#citate celebre

[kissbylu]

[equilibriocomunicativo]

Our soul and the passions of our friends are the most fascinating things in life.

-Oscar Wilde.

[banghwa-moved]

ok i kept tweaking at it even tho i said i was done for today and ummmmmm guys im almost done my thesis.....

[cyrilcantarelli]

MERCREDI 20 MARS 2024

SAINT HERBERT PRINTEMPS

JOURNEE MONDIALE DU BONHEUR

OFFICIELLEMENT DENOMME JOUR DU PLANTOIR

30 EME JOUR DU SIGNE ASTROLOGIQUE DU POISSON

«Si tu donnes, oubli; si tu prends, souviens t'en»

[evilmark999]

Wait, isn't this supposed to be about cars that never made it, etc?

Just askin'...

Are you still reading this?

In 1983, I took my summer learning class drives with three girls and a female instructor in one of these...

I was the only one who didn't sing along to this (the radio station played the same CARTs a LOT):

Nissan Stanza Resort, 1979. The T10 series Stanza was the last rear wheel drive version of Nissan's mid-range family saloon/hatchback. The Resort hatch had it all, two-tone paintwork, alloy wheels, 1.8 litre "NAPS-Z" engine, 5-speed transmission, corduroy upholstery and an 8-track stereo. It was only on the market for 18 months before the new front-drive T11 updated the Stanza/Auster for the 1980s.

[sofaraway7]

Mă vei cauta peste tot și în oricine, dar nu mă vei găsi niciodată!

[gosssip-girl]

Passage mythique

Saison 1 - épisode 16 « B ou la revanche d’une brune »

Blair : « il s’avait pas où faire les boutiques celui qui a que l’argent ne faisait pas le bonheur. »

—

Blair : « Avant on disait couramment que les yeux des hommes étaient le reflet de leur âme, c’était avant les portables et internet. »

—

- Blair : « Tu t’attends pas un câlin ? »

- Jenny : « j’attends plus rien de toi maintenant »

[fans4wga]

Strike Support Declining - Here's how you can continue to support the writers

Since the WGA strike started on May 2, the public has shown immense support for the writers—sending food, snacks, drinks, and encouragement from across the world all the way to Los Angeles, New York, and other picketing locations.

But loud and vocal strike support—in the news and in public spaces—is notably declining the longer the strike goes on. So we're bringing you a few ways to show writers, studios, and fellow fans: we're still here, and we still stand with the WGA.

1. Post on Twitter (and other social media sites)

You might think social media noise won't be noticed by the studios, but it CAN encourage individual WGA members—and slowly but surely put pressure on the studios to make a fair deal.

If you follow WGA members such as Adam Conover (Adam Ruins Everything), John Rogers (Leverage, Librarians), Gennifer Hutchison (Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul), Javier Grillo-Marxuach (Lost, The Witcher) [and many many more you can find through their following lists], tell them you support them! Hashtag #IStandWithTheWGA #DoTheWriteThing and tell them that you and your fandom are prepared to support them as long as the strike lasts; that they deserve to have their demands met and you're with them all the way. Boost morale however and whenever you can!

Likewise, actively push back against misinformation/disinformation. See a TikTok claiming that all Hollywood writers are filthy rich and we shouldn't vocally support them? Correct it with well-sourced citations from the WGA, published news articles, and stories from those affected (like the time a writer on FX's The Bear attended the an awards show with his bank account balance in the negative, only to then win an award for Best Comedy Series—proving that good writers on award-winning shows still cannot make a living!)

Remember you can always link to Adam Conover's excellent explanation of WGA demands versus studio refusals, tweeted here.

2. Donate or boost fundraisers

You might be surprised to learn that the picketing locations are not always parties! Sometimes themed pickets are fun, and fandoms and celebrities occasionally are able to fundraise for a food truck or ice cream truck at picketing locations. However, that is the EXCEPTION and not the norm. Writers are asking for food & drinks at many locations.

There are many funds to donate to, and it can be overwhelming to pick one! But one that could use your support RIGHT NOW is the CBS Radford picket line:

-If you're in LA, you can bring food and snacks directly to that picket line (or get food deliveries sent there, with instructions to be given to the strike captain on duty.) Strike locations are available on the WGA West website and are updated there.

-Or there's a pizza fund for the strike locations (unfortunately Venmo is a US-only donation option)

-If you're not in LA, donate to the Entertainment Community Fund to support TV and film workers affected by the strike.

-More tips on donating to the strike in this great article!

-Lots of fandoms are organizing donations on their own, for instance the Our Flag Means Death fundraiser on Paypal (updated 30 July 2023 with new link) (available internationally). Check to see if your fandom has started a fundraiser... or start one yourself to show your support! We're happy to give tips on organizing your fandom!

As always, please boost this post and any and all well-sourced information that comes from the WGA or its members. We're happy to fact-check anything you send our way too.

[queers-gambit]

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

title citation: Hamlet

prompt: similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: The Truth Will Out collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 18.3k+

note: SLUTTY ANGST CLUB, COME GET Y'ALL JUICE!

warnings: not edited. heapings of angst, hurt and no comfort, fuck your feelings. tweaked timeline, cursing, Bridgerton influenced, Aemond's both a bestie and an outstanding, fucking asshole - so is this vilified Aemond? eavesdropping trope, nicknamed reader, insecurity, insults, betrayl, abundance of ye ol' misogyny, self destructive tendencies; a single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure. there's men being men, men being gossipy little bitches, and the most random Lord of the Rings quote that kinda breaks the fourth wall?

Bridgerton - available to watch on Netflix 🍒 this fic was written before season three premiered

Jacaerys Velaryon version: coming soon

Tonight was a celebration that echoed across the entire Realm. Lords and Ladies alike with their service maids, House guards, any available singletons flocked to King's Landing for the courting season. They did this annually. Three solid months for eligible singles to make a match and attempt to secure their bond in matrimony.

Ladies wore layers of multicolored fabrics. Lords dressed in embellished tunics. Ladies tied on tight corsets to push their breasts to their necks. Lords shaved their facial hair, appearing "cleaned up". Ladies smelt of exotic perfume and Lords stood in shiny boots. All wore sparkling, gaudy jewelry.

While the Starks of Winterfell and the Umbers of Last Hearth traveled over a month to reach the capital, your family, the Tyrells from Highgarden, had a much more comfortable commute. Greyjoys and Mormonts sailed in from the Iron Islands and Bear Island, Tullys from Riverrun, Royces and Arryns from the Eyrie. Single, available, eligible Hightowers returned under Queen Alicent's sponsorship, Lannisters prowled in from Lannisport, and select few Martells arrived in gorgeous, gloriously golden carriages from Dorne.

Everyone who was anyone descended onto the Red Keep, eager to earn King Viserys' stamp of approval - being that he only granted one couple his presence at their ceremony. It was the highest of honors, a prize to be won, a chance to show off and show out; giving the two bonded families bragging rights until the next season. Plus there's a superstition that all weddings the King attended were prosperous, healthy, and long lasting marriages. There was a buzz in the air, a static of excitement and mystery; tension brewing when the members of court arrived and sized each other up for that first week. You thought they were silly for this energy, akin to strutting peacocks, treating their own like competition, treating bloodlines like currency.

You never realized how many purists there were.

While the other Houses had to travel, you were most lucky to already host residence in the Red Keep. Your uncle, Evin Tyrell, had once been in line to assume lordship over Highgarden, but after losing his son to the War of the Stepstones, Evin turned away from his inherited responsibilities; forcing it onto your father's shoulders. You had several siblings, both younger and older, and eventually got lost in your bustling, busy, arguably large family. Evin had no more children, wife long departed from this life, and was excited by the prospect of being a guardian; insisting you come with him to King's Landing, where he accepted a tutoring position for the King's children and grandchildren.

You were absolutely romanced by the idea of existing among the royal family, telling your father it was your one chance at a decent, higher education - an opportunity to study under the Targaryens being once in a lifetime. Truth be told, you're not entirely sure Lord Tyrell even processed your words, approving with a distracted grunt and a wave; gone by the next morning without even breaking your fast with your family. Evin hooked both your beloved horse and one of your father's young stallions to a wooden cart you shared, using the journey to King's Landing to prepare you for the life you were soon to live.

You had always been a little wild child, so, Evin felt it necessary to remind you of your manners; brushing up on your etiquette, quizzing you on members of the Royal Family, explaining what would be expected of you now that you were a guest to the royals.

For well over a decade, you were the single wildflower blooming through dragon fire, earning the moniker Rose of the Realm; living under Queen Alicent's good grace. She seemed to like you well enough, going as far as to invite you to family events after noticing the bond between you and her openly favorite son, Prince Aemond. Years ago, when you were fresh and new to the Capital City, your uncle brought you to attend Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral on Driftmark at the King's invitation. You already had a friendship with the young royals; keeping Helaena company, trying to sneak Aegon's chalices of wine out of his grip, and when the time came, rushed off over the sandy dunes with your best mate after he told you his plan to lay claim on Lady Laena's dragon, Vhagar.

After the King's heir, Princess Rhaenyra's (rumored) bastard son, Lucerys, slashed Aemond's eye from his socket, you became incredibly close. Impossible close. Like unbelievably close; being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, magnetically pulled towards one another before clicking into tight place. You were his pillar of support, his anchor to reality; and he was your salvation.

You realized you were in love with him when you turned ten-and-six. It was something strange, the two of you studying together in the library and when you looked up from your book to meet his eyes, you just understood. Something in your brain clicked, heart cemented in knowing, guts twisting in sudden realization, words caught in your throat and only letting out an inaudible gasp. Ever since that day, you were acutely aware of anything the Prince did; from the way he would caress the back of your head at each embrace, to his eye darting to look at your lips during conversations. From how he took almost every meal with you, to the way he insisted upon your invitation to family, public, and / or royal events. From the way he absorbed your secrets and opinions, to the way he shared his own - getting back what you put forth, forever mutual.

Being friends - best mates, even - with Aemond was easy. So easy, in fact, that nobody ever batted an eye when they saw the two of you unchaperoned. Your friendship was wholesome, endearing, supportive, enlightening, and pleasurably challenging in the sense that Aemond liked pushing your envelope; testing your boundaries. He set new standards and helped lift you to meet those goals, made you think harder, consider new points of view, expand your humanity.

What more could anyone ask for?

About half way through the current season, your uncle sent for you to join him for afternoon tea in the gardens. "Do you recognize these?" He asked when you arrived at the pavilion he sought shade under, admiring the bushes of florals surrounding the bannister.

"Of course," you smirked, hands behind your back as you stood at his shoulder, "they're honeysuckle."

"Native to only Highgarden, just like I called you in your youth," Evin added, plucking a bloom to admire. "Do you know why they're planted here?"

"I imagine through pollination?"

"A sound guess, but no," your uncle handed you the flower. "These were imported years ago, but have only bloomed now."

You nodded, sucking the bud to extract its honey-sweet taste, asking through puckered lips, "Imported by whom?"

"Do you remember your 17th nameday?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess, it was only a few years ago. You weren't here, you were on some diplomatic matter, right?"

"Inna way. After I concluded my affairs, I returned to Highgarden. You see, Prince Aemond confided in me how he wished to do something special for your birthday and knew you missed home. He asked me to bring these seeds back."

"Aemond asked you to plant honeysuckle?"

"Specifically here," Elvin grinned, "so they were within easy reach."

"So why have they only just now bloomed?" You tried to keep the jittery excitement out of your voice; baffled yet giddy from hearing about Aemond's kind gesture.

"There's an old legend," Evin gestured you to the patio table and chairs that was dressed for your social visit. "It's said, when the honeysuckle is gifted from lover to lover, they will only bloom when love surrounds them. I believe they have come to life this season as a portent to an impending match to be made."

"You spend too much time with Otto, Uncle, you're starting to sound like him - veiling your words and talking in riddles. Tell me why you called me here, Uncle, I know it's not for a botany lesson. Out with it, please, for the sake of my sanity."

Evin chuckled, watching you lean forward to pour two mugs of tea. "I was wondering, sweet niece, what the nature of your relationship is to the Prince Aemond?"

"Oh," you blinked, adding a sugar cube to your brew before stirring in a bit of milk, "well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't know what to tell you, Uncle. We're friends, nothing more or less."

"You seem real chummy."

"We're close, yes."

"Romantic?"

You scoffed, "Uncle, please - "

"Tell me the truth of it."

"Nothing inappropriate or unseemly nor nefarious has occurred between us, Uncle, I promise you. The Prince and I are just friends."

Evin sipped his tea, nodding slowly, "Well, humor me. If I asked who you would marry, who would you choose?"

"Well, as of right now, I'd choose myself since I don't know the men at court yet, only rumors and whispers."

"And if the offer of marriage presented itself, would you marry the Prince?"

"I would do my duty to our House, no matter the suitor."

Evin nodded slowly, "If I said I had struck a pact with the Queen and Hand, what would you say?"

"That despite what I've just said, if you marry me off to Aegon, I'll pitch myself from a window."

Your uncle's head tilted back as he belted short laughter. "I would never condemn you to such a fate, honey girl! Have more faith in me. I speak of Prince Aemond - it's why I asked about him."

"Uncle, speak plainly. Have you attempted to make such a match between the Prince and I?"

"Pending a few logistics, the Crown's interested in the match."

The words echoed in your mind on an obnoxious repeat for the weeks to come, surely living a dream. The longer you dwelled on the impending match, the giddier you felt; a secret smile brightening your features, small spring in your step, an air of positivity hanging around you that even the tiresome Rogue Prince wouldn't be able to taint. The One-Eyed Prince has long been your best mate for a decade, surely, this match would've been offered sooner or later; it was a smart choice, the definition of compatibility.

Some might've referred to this elation as "cloud nine", though you'd say it was cloud 10, 11, 12, 100! You were flying high, feeling good, and mistakenly allowing your hopes to heighten while imagining what marrying your best friend would be like.

You prepared for that evening's courting session with a dreamy, dazed look in your eyes. Even your ladies-maid picked up on your joyful spirit; questioning through her smile, "What's got you so distracted, my Lady? You've been staring off into nothing with that smile for an hour now."

"Huh?" You met her eyes through the vanity mirror, the woman standing behind you to intricately braid your hair. "Oh, no, no, nothing, I'm only lost in thought."

"Which thought?"

"It doesn't matter, it's just a thought. When it becomes a notion, I'll tell you, my friend."

She repeated with a grin, "'Yeah? When's that? Are you expecting good news?"

"Perhaps."

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," she playfully tugged your hair. "Do you know which dress you'd like to wear tonight?"

"The lilac one," you answered, lips stretching your smile.

"You mean the dress that matches Prince Aemond's eye perfectly?"

You both giggled girlishly.

When you arrived at the Throne Room, there was already more than 75% of guests in attendance; getting a jump on their mingling. You greeted several familiar faces, locating your best mate standing at the side with his arms crossed and shoulder leaning on a pillar. "Well, you certainly look happy to be here," you teased when at his side, leaning on the other side of the intricate column.

"It was Mother's idea, Rosie, you know I do not dance," he frowned. "She's not given up the hunt to make me a match. She's adamant this is the year."

"Perhaps if you participate, you could organically meet your future wife."

"Hmm," his eye rolled, thin lips quirking in a smirk; gaze turned on you, watching you scan the room.

There was another 20 minutes of mingling before dinner was called, laid out on tables that stretched the entire length of the Throne Room. Naturally, like every single day, you and Aemond took side-by-side seats together at a risen table that hosted the royal family which provided an incredible view of those in attendance this eve. With your elbow, you nudged Aemond's bicep, making him lean over instantly so you could speak in his ear quietly. "Looks like Lady Fell and Lord Blackwood are gonna jump each other's bones," you mused, smirking, adding, "though I heard she's already hiding a growing belly and is trying to nab herself someone more mature in age with the intent to trick the Lord into thinking she's having his baby."

"No," he scoffed in amusement.

"Yes!"

"That's diabolical. Blackwood's the father? Truly?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Good for him, good for Blackwood - didn't know he had it in him." He paused to take a pull from his goblet of wine, continuing, "Hm! Look, look," he grinned coyly, "do you see what I see?"

"It's packed in here, so... No, I don't see whatever you're seeing."

He snickered, "Lady Mormont looks smitten with Lord Greyjoy, looks like she wants to eat him."

"I thought he was romancing Lady Redwyne?"

Aemond hummed in amusement, "Perhaps he is considering options, courting more than one lady. Are we taking bets this season, again?"

You grinned, "Of course."

"Lay out the criteria, what're the parameters?"

After thinking a moment, you answered, "The pairing and timeline of impending weddings?"

"The stakes?"

You just shrugged, "Bragging rights?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie," he tisked.

"Fine, uh, how about... 10 Gold Dragons?"

"Both our families have enough money."

"Then you decide the rewards."

He lowered his voice, ensuring his family couldn't eavesdrop, "If you win, I'll go to Highgarden with you next time you visit. But if I win, you have to come flying with me on Vha - "

"No," you snapped instantly.

Aemond smirked, "Those are the terms, my Lady. Do you accept? Or will the Rose of the Realm shy away from challenge?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"Fine," you relented. "You're eager to lose so bad, let's do it. Who do you think will couple first?"

"Does it count if I get at least one correct? Such as, if I predict Lord Umber and Lady Lannister, but Umber marries Lady Tully, does it count that I still predicted Umber?"

You mulled his idea over, humming, stabbing a piece of roast goose from your plate to place in your mouth and chew thoughtfully. "Hmm, no, no, you gotta get the couple completely correct."

Aemond nodded, accepting your terms, "You really don't wish to go flying, do you?"

"What gave me away?"

Sharing a chuckle, Aemond finished, "All right, Rosie, bring it on."

When dinner concluded, once more, patrons were allowed to mix and mingle; dancing to the live band, drink spiced wine to their heart's desires. Like the common wallflowers you were, you posted at the side of the room with Aemond, content to watch the sea of vying adults trying to establish and rush courtship. It was the most comfortable you could be at these events, being anxious in judgmental crowds and seeking salvation from Aemond's domineering aura.

"Lady Tyrell," Jason Lannister purred as he approached you with his chest puffed out, "I was hoping to hold your ear tonight. Your father was telling me about your love to ride horses."

"Oh, my father said that?"

"That's who he said he was - "

"My father's in Highgarden, my Lord," you corrected, knowing for fact that Evin always described himself as your uncle.

"Ah, well, right," Jason cleared his throat in embarrassment. Did this pompous arsehole just lie about talking to your father to give the illusion he was an honorable man? That your father approved of the golden headed Lannister? "Perhaps you would honor me with a dance?"

"Perhaps not," Aemond cut in sharply, bringing the tension to focus.

"My Lord," you distracted, on behalf of Aemond's anger, "uh, thank you for asking, that's very kind of you. Though I'm afraid, I'm all, uh, danced out. I won't be on my feet much longer."

"Means fuck off, Lannister," Aemond growled, appearing positively murderous at the honey blonde's audacity.

Jason eyed Aemond, stiffly bidding, "I see. My Prince, my Lady, enjoy your evening."

You bid the older widower the same, Aemond chuckling the moment the lion was swallowed by the crowd. "As if you'd ever dance with a Lannister, let alone court him," he mused, looking down at you. "But he had the right idea, you need to dance at least once. Shouldn't waste this dress standing on the side with me."

"I'm quite comfortable here with you," you shrugged off, seeing your uncle at the royal banquet table exchanging hushed words with King Viserys and his Queen, Alicent.

"C'mon," he held his hand in offer, palm up.

"What? No, no, Aemond, I'm not dancing - I've two left feet!"

"You can break every toe on my feet and I'd still ask you. Just one dance. With me, Lady Tyrell."

"You don't dance!"

"Perhaps the mood has taken me. C'mon, petal."

Your head turned from left to right as if looking for someone spying on you. The moment your hand laid daintily in his, you melted right there on the spot, not having any coherent recollection about how you ended up in the middle of the overzealous contenders. You realized you'd follow this man anywhere.

Beating off your immense anticipation and overwhelming excitement to join The One-Eyed Prince for an intimate activity, you kept your composure amongst everyone else. But, my Gods, did you want to scream in delight the moment he placed one hand on your waist and the other clasping yours to raise in the air at your side. But in this position, you could feel the ridges of his stomach - making you briefly feel embarrassed, wondering how you must've looked to the members of court.

"You sure about this?" You whispered nervously, but you had a feeling that was due to the intense concentration he pinned you with.

"We'll be fine, Rosie, just breathe and follow my lead. I got you."

So launched your dance with Prince Aemond Trgaryen, second son of King Viserys. You couldn't divert your gaze from his porcelain, angled face to save you from overthinking your dancing skill - or lack there of. A few times, he'd smirk and whisper how good you were doing, mind flashing to an image of you and he, married, tumbling in bed sheets together while he praises you. Everything he did became sinful to you; every touch, every glance, every smile, every private studying session setting your skin on fire and heart to beat rapidly.

It was a longer song, string instruments creating a pleasant, ideal, slow-paced, soft environment. Yet you couldn't hear the music, too focused on Aemond's single piercing eye and quirked lips. It was as if the two of you existed outside of time and reality, forgetting the people packed in the stuffy room. Aemond told you softly, "See? You're not so bad at dancing - you just need the right partner."

You wanted to be partnered every single dance from now until your death with Aemond.

"I thought you couldn't dance?" You coyly questioned.

"I said I don't dance, not that I couldn't."

To your idle shock, Aemond gave you a few twirls that made your hair and dress fan around you in an angelic motion. Dare you say it, you even laughed with mirth when you found yourself enjoying the courting season more than ever before - all thanks to your best friend and hopefully, soon-to-be intended. You were acutely aware of his hot and heavy hands holding your flesh, knowing this feeling would burn into your skin to remind you of his closer-than-close proximity. To remind you of his gentleness, to remind you of this dance and the way he gave you his complete and undivided attention.

When the musicians concluded the song, you were grinning authentically while joining in the applause to show appreciation towards the artists.

"Gods," you panted, "that nearly winded me. Think I'm out of shape."

"And you said you had two left feet," he mocked with a scoff, head shaking, but the smirk on his lips told you he wasn't serious. "You're a natural, Rosie."

"You're not such a bad dancer yourself, my Prince," you complimented, the applause subsiding as a new song began. "Though you'll have to excuse me while I get a drink."

You parted way in search of two empty goblets and one of the servants carrying decanters of spiced wine. After being served, you rocked on your toes to try and gaze over the heads populating the room. You were unsuccessful, so, you backed up to the edge of the crowd and moved around the involuntary empty loop along the wall, behind the pillars. There was no reason finding the white haired prince with an eyepatch would be this difficult, yet, you got more than halfway around the room before finally locating him.

Once again, he was leaning on a column, but he wasn't alone. No, there was a gaggle of Lords around him, all exchanging chatter about the Ladies they had to choose from this season.

"Well, c'mon, what about you, Aemond?" Cregan Stark pondered. "Things with The Rose look like they're escalating - congrats. Are wedding bells on the horizon?"

Hearing your name, you quickly scurried behind the same pillar, just out of sight but able to still listen. Look, eavesdropping was highly frowned upon, you knew it was bad manners, but if you heard men gossiping about your name, you would've done the exact same!

Aemond scoffed in pure amusement, "Come off it, Stark."

"No, c'mon, mate, I saw you two," Cregan continued, "dancing together, pressed all close."

"You two make a handsome match, logistically speaking," Paxtan Florant labeled. "Could marry someone abundantly worse, I think you two are quite the pair."

"Handsome and logical as it may look, there's no possibility I'd court the Lady Tyrell, let alone marry her," Aemond declared with a chuckle, your heart stalling and brows wrinkling together. "The Tyrells only just obtained their name in court, they're still too low born for a prince to entertain. Peasants like that are uneducated, prominently not intelligent enough to be my counterpart; uncultured, unwise, unable to retain most information we study during lessons."

You blinked in shock. If anything, you were Aemond's ONLY intellectual counterpart!

"So, she's not as smart as you, mate, so what?" Cregan cocked his head. "You don't need smart, you need fertile and capable."

Though he was attempting to defend you, Cregan's words made your skin prickle. How could they think you weren't intellectually on their level? Was it because you were a woman? You read the same books, attended the same tutoring sessions, was questioned on the same material they were and hardly ever answering incorrectly! And yet now you're reduced to your reproduction system?

The Prince scoffed, "Think about it, if I married a Tyrell, their lowly standing would taint the Targaryen bloodline."

"So, it was all an act?" Paxtan snickered, "C'mon, mate, you two looked dazed, all enamored with each other. Can't convince us there's nothing there, not after that."

Aemond chuckled, "You want the truth?"

"Lay it on us."

"I shared a single dance with her because I pity her. Don't any of you? The way she all but repels suitors? Surely, you've noted her dresses as well? They're terribly revealing, unlike anything a proper lady would don. No self respecting woman nor future princess of mine would wear something like that. It's as if she's so desperate for attention that she has to flaunt her flesh just to get a man to look at her since her personality surely doesn't reel suitors to her."

The men laughed, your mouth dropping open in offense. You're not chasing men away - look what happened with Jason Lannister! It was Aemond who told him to fuck off! After years of friendship, was this truly what Aemond thought of you? How did it come to this - the man you loved, the man you considered your best mate, slandering your name to any able ear willing to listen? How could he speak such calamities about you? Was this entire friendship a folly, just a cover for his pity? Was he only your 'friend' to entertain his own selfish boredom?

Was everything just in your head?

"I don't know, I like how she dresses," Tyler Lannister mused, the teenaged son of Tyland Lannister, Jason's twin brother.

"None the less, I find desperation unattractive in a woman," Aemond rejected, tears gathering in your eyes to silently stream down your cheeks. "Besides, Lady Tyrell isn't my type, she talks far too much. Truly, there's never a moment of silence, I cannot even hear my own thoughts when she's prattling - and it's never anything of substance, just useless nonsense. It's as I said, it was a pity dance, I felt sorry that she has little to no suitors."

"Seriously, mate, have you considered the reason she has no suitors might be because of her proximity to you? They might stay away because they feel threatened by your friendship, thinking she's spoken for - and trust me, no man here would dare compete against a prince for a lady's affection," Cregan scoffed, mildly disgusted by Aemond's choice words.

"The courts know there's no affection shared between Lady Tyrell and I. We are simply friends - no more or less - and that's as far as our relationship will ever progress."

Cregan hummed, nodding his head sarcastically. Then his curiosity questioned, "Answer this: are you attracted to her?"

"Truthfully, I just don't think she's... Attractive enough to be my wife. She's a pretty lass, I'll admit, but if she's called the Rose of the Realm, I fear to learn the appearance of other ladies from Highgarden." A few lads chuckled. "Additionally, there will be public outings I must attend, and as my wife, the people will expect to see someone alluring - someone qualified and fit for the position as a princess of the Realm. Someone stunning and worthy of the title, able to fulfill royal responsibilities."

"Gods, why're you so against this match? You're being terribly superficial, judgmental, and defensive - she's your friend, after all. Wouldn't this be a love-match? Do you know how rare those are?" Luras Arryn snarled, sounding genuinely distraught and jealous.

"And if you're so against her, why do you constantly escort her to formal events?" Arnas Blackwood tacked on. "It creates the illusion that you're courting, my Prince, surely you're aware of that."

"As I stated, her blood isn't pure, but she's also criminally clingy. She's always lingering around and I feel awkward not inviting her to royal events - since she's right there, all alone, in front of me. I only invite her out of obligation. Again, I take pity on the girl, knowing when she leaves the Red Keep, she'll never experience this life again."

"Well, if not the Rose of the Realm, who do you have your sights on?" Luras Arryn asked stiffly.

Aemond's smirk was clear as day, answering swiftly, "The Lady Floris Baratheon is appealing enough."

The lads obnoxiously cheered in supportive approval, directing the conversation in a new direction about how bloody gorgeous Floris was - one of them even mentioning she deserved the nickname, Rose of the Realm.

You heard enough, more than enough, more than you ever wanted to know in an entire lifetime; rightfully insulted past belief and violently nauseated, feeling cold and mechanical. As swiftly as you could, you rushed to set the goblets down and speed walk towards the doors, shoving past both individuals and couples; not wanting to linger where you're clearly not wanted. Where you were apparently not welcome. After making your inconspicuous getaway, tears fell faster than earlier, mind replaying Aemond's words while sprinting to your chambers.

Describing you as clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Dubbing you an improper lady who lacked self respect. Thinking you talk too much - that you prattle nonsense. Labeling you unworthy and unqualified to be his wife or assume the title princess with all the relating responsibilities. How he pities you and doesn't ever want to be more than your friend; thinking you're uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Declaring House Tyrell peasants who would taint his family's pure bloodline. How you 'have' to flaunt your flesh to attract suitors - since your personality did you no favors. Marking you a friend out of obligation...

Were you even friends? Did you even understand the definition of a friend? Have you been operating in a delusion this whole time?

In the words of King Théoden: how did it come to this?

Feeling utterly humiliated, you ran away from your peers; lungs heaving, huffing and puffing, panic ready to overflow. You burst through the wooden door, fully sobbing by now, engaging the iron lock and dropping to lean your weight against it.

Most, if not all, of your insecurities were aired out like soiled bedsheets for all eligible bachelors to know. Aemond might as well have hung a painted wooden sign around your neck: DESPERATE AND CLINGY LOSER - DO NOT ENGAGE.

Nothing about this situation felt normal, it all felt terribly impossible; absolutely heartbreaking and vile, like it was some kind of bad dream. But everyone woke up from dreams. You'd never wake up from this, you'd be forced to remember and relive it day after day. Tonight would haunt you, cast a dark shadow around you as if a thick, temperamental, torrential storm. Yet every storm eventually breaks, but tonight, there was no remedy, no shelter, no protection - you had to weather this alone.

It felt foreign, enduring anything by yourself. For years, Aemond was your partner, always at your side, level headed, insightful and wise; supportive, protective, calming, and something like a safety net when you faced trouble. Now, he's left you devastatingly alone; where after tonight, the very idea of being in the same room as him made you nauseated and anxious, fearful and small.

In that moment, your brain screamed that you were no longer welcome in the Red Keep - Uncle Evin's position be damned.

You sat on the stone cold floor for the better part of half an hour before your bottom turned painfully numb. After sluggishly hiking up your dress skirt, you removed your shoes and tossed them aside, standing to swollen feet to unhook your jewelry and place everything in their safe and proper place. Then, a particular necklace made of red rubies set in a thinly crafted Valyrian Steel chain caught your eye and mocked you. It was Aemond's gift on your ten-and-eighth nameday, laid in a plush velvet case for adequate preservation. This simple piece of jewelry was your absolute favorite in your collection, a treasure beyond words of appreciation that you greatly admired, now rusting in salty tears.

Being gifted this necklace had once convinced you Aemond might've felt the same for you as you do him. You remember even trying to rationalize it as a sign that the One-Eyed Prince was at a loss and didn't know how to confess his feelings. That he was shy, perhaps afraid to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Angry tears of betrayal fell like acid over your cheeks, gritting your teeth, clenching your jaw as you snapped the velvet box closed and with a barbaric grunt, hurled it (with impressive strength) across the room. You felt so confused, so lost; deceived, lied to, and puppeted - and then the anger flared again when you realized what family you were angry with.

Why bother being upset, emotional, distressed? You had no right because your feelings truly didn't matter - not in the grand scheme of things. Nobody cared about your trivial feelings! You were just a Tyrell and by comparison, a peasant nobody who never deserved, earned, warranted, or was bestowed respect. In fact, to the Targaryens up on their mounted pedestals, none of you mattered - not a citizen in all Seven Kingdoms.

In fact, it was almost treated as a curse to not be a Targaryen. Some kind of punishment for daring to exist amongst the privileged royals as a lowborn - which, despite your family's newly established status in court, you were still characterized as. In their eyes, anyone NOT a Targaryen was lowborn; deemed unworthy to the white haired bloodline, being merely tolerated for the sake of politics, strategy, and reproduction. It was a sick game, and the Targaryens always won.

They do what they want, when they want, with no consideration towards other people's safety, emotions, wellbeing, stability, or comfort. The Targaryens were always stationed above everyone because, after all, they were closer to Gods than men; entire family spoiled, entitled, narcissistic, holier than thou, avoidant of any and all consequence.

They're legendary. Untouchable and worshipped.

And you? You're just a Tyrell, the tiny beetle trampled under the God's boot. Beetles were essential to any ecosystem, similar to the Tyrell's providing to the Realm productions of wheat, grain, barley, and corn. Similar to your family, beetles are also disposable - meaning the Targaryens might tolerate you, but they never need respect you. They could stomp you into the ground whenever they wanted because where one beetle died, three more takes place. Where one House might falter and fall, become doomed, eradicated, or subcomes to tragedy, others step up in an effort to establish their usefulness; prove their House's necessity to the Realm's ecosystem, attempt to diminish the threat of being razed to the ground by dragon fire.

Why be so upset with the Targaryens when they can do no wrong? What right did you have? And how could you ever think a Prince of the Realm would remotely be romantically interested in you?

You felt delusional and pathetic, crying over a man who was never in your league. Yet betrayal gutted you like a fish, a bright reminder that your friend would expose you like that; offer loud disrespect, speaking hatefully, to finally voice hidden malcontent. It felt impossible to stomach that your first friend, your favorite person, secretly hated you.

Because how could he not? You did not love anyone you could speak so lowly of.

Sobbing harder, you yanked pins out of your hair, working at break-neck speed to strip from your gown, then freezing when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looked distraught with exhausted red eyes; glowing in defeat, in a desperate need for a long, hot soak in the washtub. With shaking hands, you tossed a spare blanket over the mirror, despising the sight of yourself as Aemond's words continued to ring on a loop in your ears.

Clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Improper, lacks self respect, talks too much, lacks suitors. Unworthy, unqualified, pitiful, never desiring to bloom past friendship - which is constructed around obligation. Uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Unfit, tainted, lowborn blood with a lowly personality. Revealing, tempting dresses.

Your mind, heart, and head screamed that no matter how hard you hoped, prayed, and tried, you'd never have a place among the Targaryens. Yelled that Aemond's right: you're ugly on the inside and out; damaged goods, undesirable - all because you were not born amongst fire and blood. Bellowed about your lack of quality, purpose, contribution. Reminded you that the one person you trusted unconditionally never truly wanted to be your friend; that he spoke horrendously on your name when absent, didn't value who you were - and never did.

He took every insecurity you confided in him and weaponized it; used it against you, made it into a joke with people you didn't trust nor want to know about you...

You sunk into the bath water, submerging as if to hide from your own thoughts.

The knock at your chamber door didn't surprise you. Servants and your uncle had been coming and going since you first refused to leave the morning after the ball. You figured Aemond would come around eventually, too curious for his own good and still under the impression he had to play "friend", thinking his deceit was unknown to you.

Aemond called your name through the door, asking, "You awake? Could I come in?"

You didn't answer.

He sighed, "C'mon, I know you're there. You haven't been seen in four days, you have to eat. You should get some air, feel the sunshine."

Silence.

Aemond frowned, "When you're ready, come find me, petal. I'm worried about you."

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, pulling your knees to your chest. For four days, you couldn't stomach the idea of running into the Prince, just wanting to avoid anyone or anything that would remind you of what Aemond said. You understood there were several decisions left to be settled, lost in an endless rampage of confusing emotions, maids bring you full trays of food and removing them with more than half still left.

Humiliation knotted in your chest, the harrowing thought of punishing yourself for being so stupid something you couldn't fight. All you registered was the feeling of betrayal, something that inked into every single thought you had, but with it came sinking realization that you were done. Simple as that.

On the sixth night, you sat with Uncle Evin, forking through your full plate and blurting, "Don't do it."

He paused to finish the bite in his mouth, "Do what, honey girl?"

"Don't - Don't make a match with Alicent and Otto. Don't make the arrangement with Prince Aemond."

Evin nodded slowly, washing his bite down with a mouthful of wine. "There a reason for your change of heart, love? The Queen thinks it's a handsome pairing. Just before, you seemed content with the match - dare I say, you seemed pleased?"

"Things change, Uncle," you spoke evenly, "and I can't shoulder this responsibility. In fact, I... I do not think I'm capable of making my own match. I will be stepping away from courting for the time being."

Your eyes seemed distant and dark, proving serious. So Elvin agreed easily, allowing you to withdrawal from the current season officially. He understood something was deeply amiss and didn't want to make worse whatever turmoil you teetered in. He didn't want to upset you and make things worse - you obviously had enough going on.

Aemond knocked again the next day, "Petal? You awake?" But you didn't answer. He sighed, "You've been missing lessons, love, and I just... I brought you some books. Thought maybe you'd like to catch up?" When there was no answer, he ended, "I'll just leave them here for you, petal... I'm not sure what's wrong, but I hope you're all right in there... I miss you."

You scoffed quietly, wiping your tears.

Ten days after withdrawing from the courting season, you left your chambers for the first time. But it wasn't like anything changed - it was still as if you were invisible, like a ghost. Losing your best mate turned you silent, refusing to attend lessons and since Aemond was your source for solace, had turned to seeking shelter at the Sept. It was the easiest way to avoid everyone - mostly Aemond.

He had shunned the religion the older he got, though respected his mother's devotion to it in trying times. He couldn't remember the last time he was in the Sept... So, it was perfect for you; a safe space.

You were no longer seen in the library - a once daily occurrence. If you ever wanted to read, you sent your ladies maid to collect content for you; but the drive to learn and read had abandoned you as swiftly as Aemond's loyalty. The stables grew cold in your absence, refusing to ride; something that troubled your uncle gravely. No longer did you take meals with family or Aemond, always seeking solitude to eat alone in your room or the physical kitchens; the Red Keep growing dark over your lack of sunshine - that had shone so brightly in the previous weeks. Even then, when you ate, it was in small quantities to only sustain yourself; mostly feeling nauseous when food was put on your stomach.

The first time Aemond saw you, you were returning from the Sept in a dress that reached close to your pulse point of your neck. He tried to get to you, but you slipped through the cracks of the Keep and disappeared when he dodged around a set of Kingsguard. Yet it was still a comfort to him to know you had left your room finally.

He knocked on your door about half an hour later, but like usual, you didn't answer.

"Rosie?" Aemond called, sighing. "I know you've not been feeling yourself, but, uh, tomorrow's Helaena's nameday. We're having dinner for her on the terrace..." He waisted, not hearing a single thing from within your chamber. "You're invited, as usual, petal. Your uncle said he'd attend, wanted you to know you're always welcome at our table."

But you didn't show up, you couldn't bear to see any of them.

You didn't eat that night, you were far too anxious and spiteful against yourself that you refused to allow yourself to indulge in celebrating your companion.

Despite withdrawing, you still heard rumor of all the matches being made and the courtships established through your ladies maid. A cord struck in your gut when you heard the couples you had bet upon were public and engaged, but so were Aemonds... Which meant you both won; and if things were different, would mean a flight on Vhagar to visit Highgarden. On nights of merriment, you would sit alone in the Godswood sometimes; attempting to connect to the Old Gods, but they never spoke back. They never connected with you.

Tonight, you were under the blood red leaves in earnest curiosity; quiet, just as you had been since the day you found out Aemond's betrayal and discouraged your uncle from making a match. It was there Elvin found you, frowning as he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"The Old Gods do not speak to me," Elvin offered softly.

"Nor I," you whispered.

"Yet I always feel at peace here," he nodded, sighing deeply. "I must ask you something, honey girl."

"Hmm?"

"Do you... Do you wish to depart? From King's Landing, I mean?" He questioned. "I ask because I intend to ride for Highgarden, your father's nameday nears. Your mother intends to throw him a grand celebration, since turning 50 seems such a milestone."

"You ride for home?"

"Tomorrow morning."

You paused, then answered, "I would like that... There's nothing left for me here."

Aemond's words had done irreparable damage, making you feel worthless and alone. Bitter. Damaged and unworthy of any such match; forever worrying if your best friend could harbor such ill will and hatred for you, surely, a husband would as well. Yet you were not new to being a woman; you knew the role you were to play, how marriage was strategic and calculated. Political. You could be a wife, you were so sure of it; but would you ever feel worthy of love? You feared you never would.

"We will stay a few weeks."

"I don't know if I would like to return, Uncle."

He offered a sad smile, "I figured as much. But should you want to, feel able to, you may return. You, my sweetling, are always welcome at my side."

You leaned into his shoulder, sighing softly. "I should thank you," you whispered in the wind.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me all these years," you lifted off him to meet his eyes. "You didn't have to, but you wanted to... And you've shown me a father's love when I thought it gone from my life. Thank you, Uncle."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, humming, "Don't tell the others but you were always my favorite. I consider it a great pleasure to raise such a gorgeous young lady - and I mean that, honey girl. Inside and out. Now," he pulled back and found his feet, offering his hand to you, "come, we've packing to complete."

"Of course."

However, while in the midst of packing, you felt a jolt in your heart. This had been your home of a decade or more; these people were who you grew and learned with. Who influenced your life in the best and worst of ways; they did not deserve to read your praise and thanks for friendship in a letter... So, you swung a cloak on and ventured out of your room.

Otto was first since he was the easiest to say goodbye to. He was gracious of your parting words of thanks; telling him how much you appreciated his wisdom and riddles.

Aegon was next. He insisted you share a last goblet of wine together - since you did not intend to delay your parting. It turned into a bit of a drinking game with his mates, but you didn't mind; far too used to the company of these debaucherous lechers. Dare you say, you enjoyed yourself.

Helaena was after, your words harder to say as your emotions strangled you. She was a sweet girl, an endearing companion, constant and dependable, albeit a bit strange and unorthodox. But you loved her all the same and cried tears of sadness when hugging her tightly as a last ditch effort to convey your gratitude for her authentic and generous friendship.

You only offered Ser Criston Cole a soft, "Farewell."

Alicent was perhaps hardest to say goodbye to. After Aemond, you were probably closest with the matriarch and found her wisdom and lessons a privilege to learn. She was kind to you; usually with a stern hand, but that was because she could recognize the little girl you once were who missed her mother tremendously. She introduced you to religion, another common bond. She encouraged you, supportive and curious; sharing affinity for the histories, often reading to one another for moments of peace.

Saying goodbye to Alicent hurt. You both shed tears of sorrow, the Queen wishing you the very best and insisting you return for her nameday and other celebratory events. She told you to write, told you to keep in touch; insisting if and when a match was made, to invite her since she would love to attend your wedding. Truly, Alicent considered you one of her own and to know you were departing in pain wounded her.

King Viserys was last. He was already in bed, half-asleep, a Maester at his side; but still, he accepted your audience. You thanked him for his hospitality and kindness - especially to your uncle. You thanked him for hosting you, for allowing you residence at the Keep and the for the years living under royal privilege. You told him you'd not forget his generosity.

You returned to your chambers after that and finished packing. You didn't sleep.

When morning broke, you stood in the courtyard with Elvin; packing the wagon you would use, your horse tacked and waiting as you both intended to ride. Alicent and Helaena came to see you off, hugging you tightly one last time before the Queen offered you a handheld velveteen case. "Just a little something to remember us by," she smiled lightly.

"Oh, as if I'm in a hurry to forget you?" You mused. "My Queen, this is too much, I cannot accept."

"You have not opened it."

"I do not need to, I know you," you smirked. "Your leadership these years is enough gift, my Queen."

"I'm not taking it back, you might as well accept it," she insisted. "Helaena and I picked it out together..."

You lifted the case lid, blinking in shock and gasping lightly. There laid a gorgeous chain necklace of Valyrian Steel, a dragon pendant dangling from front with gems of bright emerald - surely a representation of the Hightower side.

"Thank you, Your Grace, my Princess," you breathed, closing the case and caressing it to your chest. "It's more generous than I deserve but will treasure for the decades to come."

Queen Alicent nodded and pecked your forehead, leaving you alone with Helaena to speak with Elvin. The moment her mother was gone, the Princess asked, "Did you say goodbye to Aemond? I'm surprised he's not here."

"No," you spoke softly, "I cannot, Helaena, it is too painful to even look at him - let alone share words of parting. I have nothing left to say, no more words for him."

She frowned, "You know... I don't think he meant what he said. He says things he does not mean when anxious or feeling as if he's cornered."

Your head cocked, "What? H-How do you know what's been said?"

"I saw it - in one of my dreams."

You sighed, "I know you mean well - "

"I just do not wish for you to think that is his honest opinion about you."

"If it wasn't, he would not have spoken so loudly for so many to hear. Your brother has never sounded so sure, Helaena, I do not wish to relive it."

She sighed and nodded, "Will you write?"

"Every week," you promised, the two of you meeting foreheads and breathing as one. "Take care of yourself, Helaena."

"You, too, Rosie," she smiled, letting you depart. Alicent clipped your new necklace in place and gvae you a final hug, watching you mount your horse, stare at the pair for a moment longer, then follow your Uncle Elvin out of the courtyard.

As you rode down the streets, Aemond came sprinting out of the Keep in a blind panic after running into Aegon in the hall. Normally, Aemond wouldn't have bat an eye at his hungover brother, but he had said something about you drinking him under the table and demanded to know what Aegon meant. Upon hearing you had "left", Aemond sprinted to your bed chambers and didn't even knock - just burst in.

Never before had the Prince felt such anger as when he learned you had left King's Landing without saying goodbye. Without a single word to him - as if the past decade+ hadn't meant anything! He needed to know, Aemond needed to see for himself the truth because surely, someone was mistaken. His brother, surely still drunk and misremembering because there was no possible way you could've left! Not without Aemond! Not without a word! He refused to believe it.

He panted, tears gathering in his eye, finding your room bare and stripped. Aemond's breathing picked up in panic, hands shaking as he stepped into your room; looking, desperately, for any sign of life. But there was nothing... Nothing, save for a letter addressed to him left on your table with the ruby necklace he gifted you for your 18th nameday.

Gingerly, Aemond reached out and plucked up the necklace. He frowned, petting the jewels in disbelief; noting the way a few were missing, some loose - evidence of your anger. Slowly, Aemond sunk into a chair and with the necklace still in hand and his heart hammering in his chest in a rattle, opened your letter.

Aemond ― I know you'll be the one to find this, of that, there's no doubt. Sooner or later, you will learn of my departure and come looking, and for that, for being unable to say anything in person, I am sorry. Though this might come as a shock, it shouldn't as I would hate to give you the satisfaction of being right by burdening you with a desperate goodbye. I would hate for you to think I am clingy, even after our friendship died. So, I figure a letter is better than nothing. Goodbye, Aemond. Though all a lie and dedicated ruse, thank you for the years of friendship. You made time in the Red Keep pleasant enough. ― Rosie

Aemond sprinted to the courtyard, flinging open doors and shoving past patrons; desperate to find you, understanding you overheard him all those weeks ago and needing to apologize. He needed to explain himself, the confirmation now that Aemond was the cause of your pain and reclusion? His heart was about to burst. He skidded to a halt in the dirt, turning left and right and in a circle as he realized the gates were open and you were not in sight.

"Aemond?" Helaena questioned softly, Alicent taking to her side. "Brother?"

"Wh-Where is she?" He panted. "Rose - Rose - Rosie, where is she? Where is she!?"

"She's gone, Aemond," Alicent frowned, shaking her head slowly; startled by his desperate tone, "gone with her uncle back to Highgarden."

"When? When? When did they leave!?"

"She's gone, brother," Helaena snipped, sending him a look of disappointment; ears ringing from her dream, repeating what he had said to you.

Aemond swallowed harshly, asking his sister, "She heard me, didn't she? I know you know, Helaena, please, tell me. She heard me?"

The Princess nodded and walked away, the One Eyed Prince turning to his mother in desperation and for the first time in 10 years, perhaps more, he collapsed in her arms. Emotion clawed at his chest and into his throat, starting to tremble, sniffing heatedly; his mother's arms tight and comforting.

"I love her," he whispered.

"I know," Alicent answered, "but she should've been the one you told." A pause and her hand lifted to caress the back of his head, just like when he was a child. "It's too late now, Aemond. She's gone."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

does this count towards the Clingy Baby collection? since Aemond technically calls her clingy amongst other things?

[thejewitches]

Every single year, without fail, we deal with the fact that the internet is obsessed with promoting the misinformation that Ostara must have been stolen from Easter.

People will argue until they’re blue in the face…But they won’t provide citations or evidence to the contrary and the reason why is simple: there isn’t any.

If you find that celebrating Ostara brings you joy: we aren’t here to rain on your parade or stop you in the slightest.

But misinformation, even misinformation that sounds cool and serves to further rhetorical goals, is still wrong and harmful.

So, after years of promising it, we’ve finally delivered: Easter isn’t stolen from Ostara.

Have questions? We’re happy to answer!

Make sure to follow our Instagram @jewitches for the ongoing discussion!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Wedding Words

Affiance - “To pledge by promise of marriage.” It shares a root with fiancé in the Latin fidere, meaning “to trust.” Similarly, the word betroth, which means “to arrange for the marriage of” comes from the Old English word for “truth.”

Agamy - The state or quality of being unmarried. This word can also refer to the aversion to the institution of marriage.

Bridaller - The singular of this rare word means “a guest at a wedding.” Its root word, bridal, originally meant “a wedding” or “a wedding feast.” The origin of the word bride is uncertain, although it might be linked to the Proto-Indo-European root bru- meaning “to cook, brew, make broth.”

Deuterogamy - A second marriage after the death or divorce of the first husband or wife. Another word for this is digamy (not to be confused with bigamy, the act of marrying while one has another spouse). The first element in deuterogamy, deutero-, means “second,” giving us words such as deuteragonist, which refers to the actor next in importance to the protagonist.

Dot - Many of us know the word dot to refer to a small roundish mark. But for a short while among English speakers, it was used as both a noun and a verb to discuss dowries. In the mid-1800s, dot was used to mean “a woman’s dowry.” A few decades later, it picked up the verbal sense of “to give a bride a dowry.” The dowry sense of the word can be traced to the Latin dōs of the same meaning; the inkblot sense of dot is related to the Old High German word for nipple, tutta.

Epithalamion - “A song or poem in honor of a bride and bridegroom.” It is very close in meaning to the word prothalamion; both words are built on the Greek word for “bedroom” or “bridal chamber,” thalamus. The difference lies in their prefixes: epi- means “upon,” and pro- means “before.” Prothalamion, which refers to a song or poem written in celebration of a forthcoming wedding, was coined by the English poet Edmund Spenser, author of The Faerie Queene.

Foy - To walk down the aisle is to embark on a lifelong journey, which is perhaps why the Scottish dialectical term foy, which broadly means “a farewell gift, feast, or drink,” is sometimes used in Scotland to refer to what people in the US might call a bachelorette party: a party given in honor of a woman on the eve of her marriage. Etymologists link it to the French term voie meaning “way” or “ journey.”

Paranymph - Wedding terminology is peppered with words that have been historically bound to gender, such as bride and groom. But one lesser-known wedding word with unisex applicability is paranymph, meaning “a groomsman or a bridesmaid.” It translates literally from the Greek paránymphos as “the person beside the bride.” The oldest sense of the word nymph referred to a class of lesser deities of mythology, though by the late 1500s, the term could refer, less supernaturally, to a maiden.

Shotgun Wedding - A wedding occasioned or precipitated by pregnancy. The expression was born in the US and calls on imagery of a father coercing (by way of a firearm) a young man to marry his enceinte daughter. The earliest citation of this term is found in a satirical novel by Sinclair Lewis, Elmer Gantry, in which, upon becoming convinced that his daughter is with child, Deacon Bains says to her, “There, there, Lu! Your dad’ll do something about it.”

Trousseau - An outfit of clothing or household linen for a bride. Historically, it has been used to refer to the linens and other accoutrement that a bride collects to furnish the house she will share with her husband. But nowadays, it’s often used to refer to the robes and lingerie that a bride wears on her wedding night. It can be traced to the Middle French term troussel meaning “parcel, bundle.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[libraford]

(I have permission to share this.)

Text- from Walking Distance Brewing Company

Happy Pride month! We are here another year to celebrate Pride with you! Thank you for your love and support through a difficult year of slander and harassment. Your support has not just kept us afloat but has made us thrive! Our inclusive community isn’t here just for Pride - we’re here all year. It's not always easy being inclusive in town. The library, community organizations, and yes, even Walking Distance have been targets. In this post, we're going to discuss the attacks against the library and against us. Last June, the library had a pride book display [1]. On July 3rd, (now ex) city councilmember Deb Groat wrote an email to the library at the request of the Union Faith Family Coalition [2]. In this email, she wrote: “I am deeply offended by explicitly sexual material on display in the children’s section of our library. Shame on you and your staff for pandering to any social agenda in displaying reading material to children.” [3] Later on in the email she wrote: “The library may well want to pass a levy in the future, or have input in a community TIF.” [3] On November 27, 2023 - Deb Groat was joined by city councilmember Mark Reams in voting for a TIF that would divert money away from the library for 30 years. Luckily, the extension did not pass. [4] According to Union County Faith Family Coalition’s founder, Mark Reams is a member. [2] Deb Groat and Mark Reams vote together to divert money from the library. Let’s move on to us. In June 2023, we had a drag show. On July 8th, Mark Reams’ wife, Leslie Reams posted on Facebook calling Walking Distance “Little Epstein Island” [5] joining in the same rhetoric spread by the Union County Faith Family Coalition, who nicknamed us, “Walking Distance Grooming Co.” Additionally, on April 15th, 2024 - while on-shift at her job, Leslie Reams called us a “den of depravity bar [that] preys on children,” and called our bartenders and customers, “pedophiles” and “drunks.” Let’s be clear. Leslie Reams, the members of the Union County Faith Family Coalition, and their followers have never called law enforcement (to our knowledge) - something we would expect and want to happen if pedophilia was happening. Law enforcement has never been called, we suspect that even they know that it’s not true. We have heard many rumors, as bad as, “Walking Distance is full of pedophiles” to more innocuous rumors that hurt our reputation. Our guess is that the same people who don’t believe we’re pedophiles, but want to demonize queerness, also know their audience and are able to tone it back to do the damage they can. We saw sales dips directly following Leslie Reams’ statements. We have heard city council members echoing similar rumors. Last summer, we had around 10 citations against the owner’s house and the business from the city and council - none of these citations asked us to remedy anything (except for the one about mowing��oops), and in fact there were instances when the local officials said that we were doing everything right, but they are only reaching out to us because they had so many calls. The year prior, Walking Distance and the owner's house had 0 citations. We’ll never know exactly how much business we lost due to the slander against us. We do know, we lost a lot. Similarly, we’ll never know exactly how much the support of our community has meant. We do know, it meant a whole lot. The support has kept us afloat, and with time, it's made us thrive. We know that we have survived to see another June. And we are ready to celebrate it, in the face of the hate. There would be no pride with no hate. Looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday for drag BINGO; Saturday for drag brunch; and also visit us on Saturday during Marysville Pride. We have more Pride events this week and month, keep your eyes peeled! And even if it's not a pride related event, we are always inclusive. Oh, and there's a city council meeting next Monday, June 10th at 7PM.

[/text]

Here's some photos of the extremely offensive library display:

They haven't given a call to action yet.

So anyways, that's what's happening in a nearby town. Marysville's pride event is this weekend and if you'd like to show up for local queers its going to be a very fun time.

I'm thinking of grabbing some of my local gays and giving them our patronage, of course. Its somewhat unrealistic to ask strangers on the internet to do take a hike all the way to Ohio for drag bingo.

So I think I would just like to call attention to it- if this is happening in our area, its probably happening in yours too. If you were thinking of attending a drag show but were on the fence about it, I think you should. They're a fun time.

Being involved in the queer community can be as simple as attending a drag show. Or going to a silly queer-focused event. Or supporting a queer-owned business. Every little bit of support for your queer community counts!

[cyrilcantarelli]

MARDI 05 MARS 2024

SAINTE OLIVE

PAS DE JOURNEE MONDIALE

OFFICIELLEMENT DENOMME JOUR DE LA CHEVRE

15 EME JOUR DU SIGNE ASTROLOGIQUE DU POISSON

«Le timide a peur avant de changer, le lâche au milieu du danger, le courageux après le danger...»

[northopalshore]

Derivative astrology: the 7th house

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

˖ ִֶָ🐇 In this post specifically I'd like to look at the 7th house derivative astrology. I prefer to work with examples, so I'll be reading about my future spouse as a guide. I'll include some celebrity citations as well. What is Derivative astrology?

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

The ascendant (natal 7th House):

His appearance, physical traits, attitude & approach

๑ஓVirgo (9° sagittarius)

In terms of looks, he's tall, more so on the leaner side, and looks very down to earth or approachable. His age will not show on his face, so even if he's 30/40 he still looks 20 lmao. Extremely clean and put together, although when it comes to fashion he could wear a lot of "basic" clothes. It's usually comfort & practicality over looks. People will describe him as easygoing but also a bit of a perfectionist.

๑ஓEros (22° capricorn)

He's very particular about the way that his body/physical appearance looks. Perhaps he's the type to work out regularly. Since it's in virgo though, I don't think he'll be doing it competitively, but rather to exercise control or restraint. Just something he likes having in his routine.

Celebrity example

(the effects of your descendant & your partner's looks)

Ariana Grande has her Cancer in the 7th house. There's also Chiron & Mercury here. Have you noticed how a lot of her long term partners look rather.. sick? Pale, with eyebags & a tired expression. The ones she usually just dates are rather short (Cancer, mercury 27° gemini) but the ones who get closer to engagement or marriage are tall (Leo, chiron 21° Sagittarius). Also.. they kind of resemble her brother lol ( cancer; family, mercury 27° gemini; sibling)

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 2nd house (natal 8th House):

His finances, work, values & priorities

๑ஓLibra

He could work under a contract or with certain people. Business relationships are very prominent here. Though, this could also mean he's usually working with a partner or a group.

๑ஓJupiter (16° cancer)

He's likely born into a pretty stable household in terms of money. However, it's likely he works with his family or people close to him. Could also work with younger individuals, he'll likely gain a lot of wealth through his contracts or working with people he's familiar with/ family.

๑ஓFama (20° scorpio)

My FS's work will involve movement, and talking or interacting with a lot of people. He will usually be the person they are looking at at work.

๑ஓPopulus (24° pisces)

My FS gains a lot of money through his looks and his aesthetics. He'll likely be quite popular for his charms & magnetism. People could attach his image to that of prince charming if that makes sense. People might not expect me to be with someone like him lol. Perhaps they think he's this untouchable entity or that someone like him is different from the average person (pisces influence).

๑ஓUnion (26° taurus)

I'll likely be working with my FS somewhere down the line especially since it's in libra. A power couple!

Celebrity example

(How your 8th house affects your spouses' career)

Lana Del Rey has a stellium in her 8th house (sun, mars & mercury). Most of her exes were singers though not as successful as her. Her husband however, is a tour guide; usually talking to a small group of people on an airboat (cancer Mercury 16° cancer), his job involves a lot of movement & hard labour, a little risk & talking/explaining (Mars 8° Scorpio, Eros 21° Sagittarius). He does a lot of physical labour, working for/with his family, & has since gained a lot of fame/ recognition through that (Starr & Varuna).

Lana's natal 2nd house will be his 8th house when read through derivative astrology, so her being more wealthy & popular than him sort of tracks. She's more of this exotic phenomena while he's a traditionally hard working family man 'normie'. Sagittarius vs Cancer.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 3rd house (natal 9th House):

His mind, thoughts, siblings & early education

๑ஓScorpio

He is very intuitive. Most of the time, there is nothing that can be kept hidden from him. He's also great at reading body language or facial expressions, and likely not the type to be able to hide his distaste for certain things. At least, not through his expressions lol. If he doesn't like you, you'll see it on his face.

๑ஓMars (26° taurus)

He may have argued with his siblings a lot somewhere along his youth, I don't think it's necessarily a toxic relationship. In fact, I think that's just how they bond lol. He could have been very stubborn as a child, doing whatever he wanted despite his sibling's wishes. He could also have been quite stubborn or greedy around his sibling (s). "What's mine is mine, what's yours is also mine".

๑ஓVenus (5° leo)

He is very charming, and quite romantic. By that I mean, he is the type of man who will romanticise love & art. These aspects may be very closely tied to his own way of thinking. Believing in a "one true love". The way he communicates & thinks is also quite dramatic. Perhaps he believes there is no one else quite like him lol.

๑ஓMercury (10° capricorn)

My FS is very analytical. No matter how romantic or dreamy he likes to think, there is always a part of him that values logic & structure. He probably likes to argue with himself in his head often. Something along the lines of;

"It feels right, but what does it really mean? "

"Does it make sense? I don't think so yeah, maybe not."

"..on second thought —"

"..nah"

Celebrity example

Lisa Marie Presley has Saturn, North Node, Union Chiron & Mireille in her natal 9th House.

Michael Jackson used to work with his siblings (saturn) in The Jackson 5 before they had a falling out also because he wanted to go solo (pisces Chiron 26° Taurus).

They were very successful (Mireille) just not in the way MJ wanted to be seen, so he left (aries, pisces & chiron). In the end, he was meant to go solo to be the Michael Jackson we all love & remember (Aries north node 21° Sagittarius).

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 4th house (natal 10th House):

His home life, his mother, his early childhood

๑ஓSagittarius (13° aries)

He has been living independently from a very young age. Moving to another town, state or country from his parents alone. His parents are very open-minded, perhaps there were issues with religion when he was younger or he just had parents with mixed religious beliefs & found it a bit difficult to latch onto either one.

๑ஓGreat attractor (14° taurus)

He was likely favoured by his aunts or his grandmother, perhaps he has a lot of parental figures in his life. His siblings could also act as his care takers since it's in Taurus. People liked him for his openness or willingness to learn from them. Though, he might talk back at times lol (conjuncting ic °13 aries).

๑ஓPluto (22° capricorn)

His childhood was likely cut short due to his career, or because he had to work from a young age he didn't exactly live the life of a regular child. It forced him to be wiser & more experienced than his age.

๑ஓSun (29° leo)

He might've been the favourite child of the household lol. You could see his charisma shining through, even as a child. He could also be the youngest child in the family. He may have butted heads with his mother at times, but respects his father a lot.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 5th house (natal 11th House):

Love life, creativity, childhood, talents

๑ஓCapricorn

He could treat art as a job, or just work in the artistic industry. Could have been working as a child (like a child actor, performer or something). His childhood was likely bleak because of this.

๑ஓChiron (24° pisces)

He likely had a very difficult childhood. He might've felt like he was never truly a child, or he never got to enjoy his youth like his peers. He may have felt like an outcast and all alone when he was younger. Not really fitting in with people his age. He may have accumulated some trauma from his childhood as well. In terms of his love life, he may have felt that his previous partners never see him eye to eye, but rather as an illusion. Either that, or he himself has ignored his partners to chase his own ideals. Never feeling truly connected with anyone he's dated in the past.

๑ஓGroom (25° aries)

He may long to be in a stable relationship, however he may feel that he'll never have the time to indulge in that type of life because of work ( groom conjunct chiron in Capricorn). Although, this perspective may be healed through marriage hoho ✧₊ ⊹ .

๑ஓJuno (6° virgo)

Like I said, somewhere before my FS & I are likely to work together at some point in our lives. (Virgo & Capricorn). His love life will play an important role in his career.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 6th house (natal 12th House):

Work ethic, routines, job, health

๑ஓAquarius

He doesn't work a 9-5 and could work independently i.e not with a government agency. He could be working alone for the most part, but he could also be working with friends or a community.

๑ஓNeptune (13° aries)

His work will involve movement but also illusion and creativity. He could be very prone to health issues, or his work causes him to neglect his own health or wellbeing. Could be both mental & physical health that decline because of work. He could have insomnia or fatigue. Usually, Neptune & pisces heavy placements lead to someone being very artistic, or talented with music or art. You'll see it quite often in the charts of musicians i.e Lana Del Rey, Matty Healy just to throw a few names.

๑ஓUranus (3° gemini)

His career could involve writing, talking or singing. In aquarius, it's likely he'll be working with a lot of people or with diverse individuals. He could work online or at places where people come to gather for something. Whatever it is, he will be the speaker/one front and center. Uranus is all about standing out from the crowd. He may be a trendsetter where he works. His work also involves a lot of multitasking.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His descendant (natal ascendant):

His partnerships, business relationships, spouse

๑ஓPisces (9° sagittarius)

Foreign, distance. He could be very introspective about love & relationships. He may romanticise love often as well. His spouse will come from another country (overseas) and may be at a great distance from him lmao. If he works with any contracts, it's likely it will lead him to travel often. I will be very different from him culturally. Different languages, different religions, different countries.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 8th house (natal 2nd House):

Sex, fears, transformations, inheritance

๑ஓAries

Oof, daddy chill. He could be very obsessed with sex, money & his possessions. He'll find himself struggling with selfishness at times. He'll be very protective of his inner circle. A lot of people with this placement tend to be a freak in the sheets, yet 9/10 they'll stun you when it turns out they're a virgin. Loyal to a fault, although they could have been sexualised their entire life even from a young age.

๑ஓBoda (18° virgo)

Marriage will transform him deeply. He could feel like an entirely different person compared to who he was before. His marriage will not be spontaneous however. It's likely he has put much thought into it before proposing in the first place. Everything will be well planned and organised. Almost like he had a motive for it, or had the intent to marry me immediately lol. Something about the marriage will be taboo in a way, or perhaps will cause arguments since it's Aries & in the 8th house (yikes). I have a feeling, that he'll know I'm the one the moment we met. He has likely planned our marriage from the start.

๑ஓMoon (28° cancer)

He could struggle with his emotions quite often. Perhaps he'll be panicking inside but keep a straight face (virgo rising). He could have mood swings pretty often. There may be a part of him that's constantly searching for something safe or stable. He could be quite aware of the changes or cycles in life as well as the occult. However, it's not likely for him to be completely adept at it from a "professional" standpoint i.e you won't be reading any observations post or astrology blog from him any time soon. Rather, he goes by intuition and gut feeling. He could have trust issues as well. It's like "I don't really know what's happening but I can feel it." He might also come to me for advice or just to ease his mind often.

My younger brother also has this placement, so I've grown familiar with it through observing him.

๑ஓNorth node (0°)

Change and transformation may be a part of his destiny in this life. Wherever he goes and whatever he does will be influenced by a reawakening, or rebirth. He could have been set on this earth to bring change to himself and those around him. He may have gone through many deaths spiritually prior to meeting me. Learning boundaries, commitment and adaptability. Our relationship could be centered around this as well.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 9th House (natal 3rd House):

His perspectives & convictions

๑ஓTaurus

My FS likey has a deep attachment to money. By that, I mean he likely believes in the power of money lol. Perhaps it was made clear to him from a young age how important it is for someone to have things in their possession. So because of this, he may be quite greedy or have the mindset of a hustler.

๑ஓBriede (19° libra) retrograde

He's likely dreamt of how his future spouse would be quite often throughout his life. He's also very romantic, and a slightly delulu type of lover. Perhaps he has looked through the faces of all the women he has met, looking for his true love. He could have gone through some disappointments in this area before meeting me as well. He may have felt that he's looking for someone unattainable at times. He'll be the type to idealise his wife to the nines.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 10th House (natal 4th House)

๑ஓGemini

His job could involve a lot of talking, teaching or writing or even singing. He could do a lot of multitasking in his career i.e not just writing for example but speaking also. He could work with the media or the internet or just with a lot of people in general. He has a very vocal presence if that makes any sense.

๑ஓPart of fortune (8° scorpio) in Cancer

He's likely been through a lot of shifts in his career. Perhaps some trial & error, or it was quite difficult during the first few years into his career. He could work with his parents or his family, people he is comfortable with or just works closely with other people. There could have been a point of time where things just started going right lmao. People may think he's extremely lucky but it's more likely that he worked hard to get where he is. Literally blood, sweat & tears were sacrificed. He may have shared this with his family as well.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 11th House ( natal 5th House):

His friends, views on community & other people

๑ஓCancer

He could be around a lot of women, or perhaps a lot of his friends treat him motherly i.e baby him. When he opens up to people he likely treats them as family. He could also see his friends as his home or a source of comfort.

๑ஓLilith (15° gemini)

He could have trust issues, or have only a few people he really trust as his friends. He could also switch friend groups often or is introduced to other people by his friends often. He's likely not the one to initiate any friendships.

๑ஓSaturn (25° aries)

A lot of his friends could be older than him. Perhaps most of his friends are also his coworkers or people that he has a professional relationship with as well. There could be some competition between him & his friends or even between groups in general.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

His 12th house (natal 6th House)

The subconscious, his fears, his hidden self & ideals.

๑ஓLeo

He's the type of person who'll draw people to him because of his mysticism and genuine appeal. People could feel like they sense his soul when they're in his presence. He could be quite restless but also reserved when it comes go his talents. There may be a side of him he isn't as confident to portray yet by the time I meet him. His diva side might still be rather demure lmaoo. Still, there's great potential within him.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

A lot of the information just resembles that of what I wrote in my groom persona chart analysis

Thank you for reading!

@northopalshore

@northopalshore derivative astrology 2024.

[lizardsfromspace]

We still think of celebrity callout posts as these sprawling documents with link after link, but increasingly, they involve no citations or links at all. Just people asking "is [name] a bad person?", being told "yes", and saying, wow, I'll make sure not to support them anymore. Which is excusable if they know each other, but people will just ask the screaming void of the internet "can you decide if this person is evil or not for me?" and then accept the yes/no answer they get unquestioningly

This makes it difficult to find The Proof, since it's so often a trail of vagueposts about someone's vagueposts of a discourse they witnessed second hand, and when you get to the source, it's often just embarrassing. "Everyone is doing this" gradually turning into "some people are doing this" until you discover the whole furor was sparked by...some random person's tweet with one or two likes. Days of rage based on something very few people, including most of the people angry about it, ever saw. That's part of why people have gone complete citationless, but also let's face it, when people with a deep parasocial hatred of a celebrity look into them and don't discover anything, they didn't go "ah well, nothing to see here". They would make shit up or take minor incidents out of context to make up a narrative anyway. Fully removing the sourcing and making it purely about vibes really streamlines the process

But I think it's more fundamental since in my experience - both personal and witnessed - people who do this genuinely just seem confused when people ask for sources. They get hostile to the idea that people won't just accept that someone's an irredeemable monster off being told they are with no elaboration. It's nice to think people are so trusting they've naively forgotten that, y'know, people can lie or be wrong, but really, they know, they just don't care. Because these people by and large don't have any real beliefs beyond Disliking The Same Famous Person, and will accept anything said about them into their mythology, and only spend time in a circle of other people obsessed with the same person & don't realize no one knows the mythology but them, and so don't really get why you'd ask for a single citation. What, do you support them? You monster. You're supposed to hear that, yes, they are evil, and then spend time in a bubble of constant dislike of them, where you commiserate with the other obsessive stalkers about how awful it is that pop singers are mad when you obsessively stalk them

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hey,

Could you please write college au with Hannibal Lecter?

.⋆｡A New Study｡⋆.

Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

A late-night study session in a tiny dorm could be exactly what you needed to keep around the mysterious classmate from college

Warnings: College!au, fluff, one bed trope kinda, implied smut WC: 819

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Are you paying attention?” You almost scoffed at the question. Amber eyes, though dulled by the dim lighting of your bedside lamp, bore into you with an intensity that made you shiver. His dark brows were scrunched together as he observed your hunched figure from where you were perched on your now unmade bed, papers and open textbooks scattered around you.

‘Like I could concentrate when you look that fucking good.’ Your sleep-deprived mind wanted to say but instead you swallowed the last of your energy drink and cleared your throat. “It’s 3 am, maybe we should call it a night. Don’t think I’m gonna understand the purpose of the fucking pancreas anymore now than if I stayed up the whole night.”

Hannibal licked his lips as he shut his notebook, a strand of black hair falling in front of his left eye. He smoothly brushed it back into place. “You might be right. We should get some rest before the exam.” 

You hummed and shifted so you could face your study buddy. He was wearing his typical black button-up, still perfectly ironed even after almost 12 hours of cramming and a full morning of an anatomy lab. You could only imagine how awful you looked right now, especially compared to the ever-perfect Hannibal Lecter. 

“Thank you for helping me study. ‘and being my eye-candy’ “I don’t think I would’ve gotten this far in med school without you.” He leaned back on your desk chair, his legs spreading as he relaxed into the cheap mesh backing. 

“You’ve done rather well without me and I have no doubt you would’ve been fine without my assistance.” His accent was thicker with the late hour, a fact that made your stomach flutter. While he never explicitly told you where he was from, moments like these gave you little clues and hints on his mysterious past. It was even a miracle you learned his name.

Heat crawled up your neck, blooming across your cheeks as you bashfully looked away. “You only say that cause I always check your citations for you.” A rare laugh escaped his lips, instantly brightening your dorm room with its sound. 

“I’m sure.” A pleasant silence settled between you, one that had you searching for any excuse for him to stay. You cursed yourself for stopping your study for the night, you should’ve powered through just so you could keep ‘tall dark and mysterious’ right next to you all night. 

“It’s rather late.” Hannibal muttered though he made no move to gather his things.

You hummed, then your exhausted brain finally caught up to the hint he had just dropped. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to find the right words. “It is! I mean it’s really late, so the trains and buses have stopped running. And I doubt a cab will come all the way out here. So maybe- maybe you could stay over. If you’re comfortable with that of course! I don’t want to force you or anything.”

“You are very generous. I think I will stay, like you said, taxis don’t come this far out of the city.” He smiled and the breath was knocked from your lungs. 

“We’ll have to share my bed.” You pushed all your papers together in a jumbled up pile, shoving them onto your bedside table. “I hope you don’t mind.” You missed his sly smirk as his gaze briefly fell to your ass.

“I hope you don’t mind, I sleep in my boxers.” Your stomach flipped.

‘As long as you don’t mind me drooling.’

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smirked, his thick fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt, slowly exposing more and more of his (of course) perfect chest. You blinked.

“Did I say that out loud?” He rose to his feet, putting you at eye-line with his belt buckle. You swallowed thickly. Dark hair, perfectly trimmed and shaped poked out from where the front of his dress pants sagged and you couldn’t bear to look away, the sleep-deprivation overpowering any shame you would’ve normally had in this moment.

“Even if you didn’t, it was quite obvious what you were thinking. What you’re always thinking. You have delightfully expressive eyes.” His belt slipped through the loops and dropped to the carpeted floor. 

“Uh huh.” His shirt slipped from his broad shoulders.

“It is quite flattering how you look at me when you think I’m not watching.” The button of his pants popped open as he dragged his fly down, leaving you hungry for more. You didn’t even realise you had been slowly leaning forwards until your nose bumped against his stomach. “Just like now, like you want to devour me.”

“But I believe it is distracting you from your studies far too much.” A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze as Hannibal grinned.

“Perhaps we should review some anatomy.”

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