#adene writes

[sassymajesty]

LIFE AT HOME

A series of one shots that follow Clarke and Lexa as they navigate motherhood with their three children: Aden and the twins, Madi and Becca.

previously a patreon story, now on ao3.

[pyrettawychwiggin]

Master List - Writing

I've been writing fanfictions and original work for.... a while. So I thought it was time to make a proper list with links for it all. I've put up a general glossary below, but all the links and details are below the cut. Enjoy! ♡

Disclaimer: all NSFW/18+ content is linked below, but they are only available to read for members on our Ko-Fi/Patreon pages, mainly for age restriction purposes.

Mini Glossary (Fanfictions)

• The Arcana

• Destiny/Destiny 2

• Fallout

• Jujutsu Kaisen

• Skyrim (The Elder Scrolls)

Mini Glossary (Original Work)

• The Rantings of a Chairside Tooth Fairy

If you want to support us further, consider becoming a supporter on our Ko-Fi or Patreon pages, and be sure to check out our Linktree for a full list of everything PSH.

Links to all of my work is below the cut.

The Arcana

• You can find my playable games on the Dorian.live app ♡ This includes games like 'In Medias Res' and 'The Fool's Journey.'

• Character Sheets - Anya Strekoza - some character sheets for my MC done in the style of the original character sheets from The Arcana. No content warnings.

• Anya's Backstory, Notes - Spoiler Alert for the the main storyline of The Arcana.

• April Asks - a list of 20 questions about my MC - Anya Strekoza. No content warnings.

Destiny/Destiny 2

• 'Come With Me' - Crow x Guardian (Vera, the Female Void Hunter) - SFW, fluff, semi-platonic. Oneshot.

• 'No Harm Done' - Crow x Guardian (Vera, the Female Void Hunter) - SFW, fluff, semi-platonic. Oneshot.

• NSFW Alphabet - Crow (Gender-Neutral Guardian) - NSFW, 18+, exclusive on Ko-Fi/Patreon only.

• SFW Romantic Alphabet - Crow (Gender-Neutral Guardian) - SFW, fluffy.

Fallout

• 'The Iron Angel: The Tale of Maria Röentgen' (Fallout 3) - follows a female Lone Wanderer on her journey beyond her tiny world in Vault 101. Saga.

Jujutsu Kaisen

• 'Wishful Thinking' - a mini-series following Himawari Sasaki, a sorcerer-turned-civilian, during the tail-end of the events of the Shibuya Incident. Not recommended if you haven't at least watched season 2 due to spoilers. (Nanami Kento x OC/Himawari Sasaki, SFW, slow burn, fluff)

• 'Nanami Kento Relationship Headcanons' - a post just talking about how a relationship with Nanami would evolve. (Nanami Kento x You, SFW, Fluffy, Point-Form)

• SFW Alphabet (Nanami Kento) - (Gender-Neutral) - SFW, fluffy, mild suggestive themes.

• Random Nanami Kento Headcanons (Post-Shibuya-Incident) - (Gender-Neutral) - SFW, fluffy, mentions of trauma and injury, the teeny-tiniest hint of angst but only if you squint.

• JJK Characters Surprise You By Singing/Playing An Instrument - a multiple-part series with Spotify Links! Each entry has one or two short stories as well.

- Part 1 - Gojo, Megumi, Nanami, Suguru, Choso - Part 2 - Coming Soon...

Skyrim (The Elder Scrolls)

• 'Songstress of Skyrim' - follow the story of a Breton woman named Mhari Freysri as she navigates the dangerous and wonderful land of Skyrim. This story follows her from her arrival in Solitude and through basically every quest I could find (mostly SFW with some fade-to-black moments; NSFW content will be available to read on Patreon/Ko-Fi)

Rantings of a Chairside Tooth Fairy

• This story starts with a rough re-telling of my decision to become a dental assistant, then leads into a series of blog posts talking/ranting about the job, the industry, the people, etc (SFW, non-fiction, starts out story-style for the prologue, the rest is written is more of a blog-like format)

[daughter-of-inklings]

I've been mostly using the Inktober prompts for writing and not drawing, in prep for NaNoWriMo, but here's this for day 6:

golden

[hurryupmerlin]

In which Ordo tries to resolve things without drama for once

Relationship:

RC-8015 | Fi Skirata/Null-11 | Ordo Skirata (mentioned) But really, this is just about the Nulls being bros and having fun

Rating / Tags:

General Audiences / Brothers, Clones, Clone Troopers as Brothers (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Shenanigans (Star Wars), Gossip and rumors, just a fun lil something with the Nulls

Summary:

By now, half the GAR knows, but of course the Nulls stick to Ordo.

There was a rumor circulating in the barracks and it rapidly gained adherents. The Nulls and Omega could only do so much to stop it spreading.

"I swear I've seen them with my own two eyes," one of the cadets told his squad over lunch in a hushed voice. "RC-8015 kneeling in front of that weird Null-Captain. And he sure as kerk wasn't adjusting a codpiece."

"You want to repeat that, shiny?"

Read more on AO3

// Part 6 of the "RepComm with a reputation" series //

[rooksamoris]

they did jamil's story so dirty, so im here to do him justice. honestly, a lot of my depictions of him come from various pieces of arabic literature that criticize the caste system/social hierarchy as a whole. a lot of our most romantic literature comes from people who could not be in love with their muses due to social/ethnic hierarchies. as such, a lot of the writing that i have done of jamil is inspired by those conflicts and just arabic poetry in general.

his story is very underdeveloped and the fandom treats him horribly. that isn't controversial, at least i don't think so. there's a lot of orientalism in the work of twisted wonderland when it comes to the scarabia duo, as well as leona kingscholar too, so im just doing my best to rectify that via sharing bits of arab culture and history through him and kalim as well, soon enough. i wanna do with same with leona, hopefully. im not east african, but i am yemeni and it takes like one-two hours in a boat from the coast of aden to get to east africa.

recently, i have been looking into studying swahili. btw, swahili comes from the arabic word meaning "coast" but it is a bantu language. due to their proximity to the coast and the arabian peninsula, the languages and cultures have mixed a lot (look into socotra island). all that rambling aside, i love the scarabia duo and leona. they deserved better from the creators as well as the fandom.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Imagine cowboy!reader walking into the bullpen and just seeing everyone crowded around JJ’s desk, going to see what they’re looking at and it’s just pictures of him as a teenager with THE FULL cowboy get up™️ on

Hiya! This is an amazing request thank you so much for sending it in, I appreciate all requests! Also cowboy reader in the photo is wearing the full cowboy get up, I did research it but please (as always) let me know if I get anything wrong :)

Description: JJ gets a hold of a picture from cowboy's younger years

Warnings: None

Taglist:

@chubbyboyinflannel @xweirdo101x @ara-a-bird @supercriminalbean @pendragon-writes

@technikerin23 @migwayne @criminalskies @oddmiles @1s3v3n1

@kevyeen @heidss @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @stealing-kneecaps

@woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal

@13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms

@logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17 @pinxeajin @silas-aeiou

You walked into the bullpen with a sigh, clutching a Tupperware box of freshly baked cookies.

"Hey guys, what's goin' on?" You asked, placing the cookies on your desk, your hat to follow.

"We have found a work of art." Garcia declared, face lighting up. "We have found the most magnificent thing to ever exist."

You smile slightly at her before you look at the rest of the team, noticing the particularly proud expressions they all held whilst crowded around JJ's desk.

"What's really goin' on?" You asked, giving JJ a raised eyebrow.

She smiled sheepishly at you, turning around what she was holding. A photo. Of you, aged sixteen, seventeen, decked out completely in all things cowboy. You were wearing a denim button down shirt, denim jeans, a belt with a large belt buckle, cowboy boots (with spurs, obviously), and a cowboy hat.

"Oh my good lord." You mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. "How did you get that?"

"Aden sent it to me."

"'M gonna kill that brat." You mumbled, cheeks flushing a deep pink.

"Awe, he's blushing."

"Right, that's it." You said, "There's nothing left for me to say except: one, I rocked that look and still do; and two, no cookies for you."

"No cookies?" Spencer asked, face dropped.

You looked at the young agent, "Fine, you can have cookies." You gave a small huff, handing your colleagues the tub of cookies. "I can't believe he actually sent you that."

JJ grinned, and with her voice lighthearted, said: "He's a troublemakers."

"Oh, I'm tempted to ground him."

"That might be a little too far," Morgan chimed.

"It's almost like you don't want any cookies."

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Aden Polydoros spent more than a decade living in Arizona as a transgender man until, he says, a transphobic experience in the summer of 2022 prompted him to move to Canada.  He moved to Vancouver this April. He says he's lucky. As an author, it was easy to take his work with him. He also started studying screenwriting as he hopes to write for movies some day. Polydoros, 27, says he feels safer in Canada. But nationwide protests in September over LGBTQ-inclusive school policies disturbed him. 

Continue Reading

Tagging @politicsofcanada

[gothhabiba]

loving your falafel research saga and just wanted to ask - something I remember hearing about falafel is that while Israeli culture definitely appropriated it, the concept of serving it in pita bread with salads, tahini etc. is a specifically Israeli twist on the dish. I wonder if you found/know anything about that?

The short answer is: it's not impossible, but I don't think there's any way to tell for sure. The long answer is:

The most prominent claim I've heard of this nature is specifically that Yemeni Jews (who had immigrated to Israel under 'right of return' laws and were Israeli citizens) invented the concept of serving falafel in "pita" bread in the 1930s—perhaps after they (in addition to Jews from Morocco or Syria) had brought falafel over and introduced it to Palestinians in the first place.

"Mizrahim brought falafel to Palestine"

This latter claim, which is purely nonsense (again... no such thing as Moroccan falafel!)—and which Joel Denker (linked above) repeats with no source or evidence—was able to arise because it was often Mizrahim who introduced Israelis to Palestinian food. Mizrahi falafel sellers in the early 20th century might run licensed falafel stands, or carry tins full of hot falafel on their backs and go from door to door selling them (see Shaul Stampfer on a Yemeni man doing this, "Bagel and Falafel: Two Iconic Jewish Foods and One Modern Jewish Identity," in Jews and their Foodways, p. 183; this Arabic source mentions a 1985 Arabic novel in which a falafel seller uses such a tin; Yael Raviv writes that "Running falafel stands had been popular with Yemenite immigrants to Palestine as early as the 1920s and ’30s," "Falafel: A National Icon," Gastronomica 3.3 (2003), p. 22).

On Mizrahi preparation of Palestinian food, Dafna Hirsch writes:

As Sami Zubaida notes, Middle Eastern foodways, while far from homogeneous, are nevertheless describable in a vocabulary and set of idioms that are “often comprehensible, if not familiar, to the socially diverse parties” [...]. Thus, for the Jews who arrived in Palestine from the Middle East, Palestinian Arab foods and foodways were “comprehensible, if not familiar,” even if some of the dishes were previously unknown to most of them. [...] They found nothing extraordinary or exotic in the consumption, preparation, and selling of foods from the Palestinian Arab kitchen. Therefore, it was often Mizrahi Jews who mediated local foods to Ashkenazi consumers, as street food vendors and restaurant owners. ("Urban Food Venues as Contact Zones between Arabs and Jews during the British Mandate Period," in Making Levantine Cuisine: Modern Foodways of the Eastern Mediterranean, p. 101).

Raviv concurs and furnishes a possible mechanism for this borrowing:

Other Mizrahi Jewish vendors sold falafel, which by the late 1930s had become quite prevalent and popular on the streets of Tel Aviv. [...] Tel Aviv had eight licensed Mizrahi falafel vendors by 1941 and others who sold falafel without a license. [FN: The Tel Aviv municipality granted vending license to people who could not make their living in any other way as a form of welfare.] Many of the vendors were of Yemenite origins, although falafel was unknown in Yemen. [FN: Many of the immigrants from Yemen arrived in Palestine via Egypt, so it is possible that they learned to prepare it there and then adjusted the recipe to the Palestinian version, which was made from chickpeas and not from fava beans (ṭaʿmiya). Shmuel Yefet, an Israeli falafel maker, tells about his father, Yosef Ben Aharon Yefet, who arrived in Palestine from Aden [Yemen] in the early 1920s and then traveled to Port Said in 1939. There he became acquainted with ṭaʿmiya, learned to prepare it, and then went back to Palestine and opened a falafel shop in Tel Aviv [youtube video].]*

But why claim that Yemeni Jews invented falafel (or at least that they had introduced it from Yemen), even though its adoption from Palestinian Arabs in the early days of the second Aliya, aka the 1920s (before Mizrahim had begun to immigrate in larger numbers; see Raviv, p. 20) was within living memory at this point (i.e. the 1950s)? Raviv notes that an increasing (I mean, actually she says new, which... lol) negative attitude towards Arabs in the wake of the Nakba (I mean... she says "War of Independence") created a new sense of urgency around de-Arabizing "Israeli" culture (p. 22). Its association with Mizrahi sellers allowed falafel to "be linked to Jewish immigrants who had come from the Middle East and Africa" and thus to "shed its Arab association in favor of an overarching Israeli identification" (p. 21).

Stampfer again:

On the one hand (with regard to immigrants from Eastern Europe), [falafel] underscored the break between immediate past East European Jewish foods and the new “Oriental” world of Eretz Israel.** At the same time, this food could be seen as a link with an (idealized) past. Among the Jewish public in Eretz Israel, Yemenite falafel was regarded as the most original and tastiest version. This is a bit odd, as falafel—whether in or out of a pita—was not a traditional Yemenite food, neither among Muslims nor among Jews. To understand the ascription of falafel to Yemenite Jews, it is necessary to consider their image. Yemenite Jews were widely regarded in the mid-20th century as the most faithful transmitters of a form of Jewish life that was closest to the biblical world—and if not the biblical world, at least the world of the Second Temple, which marked the last period of autonomous Jewish life in Eretz Israel. In this sense, eating “Yemenite” could be regarded as an act of bodily identification with the Zionist claim to the land of Israel. (p. 189)

So, when it's undeniable that a food is "Arab" or "Oriental" in origin, Zionists will often attribute it to Yemen, Syria, Morocco, Turkey, &c.—and especially to Jewish communities within these regions—because it cannot be permitted that Palestinians have a specific culture that differentiates them in any way from other "Arabs." A culinary culture based in the foodstuffs cultivated from this particular area of land would mean a tie and a claim to the land, which Zionist logic cannot allow Palestinians to possess. This is why you'll hear Zionists correct people who say "Palestinians" to say "Arab" instead, or suggest that Palestinians should just scooch over into other "Arab" countries because it would make no difference to them. Raviv's conclusion that the attribution of falafel to Yemeni immigrants is an effort to detach it from its "Arab" origins isn't quite right—it is an attempt to detach it, and thus Palestinians themselves, from Palestinian roots.

"Yemeni Jews first put falafel in 'pita'"

As for this claim, it's often attributed to Gil Marks: "Jews didn’t invent falafel. They didn’t invent hummus. They didn’t invent pita. But what they did invent was the sandwich. Putting it all together.” (Hilariously, the author of the interview follows this up with "With each story, I wanted to ask, but how do you know that?")

Another author (signed "Philologos") speculates (after, by the way, falsely claiming that "falafel" is the plural of the Arabic "filfil" "pepper," and that falafel is always brown, not green, inside?!):

Yet while falafel balls are undoubtedly Arab in origin, too, it may well be that the idea of serving them as a street-corner food in pita bread, to which all kinds of extras can be added, ranging from sour pickles to whole salads, initially was a product of Jewish entrepreneurship.

Shaul Stampfer cites both of these articles as further reading on the "novelty of the combination of pita, falafel balls, and salad" (FN 76, p. 198)—but neither of them cites any evidence! They're both just some guy saying something!

Marks had, however, elaborated a little bit in his 2010 Encyclopedia of Jewish Food:

Falafel was enjoyed in salads as part of a mezze (appetizer assortment) or as a snack by itself. An early Middle Eastern fast food, falafel was commonly sold wrapped in paper, but not served in the familiar pita sandwich until Yemenites in Israel introduced the concept. [...] Yemenite immigrants in Israel, who had made a chickpea version in Yemen, took up falafel making as a business and transformed this ancient treat into the Israeli iconic national food. Most importantly, Israelis wanted a portable fast food and began eating the falafel tucked into a pita topped with the ubiquitous Israeli salad (cucumber-and-tomato salad).

He references one of the pieces that Lillian Cornfeld (columnist for the English-language, Jerusalem-based newspaper Palestine Post) wrote about "filafel":

An article from October 19, 1939 concluded with a description of the common preparation style of the most popular street food, 'There is first half a pita (Arab loaf), slit open and filled with five filafels, a few fried chips and sometimes even a little salad,' the first written record of serving falafel in pita. [Marks doesn't tell you the title or page—it's "Seaside Temptations: Juveniles' Fare at Tel Aviv," p. 4.]

You will first of all notice that Marks gives us the "falafel from Yemen" story. I also notice that he calls Salat al-bundura "Israeli salad" (in its entry he does not claim that European Jewish immigrants invented it, but neither does he attribute it to Palestinian influence: the dish was originally "Turkish coban salatsi"). His encyclopedia also elsewhere contains Zionist claims such as "wild za'atar was declared a protected plant in Israel" "[d]ue to overexploitation" because of how much of the plant "Arab families consume[d]," and that Israeli cultivation of the crop yielded "superior" plants (entry for "Za'atar")—a narrative of "Arab" mismanagement, and Israeli improvement, of land used to justify settler-colonialism. He writes that Palestinians who accuse "the Jews" of theft in claiming falafel are "creat[ing] a controversy" and that "food and culture cannot be stolen," with no reflection on the context of settler-colonialism and literal, physical theft that lies behind said "controversy." This isn't relevant except that it makes me sceptical of Marks's motivations in general.

More pertinent is the fact that this quote doesn't actually suggest that this falafel vendor was Yemeni (or otherwise) Jewish, nor does it suggest that he was the first one to prepare falafel in pitas with "fried chips," "sometimes even a little salad," and "Tehina, a local mayonnaise made with sesame oil" (Cornfeld, p. 4). I think it likely that this food had been sold for a while before it was described in published writing. The idea that this preparation is "Israeli" in origin must be false, since this was before the state of "Israel" existed—that it was first created by Yemeni Jewish falafel vendors is possible, but again, I've never seen any direct evidence for it, or anyone giving a clear reason for why they believe it to be the case, and the political reasons that people have for believing this narrative make me wary of it. There were Palestinian Arab falafel vendors at this time as well.

"Chickpea falafel is a Jewish invention"

There is also a claim that falafel originated in Egypt, where it was made with fava beans; spread to the Levant, including Palestine, where it was made with a combination of fava beans and chickpeas; but that Jewish immigration to Israel caused the origin of the chickpea-only falafal currently eaten in Palestine, because a lot of Jewish people have G6PD deficiencies or favism (inherited enzymatic deficiencies making fava beans anywhere from unpleasant to dangerous to eat)—or that Jewish populations in Yemen had already been making chickpea-only falafel, and this was the falafel which they brought with them to Palestine.

As far as I can tell, this claim comes from Joan Nathan's 2001 The Foods of Israel:

Zadok explained that at the time of the establishment of the state, falafel—the name of which probably comes from the word pilpel (pepper)—was made in two ways: either as it is in Egypt today, from crushed, soaked fava beans or fava beans combined with chickpeas, spices, and bulgur; or, as Yemenite Jews and the Arabs of Jerusalem did, from chickpeas alone. But favism, an inherited enzymatic deficiency occurring among some Jews—mainly those of Kurdish and Iraqi ancestry, many of whom came to Israel during the mid 1900s—proved potentially lethal, so all falafel makers in Israel ultimately stopped using fava beans, and chickpea falafel became an Israeli dish.

Gil Marks's 2010 Encyclopedia of Jewish Food echoes (but does not cite):

Middle Eastern Jews have been eating falafel for centuries, the pareve fritter being ideal in a kosher diet. However, many Jews inherited G6PD deficiency or its more severe form, favism; these hereditary enzymatic deficiencies are triggered by items like fava beans and can prove fatal. Accordingly, Middle Eastern Jews overwhelmingly favored chickpeas solo in their falafel. (Entry for "Falafel")

The "centuries" thing is consistent with the fact that Marks believes falafel to be of Medieval origin, a claim which most scholars I've read on the subject don't believe (no documentary evidence, + oil was expensive so it seems unlikely that people were deep frying anything). And, again, this claim is speculation with no documentary evidence to support it.

As for the specific modern toppings including the Yemeni hot sauce سَحاوِق / סְחוּג (saHawiq / "zhug"), Baghdadi mango pickle عنبة / עמבה ('anba), and Moroccan هريسة / חריסה ("harissa"), it seems likely that these were introduced by Mizrahim given their place of origin.

*You might be interested to know that, despite their Jewishness mediating this borrowing, Mizrahim were during the Mandate years largely ethnically segregated from Eastern European Zionists, who were pushing to create a "new" European-Israeli Judaism separate from what they viewed as the indolence and ignorance of "Oriental" Jewishness (Hirsch p. 101).

This was evidenced in part by Europeans' attitudes towards the "Oriental" diet. Ari Ariel, summarizing Yael Raviv's Falafel Nation, writes:

Although all immigrants were thought to require culinary education as an aspect of their absorption into the new national culture, Middle Eastern Jews, who began to immigrate in increasing numbers after 1948, provoked greater anxiety on the part of the state than did their Ashkenazi co-religionists. Israeli politicians and ideologues spoke of the dangers of Levantization and stereotyped Jews from the Middle East and North Africa as primitive, lazy, and ignorant. In keeping with this Orientalism, the state pressured Middle Easterners to change their foodways and organized cooking demonstrations in transit camps and new housing developments. (Book review, Israel Studies Review 31.2 (2016), p. 169.)

See also Esther Meir-Glitzenstein, "Longing for the Aromas of Baghdad: Food, Emigration, and Transformation in the Lives of Iraqi Jews in Israel in the 1950s," in Jews and their Foodways:

[...] [T]he Israeli establishment was set on “educating” the new immigrants not only in matters of health and hygiene, [77] but also in the realm of nutrition. A concerted propaganda effort was launched by well-baby clinics, kindergartens, schools, health clinics, and various organizations such as the Women’s International Zionist Organization (WIZO) and the Organization of Working Mothers in order to promote the consumption of milk and dairy products, in particular. [78] (These had a marginal place in Iraqi cuisine, consumed mainly by children.) Arab and North African cuisines were criticized for being not sufficiently nutritious, whereas the Israeli diet was touted as ideal, as it was western and modern. […] [T]he assault on traditional Middle Eastern cuisines reflected cultural arrogance yet another attempt to transform immigrants into “new Jews” in accordance with the Zionist ethos. Thus, European table manners were presented as the norm. Eating with the hands was equated with primitive behavior, and use of a fork and knife became the hallmark of modernity and progress. (pp. 100-101)

[77. On health matters, see Davidovich and Shvarts, “Health and Hegemony,” 150–179; Sahlav Stoller-Liss, “ ‘Mothers Birth the Nation’: The Social Construction of Zionist Motherhood in Wartime in Israeli Parents’ Manuals,” Nashim 6 (Fall 2003), 104–118.]

[78. On propaganda for drinking milk and eating dairy products, see Mor Dvorkin, “Mif’alei hahazanah haḥinukhit bishnot ha’aliyah hagedolah: mekorot umeafyenim” (seminar paper, Ben-Gurion University, 2010).]

**On the desire to shed "old, European" "Jewish" identity and take on a "new, Oriental" "Hebrew" one, and the contradictory impulses to use Palestinian Arabs as models in this endeavour and to claim that they needed to be "corrected," see:

Itamar Even-Zohar, "The Emergence of a Native Hebrew Culture in Palestine, 1882—1948"

Dafna Hirsch, "We Are Here to Bring the West, Not Only to Ourselves": Zionist Occidentalism and the Discourse of Hygiene in Mandate Palestine"

Ofra Tene, "'The New Immigrant Must Not Only Learn, He Must Also Forget': The Making of Eretz Israeli Ashkenazi Cuisine."

[wandanatsbaby]

Hey saw that you were taking requests for Lexa so here i am ! could you write smth about soft lexa and an oc or freader grounder that is really pretty and like soft for a grounder ? thankksss :))

Soft Grounder

Pairing: Lexa x Reader

Warnings: none

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

Lexa watches on with a smile as the night bleeders braid your hair and put little flowers in it. She has a small smile on her face as she watches you interact with them envisioning your future and wondering what you would be like if you both had kids.

Walking up to lexa with a smile you wrap your arms around her as no one is looking and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Good evening Heda.”

“Good evening Hodnes. Join me for lunch? The sky crew will be joining as well.” You nod and follow beside her as she leads you to the dining area. You look around and give Clarke a small wave as you see her sitting with who you recognize as Bellamy.

Lexa pulls out a chair for you at the head of the table and then makes her way to the other end. You never liked having to sit far from her but you knew it was tradition for the Commander's partner to be at the other end.

The night went on pretty smooth with everyone talking and chatting but throughout it all you could spot Bellamy giving you weird glances and whispering stuff to Clarke which made you nervous.

“Bellamy, is there a problem?” Lexa asks as she had seemingly noticed the looks and whispers.

“No Heda I just-”

“Just what? You’ve been giving my wife weird looks all night and whispering to Clarke. I'd like to hear what you have to say.” You send an uneasy look to Lexa not sure you want to hear what the boy was saying about you.

“I was just saying that well. Ive never met a grounder as sweet as her I mean the other day I say her with one of the guys at a stall and she was very sweet.”

Then

“Excuse me. Do you happen to have any more of this?” you asked, pointing to the object you wanted.

“sha hang ona” (Yes hang on) The guy pulled more of the material out and looked at you expectedly.

“What would you like? I have some medicine that Nyko gave me. I also have some jewelry.” The man just politely asked for one of the rings on your fingers but you just gave him a smile and handed him two rings and a bag of different medicine that Nyko had given you. The man tried to deny it but you insisted but ended up walking out with the object you had wanted and a bird that he said was made by his wife. The bird now sat on a stand in your and Lexas room.

Now.

“Is there a problem with that?” Lexa started standing up at this point ready to defend you by all means.

“Lexa its okay. Calm down.” The girl did not even spare you a glance as she stared the boy down and you watched him visibly gulp as he shrunk a little in his seat. Clarke trying to control her laughter beside him

“NO! Of course not! I mean its amazing how she acts with Night bleeders. They all looked so happy the other day when she was playing with them”

Then

“Kwin (Queen) Y/n will you please come play with us?” Aden asked as the other children gave you pleading looks. Will a laugh you agreed and ended up chasing them through Polis as many people watched on with small smiles as well.

As you were chasing a younger girl she had ended up tripping on a rock and landing on her knees. She let out a soft cry before covering it up.

“Oh no ash are you okay?” you asked the young girl as you crouched in front of her. You could see the tears in her eyes and the way she tried to hide them. She nodded slowly and looked at you. You attempted to help her stand but quickly swept her into your arms at the sounds of her cries of pain and quickly took her to Niko’s tent to get her seen.

She had made you promise not to leave her until she was allowed to go back to her room with the other Night bleeders and you gladly accepted. You ended up being there for an hour as she had a sprained ankle and needed some rest. You then escorted her to her room and gave her a small kiss on the head.

Now

Lexa turns to Clarke now wanting to know if this information is true.

“Is this true wanheda?” Clarke gives a nod and a slight laugh while looking back to Bellamy's shaking figure.

“Yes Heda its true.”

“Very well then. Just know if anyone were to ever threaten her or anything it would be against the rules and you would be killed immediately.” Bellamy Gave an Immediate nod and gave you a small apology as he continued to eat.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince short stories highlights & annotations

the training of erasmus

(takes place before book 1: captive prince)

NOTE: this is a weird one. as i read through this short story, i kind of just started taking stock of all the different abuse and indoctrination tactics used against erasmus and the other palace slaves. because there’s a lot of that in this story, and i think it's a good way to understand how erasmus got to be the way that he is. there's some other analysis, but not much. curious to hear thoughts, because i think this story could mean vastly different things to different people.

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include. additional warning that this short story focuses heavily on sexual slavery.

It was right that training here in the palace should be more arduous than in the gardens of Nereus.

brainwashing. i'd call it gaslighting, but these people were groomed to never even question what they're told about the world around them.

He took his morning lessons with Tarchon in one of the small marble training rooms filled with accoutrements that he did not use, because from dawn until the sun reached the middle of the sky, it was the three forms, over and over and over again. Tarchon gave impassive corrections that Erasmus struggled to perform. At the end of each sequence, ‘Again.’ Then, when his muscles were aching, when his hair was drenched in the heat and his limbs slippery with sweat from holding a pose, Tarchon would tell him curtly, ‘Again.’

torture.

‘So Nereus’s prize flower has finally blossomed,’ Tarchon had said on the day of his arrival. His inspection had been systematic and thorough.

no personal boundaries.

‘Your looks are exceptional. This is an accident of birth for which you are not entitled to praise.

no recognition of individual merit.

You are training now for the royal household, and looks are not enough to earn you a place there. And you are old. You are older than the oldest I have worked with.

manipulation through conditional reinforcement (positive and negative).

He had not known what to do, or say. Arriving in the stifled dark of the litter, Erasmus had tried with each painful heartbeat to hold himself still. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over him at the terror of being outside. Outside the gardens of Nereus, the calming, comforting gardens that contained all that he knew of life.

isolation and fear of the unknown to foster dependence.

‘Iphegin slipped on the stairs.’ And then, ‘You think Aden pushed him?’ The joke was awful. There were dozens of male slaves-in-training, but only four wore a golden pin, and Aden and Iphegin were the only two who wore the pin of the King.

competition.

Nereus had always said of him, A man only has to look at him to want to possess him.

that’s a bullshit generalization. i think he’s just convinced himself that everyone else in the world is as fucked up as he is, living in a culture where this is normalized

In the next moment Kallias was throwing his arms around Erasmus, holding him tight, pressing his cheek to Erasmus’s cheek, the highest intimacy allowed to those who were forbidden to kiss.

restriction of bodily autonomy and intimate activity.

‘I’m for the other Prince,’ said Kallias. ‘Kastor.’

i’m shocked that kastor’s type isn’t blondes with blue eyes, since that’s what damen is into

Close as brothers, the trainers said, smiling because this was a charming conceit, young slaves echoing the relationship of their princely masters.

infantilization and patronization. (by the way, it has never been lost on me that patras is called patras)

Erasmus talked hesitatingly and for the first time about his most private feelings

suppression of individuality and emotional expression.

The body knows when it is ready.

i don’t even know what to call this, but it’s fucked up. the idea that a person's physical reactions are more indicative of their desires or state of being than their thoughts or words.

When Iphegin’s room was cleared out and his kithara given to one of the new boys,

so they just completely got rid of him, because someone else pushed him and he got a scar. do you think he lived? what happens if he doesn’t have legal personhood but is deemed unfit as a slave? execution?

��He was named for Iphegenia, the most-loyal. But they don’t remember your name if you fall.’

SOMEONE ELSE PUSHED HIM. there is no coherent logic of justice here. there doesn't need to be, with how they've conditioned these people.

‘I’m to be Kastor’s welcome when he returns from Delpha.’ He said Kastor’s name with its honorific, as all slaves did when they spoke of those above them, Kastor-exalted.

it’s interesting that pacat didn’t write the honorific into the dialogue, but specified that it was there.

It had never made sense that Kallias was being trained for Kastor. Yet for some reason the Keeper of the Royal Slaves had decreed that his finest slave-in-training should go not to the heir, or the King, but to Kastor.

yeah i think the reason is that the keeper knows kastor is about to kill his dad and brother

‘Damianos doesn’t take male slaves.’ ‘Sometimes he—’ ‘I don’t have your colouring,’ Kallias said, and he opened his eyes, reaching up to put his finger around a curl of Erasmus’s hair.

this isn’t getting a “damen likes blondes” tally

A full performance of The Fall of Inachtos was four hours, and the Hypenor was six, so that every spare moment was spent in internal recitation.

forced repetition, memorization, and recital of prescribed literature.

But that night, he let his mind drift to other poems

good.

In the female gardens, of course, pins were more common. The tastes of the King and his two sons ran along predictable lines.

i don’t want to think about the female gardens

Erasmus was aware of the lingering responsiveness of his body, which he could not touch himself.

denial of bodily autonomy and intimate activities, specifically with one’s self.

Some days he liked it. He liked the ache of it. He liked the feeling that he was denying himself something to please his Prince. It felt strict, virtuous.

makes sense, given the strategic abuse he’s faced. which is fucked up.

He knew . . . he knew the Prince had many slaves. The attendants spoke of this with approval. The Prince had healthy appetites, and took lovers frequently, slaves and nobles too, when the need was on him. That was good. He was liberal with his affections, and a King should always have a large retinue. He knew the Prince’s eye tended to roam, that he was always pleased by something new, that his slaves were looked after, kept in permanent style, while his eye, roaming, frequently fell on new conquests. He knew that when he wanted men, the Prince rarely took slaves. He was more likely to come from the arena with his blood up and pick out some display fighter. There was a gladiator from Isthima who had lasted in the arena for twelve minutes against the Prince before he’d fallen to him, and had spent six hours in the Prince’s chambers, after. He was told those stories too. And of course he only had to choose a fighter and they would yield to him as any slave, for he was the son of the King.

damen’s development throughout the series really is incredible, both in terms of execution and the amount of development that occurred while still feeling believable

What it would be like, to be the receptacle for the Prince’s pleasure?

like you're an object, not a person.

Kallias sang the ballad of Iphegenia, who had loved her master so much that she waited for him though she knew what it meant to do so

using “history” to reinforce instilled values.

‘I want to be taken across the ocean. I want to see other lands. I want to see Isthima, and Cortoza, I want to see the place where Iphegenia waited, the great palace where Arsaces gave himself to a lover,’ he said, recklessly. The yearning inside him crested. ‘I want—to feel what it is to—’ ‘Live in the world,’ said Kallias.

The space between their bodies felt clouded and hot. He understood why those three places on his body were forbidden to him, because all of them began to ache.

Festival food for everyone: the ceremonies of First Night eclipsed anything he had seen in the gardens of Nereus, the height of a slave’s career.

and how fucking bleak is that

Tarchon said, ‘He is fit for a King. I always questioned Adrastus’s decision to send him to Kastor.’

at least there’s some kastor shade in this story. insulting that guy never gets old

Kallias laughed, the sound uneven. ‘Tell me again that we’ll be together. That you’ll serve the Prince and I’ll serve his brother. Tell me how it will be.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘Then I will teach you,’ said Kallias, and kissed him.

seems like kallias figured it out

Standing two paces away, Kallias was holding Erasmus’s golden pin in his hand where he’d torn it from the silk.

oh.

‘You can’t serve the Prince now, you’re tainted.’ The words were sharp, jagged. ‘You’re tainted. You could scrub at it for hours and you’d never wash it off.’

‘You said you wanted to cross the ocean,’ said Kallias.

this... hits a little too close to some things for me. but i get what the story is saying, and i appreciate it, and it is very sad that this was the best option. i guess i'll just say that if you think any of those kinds of abusive indoctrination and conditioning tactics are normal and happening in your life, they're not normal, and they should not be happening. you deserve better. and you probably won't listen to me or even recognize that at all, because this is real life and institutions like this one do exist and entire lives go to waste and unlike in fiction you can't care about someone hard enough to change that if they don't care about themselves. anyway.

He would never wear a pin, but he would make an excellent table attendant, and perhaps a trainer himself one day, patient with the younger boys.

oh my god the trainers are slaves too.

Astacos said he saw soldiers speaking with Adrastus, asking for the names of all the slaves who belonged to Damianos. Everyone wearing a lion pin was taken away. That’s where we thought you’d be. Not here with us.

so i think kallias did what he did because he knew kastor’s plans and wanted to save erasmus’s life. but i also think, not even considering that, there’s a subtler implication of the tragedy of this existence, in which the closest thing to freedom is excommunication. it’s one thing to leave because you know it’s the right thing to do, even if it’s hard, and that’s not something people groomed and abused under these conditions would be able to just do. but to be sabotaged, in this case, is liberation. i think this story would have been just as effective, if not more effective, if it hadn’t involved kastor’s plot at all. an alternate conclusion: kallias drank the kool aid like erasmus and everyone else for his entire life, was the best of the best and sent to the prince, but then faced abuse and the harsh reality of kastor’s cruelty when serving him. he realizes that this is fucked up and tries to spare erasmus from the same fate, and the sadism from kallias is implied both in his dialogue and appearance, but erasmus himself does not understand. that would be effective without the twist of literally saving erasmus’s life because kastor is going to kill damianos's slaves. because when they're living like this, they don't even have lives to lose in the first place.

It occurred to him, stupidly, that Kallias would know what was happening, that he should ask Kallias, and that was when the screams began.

do you think kallias lived? kastor didn’t kill his own slaves, right? i feel like the story is trying to tell me that kallias dies here, but it doesn’t make sense why that would happen.

final thoughts:

again, i think this honestly would have worked better if the ending had not been the inciting events of capri, but either the implication that as kastor’s slave kallias would live a life experiencing sadism and physical abuse, or erasmus learning that kallias took his own life. i don’t know, i just think i want this to go harder on the institution, rather than this specific situation. yes, damen treated his slaves “well,” but i think the idea of kastor not doing so makes a lot of sense. and if the conclusion is “this system puts cruel people in positions where they can abuse people without free will,” rather than “kastor is bad and killed slaves even though they did nothing wrong,” it just works a lot better for me. i think this story is working on both levels, partially to tie it into the main series, but also quite frankly because this is a sexual fantasy for some people. to me, it's horror and tragedy, and hits way too close to real-life institutions to ever be anything but that. i am guessing that this story was written before prince's gambit and king's rising, where the series's stances become a lot more pronounced and the slave kink stuff becomes almost irrelevant.

the story is well-written, is saying something, and i don't think it's bad. upsetting fiction is not bad fiction. and the world building here does provide more context to the main series. but yeah, i don't see myself reading this short story ever again.

[tototalks]

Next side story, The Training of Erasmus! 🩷✨

I really enjoyed the world-building in this, and I more so than ever want nice things for Erasmus (and Kallias!)🥰

- Starting off, it’s immediately clear to see the difference between the nature of pets in Vere and the nature of slaves in Akielos where submission is given willingly and cultivated in a very different, almost scholarly way. I like that Erasmus clearly takes pride in what he does and enjoys it.

- I also really appreciate the subtlety and class of Pacat’s writing, especially given the nature of the setting. It makes the whole thing much more alive, and thus palatable to read, because this pleasure slave training could easily sound like a terrible Wattpad “how tf did this get published?’ book, but it doesn’t. It’s immersive and believable as part of the Akielon culture.

- Erasmus is really just so keen to please, and has so much pressure on his shoulders given his training. Now he has his transition into adulthood and still feels like he cannot truly reciprocate the love shown him, even by his friends. Conceal don’t feel never did anyone any good. Let it go, Erasmus.

- Every time Akielos’ marble floors are mentioned I think about how hot it must be to walk barefoot on that in the sun. All the slaves hopping and skipping in fear of burning their feet. Like walking next to a swimming pool in summer cursing your scorched toes. 😂

- The training grounds give very convent vibes, peaceful and concealed… and everyone is a virgin.💀

- If I were one of the trainees, I’d be terrified that one tiny scar from falling is enough to render the years of training useless. I fell over a flat fuckin surface this week. Makes me wonder if jealous slaves trip each other on purpose to get ahead.

- So much emphasis is put on physical appearance and the notion of perceived purity. I find this interesting actually, and it makes a real change to see these kinds of expectations put on a male character.

- Iphigen’s name was a cool choice! The mythological character of Iphigenia was killed as a “maiden” (Iphigenia in Aulis) - however, in some versions of the story (Cypria) -Artemis, the goddess of maidenhood, saves her before her father, Agamemnon, can kill her as a sacrifice… yeah ain’t foreshadowing a bitch lol

- I love that there is absolutely not a mean bone in Erasmus’ body. He isn’t jealous of Kallias, and supports him wholeheartedly in his endeavours. Erasmus’ kind nature has proven time and time again to be one of his greatest strengths. You don’t have to be a warrior to have power.

- I’m glad Erasmus got to experience real affection before truly becoming a slave, even if he was prevented from manifesting it fully. He experienced love that wasn’t transactional. ♥️

- Aden on the other hand is turning green and sweetheart, that is NOT a good look for you. Being jealous of Erasmus is like hating a cotton ball.

- Poor Erasmus just wants to read his cute love poems and is forced to memorise the Iliad, Odyssey, and Bibliotheca because Damen has the literary tastes of a five year old who likes swords. 😭😭

- I also love the detail that there’s an Akielon Homer and everyone is like “ffs how do you have THAT MUCH to say about one war??” Because same honestly. Thank you very much for the tedious lists of boats and lineages. Very helpful. I feel you, Erasmus 😂

- I like the mention of how Damen’s eyes are known to roam, and this serves only to highlight how down bad he is for Laurent later on. That boy fell HARD.

- “I wish you could have been my first.” 🥺🥺🥺 Torveld better fuckin take Erasmus to see the world like he wanted.

- Erasmus must have felt so betrayed by that kiss, but it 100% saved his life, and he definitely had to acknowledge that privately some time later on. Kallias was also his first kiss.🥲

- There’s a certain brutality in itself that comes with training the slaves for “innocence”, and placing purity on a very high pedestal. Your value being entirely attached to your virginity. So much so that one touch can render you ‘useless’ and ‘tainted’.

- I like that Erasmus doesn’t violently resent Kallias for the kiss even immediately after it happens- he’s confused and upset, but he must have known there was a reason.

- And here’s my million dollar question: WHAT HAPPENED TO KALLIAS?? 😨

[suckerforcate]

Saw you're taking requests!

Can I request Larisa Weems x f!reader where reader lost a bet and have to do a dare where they have to do a sexy dance in front of Larissa and of course Larisa kinda enjoyed it yet pretends to be mad by it so having them to come to her office later on when in fact Larissa will 'punish' her!

Punishment

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Word Count: 2120

Warning: NSFW, 18+, fingering, nipple play, cunnilingus, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, mistress kink (?)

A/n: So I really hope you like it, I feel like I'm not that good at writing this kind of smut. I do really like the beginning though! <3

"Yeah, I know. I lost, how many times do you want to say that?" You playfully slapped Aden's arm.

Aden was your favourite colleague and probably a friend by now. The only problem was, that you knew he could be ruthless, and you'd lost a bet against him.

"Well, have you already thought about the dare you're gonna punish me with?" Aden's eyes lit up and a devilish smirk appeared. You knew this look, you were in deep shit.

"I've thought, it's time for you to act on that little crush of yours." He was talking about Larissa, your boss. Actually you had sworn yourself to specifically not act on that crush, because, well, she was your boss.

"You're going to visit the Principle and do a sexy dance in front of her, best on her lap." Your eyes widened before you hid your face in your hands. This was a disaster, you thought he wanted you to flirt a bit, ask her out. Anything, but not this.

"Aden, you are unbelievable. I'm gonna get myself fired."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. She'll love it." He winked at you and gently pushed you toward the door. You turned around and looked at him, shocked.

"You want me to do it now? I'm not prepared, at all!" He huffed and just pushed you more.

"You don't need to prepare, just use your innate charm." He followed you and waited outside the office. Of course, he wanted to know how it went immediately. He didn't mind waiting.

With shaking hands, you knocked, and it felt like your heart beat out of your chest as Larissa called you in. With even shakier legs you entered. Your breath hitched as you saw Larissa. She looked as beautiful as ever and smiled kindly as she saw you enter.

"(Y/n), how can I help you?" You slowly approached, walking around the desk until you stood in front of her. Her eyes never leaving you.

"I'm really sorry, Principle. I've lost a bet against Aden." Larissa looked quite confused, as she didn't understand what you were apologising for. She didn't know, until you started dancing.

Slowly you moved your hips, eyes never leaving hers. Your hands roaming up and down your hips and waist, you tucked the emerald green blouse you were wearing out of your pants and started unbuttoning the blouse a little at the top. Just so much that you were still covered, but that Larissa could see enough.

Larissa's face had changed from utterly confused to a mix of anger and amusement in seconds. She couldn't deny that your actions did arouse her. She felt her fingers twitch, wanting to touch you and expose more flesh. But she kept her self-control and didn't move a bit.

While still swinging your hips you took a few steps forward to be closer to Larissa. She just couldn't keep her hands anymore, she put them on your waist and slowly guided your movements. As sexy as possible you crawled onto her lap a leg on each side of her. Your face incredibly close to hers. Larissa leaned forward a bit, her mouth right next to your ear. You had to support yourself somehow, or you would have caved in, your hand landing on her chest. She had wanted to say something, but your hand placement made the words get stuck in her throat. The self-controlled woman she is, in mere seconds she had found her voice again. It came out husky and deep, controlling and a little angry even.

"I think I need to punish you, for being such a bratty little girl, don't you think so?" You eagerly nodded, maybe a bit too eager.

"Come to my room this evening, and you'll get what you deserve. Now leave, before I'll lose it." She planted a gentle but hungry kiss on your exposed shoulder, a little foretaste of what would come later.

You stood up and left, feeling her eyes on you the whole time. Outside the office, Aden looked at you expectantly. Smirking as her saw your opened blouse.

"Not one word." You said, leaving for your room, knees still pudding. You couldn't believe what had just happened and the thought of this evening made you shiver with anticipation.

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

Standing in front of Larissa's room you felt your knees nearly cave in. The day had been torture, concentrating on work, knowing what would happen in the evening. You hadn't finished half the work you wanted.

After a few second Larissa opened the door, she was still in her normal clothes. Even though she had taken the coat off, leaving her with a white silk blouse and her skirt. You didn't move, just staring at her. She was way too beautiful to be real.

"I'm flattered (Y/n), but that won't get you anywhere today." She took your wrist and pulled you in, you stood right in the middle Larissa's living room, but couldn't get a good look as she dragged you to her bedroom. She had a king-sized bed, with a big wooden headboard, graced with golden ornaments.

The sheets were cream, and you counted at least six pillows.

"Be a good girl and sit down on the bed." You obeyed, ready to do anything this woman asked of you. You saw her walking over to a drawer, getting some things. Though you couldn’t see them as she put them down on a chair out of your view.

Her voice was demanding and yet gentle. You knew you had the control, if you said stop, she would stop.

"Take of your clothes, not your underwear. That I'll do myself." She smirked at you while bluntly staring at you undress. Your blouse as well as the pants landed on the floor, and you kicked it out of the way. Larissa approached you, hands on your hips and pushed you down onto the bed. She hoovered above you and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"You've been a very bad girl, haven't you? You need to be taught a lesson." You nodded into her shoulder, as you felt her hand slowly wander down your stomach into your panties. Your whole body twitched at the contact of her cold fingers between your folds. She ran through them a few times before taking her hand out and licking her fingers.

"Your so wet already, is that all for me?"

"Yes, mistress." She chuckled at that.

"I like that, keep being such a good girl, and maybe I'll reward you in the end." You felt your centre throb more with every word she said. The effect this woman had on you was crazy.

She lowered her face and liked your nipples a few times before taking them in her mouth. You moaned at her hungry sucking and licking. She used her other hand to caress your other breast. Right as you were about to moan again she bit down on your nipple, lightly but enough for you to scream out at the sudden pain.

"Remember, this is punishment. Don't enjoy yourself too much." She looked at you, stern look on her face. But you could see raw, unfiltered lust in her eyes.

With a swift motion she released you of your panties. She stood up and went to the chair coming back with handcuffs and silk rope in hand. You got exited just seeing this. The sweet angel that Larissa actually is, her face and voice became kind again.

"Are you okay with me tying you up, (Y/n)?" Her face showed you, that she'd never actually hurt you, so you nodded.

"Yes, do it." So she did, with gentle touches she cuffed your hands to the headboard and your feet to the footboard. Regularly checking in on you, asking if nothing was too tight and if you were still feeling alright. After she was finished and sure of your well-being, she turned dominant and commanding again.

She sat down between your spread out legs and lightly stroked over your clit a few times, already making you a moaning mess under her. To your disappointment she stopped before it got too good. But all was forgiven as you saw her lean down, ready to eat you out. The second her tongue touched your clit, you let out a groan. You had never felt anything comparable to this feeling. She liked up and down your folds, tasting you as good as she could.

"You taste divine, Darling." You nearly moaned again, just because of the let name. You knew your first orgasm would come fast, as you were already absolutely worked up for her. She teased your entrance a bit with her tongue and then rubbed your clot with the tip of her tongue. Always touching you in some way, but never giving you real release. This was punishment after all.

Still, just the teasing brought you near the edge, ready to come. She felt that, she heard your moans getting louder and your legs twitching. Your hip thrusting forward to get any sort of friction or release. So right before you could come, she stopped.

"Ah, Mistress, please... I need to come!"

"But you won't." With that she stood up and went to grab something. As she turned around, your eyes widened. She held a massive vibrator in her hand. She approached you and pushed the vibrator into you. Just that made you moan out in pure pleasure. She started the vibrator, on a low level, to torture you even further.

"You will not come. Hold it in until I tell you otherwise." You wanted to say something, but she shushed you with a hungry kiss. Placing kisses on your neck down to your shoulder and finally on your breasts, liking and sucking on them, she made it even harder to hold the orgasm back. You clenched your jaw but couldn't hold the screams in. Larissa stopped caressing you and stood up. Slowly, torturously slow, she started to undress. You just couldn't keep your eyes off her body. The vibrator inside of you working you up more and more, eliciting moan after moan. It got harder and harder to not come, her show in front of you not making it easier.

As she was fully undressed, she crawled onto the bed and carefully climbed on top your face, a leg on each side of your face. She lowered herself until your mouth touched her nearly dripping centre. As you started licking her pussy she leaned forward and pulled the vibrator out of you, eliciting yet another moan from you. Carefully she touched your clit with the tip of the vibrator, your hips buckled underneath the touch, your tongue never stopping to pleasure her. She turned up the level of the vibrator.

"Oh god, (Y/n). Just like that, and don't you dare come." She was a moaning mess above you and quite honestly you had never seen anything hotter in your life. All while being eaten out, Larissa took the vibrator away from your throbbing clit and placed it on it again. Repeating this again and again, denying you the much-needed release through an orgasm.

"Ah, more, I'm close." She groaned your name and held the vibrator down onto your clit again, with more pressure this time. It was nearly unbearable.

"(Y/n) I'm coming, I want you to come at the same time as me." Larissa's moans grew loader and deeper, and you felt her thighs clench together around your face. She came and finally you got release too. With a scream you came, never had you felt an orgasm so intense. But Larissa didn't take the vibrator away. She climbed off of you and placed herself between your thighs again.

"Mistress, please. I'm too sensitive." Inserting a finger into you and pumping it in and out slowly, she looked at you.

"You can do it, come on. Just one more orgasm for your Mistress. Scream for me." And you did, at first it felt sore and uneasy but after just a few seconds the pleasure took over.

She applied even more pressure with the vibrator and thrust her fingers in and out of you faster. You moaned and screamed her name in pure ecstasy.

"Oh, Larissa. Mistress I'm coming."

"Yes, come on my fingers." With a last scream of her name you came. Completely exhausted you smiled at Larissa. She immediately turned into an angel again. Uncuffing you and cleaning you up. She neatly tucked you into bed and lay down beside you.

"I hope, I wasn't too harsh, love." She looked at you, concern in her eyes.

"No, it's fine. I promise." With that you fell asleep in her arms.

[lexa-griffins]

Where do all of farm clexa's kids end up as adults?

I'm going to answer both in the same ask ☺️

Madi ends up "inheriting" the farm. She decides early on she wants to work there and it's where she sees her future. She takes a business course at community college a little later with the intention of helping her moms grow their revenue and get more out of their farm. She meets a divorced woman in her 30's with a little boy, around 7 at the time, and they marry.

Saige goes to university away to study art. She is accepted into her first choice and there she meets her husband. She ends up writing and illustrating (her own and others) children's stories. She settles down into their small town, bringing her city boy husband with her and there they raise their little girl together.

Skye goes to university in a city far away and studies entomology. He is 19 when he tells his moms he proposed to his girlfriend, the same age Lexa and Clarke were when they married. He follows their steps more or less, ending up with four kids. He is only 21 when he has his first baby with his wife. Lexa and his wife don't see eye to eye much, as she finds Lexa old fashioned and is quite crítical of the fact Lexa was a "stay at home mom" despite still working on the farm. They have a miscarriage with their second pregnancy and that is when Lexa and his wife actually start getting along.

Willow... they're a bit lost at first. They also go to university, but when their twin gets engaged they decide to take a break. They feel lost. In their mind them and Skye were inseparable forever. But with him wanting to stay so far away and marrying, they feel so behind in life. They come back home and end up working in town at a pet shop. They never had many friends so Lexa and Clarke worry for them. They decide to finish their degree four years later after their nephew is born, ending up working at this small reptile zoo only a couple hours away. They visit often. They are nearly 40 when they meet their partner, and they end up having 2 kids, Willow carrying one and their partner the other.

Aden decided from a young age that he was gonna work with his grandparents and give ridding lessons. He adores horses and is quite the whisperer of them. He spends his college years between courses and staying with Abby and Jake at the ranch. Jake loves having him around (and embarrassing him any time he tries to be smooth with a cute guy). He's a bachelor for a while, quite happy with it. And then he falls in love madly, the same kind of love his moms always expressed having for each other. To an old high school crush at that. They elope nearly giving Clarke a heart attack when he shows up at their door married. They foster children but never end up adopting.

[stillbornedprincess]

you know girls.. I was thinking of making my fashion post.. but like.. I kept dreaming, what it could mean. My wartime chic is colonial.. repressed.. forget-me-nots.. etc. The instagram screenshot is not a reference to the vision directly. It’s a shitpost.. a mistake really.. my instagram is to further my respectable persona, the one I face to other respectable young people… but I guess I fell asleep.

But still it rings true. If I were to make the post again, I would remove mention of the Second World War. Opinion, its memory isn’t that chic! I know all the films, there’s nazis and Chanel. Ingenious bastards, whatever whatever.

But with WWI, my memory of it is shaped by the films and books set in the time, and those films and books are often centred on the common private and his pals, family, etc. I dream of it, repressive, just out the throes of Victorian kindness, it was the time collective thought was 12 years old. I would say eight, but I could not decide between twelve or eight. And even that, how do I share what twelve or eight years old means when referring to the mood of the embers of a cultural epoch?

always I talk about grey, four, but I never explain myself. At the same time I wonder why I have never shared an idea to another, well, because I have never, learned, words. I have been advised to read more Shakespeare.

Ok. I come back to writing this, and I came to the conclusion this is not a fashion. A mistake, that came from crossing two things together.

My strange dream is a cross of today and yesterday. The borders of our minds melted ten years ago. But it’s how little brick sediments of these melted walls are felt in the mouth sometimes.

Years prior, borders started to shift. Fracturing some places, widening others, etc. Ages ago then they started being drawn. And long before that they were evident alone by the differences in mind.

I cross this strange dream with the impression I illustrated prior . In this dream it is evident I am imagining planet earth. It is one or the other, I am an Iranian authority, or i am a victim of an Iranian authority. The other I am someplace brown modern and forgotten say 1915 Aden. I am just there, but I feel the same sensations as in the dreams of Iran.

I will never finish speaking, but I really wish to articulate what I wrote. I am asking now if you can send a question, so I am forced to rationalise what I said in order to answer it.

Anyway, fashun!

looove the outfits love the lady on the computer her fancy hat love the fellows tribal territory stance Lawrence on his infantile motorcycle Joan d’arc chopping slags totally the thankfulness of the Antarctic . Right . Take us away.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @elsie-writes!

OC Questionaire

My questions:

How do you pay for things? Cash, check, card, something else?

What is something small that you couldn't live without?

Do you (or did you) ever wish you had a different name? What was it?

I'll answer for the core MG cast :)

.

1. How do you pay for things? Cash, check, card, something else?

Astra: "Cash. I ain't stationary for long enough to do much business with any bank. I get paid in cold, hard geepae, and I pay for things in cold, hard geepae. I also have a mighty appreciation for barterin'."

Mashal: "...I don't have any money. Hopefully, someday I'll get to save some up, but I'm usually pretending to be a non-sentient automaton when Astra and I get big jobs, so that means I don't get paid. She buys me things, though. She says she's happy to do it, but I still feel kind of bad."

Ivander: "Cash as well. In Unity, I can't do business with any banks."

2. What is something small that you couldn't live without?

Astra: "Gods a'mighty, I don't know what I'd do without my fancy rune pen! I saved up for months to buy it, and it never heats improperly. I ain't never had a better tool for etchin' in metal."

Mashal: "My sketchbook. It's one of the only things I own, aside from my clothes. Sketching gives me something to do at night when everyone else is sleeping."

Ivander: "My illusion pin is a must-have. Yes, yes, I'm very vain and all that, but it makes my day less miserable, so I'll take it."

3. Do you (or did you) ever wish you had a different name? What was it?

Astra: "Hell naw! Have you heard my name? Astra DuClaire is a fine title. Rolls off the tongue like honey and moonlight."

Mashal: "Kind of? People get my name wrong a lot - they like to add an R because that's more common. Darezsho is also kind of a mouthful. I've always liked the name Aden, but I feel like I knew an Aden once? I'm not sure."

Ivander: "I don't know. Ivander is a fine name, I guess. Very Skysheerian. People always see that and assume I'm an elf, though I only have a few drops of elvish blood. I don't know what any Cloud People names are, but I sort of wish I had one."

.

I'll tag @elizaellwrites @jakkon-and-rose-topic @riveriafalll @foyle-writes-things and YOU 🫵

Your questions:

What's the best book you've ever read?

What's one grudge you're never letting go?

How would you pack for a camping trip?

[ahc-au]

If Darius had won by eliminating everyone else who got involved and get his hands on O'Neil Tech and securing his position , how catastrophic the outcome could be ?

Completely and utterly destructive because neither me nor Aden would feel like writing that lmao — Trauma