the prolonged silence.

Then his lips are on yours, finally giving in to his urges. It starts off slow and patient, opposite of what he is. Then he wills your mouth open. He holds onto the back of your neck like a lifeline, pulling you closer each time you gasp for breath. It feels like hours passed, before you broke off the kiss, and he appears as if he’s desperate for more.

“You’re killing me, my princess.”

“Guess we’re even. Shall we continue in my chambers?” You say accompanied by a sweet smile and an innocent flutter of your eyes as you pull him closer, arms around his neck.

And who is he to refuse.

After all, you’re his princess, and he’s your knight—lawfully and willfully worshipping the cathedral of your chest, treasuring the heart that also keeps his beating.

[drdemonprince]

you are the first person ive encountered in my whole life who has actually attempted to really answer some of the more aggravating questions surrounding children and sex and just reading some of your recent posts has already enlightened me to my childhood situation a lot better. i will try to keep this brief bc my intent is not to air my whole childhood to the masses but to like. present a sort of spiders georg situation to help people understand why these things are important. here we go: (it is relevent to point out that i am extremely autistic and started presenting symptoms from two years of age onward.) i believe that i started being sexually active around four or five years old. i was extremely curious about sex to such a degree that it got me in trouble at school multiple times. it disturbed my mom greatly how often i brought up sexual topics. i discovered porn at the age of eight due to very poor parental supervision and a high level of internet access and i was immediately obsessed. i can confidently say that i watched more porn than any other kind of media as a child. by the time i was 10 id already had dozens of sexual encounters with kids my age and older, mostly initiated by me. i agree now that children cannot consent to sex with adults, but it took me a long time to come to that conclusion. for a very long time i wished more than anything for an adult who knew the ins and outs of sex to have a sexual relationship with me, bc i saw it as the only way i could be satisfied. children do not make good sexual partners when you are essentially ahead of the sexual curve i guess. i received absolutely no sex education until i reached middle school. my parents didnt talk to me about it whatsoever, deflecting everything i said about the subject. the sex education i did receive was piss poor, and i knew it. it was an "abstinence only" model of sex ed. no one took it seriously. my lack of understanding came back to bite me severely in high school. nowadays i understand concepts like consent and boundaries very well, and i think about these subjects deeply and am careful to consider them when interacting with other people. this was not the case in high school. my unusual sexual obsessions in childhood made me very uncautious about it with other people, and my level of autonomy and power was high enough that abuse was extremely possible. i am not proud to say that i did in fact commit sexual abuse in high school. i knew it was wrong. but to me, the wrongness was on the level of severity of stealing a pack of gum from the store. as soon as i had done it, i started to understand the true level of severity of what id done, and that still haunts me. i had up to that point believed that everyone must on some level have an interest in and desire for sex. i would have been ok with someone doing what i did to me, so it would surely be fine if i did it to someone else. i had no real conception of sexual violence and sexual coercion being real things that affected people deeply, both due to my physical and social isolation and extremely skewed perspective from watching porn for years. nowadays, i have very little sex, both because of lack of percieved opportunity, lack of motivation, and fear of committing the same transgressions i did in the past. nevertheless i remain extremely interested in and obsessed with sex, and wish i could spend all day having it. so i guess as someone who was sexually precocious: your kids need to know about sex. they need to be educated about it. a sufficiently determined child will find out about it regardless, and you need to give them the tools necessary to navigate it without hurting themselves and others. and additionally i think it would be a lot better for trans girls if our first exposure to transfemininity wasnt porn the majority of the time.

💯 thank you anon ♥️

[brummiereader]

@zablife Aberama 😭!

Lee, this was absolutely incredible story telling! You had me sobbing at Aberama's visons of Polly and Bonnie. And the thing that made this story so special, was how intune it was to the way he lived, and I think one everyone would agree, he would've gone back to after losing Polly and Bonnie If he hadn't of died in canon.

I always love when stories have a slight supernatural theme to them, especially when it comes to a culture that is rich in superstitions and otherworldly beliefs.

he most often glimpsed a female figure who disappeared with the slightest blink. Nonetheless, he comforted himself with the feeling of her presence, understanding it was Polly's way of making herself known. So beautiful. Not only did it give me goosebumps to know Polly's presence is still with him and he's able to find some comfort in that, but the added element of him being in the forest just adds to the almost, eerie calmness about this story.

Across the glowing embers of the fire Bonnie punched the air in front of him, glancing down at his feet to ensure he had the correct stance. - Aberama grinned to himself as he watched the boy practice, pride swelling from within until he could stay silent no longer. - Bonnie boy!" he called to his son, waiting to be met with the warmth of his hazel eyes. Instead, he found a somber Bonnie looking toward him, a distant yet haunting look in his eye as he fixed Aberama with silent accusation. There was no way I wasn't gonna quote this entire part! Absolutely phenomenal perspective and way of showing not only his grief but how much he yearns to see his boy like this again. Wow, you have me tearing up a little here 😥. I feel like this is gonna stick with me for some time. You really moved me with this beautiful scene.

Just like everything about this haunting story of visions and grief, Leonora's reappearance into his life at that exact moment is just as mysterious. I think it's a great compliment to Aberama's character that you had him leaving the Fury's camp to for a life of solitude. It just emphasises the depths of his despair.

“You belong with us.” The stubborn insistence in her voice reminded him how protective she’d been of him since childhood. We all need someone in our life that can pull us out of these kind of moments. She sought him out to bring him home ❤️. And the added element about her stubbornness being a trait she's had since childhood, warmed my heart with how quickly Aberama gave into his sister 🥰. Maybe he had been waiting all along for someone to take over and guide him back to the people he still has in his life, but forgotten.

Beautiful story, Lee ❤️.

Nothing to Come Home to

Aberama Gold & Leonora (OC)

Summary: Years after the devastating loss of both Bonnie and Polly, Aberama is a shell of his former self, but his sister comes back into his life at the perfect time.

A/N: Requested by @justrainandcoffee with the prompt "There is no home to go back to." Inspo drawn from "Vienna (In Memoriam)" by The Army, The Navy.

Warnings: mention of blood, mention of a weapon, fighting

Lightly treading between the saplings and low vines, Aberama came to the trap he’d set the day before and lowered himself toward the ground with a deep sigh. Studying its contents, he gave a satisfied nod toward the plump rabbit caught between the metal jaws before reaching to depress the springs. The action caused him slight difficulty due to the ache in his left shoulder which only worsened in the crisp autumn breeze.

Freeing the carcass in one swift movement, he grasped the hind legs just as the fading sunlight announced the end of the day. He straightened with a grunt to face the trek back through the forest, a shiver racking his body. The impending winter was already settling in his bones with an icy feeling of dread, the familiar weight returning to his steps as he marked another year traveling alone.

Crushing the dried leaves to dust beneath his boots, he trudged on as the last rays of glimmering light winked through the branches. The oddly patterned shadows danced in the periphery of his vision, turning his head as the guarded instincts of an assassin seized him. However, his intuition had become unreliable as he most often glimpsed a female figure who disappeared with the slightest blink. Nonetheless, he comforted himself with the feeling of her presence, understanding it was Polly's way of making herself known.

Today it was not only the shadow, but the call of the blackbird that caused him to halt where he stood. One more chirp and he circled back to chase her beautiful ghost, but she'd gone. He closed his eyes for a moment, a faded likeness of her dark curls and knowing smile enough to remind him of what seemed like a lifetime he’d lived without her. He swallowed down the bitterness of his disappointment as he clutched the rabbit to his side with renewed purpose.

---------------

A full stomach and the soft light of the fire lulled him into a peaceful revery that evening. The faint pop and hiss of the flames sang to him softly as he burrowed beneath an old quilt Esmerelda sewed in the days before her wedding to Thomas Shelby.

For the first time in years, he chose not to recall the mighty fury and pain of sacrificing everyone he loved to one man. Instead, he relived happier times, the memory of all his children beside him playing on the insides of his eyelids before his exhausted mind ushered them into darkness.

The merciful reprieve wouldn't last until dawn, the crack of a snapping branch jolting Aberama awake. Across the glowing embers of the fire Bonnie punched the air in front of him, glancing down at his feet to ensure he had the correct stance.

Aberama grinned to himself as he watched the boy practice, pride swelling from within until he could stay silent no longer.

"Bonnie boy!" he called to his son, waiting to be met with the warmth of his hazel eyes. Instead, he found a somber Bonnie looking toward him, a distant yet haunting look in his eye as he fixed Aberama with silent accusation.

“Bonnie?” Aberama uttered in a hoarse whisper.

Blood began to pour from Bonnie's broken jaw as his wail of agony shattered the heavens.

As the object of his nightmares came sharply into focus, Aberama stifled a scream. He stood to take a step toward his suffering child, hand outstretched to bring him close where he could make him safe. But one more step into the light of the campfire and he realized he’d been mistaken. The dark and hollow eyes staring back at him were not that of his son.

With panic pulsing through his veins, Aberama reached for the blade he concealed in his boot, willing his trembling hand to strike true. However, with years of disuse, his limbs failed to cooperate. Disarmed within moments, he raised his fists as an alternative means of protection. Bested once more, he felt the air leave his lungs with one harsh blow to his stomach.

He was still hunched over, gasping for breath when he heard a woman's voice shout, "Stop! That's enough."

Aberama turned toward the sound slowly, a delayed sense of recognition washing over him.

"Looks like the cat did a number on ya," she declared, her gray blue eyes taking in the frail, graying man standing before her. Even in the dim light of the early morning hours, he could see his beloved sister was smiling.

"Leonora, is that really you?" Aberama asked, afraid to touch her for fear she would vanish like everyone he'd grown to love.

Her chin bobbed as she replied, "I'm here. I'm real."

Aberama's eyes flooded with tears at her words, unsure how to tell her he'd struggled with delusions for too long.

Luckily, she noted his hesitancy, explaining why she'd come to find him. "The Fury's said you'd gone off on your own." Then more softly she added, "I was worried when I didn't receive word."

"It's been a long time," he acknowledged with a tight smile.

"Too long," she agreed. "Where have you been Abe?"

"Here and there. A life I don't really recall making," he answered with a deep sorrow that made her heart clench.

"You sound like a man buried beneath the ground," she noted sadly.

"I've lost so much..." he told her, hand swiping down his face to hide the tears.

"Leave behind what you can't change, brother," she advised, placing a hand to his back for support. "Come home."

He shook his head, lips pursed tightly before declaring, "There is no home to come back to."

"That's where you're wrong. Family is your home," she asserted.

“My son and fiancée are dead,” he reminded her bitterly. “Where do I belong now?”

Gripping his stubbled chin with a bejeweled hand she locked eyes with her younger brother. “You belong with us.” The stubborn insistence in her voice reminded him how protective she’d been of him since childhood.

A deep hearty sound erupted from his chest, he hadn't experienced in some time.

---------------

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[vaguely-concerned]

in his and davrin's banters, lucanis exhibits a certain little shit energy I don't think we see him have with anyone else other than illario and honestly I am living for this

[mischiefbuckley]

For this season being marketed like Eddie’s season again with Ryan doing so much press heading into the beginning of season 8… like where are all my Eddie scenes ABC??? Season 8b please deliver on more Eddie scenes and more focus on Eddie’s storyline please 🙏🏻

[fictionadventurer]

August: Day 8

Adventures

Went to a thrift store and the library's used bookshop.

Bought a copy of Around the World in 80 Days that looks more readable than my current copy (so long as it's not an abridged children's edition). May make a new cover for it.

Bought a book about the basics of astronomy. If I'm going to write about an astronomer, I need to know a tiny bit, and this looks like it's written for idiots with short attention spans, so it'll be great for me.

Bought the coolest pop-up book I've ever seen. For a quarter. I'll have to show you guys pictures.

Treated myself to Youtube videos about Victorian literature. Indulged in a few Gutenberg downloads. Read the first chapter of Lady Audley's Secret and this may derail all my reading plans until I finish.

Accomplishments

Read a few chapters of Heretics. Am now halfway done.

Tire. Twice.

Signed up for a CPR refresher course

[twojamie-o-clock]

Ramble in the tags that really should have been a separate post LOL do you agree though…

[skitskatdacat63]

helloooo you haven’t heard from me in a while but since i consider u an f1 historian i just saw on tiktok a video of an intro (before the 2012 korean gp i assume) where they had the drivers with gangnam style as the music… i was wondering if you might have it since that has been driving me insaaaane 😭😭 thank you sm catie have a lovely day 🫶

Hallo!!!! Nice to see you again! I'm glad I can be held in such high esteem 😭 But please anon, we def saw the same tiktok, this one, right? A great thanks to the op on tiktok who linked me the video!!

Why did you have to force me think again about all the Gangnam Style stuff in F1 in 2012 though????(ex. BBC vid with PSY, vid/pics of Seb and Mark with PSY, both learning the dance, as well as other clips of drivers such as Felipe and Nico dancing)

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'

[ichijokaoru]

I wanted to get a torrent of the raws for kuuga (since my previous set was subtitled and idk I used to be a video editor and i like the idea of gifs etc. so y'know... wanted some raw footage) but it has seemingly come with a goldmine of interview footage from a variety of eras (both during and post the show!!) that I'd previously been digging around on niconico trying to dig up, and i believe isn't uploaded to youtube... so extremely exciting. while not ideal, it will also be good to just let google's shitty auto translate give a Vibe of what is being said with some questions which I can only do once it's uploaded (my partner will be the one doing that probably)

[dancing-with-stars]

i am losing my mind

[pyrriax]

hi everyone remind me to never look at deviantart again

[yuugurenomi]

hetalia plot summary

[ziracona]

I know I say this every time I read my own work, but Speak for the Dead really is the best chapter in ILM.

“Well, you know for the first time in a long time this actually feels like fall?”

Jane Romero was smiling at him, sitting propped up against a tree in what had sort of become her usual ‘therapy’ corner in the past almost two weeks. And she was right, it did feel like fall. The air wasn’t as sharply cold as normal, and honestly ‘sharply’ cold was a nice break in and of itself when it happened—usually the weather here was somehow just cold—cold with no adjectives attached. But today it was nicer. It was the kind of waiting fall cold that came when it wasn’t biting outside yet, and it was almost pleasant. A promise of a change in the seasons. Tapp wondered why.

The trees hadn’t started to change color with it, or fall in piles, and as far as he’d gathered there weren’t seasons in here. Everything looked the same. Tall, thick woods, undergrowth and moss and rocks and fallen logs, a slight breeze on and off. Dark sky overhead, full moon, at this point long since throwing off everyone’s idea of what day and night were supposed to mean. All the usual. Except, somehow, the kind of cold in the weather. Who knew, maybe nothing had changed. Maybe they had just started to feel better.

LIKE. Those opening lines mean nothing but environmental flavor when you read them. But they’re a lead in for the thesis of the entire chapter.

“Well, you know for the first time in a long time this actually feels like fall?” - A promise of a change in the seasons. - Who knew, maybe nothing had changed. Maybe they had just started to feel better.

Like that’s it. Speak for the Dead is about a lot of things, but at its heart it’s about healing. It’s about forgiveness and healing, that exists between the living and the dead. It’s about how you can only speak for them, by speaking for them. Not how you want to punish yourself or live for them, but by how you know they would forgive you, or would ask you to live. Very little other than exchanges of information happen, but so much happens at the same time. All of it significant. It’s hope. It’s about how Tapp (and Meg) have spent every day here fighting in their own way to cope with the agony and failure of their lives, and the loss of people they couldn’t save, and have only dug their wounds deeper. About love. About nothing stoping the lambs from screaming except accepting that they want to let you go.

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/712824990556405760/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

Randall smiled as he set aside his quill once he heard Emily coming, once again making sure the ink was dry before closing his libretto and moving to the lounge chair, where on the coffee table in front of it sat a pot of fresh tea and some little macaroons-his way of expressing his delight at how rehearsals were going so far.

Rehearsals were going far smoother than they ever had with La Constance around: It seemed like they dragged on forever with her, as she constantly threw fits about anything and everything she could possibly think of-her costume, the libretto, any noise her castmates made when she was practicing, the way the orchestra sounded, the stagehands working around her, and more. She was as unpredictable as the weather, and it made rehearsals a dreadful experience for everyone-even though Randall tried to curb her attitude in his own way, it still didn’t save everyone completely from her wrath, much to his disappointment.

But with Emily? It was a breeze: She arrived on time, didn’t make a fuss, got along well with those around her, and perhaps most importantly, gave it her all as she practiced. La Constance often arrived when she felt like it, hated to be rushed, and put very little enthusiasm into her performance, clearly showing she was not here because she loved her craft, but because she loved the money it made her instead.

But he wasn’t about to dedicate any time thinking about La Constance when he had much more important matters on his mind; namely, greeting Emily with a smile and proclaiming, “Brava, brava, bravissima!” She was quickly getting the hang of the role of the Countess, and doing a beautiful job to boot, giving an easily-superficial character a touch of depth, as she yearns for fun and excitement and love, and not the staid life she had now.

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

I’m not Russian, but have been to Russia several times. My favourite ‘snack’ was СЫРОК. The chocolate covered yoghurty-cheese thing. Omg sooo yummy.

Oh yeah!

And there are so many of them, too.