#i made this during a lecture on Greek history

[lesbianjennybrown]

Yea I love Weezer’s Blue album

[wasitforrevenge]

new romantics

pairing: MODERN AU!college azriel x female reader

warnings: may be some triggering content including tampon is a douchbag at a party, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sexual activity but nothing major, smut books mentioned (hehehe) a fight occurs but can you blame him? he’s just defending your honor ugh, two idiots in love who want nothing but each other and can’t admit it, no use of y/n, imagine her as you, because it is YOU! half editted… ill get to it later i promise

word count: 4.5k

summary: your new study partner is better than you first realize… and now you can’t stop thinking about him, but he can’t stop thinking of you either.

authors note: hi first time writing for acotor! been a fan of these books for a while and my baby azriel does something to me!!! so here’s something i spent the night writing it was 10 different things before it was this lol! pls like, reblog and comment! thank you everyone for reading! photo credit to pinterest, and please i strive to do better so any thoughts pls free feel to let me know! thank you for the support! this is the first time i’ve had the energy to write in months so pls dont go too hard

you met azriel in a greek mythology lecture that you both ended up in during the second semester of your sophomore year. getting partnered with an incredibly built and handsome man for a history report your teacher assigned was the least of your problems when you realized how fucking kind and beautiful azriel is on the inside and out.

the real problem came when you realized how hard you were falling for this man when you started hanging out casually, hitting the coffee stand before class or getting food after a long day. you learned so much about him in a matter of months and couldn’t get him out of your head.

you never spoke existence to your feelings for him, mainly because you didn’t want to ruin a very good potential friendship but partly because you didn’t think you were good enough for someone like him. you’ve heard little whispers about his other… activities and you couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

at the start of your junior year, you and azriel were practically best friends and it just felt so natural. the way you two were together. the way your conversations flowed and the way the silence was never deafening when you were together. you spent time cuddling on the couch in your living room watching movies and rating tv shows and going to visit parks around town and getting high as fuck. once time you had even gone crazy and took some acid and spent hours at the aquarium watching all the fish. you studied for classes together, the one you shared and the ones you both took on your own.

you and azriel were always testing out new recipes in his large kitchen. its wonderful that he lives alone. alone as in by himself but you cannot glance over the fact that the rhysand and feyre along with cassian and nesta live on the same floor of this apartment building close to campus. you luckly only live 2 floors down, a thing you realized when you managed to see him in the elevator about a week or two after you first started studying together.

you were debating all summer about confessing your feelings to him but could not gather the courage to bring yourself to admit it to him and face rejection. you couldn’t mess up the relationship between you already. he was your best friend and you really didn’t have too many besides him. you’ve met his family and have spend a lot of time with them, they’re all practically adopted you at the point, they welcomed you with smiles and open arms (besides amren but they told you she’s always like that.)

but a couple weeks into the semester, you and nesta were standing in a kitchen of a person you don’t know debating on what shitty cheap alcohol you’ll be indulging in tonight. it was the first big back to school party and it was still hot as hell out so you were dressed in dark denim shorts and nice tank top along with your black converse.

you and nesta instantly clicked when you met. bonding over smutty books and all the tv shows you managed to watch. she’s felt like your first real girl-friend ever, you guys got some comfortable together and every time you guys hung out, it felt like no time had passed. it was refreshing to have someone to talk to. she also happens to be the only one who knows about the feelings you harbor for your other best friend.

as you’re about to pour the tequila into your red solo cup, you hear someone call nesta’s name and she tells you she’ll be right back before scurrying off to whichever of her friends was calling her. leaving you there alone not knowing anyone at the party, nesta told you the rest of the group was going to meet you there but you have yet to see any of them as you turn your head around the room.

as you fill your cup and turn to put the bottle back down on the counter, you feel a hand glide around your waist and are suddenly aware of a man extremely too close your liking. “hey baby” he said as he slurred his words, clearly intoxicated, by the way he looked and smelled. it sent more warnings through your head even after he grabbed you like that. you had to leave, this couldn’t happen. thoughts are rushing through your head. you move your hand to push his arm off you as you turn around to be face to face with a tall blonde with long hair.

“what was that for?” he drags out as he tried to put his hand back on you. you instantly tried to move towards the way nesta went and told him, “please get off!” but he was too fast and held your upper arm in a death grip before he tugged you closer to his chest, his other hand back on your waist like the first time he did it. your eyes close in fear as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, but he’s gone in an instant.

it all happened so fast. all you see is a large, muscular, tattooed arm flying in front of you, hitting the man who was on you just seconds ago. you watched shocked as you finally lock in to the situation before you.

azriel beating the shit out of the man who had just laid his hands on you.

azriel swung his fist again towards him, hitting him square in the jaw, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at him, having another punch already landing with his other fist.

the man doesn’t respond before he swings back at azriel and managed to get a decent swing in, the hit landed to his lip but azriel doesn’t move at all. he’s standing still in the spot, continuing to tower over him.

azriel shoved the man back into the counter and landed a powerful hook right to his nose simultaneously. he cried out as it made contact, “fuck dude c’mon,” he reached up to grab it, blood pouring from his broken nose and busted lip. he steps closer as he removes his hand looking at the red liquid that has held onto his skin, ready to defend himself against the beautiful man that your eyes cannot stray from.

but azriel is faster and before he could even blink, managed to grab a hold of his shirt and pull him up to where his toes barely touched the floor. his hands fall at his sides and his eyes widen in fear as azriel gets closer to his face, leaning down to whisper something in his ear that you can’t hear over the loud music, people partying and the screaming and crying in your heart as you watched this all unfold.

suddenly azriel is tossing the man back into the counter and he barely managed to grab it and hold on, azriel suddenly grows larger, as if he could get any bigger, and leans to spit out the blood that had collected in his mouth behind him. and suddenly your attention is focused on the warmth now englufing your wrist. your eyes immediately register the sight of him standing in front of you, this was warm and right, his hands on you. it just felt so right.

his other hand reached out and gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. the way the sense of safety coursed through you with his simple touch just confirmed, yet again, that this was going to be so hard for you to tell him.

“hey baby…” he spoke softly, his eyes darted between both yours. his attention solely on you. he let his finger rub against your cheek as he finished, “are you okay?” you can’t help the feeling the shoots through you at the use of the pet name and the look of shock that painted your face. not knowing if it came from, whether it was from what unfolded in front of you at this party or the fact he still holding your face and talking to you like this, so sweetly.

you blinked a couple times and the realization hit you that you’ve just been standing there, staring into his beautiful eyes. not paying attention to the group of people that crowded around as the fight was happening or the looks you guys are getting from other party goers that still surrounded you. the only thing you can stand to focus on his gaze.

azriel.

“i don’t know,” you almost whisper towards him, feeling his warmth covering you both. before you can talk again, he moves his scarred hand from your wrist, you feel almost… empty at the loss of contact but that doesn’t last long as he slipped his hand into yours and intertwined his fingers with yours as he guided you towards the front door.

you passed by so many people, you tried not to pay attention to all the looks you were getting. girls stared as they realized it wasn’t themselves in azriel’s grasp, but you. it was your hand he was holding. your heart beat at just the thought of it, your nerves were already shot as the events unfolded not even 10 minutes ago and this did not help one bit.

your eyes manage to catch nesta’s in the crowd, her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her, azriel holding your hand and leading you out of the party. oblivious to what actually happened to cause this, she gave you a huge smile and two thumbs up. you cant help but silently chuckle at your friend despite the other overwhelming feelings you have. you’ll explain the situation later when you text her but you were sure eventually she’d hear what happened.

he leads you out the front door and looks back at you with a small smile as you trail behind him. he walked you over, without a word and hands still intertwined and you finally notice your next to his old beat up mustang on the side of the street, the one that smells like him and the faint smell of weed that always lingers regardless of the last time he smoked in there.

he opened the car door for you and you released your hand from his and got into the passengers seat. once you were in, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, giving it a tug to make sure it was connected before smiling down at you from outside the car. he shut the door satisfied and walked around the back of the car to open his own door and sat inside.

the silence is comfortable. it always has been, you pray that sometimes it’s awkward or uncomfortable but it never is. you sit in your seat, eyes staring down towards the hand he had been holding, almost in disbelief, that he defended you like that. you’ve never seen azriel angry like that either. he turns to face you, wanting you to meet his eyes.

azriel walked in the front door of the party, after having a pretty day. the customers at the restaurant he works truly sucked today. small tips and even shittier people. all he wanted to do was smoke off some steam and get drunk with cassian and rhys. he knew you were going to be here. cassian mentioned it in passing while talking about nesta so he was also on the look out for you. the girl who managed to catch his heart after having been partnered together. azriel couldn’t help the way he felt about you even though it almost felt wrong to him.

he didn’t want to take advantage of you, he knew you were shy and never really been in a relationship. he found that out when he walked into the kitchen of cassian and nesta’s apartment, and overheard nesta telling cass all about you after her and you hung out for the first time outside the group. so he just tried to ignore his feelings but regardless of that fact you were his bestfriend. he just couldn’t escape you.

and when he walked into that kitchen to see tamlin standing over you, your arm tight in his grip, the way your eyes were slammed shut trying to back away from him. he didn’t even think. he was there pulling him off you before he could even recognize what he was doing. throwing punches left and right towards the man who dared touched you. he barely even registered the hit he managed on no one but him can put his hands on you. he’s had that thought before but never brought life to it, but here? now?

all thoughts of guilt for feeling that way vanished. there was no way he was letting anyone touch you. but him. that’s all he wanted. he wanted you in a way he didn’t think was reciprocated. love was a funny thing to him, something he was never accustomed to until after he met rhysand and cassian.

his family never showed it, he lives with the constant knowledge of that every time he looks down at his hands. he thought about the way you never judged him of them, like it was nothing at all to you but that was everything to him.

the one sided crush he harbored on mor for a couple years was nothing in comparison to the way he felt about you. his few flings he had over the past couple years (after he realized it was pointless liking mor, also… because she slept with cassian) were mildly of convince and of urge but once he met you, he knew he was a goner.

he stopped the girls. the stopped the meaningless flirting and hooks up and took to just pleasuring himself to the thought as you, as shitty as it made him felt after. sometimes he just couldn’t look you in the eye the next time he saw you but you never said anything. you never commented on it and he silently thanked you in his head.

but right now, after he pulled you out of the party, scarred hand in yours, he needed you to look him in the eyes. but you still hadn’t and he couldn’t just keep staring at the face of the beautiful woman in front of him while it was coated with anxiety and exhaustion.

azriel lifted his distorted hand to your face meeting the soft warm skin that was your own. he gently brought your face to meet his gaze and as you locked eyes, the spark hit you yet again.

gods he was breathtaking. dark hair that covered to above his ears, the eyes that seemed to stare into yours every single time they met, the tattoos that covered him and his golden brown skin that you swore shined outright during different points in the day. your heart cannot handle this man.

“please,” he practically whispered you barely even registered that he said it before he continued, “are you okay, what can i do?” the sound in his voice felt desperate as his eyes bore into yours, the feel of his hand on her face, you couldn’t help but lean into his grasp and close your eyes, taking in the feel of him. you responded a moment later after letting out a sigh and looking at him again.

“can we just go home? i just want to sleep” you asked him with a pleading tone as you feel his thumb rub against your cheek for the second time that night. ugh the things this man does to you. all you wanted was for him to hold you, to feel the press of his body against yours. anything to get the feeling of someone else off you. “yeah baby, we can.” he said gently before he moved his hand down to yours and gave you a light squeeze before he turned the car on and shifted into gear, pulling off in the direction of home.

once you arrived back to the apartment building, he parked in the lot next to the front door and moved around the car to open your door, he gave you his hand as you stepped out. he went to put his hand at your lower back as he opened the door for you but decided against just in case that was a lot for you right now. he did not want to make it worse. he could see the fear in your eyes back there, no way would he subject you to that if you weren’t comfortable with it. so instead he just followed behind you, hitting the button to the elevator to take you up to your floor.

the elevator luckily isn’t taking forever today so when it opens, you and azriel step in and he goes to hit the floor for your apartment but your hand reaches out and stops him. “can we go to yours please?” your head moves up to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on where your hand is on his wrist. a second later his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small nod and hits the button for the fifth floor. you remove your hand and lean against the wall right next to him, his hand reaches out and entangles his bumpy fingers with yours.

“is this okay?” he asks you. you can barely hold it in after that, the tears finally fall. he feels the sudden change in your body as he moves closer to you but removing his hand from yours in fear that you didn’t want to touch him. but in reality that’s all you want. you want him to touch you. you want him to love you. you want everything with him. its all just so overwhelming, everything that has happened.

he goes to speak but before he can get a word out, your body is on his engulfing him in a hug around his long torso, he instantly wraps his arms around your smaller frame. he can feel your body shake with tears and all he wants to do is make sure that no one ever makes you feel like this again. you deserve so much better, he only wishes he could be better for you too. you squeeze him tighter and he just holds you until the elevator door opens and you pull away from him. mascara and tears running down your face, you can see it on his shirt. he smiles at you before he pulls his hands to your face and wipes your cheeks off with his rough yet soft hands.

you cant help the laugh that escapes you as he wipes his hands on the t-shirt staining it even more with the leftover residue on your face. he gives you a chuckle before connected your hands yet again, walking with you out of the elevator to his one bedroom apartment. he fishes in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out his keys. he unlocked the door and held it open for you to walk in.

your senses are taken over by the smell of him. the smell of his candle lingered from the coffee table covered with textbooks in the large living room, he has a basket of blankets he keeps in the corner because he knows you get cold watching tv. he has a big L shaped couch which had a 60 inch tv across the room, with a boatload of dvds underneath. something you both agreed was a dying art. you and azriel swear physical media will make a comeback one day but you guys will never forget how they ruined it!

his space was a lot bigger since you have a two bedroom apartment. but it was perfect for him. azriel had loved the way he made his space his own, his bass guitars set up in the corner next to his collection of vinyl records and a record player that rhys and cassian got him when he turned 21… as well as a shit ton of booze. he had a bookshelf that held his favorites, as well as your own.

he bought a copy of almost every book you talked about so that he was in the loop with what you were reading. even the ones you didn’t talk about that he caught on your nightstand or in your reading nook. when he bought one of those and read it, his jaw dropped. he immediately thought of nesta and her smutty books but this sent something else though his body. he couldn’t help but keep reading… he wondered if you thought about him while reading these scenes of them ravishing each other, in every way imaginable. he sure did! his right hand hates him!

and you definitely did to… thought about him in ways that you shouldn’t. thinking about him doing all those things to you. the way you knew he would take care of you. the way you knew you could take care of him, despite how inexperienced you are. the thoughts drove you crazy. it was practically all day and every day at this point. thinking about the way his hands would feel running up your thighs or the way his lips would feel on yours.

now here you are, standing in his living room, just wanting all that and little did you know… he did too.

“hey az…” you uttered towards him. he was already next to you as you spoke, “can we lay down please?” your voice was barely a whisper.

he didn’t even need to speak, he just brought you to his room. he lead you to sit on the corner of the bed as he turned and riffled through his dresser, pulling out a large dark green shirt and handing it to you with a smile, “change into this, i’ll be right back.”

“can i take a shower?” you asked azriel shyly. “yes of course, one sec.” you watched as he walked out the room and shut the door behind him. you took your shoes off and placed them by the bedroom door next to azriel’s shoes. he came back in a second later with a fresh towel and a water bottle.

“here you go, you already know where the shower is,” he says with a small chuckle. you give him a grateful smile and a thank you as you took the items from his hands and gave him one last look before heading into his connecting bathroom.

you turned on the hot water and you stripped out of your clothes and threw them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the bathroom. you got in the shower and felt instantly better. the way the water followed hot you could feel the touch of the man from the party washing away, only to be replaced with thoughts of azriel touching you instead. you reviled in it.

you washed your hair and body with his shampoo, conditioner and body wash. silently thanking him for not using 3-in-1 (nesta found out that’s what cassian used and flipped shit) you finished your shower and dried off with the towel he gave you.

you put on his t-shirt that made its way down to your mid thigh when it was on completely. you loved when you were covered in him. you walked back out into the room and didn’t see azriel so you took your seat at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to come back. you sat there and picked at your nails, feeling so wore out you didn’t even want to cry anymore.

azriel came in two minutes later, dressed him long flannel pajama pants and you can see the band of his underwear peeking out as he gets closer to you. he changed after you went into the bathroom, and then went to the kitchen to make sure he was stocked up on the tea you liked and the snacks you guys enjoy together, just in case you got hungry.

he ran around his living room and cleaned random odds and ends. putting dishes in the sink, folding the blankets thrown on the couch and organizing his cd collection. anything to busy himself instead of thinking of you in his shower. anything to get his mind off the amazing woman just in the other room. he hears the shower turn off and waited a few more moments before heading back into the room.

he moved the covers down to make room for you as he said, “after you princess,” with a smile on his face. you returned it and stood up to make your way to the bed but not before turning to hug him again. his arms wrapped around you as you mumbled “thank you azriel,” into his chest. you hold on for a few moments before releasing him. he looks at you before motioning to the bed, “i would do anything for you, you know that.” you felt your cheeks grow red at the thought, at the knowledge that he would.

you climb into the bed and laid your head on the pillow, turning to look at azriel, you wondered why he was still standing. “az are you coming?” you said bashfully. he blinked and bent down to the bed to be eye level with you. “i’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight.” you could feel the way your face dropped in disappointment as you registered what he said. he saw it too and felt it deep in his chest.

he stood up and was about to say goodnight but you beat him to it, “azriel please i need you.”

you could feel how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care. you just needed him. next to you right now. he said nothing else as he moved the blankets again, but this time he was under them. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, your hand found it’s way over his fast beating heart and his tattooed arm wrapping around you. the warmth and scent of him took over everything in your body. you finally felt safe. your legs tangled together as you eventually fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

“i need you too.” he said to a room with no one awake but him to hear.

part 2??? i would love to write one! let me know what you think! i’d love to keep writing for acotor so yay! pls enjoy :) i’m on the edge of my seat writing this hehe

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (23)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]    

[warnings: kissing, fluff, none?]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond and Y/N ate sandwiches in silence, watching the history program that was on TV. It concerned new discoveries in ancient Egypt, specialists commented on burial chambers in pyramids previously unknown. It turned out that both he and she were interested in such things. 

Aemond admitted to her that most of the books he had in his apartment were about historical and philosophical topics from different periods. As it turned out, reading these types of books was his hobby, often consuming them on lonely evenings.

Aemond was pleased to see that Y/N was as engrossed in the subject as he was. She listened to the lectures of the Cairo professors with such interest as she devoured her sandwich that he felt as if she had forgotten him. He smiled to himself at that thought.

He liked her for not cornering him. When he needed it, she showed him her unlimited interest, tenderness and attention. But when they just sat together, she was able to find other things to do, allowing him some time to himself as well.

They spent the morning pleasantly and peacefully. They didn't rush anything. The thought of spending a few days together made them both feel calmer - they felt that they would have enough time to themselves. Y/N was secretly surprised at how suddenly he opened up to her. 

Even though she knew how he had distanced himself from women so far, she was happy that he really got involved in their relationship. It's as if he's come to terms with the fact that he can be with someone and not feel like a prisoner at the same time.

As promised, Aemond drove her to class. They talked about antiquity on the way. Y/N told him about the uniqueness of Greek sculptures, their perfection, and how, over the centuries, artists returned to their achievements and drew from them during the Renaissance and Enlightenment. Although he knew this theoretically, he was pleased to find that her knowledge impressed him and extended his own in some areas.

Y/N looked at him as she unbuckled her seatbelts.

"Do you want to come in with me?" She asked suddenly. He looked at her in surprise, wondering if he had misheard.

"Where?" He asked, not really understanding what she was proposing.

“Now I have practical classes in the workshop. I'm going to print my linocuts. The workshop is open practically all day, even though we have assigned hours, everyone comes there as they want. Often students bring friends from other faculties who just sit with us and watch us work. It doesn't look like a normal lecture hall." She said calmly, smiling smugly at her own idea. She wanted him to see her at work.

Aemond blinked at her proposal. He was silent for a moment, thinking deeply. It was still early, he wasn't due to arrive at the club for several hours, and there was no one there anyway. He was supposed to pick her up too, so he'd have to come back here anyway. Her proposal was very tempting for him, on the other hand, he was afraid of other people's reaction to him.

"I don't want other students to gossip about you." He said uncertainly. He knew what he looked like, he always drew attention to himself - although he hated it. Y/N blinked and laughed.

“What is there to gossip about if everything is clear?” She asked, shrugging. “Believe me, in these classes you will see people who look much more interesting than you. From rainbow hair to tattooed faces to exquisite outfits. To be honest, I and some of the other students look like sad hens among beautiful roosters.” She laughed happily.

Aemond felt defeated. Her words somehow convinced him.

"Fine."

 ***

The workshop that Y/N was talking about consisted of several rooms, from one to the other. The first, the most crowded, consisted of many tables around which students walked and sat. The walls were lined with large, pull-out cabinets for large-format sheets of paper. Students sat at tables, poking their chisels in their wooden and linocut stencils.

He was pleased to say that after saying hello, practically no one paid attention to him anymore. He relaxed and let her show him around, intrigued. Y/N explained to Aemond that they were cutting out what was supposed to be white on the print, and what they left would be black.

Y/N opened a locker with her name on it. She took out a black apron that hung around her neck and tied at the back above her hips, so that it covered the entire front of her clothes. She tied her hair with a rubber band in a tight bun, so that her hair wouldn't get in the way. She took out her stencil from another cupboard. It was definitely smaller than the big ones other students were working on.

"I make miniatures." She explained, walking over to him and showing him what she was going to deflect. The stencil showed a scene called the "Dance Macabre", or in other words, dance of death. Devils, witches, kings, simpletons and skeletons danced together in a circle. "It's a mirror image. In the print, everything will look the other way around. I deal with projects referring to old woodcuts, I create a whole series of such works. Come."

She said, and Aemond dutifully followed her into the next room. There were several printing presses, smaller and larger, some of which were already being worked by other students. In the center was a large table where students were rolling paint onto their stencils. Most smiled at her and greeted her. 

Aemond was surprised that it seemed like most people here liked, knew, and respected her. Y/N moved around the room with complete confidence, as if she were at home. Once in a while she exchanged a few words with someone else or helped someone who was clearly a year below.

It was nice to see her in her natural habitat. Aemond felt as if he had stepped into Leonardo da Vinci's painting workshop. Everything he saw fascinated him. Y/N usually showed him her poster designs and illustrations, but he didn't know that as part of her studies, she was working on more classic techniques that he had read about in his books.

After Y/N applied paint to her stencil and pressed it on the press, she brought it to him.

"Peel off the paper and see how it turned out. You have clean hands." She said encouragingly. He nodded his head and hesitantly, gently began to peel the sheet from the stencil. He turned it over and was surprised to see that, indeed, the image was a mirror image of the matrix. It really looked like old woodcuts. Aemond watched the work curiously, but Y/N sighed.

“I put too much paint on the stencil and it spilled too much. Nevermind.” She muttered, she wipe her hands on the apron, taking the stencil, and repeated the whole process. Aemond didn't quite understand what that meant, but as she made more prints, he saw that indeed, the next ones were clearer and more detailed.

"Do you want some coffee?" She asked him suddenly. "We have an express here. You can sit at the table, you don't have to stand." She said calmly, smiling. An hour ago he would have refused, but he was surprised to find that he liked it there. He watched with interest as the other students worked as well. 

A few even approached them with their work, asking everyone in the room what they thought. He was surprised at how relaxed the atmosphere was, even though everyone was working all the time. So he sat on one of the stools, and after a while Y/N brought tea for herself and coffee for him.

From time to time professors appeared in the room. They proofread and voiced their thoughts on their work, had a little laugh, and then went back to their tiny rooms, where they sat in seclusion. It ended up with Y/N taking off her apron, washing her hands, and looking at him with a smile.

"Its enough for today. We can go now." He looked at her surprised. He didn't even feel how fast time flew by. He finished his coffee and they washed their cups. He helped her clean up her work station. Y/N said goodbye to everyone and they left the room.

"Did you like it? I'm sorry, you didn't have to stay until the end." She said in a slightly apologetic tone, looking at him uncertainly. He looked at her calmly.

"It was fun there. You do very interesting things." He admitted. Y/N smiled happily at his words, delighted that he got to know a significant part of her life.

***

Aemond and Y/N went to her house to get some of her things. Klaus wasn't happy to hear that he was staying with Aemond for a few days, but he waved them off, stating that he had plenty of work to do in the coming days anyway. 

On the way back, Aemond said he needed to stop by the club for a while, sign some papers and run some errands with the manager. He suggested that she wait for him inside and have a drink, then they go out to eat together. She smiled gratefully at the offer.

Aemond followed his manager to his office while Y/N sat at the bar. Aemond said she could take whatever she wanted to drink at his expense. She looked through the menu curiously, wondering what to choose. She felt someone sit down next to her, but she didn't pay any attention to it, lost in thought.

"Take vodka with lemon juice and sprite. Very refreshing.” She heard a female voice, she glanced to the side. The woman she was looking at was about 10 years older than she was, but she looked very good. Her make-up and tight dress well emphasized her qualities and great figure. Y/N smiled warmly at her.

"You say? Indeed, I haven't tried this drink yet." She said calmly, resting her chin on her hand on the bar counter.

"Twice vodka with lemon juice and sprite." The woman said to the bartender, and the bartender nodded, looking at her with a frown. Y/N noticed the look and swung around in her seat. 

"Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot of good things about you." She said with a warm looking smile. Y/N felt hot. She looked at her surprised. "Alys." The woman held out her hand in greeting. Y/N felt her throat go dry. 

She hesitated for a moment, but reached out her hand to her and took her hand with a firm grip, not allowing herself to show any weakness or fear.

"Y/N."

She fell silent, looking at her, trying to keep her face calm even though her heart was pounding like crazy. She decided not to say anything more. She wasn't going to admit that Aemond had told her about her. Alys took a sip of her drink, not bothered by the silence.

“That Albert is quite a bastard. It was fun with him at first, but when I heard he pressed you against that restroom, I didn't like it anymore." She said as she took a sip of her drink, looking her up and down. "He's crazy about you, huh?" She asked, smiling from the corner of her mouth.

"Albert?" Y/N asked uncertainly and raised her eyebrows.

"Aemond."

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked into her eyes. What was she supposed to say? If she answered yes, it would only show that she hoped Aemond was crazy about her, that he was desperate - which he wasn't - even though she wanted him to love her and want her. If she answered no, it would appear that she was trying to diminish his feelings for herself by equating them with those he felt for other women—and she didn't believe that either.

"I don't know if crazy is the right word." She finally said, looking away. She could end the conversation at any time, get up and just go to Aemond, let him do the job. She had seen him talk to Kate and believed he would do the same this time, setting clear boundaries. But she felt that she didn’t want to show her any weakness. Her last days with him had given her courage and confidence.

"What else do you call sex on a park bench?" She asked amused, and Y/N turned to her quickly, her eyes filled with terror, her cheeks turning scarlet. Alys laughed.

"Don't worry. You have a good friend. Marcus, right? His men gave the photographer a good whack before he could get in the car. They destroyed his equipment. Albert was furious. The opportunity passed him by." She murmured, taking a sip of her drink, looking at her with satisfaction that she had managed to get any reaction out of her.

Y/N swallowed silently, despite her relief, still feeling the enormous tension caused by the whole situation, the fact that Albert had them followed, and that she knew about it. She thought they both owed Marcus a debt of gratitude. She lowered her hands to her knees, trying to control their tremors and pulled herself together.

"Why are you interested in me?" She finally asked, her voice more confident than before. Alys was silent for a moment, looking at her intently.

"Actually, you don't interest me. I'm just trying to figure out the situation." She smiled slightly. Y/N laughed. She was surprised by her own confidence. She decided that no one could be blackmailed or intimidated her.

"Better find out quickly, because if Aemond sees you talking to me, he won't be pleased." She said, raising her eyebrows. Alys looked at her, her words surprised her. "You know very well that he doesn't like to share what's his."

_____

If you want to be tagged, just leave a comment. ~

@chainsawsangel​​  @yentroucnagol​ @cardi-bre91​ @melsunshine​ @bellaisasleep​ @candypurplebutterfly​ @malfoytargaryen​ @serrhaewin​ @svtansdaddyx​  @iiamthehybrid​  @beiigegalx​ @sarahkimtae​ @fangirlninja67​ @namoreno​ @thetrueblackheart��

[pppaperwork]

Cross Cultural Exchange

During my trip to Spain, I got to see architecture and art along the coast of the Mediterranean. Something I noticed about this area were all the influences from across the sea, and across the continent that made their way into Spanish art history.

The most prevalent and most spectacular, in my opinion, was La Sagrada Familia. The gigantic church, designed by Antoni Gaudi, remains under construction until 2026. So many aspects of the architectural wonder are pulled from other cultures, especially middle eastern and islamic design.

The sky-scraping towers of the temple's 5 chapels are the tallest structure in the city of Barcelona, and claims La Sagrada Familia the title of tallest temple in the world. The Spires and towers of the church reminded me of something my Professor Sarah Parrish lectured about when covering Islamic styles of architecture, like how sandcastle towers can be built up by letting wet sand slip through one's hand and pile up into an organically shaped tower, Islamic influences on architecture often show in organic shapes, stalactite & stalagmite relief fixtures.

All of this and more took my breath away at La Sagrada Familia, when I did a google search of Gaudi's process on the behemoth building, I read that he knew he would never live to see his masterpiece finished, and I was moved to tears!

Throughout coastal Spain more of Gaudi's work, as well as work from other artists, reflect clear Islamic influence. The Islamic influence on religious architecture in the region leads to question how Islam influences religious practices there as well. Or, even more broadly, how do influences from all the cultures that coast the Mediterranean cross into each other? North African, Egyptian, Greek, Italian, French, Spanish, Middle Eastern, Indian, and Portuguese.

Even as far north as Grenada, Islamic influences in Spain remain strong in historical and religious architecture.

America is known for its "melting pot" of arts, culture, and social life, but these regions are so heavily intertwined with each other, and have been since pre-history. Similarities can be drawn in religious practices, architecture, but especially... TILES!!!!!

Both historical and contemporary, Spanish artists have taken Middle Eastern style tile-work, and implemented it across their own cities as well as rural cultural sites.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

WIP Wthursday Tag

Thank you to @gummybugg for tagging me!

Here are the rules for this thing:

In a reblog (or new post/w rules attached) post up to five filenames of your WIPs, not titles, file names

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be something you wrote in the last 7 days (we're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post!)

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway and then 3 more on another to share!

That's it! You can invite others to join in or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request.

So, without further ado, here are my WIPs!

"Steph's Crew"

"Five Seconds Flat"

"The Last Dance"

"Aurelian University" (AU)

(not sure of it counts, but) "The Emily and Jack Story". You know, from these two posts:

I came up with them by accident, and now I have ideas for their story all the time lol.

Here is a little snippet from AU. I haven't posted anything from that story yet.

__________

Zephyr's gaze fell on the harpist, her quick, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the strings of her instrument. When she stopped to talk, she introduced herself to him, smiling warmly and politely giving him his name.

"Eurydice," he murmured to himself, enchanted by the lyrical sound of her name. It was a name that tasted like honey on his tongue, a name that transported him to a world of myths and legends, of gods and heroes. It was a powerful, almost magical sound that told epic tales of ancient Greek mythology, of heroes and heroines embarking on dangerous and wondrous adventures. He wondered if her music carried that same intensity and magic. It would certainly explain how captivating it was to hear through the window…

Eurydice. Such a name! Zephyr couldn't help but be struck by its uniqueness and beauty.

They quickly fell into easy conversation, the notes of her music drifting around them like a magical aura. Zephyr soon discovered that she was a music student here. As they began to converse, it quickly became apparent that they shared a love of storytelling and adventure. Eurydice's music seemed to weave intricate tales, transporting Zephyr to far-off lands and distant times. It was as if her fingers were magic, conjuring up images and emotions that he had never experienced before.

They went on to explore the campus together, and Zephyr found himself feeling more and more at ease in her company. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they were old friends reunited after years apart. It was a strange feeling, but one that he cherished.

Eurydice pointed out the various buildings and landmarks, sharing fascinating anecdotes about the college's history and its notable alumni. Zephyr was mesmerized by her storytelling, her voice rich with emotion and passion.

Their rapport was just so easy, as if they had known each other for years. Zephyr felt a strange sense of kinship with Eurydice, as if they shared a common bond that transcended time and space.

It was during this idyllic excursion that Zephyr noticed a flyer advertising a job as a janitor at the college. His eyes lit up at the mention of free tuition, a prospect that had seemed unattainable until now.

__________

These are the first two main characters to get introduced to the story. They become friends super fast, and basically remain tight throughout, which is good. (Can't say the same about many of the others, tho)

To be completely honest, this is something I've had for a while... but I've made the most recent changes to it like yesterday, so I think it still counts. Kind of.

Here are some people I'm going to tag to do this next (but it's totally up to you): @rubywrite, @winterandwords, @soph1333, @amugoffandoms, @pennywaltzy

(But anybody that wants to try this out can do it.😊 )

[donaydonay]

Sometimes I don't get all the way through my lectures, so I wrote up some notes for my students to help them study for the exam. So anyone interested gets a free history lesson today. All two of you.

<<Alexander the Great (356 – 323 BCE) was the son of Philip II, King of Macedon (382 – 336 BCE). The Macedonians were northern Hellenic Greeks whose civilization was perceived by the southern Greeks (Athenians, Peloponnesians) as borderline barbaric, although the Macedonians were as invested in Greek culture as any others. The Macedonians were able to rise to power over the southern Greeks partly as a result of the great weakening, militarily, politically, and economically, of the southern Greeks due to the Peloponnesian War.

Philip, a powerful and charismatic warlord, conquered or subdued most of the western Aegean world during his reign. His victory at the Battle of Chaeronea (338 BCE) assured the submission of Athens, a southern Greek city-state Philip greatly admired. By this point, Philip’s son Alexander was participating in military campaigns, having been taught philosophy by Aristotle of Athens and having learned rigorous Spartan military techniques from his mother’s southern Greek relatives. Alexander’s natural charisma and leadership ability, combined with unusual skill and luck on the battlefield, led to him being considered by Philip and most others as the heir-apparent, despite his relatively small stature and the existence of legitimate alternatives. When Philip was assassinated in 336 BCE, Alexander moved quickly to seize power, eliminating or disempowering all rivals. For his first two years as king of Macedon, Alexander consolidated the Greek empire Philip had built and established his firm control over the army. Then, in 334, he set out to the east to initiate his father’s ambition of conquering the Achaemenid (Persian) Empire.

Alexander’s campaigns in the east lasted the remainder of his life, more than ten years. In this time, the young king conquered and ruled over an empire of unprecedented size and diversity, from the Greek city states of the west to the Ganges River civilizations of the east, and south to Egypt. Alexander’s success in battle was a result of a ruthless, clever strategy of offering every major city-state the chance of a peaceful surrender, to which he would hold his troops accountable, or, if the citizens chose to defy him, to crush their resistance without mercy. As the Plutarch source you are reading emphasizes, Alexander could be kind and gentle on the one hand and absolutely brutal on the other, without seeming to lose the loyalty of his army. Alexander led campaigns personally and was frequently in physical danger, but very rarely wounded. He was perceived as lucky and brave, and his men were fanatically loyal.

Alexander’s rule over this vast empire was achieved through the establishment of a centralized bureaucracy that relied heavily on his loyal retainers left behind in major population centers. Alexander required his men to marry into the local populations, so that city leaders would have a family tie to his rule and be more likely to oppose rebellion. Alexander himself married three times, as Macedonian custom did not forbid multiple marriage. In his personal life, Alexander was almost certainly bisexual, having been known to have male lovers who accompanied him on his campaigns for most of his adult life. However, his marriages to women were fruitful and he was reputed to admire beauty in any form.

The tremendous loyalty and love Alexander inspired can be observed in Plutarch’s story about his acquisition of his famous war horse, Boukephalos/Bucephalus (ox-head). Alexander tamed a horse no one else wanted and kept that horse with him for most of the rest of his life. When Bucephalus died, shortly before Alexander, the king threw him a funeral to rival that of royalty.

As Alexander made his triumphant way south toward Egypt, he found he didn’t always have to fight, as his reputation preceded him. Culturally, he was very open-minded and tended to enthusiastically adopt his favorite customs of the new peoples and civilizations he encountered. He won virtually every battle he fought and often endeared himself to locals who despised the Persians. This was particularly true in Egypt, where he stayed for some time and was even declared pharaoh, a living god, by the priests. In Egypt, he founded a capital city in the swamplands of the delta region of Lower Egypt and, as was typical, named the city after himself. It is still called Alexandria, and it became one of the great cities of the ancient world. Alexander is buried somewhere in it.

Alexander turned his attention to Darius III, King of Persia. Having defeated Darius’ numerically superior forces several times, forcing the king to flee, Alexander took over Mesopotamia and the entire eastern half of the Persian Empire before Darius was finally captured and killed by his own men. Alexander’s key to success in his Persian campaigns appeared to be the speed and unpredictability of his military movements. While Darius had a massive court that took days to move a few miles, Alexander required few luxuries and moved much more quickly. After Darius’ death, Alexander had himself declared Darius’ heir and king of the Persians. In this capacity, he subdued the rest of the Persian Empire all the way to the Ganges River.

There, despite Alexander’s desire to cross the vast river and conquer the mysterious civilizations of the Far East, the young king faced mutiny for the first and last time. His troops, previously so loyal, refused to participate. They feared the unknown, were tired of fighting, and longed to go home. Heartsick, Alexander agreed, but continued to campaign and led the way back west through brutal desert, losing much of his army along the way.

Alexander died shortly after returning to Mesopotamia in the city of Babylon, in the fabled palace of Nebuchadnezzar II. He was known to be sick for two weeks before his death, but rumors of poisoning persisted, despite it being very unlikely that such a long-acting poison would be effective or known. After his death at the age of 32, his leading generals quickly eliminated their rivals, including Alexander’s surviving wives and offspring, and divided up his empire among themselves into several large kingdoms.

The post-Alexander period is often called the Hellenistic Era. While “Hellenic” means “Greek,” “Hellenistic” means “influenced by Hellenic Greek culture.” Therefore, the Hellenistic world is the one created by the blending of the Greek cultures of the Aegean with the various other cultures (Persian, Mesopotamian, Egyptian, Semitic, etc.) of the regions Alexander conquered. The cultural center of the Hellenistic world was in Alexandria, Egypt. Egypt was ruled by descendants of Alexander’s general Ptolemy, founding a Macedonian dynasty that would reign over Egypt for the next 300 years. Although Alexander had died in Babylon, his body was eventually moved to Alexandria, Egypt, where it was reported to have been seen as late as the Roman era. It is now lost to history, as Alexandria is a sea-level city and the ancient palace complex is very difficult to excavate, given the water table.

The city of Alexandria became home to the great library, essentially an ancient university system that housed not only the most important books of the ancient world (up to 500,000 hand-written scrolls and codices), but also became a research and development facility for scientists, philosophers, and technicians of the age. Geographers accurately estimated the circumference of the world. Astronomers traced the paths of planets and mapped the stars. Physicists discovered principles and formulas that would continue to be used into the Newtonian era.

Throughout the Hellenistic world, a simplified form of Greek called koine was spoken and written as a business language, regardless of local speech. Metal currency was used as a medium of trade, which flourished throughout this enormous area, creating a highly cosmopolitan blended civilization that characterizes the Hellenistic Era.

However, any romantic attachment to the ideals of Athenian democracy was essentially pointless sentimentality. Alexander, for all of his good qualities, was a tyrant and a despot. His successors were also uncompromising monarchs, more like the Persian king Alexander had replaced than the Athenian politicians Aristotle had taught him to admire. Philosophical traditions of the Hellenistic era reflect this change in ideals about government. Philosophers seemed more interested in discovering how to cope with a world beyond their control than in perfecting a world they understood. Hellenistic philosophy in general reflects a withdrawal from political activity and a resignation to the fact that humans had little say in their own destiny.

Epicureanism was one Athenian philosophy that took this approach. Based on the teachings of Epicurus (341 – 270 BCE), Epicureanism took after Aristotelianism somewhat in that moderation was considered the key to a successful life. Epicureans believed that misery was due to excess. Therefore, pleasure should be pursued, but in a cautious and temperate way. Avoiding pain was paramount, and overindulgence in pleasure usually produced pain. Life, therefore, was an exercise in avoiding those things that cause fear or anxiety. Since fear of death can destroy a person’s happiness, Epicurus taught that it made no more sense to fear death than it did to fear the world that existed before you were born.

Stoicism was another major philosophical movement of the Hellenistic world. This school of Athenian philosophy was founded by Zeno (334 – 262 BCE), who believed in the existence of the logos (universal reason or truth) as the force that unifies all things. Since all misery stemmed from being out of balance with the logos, Stoics avoided excessive attachment and the violent emotions that came with it, practicing fortitude and self-discipline when confronted with problems. Thus they developed a reputation for being unemotional, when in truth they were simply learning to control their emotional responses to avoid losing their connection with the logos.

Skepticism was another approach to dealing with an uncertain world. We know less about this philosophy’s Hellenistic version because most of the writings of its practitioners have been lost, but the basic idea of skepticism is that nothing is certain and knowledge is not really possible. Thus, in order to achieve tranquility, one must exist in a constant state of doubt. Nothing should be taken for granted and all things should be questioned. Socrates was an early skeptic in many ways, but the Hellenistic practice of skepticism was different in that Socrates believed truth and morality existed; skeptics of the Hellenistic period were not certain of anything.

Cynicism is the most extreme of the Hellenistic philosophies. A cynic's goal was to live a virtuous life in harmony with nature, which was only possible through rejection of distracting comforts. Cynics believed all unhappiness came from attachment, because anything you are attached to can be lost. Therefore, to preempt misery, one should simply avoid all attachment and attempt to live a self-sufficient life in harmony with nature. Social customs and proprieties were limiting and meaningless. Cynics were often loners, since human company can lead to attachment, and their bizarre behavior was difficult to live with. They tended to dress, eat, and live at the extreme edge of poverty, since comforts could also lead to attachment. Practically the only pleasure Cynics allowed themselves, since it was harder to take away, was the exercise of their own minds through study and contemplation. The most famous cynic of the Alexandrian period was Diogenes, who lived in a ceramic jar and begged on the streets of Athens.

All of these Hellenistic philosophies lack the optimistic certainty that society and the individual can be perfected that characterized classical philosophy. Hellenistic thinkers were more concerned with how to survive a world they don’t control than with how to create a better world. Democracy was a distant memory; living under the rule of tyrants was the expectation of the Hellenistic world.>>

[exhibit-of-the-century]

Brief Lecture on Western Maritime Tattooing

Masterlist

BUY ME A COFFEE

The online lecture I attended was on 17th cent to modern day tattooing in the maritime sphere. Exploring the history and anthropology of western tattoos. The lecture was presented by Matt Lodder – tattoos the untold history of modern art. University of essex – who has tattoos and why they’re not just for sailors.

Persistent cliché –

Melanie Phillips: Seeing tattoos makes me feel sick.

Paints her thesis as tattoos being a collapse of western civilisation

When were tattoos just for sailors? 1982: all sorts of people were doing it etc. It keeps going, backwards in time…

When the tattoo industry begins and establishes itself, that’s when tattoo becomes art. The idea persists historically. However, tattoos aren’t as persistent, they have a mayfly life, persists for life, then 6 months after you die. Tattoos aren’t in museums, unless from civilisation where documented and logged- like sailors, criminal tattoos: hence why they survive. Usually these are monitored societies.

They haven’t sat for portraiture usually, however in Daniel Maclise, The Death of Nelson 1859 – 1864 an anchor tattoo can be spotted.

Edward Rotheram did a survey of people on ship, and most had tattoos. Examples included pierced hearts, initials, crucifixes. Names on initials, love and the sea, or religious imagery. This is the Sailors way of record keeping, either of nautical miles travelled or keeping a piece of home with them, this record keeping begins in the Napoleonic wars.

Criminals the same, tattoos recorded on enlistment. Fraternization to gangs eg.

An example most will recognise today, are the infamous tattoo traditions of the yakuza, aka the Japanese Mafia. Historically, Dr Fukushi Masachi, was one of the organisers of the Tattoo League of Japan. His research on the subject of human skin (from 1907) brought him into contact with many people that had tattoos. He therefore became interested in 1926 in the art of Japanese tattoo (Irezumi), led autopsies on corpses, removed the skin and did research on methods to preserve the skin. In the following years he collected an archive of about 2000 "hides" and 3000 photographs which were lost in 1945, during World War II.

Other examples of tattooing can be found in the pacific, maori, and new zealand etc however these types of tattoos were surprising to the western populus, as they were large, black and facial: shocking to Europeans. There is a stigmatisation as the colonial project continued.

Ancient Britain’s didn’t have tattoos, but some speculated they did. Othering, to distinguish non-Europeans. Sailors don’t really go and then come back with the pacific tattoos, pacific tattooing didn’t affect European tattooing.

Pilgrim tattooing developed in 16th cent Italy, developed with bloodletting – religious marks usually. Pilgrim stamps made from wood blocks, 1880s these blocks still used. Culture of Italian tattoo from ancient Greeks. Sailors couldn’t leave their mark upon the sea, typical practices of sailor: tattooing and embroidery. Every sailor has a needle, gunpowder and soot: so, all combined objects for tattoo. When paper wasn’t as readily available. If you’re wearing uniform you blend with everyone else in uniform, so a tattoo is individual, they stand out against the gov.

2013: things of the sea, sculpture journal article

These coincidences of thigs becoming a style. Two things caused professional tattooing to start: George the 5th got tattoos in Japan, both princes got tattooed on their necks. Japan closed off to west till about 1550s, tattoos were part of the fascination, almost all royal visitors to Japan were tattooed.

“Habit not confined to seamen only” – the New York times, 1908

Sam O’Reilly was the inventor of electric tattoo machine, from New York. Invented in Dec of 1891.

Hybridisation of styles, of western sailor tattoos with Japanese. As print culture developed, and design tattoo language got ossified into a style. Mass production developed so design sheets become more spread.

ttoos are useful and cant be lost, especially around the rise of ww2. Make for personal memeorbilia, and romantic exhnchage coming up to the wartime. 1940s 16 year old tattoo artist girl:

Comic books influenced tattoo style, big bold lines.

Tattooing becomes influential in fashion too, elsa shapareli, she used tattoo ideas and tropes into her fashion. Sell transgressive swimwear. Paul Gautier and harry style play on sailor tattoos.

[denimbex1986]

'In his 1987 Nobel lecture, Joseph Brodsky said, anthropologically speaking, a human being is primarily a creature of aesthetics, and only after, an ethical one.

This assertion sounds true in the case of J. Robert Oppenheimer. The scientific leaps in the field of quantum physics fascinated Oppenheimer. He was driven to follow the path of Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg. Returning from Cambridge to expand his research in Berkeley, he fell into the arms of the American state and became part of the Manhattan Project to develop an atomic bomb.

It is comic irony that Lewis Strauss, who secretly plotted against Oppenheimer, was forced to work as a shoe salesman during the recession, while Oppenheimer achieved the distinction of Edward Teller calling him, “the great salesman of science.” This explains the moral turn in the life of Oppenheimer. Christopher Nolan likened his character to the titan Prometheus, though midway he seemed to metamorphose into Frankenstein. The hamartia of Oppenheimer’s life, Aristotle’s term for the Greek tragic hero’s fatal flaw, turned into a modern horror story.

The poet Joseph Brodsky’s distinction becomes relevant at this point: Oppenheimer abandoned the moral for the aesthetic. My scholar friend (who wishes to remain unnamed) shared the opinion that Oppenheimer, initially lost in the beauty of pure theory, transforms that aesthetic obsession into a monstrous one. She added the sharp insight: “Oppenheimer tells himself a lie. That the bomb has a moral end.” The act of lying to oneself produced a psychic wound within Oppenheimer. He lost sight of the moral aspect within his aesthetic pursuit. The lie made the transformation possible. The sublime beauty of studying quantum physics was ruined the moment Oppenheimer decided to use his expertise for a detrimental cause.

The sale of his scientific skills to the American state for making the bomb had a clear political objective for Oppenheimer: to finish off Hitler. This logic led him to overcome the moral dilemma behind his job. Any force that can destroy evil is legitimate. The destructive power of science was a seductive option to nullify the power of fascism. The Jewish Oppenheimer did not have his revenge over the Nazis (who were already defeated when the bomb was ready). The American state used it against a weakened Japan to declare its omnipotence.

Young Oppenheimer’s interest in T.S. Eliot’s ‘The Wasteland’ and the Gita has a deep connection: Eliot’s poem ends by evoking the Upanishad, “Shantih shantih shantih”, a peace of the grave that fell upon a world torn apart by the end of World War I and the flu epidemic. Oppenheimer’s translation of the line from the Gita, “I am become Death, destroyer of worlds” was what Krishna said about his divinity being time itself that destroys the world at will. It was meant to exhort a weak-kneed Arjuna (who did not want to kill his cousins, seniors and kinsmen), reminding him of his duty as a warrior to prepare him for battle. The figure of divine incarnation and warrior-prince got fused into the scientist who invented a weapon that could kill millions.

Oppenheimer’s interest in the evocative moments in the two texts shows a certain death wish he carried within himself. When you are hell-bent to destroy the enemy, you are also out to kill a part of yourself through the act of retributive justice.

Oppenheimer was not able to distinguish between the ethical difference between annihilating a system of power and annihilating people. This failure, however, is an intimate part of the modern West’s history. It produced ideas of the state – fascism, communism and imperial democracies – where the other within and outside one’s ideological fold was demonised as the absolute enemy and was meant to be exterminated. Making the bomb to be used for war, Oppenheimer not just used science as a tool for destruction, but created an ideology of science as divine power that could kill uncountable numbers of people as much as it could heal the world.

It has been acknowledged that Nolan did not glorify war by not showing the bomb being dropped on the two Japanese cities. Still, as my scholar friend pointed out, Nolan could not prevent himself from indulging in Hollywood’s fetish for spectacle. There was a clear lack of self-restraint. The slow-motion explosion of the bomb that filled the screen numbed the audience, and engulfed it into the terror of its silence.

Contrast it with Abbas Kiarostami, who did not display the earthquakes that rocked Iran in Koker Trilogy in order to portray its psycho-social repercussion on the lives of residents who suffered its impact. Kiarostami’s art of filmmaking is deeply informed by his ethical hesitation.

Nolan had more reasons to hold back from depicting the technological grandeur of an instrument of death. The temptation to recreate the spectacle is not simply an aesthetic flaw.

The euphoria of the scientific feat was viscerally exhibited by bodies of people stomping the floor of the hall celebrating Oppenheimer. It announced the coming of a new crowd in world history that took nationalist pride in mass destruction of other people. Oppenheimer looked conflicted, remorseful and eaten by guilt. But there were no indications to suggest he completely regretted his success. Truman, embodying the masculine pragmatism of the American state, lampooned Oppenheimer as “crybaby”. No one cared about the real babies in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Such is the moral indifference of war. It causes deafness of the soul.'

[creativeenquiryevi]

Initial Proposal

Proposal for Creative Enquiry and Divergent Practice

4th Year BA CAP

Throughout my work, I was always drawn to the index and the mark making techniques. I find that the unpredictability of the process speaks to me and helps me find inspiration.

One of the things that helps me mentally, is travelling and contemplating the surrounding. I love Scotland’s landscape and that’s what gave me the inspiration to experiment. During the summer months, whenever I was travelling with my family, I would explore the automatic drawing. I would let the road and the landscape lead the marks. I was satisfied just by watching the surroundings and chatting with my family, without having any control on the drawing and the final outcome. Occasionally, I would find it difficult to not be able to influence the process and found myself focusing hard on that in order to prevent it. I used different materials such as pens, charcoal, coloured pencils and various surfaces, like watercolour paper, white board, tablet, calico, in order to compare them afterwards and see the differences. The results were very satisfactory. I found interesting the way the drawings resembled cartography and topography, almost like seeing the land from above. Another interesting point was that not two journeys would look alike. What mattered for me was the journey, not the final destination, but how the places connect to each other, borderless and what made my hand draw the specific marks. Every journey holds a different memory of our time in this land. There is a Greek Poet Kavafis that wrote a beautiful poem, Ithaca that comes in mind whenever I think of each journey:

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery

…

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;

                                       Evangelou E. 2022, Route to Portobello Student’s own work

While researching artists that explore cartography and topography in their work, I came across Palestinian artist Mona Hatoum. This artist has created a lot of work inspired by or using cartography and maps in various forms which I find very inspiring and relevant to my work. From works like Hot Spot (2013), Present Tense (1996) and Map (Clear) (2014) she is always exploring the conflicts of the world while connecting them with her artwork.

Hatoum M. 1996, Present Tense

In Present Tense (1996), Hatoum is emphasizing the political aspect of territorial depiction. She used 2400 square blocks of olive oil soaps with red glass beads embedded on them that symbolize the territories that were to be returned to Palestine during the 1993 agreement. (phaidon website).

  Hatoum M. 2006 Bunker

Bunker is another inspiring work where she made an installation of suspended swings with topography on them. Each of the 35 swings represent a random city map. The whole installation has an eerie feeling as there is a slight movement on the works while the audience walks around them.

  Another artwork that I looked into during my research and discussion with my lecturers, was Shibboleth by Doris Salcedo that was presented on 2007 at Tate Modern. This is a large installation that comprises of a huge crack running throughout the floor of the Turbine Hall, representing the communities of immigrants and the ‘history of racism, running parallel to the history of modernity’ and ‘the dangers at crossing borders or being rejected in the moment of crossing borders.’ [Salcedo, 2007]

The cracks, when been watched from above remind me of the cracks on the earth resulted by an earthquake.

  Salcedo, D. (2007) Shibboleth

 For Creative Enquiry and Divergent Practice projects, I plan on using the same brief of routes that are connecting with memories and the land, and differentiate on the media that I will use for each one.

For the Creative Enquiry project, I intent on experimenting further with the route drawings and find ways to translate them into 3D forms. I have already started working with plaster and exploring the various results in transferring the drawings on this material. The first examples are quite successful and remind me of the soap blocks in Hatoum’s installation. It is an interesting idea that has lots of possibilities and potential in developing into a large-scale installation for the final Show.

However, I would like to expand further the experimentations and even reach the boundaries of each medium. I would like to keep the unpredictability and as many of the characteristics of the initial drawings (such as the fluidity of the markings) as possible for the final outcome.

Evangelou E. (2022) Drawing transfer on plaster block, Student’s own work

 In contrast to the 3D form, I plan on working in 2D for the divergent Practice module. I intend on working in various techniques and scales and thus, produce several different outcomes before considering on a specific one that would work best. Having the same drawings as a starting point I plan on exploring further the way I could translate them on mono printing and screen-printing work as well as fibre art work. This would give me the opportunity to expand my knowledge on the specific techniques and the way I can further use them in my future practice.

I will continue to create drawings on routes, however, I intent on exploring the repetition and the variety of outcomes as a result of this. I will use a specific journey that my family does weekly, to create a large-scale drawing. This journey has a special meaning for me, as it connects my Greek culture with the Scottish land. It is the journey we have every Saturday to take our daughter to the Greek school that she attends. These drawings would connect not only the two places (home and school) but also the borderless land and cultures.  

Time management is of essence and my bigger concern for the Divergent Practice module, as this runs for a shorter period and simultaneously with the other, bigger projects and I have to divide my time in the studio accordingly. However, I am excited to see where this journey will lead me.  

   References/Images

 Evangelou, E. (2022), Route to Portobello

Evangelou, E. (2022), Transferring drawing on Plaster

Phaidon.com. n.d. The Art of the Map - Mona Hatoum | art | Agenda | Phaidon. [online] Available at: <https://www.phaidon.com/agenda/art/articles/2015/october/29/the-art-of-the-map-mona-hatoum/> [Accessed 27 September 2022].

Poetry Foundation. n.d. Ithaka by C. P. Cavafy | Poetry Foundation. [online] Available at: <https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51296/ithaka-56d22eef917ec> [Accessed 27 September 2022].

Tate.org.uk. n.d. 'shibboleth I', Doris Salcedo, 2007. [online] Available at: <https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/salcedo-shibboleth-i-p20334> [Accessed 27 September 2022].

Whitecube.com. n.d. White Cube - Gallery Exhibitions - Bunker. [online] Available at: <https://whitecube.com/exhibitions/exhibition/mona_hatoum_masons_yard_2011> [Accessed 27 September 2022].

[lavendermaelk]

Carnal Domesticity

Henry Winter x Fem!Reader, The Secret History

!!!MDNI!!! Word Count: 3k Content Warnings: Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V Sex, Chair Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Shotgunning (smoking), OOC-ish Henry, Dom-ish!Henry, Reader is a cis woman Author's Note: The ending kinda sucks, ngl.

It was a cool October morning, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds now and then to shine into Julian’s office where the seven of his students sat while the ancient Greek professor was going on about a passage in the readings that were assigned for the night before. The kettle was starting to whistle in the background and Julian paused himself to get the kettle and teacups for everyone as well as a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar should the students desire some. [Y/N] finished the last bullet point on her notes before setting down her pen and reaching up to stretch some. 

She was enjoying the brief moment of rest before she felt a gentle nudge as the other students slowly stood to start grabbing their tea. Henry had gently bumped her with his elbow, a hint of a smile on his normally stationary lips. [Y/N] gave a little nod and got up, moving to get her own tea as the spectacled man followed behind her. Once everyone fixed their tea and sat back down, Julian continued on, taking up the rest of the hour to preach about Greek prose and how one could utilize it to convey certain things or something of the sort. 

When the lecture came to a close, the seven students thanked Julian for the lesson and tea, slowly filing out of his office and out to the breezy, open pathways. [Y/N] adjusted the bag on her shoulder and buttoned up her coat a little more to fight off the chill, bringing her shoulders to her ears in hopes that her lapels would block the wind from nipping at her neck. She felt a soft warmth wrap around her, the thick fabric of Henry’s scarf concealing her neck and part of her face, enticing a soft chuckle from her and a quiet ‘thank you’ as the group started to migrate to [Y/N]’s apartment for lunch. 

Francis and Richard walked ahead, both of them making light talk while the twins trailed behind them, lightly bickering about God knows what this time, and Bunny hung back with [Y/N] and Henry. The blond walked on the other side of Henry, chattering his ear off while the brunette gave him short answers and hums of acknowledgement, silently hoping that he would run out of things to talk about but that was never a common occurrence with Edmund. 

Lunch had gone rather well, [Y/N] had gone shopping the afternoon before knowing she had to feed six other people, five of which were grown men. She had made a simple roast that she left in the oven during class and some veg to go along with it. As long as everyone was satisfied, she was happy with herself. 

Everyone was full and grateful, the twins and Francis deciding to set up shop and start tackling their Greek while  Richard bid his goodbyes and hurried off to his French class. Henry was over by the window, pulling a cigarette from the box he’d kept in his pocket and holding it between his lips to light. Bunny had to head off, something about meeting Marion for an early dinner despite having just eaten. [Y/N] smiled at the sight of her friends before sauntering over to Henry, letting him exhale the cloud of smoke before gently plucking the cigarette from between his lips and taking a drag herself. “Do you want a drink?” she asked, taking another hit before handing it back to him. 

“Sure,” Henry nodded.

“Can I have one too?” Charles chirped from the coffee table, perking up a bit as he heard the word ‘drink’. 

“Yeah,” [Y/N] chuckled softly before going to the kitchen to pour them each an inch of scotch. She took the glasses to the living room and handed them out before going back to lingering by Henry’s side and sipping on her own glass and leaning her head on his arm.

It didn’t take very long for the three at the coffee table to finish up, slowly starting to pack up and leave, waving their goodbyes. [Y/N] saw them out the door, giving the boys pats on the back and Camilla a friendly kiss on the cheek, waving one last time before closing and locking the door behind herself before turning to look at Henry. He had moved to sit in the armchair, lighting another cigarette as he set his nearly empty glass of scotch on the coffee table. She smiled softly at him, glancing at the clock to see it read ten past four as she moved to make herself comfortable in his lap, straddling his thighs and taking the cigarette from him once more. 

“Did you enjoy lunch?” She asked, brushing his hair away from his forehead while his spare hand settled on the small of her back. 

“Of course I did. Cleaned my plate and all.'' He smiled softly, an expression that was near exclusive for her. His large hand gave her back a gentle rub and he took the cigarette back to take another drag. “C’mere” he mumbled, gently taking her by the chin and bringing their lips together. He let out a sigh as she started to kiss him slowly, his smoke filling her mouth which she hungrily inhaled. She could taste the bitter whiskey and tobacco on his lips but it was the sweetness of his kiss that made her moan into his lips. Every kiss they shared, he managed to taste like he’d just swallowed a sugar cube. It was addicting, more than that, it made her core rumble with need. 

Henry chuckled softly at her soft noises, setting the cigarette down in an ashtray and bringing his hand to her hip so he could pull her close. He let out a soft groan as she pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his large, pale hands giving her flesh a gentle squeeze. Another whine left her lips as he felt around her body, cupping her curves and smoothing over her wool and cotton clad skin. She pulled away slightly, a thin string of saliva connecting their swollen lips as their heated breath mingled before she dipped her head and she started to kiss at his clean shaven jaw. He still smelled of aftershave and his cologne with a hint of his natural scent from wearing so many layers and moving around for the better half of the day. One of her hands slid up some more to run her fingers through his dark hair, gently tugging at it as her spare hand slid down his chest and back up under the sweater he had worn on top of his white button up. 

Henry gave a soft chuckle at her eagerness, his hands gripping at her thighs as his chest rumbled with his voice. His hands wandered just as hers did, trailing the curve of her behind before finding their home on her waist, giving her a teasing squeeze before slowly pulling her jumper from its neatly tucked place beneath the long skirt  that was belted in place. 

“This one’s mine, isn’t it?” he asked softly, his vocal chords humming underneath the gentle yet hungry touch of her lips. She gave a little hum in affirmation and he smirked a little, starting to pull the knit sweater up off of her torso, forcing her lips to detach from his skin for one short yet agonizing moment. As Henry put the sweater over the arm of the leather chair, [Y/N] undid the top few buttons, revealing the necklace he’d gifted her long ago sitting beautifully against her skin. It was a simple chain, one matching the link that was around his right wrist that he’d gotten for the first birthday she’d spent at Hampden. 

The pulsing heat in Henry’s trousers had started to bother him with [Y/N] sitting right on it, teasingly pressing herself down on him, her own hands lifting the sweater up and running across his chest. He let her remove the knitted wool and set it aside before his hands found themselves undoing the rest of the buttons on her shirt and peeling it off of her. 

She began to do the same for him, undoing his buttons to reveal his toned chest and abdomen. One would expect someone who spends most of their time reading and studying the classics and dead languages not to be as fit as he was but it seemed that he never dropped the regimen he’d put in place when he was injured in high school. Her fingertips brushed against his pale skin, his muscles twitching slightly as her touch left a burning sensation in its wake as she pushed the cotton weave off of his shoulders.

Henry huffed softly, leaning up a little to let the fabric fall off of his frame. Her hands dragged down his chest before they slowly tugged the dress shirt out from his pants and started to work on his belt. She made quick work of the leather strap, moving on to his button and zipper. 

“Needy today, are we?” Henry teased, letting her do as she pleased. [Y/N] rolled her eyes at him playfully as she got up only to kneel between his legs, tugging at the loose waist of his trousers. 

“I always need you~” she muttered, pressing a kiss to his knee as he let her have what she wanted. He pushed down the fabric that had been hugging his hips all day, his growing length revealing itself to her with a throbbing excitement. [Y/N] licked her lips hungrily as her eyes trailed along the shaft, focusing on his dripping tip before locking eyes with the man who was staring down at her with a lusty amusement. 

She gingerly reached for it, her hand wrapping around his thickness and giving it a slow stroke which pulled a low groan from him. [Y/N] looked up at him once more before closing in, wrapping her glossy lips around the head and letting his taste coat her tongue. A soft moan came from her as she started to suck, her hand still slowly stroking him up and down. 

Henry’s hand came down, brushing her hair out of her face and holding it back so he could watch her work. His pale cheeks started to take on a crimson hue as [Y/N]  continued to pleasure him. He never pushed her down and did his best not to buck up into her mouth, simply holding her hair out of the way. He was enamored with how she could bob her head and take more of him so effortlessly, how her moans sounded around him and how her sweet noises made the pit of his belly tighten with need. 

[Y/N] kept going, eager to make him finish as Henry continued to let out soft groans and huffs before the nearsighted man guided her head back up and he doubled over to pull her into a needy kiss. His hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing the curve of her cheekbones as his fingertips nearly got lost in the roots of her hair. He kept her there, tasting himself on her sweet sweet lips for a moment too long before letting her go and standing up. 

“Take it all off. Let me see you,” Henry ordered her, standing from the chair. His white shirt hung on his elbows as he reached down to stroke his aching cock, watching as [Y/N] stripped for him. She pulled the button up off of her arms and set it aside before unbuckling her belt and letting the long tweed skirt fall to the floor. Next were her tights, her hands pushing down the thin nylon as she shimmied out of them and then moved to take off her underwear. She unhooked her bra and let her panties fall to the floor as well before picking them up and setting them on the couch adjacent to the plush armchair. “Get on the chair. Legs up.” 

She did as was told, sitting on the edge of the seat and leaning back to pull her legs up and onto the upholstered arms. Henry moved to kneel in front of her, mimicking her position from before as his hands ran across the undersides of her thighs and his lips lowered to press kisses around her dripping slit. He continued to tease her, kissing and nipping just around her needy cunt to hear her whine and watch her squirm.

“Henry, please” [Y/N] whimpered as her hand moved down to grip onto his dark hair. He let out a soft grunt as her tight grip tugged at his hair, almost trying to direct his lips onto her aching clit. A deep chuckle left him and he pulled his wire rimmed glasses off his face, setting them to the side before brushing his lips against her swollen bud, just barely giving her what she needed from him. Another whine came from her as she felt his touch ghost over her skin before he succumbed to her wordless begging and placed a kiss to her clit. It drew a shaky mewl from her lips and he continued. He dipped his head further down to drag his tongue along her leaking slit, gathering her juices on his tongue before he wrapped his lips around her clit. She uttered curses as he professed his love against her cunt, his tongue circling her bud as he gently sucked on it. His hands kept roaming the bottoms of her thighs as she started to writhe underneath him. 

One hand joined his mouth, pulling her folds apart before he moved down to drink her drippings like it was ambrosia and he craved immortality. Henry pushed his tongue into her, his grip on her thigh tightening slightly as his thumb started to circle her clit. His eyes fluttered closed as she twitched and tightened around his tongue, the pad of his thumb pressed down and continued its circular rubbing as he professed his love for her, spelling out each word against her tight walls. He continued on, eager to hear more of her sweet noises while she squirmed in his hold. 

Henry slowly pulled away, her sweet noises and the aching of his manhood starting to become too much for him. His cock twitched as he straightened up, watching as her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath. What a sight. Henry leaned down, his shaft fitting against her folds as he pressed their hips together, and he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. 

“You’re so beautiful, especially like this.” Henry sighed softly, pushing his hair back as he started to rock his hips against hers, his length collecting her wetness and brushed against her clit. 

“Henry, please” [Y/N] sighed, her core aching to be filled by him. She reached out, her hands landing on his forearms as his own settled beneath the crook of her knees. He pushed them as far as they would go before pulling back and letting his tip settle at her entrance. He started to press in, groaning softly as her walls hugged him tight with no intention of letting go. He relished in the welcoming warmth of her body and kept his advances slow. He pushed in and out a few times as he eased his cock into her, her grip on his arms tightening each time he descended further into her core. Henry took his time working himself in until their hips met, soft moans tumbling out of both their lips. 

 [Y/N] ‘s back arched up off the seat slightly as he started to thrust agonizingly slowly, her toes curling as he hit the deepest parts of her with such ease. 

“Love, please!” she begged, tightening her grip on his arms as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Harder, faster, please Henry!” 

He appeased her neediness, starting to drive his hips a bit faster as he snapped into her with more force. He leaned forward more, his head pressed against the back of the chair as he watched her gasp and whine at the change of pace. Her hand slid down his arm and started to rub at her clit as he continued to thrust into her, soft huffs and grunts coming from him. 

“Fuck. You take me so well, darling.” he praised between grunts. He continued to thrust, his hand moving hers out of the way so he could rub her clit and press down with each thrust.  [Y/N] gasped and whined as he did so, the pit of her stomach tightening as she felt him nudge her closer to the edge with each slap of his hips against hers. His thrusting had roughened some more, now faster as he did his best to keep up the steady cadence. 

[Y/N] let out another whine as her walls tightened around him again, gripping at him wherever she could. 

“T-There! Just like that, Henry!” she gasped as he rolled his hips into her harshly. “I’m so close, don’t stop!” 

The broad man did as he was told, keeping the pace and hitting her deep within her core. It only took a few more strokes with his thumb rubbing over her clit to send her over the edge. It was as if he had reached in and pulled the cry of pleasure from the pit of her belly as her back arched up. She shook underneath him, her walls clamping down on his length and rapidly contracted, almost trying to milk him dry as he stayed buried deep inside her. Henry let out a grunt, huffing and moaning softly as his own orgasm washed over him, his length twitching and pulsing in time with her body. He nearly couldn’t hold himself up anymore, slowly pressing his torso down onto hers and burying his face into her hair as he held her close. 

Henry turned his head, starting to kiss at the spot underneath her ear as [Y/N] laid there, leaning into his touch while they both came down from their highs. It took Henry a moment but he lifted his head to look at her dazed expression

“My beautiful beautiful [Y/N]” he mumbled before pressing a light kiss to her lips. He held her close for a while longer, not wanting to pull away from her warmth just yet.

"Do that to me more often~" [Y/N] sighed out with a soft giggle, pulling another grin from Henry's lips.

"Yes ma'am~"

[noramoons]

for reasons wretched and divine:

act i ↠ part i

↠ pairing: bang chan x fem reader (afab)

↠ genre: wolf demon au, greek mythology au, demon!stray kids

↠ word count: 2k

↠ rating: mature/18+

↠ warnings: language, violence, torture, smut, more warnings to be added

↠ summary: You've heard stories about the Lykos clan for your entire life. You know the rules about dealing with demons - never look them in the eye, never trespass on a shrine without an offering, and never walk in their territory alone.

When did you forget to listen?

| next | masterlist | also posted on ao3!

Something has been following you since you left work.

You felt it the minute you left the building—a presence, like eyes boring into the back of your skull. You'd turned around in every direction trying to find the source of the presence to no avail—there's nothing.

And yet, there is undoubtedly something. You hear the bushes rustle behind you on the sidewalk, and you whip your head around only to be met with silence. There's a whisper—your name, maybe? Or someone else's—but the instant you think you recognize it, it vanishes.

You pick up your pace a little now. Whatever it is, it certainly won't follow you into the Wilds: four miles of abandoned woods in either direction.

You know no one knows their way through the miles of trees here like you do. Hundreds of years ago, this area was known as the Pantheon—the entryway between your world, the Interior, and the realm of the deities, the Citadel. During that time, the Pantheon housed dozens upon dozens of shrines, temples, and offering sites to the countless gods and devils that roamed the planet. You aren't sure exactly when they disappeared, or why, for that matter—almost all of your teachers in school said something different. There was internal conflict between the deities, or their powers unexpectedly weakened, or they became irrelevant with the advent of humans with Flairs—whatever the reason was, you know the deity clans haven't heard a word of worship since your grandparents were alive.

Your grandmother was always still a zealot, though. You wondered occasionally if she was the last person on the planet who still truly believed the deities were alive and kicking, and she always made sure you listened to her lectures whenever you came to visit. Don't ever make a deal with a demon, Y/N—if you ever see a deity, never look at it in the eyes—and especially don't wander into the Wilds—

Well, you suppose you weren't always much for following rules.

Regardless, the Wilds are abandoned—despite no one seeing a deity in over a hundred years, most people still stay as far away from the forest as possible. It's probably why you got such a great deal on your home that's only half a mile west of it—everyone that you've ever known has been too afraid to even try to trek a path through it, and you've been warned to stay away from it by family and friends for years. Despite that, though, you've felt a strange magnetism to it since you were young. It's never been hard for you to find your way in and out. Perhaps you're just better with directions than you thought.

Or perhaps that, all along, has been your Flair. Your friends all have one—from birth, Yui's been able to read fortunes, and Saori can see the history of any object by touching it, and Sana can animate drawings that she sees (they have to be made from real ink, though)—but you've never been able to do anything of the sort. Everyone's is always fairly niche; no one has real "super" powers like you used to see in those movies, but you think having the power to never get lost in this one stretch of woods would be a little too specific for even the gods to have given you.

But this is no time to think about any of that, and you know it. You can still sense whoever—whatever is following you into the Wilds' entrance. You're only about a quarter of a mile in, though—surely you can shake them if you make a confusing loop or two.

Once you've circled the entrance area twice, a sigh of relief escapes you—the feeling of any kind of presence behind you is gone. Before you have any time to think about what the hell it might have been, though, you feel it again—only this time, it's fifty feet in front of you.

A breathless "how" escapes your lips. You'd led this thing around the woods for twenty minutes—how could it have possibly gotten in front of you in that time?

You can feel the beginning signs of panic settling into your chest, but you take a long, shaky inhale before you exhale, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides. You still know this forest better than anyone else—you can still make your way out before this thing, whatever it may be.

You start towards your right, going around where you can feel the presence in hopes of beating it to the edge of the woods. Before long, though, a feeling that you haven't known in years suddenly overwhelms you.

You're lost.

Again, you mutter a "how" in spite of yourself. You know the Wilds like the back of your hand—every gnarled tree stump, every old and bent tree, every decaying temple ruin is instantly recognizable to you.

So how the hell do you not know where you are?

The presence has gotten closer in the time that it's taken you to figure out your situation, and you can finally, finally see an outline of a person. Or what you think is a person, at first.

Because the closer it gets, the sooner you realize it's way too tall to be human. Whatever it's using to walk along the ground definitely aren't feet, either. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were talons, like that of a bird.

You're frozen in fear—where can you go when you have no clue where you are or what this thing is that's approaching you? The panic catches back up to your brain eventually and you break out into a run, but it's too late and you know it. With no way of knowing where you're going, this thing is bound to catch up to you soon, and by then you—

Before you can even finish the thought, there's a hand around your ankle, and you lose your balance almost instantly, falling to the ground. You cry out helplessly, trying to flip yourself over so you can see your attacker, but the instant you catch sight of them, you almost wish you hadn't.

The hand around your ankle isn't a hand at all: it's a claw, with talons that make you wince in pain as they dig into your skin. The body is shaped like a human being—two arms and legs, a torso and a head, but it's covered almost completely in inky black feathers that branch out towards the shoulder blades and form two massive wings. How could you not have seen those before? The face would be human too, if not for the massive beak that protrudes from where you'd expect a nose and a mouth to be.

You were right before—it's definitely not human.

The being leans down and inhales the blood dripping down your leg. "Mmm...it's been ages since I've tasted a being from the Interior. I'll take the chief's seat in no time once I've devoured you."

You struggle in its grasp, but the talons only sink deeper into your flesh, and you cry out again. "Let go of me! What the hell are you?"

The hold on your ankle loosens for a brief moment. "You can see me, little one?"

You meet its eyes with a glare by way of answering, and it laughs as it carves further into your leg, causing you to scream out in pain this time.

"Oh, gods," it exclaims giddily, tugging you closer with the talons in your skin. "You're an Augur? Oh, I can't even imagine the kind of power I'll have once you're consumed." It leans down closer, its face mere inches from yours, and you take the moment to clench your fist and punch the thing's beak as hard as you possibly can. It emits a strangled shriek of pain, letting go of your leg for a brief moment—but that's all you need to scramble to your feet and start running again.

Or at least, you try to. You're much wobblier on your injured leg than you'd expected, but you have to try to escape. You have to. There's no way in hell you're just going to let this thing kill you without putting up a fight.

Your worst fear is realized once you hear the flapping of wings behind you—which also must have been how this thing got in front of you at the entrance to the Wilds in the first place—and it's mere seconds before it lands in front of you, already in a lunging stance to knock you back down.

"Excellent try, little one," it grins. "But it just looks like today's my lucky—"

The bird doesn't get to finish its sentence before something crashes into its side, tackling it to the ground and instantly wrestling with it in a blur of fur and feathers. Whatever this newcomer is, it's much faster—and the only time you can make out what's happening in their fight is when it sinks its teeth into the neck of the bird being, causing both to still.

For a brief moment you think it's a wolf, until it stands up, and you see that the fur on its back is a coat, likely skinned from the animal. It delivers a light kick to the side of the bird being to make sure it's not moving before turning to face you. "Now, then. How'd you get on the Koraki clan's..." It immediately trails off once you make eye contact, and you feel your throat grow dry as you meet its eyes. "...bad side."

Because what's standing before you is undoubtedly a man. No unusual appendages like wings or a beak—just a man with light hair, longer in the back than the front, in clothes much dressier than you would have worn to go out hiking in the Wilds. "Hey," he says, in a much gentler tone than before, although there's an whiff of suspicion in his tone. "You're not a deity, are you?"

You shake your head, at a loss for words.

"And you can see me?"

"Yes," you say, forcing yourself to say something. "I can see you."

"Oh, gods above," the man says, running a hand through his hair. "How the hell did you end up in the Citadel? I haven't seen one of your kind in years."

You frown. "The...what? Where is this?"

"You're in the Citadel," he says, as if that should be obvious. "The home of the deity clans."

"The deity clans?" you repeat slowly. "Then..."

He cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Shit, you—you're actually human, aren't you?"

You nod, dread settling back into your chest.

A grim smile makes its way across his features. "Then you're stuck here, I'm afraid. You're in an entirely different realm, human girl—and I have no idea how to get you back."

[inactive-herbalist]

𝓐𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓶 "𝓐𝓫𝓮" 𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓐𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓷

Ravenclaw • Half-blood • British • ENFP • Libra • Beater • Troublemaker • Auror • Journalist

Name: Abraham Aurelius Henry Alden, future Earl of Dorset

Nicknames: Abe, Alden

Birthdate: October 8th, 1874

Zodiac Sign: Libra Sun, Virgo Moon, Gemini Rising

Personality Type (MBTI): ENFP – The Campaigner

Sexuality: heterosexual

Gender Identity: Wizard (he/him)

Blood-Status: Half-blood

Nationality: British

Residence: Exeter, England

Hometown: Exeter, England

Languages: English, French, Italian, Ancient Greek, Latin

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Thimothée Charlamet

Hair: brown, slightly curly, usually tousled

Eyes: brown

Height: 186cm

Weight: 70kg

Body Type: slim, athletic

Skin Tone: light, warm

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): -

Family

Mother: Anabelle Minerva Alden née Silverthorn. Ravenclaw, pureblood, former Unspeakable and ancient runes specialist. Broke off all contact with her parents, they consider her a disgrace for marrying a muggle. Met Vincent during an undercover investigation, charmed him with her intellect and iron-will. Stopped working at the ministry after giving birth to their first son, William.

Father: Vincent Edmund William Alden, Duke of Exeter, Earl of Dorset, firstborn son of Edmund Albert and Elisabeth Viktoria Alden. Loving but strict father. Encourages learning and critical-thinking but is concerned about their status and would rather have his sons behave and conform, at least in public. In that matter Abe can give his father a bit of a headache.

Older Brother: William Jupiter Theodor Alden, future Duke of Exeter, older brother by four years, griffindor, Auror. A little arrogant but a kind soul. Charmer. Loves to lecture Abe, only because he wants the best for him. The golden son.

Magic

House: Ravenclaw (tied with Gryffindor)

Best Class: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, History of Magic

Worst Class: Divination

Quidditch: Beater

Clubs: Duelling Club

Wand: Apple Wood, Phoenix Core, 14 1/2” Length, Slightly Yielding Flexibility

➔ Applewood wands are not made in great numbers. They are powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixes poorly with Dark magic. It is said that the possessor of an apple wand will be well-loved and long-lived, and I have often noticed that customers of great personal charm find their perfect match in an applewood wand. An unusual ability to converse with other magical beings in their native tongues is often found among apple wand owners, who include the celebrated author of Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs, Dylan Marwood.

Animagus: –

Boggart: him being ignorant (don’t know how that would manifest yet, any ideas?)

Riddikulus: tbd

Patronus: Lynx

Patronus Memory: Sword fighting with his brother in the backyard (using branches)

Mirror of Erised: himself as a Professor for DADA and/or Muggle Studies

Amortentia (what he smells like): leather, a hint of ink, cedarwood, freshly mowed grass, cinnamon

Amortentia (what he smells): tbd

Magical Abilities: -

Career

Ages 11–18: Student at Hogwarts

Ages 18–36: Auror, Freelance Writer

Inherits the title Earl of Dorset at the age of 26

Ages 36–retirement: Professor for Muggle Studies, Substitute teacher for DADA

Personality & Attitude

Personality: great speaking and duelling skills, likes to question things and has a tendency to get into trouble, loves a good book and has a slight obsession with bikes that just now started to pop up, well-versed on muggle matters, curious, well-read and chatty, idealist, appreciates a good challenge, can be very random at times xD

Strengths: enthusiasm, sense of justice, perception, improvising, communication skills, highly empathetic, helpful

Weaknesses: tends to worry a lot, can be impulsive

Stressors: not being able to solve a problem or help people out (drives him crazy), he’s not that easily stressed tho but when he does gets a bit emotional

Comfort: reading a good book out in nature, friends, riding a bike or horseback riding

Priorities: his friends, social progress, justice

Favourites

Colours: neutral colours

Food: -

Drink: Earl Grey

Flowers: lavender, dandelion

Books: North and South – Elizabeth Gaskell

Weather: warm and sunny

Hobbies: conversing, reading, writing, telling his friends about muggle inventions, fencing

Style: usual upper class/noble wear but prefers to dress more casually

Relationships

Significant Other / Love Interest: Emmeline Antonia Falcon @endlessly-cursed

Will add a brief summary of their story later…

Best friend: Oscar Alatar Erdstern — met in their first year at Hogwarts, hit it off instantly and have been friends ever since. They often stay up late to talk about anything and everything.

Friends:

Violette Jolie Durand — met her a week before school started (5th year), strolling through Diagon Alley, running errands. Overheard a conversation she had with a shop-owner, mentioning that she’s transferring to Hogwarts. So he decided to go talk to her. Violette was a little wary in the beginning but Abe was persistent and soon they found out they had a lot in common and became close friends.

Primrose Gray @endlessly-cursed

Henry of Alderly @gaygryffindorgal

Open for friendships. If your interested DM me :)

Random HC

likes to read books outside or between shelves in the library

loves his brother but thinks he‘s a little too stuck in his ways

supporter of social movements (of both magical and non-magical nature)

his brother got him into quidditch; practicing with him since his brothers first year at Hogwarts

doesn’t really like all those big feasts he has to attend but does enjoy a good conversation or debate with the few people that share his views or are at least open to a constructive debate

great conversationalist

likes bikes so much because they give him a sense of freedom

gets super excited when he learns about a new muggle invention

is a bit of a rebel, doing things his own way rather than conforming to set rules – which gets him into trouble from time to time

knows how to speak a little bit of German, thanks to Oscar

sometimes writes poetry to process thoughts and feelings, but keeps it more of a secret

[honey-coloured-passion]

dream smp high school au and what they'd teach:

i had to get it out of my system but i'm so happy with how these turned out

mr notfound: engineering (the engineering teacher never really teaches and kinda sits in his office but the entire school simps for him so there's always a teacher hanging with him. his curriculum is free form and an easy A but genuinely pretty damn fun)

mr. nap: gym (hes the nice gym teacher who says screw the pacer test and rope climbing and you guys just play basketball after running like 2 laps. he's super gullible and will let anyone sit out for any semblance of pain. that is until the film teacher comes into the gym, then he's a tryhard beating freshman up to make layups on lowered hoops)

mr. wastaken: physics (the coolest class that always does crazy expiriments with large falling objects and questionable usage of dry ice, people always think his experiments are fake but he'll be the first to give a class long lecture on why every single piece of his work is 100% accurate. there was this one incident when he used the engineering teacher to explain torque and it ended with mr. notfound being caught in his arms. there's pictures but he still denys it.)

mr. blade: advanced english lit (mr. blade has no time for freshmen and if he does like a frosh into his class they've gotta he the damn best. his class is based on old literature analysis and storytelling. his favorite unit being greek mythology. most of his assignments aren't just boring essays or stressful discussion. no one truly knows what mr. blades class is like until you've taken it, they're often heard chanting "blood for the blood god" before exams but the principal is yet to do anything about it.)

mr. awsamdude: comp sci/coding (sam is the teacher everyone adores, there's usually at least two people crying in his office before and after school but he always knows what will cheer them up! he tries to work closely with mr. notfound but he's busy with the physics prof so sam has gotten really close with his TA tubbo. they do all kinds of coding competitions and his class is known to be a safe haven for students of all kinds- "coding is for everyone!" he always chants)

ms. nihachu: art (known for the classroom with the best vibes niki insists on dropping the ms. and formalitys. she's the teacher with lofi playing and bean bags and couches in her beautifully decorated classroom. she has an open classroom meaning anyone can come in anytime and she is dedicated to making sure no one eats lunch alone. a couple times a year she goes on a huge rant about loving oneself and the value of not judging others, needless to say everyone adores her - especially the theatre kids as her class is constantly helping them with set design)

mr. soot: music/theatre (does he have a degree? unknown. does he teach anything besides music? couldnt tell ya. mr soot roams the halls during class hours that aren't his one choir period; popping into various classes to pretend to be a student or just all around goof off. his theatre program however, one of the best. he makes the most extravagant plays and musicals with barely any budget. after his show goes on he goes dark for like 2 weeks straight "recuperating" but no one questions because that kind of genius needs resting)

mr. frost: math (ant and red would TOTALLY teach math together and it would be so cute everyone would see them walk in and out of school together and ship them and their classroom would be a safe space for people to come out or even just hangout. ant would be a crazy good teacher who is understanding and not one of those asshole math teachers. he's the one everyone always wants to have haha)

mr. jacobs: film/freshman history (mr jacobs is the freshman heartthrob and senior best friend. he teaches film as history, film as lit, and frosh history - basically the easiest classes, but he makes them the most fun. in his lit classes they watch cartoons and search for literature similarities or historical evidence. in his history classes he goes on grand lectures often standing on tables to reenact his favorite history moments. occasionally he brings in his friends to re create a massive fight in front of all the history classes, it's scuffed but everyone always looks forward to them)

ms. puffy: head counselor (ms puffy is the sweetest soul and often is helping students with everything from their personal lives to college. she assigns the TA's and classrooms and works closely with mr minecraft to make the school as conducive of a learning environment as possible.)

mr. minecraft: the principal, the big man himself, mr fuckin minecraft. (he constantly looks sleep deprived and exhausted but he loves the students and teachers with his whole heart. he takes no shit from annoying parents or asshole students and is known to ban the entitled cruel students from all his favorite teachers classes, leaving them with the worst teachers. usually he can be found telling dream he can't have more money for explosives, begging wilbur to sleep and rest, and telling techno he's gonna have to teach a english 9 class eventually. that and dealing with his new TA's.)

our lovely teacher assistants:

ranboo: english TA (thought he was gonna get art with niki but puffy out him with the blade. originally he was terrified but he's growing on mr. blade with his deep analytical thoughts and similar dry humor. granted- he does have the most work of all the TA's because mr. blade makes him grade all the multiple choice tests, but he's really starting to love the english classroom.)

tubbo: comp sci TA (tubbo had been begging to be sam's TA since freshman year where he took almost all the coding classes in one year. plus, the computer science room is right next to the physics room in the science wing so he can pop over and see tommy all the time. tubbo and sam stay in the computer lab way later than philza should allow but they've made magnificent codes for the school. everytime tubbo points out he's graduating soon sam starts to tear up, but he knows tubbos gonna do big things, he's just gonna miss his goofy TA.)

tommy: physics TA (the pounding philza got on his office door when tommy didn't get wilbur was ground shaking. puffy and philza calmly explained that tommy has a knack for physics if he would just focus and genuinely learn from dream. "big D" as tommy calls him, wasnt jazzed either. their year as TA and teacher started rocky but dream would come to realize that tommy is more talented than he lets on and after speaking to wilbur and puffy he realized there was a damn good reason he was given tommy. he took it upon himself to turn tommy into the best student he could be. and tommy isn't one to back down from a fight. little did he know this year would be the best year yet.)

i'm so happy with this and i actually think i might expand it idkkkk :)))

[randomnameless]

This is just an appreciation ask but thank you for discussing literally anything about the game's past/world and actually discussing the politics, because so many in the base don't care and it pains me soooooo much, even my sister doesn't give a shit about the Nabataens and Agarthans and takes everything the game says at face value no matter how poorly written. It's really fun to look through your blog and actually see a community of folks in the fanbase tackle what I've been thinking about and thought I was alone on LOL

Oh thank you!

I know it's not really something appealing for a lot of people about the game, hell the game doesn't even care about it either but, haha, I do.

That's why I really like Tumblr, you can find communities for whatever you want and they're public, so if you want to gush about "the importance of golden trinkets in Nabatean culture" you can interact with some loser who wrote a post about it, and you can gush about it together without having someone passing by and hurling insults at you because Rhea BaD

(or at least it used to be that way and still is, in majority)

And if you can't find any, then write your own posts and since they're on a public board, maybe someone, 2 years later or so, will come and tell you it's interesting (or not) !

As for FE16 in particular, I really found it lunar how, in August 2019 the fandom's voice was kind of unified around something, and I felt like I was the only person who had a dissenting opinion - I posted a bit about it, later found out I wasn't the only one and then I shitposted and made memes.

Nerding about proto-Adrestia is just me nerding and honeypotting about stuff based on clothes, Enbarr's coliseum and Adrestia's History of being an Empire that fell from grace and tries to MAGA - but I confess, it was also to poke fun at some seriously, uh, misguided or misinformed takes that pretend to be very serious (tm) and refer to real life history... when the author either doesn't know a thing about what they're talking about, or has an extremely biased POV that was already debunked 500 years ago.

From memory, I can remember the WTF that was the "Agarthans were like the Greeks because greek names and Nabateans stole everything from them like Romans did" when Agarthans got their tech because Sothis gave them said tech, and if someone has the Roman imagery it's definitely not the Nabateans living in a desert among themselves in kind of Shangri-La imagery, but the randoms who had a coliseum in their capital -

"Let them eat brioche", a very serious person really using slander thrown at Marie-Antoinette to support a theory claiming Nabateans don't care about humans - even if this quote was posthumously attributed to MA and there was a, let's say, huge xenophobic context back at that time which MA was hit with -

"Fodlan is set in the 12th Century trust me I have a degree" nonsense that makes me craugh, because it is historically so wrong (laugh) and I really worry about the state of education worldwide (cry) -

And the biggest winner of them all, trampling over the competition "The Church of Seiros is just like the Catholic Church, just don't talk to me about transubstantiation, heresies, christology or tenants : their temples are called Churches and leaders are bishops and they have an army and influence over other countries just like the Pope was the ruler of Europe during the Middle Ages : Trust me I have a Degree v.2"

Like, I can't believe debunking this nonsense made me check Napoleon's wiki page, something I never did when I was in High School because I was busy reading Bleach during the "Napoleon and the First Empire" lectures lol

[derekluvbot]

By Heart

a/n: happy friday ! wow me posting two times in a week, who would have thought. i got the idea for this little blurb in the shower listening to country music and it was genui so fun to write. i hope y'all enjoy !

masterlist l send me an ask l request: open

pairing: hotchreid

wordcount: 641

warnings: nothing that i can think of, just a whole lotta feelings. and probably egregious overuse of italics

"This was the first time he could her pray for love. O mighty God, what should he say?" - Chaucer

---

The well known idiom ”know by heart” is several centuries old, stemming from an inaccurate analysis of human anatomy made by the ancient Greeks. They believed that the heart, as opposed to the brain, was the center of intelligence and memory, as well as emotion. This misunderstanding was passed down through generations, thus becoming the basis for the English expression “learn by heart.” One of the first times this expression was used was in 1374 by Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde, an epic poem detailing the tragic love story of two lovers during the siege of Troy.

Spencer knows all of this. If someone asked him for the backstory, he could easily give a 15 minute lecture explaining the history, etymology, ect. That being said, personally he had never given the idiom much weight. He is of course aware that it’s not meant to be taken literally and appreciates it for what it is, a simple phrase with no scientific basis. You can’t know something by heart. The heart is nothing more than an organ, a collection of tissues and veins and blood, tasked with the job of keeping you alive. All of that is to say, it’s not a turn of phrase Spencer used often, and certainly not one that he would consider true.

And then he went and fell in love.

Because despite being a man of science, very literal in everything he does, Spencer would swear on his mother that he knows Aaron Hotchner by heart.

As unexpected (and for quite some time, denied) as the realization was, he knew it was true, just as he knew he was too far gone to do a damn thing about it. He was always observing the older man. Spencer was honestly surprised no one had yet commented on the inappropriate amount of staring he had partaken in. He wasn’t exactly subtle. Of all the years he had worked in the BAU, he can’t think of a time when he wasn’t infatuated with Hotch. But love? That came gradually over time. Beyond the unfairly handsome exterior of his unit chief, Spencer saw his character. He saw a man who was intense in all affairs of his life. A man’s whose focus, and dedication to the task at hand was unparalleled. A man who despite the carefully controlled outside appearance he put on, cared deeply and fiercely for those he loved. And if Spencer looked hard enough, he saw a man whose eyes reflected the same fondness when he looked at the young doctor.

He knows all of these things about Hotch, and the way he can feel these simple truths throughout his whole body, it’s too intense, too real, to be just mental. It can't be, not when it feels like Hotch is a part of himself. An extension of his consciousness.

There is no doubt, Spencer is unequivocally, and beyond all reasonable doubt, sure that he knows Aaron Hotchner by heart.

What else could explain the physical reaction Spencer has to him? The way a soft grin seems to creep on his face of its own accord when Hotch sends one those secret smiles (that are barely there, really) in his direction. Or the quite frankly embarrassing way his breath hitches when Hotch links their pinkies together. And the most damning piece of evidence is the almost unbearable pressure in Spencer’s chest when Hotch finally kisses him for the first time. His heart beating so hard, like it's trying to jump out the confines of Spencer’s thorax and to personally confront the man that’s turning his world upside down.

So yes, despite there being no scientific basis for it, and despite the fact that it goes against much of what Spencer believes in, Spencer knows Hotch by heart. Who knows? Maybe those Greeks were on to something after all.

[lovelyselfshipper]

Name: Charles Xavier/Professor X.

Loved Since: Forever.

Charles and I met at a bookstore when he was in my hometown on the first stop of his lecture tour (he was giving lectures on genetics and mutations). We were looking for the same book (The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz) and our hands touched as we both grabbed the same copy and we turned and saw each other, my dark green eyes locking with his cerulean blue eyes. It was love at first sight! Since there was no other copy available at the time, Charles and I agreed to jointly purchase the flower language book. We also separately purchased the other books we each had found that day (Charles got a copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen, A History of Courtship: 800 Years of Seduction by Tania O’Donnell, and The Rose Bride by Nancy Holder; I got The Complete Brambly Hedge by Jill Barklem, Artemis: Virgin Goddess of the Sun & Moon--A Comprehensive Guide to the Greek Goddess of the Hunt, Her Myths, Powers & Mysteries by Sorita d’Este, She Who Hunts: Artemis: The Goddess Who Changed the World by Carla Ionescu, PhD, and Frankenstein by Mary Shelley). Charles and I share The Complete Language of Flowers, writing our names on the inside front cover with a metallic silver Sharpie that Charles had in his satchel. We had lunch at a nearby café that day as well (Charles was a gentleman and paid for lunch)! During lunch, Charles asked me if I would like to go on the lecture tour with him to get to know me better and since the shindigs required a +1 to go and he hadn’t brought a friend with him; I happily agreed.

During the lecture tour, we discussed the topic of mutants (among a variety of other topics as well)! While we were relaxing in our hotel room, he confessed to me that he is a mutant with powerful telepathic abilities, which he demonstrated with my permission by lightly reading my mind; I then confessed to him that I am also a mutant with the ability to heal (especially through food that is either made myself or that I put my healing powers into), which I demonstrated by taking a slice of pumpkin bread (we had stopped to get a few things from a nearby grocery store) and put some of my golden sage colored healing power into it and gave it to Charles. He ate the pumpkin bread and his lower back felt better (Charles had explained his disability to me; my powers didn’t cure his disability, just healed the pain he was experiencing). I also have a secondary mutation of botanical manipulation, which I later demonstrated by reviving the dead plants in the flower pots by the hotel doors. And thus our relationship began! After the lecture tour, I moved into Xavier Mansion and live in the lady of the house’s room connected to Charles’ master bedroom. After getting to know the rest of the teaching staff and the students over the course of several months (I help Charles grade student papers, teach about cooking/baking, and proofread Charles’ research papers), Charles found a code name for me: Dolce (Italian; sweet)! I don’t go out on missions though, which is fine with me. Charles insists that I have a third mutation: my great warm hugs.

We have been close ever since, starting as friends for the longest time before confessing our mutual romantic feelings for each other one evening over dinner (Charles never pries into my thoughts without permission, unless I’m thinking too loudly, which is why he was not aware of my feelings for him until I told him) and then we began courting! After 4 years of courting, Charles proposed and I said yes! We married in the springtime near the gardens of Xavier Mansion in a beautiful nondenominational handfasting wedding ceremony surrounded by our family and friends! Afterwards, we had a garden party-style reception which was very relaxing and included some fun games to play! Charles looked so handsome in his cream floral paisley tuxedo! I looked beautiful in my modest floral wedding dress! We are so happy to finally be married! We keep our paisley patterned handfasting ribbon in a box inside a specially made hope chest at the foot of our bed, which also contains our wedding clothes and other sentimental items. Charles still loves to woo me even after we’ve been married for years!

Charles and I have many terms of endearment for each other! We both call each other love, darling, sweetheart, dearest, peony, dear, honey, sweetie, dear heart, beloved, T’hy’la, ashayam, inamorata (Italian; sweetheart), and precious to name only some (he especially prefers using Italian endearments). Charles’ other nicknames for me are Sagey, Sae, floral/petal/rosebud (due to my general love of botany), doll, starshine (due to my love of space/astronomy and love of the musical Hair), cutie/cutie pie/cute stuff, pumpkin/muffin (due to my mutation), his best girl, mama bear, and peach. My other nicknames for Charles are Chas, Cee, chai (his favorite type of tea), dreamboat, cutie/cutie pie, pumpkin, papa bear, ol’ blue eyes, my best guy/fella, and sunshine.