#learn to distinct it from it's author.

[little-noko]

hey i saw your last post, and i understand that you like hp despite it's flaws, and i'm not sure if you knew or not but the fanbase has become quite the terf breeding ground in previous years because of Joanne and her bigotry and has become a symbol for that bigotry making hp content can invite these people to your community and is an immediate red flag for trans people

i don't mean to sound like an ass about this, it's hard to be delicate on this topic, there's just so many people who refuse to listen when we say that there's more to it than just the author

there's people who've explained this better than me i hope you take this into consideration

-a concerned non-binary ☆

I do understand the concern, but I would like to disagree.

The fact that it is considered a delicate topic baffles me. You know what baffles me even more ? People bullying and telling people who like something to kill themselves.

As much as JK Rolling is doing lots of trouble for the trans community, her PAST work still gave wonder to the young generation that read it. The positive fever that overcame people by that time made this franchise loved across the globe enough to make a movie series which was unheard off.

Her accomplishment doesn't make her less of a terrible person, and I despise her for her bigoted ideals.

But people need to make the distinction between liking something and liking the person who made said thing, because lemme you on on something.

Most things you like, use or consume has made by an cut throat asshole. Assassin's creed ? Everyone LOVED IT until they find out about the sexual harassment at EA. Walt Disney? Sorry but he wasn't the best guy either, he just had big ideas.

If me wanting to draw harry potter content despite HATING JK Rolling upsets you that much, you can unfollow.

You can support trans AND love the world of harry potter.

Terfs ? Get the hell out of here you piece of shit.

[mortalityplays]

"how do you just know this" is a question I get asked a lot, because I tend to be someone who can contribute unusual facts or insight on whatever topic a casual conversation turns to, and I never know how to answer because "I pay attention" sounds rude and isn't super actionable. but that is really it, I just take an active interest when I encounter something curious or unusual.

like recently one of my friends linked me a funny paragraph from a very badly written erotic novel. it was so bad that I thought "I wonder if this is real", so we looked up the book it was from and learned it was a vintage horny housewife type story by someone who wrote a lot of shitty cheap porn back in the 80s, all of which now seems to be completely out of print.

in the course of googling the author, I discovered that one of their works had been cited in a 2004 court case over a prisoner's right to keep erotic novels in his personal library after the prison confiscated them. a bit more googling turned up the case details in a legal database. the guy had received the books by mail and kept them, among others, in his cell. the prison seized them, citing a policy against prisoners having pornography. his lawyers argued that 1. erotic novels are distinct from pornography because they have artistic and expressive content beyond the depiction of sex acts, and 2. since he received them by mail they are therefore protected under his constitutional right to freely access non-disruptive information from outside the prison. I don't know if he got his books back, but he won his case.

then we googled the defendant and found out he was in prison for helping a woman to drug and murder his boss (who she lived with), mutilate the body with acid and dump him in a ravine.

anyway my point is, take an interest. that's how you learn weird stuff.

[trans-axolotl]

one of the reasons it's really hard for a lot of intersex people when intersex topics are on the news cycle is because the public's reaction reveals how little anyone knows or cares about intersex people, including people who call themselves our allies. almost every time intersex topics are trending, the discourse surrounding them is filled with misinformation. people who only learned today what the word intersex means jump into conversations and act like an authority. endosex/dyadic/perisex people get tripped up over things that are basically intersex 101, with tons of endosex people incorrectly arguing about the definition of intersex, who "counts," DSD terminology, and so much more. i've seen multiple endosex people say today that they've been "warning intersex people" and that we should have known that transphobia would catch up with us eventually, which is an absolutely absurd thing to say given the fact that consistently over the past ten years, it has often been intersex people sounding the alarm on sex-testing policies and also the fact that many, many intersex people are also trans, and already are facing the impacts of transphobia. there is an absolute failure from the general public to take intersex identity seriously; people seem not even able to fathom that intersex people have a community, history, and our own political resources. instead, endosex people somehow seem to think they're helping by bringing up half-remembered information from their high school biology class which usually isn't even relevant at all.

and this frustrates me so fucking much. not because i want to deny the impacts of transphobic oppression--i'm a trans intersex person, trust me when i say i am intimately aware of transphobia. this frustrates me because there is no way we can achieve collective liberation if our "allies" fail to even engage with basic intersex topics and are seemingly unaware of the many forms of intersex oppression that we are already facing every fucking day. if you are not aware of compulsory dyadism, if you are not aware of interphobia, if you are not aware of the many different ways that intersex people are directly and often violently targeted--how the fuck do you think we're going to dismantle all of these systems of oppression?

if you were truly an intersex ally, you would already KNOW that this is not new, and would not be surprised--interphobia in sports has been going on for decades. you would know that we do have a community, an identity, a history--you would have already read/listened/watched to intersex resources that give you the background information you need for allyship. you would know that although there is a really distinct lack of resources and political education, that intersex people ARE developing a political understanding of ourselves and our oppression--Cripping Intersex by Celeste Orr and their framework of compulsory dyadism is one example of how we're theorizing our oppression. It's absolutely fucking wild to me how few people I've seen actually use words like "interphobia" "intersexism" "compulsory dyadism" or "intersex oppression"--endosex people are seemingly incapable of recognizing that there is already an entrenched system of oppression towards intersex people that violently reshapes our bodies, restricts our autonomy, and attempts to eradicate intersex through a variety of medical and legal means.

you cannot treat intersex people like an afterthought. not just because we're meaningful parts of your community and deserving of solidarity, but also because intersex oppression impacts everyone!!! especially trans community--trans people will not be free until intersex people are free, so much of transphobia is shaped by compulsory dyadism, the mythical sex binary, all these ideas of enforced "biological sex" that are just as fake as the gender binary.

it makes me absolutely fucking livid every time this shit happens because it becomes so abundantly clear to me how little the average endosex person knows about intersex issues and also how little the average endosex person cares about changing that. i don't know what to say to get you to care, to get you to change that, but we fucking need it to happen and i, personally, am tired of constantly being grateful when i meet an endosex person who knows the bare minimum. i think we have a right to expect better and to demand that if you're going to call yourself our ally, you actually fucking listen to us when we tell you what that means.

okay for endosex people to reblog.

[decolonize-the-everything]

Hey if you:

Hate the military (industrial complex)

Are American 🦅 and/or

Are scared about project 2025

Trans/genderqueer 🏳️‍⚧️

Someone who generally cares about people around the planet🇵🇸🇸🇩🇨🇩

I need you to know:

the US Senate has started considering spending $911 billion dollars on the military to erode more human rights.

And the act to do so already passed through one dem-controlled committee.

It passed after anti-trans amendments were added

Links and such below the cut

TLDR: The military hates trans Palestinians and trans Americans and will systematically harm both in 2025 unless someone does something about it so now is a great time to do something about it. We have til about August to convince our reps this is a Bad Move.

The Fiscal Year 2025 NDAA authorizes a topline of $911.8 billion for military and national security programs at the Department of Defense and Department of Energy.

"The United States Senate’s committee report for the 2025 National Defense Authorization Act, which provides funding for the U.S. Military, was uploaded onto the Senate Armed Services Committee website Monday night. In it, two anti-transgender “riders” were included through an amendment process with the support of independent Senator Joe Manchin, who caucuses with Democrats, while a third was defeated; many more Democrats then voted to approve the full bill committee report.

[...]The amendments are key parts of Project 2025, a policy document put forward by the Heritage Foundation aimed at radically transforming the United States government. Project 2025 seeks to concentrate power into the hands of the President and implement ultra-conservative policies across various domains, including reproductive rights, LGBTQ+ issues, and more. The initiative has drawn support from over 110 conservative organizations and former Trump officials.

And of course it's the military budget so it's not like trans military members are the only ones being harmed by this and it'd be ignorant of me to suggest it to say the least:

"Israel has the right to defend itself from Iran, Hamas, and Hezbollah," Rogers told the Washington Free Beacon. "The FY25 NDAA makes it clear that the U.S. stands with Israel by investing in U.S.-Israel cooperation and joint exercises.

Additionally, the FY25 NDAA fully funds critical missile defense programs, like Iron Dome, Arrow, and David's Sling, that benefit both the U.S. and Israel."

What do I do??

Be calling/emailing your reps. Tell them you will Not vote for them in the upcoming election if they pass the budget as is and that you support any protests against it AND them if they pass it.

ORGANIZING: educate yourself, friends, family, and start figuring out what actions you can take together to make a difference in your area (protests, blocking roads, threaten to flip/withhold your votes as a collective, harassing politicians IRL, signing petitions, spreading the word, [redacted] etc). This one is really up for interpretation and depends on your ability and proximity to do things so...yeah.

protest the budget however you can: irl protests, include it in Palestine protests, starting hashtags, etc

Start prioritizing U.S queer & Palestinian solidarity because the military and it's committees are happy to make no distinction at all between who's giving the order, a Democrat or a Republicans. And if it doesn't matter to them who's calling the genocide shots then it shouldn't matter to you, especially when the order is to lim it your human rights.

Learn about pinkwashing in regards to solidarity because, "The most painful thing is to see LGBTQ people, who have personally experienced exclusion and discrimination, then inflict the same violence on others. It’s sad that the state has succeeded in making many think that integrating into the Zionist enterprise is the way to integrate into society."

Call the news. I'm serious. Tell them how you heard about a bunch of people talking about Kamala must hate trans people cuz she's letting the NDAA pass with anti-trans ammendments, express concern 'as a voter' that this will cost her the election.

Pressure cook these politicians about the NDAA budget!!!! Do whatever you have to for them to take you seriously

What do I say?

End all U.S support for the occupier state known as Israel

I demand the NDAA budgets to be decreased by $300 billion, it would still be 2x the budgets of the next top military spender.

And I demand the funds be redistributed to human rights initiatives such as trans healthcare

Someone on here said the people accepting these calls just do tallies, they aren't taking the names and number of everyone who calls: so call back to back.

The NDAA isn't usually signed until after August so this gives us plenty of time to spread the word.

Because it's absurd to have a military budget this big when we have foster kids starving on the street and mentally ill vets keeping them company.

If anyone has other suggestions please add them

[d4rkpluto]

ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛꜱ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴛʀᴏɢʀᴀᴅᴇ

thank you for the 10,000+ followers! a game with no exchange will be released:)

now that i've written and understand planets in retrograde thoroughly they will be included in chart readings for free.

THE SUN AND THE MOON CANNOT BE IN RX.

MERCURY IN RX

♇ having mercury in rx makes someone think more often, especially over the most pettiest things they think is big. they're very anxious people, and since it is in retrograde it could be implied that they're "wired differently" they think more out of the box, and even speak different, how they speak and write could be very distinct.

♇ mercury in retrograde could give someone inactive relatives, or cousins and siblings they're not close to. and since they're people who doubt themselves a lot, they could stall themselves from the path they're supposed to take, being their own obstacles. they could also be people who take some time to take in/process information.

♇ as i said they're people who hold themselves back a lot, this could link to their childhood, might've had people speak over them and silence them when they were younger.

VENUS IN RX

♇ people who have venus in retrograde might focus on love too much, and they could be people who have a struggling relationship with women. sisters, women who are their cousins and women who are their friends.

♇ they could also be very secretive people, they have a hard time opening up, which could make them be deemed as cold. they have a hard time giving and receiving affection.

♇ they could be bad at handling money, and might think everyone is out to get them. they could find it hard to love themselves, having venus in rx, is the peak of the "tortured poet".

MARS IN RX

♇ those who have mars in retrograde could have a hard time getting along with men, or even with the opposite sex. to have mars in rx could mean you could be considered as someone who i very intense. can a hard time expressing your sexuality and aiming for your goals.

♇ instead of learning life lessons quick, they are normally stubborn people and barely listen to advice given to them by trusted people. could be people who are too hesitant, say and do things at the wrong time and place.

♇ people with mars in retrograde might've gone through sexual trauma, could be scared to be intimate with other people. they're people who hate authority or people trying to have dominance over them. the type of people to not listen to the rules and break them.

JUPITER IN RX

♇ people who have jupiter in rx are the definition of "thinking out of the box", they're people who do have moments that question their faith and some of these people tend to have a God Complex.

♇ sometimes they feel like they're the unluckiest person in the world, might feel like they wont be able to travel the world like they want to. could also have long cycles of depression.

♇ having jupiter in retrograde can mean they're someone who marches to the beat of their own drum, they can be very detail-oriented people, which sometimes mean they feel like they can judge anyone and think of themselves to be flawless. jupiter in rx people are the type of people who want everything in their future to be perfect also, without life's trials and tribulations. can be unrealistic.

SATURN IN RX

♇ as it is told, saturn in retrograde brings a father that wasnt in the person's life, the person who has the saturn in rx can make someone feel like they're being punished by life all the time.

♇ this could also mean they might find it hard to express themselves emotionally, could be due to their childhood. they go through many trials and tribulations, makes them depressive, but in the end they become really wise.

♇ they doubt themselves a lot, could have trouble balancing themselves, and their masculinity, could be too domineering.

URANUS IN RX

♇ people with uranus in rx do not like change, they're likely insecure, [not all are going to be due to different commodities in a chart], but these are usually people who think they are not going to succeed in life.

♇ they sometimes feel like they're in control of nothing which pushes them into their need of controlling everything. they're quick-thinkers but still over-thinkers. they feel like they can never feel nice in a platonic or romantic connection.

♇ it leads them into being paranoid and chaotic. they might also put themselves in a box to make things easier, don't know they're limiting their potential when doing that, they're so much more and need to understand it.

NEPTUNE IN RX

♇ to have neptune in rx could make the kin be very delusional, might find it hard to separate idealistic views with reality. definitely reminds me of alice in wonderland. they're very spiritual people but can over-whelm people by adding their faith into everything.

♇ could be really good at manifesting; trust issues but sometimes are stubborn from learning their mistakes. can be deemed as very dreamy and compassionate.

♇ they could have this feeling of needing to save everyone. their trials and tribulations are a creative outlet for them, another indicator of being the tortured poet. [but the tiring and damaging things they go through are usually expressed through their art, which includes writing, story-telling, writing music, painting etc].

PLUTO IN RX

♇ i do get surprised when i come across these in a natal chart reading, but, pluto in rx folks definitely do hate constraint, they dislike authority and feeling like they're being controlled, which could push them into trying to control other people.

♇ could be escapists through drug and sex, they could also find it hard to accept their dark-self. easily infatuated people, people can get easily obsessed with them as they can get with other people.

♇ good money makers, could manipulate others with materialism, though, they might not be confrontational, could feel easily intimidated. sometimes could never see the potential in themselves can be their own obstacle.

masterlist

pluto

[joelmillergirl]

Don’t Hate You- Joel Miller

An enemies to lovers story.

Word count: 3,298

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, one spank, rougher sex, slight degrading, oral (m receiving) hate sex, but they actually don’t hate each other!

Author’s Note: Love a good enemies to lovers. I did not proofread because I was ashamed!! :D

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He was your neighbour; an interesting concept after 20 odd years of being alone with no sense of community. The apocalypse had torn through the world, separating friends from foe and dividing humanity into crushed pieces.

And then there was Jackson.

Jackson was small when you first showed up, bloody and beaten, tired of fighting. There were about 20 people at that time, all working hard to fix up the old town they had taken residence in. Maria had taken you in without any thought, allowing you to be someone after years of just living as another being, untrusting and rough, a shell of who you once were.

Five years later, you, along with the town, had blossomed. Buildings were now as new as they could be, with the resources the townspeople could find. Jackson had a bar, a laundrette, a clothes and a grocery store; things that had been hard to adjust to because your brain had been hardwired to live a certain way, were now able to just relax.

Slowly but surely, you were able to build yourself up into the personality you had before everything fell apart. A nicer, happier version of yourself. You knew everyone in town, always being greeted when you stepped out your door, they called you Honey.

“Sweet as honey, you are.” Eugene had said to you, an older man who had fought alongside Tommy in the fireflies.

The latter man scoffed, “Not to me, always teasin’ me, makin’ fun of me.”

You smile at him, “Chin up, Tommy. Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

Every face in that town you could put a name to, until one day you couldn’t. Two new faces, one gruff with a frown, and the other smiley with her mouth constantly moving. You learned of their names; Joel, and Ellie. Before you could get the chance to introduce yourself, they had left.

“Where’s your brother? And the girl?” You hesitantly asked Tommy one day, raising the glass of whisky to your lips.

He shook his head once, downing his drink in one go, “Just needs to get something done. He’ll be back.”

Tommy's short reply had irked you more than it should have. Everyone in town was talking about the mystery man with his mystery kid; who were they? How long would they be away? You wish you knew the answer.

A few months later, you awoke to a distinctive voice; Tommy, yelling orders right outside your bedroom window. You tried to endure it for a while, a pillow placed over your head in an attempt to muffle the echo of his voice, but that proved to be a fail.

Thin cardigan around your body, fluffiest socks you could find, and a frown on your face, you move down the stairs in your house, muttering to yourself angrily. "Tommy!" You call out, gently closing your front door.

Tommy looked up with a guilty expression, "I'm sorry, I know-"

"It is the crack of dawn, you better have a good reason why I'm hearing your voice so early!" You finish, standing by the edge of your fence, arms crossed against your chest.

A third voice. A man stepping out of your neighbouring house. "Sorry, Ma'am, Tommy was just helpin' us settle in."

He was unapologetically handsome. Simply wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt, with one expression plastered across his face at all times. Joel. You hated how at the sight of him, your arms unfolded from your body, hated how you couldn't really find yourself to be angry anymore.

You shift on your feet, cheeks flushing pink, "You're back."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, eyes moving between the two of you, "Honey, this is Joel, my brother, and your new neighbour."

Joel nodded in your direction, looking at you curiously. You shake your head softly, "Keep it down, Tommy." Your eyes move over to his brother, "Welcome to Jackson."

Then you were moving, back into the comfort of your own house where you slapped yourself in the face, embarrassment bubbling its way inside of you.

Two days later, you felt bad. Your bad impression with Joel replayed in your head endlessly, so bad that you had avoided going outside whenever you could hear voices next door. It was later when you knocked on their door, now in more appropriate clothes and with a clearer mind.

If he was shocked you were standing outside his door, he didn't show it, you spoke straight away. "I just wanted to properly introduce myself, I know you mustn't think too fondly of me." You give him your name along with a small smile.

Joel watched silently as you rambled an apology, only offering a small grunt and a nod of his head before closing the door in your face. You stood there for a moment, taking in what had just occurred. The rejection stung slightly, your inability to make amends with him weighing down on your shoulders. You hated how small that made you feel, hated how much you yearned for him to say something, just so you could hear his voice in that low, Southern drawl.

Tommy couldn't understand why your face soured whenever Joel's name was brought up, or why your fists clenched after watching his brother talk with other people. Why Joel seemed to talk to everyone except for you. Tommy sat in front of you in the booth at the bar, waiting for an opportunity to finally figure out what he had been suspecting. His eyes locked onto someone behind you and before you could ask, he was already calling out. “Joel! C'mere."

Your eyes widened slightly as you sat up straighter, kicking Tommy's leg under the table. You heard his boots stop next to you, his presence looming over the table you were leaning on. Tommy nodded his head slightly at you, "How're you guys gettin' along as neighbours? Haven't gotten any complaints yet, so must be goin' well."

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, eyes glancing over to you for a split second, "'S fine. Nice house you put me in."

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head with a smile, "Wasn't asking about the house, brother. You guys good?"

Joel looked down at you, eyes flickering down your face and to your hands that rest on the wooden table. “We’re good. She’s uh…” He paused, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “She’s a good neighbour.” He confirmed, suddenly looking everywhere but you and his brother.

Tommy smiled triumphantly, looking at you again. “Honey? He a good neighbour?”

You look at him unimpressed, feeling uncomfortable to be put in such a position, and furthermore the sight of Joel tapping his fingers against the table impatiently from the corner of your eye, made you feel angry. Unnecessarily so.

“Actually, Tommy, no. He’s not a good neighbour. He’s a dick. Always… slamming his gate when he gets back from night patrols.” You breathe out deeply, feeling the brothers’ gazes on you as you looked away. “I needa head back, I’ll see you Tommy.”

You hastily make your way out, “Oh god, why did I say that?” You whisper to yourself, embarrassment coursing through your body.

Three days after that incident , you had managed to avoid Joel like he was the plague; more than how you used to ignore him. His little girl, Ellie had approached you a few times, mocking your silence and asking why you didn't get along with the oldest Miller. You couldn't say that it was because how unnecessarily hot his accent was, or how he liked to wear tighter shirts that made your skin crawl with need, so you shrugged.

On the fourth day of ignoring Joel Miller, you had lost your streak.

It was later in the evening, everyone was either crowded in the dining hall, or in the comfort of their own homes, everyone but you. The winter coat you had on was not doing you justice, the freezing wind managing to slip through the small cracks, touching your skin. Although, you could barely call it a coat, material so worn and thin you would've been better in a long-sleeve shirt. You had been walking for a few minutes, nose pink, when you heard your name being called behind you.

"What the hell are you doin, wearing this in the middle of winter?" None other than Joel Miller scolded, grabbing you by the arm when he was close enough to. "You suicidal, woman?"

"Charming." You responded, trying so hard to ignore the warmth he provided by holding your arm. "Just walking, don't see the problem."

Joel scoffed, looking genuinely annoyed, "Don't see the pro-..." He trailed off for a moment, "You're going to freeze. And given our unpleasant history, I'll probably be blamed for your death."

Not waiting for a response, he started to pull you behind him, making a beeline for his house. You stuttered out, trying to object, "Joel, I'm perfectly capable of walking back to my house."

"Don't want you going back to your house. Need to talk with you." He shortly responded, ignoring your tugging. Once he had opened his door and you could feel the heat emitting from his house, you had settled slightly, but still shot Joel a glance as you entered.

"Go sit by the fire." He ordered, walking off into his kitchen, "Fuckin' hell." He mumbled.

You scowl at his back, debating with yourself for a second before deciding to follow his orders, sitting yourself down on the floor in front of the hot embers. You moan out in relief, shuffling a bit closer before turning your head to the side, watching Joel frown as he poured something in two mugs.

"Coffee." He grunted, walking over and placing the mug in your hands before sitting down on the chair next to you, sported with his own cup. "Drink it."

The mug helped you warm up faster, the heat reaching your fingertips and moving up your hands. "Prefer tea." You shortly respond, taking the drink up to your lips.

A moment of silence commenced before either of you talked again. Joel sighed deeply, and you saw from the corner of your eye his hand resting over his face, "Why're you so difficult?"

His words sunk into your brain. You scoffed, "I'm difficult?"

"Yes. You are."

You place the mug down beside you, looking into the flames for a moment. "I tried making amends with you, Joel. Tried being nice."

His silence fuelled your frustration. "Talking and smiling to everyone but me... Because I, what? I scolded your brother for being loud?" You continue, shaking your head.

Joel didn't talk, he didn't move. Only when he was sure you were finished talking did he speak. "You did try bein' nice... And uh... God, I hate this." He paused, taking a deep breath, "Didn't think it was a good idea for us to be nice. To talk."

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him, "You didn't think it was a good idea? That makes no sense, Joel. If you just don't like me, say that, don't try making up all these excuses!"

His eyebrows furrowed, he too had abandoned his mug onto the side table next to him. "Not makin' any excuses."

You laugh shortly, "Okay, Joel. I'll leave you then, get outta your hair... Seeming as this,' You gesture to the both of you, "Is not a good idea."

As you stood, Joel quickly followed, grabbing onto your shoulder to stop you from running. "I knew it would be a bad idea because the second I laid my eyes on you, you had me wrapped around your finger. Fuckin'," He took a breath, looking away from you for a moment, "Can't get you out of my head, you're everywhere."

"I don't..." You frown, looking up at him, your uneven breathing matching his, "I don't understand."

"I can't stay away from you, I can't do it anymore." He confessed, letting go of your shoulder, instead running his hands through his hair. "You don't even know what you do to me."

You watch him for a moment, trying to rationalise your feelings, "So, you... You act like a dick, and ignore me, shut doors in my face, and now I'm finding out it's because you can't stay away from me? That's so stupid!"

His neck was flushed, the pink hue travelling down to his chest, you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face. He looked borderline desperate now as he stepped closer, "Tell me to stop, I will. If... If you let me have you, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"How did we go from hating each other to this?" You ask, eyes flickering over his face.

Joel shook his head gently, his hands moving up to touch your neck, fingers ghosting your skin. "Didn't really hate each other. Did we?"

"Hated you. You're arrogant." You whisper, taking off your thin jacket, a shirt on underneath.

"Keep goin'." He nodded, frowning at your choice in clothing.

His fingers moved on his own accord, moving down to the bottom of your shirt, tugging on it. "You slammed your door shut in my face." You continue, pulling the shirt off your body and throwing it on the floor.

"Like an ass." He agreed, his eyes taking in your upper half, hungrily staring at the bra you were wearing.

As if in a trance, you pulled your pants off yourself, "Just wanted to apologise to you for my bad impression." You tell him, now standing in your underwear in front oh his clothed self.

Joel nodded, his breath intaking as he looked at you, "Didn't care what you were sayin' that morning, baby. Comin'. out in that singlet of yours, tiny shorts. You thought that cardigan was gonna help ya? Was hopin' you'd yell at Tommy all day."

Your pussy clenched at his words, a gush of heat travelling upwards. "I was rude to you in the bar the other day... In front of Tommy." You confess, kneeling down in front of him, your face now in line with his growing bulge still restrained in his jeans.

"Yeah, baby." Joel agreed, "Had to listen to him lecture me for an hour." He reached down and moved your hair out of your face, looking deeply into your eyes.

His zipper was down before he could blink, quickly helping you pull down his pants, his boxers following soon after. His cock was big, bigger than you had expected it to be. Its red head was dripping with pre come, falling down the sides of him. Your hand experimentally wrapped around him, seeing how much you'd be able to take, only to find that your hand was not able to close properly.

"It's big, I know." Joel hummed, his cock twitching in your hands, "You can take it."

Your hands began moving after he spoke to you, making sure to squeeze down on him. His head fell back in pleasure, a groan releasing from his throat. After a few minutes of slowly jerking him off, you brought your head closer to his tip, carefully wrapping your lips around him. At the added pleasure, Joel looked down, letting out a whimper.

"Fuck, feel so good." He told you, scrunching his eyebrows together, "Look so good." He added, his hand coming down to hold your cheek.

With new profound confidence, you moved your head faster, making sure to match the speed with your hand. His moans grew louder, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, fisting some of your hair. "Alright, alright." Joel quickly said, pulling your head off his cock, now topped with the glisten of your saliva.

"Need it." You whisper, using his hand to help yourself up, tugging down your underwear before helping Joel out of his shirt. You look up at him expectedly, legs clenching together.

Joel looked down at the sight, mockingly sighing, "You wet, baby? Need me to take care of ya, huh?" He gently grabbed your hand pulling you behind him as he approached his couch. You watched as he sat down, spreading his legs widely, a sight that was truly sinful.

He gestured to his lap, and you took the hint. Climbing onto him, you didn't break eye contact, your chest pressed against his as you looked into his eyes. "Here." He whispered, reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, peeling it away from your body. "God, you're..." He sighed, leaning back against the couch as he stared at your breasts, "You're gorgeous."

"Still hate you." You mumble, leaning up with your hands on his shoulders. He gripped his cock from under you, dragging the tip across your clit and down your pussy.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking up at your face as he placed himself up near your entrance, your legs already shaking with need. Your arousal dripped down the side of his dick, fluids mixing together. "Doesn't feel like you hate me."

You shook your head, moving downwards gently, just far enough that the tip of him slipped inside you. You both groan. "I do hate you." You try and convince him, taking him further inside you with every second that passed. When your ass met his thighs, you moaned out loudly, tilting your head backwards. "Feel so deep."

Joel smiled lazily, pressing his hand against your abdomen, "Right up here. Go on, show me how much ya hate me. Fuck it all outta ya." He slurred, his accent becoming more pronounced the further he lost himself inside you. You started with small grinds, getting your body used to the intrusion first, shaky breaths and pants falling from your mouth as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair.

He helped you bounce after, his large hands on your ass, pulling you up and down on his dick, roughly meeting those movements with his own thrusts below. Once he was confident you had found your rhythm, he leant back, watching. "Still hate me?" He shakily asked, his hands moving from your breasts down to your clit, rubbing slow circles there.

"No." You cry out, moving your body forwards so you were laying on him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. "Please." You beg, although you weren't sure of what.

Joel wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as his hips drive faster up into you. The sounds of your skin colliding echoing through his house, aiding in the pleasure you were feeling. Joel grunted in your ear, one of his hands coming down onto your ass, slapping it. "Gonna cum, baby. Come on, need to feel it."

You lean up slightly, chest heaving against his. "So close." You whisper, leaning your forehead against his. The sensation of his hands roaming your body, the feeling of his cock pistoning up into you, and your own need for him fuelled your orgasm. Just as you started clenching around him, Joel moved his head up, catching your lips in a kiss before his own orgasm escaped him. You came together, legs shaking and breaths coming out hot as you kissed.

Somehow, the kiss felt more intense than the mind-blowing sex you had just had, the intimacy of it had your heart clenching. "Don't hate you." You sighed, pulling away from his lips. "Hated how you made me feel. Wanted you so bad."

He nodded. "I know, baby. Me too."

As they dressed themselves and sat with each other by the fire, discovering new emotions and sensations with one another the rest of Jackson had continued moving around them, acting like another day; though your life would now be irrevocably changed.

[hashtagloveloses]

The headline is pretty awful but this is one of those things that gets worse as you read it:

The 14-page petition, filed in Shelby County, Tennessee, probate court, alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy, who took Oher into their home as a high school student, never adopted him. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.

"Michael Oher discovered this lie to his chagrin and embarrassment in February of 2023, when he learned that the Conservatorship to which he consented on the basis that doing so would make him a member of the Tuohy family, in fact provided him no familial relationship with the Tuohys."

Oher was a rising high school senior when he signed the conservatorship papers, and he has written that the Tuohys told him that there was essentially no difference between adoption and conservatorship. "They explained to me that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took my age into account," Oher wrote in his 2011 best-selling memoir "I Beat the Odds."

But there are some important legal distinctions. If Oher had been adopted by the Tuohys, he would have been a legal member of their family, and he would have retained power to handle his own financial affairs. Under the conservatorship, Oher surrendered that authority to the Tuohys, even though he was a legal adult with no known physical or psychological disabilities.

While the [movie] deal allowed the Tuohys to profit from the film, the petition alleges, a separate 2007 contract purportedly signed by Oher appears to "give away" to 20th Century Fox Studios the life rights to his story "without any payment whatsoever." The filing says Oher has no recollection of signing that contract, and even if he did, no one explained its implications to him.

The [movie] deal lists all four Tuohy family members as having the same representative at Creative Artists Agency, the petition says. But Oher's agent, who would receive movie contract and payment notices, is listed as Debra Branan, a close family friend of the Tuohys and the same lawyer who filed the 2004 conservatorship petition, the petition alleges. Branan did not return a call to her law office on Monday.

"Mike's relationship with the Tuohy family started to decline when he discovered that he was portrayed in the movie as unintelligent," Stranch said. "Their relationship continued to deteriorate as he learned that he was the only member of the family not receiving royalty checks from the movie, and it was permanently fractured when he realized he wasn't adopted and a part of the family."

For years, Oher has chafed at how "The Blind Side" depicted him, saying it hurt his football career and clouded how people view him. He has said that based on the film, some NFL decision-makers assumed he was mentally slow or lacked leadership skills.

"People look at me, and they take things away from me because of a movie," Oher told ESPN in 2015. "They don't really see the skills and the kind of player I am."

"Beyond the details of the deal, the politics, and the money behind the book and movie, it was the principle of the choices some people made that cut me the deepest."

[amongemeraldclouds]

The Slytherin Boys as Disney Princes

Ft. Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, and Lorenzo Berkshire. Also features x f!Reader as their equivalent Disney princesses.

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.

✿ Masterlist | 1.8k words

From the Wizarding World to magical fairytales, let’s crown our beloved Slytherin boys as the following Disney princes:

Theodore Nott as Prince Charming (Cinderella)

Note: Prince Charming doesn’t have much personality in the original 1950s film, but we learn more about him in later films, where I drew information from.

✭ Raised in privilege as a prince, Theodore Nott lived a very charmed life just as the name Prince Charming suggests.

✭ With only royals and commoners to distinguish class, he is less prejudiced and more accepting of others. His father taught him at an early age that they have a responsibility to their people just as their people serve them.

✭ Because of this, he is open and friendly to everyone, including animals. He was once hunting down a deer only for it to be a game in the end, him and the deer are actually friends. (Note: Yes this is canon Prince Charming and is very Theo as well.)

✭ If Disney were less wholesome, Theo as Prince Charming would have regular lovers, but it will only always be physical. He has not yet found a connection with anyone, but it doesn’t matter because he enjoys sex. He certainly never runs out of women to sleep with.

✭ Beneath all the charm, he secretly hopes to find a love match. The kind of relationship that transcends strategy and status. He longs for passion and romance, much like in the books he reads in the castle’s library, though he’ll never let anyone know.

✭ His father in the meantime is keen to see him married to an eligible maiden so he threw a ball. He rolled his eyes and yawned when no one was looking, initially bored because he still couldn’t find the connection he longed for. At this point, he doubted he’d ever find it. 

✭ Then he met you. You in your light blue dress and glass slippers. Everything about you sparkled and it ignited something in his heart. He never knew romantic love before you, but he recognized it right away.

✭ He wouldn’t care that you were a commoner, he’d admire your courage and kindness once he got to know you. Besides, true love was far more valuable than any precious metals and gems.

✭ After you ran off, your glass slipper gave him hope. He was going to stop at nothing to find you, his true love.

Mattheo Riddle as Flynn Rider (Tangled)

⋆☀︎. Left to his own devices, Mattheo Riddle would go on countless adventures across different kingdoms and forests, thieving only as a means to an end so he could survive. 

⋆☀︎. He enjoys the rush, being chased by the authorities and not being held down by rules or responsibilities. (Except they can never get his damn nose right on Wanted signs despite the distinct cut he has on the bridge of his nose iykyk.)

⋆☀︎. With his charming personality and irresistible smolder, he’s an expert in banding together with fellow criminals and often smooth talks his way into ladies’ beds. All temporary partnerships for his on-the-go lifestyle.

⋆☀︎. Until one day he comes across you, the girl with golden hair and big eyes — not to be underestimated with your ferocious pan wielding tendencies. He learns the last part a little too late, the hard way.

⋆☀︎. As he promised to take you to see the floating lights in exchange for the crown, he finds himself having fun swinging his fists and learning about your power to bring out the good in people.

⋆☀︎. You managed to charm tough guys in a bar, getting them to talk about their dreams—of being a florist, of performing on stage, and of falling in love. He realizes it may not be so bad to go on adventures with someone else.

⋆☀︎. He was already mesmerized before he learned about your magical hair. He saw the light within you long before that enchanted night when lanterns floated through the air like stars hung low just for you. And of course, they were always meant for you.

⋆☀︎. Before Mother Gothel could plunge the weapon in him, he already knew he was a goner. He knew he could never go back to who he was. He was now and forever going to be a moth to your flame, your soul as radiant as the sun even long after your golden hair turned brown.

Blaise Zabini as Kristoff (Frozen)

•❅*ִ Much like Kristoff, Blaise Zabini exudes a quiet confidence that does not need to declare itself.

•❅*ִ As an ice harvester who works with ice picks, hooks and ropes, he has an athletic build and a tough exterior, but do not be fooled for he has a soft heart within.

•❅*ִ Having grown among trolls and reindeers, he sometimes gets frustrated when interacting with people. He believes reindeers are better than people, but all that changes when he meets you.

•❅*ִ He is very practical and honest, but when he is blunt he often means well. He is quick to call you out on the fact that you’re about to marry a man you hardly know.

•❅*ִ He initially agrees to help you end winter to save his ice business and get a new sled. However, the more challenges you face together, he grows to admire your fearlessness and determination.

•❅*ִ While you initially find him to be annoying, you soon discover his charming and funny side.

•❅*ִ He will however suppress his feelings for you, thinking it’s better to let it go because you’re already engaged anyway. But when truths are revealed and no one is who they appear to be, you’ll melt his frozen heart with a kiss on the cheek.

Draco Malfoy as Li Shang (Mulan)

✿ To Draco Malfoy, loyalty and family legacy is important, just like Li Shang who aims to be just as great as his father, the head of the Imperial Chinese Army.

✿ He is disciplined and has mastered both physical and strategic ways of waging war. He has a lot of traditional beliefs, including making a man out of his troops using elaborate physical training.

✿ He starts questioning those beliefs when he sees your determination as Ping, using both weights to climb up the pole even though it took you countless failures throughout the night. What were these confusing feelings in his chest?

✿ Yet he couldn’t deny it, nor would he try. He was ready to lay his life down for you even before you saved him. It didn’t take him long to return the favor when he found out you were a woman and so he spared your life.

✿ Despite his firm upbringing, he was always loyal to his heart. Even though you betrayed the army, he knew your intentions had been good and that your hard work made you a skilled soldier.

✿ He listened and trusted your last ditch efforts to save the Emperor, even resorting to cross dressing as part of the plan. It all paid off as you saved the Emperor and all of China. 

✿ In the end, you were absolved of your deceit and honored for your heroism, finally letting your reflection show who you are and what you’re made of. Your final crime was stealing his heart.

Tom Riddle as Aladdin (Aladdin)

✶ Tom Riddle grew up as an orphan and resorted to a life of crime to survive in Agrabah. Secretly, he enjoyed it too.

✶ Smitten by your beauty, he saved you from a merchant at the market and he was impressed with your agility when it came to dodging the authorities.

✶ When you reached Aladdin’s home, you revealed you were from the palace and left thinking you’d never see him again. He longed to visit the palace to get another glimpse of your beauty.

✶ Named as a diamond in the rough, Jafar recognized Tom’s talent and recruited him to steal the magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. Encouraged by the promise of riches (therefore power) and a subconscious need to please Jafar, he takes on the task, saving a magic carpet in the process.

✶ Back at the palace, your father sought to marry you off to find a successor to his throne. You met suitors, including a flashy prince called Ali from Ababwa.

✶ On a magic carpet ride, you trick Ali into admitting he’s the thief you previously met at the market. He manipulates you into thinking he’s the prince and the thief persona was just an act for him to get to know the city better.

✶ When Jafar uncovers Tom’s identity, he steals the magic lamp and wreaks havoc using the genie’s wishes. Understanding Jafar’s ego, he tricks him into wishing to be the most powerful being in the universe, which imprisons Jafar in his own lamp as a genie.

✶ Instead of using his last wish to continue being the rightful prince who can marry you, he used it to free the genie, as he has now learned how power corrupts others. It wasn’t worth it.

✶ Crowned as the next sultana, you recognized how our actions and choices defined us. Despite Tom’s manipulations, he showed up and was willing to learn. He was not afraid to look into the dark and make the right decisions when it mattered, a husband fit for a ruler.

Lorenzo Berkshire as Jack Frost (Rise of The Guardians)

Before you come at me, I know Jack Frost is not a Disney prince, but I’m a Jelsa truther so here we are.

❅ Lorenzo Berkshire mirrors Jack Frost’s love for mischief and games. As the guardian of fun, he enjoys playing harmless tricks on children and hearing them laugh as a result.

❅ Beneath the playful exterior, he deeply cares for those around him, having saved his sister from a frozen lake. His ultimate sacrifice led to his untimely demise, which the Man in The Moon rewarded him by making him immortal and granting him powers. 

❅ He never found much need for romance, opting to spend his days playing with children and visiting his fellow guardians instead. Until one day, he visits the Enchanted Forest and comes across you, its mighty protector.

❅ Despite the initial distrust, he wins you over with his easy smile and sincerity. You never realized it until then, how lonely it was to be an ice queen without her king.

❅ Jack was also amazed to find someone else who could play with the magic of snow. He felt seen and understood like never before. For once, the loneliness in his heart melted away.

❅ So you spent your days together, laughing over silly jokes and exchanging stories. The cold never bothered you, but being with him made you understand why people enjoyed the sweetness of hot cocoa and why they cuddled close to a fire.

❅ Both your friends and family were happy for you. One day, Jack asked you to invite everyone so you can have a contest on who built the best sculptures. Your audience and judges comprised of Jack’s fellow Guardians, Queen Anna and King Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.

❅ You showed off with iced gardens, towers, and even the shape of Sven, but none was more impressive as when you turned around to find Jack on one knee, a gleaming diamond in his hand. It was a picture perfect moment with ice sculptures in the background, celebrated with loved ones. 

❅ And soon, the ice queen would never be without her king.  

✿ Masterlist <- read more!

[signedkoko]

Hello if you don't mind I'd like to request lucifer and Lilith x a reader that is a half sinner half demon like readers one Parent was a demon and the other was human, type of vibe you know

And maybe since the reader is half demon they are like stronger then the overloards in the pride ring

Lucifer X Reader X Lilith [Romantic]

In which you were born of a sinner and demon, which give you the advantage most overlords lack. Genderneutral reader.

Not many sinners and demons got along, considering the powerful advantage most sinners had over demons and the distinction between the groups

Despite that, your parents were anything but normal, and they lived as they died—in love

Unfortunately, you lost them to an extermination, and while it was a stab in the heart, you knew it was an inevitability

You'd been extremely lucky to that right, since your creation not another had been born or made to exist; you were hell's own miracle

Your appearance made heads turn, journals typed away about your life, and despite not living the life of a celebrity you were treated like one by the press

Your existence was, of course, of interest to Lucifer, who was more than eager to introduce himself the first time you were face-to-face

He was with his wife, who easily towered over the two of you, and embarassingly enough, they cooed at your features—a mix of two worlds

Royalty was royalty, so you did your best to be calm and introduce yourself, which ended in a long string of chatter until the two were pulled off

Lucifer is mostly interested in you since you are the first hell-born human.

Lilith is interested because you are both similar, somehow sinners and demons combined, albeit in much different ways

One day, you receive concert tickets in your mail to see Lilith perform as a VIP

There is a personal note from her mentioning that she would love to see you at her performance and that she hopes you enjoy the show

Of course you go! You even splurge on a nicer outfit

Her show is outstanding, and you had one of the best nights of your life being treated so kindly by so many, as well as not being the centre of all eyes for once

Of course, you were invited backstage, and she invited you to dinner with herself and her husband, to which the rest is history

Now you were part of the family, living with them and learning plenty of hell that you'd never known prior

Their story, their goals, their interests, and their hobbies—what made them tick

They trusted you with everything.

Their favourite aspect of your mixed blood is that they can take you on dates down to the other rings and show you only the finest that hell has to offer

Your favourite is that now you aren't 'the sinner-demon hybrid' and instead 'one third of the Morningstar trio'

It is certainly a shift in lifestyle for you, from rag to riches, and they are very amused but also baffled by your way of doing things

Still, they love to hear about what hell is like from your perspective, someone who wasn't given everything

So into whatever rundown restaurants you bring them to, especially Lucifer, he would love sloppy, fucked up food

Lilith prefers bitter sweets and coffee; she ends up loving your favourite cafe, too, and now you visit at least once a week

 

Author's Note - Of course I don't mind! I love these two so much, still one of my favourite duos to see x readers with because maaaaaaaan!!! I hope this is what you were hoping for, please enjoy 🖤

[buskingalbatross]

results of a quest to identify the cicada in dnp’s rodent boy summer instagram post

[video: an audio comparison of dan howell's mediterranean cicada imitation and two real cicada species from the med]

abstract: following a perceived dearth of interest in the cicada latched onto the wall in one photo of the ten in dan and phil’s most recent joint vacation instagram post, the authors of this post (buskingalbatross and an anon who instigated this quest) have endeavored to determine its identity at the species level. using resources such as naturalism networking site iNaturalist, various scientific research articles, a databank of Mediterranean cicada song audio files, and Dan’s imitation of cicada screams in the AmazingPhil video “How Phil Nearly Died,” we have concluded that the cicada is most likely an East Aegean cicada (Cicada mordoganensis). obtaining these results would have been impossible had we not received assistance from @/bitchslapblastoids, who generously provided the herein unnamed geographical location* of dan and phil’s summer rat and relaxation destination. I would also like to thank @/pierogish for providing feedback on comparisons of cicada audio files with Dan’s cicada noises.

[image: the individual in question]

methods, results, and conclusions below the cut.

*the authors of this tumblr post would like to flaunt their scientific achievements unencumbered by potential discourses surrounding the unearthing of this location, and thus have chosen to omit its name from this post. the authors of this tumblr post nevertheless understand that the location can be discerned by those curious enough to discern it. the authors moreover state that they harbor no wish to compromise dan and phil’s privacy.  

methods and results

iNaturalist’s search feature was used to gain an awareness of what species of cicadas have been observed on the mediterrranean peninsula where dnp went on holiday. a spreadsheet was created to organize data such as cicada common names, scientific names, the number of observations for any given species, the reliability of those observations (that is, how likely the observer was to have correctly identified a cicada; a high quality identification is referred to on iNat as a research grade ID), the period of time in which a species is the densest in numbers (most prevalent in its aboveground habitat), appearance, and, finally, a link to an audio file containing each cicada species’ song. audio files were the last piece of data to be acquired, and so were added to the spreadsheet very last.

once a list of species had been determined and entered into the spreadsheet, we compared the appearences of each candidate cicada species to dnp’s instagram image. all in all, we looked at seven cicada species: the black sorrow cicada (Cicadatra atra), the ash cicada (Cicada orni), the common cicada (Lyristes plebejus), the red cicada (Cicada haematodes), the east aegean cicada (Cicada mordoganensis), the geminate cicada (Lyristes gemellus), and Cicada lodosi (a species name now possibly defunct but with 4 observations in the area of interest in the past five years).

[images: left - the east aegean cicada; right - the ash cicada]

then, I decided to read a truly excessive number of scientific research papers about cicadas in the mediterranean. why did I do this? besides reasons of entomology-associated passion (and legitimate professional interest), I did it because I learned that it turns out that basically, the aegean sea constitutes a “hot spot of cicada diversity,” with numerous species across different genera that nevertheless look—pretty much all the same! quite quickly, it became apparent that one blurry instagram image would be insufficient to determine the species. in fact, even if the image had been crystal clear, it wouldn’t have mattered. apparently, many cicadas of the eastern mediterranean are not morphologically distinct (meaning, again: some of them look identical) and what differentiates them is actually, primarily, their songs. they are “acoustically divergent,” with females being able to locate males of their own kind by their unique calls alone, not their looks. different species also tend to be distributed differently across this region, by which I mean some are only found on certain islands, or in certain areas of Italy, the Balkans, Greece, or Turkey, or Greece and Turkey, etc etc. I needed to read to form a better picture of all of this, essentially, and to gather clues.

[image: some of the papers I read]

after perusing all of this fascinating literature—and also squinting really hard at dnp’s picture and the photos of cicadas we had accumulated—I came to the conclusion that, most likely, the cicada was either Cicada orni, the ash cicada, or potentially more likely, Cicada mordoganensis, the east aegean cicada. both had three observations recorded in the region of interest (the most observations of any species), and both had the most similar coloration and patterning to dnp’s cicada. my predilection for the east aegean choice stemmed from two things: 1. the east aegean cicada observations were of a higher quality (research grade) than the ash cicada, and 2. the papers I had read were telling me that while east aegeans were prevalent along the entirety of the our region of interest, ash cicadas were more constrained, geographically, to northern Turkey and the Greek mainland. in fact, according to mediterranean cicada scientists, no ash cicadas had ever been found on islands as southeast as Samos and Ikaria, two islands relatively close to the peninsula where dnp’s cicada resides. this contradicted the observations on iNaturalist.

apparently, this difference in distribution has a lot to do with the tectonic and geographical history of the eastern mediterranean. where certain cicadas are today has a lot to do with where warm refuges from ancient glaciers existed thousands and millions of years ago (cicadas like the heat). also, and I should not necessarily subject you to this tangent, but did you know that about 5 million years ago the mediterranean sea simply gave up on existence for a little while? ... during the Messinian Salinity Crisis, the mediterranean simply stopped being a sea for a little while and almost dried up completely, allowing certain creatures that could not otherwise traverse an entire sea to disperse across it, except for where there is a huge ass canyon in the seafloor, and—

[images: highlighted, pertinent sections of papers discussing cicada distribution; relief map of the mediterranean seafloor]

anyway, what we were sorely missing at this stage were sound recordings of the cicadas. despite the evidence against the ash cicada, this cicada is still one of the most commonly found cicadas around the aegean sea. also, some of the studies I found were ten or more years old—who knows how climate change or other factors may have impacted the location of cicada populations since they were published.

while the audio of the cicadas outside in Phil’s video is poor, Dan does an imitation at 00:30 of what they’d been hearing during their trip. knowing Dan, this imitation is not merely a made-up, vaguely cicada-like noise, but an actually good approximation of the song that had been driving them crazy (this whole study mayhaps hinges on this lmao). if only we could uncover audio of these cicadas, maybe we could know for sure if this insect was of the ash or east aegean variety.

thankfully, at this point I was still reading papers. even more thankfully, the ten individuals who seemed to have cornered the market on mediterranean cicada studies since the 1970s made a website, and mentioned it in one of their papers. it is an exceptional, beautifully designed website called cicadasong.eu that evokes the ad-free, uncluttered, cozy and homemade feeling of the early noughties internet. it almost made me cry, and @/pierogish reported that seeing this website made her realize that in all these years recently spent online she had been choking, and only on cicadasong.eu was she finally able to breathe freely. on this website, there happen to be embedded YouTube videos of high quality audio recordings of all the european cicadas its creators have ever studied.

at last! comparisons of cicada songs to Dan commenced, and we were able to play the ash cicada’s sound alongside the east aegean’s and Dan’s. at the top of this post, you will find the compilation of these three sounds. here are the links to the original audio videos of the east aegean and ash cicada.

the main unit of sound—the chirp—of a cicada’s song is known scientifically as an “echeme”. in these audio files, you can perceive that, for the east aegean cicada, the duration of the echeme is longer, meaning the number of echemes per second is lower. this rhythm, and in general the structure of the east aegean cicada’s song was, in comparison to the ash cicada’s, deemed to the ear of all the authors and contributors definitively more similar to dan’s cicada song. thus, this final piece of evidence seemed to complement the rest of our data and confirm our initial assumption of the cicada’s identity.

conclusion

accumulated data has lent support to our hypothesis that the cicadas suffusing the atmosphere of dip and pip’s holiday resort with their ebullient, lascivious songs were east aegean cicadas.

[anneapocalypse]

What is "the occult" in FFXIV?

Ever since I first laid eyes on the EE3 bit about Urianger's parents I have been noodling on one thing in particular. Encyclopedia Eorzea volume 3 refers to "the occult" as Urianger's parents' field of study (and the reason they were so absent from his life). Every since that discovery, I have been curious what that actually means. What is "the occult" in a universe where magic is real, measurable, and a highly legitimate and prestigious field of study?

So, where else is "the occult" referenced in the game?

Thanks to this invaluable searchable transcript, I've found a few other references in MSQ.

The first use of the term "occult" in MSQ that I've found is way back in the Gridania starter quests when some Ixali "Occultists" are trying to summon Garuda at the Guardian Tree. In isolation I'd take this one with a grain of salt since it's very early in ARR, but I think it's consistent with other usages. The description for Whorleater Extreme also uses the term, referencing "the occult knowledge of the Ascians," so from the start there is an association of the occult with Ascian magicks and specifically with summoning.

The only other mention in MSQ comes from Alphinaud in Endwalker, where he and Krile are giving us the tour of Sharlayan, and specifically Phenomenon:

Alphinaud: As the center of what would later become the Studium, it was established to promote the study of aetherological phenomena, hence the name. Alphinaud: Though with aether being a fundamental aspect of nature, its scope expanded to include every conceivable facet of life and even the universe itself. Alphinaud: And then, in the four hundred and thirty-second year of the Sixth Astral Era, Phenomenon was decreed complete and the Studium officially opened as a place of learning. Alphinaud: With a long and storied history, it is without question the world's leading authority in aetherology, the arcane, the occult, astromancy, and countless other fields, standing proud as─ Alisaie and Krile: ...Sharlayan's foremost educational institute!

Okay, so "the occult" clearly falls within the general field of aetherological phenomena and magic, though that we could have guessed already. Something that catches my eye is how in more than one place, "occult" is contrasted with or referenced as distinct from "arcane." This is the case in Alphinaud's speech above, as well as in the Blue Mage quest "Everybody Was Fukumen Fighting," wherein Bluehood says, "No occult tricks or arcane incantations can contend with the all-surpassing might of blue wizardry!"

In the Loporrit Allied Society quests, we also get this odd little quest "Hare-Raising Thrills," in which we're asked to make "Occult Paraphernalia" for a Loporrit called Thrillingway. Depending on crafting job, dialogue with Keepingway will elaborate thus:

"It seems he requires a pair of shears─but not just any pair. No, he desires blades sharp enough to carve fur clean off!"

"He wants a sturdy coil of rope suitable for binding all four limbs of…a 'friend,' allegedly."

"Seems he wants a highly acidic gel for some dubious purpose I did not have the heart to inquire about. Honestly, I think it's best if we don't know."

Which. I mean. Okay. lol. Do what you will with that.

But probably most illuminating is the use of the word "occult" in a couple of Red Mage quests, and in the Sky Pirate raid quests.

In "The Weeping City," Cait Sith says, "Thus did the Mhachi magi construct an occult device that would more securely bind the voidsent to their will..."

And in the Red Mage quests "With Heart and Steel" and "Traced in Blood" we have, respectively:

"The tomes with passages pertaining to the voidsent Lilith are all forbidden occult works..."

and

"...the secrets behind Lambard's occult transformation."

In both contexts, "occult" seems to be connected to voidsent, specifically to Lilith in the case of the Red Mage quests.

And this ties back to the references in ARR as well, since from the beginning Ascians have been connected with the Void, even before we knew what the Void actually was. So it's safe to say at this point, I think, that "occult" can refer to magicks connected to the Void and to Ascians.

There's just one more reference I found that flummoxed me a bit, and that's this description of the Arcanist class, which refers to arcanist weapons as "occult grimoires." I found it odd initially because in most other contexts "occult" seems to refer to magicks seen as illicit, as opposed to the socially acceptable "arcane." But it does make a kind of sense, given that it is from Arcanist that we get Summoner. If summoning of primals is occult, then by extension so is summoning in the arcanist sense, even if it's not truly the same thing. This would seem to be the exception to "arcane" and "occult" being distinct categories, which leads me to believe that the distinction is more cultural than ontological.

So I think from the above, we can consider "occult" to be a fairly broad term that may be used in several distinct but overlapping senses:

Magic related to the summoning of primals.

Magic related to the Void, voidsent, and Ascians.

Magic which is taboo, forbidden, or otherwise outside of that which is socially accepted.

As a footnote, I think this is particularly interesting in the context of Urianger being introduced as our resident expert on primals, despite the fact that that's... really not specifically his field of study but merely adjacent to it. Urianger's primary interest is prophecy, and certainly plenty of prophecy seems to reference primals and Ascians and that's where we see him doing a lot of his research, but it's not the same field, merely overlapping.

Without more information we can't know for certain what his parents were actually studying. Maybe they were interested in primals, or Ascians, or the Void. Maybe they were studying Void-related magics. It's also possibly they were simply arcanists particularly interested in the summoner side and we shouldn't read much more than that into the reference to "the occult." Who knows.

But nonetheless, several of these interpretations would mean that in a way, Urianger has followed in their footsteps despite their making apparently little effort to guide him that way, which I find to be an interesting angle to his character and also profoundly sad in its own way--not that he found his own interests in those areas, but that the Augurelts had a child so naturally inclined toward their own interests and still took so little interest in him.

[sophieinwonderland]

An Autism culture blog is spreading misinformation about endogenic systems...

The misinformation:

Naturally, all of this is wrong.

The only true statement here is "you could probably learn a lot more about these things in your own research." Because yeah... Doing your own research is likely to bring you to actually valid sources of information instead of whatever this is.

Real Information:

Endogenic systems are not a "fake form of dissociative disorder."

Endogenic systems ARE plural systems who experience multiple agents, or "headmates," sharing the same body in some way without trauma. Usually, endogenic systems don't even report having any sort of dissociative disorder at all.

And this is a real experience that's been repeatedly acknowledged by the psychiatric community.

So much so that the World Health Organization's diagnostic handbook, the ICD-11, specifically states that you can experience the presence of multiple "distinct identity states" without a mental disorder.

"Distinct identity states" is the same wording the ICD-11 uses to describe alters that characterized DID:

It's also acknowledged in the book Transgender Mental Health by Eric Yarbrough, which was reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association, that you can be plural without trauma or a disorder:

...

Additionally, the phrasing that endogenic plurality "mocks and invalidates people who are actually plural" is especially harmful as it erases and rewrites a huge part of plural history. That is, the fact that "plural" is an inclusive term coined and popularized to by non-disordered and endogenic systems.

Back in the 90s, the popular term that was used was "multiple," originating with "multiple personality disorder," the old name for DID.

The shift towards using "plural" was an effort by non-disordered systems to distance themselves from medical and pathologizing language. As you can see from this article from the 90s:

We don't claim that every multiple system/household is a happy loving cooperative one. What we do question is the *identification* of "real multiples" with the characteristics or symptoms of a psychological disorder. We go further: we question by what right or authority doctors and therapists are given sole jurisdiction over the definition of "an individual".

This is one reason our clan encourages use of the word "plural" rather than "multiple". "Multiple", even standing by itself, brings to mind MPD/DID, "multiple personality disorder", "dissociative identity disorder", which are specific diagnoses created by the medical/therapeutic community. "Plural" is a much more neutral word, more commonly heard in the context of grammar than psychiatry. (The other reason, of course, is that plural can be construed to have a broader meaning, applying to anyone(s) anywhere on the continuum who experience themselves as plural in some way. )

The Bottom Line:

An autism culture blog should be lifting up all neurodivergents. Not spreading misinformation about them and encouraging hate!

[plzfeedmebread]

Where'd You Learn That? Tsu'tey x Female! Human Reader

word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Female! Human! Reader Tags/Warnings: R18 - minors DNI, smut, p eating, tongue action, established relationship, fluff, romance, alcohol consumption, slightly inebriated reader, wingman Jake

Author's Notes: For this prompt! Dedicated to @mechformers, thank you for my first Tsu'tey fic inspiration! Apologies for any grammatical errors, I hope you enjoy!

The scent of spiced meat and sugared fruit tickles your nose. You are thankful for the implants in your nasal cavity and lungs, letting you freely enjoy the Pandoran air and all it’s wonderful smells.

Spirits are high as the clan celebrates well into the night. A bonfire roars at its centre; Humans and Na’vi gather all around in song and dance. Drinks flow freely among the crowd.

You take an experimental sniff of your cups contents. The smell reminds you of elderberries, and cinnamon, with an undertone of something sugary. Throwing caution to the wind, you take sizeable sip.

It does not taste as it smells; but is delicious all the same.

One cup turns to two.

Another.

Then another.

You close your eyes.

A blanket of warmth wraps around you as your body moves to the rhythmic beat of drums. A gentle buzz tickles the back of your mind.

You make lazy patterns with your arms, swinging your hips side to side as you let the music guide your movements.

The hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

Suddenly, you get the distinct feeling that you are being watched.

You open your eyes, searching the crowd for your would-be observer.

A golden gaze snaps your head in place, stilling your movements. The world around you fades to the back of your mind. Your focus attuned to him alone.

The Olo'eyktan, noble warrior and esteemed Clan Leader, is devouring you with his intense stare. Tsu’tey tilts his head to the side, leaning back in his seat as he openly ogles you.

There is movement in your peripheral. Stealing a glance, you spot Jake and Neytiri giggling and whispering among themselves; their own eyes darting between Tsu’tey and yourself. When Jake catches your eye, he rolls his eyes and nods his head toward Tsu’tey, then starts gyrating on the spot as he makes eye-contact with you once more. Neytiri hold a hand to her mouth as she stifles a laugh, swatting him playfully on the arm.

The message is loud and clear, and you pull your eyes away, back to the object of your affection, doing your best to keep your face as neutral as possible.

The look on Tsu’tey’s face sends a shiver crawling up your spine. There is a familiar dark wanting hidden in those amber pools, and in this moment, you have never felt more desired. Arousal thrums from your core when he flashes you a cocky smile; the hint of his fangs glistening in the deep colours cast by fire.

Your liquid courage from before fuels your next move.

Eyes half lidden, you bite your lip and place your hands to your sides. Your hips sway in time with the beat as you drag your fingers up, teasing the swells of your breasts, and up to trace the sides of your face.

Your hands slowly make smooth patterns in the air, before coming down to glide over your chest. There’s no real technique to your fluidity; you simply let the music guide you, letting the sensuality of your movements speak for you.

Even as you do the occasional spin, his eyes never leave you. With your focus set only to the man honed in on you, unfortunately, you fail to notice the staggering body of a Na’vi man about to collide with you.

The drunk warrior spills his entire drink all over your front. The spicy smelling liquid soaks through your shirt, causing it to stick to your skin.

Before you can blink or even register what has happened, large hands are immediately on you, steadying you against a warm body. A hiss, an exchange of heated words. None too soon are you suddenly hoisted into the air.

Your word spins, causing an uncontrollable giggle to come bubbling forth.

---

“Here. Eat.” Tsu’tey’s voice commands, and you feel something wet press against your lips. You take the slimly object into your mouth without hesitation, chewing it slowly.

“Eurgh! That’s so bitter!” You complain as you swallow it with some difficulty. Tsu’tey let’s out a quiet amused huff.

“Bare it. It will help clear the mind.”

He is, of course, right. The world suddenly snaps into focus once more. You take stock of your surroundings.

The two of you are alone, somewhere in the forest. Night still blankets Pandora; the forest sings in quiet tones, effervescent colours dancing in your vision.

You sit at the edge of a heated spring, your feet idly dangling in the warm water. Long blue legs cage you in from either side, and you realise you’re sitting in Tsu’tey’s lap space, leaning against his front.

The memory of your attempted sexy dancing, the disaster sticking to your skin, and now your current seating arrangement, causes you to blush.

And you blush hard, covering your face with your hands.

Tsu’tey chuckles behind you, his voice vibrating in his strong chest, reverberating in your bones.

“Why so shy, [Y/N]? Where did all that confidence go, my little txeptsyì?”

“Tsu’teeey…” You whine, pouting as you look up to him. He takes your hands from your face, his large thumbs gently stroking your palms.

“Where did you learn that dance?”

“Uhhh…Nowhere in particular…I just, wanted to dance for you…The music, the alcohol…your eyes on me…Just felt right is all. Urgh, probably didn’t look sexy at all—”

Tsu’tey ponders the not so familiar word for a moment, trying to recall its meaning.

“The dance…It is meant to entice? Physically?”

“Y-yeah. Sure, let’s put it like that.”

“…Is that what you want, [Y/N]?”

You wordlessly nod. It has been something you craved for a while. Up until now, the two of you spoke only in honeyed words, fleeting touches and chaste kisses. But your body had needs, and the primal desire to become one with your beloved only grew as time passed.

“You are very small, ma tawtute. I could hurt you…” His apprehension shows on his face, ears slightly pinned back.

“I will not break so easily.” The determination in your voice clearly stirs something within him, as evident on his face.

Tsu’tey understands all too well what you want. He had fought with himself when he had first developed feelings for you. But you had burst through the walls he built around his heart, reigniting feelings he thought once lost to him.

And here you were again, fighting against his fear of harming you. It wasn’t the intimacy that scared him, he had long since resigned to the path his heart took, all in stride of course. His biggest fear, was hurting the one he cared most for.

But by the Grace of Eywa, he wanted you as his mate. You were in all sense but physical, already his mate. And there was no doubt in his mind of your intentions. He could smell it. And this wasn’t the first time either.

“Okay.”

You blink at him a few times.

“Wha—really?”

He moves himself into the pool. He stands in front of you, the water coming up passed his waist. He plants his arms on either side of you, boxing you in.

“Yes. You doubt my words?”

“No! No I—” He pulls you up into a heated kiss before you can waste your breath on further words. He holds you gently, careful not to exert too much strength. You melt in his arms, your body already feeling mailable thanks to your slight inebriated state.

When he pulls away, he swipes the thin line of saliva left by his retreat. He tugs at the hem of your top.

“Fì’u’aku.”

You do so without hesitation, hastily throwing the soaked garment aside along with your pants.

Tsu’tey hums appreciatively as you lay bare before him, clad only in your smalls. His eyes roam over your body. From the red flushness of your face, to the swell of your breasts, down does his gaze travel; admiring the smoothness of your skin, the softness of your flesh.

His fingers drag along your sticky skin, worshipping every inch he touches. You marvel at the size of him; his hand covers the whole of your chest. If he wanted, he could crush you with a single squeeze. Slick coats your walls at the mere thought of his strength.

“Hmm. You are, sticky. Tsk. That skxáwng should have watched where he was going.” He leans down, sniffing at the nape of your neck, before giving you a purposeful lick.

You let out a surprised yelp at the contact, the warm thick muscle taking you by surprise.

“W—wait! Shouldn’t I clean myself off first? In the water?”

“Kehe. I will do it for you.”

“With what?”

“Ftxì oeyä.”

The blush on your face deepens at the prospect of him licking you clean. But you don’t object. In fact, the idea excites you all the more. Tsu’tey takes your silence as permission to continue.

He starts at your navel, slowly dragging his tongue up in a straight line, up between your breasts and along your clavicle. He let’s out a low pleasured hum at the back of his throat as he swallows your taste on his tongue.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking every inch of your skin.

You let out a soft moan when he glides his tongue over your nipples; the sound making his ears flick forward. He does it again, earning himself another delightful moan to fall from your lips.

He smirks as he continues to lick you clean.

Once he is satisfied, you lay there covered in a sheen of his saliva, nipples hard from the cool air. You don’t feel sticky anymore. But you do feel the wetness of your loins.

Tsu’tey gives you a quizzical look, studying you.

“Hm.”

“W-what is it?” You stammer, painfully aroused, but still shy under this intense stare.

“It would seem, I am not yet finished.”

“Huh?...Where could you have possibly missed? I’m practically drenched, heh.” You let out a chuff at your own double entendre. What you don’t anticipate, is the down right lustful knowing smirk he gives you right back.

“Right…here.”

He drags a single finger up your clothed cunt, sending a sudden jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

You inhale sharply at the sudden contact, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to rub you through your panties, soaking them even further in your arousal.

Gently and with purpose, he slowly removes the undergarment, chucking it somewhere near your discarded top.

Feeling shy, you try close your legs. But you are no match for him, and he holds you in place; a hand pressed to either leg, keeping you spread wide open.

“Voìk si.” He commands, and you obey, all to eager for him to just touch you already.

Tsu’tey adjusts in the water, lowering himself to the space between your thighs. He starts kissing the inside of your leg, planting languid kisses as he moves closer to your apex.

He breathes deep of your scent, pupils dilating from your tantalizing smell. When he finally presses a kiss to your folds, you can’t help but sigh in relief. He kisses you again, the pressure of his large mouth against your sex flaming the fires of your arousal. The promise of pleasured release slowly starts to build.

He gives you an experimental lick, marveling at the primal taste you leave on his tongue. He spreads you further apart using his thumbs.

His tongue returns to you, licking away at the soft flesh of your pussy in long strokes. His ears perk at the undignified sound you make when he brushes over your sensitive bud.

Your mouth agape, formed into an ‘o’ as you squirm with pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut.

His tongue is thick, large and oh so deviously wet against your folds. He presses his tongue flat against your cunt, roughly rubbing against your clit in meaningful strokes.

“Hmmm~! Just like that…” The honeyed tone of your voice is music to his ears. He wonders what other wonderful sounds you can give him. He uses one had to remove himself of his tweng, languidly stroking himself underwater as he continues worshipping your pussy with his mouth.

He licks and sucks at your folds, each ministration pulling you closer and closer to promised release. But it is not enough. Although he enjoys the soft moans and sharp intakes of breath you do, what he really wants, is for you to scream.

Both of his hands are suddenly cupping your ass cheeks, lifting you off the ground. You eyes snap open, widening in shock. He throws your legs over his shoulders, pushing himself forward, lifting you higher. Your core aches as you strain to keep balance on just your arms and upper back; your lower half practically vertical.

He wraps one hand around your waist, holding you still in a tight grip.

He’s on you once more, lavishing your sex in heated licks and gulps. The evidence of your arousal coats the entirety of his mouth, practically dripping down his chin. And he can’t get enough of it.

You hold each other’s stare; gaze unwavering.

Without warning, he presses his tongue to your entrance, plunging his warm tongue right into your welcoming hole.

The sudden stretch is a titillating burn, a burst of pleasure springing forth. Your walls mold around his tongue as he plunges the appendage in and out of you. He uses the thumb of his free hand to toy with your bud.

“F—fuck! Tsu’tey! YES!!!” You don’t break eye contact as your fingers dig into the ground below you as the coil tightens deep in your core. What started clumsily, soon turns ravenous as he fucks you with his tongue. At this downward angle, each plunge of his tongue into your pussy causes him to lick the spongy flesh just right.

Your release draws ever nearer, and you wish you could reciprocate in some way. Tearing your gaze away, you then notice his kuru hanging over his shoulder, resting within reach.

You take this tip in hand, gently squeezing to coax out his tendrils. He watches wide-eyed as you bring them to your face. You let the ends invade your mouth, teasing them with your tongue in a wet slobbering dance. It tingles.

You watch as Tsu’tey’s pupil’s dilate, eyes rolling back before he squeezes them shut. A low growl, perhaps moan, rubbles from deep in his chest and up his throat. The vibration courses through your walls and clit. The grip on your waist tightens, and he engulfs your entire pussy with his mouth. He sucks as hard as he can while rubbing his tongue against that knowing spot deep within your core.

You all but shatter. You scream, uncaring, as the coil snaps, pushing you over the edge.

Your orgasm bursts forth, and he drinks deep of the juices flowing into his mouth. Your legs squeeze tight in an effort to keep his head in place. He helps you ride out your orgasm to the fullest, licking your clit continuously. You remove the tendrils of his kuru from your mouth, desperately trying to speak when the feeling becomes too intense.

“S—stop…It’sss too muuuchh…” You slur your words, pleading. He yields, pulling his mouth away. He slowly licks his lips clean, letting out a low approving moan as he swallows.

“Ftxìlor.” He says, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

If you weren’t already burning, you’d blush at the sight of his mouth shimmering with your juices smeared all over his jaw.

Gently he lowers you back down, letting you rest on your back once more. He washes away your slick with the spring’s water.

Once done, he moves to lean over you, careful to hold himself up so as to not crush you under him. His hand comes to cup the side of your face, eyes searching.

“You are, alright?” He asks, and there is a hint of uncertainty to his voice.

“Alright??” You let out a huff, almost offended by the question.

“I am more than alright. I feel fucking fantastic…That was, amazing. Where did you even learn that?”

He gives you a cheeky grin, self-assured and brimming with pride.

“No where in particular. The sounds you made. The taste of you. It just, felt right.” Cheeky bastard was using your own words against you. You don’t mind though, and let out a soft giggle, placing your hand over his.

He leans closer, kissing you softly. You faintly taste yourself on his skin. You lick his lips teasingly, and feel him smile. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“[Y/N]. Nga yawne lu oer.”

No matter how many times you hear it, you still get butterflies in your stomach. What a wonderful feeling.

“I love you too, my Mighty Warrior.”

He kisses you again, more passionate than before. His mouth moves against yours hungrily, yearning. You get the distinct feeling he’s ready. And by Eywa’s will do you feel ready as well.

When next he pulls away, you can see the desire burning in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Ma Tsu’tey…I’m ready.”

“Yawne…”

You press a kiss to his nose.

“Let me feel all of you, my love. Join with me, before Eywa. Become truly mine…”

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine; nothing like the cheeky smirks or prideful grins.

He stands up, taking you by the legs and pulling your cunt flush with his pelvis. You look forward, and eyes widen at the sheer size of his hardened cock now nestled between your legs.

Your eyes dart from his face to his member a few times. You peer up at him, eyes pleading.

You needed that thing inside you right the fuck now.

“Now, [Y/N]…” You bite your lip as you watch him take himself in hand, lining up with your entrance.

“Rikx rä’ä.”

You scream in ecstasy with the first thrust.

---

Glossary: txeptsyì - flame tawtute - human Fì’u’aku - remove this skxáwng - moron fnu - be quiet kehe - no ftxì oeyä - my tongue voìk si - behave ftxìlor - delicious Nga yawne lu oer - I love you yawne - beloved Rikx rä’a - don't move

---

Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @grimistangel @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ducks118 @graysonmalik2550 @p9scal @ohshititsfenharel @ourmurdermessiah @cocoaflare @sarcasticrandy @liyahsocorro @olivia-the-weirdo @dyingofcookies

[choerypetal]

Together. / Mike Schimdt

Authors Note : So I just happened to watch the FNAF movie and my god it was so good, with a hint of good Lore in it. Also the cast was perfect and ever since watching it, I had a thought of writing a quick one shot for Mike and Y/N. Where Y/N suffers from hallucination and has the same symptoms but a different kind of illness than Abby's. Suggesting that they see also the kids but also the man who's being everything, not only controlling them and their life styles, resulting in a lack of sleep pattern and tons of trauma.

Enjoy!

Ps : Pls don't repost or copy and paste my works. Everything is written by me, and also note that English isn't my first mother language, so I apologize in advance if there is any grammar errors. I tried my very best.

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

From one call to another, Mike encountered an unending stream of repetitive "nos" and polite rejections for the position he sought. It dawned on him that he might be the source of the issue, especially after the peculiar "incident" that may have left a stranger somewhat shaken. A few days post-dismissal, someone finally directed him to visit the office of Steve Raglan, a man he had never met before. Today presented the perfect opportunity. Mr. Raglan fit the mold of a man from a bygone era, with his distinctive round glasses and traditional attire. Michael's growing apprehension made him wonder if venturing into this place had been a poor decision all along.

A hushed pause enveloped the room as Mr. Raglan perused Mike's professional background with casual interest. "Well, Mike..." He paused in the midst of his sentence, stealing a quick, appraising glance in his direction. Mike responded nonchalantly. "Yes?" His voice, however, lacked the self-assuredness he longed to convey.

"Care for some coffee?" Steve's inquiry was succinct yet brimming with anticipation as he strolled toward his coffee machine. Mike hesitated, then replied, "Um... No, thank you. I'd rather get this done quick." Deep down, Mike yearned for a stable job, one that would enable him to look after his sister, Abby, and perhaps even sway their aunt to grant them custody.

Steve sensed the growing impatience in his client, who was eager to learn what the future had in store. "You know," Steve remarked, returning to his chair, his voice now tinged with excitement – a side effect, Mike presumed, of his coffee intake. "I recognize this place. It's a place where someone like you would give anything for the job..." A spark of curiosity ignited within Mike as he leaned closer to Mr. Reglan, raising an intrigued brow. "And," Mike inquired. "what makes this place so special?" Steve paused briefly, carefully choosing his words. "Well, you see..."

Mike found himself utterly perplexed by the revelation before him. The location had not only been abandoned since the '80s but also, the job requirements were far from aligning with his original intentions. The compensation was dismal, and he couldn't help but suspect that perhaps none of the previous security guards had been paid properly either. Or not paid at all. It involved a shift he had no expertise in and had no intention of pursuing, particularly after having to bail on his babysitter to bring Abby with him. It was an unequivocal "No." He declared firmly, convinced that this man was even more cynical than he was.

"Are you absolutely certain? Your resume suggests you're more than capable for the position." Mr. Raglan made one final attempt to persuade, his features softening subtly from their earlier rigidity. However, Mike shook his head once more, resolute in his decision. He muttered briefly about the job being the primary source of his conflict, preventing him from seeing Abby or ensuring she had a decent meal, not to mention avoiding losing custody to his aunt. With determination, he rose from his chair, ready to leave the office. Just as Mike was about to exit, Steve handed him his business card, his demeanor marked by a slight pout, swiftly followed by a confident smile. "Just in case, take this," he suggested. Mike, though hesitating for a moment, accepted the card out of politeness and left the office without a word.

After his meeting with Mr. Raglan, Mike's quest for the ideal job seemed to come to an unfortunate conclusion. None of the places he had contacted before his appointment with the advisor, and none since, had offered him any promising prospects. He was beginning to contemplate that maybe accepting the night shift at this particular place was the most feasible option for now. If nothing else, it would provide him with a source of income, and the busy night hours might keep his mind occupied. What enticed him even more was the prospect of being his own boss, with no co-workers to influence his ever-present paranoia. This thought made him more determined than ever to give it a try.

On that very same day, as Abby engrossed herself in her beloved TV shows, Mike settled in to tackle his usual paperwork. It was a task he wasn't particularly fond of, especially considering how the bills seemed to climb higher with each passing month. Even though they were essentially the same, being currently unemployed gave him the impression that each payment had somehow inflated. Just as he was wrapping up his tax payments, a business card slipped through the paperwork, piquing his curiosity and triggering an unexpected flashback.

He hesitated for a moment, contemplating the significance of the card, and then made an impulsive decision. Michael picked up the card and dialed Mr. Reglan's number.

Silence greeted Mike on the other end of the line, as if Mr. Raglan had anticipated the need to give him some space before speaking. "Hello, Mr. Raglan, it's Mike." He began, slightly perplexed. Oddly enough, he could almost sense the man's smile from the other end of the call. It was a whimsical, knowing smile, as if the company had despaired of finding anyone willing to take on the position. Advising Mr. Raglan to take anyone who had agreed upon the offer. "The man who doesn’t do night shifts..." 

“How may I help you?” 

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep gulp. Ultimately, if he hoped to secure some much-needed income by the end of the month, Mike felt he had no choice but to go for it. With trepidation, he inquired about the availability of the job position. Mr. Raglan's response was swift and affirmative, exuding a sense of warmth toward the young man's inquiry. Encouraged by this, Mr. Raglan asked, "So, from the seemingly random question, can I assume you are accepting to be the Night Guard? Is that correct?"

“Yes.” Mike firmly agreed. 

“Well!” Mr. Raglan exclaimed with a beam smile written on his features. “Now let me explain you everything you need to know…” 

Mike's first night turned out to be anything but simple, despite his initial expectations. Although he had assumed it would be a straightforward affair, the reality hit him when he arrived at the Pizzeria. Mr. Raglan had painted an enticing picture, but the reality was far from appealing. The exterior of the place was drab, with a sign in disrepair, and an entrance that appeared older than Mike himself. The eerie atmosphere left him questioning the wisdom of his decision to accept the job. However, the need for money was a compelling motivator, so he soldiered on.

As he stepped into the building, he recalled being informed that the technology was outdated yet operational, suggesting that someone had been there before him to maintain it. Regardless, as long as their shifts didn't overlap, it was a situation he could live with. However, as he prepared to settle into his office, a profound sense of isolation crept over him. Or perhaps it was a feeling he had merely convinced himself of.

On that very night, Mr. Raglan had called for a check-in, a practice that you found rather unsettling. It only served to worsen your already fragile sleep schedule as the weeks passed. What made it even more distressing were the persistent, haunting visions of them replaying in your mind – flashbacks of their appearances at the restaurant and even inside your own home. But what set your anxiety spiraling was the presence of an eerie figure intertwined with these visions. This haunting scenario ultimately drove you to seek medical attention at the hospital due to severe sleep deprivation. After that harrowing incident, it's safe to say that your eyes would seldom close.

You had also received a rather cryptic warning to keep an eye on the new night security guard, as if your job wasn't demanding enough on its own. Strangely enough, you had never laid eyes on the big boss, nor had any idea what he even looked like. All you knew was that he had a penchant for privacy and seemed to have great faith in Mr. Raglan's knack for providing these kinds of employment opportunities.

As you cruised through the town, dressed in your security guard uniform, you made a pit stop at the convenience store. There, you grabbed some instant coffee and a few snacks to keep yourself alert during your night shift. It wasn't as if you desperately needed them, but considering the unpredictable behavior of the animatronics, especially on the new security guard’s very first day, you opted to stay on high alert. After all, it had been who knew how long since you'd managed to keep your sanity intact while enduring the trials of this dismal place.

You had casually mentioned to Vanessa that you had a few errands to run. She appeared as exhausted as you, both of you affected by the recent ordeal involving the security guard. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor guy, always caught in the middle of chaos and associated with the color purple. It seemed absurd that something so innocuous could be the root of all these problems, but you quickly dismissed such thoughts. After paying the cashier and expressing your gratitude, you left the store behind.

Mike's night was surprisingly going well, and he mused, "It's not as bad as I thought." Despite his seemingly confident tone, he remained alert and cautious. While you had explicitly advised Vanessa not to come and check on you, yet she did precisely the opposite. Mike suddenly became aware that he was not alone. Could it be a burglar? He had been sternly warned against letting any strangers in, and he was determined to follow that advice. However, Vanessa's impressive familiarity with the Pizzeria allowed her to slip in through an alternate entrance, demonstrating her knowledge of the place. Leading Mike into desperate urgent major. Finding the burglar. 

Meeting Vanessa had caught him off guard, and he was momentarily taken aback by her unexpected presence. Vanessa, however, took the initiative to speak on his behalf. "You must be the new security guard," she observed. Mike, still trying to process who this woman was, offered a hesitant nod, prompting a chuckle from Vanessa at his reaction. "I'm Vanessa," she introduced herself, her tone light. "Security guard by day, and assistant by night."

"Assistant?" Mike scrutinized her, contemplating whether he should call the big boss to confirm her role. However, Vanessa reassured him, saying. "No need to. The big boss called Y/N to fix Foxy's lair."

"Y/N?" Mike inquired, skepticism evident in his voice. "And why should I take your word for it without any proof?" He stayed close to the camera footage and swiftly switched to the next camera, which was focused on Foxy's area. Everything appeared to be in pristine condition, suggesting the entire place had been left deserted. "And who is this... Y/N?"

Vanessa pointed at the screen displaying the main entrance, where you were standing, clearly aware of the camera above. You cheekily flipped your finger at the camera, leaving Mike torn between the belief that Vanessa was indeed present or that the security guard was merely doing his job, and she wasn't there at all.

"I informed them that I wouldn't be around, but they are rather fragile. They are being advised to be checked on during their shift." Vanessa explained. "While I focus on the animatronics to avoid raising any suspicion, I suggest you go and check on them.”

The instructions were unmistakable, and Mike had little choice but to comply. "But... what if the boss finds out I'm not at my station?" He voiced his concern. Vanessa couldn't help but chuckle softly, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. "Don't fret. He's already aware." She reassured him, her expression tinged with a hint of guilt.

"Great," Mike muttered with an eye roll as he returned to monitoring the main entrance. He couldn't help but steal a glance at your figure, noticing how cold you seemed on this early fall night. He could practically see you shouting on the other line, "Hey, jerk! Let me in, it's freezing out here!" Even though he couldn't hear your words, he could tell from the expression on your face. In response, he finally granted you access, and you muttered with relief. "About time..." just before stepping inside.

As you stepped inside, the interior of the place made you acutely aware of your luck, albeit in an eerie way. It was undeniably creepy, yet you had an inexplicable sense of safety and even felt oddly welcomed. Foxy, known to be the most terrifying and historically the meanest of them all, somehow found solace in your presence. You could have sworn that at times, his eyes seemed to lower, watching as you tended to him. It was as though he had a hidden identity, not quite ready to reveal his true nature, you suspected.

As you wandered through the Pizzeria, Mike couldn't help but notice your diminutive figure amidst all the towering animatronics. He found it difficult to fathom how someone so petite could be employed in this establishment. He murmured his thoughts to Vanessa, nudging her gently. "Maybe we—" He began, but she quickly interrupted, saying, "Not now."

As you finished repairing Bonnie, the big boss tasked you with fixing Foxy, who had been acting strangely. It struck you as odd because Foxy typically only reacted to potential intruders. He preferred targeting moving objects over those playing hide and seek until they got too close. You made your way up to his lair, pulled back the curtains, and revealed his silhouette. "Seems like someone's been naughty lately..." Your voice usually provided comfort, but today it had an odd tone. "Have you...met the new guard?" You found it rather absurd to be talking to a robotic entity, particularly one as poorly and cheaply programmed as you had discovered. If there was one thing you wanted to tell the big boss, assuming you ever met them, it was to consider upgrading the gear if they ever thought of opening another Pizzeria. 

On the other end, Mike observed you with a watchful eye. It didn't take long before you began repairing Foxy's arm and his body started to glitch unexpectedly. "Weird... I thought—" Your words were abruptly cut off by a loud and startling BANG. Foxy's eyes were now fixed on you, but they were different from what you were used to. They were red and filled with anger, just like in your recurring nightmares. In that harrowing moment, you froze in place, uncertain of what to do next. "Y/N!" Vanessa's voice came through the walkie-talkie, but you couldn't hear it. Everything around you felt vacant, as if you were about to become Foxy's last meal of the night... or so you feared.

An arm swiftly reached out and pulled you close to its owner. Mike clutched you tightly, and a sense of terror and dread washed over both of you. It was Mike who managed to break free from the grip and make a dash for the monitor room, but just as he got there, Bonnie arrived, blocking his path. "Damn it," he cursed, frantically scanning for an alternate route. You, from your vantage point, weakly directed him, "The first aid room...to the right."

Without uttering a word of thanks, which, given the gravity of the situation, seemed secondary to getting you to safety, Mike finally brought you to the emergency room. It was a room that had seen far too much use, but oddly enough, everything seemed to return to normal once you arrived. The animatronics had moved elsewhere, and for some reason, they couldn't access the area. This brought a sense of relief to Mike. He carefully placed your body on a rather shabby bunk bed and softly murmured, "Here..." You remained in a state of shock, your eyes wide as if your body had been frozen in place. "Hey," He attempted to reassure you, "you're safe now. Vanessa should... Great job, Mike, real smooth." He berated himself inwardly for his awkward choice of words.

Upon hearing Vanessa's presence, you lifted your head abruptly, your eyes brimming with tears you were trying to hold back. Just when you thought of her, she appeared, precisely knowing where to find you. You felt a mixture of relief and concern as she leaned in to inspect you for any wounds or scratches, cupping your face and keeping her gaze locked on you. "Has they had any water?" Mike, who was present to assist, appeared increasingly nervous this time. Being new to this place, he didn't know everything either. "Where... Where is it?" He stammered, quickly searching the room. Vanessa pointed in the direction, her eyes never leaving you. "The first storage room to the left."

"Y/N, look at me." Vanessa implored, his voice filled with unease. "The man doesn't exist. He's not here... He's a fictional—"

Nervously, Mike handed the water bottle to Vanessa, who then offered it to you. This time, you shook your head vigorously, tears streaming down your face. "No! I saw him. Foxy spoke his name to me! It can't just be in my dreams!" You pleaded, desperate to convince them, despite your previous breakdowns being labeled as delusional by past doctors. As you shook your head, you realized that Mike was beside you. You clung to his arm, causing him to gulp nervously, just a little. "You have to believe me... Please..."

Mike found it hard to believe, even though you had clearly experienced a breakdown in that moment. While it was entirely understandable, he tried to do the same thing Vanessa did. "Perhaps you should just take a moment to breathe." He suggested. "Whenever I'm in a state of panic, my doctor advises me to take deep breaths." You observed him closely and countered. "And does your doctor say you're insane?"

Insane…

As undeniable as the truth was, it struck Mike that perhaps you were right. Everything seemed so peculiar when it came to Abby and Y/N's imaginary friends, especially with Vanessa working so hard to conceal her friend's breakdowns. "You know... now that you mention it..." Mike began, leaning in to discuss it further. Vanessa attempted to nudge him away, but you allowed him to continue. But he stopped. And by locking eyes with each other, you both knew something was wrong with this place. So in response, you leaned in and wrapped yourself in his arm. There was something about him that felt like home. You felt protected and, for once, someone truly understood you.

On the other hand, Mike comforted you with a few soothing rubs on your back. He glanced at Vanessa, who seemed to share the relief but carried a heavy load of guilt inside, which she wasn't ready to disclose to either Mike or you. “Shh… I got you.” He said, with a soothing voice that remembered it as your older brother. Not letting it go he continued. “We are going to get through all of this together… Y/N.” 

“Together…” 

In the distance, Abby observed the trio with Foxy's humanoid presence beside her. Foxy, who felt a deep sense of guilt for what he had done to them just hours ago, hesitated to intervene to bring Y/N back to him. However, as he watched Mike and you, he felt a strong urge to protect you, jealousy even you were a mother figure for everyone, but especially Foxy. Abby noticed his face changing into hatred until she halted him with a reassuring smile. "There's no need," Abby whispered. "They have found someone... Someone who truly cares for them. Someone who will love and protect them."

Foxy silently observed the scene unfolding before his eyes, and as he heard Abby's words, he felt a sense of relief welling up within him. Watching it all happen, Foxy came to realize that Abby was indeed right. Y/N had found someone they could genuinely rely on, someone with whom she could openly express their feelings..

Fin. 

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment. 

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end. 

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue. 

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies. 

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning. 

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully. 

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands. 

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him. 

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.” 

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters. 

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands. 

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.” 

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking. 

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention. 

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today. 

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps. 

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father. 

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather. 

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon. 

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand. 

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence. 

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels. 

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers. 

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon. 

“Uncle Aemond,  I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same.  Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim.  Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful.  Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble. 

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image. 

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.” 

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in. 

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen. 

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades. 

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness. 

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.” 

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it. 

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone. 

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.” 

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you. 

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you. 

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth. 

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys. 

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind. 

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress. 

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye. 

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates. 

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons. 

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep. 

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon. 

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes. 

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.  

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle. 

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it. 

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of. 

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms. 

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.” 

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.” 

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.” 

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit. 

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard. 

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls. 

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom. 

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side. 

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears. 

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again. 

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.” 

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight. 

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives. 

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire. 

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.” 

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity. 

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not. 

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes. 

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.” 

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?” 

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes. 

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs. 

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you. 

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece. 

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal. 

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers. 

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.” 

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up. 

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved. 

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Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[yamayuandadu]

The most important deity you've never heard of: the 3000 years long history of Nanaya

Being a major deity is not necessarily a guarantee of being remembered. Nanaya survived for longer than any other Mesopotamian deity, spread further away from her original home than any of her peers, and even briefly competed with both Buddha and Jesus for relevance. At the same time, even in scholarship she is often treated as unworthy of study. She has no popculture presence save for an atrocious, ill-informed SCP story which can’t get the most basic details right. Her claims to fame include starring in fairly explicit love poetry and appearing where nobody would expect her. Therefore, she is the ideal topic to discuss on this blog. This is actually the longest article I published here, the culmination of over two years of research. By now, the overwhelming majority of Nanaya-related articles on wikipedia are my work, and what you can find under the cut is essentially a synthesis of what I have learned while getting there. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed working on it. Under the cut, you will learn everything there is to know about Nanaya: her origin, character, connections with other Mesopotamian deities, her role in literature, her cult centers… Since her history does not end with cuneiform, naturally the later text corpora - Aramaic, Bactrian, Sogdian and even Chinese - are discussed too. The article concludes with a short explanation why I see the study of Nanaya as crucial.

Dubious origins and scribal wordplays: from na-na to Nanaya Long ago Samuel Noah Kramer said that “history begins in Sumer”. While the core sentiment was not wrong in many regards, in this case it might actually begin in Akkad, specifically in Gasur, close to modern Kirkuk. The oldest possible attestation of Nanaya are personal names from this city with the element na-na, dated roughly to the reign of Naram-Sin of Akkad, so to around 2250 BCE. It’s not marked in the way names of deities in personal names would usually be, but this would not be an isolated case.

The evidence is ultimately mixed. On one hand, reduplicated names like Nana are not unusual in early Akkadian sources, and -ya can plausibly be explained as a hypocoristic suffix. On the other hand, there is not much evidence for Nanaya being worshiped specifically in the far northeast of Mesopotamia in other periods. Yet another issue is that there is seemingly no root nan- in Akkadian, at least in any attested words.

The main competing proposal is that Nanaya originally arose as a hypostasis of Inanna but eventually split off through metaphorical mitosis, like a few other goddesses did, for example Annunitum. This is not entirely implausible either, but ultimately direct evidence is lacking, and when Nanaya pops up for the first time in history she is clearly a distinct goddess.

There are a few other proposals regarding Nanaya’s origin, but they are considerably weaker. Elamite has the promising term nan, “day” or “morning”, but Nanaya is entirely absent from the Old Elamite sources you’d expect to find her in if Mesopotamians imported her from the east. Therefore, very few authors adhere to this view. The hypothesis that she was an Aramaic goddess in origin does not really work chronologically, since Aramaic is not attested in the third millennium BCE at all. The less said about attempts to connect her to anything “Proto-Indo-European”, the better.

Like many other names of deities, Nanaya’s was already a subject of etymological speculation in antiquity. A late annotated version of the Weidner god list, tablet BM 62741, preserves a scribe’s speculative attempt at deriving it from the basic meaning of the sign NA, “to call”, furnished with a feminine suffix, A. Needless to say, like other such examples of scribal speculation, some of which are closer to playful word play than linguistics, it is unlikely to reflect the actual origin of the name.

Early history: Shulgi-simti, Nanaya’s earliest recorded #1 fan

A typical Ur III administrative tablet listing offerings to various deities (wikimedia commons)

The first absolutely certain attestations of Nanaya, now firmly under her full name, have been identified in texts from the famous archive from Puzrish-Dagan, modern Drehem, dated to around 2100 BCE. Much can be written about this site, but here it will suffice to say that it was a center of the royal administration of the Third Dynasty of Ur ("Ur III") responsible for the distribution of sacrificial animals. Nanaya appears there in a rather unique context - she was one of the deities whose cults were patronized by queen Shulgi-simti, one of the wives of Shulgi, the successor of the dynasty’s founder Ur-Namma. We do not know much about Shulgi-simti as a person - she did not write any official inscriptions announcing her preferred foreign policy or letters to relatives or poetry or anything else that typically can be used to gain a glimpse into the personal lives of Mesopotamian royalty. We’re not really sure where she came from, though Eshnunna is often suggested as her hometown. We actually do not even know what her original name was, as it is assumed she only came to be known as Shulgi-simti after becoming a member of the royal family. Tonia Sharlach suggested that the absence of information about her personal life might indicate that she was a commoner, and that her marriage to Shulgi was not politically motivated The one sphere of Shulgi-simti’s life which we are incredibly familiar with are her religious ventures. She evidently had an eye for minor, foreign or otherwise unusual goddesses, such as Belet-Terraban or Nanaya. She apparently ran what Sharlach in her “biography” of her has characterized as a foundation. It was tasked with sponsoring various religious celebrations. Since Shulgi-simti seemingly had no estate to speak of, most of the relevant documents indicate she procured offerings from a variety of unexpected sources, including courtiers and other members of the royal family. The scale of her operations was tiny: while the more official religious organizations dealt with hundreds or thousands of sacrificial animals, up to fifty or even seventy thousand sheep and goats in the case of royal administration, the highest recorded number at her disposal seems to be eight oxen and fifty nine sheep. A further peculiarity of the “foundation” is that apparently there was a huge turnover rate among the officials tasked with maintaining it. It seems nobody really lasted there for much more than four years. There are two possible explanations: either Shulgi-simti was unusually difficult to work with, or the position was not considered particularly prestigious and was, at the absolute best, viewed as a stepping stone. While the Shulgi-simti texts are the earliest evidence for worship of Nanaya in the Ur III court, they are actually not isolated. When all the evidence from the reigns of Shulgi and his successors is summarized, it turns out that she quickly attained a prominent role, as she is among the twelve deities who received the most offerings. However, her worship was seemingly limited to Uruk (in her own sanctuary), Nippur (in the temple of Enlil, Ekur) and Ur. Granted, these were coincidentally three of the most important cities in the entire empire, so that’s a pretty solid early section of a divine resume. She chiefly appears in two types of ceremonies: these tied to the royal court, or these mostly performed by or for women. Notably, a festival involving lamentations (girrānum) was held in her honor in Uruk. To understand Nanaya’s presence in the two aforementioned contexts, and by extension her persistence in Mesopotamian religion in later periods, we need to first look into her character.

The character of Nanaya: eroticism, kingship, and disputed astral ventures

Corona Borealis (wikimedia commons)

Nanaya’s character is reasonably well defined in primary sources, but surprisingly she was almost entirely ignored in scholarship quite recently. The first study of her which holds up to scrutiny is probably Joan Goodnick Westenholz’s article Nanaya, Lady of Mystery from 1997. The core issue is the alleged interchangeability of goddesses. From the early days of Assyriology basically up to the 1980s, Nanaya was held to be basically fully interchangeable with Inanna. This obviously put her in a tough spot. Still, over the course of the past three decades the overwhelming majority of studies came to recognize Nanaya as a distinct goddess worthy of study in her own right. You will still stumble upon the occasional “Nanaya is basically Inanna”, but now this is a minority position. Tragically it’s not extinct yet, most recently I’ve seen it in a monograph published earlier this year. With these methodological and ideological issues out of the way, let’s actually look into Nanaya’s character, as promised by the title of this section. Her original role was that of a goddess of love. It is already attested for her at the dawn of her history, in the Ur III period. Her primary quality was described with a term rendered as ḫili in Sumerian and kuzbu in Akkadian. It can be variously translated as “charm”, “luxuriance”, “voluptuousness”, “sensuality” or “sexual attractiveness”. This characteristic was highlighted by her epithet bēlet kuzbi (“lady of kuzbu”) and by the name of her cella in the Eanna, Eḫilianna. The connection was so strong that this term appears basically in every single royal inscription praising her. She was also called bēlet râmi, “lady of love”. Nanaya’s role as a love goddess is often paired with describing her as a “joyful” or “charming” deity. It needs to be stressed that Nanaya was by no metric the goddess of some abstract, cosmic love or anything like that. Love incantations and prayers related to love are quite common, and give us a solid glimpse into this matter. Nanaya’s range of activity in them is defined pretty directly: she deals with relationships (and by extension also with matters like one-sided crushes or arguments between spouses), romance and with strictly sexual matters. For an example of a hymn highlighting her qualifications when it comes to the last category, see here. The text is explicit, obviously. We can go deeper, though. There is also an incantation whose incipit at first glance leaves little to imagination:

However, the translator, Giole Zisa, notes there is some debate over whether it’s actually about having sex with Nanaya or merely about invoking her (and other deities) while having sex with someone else. A distinct third possibility is that she’s not even properly invoked but that “oh, Nanaya” is simply an exclamation of excitement meant to fit the atmosphere, like a specialized version of the mainstay of modern erotica dialogue, “oh god”.

While this romantic and sexual aspect of Nanaya’s character is obviously impossible to overlook, this is not all there was to her. She was also associated with kingship, as already documented in the Ur III period. She was invoked during coronations and mourning of deceased kings. In the Old Babylonian period she was linked to investiture by rulers of newly independent Uruk. A topic which has stirred some controversy in scholarship is Nanaya’s supposed astral role. Modern authors who try to present Nanaya as a Venus deity fall back on rather faulty reasoning, namely asserting that if Nanaya was associated with Inanna and Inanna personified Venus, clearly Nanaya did too. Of course, being associated with Inanna does not guarantee the same traits. Shaushka was associated with her so closely her name was written with the logogram representing her counterpart quite often, and lacked astral aspects altogether. No primary sources which discuss Nanaya as a distinct, actively worshiped deity actually link her with Venus. If you stretch it you will find some tidbits like an entry in a dictionary prepared by the 10th century bishop Hasan bar Bahlul, who inexplicably asserted Nanaya was the Arabic name of the planet Venus. As you will see soon, there isn’t even a possibility that this reflected a relic of interpretatio graeca. The early Mandaean sources, many of which were written when at least remnants of ancient Mesopotamian religion were still extant, also do not link Nanaya with Venus. Despite at best ambivalent attitude towards Mesopotamian deities, they show remarkable attention to detail when it comes to listing their cult centers, and on top of that Mesopotamian astronomy had a considerable impact on Mandaeism, so there is no reason not to prioritize them, as far as I am concerned. As far as the ancient Mesopotamian sources themselves go, the only astral object with a direct connection to Nanaya was Corona Borealis (BAL.TÉŠ.A, “Dignity”), as attested in the astronomical compendium MUL.APIN. Note that this is a work which assigns astral counterparts to virtually any deity possible, though, and there is no indication this was a major part of Nanaya’s character. Save for this single instance, she is entirely absent from astronomical texts. A further astral possibility is that Nanaya was associated with the moon. The earliest evidence is highly ambiguous: in the Ur III period festivals held in her honor might have been tied to phases of the moon, while in the Old Babylonian period a sanctuary dedicated to her located in Larsa was known under the ceremonial name Eitida, “house of the month”. A poem in which looking at her is compared to looking at the moon is also known. That’s not all, though. Starting with the Old Babylonian period, she could also be compared with the sun. Possibly such comparisons were meant to present her as an astral deity, without necessarily identifying her with a specific astral body. Michael P. Streck and Nathan Wasserman suggest that it might be optimal to simply refer to her as a “luminous” deity in this context. However, as you will see later it nonetheless does seem she eventually came to be firmly associated both with the sun and the moon. Last but not least, Nanaya occasionally displayed warlike traits. It’s hardly major in her case, and if you tried hard enough you could turn any deity into a war deity depending on your political goals, though. I’d also place the incantation which casts her as one of the deities responsible for keeping the demon Lamashtu at bay here.

Nanaya in art

The oldest known depiction of Nanaya (wikimedia commons)

While Nanaya’s roles are pretty well defined, there surprisingly isn’t much to say about her iconography in Mesopotamian art.The oldest certain surviving depiction of her is rather indistinct: she’s wearing a tall headdress and a flounced robe. It dates to the late Kassite period (so roughly to 1200 BCE), and shows her alongside king Meli-Shipak (or maybe Meli-Shihu, reading remains uncertain) and his daughter Hunnubat-Nanaya. Nanaya is apparently invoked to guarantee that the prebend granted to the princess will be under divine protection. This is not really some unique prerogative of hers, perhaps she was just the most appropriate choice because Hunnubat-Nanaya’s name obviously reflects devotion to her. The relief discussed above is actually the only depiction of Nanaya identified with certainty from before the Hellenistic period, surprisingly. We know that statues representing her existed, and it is hard to imagine that a popular, commonly worshiped deity was not depicted on objects like terracotta decorations and cylinder seals, but even if some of these were discovered, there’s no way to identify them with certainty. This is not unusual though, and ultimately there aren’t many Mesopotamian deities who can be identified in art without any ambiguity. 

Nanaya in literature

As I highlighted in the section dealing with Nanaya’s character, she is reasonably well attested in love poetry. However, this is not the only genre in which she played a role. A true testament to Nanaya’s prominence is a bilingual (Sumero-Akkadian) hymn composed in her honor in the first millennium BCE. It is written in the first person, and presents various other goddesses as her alternate identities. It is hardly unique, and similar compositions dedicated to Ishtar (Inanna), Gula, Ninurta and Marduk are also known. Each strophe describes a different deity and location, but ends with Nanaya reasserting her actual identity with the words “still I am Nanaya”. Among the claimed identities included are both major goddesses in their own right (Inanna plus closely associated Annunitum and Ishara, Gula, Bau, Ninlil), goddesses relevant due to their spousal roles first and foremost (Damkina, Shala, Mammitum etc) and some truly unexpected, picks, the notoriously elusive personified rainbow Manzat being the prime example. Most of them had very little in common with Nanaya, so this might be less an attempt at syncretism, and more an elevation of her position through comparisons to those of other goddesses. An additional possible literary curiosity is a poorly preserved myth which Wilfred G. Lambert referred to as “The murder of Anshar”. He argues that Nanaya is one of the two deities responsible for the eponymous act. I don't quite follow the logic, though: the goddess is actually named Ninamakalamma (“Lady mother of the land”), and her sole connection with Nanaya is that they occur in sequence in the unique god list from Sultantepe. Lambert saw this as a possible indication they are identical. There are no other attestations of this name, but ama kalamma does occur as an epithet of various goddesses, most notably Ninshubur. Given her juxtaposition with Nanaya in the Weidner god list - more on that later - wouldn’t it make more sense to assume it’s her? Due to obscurity of the text as far as I am aware nobody has questioned Lambert’s tentative proposal yet, though.

There isn’t much to say about the plot: Anshar, literally “whole heaven”, the father of Anu, presumably gets overthrown and might be subsequently killed. Something that needs to be stressed here to avoid misinterpretation: primordial deities such as Anshar were borderline irrelevant, and weren't really worshiped. They exist to fade away in myths and to be speculated about in elaborate lexical texts. There was no deposed cult of Anshar. Same goes for all the Tiamats and Enmesharras and so on.

Inanna and beyond: Nanaya and friends in Mesopotamian sources

Inanna on a cylinder seal from the second half of the third millennium BCE (wikimedia commons)

Of course, Nanaya’s single most important connection was that to Inanna, no matter if we are to accept the view that she was effectively a hypostasis gone rogue or not. The relationship between them could be represented in many different ways. Quite commonly she was understood as a courtier or protegee of Inanna. A hymn from the reign of Ishbi-Erra calls her the “ornament of Eanna” (Inanna’s main temple in Uruk) and states she was appointed by Inanna to her position. References to Inanna as Nanaya’s mother are also known, though they are rare, and might be metaphorical. To my best knowledge nothing changed since Olga Drewnowska-Rymarz’s monograph, in which she notes she only found three examples of texts preserving this tradition. I would personally abstain from trying to read too deep into it, given this scarcity. Other traditions regarding Nanaya’s parentage are better attested. In multiple cases, she “borrows” Inanna’s conventional genealogy, and as a result is addressed as a daughter of Sin (Nanna), the moon god. However, she was never addressed as Inanna’s sister: it seems that in cases where Sin and Nanaya are connected, she effectively “usurps” Inanna’s own status as his daughter (and as the sister of Shamash, while at it). Alternatively, she could be viewed as a daughter of Anu. Finally, there is a peculiar tradition which was the default in laments: in this case, Nanaya was described as a daughter of Urash. The name in this context does not refer to the wife of Anu, though. The deity meant is instead a small time farmer god from Dilbat. To my best knowledge no sources place Nanaya in the proximity of other members of Urash’s family, though some do specify she was his firstborn daughter. To my best knowledge Urash had at least two other children, Lagamal (“no mercy”, an underworld deity whose gender is a matter of debate) and Ipte-bitam (“he opened the house”, as you can probably guess a divine doorkeeper). Nanaya’s mother by extension would presumably be Urash’s wife Ninegal, the tutelary goddess of royal palaces. There is actually a ritual text listing these three together. In the Weidner god list Nanaya appears after Ninshubur. Sadly, I found no evidence for a direct association between these two. For what it’s worth, they did share a highly specific role, that of a deity responsible for ordering around lamma. This term referred to a class of minor deities who can be understood as analogous to “guardian angels” in contemporary Christianity, except places and even deities had their own lamma too, not just people. Lamma can also be understood at once as a class of distinct minor deities, as the given name of individual members of it, and as a title of major deities. In an inscription of Gudea the main members of the official pantheon are addressed as “lamma of all nations”, by far one of my favorite collective terms of deities in Mesopotamian literature. A second important aspect of the Weidner god list is placing Nanaya right in front of Bizilla. The two also appear side by side in some offering lists and in the astronomical compendium MUL.APIN, where they are curiously listed as members of the court of Enlil. It seems that like Nanaya, she was a goddess of love, which is presumably reflected by her name. It has been variously translated as “pleasing”, “loving” or as a derivative of the verb “to strip”. An argument can be made that Bizilla was to Nanaya what Nanaya was to Inanna. However, she also had a few roles of her own. Most notably, she was regarded as the sukkal of Ninlil. She may or may not also have had some sort of connection to Nungal, the goddess of prisons, though it remains a matter of debate if it’s really her or yet another, accidentally similarly named, goddess.

An indistinct Hurro-Hittite depiction of Ishara from the Yazilikaya sanctuary (wikimedia commons)

In love incantations, Nanaya belonged to an informal group which also included Inanna, Ishara, Kanisurra and Gazbaba. I do not think Inanna’s presence needs to be explained. Ishara had an independent connection with Inanna and was a multi-purpose deity to put it very lightly; in the realm of love she was particularly strongly connected with weddings and wedding nights. Kanisurra and Gazbaba warrant a bit more discussion, because they are arguably Nanaya’s supporting cast first and foremost. Gazbaba is, at the core, seemingly simply the personification of kuzbu. Her name had pretty inconsistent orthography, and variants such as Kazba or Gazbaya can be found in primary sources too. The last of them pretty clearly reflects an attempt at making her name resemble Nanaya’s. Not much can be said about her individual character beyond the fact she was doubtlessly related to love and/or sex. She is described as the “grinning one” in an incantation which might be a sexual allusion too, seeing as such expressions are a mainstay of Akkadian erotic poetry. Kanisurra would probably win the award for the fakest sounding Mesopotamian goddess, if such a competition existed. Her name most likely originated as a designation of the gate of the underworld, ganzer. Her default epithet was “lady of the witches” (bēlet kaššāpāti). And on top of that, like Nanaya and Gazbaba she was associated with sex. She certainly sounds more like a contemporary edgy oc of the Enoby Dimentia Raven Way variety than a bronze age goddess - and yet, she is completely genuine. It is commonly argued Kanisurra and Gazbaba were regarded as Nanaya’s daughters, but there is actually no direct evidence for this. In the only text where their relation to Nanaya is clearly defined they are described as her hairdressers, rather than children. While in some cases the love goddesses appear in love incantations in company of each other almost as if they were some sort of disastrous polycule, occasionally Nanaya is accompanied in them by an anonymous spouse. Together they occur in parallel with Inanna and Dumuzi and Ishara and Almanu, apparently a (accidental?) deification of a term referring to someone without family obligations. There is only one Old Babylonian source which actually assigns a specific identity to Nanaya’s spouse, a hymn dedicated to king Abi-eshuh of Babylon. An otherwise largely unknown god Muati (I patched up his wiki article just for the sake of this blog post) plays this role here. The text presents a curious case of reversal of gender roles: Muati is asked to intercede with Nanaya on behalf of petitioners. Usually this was the role of the wife - the best known case is Aya, the wife of Shamash, who is implored to do just that by Ninsun in the standard edition of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It’s also attested for goddesses such as Laz, Shala, Ninegal or Ninmug… and in the case of Inanna, for Ninshubur.

A Neo-Assyrian statue of Nabu on display in the Iraq Museum (wikimedia commons)

Marten Stol seems to treat Muati and Nabu as virtually the same deity, and on this basis states that Nanaya was already associated with the latter in the Old Babylonian period, but this seems to be a minority position. Other authors pretty consistently assume that Muati was a distinct deity at some point “absorbed” by Nabu. The oldest example of pairing Nanaya with Nabu I am aware of is an inscription dated to the reign of Marduk-apla-iddina I, so roughly to the first half of the twelfth century BCE. The rise of this tradition in the first millennium BCE was less theological and more political. With Babylon once again emerging as a preeminent power, local theologies were supposed to be subordinated to the one followed in the dominant city. Which, at the time, was focused on Nabu, Marduk and Zarpanit. Worth noting that Nabu also had a spouse before, Tashmetum (“reconciliation”). In the long run she was more or less ousted by Nanaya from some locations, though she retained popularity in the north, in Assyria. She is not exactly the most thrilling deity to discuss. I will confess I do not find the developments tied to Nanaya and Nabu to be particularly interesting to cover, but in the long run they might have resulted in Nanaya acquiring probably the single most interesting “supporting cast member” she did not share with Inanna, so we’ll come back to this later. Save for Bizilla, Nanaya generally was not provided with “equivalents” in god lists. I am only aware of one exception, and it’s a very recent discovery. Last year the first ever Akkadian-Amorite bilingual lists were published. This is obviously a breakthrough discovery, as before Amorite was largely known just from personal names despite being a vernacular language over much of the region in the bronze age, but only one line is ultimately of note here. In a section of one of the lists dealing with deities, Nanaya’s Amorite counterpart is said to be Pidray. This goddess is otherwise almost exclusively known from Ugarit. This of course fits very well with the new evidence: recent research generally stresses that Ugarit was quintessentially an Amorite city (the ruling house even claimed descent from mythical Ditanu, who is best known from the grandiose fictional genealogies of Shamshi-Adad I and the First Dynasty of Babylon). Sadly, we do not know how the inhabitants of Ugarit viewed Nanaya. A trilingual version of the Weidner list, with the original version furnished with columns listing Ugaritic and Hurrian counterparts of each deity, was in circulation, but the available copies are too heavily damaged to restore it fully. And to make things worse, much of it seems to boil down to scribal wordplay and there is no guarantee all of the correspondences are motivated theologically. For instance, the minor Mesopotamian goddess Imzuanna is presented as the counterpart of Ugaritic weather god Baal because her name contains a sign used as a shortened logographic writing of the latter. An even funnier case is the awkward attempt at making it clear the Ugaritic sun deity Shapash, who was female, is not a lesbian… by making Aya male. Just astonishing, really.

The worship of Nanaya

A speculative reconstruction of Ur III Uruk with the Eanna temple visible in the center (Artefacts — Scientific Illustration & Archaeological Reconstruction; reproduced here for educational purposes only, as permitted)

Rather fittingly, as a deity associated with Inanna, Nanaya was worshiped chiefly in Uruk. She is also reasonably well attested in the inscriptions of the short-lived local dynasty which regained independence near the end of the period of domination of Larsa over Lower Mesopotamia. A priest named after her, a certain Iddin-Nanaya, for a time served as the administrator of her temple, the Enmeurur, “house which gathers all the me,” me being a difficult to translate term, something like “divine powers”. The acquisition of new me is a common topic in Mesopotamian literature, and in compositions focused on Inanna in particular, so it should not be surprising to anyone that her peculiar double seemingly had similar interests. In addition to Uruk, as well as Nippur and Ur, after the Ur III period Nanaya spread to multiple other cities, including Isin, Mari, Babylon and Kish. However, she is probably by far the best attested in Larsa, where she rose to the rank of one of the main deities, next to Utu, Inanna, Ishkur and Nergal. She had her own temple, the Eshahulla, “house of a happy heart”. In local tradition Inanna got to keep her role as an “universal” major goddess and her military prerogatives, but Nanaya overtook the role of a goddess of love almost fully. Inanna’s astral aspect was also locally downplayed, since Venus was instead represented in the local pantheon by closely associated, but firmly distinct, Ninsianna. This deity warrants some more discussion in the future just due to having a solid claim to being one of the first genderfluid literary figures in history, but due to space constraints this cannot be covered in detail here. A later inscription from the same city differentiates between Nanaya and Inanna by giving them different epithets: Nanaya is the “queen of Uruk and Eanna” (effectively usurping Nanaya’s role) while Inanna is the “queen of Nippur” (that’s actually a well documented hypostasis of her, not to be confused with the unrelated “lady of Nippur”). Uruk was temporarily abandoned in the late Old Babylonian period, but that did not end Nanaya’s career. Like Inanna, she came to be temporarily relocated to Kish. It has been suggested that a reference to her residence in “Kiššina” in a Hurro-Hittite literary text, the Tale of Appu, reflects her temporary stay there. The next centuries of Nanaya are difficult to reconstruct due to scarce evidence, but it is clear she continued to be worshiped in Uruk. By the Neo-Babylonian period she was recognized as a member of an informal pentad of the main deities of the city, next to Inanna, Urkayitu, Usur-amassu and Beltu-sa-Resh. Two of them warrant no further discussion: Urkayitu was most likely a personification of the city, and Beltu-sa-Resh despite her position is still a mystery to researchers. Usur-amassu, on the contrary, is herself a fascinating topic. First attestations of this deity, who was seemingly associated with law and justice (a pretty standard concern), come back to the Old Babylonian period. At this point, Usur-amassu was clearly male, which is reflected by the name. He appears in the god list An = Anum as a son of the weather deity couple par excellence, Adad (Ishkur) and Shala. However, by the early first millennium BCE Usur-amassu instead came to be regarded as female - without losing the connection to her parents. She did however gain a connection to Inanna, Nanaya and Kanisurra, which she lacked earlier. How come remains unknown. Most curiously her name was not modified to reflect her new gender, though she could be provided with a determinative indicating it. This recalls the case of Lagamal in the kingdom of Mari some 800 years earlier.

The end of the beginning: Nanaya under Achaemenids and Seleucids

Trilingual (Persian, Elamite and Akkadian) inscription of the first Achamenid ruler of Mesopotamia, Cyrus (wikimedia commons)

After the fall of the Neo-Babylonian Empire Mesopotamia ended up under Achaemenid control, which in turn was replaced by the Seleucids. Nanaya flourished through both of these periods. In particular, she attained considerable popularity among Arameans. While they almost definitely first encountered her in Uruk, she quickly came to be venerated by them in many distant locations, like Palmyra, Hatra and Dura Europos in Syria. She even appears in a single Achaemenid Aramaic papyrus discovered in Elephantine in Egypt. It indicates that she was worshiped there by a community which originated in Rash, an area east to the Tigris. As a curiosity it’s worth mentioning the same source is one of the only attestations of Pidray from outside Ugarit. I do not think this has anything to do with the recently discovered connection between her and Nanaya… but you may never know. Under the Seleucids, Nanaya went through a particularly puzzling process of partial syncretism. Through interpretatio graeca she was identified with… Artemis. How did this work? The key to understanding this is the fact Seleucids actually had a somewhat limited interest in local deities. All that was necessary was to find relatively major members of the local pantheon who could roughly correspond to the tutelary deities of their dynasty: Zeus, Apollo and Artemis. Zeus found an obvious counterpart in Marduk (even though Marduk was hardly a weather god). Since Nabu was Marduk’s son, he got to be Apollo. And since Nanaya was the most major goddess connected to Nabu, she got to be Artemis. It really doesn’t go deeper than that. For what it’s worth, despite the clear difference in character this newfound association did impact Nanaya in at least one way: she started to be depicted with attributes borrowed from Artemis, namely a bow and a crescent. Or perhaps these attributes were already associated with her, but came to the forefront because of the new role. The Artemis-like image of Nanaya as an archer is attested on coins, especially in Susa, yet another city where she attained considerable popularity.

Leaving Mesopotamia: Nanaya and the death of cuneiform

A Parthian statue of Nanaya with a crescent diadem (Louvre; reproduced here for educational purposes only. Identification follows Andrea Sinclair's proposal)

The Seleucid dynasty was eventually replaced by the Parthians. This period is often considered a symbolic end of ancient Mesopotamian religion in the strict sense. Traditional religious institutions were already slowly collapsing in Achaemenid and Seleucid times as the new dynasties had limited interest in royal patronage. Additionally, cuneiform fell out of use, and by the end of the first half of the first millennium CE the art of reading and writing it was entirely lost. This process did not happen equally quickly everywhere, obviously, and some deities fared better than others in the transitional period before the rise of Christianity and Islam as the dominant religions across the region. Nanaya was definitely one of them, at least for a time. In Parthian art Nanaya might have developed a distinct iconography: it has been argued she was portrayed as a nude figure wearing only some jewelry (including what appears to be a navel piercing and a diadem with a crescent. The best known example is probably this standing figure, one of my all time favorite works of Mesopotamian art:

Parthian Nanaya (wikimedia commons; identification courtesy of the Louvre website and J. G. Westenholz)

For years Wikipedia had this statue mislabeled as “Astarte” which makes little sense considering it comes from a necropolis near Babylon. There was also a viral horny tweet which labeled it as “Asherah” a few months ago (I won’t link it but I will point out in addition to getting the name wrong op also severely underestimated the size). This is obviously even worse nonsense both on spatial and temporal grounds. Even if the biblical Asherah was ever an actual deity like Ugaritic Athirat and Mesopotamian Ashratum, it is highly dubious she would still be worshiped by the time this statue was made. It’s not even certain she ever was a deity, though. Cognate of a theonym is not automatically a theonym itself, and the Ugaritic texts and the Bible, even if they share some topoi, are separated by centuries and a considerable distance. This is not an Asherah post though, so if this is a topic which interests you I recommend downloading Steve A. Wiggins’ excellent monograph A Reassessment of Asherah: With Further Considerations of the Goddess.

The last evidence for the worship of Nanaya in Mesopotamia is a Mandaean spell from Nippur, dated to the fifth or sixth century CE. However, at this point Nanaya must have been a very faint memory around these parts, since the figure designated by this name is evidently male in this formula. That was not the end of her career, though. The system of beliefs she originated and thrived in was on its way out, but there were new frontiers to explore. A small disgression is in order here: be INCREDIBLY wary of claims about the survival of Mesopotamian tradition in Mesopotamia itself past the early middle ages. Most if not all of these come from the writing of Simo Parpola, who is a 19th century style hyperdiffusionist driven by personal religious beliefs based on gnostic christianity, which he believes was based on Neo-Assyrian state religion, which he misinterprets as monotheism, or rather proto-christianity specifically (I wish I was making this up). I personally do not think a person like that should be tolerated in serious academia, but for some incomprehensible reason that isn’t the case. 

New frontiers: Nanaya in Bactria

The key to Nanaya’s extraordinarily long survival wasn’t the dedication to her in Mesopotamia, surprisingly. It was instead her introduction to Bactria, a historical area in Central Asia roughly corresponding to parts of modern Afghanistan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. The early history of this area is still poorly known, though it is known that it was one of the “cradles of civilization” not unlike Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley or Mesoamerica. The so-called “Oxus civilization” or “Bactria-Margiana Archaeological Complex” flourished around 2500-1950 BCE (so roughly contemporarily with the Akkadian and Ur III empires in Mesopotamia). It left behind no written records, but their art and architecture are highly distinctive and reflect great social complexity. I sadly can’t spent much time discussing them here though, as they are completely irrelevant to the history of Nanaya (there is a theory that she was already introduced to the east when BMAC was extant but it is incredibly implausible), so I will limit myself to showing you my favorite related work of art, the “Bactrian princess”:

Photo courtesy of Louvre Abu Dhabi, reproduced here for educational purposes only.

By late antiquity, which is the period we are concerned with here, BMAC was long gone, and most of the inhabitants of Bactria spoke Bactrian, an extinct Iranian language. How exactly they were related to their BMAC forerunners is uncertain. Their religious beliefs can be compared to Zoroastrianism, or rather with its less formalized forerunners followed by most speakers of Iranian languages before the rise of Zoroaster. However, there were many local peculiarities. For example, the main deity was the personified river Oxus, not Ahura Mazda. Whether this was a relic of BMAC religion is impossible to tell.We do not know exactly when the eastward transfer of Nanaya to Bactria happened. The first clear evidence for her presence in central Asia comes from the late first century BCE, from the coins of local rulers, Sapadbizes and Agesiles. It is possible that her depictions on coinage of Mesopotamian and Persian rulers facilitated her spread. Of course, it’s also important to remember that the Aramaic script and language spread far to the east in the Achaemenid period already, and that many of the now extinct Central Asian scripts were derived from it (Bactrian was written with the Greek script, though). Doubtlessly many now lost Aramaic texts were transferred to the east. There’s an emerging view that for unclear reasons, under the Achaemenids Mesopotamian culture as a whole had unparalleled impact on Bactria. The key piece of evidence are Bactrian temples, which often resemble Mesopotamian ones. Therefore, perhaps we should be wondering not why Nanaya spread from Mesopotamia to Central Asia, but rather why there were no other deities who did, for the most part. That is sadly a question I cannot answer. Something about Nanaya simply made her uniquely appealing to many groups at once. While much about the early history of Nanaya in Central Asia is a mystery, it is evident that with time she ceased to be viewed as a foreign deity. For the inhabitants of Bactria she wasn’t any less “authentically Iranian” than the personified Oxus or their versions of the conventional yazatas like Sraosha. Frequently arguments are made that Nanaya’s widespread adoption and popularity could only be the result of identification between her and another deity.Anahita in particular is commonly held to be a candidate. However, as stressed by recent studies there’s actually no evidence for this. What is true is that Anahita is notably missing from the eastern Iranian sources, despite being prominent in the west from the reign of the Achaemenid emperor Artaxerxes II onward. However, it is clear that not all yazatas were equally popular in each area - pantheons will inevitably be localized in each culture. Furthermore, Anahita’s character has very little in common with Nanaya save for gender. Whether we are discussing her early not quite Zoroastrian form the Achaemenid public was familiar with or the contemporary yazata still relevant in modern Zoroastrianism, the connection to water is the most important feature of her. Nanaya didn’t have such a role in any culture. Recently some authors suggested a much more obvious explanation for Anahita’s absence from the eastern Iranian pantheon(s). As I said, eastern Iranian communities venerated the river Oxus as a deity (or as a yazata, if you will). He was the water god par excellence, and in Bactria also the king of the gods. It is therefore quite possible that Anahita, despite royal backing from the west, simply couldn’t compete with him. Their roles overlapped more than the roles of Anahita and Nanaya. I am repeating myself but the notion of interchangeability of goddesses really needs to be distrusted almost automatically, no matter how entrenched it wouldn’t be. While we’re at it, the notion of alleged interchangeability between Anahita and Ishtar is also highly dubious, but that’s a topic for another time.

Nana (Nanaya) on a coin of Kanishka (wikimedia commons)

Nanaya experienced a period of almost unparalleled prosperity with the rise of the Kushan dynasty in Bactria. The Kushans were one of the groups which following Chinese sources are referred to as Yuezhi. They probably did not speak any Iranian language originally, and their origin is a matter of debate. However, they came to rule over a kingdom which consisted largely of areas inhabited by speakers of various Iranian languages, chiefly Bactrian. Their pantheon, documented in royal inscriptions and on coinage, was an eerie combination of mainstays of Iranian beliefs like Sraosha and Mithra and some unique figures, like Oesho, who was seemingly the reflection of Hindu Shiva. Obviously, Nanaya was there too, typically under the shortened name Nana. The most famous Kushan ruler, emperor Kanishka, in his inscription from Rabatak states that kingship was bestowed upon him by “Nana and all the gods”. However, we do not know if the rank assigned to her indicates she was the head of the dynastic pantheon, the local pantheon in the surrounding area, or if she was just the favorite deity of Kanishka. Same goes for the rank of numerous other deities mentioned in the rest of the inscription. Her apparent popularity during Kanishka’s reign and beyond indicates her role should not be downplayed, though. The coins of Kanishka and other Bactrian art indicate that a new image of Nanaya developed in Central Asia. The Artemis-like portrayals typical for Hellenistic times continue to appear, but she also started to be depicted on the back of a lion. There is only one possible example of such an image from the west, a fragmentary relief from Susa, and it’s roughly contemporary with the depictions from Bactria. While it is not impossible Nanaya originally adopted the lion association from one of her Mesopotamian peers, it is not certain how exactly this specific type of depictions originally developed, and there is a case to be made that it owed more to the Hellenistic diffusion of iconography of deities such as Cybele and Dionysus, who were often depicted riding on the back of large felines. The lunar symbols are well attested in the Kushan art of Nanaya too. Most commonly, she’s depicted wearing a diadem with a crescent. However, in a single case the symbol is placed behind her back. This is an iconographic type which was mostly associated with Selene at first, but in the east it was adopted for Mah, the Iranian personification of the moon. I’d hazard a guess that’s where Nanaya borrowed it from - more on that later. The worship of Nanaya survived the fall of the Kushan dynasty, and might have continued in Bactria as late as in the eighth century. However, the evidence is relatively scarce, especially compared with yet another area where she was introduced in the meanwhile.

Nanaya in Sogdia: new home and new friends

A Sogdian depiction of Nanaya from Bunjikat (wikimedia commons)

Presumably from Bactria, Nanaya was eventually introduced to Sogdia, its northern neighbor. I think it’s safe to say this area effectively became her new home for the rest of her history. Like Bactrians, the Sogdians also spoke an eastern Iranian language, Sogdian. It has a direct modern descendant, Yaghnobi, spoken by a small minority in Tajikistan. The religions Sogdians adhered to is often described as a form of Zoroastrianism, especially in older sources, but it would appear that Ahura Mazda was not exactly the most popular deity. Their pantheon was seemingly actually headed by Nanaya. Or, at the very least, the version of it typical for Samarkand and Panijkant, since there’s a solid case to be made for local variety in the individual city-states which made up Sogdia. It seems that much like Mesopotamians and Greeks centuries before them, Sogdians associated specific deities with specific cities, and not every settlement necessarily venerated each deity equally (or at all). Nanaya's remarkable popularity is reflected by the fact the name Nanaivandak, "servant of Nanaya", is one of the most common Sogdian names in general. It is agreed that among the Sogdians Panjikant was regarded as Nanaya’s cult center. She was referred to as “lady” of this city. At one point, her temple located there was responsible for minting the local currency. By the eighth century, coins minted there were adorned with dedications to her - something unparalleled in Sogdian culture, as the rest of coinage was firmly secular. This might have been an attempt at reasserting Sogdian religious identity in the wake of the arrival of Islam in Central Asia. Sogdians adopted the Kushan iconography of Nanaya, though only the lion-mounted version. The connection between her and this animal was incredibly strong in Sogdian art, with no other deity being portrayed on a similar mount. There were also innovations - Nanaya came to be frequently portrayed with four arms. This reflects the spread of Buddhism through central Asia, which brought new artistic conventions from India. While the crescent symbol can still be found on her headwear, she was also portrayed holding representations of the moon and the sun in two of her hands. Sometimes the solar disc and lunar orb are decorated with faces, which has been argued to be evidence that Nanaya effectively took over the domains of Mah and Mithra, who would be the expected divine identities of these two astral bodies. She might have been understood as controlling the passage of night and day. It has also been pointed out that this new iconographic type is the natural end point of the evolution of her astral role. Curiously, while no such a function is attested for Nanaya in Bactria, in Sogdia she could be sometimes regarded as a warlike deity. This is presumably reflected in a painting showing her and an unidentified charioteer fighting demons.

The "Sogdian Deities" painting from Dunhuang, a possible depiction of Nanaya and her presumed spouse Tish (wikimedia commons)

Probably the most fascinating development regarding Nanaya in Sogdia was the development of an apparent connection between her and Tish. This deity was the Sogdian counterpart of one of the best known Zoroastrian yazatas, Tishtrya, the personification of Sirius. As described in the Tištar Yašt, the latter is a rainmaking figure and a warlike protector who keeps various nefarious forces, such as Apaosha, Duzyariya and the malign “worm stars” (comets), at bay. Presumably his Sogdian counterpart had a similar role. While this is not absolutely certain, it is generally agreed that Nanaya and Tish were regarded as a couple in central Asia (there’s a minority position she was instead linked with Oesho, though). Most likely the fact that in Achaemenid Persia Tishtrya was linked with Nabu (and by extension with scribal arts) has something to do with this. There is a twist to this, though. While both Nabu and the Avestan Tishtrya are consistently male, in Bactria and Sogdia the corresponding deity’s gender actually shows a degree of ambiguity. On a unique coin of Kanishka, Tish is already portrayed as a feminine figure distinctly similar to Greek Artemis - an iconographic type which normally would be recycled for Nanaya. There’s also a possibility that a feminine, or at least crossdressing, version of Tish is portrayed alongside Nanaya on a painting from Dunhuang conventionally referred to as “Sogdian Daēnās” or “Sogdian Deities”, but this remains uncertain. If this identification is correct, it indicates outright interchange of attributes between them and Nanaya was possible.

The final frontier: Nanaya and the Sogdian diaspora in China Sogdians also brought Nanaya with them to China, where many of them settled in the Six Dynasties and Tang periods. An obviously Sinicized version of her, accompanied by two attendants of unknown identity, is portrayed on a Sogdian funerary couch presently displayed in the Miho Museum.

Nanaya (top) on a relief from the Miho funerary couch (Miho Museum; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

For the most part the evidence is limited to theophoric names, though. Due to unfamiliarity with Sogdian religious traditions and phonetic differences between the languages there was no consistent Chinese transcription of Nanaya’s name. I have no clue if Chinese contemporaries of the Sogdians were always aware of these elements in personal names referred to a deity. There is a fringe theory that Nanaya was referred to as Nantaihou (那那女主, “queen Nana”) in Chinese. However, the evidence is apparently not compelling, and as I understand the theory depends in no small part on the assertion that a hitherto unattested alternate reading of one of the signs was in use on the western frontiers of China in the early first millennium CE. The alleged Nantaihou is therefore most likely a misreading of a reference to a deceased unnamed empress dowager venerated through conventional ancestor worship, as opposed to Nanaya. Among members of the Sogdian diaspora, in terms of popularity Nanaya was going head to head with Jesus and Buddha. The presence of the latter two reflected the adoption of, respectively, Manichaeism and Buddhism. Manicheans seemingly were not fond of Nanaya, though, and fragments of a polemic against her cult have been identified. It seems ceremonies focused on lamentations were the main issue for the Manichaeans. Sadly there doesn’t seem to be any worthwhile study of possible Mesopotamian influence on that - the only one I found is old and confuses Nanaya with Inanna. We do not have much of an idea how Buddhists viewed Nanaya, though it is worth noting a number of other Sogdian deities were incorporated into the local form of Mahayana (unexpectedly, one of them was Zurvan). It has also been argued that a Buddhist figure, Vreshman (Vaisravana) was incorporated into Nanaya’s entourage. Nanaya might additionally be depicted in a painting showing Buddha’s triumph over Mara from Dunhuang. Presumably her inclusion would reflect the well attested motif of local deities converting to Buddhism. It was a part of the Buddhist repertoire from the early days of this religion and can be found in virtually every area where this religion ever spread. Nanaya is once again in elevated company here, since other figures near her have been tentatively interpreted as Shiva, Vishnu, Kartikeya and… Zoroaster.

Buddha conquering Mara (maravijaya) on a painting from Dunhuang (wikimedia commons)

zoom in on a possible depiction of Nanaya next to a demon suspiciously similar to Tove Jansson’s Fillyjonk

To my best knowledge, the last absolutely certain attestation of Nanaya as an actively worshiped deity also comes from the western frontier of China. A painting from Dandan Oilik belonging to the artistic tradition of the kingdom of Khotan shows three deities from the Sogdian pantheon: the enigmatic Āδβāγ (“highest god”; interpreted as either Indra, Ahura Mazda or a combination of them both) on the left, Weshparkar (a later version of Kushan Oesho) on the right and Nanaya in the center. It dates to the ninth or tenth century.

Nanaya (center) on the Dandan Oilik painting (wikimedia commons)

We will probably never know what Nanaya’s last days were like, though it is hard to imagine she retained much relevance with the gradual disappearance of Sogdian culture both in Sogdia and in China in the wake of, respectively, the rise of Islam in Central Asia and the An Lushan rebellion respectively. Her history ultimately most likely ended with a whimper rather than a bang. Conclusions and reflections Obviously, not everything about Nanaya could be covered in this article - there is enough material to warrant not one, but two wiki articles (and I don't even think they are extensive enough yet). I hope I did nonetheless manage to convey what matters: she was the single most enduring Mesopotamian deity who continued to be actually worshiped. She somehow outlived Enlil, Marduk, Nergal and even Inanna, and spread further than any of them ever did. It does not seem like her persistence was caused by some uniquely transcendent quality, and more to a mix of factors we will never really fully understand and pure luck. She is a far cry from the imaginary everlasting universal goddesses such longevity was attributed to by many highly questionable authors in the past, from Frazer to Gimbutas. Quite the opposite, once you look into the texts focused on her she comes across as sort of pathetic. After all, most of them are effectively ancient purple prose. And yet, this is precisely why I think Nanaya matters. To see how an author approaches her is basically a litmus test of trustworthiness - I wish I was kidding but this “Nanaya method” works every time. To even be able to study her history, let alone understand it properly, one has to cast away most of the dreadful trends which often hindered scholarship of ancient deities, and goddesses in particular, in the past. The interchangeability of goddesses; the Victorian mores and resulting notion that eroticism must be tied to fertility; the weird paradigms about languages neatly corresponding to religions; and many others. And if nothing else, this warrants keeping the memory of her 3000 years long history alive through scholarship (and, perhaps, some media appearances). Bibliography

Julia M. Asher-Greve & Joan Goodnick Westenholz, Goddesses in Context: On Divine Powers, Roles, Relationships and Gender in Mesopotamian Textual and Visual Sources (2013)

Paul-Alain Beaulieu, The Pantheon of Uruk During the Neo-Babylonian Period (2003)

idem, Nabû and Apollo: The Two Faces of Seleucid Religious Policy in: Orient und Okzident in Hellenistischer Zeit (2014)

Matteo Compareti, Nana and Tish in Sogdiana (2017)

idem, The So-Called "Pelliot Chinois 4518.24". Illustrated Document from Dunhuang and Sino-Sogdian Iconographical Contacts (2021)

Olga Drewnowska-Rymarz, Mesopotamian Goddess Nanāja (2008)

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Valerie Hansen, Kageyama Etsuko & Yutaka Yoshida, The Impact of the Silk Road Trade on a Local Community: The Turfan Oasis, 500-800 in: Les sogdiens en Chine (2005)

Wilfred G. Lambert, Babylonian Creation Myths (2013)

Enrico Marcato, An Aramaic Incantation Bowl and the Fall of Hatra (2020)

Christa Müller-Kessler & Karlheinz Kessler, Spätbabylonische Gottheiten in spätantiken mandäischen Texten (1999)

Lilla Russel-Smith, Uygur Patronage in Dunhuang. Regional Art Centres on the Northern Silk Road in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries (2005)

idem, The 'Sogdian Deities' Twenty Years on: A Reconsideration of a Small Painting from Dunhuang in: Buddhism in Central Asia II. Practices and Rituals, Visual and Material Transfer (2022)

Tonia M. Sharlach, An Ox of One's Own. Royal Wives and Religion at the Court of the Third Dynasty of Ur (2017)

Michael Shenkar, Intangible Spirits and Graven Images: The Iconography of Deities in the Pre-Islamic Iranian World (2014)

idem, The Religion and the Pantheon of the Sogdians (5th-8th Centuries CE) in Light of their Sociopolitical Structures (2017)

idem, The So-Called "Fravašis" and the "Heaven and Hell" Paintings, and the Cult of Nana in Panjikent (2022)

Marten Stol, Nanaja in: Reallexikon der Assyriologie, vol. 9 (1998)

Michael P. Streck & Nathan Wasserman, More Light on Nanāya (2013)

Aaron Tugendhaft, Gods on Clay: Ancient Near Eastern Scholarly Practices and the History of Religions in: Canonical Texts and Scholarly Practices. A Global Comparative Approach (2016)

Joan Goodnick Westenholz, Nanaya, Lady of Mystery in: Sumerian Gods and Their Representations (1997)

idem, Trading the Symbols of the Goddess Nanaya in: Religions and Trade. Religious Formation, Transformation and Cross-Cultural Exchange between East and West (2014)

Xinjiang Rong, The Colophon of the Manuscript of the Golden Light Sutra Excavated in Turfan and the Transmission of Zoroastrianism to Gaochang in: The Silk Road and Cultural Exchanges between East and West (2022)

Gioele Zisa, The Loss of Male Sexual Desire in Ancient Mesopotamia. ›Nīš Libbi‹ Therapies (2021)