#I am just sharing the knowledge I have been given

[unconventional-lawnchair]

There's not much Barty Crouch Jr content out there. If you don't mind writing about him, can I make a request? After escaping Azkaban, he serves his Lord to the best of his ability, but there is someone from his past that he still can't get out of his mind. A Slytherin and from a family of followers of the Dark Lord. They had a relationship during their youth. After many years, he finds her again. He always had a soft spot for her. But the reader (like Snape, a sort of spy) is secretly thinking against the Dark Lord and stays away from these things as much as possible, but she is definitely in danger. Things are complicated, but the strong attraction and longing between them cannot be ignored...

The Boy I Knew

Barty Crouch Jr. x Black!Fem!Reader

Cw; Y/N, obsessions, one sided love(Barty pining), Barty being unhinged. Reader is morally grey, Remus Lupin onesided love (Rem pining), sexual themes and scenes, mentions of murder}} Please tell me if I missed anything!

AN- this fanfic is now well over what it should have been. I am posting a fraction of the proofread bits as of now, as I realize this is probably not at all what you wanted and if so I am SO sorry. If you want more I have a pouch that just needs to be beta read

Wc-5670

Taglist: @defnotfrey @au-ghosttype

{. 1972 - Barty’s Year 1 .}

Bartemius Crouch Junior couldn't have been older than eleven when he first met {Y/N} Walburga Black.  A cool upperclassman, if only by a year. 

Bartemius, at that ripe age, knew only a handful of things, and two of those was how badly he wanted to be seen and known. He wanted to be seen for who he was, and known for what he would do. That's likely what drew him to you. 

At only twelve, you and your brother had made a name for yourselves, in much different ways. Your brother was popular, for his quick tongue and clever quips, his innate ability to get under anyone's skin and stay there. Those traits could be forgiven, and they always were, for his big heart and intense sense of moral. 

You, however, were known for harboring a few very non Black traits, like your intense empathy and your crazed thirst for knowledge. Even as a Slytherin, your loyalty and curiosity rivaled the students around you tenfold. Your bravery knew no bounds, even with all the wrongs you had been done, you were forgiving and understanding. You were seen by everyone, you were known for everything.

As he got older, he wondered where that forgiveness went. You grew cold.

When he was innocent, when he had done no wrongs, you cradled him in your hands like he was a gift. You looked at him with eyes you shared with everyone, so much care and patience, so much understanding and kindness. So if those eyes were shared with the masses, he struggled, but was determined, to keep them focused on himself at any chance given.

It was obvious to anyone who saw the two interact. Barty wanted to be witnessed by you. The halls filled with the judgeful and teasing murmurs when he found you in the halls.

“There goes {Y/N}’s prodigy.”

“Barty is off to find his guru.”

“That boy will never learn.”

“How annoying.”

Barty had never been ashamed of his declarations for praise. He knew most of the voices were bitter with jealousy. He would be jealous too. You were both so young, and yet even some older students looked to you like you were twice your age, yet every Friday when the tests were returned, you sat in the courtyard and waited for him. Your personal underclassman.

You would meet in the yard and he would brandish his flawless marks, you would praise his abilities in absolute pride. He had never had someone prideful of him before. Everyone knew him to be a mother’s boy, but he would challenge any of those claims. He was a {Y/N}’s boy, he'd tell them, no shame as students snickered and made their fun of him. He was never afraid of how much he liked you. How much he admired and respected you.

He would turn from the RavenClaw table and look to you after his announcements everytime, you would be eating with Lily Evans and the other girls of her group, but your eyes would be on him. You would give him a soft smile that drove him mad. He would return it with his own, the smile he would save for you. Just you.

When he was only eleven and you were twelve, everything was perfect for him. You focused your attention on studies, your friends, and of course, Barty. That's how it stayed for years.

He would reminisce in his cell, running his dulled nail along the jagged stone walls, carving intents of every minute that passed. Remembering all of the things he regretted most in his life. Losing your trust was where his spiral began. He was a foolish kid.

{. 1974 Barty’s Year 3 .}

“It's getting embarrassing.”

Barty was eating lunch with one of the many friends he had made during his years at Hogwarts, Evan Rosier. He was once again bringing the conversation back to you, as he had been for the past few days.

“You trail after her like a loyal dog. Has she even given you a hint that she may return your feelings?” 

“What feelings?”

Evan and you did not get along. You never had. When he first found himself growing closer to him, you voiced your distaste for Evan the very next day. Barty always trusted your judgment, he obeyed you without much of a fight in most cases. This was not one of those cases.

He figured you to be biased, your brother thought him to be a Death Eater and you despised them. Something he could never understand, you were a pureblood, a Black, you were a powerful witch, and you would never have to worry about falling for a half blood or muggleborn, or Merlin forbid, a muggle. You were smarter than that. He always figured. You wouldn't taint your legacy.

Not like your useless brother, who he could see even now, describing his entanglements with witches and wizards of any kind, to the other Marauders.

As the years went on, you and Barty’s meetings became scarcer and scarcer, they went from Fridays to every second Friday, finally, you now only met every last Friday of the month. Still, Barty clung to you with a desperation he never would give anyone else.

Recently, you had gotten into a fight. One where you expressed your worry for what could possibly happen to him if he got involved with the wrong crowd. Barty, admittedly, didn't respond in kind. He was furious with you. You questioned his company but pushed away from him, you questioned his morals and his standing on the war. He told you there was no war to him, there was no fight.

At the end of the day, he would be standing by you.

The answer seemed to distress you further. It turned into a match of shouts and desperate pleas of compliance. It caused a scene, people watched as you defended your standing on your side of the war, this fight you were having with yourself he assumed. There was no war. This was a power struggle.

Evan’s scoff snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up from his plate to his eyes. 

“Barty, half the school knows you've been in love with her since first year.” He hissed and Barty frowned. Would he call it love? He didn't think about it long before he had his answer. Love wasn't something he looked for, but he found it constantly. From the love he shared with Pandora, to the love he shared with Regulus, even the love he was nurturing with the brutish Evan.

No love in his body burned hotter then his love for you. 

He never thought about it because he never had to. Why would he? He knew you loved him too. He knew what you two shared was never anything that could be challenged. He was your prodigy. He was your prodigy. He didn't care for much, as long as he was yours. 

Evan snapped his fingers in his face and drew his attention back to him. He gave a slick smirk and wet his lips. “Come on, Barty, she's just a girl. You're wasting talent. Talent that could be used for someone who actually appreciates you.”

“She does appreciate me.” Barty challenged immediately, before Evan smirked and gestured to the Gryffindor table. “Does she?”

Barty turned just in time to see you, he never had to stare at a crowd too long to find you. 

You were sitting with your brother and his friends, side by side with Remus, sitting far too close for comfort. He was whispering something in your ear, making you giggle. Turning to look at him with the truest smile he's ever seen you make. Flashing your beautifully uneven teeth, your cheeks dimpling and eyes seeming to sparkle. Your eyes met Lupin’s and he took in your expression like he could die in that moment. 

Barty had never seen you smile like that before. He had never seen you look that way before. You had never looked at him like that before.

He hadn't even noticed as he began to bend the fork in his hand, fist tightening as he watched as Remus lean in and stole a kiss against your cheek. You gave a bigger laugh at this. Moving in to kiss his lips carefully. 

The wonderful moment you were having was interrupted when a loud snap sounded threw the cafeteria. Your eyes snapped over to the RavenClaw table, as did a lot of your peers. Barty had snapped a fork in half with his thumb alone. Before a professor could scold him, he got up from his seat and stomped out of the grand hall, and your eyes followed them.

You muttered a quick apology to Remus and he nodded in understanding as you scrambled to your feet to follow after him. 

He wished he could take every word he called you in that hall back now. He wished he had been smart enough to know that loving you with you in his life would of been far less torture then loving a girl who hated your guts. 

“You blood trader!”

“This! This is what I meant, Bartemius! My Barty would never-”

“You don't have a clue about me, you insolent heartbreaker! What of us, Black?”

“Us? What Us, Barty?”

That night he realized that no matter how genuine his love was for you, how deeply it ran, those times spent alone meant far more to him then it ever meant to you. You did stuff like that for everyone. 

He wasn't entitled to your love. Running his nail down until it was blunted against the wall. Azkaban could no longer do more harm then it already had.

{. 1974 Barty’s Year 4 .}

An entire school year. You and Barty didn't speak for an entire school year.

He kept his tabs on you, of course, because no matter what you said to him that day, you were still his person. Knowing how ignorant and how dangerously minded you could be, he took it upon himself to look over you. You may have been older, you may have sworn him, at one time, your loyalty and protection. But now, he had power of his own. He would repay you. He would repay and reeducate you, given the chance. With all the training him, Evan, Muliciber, Avery, even Snape had done? By Merlin’s beard he could do anything.

He had the mind to back that up, but he kept his power under wraps. You were always frightened by what you didn't understand, the last thing he wanted was for you to fear him. He wanted everyone to know him as fear, not you.

Never you.

When the school year started Barty noticed the shift instantly. He knew you like the back of his hand, far more than he let on most days, but it didn't take a genius to see that {Y/N} Black sitting with Regulus Black at the Slytherin table was odd. 

He soon learned of what happened between Sirius and his family, a right disgrace. Then to learn Sirius scorned you from his life for choosing to stay with Regulus, that was probably what started Barty’s absolute disdain for your brother. You had gone through training per Regulus. Saying before Sirius left he let it slip about you and Remus, trying to entice you to leave with him. You refused and your mother lost it. Walburga was a stain on this earth for what she had done. Even then…

It was all for the better, as he saw it. You don't need the impressions of Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, Remus Lupin, or any others that pour their venom into a perfect witch as yourself. He would make sure it stayed that way, even if it hurt you. However, he couldn't lie.

You always looked your best when you knew your worth. 

It wasn't just your routine that changed, you became cold to your old friends, dropping the Muggle borns and staying weary of the half bloods. You started to associate mainly with more influential Purebloods.

That meant him. 

He knew his father was good for something.

“Crouch? Would you like to accompany me to the library?” Your voice sang out to him, despite your listless monotone and drifting eyes. It was the first sentence you muttered to him in 13 months. Your voice was more reserved, your back straightened and your lips pouted. You didn't look like that 12 year old he knew, you were 16 now. Even in his depravity, he took notice of every lovely advancement you had taken in care of your appearance. Your mother instructed you with glamours and proper wear, even now wearing a black feathered choker and brandished a black quill. A family heirloom, Regulus would tell him.

Now, he hated your mother, there was no question about that. What she had done to Regulus was unforgivable, what she had done to you was cause for retaliation in his eyes. But Merlin, did she put you back on the path of greatness.

“Crouch? {Y/N}, my love, it will always be Barty to you.” He lit up like a child, voice sugary sweet. It was your turn to take notice of his change. He was still the same boy you met in first year. Endlessly obsessive, devoted, and excelling at all the things you liked about him. Unfortunately, also the things you hated. 

But, he was still your Barty in your heart. The boy you loved, the boy you cherished, the boy who charmed your soul in ways you didn't know possible. If you had to pick anyone to fill the hollowed out ache in your chest, you chose dangerously, Barty Crouch Jr would be your reprieve.

He was just older now. He was becoming a man.

Everyone knows what they say, about a boy and a girl, coming into their own together. Barty figured this was your love story, you weren't one to argue any longer.

He didn't care that you only seemed to speak to him out of necessity. When he heard from Regulus that your mother was making you pick your friends based on their social standing, any males to soon be a suitor, he was ecstatic.

He was remarkable. He was seen. He was valuable enough to you to not be a mere pawn but maybe even a queen on your chest set. To be used by you? It was worth every moment of the ache. All of this because his father just so happened to keep his filthy hands to the purest bloodlines.

That was his value to you. His blood, his sweat, his labor, and his mind. They were yours, no questions asked. He clung to your heel with new found determination. He would keep you on the right track, the promised one. The one that would ensure your children had the same opportunities. 

He knew he wanted this the moment he walked in on you and Severus arguing in the courtyard.

“You dare call her a Mudblood, you incessant pompous Half Breed?!” Your voice echoed through the halls. People watched in horror, some in absolute shock, the sweet kind girl they had grown attached to was a right monster now. Barty, however, was loving it. You were a proper pureblood.

“{Y/N}-” Severus spoke carefully, something about his tone was far too familiar for Barty’s liking, him addressing you by first name made his jaw tighten. He didn't have to say a word. You rectified it.

“Do not address me as anything other than Black, you dirty mutt!” You screeched. Severus looked stunned, the usually stoic boy looked broken. Barty watched as your eyes trailed over a shocked and watery eyed Lily Evans, he almost didn't catch you muttering, “You lost that privilege.”

He, of course, came to your rescue, as he always promised. Hand around your back and escorted you away from the fight. As you both walked down the corridor your path was blocked. 

Barty almost laughed, Remus Lupin. He was standing with Sirius Black, both staring threatening daggers at Barty. When you both kept walking, Barty shoved a path between the two boys, you hand a fistful of his cloak so as to not be left behind.

He didn't like how Remus’s eyes softened at the sight of you. He didn't like how Sirius reached for you. He walked faster, putting your sniffling form in front of himself.

After that, he knew he had you. 

You were becoming who you were meant to be.

~~~

He took his mark that summer, standing alongside your brother Regulus Black, Lucius Malfoy, Beatrix Black and Evan Rosier. They were at your cousin’s manor, in the ballroom standing side by side. He was as straight as a board, brimming with pride, smirking to himself and brandishing his left arm.

He could feel your eyes on him, from where you stood, next to Narcissa, your aunt and your mother. Waiting for him. 

Evan was first, standing beside Barty and holding out his wrist. When the wand hovered over his wrist and the Death Eater began to mutter the incantation, Evan let out a blood curdling sound. Pure brutish pain shot through him, leading him to fall back. Quickly held up by two other death eaters behind him.

When the wand brushed Barty’s wrist next, he hardly flinched. Tilting his head back as sweat gathered around his temple and neck. He bit his lip and let himself feel every sharp intrusion the spell took, letting himself succumb to the blissful pain.

When he returned to you, not standing to wait for dismissal like the rest of them, he wrapped his arm around your waist and yanked you in. He stole your lips for his own, making you give a slight gasp. You don't fight it, so he pushed further, letting himself taste your bottom lip and pulling it punishingly between his teeth. Through his high he was able to recognize and memorize the feel of your lips and the taste, in his mind, it was the closest to the gods he'd ever get. What was true heaven, however, was when you took his cheeks in your hands and kissed him back.

“Enough.” He heard your mother hiss from beside you. She shooed Barty away like he was some stray dog. He backed down from where you stood, licking his lips and admiring just how shaken and red you looked. Your mother, the hag, pushed you behind herself and hid you away from his eyes.

When you looked away and covered your mouth, he almost didn't notice how you also licked your lips clean. That drove him mad.

He had come to the conclusion early on, you were a temptress. A vixen. A damned Siren as far as he knew. 

Memories of that night, your first kiss, the moment he could see you falling for him. A proper man, worthy of the worship he planned to give you. Worthy of serving a goddess like you. It kept him up most nights, it was a high even the dementor's couldn't take away, but they did manage to warp his obsession from what he believed to have been holy, to the truth.

He was brought on this earth for you. Without you, he was nothing. He was rotting.

{. 1976 Barty’s Year 6 .}

The next year he took your hand and promised you the world. To his delight, you responded in kind. You began dating his sixth year and it was absolute bliss. 

It didn't last long, that bliss. It became a thrill.

Despite his power and loyalty to the dark lord, your mother favored another's for your hand. Particularly, Avery. His father came to your mother with the proposal, your mother liked his offer of the estate and your own power over the house.

You, however, much to Barty’s delight, were way too far gone. In your now secret meetings, where you would take you strolls along the city street, to the shop or to the boutique. You made a show of it; but you only truly left for Crouch Manor.

Where Mr. and Mrs. Crouch turned their other cheek as you snuck your way to Barty’s chambers. Behind those locked doors your love was dangerous. His whispers and promises of treachery against your family name were met with nothing less than desperate devotion and promises in kind. As your palms glided over his bare chest and his large hands found their way under your skirt.

His favorite memories were all locked away in that room. The room he made you his own, where his hands grew familiar with your skin in ways no one else ever could, where he found an affinity for you breathless, and where he heard you let out sounds no self respecting Black heiress should ever let out. 

He claimed what was his birthright, between your legs. Bruised your lips numb and left marks you had to charm away when you made it back home. Just in time for supper.

With the feeling of him still fresh on your body. The pureblood heir your parents thought so lowly of. The heir they didn't see fit to sit at that very table, was still there. His lips were on the rim of the cup you sipped from, his hands were on the arm rests you relaxed against, and his teeth and claws were buried into their perfect daughter.

{. 1978 .}

By the time you both graduated, you took your place at the table. Having fought to hold off your engagement to Avery, Barty took it into his own hands to get between the two of you. Every time you glance in the boy's direction, he shrivels in on himself.

“Barty?” You whispered between his greedy kisses, in the halls of the Malfoy manor.  The only times his hands could find your hips and his lips could find yours outside of his own room now. He was starting to see less and less of you. The war was in full swing and with his desperation for you was all that was driving him most days. 

Thinking now, he wondered what drove you. Even now, having spent a year in Azkaban, you were still the light he flew to, no matter how much it hurt him. He could have sworn, at one time, it was him.

“Darling.” He whispered low against your lips. You tangled your fingers into his hair, before pulling him down. He rested his chin against the curve of your chest and looked up into your eyes.

You bit your lip, running your thumb along his own reddening ones. “Do you love me, Barty?” You cooed.

“I do.” He affirmed, licking the skin you touched along his Cupid's bow, “I do, more than anything.” His voice was raw and rough, he pulled at your hold, trying desperately to kiss you again.

“Do something for me, Barty.” 

“Anything, Darling. Anything.” He muttered, eyes still on your lips.

“Be within my reach. Always.” You whispered before releasing him. He took your lips once more, pushing you back against the wall like the very prospect of not touching you in some way was physically painful. His hand traveled up from your hand to rub over the mark you took just days earlier.

Every moment like that seemed fleeting. 

The very next year, Regulus Black passed. He had gone MIA and your mother, despite her loyalty to Voldemort, commanded you home. It got worse when they officially announced his death.

You stayed locked in those walls, by order of your mother. He missed you dearly. Barty never wanted to be your hero, some great commander, he couldn't care less now about who else even knew his name anymore. He was older now, and he just wanted to be yours. 

So, it pushed Barty to work even harder. Anything to appease The Dark Lord, get this war over with, so he could return to the only true person worthy of his reverence. 

Without you, his life went by in simple clips of reality. When Voldemort fell, he was imprisoned in this hellhole, and even now, he found himself unable to let anything else consume his mind.

The dripping of water from the rusting metal doors drove him mad. No other sounds but the miserable screams of inmates and slamming of bodies against pavement. It was a torturous and hopeless place, some people preferred punishment by their own hands. There was suddenly a loud clanging of keys that cut his thoughts.

He looked up from the corner of his cell, putting his thumb in his mouth and sucking on the bleeding torn skin. The marks he had made on the cell walls marked his 354th day in this nightmare. His eyes locked with his father and his mother, furrowing his brow as he stood.

His mother two out two veils of a slug colored potion, his father had another potion in his hand.

Barty didn't stay in that cell to see his 355th.

~~~

{. 1994 POV Shift .}

“It's a bit cold, don't you think?”

Remus Lupin's voice cut through the fog of your mind like a knife through butter. He was right, of course. Even as the year grew warmer with the summer months growing closer, the astronomy tower always gave a pleasant and persistent chill. 

You were used to it, by now. Being the Astronomy Professor for almost twelve years. About the same amount of years you managed to avoid coming into contact with Remus himself. 

You had to give him credit, Remus Lupin, he was persistent. Doing everything in his power to get you alone. As if one conversation would melt away years of what you had done, the people you deceived, the lives you took, the lies you told… all in the name of a crazed boy long lost to the history of the wizarding world. For the family who was as faded as the family tree you used to tend to with your brothers, painting names and burning faces. 

As if speaking to you would somehow bridge a gap. A gap in his heart that still ached for you. It was never something he was able to understand, your persistent and endless love for Crouch had come out of nowhere for him. He couldn't look Sirius in the eye for a long time, learning he had outed your budding relationship. 

He took every chance he could, to reach out, to speak to you, it was met with closed doors and a reminder of remaining professional. 

“It is. Heading out, Lupin?” You muttered to him. You couldn't lie and say having him here didn't make you feel, in some ways, nostalgic. To the loving, caring, respectful girl you once knew. One with so much patience and kindness you shared it with all kinds of souls. Souls you've watched drop like flies under the man you swore your life to.

“I am.” Remus muttered but didn't turn to leave. You shifted on your heel to look back at him from the entrance of the tower. He had his hand resting on the railing, his palm thudding against the railing as he tried to gather the courage to continue.

“I heard you gave Snape quite the earful.” He hummed, walking deeper into your classroom. You thinned your lips and shook your head, turning away from him. He gave a weak scoff. 

“Could you at least look at me?” He pushed, his voice wavering. You closed your eyes and gave a deep sigh. Your hands moved to grab the railing.

“What is it, Lupin?” 

“It's not too late.” He whispered and you closed your eyes. His words were exact, aimed to cut deep and retrieve from you the heart he knew was there; it just had grown cold. “You could come back. With me, tonight, we can meet with Padfoot and-”

“And what, Lupin?” You spoke calmly as you turned to face him. He went rigid at your stare. “Live this wonderful life you have weaved out for us? Pretend that everything is okay and the last few years never happened?” You pushed and he closed his eyes. 

Anger bubbled in his throat with something familiar, jealousy and bitter melancholy. If he could hear you any clearer you would be cotton in his ears. Your words were empty because he knew you could. Put Hogwarts behind you and come back to him, come with him and Sirius like you should have done back when you wore uniform and not cloaks like proper professors. Nothing was proper about you two aching hearts anyway. 

Yet history repeated itself.

It always would.

“You know he's gone.” Remus started slowly and your breath caught in your throat. You felt your eyes grow glossy with grief and you placed your left hand over your heart. 

“I never thought I would be someone's second choice. To Bartemius Crouch Jr.” He continued. “I see I never measured up, did I?” 

“... I am sorry, Remus.” You whispered, your voice, for the first time in years, was vulnerable. It was careful.

Because of course you loved Remus. You loved him dearly, but no man would own you like Barty had. You were terrified to let yourself be loved with anything less than what he had shown you. Steadfast and faithful love. No one could challenge the status of Barty in your life.

Even in death his ghost reminds you of your place. Next to him. 

Once this was over, once Dumbledore had seen and used his worth in you, when you were no longer under his wing like a servant, you would go back to 12 Grimmauld Place. You would retire. And you would wait for Barty to take you back home. Let it be a year, let it be ten, you would return to him as promised.

“... What have you become?” He whispered to you, and your eyes finally raised to meet him. You caught your tears and quickly cleaned your face. Shaking your head you put back on your practiced and perfect pout.

“.. A Black.”

Your exchange ended there. 

Remus returned to your brother, you presumed. You forged ignorance when you were questioned by the Ministry of your brother’s whereabouts. It didn't take much for them to let you be, especially with Mr. Crouch Senior’s particular protectiveness of you. Probably a gift from Mrs. Crouch, oh, how you missed her.

When Barty was taken and your mother was far too weak to control you, you visited the Crouchs’ daily. You helped Winky with taking care of his parents, particularly his sick and fragile mother. You grew a weak repore with his father, though you despised him. 

As a proper pureblood you just silently reaped the benefits of what the world had gifted you.

Including your wealth. With the house of Black fallen you were left to be the soul heir. Though, the moment you heard of Sirius Black’s escape, you reopened your joint account. Soon, you heard someone was able to access it. It was true; your brother was alive and well.

That was the only olive branch you extended to him. 

Once the school year was officially over you returned home. To your modest house down in an old town just a broom ride away from Hogwarts. Feldcroft.

You returned home, it was uneventful. Until you opened your door. 

You were greeted by Winky, the Crouch’s house elf. That wouldn't be unusual, Barty had preached to her about how you were both intended. How she should attend to you, how she attended to him. So she would appear at your house from time to time, with gifts and food she had prepared for Crouch Senior that she made just too much of.

“Winky?” You called out to the figure in your hall. The sheepish girl turned to face you with a careful smile.

“Madam Black has returned! How happy Winky is to see you, mistress.” She declared and hurried up to you. Her path was cut short as Creature stepped in front of her, snapping away your bags. He seemed in a foul mood. Fowler then usual.

“Your mother would not approve of your company, Ms. Blaaaack.” He warned and you furrowed your brow. “Nor would she approve of this home-”

“Kreature.” You demanded and he huffed. Winky was always coming in and out, Creature never voiced displeasure with her company and your mother, well, she could care less. “What company?”

“The noisy Crouch, Ma'am.”

Your heart dropped. He apparated away, assumingly to unpack your bags. Your eyes widened as Winky appeared in front of your full view. Showing off the black quill you had most definitely left at home. Your mothers old quill. You took it carefully from the house elf.

“Winky..” You spoke carefully and slowly. Holding up the quill between your fingers. “Who gave this to you?”

“I think you know, Darling.” 

Before Winky could answer, a voice lost to time spoke first. You knew it before you even turned around. 

Still, you jerked your entire body to face him. Your eyes locked, full of longing and hope.

 And there he was. Your Barty.

He was holding a newspaper, licking his bottom lip but his eyes were on you. His eyes were just how you always remembered them. So full of danger and appreciation for your simple presence. He stepped towards you and you took a step back. He tsked at that, reaching out to grab your waist. “Darling..” He whispered.

You were still in shock. Staring up at his brown eyes and waiting. For anything. “Barty?” You whispered.

When he kissed you, alarm bells went off in your head. You didn't listen to any of them, grabbing him just as greedily as he held you. Both of your eyes closed and you held each other like you might perspire. 

He was home.

He truly was.

[therealnoot]

Potato?

Oh Potatoes! I love Potatoes for many reasons. They’re great and healthy for you. They’re rich in Vitamin C and antioxidants.

When Scurvy was a really big issue potatoes were literally life savers at the time as well! They have done wondrous things for peoples health and saved many many lives. They also contain potassium and contain a specific electrolyte that helps your heart muscles and nervous system function!. They have fiber rich skin and are very low in calories as well!

But there’s also the downside on potatoes. There’s some research suggesting that eating too much potatoes raises the risk of diabetes and hypertension which has over time been raised as well from being genetically modified and used in mostly used to make greasy foods like fries. Please take this with a grain of salt. These are of course studies and research and it never hurts to be a bit skeptical even with science!

Did you know that some food guides have started to exclude potatoes from the vegetable group due to how often it’s associated with high-fat diets?(Fast food/Junk food)

Potatoes are generally fantastic and easy to use for just about everything. The saying or insult of “ couch potato “ is pretty silly imo. When people tell you that you don’t want to be a potato or anything along that line they are completely ignoring the fact at how versatile a potato actually is. They are used to make all kinds of foods whether as sides, compliments to the main dish (or the main dish themselves) or eaten as a snack. From baked potatoes to chips to even Vodka! They are able to be used in so many ways and I think people really miss the bus here. I think being called a potato should be a good thing in positive context. Being versatile and able to do or make so many things by being yourself is amazing honestly.

Here’s a small list of things potatoes are used to make or made into

Hash browns, chips, fries, tater tots, potato salad, potato bread, potato pie, potato soup, potato noodles, hasselbacked, boiled, broiled, mashed, smashed, baked, braised, roasted, fried, and smoked

And here’s a small list of different kinds of potatoes

Russet, Jewel Yam, Japanese sweet, Hannah sweet, Austrian crescent, Blue, Red norland, Russian banana, La ratte, purple majesty, French fingerling, Red gold, Red bliss, Yukon gold, Red thumb, Creamers, orange sweets, and yams.

It should be important to note that I am taking classes for Culinary and food. I am learning a lot about food and enjoy food! I suppose this is incredibly lucky timing because I am just finishing up learning about fruits and vegetables. A lot of this also comes from research and I am by no means a professional. Please take all that I say with a grain of salt. I also encourage anyone who reads this to PLEASE do their own research as well!!

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.

[cower-before-power]

Holy, Holy, Lover Divine

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!

In this moment, you feel divine.

The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.

But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.

“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.

“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”

Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”

Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.

She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.

“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”

Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.

You vow you will not squander it.

“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.

“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”

He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.

“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”

He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.

“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.

“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."

A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“

But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.

It never fails to set you on fire.

“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."

Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.

And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.

“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."

"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.

"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.

"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."

You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.

"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”

And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.

And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.

You are divine.

[eraenaa]

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises. 

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given. 

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons. 

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint. 

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips. 

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions. 

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh. 

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first. 

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance. 

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense. 

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms. 

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought.  “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him. 

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger. 

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip. 

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it. 

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing. 

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs. 

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure. 

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped. 

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written. 

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently 

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well. 

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions. 

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.  

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours. 

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye. 

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name. 

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly. 

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[misswynters]

Chance Meeting in Oldtown

Daeron Targaryen x reader

[WARNING: none

[word count: 561

[a/n: harry gilby fan casted as daeron since we have no daeron currently (pretend in the gif he has white hair)

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The bustling streets of oldtown were alive with the sounds and smells of the market. As the daughter of House Baratheon, you had visited many cities, but Oldtown's unique charm always drew you in. Today, you wandered through the maze of stalls, your curiosity piqued by the variety of goods and the stories behind them.

As you admired a delicate piece of jewelry at one of the stalls, you felt a presence beside you. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with a young man of striking Targaryen features: silver hair, violet eyes, and an air of quiet confidence. He smiled, a warm and genuine expression that immediately put you at ease.

"Admiring the crafts of Oldtown?" he asked, his voice smooth and melodic.

You returned his smile, nodding. "Yes, they're quite beautiful. The artisans here are very talented."

He extended a hand in greeting. "I am Daeron Targaryen. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

You took his hand, a bit surprised by the informal introduction. "I am ____ Baratheon. The pleasure is mine, Prince Daeron.”

Daeron's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What brings a Baratheon to Oldtown? Seeking knowledge at the Citadel, or perhaps just enjoying the sights?"

"A bit of both, actually," you replied. "I find the history and culture here fascinating. And what about you, My prince? What brings you to the market today?"

He laughed softly, a sound that was both charming and disarming. "Sometimes, it's nice to escape the confines of the keep and see the world through the eyes of its people. Plus, I have a fondness for exploring new places."

You found yourself drawn into conversation with him, his easygoing nature and genuine interest making the time pass quickly. As you walked together through the market, you shared stories of your respective houses, your hopes for the future, and your thoughts on the state of the realm.

At one point, Daeron paused at a stall selling rare books. He picked up a worn, leather-bound volume and handed it to you. "Here, a gift. This book contains some of the oldest legends of Westeros. I think you might enjoy it."

You accepted the book, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Daeron. I will treasure it."

As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, Daeron turned to you with a thoughtful expression. "It has been a pleasure spending the day with you, ____ . I hope we can meet again."

You smiled, feeling a connection with the Targaryen prince that you hadn't expected. "I would like that very much, Daeron."

He took your hand once more, this time pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Until we meet again, my lady."

As Daeron walked away, you couldn't help but watch him go, a sense of anticipation and curiosity filling your heart. The chance meeting in Oldtown had been brief, but it left you with the feeling that it was only the beginning of something significant.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗  

Back in your chambers that evening, you opened the book Daeron had given you. As you turned the pages, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you and the enigmatic prince you had met in the heart of Oldtown.

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

[regainingparadise]

Relistening to TMA Season 5, I am again struck by how goddam badly Martin and Jon need couples counseling.

I love them both. I ship them very much. But oh lord they have issues

Like, these are two individuals who, under the very best of circumstances, would really need therapy both individually and together. They are both people with plentiful quantities of relational trauma from childhood that neither of them have worked through even the slightest bit.

And then you throw them into the apocalypse. And you add a metric fuck ton of guilt, helplessness, and the dynamics of being "The Antichrist and +1"?

On a surface level--Jon is in a perpetual state of information overload. Martin is in a perpetual state of "can you please just explain the basics of what's' going on in a given situation and not just say "it's complicated" or launch into a gruesome monologue"

But on a deeper level, their childhood relational traumas have left them each with opposing avoidant tendencies: Jon is unwilling to broach a difficult conversation, which leads him to hide information until he's confronted. Martin, on the other hand, has a finely honed ability to ignore information that he doesn't like until he no longer can hide from it.

Biggest example of their avoidance tendencies: Martin's Domain

Way early on, when we barely understand any of how the hellscape works, Jon mentions it, Martin shuts it down hard and deflects quickly with a bid for affection from Jon

Martin is in deliberate denial, but Jon admittedly wasn't particularly clear to start with.

"We all have a domain."

Jon means it, presumably, as "Me, You, and other 'Avatars.'" Jon is used to being grouped with those empowered by the Entities. Martin isn't. (see also: MAG185: Martin" Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?") But that's not what Jon says. And this is MAG167--they've only been through four domains, at least that we've seen. Jon is speaking from a place of knowledge, and assuming his listener has that same knowledge.

And when this issue comes up much later in MAG183, Martin has spent 17 episodes ignoring or forgetting that he has a domain, not letting that information in so that he has never processed it. (See also: Mag170: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.").

Martin confronts Jon on his avoidance (because while Martin may be good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he's far better at bringing up challenging topics), Jon is able to manage some A+ communication on his feelings and the genuine challenging of figuring out how to share upsetting information when he has All The Information, Martin accepts that. I just desperately want a therapist to be there and make them continue this conversation and practice ongoing good communication skills!

Though they resolve this, even though Jon has an explanation that makes sense...he was really leaving this conversation to the last minute. Would he have "[brought] it up at the crossroads" as he claims to Helen? Or would he have avoided it entirely, as she accuses, or waited till they were at the threshold, as he does with The Desolation and the Hunt, leaving Martin to confront terrifying situations without forewarning or planning or explanation.

Again, Jon kind of tried to bring up some of the potential issues with Basira and Daisy before entering the Hunt domain, but kept it Vague and Ominous ("Things aren't...good"). Martin took that vagueness as an opening to avoid engaging with potential bad news. The teensiest bit of therapy for either of them about their communication issues could have let Jon add "I know you're exited but FYI here are some specifics that you should know" and/or Martin go "I'm excited to see them but given that nothing is good right now, can you be more specific?"

Instead, Jon approaches difficult conversations by being Vague and Ominous, Martin gets snarky or passive-aggressive at the vagueness, upset or aggressively avoidant at the Ominousness, Jon closes back up like a turtle into his shell, and the conversation only comes back up when the situation has drastically escalated, leaving them both more upset.

Jon wants Martin to trust him, because explaining what he knows implicitly is an ordeal for him, and because his upbringing by his grandmother has suggested that communicating is generally unwanted and burdensome (See: MAG081 A Guest for Mr. Spider).

Martin wants to know what is going on, because he's in an awful hellscape of shifting rules about what can and cannot hurt them, completely dependent on a brand-new romantic partner for his survival and purpose, and also because his upbringing and coping mechanisms as a caretaker rely on him knowing enough to help, and his time as an archival assistant has given him some not-inconsiderable trauma about being left in the dark (See: MAG118 The Masquerade) (There's also another post in my head about how MAG118 primed Martin for both the Lonely and his development as a more confrontational character in S5)

All that to say.

Martin needs therapy to deal with the way he chooses not to absorb information he doesn't like. Jon needs therapy to understand that sometimes it's ok to bring up important topics even if the other person will be upset. They both need therapy to cope with all the guilt and helplessness around the apocalypse so they stop taking it out on each other. They need therapy together to learn how to work through their conflicting coping mechanisms.

[10yrratiolover]

giving my thoughts and ideas on Ratio's character stories

I wouldn't call this much of an analysis but we'll see how it goes

Starting out with his first character story, most of it is Professor Rond's recommendation letter.

I'd like to start by sharing my thoughts about Ratio and Rond first before actually getting into dissecting the letter itself.

So, firstly, I'd like to mention that (to my knowledge) we have never heard of or from Ratio's parents. I find that ironic considering what a big shot he is, I doubt that his parents would ever willingly shut up about their son.

Reading that Rond had a 'significant influence on Ratio's upbringing' particularly stands out to me because, at least at the time of the original letter being written, Ratio was in secondary school (Grade 9-12, though some of the wording in the letter lead me to believe he was likely on the lower end of that range).

Now, a high school teacher having a 'significant influence' on someone's upbringing isn't necessarily uncommon, nor are old teachers proud of their past students becoming extremely successful. However these points, alongside the fact that Ratio's parents are nowhere to be seen in canon, lead me to believe that there was some sort of familial relationship between them, especially seeing Rond's reaction to being asked about Ratio as well as how he had kept the original letter.

Moving on to the actual letter.

Grade skipping is a pretty common practice where I'm from, as it allows learning at the appropriate/needed level (ignoring the fact that the school system is in shambles).

However, the way this is phrased is as if Rond were trying to convince him to be able to skip grades. If he were in grade 11 or 12 I feel like it would not have been phrased this way, which is what leads me to believe he was likely younger, possibly fresh out of middle school.

The highlight on creativity is just because it makes me smile honestly, also it ties into one of my earlier posts about how I think Ratio would adore the subject of art.

I would like to return to my point of Rond being a potential parental figure to Ratio, seeing as he seems to know his daily routine well enough to confidently write about it in his letter of recommendation.

On to his second character story, which is mostly online posts in a thread-like format.

It wasn't until his eighth doctoral degree that he was awarded with First Class Honors, also since he is the first person to receive such in two amber eras it means he was likely the only one on stage at that time.

It also states that at the time he was already a prominent figure in society, which doesn't surprise me given the accomplishments listed by Rond in the letter despite him being in high school at the time it was written. However, he would most likely be an adult by the time he finished his eighth doctorate.

No real comment on this I found it funny that they put etc instead of continuing to list fields.

I also just find these funny and wanted to share them, but the disagreement on the last comment shows how much people admire him. I feel like that's a topic that's rather watered down in the fandom, but people genuinely admire Ratio a lot and there's plenty of reason for them to.

full-time university teachers tend to teach about 5 courses per academic year, meaning Ratio has been teaching for about 10 years.

Moving onto the third story, which is a statement from a former assistant of his about his desire to join the genius society.

I find this to be an interesting point, it seems like joining the Genius Society would be an obvious next step for a man with so many accomplishments but it's stated not once, but twice that he has never spoken about the subject (to the public at least).

I am a believer in the theory that Ratio hasn't been allowed into the Genius Society due to his humanity/compassion and his desire to spread knowledge to everyone, and I feel like this specification that he's never spoken about the topic could add to this theory.

This paragraph never fails to break my heart, but I do want to talk about the mention of an anti-planetary weapon. I feel like this Anti-planetary weapon that he spent years perfecting was a final attempt at proving to Nous that he wasn't too compassionate or too humane to receive their gaze. I remember reading about this idea more in detail elsewhere and if I can find the analyzation then I'll link it here.

Also, I feel like deep down he always knew that he wouldn't be accepted into the Genius Society, but this day, as Margaret states, was the day he finally realized it, or, fully swallowed that pill.

I find these comments to be interesting as well since they specify the narrow-mindedness of the society however, there is this comment from the Data Bank;

This comment I admittedly stumbled across when looking for something else, but I feel like it perfectly encapsulates Ratio's entire dilemma with the Genius Society, maybe not to Ratio himself but it certainly applies to everyone who comments on his achievements being worthy of Nous' approval.

I am also quite curious about who exactly wrote the 'Decoding Dr. Ratio' that we have read from in all of his character stories. They seem to have a lot of connections for someone who would typically be seen as just another paparazzi or media interviewer, I'm surprised the people listed in his stories would agree to an interview.

Onto his final story, which is about his personality and methods of sharing knowledge.

I mentioned this comment in my character notes post but I find it extremely charming that Ratio remains the same and refuses to change himself or his personality to satisfy those around him.

It is also commented in his second character story by a previous professor of his that his honesty and straightforwardness were a 'Breath of fresh air' at the University.

I love the implication that either; nobody in the entire room had any questions (unlikely), or that they were simply too scared to ask them.

I also find the comment that 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Perhaps he's gotten used to being the only one thinking the way he is or the possibility that people only agree with him so they sound intelligent themselves and weren't truly listening or understanding.

I find these comments interesting as well, a majority of the fandom mischaracterizes Ratio as mean or rude although he literally explains his viewpoints where anyone can access it (which does honestly prove his point about how knowledge is not for everyone.)

[luvinescent]

Mismatched Hearts

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Robb have been friends since childhood; the two harboring feelings for one another without the others’ knowledge. When Robb’s mother makes the choice to meddle in his love life by constructing an engagement between the two—Robb is left with guilt at the belief that he has trapped her in an unwanted marriage with him because of his status. Neither one choosing to confess their feelings or address the situation; they do more harm than good towards their friendship and future marriage.

Warnings: angst angst but fluff but angst but fluff yk

Word count: 5996

Part 2/2

Previous

The scent of roasted baby pig filled the dining room, along with the various dishes that had been laid out by the servants. Presently, a family dinner was being held between the Starks and the Y/Ns. Eddard had sought out Y/Ns father; inviting the family to their household to bond with one another. The table setting was situated with Eddard at the head of the table, his wife beside him, Robb beside her, and the rest of the Stark children (minus Jon, per Catelyn’s request). Y/N’s father sat on the other side of Eddard, her mother next to him, herself beside them, and her younger sibling sitting at the end. From her position, she sat right across from Robb. While jokes and talk was being shared between the parents, and laughter between the younger siblings; Y/N and Robb hadn’t even shared a glance at each other. Sansa was the first to crack Y/N to speak, asking her on what color she had decided for her dress.

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about that kind of stuff yet…” Y/N extended, “I guess white for traditions…maybe gold”, she answered, smiling at the young girl. Digging into her meal, Sansa scrunched up her face in enthusiasm, “I’m so excited! Soon we’ll be sisters!” Robb had let his eyes linger up from his dish and land upon Y/n as she laughed, watching Sansa and Arya now argue about “You already have a sister!” and “Well, not a good one!”. He took in her beauty, memorized by the sound of her laughter and the way she held a kind of glow in her eyes. Sensing someone was watching her, Y/N turned her head; her laughter stopped abruptly as she made eye contact with him. The two shared a long glance until it felt all too much, and they both looked back down at their plates. Both blushing immensely.

Y/N’s father patted his belly, letting out a grunt of satisfaction, “That meal was heavenly, Ed. I cannot begin to thank you for inviting my family and I into your home”, he said with her mother nodding along. Catelyn waved her hand in the air, replying in her husband’s place, “Nonsense. We are to be family soon, so a dinner is expected. I hope you saved room for dessert.” At the mention, servants began to enter the room with plates containing slices of lemon cake. Once given to each person at the table, everyone began to dig in; except for two people. Y/N stared at her slice while Robb observed her. Noticing her untouched piece, Eddard questioned the girl, “Lady Y/N, you have no appetite left in you? Or are you participating in the practice that ladies do of cutting sweets off to lose weight for your wedding?”. Y/N cringed at the comment in displeasure, but hid it behind a smile, “No, my lord. I am just not fond of sweets- “

“She hates lemon cake”, Robb announced to the table. Picking up her plate, and his, he called a servant over, “Take this back to the kitchen. Bring the lady a slice of strawberry cake instead”. The servant nodded and scurried away. Sitting back down in his seat, Robb chose to ignore all the stares that were put on him and focused his attention on only one person: Y/N. She nodded at Robb and spoke a very gently, “Thank you”. Their mothers gave each other a knowing glance as they watched their children interact. Robb cleared his throat and returned her nod, “It is alright. It would not be fair for everyone to be enjoying dessert and for you not”. The servant returned into the room, handing Robb his plate and Y/N hers. Before she could grab it, Robb took the plate from her and replaced it with his; their fingers gently brushing one another’s. “Here,” he pulled back his hand quickly as he set the plate down, “this one is a larger slice”. She thanked him once again as he continued his talk, “I know how much you enjoy your sweets”.

There was a hint of mischief in his voice that only she could hear. Y/N understood his little inside joke; referring to all those times when they would steal the baked goods from the kitchen. At their small age, it was an intense mission of trying not to get caught that involved a lot of running and tripping on their feet. In the end, they would still get caught as all Lady Catelyn had to do was follow the trail of dropped biscuits. Y/N smiled fondly at the memory and let out a small giggle; which she felt embarrassed for as now all the attention was turned on her. “Sorry,” she apologized as she must’ve looked crazy for laughing out of nowhere, “Yes. I do enjoy my sweets very much”. Robb grinned, feeling happy that she was able to notice his jest.

Smiling while staring at the two, Y/N’s father interrupted their moment, “I must thank you son. You two are not married yet and you are already acting like an attentive husband. I can rest easy knowing my daughter shall be in good hands”. Robb smiled and nodded at his words but hidden behind him were his anxious thoughts that were returning once again.

Good hands? he thought, you mean the hands that have confined her.

Eddard raised his glass of wine, with everyone else following through, “To a happy marriage and alliance”. Some moments later, after everyone had finished their dessert and wine, people began to stand and leave. Robb made quick work of heading straight towards the door but was interrupted by Y/N wrapping her hand around his forearm.

“Robb, can we please talk- “

“I’m sorry my lady but I must go”. And with that, once again, Robb left—leaving her standing there by herself.

Since their last encounter in the dining hall, several days had transpired and not a word had been spoken between Robb and Y/N. At first, Y/N sought out Robb several times, but the male had refused her advances or hidden from her. After that, Y/N was fed up and gave him similar treatment; ignoring his presence when she passed him down the halls on her way to see his sisters and not greeting him when she saw him with Jon.

“Jon. Lovely day we’re having today.” She smiled warmly at the boy, disregarding the other who stood tall right next to him. “It is quite a lovely day, my lady”, Jon spoke, “Where are you heading off to?”. Nodding, she turned her head in the direction of the great keep, “Lady Stark has been giving me lessons on- “, ever so quickly, her eyes had darted over to Robb before returning back to his brother, “-being Lady of Winterfell. I, uh, I should get going. I’ll see you later”. And with that, she picked up the skirts of her dress and left their company. She was a few steps away when the Greyjoy boy came into view, “Theon. Hope you have a good day” and she was gone. Theon was given little time to process the greeting, returning a stuttering “Y-You t-too, my l-lady!”. Walking up to the two brothers, his eyes were bulging in disbelief, “I must have hit my head or something! That’s the first time I ever heard her call me by my first name. A lovely sound it was for my name to come out her mo- “

“Do not go all lovesick. Her hand is spoken for” Robb said annoyed with a hint of anger in his voice. Jon was also quick to notice the jealous tone that was hidden in there. He cleared his throat, staring around the castle yard, “Her hand is spoken for, you say? Yet you two have not spoken a word to one another in days”. Robb’s head turned quick and a glare was delivered to Jon that made even him slightly quiver, “Mind your business, Snow”. A stare down between the two was in motion, several seconds of pure silence gone by. Theon, still not good at reading the room, threw in his two cents and slightly laughed “You two still aren’t talking? Sounds like her hand is up for grabs to me. Maybe I should go find the lady right now and convince- “. Theon had no time to finish his banter as he found himself on the ground, in mud, having been pushed by Robb. And hard.

“Ow! You prick! I was only joking!” he exclaimed.

“Joke or not, remove such thoughts from that head of yours. As if I would ever let Y/N go with the likes of you”, Robb glared down at him fiercely.

Jon pushed his brother aside to help the Greyjoy boy to his feet, both frowning at the Stark heir. Theon grumbled in irritation, “Yeah, yeah, fine. Now look at me—I got mud all over me!”. Jon rolled his eyes, taking out the piece of cloth he has kept on him for the past weeks now, “Stop wining like a baby and use this”. Before Theon could take the item, it was confiscated by Robb. “Oh, what?! Am I not allowed to get this shit off me?!”, Theon expressed.

Staring down at the handkerchief, Robb recognized the coloring as well as the sewing of a badly stitched direwolf. “Where did you get this?” he questioned, fixating his eyes on Jon.

Jon sighed at the sight of Robb, “She gave it to me. Said to burn it but I didn’t have the heart to do it”. Robb stared down at what originally had belonged to him but had given up because of his insecurities. Ever so carefully, he caressed the fabric, turning it around and now noticing the small stitched initials in the corner. The first initial was sewed perfectly, while the second looked as though a mistake was made or a new thought had been formed. Robb knew right away that Y/N had originally sought to sew her last name initial, but changed her mind and replaced it with an S instead.

First/Initial S.

Y/N Stark.

Not being able to handle his feelings, Robb left in a hurry, taking the handkerchief with him. Jon watched as Robb left; it felt like he was seeing more of Robb’s back than he was of him entirely these days. To Jon, maybe this could finally be what can reconnect Y/N and Robb again. His thoughts were interrupted, eyes rolling as Theon yelled beside him “Hey, where you going?! While you’re at it, bring me back something to clean myself with, you cunt!”

Finding her was never hard for Robb. Once he spotted her, walking alone down the halls, he quickly jogged up to her. “My lady,” he called out but she chose to ignore him and his repeated addresses. “My lady,” he tried once more as he finally caught up to her, standing right behind her, “Y/N”. With that, she turned ever slowly to face the oldest Stark child, hand clasped in front of her, “Yes, my lord?”. He chewed on his bottom lip and vexedly looked around, “You know I am not a Lord until my father passes down his title. Call me by my first name”. Laughing bitterly, she placed her hands upon her hips, “I can do many things —call you many things. But I just won’t do that”. He stared deeply into her eyes before pulling out his handkerchief, “Was this one of the many things you can do?”. She gaped at his palm, looking back at him in furry, “Where did you get that? How did you get that?”.

He answered her question straightforwardly, “Jon had it—said you gave it to him” he raised the cloth to show her initials, “Never mind that. Explain why you put this here”.

Angrily, she took the handkerchief out of his grasp and held it tightly against her chest, “I gave it to Jon because you said, and I quote, “I never asked you to do this and I don’t need this”, she said doing her best to deepen her voice to impersonate Robb. Before Robb could cut in, she continued “And I put that there because I wanted to give you that gift not as a friend, but as your wife. When we were to be married, I thought the best first gift I could possibly give you was my time and effort. As if any of that matters now”.

Robb locked eyes with her as he fully took in her revelations. A part of him felt jubilation that she never felt obligated to make him his gift but instead did it out of her own accord. The other part pf him felt deep anger towards himself for how he acted towards her. Taking a step closer, Robb conveyed, “What do you mean it doesn’t matter- “. Robb stopped talking abruptly as he fully took in her previous speech.

“What do you mean by when we were to be married?”.

Swallowing harshly, Y/N sheepishly looked away; not having the strength in her to look him in the eyes. “You were bound to find out by the end of the day,” she cleared her throat once more, “I spoke with my parents yesterday and I came here to speak with yours today. They agreed with my outlook on the matter and our engagement has been suspended”. Robb felt all the oxygen in him get knocked out by the words she spoke. He tried to keep his composure, but his labored breathing was something he could not control. Anguished, he mumbled “You had no right. What about my say on the matter?”

His question made Y/N turn her head rapidly and gawk at him in shock. That shock then turned to anger with her own heartbreak mixed in. Jabbing a finger in his chest, she gritted her teeth and hissed, “You’re say on the matter?!” she sucked in a breath, “I did this for you. You! All you! A little thank you would be appreciated”. Grasping her hand in his, he held it tightly as he held her fury faze, “For me?! I never asked you to do this!”

Scoffing, she pulled her hand back and slightly pushed him, “Well, it sure felt like I had too! You hardly look at me anymore, hardly speak to me or spend time with me- “, her voice cracked immensely as Robb took notice of the tears forming in her eyes, “Was the thought of marrying me that torturous?”. Robb gaped at her in confusion and in sorrow, taking a step close to her and placing a hand upon her face, “What are you talking about? Spending my life with you could never be agonizing”. Shaking her head, she pushed him once again, “You don’t have to play me for a joke Robb. I know, okay. I know you don’t want to marry me, and I understand. I’m sorry that you were put into such a situation and as your friend, I could not bear to watch you suffer so I fixed the problem. What’s done is done”.

Robb started to shake his head, raising his hands up to calm the girl, “Y/N. Please. I think we need to talk clearly. You must know that I- “

“I’m being sent to the Riverlands”.

Silence had enveloped the two; the drop of a pin could be heard. Robbs’ labored breathing had returned and more intense now. “…What?” he questioned.

Y/N stood her ground, tears still staining her face, but no emotion now present upon it. She looked lifeless as she spoke her next words. “Since my engagement to you has ended, my parents have returned to their original plans when it came to my future husband. I am to wed one of Lord Frey’s sons”. Robb lost his senses and engulfed the girl in a tight hug, “No. No, you cannot” he begged, “I’ll talk with your parents. I-I’ll make things right”. This time, Y/N didn’t push him away immediately. She basked in his warmth and security. Slowly, she placed her hands upon his chest and made some distance between the two. Emotionless, she uttered, “I have to go”, now heading towards the end of the hallway. Grabbing ahold of her forearm, Robb begged once again, “Please, Y/N! We need to talk- “

Turning around, the crushed look she held upon her face was enough to silence Robb. Raising her shaking hands, she cried out, “Please Robb, please. Do not make this hard for me. If you have any respect for me as your friend, as a human, you will let me leave. I cannot do this right now. Please”. Hearing the desperation in her voice, Robb took a step back. Y/N gave him one last glance before taking her leave. Robb watched in silence as her figure got smaller and disappeared. It was then he noticed that he had been crying the whole time as well.

A week and a half had passed since the announcement made by House Stark and House Y/N of the annulment of their household union. Robb and Y/N were both depressed and a mess. Y/N would isolate herself in her room and would only come out when she needed to eat or bathe. She occasionally would still have to go to her septa lessons within the castle but would keep out of sight of her (ex) best friend. Robb, on the other hand, had increased his time practicing his swordsmanship and shooting. His family grew worried that he might over exhaust himself but did not know what other ways to help him. His temper and outbreaks of anger had increased vastly. So, to them; this was a great way for him to let out his frustrations and not upon them. Today, his rage was high as he had overheard his parents speak about Household Y/N beginning preparations to send Y/N away by the end of the week.

Y/N was equally displeased and terrified. She had tried her best to convince her parents not to go through with their plans (she even suggested devoting her life to the faith), but their minds were set. Rushing down the halls of Winterfell castle, she squeaked and hid behind a corner at the sound of someone’s voice. Peaking out her head, she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Arrya Stark. Walking up the girl, she smiled and greeted her, which was returned back.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately. I’ve missed you”, Arrya spoke frowning.

Y/N winced but smiled weakly at the girl. Aside from Robb, Arrya was one of the Stark children she would spend a great deal of time with. Whether it was playing or practicing their archery together (Arrya giving her lessons instead of vice versa), they were friends as well. Patting Arrya’s head, Y/N shook her own, “I am truly sorry. I have just been…dealing with certain things. You are far too young to understand”. Arrya gave her a look of awareness, “I know about everything. Robb and you are no longer getting married, and you are going away. I think I can understand how difficult that ought to be”. Y/N gulped as the young girl continued “Robb is in shambles you know. Been a real ass to everyone lately”.

Lightly laughing, Y/N forced a smile upon her face at the mention of the man she holds deep affection for. “I’m sure he will be alright. Our friendship was something we both held dear, so it is very sad to see how much it has and will change”. Arrya shook her head vigorously, raising her eyebrows high.

“No. It’s because he loves you”.

Y/N stopped petting the girl and gave her a confused look. She then suddenly let out a loud chuckle. “I’m sure he cherishes me very much as a friend”.

Arrya continued shaking her head, trying to get the older girl to understand. “No! He does love you. Like loves LOVES you!”

Arrya wanted to bang her head against the wall at how dense Y/N was continuing to be. “This is what I mean by you being too young to understand. There is a difference between having love for a friend and having love for a lover. Robb only loves me as a friend”, Y/N returned to petting the girl.

Arrya moved away from her hand and let out a groan. “But I truly mean it. He is going crazy- “

“Would you like to go shooting with me?” Y/N interrupted the girl; choosing to ignore Arya’s previous comments of false impression. Arya was quick to change her expression of annoyance to excitement. Her mind threw out all thoughts about her older brother’s and friend’s problems and was replaced by the thoughts of one of her favorite activities. Readying herself to say yes, her smile dropped in remembrance. “I can’t,” she scowled, “I was on my way to see my mother. She’s making me take extra lessons to better my needle work”.

Y/N tsked her tongue at the statement. “That’s too bad. I really needed something to calm my thoughts”, staring down at the ground she raised her head up, “I guess I’ll just go alone”.

Arya’s eyes bulged out as she saw Y/N turn her back and walk away, “You can’t go alone. It’s dangerous!”. Y/N turned her head and waved her hand, “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine. It can’t be any more dangerous than me having to wed a Frey” she made a joke at her own troubles. “I’ll see you another day. Bye!”

Arrya waved her hand and returned her goodbye, along with a “Be safe!”. Once Y/N was out of sight, she sobbed in defeat and headed down the hall to her classes.

At the same moment, Robb stood in the castle yard working on his own shooting. He had been doing so for hours and his aim had gone from perfect to flawed as time passed by; his thoughts continuing to run wild. At this point, he wasn’t even trying as he let go his of bow and barely made the mark.

“You missed”. Turning towards his side, Jon and Theon stood there—having been watching the Stark heir for almost an hour. This was per the request of Eddard Stark who wanted to make sure his son didn’t go mad and accidentally harm himself. He chose to ignore them and picked up another arrow; preparing his stance, he let the bow go and watched as it missed the target. “Missed again”, both boys said in unison. Robb shrugged his shoulders and went to retrieve the arrows he had thrown, “Don’t care”.

Theon watched Robb return to his stance, deciding to speak his mind. “Have you spoken to the girl?”. Jon did not even bother to hush the Greyjoy boy as even he was readying himself to ask the same question. Robb chewed his inner cheek, trying his best to control his temper, “No, I have not. I haven’t seen her around the castle, and it will be inappropriate of me to go to her home”. Theon let out a low whistle and crossed his arms, “That’s shitty”. Robb inhaled deeply as the sound of the Greyjoy boy was getting on his nerves. Before he could speak, Robb was interrupted by a young female voice.

“She was here earlier”. The trio turned and saw the youngest Stark girl come out from the shadows. Jon laughed and pointed at the girl, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking your extra lessons?”. Arrya’s face flushed as she defended herself quickly, “I was let out early”. A clear lie coming out of her mouth. “Anyway, not that matters. Y/N was here earlier—I know that she’s been coming here a few days for her septa lessons”.

Theon let out a loud cackle as he turned to Robb, “Haven’t seen her around the castle? The girl is clearly ignoring you”. Jon slightly smacked the boy upside his head to which Robb nodded at him in thanks. He returned to shooting his arrows, listening in on the other three’s conversation but not joining. Part of him wanted to quickly distract himself from thinking about Y/N and how she was purposely trying to be out of his sight. In a sense, it was the price he had to pay for doing the same to her originally. Jon ruffled up his half-sister’s hair and questioned, “And did you speak to her?”. Arrya nodded, “Yeah. Said she missed me; I told her I missed her. Blah Blah Blah. Then she left to go practice her shooting”, she scanned over the boys and eagerly spoke, “Can I please practice with you guys?”.

Robb had stood still for a second, taking in her words before sharply turning his entire body. “What do you mean she left to practice? Alone? And in the woods?”.

Both Jon and Theon tensed up and frowned as they took in the younger Starks words, realizing the implications of what she said. Arrya nodded once again, setting her sites on Robbs bow, “Yeah, alone. And I assumed so if she’s not out here with you guys”, she scanned her surroundings, “Don’t worry. She said she’d be safe. Can I practice now?”.

Robb moved quickly, grabbing his sword, and brining his bow along with him. Placing his hand upon his half-brothers’ shoulder, he spoke sternly and swiftly to him and the Greyjoy boy, “Grab a weapon and grab your horses. Split up into the woods— whoever finds her first, make sure she’s not injured and bring her back safely. Do you understand?”. Both Jon and Theon nodded, taking in their orders and seeing how Robb displayed himself as man and a future Lord. He gave them a nod and wasted no time in hurrying to his horse.

In the midst of the woods, a gentle chill lingers in the air, a refreshing coolness that swirls among the trees. A carpet of fallen leaves crunches under the feet of Y/N as she strolls along. Her face had turned into a slight flush from the cold air and her own physical movements. She had been able to shoot a couple of arrows within the half-hour she had been there. She had no targets in mind; deciding to leave the critters of the forest at peace and chose to just aim randomly at certain tree’s. She stopped suddenly at the sound of movement coming from her side; the large bushes moving. Scrunching her face, she set her bow down and stayed low, still distancing herself slightly. Ever slowly, she extended her hand out and called out to what she assumed was a wild rabbit, “Pss pss pss. Come here little guy”. More movement continued to happen until it stopped and out from the shrub came a wild boar. Y/N’s smile dropped instantly, and her fight or flight senses kicked in; standing up from the ground immediately. The sudden movement made by her had alerted the boar; its eyes landing upon her.

Without warning, the creature charged.

With a surge of fear-fueled quickness, she dove to the side, narrowly evading the boar's razor-sharp tusks. Her bow still in her hand, Y/N was quick to shoot at the beast. From her angle on the ground, the boar was only grazed slightly on its back. Her eyes never leaving the beast as it whirled around, desperation was fueling her actions as she struggled to recover from her fall. Once again, she narrowly avoided the onslaught of the boar, lunging herself on the other side of the forest ground. One more time, she raised her bow and released; this time, the arrow impaling its backside. Y/N thought she was safe at last as the boar let out a pained squeal—but the animal was strong willed as it did not fall to the ground. Y/N actions only fueled the boar’s anger. Being caught off guard, she did not have the time to stand up again. The boar raced at her, and Y/N felt her heart drop; letting out a petrified scream as she was about to meet her fate.

That never came. To her own shock, another arrow came out of nowhere and pierced the animal. The impact diverted the boar’s trajectory, causing it steer away toward the left of Y/N; falling to the ground and succumbing to it’s injuries.

Y/N’s body trembled with the aftermath of the encounter, chest heaving with exertion and relief. Looking up, she saw her savior was Robb.

Robb, himself, was breathing heavily. He had almost witnessed the death of the woman he loves but came in time to save her. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Robb got off his horse and ran to her. Engulfing her in a hug, still on the ground, he hushed the girl and caressed her hair as he let her sob into his chest. “Shh. You’re alright. You’re safe— I’ve got you”, he placed a kiss upon her temple. A minute or two passed before Y/N had started to settle down. Robb, taking notice, placed both hands upon her face, his eyes slightly watery, “What were you thinking?! You can’t come this deep into the forest—especially with such little defense. You could’ve gotten hurt!”. Y/N shook her head, not being allowed to speak as Robb continued, “If I was just a little bit late, I could’ve found you dead! Do you not see how much that would’ve scarred me for life?!” He finally let his tears drop.

Sobbing heavily, she apologized to her friend. “I’m sorry! I know. I know I shouldn’t have come out here alone, but I needed some time to myself. I have so much going on- “she gasped deeply “I do not want to leave for the Riverlands”. Robb looked over the girl, looking at all the bruises she had gained. “We need to get you to a maester. Come on, your parents must be worried sick about you”. He raised her up to her feet and was walking towards his horse, but Y/N did not budge from her position. Turning to face her, Robb sent her a puzzled look.

“Robb. I do not want to marry the Frey boy”.

Robb bit his lip, trying his best to suppress his own emotions and focus on his friend’s health first. “Y/N, we need to get you checked- “

“Why exactly was I a bad candidate for your future wife?”

Robb felt all the air leave him as he starred at her emotionless face. “What?” he questioned.

Y/N shook her head, continuing her maundering. “I have known you my entire life. I know your likes and dislikes. I’ve been there for your ups and downs. I share so many precious memories with you. I wish to know why you would want to settle your life with a random stranger instead of me” she said not caring how desperate and draft she sounded. “…Am I not pretty enough? Am I a terrible person to you? There were a couple times I thought you felt something for me-“

Robb interrupted her, taking a step to stand in front of her. “Hold on. I do not think such things about!”, he held her gaze, “You are the most beautiful woman I know. The word terrible can never been used in the same sentence as you”. Nodding his head, he finally confessed, “Yes. There were times I did feel something for you. I still do. That is why it would not be fair for me to marry you”.  Y/N scoffed as she took in his words, ever so confused, “What does that even mean?!”.

Robb took a step back, creating a bit of distance between the two. “I could not marry you knowing that it was against your will. My household name trapping you into saying yes. Just as you are now being forced to marry the Frey boy, you were being forced to marry me”. Y/N stared at him like he had grown a second head. She took a step forward, closing their gap once again. “Trapping? Forced?! I agreed to the union on my own accord and very happily I must say!”, she pointed a finger at him “All I ever wanted was to be with you”. Robb gaped at her; his eyes wide in disbelief. “You wanted to be with me...You wanted to marry me?”.

Nodding her head, she spoke sternly. “Yes”. Y/N’s facial expressions softed a bit, gulping air and preparing herself to speak. “…Did you not want to be with me?”.

Robb took her face into his hands, their foreheads connecting. “Yes! You’re all I have ever wanted. I have been in love with you almost my whole life”. Y/N could feel her own tears and see his as well. She smiled at Robb and spoke gently, “So have I”. The two stared at each other in awe before Y/N raised her fist and striked Robb’s chest. “Stupid! Stupid! You’re so stupid!”, she said knowing she was just as dense. “Dumb, stupid, foolish- “

Robb caught her wrist in his hands. The forest was alive, full of birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees. But, to them, not a sound could be heard as they looked into each other eyes. Robb was the first to lean in, taking her lips in his. The kiss was slow and slightly inexperience at first. That was before Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and the two further deepened the kiss. It became very intimate and carnal instantly; deep love still hidden behind it. Y/N was the first to pull away, needing to catch her breath. Robb heaved heavily, his lips now a slight red and swollen. The two grinned at one another— Robb hand placed on her hip and the other on her cheek. “I love you”, he spoke honestly.

Y/N held back a chuckle, biting her lip as she stared lovestruck. “Now I really don’t want to marry the Frey son”.

Robb’s expression dropped, turning into a serious one as he stroked her cheek. “I’ll make things right. I will talk to the Freys, my parents— I will talk to yours. One on one. This time, I will ask for your hand without the meddling of my family”. Robb gulped, asking anxious, “…that is if you will have me”. Y/N nodded eagerly, smiling up at him, “If you’ll have me, then yes”.

“Always”.

With that, Y/N leaned in and closed the gap between their lips once more. They felt a warm, velvety feeling that flowed from their lips and sent waves of emotions coursing through their bodies. The kiss depended, a silent invitation for a more fervent connection. Robb had to decline that invitation. Pulling away, he was hit with the memory of what had just occurred a few moments ago. Looking down at Y/N, he took in all her bruises, scrapes, and dirt that covered her body.

“We still need to get you to a maester. Come on.”

Y/N groaned as Robb dragged her by the hand towards his horse, “I feel fine”. Shaking his head, Robb let out a chuckle, “We’re still in dangerous territory. Besides, that’s just all the adrenaline talking— it is bound to run out”.

Y/N gave him a mischievous smile, placing her hands on his chest and speaking quietly, “We can stay here. I can think of a few ways to keep my adrenaline pumping”. She leaned up to kiss him but was met with a flick on her forehead. “Ow”.

“Maybe another time”, he laughed, “Lets get going”. Placing her and himself upon his horse, he headed towards his home. Y/N turned her head, smiling up at him, “You looooooove me. That’s so gross”.

“Stop”.

Now aside from the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees, their laughter could be heard throughout the forest.

[sgiandubh]

The Only Exception

I am back home, with a very dark, strong coffee under my nose.

None of your reactions disappointed. Some were enthusiastic. Others, less so: egos clashed, agendas were unsettled. This is not my problem and I am not going to comment further. Those persons are free to think whatever they want, of course. The Anon I was not sent apparently made the rounds in the shipper community: others got it and have their own take on what they saw - again, that is their point of view, not mine. I was simply sent a link to a YouTube clip and told to look for a possible hug at around the 01:00 mark. Suffice to say I had no particular expectations: in fact, I found that DM on my #silly way to the bathroom, at about 03:30 AM, local time. And then tried to make sense of it. That took me four hours.

This is the link I have been sent :https://youtu.be/h6lcHzBCFkM?feature=shared. And this is the clip. It is aerial footage (drone? I am not a specialist), taken live from the Paramore segment of Taylor Swift's Edinburgh concert:

First of all, I would like to walk you through my own steps, trying to make sense of it. Before anything else, I downloaded it from YouTube, using a basic free downloader, in 1080 p resolution, mp4 format, Full HD:

Then, as I told you, I simply used the VLC media player (https://www.videolan.org/) and its very easy, intuitive options:

Red arrow is the 'take a snapshot' button. Blue arrow is the 'frame by frame' button. I have patiently clicked frame by frame, and took tens of snapshots. Seeing all these in order gives you a very clear idea of what happened and one more time: I know what I saw. And then I opened the snapshots, zoomed on the tent where the cast was and snipped the S&C relevant portion of the image.

I have not brightened the images. I have not sharpened any contrasts. I did not want to adulterate anything. Zoom was an issue, because what you gain in focus, you sometimes lose in clarity. I have no idea of compression, resolution and such things.

Certainly not the best method and perhaps crude tools. I am NOT an expert videographer. I have NO formal training in that field. I just wanted to be of service. If you think you know better and can do better, by all means: be my guest. But do better and show arguments. Also, try to be civilized and do not insult me or come in DMs to tell me that somebody else saw something else, parroting that person's POV: I simply do not care. This is what I did, in all good faith and I take full responsibility for it.

The Screeching Banshees have asked for specific footage, thinking (like some Shippers) that I only had pics. That is not true, as I just explained. It is their constitutional right. All I could do was to crop the part where the band is looking at the tent zone:

You are free to do whatever you want with it. As far as I am concerned, I have seen a loving couple who could not help themselves. I have seen joy. I have seen an open secret and the John Bell/Joey pretorian guard protecting that open secret.

I have given you all the information I could, to the best of my abilities. Again: do better, be better than me. If you have better knowledge and/or better tools, USE THEM. If that could help ALL OF US, Shippers, have more clarity and less doubts, so be it. I have no ego when I am very serious about something and I take NO credit (and use NO watermarks) for anything, only my responsibility.

I am not fishing for any compliments and I expect more insults and more doubts to seep in, for various reasons. I thank all of you who reacted positively from the bottom of my heart. But I will stand by what I have seen with my own eyes and for me, it is enough. This, nobody could take from me.

[bunnyluvx]

hsr characters and their love languages! ♡

featuring: natasha, welt yang, asta & sampo x gn!reader.

summary: hsr characters and their favorite love language with their partner! <3

warnings: spoilers about natasha if you are a beginner, and spoilers about welt yang.

a/n: hi there everybody!! this is my first official work here on tumblr and to say that i am nervous is such an understatement bc I AM SO SCARED HAHAHA. please be mindful throughout this post that i am not caught up with the game, and am not completely knowledgeable about hi3 or hsr lore. i'm pretty confident that almost all of the characters are in-character, sampo is really the only one i'm unsure of, so apologies in advance. i wanted to give natasha a break bc man she deserves one udbfoein. not proofread btw so have mercy on me for grammatical errors. i may or may not make different parts of this or make platonic/familial versions of how the characters would show their love for their friends/family, so if anyone is interested in that, please let me know!! this is also my first time doing a post like this so please be kind. ;; i'm excited to hopefully make new friends from this!! enjoy all of the fluff! <3

date started: 7:38PM, april 6th, 2024. date finished: 1:56AM. april 8th, 2024.

wc: 2.2k

natasha ♡ quality time.

natasha is always up on her feet, tirelessly working to tend to her patients and taking care of any necessities around the underworld. it is very rare that this woman is able to get a moment's rest, and as the leader of wildfire, she feels as though she cannot show weakness. she has to set an example for all of the children that she takes care of, and all of the underworld's citizens. if she falters, then they will start to worry and panic. she cannot have that. as stressful as her day-to-day life can be, she is incredibly grateful that she is able to help so many people. she loves to tend to the sick and carry out her duties so that she can guide her people to a better future.

however, when it comes to you, she feels as though she can let her guard down, when all of the children are asleep, and all of her duties for the day are done. she flops down onto your shared bed and softly sighs. you would lay by her side, her eyes closed, but she is content knowing that you are close to her. the nights that the two of you spend together are the nights where she feels most at peace. they are one of the moments that she holds of most importance, for they are the moments where she remembers that she is just oh so lucky to have you. whether if it's snuggling in bed together, which she thoroughly enjoys because she gets to snuggle up into your chest and relax, or sharing a meal, what is most important to her is that it is your time together to spend however you wish.

she feels like she can breathe with you near her; you soothe her in ways that no ordinary person could. there is something about your presence that causes every muscle in her body to ease, and she cannot help but smile whenever she sees you. there isn't much time for date nights given her positions, and you working alongside oleg as acting leader surely makes everything much harder, but you two try to make time for nice outings whenever you can because you both love going out to do things together.

to her, it doesn't even matter if you go out to do something. even if the two of you aren't doing anything together. she is just happy with you reading next to her while she's practicing stitching up her teddy bear. or when she's reading through paperwork and you're reorganizing some of the shelves and drawers around the clinic. being in your presence is all she needs in order to feel loved by you.

welt yang ♡ acts of service.

admittedly, welt is quite the romantic. there has always been a part of him that has been fond of the idea of finding someone right for him in this dimension. he never really made a priority for it, he never actively seeked out a partner. it has always been something that every once in a while, he would think of and smile about. it is a very small, personal part of him, but part of him nevertheless. and it blossomed to life when he met you. the part of him that wanted a person to spoil, to care for and to make their every wish came true really came to light.

anytime you say you want or need something, you better believe that he offers to grab it for you. not to say that he doesn't believe that you aren't capable of doing things for yourself; he just likes offering and if you accept, taking out those tasks for you. you want a drink or something to eat? what would you like? he'll get it for you. you're about to enter/exit any building? he's rushing ahead of you to open the door for you. something hurts? where? he'll give you a massage. your room is dirty and you need to clean it? with your permission, he will clean and organize it for you just the way you like it. he'll make sure to put things where he knows you're going to remember them too. you've been feeling down recently? he puts sticky-notes on the bathroom mirror for you to remind you how wonderful you are and how much he loves you. and it is guaranteed that when you are dating welt, that he has drawings in his sketchbook filled with you. he loves every single detail of you, and wants to commit them all to memory. he even made characters for one of his personal animation projects based off of you and him. when he showed them to you to see your reaction, and to gain your approval to have them in the first place, you were smitten and he received many, many kisses to the face.

welt absolutely worships the ground that you walk on. wherever you are, he always makes sure that you are comfortable, happy, healthy and safe. he does everything in his power to take care of you, even though he knows that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. he firmly believes in "actions speak louder than words". he likes to show his dedication and love for you through his actions. he reminds you every single day through his actions just why you fell for him, and he reminds you everyday how much he loves you. he will continue to do so, until the multiverse falls apart.

asta ♡ words of affirmation.

originally i was going to say that her love language is gift giving, seeing as she has so much money, she wants to be able to give as much as she can. she gives money to the space station to help with repairs, so why wouldn't she want to spoil the heck out of you?! however, upon taking a little peak at her lore, she is actually insecure about her riches. i feel as though she wouldn't want you to think that she's some snobby bigshot just because she has a wealthy family, so while she would get gifts for you, she would worry about what exactly she got and how much of it costed, and what you would possibly think of her if you got something that was deemed "too expensive" by society. she doesn't want you to think less of her. so, after looking at the five primary love languages, my next thought was words of affirmation.

asta seems like the type of girlfriend to enjoy both receiving and giving reassurance, kind words and compliments. in her times of stress, what she really needs is for you to put your hand on her shoulder and tell her that she'll figure everything out and that it will be okay. she looks to you with worried eyes, placing her hand over yours. she wouldn't say a word, her eyes tell you what she wants to say. "how can you be so sure? what if i don't figure this out? what if i get kicked off of the space station? what if-" a thousand thoughts run through her head at all times, and when she's stressed, the volume cranks up to one-hundred. it is only with you telling her that it'll be alright, and that you will be by her side the entire time that she is able to feel more at ease. your words mean everything to her.

she also loves to give reassurance. when you are feeling worried or anxious, she is quick to hop in and listen to whatever may be troubling you. she always tells you that it will all work out, and that she is always going to be there for you. she will never leave your side, she says, and she loves you with every ounce of her heart. she also wraps you up in compliments; when you change up your appearance somehow, whether if it's from clothes, hair, make-up or other changes, she will always point it out to you and tell you that she thinks that you are the most beautiful person in the whole world. or, when the two of you are laying together at night, she will tell you just how good of a heart you have. she will tell you how proud she is of you and of the progress that you have made since she first met you. she will tell you just how enthralled she is with you, and how you make her heart want to squeeze and stop in her chest. she will tell you exactly how she feels about you, and it is overwhelmingly lovely, because you know that every word she speaks, she means it from the bottom of her heart. and in turn, you try your best to do the same when you can. she is always grateful to hear your words of praise and adoration for her, even if it's something small. a simple "i'm here for you" will make her happy, because she knows that you mean what you say. gosh, she just loves you so much that she doesn't know how to handle it. your love is genuine, true and real, and speaking of that love to each other makes asta feel like she's floating in a cloud's soft embrace.

sampo koski ♡ gift receiving.

when it comes to showing his affection for you, he is always buying you things whenever he can. jumping from job to job all of the time can lead to strain with his finances, but he is able to make good money often enough to the point where he is able to buy nice gifts for you. he has become used to taking things from people without thinking twice, so when you first started dating, he gave you stolen things. buuuttt you were very unhappy about it; not because of the gift itself, but because of the fact that he stole it. so you told him very firmly that you would not accept anything that he stole. he respected your wishes, of course, and started to buy you things ethically.

receiving gifts became a regular thing for you. sampo would come home after a long day of working around belobog, hand you whatever little trinket he managed to get his handa on and say, "for you, baby~". you are always grateful for everything that he gives you, and one day, you thought to return the favor. so, while you were out and about one day, you saw a really cute pin of a puppy. when you saw it, it automatically made you think of sampo. so, you bought it, and planned to give it to him when he came home that night.

when nighttime rolled around, he busted the doors open and called, "HONEYYY, IIIII'M HOOOOOOME!!~" in a silly way before laughing to himself and taking his shoes off. you rush up to him, the man opening his arms for you as you hop up to hug him. you share a kiss, then move back out of his arms with a little grin on your face. he noticed the look and asked what was up, then you told him that you had a gift for him. he was caught off-guard, admittedly, as he didn't expect such a pleasant surprise. he tried to act humbly at first, telling you that you didn't need to do that for lil ol' sampo! he's the one that supposed to be spoiling you, after all! but you shut that down immediately and insisted that he takes your gift. he couldn't say no to how excited you looked to give him something, he asked what it was, and you told him to close his eyes. he did, and when he opened them, there it was! in your hands was the cutest little puppy pin he has ever seen in his life.

he took a moment to speak or move as his usual cocky attitude melted away. his eyes became glossy and his lip started to tremble. he was so touched by the fact that you were thinking of him so much that you got him a gift. you asked if he was okay, as he never cried around you before, and he quickly wiped his nose and eyes on his sleeve and sniffled. he assured you that he was okay before taking the pin from you and cooing about how cute it was. seriously, it was so freaking adorable, how did you even get your hands on this??? he asked why you chose it for him, and when you told him that it looked like him, he caved and gave you a bone-crushing hug. his sobs were quiet and he sniffled. the idea of you seeing such an adorable little treasure and thinking that you wanted, no, you needed to get it for him just makes his heart crumble in the best way possible. needless to say, he wears that pin everywhere he goes and never takes it off. it is on him at all times, as are all of the other wearable gifts that you got for him after that. he cherishes every single thing that you give him, and he wants to be able to show you that no matter how big or small it is, he will love it forever. just as he will love you.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is so very appreciated! <3

[acertifiedmoron]

jonelias is incredibly funny and thematically compelling to me because of their character trajectories. like it starts out as twisted nbc hannibal season 1 psychological horror "you wouldn't put a guy in situations" wherein elias runs his lab rat i mean jon through the archivist trauma punch card machine ("wind him up and watch him go") and every day is tortured gothic horror protagonist day for him but he doesn't quite get it yet. and then season 3 happens and jon's a little further in the beholding's grasp and he's experiencing physiological changes which only elias understands and now we're in vampirism metaphor territory, he turned you into a monster but he's the only one who will offer you the absolution you seek! ("elias, am i still human?") murderer mentor maker!!! and you hate him you HATE him but *will graham voice* where else would i go?

and then season 4 happens and audio recording by jonathan sims, the Archivist. point of no return. he's extracting statements. he's feeding. he's unwittingly channelling elias ("you just need... a break.") he's scaring everyone at the institute, but doesn't it feel a tiny bit good after having been powerless and at the mercy of all these other avatars for so long? and even then the only person in the whole world he can turn to for advise is elias because they're alike. they're mirrors. they were similar even before the beholding had its hold on jon, because to be avatars of the eye is to hold a shared, unabating curiosity for knowledge and both of them sought it out to protect themselves from the fears. why else would jon end up at the magnus institute if not for a guest for mr spider.

then there's the panopticon reveal and turns out jon was trapped in a bluebeard narrative all along! but bluebeard's just won. jon took the key and opened the door and found his secret but he's not simply another victim, being bluebeard's final wife means narratively distinguishing yourself from the ones that came before and he does. he's the special one, he's the archive. and jonah/elias says he did everything to free himself from pain and death forever, to free them both from it all forever. and he says "don't worry, jon. you'll get used to it here. in the world that we have made."

and then. power dynamic reversal‼️now season 5 fumbled this badly but listen. the monster you created is coming down to hunt you for sport. the thing you created to escape annihilation is also the very thing that can end you at any given moment. "behold a god more powerful than i who comes to rule over me." and then it's "suffer for me, as i suffered for you." and eventually they play out some equivalent of tackling each other off a cliff hannigram style. or dead ringers 1988. because they're doubles they're mirrors they're shadow selves they're the watcher and the archivist. conjoined. and one cannot exist without the other :)

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hey, allo anon with an ace partner here. I wanted to say thank you so much for the well wishes! I figured I would send this in here again, so anyone else who is curious about what this experience looks like from the other side can see it.

My girlfriend came out to me a little over 2 years into our relationship. At the time it surprised me a lot, because she'd never given me any signs that she wasn't enjoying what we were doing. After we talked more I understood that she wasn't repulsed by sex and she didn't hate it, but she didn't really love it either and wanted to stop doing it for a while (so a sex-neutral ace).

Honestly, at the time, I did get anxious about it. Not just because of social conventions, but because I had viewed sex as an important bonding part of our relationship. I don't do well with change, and I was super worried about how a lack of sex would change our dynamic. I also had some insecurities about my own body, and my girlfriend admitting that she didn't see me as sexy was upsetting. But after speaking to my therapist, I realized that I was projecting my own issues on to the relationship. So I spoke with her again, and she reassured me that she wanted to be with me, and that she was confiding these feelings because she trusted me. She likes how I look, she just doesn't have the same sexual impulses I do.

So, I realized this was pretty much like cuddling. I love physical touch a lot, and I want to cuddle for a much longer time than she does. I like it when someone lies on top of me. She doesn't want me on top of her chest during cuddling. She still cuddles with me, but she tells me when she's satisfied, and we stop.

A few months went by, and I noticed that she wasn't spending any less time with me; she was actually spending more. We would still call every evening when we didn't meet up in person, we would still joke around, and she still told me she loved me and did everything she could to show it to me. We also began trying out new stuff together, and playing games and watching stuff more often. We also still had plenty of physical intimacy with things like cuddling and kissing, which made me really happy.

I realized that I didn't feel like anything was missing from the relationship. I just needed her to show and tell me she loved me in the ways she normally did. Sure, I am still attracted to her that way, but it wasn't something that would make or break the relationship.

It's been years since she came out, and at this point, I never expect anything sexual. It happens rarely, and I always check in with her multiple times before and during. We stop at any point she tells me. There are quite a few hard boundaries about what is and isn't off limits, and I always keep them in mind. I would rather satisfy myself forever than make her uncomfortable, and she knows it.

It's been over 5 years and we are still going strong. I am hoping to ask her to marry me in the next few years, because honestly, I can't picture wanting anyone else by my side. She is kind, funny, beautiful, intelligent, and treats me well. I could never ask for anything more from a partner.

Thank you SO MUCH for sharing. I myself definitely lack knowledge of what it feels like from an allo's perspective, so this was very educational for me, but beyond that... You have no idea how much hope this gives me.

From you being aware of how much sex meant to you in the context of your relationship and still being fine without it, to just... Heck, even your therapist for not blaming her for the situation. Therapy is still very much, in my country at least, an area where the absence or lower levels of sexual attraction will be hastily labelled as something wrong physically or mentally, so... Yeah, the amount of relief I felt reading that, you have no idea. And I can only imagine how much your partner appreciates it too.

Honestly I teared up a bit reading this - I sincerely wish you guys all the best and I hope you have a bright future ahead! (Also fun fact, seems you guys have been together as long as my partner and I have, it's nice to be able to relate to that too hehe^^)

[fanaticsnail]

Snail Life Update

Previous update here.

We are celebrating small victories today, and with the arrival of a doctor in the mail from some beautiful friends to support me through this scare, I thought I'd put my old bartending background to good use and make something special. Thanks for my Chopper, @feral-artistry. I love him 🥹.

Cocktail: Four Pillars Yuzu Gin, Choya Umeshu, Aperol, fresh mandarine juice, and half an egg white (laid by our Araucana hen, Consuela). Shaken with ice, garnished with mandarine peel and grated dried strawberries (there is also an umeshu plum in the bottom). It is not too sweet, bitter from the Aperol, and sour from the citrus 👌.

Update under here. Likely TMI, and TW for medical talks.

The long and short of it, without being too graphic, is that there is a growth going on in my chest, the left-hand side near where the clot blockage in my armpit is sourced. I have some microcalcification going on, found in the mammogram "panini press" and ultrasound, that is deemed safe for now.

Antibiotics did nothing to shift the clot in my arm, but it is gradually going down and down. The pain is still there, but it's not as intense and unbearable as it initially was. So far, I'm managing. Given how large the vein is raised, everyone was quick to say "cancer" to which, if we're being fair here, is absolutely a possibility with the development of the microcalcifications in my future.

For now, it's being read as benign - so I'm celebrating the victories as they come! I'm at ease with the information, but it's a little unnerving that I have to have it ferment in my chest for another year's time to ensure he was correct in the initial diagnosis.

There is very, very, newfound knowledge that breast cancer is hereditary, and my doctor was very hasty to order a test for me. I am thankful for the care I received from him, he is spectacular. For now, I get to just take paracetamol for the pain, and ibuprofen and aspirin to aid in the flow of blood to ease the pressure (or today, this pretty nice cocktail, if I do say so myself).

This One Piece Community is amazing, and I cherish all of you so, so much. Thank you for letting me share my stories here with you. If you've read this far, know I care so deeply for you, and I hope your day is as happy and bright as mine has been made now. Cheers 🍸.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company. 

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact. 

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face. 

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows.  “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🍯New Age Money ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘When I was small, God was around and curiously granted my every wish. Now a grownup, I still believe that miracles do happen and that alone gets me up in the morning with such gladness.

And if I am enveloped by a peaceful sun filtering through the branches as I open my curtains, I am sure, everything before my eyes is a message.

When I was small, God was around and sent Love my way every day. And now, it is time I opened that precious box that’s been forgotten, kept hidden in a corner of my heart.

And if I am enveloped by the soft fragrance of cape jasmine in a garden awash by rain, I am sure, everything before my eyes is a message.’

– When I’m Surrounded by Kindness from Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

あなたの特技！Surely everybody was born into this world carrying some precious boxes of God-given talents. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to open those boxes and monetise such talents with Soul?

SONG: Yasashisa ni Tsutsumareta nara by Matsutoya Yumi

MOVIE: Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – ‘Harry, you’re a Witch!’

untapped divine talents – Queen of Cups

Hey, magical creature~ You literally possess mystical powers but you probably didn’t even know~! You’re a sensual being, like a siren, who has an innate ability to feel what others can’t easily perceive. Naturally, this translates into your being highly intuitive, empathetic, imaginative—and you might’ve felt like this world wasn’t made for you. Psychics are incredibly sensitive people and you could’ve felt out of place most of your Life, but as the insightful Jiddu Krishnamurti said: sensitivity is the highest form of intelligence. We’re talkin’ EQ here😘

Someone like you was definitely not built for any kind of money-making endeavour that doesn’t allow you to be sensitive to the needs of others. There’s meaning in your being emotionally attuned and imaginative; even if—for example—you feel that your calling is to become an author, even in your writing it’s clear there’s a purpose of healing those who come into contact with your Art. If you’ve chosen this as your main pile, you literally possess some innate ability to heal others and this explains why you’ve always had the urge to make the world a better place🌍

You see, back in those long-gone days, those who were called witches were really scientists, teachers and healers. The word ‘witch’ comes from ‘wicca’ which means the wise one. Wicca (male) and wicce (female) were the knowledgeable ones who sought to apply their wealth of information and perspectives for the betterment of others as that’s how knowledge becomes wisdom. There is an untapped divine talent resting in you and it is your ability to feel through your psychic senses what society is lacking in terms of its maintenance of its own sanity🎭

YOU, literally hold all the ingredients necessary for a once in a lifetime breakthrough that could potentially heal all of Mankind for centuries to come~🌻

karmic/dharmic opportunities – XIII Death

I betcha you have significant Scorpio influences or 8th House placements or a specifically strong Pluto/Neptune presence in your natal chart. It could be that shortly before you were born someone quite spiritual/religious/magickal in your bloodline had passed away and it almost feels like you were born to pick up the pieces they had left. I betcha that some of your innate interests since childhood or pursuits you feel very strongly about that may have developed later in Life were inspired by or related to that relative/ancestor, one way or another. Like you just share similar patterns of behaviour, interests or even thought processes🦜

What you can really take away from all of this is that you have a purpose higher than yourself. That you came with specific blueprints and that your whole Life, your sense of purpose or mission, all of that is a group project you share with many Souls in the Higher Realms. Only high-vibrational peeps will really resonate with this message😊And that in itself is confirmation for you to know you have many opportunities in the healing and creative industries.

Seriously, you needn’t even have to worry about how you’re gonna make money with these opportunities even if they sound out of reach at the moment. Because it is your Destiny to be a cycle breaker—to start something completely new on your own—a path will be made for you just to fulfil your Destiny. And you can wholeheartedly trust in that to save yourself from excessive worry/anxiety🍷

the future of jobs – 5 of Pentacles

In the industry you’re meant to be part of, there will be a lot of chaos right before you make your debut. Like things are just falling apart and many of the players aren’t even sure what they’re there for anymore. There’s a lot of disillusionment that’s needing to be felt to the max until a breakthrough can really have any meaning. Either that, or some of you could be the one creating more chaos in the industry as you enter it LMAO We call you an industry disruptor, alright? You’re that breath of oxygen everybody was needing because they had been suffocating themselves with their own stupidity🍭

If you’ve resonated with this pile thus far, know that you’re meant to bring some healing—even enlightenment to some extent—to whichever industry you feel a calling to. And this is totally not a one-man’s show; you will be meeting a lot of kindred spirits in that industry and others associated with it. You’re meant to have an audience and serve a greater spiritual purpose for all involved. Bring back all those people into OG spirituality. All of this for what? For people’s mental health, obvi~💕

How does every one of these people expect themselves to be truly happy and abundant when their viewpoints are marred by childhood traumas and the excessive need for revenge? You of all people understand the innate darkness of the human psychology and the future of jobs within the industry of your calling is dependent on its people transcending above trauma and lack mentality so that a new, healthier paradigm can be established. Out with addictive behaviours; out with destructive habits; in with purer intents~ That’s the kind of New World you’re meant to be a part of to earn your keep in the most high-vibrational way👒

CURRENTS OF CHI (currency)🔻💛

being of service to Mankind – Gold Physician (Hippocrates)

delights of Life – Priestess of Contemplation

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Paths Least Travelled Lead to the Greatest Stories

untapped divine talents – 9 of Cups

You…need to go and carve out a LYFE of your own, honey. Since you were quite young, you’ve always had this desire to go explore strange territories and come back to share grand stories only you could tell. A unique Life of your own that sets you apart from your family/community. Try to check what numerology has to say about, for example, your Life Path, Soul Urge, Expression and all that; there may be something there that validates this desire to be unique, to be different, to be a fucking unicorn, and perhaps, to be the FIRST to discover or invent something🦄

You have what it takes to thrive alone, that much I can assure you. Some of you probably even have Jupiter in Pisces/12th House or Neptune/Uranus in 9th House. Whatever it is, your Soul does intend for you to travel paths least travelled and discover magical things only you could have access to. What is this strange narrative for? For discovering your Soul’s heritage. I know it sounds weird. But you’ve come from very distinct bloodlines and I sense many of you have a strong affinity towards the faery realm? There’s a lot of historical truths to uncover as you walk the lonely path of the eccentric hermit🏞

The New Age of Aquarius is changing the way we receive truths. It’s such a glad thing that people are now more open to seeing things for what they truly are no matter how politically ‘incorrect’ or heartbreaking the truths are. Your untapped divine talents will naturally bring you towards avenues where you will arise as some kind of a whistleblower or you will be unearthing ancient esoteric wisdom and sharing it with the public. Your life path is definitely very exciting and will take you to wonderful places and meeting the most unique people in the world!⛵️

karmic/dharmic opportunities – 7 of Wands Rx

In many regards, your life path could even lead you to meeting some of the world’s most distinguished individuals OMO But the path is understandably not easy. This kind of calling will require a great deal of character and tenacity. You will be rocking the yachts of the Devil, right? Your Life Stories could get extra absurd and your discoveries might lead you to some dangerous encounters. Nevertheless, if you are nudged by a sense of being of service to Truth, you will decide it’s all worth it. When we die, our Souls carry only stories and memories of our heroism anyway🧬

You will have friends though. People who share your passion for the real re-education of the people. I see professions in journalism, philosophy, psychology, anthropology, criminology, even celebrity exposé stuff that reveal the scammy behaviours of the evil rich and famous. You could also be drawn intuitively to the studies of the REAL history of Planet Earth, her extraterrestrial history and the truths of the lost civilisations that have shaped the wars of our Time. You could secretly (or not so secretly) be part of the disclosure movement����

The studies of Astronomy and Astrotheology will benefit you a great deal if you’ve resonated this far with this being your main pile. In everything that you do, there is a panacea for the brokenness of Humanity. Your sharing of outlandish discoveries and suppressed information could be what Humanity needs for it to mature and choose global peace and harmony. It will be a lifelong effort that may not end with your lifetime though. So make sure you leave enough material as your legacy for the next generations to continue on🍁

the future of jobs – King of Cups

I suppose it’s pretty clear to many of us now that the world is run by psychopaths. Indecent human beings with terrible hobbies that hurt others and the sheer disregard for the sustainability of the Planet and the livelihood of her inhabitants. With you, you will see for yourself pretty soon that the world is choosing to move to a more compassionate space, and you will have a role in giving a voice to those whose intentions for their societies are more honourable. You could be one to contribute an invention or two yourself; perhaps an exposé book, perhaps a channel, a website~ Idk, what do you feel called to?🎪

In the future you will be part of, you will see evil leaders getting replaced, thwarted even, by compassionate leaders of the New Age Money. Down to anarchy; we want real peace. Down to young psychopaths rebelling against old psychopaths only to start a new cycle of abuse. The future you will be seeing will see that those with a genuine heart rise to the top and begin taking charge of the wheel of society. Leading with a heart. People before profit. It’s really not that difficult to sow the seeds now~🌱

You yourself, and the people who share the same passion, vision and mission as yourself, you are a bunch of experts who will glue together different factions of society who want to work hand-in-hand to remedy all the destruction caused by the powerful psychopaths. There is diplomacy in what you share with the rest of the populace and there is kindness and grace. People’s mental wellbeing will be put at the forefront before profits are made. And if we really did go into a WWIII…

CURRENTS OF CHI (currency)🔻💜

being of service to Mankind – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

delights of Life – Priestess of Solitude

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – For You, It’s Never, Ever, Been About the Money

untapped divine talents – Queen of Pentacles Rx

Of all the piles, you’ve always resonated with loving being of service to the world since you were tiny. You could’ve been attracted to the service and hospitality industries since you were quite young, too. You were probably quite social when you were a kid and liked the idea of working jobs that would ensure other people have a good time, have a good experience with excellent customer service—basically, you liked the idea of helping/assisting others. If you could make your own choices, you’d rather have these types of job🩹

Unfortunately, growing up you were told that such jobs had no money or glamour. Some of you reading this could’ve come from a wealthy background in which working to service others is seen as uncool…even low. So this could’ve caused a great deal of psychological conflict in you. What you want and what your society deems worthwhile seemed to be in conflict. But let me tell you that your heart really knows what’s intended for your highest good🦉

From a very young age, you were already able to see that this world is sick and needing a lot of help when it comes to healing and transmuting negative aenergies. Your child brain couldn’t have verbalised that but your higher intuition knew you were put on Earth to tip the scale. You didn’t want to care about money; you wanted to pursue an authentic Life where your existence could be of some use to somebody👑

karmic/dharmic opportunities – III The Empress Rx

Some of you could’ve come from a rather impoverished background. This is easy to deal with. You were born face to face with this Devil called ‘lack’. But some of you could’ve come from a wealthier background or at least you weren’t necessarily starving and your society could’ve expected a lot from you. If the latter is the case with you, at some point in Life your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides will force you to get down from the high horse of your inauthentic environment and have you experience Life from the perspective of those who haven’t got much in Life🐛

When this happens, your eyes will be opened to what truly matters in Life. That essentially, everybody in this world is sick to the bone because they’re trying to fill a hole in their hearts with weirdass purchases and hobbies. Part of your karmic reason to be born at this passage of time is to help Mankind transmute its unhealthy affinity towards excess indulgence via obtaining things that are truly fleeting. When you learn to overcome your own traumas and addictions, you help the collective conscious of Humanity transcend above that, too. This is very noble and you deserve a big bear hug just for existing in this realm~🧸

Rest assured, it is in your Soul’s blueprint that you must end up abundant yourself when all’s said and done. You’re destined to be very wealthy, from doing things that are high-vibrational and fully in alignment with what your Soul wishes for you to express as a Human being. You’re meant to set an example of what it means to do a job with Love~🎀

the future of jobs – 2 of Pentacles Rx

Many of you grew up in societies that taught you: passion doesn’t put food on the table. And you’ve observed many real examples of those who prioritise good deeds end up not having much money, indeed. And you could’ve believed that Life is about choosing between passion and duty. Bullshit. If people can’t thrive doing what they love, it’s the society that’s broken; how can there be no money to be made in those endeavours that are more exciting, more meaningful? You realise now that the System was designed to depress the common people in the pursuit of serving the Devil😰

You and your kindred spirits are the free spirits that are going to usher in an era of New Age Money where people no longer need to ruminate over sacrificing passion or freedom for a stable income. Back to before Industrial Revolution, maybe? Let’s reset the paradigm so we can recalibrate ourselves towards something more of a Solarpunk Society, or a Steampunk Society, that’s cool, too🍵

For you, it’s never ever been about the money. Career endeavours that would suit you most are whatever you feel an innate calling for. Many of your natural talents you’ve got since birth can be monetised in the service of your community, and better yet, online community. Some of you may feel a calling for being in the hospitality business, engineering, have an online presence or be a social media influencer, and some others may simply work in the aviation or F&B business, while some could want to become an eco-farmer or something. Whichever it may be, know that you have the unique power to elevate many aspects of the industry you are part of~🏹

CURRENTS OF CHI (currency)🔻💚

being of service to Mankind – Silver Astronomer (John Dee)

delights of Life – Priestess of Faith

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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