#Freedom of Information Request

[easterneyenews]

https://www.easterneye.biz/bbc-martin-bashir-controversy/

[coochiequeens]

Its chief executive officer instructed those members who have leadership roles within the organization — but who are employed by medical practices or universities — only to use personal email accounts for AAP (American Academy of Pediatrics) -related correspondence. This could protect such emails from freedom-of-information requests and employers’ document-retention policies." 

Well that sounds like they have nothing to hide

By BENJAMIN RYAN Thursday, December 21, 202322:44:51 pm

The American Academy of Pediatrics, under fire for its policies on gender-transition treatment for minors, is taking steps that might limit its legal exposure — or at least minimize public scrutiny — in the face of a lawsuit by a woman who at 14 underwent a medical gender transition that she later regretted. 

This month, the highly influential medical association, which has about 68,000 pediatrician members, shelved a pending book on the care and treatment of children who identify as transgender. Its chief executive officer instructed those members who have leadership roles within the organization — but who are employed by medical practices or universities — only to use personal email accounts for AAP-related correspondence. This could protect such emails from freedom-of-information requests and employers’ document-retention policies.  

An AAP representative told the Sun that neither move was related to the litigation it faces and that the board’s decision to enact the new email policy predated the filing of the lawsuit in question.

“The AAP has been under scrutiny for a couple of years now because of its gender policies,” said a fellow at the Manhattan Institute, Leor Sapir. He speculated that the organization’s new email policy could have been motivated by such ongoing external pressures, which also predated the lawsuit. 

Dr. Jason Rafferty, a leading specialist in pediatric gender transitions, is named in the detransitioners’ lawsuit. He also contributed commentary to a forthcoming book that’s been pulled by the American Academy of Pediatrics. Brown University

Mr. Sapir argues that the AAP and the American medical establishment more broadly have failed to establish “in a thoughtful and scientific way” its guidelines for pediatric gender-transition treatments. Consequently, he said, he supports controversial state laws that ban the prescription of puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones to children to treat gender dysphoria — a psychiatric diagnosis that involves significant distress over a conflict between an individual’s gender identity and their biological sex. 

A number of states with Republican-controlled legislatures have passed these laws since 2021 as part of a concerted pushback against medical care practices, first imported to the United States from the Netherlands in 2007, for children who identify as the opposite gender. The Republican-dominated Ohio legislature last week passed a bill that would make the state the 22nd to ban such medical treatment. The governor of Ohio, Mike Dewine, a Republican, has yet to decide if he will sign the contentious bill. If he does not sign or veto it by December 29, it will become law.

The AAP has maintained full-throated support for the availability – and legality – of medical gender-transition treatments for children. Its influential journal Pediatrics on Wednesday published an essay by a pediatrician at Seattle Children’s Hospital, Dr. Emily Georges, and two colleagues arguing that banning such medicine is “a form of child maltreatment.” 

“These legislative efforts operate under the guise of protecting children,” Dr. Georges and her coauthors wrote. “In reality, they punish caregivers and physicians when they choose to support children.”

The AAP Faces a Lawsuit

In October, a Dallas law firm filed a lawsuit against the AAP on behalf of a biological woman, Isabelle Ayala, who beginning at age 14 was treated for gender dysphoria with testosterone by a group of Rhode Island health care providers; they are also named as defendants. On this team was a child psychiatrist and pediatrician trained by and affiliated with Brown University, Dr. Jason Rafferty, who is the sole author of the broadly influential policy statement on pediatric gender-transition treatment that the AAP published in October 2018, a few months after Ms. Ayala left his care. 

“In hindsight, that makes me feel like a guinea pig,” Ms. Ayala, 20, said in a YouTube video posted last week by the Independent Women’s Forum, a conservative nonprofit. 

Jordan Campbell, Ron Miller, Josh Payne, and Daniel Sepulveda of newly founded law firm Campbell Miller Payne, PLLC. They say they established their firm to represent ‘individuals who were misled and abused – many as children – into psychological and physical harm through a false promise of “gender-affirming care.”’ Campbell Miller Payne, PLLC.

A retired pediatrician, AAP member and volunteer professor of pediatrics at the University of Cincinnati College of Medicine, Dr. Christopher Bolling, defended the AAP’s integrity from what he said was a “talking point from transgender care ban advocates” that Dr. Rafferty “somehow wrote the whole thing and forced everyone else to just sign it.” Dr. Bolling was not himself involved with developing the policy statement in question, but said, “Writing those statements are some of the most collaborative labor-intensive, careful processes I’ve ever been involved with.” 

Ms. Ayala ultimately “detransitioned,” reverting from considering herself a trans male to identifying as her birth sex. The law firm representing her, Campbell Miller Payne, was recently established by four white-shoe attorneys solely to represent such regretful so-called detransitioners. The firm is behind five of the nine known medical-malpractice detransitioner lawsuits.  

Time Magazine reported Thursday that the threat of such litigation is already driving up malpractice insurance premiums for providers of pediatric gender-transition treatment, shutting out some smaller gender clinics.

The lawsuit takes on the powerful American Academy of Pediatrics, which has enormous influence over pediatric care in the U.S. Campbell Miller Payne, PLLC

Ms. Ayala’s suit accuses Dr. Rafferty and his colleagues of malpractice for prioritizing treating her gender dysphoria over her myriad other psychiatric diagnoses and for allegedly causing her lasting physical harm. 

“I don’t even like to think about my fertility,” Ms. Ayala said in a voice over in the YouTube video as she looked at a baby crib, addressing concerns about the long-term impacts of testosterone treatment. “It is my greatest fear to go to the gynecologist and have them tell me I can’t have children over some decisions that were made when I was fourteen.”

The suit further alleges that Dr. Rafferty and others engaged in a conspiracy with the AAP to develop methods for treating gender dysphoric children while Ms. Ayala was the physicians’ patient that are not evidence based and are grounded in what a scathing peer-reviewed critique published in 2019 argued was a misrepresentation of the relevant scientific literature.

In their new Pediatrics essay, Dr. Georges and her coauthors countered such a premise. Referring  to what supporters of such treatment call gender-affirming care, they wrote: “Although some individuals make it seem that GAC is a new, experimental area of medicine, GAC is evidence-based.”  

They continued: “The benefits of GAC, most notably on mental health, self-esteem, and development, outweigh the risks in the majority of circumstances. GAC is, for many, lifesaving.” 

Isabelle Ayala appears with her attorney in a new YouTube video in which she discusses her gender transition treatment. Independent Women’s Forum

This a reference to suicide prevention. Advocates of medical gender transitions for children argue that gender dysphoric youth are at high risk for death by suicide if they are not able to medically transition if they so choose.

The AAP Pulls a Book on the Gender-Affirming Care Model

During the fall, the AAP began taking pre-orders for a 320-page book on pediatric gender-transition care and treatment that was set to be published on January 30. Dr. Rafferty was listed first among the authors of the book’s commentaries. 

On December 6, the day after the Sun published an article about Ms. Ayala’s suit and another malpractice suit filed against Dr. Rafferty and his colleagues by a detransitioned adult patient, the AAP emailed those who had pre-ordered the book, alerting them: “Due to an upcoming policy review on this topic, the publication of this book has been placed on hold.” 

A representative for the organization confirmed to the Sun that the email referenced the AAP leadership’s announcement in August that it would commission an independent systematic literature review — the gold standard for assessing scientific evidence — of the research regarding pediatric gender-transition treatment. The AAP said at the time that it was prompted to take this step out of “concerns about restrictions to access to health care with bans on gender-affirming care.”

An AAP member and a pediatrician at Carmel, Indiana, Dr. Sarah Palmer, criticized the academy’s expressed motivation, which she said centered the pending review “in the political realm instead of in the clinical and scientific realm where doctors should apply their expertise.” 

The AAP representative said that the book contains research previously published in the academy’s journals and no new guidance. It does, however, contain the new commentaries. The representative said the AAP decided to delay publication “to avoid confusion” during the “ongoing” work on the review, the findings of which the academy plans to share publicly. However, the book went on sale for pre-order well after the literature review was announced. The representative declined to respond to detailed questions about the review’s progress, including whether the AAP would observe typical scientific protocol for a systematic literature review and publish its criteria in advance.

In reference to the AAP’s publication of Dr. Georges’ unsparing and politically charged new Pediatrics essay, Mr. Sapir said, “It’s weird that they would pull the book on the grounds that there is an ongoing systematic review, but in their own peer-reviewed journal they would publish this document.”

The AAP’s move to conduct the systematic review came after three years of efforts led by an AAP member and Gresham, Oregon-based pediatrician, Dr. Julia Mason, to compel the organization to do so. ​​She, Dr. Palmer, and Mr. Sapir all expressed concern about what they characterized as the AAP’s lack of transparency during the four months since announcing it would commission the systematic review. 

“I think the pressure of the lawsuit led to their pulling the book. Because they suddenly realized that they might be held responsible for what that book said in a court of law,” said Dr. Mason, who is a board member of the Society for Evidence Based Gender Medicine. Founded in 2020, the society is a collective of clinicians and researchers who share concern that, as multiple systematic reviews of the relevant evidence have found, pediatric gender-transition treatment is based on a low or very low quality of scientific evidence while it comes with considerable risks, including infertility and sexual dysfunction.

In conflict with the Pediatrics essay, such reviews have also not found evidence that withholding puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones from gender dysphoric youth is associated with a higher suicide death rate. Additionally, Dr. Mason and numerous other critics have called into question the validity of the findings of a 2022 University of Washington and Seattle Children’s study often cited by supporters of such treatment, including in the new Pedatrics article’s authors, as evidence that medical gender-transition treatment reduces suicidal thoughts and behaviors in gender-dysphoric adolescents.

The American Academy of Pediatrics headquarters outside Chicago. The AAP is the target of a lawsuit about its policies regarding transgender care for minors. AAP

Transgender activists have called the Society for Evidence Based Gender Medicine an anti-trans group and highlight how commonly other medical treatments are backed only by low quality evidence. The type of randomized, placebo-controlled trials that would produce the highest quality of evidence, trans advocates argue, would not be ethical for pediatric gender-transition treatment.

A sprawling Southern Poverty Law Center report published December 12, “Combatting LGBTQ+ Pseudoscience,” places the Society for Evidence Based Gender Medicine at the nexus of what it portrays as an interconnected conspiracy by various organizations to undermine support for pediatric gender-transition treatment and harm trans youth. The Southern Poverty Law Center has come under criticism from social conservatives in recent years for, they argue, unfairly and egregiously classifying some conservative groups as “hate groups.” The Society for Evidence Based Gender Medicine, however, bills itself as an apolitical science organization. 

Maintaining Ownership of Internal Emails

Earlier this month, the AAP’s chief executive officer, Mark Del Monte, and chief medical officer, Dr. Anne R. Edwards, sent a letter to what the AAP representative reported was all of the academy’s staff and hundreds of non-staff members in leadership roles, alerting them to a new correspondence policy, effective January 1. It ordered the members only to use personal email accounts, such as Gmail, for leadership level AAP-related business. 

The AAP representative told the Sun that the decision to enact this new policy was unrelated to Ms. Ayala’s lawsuit and predates its filing, having been made at an AAP board meeting in May; minutes from the meeting indicate as much. 

Mr. Del Monte and Dr. Edwards differentiate in the letter between the public nature of the AAP’s “policy, advocacy positions, and educational resources” and the “confidential, internal discussions” pertaining to these documents’ development. 

“To protect the internal deliberations of our member experts,” the letter states, “the AAP Board of Directors has approved new prudent steps to keep internal communications under the control of the AAP and its member leaders.” 

The letter continues: “While we regret that this action is necessary, members do not ‘own’ their work email and so do not necessarily have the decision-making authority about whether or not to release it publicly.” 

The use of institutional or workplace email accounts, the letter further states, creates “multiple vulnerabilities for AAP and our members.” This includes the fact that “employer-sponsored email platforms are subject to the document retention and release policies of external institutions, including in response to subpoenas or Freedom Of Information Act (FOIA) requests.” 

The board’s decision to enact this policy, the AAP representative said, “followed a lengthy deliberation by board members to ensure the AAP manages records in compliance with applicable federal and state laws, while meeting operational needs.” 

A medical doctor and tort law expert at the University of Baltimore School of Law, Dr. Gregory Dolin, said he anticipated that a shift from workplace to personal email accounts for such correspondence would not frustrate any attempts by Campbell Miller Payne to obtain internal AAP emails through discovery in its suit against the academy. However, Dr. Dolin said that by forbidding communicating via email accounts subject to FOIA requests, the AAP “may reduce non-litigation related, but nevertheless embarrassing disclosures” by, for example, journalists.

Protecting Children

A professor of epidemiology and biostatistics at the University of California, San Francisco, Dr. Vinay Prasad is an outspoken critic of what he has characterized as unscientifically sound Covid-19-mitigation public-health policies. On Monday, he published an essay on the Sensible Medicine Substack criticizing the AAP for asserting that for obese patients, pediatricians “should offer” adolescents and “may offer” children ages 8 to 11 weight-loss drugs such as Ozempic.

Meanwhile, the United States Preventive Services Task Force asserted in a draft guidance released December 12 that evidence was insufficient, in particular concerning the long-term impacts of such medications, to make such a recommendation. The task force called for more research. 

In an email, Dr. Prasad argued that the AAP’s policies regarding gender-transition treatment represent a pervasive lack of adherence to evidence-based standards. 

“I am deeply concerned that, across all their recommendations, the American Academy of Pediatrics does not rely on the highest quality of evidence, and worse, they do not call for better studies,” said Dr. Prasad. “Instead, they’re very happy to make strong recommendations based on their own biases in the absence of evidence. And that harms children.” 

Dr. Georges, by contrast, wrote in Pediatrics that any state law denying children gender-transition treatment “not only represents medical neglect, but it is also state-sanctioned emotional abuse.”

BENJAMIN RYAN

Benjamin Ryan is an independent health and science reporter who also contributes to The New York Times, The Guardian and NBC News and has also written for The Atlantic and the Washington Post.

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Good that I give Royal Au so light XD

Talking about the Au Scourge's gang (Fiona and the destrutix plus Rosy) exist?

If yes imagine they made everyone VS everyone/gang vs gang XD

Rubs hands together OKAY SO. I have actually done a little bit of thinking about this, and I think both the destructix and the suppression squad are in this au. I haven't fully settled on what exactly the suppression squad's role will be - parental approved company for Scourge, perhaps? - but the destructix are the gang Scourge initially sneaks out of the castle to hang out with before he bumps into Sonic. Scourge's parents don't approve of them - they consider them ruffians, and they aren't as poor as Sonic/they're not quite commoners but they're still considerably lower on the class ladder than Scourge - hence why he has to meet up with them in secret. They're rebellious and troublemakers and Scourge is always getting into fights with other people with them, which he finds really fun

Unlike Sonic and co, however, they don't have any interest in taking down the monarchy. They're well aware Scourge is the prince, and probably hoping (most likely subconsciously) Scourge will give them powerful, high-up roles in the kingdom once he takes the throne. If they heard about Scourge's plan to overthrow his parents, they'd be down for it until they realised the next step of the plan would not be Scourge taking the crown for himself, but getting rid of the monarchy entirely and giving the power to the people. They don't want it gone, they're just waiting for the day Scourge takes the throne

Tldr they're Scourge's friends that his parents really, really wish he wasn't friends with, and they've forbidden him from speaking with them, but that just means he sneaks out to meet up with them. Trying to meet up with them without getting caught is probably why he takes to dyeing his fur whenever he sneaks out, and thus, they are indirectly the reason he eventually bumps into Sonic while disguised as a commoner - or, at least, definitely someone lower than a prince

[squidificati0n]

@universalpublicfriend on tiktok

[archivyrep]

Archivists on the Issues: Classified Records, Archives, and Fictional Depictions [Part 1]

Archivists on the Issues is a forum for archivists to discuss the issues we are facing today. Today’s post comes from Burkely Hermann (me), Metadata Librarian for the National Security Archive and current I&A Blog Coordinator. There will be spoilers for each of the books, animated series, films, and other media he will be discussing. This was originally published on February 7, 2023 on the Issues & Advocacy WordPress blog.

High-level overview of National Declassification Center processes, as shown in a post on the NDC blog in 2019

Previously on this blog, Rachel Mattson examined whether police body camera footage is public record or is classified, arguing that it should be a public record. Other blogposts on this blog have examined whether the Senate Intelligence Committee Report on Torture is a Federal or Congressional Record, noted selective declassification by the French government, which declassified over 200,000 records about Vichy government’s collaboration with the Nazis but none about France's occupation of Algeria, and noted the tendency of politicians to avoid documenting their activities and stonewall FOIA requests.

In January 2022, the Director of National Intelligence April Haines argued, in a letter to U.S. Senators Ron Wyden and Jerry Moran that there are "deficiencies" in the current declassification system, and notes the burden of mandatory declassification requirements while the amount of classified material expands. My colleague from National Security Archive, Lauren Harper, noted that Haines, many months later, said that overclassification is a national security threat. Some of these classified records are in the hands of the National Archives, otherwise known as the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), organized into Top Secret, Secret, and Confidential. Other records are deemed unclassified if they do not meet the existing requirements for classification.

Classification of records in the U.S. has often been outlined in presidential executive orders, beginning with President Truman in 1951. National security generally described as the primary reason for classification. Over the years, rules changed and the role of NARA increased. This has even resulted in a part of the agency dedicated to declassification, the National Declassification Center (NDC), which was established in 2009, in accordance with Executive Order 13526. This went beyond the agency's representation on the Interagency Security Classification Appeals Panel (ISCAP), or the Information Security Oversight Office (ISOO), which oversees the security classification programs in "both Government and industry", and reports to the President annually. The ISOO, role on ISCAP, and NDC, most recently, have given NARA an important position in the entire classified information management process. [1]

Unsurprisingly, NARA has been in the public focus, especially for storing presidential records from the Obama Administration, and afterward. Some politicians have claimed the agency is an "enemy" and have wanted to dismantle it because of NARA's push to return classified records to the public, rather than having the records stored in shoddy locations or controlled by presidents as their personal property. [2] This makes reports, in past years, like in May 2012, that boxes of classified government records disappeared from Washington National Records Center all the more concerning, as it could be representative of a larger trend.

Currently, there are measures in place for declassification of government records, either enshrined in executive orders or provisions of the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA). However, the FOIA system is currently flawed, especially with existence of various exemptions which can be used to redact documents or reject records requests. [3] There are similar issues with Mandatory Declassification Review (MDR) requests. As one government report put it, storage of classified materials is "widespread" across the U.S. government, with NARA storing records from all agencies at central facilities. Even so, some have argued that politicians have neglected the National Archives and failed to "control official secrecy", belaying assumptions about government transparency, and resulting in the crisis which will make it harder for researchers to examine the "state’s inner workings". Recent developments, such as a drop in the annual budget of NARA, attrition, and loss of institutional memory have resulted in the agency having one of the lowest levels of job satisfaction in the federal government. All the while, funding for declassification has decreased and backlogs for declassification have increased. [4]

NARA is not the only archives which handles and processes classified records. There are established procedures for classification of records held by the New South Wales Archives in Australia, British Public Record Office, Taiwanese government, Israeli Defense Force, State Archives of Poland, National Archives of Brazil, South African State Archives Service (later renamed National Archives and Records Service), National Archives of Korea, and National Archives of France. Even the archives of the United Nations has a classification level of Strictly Confidential, necessitating declassification requests, while archival materials over 20 years old are "generally open to the public for research". [5]

As Electronic Records Archivist Amy Wickner argued, archivists have the "power to name and classify," a power which has "material effects on the world". This power can be used to make records more accessible or to make them harder to access. The latter is the case if access is only "granted or refused on an individual basis". At times, more restrictions are imposed because of compliance with professional standards or data within in a record rather than the document itself. This includes including personal data. On the other hand, records which should be publicly available, like agreements between carceral facilities and FamilySearch for indexing of historical records, have a possibility of redaction, despite the lack of personal or sensitive information. [6]

© 2022-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Continued in part 2

Notes

[1] Čtvrtník, Mikuláš. "Classified records and the archives." Archival Science 22 (2022): https://doi.org/10.1007/s10502-021-09370-3.

[2] O'Rourke, Ciara. "Claims about Obama Foundation keeping classified records in an abandoned warehouse are wrong." Poynter, Oct. 7, 2022; Caputo, Marc. "Barr suggests Trump 'deceived' the government over classified records." NBC News, Sept. 2, 2022; Suebsaeng, Asawin and Adam Rawnsley. "Trump Tells His Lawyers: Get ‘My’ Top Secret Documents Back." Rolling Stone, Aug. 23, 2022; Alemany, Jacqueline, Isaac Arnsdorf, and Josh Dawsey. "Inside Trump’s war on the National Archives." Washington Post, Aug. 27, 2022; Legare, Robert. "Archives found 100+ documents with classified marking in first 15 Trump boxes." Yahoo! News, CBS News. Aug. 23, 2022; Kochi, Sudiksha. "Fact check: Archives agency transferred 30 million unclassified Obama records to Chicago." USA Today, Oct. 3, 2022; Derysh, Igor. "'He has the right to remain silent': Legal experts say Trump’s Truth Social post may be 'evidence'." Salon, Nov. 29, 2022; "Press Statements in Response to Media Queries About Presidential Records." National Archives and Records Administration, Nov. 9, 2022; Reilly, Steve. "What the government’s former top classified records overseer sees in the Mar-a-Lago search." Grid, Aug. 10, 2022; Wood, Jennifer. "Donald Trump Just Couldn’t Keep His Mouth Shut And Went Ahead And Confessed: ‘I Did’ Steal Classified Documents From The White House." Uproxx, Nov. 29, 2022; "Fact Check-National Archives and Records Administration says they manage all of Obama’s Presidential records, contrary to claims online." Reuters, Sept. 30, 2022. There have also been cases, like a lawsuit by the conservative legal group, Judicial Watch, against NARA, aiming to declassify Clinton Administration efforts, but their efforts were dismissed by the courts.

[3] "Freedom of Information Act flaws need fixing, experts say." American Bar Association, Aug. 4, 2018; "The media’s problems with FOIA." Reporter's Committee for Freedom of the Press, Winter 2007; Goos, Christian. "Seeking Access to Classified Records: Requesting Mandatory Declassification Review (MDR) versus Freedom of Information Act (FOIA)." ISOO Overview, Oct. 1, 2021.Also of note are pages like the "Overview" webpage on the Records Management Directorate and Army Declassification Directorate, the NSA's page on supposed declassification/transparency initiatives, and a press release about ZL Tech's support of a  "records management platform with DOD classified technology".

[4] "Appendix V: Central Storage, Declassification and Destruction" in Classified Information: Costs of Protection are Integrated with Other Security Costs: Report to the Chairman, Information, Justice, Transportation, and Agriculture Subcommittee, Committee on Government Operations, House of Representatives (United States General Accounting Office, 1993), 26;  Connelly, Matthew. "State Secrecy, Archival Negligence, and the End of History as We Know It." Knight First Amendment Institute, Sept. 21, 2018. The latter article also says that state secrecy and state archiving began at the same time, around the establishment of NARA and into World War II.

[5] "Standard on the physical storage of State records." New South Wales Archives in Australia, Feb. 2019; Wittner, Laurence. "What I Learned About Governments from Researching Classified Documents." History News Network, Sept. 4, 2022; "The Management Regulations for Classified Archives." Law & Regulations Database of the Republic of China (Taiwan), May 10, 2005; Peterson, Terrence. "The French Archives and the Coming Fight for Declassification." War on the Rocks, Mar. 6, 2020; Makleff, Ron. "Sovereignty and Silence: The Creation of a Myth of Archival Destruction, Liège, 1408." Archive Journal, Aug. 2017; "Public Reference Services." United Nations Archives and Records Management Section, accessed Dec. 5, 2022; Franco, Shirley. "Transparência e opacidade do estado no Brasil: Usos e desusos da informação governamental." The American Archivist 84, no. 1 (2021): 196; Sromek, Teresa. "Teoria i praktyka archiwistyki USA." The American Archivist 83, no. 1 (2020): 177; Harris, Verne and Christopher Merrett. "Toward a Culture of Transparency: Public Rights of Access to Official Records in South Africa." The American Archivist 57, no. 4 (1994): 681-2, 684, 688, 691; Lee, Kyong. "Political Democracy and Archival Development in the Management of Presidential Records in the Republic of Korea." The American Archivist 69, no. 1 (2006): 119-120,129, 134-135, 137-138.

[6] Wickner, Amy. "Recognizing Co-Creators in Four Configurations: Critical Questions for Web Archiving." Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 8 (2019): 4; Geraci, Noah and Michelle Caswell. "Developing a Typology of Human Rights Records." Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 3 (2016): 18; Taylor, Claire, Lucia Brandi, Cecilia A. Acosta Sánchez, and Marcelo Díaz Vallejo, "Archives of Human Rights and Historical Memory: An Analysis of Archival Practices ‘From Below’ in Four NGOs in Colombia Archival Practices ‘From Below’ in Four NGOs in Colombia." Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 8 (2021): 11, 16; Rinn, Meghan R. "Review of The Future of Literary Archives." Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 7 (2020): 4; Szekely, Ivan. "Do Archives Have a Future in the Digital Age?" Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 4 (2017): 4; Jansson, Jenny, Katrin Uba, Jaanus Karo, "Labor Gone Digital (DigiFacket)! Experiences from Creating a Web Archive for Swedish Trade UnionsArchive for Swedish Trade Unions." Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 7 (2020): 5; Windon, Katrina and Lydia M. Tang. "Archival discretion: a survey on the theory and practice of archival restrictions." Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies 9 (2022): 8.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[mxactivist]

Support the BBC for having a trans character in recent episodes of 'Doctor Who'

Apparently the BBC (UK) has had 144 complaints about a recent episode of Doctor Who because it contained an openly trans character.

I've made a complaint to the BBC that there weren't enough transgender characters in Doctor Who. I would love if 144 other people did the same thing. Here's the link: https://www.bbc.co.uk/contact/complaints/make-a-complaint/#/Complaint

(For your easy reference: "The Star Beast" aired on 25/11/2023 on BBC One, and the trans character is called Rose.)

Please note that the complaint form asks for your UK postcode, so only UK folks can join in with this - but if you suspect you might have any UK-based followers, maybe give us a reblog to boost the signal?

Edit: I'm told that you can fill in the form even if you're outside of the UK, because the BBC provide service to many countries other than the UK, including the USA! Go for it. :D

Reply to confirm that you've done it, so I can keep a count!

Here's my complaint:

I recommend:

Avoid sarcasm or irony. Assume your post will be taken literally. If you are clearly joking or being mean you will be ignored or misunderstood.

Include some gratitude/appreciation. It's pretty great that they included a trans woman in a positive way, and they should know that they have explicit support for that.

~

Edit again: I'm seeing some concerns in the replies/reblogs that the BBC might not distinguish between "less trans people, please" complaints and "more trans people, please" complaints. Rest assured, this is nothing to worry about - the BBC publish fortnightly complaint reports, and they do pay enough attention to know when a complaint is in favour of or against trans inclusion. In fact, their 20 November – 3 December 2023 report is where the various news articles are getting the 144 complaints figure; that report says there were precisely 144 complaints that they have categorised as "Anti-male / inappropriate inclusion of transgender character".

That means the next complaints fortnight window is 4 December - 17 December. We have 8 more days to beat 144. By my count, over Tumblr, WhatsApp, the Fediverse and Telegram, we have 85 so far, which is well over halfway there.

Also, when you've done it, please reply to confirm you have done it, so that I can count us!

Thank you, everyone!

~

Edit, 2023-12-11, 1am UK time:

We did it! I've just been counting up responses, and it looks like sometime yesterday evening we hit 144 complaints/comments in favour of Rose Noble and more excellent trans characters in Doctor Who! (We're actually up to 157 now, fantastic.)

So, my next plan is to submit a Freedom of Information Act request to the BBC sometime in the next few days, asking for complaints and compliments figures. Then I'd ideally (energy and time permitting) like to put together a press release that I can send out to the publications that promoted the tiny "144 anti-trans complaints" figure, showing them that there has been far more feedback in favour of trans representation than against.

I'll keep you posted.

[heritageposts]

From the Freedom Flotilla, April 27 2024:

On Thursday afternoon, the Freedom Flotilla Coalition was contacted by the Guinea Bissau International Ships Registry (GBISR), requesting an inspection of our lead ship – Akdenez. This was a highly unusual request as our ship had already passed all required inspections; nevertheless, we agreed. The inspector arrived on Thursday evening. On Friday afternoon, before the inspection was completed, the GBISR, in a blatantly political move, informed the Freedom Flotilla Coalition that it had withdrawn the Guinea Bissau flag from two of the Freedom Flotilla’s ships, one of which is our cargo ship, already loaded with over 5000 tons of life-saving aid for the Palestinians of Gaza. In its communication informing us of this cancelation, the GBISR made specific reference to our planned mission to Gaza. It also made several extraordinary requests for information, including confirmation of the ships’ destination, any potential additional port calls, and the discharge port for humanitarian aid and estimated arrival dates and times. It further demanded a formal letter explicitly approving the transportation of humanitarian aid and a complete manifest of the cargo. Again, this is a highly unusual move from a flagging authority. Normally, national flagging authorities concern themselves only with safety and related standards on vessels bearing their flag, and are not concerned with the destination, route, cargo manifests or the nature of a specific voyage. Just like when you register your car, the authorities don’t require you to detail to them every place you are going to go with the car. Sadly, Guinea-Bissau has allowed itself to become complicit in Israel’s deliberate starvation, illegal siege and genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. Israel is showing the world the extent to which it will go to deny Palestinians the aid they need to stay alive, in direct contravention of International Humanitarian Law, UN Security Council resolutions, and two orders of the International Court of Justice. [...] without a flag, we cannot sail. But, this is not the end. Israel cannot and will not crush our resolve to break its illegal siege and reach the people of Gaza. The people of Gaza and all of Palestine remain steadfast under the most horrific, unimaginable conditions. We take strength from their incredible, inexplicable ability to maintain their humanity, dignity and hope when the world has given them no reason to do so. It is our responsibility to keep that hope alive. WE WILL SAIL.

The Freedom Flotilla, which was set to depart from Turkey on the 27th of April with 5000 tons of life-saving aid, has now been delayed because Israel and the United States has pressured Guinea Bissau to withdraw its flag from the Flotilla's lead ship.

Seeing as how their tactics worked on Guinea Bissau, organizers now fear that Israel and the US will exert the same pressure on whichever country the Freedom Flotilla attempt to register their ship under next.

To help the Freedom Flotilla reach Gaza, please keep an eye out for further updates from the organizers. Right now, as of April 27th, they're asking people to help boost their visibility, and to donate to their member campaigns.

For more info, see their webpage.

[ctbraininjurysupportservice-blog]

Ongoing Silence! Lack of Transparency in Connecticut's Federally Funded Programs Raises Alarm

Secret Directory and Practices: Concerns Rise for Brain-Injured Individuals in Connecticut Medicaid

Federal Anti-Kickback Statute | Medicaid Referral Fraud | ABI RESOURCES

Transparency and Accountability Concerns in CT's Federally Funded Programs for Brain Injury Care

Care Managers. Do you have the right to change yours? Understanding Protecting Your Freedoms

Investigating the Legality and Impact of CCC's Secret Electronic Randomization System on Federally

Disability Rights Connecticut (DRCT) Team

Dear Brain Injury Alliance of Connecticut ( BIAC )

Dear Governor Ned Lamont, Advocacy Request for Brain Injury Survivors

Alleged Discrimination at Connecticut Community Care | Calls for Internal Investigation

The Importance of Informed Choice in Achieving Free Choice in Healthcare.

Informed Choice and Its Implications for Connecticut's ABI Waiver and MFP Programs

Steps for Consumers to Officially Change Care Managers in MFP and ABI Waiver Programs.

Enhancing Ethical Systems / Advocating for Consumer Rights and "Request to change Care Manager Form

Are They Leaving People with Slower Recovery Behind? MFP and ABI Waiver Programs

Freedom of Information Act Request - Connecticut ABI 1549P Consultation Services Funding.

[vaspider]

How are you a lesbian if you go by “he?” Lesbians are exclusively women

Assuming you are asking this in good faith - which doesn't make it appropriate, but we'll get to that in a minute:

1. No, lesbians are not exclusively women, and this has never been the case. A great deal of lesbian writing going back decades upon decades posits lesbian as a separate gender - certainly we are not nor have ever been seen by society at large as "proper and correct women."

1a. My gender is butch lesbian. The end.

2. Pronouns aren't gender. Also, see above.

2a. He/Him, They/Them and neopronouns as pronouns for butch lesbians (who consider themselves women or any other gender) has at least a hundred years of history behind it, as does butch lesbians referring to themselves as Husband or Daddy.

2b. Have you read Stone Butch Blues? Like, ever? Leslie Feinberg (z''l) was not a woman. Zie made that very clear over decades.

3. And this is the most important, so I need you to listen very very closely:

ACAB INCLUDES POLICING OTHER PEOPLE'S IDENTITIES.

I hope that clears things up for you, as other people's identities are not matters for debate or for you to police. I am setting a firm end to this conversation; I will not engage further with you on it. If you would like to request more information from someone on gender theory and lesbianism to clear up your very clearly lacking education, including me, ask about the theory and don't involve the other person's identity.

Once you've read Stone Butch Blues - which is free online by the terms of the author's last wishes - if you'd like to return and discuss the long history of gender variance and gender freedom within the lesbian community, you may do so. But - and I'm totally serious - I'm not talking with you about this again until you've read at least that one totally free book and killed the cop in your head that makes you think you can come into someone's inbox and ... do this.

Would you walk up to someone on the street and say this? If so, who raised you? If not, why do you think it's okay to do to someone online?

[howcouldmuffin]

First Choice IV

[ Chapter 4 : My Fate, My Choice ]

Born a princess, freedom eluded you, and choices were never yours to make. Yet now, your destiny rests in your own hands.

WARNING : NSFW, Targaryen incest, Non-canon, SMUT, Sex Content

AN : I feel that my descriptive skills aren’t at their best right now, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to convey. Enjoy the read. Love.

CONTENTS : Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

You find that the daily life at Dragonstone bears a curious resemblance to your experiences in King’s Landing. You rise with the dawn, don your attire, and attend to the myriad duties within the castle walls. Though not as frenzied as the capital, the routine here is one you manage with ease, and its simplicity brings a certain satisfaction to your days.

On some occasions, Jace will take you upon Vermax, and together you traverse the boundless sky. The thrill of observing the world below from such heights, with the crisp air caressing your skin, offers a sense of freedom that the gilded cage crafted by your mother never could.

The sweeping expanse of water below is breathtakingly beautiful. As you gaze down from Jacearys’s back, held closely by Jace, you ponder whether the life of privilege behind the walls of the Red Keep, with its attendant duties of marriage and children, is truly what you desire.

“Is there anything special you would like to eat today?” Jacaerys’s voice brings you back to reality. “I shall instruct the servants to prepare it.”

“No, thank you.” you reply. “Let them busy themselves on another day.”

“Our wedding shall be the grandest affair in all the Seven Kingdoms, and every soul will be in attendance.” Jace declares as he guides you back to the castle. The mighty dragon, capable of bearing two, carries you swiftly through the air.

Soon, you find yourself seated before your vanity, the maid combing your hair. Her head bowed, she reminds you of a time when you, too, had been a young girl at a celebration with your family—something your mother once remarked upon, noting the beauty you possessed but struggled to wield.

“Lift your head, please.” you instruct the maid.

“Yes, Your Highness.” she replies, hesitating briefly before complying. Her youthful face is charming, and you offer her a reassuring smile, striving to ease her discomfort.

“I believe I have encountered you before.” you say. “The little girl in the red skirt.” You recall selecting her as a maid and her brother as a soldier for the castle. They had lost their mother to either disease or cruelty; you are uncertain.

“Do you remember, Your Highness?” Her face shows astonishment and disbelief, with tears beginning to form.

“Do not cry, I have no intention of reprimanding you.” you say, turning to face her. “The girl who clung to my skirt, her face stained with tears because her brother was departing.”

The tears flow freely now, and the maid’s hands tremble as she drops the comb. She remains as tearful as she was years ago. Rising from your seat, you gently wipe her tears away with a cloth.

“Now, tell me, how did you come to be here, Zia”

Regaining her composure, she recounts that after you had her brother join the castle guard, his skill and cleverness won him favor among the nobles, which improved their fortunes. When it became known that the princess’s personal maid was still needed, they hastened to request the position from Vidah, who granted their plea.

“Vidah should have informed me.” you muse. “Well, I shall rely on you. I can be quite particular.” You retrieve the comb she dropped and hand it back to her, resuming your seat at the vanity to continue her grooming.

“I am greatly honored to serve you, Your Highness.” she says, her hands working carefully through your hair. “Without your intervention, my brother and I might have been doomed to a life of servitude. My brother pledged that, given the chance, he would dedicate himself to the Queen. Whatever you require, we will do anything for you, Your Highness.”

You smile at the steadfast loyalty she and her brother offer. Ruling through fear may eventually lead to a more formidable ruler; maintaining loyalty is far more advantageous. You pause, reflecting on this thought, as the maid awaits your response.

“Is something troubling you, Your Highness?”

“You said that if I needed anything, you would fulfill it, did you not?” You turn to her. “Anything at all?”

“Even our lives, if it comes to that.” she replies earnestly.

The sound of the bedroom door closing reverberated through the stillness of the chamber as you sat engrossed in a book at the antique wooden desk. Your attention was absorbed by the delicate prose on the pages, and you barely noticed the figure entering the room. The atmosphere was thick with a sense of nostalgia and intimacy.

A soft, lingering kiss brushed against the nape of your neck, and a warm embrace enveloped you from behind. You felt the familiar presence of Jacearys, whose arms had become your sanctuary.

“What treasure are you lost in this evening, my love?” His voice was a gentle murmur as he settled into the chair beside you, his proximity radiating a comforting warmth.

“Just a novel of mundane adventures.” you replied, closing the book with a slight sigh and lifting your gaze to meet his. “Do you require anything of me?”

“I merely wished to see my betrothed.” he said with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit room. “May I?”

“Always.” you responded, placing the book aside and rising to draw the heavy velvet curtains, which filtered the moonlight into a soft, diffused glow. The room, bathed in a silvery luminescence, was now perfect for intimate conversation.

As you turned back, Jacearys stood so close that his presence seemed to envelop you entirely. His eyes, deep and mesmerizing, held an allure that made your heart quicken. His nose, sharp and regal, and his lips, full and inviting, formed a visage that seemed straight out of a bygone era.

At last, your lips met in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. Jacearys’s touch was gentle, his kiss an exploration that was neither hurried nor hesitant. The sweetness of his lips was intoxicating, a flavor so enchanting it felt as if you could easily become lost in it. The kiss deepened as you both savored the precious moments, exchanging affection with a fervor that seemed to transcend time.

“We should not indulge further.” you whispered, your breath mingling with his. “It would be scandalous if the maid were to discover us in such a state.”

“We are betrothed, and thus bound by no such constraints.” he replied, his voice carrying an undertone of playful defiance. “Yet, I shall wait with patient anticipation for the day when you are ready, ready to share your life with me.”

His words filled you with a profound joy, a flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks. With a soft smile, you leaned forward to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek. He paused, a glint of mischief in his eyes, before returning your smile with one of his own, both tender and teasing. The moment was so perfect that you found yourself reluctant to imagine anything beyond it.

“You should retire for the night, my princess.” he suggested with a loving tone.

“And you should take your rest as well, my prince.” you replied, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

“May I request the honor of sharing your bed?” Jacearys asked, his gaze earnest. “I long to hold you until the first light of dawn.” You considered his request for a moment, your thoughts drifting between anticipation and propriety.

“Yes.” you finally agreed, your voice soft and inviting. “But only for the purpose of cuddling.”

“By your command, my princess.” he responded with a grin that spoke of contentment. He lifted you effortlessly, his touch gentle as he placed you upon the grand, canopied bed. The quilt, rich and heavy with its intricate patterns, was drawn over you both as he settled in beside you.

Under the cover of the thick, warm blanket, you felt his embrace close around you. The world outside seemed to fade away as you nestled against him, the weight of his arms a reassuring presence. The room was filled with a serene tranquility as you both surrendered to the comfort of each other’s closeness, drifting into a restful slumber as if the night itself was a protective shroud, keeping you safe from all that lay beyond.

You find yourself in the vast and echoing kitchen of Dragonstone, a grand but unfamiliar space adorned with intricate tapestries and polished copperware. Despite the opulent surroundings, there is an intangible quality about the room, a subtle hint of its true owner that resonates with you. Having taken it upon yourself to prepare tonight’s meal for both the prince and yourself, you’ve decided to forego the usual bustle of the servants, wishing for an evening that is both intimate and personal.

Your skills in the culinary arts were honed under the meticulous guidance of Oliver, the head chef, who once admonished you with a half-hearted smile, "As a princess, you need not trouble yourself with such matters." Yet, your resolve was unwavering. You yearned to impress your mother with your cooking prowess, despite Oliver’s grumbling about how your insistence often interfered with the proper functioning of the kitchen.

As you meticulously arrange the ingredients and set about your task, the grand kitchen’s silence is broken by the entrance of Jacaerys. He strides in with a casual grace, his presence commanding attention. Leaning against the stone countertop, he casts a curious gaze over the assortment of fresh produce and exotic spices laid before you.

“I hear you are in the midst of culinary creations.” he says, his voice a blend of amusement and intrigue. “What feast do you plan to conjure for me this evening, my love?”

“Perhaps a succulent roast accompanied by a fine vintage of wine.” you reply, glancing up with a playful smile. The sight of his own smile, a beacon of warmth and affection, lights up the room and chases away the shadows of your apprehension. As you begin the labor of love that is meal preparation, Jacaerys offers his assistance, his eagerness evident in his frequent inquiries about how he might lend a hand. You allow him to partake in simpler tasks, finding his presence both a comforting and delightful addition to your culinary efforts.

The dining table is set with understated elegance, a reflection of your desire for simplicity rather than grandeur. Soft candlelight dances across the polished surface, casting a warm and inviting glow that enhances the romantic atmosphere. As you both settle into your seats, the conversation flows effortlessly, delving into reminiscences of days gone by, misunderstandings that once marred your relationship, and the myriad events that have shaped your journey together.

“I once believed you harbored ill feelings toward me, much like your brother.” Jacaerys muses, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “You avoided meeting my gaze, and I wondered if there was something I had done to offend.”

“That was not the case.” you respond with a chuckle. “Aemond was astute enough to perceive my secret admiration. I avoided his barbed comments by keeping my distance from you. Yet, despite my attempts at discretion, I could not help but watch you from afar.”

“It’s curious.” he says, his eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of vulnerability, “that while you were discreetly observing me, I was also watching you. I admired how you appeared to light up in Aemond’s presence, how you seemed to find joy in the simplest of moments.”

“There is an odd kinship between us.” you reflect, a hint of melancholy in your voice. “We share the burden of feeling misunderstood, of fighting for a freedom that often seems just out of reach. In our pursuit of it, we have learned to grasp at every opportunity, no matter how fleeting.”

He sets his spoon down with deliberate care, his gaze never leaving yours. With a gesture both tender and resolute, he reaches out, clasping your hand in his. The sincerity in his eyes surpasses the most extravagant words, his commitment to you clear in his every expression. “Tonight, as my wife, your freedom shall be secure. No force shall ever take it from you again.”

You place your own spoon aside and return his gesture, your fingers intertwining with his. The gentle caress of your thumb against his hand speaks volumes, your heart swelling with gratitude. Your smile, genuine and heartfelt, conveys the depth of your emotions—an affirmation of the life you are beginning together.

“Thank you, my prince.” you say softly, your voice imbued with heartfelt sincerity. “Your promise is a gift I have longed for, and it is more precious to me than any grand feast.”

You and Jacaerys are ensconced in the warmth of a lavish bath, the soft steam enveloping you both in a sensual embrace. The two of you are bare, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the way you lean back against his broad chest. Your hair is neatly pinned up, leaving your shoulders exposed to the gentle caress of his large hands as they trace soothing circles along your skin. His lips graze the back of your neck, your shoulders, and your cheeks, creating a cascade of tender kisses that leave you shivering with delight.

“I am so happy to be living this life with you, my prince.” you whisper, your voice filled with genuine affection.

“I am happy too.” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “And we shall be happy together forever.”

“Though it may sound selfish, I can’t bear the thought of returning to King’s Landing.” you confess. “I want to stay here with you, where it’s just us.”

“My princess is becoming a bit spoiled.” he teases with a chuckle. “First, we must be wed, and only then can we truly live the free life we desire.”

You don’t quite agree with the practicalities of his statement. Shifting in the water, you turn to face him, your eyes locking with his. You lean in slowly, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. The connection is magnetic, the way your bodies seem drawn together is palpable. But this time, it is he who pulls away first.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, his voice laden with a mix of concern and desire.

You nod firmly, your gaze unwavering. “I am sure.”

Without another word, Jacaerys closes the distance between you with a sudden, impassioned kiss. This time, the intensity of the moment is heightened, a fervor that feels almost like riding a dragon in its thrill. He deepens the kiss, then begins to explore the contours of your neck with his lips. The delicate blush of his kisses leaves a trail of warmth across your skin, each touch a testament to the profound connection between you.

As the bath's gentle warmth continues to surround you, you lose yourself in the sensation of his touch, your bodies intertwined in a dance of love and longing, creating a symphony of intimacy that feels both timeless and entirely your own.

In the steamy, dimly lit bathroom, the mood between you and Jacaerys is electric with anticipation. The air is thick with the intimate sounds of your breathing, the gentle splash of water, and the soft, muted noises of your kisses.

You feel the growing stiffness beneath you and instinctively begin to move your hips, gently rocking back and forth to create a slow, deliberate contact. The rhythm is intimate and sensual, each subtle motion amplifying the connection between you. The sounds of your kisses and the soft splashes of the water become louder, blending into a symphony of intimacy.

Jacaerys's mouth moves restlessly, expressing a deep-seated desire. He trails kisses along your body, his lips brushing and exploring every curve with fervent attention. His touch is tender but insistent, each caress a testament to the passion and longing that you both share in this secluded haven.

“Jace, I’m ready.”

"Be patient, my love." he responds, his tone tender yet commanding. He begins to use his fingers, sliding them slowly into you, which makes you lose your balance slightly. He lowers his head to your neck, his warm breath mixing with your soft whimpers and gasps, sending shivers across his skin.

His fingers move rhythmically in and out, his thumb grazing your clitoris, heightening your pleasure. The sensation is almost overwhelming, and you can feel his nails grazing your body, leaving a red mark as they press against him. Your hands reach up to his hair, tangling in the strands, pulling him closer, your grip gentle but insistent.

The intense sensation of his added finger and the deliberate strokes circling around

your clitoris nearly elicited a cry of pleasure. His tongue danced provocatively over the erect nipple on your chest, biting it gently. The sharp sting of his teeth was a delightful pain when it came from Jacaerys, adding an edge of pleasure to your experience.

"Now you're truly ready, my love." he murmured, withdrawing his fingers.

"Position yourself on me."

Obeying his command, you adjust yourself carefully, the rigid pressure of his desire urging you onward. You slowly lower yourself onto his erect shaft, the feeling of him filling you entirely is a blend of anticipation and satisfaction.

"Jace-" you moan softly, the bliss evident in your voice as you feel him fully enveloped inside you. He holds your hips with a firm, guiding grip, gently urging you to take all of him.

You manage to settle fully onto him, feeling the fullness of his size stretching you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, as if your body is being stretched to its limits.

Your inner walls tighten around him, desperately trying to adjust to his considerable girth. His hands gently cradle your face, his fingers tenderly brushing against your cheeks, his touch soothing as he removes the cloth binding your hair and tucks it behind your ears.

"If you're ready." he whispers near your ear, his breath warm and intimate, "you can begin to move."

You respond with a kiss, the moment filled with shared passion. As you start to move your hips up and down slowly, you feel the connection between you deepen. The rhythm you find is a blend of your efforts and his, each movement bringing a new wave of sensation. His hands leave your face, finding their place on your hips, guiding and controlling the pace with a firm yet gentle touch.

The initial discomfort of your first experience begins to transform into a pleasurable tingle, each stroke of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision as you glide up and down. The blend of pain and pleasure weaves together, heightening the joy and intensity of your shared moment.

The sounds of water gently sloshing in the bath, mingled with the soft echoes of your shared intimacy, create a symphony of passion in the dimly lit room. Outside, the maid might be oblivious to the intensity of the moment unfolding within, her routine entirely detached from the fervor within these walls.

But the distraction of external concerns is fleeting, as Jacarys draws your full attention back to him. Your hips move with an unpredictable rhythm, driven by the bliss of your union. The sensation of making love with him overwhelms you with a deep sense of fulfillment and joy.

"I feel so good, it's as if I'm close." he murmurs, his voice laden with satisfaction.

"Me too." you respond, your breath catching with the intensity of your feelings.

Your heart races, the tension building as your body tightens around him. The pleasure you're experiencing is intoxicating, your mind drifting away as the only focus becomes the insatiable need for him. In this moment, nothing else exists but the profound connection between you, a yearning that consumes every thought and sensation.

At last, the culmination of your shared passion arrives, and you both reach the peak of ecstasy simultaneously. The intensity of the moment sends waves of pleasure through you, leaving you utterly spent. As you collapse against him, your body feels languid and weak, enveloped in a profound sense of euphoria and relief. You feel his warmth and the intimate sensation of his release mingling within you, a tangible reminder of your union.

He cradles you gently, his embrace tender and reassuring amidst the afterglow. His voice, now softened by satisfaction, carries a hint of playful affection.

"It's time for bed, my wife." he murmurs, his tone a promise of quiet moments yet to come.

The warmth of his body and the comforting cadence of his voice invite you to relax into the serene closeness of your shared space, marking the end of a night filled with intense connection and unspoken promises for the future.

You find him resting in your arms, his slumber deep and tranquil, his breath a gentle rhythm against the night. The moon’s pale light spills through the draped windows, casting soft patterns upon his serene countenance. He will remain in this restful state for many hours, long enough for you to embark upon the vessel bound for Driftmark. Far from this place, far from him.

Throughout your time together, the prince has bared his soul to you with a candor that once warmed your heart. Yet, the solitude afforded by your present circumstances has bestowed upon you a rare clarity. In this quiet, you have come to discern your own desires, your own truth. Despite the love you hold for Jacaerys, you have realized that a life of queenship is not the destiny you seek. It is a mantle you never wished to don, regardless of the depth of your affection.

A gentle rap upon the door serves as the herald of your departure. With swift and measured motions, you ready yourself, your attire meticulously chosen for the journey ahead. Zia’s careful preparations have made your flight possible. You are poised to leave behind all that you know, to seek the freedom you have longed for.

You approach your husband one final time, a pang of sorrow in your heart. Bending low, you place a tender kiss upon his brow, a silent adieu to the man you once envisioned sharing your days with. His unawareness of your departure, induced by the powerful sleeping draught you secured, adds a poignant note to your resolve.

“You shall be the only husband I ever claim.” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion as you brush away the tears that have stained your cheeks. The gravity of your choice is profound, yet it is a path you must follow for your own peace and liberation.

Zia leads you through the grand corridors to the quay where a small, waiting boat is moored. Her brother stands ready, his manner respectful as Zia whispers final instructions. The air is thick with anticipation.

“Let us not tarry.” you urge, urgency in your tone. “Should we delay further, we risk discovery.”

“Thomas, attend to the princess’s safety with the utmost vigilance.” Zia commands her brother, who acknowledges with a nod.

“I shall fulfill my duty with the greatest care, Your Highness.” Thomas assures, his voice steadfast.

You board the modest vessel with a sense of purpose, accompanied by a handful of soldiers who, though unaware of your true identity, are tasked with ensuring a smooth escape. Their presence, albeit limited in number, should suffice to deter any potential hindrance.

As the boat sets forth, gliding silently away from Dragonstone, you cast a final glance at Zia’s retreating figure. The image of Jacaerys, his face a fixture in your memories, lingers in your thoughts. The life you leave behind is one not of your choosing but of circumstance. Yet, as you embrace the path of your own making, a sense of liberation accompanies the uncertainty.

In a life where you were often the second choice, never the foremost, you now make a decision wholly for yourself. The journey ahead is both exhilarating and fraught with apprehension, but it is yours to command. As the boat progresses toward Driftmark, you are filled with both trepidation and hope. For the first time, you are not merely following a course dictated by others but charting a path of your own.

Tomorrow, you will embark on a new chapter, one where you are the mistress of your own fate. The voyage has only just begun, but for the first time, you are in command of your destiny, casting aside the shadows of the past for the promise of a future of your own design.

As the past is immutable and beyond our reach to alter, one must inevitably decide what is truly desired. In the end, you have arrived at your own resolution. — [ END ]

tag list : @r3va-dwme @ladyofvelaryon @mckennah123 @ericasabe @yohanseyebrowmole @mah1644 @miksde @staarflowerr @tempo-rary-fix @melsunshine @chlmtfilms

[serpentandlily]

The Crow's Poet - Azriel x Reader

The Crow’s Poet - Azriel x Reader

Summary: All of Azriel's attempts to get his mates attention are ignored and he realizes he was going to have to…resort to poetry, something he thought he’d never have to do.

Warnings: none 

a/n: based on this request!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“He’s hiding something,” you muttered.

The masks he wears slips when the doors close.

“He wears masks? How odd.”

You chewed on your thumb, contemplating why that would be important information. 

He cries himself to sleep after he leaves the witch’s room.   

“But he was a monster before we were even trapped down here,” you whispered, thinking about your High Lord and the times he had deigned to visit Hewn City. 

He is a master of secrets. 

“If you say so,” you scoffed under your breath. Apparently a master of wearing masks. Maybe it was his own way of mocking Tamlin. 

“Y/n?” Yara, one of the other servants, called out as she opened the kitchen doors. “Who are you talking to?”

The second the door had swung open your two shadow crows had disappeared, leaving you alone in the corridor. Your cheeks turned red and you stood, rubbing the back of your neck.

“U-uh,” you stuttered. “Myself?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing you by the sleeve and yanking you back inside the kitchen. “Do you have to be such a weirdo all the time?”

Embarrassment crawled through you at her words. But it wasn’t the first time you had been called weird, or strange, or off-putting. You were a freak in the eyes of many. 

Your entire life had been spent in a tiny room in your father’s home in Hewn City, shackled to the wall. Because you had been sheltered during your childhood, you had never developed any social skills like the other daughters of Lords.  

You didn’t grow up alongside your peers. The only thing you had in that room with you were the shadows. Shadows that began to take the form of crows.

At some point, they had started talking to you. And you had started talking back. But you were certain you had gone crazy—that you had lost your mind. So you kept it a secret to this day. 

Your father hardly let you out anyways, claiming that he needed to keep you pure for when he would offer you up to some Lord for marriage once you were of age. But that day never came because Amarantha had shown up and trapped you all under this mountain.

You were only sixteen when it happened but almost forty years had passed since then. So you had been a prisoner your whole life, essentially. At least down here you had some freedoms to roam about. 

Later that night, you found yourself growing more curious about your High Lord after what your shadows had told you. So you mustered up a cocoon of them and used them to slip through walls and doors until you found yourself in the corner of the High Lord’s chambers.

You hid in the shadows, waiting for his return. Mainly out of pure curiosity and boredom. There was only so many times you could play chess against your crows before you lost all interest in it.

The door swung open and the High Lord stalked in, muttering to himself as he did. He slammed the door shut behind him, making you jump a bit in the shadows. You watched as he undid his coat, tossing it onto the bed. His fingers found the buttons of his shirt and your face turned red.

You were ready to disappear in the shadows again, not wanting to watch him undress, when he paused suddenly and sniffed the air. You watched curiously as he twisted in place, examining each corner of his room. 

But he couldn’t see you. Not while you were the shadows, right?

Wrong.

His hand was around your throat before you could blink and he yanked you right out of the shadows. You choked in surprise, your eyes widening to full circles. He snarled at you, darkness beginning to drip off every inch of him. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Rhysand growled. “And what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

He loosened his grip on your throat enough for you to answer.

"N-No one. I'm no one," you squeaked out, grasping at his wrist with your hands.

Rhysand examined the shadows around you that began to form into the familiar crows. He raised an eyebrow. "A shadowsinger? But I thought...Interesting." 

Shadowsinger? You had never heard of the term before. 

"A shadow what?" you exclaimed. "I don't sing!"

Rhysand ignored your outburst, glaring at you. "Who sent you here to spy on me? Who are you working for?"

"No one," you gasped. "I'm not working f-for anyone. The shadows told me y-you, um, liked to wear masks and I thought that was a bit odd so I wanted to see for myself."

Rhysand looked at you like you had suddenly grown three heads. But his hand loosened a bit more so you kept talking, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. "Speaking of, I-I, uh, don't see any masks in here. Where do y-you keep them?" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The masks?" you stammered. "Like I said...the shadows said you wear them and everything--"

"I don't—" Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He finally let you go and you slid down the wall, panting for air. 'What court are you from?" 

"Yours," you answered, before your eyes widened again. "Oh Gods, am I supposed to bow to you? How does this work? I've never—" 

"Stop. Just...stop," Rhys murmured. His face was stuck in thought. He stroked his jaw, staring down at you. "You're from the Court of Nightmares?"

You nodded in answer. 

"Another shadowsinger in my court and I was unaware. Why haven't I learned of you until now?"

"I don't sing!" you squabled. "No one knows about my shadows...except you now, I guess." 

A grin bloomed on Rhysand's face, one full of deadly intent as he studied your smaller form on the floor at his feet. "No one else knows about your shadows? Not even your family?”

You shook your head, staring up at him with wide eyes. You watched his eyes glaze over in deep thought before he chuckled to himself. That did truly alarm you and you rose cautiously.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends, little shadow. Very good friends."

And that was how you started working for Rhysand. The next ten years were spent with the High Lord, doing whatever he requested of you, which was usually spying on those under the mountain. The two of you developed an unlikely friendship with each other.

When Feyre came along and finally released you all, Rhys brought you home with him, offering you an official job in his court. Not wanting to return to your father, you were more than happy to accept. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Azriel had been relieved when his brother had finally returned to them after forty-nine years apart. Relieved and then intrigued as he spotted the small figure peeking out from behind Rhysand with her big doe eyes. Rhysand had brought a little pet home with him, apparently. A little shadow as he affectionately called her. 

He was taken aback by her once she had finally stepped out from behind Rhys. She was the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He hardly noticed the crow perched on her shoulder, so taken by her beauty. 

His shadows had danced along his shoulders at the sight of her and he didn’t quite know what to make of their behavior until Rhys finally introduced you to the family.

Another shadowsinger.

Someone just like him.

He couldn’t lie. A million emotions had rushed through him at that moment but the most prominent one was a sort of instant affinity towards you. His own shadows had swirled around your crows, like even they found comfort in knowing there was someone else in the world that was like them—like him. 

Later that night, as he watched you ascend up the stairs to your new room, you glanced over your shoulder at everyone one last time. Your eyes met his and the air was knocked out of his lungs like someone had landed a heavy blow to his sternum. 

The one thing he had been dreaming of, hoping for, came to life. The mating bond snapped into place, a long golden string tying you to him. But you hadn’t faltered a step, merely turned around and retired to your room. 

The bond hadn’t snapped for you, but that wasn’t alarming. It usually took a while for the female to feel it. In his panic, Azriel had dropped his mental shields and practically screamed his thoughts to Rhys about what had just happened.

Rhys was already planning on having Azriel give you lessons on your magic. It only made sense. He was over five hundred years old with more knowledge about his shadows than you at the young age of sixty-five. So he began his plans to push the two of you together.

For Azriel, it was like hitting two birds with one stone. He would train you on how to use your shadows more effectively and in turn, would also be spending time around you. Which would lead you to realizing the bond between you and him and hopefully, hopefully, you would be just as overjoyed about it as he was.

Azriel wasn’t conceited by any means, especially considering the nasty state of his hands, but he had gotten quite used to females and males falling at his feet for his attention. 

You, however, seemed entirely unmoved by his appearance. Every subtle hint he tried to drop was ignored or just not noticed by you. You didn’t notice him when he sat next to you at dinner, didn’t ogle him when he took off his shirt during training, didn’t admire his wings when he sunned them while you were outside in the gardens. 

Everything he did to try to capture your attention failed.

You were making him feel flustered—he was not used to having to put so much effort into chasing after others. Normally he was the one being chased. 

Leave it to the Mother to gift him with a mate who was so utterly unaffected by his presence. On one hand, he enjoyed it. You never seemed afraid of him, never looked at his hands with disgust or pity. But on the other hand, you never seemed to notice him the way he wanted you to. 

The war came and went, leaving him to realize he was going to have to change tactics with you. He was going to have to court you. He was going to have to…resort to poetry—something he never thought he’d have to do.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were reading a book in the River House’s main sitting room, waiting for dinner to start. It was another family dinner night and everyone who didn’t currently live at the River House would likely be coming sometime soon.

So when the door opened and closed, you didn’t bat an eye. Didn’t even turn around as you heard footsteps coming down the foyer to where you sat. Not until someone cleared their throat behind you.

You twisted around on the settee to see Azriel standing in the archway with a bundle of flowers in his hand. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he needed. 

“Good evening, Y/n,” he said, his deep voice filling the space between you two. 

A bit of anxiety began to climb up your throat, a common feeling whenever someone approached you. You still were not used to socializing with others, still hadn’t quite gotten used to even having people other than Rhysand want to talk to you. 

“Hi,” you squeaked, closing your book shut a bit too hard. You winced at the noise.

He strided over to you, his wings tucked tight behind him like he was nervous. Even his shadows seemed to buzz around the air more frantically than normal. 

“I brought these for you,” he said, holding out the flowers to you. 

You blinked, looking between him and the flowers in confusion. What did he expect you to do with those? 

You hesitantly reached out and took them from him, smiling awkwardly. The flowers were beautiful, the petals a soft silver, almost glowing like the moon. 

“Oh, um, thank you?” You choked out the words, rising from the settee. You tucked your book against your chest like it would shield you from him.

He frowned a bit. “Do you…not like them?”

“N-no!” You stuttered. “No, I mean y-yes! Um, thank you. Again.”

“You're welcome,” he said with a tiny nod. Azriel’s lips twitched upwards, like you had just said something funny.

“I'm gonna go, um, do something with these.”

You brushed past Azriel before he could respond and scurried from the room, your heart pounding in your chest. The others still made you nervous but not quite like Azriel did. It was his presence alone that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“What the heck does he want me to do with these?” You hissed to your shadow crow who landed on your shoulder. 

Perhaps he wants you to plant them in the garden with the other flowers.

You smacked your head with your book. “Oh my gods, duh! Why didn’t I think of that?”

You still had thirty minutes until dinner so you made your way outside to the gardens. You peered around, looking for an empty spot of dirt, which was hard because of all the work Elain had done out here.

You finally spotted one and set your book down on the metal wire table outside. When the weather was nice enough, sometimes Feyre and Rhysand would host dinners out here, at this table.

You scuttled over to the edge of the stone path and knelt on the ground. You began digging a small hole, unsure of how deep you were supposed to go.

You were so concentrated on your efforts that you failed to notice the people who began to come out from the back door. 

You placed the stems of the flower in the hole, pushing some dirt around so they stood up straight.

“Y/n? What on earth are you doing?” Feyre exclaimed from behind you, causing you to jump in fright.

You looked over your shoulder to see nearly the entirety of the Inner Circle, all taking seats at the table behind you. 

You stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your skirt.

“Azriel wanted some flowers planted,” you shrugged, looking towards the male who was now staring at you with total bewilderment on his normally unreadable face. 

He blinked and then shook his head, his lips twitching into a small smile. 

“What?” Cassian blurted out.

You looked between everyone, not sure why they were so confused. Was it not normal to bring someone flowers to plant?

“He brought me some flowers,” you explained slowly, “to plant out here.”

Rhys reached out and ruffled the hair on the top of your head, fondly, as he held back his laughter. Several of them shared a look, lips pressing together like they were stopping themselves from laughing. All except Cassian who looked at Azriel and then tossed his head back, cackling with amusement. 

It was Mor who took pity on the shadowsinger. 

“That was very nice of you, Azriel,” she said, smoothly, kicking Cassian under the table. 

“Yeah,” Cassian said in between his struggles to stop laughing. “How nice of you, Az.”

Later that night, Nesta had pulled you aside to offer you a book. 

“Read this,” she had said. “I think it’ll help.”

She left the book in your hands with a wink.

You stayed up all night reading the book—blushing red at some of the words written on the pages. But when you got to the part where the male love interest brought the girl flowers, you were mortified. 

Azriel had given you those as a gift…to put in a vase, wherever you pleased. The girl had put them on her nightstand in the book.

But that didn’t make sense to you because Azriel was your friend. He wasn’t interested in you like that. But maybe, friends also brought friends flowers? The whole thing confused you and you went to bed that night utterly perplexed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Come on,” Azriel encouraged, his arms around your neck, pulling your back tight against his front. “I’ve taught you how to get out of this hold.”

You were currently having a one-on-one combat lesson with Azriel, something you two had been doing for awhile. He had suggested it to you after you started training with the Valkyries and you agreed, a part of you wanting to spend more time with him.

You liked Azriel and even though he made you feel a little more uncomfortable than the others, you had taken to him. It wasn’t that the feelings were bad, necessarily. It was just, he made you feel all tingly inside and that often made you flustered around him.

You grabbed a hold of his wrists like he had taught you, pulling them away from your neck as you got one leg behind his. You knew what he wanted you to do from here, but you wanted to surprise him for once. Wanted to catch him off guard. 

Your crows squawked their encouragement from the sidelines. 

“What are they telling you?” Azriel asked, suspiciously. His breath tickled the tip of your pointy ear, making your body shudder. You could’ve sworn his tensed in response.

“Nothing,” you chimed, innocently. 

And then you swept his legs out from under him, ducking out of his hold in his confusion and shoving him in the back so he fell face forward onto the mat. You pounced after him, landing with your knees around his hips, pressing your hands down on his shoulder blades between his wings so he couldn’t get up.

“Got you!”

Azriel’s body vibrated with his chuckle. “Oh, you think so?”

He bucked you off of him, causing you to squeal, as he turned himself over and flipped your positions, leaving you on your back under him. He smirked at you, some of his fluffy dark brown hair dangling down on his forehead, almost touching yours.

“Got you,” he drawled.

"No fair," you pouted, crossing your arms under him. 

Butterflies swarmed your stomach at the feeling of his body against yours. You sent a crow after him, pecking him on the back of the neck, to get him to move, unsure of how long you could handle that feeling without saying something stupid. 

He sat up on his haunches, batting it away with a glower at you. "What's not fair?" 

"You're not fair! You weigh the same as a horse," you grumbled. "I bet you eat rocks for breakfast, you big bat." 

He chuckled, standing up and reaching his gloved hand out to help you up. "I assure you, I do not eat rocks...not for breakfast, at least."

So he did eat rocks? How odd, you thought. But if chefs could make turnips taste good, maybe they could make rocks edible? Maybe like a rock soup or tiny pebble croutons. Did all Illyrians eat rocks?

Once you were up, Azriel began to smooth out your hair. The gesture felt intimate and you blushed a bright pink. He seemed to notice, judging by the slight smile on his face. You frowned at him. 

"Come on, don't be a sore loser," he teased, putting a hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the water station. "Our time today is up, anyways."

"How convenient for you," you murmured under your breath, causing him to laugh again. Your crows flew a lap around the training ring, as if the noise delighted them. It may have delighted you as well. 

His hand moved around your waist until it dipped down to grab your own hand. “Allow me to make it up to you?”

“How?” You glanced up at his towering figure.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Tonight.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you stammered out. 

He smiled, exposing the small dimple on the right side of his cheek that made him look more boyish than normal. Your heart fluttered in your chest. 

He pulled you closer to him and a second later, you were engulfed in shadows, only to reappear on the doorstep to the River House. 

“Good.” He dropped your hand finally and you clutched it to your chest. “I’ll come get you at seven.” 

You nodded, feeling a bit breathless and he dipped his head at you before disappearing into the shadows and leaving you and your pounding heart alone on the doorstep. 

Dinner that night felt like a dream. Azriel had shown up right on time, waiting for you in the foyer of the River House. He took you to a small restaurant on the side of the Sidra and you spent most of the night admiring the way he looked under the faelights.

Had he always been so beautiful? 

You couldn’t remember. 

After dinner, Azriel had taken you on a walk near the river. The moonlight reflected off the dark water, lighting the path. You stumbled upon a cool looking rock and eagerly picked it up, holding it out for him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, taking the rock from your hand.

“Your dessert,” you exclaimed, closing his fingers around the rock before stepping back.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed and you decided you liked the way he looked when he was confused. 

“Earlier, you said you didn't eat rocks for breakfast.” You rubbed at your arm. “So that must mean you eat them at some point of the day. So I thought, maybe you save them for dessert?”

By the time you were done talking, Azriel’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline. You were surprised when a barking laugh exploded out of him, your cheeks turning pink. You hesitantly smiled, not quite sure why he was laughing but loving the sound of it anyways. 

“I take it you, um, don’t eat rocks?” You smiled sheepishly. 

“That was a joke, Y/n,” he laughed, his hazel eyes shimmering gold and green. 

“Y-yeah, of course it was!” You tried to play it off but you couldn’t hide your embarrassment. 

He put the rock in his pocket as his laughter settled down. He placed both hands on the side of your head, kissing your forehead as he mumbled with affection, “What are we going to do with you?”

“Hopefully nothing bad,” you squeaked. 

Azriel shook his head again with a soft laugh, grabbing your hand and guiding you further down the path. “I can’t believe you really thought I ate rocks.”

“I-I didn’t!”

He only gave you a disbelieving look.

It had almost felt like a date…like the ones you read about in the books Nesta leant you. But you quickly drowned out those thoughts. Azriel was your friend. And he had taken you out tonight as a favor.

But by the time he returned you home, there was a new light inside of you. Like a song with a familiar melody that made every nerve inside of you sing to its tune.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Unfortunately, Azriel was sent on a mission not too long after the night you shared together but he had promised to write to you during the three weeks he would be gone. 

You found yourself quite eager to receive them. 

Little shadow, I’ve got something for you. Come to my office when you’re free. 

Rhys’s voice had you setting down the dagger you had been sharpening. You sent a crow to his office, curious to know what he had waiting for you. 

A letter, master.

You jumped up from your desk. It must be a letter from Azriel because you had no idea who else would be writing you. 

Tell your crows to mind their own business. They’ve ruined the surprise.

You laughed to yourself as you let your shadows cocoon you and take you to Rhys’s office. You stepped out of the shadows and Rhys raised an eyebrow at you.

“Eager?” He seemed amused. 

You scowled at him. “You have a letter for me?”

He nodded, picking up an envelope off his desk and holding it out for you to take. You grabbed it, recognizing the handwriting your name was written with on the front immediately. 

“Would you like to tell me why my Spymaster is sending me letters for you with his mission updates, little shadow?” 

Rhys’s violet eyes sparkled with stars as he waited for your reaction. Your face turned pink and you clutched the letter to your chest. “Mind your own business, Rhys,” you mocked him. 

He held up his hands with a grin that told you he already knew exactly why Azriel was sending you letters. You summoned your shadows to take you back to your room.

“Hey! Where are you going? You’re not going to let me read it too?” Rhys called out. 

“No!”

Rhys’s chuckled followed you the whole way back to your room.

You tore open the envelope once you were in privacy, unfolding the letter with shaky hands. 

Dear Y/n,

I find my days feel slower without the joy of your company. Even my shadows seem to miss their pesky crow companions. 

You blushed, feeling your crows swirl around your head as if they too were swooning. Your eyes rapidly read the rest of the letter as he mentioned tiny tidbits about the mission and how it was going, asking you if you were keeping up with your training and teasing you about settling your score with him once he returned.

A smile had bloomed on your face as you finished reading—your heart fluttering in your chest.

I will continue to write to you, little bird, and I can only hope that you write back to me as well. I dream of your voice but I suppose words will have to be enough until I can see you again. 

~ Your shadowsinger 

P.s I came across something in the marketplace today that reminded me of you and I cannot wait to give it to you once I return.

You didn’t think twice before sitting down at your desk and whipping out a piece of parchment and a pen. That smile lingered on your face the rest of the night. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Three weeks passed by slowly. You couldn’t count how many times you had re-read the letters Azriel had been sending you. You had even made a trip to the marketplace to find a nicely carved, wooden box to store them in. 

You were currently sitting on the railing of your balcony, a small shadow crow perched on your shoulder to keep you company. It was nighttime and the streets of Velaris were lit up with music, laughter and pretty faelights. 

You preferred to watch from here, rather than joining in, despite Mor’s attempts to drag you to Rita’s.

The beating of wings stole your attention from the streets and you narrowed your eyes as a flying figure came into view. Cobalt siphons shined under the moonlight and your eyes widened as you realized that figure was Azriel. 

Not only that, but he appeared to be heading straight towards your balcony as if he had known you’d be out here. You quickly hopped off the railing and stepped back a few paces to give him room to land. 

Azriel landed gracefully with a small thud in front of you, tucking his wings in. He looked positively lethal tonight, his elegant cheekbones sharp in the darkness, his hazel eyes glowing gold. Beautiful. He was beautiful. 

“Azriel,” you whispered in a questioning tone. “I didn’t know you were back from your mission.” 

“I just got back,” he said, his voice dark like the night sky. It sent a shiver down your spine. “I wanted to see you first, before I check in with Rhys.”

“O-oh,” you stammered, blushing bright pink. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling exposed in just your nightgown. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. They are too.”

You gesture towards the crow sitting on your shoulder still. Azriel’s shadows swirled in tendrils towards it until it flew off, the shadows trailing behind it, like they were also catching up. 

You smiled at them as they disappeared in the night sky before turning your gaze back to Azriel. His eyes swept up your form, a muscle in his jaw clenching. When his eyes met yours again, there was a small heat in them that caused the butterflies in your stomach to go haywire. 

It was gone a second later and you wondered if you had imagined it. You cleared your throat. “How was the mission?”

“Good. Fine,” Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Though I’m happy to be back.”

You smiled up at him, shyly. Your voice was caught in your throat as you scrambled through your brain for something to say. But it seemed like Azriel didn’t mind your silence. 

He reached a hand out, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear before stroking your cheek with his knuckles. He was staring at you so intensely, as if you were the only thing that mattered to him in the moment. 

“I should go check in with Rhys,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to see your face, to make sure the one I see in my dreams is accurate.” 

Your chest warmed, your blush turned red. 

“I-is it?”

Your voice was a soft whisper in the gentle breeze. 

Azriel shook his head with a small smile. “No. Nothing can ever compare to seeing you in person.” 

His grabbed the hand dangling by your side. 

“Get some rest, little bird,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before disappearing in a swirl of shadows. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your skin tingly from his touch. Even long after you fell asleep. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stared at yourself in the mirror after slipping on the gown Rhysand had left for you. It was time to make a trip to the Court of Nightmares, to Hewn City—your old home. You hated these visits. They brought back terrible memories but like the rest of the court, you sucked it up for Rhys’s sake.

He had given you a silk, cobalt blue gown. It swept to the floor, flowing only slightly away from your body in an elegant sheath silhouette. Thin straps held up the form-fitting bodice with a slight cowl neckline. It was simple, but beautiful. 

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from your reflection. 

“One second,” you called out as you slipped on the heels you had picked out to wear with the dress before making your way to the door. You pulled it open to see Azriel standing there in his full leathers, all seven siphons gleaming in the light.

His eyes widened as they trailed over your form. You suddenly felt self-conscious. When he met your gaze again, he cleared his throat and you held the door open so he could step inside your room, trying to brush off that feeling.

“Did you need something?” You asked. 

His hands were in his pocket as he turned to face you. “I wanted to give you something before we leave for Hewn City. I mentioned it in my first letter.”

You nodded, remembering his written words clearly. Gods know how many times you had trailed your fingertips over that sentence with a stammering heart. 

“Okay,” you squeaked, suddenly feeling nervous. 

He gestured at you to turn around and you were once again facing yourself in the mirror. He stalked towards you like an angel from hell, his wings held out like every proud Illyrian male. 

He pulled a small black box from his pocket and took something out of it. With one hand, he brushed your hair to one shoulder. His fingertips grazed your bare skin, sending a small shiver through your body. 

Cold metal grazed your chest as he hung a necklace around your neck, letting it fall between your breasts as he clasped it from behind. 

Your eyes rounded as you looked at it. It was a beautiful necklace, a blood red heart encased in twisting gold plating. You brushed your fingers against it, admiring it as a piece of art. 

“It looks beautiful on you,” Azriel whispered, his breath brushing against your throat. “Just like I imagined.”

You swallowed, blushing. “It’s beautiful, Azriel. Thank you.”

His scarred fingers ran down your arm softly. “You are beautiful. Absolutely stunning, Y/n. I hope you know that.” 

Your lips parted, ready to say something but Rhys’s voice interrupted. 

Everyone to the foyer. It’s time to go.

You twisted in Azriel’s hold, staring up at him. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes full of warmth. He grasped your hand in his. “Shall we?”

You could only nod, still at a loss for words. 

An hour later, you were resting against a pillar in Hewn City’s throne room, watching Eris twirl around with Nesta. That had been the goal tonight, to entice Eris into proposing a marriage alliance. Even though she was doing this as a favor for your rulers, you couldn’t help but admire the two dancers. Watching them was like watching a real-life fairytale from one of the romance books.

You wished someone would look at you the way Cassian stared at Nesta as she danced, wished someone would have interest in you, desire you. You didn’t use to want those things because none of it would’ve been your choice, but now? Well, you could dream.

Your mind drifted to Azriel and all the little ways he had been treating you lately. Something sparked in your chest at the thought of him. Some of his gestures did seem romantic in nature, but other times, you wondered if he just saw you the way Rhys did…a little shadow, young and inexperienced.

“Would you like to dance?”

You stood up straight, blinking as Azriel appeared in front of you. Heat crawled up your neck as you looked at the shadowsinger, trying to push away all the thoughts you just had about him. Your eyes darted from the dance floor to his pretty hazel eyes.

“Y-you want to dance?” You looked at him almost disbelieving. “With me?” 

“With only you,” he murmured, giving you a small smile. He held out his hand to you and you grappled with your pounding heart as you took it. The last song had just finished, the new strings starting up as he led you to the dance floor. 

He slid a hand around your waist, pulling you close as you settled your free hand on his shoulder. As usual, both of your shadows had departed, as if they were spending time on their own. Movement caught your eye and you looked up to see one of your crows perched on a railing, a small shadow tendril swishing around it.    

“We have an audience,” you whispered to Azriel, nodding your head towards the shadows. 

His lips twitched as he followed your gaze. It had been jarring for him at first, to be so exposed without his shadows every time he was around you. But now it was comforting, a break from the constant darkness around him. 

“Better put on a show,” he teased, twirling you around in his arms. 

You laughed, letting him lead you through the movements, staying on beat with every pluck of a string. You danced in silence, your eyes never straying from his hazel ones. The throne room blurred in your peripheral, making it feel like it was just you and Azriel in this room together. 

“Are you doing okay?” Azriel asked. “I know you don’t like coming here.”

“I’m fine,” you stammered. “It gets easier every time—seeing my family.” 

Azriel’s eyes hardened at the mention of your family. He knew the story of how you got your shadows. A story not much different than his. He hadn’t told you, but before tonight, he had made a little visit to your family’s home and threatened your father into staying away from you tonight. 

“If you want to leave, just say the word,” Azriel said. “I’ll deal with Rhys.” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” 

Azriel nodded his head but his grip on your waist tightened. The pair of you did another circle around the room before he spoke again. “You know, I have you to thank for how fast I was able to complete that mission for Rhys.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“You,” he drawled, “Are a good motivator. I was counting down the seconds until I could return to you.” 

Your cheeks heated, those damn butterflies in your stomach returned. 

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” you squeaked, averting your eyes, shyly. 

Azriel chuckled to himself, endeared by your mannerisms. The song came to a close and he dropped his hand from your waist but didn’t let go of your other one. He pulled it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly. “Thank you for dancing with me, little bird.” 

You smiled back with a dip of the head. “I-I enjoyed it.” 

“Good,” Azriel grinned before his eyes glazed over for a second and he frowned. “Rhys needs me for something. I’ll come find you once I’m done.” 

“Okay,” you whispered. He reluctantly let your hand fall back to your side before pulling away, heading towards the High Lord. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, clutching a hand to your chest as you headed towards the back of the room again. 

You were halfway back to your pillar when you heard someone mention your name. You frozen behind a statue, peering through the gaps to see a group of three females standing together, gossiping. 

“I don’t know what he sees in her,” one of them mumbled. “Probably likes her because she’s a freak like him. Such a shame he’s a lesser fae.”

“I bet the High Lord told him to court her so he could keep both shadowsingers in his court to use,” another one laughed. “She’s so strange. I saw her talking to one of her crows earlier.”

“I think she’s pretty,” the third one whispered, shyly. “Even if she’s a little strange.” 

“A little?” the first one scoffed with a laugh. 

You rushed away, not wanting to hear anymore. You scurried out of the throne room and down the empty corridor, finding a small alcove to hide in. Tears lined your eyes as you thought on their words. You had thought maybe Azriel liked you, had wanted him to. But it was wishful thinking. No one would ever be interested in you that way. They were right. You were too strange, too off-putting. 

You wiped at your tears bitterly. 

“Y/n?” Azriel’s voice came from behind you. “What are you doing out here?” 

Of course, he would show up right now. While you were crying over him. You turned slowly, trying to blink away your tears. “I-I just needed a break from the crowd.” 

Azriel’s face dropped as he noticed the tear tracks on your cheeks. He took a step closer, reaching a hand out to cup your cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did someone do something to you?” 

You shook your head quickly. “No…No, nothing like that. I’m just…overwhelmed.” 

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Azriel pleaded, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. 

“You’ll think I’m stupid,” you whispered. 

Azriel shook his head. “Never. I would never think you’re stupid, Y/n.”

You bit your lip, looking at the floor. Part of you wanted to tell him, to get a direct answer to your questions. But the other part of you was mortified at the thought of letting him know what you heard and how you felt about him. 

“Please,” he murmured again.

You let out a sigh. “I just…overheard some girls talking about me. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Who?” Azriel asked, his voice a touch darker.

You shrugged, looking back up at him. “I don’t know. Just some faeries who know me from here.” 

“What could they have possibly said to upset you?” 

It all came pouring out before you could stop it, the words spilling from your lips so quickly they almost slurred together. “They said I was strange and weird. But that doesn’t bother me. I hear it all the time. But…but they said the High Lord probably ordered you to ‘court’ me so I wouldn’t leave the Night Court. That there was no other reason you’d be interested in me—” 

“Stop,” Azriel cut you off, causing your lips to slam shut. “I don’t need to hear anymore, Y/n, because everything they said is complete bullshit. First off, Rhys would never give an order like that. You know him.”

You nodded along but the pit of your stomach still ached. 

“And I am interested in you. Not your shadows or your place in this court, I’m interested in you,” Azriel said. “I…I thought that might be obvious by now.” 

Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at him with wide eyes. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, at your expression.

“Y-you,” you stammered, “You are?” 

“Yes, Y/n, I am more than just interested in you,” Azriel said. “I am enamored by you. You are the one I seek out each time I enter a room. Every stolen glance, every brush of your fingers, every smile you gift me, is a treasure I hold in my heart. I am completely and utterly taken by you, Y/n. It pains me that you would doubt my affections for even a second.” 

You were speechless. He had taken the breath right from your lungs. Your heart was singing that melody again, the one it had sung that night he had taken you out for dinner. You stared up at him, into his hazel eyes that looked at you with reverence and warmth. His hand still cupped your face, his other pushed a piece of hair behind your ears with a gentle touch. 

“So…all those things you…all the stuff you did—” 

“Yes, Y/n, I have been trying to win your heart,” Azriel interjected for you. “The way you won mine since the moment I laid eyes on you. Not a day goes by where you are not on my mind. I am and have been bewitched by you. You have my heart and soul, little bird, if you’ll have it.” 

The melody playing in your soul struck its final chord, releasing a golden thread that snapped the minute you met Azriel’s eyes again. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding. Mate. Mate. Azriel was your mate. 

“Y-you,” you choked out, eyes rounded. “You’re my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes were hopeful as he nodded. “Yes and you are mine.” 

“You knew…this whole time?” 

He nodded again. “I did but I didn’t want to force you into something. I wanted you to find out on your own, after we had spent time together.” 

You swallowed audibly.

Mate.

Azriel was your mate. 

You weren’t even sure what to say. Your head was buzzing as your thoughts sped through your brain. The longer you stayed silent, the more the expression on Azriel’s face dropped until he looked uncertain. But you couldn’t shake yourself from your stupor.

“Will you have me?” Azriel asked, slowly. You could feel his insecurity down the bond and you knew you had to say something—anything to reassure him. 

“Yes,” you stammered. “Azriel, I… I have never felt this way about someone. I wasn’t sure I would ever. But you… I l-love you.”

You blurted out the last three words, turning bright red as you stumbled over your speech. His eyes widened.

You weren’t sure when you had fallen in love with him. Had it been that night you walked along the Sidra? Or maybe sometime during training? All you knew was what you felt for him, something that didn’t seem to have a name until this very moment. 

You let out a breath as a smile overtook Azriel’s face. He rested his forehead against yours with a deep breath. 

“I love you too, little bird,” he said. “You have my heart, my soul, my devotion until the end of everything.”

“And you have me,” you whispered.

Azriel pulled back to look at you, lifting your chin with a finger. 

“May I kiss you?”

Your heart stuttered.

“Y-yes.”

That was all he needed to hear. Azriel surged forward and kissed you hard with so much heat, so much craving that you stumbled back against the wall. His large hands fisted the silk fabric at your waist, pulling you against him before one hand rested on your hip while the other slid into your hair slowly.

All your thoughts ceased at that moment. All you could feel was Azriel’s hard body pressed against yours, so closely you swore you could feel his own heart beating against yours. And his lips were so warm, so soft against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. Your cheeks were red, your lips swollen, and the mating bond sang it's pretty song in your chest as you gazed up at Azriel.

“We should get back,” he mumbled, though he looked like he was ready to take you right there in the middle of this corridor. “Before anyone notices us gone.”

He held his hand out to you with a smile. You took it, letting him pull you down the corridor, hand in hand, giggling like a schoolgirl the entire way back.  

The crow that had been watching this whole time, swooped away to follow after you two, a small tendril of shadow following close behind. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[dolldefiler]

[This is a mix of an anon request and an idea from @xxweepingwillowxx]

C/W: Rape

Plop. Plop. Plop.

The only way you’d feel the passing of time would come from the neverending leaky faucet. The sound of hell. Every once in a while, you’d hear my footsteps. I’d come either to deliver food or bury my shaft into your traumatised holes. Nothing else.

One day it’d all stop. Fresh air. Sudden light. The sounds of the outside world. Were you finally free?

No.

I’d drag your bound, feeble body up the stairs, cruelly laughing at every bump and turn you’d experience. You’d be ready. Ready to become your kidnapper’s live-in sexdoll, instead of a basement cum dumpster. I’d drag you through dark, unfamiliar halls, relishing in your fear of the unfamiliar. Would you have preferred staying down in that timeless basement?

Past creaking floorboards and musky walls, I’d throw you through the bedroom door, watching you land painfully against the bed frame. I’d shut the door, watching you wince at the sharp squeal of the rusty hinge.

I’d wheel in an old tv and your phone, attached to some device. What day was it? What were these things I’d wheeled in? I’d flick the tv on, and settle myself above you, sliding my cock into one of your dry fuckholes. You’d groan in pain and hatred, as per usual before I punch you and tell you to focus on the show. A live telecast of your grieving family, desperately begging for information. You’d freeze. I’d grind into you faster. How long would it have been since you last saw their faces?

I’d call your name to get your attention, softly at first before slapping you sharply. I’d ask you if you’d want to talk to them. The way you’d nod frantically, like some eager puppy would make me groan as I feel your asshole tighten around me. I'd whisper my name and address into your ears, the identity of your captor, before wishing you good luck.

Before you know it, I’d gag your mouth, your shocked, vulnerable state ridding me of your resistant personality. The phone would ring and reality would set in. You’d struggle furiously, life injected into your broken rapedoll of a body. On the television, you’d watch your mother pick up her phone. Her eyes would widen and she’d scream something unintelligible to your father. The crowd would quieten. She’d pick up.

And hear the pathetic squeals of a broken little fuckdoll. The opportunity of a lifetime, your last chance for freedom… and you’d waste it sobbing into your gag. I slam my cock harder and faster into your unwilling fuckhole, as your mother desperately screams into her phone. The sound of her pleading for you to speak, the image of her tears… fuck, I’m sure it’d break you. I hope it breaks you. Your face would be wet with angry, desperate tears. In that moment, all that would separate you from ever seeing your family again would be a single chunk of plastic.

I’d cum loudly as I end the call. I’d throw your phone aside, tearing the device off. Your mother would call back but she wouldn’t be able to reach your phone. No one would. You’d be lost forever in the confines of your kidnapper’s house.

This would be your first night in my bed. You’d have so many more to look forward to.

[dear-indies]

Anyone who's been paying attention knows where I stand when it comes to the freedom of Palestine. As a roleplay help blog, I've tried to best keep up to date and avoid suggesting z*onists. After many requests I'm now posting the links publicly. The lists have been researched by not only myself but credit goes to the user leepacey for her amazing list which you can find here, and the Instagram users z*onistsinfilm and z*onistsinmusic.

Please note that the lists are ever growing and evolving as new information comes to light and I take suggestions (with proof) for both lists.

celebs who have shown support for isr*el / z*onists 👎

celebs who have shown support for palestine 🇵🇸

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

[sansaorgana]

Hiiiii! If you like either version I'd like to request a Benny fic with a Reader who works at some place he frequesnts bc of getting in trouble 🙄🙃

My first thought would be the hospital/doctors office but police or lawyer related jobs could be another option too

hi, love! thank you so much for the request 🥰 I chose a police station where Reader is not a cop but jut a girl sitting by the desk, kinda like Lucy from Twin Peaks 😉

⚠️ TW ⚠️ Reader is coming back home late at night and she is bothered by some guys

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

You shook your head with a coffee cup in your hand at the sight of a man being walked inside the police station. He was cuffed behind his back as two big policemen were pushing him by his shoulders.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he winked at you as he walked past your desk. “How are you today?”

“Great, Mr. Cross. You?” You teased him as you addressed him officially.

“Not so good,” he chuckled with a shake of his head and the policemen pushed him to walk faster as they escorted him to his cell.

Benjamin Cross. You knew all his personal information by heart now. You knew his ID number more than your own. Working at the police station was never boring and you had your favourites amongst the Chicago criminals but Benny Cross was definitely your favourite. He had that bad boy charm and sexy mystery behind those baby blue eyes. He reminded you of a wild lion with his golden beard and blond hair. He was a biker – a man of the road, a personification of freedom. Well, hardly, to be honest. Because he was spending way too many nights in the cell for a man loving freedom so much.

Another thing you knew by heart was the phone number to the club where his friends worked. It was the phone call he always wanted to make so you dialled it already after putting the coffee cup down.

“Hi,” you said after some man with an unpleasant voice answered. “It’s the police station. Your friend Benny’s here again,” you informed him.

“Thanks,” he only said and hung up on you.

One of the policemen that had been dragging Benny now approached your desk and dropped a few files on it with a sigh.

“Cross, Benjamin,” he told you and you rolled your eyes.

“I know,” you laughed. “What again?”

“Speed limit. Caused a few crushes,” the man explained. “If I see his face once again, I’m gonna turn it to pulp, I swear.”

“No, don’t,” you giggled and he shook his head.

“Women,” he commented and walked away.

You put the papers aside and fixed your skirt before standing up to go to see Benny. You walked past the cells until you spotted him laying on the bed in an empty cell at the end of the corridor. He had used to be locked with other men but he had been starting fights and since then he was given a single cell.

“I called your friends already,” you told him as you leaned on the metal bars and he raised an eyebrow at you with a smug smile.

“Thanks, doll.”

“You must like it here, huh?” You asked, playfully.

“Well, I don’t hate it,” he answered. “As long as you work here,” he added and sat up on the bed to lean back on the wall. “Can you get me a cigarette?”

“I can,” you sighed and walked back to your desk.

It was confusing, really. The way you liked him although you shouldn’t. The way you enjoyed his teasing and his flirting although you knew he probably was like that with half of the city. And if it was any other man, you would tell him to go to hell. But Benny was already coming from there. And he was making you feel intrigued about it.

You grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that you kept in your desk. You took one cigarette out of the pack and went back to his cell. He was waiting for you by the bars and you passed the cigarette and the lighter to him. He lit it and gave you back the lighter as he looked deep into your eyes.

“Thanks, angel face,” he nodded.

“No problem,” you shrugged your arms. “You think they gonna bail you out?”

“Yeah, they always do,” Benny sat on the bed again and leaned back on the wall.

“Okay. I’ll prepare the papers then,” you pointed at your desk with your thumb and walked away.

You worked on them for some time and stared at the clock on the wall. Your shift would be over soon and Benny’s friends weren’t showing up at all. You started to feel bad for him. What if this time they stood him up? It wouldn’t surprise you – after all, they had already spent quite a lot of money on him. And perhaps this time was one too many.

“Hey,” you approached the cell again. He was laying on the bed with his hands under his head as he was staring at the ceiling. He lazily looked up at you. “I’m going home soon. I don’t think your friends are comin’ tonight.”

“They’ll come,” he only said.

“Well, whatever you say. Good night,” you looked down, awkwardly.

You went back to your desk to pick your things up and looked behind you one last time while biting on your lower lip. But what did you expect, really? He was a criminal and you were working at the police station. You shook your thoughts away and left the moment you saw your friend walking in – her shift was just starting.

When you came back to work on the next day, Benny was not in the cell anymore. His friends had bailed him out at night. You were glad that he didn’t have to rot there but it was making you feel a bit sad that he was gone for now. For some reason you missed him already.

He didn’t even like you, did he? Well, he was flirting here and there but he wasn’t very talkative when you were trying to engage in conversations. Or maybe that was a part of his bad boy persona to be a man of a few words. Either way, he was messing with your head and you didn’t like it. It was not like you had a chance with him. And not like he had a chance with you… After all, you were a respectable woman.

God, why were you even thinking of such things? It was not like he was thinking of you the same way. He probably wasn’t thinking of you at all.

On that day you worked until late and it was dark already when you finished. You ran to the bus station but the last bus had already left without you in it. You didn’t live away but you feared taking a walk in the dark. However, you had to.

You fixed your jacket and started to walk down the street, turning around all the time to make sure no one was walking behind you. But after a while you spotted two men walking ahead of you. You wanted to cross the street but they already spotted you.

One of them whistled and you kept your head low, walking past them as they stopped and looked you up and down.

“Hey,” one of them suddenly pointed out. “Isn’t she that bitch working at the police station?”

You swallowed thickly. You recognised that voice. It was one of the men that were being arrested often. Kind of like Benny… Except this guy was not one of your favourites. He was actually a man you feared. He had been often threatening the cops and everyone working at the station to teach them a lesson one day.

You picked up your pace as you tried to walk faster and faster, you nearly ran.

“Hey, wait! You’re not running away!” You heard his voice and the heavy footsteps following you.

You were in such a rush and fear that you didn’t care anymore about anything else – the only thing that mattered was to survive. The ringing in your ears made all the other noise inseparable and you didn’t look around before entering the street to cross it.

And then you spotted a huge motorbike right in front of your face. It stopped inches away from you as you jumped in your place and swallowed thickly. Its reflectors were blinding you at first but after blinking a few times, you spotted it was Benny on his motorbike. He looked terrified, too, with widened eyes and hands clutched onto his motorbike’s handlebar. He had just nearly killed you after all and it was all your fault.

“I… I’m so sorry…” You began to apologise and you looked behind you. The man who had been threatening you and his friend were standing on the pavement and watching the scene.

“They been following you, doll?” Benny asked as he pointed at them with his head.

You nodded, shyly. Benny sighed and parked the bike by the pavement. He stopped the engine and jumped on his feet. You felt safer now with him around.

“Go home,” he looked at you sternly.

“But…” You gasped. It felt bad to just leave him here alone with these guys. Benny was a tough cookie but these two were dangerous as well. And they had the advantage since there were two of them.

“I said, go,” Benny ordered. You nodded and hurried back home, too scared to look back.

You couldn’t sleep at night, tossing and turning. In the morning you called the police station and told them you were sick. You were scared of leaving the house, actually. After last night’s accident… You had no idea what would happen if Benny hadn’t been around. What a coincidence it had been, by the way… And what had actually happened? Had he won the fight? Had there been a fight at all? What if the guys had won, hurt him and now they were waiting for you to show up on the streets?

You waited for everyone from your family to go to work before you walked downstairs and prepared breakfast. You didn’t want them to see you in such a state because they’d start asking questions and you didn’t want to worry anyone.

Around ten, you were already after breakfast and you took a quick shower. You changed into comfortable clothes and sat by the TV, not planning to leave the house at all for the whole day.

When someone knocked upon the door, you were startled. The very first thing that came to your mind was that these two criminals had found you. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, you approached the TV set to turn it off. Trying to avoid passing the windows, you carefully approached the front door and shakily looked through the peephole. You sighed with relief at the sight of Benny Cross leaning on the doorframe. There was a bruise on his face but other than that, he looked fine.

You opened the door and he looked you up and down as if he was checking on you.

“Benny. How do you know where I live?” You asked.

“Why aren’t you at work?” He raised his eyebrows.

“How do you know?”

“‘Cuz I been sitting across the street all night long, making sure they wouldn’t come around,” he explained and pointed at his motorbike parked across the street.

“What?” You widened your eyes.

“I saw your folks leavin’ but not you. You okay?” He asked, worryingly.

“Scared,” you admitted and hugged yourself as the cold from the outside was starting to bother you. Then you realised he had been standing out there all night long. “Come in,” you invited him in.

A criminal that had been in your arrest countless times before. Your mother would kill you if she was there. But she wasn’t.

“Wanna eat something? Drink?” You asked him awkwardly as he was looking around.

“Well…” He started. “A sandwich would be nice. And a cup of coffee.”

“Sure,” you nodded and took him to the kitchen. You sat him by the kitchen table and began to prepare the meal for him. “What happened yesterday?” You asked.

“I taught ‘em a lesson. They shouldn’t bother you anymore. But I wanted to make sure they’d keep their word,” he answered casually and yawned. You smiled to yourself.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“And let them hurt you?” Benny snorted and you pursed your lips.

“It was a miracle you were there. I don’t know what I’d do if you…” your hands started to shake as you dropped the knife you were spreading the butter with. You pressed the hand to your forehead and stood there, trying to catch a breath again. The flashes of the last night came back to you and you fought the tears.

Benny stood up carefully and stood behind you, not knowing what to do to cheer you up without crossing your boundaries.

“Hey, it was no miracle, (Y/N). I’m always there. I mean, whenever I can. I’m always driving around to make sure you make it home safe. That’s how I know where you live. I heard some guys talking one day when I was arrested, they were talking about you in a way that made me realise it’s not safe for you because of your work, so yeah…” He cleared his throat, scared that he accidentally revealed too much.

You lowered your hand and looked at him, surprised.

“You… You do all these things?” You couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” he nodded and hid his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“But… why?”

Benny didn’t know what to answer. He shrugged his arms and watched your face.

“You’re nice to me,” he pointed out.

“Thank you,” you smiled gently and went back to preparing the sandwich. “Do you… Do you want something in return? I owe you,” you told him as he sat down by the table again.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Benny leaned on the wall and watched you serve him breakfast. “I mean, the sandwich and the coffee are enough, thanks.”

You sat in front of him and watched him devour his meal in three big bites. You played nervously with your fingers.

He cared more about you than you had been expecting. It felt nice and surprising and… It was messing with your head even further now.

“Thanks once again. I’ll go home now, need some sleep,” he stood up and you looked up at him with puppy eyes, to which he froze and raised his eyebrows.

“You saved my life,” you whispered.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“To me it’s everything,” you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

Short and awkward silence occurred between you two. Benny looked around as if he was contemplating on something. Eventually, he offered you his hand, which you hesitantly took and felt him pull you up. You stood up and faced him before he cupped your face and joined your lips together in a kiss.

Your eyes widened and at first you didn’t kiss him back out of shock. But after a short while, you closed your eyes and gave in. You placed your hands flat on his chest as you opened your mouth to let his tongue in.

You had always wondered what he would kiss like and it was even better than all your fantasies. It was overwhelming, really. His strength, his smell, his taste, the small groan he let out from the depth of his throat. You moaned in response and Benny’s hands dropped down to your waist and then lower, to your ass as he squeezed it. You giggled without breaking the kiss but he moved away slightly anyway to catch his breath.

“Benny…” You smirked at him and fixed your hair nonchalantly.

“Yeah?” He asked, unsurely, scared of your reaction to the kiss.

“You don’t have to keep getting arrested to meet with me, you know?”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖡𝖤 𝖨𝖭 2 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖲? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hello! I know this is a shorter post, but I wanted to share something. This was requested anonymously, so thank you for the suggestion! ♥

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : JUNE 16TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST. | KO-FI.

PILE ONE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? The Empress [Reversed], The Chariot, Knight of Wands [Reversed].

In two years, you're definitely the one in control. If you're facing any hurdles, especially with dreams left unattended or ideas just lingering without action, that fades away over time. You might still encounter creative blocks and timing issues, but you'll handle them much more effectively, learning self-control and taking decisive action. You'll realize that your accomplishments don't solely define you; they're just an added bonus. You should know to slow down, it will grant you a clearer perspective to seeking security.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Networker — Light : Enhances unity through sharing of information. Engenders social awareness and empathy. Shadow : Conveys information only for person gain. Spreads fear and falsehood.  The Merchant : Self-worth, Trade. 

You could find yourself in a more social setting or perhaps in a higher position in your career, whether it's the same job or a new one. You're confident but not cocky, aware of your self-worth, and others notice this too. In some way, you seem to be a messenger, spreading kindness. This doesn't have to be taken literally; it could relate to anything. Whatever came to mind when you read that might be it.

PILE TWO

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? Ten of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, The Tower.

If you're starting something you've been wanting to begin or have been thinking about it, know now is the right time to do it. The next two years will be intense and different from what you're used to, but you can handle it. All your hard work will definitely pay off. In two years, you'll achieve what you wanted—be it wealth, security, or some kind of success. This will finally become permanent. However, expect significant changes, some of which you may not like at first. Any upheaval or chaos is just a way to build an even stronger foundation. For those considering starting a family, think about your circumstances carefully. Don't rush. This aspect will bloom within the coming years.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Queen — Light : Radiates the regal feminine. Uses her benevolent authority to protect others. Shadow : Becomes arrogant when authority is challenged. Controlling and demanding.  The Adventurer : Responsibility, Expectations.

Again, for those considering starting a family—if not, feel free to skip this part—you'll find yourself strongly in the parental role. This doesn't necessarily mean with a human child; just know you'll feel content. Some of you might be stressing over the mere thought, but rest assured, it'll bring fulfillment. As for the rest of you, you'll develop a stronger sense of responsibility. However, this doesn't mean you can't explore. The next few years are about stabilizing, rebuilding what's been lost, but in two years, you'll regain your 'freedom' once more. You are always the one in control, don't get lost in a little box.

PILE THREE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? King of Swords, Seven of Cups, Four of Wands.

Pile three, you'll find yourself in a place of mental and physical clarity. It's a very calm and peaceful state. You're enjoying life, with a sense of harmony and relaxation. Home feels like a welcoming place. You deserve this, so keep following your instincts. There are many paths and decisions ahead, but there's no wrong choice. You get to decide for yourself. Whatever starts now will lead to peace in the future. While life won't be stress-free, you'll accept the struggles, not rushing to figure everything out immediately.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  The Vengeance : Overcoming Slights, A Choice. 

In two years, I envision you embracing the homebody life, in your own zone. It's all about you and your close circle. You'll find contentment in solitude, focusing on the little things with acceptance—chores, hobbies, and everyday routines. When I think of this scenario, I see someone sitting in a chair, leisurely watching their pet play without a worry in the world. It's a heartwarming scene; some of you might even welcome a new pet into your life. In two years, it's a time for retreat, and if you believe you can get there, you will.