#is that too pretensious

[major-trouble]

Now that there's a bunch of it, maybe I should be self indulgent and make a side blog for my poetry. 'Cause, ya know, Angst.

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Question: why can't Broadway musicals tape their performance and put it up on a platform for rental while the shows still on Broadway?

Obviously you charge a fair price for the rental, make it like 48 hours and cost maybe whatever their general admission ticket costs. Then, after the musical comes off Broadway, you make that original cast recording avaliable to buy permanently (like including downloads) for that general admission ticket price and knock down the rental price.

Now you'd have to either come up with a streaming service or license it out to one which is not ideal, but it would vastly improve the availability of musical theater especially to people who live outside of New England or people who don't have thousands of dollars to drop just to go see a musical. Not to mention it could help make newer musicals more accessible and easily spread, and don't get me started on accessibility especially when it comes to physical disabilities that would disallow travel or actually seeing a musical in person. This would also allow people to see the musical and then maybe go watch it in person, which increases revenue.

It also allows a continuous revenue stream for the creative team and possibly actors (depending on how contracts are structured), particularly in cases of musicals with specific historical or literary settings that could be used in classrooms (think Hamilton, West Side Story, Fiddler on the Roof, the upcoming The Outsiders, or like every Shakespear play ever). Or even if a musical is really popular and gets a cult following like 30 years later, it would be available in a watchable format and not just as a soundtrack. Plus it'd get rid of people going to musicals for the sole purpose of uploading a slime tutorial.

[69-toojay]

I have decided to be a full time Freddie lounds apologist. She did nothing wrong ever because shes a funny gay bitch.

[dracolizardlars]

My brain every time I meet a man about my age who has shoulder length+ hair and is moderately interesting to talk to: "Oh, our perfect mate!!!!"

[birt-art]

Do you think Lydia Tár and Sandra Anatomy of a Fall would be friends.

[terrainofheartfelt]

Again, so many cool things are happening off screen and I honestly think it’s because there’s not enough episode time

Like Ryan being a black market relics dealer? Ace working in the coroner’s office? George taking college courses? Bess being the lesbian witch librarian of my dreams? Nick and everything he does? Carson and Ryan’s secret love?

[slocumjoe]

I do love isadora but my last sole survivor....he just had a zest to him. that lil guy came to me in a period of my life where I was Somewhat Deranged and my boy jesse diederik pieter willem gustav stefan boswel just has so much nostalgia for me and so much weird shit. he was my lil bug. and ive killed him

[trentlife]

I can't send the screenshot anonymously but here's part of what raya anon said:

I have tea on trent, well it's more sweet news that tea. i matched with him on that dating app that may not be names, and he truly is the sweetest gentleman as opposed to his reputation. Though I have to agree the chat lacks for which I lost interest plus he's not usually someone I usually go for but the boy's nothing like most fotballers. he's respectful, kind and not pretensious. Well done to his mama!

Also to add to this whole blonde discourse, no, he doesn't only prefer blondes. he has a strong thing for women who are small (height wise), dark eyes and dark hair too. He likes them Latina or South East Asian/Middle Eastern and older or the same age as him

+

His "type" is so different from Iris and his exes wowza

[remembertheplunge]

“March 14, 2017 Tuesday 2017

Magical. That’s how last night feels. DJ is a delight that comes out of no where. DJ offered to help clean the house. He, too, is family free. He had worked and owned a car. He dresses well. A guy yesterday told him he's too well dressed to be homeless. “What does homeless look like?” He asked me.

Before him, I gave a Trader Joe bag to a late 30’s early 40s blonde man sitting by Tresettie’s. (I later learned that his name was Jeff) I had planned to see a movie around 6pm. So, I must have met him around 5pm.  I asked if he’d like to see a movie with me. His reply “after dark” so that he could hide his shopping cart of belongings.

I bought 2 tickets to the 7:30 Logan movie, which he turned down.

So, I ordered at “T Cup” by Brenden two chicken crapes which were awful. I looked outside and there, sitting on his bag was DJ. I took food to him. Asked him to the movie. He came back into tea cup with me. We ate..well.chicken nuggets I ordered to replace the crape. Also awful. Later boxed and given to DJ.

10:25pm

DJ is here. We are eating cookies and cream ice cream. Post (watching the movie) “9”.

“9” should be called “Nine”, German for NO. “No 9”. DJ just said it. Pretensious Berkeley- ism

The 5 things:

DJ is safe here. He’s not on the street.

End of entry

Notes:

I wrote the 10:25pm part of the entry in my house. I had brought DJ back here for the night.

“9” was a movie about Modesto’s 9th Street homeless.  It was shown at the State theater downtown. DJ and I must have seen it together. In my memory, I went alone and walked out half way through it was so bad!. It apparently was shot by Berkeley film makers, thus my “pretentious” comment about their work.

I wrote the 5 things I was  grateful  that  night before bed.  I still write “the 5 things” each night before bed.

DJ was the first homeless person to stay in my house . Maybe 10 homeless men in all stayed with me in my house between March to October 2017. They stayed independently of one another for days or a week.

[taylortruther]

bit late to it but i think of pretensious as someone who associates themselves with certain cultural markers and takes themselves too seriously. it is the taking yourself too seriously (with a dash of joylessness) that is the marker imo. not the consumption

being a human being is an inherently absurd thing. like you said - lighten up!

tbh i think the biggest part of pretentiousness is how obvious it is that you're TRYING. like saying a color is "blood orange" when "red" would've been just fine (and more accurate.) boasting and otherwise behaving like you are better than others.

so yes.... lighten up. sometimes it really is just red!

[pacifymebby]

what does a24 mean? x

Theyre a film production company, they did Midsommar and i think parasite? Or hereditary idk i get the "elevated" horror movies confused. Theyve done some really good films though, I think they did Ladybird and The Lighthouse too? Some of their stuffs incredible and some of its just pretensious u know?

X

[just-some-random-blogger]

Chapter summary: Aemond dwells upon the past while trying to live without her.

The most ominous summary ever

**15 YEARS PRIOR**

DAMN OK NOT THE FLASH BACK YOUR PAST TRAUMA DO NOT MAKE UP FOR YOUR PRESENT CRIMES

Alys purses her crimson stained lips, perfectly manicured nails of the same shade brush against his cheek as she stands over him. “Oh sweetheart,” she coos, “You had to know that our little arrangement wasn’t forever.”

Oh so you LIED bout not having a sugar baby before 🤬

His heart twinges at this, what could she possibly mean? They are made for each other, two halves of the same whole. He stares at her, confused. “But I love you…”

Puppy weepy aemond... 🥺 (I don't actually give a fuck)

Alys sighs. “Look, we both got something we wanted out of this arrangement. You got to have a little fun, and I made sure I got the Harrenhal contract.”

NO I ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTAND YOU AEMOND CUZ WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

Aemond’s own flat feels too big, too empty, too quiet, when he returns to it.

YOU SAY AS YOUVE FREELOADED IN A MIDDLE CLASS HOME???????????

He’s never stopped to consider his own living space much before, preferring functionality over comfort. He is out most of the time anyway, so what does it matter as long as things do what he needs them to do? 

The musings of a lifeless robot cog in the workplace 9 to 5 machine. Get a hobby? And Therapy?

It’s only as he leans against the spotless granite of the kitchen counter that he is struck by how lifeless and sterile it is here. He’s grown used to the warmth and cosiness of being at her place; the smell of jasmine that wafts delicately in the air from the incense sticks that her and Mysaria always seem to be burning, being pressed against her on the tiny sofa, her feet in his lap as trashy TV plays just a little too loudly, the tiny space is filled with laughter, comfort and love. Dropped back into his own space he feels as though he’s been set adrift, empty and hollow, yet he has no one to blame but himself.

NO BUT I LOVE THIS FOR THEM 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 FOR THE GIRLS IN THEIR LOVELY HOME AND FOR AEMOND. SUFFER 💞💞💞💞💞💞

The bed is too big, he has too much room, he misses the feel of springs digging into his back as he curls himself around her on her tiny mattress.

?????????????????????????????????? when rich people exotify normal people things you lose me. I KNOW THAT'S NOT THE FUCKING POINT OF THIS AND WHAT HE MISSES IS HER AND HER SHITTY BED THAT IS PART OF HER BUT I CANT NOT THINK ABOUT THAT PART UGH

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face and throws the covers off, walking to the bathroom. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of painkillers to dull the throbbing ache in his left eye socket, his fingers close around something cool and metallic.

You should see a doctor. Like actually fr fr

He plucks it out, studying it carefully. It’s a bracelet of hers, probably left there accidentally from one of the few times she’s stayed over. He turns the silver bangle over in his fingers, remembering the first time he’d seen her wear it. He’d thought to himself it looked cheap, but now as he holds it it feels like the most precious treasure in the world. It’s all he has left of her.

I know this is character development but CANT FUCKING STAND HIM UGHHHHHHH CHEAP THINGS CAN BE CHARMING TOO YOU PRETENSIOUS ASSHOLE

“I’ve just put on lipgloss, Aem,” she says, her voice saccharine, “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 ok nah cuz id love to smear lipgloss on him. OK IM JUST SAYING THAT ABOUT AEMOND NOT THIS PARTICULAR MOMENT IN TIME AEMOND

DAMN FLORIS REALLY SUCKED THE LIFE OUT HIM HUH 💀💀💀 RIP AEMONDS TRUST, YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED ANNIVERSARY GIFTS

“I’ve always been miserable,” He throws his cigarette butt down onto the decking and crushes it under foot.

ITS NOT A PHASE MOM

“Hm. You know, there’s only so many times you can use that excuse before it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy,”

HELAENA ATE WITH THAT EAT HIM UPPPPP

“I mean it, Aemond. She’s your…your atlas moth! Pin mount her before somebody else does,”

Oh to be an Atlas moth about to be pinned LMAO AHAHHAH

mysaria_ww has started a live video

Aemond feels his breath catch in his throat, his heart seems to skip a beat at the sight of her and he holds his phone in trembling hands as he makes a note of the location sticker. A cocktail bar not far from here.

THIS IS WHY YOU DONT POST YOUR LOCATION GIRLS AND BOYS.

They’ve been apart for so long that he’s forgotten just how beautiful she really is. It’s like the first night he met her all over again, when he’d gotten out of the car to greet her and she’d stolen his breath away. He hadn’t let her kiss him that night, afraid she’d just be doing it for the money. He won’t make that mistake again tonight.

.... get it i guess?

He walks slowly over to her table and the way her face falls when she notices him makes it feel as though his stomach is in free fall. She looks so shocked and unhappy, she’s never not been pleased to see him. He hates this.

I love this 💞

“I let you go,” She sobs, streaks of black mascara track their way down her cheeks alongside her tears, “I respected your decision, I didn’t reach out, even though I wanted to. I left you alone, so what gives you the right to ruin girls’ night?! You broke my heart and acted like you were doing me a favour, so why the fuck should I listen to anything you have to say?!”

CHEW HIM OFFFFFFFFFFF 👺👺👺👺👺🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬❌❌❌❌💩💩💩💩💩🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 NO ONE DESECRATES GIRLS NIGHT

Come outside.

WHAT AM I A DOG?????? WHO DO THINK YOURE COMMANDING HUH????

“Because I’ve tried to live without you, and I can’t. What we had was good, so fucking good, and I threw it away because I’m a coward. Just let me make this right, please?”

You can glue glass back together but it'll always be cracked

“A replacement, so I can stay over without feeling like someone has spent all night attempting to make balloon animals with my spine.”

HERE HE IS AGAIN SHITTING ON HER BED THAT HE, WHAT WAS THAT, FUCKING MISSED UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH IF YOU HAVENT REALIZED MONEY DOESNT FIX EVERYTHING HELLO????

“Hmm,” he runs the tip of his nose against her cheek, “I’ve missed you,” he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, “none of it matters,” he kisses her other cheek, “not the money, not anything,” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “not without you,”

Actually imma need you to pay me now. Pay me right now. 😐 I'm not playing. I didn't want the money but now since you're out here replacing shit, just replace everything here. Pay her and mysaria. 😐 Pay your dues free loader.

He moans low as she sinks slowly down onto him, the tight wet heat of her enveloping him causing his balls to tighten in a way that builds steady pressure at the base of his spine.

And now we're fucking 😔😔😔😔 the flesh is weak. The dick lover is weaker

He strokes her hair as he holds tightly, gratitude and love overwhelming him. “You forgive me?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

😃 vehicular manslaughter

“I’m working on it,” she whispers back.

Imma need him to grovel for, like, 1-2 months actually. THEN he can THINK of fucking me 🙄✋

For the record, this was lovely. This was a treat 🥰🥰🥰🥰 as much as aemond stressed me out and as much as I disagree with YN 😭😭😭 I still love this fic 🫶 a petty queen like me would have NEVER bended the knee and my masochist self would have ended this in angst 💔💔💔 no happy endings for anyone 💞💞💞💞💞 YIPPEE

I love this though. It was my gift to myself after taking my college graduation pics 🫶🫶🫶 lunch with a fic on the side was such a win for the girlies.... Of course I had dinner by this point too HAHAHAHAHHAH

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Five

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Aemond dwells upon the past while trying to live without her.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The flat door clicks closed behind Aemond and he lingers in the corridor for a moment. This was for the best, he was sparing her, so why does his heart feel so heavy? Every step towards his car feels as though he’s walking through quicksand.

He loads Vhagar into the boot, throwing his overnight bag onto the backseat and sits wearily behind the wheel, gripping it with enough force to turn his knuckles white. He screws his eye shut, attempting to will away the prickling sensation around the rim, alongside the lump in his throat.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

**15 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond looks up at her from where he’s seated on the edge of the hotel bed, brows arched in pain and disbelief, as tears slip down his cheeks. “So that’s just it, you’re ending things?”

Alys purses her crimson stained lips, perfectly manicured nails of the same shade brush against his cheek as she stands over him. “Oh sweetheart,” she coos, “You had to know that our little arrangement wasn’t forever.”

His heart twinges at this, what could she possibly mean? They are made for each other, two halves of the same whole. He stares at her, confused. “But I love you…”

She laughs, green eyes crinkling with mirth and the sight and sound is a dagger to his chest.

“You don’t love me,” she says, her tone condescending, “You’re barely twenty, you don’t know what love is. You just like the idea of an older woman.”

He shakes his head, feeling himself become angry at her cold dismissal of his feelings. “Then why? Why bother with me?”

Alys sighs. “Look, we both got something we wanted out of this arrangement. You got to have a little fun, and I made sure I got the Harrenhal contract.”

Bile rises in Aemond’s throat, his eye narrowing hatefully as he stares at her, acrid warmth spreading throughout his chest.

She’d used him.

**PRESENT DAY**

Aemond’s own flat feels too big, too empty, too quiet, when he returns to it. The pitter patter of Vhagar’s claws against the hardwood floor as she potters towards her bed is the only audible sound.

He’s never stopped to consider his own living space much before, preferring functionality over comfort. He is out most of the time anyway, so what does it matter as long as things do what he needs them to do? 

It’s only as he leans against the spotless granite of the kitchen counter that he is struck by how lifeless and sterile it is here. He’s grown used to the warmth and cosiness of being at her place; the smell of jasmine that wafts delicately in the air from the incense sticks that her and Mysaria always seem to be burning, being pressed against her on the tiny sofa, her feet in his lap as trashy TV plays just a little too loudly, the tiny space is filled with laughter, comfort and love. Dropped back into his own space he feels as though he’s been set adrift, empty and hollow, yet he has no one to blame but himself.

The bed is too big, he has too much room, he misses the feel of springs digging into his back as he curls himself around her on her tiny mattress. This bed doesn’t feel like home, not anymore, not since he’d laid her down upon it all those nights ago, put her legs over his shoulders and…fucked it all up by leaving without saying anything the next day, just like he fucks up everything. She’d given him a second chance and he’d squandered it.

No, he did what he needed to.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face and throws the covers off, walking to the bathroom. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of painkillers to dull the throbbing ache in his left eye socket, his fingers close around something cool and metallic.

He plucks it out, studying it carefully. It’s a bracelet of hers, probably left there accidentally from one of the few times she’s stayed over. He turns the silver bangle over in his fingers, remembering the first time he’d seen her wear it. He’d thought to himself it looked cheap, but now as he holds it it feels like the most precious treasure in the world. It’s all he has left of her.

How had he allowed things to go this far? It was only ever supposed to be transactional but he’d allowed it to evolve, letting her occupy a space in his heart and mind that left them both vulnerable. He ended things, not wanting to cause her unnecessary pain and yet in doing so has devastated them both.

Aemond doesn’t do love or relationships. Not even his own family can stand him, so how can he expect another person to feel that way about him, or open himself up to the possibility of having those feelings for someone else? It’s a path he’s trodden before and it doesn’t end well.

**5 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond leans in to kiss Floris, she turns her head and he catches her cheek instead.

“I’ve just put on lipgloss, Aem,” she says, her voice saccharine, “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“Mm. Was just about to leave, love,” He tells her, grabbing his keys.

“Forgetting something?” She says with a slight pout and tilt of her head.

“Ah, of course,” he fishes his credit card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands it over to her, smirking as the diamond of her engagement ring glitters with the movement of her fingers, “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“You too!” She calls over her shoulder, already walking back towards the bedroom.

It’s not until Aemond is almost at his car that he realises he’s left his phone in the flat and heads back upstairs to retrieve it. As he opens the front door he can hear Floris on the phone, only able to pick up on her side of the conversation, he pauses to listen in.

“...I can only put him off for so long. I have to do it occasionally, otherwise he’d get suspicious. It’s that horrible prosthetic eye, it gives me the creeps–”

“...only a few months until the wedding, then I can get a quickie divorce and take half of everything–”

“...no, he hasn’t made me sign a pre-nup, he’s too obsessed with me for that–”

Aemond’s breath catches in his throat as a dull ache spreads its way through his chest. He slams the front door hard enough to alert Floris that he’s home and strides towards the bedroom.

**PRESENT DAY**

The next few weeks are a miserable dirge for Aemond. He buries himself in paperwork at work, in an attempt to push away thoughts of her, yet finds his mind wandering to how she might be spending the working day, whether she’s finally managed to get the museum to commission the exhibit she’s been pushing for or not. He considers dropping by the museum, just to see if he can watch her from a distance, but decides against it. It was his decision to end things, it was for the best, the least he owed her was to stay away.

Aemond sits on his couch in the evenings, the cold, hard leather unwelcoming against his back, the space too expansive as he attempts to watch the same trashy TV on his widescreen that he’d watched with her on her TV. He finds he couldn’t give less of a shit about which couples are voted off of Love Island or who scored the lowest on Come Dine With Me, for him the experience was about being snuggled up next to her on the sofa, feeling her warmth, hearing her laugh. Now she’s gone, and none of the things that accompanied that seem to matter.

Family functions are unbearable without her. He misses the way she’d smile up at him when he placed his hand at the small of her back, misses how effortlessly she converses with his family, even the members he struggles to get along with.

Without her to keep him grounded, he bickers with Aegon, is aloof with his mother and Helaena and actively goes out of his way to antagonise his nephews. He hasn’t just reverted back to old habits, he’s worse, and it’s obvious his family have begun to notice too. He elects just to stay away entirely when invitations are extended.

That is until the night of Helaena’s birthday party. His only sister would never forgive him if he didn’t show up, so grudgingly he goes to the gathering his mother is having for her at her place. 

He stands out on the decking, the same decking where he’d shared his first kiss with her, the memory plays on a loop in his head, he can still taste the red wine on her lips. 

The cherry red tip of his cigarette as he takes a drag provides further illumination alongside the soft glow of the lights through the windows of the house, and the moon that shines bright in the night sky. 

It’s quiet, save for the muffled bass of the music coming from inside. It gets louder as the French doors slide open for a moment, quieting once more as they slide closed.

Aemond rolls his eye, blowing out a tight line of smoke, his shoulders tensing. He wants to be left alone, he had hoped that escaping to the garden would have made that perfectly clear to everyone.

“It’s just me,” Helaena says softly, coming to stand beside him.

Aemond softens, glancing down at her, his gaze drawn to the bubbles that rise to the top of the glass in the gin and tonic that she’s taking delicate sips from.

“Happy birthday, Hel,” he says, facing forward again and taking another drag.

“It’d be happier if you’d actually come inside,” She nudges him gently with her elbow.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be,”

“What’s going on with you? You’re miserable lately.”

“I’ve always been miserable,” He throws his cigarette butt down onto the decking and crushes it under foot.

“You were less miserable when you had your girlfriend. I liked the guy that you were when you were with her,”

“She’s not my girlfriend, never was,” Aemond’s tone is clipped, he purses his lips as he feels irritation prickle at his skin.

“Why not?” Helaena taps the rings on her fingers gently against her glass.

“She deserves better than me. I’ve spared her the inevitable hurt I’d cause her,”

“Hm. You know, there’s only so many times you can use that excuse before it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy,”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve ended things because you don’t want to hurt her, but I bet doing that has hurt her, and you,”

Aemond scoffs, “I don’t do relationships, Hel,”

She huffs a quiet laugh, “No, I don’t do relationships because I’m aroace. You do do relationships, Aemond, you’ve just made crappy choices in the past and you’re allowing fear to dictate your future,”

He narrows his eye, glancing towards her again, “And how do you know so much?”

“I’m incredibly fussy about the insects I choose for pin-mounting, and those just go on my wall. I’m even more particular when it comes to people. I’ve seen how you two look at each other, don’t chuck this away,”

“Hel–”

“I mean it, Aemond. She’s your…your atlas moth! Pin mount her before somebody else does,”

“A truly horrifying metaphor, but thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles warmly, “You gonna come inside now?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go. Do you mind?”

“Gonna go get your girl?” She asks with a grin.

“Perhaps,” he says with a bow of his head.

Helaena deposits her drink on the railing and claps her hands together excitedly. “Then of course I don’t mind, go!”

Aemond pulls out his phone as he gets into his car, seeing the Instagram notification pop up on his lockscreen.

mysaria_ww has started a live video

Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he clicks on the notification and startles slightly as pounding music blares from his phone’s speaker. The camera sweeps shakily over a couple of obnoxiously lurid drinks before it lands on her.

Aemond feels his breath catch in his throat, his heart seems to skip a beat at the sight of her and he holds his phone in trembling hands as he makes a note of the location sticker. A cocktail bar not far from here.

He locks his phone and is starting the car before he has time to properly think about it.

The bar is dimly lit, the music not to Aemond’s taste and far louder than he’s comfortable with. It’s the type of place that has seemingly endless happy hours and serves drinks that are mostly ice. He bristiles uncomfortably as he descends the steps, but refuses to be deterred. He needs to speak to her.

He freezes when he sees her. Her elbow is propped against the edge of the table, her chin resting on her hand, an easy smile graces her lips as she listens intently to whatever Mysaria is whispering to her.

They’ve been apart for so long that he’s forgotten just how beautiful she really is. It’s like the first night he met her all over again, when he’d gotten out of the car to greet her and she’d stolen his breath away. He hadn’t let her kiss him that night, afraid she’d just be doing it for the money. He won’t make that mistake again tonight.

He walks slowly over to her table and the way her face falls when she notices him makes it feel as though his stomach is in free fall. She looks so shocked and unhappy, she’s never not been pleased to see him. He hates this.

“Can we talk?” He raises his voice to be heard above the music as he reaches their table.

She shakes her head, climbing unsteadily from her bar stool and grabbing her bag. “Oh, I am too drunk for this…”

He watches in dismay as she staggers away, flanked by Mysaria, before deciding to follow them both outside.

“Hey, wait–” He says, reaching for her, and she whips around, eyes wide and mouth tightened in anger.

“I’ll be right here,” Mysaria says softly to her, stepping to the side and pulling up the Uber app on her phone.

“No, you wait!” She shouts at him, “I have spent weeks trying to get over you. You don’t get to make someone fall in love with you and then act like that’s nothing!”

She’s in love with him?! 

He feels his chest tighten at the admission, standing there dumbfounded, he allows her to continue.

“I let you go,” She sobs, streaks of black mascara track their way down her cheeks alongside her tears, “I respected your decision, I didn’t reach out, even though I wanted to. I left you alone, so what gives you the right to ruin girls’ night?! You broke my heart and acted like you were doing me a favour, so why the fuck should I listen to anything you have to say?!”

Because I love you too.

He can’t say anything, as much as he wants to, his throat has run dry. His fingers flex uselessly by his sides, longing to reach out and wipe away the tears and make up that have run down her face.

She’s pulled away by Mysaria as an Uber pulls up to the curb and he can do nothing but watch helplessly as they drive away.

You’re losing her. Do something.

Sleep does not come for Aemond. The image of her tears plays over and over in his mind as he tosses and turns, tears from hurt that he’d caused her. 

He has experienced crying in relationships before; he’d cried when Alys ended things, but he was young and stupid and thought he was in love with a woman twice his age. Floris had bawled when he’d confronted her about what he’d overheard, but they were the crocodile tears of a desperate woman caught out for being a gold digger.

Aemond has never seen the real anguish of heartbreak before, at least not on another person, and he never wants to see it again. He has to make this right. It’s not until he feels the drip from his jaw onto his collarbone that he realises that after weeks of holding them in, his own tears have begun to fall.

It is almost midday the next day when Aemond has everything he needs prepared. The big white van he parks outside of her block of flats is cumbersome to drive in comparison to his sleek, black sports car, but he hopes the inconvenience will be worth it.

Come outside.

He texts her, relieved when the bubble displays as delivered, at least she hasn’t blocked his number.

He climbs out of the van, leaning against it, heart pounding as he looks up to see the curtains of her living room window twitch.

A few moments later she’s stepping outside, a look of confusion on her face. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” Aemond says, “Letting you go was a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I fucked it up, it’s what I do, I fuck things up. But I’m sorry, and I want to be with you, whatever that looks like for you. I want to do this properly.”

“Why are you doing all of this now?” She asks, folding her arms defensively.

“Because I’ve tried to live without you, and I can’t. What we had was good, so fucking good, and I threw it away because I’m a coward. Just let me make this right, please?”

She sighs, “What’s in the van?”

He motions for her to follow him, and opens up the back, revealing a brand new mattress, still in its plastic wrap.

“A replacement, so I can stay over without feeling like someone has spent all night attempting to make balloon animals with my spine.”

“Presumptuous of you,” She says with a raise of her eyebrows.

Aemond shrugs, “I’m all in,”

She runs her hands through her hair, eyes flitting between him and the mattress. “How the fuck are we supposed to get this upstairs?”

He smirks. “There are removal people coming in an hour, they’ll take your old one away and bring this one up,”

“And what happens if I say no?”

“Well, that’s why I told them to leave it an hour, so I’d have time to cancel in case you did,”

He can see her fighting against the smile that tugs against the corners of her mouth. “I’m not letting you off that easily,”

“I know,” He says, taking a step towards her.

“So what do we do for the next hour?”

“We could give that old, lumpy thing on your bed upstairs a final send off,” he reaches for her and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re pushing it,” she whispers.

“Hmm,” he runs the tip of his nose against her cheek, “I’ve missed you,” he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, “none of it matters,” he kisses her other cheek, “not the money, not anything,” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “not without you,”

When their lips finally meet it is slow and soft, and a contented sound rumbles within Aemond’s chest. It feels like he’s taking his first breath of air in weeks.

They waste no time in helping each other out of their clothes as they hurry upstairs. He smirks to himself as he lays back against the bed, feeling the familiar springs dig into his back, he pulls her to straddle him, allowing her to set a pace she’s comfortable with.

He moans low as she sinks slowly down onto him, the tight wet heat of her enveloping him causing his balls to tighten in a way that builds steady pressure at the base of his spine.

Gazing up at her with reverence, fingers digging into the plushness of her hips, he watches transfixed as her breasts bounce softly with each undulation, committing to memory every breathy moan and gasp. She feels like home, and it has never felt better to return.

When she eventually collapses against his chest, tightening and spasming around him as she falls apart, she takes him with her and he grunts as he feels himself pulsate and spill deep inside of her.

He strokes her hair as he holds tightly, gratitude and love overwhelming him. “You forgive me?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m working on it,” she whispers back.

“I can wait,” he reassures her, “I’m all in.”

[misty-groves]

Talia raises Ivy au!

So in the usual "canon" for my oc verse Talia has Ivy, thinks Ra's will punish her and her baby, and gives Ivy to Bruce with a note of apology and the girl's name when she's like, three months old.

In this one, Talia chooses to be selfish and raise her baby herself. She never tells Bruce.

Ra's is like "Holy shit, a piece of Batman for the leauge? Make this infant my heir!" Except he's like 9 thousand so he's more pretensious.

Ivy is raised as the heir of Ra's all Ghul. She is taught to be stealthy, silent, and deadly.

She earns the nick name "Demon's Hawk" through the leauge and their enemies.

By seven she is better than most people in the leauge.

She is Talia's pride and joy. She's spoiled but like, also traumatized becuase ypu can't be raised by Talia and her dad and nor be kind of fucked up.

Then Damian is born when Ivy is about nine.

Despite what many expect, she is FASCINATED by Damian as an infant. He's so squishy and soft. And he can't do anything?

The first time Damian grabs her finger with little 4/5 month old hands and squeezes she is smitten. He's just so cute and he's stronger than she expected

Ivy is actually really good with Damian. And he is just enamored with her.

As a baby Damian likes to grab her curls and tug.

So now Damian and Ivy are close, she's super protective.

Damian is raised to be Ivy's bodyguard this time. By age four he is always at her side even if he isn't the official body faurd.

Jason shows up and is angry at everything.

He's flipping out and throws something towards a wall but it almost hits Damian. Ivy catches it before she throws it back "Don't throw things at my baby brother!"

Jason turns, haf angry half surprised.

Ivy is like 5'4 at her full adult height. So She jas never been tall.

Jason just stares. "What?"

"You almost hit Damian." Ivy levels a glare that could freeze over he'll.

Damian just crosses his arms and imitates his sister's glare. "You almost hit me."

Jason is like "who is this angry girl and her chihuahua brother?"

But he takes to her quickly becoming she's so fiercely protective. She's kind- in a warped way.

Talia appoints Jason Ivy's official body gaurd when she sees the two are on good terms.

Ivy hears how Bruce (supposedly) abandoned and eventually replaced him. She's a ride or die person as always and goes "fuck him"

So now we have Jason, a feral pit fueled bodyguard who's quickly attached to the only people who challenge and protect him. Damian, a bodyguard in training with too much sass and a problem with hiding knives sin his sleeves. You also have Ivy, who has been taught violence and is so fiercely protective of her people it is a sight.

Ivy, Jason, and Damia and Ivy are like Hella co-dependant. They don't know what healthy patterns are.

They love eachother so much but like also- violently?

Someone upsets Damian? Ivy cuts off their finger and gifts it to the boy.

Jason sees some creep upset Ivy? They're dead.

Damian is as likely to throw a knife as he is to demand an apology for the other two.

Talia is thrilled. Her three children are super close and also probably won't stab eachother in the back for power.

When Jason goes to Gotham on an Approved Vengeance Fieldtrip Ivy and Damian end up sneaking along.

Talia knows they did, she just let's them and plays dumb later.

So Ivy (16 1/2), Damian (7), and Jason (19 ish) are all in Gotham.

Jason is like "I can't believe you two snuck out and risked Ra's Al Ghul's wrath. That was so dumb" except he's actually really touched because he's never had people go so far for him with so little hesitation.

Ivy is out grabbing something and runs into Bruce Wayne, who reacts- well he reacts.

Ivy looks a LOT like Martha, but with a darker skin tone and Talia's nose. (Bruce looks like her to but his features are a little more square and his nose his father's)

Bruce is like "OH HI- UH!"

And Ivy is like "Playboy Billionair Bruce Wayne? What ate you doing at a shotty motel?"

Bruce is just like "gotta go teenager wearing my dead mothers face!"

Ivy goes back to the little apartment she's renting under the table with Jason and Damian, amd is like "met our shitty dad, he was weird."

At this point Ivy and Damian are creating their own mask personal because they're not just letting Jason go out and commit crimes alone

Ivy leans into the bird nicknames she's gotten over the years and starts going by Corvid. She wears mostly black and grey with small accents of crimson.

Damian is like "My siblings have such cool names I want a cool name!" Except he's an edgy traumatized blood thirsty seven year old.

So Damian chooses the name Demon Spawn, thinking the nickname Jason gave him was Super Cool

Batman is concerned about all of the crimes but especially the new criminal that is very clearly a child under ten. (Robin aged!)

Ivy has heard Jason's view on things so she is just anti Batman. She's also against the new Robin. She has a grufge against Batgirl, Oracle, and Nightwing on principal but to a lesser degree.

Damian still has a sword by the way.

Batman is really concerned.

After the big reveal and blow up Something happens to Ivy and Damian that makes Jason have to go to Bruce for help.

Jason is like "you owe me, you're saving the only two ride or die people I have."

Bruce is like "not only are they children but you ASKED ofc I will help."

They go to wherever Ivy and Damian ended up being held only to find the two have unkidnapped themselves, and for Damian to attack Bruce immediately.

If you know how feral Ivy and Damian and Jason are in the usual verse, they are worse and more toxic but like, put of love.

If you separate them they are NOT okay, they get feral and mean and jumpy and cruel.

But like, there's (lovin) manipulation all over the place. If Jason is endangering himself Ivy just stops eating until Jason stops.

Damian will take away their things to get what he needs them to do for themselves.

Honestly Jason post pit and full of rage is still better at healthy relationships than the Al Ghul siblings.

Once they're out they start learning that apparently they are not doing things right?

They start therapy (and traumatized their therapists) and start healing.

[beacarrot]

May, 2024.

I took a long while to put this in words, 'cause the truth was unclear,

I remember your magnetic entrance, but how you left and it's not near,

I promised a song,

But you do it better,

So I'll keep that pretensious promise strong.

This time I was there,

I can touch this photograph with care,

Freeze it in a frame,

Safely hidden, out of woods,

And let it be,

Where I can place it to move again, eternally,

In slow motion,

It wasn't like pictures stuck on my wall,

We went wild without a single stall,

Turning glasses, that were discarded on the floor,

The crowd trembled with every word you swore,

My heart beat with a single unease,

The appeal that adorns the wish that this is was the very first page,

Not where this story takes its flight.

Not where this story ends.

I'll die a little each day feeling your absence,

It was the first time,

But today I felt I’ve missed you all this time,

You showed me a world anew,

I’m stuck because now I don't want to undo,

I can't go back,

I’m desolate because I can’t live without you, not being safe and intact,

When the lights came on, I scraped my knees on the lawn,

Spending life waiting for you to return before dawn,

Declaring you with my intoxicating forever,

I’ll hate myself more, deep down from core and above,

'Cause no word in the world will ever be enough,

And blaming my creative spark for being fault and rough,

I always knew deep down, I wasn’t the resilient type like a tough,

And all I can say,

Is that while I live,

I’ll remember,

And while I die,

I’ll still love you.

Who’s gonna stop us from dancing through the flames?

Above the wires where crows and gulls alight,

Every word stored, every night, scarlet smoke’s light,

They passed through our peripheral sight,

Slowly boarding every moment away,

Seeing you,

I was like a deer ahead of headlights, astray,

Like that tatto above your scar,

And this story will be written by bruised on my hips too.

What a folly, I thought I’d found my life’s sense,

Then I realized,

I was golden, but you were an eternal blue expanse,

Then you touched me, and suddenly,

I felt I could breathe once again,

Everything comes back to mind,

14 years, the world was black and white,

For me to paint with colors matte or bright.

A dreaming boy, a storyteller’s aim,

Hoping a big city would catch his name,

You knew how to beat all theories so lame,

Playing records backwards, not the same,

Never found your shadow,

With your heart trapped in a London booth,

And every time we forgot why to love you,

You make sure to remind us.

I hope my painting's in your hands,

And it could sliding through your fingers, where it stands,

And you can feel each pulse spended of my veins,

From my false courage,

From an unintended free fall,

I hope the translation meets my emotion’s demand,

Capturing the essence of my one-sided passion,

But deep down, I know it might not land,

Words are shallow, and art is pretty, but not as a heart so opened.

And all I could say,

Is that while I live,

I’ll remember,

And while I die,

I’ll still love you,

'Cause there I was again that night,

Dressed in that little black dress so tight,

The same old, tired, and lonely heart in sight,

With my vacant eyes, drumming,

I saw your face,

Contrasting each overlapping study,

Countering every studied embrace,

Danced on my room’s laminate floor,

On the way home, I saw sparks I couldn’t ignore,

Wonderstruck,

Wishing you on my doorstep’s place,

Would you have read my letter’s trace,

I’d open the door and you’d know,

That I’m enchanted to meet you.

(P.S: This text I wrote inspired by the day I went to my favourite singer's concert, the gig was unreal, but the next day it drove me crazy with the feeling of emptiness. In the song there are some snippets from Taylor Swift's song "Enchanted". Thanksss!!!!!!)

Signed: Beatriz Ranzonni. 🩵

[miraruinada]

"ALL THIS INTERVENTION HAS TAUGHT ME IS THAT MY STUDENTS ARE ALL FAILURES! MY SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT COMMANDMENT AND IMPERATIVE WAS 'KNOW THYSELF', AND THIS IS WHAT MY TEACHINGS HAVE GIVEN YOU?! IOVAN, YOU ARE TOO FUCKING ARROGANT AND PRETENSIOUS! IGNACIO, YOU'RE WORSE THAN A PEASANT, YOU'RE A FUCKING DOORMAT WEAK TO PEER PRESSURE! HUGO, YOU HAVE LITERALLY NO PRESENCE! JEHTIN, YOU'RE A FUCKING DISCIPLE! ANACAONA, YOU ARE TOO MELANCHOLIC AND ATTACH YOURSELF TO PEOPLE OUT OF LONELINESS!"

"Ohoho, I sure am."

"DOORMAT?!"

"No presence..."

"Mi Comandante, can I kill him?"

"Oh..."

"ALL MY STUDENTS ARE MORONS! MY LIFE'S WORK WAS FOR NOTHING! NO ONE UNDERSTOOD ME, AND THE ONE PERSON WHO UNDERSTOOD ME DIDN'T UNDERSTAND ME! I'M GOING INTO MY STUDY AND CHIEFING TEN CARTONS OF CIGARETTES!"

"...What did I miss?"

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

June 4, 2024

BONKERS OVER VERDICT — MIKE LEE WANTS PAYBACK

Utah's Sen. Mike Lee has had it with all the injustice done to his hero Donald Trump. The Biden White House just convicted Trump of 34 felonies for falsification of business records and Lee's not going to take it. The toady-for-life has joined with seven other trumpriots: Sens. J.D. Vance (R-Ohio), Tommy Tuberville (R-Ala.), Eric Schmitt (R-Mo.), Marsha Blackburn (R-Tenn.), Rick Scott (R-Fla.), Roger Marshall (R-Kan.) and Marco Rubio (R-Fla.), who will hold their collective breaths until all meaningful work in the U.S. Senate crawls to a stop. “The White House has made a mockery of the rule of law and fundamentally altered our politics in un-American ways,” they wrote in a letter sent by stork to the big judge in the sky. President Joe Biden and his minions have weaponized the legal system that led to 34 unanimous guilty verdicts issued by a jury of Trump's peers. “Those who turned our judicial system into a political cudgel must be held accountable.” Some hinted he may toilet-paper Jenny Wilson's house, since the Salt Lake County mayor is one of the only Democrats in Utah. But what about that thing where Trump could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and get away with it. Well, no more — and you know it's gotta be Biden's fault.

FLYING DRIVERLESS TAXIS, OH MY!

Here's a recent headline from the Deseret News: “Would you get on a flying taxi without a pilot?” (Expletive deleted) No! We're not kiddin' about this Wilson. They're coming and there's nothing we can do about it. And you thought The Jetsons — the animated futuristic comedy of the 1960s — where people got around in flying cars would never happen. Never say never. Still, if the driverless automobile taxis in San Francisco are any indicator, we could be in for some scary rides. The San Francisco autonomous taxis malfunctioned regularly causing massive traffic jams all over the city; they blocked streets impeding emergency vehicles; they drove through wet cement and generally scared the hell out of everyone. The California DMV finally suspended their use. But get this: An outfit called Project Alta says it will have operational air taxis in Salt Lake City in time for the 2034 Winter Olympics. (No site of the 2034 Games has not been selected, although Salt Lake City is in the running.) You're right Wilson, it does sound like pie in the sky. And what if the pie falls out of the sky? What's the polite way to say squashed bodies. Collateral damage? On a positive note, the sky taxis could be a perfect compliment to the proposed space-age “entertainment district” downtown — The Jetsons would love it.

LORDY, THEY'RE WEAPONIZING THE FLAG, TOO

No one in their right mind could possibly think that an upside-down American flag flying at the house of Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito could mean he supports Jan. 6 rioters, election deniers or Donald Trump. So said Alito in a pretensious letter to Sens. Richard Durbin and Sheldon Whitehouse regarding their plea to Chief Justice John Roberts that Alito be recused from the case of Trump v. United States. It's like this, Alito said, “My wife did it!” He asked her to take the flag down but she told him to stuff it. As to the “Appeal to Heaven” flag flown at his beach house, well, “My wife did that, too,” Alito said. (Both flags have been adopted by MAGA and election deniers.) Alito's wife, Marth-Ann, has First Amendment rights, too, he barked. And she's quite the battle axe so he doesn't like to mess with her. Dems observe that Alito clearly has the appearance of bias in favor of Trump and his claim of total immunity when he directed a mob to attack the Capitol on Jan. 6. Balderdash, Alito exclaimed. No reasonable person who is not motivated by politics or ideology could possibly think he's biased because he keeps his Christian Nationalist predilections to himself. Democrats have weaponized flags and other stuff, Alito said, like the free vacations he gets from billionaires. It totally sucks, right Martha-Ann.

Post script — That'a a wrap for another fun-filled week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of presidential polling, so you don't have to. Well Wilson, Trump was found guilty of 34 class E felonies. Now, the BIG question: Will it help him or hurt him in the Nov. 5 election. Some pundits say it will give him a boost because it will energize his base. Within hours of the guilty verdict his campaign took in more than $60 million in contributions. But other observers say, not so fast — undecided voters might not want a convicted felon in the White House. Yes Wilson, that would make a good bumper sticker: Let's Put A Felon In The White House. It's funny how that works in a backwards kinda of way. Biden and Trump will square off in debate on June 27 and that could, according to Dan Balz of the Washington Post, bring into focus two questions undecided voters must ask themselves. One: Which candidate poses the bigger threat to the future of the country? Two: which candidate will make the lives of Americans better than they are today? On the other hand, if it turns into a WWE wrestling match, well who knows... Titan Trump with his signature bodyslam vs. Batman Biden and his sneaky snake chokehold. Get the popcorn, Louise, it's going to be The Thrilla in Atlanta.

Well shucks Wilson, poor old Martha-Ann Alito, she's been havin' a time of it and of course so has her Sammy Pooh. So the staff here at Smart Bomb is wondering if you and the guys in the band don't have a little something up your sleeve for the couple of the moment:

When a man loves a woman, Can't keep his mind on nothin' else, He'd change the world for the good thing he's found. If she is bad, he can't see it, She can do no wrong, Turn his back on his best friend if he put her down. When a man loves a woman, He'll spend his very last dime Tryin' to hold on to what he needs. He'd give up all his comforts And sleep out in the rain, If she said that's the way It ought to be. Well, this man loves you, woman. I gave you everything I have, Tryin' to hold on to your heartless love. Baby, please don't treat me bad. When a man loves a woman, Down deep in his soul, She can bring him such misery. If she is playin' him for a fool, He's the last one to know. Lovin' eyes can never see.

(When a Man Loves a Woman — Percy Sledge)