#marine cleaning products | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ruewritesoccasionally · 23 days ago

Text

Welcome to the Neighbourhood | Terry Richmond

pairings: neighbour!terry richmond x neighbour!black reader

warnings: smut 18+, fluff, slow burn (if you squint), slightly rough/dom!terry - lmk if you think i missed anything else

summary: ready to put shelby springs behind him, terry ventures to start afresh - new job and new neighbourhood but the last thing he was expecting was to have an attractive neighbour waltz in and send his head spinning

word count: 5.4K

Shelby Springs had taken everything from him—his peace, his purpose, his faith in people. But Terrance Richmond wasn’t a man to let the past define him. He had to rebuild, brick by brick, until there was nothing left of the anger, pain, or memories that weighed him down. Once he’d made his peace, routine became his salvation. If there was one thing Terry wasn’t, it was idle.

Standing at 6’2, with muscles that didn’t come from sitting still, he carried himself with the discipline of a former Marine. He threw himself into rebuilding his life with the same focus, which is why the executive protection job posting felt like fate. It was an opportunity to start over. A new job, a new city—it wasn’t nature like he was used to, but he wasn’t about to say no to a clean slate.

The last of the moving boxes sat stacked on his driveway, waiting to be carried inside. As Terry hoisted one of the heavier ones, headlights flashed across his yard, catching his attention. His eyes followed the movements of a woman stepping out of a car, her keys in hand. If his hands hadn’t instinctively tightened around the box, the fine China inside would’ve been in pieces on the pavement.

Damn. She was... striking. The kind of striking that rooted a man to the spot and left his thoughts a tangled mess.

The pantsuit she wore clung to her figure in all the right ways, while soft curls framed her face like a work of art. Then she smiled, and he was done for.

She approached with a confident stride, her voice soft but laced with a teasing edge that only added to her allure. “Hey,” she said, flashing him an easy smile—the kind that could charm just about anyone. “Looks like they finally found someone to take the place. Congrats. I’m in a rush right now, but I get off work at 6. I’ll swing by to properly introduce myself—if that’s cool with you?”

Terry fumbled between a nod and a simple word of agreement, finally managing a quick, “Yeah, sounds good,” before she turned and climbed into her car.

She waved as she drove off, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

She knew she had a wicked flirt game, and today’s outfit choice was clearly the right one. As she headed to the office, an unusually good mood accompanied her. She couldn’t help but think about her new neighbour—broad shoulders, brooding eyes, and a quiet intensity that lingered even in their brief interaction.

Her curiosity burned through the day like a steady flame. Who was he? What was his story? And most importantly, would he be sticking around?

Terry tried to shake her out of his head as he tackled the last of the boxes. But it was no use. Her voice, her smile—they’d already sunk into his mind, leaving him restless and curious. 6 o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the neighbourhood, when YN pulled into her driveway, a sense of anticipation bubbling in her chest. Work had been exhausting, but the thought of properly meeting her new neighbour had been the highlight of her day. She stepped into her house, kicked off her heels, and immediately headed for the shower. The warm water was a welcome relief, washing away the day's tension and leaving her feeling refreshed.

Dressed in something comfortable yet flattering—because first impressions mattered, even if she wasn’t technically trying—YN made her way into the kitchen. Cooking was a distraction, a way to channel her nerves into something productive. She whipped up a quick but hearty meal, pairing it with some baked goods she’d had stashed away. It was a neighbourly gesture, sure, but she’d also seen him. And let’s just say that the mysterious, rugged man across the street had piqued her curiosity.

Balancing the food containers carefully in her hands, YN walked across to his house. The porch light was on, a warm glow illuminating the otherwise quiet street. She knocked twice, stepping back as she waited.

Inside, Terry had been pacing his living room for the past fifteen minutes, glancing at the clock and then the front door as if he could will someone to show up. He’d told himself it was silly, but the memory of their brief interaction that morning had stayed with him all day. She was charming, poised, and stunning, and the idea of seeing her again had stirred something in him he couldn’t quite name.

When the knock finally came, he opened the door to find her standing there, her smile lighting up the dimming evening. His expression softening into something she could only describe as relief. His eyes flicked down to the food in her hands, then back up to her face, his lips twitching as though he were fighting the urge to smile.

For a split second, neither of them spoke, just taking each other in. Then, at the same time, they both blurted out their names.

"Terrance Richmond." "YN."

The words collided, and they both paused before bursting into laughter.

"No, you go," she said, waving a hand for him to continue.

He shook his head with a small, amused smile. "No, you first. I insist."

She gave in, introducing herself again, this time with a little less fluster. “Sorry about the rush this morning. I was running late for work. I figured I’d make it up to you by bringing some dinner—just thought I’d save you the trouble of cooking or ordering in tonight.”

Terry raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but not ungrateful. “That’s... really kind of you. Thank you.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in.

YN wasn’t sure what she’d expected—half-packed boxes or chaos, maybe—but his house was already well put together. Everything had its place, and the space looked cosy, even lived-in.

“You’ve been busy,” she remarked, glancing around.

Terry followed her gaze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I couldn’t keep still. Needed to get everything done.”

The motion of his hand raised the hem of his shirt just enough to reveal a sliver of his abdomen, and her breath hitched involuntarily at the sight. He was... sculpted, to say the least. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the deep heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Terry noticed—of course, he noticed. His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You okay over there?” he teased, his voice dipping lower.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally fine,” she stammered, mentally cursing herself. Way to keep it together, YN.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he said, leading her further inside.

In the kitchen, she set the food down on the counter while Terry rummaged through a cabinet for plates and cutlery.

“Wine or whiskey?” he asked, holding up a tumbler in one hand and a wine glass in the other.

She tilted her head, eyeing him playfully. “You strike me as the rough-around-the-edges whiskey type. But I could be wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “And you strike me as the sophisticated wine type. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

She laughed softly, choosing the wine glass. “Maybe just a little bit of both,” she said, holding up her glass in a mock toast.

Dinner passed with ease, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them. She learned about his time in the Marines, his decision to move to the city, and his plans to settle into a new routine. In turn, he listened intently as she spoke about her work as a lawyer and the challenges that came with it.

“Why executive protection?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to his glass. “It seemed like the right move. I needed something to focus on, something to ground me after...I guess I wanted to keep helping people… just without all the…” He gestured vaguely, his voice trailing off.

She nodded, understanding the weight of what he wasn’t saying. “That makes sense. You’re a protector. It suits you.”

Instead, she smiled softly, changing the subject to something lighter. “Well, I think the neighbourhood gossip will be all over you in no time. New guy, good-looking, and clearly handy with a moving box? You’re prime material.”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “And here I thought I’d be flying under the radar.”

“Not a chance,” she teased, raising her glass.

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation, the initial awkwardness fading into a comfortable rhythm. By the time the food was gone and the wine bottle nearly empty, she realised how late it had gotten.

“I should let you get some rest,” she said, standing and gathering her things.

Terry walked her to the door, his presence warm and steady beside her. “Thanks for coming over. And for dinner. You didn’t have to, but... it means a lot.”

She smiled, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard. “It’s my turn to host next time,” she said, stepping out onto the porch.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

As she walked back to her house, she felt his eyes on her, and when she reached her front door, she turned to find him still standing there, waiting. She gave him a small wave before stepping inside, and only then did he close his door.

Back in her kitchen, she leaned against the counter, her thoughts lingering on Terrance Richmond—the man who’d somehow managed to make an ordinary evening feel anything but.

It had been two months of playful banter, stolen moments, and a rhythm they’d fallen into so effortlessly it felt like second nature. Their evenings were a mix of wholesome exploration and daring escapades—her showing him the city from her unique perspective. Quiet cafés tucked into alleys, her favourite jazz bar that always felt alive no matter the hour, daring rooftop views that made her heart race as much as his lingering glances. Terry soaked it all in, learning her through the places she loved.

And then there were the nights. Nights when she’d invite him into her world, sharing wine and laughter, their knees brushing under the table, their gazes holding just a beat too long. Nights when he’d introduce her to the simplicities he cherished: an old movie, a game of cards, or just sitting on his porch with whiskey and comfortable silence. The friendship that brewed between them was comforting, but the undercurrent of something more was undeniable.

He didn’t mind bending the rules, like ignoring speed limits to race home just to catch her as she pulled into her driveway. There was something magnetic about the sight of her at the end of a long day. The way she’d stride out of her car, hair loosened from its bun, buttons of her blouse slightly undone, her lips still stained with that red lipstick that drove him wild. It was like she carried the day’s fire with her, igniting something in him without even trying. He’d lean against his porch, offering her a nightcap with that low, smooth voice of his, and she’d grin, the tension of her day easing away.

She had never been more grateful that Terry’s job required him to wear a suit. Seeing him waiting for her in all his tall, broad-shouldered glory, tie loosened, dark stormy eyes carrying a story from the day, was a sight she never grew tired of. Her eyes would linger, tracing the outline of his strong frame and sharp jawline. Even the way he held himself—calm, composed—was intoxicating. Their usual routine of “Hey, stranger. Fancy seeing you here,” never got old, but there was something different about today.

She parked her car with noticeably less energy, the weight of her day evident in the slight slump of her shoulders. Terry caught it immediately. He leaned against his porch, the usual playful smirk tugging at his lips, but it faded when she approached.

“Hey, stranger,” he said softly, his voice warm but cautious.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she replied, but her tone lacked its usual spark. Her eyes flickered to his, and though her lips curved into a faint smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a step closer.

She exhaled, shaking her head lightly. “Rough day. I don’t think I’m up for anything tonight.”

He nodded, though disappointment briefly flickered across his features. “I get it. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Terry,” she said, her voice soft as she turned toward her door.

He watched her retreat into her house, resisting the urge to follow. Respecting her space was the right thing to do, but it didn’t stop the lingering ache in his chest. Something felt off, and it wasn’t just her mood—it was the absence of her presence.

Back in his house, Terry tried to distract himself. He pushed through an intense workout in his home gym, the rhythm of his heart pounding in his ears as he lifted, punched, and ran his frustration away. But no amount of sweat could shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Showered and changed into a snug grey T-shirt and sweatpants, he found himself pacing his living room. The hours stretched, and the silence grew unbearable. It was stupid—he felt like barely knew her but they had spent so much time together that being apart for the one night felt wrong, and the thought of her being upset made him restless. Finally, he grabbed a bottle of wine and decided to check on her. If nothing else, she deserved someone to talk to.

Terry knocked twice, the bottle balanced in his hand. The sound of footsteps reached him, and when the door swung open, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

She stood there, framed by the warm glow of her house, wrapped in a silk negligee the colour of deep mauve. The fabric flowed from her shoulders, clinging to her curves in a way that made his breath hitch. It accentuated the fullness of her breasts, the gentle dip of her waist, and the teasing slit that revealed her smooth, toned thigh. Her dark skin shimmered against the luxurious fabric, and her loose hair framed her face like a crown.

He stared, momentarily dumbfounded. “I, uh...” His usual composure failed him.

Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the tiredness in her eyes. “Terry,” she said softly, “are you okay?”

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “I just... I wanted to check on you. You seemed off earlier.”

Her expression softened, her fingers brushing against the doorframe. “I’m okay. Just needed some time to breathe.”

He held up the bottle. “I figured you might still need that nightcap. But if this is a bad time—”

She stepped aside, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not.”

He walked in, acutely aware of how close their bodies brushed as he passed her. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, sensual, with a hint of spice—wrapped around him, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

As she closed the door, she turned to face him, her head tilted slightly. “Thanks for checking on me. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

He set the bottle on the counter, turning to face her with a small shrug. “I’m not most people.”

Her smile widened, the tension of her day beginning to unravel. “No, you’re not.”

And there it was again—that spark, that unspoken pull between them. The air felt heavier, charged with something they both knew they couldn’t ignore much longer.

The room was cloaked in a heady tension that neither of them could escape. She leaned against the counter, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the cool marble surface as she watched him pour the wine. His tall, commanding frame moved with an easy grace that was almost hypnotic, the tight grey T-shirt clinging to his broad chest and shoulders, highlighting every muscle. His stormy blue-grey eyes caught the light for a fleeting second as he glanced up, and they seemed to darken when they met hers.

"Rough day, huh?" His voice was deep, smooth, and rich, yet there was an edge to it, like he was holding something back.

"Yeah," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the way his big hands gripped the bottle. Those hands. She tried to focus on what he was saying, but her mind betrayed her, wandering to how they might feel against her skin, firm yet gentle, exploring every inch of her.

"You don’t talk about work much," he said, leaning casually against the opposite counter, though there was nothing casual about the way his eyes roamed her figure. His gaze lingered on the curve of her waist, the silk of her negligee clinging to her full breasts and cascading down to her thick thighs. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but his focus never wavered.

"Work’s work," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. The usual playfulness in her tone was replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if it was from his smouldering gaze or the thoughts racing through her mind.

"That’s fair," he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk, though his voice had dropped an octave. He took a sip of his wine, his sharp jaw flexing slightly as he tilted his head back. She could barely breathe.

The air between them felt thick, electric. Every glance, every subtle movement was charged with an intensity that neither of them could ignore. She wanted to say something, anything, but her eyes kept drifting to his lips, full and smooth, and how easily they curved into that devastatingly charming smile. She wondered what they’d feel like against hers, how they’d taste.

"You seem... distracted," he teased, his voice low and husky.

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Says the man who hasn’t stopped staring."

"You’re hard not to stare at," he admitted, his tone serious now.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand. "You’re not so bad yourself," she said, her voice steady despite the wild thrum in her chest.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was suffocating in the best way. The kind of silence that demanded action, that begged for release.

And then it happened.

He set his glass down with a soft clink and took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. "You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough, raw with restraint. "Seeing you every morning, looking so damn fine, so put together... And then at night, when you come to mine, when you let your guard down and laugh like the world hasn’t put you through hell that day... I’m here, losing my mind over you, woman."

Her breath hitched, her wide eyes searching his stormy gaze. His words were like gasoline to the fire already burning inside her. "Terry..." she started, but the words caught in her throat.

"No," he cut her off gently, his big hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw. "Let me say this. From the first day I saw you, I knew you were gonna ruin me. And you have. I can’t think straight when you’re around, and when you’re not..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips.

She felt her chest tighten, her own thoughts spinning out of control. "I’ve liked you since day one," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

His lips quirked into a soft, almost disbelieving smile. "Yeah?"

She nodded, her cheeks warm. "Yeah."

That was all he needed to hear.

His lips crashed against hers, and everything else melted away. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until her soft curves were pressed firmly against his muscular frame. She moaned softly into the kiss, her hands exploring the expanse of his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Terry," she gasped as his lips trailed to her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

"You’re perfect," he murmured against her skin, his hands roaming over her thick thighs, her generous hips, memorising every part of her. "So damn perfect."

Her fingers tangled in his short, dark hair as he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, his lips returning to hers with a fervour that left her breathless. The silk of her negligee rode up, baring more of her dark, supple skin to his touch.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he rasped, his stormy eyes locking with hers as his hand slid up her thigh.

"Show me," she whispered, her voice dripping with desire.

And he did. The tension that had been building for months finally erupted, their movements urgent yet unhurried, savouring every touch, every kiss, every moment. It was the turning page they’d both been waiting for, the start of something they both knew would change everything.

The moment between them burned hotter as they moved upstairs, their lips locked in a fiery kiss that only deepened with each step. Breathless moans filled the spaces where their mouths parted, the sound mingling with the faint creak of the stairs. Terry’s strong arms tightened around her, lifting her effortlessly. Her thighs instinctively clasped around his waist, holding on to him as if her life depended on it. Her fingers found their way under his t-shirt, her fingertips brushing against the hard ridges of his back muscles, revelling in the sheer strength he carried so easily.

His grip on her waist was firm, his large hands branding her as his own, sending a thrilling pulse through her body that promised to linger long after tonight. His touch roamed with purpose, tracing the swell of her thighs and the curve of her hips. When his palm landed on her ass with a sharp slap, followed by a teasing squeeze, she gasped into his mouth, her body arching into him. Terry let out a deep, gravelly chuckle, the sound dripping with satisfaction, as if her every reaction was fuel to the fire raging within him.

With his lips trailing down her jaw, then returning to claim her mouth, he blindly led them toward her bedroom. His back pressed against the door as he maneuvered it open, never breaking their heated connection. Once inside, Terry seated himself at the edge of her bed, pulling her closer onto his lap. She straddled him, her negligee riding higher, teasing them both. Her nails running over his short, dark hair, dragging them just enough to make him groan deeply, the sound vibrating between them. His large hands explored her curves freely now, roaming the softness of her body like a man starved.

As their lips crashed together again, Terry’s control snapped. With an effortless move, he flipped her onto her back, his strength leaving her breathless. The sudden shift made her gasp, her hair splaying out across the sheets as she looked up at him. His body hovered above hers, broad and muscular, his chest rising and falling as he stared down at her. The look on his face—raw, unfiltered desire—sent a thrill through her core. His eyes darkened with lust, his brows knit together in a mixture of longing and determination.

“Terry...” she whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of the moment, her body humming with anticipation.

He lowered himself, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her collarbone before moving to her ear. His voice, deep and husky, made her shiver. “You don’t know what you do to me, YN,” he repeated. “Not being able to touch you like this.”

Her breath hitched, his confession sending waves of heat coursing through her body. Her hands gripped his biceps, feeling the tension coiled in him, the restraint he had fought for so long finally slipping. "Terry," she whispered again, her voice soft yet laced with her own need.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he rasped, his gaze trailing over her. “Every damn curve... your thighs, your hips... these gorgeous lips I can’t stop thinking about. You’re driving me insane, YN.”

She grew needier, her dark skin glowing under the low light of the room. Her hands roamed across his back, her nails lightly grazing his skin as she pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sent sparks flying between them, a tangible current neither could resist.

“Show what you’ve been wanting to do to me”, she breathlessly said.

That was all the permission Terry needed, he lowered his body down hers stopping at her thighs and slowly pusher lingerie up body signalling for her to raise arms so he could undress her. Eyes taking in every detail and she almost shied under his lustful gaze, but he quietened thoughts as he dipped his head down and his mouth parted to envelope the nipple that called for his attention. He bit, licked, sucked and swirled, teasing that bud and showing the other one the same love – “this is what you were hiding me, angel?” His voice, so many decibels lower she almost didn’t recognise it.

“Out of words already, baby? Don’t worry, I’ve got something that’ll bring that voice back”

YN watched as his hands travelled and worked down her body, lighting a trail of fire in their wake. They moved with such expertise, like he had time to study what made her wet – either that or she was just entirely ready for him. Her panties did nothing to disguise her puffy lips or the slickness that dampened the front, she would’ve been embarrassed if she wasn’t so turned on but this was a long time coming.

Terry's lips worked their way down her body, slow and purposeful, leaving a searing trail of anticipation in their wake. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he spread her legs wider, his firm grip sending shivers through her. His stormy eyes flicked up to meet hers, a silent yet urgent question. She responded by gripping the back of his head, guiding him exactly where she needed him most.

He hungrily obeyed, his tongue moving with an aggressive precision that mirrored her unspoken desire. Every stroke was deliberate, every flick of his tongue a testament to his singular focus on her pleasure. His large hands slid up her thighs, his grip firm and grounding as her body trembled beneath him.

Her nails grazed the smooth skin at the back of his head, her soft cries urging him on, and he fed on every sound she made like it was a reward. The way she arched into him, her breathless gasps and whispered curses, only drove him further. He was relentless, addicted to the way she tasted, the way her body writhed under his control.

“Terry…” she moaned, her voice breaking as he increased the pressure, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm. He felt her thighs quake against his shoulders, her body teetering on the edge.

“Come on, YN,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice sending her spiraling. “I want to feel it. Let go for me.”

With a cry that echoed through the room, she shattered, her release coursing through her like a wave. Terry didn’t stop, prolonging her pleasure, tasting every part of her as though he couldn’t get enough. And as he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at her with a dark, satisfied smirk.

Terry’s gaze was locked on her, dark and burning with intensity. She was already bare before him, her body glowing in the low light, every curve and line drawing him in like a man possessed. He knelt on the bed, his knees framing hers, and his hand traced the side of her thigh, firm and deliberate.

“I don’t know how I kept control this whole time,” he muttered, his voice laced with restrained desire. Grabbing her wrist, he guided her hand to the thick length straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched as her fingers instinctively wrapped around him. His jaw clenched at the contact, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“I’m ready to put this where it belongs,” he growled, his voice rough, primal. He stood, his movements deliberate as he tugged off his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. When he stood before her, completely bare, her mouth went dry, her pulse racing. His body was a perfect balance of strength and masculinity—toned, powerful, and overwhelming in every sense of the word.

She couldn’t stop the breathless moan of his name. “Terry…” she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleading and desperation.

She reached for him, her nails grazing over the hard ridges of his abs, earning a sharp hiss as he captured her wrist again. His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her toward him as he rolled his body against hers, letting her feel every inch of his arousal pressing into her. She gasped, the friction igniting something primal in her.

“Are you ready to take all of me?” his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Before she could respond, he flipped her onto her stomach with ease, his hands tugging her hips back toward him. A surprised gasp escaped her, quickly replaced by a low moan as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, his teeth grazing her skin. One hand pressed into the small of her back, pinning her in place, while the other slid up her thigh, rough and demanding.

She lifted her head slightly, her eyes catching the mirror across the room. The sight of their bodies intertwining—the dominance in his stance, the way her body responded to his every touch—made her breath hitch. Her body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat and tension building between them.

But just as his fingers trailed higher, grazing her most sensitive spot, he stilled. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, and his tone softened, though the intensity remained.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I need to hear it, YN.”

Her body writhed beneath him, every nerve alight with need. “I want this… and you. I need it, T. Please,” she pleaded, her voice desperate, her core weeping and throbbing for him.

That was all he needed. In one smooth, deliberate motion, he thrust into her, filling her completely. She cried out, her fingers clutching the sheets as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. He didn’t give her a moment to recover, his movements relentless and precise, each thrust stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Taking me so perfectly. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Her head lolled to the side, her cries and moans echoing in the room. She could barely form a coherent response, her mind clouded with nothing but him. Instead, she let her body speak for her, meeting his movements with equal fervour, the sound of their bodies colliding only heightening the intensity.

As her body tightened around him, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, he slowed. His hand slid around to cup her face, turning her head so he could kiss her. It wasn’t rough like before—it was slow, deep, and tender, a kiss that felt like a promise. Her body trembled, her moan muffled against his lips as her release overtook her, crashing over her in waves.

He followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as he buried himself deeper, his grip on her waist tightening. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their laboured breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets.

Finally, he collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. His lips pressed against her forehead, the tenderness in the gesture a stark contrast to the passion they’d just shared.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.

She nodded, her cheek pressed against his chest as her breathing slowly steadied. “More than okay,” she murmured, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Good,” he said, his voice low but warm. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The promise lingered in the air, and she couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree as she nestled closer to him, feeling completely and utterly content.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

and take a shot for every time i mentioned 'stormy' or 'eyes' loooool

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x black!oc #rebel ridge #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x black! reader #terry richmond x black!oc #aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre fanfic #terry richmond smut #terry richmond fic #ruewrites

455 notes · View notes

babyblankyerror · 7 days ago

Text

Stan collapses during the journal fight AUs but its just a fic about Ford taking care of Stan.

He'll be out and buys all of Stanley's favourite foods from their childhood and hopes he still likes them.

He even buys him the best hair products and other things he may need in the shower because his brother has a sudden obsession with being able to be clean whenever he wants to (when Stan excitedly told him how good he smelled just by using Ford's sad 3 in 1 shampoo, the older twin was immediately out and grabbing every product with tears in his eyes).

One day they're out and Stan is looking longingly at something, when Ford looks over its a nail salon. Now, Ford is aware his brother did drag but he didn't want to just assume he wanted his nails done...

Still he offers it and when Stanley gets all embarrassed about it, he finds himself getting his own nails done as well. He hates it, they're long and get in the way of his work but Stanley looks so happy with his new nails that Stanford keeps his mouth shut.

Ford prepares a fancy spa day the very next day and hopes Stanley won't feel too badly- he always talks about being a burden but he just wants his brother to be taken care of. Unfortunately, Stanley doesn't take well with his scars being revealed and neither does Stanford. They settle for pedicures (or something else small).

Remembering his brother used to like marine life as a kid, Stanford plans a road trip to the nearest aquarium. He let's Stan drive because it makes him happy and he doesn't question any of the directions Ford gives him, seeming content to just spend time together.

His brother doesn't even suspect as they arrive and Ford worries he just doesn't care for sea life anymore. It isn't until Stanford is inside the building that Stanley finally seems to realize that was their destination, the aquarium, and he quickly shakes his fists around like a more aggressive version of Ford's hand excited flaps.

Ford likes to read thr details but he finds himself letting Stan do it for him, info dumping on everything he knows about an animal and reading aloud to his best abilities to the ones he doesn't know. He is grinning widely and Ford finds himself doing the same at the sight of his brother finally letting loose.

#prompt #sort of #headcanons #BIG BROTHER FORD #BIG BROTHER *sniff* FORDSDD #stanford pines #stanley pines #mullet stan #gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines #audhd stanley pines #autistic ford pines #implied

165 notes · View notes

ghcstao3 · 1 year ago

Text

marine biologist/diver!ghost x selkie!soap au Thoughts

marine biologist ghost who, whenever he has spare time, will go diving with some colleagues to collect trash from the ocean—because maybe it doesn’t make a huge, immediate impact, but it still means something is being done.

then one day while diving, ghost is accompanied by a seal. at first it only observes, and ghost is plenty happy to admire from afar, but then the seal is cozying up to him. it latches onto his leg, nudges him with its snout—even directs ghost and his group to trash that’s otherwise pretty well hidden, wedged beneath coral and rocks and sand.

it saddens ghost, just a little, when the sky starts getting dark and they have to head back. he doesn’t want to abandon his new friend—it’s rare they have wildlife hang around for this long—but unfortunately it’s not safe to wait any longer before going home.

but then the next time they’re able to go diving, the seal is there again. it plays at the same routine, helping out and goofing around, sticking dutifully by ghost’s side even when there’s others along with him. and time after time, it’s the same thing. no matter where the group is, the seal somehow always finds him. they end up lending it the nickname soap, after the odd amount of empty bottles of cleaning products the seal seems to locate for them.

it’s maybe a few months later that soap doesn’t show up, and it’s an instant cause for concern; there’s no reason soap should be missing. they’re in a similar area that the seal likely frequents, there’s no reason for soap to have moved or be huddled away with other seals to have pups.

the group worries, but there’s nothing they can do but theorize and assume as they carry out their regular chore. it’s only a once-off, by this point. maybe soap just didn’t feel like coming out to play just this one time.

but it happens again and again. soap doesn’t appear once, and it has the group of scientists worried sick. but without a tracker, or even a real idea of where soap might frequent when he’s not helping the group, there’s nothing they can do.

they return to shore later than usual one night. it’s completely dark by the time they dock, and ghost waves everyone ahead to go home because they’re all tired, he can manage clean-up by himself.

ghost is just about finished packing up when he sees the figure at the end of the dock. the marina is like a ghost town otherwise, nothing but the sound of turning waves and boats gentle bumping up against the port. ghost approaches slowly, not knowing what other business one could possibly have at the water this late.

“you lost, mate?” ghost wonders cautiously.

the figure steps closer, silver moonlight revealing some of his features. the man looks about ghost’s age, maybe younger—only it’s hard to tell with the haggard look on his face, as he nervously wrings his fingers and avoids ghost’s gaze.

“i’m… sorry i haven’t been around,” he apologizes, and ghost frowns. “someone… someone took my coat.”

ghost’s brow furrows. “i don’t… your coat? i’m not sure i underst—“

“my coat,” the man affirms. “i need it to swim. which is why i haven’t been able to help lately.”

not certain how it’s possible, ghost grows even more confused. he doesn’t get it—a coat to swim? being able to help? nothing makes sense.

“you’ve lost me,” ghost says, shaking his head. “wish i could help, but—“

as ghost tries to push past, the man seizes his arm. he peers up at ghost pleadingly, and while ghost had wanted to conclude the man was drunk or high or something—he hesitates, seeing that look.

“have you ever heard of selkies?” the man asks, an edge of desperation in his voice.

ghost shrugs. “sure i have.” he’s hardly well-versed in mythical creatures, but he knows the gist.

the man doesn’t say anything—just continues to look at ghost with those sad eyes, a plea for understanding like an explanation couldn’t be spoken aloud. so ghost thinks on it a moment.

the coat, the inability to swim without it. not helping out and not being there starting to sound like a reference to soap. to the seal.

ghost’s eyebrows nearly raise to his hairline in disbelief.

“you’re not really saying you’re soap, are you?”

maybe-soap frowns. “who’s that?”

right. “i mean the seal that’s been following our diving trips,” ghost clarifies. “and you’re saying… because your coat is gone—“

“taken,” soap corrects, “i couldn’t go. i wanted to find you, but i didn’t know how, and… and…”

soap looks frazzled, like his brain has disconnected from his mouth and hands in empty gestures in words trying to convey what he’s thinking.

ghost tentatively sets his crate of gear on the wooden planks of the dock before placing his hands on either one of soap’s shoulders. maybe the story isn’t all there, and maybe there’s still doubt in ghost’s head about any of it being the truth—but ultimately, ghost believes the man. believes it’s soap.

slowly, ghost says, “calm down, and tell me how i can help. we’ll get your coat back, yeah?”

soap offers him a shy, watery smile—but a smile nonetheless. he nods and begins to tell ghost everything.

it doesn’t take long before they’re hatching a plan to win back soap’s freedom.

#i can’t find the tiktoks rn but that’s what this was inspired by #ignore typos #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

628 notes · View notes

icedsodapop · 1 year ago

Text

The subject of Taylor Swift and girlhood has been marinating in my mind for a while, but it's been amplified now that Israel's genocide of Palestinians has hit the mainstream once again. Becos, who is girlhood afforded to? Think about the adultification of Black girls, the Palestinian girls who are denied the privilege of clean period products and a life where they and their families aren't being bombed by Israeli forces, the many poor Black and Brown girls in the global south who become child labor force, trans girls esp Black trans girls who are often misgendered and the targets of transphobic hate crimes. Girlhood is a privilege.

#taylor swift #anti taylor swift #taylor swift critical #white womenhood #white privilege #white feminity #Spotify

343 notes · View notes

temis-de-leon · 9 months ago

Text

Day 4 - Blow a kiss

Characters: Leviathan x gn!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: none, this is pure fluff, established relationship

Sharing a wall with the kitchen wasn’t all fun and games. Sure, MC could go for a quick snack without bothering anyone or taking too long, but cooking for eight people didn’t left any room for silence. The whole hour before lunch and dinner made studying impossible for MC and then they had to add another hour of insufferable noise after every meal for cleaning. Why did Lucifer make the process so long, MC didn’t know, but sure it was tiring.

Mornings at RAD gave very little free time to get a head start on assignments and all the brothers wanted to do one thing or the other with them, so, since spending time with Levi without interruption could only be done at night, being productive in the late evenings seemed to be the most rational solution.

That was until someone decided to cook right after lunch.

Not even half an hour after cleaning was done, the sound of pans and pots caught MC’s attention. Who was it now? They knew Beel preferred to rest a little before heading to the gym and they couldn’t think about anyone else that could be interested in cooking with a full stomach, so who was the culprit of their interrupted time?

The sound of cheery humming filled their ears when they got out of their room, immediately making them smile when they recognized the voice.

“Levi?”

He raised his head with a beaming expression. His arms were trembling under the weight of a gigantic piece of meat and the countertop was covered in kitchen utensils, bottles and other ingredients. And what was that dirty bag resting against his leg on the floor?

“MC! Look!”

Their heart got warmer the closer they got to their boyfriend. The cookbook was barely visible under the grocery bags and now they could recognize the meat as a shadow hog’s set of ribs.

“Whatcha doing, baby?”

His face became red and his eyes shined at the nickname, but he kept talking.

“I was watching ‘Devil Food Wars!’ with Beel the other day and they cooked this new dish: roasted shadow hog on sizzling charcoal marinated in Demonus! It looked so good, I knew I had to try it!”

“And you’re cooking it for the whole family?”

“Of course! I mean, mainly for Beel, but for the rest of us too. Oh, my mouth is watering already!!”

MC laughed and blushed at his enthusiasm. The most handsome he ever looked was when he was passionate about something. His smile was wide, he stood straight and he looked at them with obvious excitement, stoked about the idea of sharing something he loved with them.

Homework could wait. MC would always choose spending time with Levi.

“Let me change into something more comfortable so I can help you”

“Yay! Thank you, MC, you’re the best ever!”

“The best ever?” they stopped, turning around at the door with a lewd look in their face “The best what?”

“The best everything”

They smiled at each other and Levi’s innocently loving gaze was enough for MC to leave their innuendos for later.

“You’re so cute”

His shock was evident, cheeks furiously red at their statement, making MC chuckle in delight. They brought the tips of their fingers to their lips, kissing them loudly before sending the gesture to a gawking Levi.

“MC…” he lowered his gaze, hiding his mouth behind his hand “Too cute to handle…!”

They left while he stuttered, swallowing a laugh when he finally screamed in frustration what he wanted to say.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT WITHOUT A WARNING, MC!!”

Taglist: @ourfinalisation @owlisbuffering @chizukimp4 @ravenredwine @darkflowerav @beatlebeesstuff

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x reader #leviathan x reader #levi x reader #obey me fluff #obey me writing #obey me drabble #25 kisses challenge

175 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months ago

Text

Paying for it doesn't make it a market

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Anyone who says "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product" has been suckered in by Big Tech, whose cargo-cult version of markets and the discipline they impose on companies.

Here's the way that story goes: companies that fear losing your business will treat you better, because treating you worse will cost them money. Since ad-supported media gets paid by advertisers, they are fine with abusing you to make advertisers happy, because the advertiser is the customer, and you are the product.

This represents a profound misunderstanding of how even capitalism's champions describe its workings. The purported virtue of capitalism is that it transforms the capitalist's greed into something of broad public value, by appealing to the capitalist's fear. A successful capitalist isn't merely someone figures out how to please their customers – they're also someone who figures out how to please their suppliers.

That's why tech platforms were – until recently – very good to (some of) their workforce. Technical labor was scarce and so platforms built whimsical "campuses" for tech workers, with amenities ranging from stock options to gourmet cafeterias to egg-freezing services for those workers planning to stay at their desks through their fertile years. Those workers weren't the "customer" – but they were treated better than any advertiser or user.

But when it came to easily replaced labor – testers, cleaning crew, the staff in those fancy cafeterias – the situation was much worse. Those workers were hired through cut-out shell companies, denied benefits, even made to enter via separate entrances on shifts that were scheduled to minimize the chance that they would ever interact with one of the highly paid tech workers at the firm.

Likewise, advertisers may be the tech companies' "customers" but that doesn't mean the platforms treat them well. Advertisers get ripped off just like the rest of us. The platforms gouge them on price, lie to them about advertising reach, and collude with one another to fix prices and defraud advertisers:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

Now, it's true that the advertisers used to get a good deal from the platforms, and that it came at the expense of the users. Facebook lured in users by falsely promising never to spy on them. Then, once the users were locked in, Facebook flipped a switch, started spying on users from asshole to appetite, and then offered rock-bottom-priced, fine-grained, highly reliable ad-targeting to advertisers:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

But once those advertisers were locked in, Facebook turned on them, too. Of course they did. The point of monopoly power isn't just getting too big to fail and too big to jail – it's getting too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

This is the thing that "if you're not paying for the product, you're the product" fails to comprehend. "If you're not paying for the product" is grounded in a cartoonish vision of markets in which "the customer is king" and successful businesses are those who cater to their customers – even at the expense of their workers and suppliers – will succeed.

In this frame, the advertiser is the platforms' customer, the customer is king, the platform inflicts unlimited harm upon all other stakeholders in service to those advertisers, the advertisers are so pleased with this white-glove service that they willingly pay a handsome premium to use the platform, and so the platform grows unimaginably wealthy.

But of course, if the platforms inflict unlimited harms upon their users, those users will depart, and then no amount of obsequious catering to advertisers will convince them to spend money on ads that no one sees. In the cargo-cult conception of platform capitalism, the platforms are able to solve this problem by "hacking our dopamine loops" – depriving us of our free will with "addictive" technologies that keep us locked to their platforms even when they grow so terrible that we all hate using them.

This means that we can divide the platform economy into "capitalists" who sell you things, and "surveillance capitalists" who use surveillance data to control your mind, then sell your compulsive use of their products to their cherished customers, the advertisers.

Surveillance capitalists like Google are thus said to have only been shamming when they offered us a high-quality product. That was just a means to an end: the good service Google offered in its golden age was just bait to trick us into handing over enough surveillance data that they could tune their mind-control technology, strip us of our free will, and then sell us to their beloved advertisers, for whom nothing is too good.

Meanwhile, the traditional capitalists – the companies that sell you things – are the good capitalists. Apple and Microsoft are disciplined by market dynamics. They won't spy on you because you're their customer, and so they have to keep you happy.

All this leads to an inexorable conclusion: unless we pay for things with money, we are doomed. Any attempt to pay with attention will end in a free-for-all where the platforms use their Big Data mind-control rays to drain us of all our attention. It is only when we pay with money that we can dicker over price and arrive at a fair and freely chosen offer.

This theory is great for tech companies: it elevates giving them money to a democracy-preserving virtue. It reframes handing your cash over to a multi-trillion dollar tech monopolist as good civics. It's easy to see why those tech giants would like that story, but boy, are you a sap if you buy it.

Because all capitalists are surveillance capitalists…when they can get away with it. Sure, Apple blocked Facebook from spying on Ios users…and then started illegally, secretly spying on those users and lying about it, in order to target ads to those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

And Microsoft spies on every Office 365 user and rats them out to their bosses ("Marge, this analytics dashboard says you're the division's eleventh-worst speller and twelfth-worst typist. Shape up or ship out!"). But the joke's on your boss: Microsoft also spies on your whole company and sells the data about it to your competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revengel

The platforms screw anyone they can. Sure, they lured in advertisers with good treatment, but once those advertisers were locked in, they fucked them over just as surely as they fucked over their users.

The surveillance capitalism hypothesis depends on the existence of a hypothetical – and wildly improbably – Big Data mind-control technology that keeps users locked to platforms even when the platform decays. Mind-control rays are an extraordinary claim supported by the thinnest of evidence (marketing materials from the companies as they seek to justify charging a premium to advertisers, combined with the self-serving humblebrags of millionaire Prodigal Tech Bros who claim to have awakened to the evil of using their dopamine-hacking sorcerous powers on behalf of their billionaire employers).

There is a much simpler explanation for why users stay on platforms even as they decline in quality: they are enmeshed in a social service that encompasses their friends, loved ones, customers, and communities. Even if everyone in this sprawling set of interlocking communities agrees that the platform is terrible, they will struggle to agree on what to do about it: where to go next and when to leave. This is the economists' "collective action problem" – a phenomenon with a much better evidentiary basis than the hypothetical, far-fetched "dopamine loop" theory.

To understand whom a platform treats well and whom it abuses, look not to who pays it and who doesn't. Instead, ask yourself: who has the platform managed to lock in? The more any stakeholder to a platform stands to lose by leaving, the worse the platform can treat them without risking their departure. Thus the beneficent face that tech companies turn to their most cherished tech workers, and the hierarchy of progressively more-abusive conditions for other workers – worse treatment for those whose work-visas are tied to their employment, and the very worst treatment for contractors testing the code, writing the documentation, labelling the data or cleaning the toilets.

If you care about how people are treated by platforms, you can't just tell them to pay for services instead of using ad-supported media. The most important factor in getting decent treatment out of a tech company isn't whether you pay with cash instead of attention – it's whether you're locked in, and thus a flight risk whom the platform must cater to.

It's perfectly possible for market dynamics to play out in a system in which we pay with our attention by watching ads. More than 50% of all web users have installed an ad-blocker, the largest boycott in the history of civilization:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Ad-supported companies make an offer: How about in exchange for looking at this content, you let us spy on you in ways that would make Orwell blush and then cram a torrent of targeted ads into your eyeballs?" Ad-blockers let you make a counter-offer: "How about 'nah'?"

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But ad-blocking is only possible on an open platform. A closed, locked-down platform that is illegal to modify isn't a walled garden, a fortress that keeps out the bad guys – it's a walled prison that locks you in, a prisoner of the worst impulses of the tech giant that built it. Apple can defend you from other companies' spying ways, but when Apple decides to spy on you, it's a felony to jailbreak your Iphone and block Apple's surveillance:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

I am no true believer in markets – but the people who say that paying for products will "align incentives" and make tech better claim to believe in the power of markets to make everyone better off. But real markets aren't just places where companies sell things – they're also places where companies buy things. Monopolies short-circuit the power of customer choice to force companies to do better. But monopsonies – markets dominated by powerful buyers – are just as poisonous to the claimed benefits of markets.

Even if you are "the product" – that is, even if you're selling your attention to a platform to package up and sell to an advertiser – that in no way precludes your getting decent treatment from the platform. A world where we can avail ourselves of blockers, where interoperablity eases our exodus from abusive platforms, where privacy law sets a floor below which we cannot bargain is a world where it doesn't matter if you're "the product" or "the customer" – you can still get a square deal.

The platforms used to treat us well and now treat us badly. That's not because they were setting a patient trap, luring us in with good treatment in the expectation of locking us in and turning on us. Tech bosses do not have the executive function to lie in wait for years and years.

Rather, as tech platforms eliminated competition, captured their regulators and expanded their IP rights so that interoperability was no longer a threat, they became too big to care whether any of their stakeholders were happy. First they came for the users, sure, but then they turned on the publishers, the advertisers, and finally, even their once-pampered tech workers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

MLK said that "the law can't make a man love me, but it can stop him from lynching me." It's impossible to get tech bosses to believe you deserve care and decency, but you can stop them from abusing you. The way to do that is by making them fear you – by abolishing the laws that create lock-in, by legally enshrining a right to privacy, by protecting competition.

It's not by giving them money. Paying for a service does not make a company fear you, and anyone who thinks they can buy a platform's loyalty by paying for a service is a simp. A corporation is an immortal, transhuman colony organism that uses us as inconvenient gut-flora: no matter how much you love it, it will never love you back. It can't experience love – only fear.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

#pluralistic #if youre not paying for the product youre the product #competition #capitalists hate capitalism #discipline #market discipline #the old good internet

193 notes · View notes

theambitiouswoman · 6 months ago

Text

Hormone disrupters are chemicals 🧪 that interfere with your body’s endocrine system, which regulates hormones. They can be found in a lot of every day products like:

Plastic bottles and food containers

Pesticides in agriculture

Cleaning supplies

Chemicals used for clothing

Personal care products like lotions, shampoos & makeup

❌ These are hormone disrupters found in common every day products that you should stay away from ❌

- Bisphenol A (BPA) (plastics and can liners)

- Phthalates (personal care products, fragrances, flexible plastics)

- Parabens (makeup & personal care products)

- Triclosan (antibacterial soaps and cleaning products)

- Polychlorinated Biphenyls (older electrical equipment and industrial products)

- Flame Retardants (furniture, textiles, electronics)

- Pesticides (agriculture)

- Perfluorinated Chemicals (stain resistant treatments, non-stick cookware)

- Dioxins (industrial processes, combustion byproducts)

- Lead (older paints, pipes)

- Dye chemicals (textiles and clothing)

- Water repellents (outdoor clothing, upholstery)

- Stain repellents (carpets, fabrics)

- Formaldehyde (wrinkle free and anti-shrink treatments for fabric)

- Mercury (fish, some thermometers, dental amalgams)

- Cadmium (batteries, some fertilizers)

- Atrazine (herbicides)

- Glyphosate (weed killers)

- Perchlorate (rocket fuel, fireworks, fertilizers)

- Arsenic (contaminated water, pesticides)

- Styrene (plastics, rubber, insulation materials)

- Phosphates (detergents, fertilizers)

- Nonylphenol ethoxylates (industrial detergents, cleaners)

- Organotins (PVC plastics, marine antifouling paints)

- Benzophenone (sunscreens, plastics)

- Octinoxate (sunscreens, makeup)

- 4 Methylbenzylidene camphor (sunscreens, makeup)

‼️ Exposure to these can lead to health issues like reproductive problems, developmental issues and cancer.

🌿 Needless to say, that in order to protect our hormones 🫶 it’s important to recognize these risks and take measures to reduce our exposure them.

91 notes · View notes

moodymisty · 6 months ago

Note

First time writing for w40k, please enjoy 🙏

---

Horus is in his office when the news is delivered of your labors. He hears a knock on the door and a voice calls out, "Lady Aurelian's labors are starting."

All thoughts of work immediately flee his mind. This is much more important.

The Space Marine who had delivered the news struggles to keep up with Horus as he strides through the doors and towards the medical ward.

Horus ignores everyone he passes in his haste to arrive at the medical ward, to arrive to you. His hearts are pounding in his chest, and blood rushes on his ears, drowning out the sound of everything else.

Another Space Marine stands outside the door of the medical ward, and the Marine opens the door for Horus as he approaches. Horus steps inside, and his eyes immediately lock onto an Apothecary.

After you had come to be in his care, Horus had ordered his Luna Wolves Apothecaries to research and learn all they could about pregnancy and childbirth. The child you carry is the child of a Primarch, and the baseline human serfs would not be fully prepared to deal with such an important task alone. The medicae serfs would be assisted by the Apothecaries.

"Report." Horus commands the Apothecary.

The Apothecary straightens. "Yes, Lord Horus. Roughly an hour ago, Lady Aurelian reported pain in her abdomen. On the way to the medical ward, her water broke, and she was rushed here. After confirming the child was coming, and getting Lady Aurelian settled, a Marine was dispatched to retrieve you."

Horus nods. "Excellent."

He moves to enter the room the Apothecary was guarding, but is stopped by the Apothecary. "Um, Lord Horus, it's thought to be best if you remain outside the room. Your presence could distract some of the medicae serfs."

Horus grits his teeth. He wants to be there with you. He wants to hold your hand to comfort you, he wants to nod along when you curse at him his brother for doing this to you, he wants to see the life you've been carrying so diligently for so long finally enter the world, he wants to hear the child's first cry together with you.

But this isn't about what he wants, it's about what you need. And you need the medicae serfs to be fully focused on bringing your child safely into the world. So Horus nods, and settles in to wait.

He'll make sure the medicae are used to his presence in the future so that next time, he can be in the room with you.

---

The birth takes hours. Horus waits anxiously in the waiting room the whole time. At first, Horus tries to be productive while waiting. He orders a Marine to bring him some of his work from his office so he can work while he waits. However, his head is empty of any thoughts that aren't you, you, you. After spending half an hour attempting to read a single paragraph, he gives up on working and begins to pace.

Occasionally, the door to your room opens as a medicae or Apothecary enters or exits. Horus smells blood and hears your screams when they do, and his hearts pound faster as he imagines what you must be going through, especially without him by your side.

Eventually, things seem to calm down, as Apothecaries and medicae stop traversing through your door quite as often. Soon, an Apothecary approaches Horus, who stops his pacing immediately.

"How is she?" Horus asks without waiting for the Apothecary to speak.

"Lady Aurelian delivered a baby girl. The child is currently being given an extensive medical checkup to observe and document any differences between her and baseline human babies, due to her status as half-Primarch. Lady Aurelian lost a lot of blood, but she is expected to live. She will continue to recieve the best healthcare possible to guarantee so. The medicae are currently cleaning her up and getting her treatment for recovery ready. Once they finish doing so, then you can see her, Lord Horus."

Horus' hearts clench at the news that you've lost a lot of blood, but he can't stop the giddiness that wells within him at the news of the birth.

A baby girl.

Without even meeting her, Horus already loves her so much. He hopes she takes after you, grows to be as beautiful as her mother. He'll have to beat off suitors with Worldbreaker, once she reaches that age.

Horus waits as patiently as he can to be allowed into your room. When a medicae sticks her head out the door of the room and nods at him, Horus has to hold himself back from bursting through the door and to your side. Instead, he confidently walks into your medical room.

The lights are dimmed. The smell of blood and chemicals linger in the air. Medicae quietly maneuver through the room, consulting charts and whispering to each other. Horus registers none of this, as his eyes are only for you.

Your hair is stuck to your forehead with sweat. There are dark circles under your eyes, and tear tracks on your cheeks. You rest on a large bed surrounded by pillows and beeping machines.

Despite all this, or perhaps because of it, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

His breath catches as he looks at you, and sees the proof of how hard you worked to bring life into this universe. For a moment, he understands Lorgar's religious devotion to you. He would worship you as a goddess as well if he could.

He approaches your bedside as gently as possible, and you stir when he kneels next to you. He smiles as your eyes blearily look at him.

"Lorgar...?"

His smile dims a bit at you calling for his brother.

"No, it's only me, Horus, here."

"Oh..." You blink slowly. "The baby...?"

"A baby girl. She's getting a checkup by the medicae. Perhaps afterwards, we can name her?"

"Lorgar wanted to name a girl Medea. So I'll go with that."

"A beautiful name," he praises, though in his mind he can think of thousands of better names for the darling girl you had brought into the world. He smoothes your hair back and gently grasps your hands.

You yawn. "I'm tired," you mumble, watching him through half-liddled eyes.

"Then sleep," he says, bringing your hands to his mouth and kissing them. "I'll be right here with you the whole time."

Bro I am salivating, I am yearning, I am uncontrollable.

Him being like ‘I need to prepare the medicae for the next time she gives birth’, to him not wanting to name the girl what Lorgar wanted but not wanting to upset you more, I am crying.

Thank you for making this ima go read it a few more times before going to sleep brb

#reply #Misty’s book club #For the Library

68 notes · View notes

oniricdiary · 2 months ago

Text

Ok so I know none of y’all is ready for this conversation but now y’all gotta be ready cause we’re sitting down and we’re having it.

EYE am the first one that physically collapses and starts foaming from the mouth when this conversation is brought up but I’ve rarely ever seen people look eachother in the screen and be direct, sincere, blunt, only people on tiktok, so EYE am gonna say this and get it out of my chest cause I can’t do it no more.

CANON AOT CHARACTERS ARE MUSTY, CRUSTY, STINKY, FILTHY, NASTY, MUCKY.

Yall just remember that all events from season one (from trost) to season three all happened in the span of FOUR MONTHS. Four months in which they went on mission god knows how many times and how long. When had my babes got time to clean themselves? LIKE TWO. Two full body cleanses and maybe a couple more but they were just armpits and face. They were surely unbearable to be around. And don’t get me started on the skid marks, that’s the ultimate proof. Like literally how many times did they clean up from head to toe and change/wash all of their clothes. Let’s not think about it moving on.

ik you guys won’t hear me out on this but cadet days were the worst. Self care products were probably expensive and limited as wall Maria had fallen, so they couldn’t even use a proper amount. Kids going through PUBERTY. A big bunch of BOYS training ALL the time under any weather with LIMITED soap. Any of you ever been in a boys’ locker room or a freshman class? You remember the smell right? Cause you ain’t forgetting such violation. Yeah now imagine that in cramped living spaces like the barracks FULL OF FILTHY PUBESCENT BOYS living there all the time everyday. Like I’d rather have a corpse under my bed than walking in there. The girls were better but not THAT MUCH. They were going through evolution🎉 too.

So like canon aot fics are so good like chefs kiss but when I remember this…ik it’s gonna be painful. Y’all remember that napoleon letter to his wife? No? Yeah? Those who do, you get what I mean. I mean I’m not like shaming anybody or kinkshaming or whatever but can a girl wonder.

The matted, oily, dandruffy, dusty hair. The sticky face. The death breath for panting for a long time without eating or drinking or rinsing. The STENCH especially on the boys (ik eren and Reiner were lethal) BUT THE GIRLS TOO THEYRE NOT SAFE. The built up sweat from wearing the same clothes for four months. The dirt under the nails. THE CHEESY FEET. The fungis under those clothes. I physically cannot go on I’m sorry but there would be so much more to say it’s not even funny atp.

Again I’m just wondering like I’m being realistic no shame at all, I’d be in the same situation if I woke up there tomorrow, I’d have a panic attack for sure because I care too much about my hair but like again, what can i do ima kill titans and think about my marinated armpits later right? Don’t cancel me please.

Like I’m just wondering how in fics did they even kiss during those times or like do the devil’s tango in the barracks or anything else at all. Like am EYE the clean freak or do you guys see the vision???? I guess there is a smut plot armor too. That’s impressive I mean it.

Anyway for anybody wondering YES LEVI TOO. He can’t escape the mustiness and has the same chances at cleaning himself as the others HOWEVER we know he’ll do it correctly unlike somebody else.

Again ik they were different times and situations I’m just wondering yk whatever cancel me.

WARNING: THIS WAS A 4AM STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND IM NOT GOING TO REREAD IT, IT 99% WONT MAKE SENSE TO YOU AND THAT’S FINE, IM ON THE VERGE OF DEATH (RUSSIAN SLEEP EXPERIMENT VICTIM) AND NOTHING EVEN MAKES SENSE TO ME RN. DANCE TO THE BIG BIG BEAT.

#attack on titan #aot #armin arlert #aruani #annie leonhart #snk #shinjeki no kyojin #stream of consciousness #aot hcs #aot headcanons #aot fanfiction #aot fic #aruani fanfic

34 notes · View notes

xclowniex · 2 months ago

Note

This might be a bit random, but I remember you posted about moving into a new apartment a while back. I’m moving next month, and it’ll be my first time living on my own. I’ll be by myself, and honestly, I have no idea how to clean. If you have the time and energy, could you explain where to start? Sorry if this is super random—it’s just feeling a bit overwhelming!

Hey! no need to apologize, we all gotta start somewhere. I would be happy to help.

The first thing you should know is which tasks are monthly, weekly or daily tasks. Some thinsg get dirtier quicker than others so need to be done weekly. Daily usually just help keep things tidy rather than clean and mothly is for the things which get dirty but not quickly.

There is one exception to this which are your walls, which should be wiped down once to twice a year with some general purpose spray.

Monthly tasks: Oven Stovetop Rangehood Microwave Fridge Skirting boards

Shwer curtain (if you have one)

When you move in, depending on the previous tenent, the oven might take a while with that first clean, but after that, it shouldn't take too long to do each month.

What you want to do is remove the racks and let them soak either in the sink or bathrub with some hot water and dishsoap. Get a cleaning product like designated oven cleaner or jif (jif is the best multi purpose thing out there), and put some in your oven. Use a cloth or sponge to spread it around and let it sit for 5 minutes. You an do another task whilst it marinates. Then you want to get something to scrub with. A brush or the green side of a sponge or even a scrub daddy all work well, and scrub the entire oven. Then get a damp cloth and wipe away the cleaning product, rinsing and wringing out the cloth as you go. If the oven has some subborn spots, repeat until you are happy with it. Lastly, return to your oven racks, scrub with a dish brush or tooth brush and if there is still stuff, get some jif and use that.

With the stovetop, you should be wiping it down after every use, but things do get stuck to it, which is normal and okay. So you want to get jif or another similar product, squirt it on and spead it around, let it sit. Then scrub and wipe off similar to the oven.

With the rangehood, there is a filter you need to remove. If you are having trouble, find the brand and try and find the manual online to see how to remove it. Usually there is a clip you press back to unlock it out of place and remove it, with some there is no clip and you just press it into one side to free the other side and remove it. Wash it like you wash dishes, dry and put back in.

With the microwave, like a multi purpose spray bottle cleaner should work. Remove the spinning place and the wheels and wash those like you do the dishes. Spray the microwave and wipe down. Return the innards of the microwave and put it back in place.

With the frisge, remove all your food. The shelves should be removable so you want to remove them and once again clean them like you do the dishes. Whilst those are drying in the drying rack, get your multi purpose spray cleaner and spreay the sides, bottom and cieling of your fridge, and wipe it down. Then replace all the shelves and put your food back. If you have a minifridge with a built in freezer, you will need to defrost the freezer, do this step before putting the shelves back. To do this you want to turn your firdge off, get hot water and pour it in to melt the ice. Then use something like an old ID to leverage the ice off of the surfaces. Repeat till all the ice comes off. Does help to have a big bowl to chuck the ice into before putting it in the sink to melt. Dry off everything and then wipe it down with spray and then put everything back in.

Skirting boards get dusty often. Grab a wet rag or dust sponge from scrub daddy, wet it, and wipe the skirting boards. If they are particularly bad, before doing this, most vaccuums come with a presicion nozzle which you replace the head with. Use this then wipe down with a wet cloth.

Shower curtains are often neglected. Remove the plastic curtain from the rail gently. Remove any hooks or rings, so they don’t get caught in the rinse cycle. Add mild detergent, baking soda, and vinegar to the washing machine. Start a 15-minute cycle in gentle settings. Once done, drain the excess water and let the curtain dry in the fresh air and then put back.

Weekly tasks: Shower Bathroom sink + mirror Toilet Surfaces Floors

The shower is pretty simple. There are two ways to do it. The first is the most basic which is get some shower cleaner and a sponge like a scrub daddy. Spray the shower cleaner on the walls and floor of the shower, and if it has a shower dome, the inside of that too. Let it sit for a few minutes then wipe it down. The second way cleans it much better in my experience. Still do the same as above, but before it, use some dish soap and a cloth and clean it that way. It just helps get rid of the grime whilst the shower cleaner kills the bacteria. The after that, spray the shower head (all sides), the tap, and the outside of your shampoo and wipe with a damp cloth. Mold loves the outside of your shower products so that step is very important. Then remove the drain if possible, bring it to the sink and remove any caught hairs and flush those down the loo. Rinse and then spray with shower cleaner and wipe and then put back. Turn the shower on to rinse off the cleaning product.

If you have a glass door, spray with glass cleaner and wipe. Do also have a squeegee to wipe down after every shower to prevent marks on the door.

If you have a shower curtain, refer to monthly cleaning.

Sinks are pretty easy too. Just spray with bathroom cleaner, just the all purpose spray, wipe and you are done. Make sure to do the taps, the visable part of the drain and around the overflow hole. With the mirror, spray with glass cleaner and wipe with a paper towel to prevent streaks.

Toilet is simple too. all bathroom stuff is simple. Spray both sides of the lid and seat and wipe. Spray the top and outside of the bowl and wipe. Also spray and wipe the back of the bowl which is hard to get to. Get toiley clearner and put it in the bowl. Get a toiley brish and scrub the inside. Once done, hold the brush near where the water comes from and flush to rinse. Then to let the brush dry, hold it over the bowl so the brush is hovering overe the toilet and the handle is sticking out paralell to the ground, then put the toilet seat down to hold it in place. Let it dry for a few minutes before removing and putting it back in its holder.

Surfaces - you gotta dust your surfaces and polish any wood ones. Get a damp duster for featehr duster and sweep it on your surfaces. I reccomend this step before floors so you can vaccum the dust now on the floor. If you have wood surfaces that arent cheap plywood, get some wood polish and a designated microfiber cloth, spray onto your cloth and wipe your wood surfaces with it.

Floors - Vaccuum all floors, including tile, wood, inyl, lino, etc. Then on non carpet floors, get a brush. I personally use the brush attachment on my steam cleaner, but a nail brush is good if you have small areas of non carpet floors as it is very comfortable to hold, or a designated sweeping brush works if you have large areas of non carpet. Get some dishsoap and some warm water, scrub your floors and then get a bucket of water and a mop, and mop up the water on the floor. Please note that if you live in a studio apartment, you may have to vaccuum more than once a week. You track in x amount of dirt each day and have Y amount of space. X amount of dirt will stay the same regardless of how much space (Y) there is. If space (Y) is small, the first is more noticable as there is less room for it to be spreadout.

Daily tasks: Dishes Kitchen surfaces Nightly reset/General surfaces

Try to do your dishes daily. You don't need to do every single dish you use every day, but there is nothing like waking up to no dishes to do. You gotta do them eventually, why not do them each day than be forced to do them when you have no clean dishes left. You should be scraping off your plates over the bin and then rinsing them under the tap before hand washing then or putting them in the dishwasher. This helps keep your sink clean and just makes the plates easier to clean for both you and your dishwasher if you have one.

Kitchen surfaces refers to your bentops, stove AND sink. Wipe alldown after evry use with general purpose kitchen sprace and a cloth. If you do this every day, your kitchen bench and sink never get dirty enough to warrant a weekly clean.

This last bit helps if you are like me and "I forgor" a lot. I often will use something, go "i will put that away once I do this other thing" and forget. Every night, make sure to put things where they belong either on a shelf, in a draw, lined up on a table, in the bin, etc.

Other tips

Moistruize your hands after using cleaning products. They can dry out your hands.

Motivation to clean can be hard. Find a chore you can do like dust, or do your laundry to get you into the cleaning mood aka in the headspace to do related tasks to the task you start with. Even promising yourself that you will just do one small task and stop if you don't want to do anymore can help with motivation. For me, doing the laundry makes me wanna clean the rest of the apartment. And vacuuming takes me like 5m to do as i live in a studio so doing that help me go "well i just vaccuumed so I might as well do the shower. I did the shower so I might as well do the sink, etc". This works for me and might not for you and is fine. Finding something whiuch does helps greatly.

Figure out if you are a split the weekly chore between days person or a do it all in one day person. If you suffer with chronic pain or in general, splitting things up can help. So monday you do the shower, tuesday the sink and toilet, wednesday the vacuuming, etc. I myself am a do it all in one go type of person, so I clean on Sunday as it is the end of the week here and in my mind, starting the week with a clean apartment sounds nice.

Cover your food in the microwave. Not everyone does this, which is weird to me as my mum was anal about this growing up. But put a paper towel over your bowl or plate to catch the splatters your food creates when the liquid gets hot and explodes into steam. That sounds far more intense than what actually happens as it happens on a very small scale, but covering your food helps there not be stuck on food in your microwave.

#cleaning #clean #ask clownie

28 notes · View notes

rjzimmerman · 14 days ago

Text

Yesterday felt like an earthquake shook the foundations of our climate and environmental laws, followed by a hurricane that scattered the bits all over the place and a wildfire that burned those bits that weren't scattered. I didn't watch any part of yesterday's debauchery, either on TV or streaming or the alerts that pop up on my iPhone or iPad, or read anything (neither national, local or environmental or climate specialized media). I figured most of the crap he did yesterday will be the subject of strategic lawsuits, and much will be tossed out as contrary to legislation or regulation or unconstitutional. In other words, I'll pay attention to the reconstruction, not the destruction. But.......it was still a horse shit day.

This compilation from the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law (of the Columbia Law School/Columbia Climate School) is outstanding. Click/tap on the caption of this post and you'll be able to figure out what happened and sort things out as you want. Just click/tap on the caption and go for it. But if you don't want to do that, here's the compilation, abbreviated. Italicized/red fonts are my addition, either explanatory or editorial.

PUTTING AMERICA FIRST IN INTERNATIONAL ENVIRONMENTAL AGREEMENTS

Withdraw from Paris Climate Agreement

Withdraw from any other agreements made under UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC)

Revoke any financial commitments under UNFCCC

Revoke U.S. International Climate Finance Plan

DECLARING A NATIONAL ENERGY EMERGENCY

Declares national energy emergency, primarily based on high energy prices

Use any lawful emergency authorities “to facilitate the identification, leasing, siting, production, transportation, refining, and generation of domestic energy resources.”

Use Defense Production Act and federal eminent domain authorities

Issue emergency fuel waivers to allow year-round sale of E15 gasoline (E15 is ethanol/gasoline mix)

“Expedite the completion of all authorized and appropriated infrastructure, energy, environmental and natural resources projects”

Use emergency authorities and nationwide permits to grant approvals under Clean Water Act Sec. 404, Rivers and Harbors Act Sec. 10, and Marine Protection Research and Sanctuaries Act Sec. 103 for energy projects

Use emergency consultation processes under Endangered Species Act, and frequent convening of Endangered Species Act Committee, for energy projects

Use construction authority of Army Corps of Engineers

The term “energy” is defined to mean “crude oil, natural gas, lease condensates, natural gas liquids, refined petroleum products, uranium, coal, biofuels, geothermal heat, the kinetic movement of flowing water, and critical minerals” [not wind or solar] (excluding wind and solar is childish and just plain stupid)

UNLEASHING AMERICAN ENERGY

“eliminate the ‘electric vehicle (EV) mandate’ and promote true consumer choice … by terminating … state emissions waivers that function to limit sales of gasoline-powered automobiles; and by considering the elimination of unfair subsidies and other ill-conceived government-imposed market distortions that favor EVs” (the elon musk pacifier....i.e., Tesla)

“safeguard the American people’s freedom to choose from a variety of goods and appliances, including but not limited to lightbulbs, dishwashers, washing machines, gas stoves, water heaters, toilets, and shower heads”

Require all agency heads to review all existing regulations “that impose an undue burden on the identification, development, or use of domestic energy resources – with particular attention to oil, natural gas, coal, hydropower, biofuels, critical mineral, and nuclear energy resources”

Attorney General “shall consider whether pending litigation against illegal, dangerous, or harmful policies should be resolved through stays or other relief”

Revocation of many executive orders

Terminate the American Climate Corps

Council on Environmental Quality must propose rescinding its NEPA regulations (NEPA regulations are the core of our environmental laws)

CEQ to convene working group to expedite permitting approvals

“all agencies must prioritize efficiency and certainty over any other objectives, including those of activist groups that do not align with the policy goals”

“facilitate the permitting and construction of interstate energy transportation and other critical energy infrastructure, including … pipelines”

In NEPA and other permitting reviews, “agencies shall adhere to only the relevant legislated requirements for environmental considerations and any considerations beyond those requirements are eliminated”

Disband Interagency Working Group on the Social Cost of Greenhouse Gases; all of its guidance, recommendations, etc. are withdrawn

Consider eliminating the “social cost of carbon” calculation

EPA in collaboration with other agencies shall submit recommendations to OMB “on the legality and continuing applicability” of the greenhouse gas endangerment finding of 2009 (this is the core concept from the US Supreme Court case that provides the legal basis for greenhouse gas controls)

Immediately pause disbursement of funds appropriated through Inflation Reduction Act or Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act; review processes for issuing grants, loans, contracts, or any other financial disbursement of appropriated funds

Secretary of Energy to restart reviews of applications for approvals of LNG export projects

Maritime Administration to review approvals for proposed deepwater ports for LNG export

“identify all agency actions that impose undue burdens on the domestic mining and processing of non-fuel minerals and undertake steps to revise or rescind such actions”

UNLEASHING ALASKA’S EXTRAORDINARY RESOURCE POTENTIAL

Expedite permitting and leasing of energy and natural resource projects in Alaska

Prioritize development of Alaska’s LNG potential

End restrictions on development of Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and certain other areas in Alaska

Numerous other actions to facilitate energy development in Alaska

TEMPORARY WITHDRAWAL OF ALL AREAS ON THE OUTER CONTINENTAL SHELF FROM OFFSHORE WIND LEASING AND REVIEW OF THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT’S LEASING AND PERMITTING PRACTICES FOR WIND PROJECTS

Stop leasing of federal waters for offshore wind

Issue no new or renewed approvals, rights of way, loans for onshore or offshore wind projects

“consider the environmental impact of onshore and offshore wind projects upon wildlife, including, but limited to, birds and marine mammals”

PUTTING PEOPLE OVER FISH: STOPPING RADICAL ENVIRONMENTALISM TO PROVIDE WATER TO SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

Restart work “to route more water from the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta to other parts of the state for use by the people there who desperately need a reliable water supply”

“The recent deadly and historically destructive wildfires in Southern California underscore why the State of California needs a reliable water supply and sound vegetation management practices in order to provide water desperately needed there”

DELIVERING EMERGENCY PRICE RELIEF FOR AMERICAN FAMILIES AND DEFEATING THE COST-OF-LIVING CRISIS

Among many other actions, “eliminate counterproductive requirements that raise the costs of home appliances”

“Eliminate harmful, coercive ‘climate’ policies that increase the costs of food and fuel”

#trump #climate laws #environmental laws #presidential executive orders

30 notes · View notes

sideysvault · 1 month ago

Text

𓍼ོ Ad Astra Per Aspera 𓍼ོ (PT. 5)

Crescendo

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

WC: 1916k

Tags: [sfw] arranged marriage, slow burn, angst, mentions of parental abuse mature themes, enemies to lovers, hurt, comfort.

full series masterlist. read part six.

────────

The Princess did not initially intend to track down the days she had spent inside the Red Keep, but the dates somehow ended up being written down and saved on a small piece of paper inside her jewelry box.

However, she found herself having to constantly make an effort of remembering the paper, and having to manually add a collection of days all at once, because she had forgotten yet again to document them. With each passing sunrise, the Princess felt her nostalgia for home dissipate just a bit more. While she had never been particularly fond of her family, she always enjoyed her surroundings. The warmth of the sun against her skin, and the itchy sensation that the slight burning left on her pores, the delicious smell of the air; clean, free of sin, and filled with a proneness towards the marine; Salty and sweet.

She had grown up quite lonely. Her only company was her mother, and a tutor who insisted that despite being rather lazy and frivolous, she was more intelligent than what had been generally supposed. One afternoon, the man had caught her mother hitting her, and he had the kindness to let her know that the child had an excellent heart, despite her poorly managed character. That was the last time the princess ever saw him.

The desperate begging to get a new tutor was rendered utterly useless soon after. The Princess mother had found it when the parents found a collection of writings that did away with age-old privileges for the aristocracy and clergy. Surprised by this outcome, they lamented not having been stricter with the materials she was allowed to study, and from then on, they only allowed her to read religious scriptures.

In the midst of this familial conflict, the Princess’s mother was constantly accused of influencing her husband's foreign policy.

She felt that her daughter’s melancholic disposition was evidence of her being too pampered, that her social ineptitude was due to an incorrigible lack of tact, and that her fits of quirky ideas were proof of her self-aggrandize tendencies. She took issue with all behaviors in her daughter, resenting her more and more as she continued to grow up. Screaming, insults and slaps were directed towards the young princess, but then again, a single child and a busy father meant that she lived in seclusion; in constant desire for her mother’s cruel company. The truth is that they resented her for a very simple fact. She was not born a man, and they were yet to be able to conceive any other child.

Rather ironically, this was the sole reason for the Princess’s desperate attempts at education. She had innocently thought, in the palliative state of childhood, that if she became wise enough, useful enough, they would forgive her for being a woman.

And so, she continued through the years. Blessed with thick hair, and kind eyes, the girl possessed a quiet beauty, marred only slightly by all too expressive mannerisms that were not fully suited for polite society.

By the time she was thirteen, she had blossomed with luminous eyes and a demeanor some saw as dignified, others as haughty. As a young princess, she had burst into tears when her tutor had pressured her to get involved in politics; now she scolded his father for excluding his hand from the peace process with Westeros, though too little to no effect.

For that she was to be sent off to a different region, where tradition prevailed, as their initial libertarian and critical approach to her education had clearly been a mistake. A poorly crafted product returned to the artisan in pieces. Her father did not particularly care for her daughter's eccentricities, only that they were a hazard and embarrassment to deal with, and her mother resented the constant push back and lack of subservience her daughter had to her will.

It had been months. And while the Red Keep had begun to grow on her, with its unexpected kindness and ghostly profile against the sky, she hadn’t been able to let go completely of the desire for the familiar. She found it funny, how despite the beatings, the restrictions, and the elusive figure she had for a father, she still missed home.

She still felt somewhat paranoid about Sir Larys and the maidens' watchful eyes, but it never seemed to be the right time to consummate the marriage. After the fight, weeks later, Aemond had told her that she would defend her against all those court rumors, and promised to avoid having her shipped away. She laughed at him, of course.

They would not have received her back anyway.

——

Prince Aemond did not mean to pry. He really did not. But, you see, his wife’s trinkets filled the entire chamber, and despite her poor attempts at keeping everything as clean as he would, her objects had turned his mental catalog of the chamber upside down.

She really did love ornamentation. Hardly interested in dignity, but the picturesque. Definitely not suited for the austere environment of war. A playful scoff was let out of his body before he realized it.

When he was quick to make up his mind, thrifty and over-serious, his wife was prone to change opinions, extravagant and lighthearted. He loved being alone, tinkering with his maps; and she craved the familial social whirl. When Aemond went to bed, around eleven, she was getting ready to go beyond the walls to do charity work with what she certainly thought was absolute stealth and secrecy, or perhaps take a walk through the gardens, have a conversation with Heleana or to light candles in the halls to write and read in the dawn of night without waking him up.

Her quirks had grown on him, and he really did want her to be safe. Or, perhaps it was only guilt for offending her that nigth, and all he wanted to mend his relationship after all the pain he had inflicted upon her in marriage, that she had so graciously understood, or cordially pretended to. He was equally open to both interpretations, and so the Prince began to look for her essence in their shared room; A certain pattern she may like, books written about the natural wonders of her region, perhaps a stone that she preferred to have encrusted in her jewelry. And there it was.

He really had not meant to pry. And It did sting him, but only for a moment of human weakness, only on the small left chamber of his heart. Prince Aemond thought of his wife to be rarely homesick, or, at least, not to the extent of counting her days besides him and his family as a prisoner in shackles.

——

She glanced over at the table he had positioned on the furthest nook of their chamber. Her husband had heard of her hallway readings and consequently sent for a desk to be made for her. One that could face away from the room, to give her privacy and to allow her husband to sleep in peace. After all, winter was coming, The Prince thought that it was an absolute necessity to protect her from the season's cold sicknesses, that could, naturally, incapacitate him as well. All for a misguided attempt at kindness? For little excursions to the halls? At least, that was what her husband had said.

Nothing was out of place on that damned thing. But, of course, she did not expect anything less from Aemond.

Clean, careful, almost imperceptible work. And yet he had told her that the blade was pointy enough for her to mark her days on the walls, if that would please her.

The Princess really could not find the strength within herself to feel any sense of offense by the comment. On the contrary, despite her pride, her eyes began to drip slightly, the tears forcing and kicking their way out of her mind towards the material. He had pried upon her calendar, yes, but the truth was that she had never experienced such a thoughtful gift; a gift crafted in her taste.

All she could think about was how light the blade felt on her palm, how, without the lock on, it really could be mistaken for a pen. She watched her favorite gems shine on the handle, and she took special interest in the engraved bird on the bolster. Her favorite one. She felt a fit of rage bolster throughout her spine. How shameful it was, the Red Keep had become a place of kindness. How stupid was she, counting the days of her captivity as if she hadn’t been living inside a pathetic shell of a home far before she was shipped off to Westeros’s land.

Prince Aemond could not understand this sudden reaction, his only available clues were his wife's teary eyes, seemingly lost on every groove on the needle-like blade. He saw her absently tracing her fingers on its cutting edge, making them bleed slightly.

But, good Gods, she had never looked more beautiful to him. And that was all he could really think about at the moment. Her enticing apparition plagued the back of his mind, even when she began to lift the blade towards his stomach; even when she began to slowly close the distance between them. Somehow, he knew in his heart that she was grateful for her gift, he knew that he could close his eyes and breathe, take in her smell, Aemond knew that his wife would never hurt anyone, she did not have it in her.

His view was still covered by his flesh shields when he heard the clinging sound of the unlocked blade hit the floor, staggering and clicking its metallic sound throughout the walls. And he smiled. He was right about his wife.

The warm sensation of her blood brought him back to the room. Aemond opened his eyes and saw hers fixated on him, he felt her bloody fingers firmly dragging around his cheek, staining him, falling down to his lips, now, softer. He instinctively licked her crimson fingers. He could not enjoy the delicious iron taste, though, as it was quickly mixed in with her soft lips. His wife’s kiss felt aggressive, deprived of tenderness, and full of necessity.

Before realizing it, probably still hindered by her intoxicating kiss, he had already grabbed her waist and pinned his wife against the wall. The Princess, feeling dizzy herself and trying to alleviate the swelling on her lower belly, grabbed the back of Aemond´s neck and dragged her hands all the way to his arms. Her husband melted into her touch, wishing for her to go faster, harder, lower.

Regardless of their disheveled looks, their bloody faces, and the strong grip lust had over them, something had violently turned her away from it all. Confused and immediately missing her warmth, Aemond was greeted out of the feverish haze by a profound frown on his wife's flushed face. The Prince could still see her chest rapidly moving up and down in perfect synchrony with hitching breath when she pensively stared at the pen-blade on the floor before swiftly leaving the room.

——

The next morning, the Princess found a custom harness for her to wear. It was designed to have the blade comfortably concealed in her dresses. As she touched the curated leather, her mind could only entertain the idea of that blood kiss. Replaying the scene again, and again, and again.

────────

Notes: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! My pretty little head has been tearing apart my daily life, rendering me a useless anxious sad mess. Sorry also for the sligth change of writing style, this chill prose is the only thing that would allow me to continue with the story rn.

As usual, take care. --- Sidey xxooo. ↴

(Weigthed down by constantly grieving what could have been)

#aemond targaryen x original character #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #house of dragons #hotd season 2 #hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd s2 #hotd x reader

25 notes · View notes