#maste degree

[ushamartinuniversity]

[magic-coffee]

Thought I was over that dream of mine after failing entrance twice par jab bhi kisi ****** k paas Jana hota hai bygod Kasam se itni jealously hoti hai unse, kisi v ******* student ko dekhlu Mann krta hai muh todd du, Kasam se i thought I was over it, it didn't matter, aur options persue kr rhi he thi par this wave of “deep down I can never be satisfied if I'm not a *****” fucks everything up. Please how to kill a dream?

[immortalsins]

i lovee groups and communication

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[hellisharchive]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

﹒﹒﹒perversions of the soul

➤ [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

➤ 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

➤ Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒﹒lucifer

He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒﹒﹒adam

This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

﹒﹒﹒valentino

Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒﹒﹒vox

Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒﹒﹒saint peter

That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.

[lipsent]

݁˖  COIN MACHINE !  ⨯   ──   g.satoru  x f.reader . . .      ╲   the  coin  machine  stops  working  at  the  arcade  and  you and  your  friend  aren’t  finished  playing.  luckily  a  tall   stranger  with  a  heaping  basket  of  coins  catches  your   eye,  and  you  seem  to  catch  his,  too.

wc.  2k . . .  tags.     nsfw (18+),   car  sex,   gojo  being  half  a  gentleman    —  so sorry it ends abruptly, this is my secret santa to @goxjo!!! I’ve held back your gift for far too long and I’m so sorry for that, I’m currently sick and in a foreign country so I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to post this if not now. If you’d like me to write more, I will gladly do so. I hope this suffices for now. Merry Christmas Aki!! I hope you enjoy <33 for the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event !

“Look’it you.”

His hands slid from your waist to the expanse of your ass. His gaze—much like his head—tilted up to meet your gaze as a pool of warmth began to rise from where you sat on his lap. The driver’s seat was certainly the place to be with one Gojo Satoru.

He rolled his lips to dampen it then turned to the side and looked out his car window.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you for even a second, however, eyeing you up and down again. “You sure you don’t wanna head back to your folks’?”

You kept your hands on his shoulders, even scrunching up the fabric on your palm when he couldn’t decide between your two eyes.

It almost seemed timed by the man before you, the way it had only begun to snow a few days ago and now you’ve met the cutest guy who seemed to have brought on the snow himself. When you brush your fingers on his jaw, the tips grazed what you were convinced were strands of snowflakes from his head.

His car had begun to match him with a white coat over it since he had been parked just outside your house for a few minutes now.

“I’m sure that’s not what you sent me here for,” you replied cheekily. Or at least you thought you were even with that grin pinning your cheeks.

“Oh, that’s just a bonus sweetheart,” he said in a lowered voice that drew out a little bit more of himself than before; a kind of slippery fervor that you had somehow coerced from his tongue.

Deciding he’d had enough of your prying eyes, he leaned into your ear and his breath swirled around the shell.

“But we both know you’d like that now, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned back as your brows furrowed. “You were the one making eyes at me at the arcade.”

A snicker left his relaxed grin. “If that’s the story you choose to tell yourself, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you a pot—the very same one calling the kettle black.”

He squeezed your ass and you nearly let out an audible reaction.

“Come now, don’t tell me you’re getting all coy on me after everything you pulled at the arcade.”

“And what exactly did I pull?”

His hands slid back up to your waist, as if withdrawing even just in the slightest degree.

“I don’t have to tell you what you did.” Your name slithered out from his lips and the very sound bled into your reaction.

.

“Shit!” She slammed her first onto the glass.

The sudden noise snapped you out of your trance, having you look away from the tower you had been eyeing since he’d sauntered in.

A very gorgeous tower indeed. One with white hair and crystal eyes.

You turned around to gaze back at the claw machine you had just been leaning on. “Give it up babe.”

Your half-mast eyes shot back to your friend whose eyes reflected the plush keychain they’d lost in the sea of its friends.

“That was my last coin!” Your friend whined as she grabbed the sides of the machine.

You shook your head but smiled as you pulled out your wallet from your back pocket and turned towards the direction of the coin machine.

“C’mon.”

Your friend followed behind you happily as colorful blinking lights painted spots on her skin.

“This arcade’s pretty weird, huh? Needing to put your money into a coin machine so you can play the games.”

“There’s a strategy to it. It’s more common than you’d think.”

“Right.” Your friend stared off into the distance absentmindedly, her eye catching on a pleasing sight. “Hey, babe?”

“Mm?”

“That guy’s totally checking you out.”

You looked over and sure enough, that gorgeous tower of a man stared right back at you.

His smile widened when he’d realized you looked his way.

You looked back at the coin machine and just before you could insert a bill into it, you saw an ‘out of order’ sign hanging above it.

the entire row of coin machines were out of order.

“Aw.” Your friend’s shoulders slumped. “Shall we go get a drink instead?”

But you had your eyes set on the man with snow for hair.

Specifically, on his basket.

He seemed to be sharing it with his friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind if you grabbed a few.

You made your way past the noisy arcade games, weaving through people and noises that jumped out at you before finally arriving at him.

He looked down at you and raised a brow. His brunette friend bent forward with his hands in his pockets to observe the hold up.

“The coin machine’s broken and my friend and I—we kinda wanna play more games. You guys have a basket full of coins, is there any way I could pay you for some?” You asked with a smile pinned to your blushed cheeks.

You made sure to look up at him with your eyes as much as possible; your eyes would naturally be made wider, and with eyes like that it might’ve sent the right message: this wasn’t just about the coins.

He gave you that same wide smile, all too gleeful and reassuring to be letting your guard down over.

“Sure. How about we follow you around and you and your friend can use as many coins as you want, hm?” He suggested, pushing up his circular shades.

“Cool! I’ll treat you to something after we’re done, thank you so much,” you beamed.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured under his breath but with how handsome he was, it was impossible to miss a thing that left him.

Your friend finally came over and the four of you introduced yourselves. Having to yell over the banging noises of the whack-a-moles wasn’t the best circumstance to be introduced to your future husband, but your mind wandered far too long and far into said future that it grew softer than white noise.

So there the four of you were—exploring the arcade and wasting away at claw machines. Luckily, both Satoru and Suguru didn’t seem to have a problem with your friend’s obsession with claw machines, but they did give each other looks every now and then that you had pretended to miss. You were on a mission, and it was crucial to be innocent in an already dully innocent situation.

Time went by too quick, however, and you had missed its call completely.

“Shit.”

Your friend whipped around and blinked at you. “What?”

“That—that stupid christmas party at my place, I’m late,” you groaned, grabbing your bag from the shooting game you were about to step into.

You turned to Satoru and nearly winced. You bit your lip hadd as punishment to yourself.

“Fuck, sorry—I did really have the intention of making it up to you—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s my treat. You know what? When’s the party?”

“Three.”

It was 2:40pm.

So much for your mission.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll get there in no time.”

“I live outside the city.”

“Not a problem,” Satoru insisted again. “Really, I’ll drive you. Suguru had somewhere else to be anyway.”

He looked towards Suguru, who returned the look and nodded with a quick smile.

“Satoru’s making me do all the work in our school group project.”

Satoru punched Suguru in the shoulder and they both laughed.

“Asshole.” Satoru rolled his eyes but his smile could drown people in blizzards. “So?”

“My friend … also needs a ride …” you pointed towards her, and she stepped out of the shooting game and gave a meek smile that matched your own.

You knew you were pushing it. But before a gorgeous whore, you were first a good friend.

“Oh, sure,” Satoru nodded without hesitation. “We’ll drop your friend off first.”

.

And now you’re sitting in the driveway near your house and on top of Satoru’s lap.

“Fine. Would you prefer I make demands?”

“It would be easier for the both of us, yeah.” Satoru reached for a wallet in his pocket.

“I’m on birth control,” you blurted, eyes tracing his veiny hand and you watched as it slowly retracted into his pocket along with his wallet.

“Duly noted,” he chuckled, and his hands busied themselves on the zipper of his black pants instead.

It didn’t take long before his cock was revealed to you, and he was reclining his chair just less than an inch back for slightly more room.

When you sank down on him, his lips fell loose, thumbs digging into your flesh when he grabbed your waist like he was trying to bruise you from his grip alone.

You sat on him completely and small noises escaped as you tried to get used to the sudden stretch. Lava for blood ran from your wet lips down to your legs while your arms and hands remained iced to the tips.

“Oh, you’re just adorable like this,” he grunted, a low growl falling through the gaps as he gritted his teeth. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

A knuckle had already found its way to your lips, your teeth biting down like paper on pencil as you tried your best to be modest in a not-at-all modest situation.

“C’mon.” Satoru chuckled when he gently held your hand in his, peeling it away from your face as you whined.

“Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

“It’s … a little … t-tight …”

“I know, I know … does it hurt?” He kissed a trail from your jaw all the way to your shoulder then down your collarbone.

“No—ngh!”

Satoru rolled a bruising thrust into you, his tip rubbing up against your cervix as he squeezed your ass with both of his hands as if they were handles.

“Fuck,” he cursed crisply into your ear when he hunched over from the pleasure he’d inflicted. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“You’re so—ah!”

He thrusted in again and then kept up the slow rhythm with a force opposite from its pace, each wet slap dragging your heart closer to your gut as your cheeks ran hot.

“Satoru—fuck—”

“Mm, you’re already shaking—” He was cut off by his own groan as he grabbed your thighs like a lifeline, fingertips digging into your supple flesh as you clenched around him.

He had only thrusted in again when suddenly someone appeared through your front door and Satoru had the instinct of dropping his backrest flat against his backseat to hide the both of you from direct sight.

You both stayed completely silent and noisy simultaneously with your pants and his heartbeat in your ear.

“You should have drove away!” You hissed in gritted teeth.

“Why, do you want to stop?”

You made an indistinguishable noise and he only tilted his head and raised a brow at you.

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart,” Satoru cooed, the saccharine from his tone so viscuous you nearly choked on it.

You slowly rose and peered out to see where the bottom of the window met the person’s head—maybe eyes—rising too much would mean having to pull out from Satoru and you had that very deeply in mind and in other places too.

“It’s my uncle.”

“The creepy one or the one you like?”

“The creepy—wait how do you know about my uncles?”

“Every family has ‘em,” he replied as you physical felt his chest inflate with pride. “Now then.”

Satoru had somehow managed to reach down and swipe a finger against your clit. You twitched, and he tried not to wince at the sudden movement.

“Satoru!” You hissed. “He’s right there!”

“And he can’t see us. Let me guess, he’s taking a smoke right now and can’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that there’s someone parked by your driveway,” Satoru practically barked.

You shushed him, but he only rolled his hips into you causing you to squeal. He rubbed your clit in circles and something about this entiee situation had painfully turned you on even more despite the attitude you were giving him.

“Satoru,” you moaned, leg twitching from the sudden flood of stimulation.

“Do you want me to drive away, princess?” He twirled the little petname around his tongue as he snickered.

[linnienin]

💄A S T E R O I D ⁕ S I R E N E ⁕(1009)💄 through the signs and degrees

Disclaimer: Take what resonates. I'm not a professional astrologer, i just am an avid researcher and i use my personal experience when writing my posts (Also, pls, don't copy my work, i spend lot of time on it, thanks)

Hello beautiful souls!

I'm back with another post on a very requested asteroid 💜

A lot of you asked me about Asteroid Sirene and how it manifests in a birth chart, and initially i answered singularly, but the requests started to get out of hand a bit for me, so i decided to create a whole post on this asteroid in different signs/aspecting different planets

I have planned other posts on this asteroid but for now I..

Hope you enjoy it!

W H A T ⁕ I S ⁕ A ⁕ S I R E N ?

⁕ In Greek mythology, sirens are humanlike beings with alluring voices

Initially descripted as half human half birds then as "sea-girls with the body of a maiden, but have scaly fishes' tails"

⁕ Etymology of the name meaning: "binder, entangler" i.e. one who binds or entangles through magic song.

This could be connected to the famous scene of Odysseus being bound to the mast of his ship, in order to resist the sirens' song.

M Y ⁕ I N T E R P R E T A T I O N :

I want to make clear that this is just my view and thoughts on this asteroid and if you know a trusted source on its meaning please link it down below, i'd be very grateful 🙏

To me Asteroid Sirene (1009) has a similar energy to Lilith but it isn't as raw and destructive, it's indeed more controlled and patient. Lilith is warm blooded while Siren is cold blooded. In our birth charts it can shows where we can become manipulative, turn to our dark side and take what we want with strategy, seduction and mischeviousness.

It can also describe our seductive aura, or how we attract and magnetize others with charm (this can be both conscious or subconscious, depending on how in tune you are with yourself, and also can depend on which sign or house you have this asteroid in)

So, are you interested in knowing how you emanate this irresistible appeal?

Keep reading 💄

S I R E N E ⁕ T H R O U G H ⁕ T H E ⁕ S I G N S :

⁕ Aries/aspecting Mars/1°,13°,25°: Bold, assertive and fearless. Doesn't matter if the rest of their chart has quiet,cutie poofie placements, when asteroid Sirene gets activated these natives becomes confident queens/kings and knows how to defend themselves. They don't lose time to get what they want, they get straight to the point and they know they didn't come to play but to win. Their seductive charm lays in how confidently they carry themselves, people see these natives as natural leaders and warriors. They carry a powerful and intense aura you just can't ignore, the types that dare to do or say things that should't be done or said (but coming from them they sounds so cool gosh). Their facial espressions are intense and animated, and draws people in.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Taurus/aspecting Venus/2°,14°,26°: The walking sleeping beauty (lmao is she sleepwalking?). Jokes aside, here you can see how unaware these people are of their allure, and this is part of their charm too. They have such a calming and indifferent aura that makes everyone comfortable around them, and people get obsessed by this feeling of peace these natives exude that they can't have enough of. Usually they are the silent type of "Sirene", it's kind of a dormant feature in them. They are very sensual in their mannerism, and if they get to the point of being aware of how powerful they are well, it's the end of the game. They can seduce EVERYONE with their touch. The Queen Mida (oh yeah and they want that gold) 👀

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Gemini/aspecting Mercury/3°,15°,27°: Everyone's fling. Such a flirty aura. They're very smart and intellectual, and everyone find them extremely interesting, so they automatically are drawn in because they want to know more (and some people will desperately show off to get their attention, it's insane). They can get quite some hidden envy from others because of how witty they can be. These people have a way with words, when they speak everyone else shut down to listen to them. I find having Sirene asteroid in Gemini is very similar to being a Siren/Mermaid how it's described in mythology, they are very cunning when they want to, know how to play games with other's minds, they are very good at putting masks on and turn the cards in their favours. (Also, the ability of sirens to change their body features reminds me a lot of Loki in Northern Mythology which happens to be associated with Mercury) They're the true puppet master and they know it. They have light and quick movements. One minute they're near you, the next one they disappeared from your view, and this is extremely fascinating to people. It's like they can't catch them even if they try so hard.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Cancer/aspecting Moon/4°,16°,28°: I think of these natives as the spy who pretend to play the damsel in distress, portrayed in old hollywood movies. Don't be fooled by their cute acting. They're actually quite good manipulators. People love how inviting they feel, so warm and nurturing, they have a healing aura to them. These natives makes other people feel like they need to protect them from the dangers of others. I think Sirene in Cancer can be naive at first, especially when inexperienced, but when they get their heart broken oh boy. If Gemini was the master at mind manipulation, Cancer is the master at emotional manipulation. Overall these natives can be pretty unaware of their behaviour, sometimes getting overwhelmed by their emotions, but they can also be one of the most destructive people ever when activating the Sirene energy(both to others and themselves) if they aren't in control of it.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Leo/aspecting Sun/5°,17°,29°: OOOOH those hip swings, you can recognize them instantly from just their catwalk, it's simply hypnotizing. These people take pride in their sensuality, and they know how to use it very well. You can't escape their attention if they have claimed you to be their prey. Another go getter like Aries, but not so in your face, because even if their focus is on what they want, they'd rather give ALL the signals until what they want comes to them. Very much like: i believe, i attract. Their charm is in the way they carry themselves, so wild and raw, a power of nature, these natives hair can play a huge part when when presenting themselves to the world. One of their game tecniques is the push-pull. They enjoy a good chasing, and it's also a way for them to test you if you're worthy of their time (yeah, they have big egos, so beware of that)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Virgo/aspecting Mercury/6°,18°: The unattainable one. Like seriously, people get obsessed over conquering the heart of this person just because of their nitpickiness and because they are unavailable 24/7. Others can get obsessed over fantasizing on these natives and creating stereotipes when they didn't even shared a conversation in the first place like...this is some powerful stuff. They naturally look so put together, when they wear basics it looks hot on them. Their seduction way is showing how skilled and talented they are, they can literally do anything when they activate the Sirene energy, they get obsessed over a thing and practice until they have mastered it (coff coff, hello... low self esteem and need of appreciation from others 👀). However, once they get some potential suitors they lowkey refuse them like they don't need them anymore, lmao, this is what drives them craaaaazy, "you did all that stuff for mee and now you're walking away? " 👁👄👁 Lemme get some morreee.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Libra/aspecting Venus/7°,19°: The too good to be true one. They put sooo much thought and intention and effort to present themselves that everyone can't help but look at them all the time. On top of this magnificent presentation add also a flirtatious and extroverted personality that pleases literally everyone around them and BOOM, you can't excape the trap of falling for them. They have a gracious and light aura, great posture and poise, literally princesses/princes. They truly feel like royalty, they also have this natural rich people vibe if you know what i mean. The best at getting what they want in social settings, can have a very innocent vibe that people love. People pleasing is their tecnique to get what they're after. They are one of the most seductive signs in this asteroid, but they're kinda unaware of it. I mean, sure, they know they're pretty but they don't know how many hearts they rob. Even strangers gets captivated by their charming presence, most likely to have suitors telling them "it was love at first sight".

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Scorpio/aspecting Pluto/8°,20°: Heavy aura, attracts anything without even trying. They know how to make an entrance (Leos too, but Scorpios are much more subtle, and still, they get so much attention). People automatically throws themselves at these natives, all it takes is a glance and a little smirk and they living magnets. These people holds the throphy for being the MOST seductive of all the Sirene asteroid's signs . There's just something so intoxicating about them, you can't not get obsessed with them. They are the ones that has to be particularly careful of their aura because they are in this energy all the time and they attract a lot of stalkers, obsessive people, so these are (and should be) the natives that should have firm and clear boundaries. They'll find themselves stepping down at times just to calm this powerful magnetizing field around them, especially if they don't like the spotlight, but if the rest of the chart has placements that like to be the center of attention, this is surely a bombshell placement (watch out for the immense envy/jealousy from others)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Sagittarius/aspecting Jupiter/9°,21°: Their spontaneity is contagious. They're hot and cool, and know how to talk to people. Give them a night and they will befriend literally everyone at the party, and will reap so many opportunities out of nowhere. A favourite of the masses. Sometimes they can be a little loud and can get envy/jealousy from others, probably because of a rigid opinion they have, but they surely know how to play with it, telling jokes and conquering again the trust of those that didn't like them. They have such a careless and free spirit that they literally live day by day, without worrying much about the future, and people find this extremey hot. This placement is one of the most underrated one in terms of seduction, honestly when researching for this asteroid i found many siren-like women in our history that had/have Sirene in this sign, and i think it makes sense thinking about it, because Sirens are in their natural habitat out in the wild, so there's a sense of familiarity between the native and the raw energy of Sirens.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Capricorn/aspecting Saturn/10°,22°: The strategic and cold diva. People cannot enter their inner world and their vulnerabilities and this drives them mad and obsessed over knowing what's behind the mask. Can embrace their seductive charm later in life (probably from their 30s on). I have noticed these natives can have strong facial features that are difficult to forget. Attracts wealthy suitors, or will use their seduction to attract opportunity to get into power positions. They have an authoritative and mature aura, slow but decisive movements, can be intimidating to others, big D energy. Demanding of others and themselves. Calculating every move they make, good at getting the favour of those in charge. Could find themselves attracted to older/more mature people or they could attract them a lot. Intense, can be similar to Scorpio Sirene, but people are much more wary when approaching them (this is why usually older people are attracted to these natives, because they give off the vibe of knowing what they want)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Aquarius/aspecting Uranus/11°,23°: The one that to seduce just have to be authentic and nonchalant. Weird in a cool way, they catch people's attentions without even knowing, but just doing their thing. Their independence and uniqueness are their strong seduction charms. They're pretty unaware of their appeal because they don't even care about seduction in the first place, they have other things that go onto their mind. Their authenticity and disinterest may not attract many suitors, but the ones that get attracted by them are genuine and shares similarities to them, so they might find even THE ONE with this non-method-method. If they're interested in seducing, they might use very peculiar and unconventional ways to do so.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Pisces/aspecting Neptune/12°,24°: The innocent mysterious person everyone is secretly obsessed with. People will find themselves having wild fantasies on this person and not even knowing why. The way they walk and talk is smooth and divine, like they have a light surrounding themselves. Their eyes always seem to wonder around, like they're never in the present moment, and this fascinates people a lot. If they make eye contact when talking to you or listening to you, they will hypotize you 100%, even if they're not really listening or are having other thoughts. There's just something so enchanting and special about their eyes, also, often these people will have unique eyes or stunning shapes/colours (ex. Liz Taylor has Sirene in Pisces and she is known for having one of the rarest world's eye colour, purple). The least aware of their Sirene charm of all the signs.

M o r e ⁕ o b s e r v a t i o n s:

Water sirene: innocent and wandering eyes

smooth and relaxing voices

Fire sirene: fierce and sexy eyes

clear and powerful voices

Air sirene: playful and flirty eyes

high pitched, unique and chameleon voices (good at changing their tone depending on the situation)

Earth sirene: sweet and calm eyes

deep and warm voices

And you've reached the end of this post! 💄

I hope you enjoyed it, i kinda wanted to include the houses too, but i think it'd been way too long to digest, so stay tuned for another post on Sirene in the houses

Edit: I published Sirene in the houses too! Click below to read the post (i also included Celebs examples)✨

I wish you all a wonderful day ahead! ✨

Yours,

Linnie

[1800titz]

TDIAG extra | the ice skating aftermath

ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏ��� ᴛʜɪꜱ : 7.3ᴋ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ

ᴄᴡ: ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ : ᴛᴅɪᴀɢ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ : ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

The sound of his skin running against the fabric, petting the spot where he’d landed a blow, does a poor job of stifling the quivering, little sigh that escapes her. The little hiss she steals up through the gaps of her teeth. His mouth purses again— so obviously bridling a crude smirk, now— as his eyes rove her silhouette; the way she’s hung her head low, the way her back swells up and trembles down like butterfly wings. As if to test the theory, Harry grants her another; no warning, aimed for the same spot, just a degree harder than the first had been. This one makes a sharper crack and draws a sweet, little unph from the back of her mouth. Again, he smooths his palm along the area he hit, cupping his hand and squeezing. Pads of his fingers pressing in to the soft flesh under his touch. It gives so easily, and the sigh she bleeds as his fingers dig in— “Is this how you want me to warm you up, little miss?” Harry coos.

preview > 1.5K

The problem isn’t that he wants her— it’s that he wants her, always. Unfairly, inconveniently. 

Even with her standing up by the shoe storage cabinet, hands raking back through that wily hair she’s freed from her messy updo. Skin still kissed pink from the cold, cresting along her cheekbones, the tip of her nose. Nothing about this is inherently raunchy in nature, and still, somehow, he can’t exorcise the pretty, picture-perfect mental image of her, plastered to the wall, back arching beautifully— one soft hip anchored back in his grip; her leggings yanked down to her knees; ass meeting his his pelvis in harsh thunks as he hammers his cock deep. In fact, Harry muses… her wrists caught and seated in that soft arch at the small of her back, caged in his other hand; her cheek flush to the drywall…

All sorts of sweet, little sounds he could peel from her mouth if he were to angle and just barely knock that sensitive, little spot deep inside—

“Thinking about something?”

She’s turned to face him, now, strawberry lips parted on an exhale. He’d love to skim them with his teeth. Lick into her mouth. 

Harry blinks. Thinking about something. Many things, actually. None of which are quite family-friendly enough to be applied into a browser without incognito mode toggled on, and all of which involve her pussy fluttering snug around his cock. 

A slow, easy smirk spills across his mouth as he shoulders the leather jacket off, even, languid thuds tracing the steps he takes toward her. He drapes the article out across the cabinet as he seeps closer. Then, he stretches one arm up and back, tugging at the hoodie. Discarding the layer rucks up his tee and shows the dark stream of hair that clusters up under his navel and trickles off to hide under his waistband. The dainty, inky shapes of leaves unfurling, the subtle flex of the musculature along his abdomen. Eyes half-mast, he rolls his shoulders and fixes the hem of the shirt back down, balling the cotton piece up in his hands— all for the sake of seeing the undeniable tick in her gaze to the peach-toned skin along his arms, the way the muscles there ripple— and setting it off to the side, just as he’d done with the leather jacket. Less delicately.

Like this, with the negligible gap of space between them, he can hear the way her breaths are coming out; a fine tremor; an aching stutter, like her lungs catch it and squeeze up. The subtle bit of difference— just enough— to note it. To know that if he leaned in, just a little, just enough, she’d meet him halfway. The rubescent smear along her cheekbones no longer just residue off a cold bite— now, a betraying heat staining delicate across the bridge of her nose. The kind that comes from thunder crackling in her pulse, a rhythm he knows he could map with his tongue. 

“Several things, actually,” Harry admits. Heat wells in his heavy stare and jade skates to the shape of her mouth. A sliver of pink peers from his own to slink out along his pillowy lips. A reflex. A telltale, charged. The filthy buckling along the corners of his mouth implies obscenity before he even says the words. “Most of them involve you bouncing on my cock.”

Isla’s breath hitches. He watches the little tick in her throat when she swallows, the way her lashes flutter, too quick, too sharp— subtle mannerisms that imply she’s short-circuited in response to the vulgar admission. His wolfish grin spills. Because the thing is, she can pretend to be unaffected, feign indifference, but (unfortunately for her) Harry can read her like a book. 

The young woman schools her features down into something unimpressed, but that part comes as no surprise, really. 

“What a noble contribution to modern courtship.”

“Mm, I think we’re a little past the courting, considering the way you were riding my fingers last night like your life depended on it,” Harry shifts his weight forward, closer, emphasizing the crude nature behind his words with a wriggle of said fingers. He casts his gaze down to the motion, ring finger and middle digit wedged together, curling as an obscene reminder. Her eyes flit to it. His smirk trickles back apart to show teeth, “but I’ll send flowers to your office if you’re looking for romance. Love letters full of sweet nothings.”

Once again, her swallow betrays her. That little gap where tangled thoughts lodge in the silence. “Oh, yeah? And how would those go?”

“Page one,” he murmurs, the same hand that’d graphically reenacted last night’s debauchery now tracing along the front of her upper arm. The nook in her elbow. Her chest swells. “An extensive breakdown of how sloppy and soft you get when I fuck you open nice an’ slow. Page two: a detailed report of the sounds you make with my cock down your throat.”

At the latter, Isla grimaces. 

“I’m swooning,” she tells him flatly, “Anyone ever tell you that you have a way with words?”

He nods, a subtle bob of his head, eyes still glued to the way his fingers skim the threads of her sweater. 

“I’ve picked up on it, given you love when I talk you through it. But anyways,” Harry shrugs, “you could always file a complaint.”

“Yeah?”

She can gauge the innuendo in the beat of hesitancy, the dirty way his pink mouth curls sharper around his teeth before he says it, “Right to the back of your throat—”

“And there it is,” Isla deadpans. A little crease worries between her eyebrows as she playfully feigns concern, “Do you ever have a single thought above the waist?”

“Sure.” With his arms crossing over his firm chest, the way they look so meaty, coated in ink, it’s only justified that she looks. An actual injustice, in fact, that this obligatory glance suggests any sort of invitation, really. It’s thinly-veiled, strategic mental torment. “Right now, m’thinking about your pretty, little nipples between my teeth.”

The statement throws her off kilter. Despite the way he keeps his hands tucked over his upper arms, doesn’t reach to tweak one of her nipples through the fabric, the words land like phantom fingertips. Warmth pools up under her skin. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she muscles down any modicum of desire that the confession has involuntarily (on her behalf) lured. 

When she hums, the degree of her nonchalance is so flimsy, so gossamer-thin, Harry thinks he could stick a hole through it with his fingers. “One of these days, I’m gonna muzzle you for science.”

“That’s rich,” he volleys back in a purr, “considering you beg me to put my mouth on you every night. How’d it go last night again, babe?”

The man rolls his eyes to the side in faux-thought, theatrically palming over his jaw as if trying to remember. As if watching her mettle self-implode in slow motion, like every little chip at her attempt to stay indifferent— every brazen comment knocking another fracture in— wasn’t enough to entertain him, Harry curls his fists up over his cheekbones, rolling his wrists, sticking his lower lip out into an exaggerated pout as he mocks her. Loudly. 

Horribly.

“Oh, please, please, please.”

It’s an obvious, theatrical parody of the events that had transpired the night prior— the way he hadn’t let her cum, in true fashion, fingers sunk deep, lips only ghosting close enough for his breath to hardly kiss her pussy. The (anticipated) way that her resolve crumbled. Spalling like wet sand the longer he spent cruising his thumb along her swollen clit. 

The echo of it still hums between her legs, and the memory dredges up a molten heat that wads up in her underbelly, drawing warmth to her cheeks. A retort sits on the back of her tongue. Still, the ridicule, coupled with that heinous higher note his voice takes on, has her face creasing with indignation. She can only scoff, eyebrows raised.

“That’s supposed to be me? Is that supposed to be me?”

“Yeah, that’s you,” Harry teases, smiling slyly, “Pretty solid impression, too—“

“Oh, yeah? Well, this is you—“

He can only watch, eyebrows climbing up his forehead in mirthy appall, as his girlfriend splays her palm out over her crotch (in what only could be interpreted as a crudely bootleg adaption of fellatio— typically pretty excellent as the recipient, might he add), motioning as if guiding along the back of a head, hips pumping forward aggressively. Her typically warm, high voice takes on a comical, lower range, and she soaks the words in a poor imitation of his accent, neck craning back.

“Oh, fuck— yeah— tha’s it. Swallow that cock down just like that.” 

Dimples wink awake in his cheeks, and he’s rendered utterly incapable of biting back his peal of laughter at the display. 

“You’re fucking filthy,” he teases, eyes narrowing in faux judgement as she continues to roll her hips forward, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Apparently I save all the best tricks for you.”

Harry drums his fingertips against the cabinet. “Only one way to test the theory.”

[deluxewhump]

Nightfall

August

CW: just vampire and bloodbag dynamics. a playful “threat.”

**

The interstate was quiet. Even the night air was a balmy seventy degrees in the final weeks of summer. He slept though the days the same as his master now, but if he woke briefly he could feel the heat of them, a haze that turned the blue sky white. Insects trilled in the grass all day long.

The trees in the distance appeared black against the orange cityglow of the sky. Eighty-five felt like nothing in Maxim’s sleek silver car, gliding through the air like the edge of a knife.

Carlo put his foot on the dash and took it swiftly down again. Maxim had reprimanded him for that once. At first he'd assumed it was out of a sense of preservation for his pristine car. He’d burned in shame for not having thought of that himself. It was a rude, childish habit. Yet in the next breath, Maxim told him it was because it was unsafe. And he was only mortal, after all. 

“Before any of this, I thought I’d rather a new vampire feed from me than an older one,” Carlo said. He was bored, and boredom made him chatty these days. “No offense, but the older you get, the stronger you get. And scarier.”

“And what about now?” the vampire asked neutrally. 

“Not now so much,” he answered. “The new ones are so… hungry. Rough.”

“It’s harder for them to control it when they’re newly made,” Maxim agreed. “Even the ones who want to control it.”

“Control what?”

“The reflex. When a vampire bites, it triggers a series of impulses. Immobilize, incapacitate, and feed.”

Carlo turned to watch him in the driver’s seat. The now-familiar shape of his profile in the dark was lit only by the orange high mast lights that lined the highway. “Every time?”

Maxim glanced at him and returned his gaze to the road. “Yes."

“But it goes away, when you’re an older vampire?”

“Mm. No.”

“You feel that?”

He hesitated, but it wasn't like him to be dishonest, even in the interest of placating Carlo. “I do.”

He changed lanes to pass a sluggish flatbed truck. Another Maine plate. Carlo had been counting, and it did not seem to be confirmation bias that there were an inordinate number of them on the Maryland roads. He forgot to add this one. 

“That disturbed you.”

“No,” he lied. “Sorry. I just didn’t know that.”

“Does that change something for you?”

Sometimes he got the sense that Maxim asked him things out of a very general curiosity. Like he was taking notes for a far future that didn't include him.

“No,” he said stubbornly. “I just didn’t realize you had the urge to incapacitate prey still.”

“Prey is an interesting word choice. And urge is the wrong word entirely. It’s information. Biological. It might be too generous to even call it a coherent thought. I notice it, it passes. I hardly observe it anymore, let alone wrestle with it. I have absolutely no conscious desire to hurt you, Carlo. Quite the opposite.”

Carlo nodded, arms crossed over his waist. He put his right foot on the dash. Maxim didn’t correct him.

“I’ve got instincts too,” he said after another mile of empty highway. “Sometimes I’m still afraid of you. Not you, but what you are. It comes out of nowhere.”

Maxim took a hand off the steering wheel and set it in Carlo’s hair, giving it a soft caress before returning it to the wheel. “Of course you do. That’s very deep in human subconsciousness. It’s just survival instinct.”

“So the word prey does apply!” he argued.

“Such an antagonistic little thing. Can I start making threats to keep you compliant, or is it too soon?”

Carlo turned his face toward the window so the vampire would not see his smile. Maxim had easily, graciously forgiven his human nature, blamelessly saying of course you do. He should return the gesture and forgive the vampire’s nature. It had never been anything but loving to him. The hand was on the back of his head again, checking to see if he was truly upset. 

“I am compliant,” he insisted playfully, and laid his head back in the vampire’s palm. 

“Good. I don’t have to send you to the trunk then.”

Carlo smiled as the vampire gently squeezed the back of his neck.

[sgiandubh]

Dinna fash, Sassenach

Ashley Hearn's arrival aboard the HMS Sassenach...

... has immediately been met with an expert smirk across the street:

I was not really surprised. The blogger could not help herself (she rarely does). She had to weigh in, with that insinuating tone that seems to be part of her personal brand. And, in line with what she consistently posted, the idea is that S, a highly functioning alcoholic in her book, thoughtlessly hired another highly functioning alcoholic, with NO credentials to boot. Plus a profiteer of sorts, right?

Perhaps that blogger wanted to be their new marketing manager and there she is, instead, somewhere farfarfar away from Walhalla. An unsung, compliment deprived and undiscovered hero without a cape? For I have no other elegant & merciful explanation for what could be logically construed as an outburst of hurt ego (we KNOW she has PROPER CREDENTIALS, she shouted it REPEATEDLY across the UNIVERSE), coupled with the usual pettiness, every single time things seem to challenge her view of reality.

Let's unpack:

Ashley has decent education credentials. I am writing this because I bet the farm many casual readers of that legit calumny ended up thinking that she had NO education at all:

A BA in Mathematics, at a good public university in Maryland. And a Master's Degree in Teacher Education and Professional Development at Walden University, a for-profit education institution based in Minnesota, most likely online.

A word about Walden University, though, simply because of the recent controversy related to it. While it is true that Walden has been forced to settle a class action outside of court ( it cost them 28.5 million dollars to do so), that lawsuit was strictly related to African-American students denouncing the lack of transparency related to the university's DBA (Doctor of Business Administration) program.

[More on the lawsuit: https://www.insidehighered.com/news/quick-takes/2024/03/29/walden-agrees-285-million-settlement-class-action-suit]

Anyways, here are her real professional credentials, carefully hidden by the blogger:

Eight years and a half consistent work experience for the US subsidiary of Mast-Jägermeister, one of the most prestigious German liquor companies, founded in 1878 (https://www.mast-jaegermeister.de/). Would anyone be such a fool as to think she'd be constantly promoted by those people just for her eyes only, especially as a complete outsider to the very closed world of spirits business?

I see a hard-working woman, with good professional skills and obvious qualities (brand loyalty, for example), given a new career opportunity she clearly thought interesting enough to make her jump onboard. And I very much prefer an honest underdog, ballsy enough to take her passion and make it happen (thanks, Flashdance!) in a cutthroat, male dominated business environment, to the many lukewarm and half-hearted executives still lingering around in so many companies around the world just for the sake of commodity, predictability and mortgage.

And I honestly wish her every success. She does not deserve this. Nobody does. Luckily for her, she couldn't care less that a Nobody with a blog tried to rain on her parade.

Interestingly enough, Norouzi was the only SS bigwig NOT to congratulate her on Insta. He didn't relay the news, he didn't even like the post, even if they mutually follow eachother (their interaction always seemed to be minimal, though). But that is another story and it is way too early to speculate.

[aurpiment]

Stephen Maturin had little room to prate about timidity. In the relatively tranquil forenoon watch of the following day Captain Aubrey caused a crow's nest, in the whaler's manner, to be set up on the main topmast head, a crow's nest stuffed with straw, so that the lookout should not freeze to death. Dr Maturin having publicly expressed a wish to see farther to the south in case, on this clear day, ice might be visible, Jack, in the presence of his officers and several hands, invited him to take a view from this eminence: Stephen looked at the masts (the ship was rolling twenty-one degrees and pitching twelve) and blenched, but he lacked the moral courage to refuse and within minutes he was rising through the maze of rigging, rising on a double whip with several turns about his person and a look of contained horror on his face. Bonden and young Wedell steered him through the shrouds and backstays and their reinforcements, Jack preceded him by foot, and between them they got him safe into the nest.

'Now I come to think of it,' said Jack, who had meant no harm at all, 'I do not believe you have ever been aloft with the ship a little skittish. I hope it don't make you uneasy?'

'Not at all,' said Stephen, glancing over the edge at the absurdly distant white-streaked sea immediately below on the starboard roll and closing his eyes again. 'I like it of all things.'

16, The Wine-Dark Sea

This, after attempting to bully Jack to sail nearer an iceberg to see seals

[wtfdemother]

Early Hours In The Morn’

CW: Day 4 of Fluff…vember? ☃️🤝 ITS TIIIIIME lazy, lazy Monday morning with your favourite big boy, pure fluff, basically just König cockwarming you before falling back asleep, sleepy boy… NSFW

Your stir in your sleep, a blazing warmth surrounds you whole. You’re feeling content, you feel safe, could even go as far as to say you were literally anchored. To what, one might ask. If you glanced down to the hairy pythons your partner called arms wrapped tight around your stomach, you might get an idea.

It’s only the fourth of November and König’s already put up Christmas lights on the front porch, the rooftops where he totally didn’t sneak you up for a couple beers, very irresponsible and some places around the house. You couldn’t deny it brought some form of coziness to the house, a pop of colour, even if you missed Halloween already.

The lights outside flashed every now and again, casting a variety of colours onto fresh, glittery snow. You shift under the covers, lidded eyes trail up the plum coloured curtains to the colourful lights outside your window. The sun’s barely peeking through, casting a soft blue hue to the environment. König unfurls his arms around your waist for a moment as you stretched past your head, only to wrap them around again, pulling you flush against his chest. He kisses the nape of your neck, you shiver as you feel unshaven stubble brush against your sensitive skin, his breath hot and unsteady. “Schatzi… need you…” he says, grinding against your backside ever so gently.

He begins bribing coaxing you into slipping your pyjama bottoms off, peppering slow, open-mouthed kisses under your ear, making his way down your body. Another shiver, a deep rumble emits from his chest, his laugh coated with lingering sleep. You could feel him inhale against your neck, he stirs. “Hier dachte ich, du schläfst.”

You grumble something, scooting away. At least, you tried to. He pulls you back in, his laugh hot and breathy. “Mein liebling, don’t go away from me. I need you…” he kisses your skin, each one filled with as much devotion as a prayer. “Bitte… ich brauche dich, mein Herz.” König pulls his cock free, nestling himself between your plush thighs, already at half mast. He palms your asscheek, giving it a good squeeze before sliding his way down your thigh, lifting your leg up for better access. He doesn’t wait for your reply, taking your pliant cooperation as compliance. Just to double check, he props himself on one elbow before gazing down at your seemingly sleeping figure. “You’re not actually asleep, are you?” He asks, a hint of worry etched on his face.

“I’m trying to…” you mumble, rubbing an eye. “Might sleep better with something warm inside.” He chuckles like a giddy kid on Christmas, giving your cheek a little kiss before sliding his cock inside you, your previous exploits from last night helping with the stretch. He groans into your ear, thrusting shallow inside you. You let your head fall back in bliss, mouth slightly parted as he fills you completely. “Mein liebling… du fühlst sehr gut,” he strains, trying not to rock his hips anymore than he has to. You muffle a mewl into your pillow, feeling the tip of his leaky dick nudge against the spongy walls of your pussy. His calloused fingers flex, resisting the urge to squeeze at the pudge of your hips to an uncomfortable degree, so he settles on biting down on your neck. You yelp, he silences you by lapping at the bite mark, muttering soft praise and mixing degrading things in his mother tongue, “Ich werde diese Muschi füllen, meine kleiner schlampe. So oft... wie nötig.”

You couldn’t understand a word even if you tried, your mind reduced to mush, thoughts too blurry to concentrate on anything else but your partner’s warmth. You feel full, content, happy. He knows this, he knows you, König leans down to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you grin. Azure eyes meet your hazy gaze, “I love you.” He brushes a strand of hair out of the way, kissing you proper this time. “Und ich liebe dich, meine Seele. Now,” he swallows a lump in his throat, shifting slightly whilst still inside. The bed creaks under the weight, bedsheets rustle as he pulls you down on him. “Schlaf, meine Liebe, schlaf.” You let his incoherent mumbles lull you into a fitful sleep.

With a leg swung lazily over you, and his cock nestled in the warmth of your pussy, König soon falls into a deep sleep that morning. Steady breaths fan over your neck, he always drooled a little whenever he slept so soundly in your presence. You couldn’t fault him, however, you were just glad this battered soldier finally had a sense of peace in your embrace.

[magic-coffee]

SWEAR TO GOD IM GOING TO GIVE TIME TO GERMAN EVERY SINGLE DAY FROM NOW ON!!!!!!!!

[weiila]

About posturing in Helluva Boss

I made a joke post a few days ago about Satan being an angry crier and that's why he needs Yogirt, but I'm only half joking.

A very prominent theme in Helluva Boss is characters putting up a facade of toughness and strength when they're actually close to a meltdown or trying to fake it until they make it and being terrified of being found out.

Blitz is the prime example of course, because he's the main character - his anger and insults hide a very caring and desperately lonely interior.

Fizz is very much the same, a loudmouth who truly believed he could not be loved without earning it, and for years played the role of the sassy jester while in constant fear of losing everything he had worked so hard for.

Loona had to pretend to be a savage, violent beast in the pound to protect herself, but broke down the second she thought nobody was looking. She still has trouble showing Blitz she does care (until Mastermind).

Ozzie is very different when he's working - which is how he's introduced in Ozzie's - compared to how he is in private, which we see later on in Oops.

Millie is an unstoppable murder machine at work but a sweetheart as soon as she can clock out (and sometimes during work as well).

Bee MIGHT be the most honest character we've seen that has been on screen for more than one episode, but there are probably more layers to her as well. I'd say Striker too, BUT he tries so hard to be cool yet can't keep his head on straight when things go bad.

For a minor character, look at Crimson. He seems like this scary, imposing mob boss, but he buckles the second he's out of subordinates and Millie heads towards him. He manages to play it cool as he surrenders Moxxie, but there's zero resistance despite what he's painted himself as. Oh yes, Crimson has absolutely killed people, but if he was half the badass he pretends to be then he'd at least try do deal with Millie himself. But he doesn't. Most likely he can't fight for shit and has only managed to take out people weaker than him or with tricks. Without his underlings he's got nothing.

Now Hell as presented as very much a dog-eat-dog place, so them putting on this air is absolutely a way to survive.

And then there's Satan.

Satan created a whole species to specifically be obedient. Why? Because it makes him feel superior.

Satan flat out lies about being the first ruler of Hell, but Lucifer isn't around to correct him. Would he say that if Lucifer was? Probably not. But he says it because he knows nobody present dares to correct him. (This was vague in the episode with Ozzie and Bee just looking annoyed but confirmed by Viv in case you haven't seen that tweet being reposted.)

I have zero doubt that this dude has self-confidence as sturdy as a gnat. He can't handle being questioned or called out or worse of all, have his power being doubted.

And about Yogirt: Satan can't even keep his own Sin under control - he needs a support demon to do that. None of the other Sins we've spent time with, including Lucifer, are ruled by the Sin they represent - not even Mammon. Even if Mammon is absolutely greedy, he's enjoying himself and more importantly he can control himself and realize when to back off without needing outside help. Satan cannot do that. He needs a lil' dude to flutter up to talk about him about breathing and gemstones, or he loses it.

Every Sin, plus Charlie and Ars Goetia, transform when they get angry, and it seems like it's involuntary to a large degree (angels also seem to have this issue). I believe that the Satan we saw in Mastermind is actually his full demon rage form, BUT he desperately wants everyone to think that's his casual form (and that you wouldn't like him when he's angry!). If he lost his temper too much, it would become obvious that he doesn't change to become even scarier and then everyone would know that the imposing, godlike dragon man isn't what he really is.

My humble conclusion, dear reader:

Satan is nothing but a master fraudster, the ultimate faker-till-you-make-it and he's scared spitless of losing that image. Satan is the weakest Sin because he's controlled by his Sin instead of the other way around, but over millenia he's managed to con everyone into thinking he's the biggest badass in the land.

... except possibly Belphegor since she must have been the one to assign Yogirt to him. Keep a few eyes on that sheep, people. She knows things.

Anyway Satan is probably on the road to having a breakdown of epic proportions because Blitz is about to become his worst nightmare and it'll be glorious.

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Hiii, can you write a smut that Orm gets jealous and makes Y/n suck him in the throne room, And makes her call him Ocean Master🙏🙏 with face fucking, spanking, angry sex, choking, hair pulling and anything else you want As much as you want to write ❤️❤️

Whelp...I didn't get to the spanking but I hope I did ok enough!

            You and Orm had been fighting a lot recently. It wasn’t normal. From the moment you two met years ago there hadn’t been an angry word between you and now you couldn’t stop shouting at each other. Orm intrinsically understood all the fighting was his fault. He was letting his insecurities get the best of him, but it was hard not to. Everything had been ripped from him, his home, his former fiancée, his teacher. He went from beloved Prince Orm to the black fish seemingly overnight. Sure, Arthur and Mera forgave him for his heroics when he saved junior, but the people of Atlantis had long memories. Besides, you were like, really hot and it annoyed him that you weren’t around much anymore.

            You were a general in the Atlantean army. Your tactical know-how and battle prowess were legendary. So much so the Brine King himself asked for your hand in marriage. On top of that, you were incredibly intelligent with a special interest in what Arthur called ‘anthropology’. You went out of your way to learn about the people of the Seven Kingdoms of Atlantis and now, the surface world. Arthur relied on you heavily for diplomacy, which took you away a lot. Now, you were spending more time with Arthur than Orm was comfortable with. Thus, all the fighting.

            Orm was in the throne room, looking at the seat of Atlantis, trying his best not to grind his teeth into his gums. “Your highness?” Your voice rings out clear. The title irritates him further, you, his beloved, don’t call him that, you call him by his name. He turns around, glaring at you. You meet it with a stony look of your own. “Is this what we’re reduced to?” He asks, “Honorifics?”

“Well, you’re not acting much like a lover these days.” Orm feels his eye twitch. “Neither have you.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” He doesn’t miss the hurt in your voice, but he’s seeing red. He swims up to you, only stopped by your hand around his throat. It isn’t enough to hurt, but he knows if you decide to squeeze, he’ll be in a pain he’d never felt before. “Why are you spending so much time with Arthur?” His tone is accusatory, yours is flat when you respond. “It’s my job.”

“You’re late coming back to our quarters,”

“We have a lot to discuss.”

“You spend a lot of time in here.”

“It’s the throne room, of course we do.”

“You’re alone with him.” He feels your fingers tighten in frustration. Something in Orm’s cock stirs. “Only because I have to be.”

“Because you want to be.” He snaps. Your fingers tighten to a painful degree as you bring him close. Another thrill runs through him. “What has gotten into you?”

“How do you think it looks when my woman spends all her free time with Arthur? Hm? How does it look to outsiders when you two leave this place alone after hours of being here. What do you wonder they’re thinking you two get up to?” You snarl and push him back with so much force he hits the throne with a small ‘oof’. “What do others think or what you think?” You spit at him. “Do you honestly think I’d go for someone like Arthur when I have you?”

            There’s a heavy silence that lingers between you two for a long time. You’d given him the validation he wanted, but his mind was clouding over with lust. He liked you aggressive. “Prove it,” Orm challenges, “Prove you like me better.” You roll your eyes in exasperation, crossing your arms. “And how do you propose I do that?” He doesn’t answer you, instead he considers you. You’re so beautiful, floating in front of him, angry, done with his shit. “Well?” You growl. That’s it, that’s all it takes for him to be at full mast.

            Not caring if you two get caught, Orm undoes his suit enough to bring his cock out. You look at it, mouth open in disbelief. “Are you insane?” You hiss. “No,” Orm says smiling, “I’m the Ocean Master,” You balk at him refusing to believe this was happening. “You said you wanted to prove to me you like me better, prove it.” He motions to his length. With only a few moments hesitation you relent. He swears he gets harder just knowing what you’re about to do as you swim to him. You begin to undo your own suit, but he puts up a hand to stop you. “Suck.” Is his simple command.

            You say nothing as you take position. He adjusts his posture, giving you better access. You waste no time in licking a long strip from base to tip. “No teasing,” He demands. You follow directions and pop the head in your mouth and give a particularly hard suck. He lets his head fall back at the phenomenal sensation. You set a brutal pace; what you can’t reach with your mouth you reach with your hands. He knows you can take him all the way and wants that from you now. You aren’t giving it to him, and that’s frustrating.

            He places his hands on either side of your head. You understood the significance of this action and place your hands on his thighs, bracing yourself for what’s coming. Even in his frustration and anger he waits for your silent signal to go ahead. You tap his thigh twice. You’re ready, good. He thrust into your mouth, stay there for a few seconds before pulling back out.

            It’s vicious, the way he fucks your mouth. You suck every time he pulls out and he just barely remembers to wait a few moments for you to take a breath. But this is what he needs, your permission to use you as he sees fit. To fuck you as he pleases. Who else would allow him to do this to them for free if not someone that truly cared for him? He climaxes within minutes, making sure he empties himself down your throat before ripping you off him. You’re gasping for breathe the moment he does, ignoring the spurts of cum that float around you.

            He pulls you into a standing position, undoes the bottom of your suit and turns you around so your ass faces him. If you two were in your private quarters, he’d take the time to return the favor. Taking your clit into his mouth and sucking you dry, but this wasn’t about you right now. Without waiting for you to say anything he grabs your hips and pulls you into his lap, his thick cock enters your wet cunt with ease. Good, you were at least enjoying this. “Move,” He commands. You begin to bounce, letting out little gasps of pleasure.

            He was a long way off in terms or orgasm, but you weren’t. He could tell from the way your pussy fluttered around him. His eyes rolled so far to the back of his head he nearly found his brain. “Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to,” He growls. He pulls you back to his chest, hand closing around your neck this time. His free hand manages to wiggle its way between your legs to find your clit. He rubs harsh circles, reveling in the sound of your whimpering. The position is awkward for you, so you can’t bounce up and down like you so desperately want to. You settle with grinding. “Who do you belong to?” He asks. “Orm Marius,” you say, his fingers tighten around your throat. He asks the question again, “Who do you belong to?”

“His highness, Prince Orm.” The hand around your throat tightens more. He’s aware that you’ll be blacking out if he leaves his grip that tight for long, he hopes you get the answer right this time. “Who-”

“O-ocean Master!” You manage weakly. His smile is wicked as he loosens his grip. “That’s right,” he tells you, allowing you a little more space to bounce. “That’s right, you belong to me, not to Arthur. Not to the king of Atlantis, but to me.”

“I don’t want to belong to anyone else.” He hadn’t expected your comment. It strikes a chord with him. You continue, “No one else is as good as you. No one fucks me like you, no one makes me come as hard as you. There’s no one else but you, Ocean Master, no one.” His ego stroked to the fullest, Orm decides to reward you for being such a good girl. Quicker than you can fathom, he switches positions. You’re bent over an arm of the throne, the metal digging painfully into your skin. Orm, his hands on your hips, is thrusting into you from behind. It wasn’t fast, but it was rough. Every time he pulls out and pushes back in you see stars. “Please, I won’t last much longer.” You tell him, gripping onto the back of the throne for support.

            You think your pleas fall on def ears until you hear him say, “Cum for me.” It’s as if your body is awaiting such a command. He watches as you writhe beneath him, coming hard around him. He groans at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, milking him for everything he has, he lets himself go inside you, painting your walls with thick ropes of cum. You two stay in that position for a long while before you gather yourself and redo your clothing.

            You turn to him finally, lips pursed. “Do you feel better now?” You ask him. Actually, he felt foolish about the entire thing, but he nodded instead. “Good,” You bring him in for a deep kiss. He feels so silly for doubting you he can’t bring himself to look in your eyes. “We will never do this in the throne room again, do you understand?” He nods. “I mean it. Never.”

            He gives you another quick kiss. “Just the one time,” He promises. For the first time in weeks, you gave him a smile. He’s relieved. All the pressure building between you two had dissipated. “I love you,” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you too,” you tell him. “Now, go back to our quarters,” you say, pulling away from him. “I’ll be along in a few moments; I have another meeting to attend.” Orm frowns, “What could Arthur possibly want to talk about this time?”

            You frown and shake your head, swimming away from him, “My meeting is with the Ocean Master,” You inform him, “Something about a performance review.” You shrug and disappear into the hall. Orm smiles to himself wondering how he got so lucky to find a woman like you.

[tobylix-blog]

First time at sea - Boromir x Reader

Content&Warnings: everyone-lives AU, platonic, mention of death

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Boromir is a man of land through and through. But fate and state matters get him on board of an Umbar ship - a whole whirlwind of different life and customs.

A/N: this was equally a torment for me and the text, two whole months of struggling with getting this right. the degree of success is up to you to determine

Ramp creaked unpleasantly under Boromir's feet, adding more tension to an already nerve-wracking moment. He had never stepped upon a ship's deck before, and was determined to not trust the wooden vessel with his life. To the point of refusing the opportunity of boarding with the others in Osgiliath and riding on horseback all the way to Pelargir. He would gladly dismiss the prospect of the voyage altogether if travelling to the City of Corsairs by land didn't take a solid month longer than sailing. However, Aragorn promised the team to be the best, and Boromir reluctantly agreed.

The captain, indeed, was a pleasant person, clearly knowledgeable of their job and hospitable to passengers. From their explanation Boromir learned that the crew mostly consisted of sailors that served on the trading ships rather than pirate ones. The news gave the man some much needed reassurance before the long journey. Even though the line between the merchants and pirates was quite vague in Umbar.

A day later the ship left the river mouth and took off into the sea. It didn't go too far from shore. The dark line of land was visible in the distance most of the time, but the constant rise and fall of the waves was no less unsettling than in the first moment. Sons of Gondor felt way out of their place without steady ground beneath. And Boromir even more than others. He leaned against the bulwarks and sighed heavily, hoping that he didn't look as green as he felt.

A cheerful voice called out to him, "First time on board? It'll get better."

He looked to the side, noticing a sailor tightening ropes and knots. You glanced back at him, fixing the last one in place. "It always gets."

"Does not seem this way to me. I have spent the whole day here and nothing changed," Boromir retorted, knitting his brows.

You smiled. "Don't rush it. The ship is like a timid town lady. She takes time getting close with a man."

Boromir shook his head and glanced over the dancing whitecaps. The sight of the ever moving water caused another spasm in his stomach.

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

Even sleep betrayed Boromir once he left solid land. The morning was young and chilly, when he sneaked out of the cabin, careful not to wake any of his companions. The endless blue of the sea mirrored the depths of the sky. Right between them was the ship's prow that you walked down ensuring tightness of all ropes. From the centre of the deck you seemed to be walking a narrow bridge between the horizon and the boards with ease of a practised acrobat. Boromir involuntarily froze in place, half hidden from your view by the mast and multiple barrels placed on deck. His eyes glued to your light steps against the boards and fingers curling around each length and knot. There was something very personal in watching you do some mundane tasks when you thought to be alone, save for the helmsman, who couldn't be less interested in whatever happened on board.

Bare feet against the ever wet wood – what a strange habit – and yet you still managed to move quietly. Or maybe the ever-mumbling sea silenced your steps enough for Boromir to not catch a sound. He stepped to the side to get a better view, unobscured by the spars. The world shifted slightly – and then turned with a loud thud. Dull pain of the collision with the hard deck in his side made the man curse under breath.

You turned at the sound and watched him retreat back to the cabin. An expression of dissatisfaction with the means of travel was clearly showing on his face.

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

"Sailing is a strange job," Boromir stated firmly.

After three nights on board without a single incident in the calm waters of the bay of Belfalas he seemed more confident. The broad daylight showed more colour in his face and less insecurity in his eyes. And his steps appeared steady.

"Is it though?" you threw a questioning look back at him.

The man crossed arms on his chest. "I understand swimming and fishing in the boat, but staying away from the shore for weeks and months is against human nature."

"There is truth in your words, but think of it this way - replace 'shore' with 'house' and you will get the description of being a soldier. You don't find that strange, do you?" you chuckled. "The main difference is that we fight sea rather than other people and use ships instead of swords."

Unconvinced Boromir only shrugged in response.

“Your people even call you their captain,” you smiled, looking at his pressed lips, “is that not a happy enough coincidence?”

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

Sharing their pints of beer, sailors hustled and bustled in the eternal evening dusk of the lower deck. Rumbling laughter thundered through the still air along with clattering of dishes and creaking of wood. They made bets over weather and luck with beer and meat as well as with coins – mostly copper jingling in empty pockets. And someone started singing, a heavy accent draping from the melody known since times before they had learned walking.

Cutting through the moving crowd, like he often did in barracks or taverns full of celebrating soldiers, Boromir made way to the bench where you just shook hands with another crew-mate betting on a good catch. You stood up greeting him and motioned to the corner, where bales were piled up in the shadow.

“It’s much better than being packed like sardines.”

Dropping down on the soft sacks without spilling a droplet from the full glass, you caused Boromir to raise an eyebrow in amusement before sitting down beside. He glanced over to the crew and then back to you. “This does resemble how the army can be at times.”

You contentedly nodded and took a generous sip, allowing him to continue. He took the hint, but hesitated to elaborate on whatever thought brought him to the lower deck, boiling with life in the dim light of oil lamps and candles, after a solid week of travelling in comfort of the cabin.

“I found myself in need of an apology,” he said at last, clasping hands together.

“Did I somehow offend you, my lord?” you sat up concerned.

A burst of laughter, low and deep at the same time, was his first response. “No, not in the slightest. I mean quite the opposite. Since the first day of this voyage I have expressed a great deal of unsavoury opinions. For that I seek your forgiveness.”

You waved off his words. “I don’t hold a grudge against one’s lack of experience.”

“And still,” Boromir insisted, “you were gracious enough to bear continuous insults. Not a single time have you turned away or raised your voice to silence the irritating noise. Your actions speak of your character differently from your words.”

“That’s the art of trade in the way I’ve learned it – be soft with people and hard with actions. In that manner one climbs up the ladder of success,” you shrugged.

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

A day before arrival, when the ship entered the narrowing pass to Umbar, the movement became very cautious and unhurried. Even the wind and waves seemed to find delight in leisurely licking the wooden side of the vessel.

"Why did we slow down?" Boromir asked the captain.

"The gulf is tricky to navigate. We must go on short sails to get past all the rocks and cliffs," they replied, leaning on the helm.

Gondorian nodded and looked up front. Steep banks were rising before his eyes. At that moment two of the crewmen rushed by his side. He turned too late to express his indignation at the accidental push, but just in time to watch your white shirt pass by like a cloud of smoke in the wind. You didn't even bother to take the steps down to the deck, simply jumping over the small staircase in one leap. Like another fish joins the shoal, you pushed through the crowd and disappeared among fellows.

"What are they doing?" Boromir furrowed his brows, pointing at the gathered crew.

"Ah, choosing the fortune diver. Seems like they've spotted something nice this time. Folks are so eager, they’re down to three already," they explained with a nonchalant yawn. Though by the time the sentence was finished, the choosing was already over. The crowd parted, demonstrating your triumphant smile and two unlucky souls that lost their chance in the final draw. "Y/N, again? Cheating, aren't you?"

"Nah, the tides just like to blow my way," you responded, throwing off the outer shirt and rolling up the wide pants slightly.

Some indescribable trepidation washed over Boromir as you did so. He didn't know for sure if there even was something to worry about, but his gut was all but against it. There was no time to find out, though, and neither was there time to object. You took a few steps of run up and leaped right overboard in a swift arc. The crew blew up in a round of laughter and clapping as the fountain of splashes rose into the air.

As if woken up by that sound, Boromir tore his seemingly glued feet from the deck. He hurried to the bulwarks and bent over the board, watching your flexible form descend to the shadowed depth of the gulf as if it was the most natural of ways to move. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the curve of your body as you reached the bottom and swam to your goal. Each stroke was strong and precise – clear evidence of years spent at sea.

His gentle heart, that only seemed to have been encased in strong armour, skipped a beat when you let out a few air bubbles, trying to pull the gilded candelabrum from the grey sand. The precious trinket was positively stuck and very unwilling to budge. It took  you a few more tugs along with an eloquently layered silent curse before the metal slid out of the sand trap. That last pull kicked the rest of the air out of your lungs. Heavy coldness began to spread from the centre of your chest. You pushed from the bottom and began rapidly rising. Racing against the last air bubbles, you were losing tragically. The heavy candelabrum was weighing down one hand, slowing down your painfully long rise. You felt that everything was getting slower, darker...

The surface shattered into a million glowing splashes, reflecting sunlight and dark boards of the ship, as you broke through to the air. The first moment over the water was deafening and blinding. The dull monotonous rustling of the waves was replaced with an eruption of shouts and laughter. The first deep inhale nearly pushed you back down. You rubbed salty water away from your eyes until you could see a rope dropped from the deck right in front of you. By some miracle, it was just an arm length away. You only got up by a couple of feet before feeling the rope being pulled up, lifting you easily. In a few moments you were already grabbed by an unfamiliar pair of arms.

The candelabrum slipped out of your hands and landed on the boards with a loud metallic rattle, nearly hitting someone’s feet. Your fingers curled in the thick fabric of someone’s shirt. Pressing your forehead to soft fabric, you were catching your breath one gulp of air at a time. The warmth of the hands against your freezing back was revitalising. Hitched breaths, almost as faltering as your own, came in soft gusts over your shoulder. Despite the tight embrace getting most of your attention, you slowly began to recognize the colour of those locks, tickling your cheek, the wide belt made of expensive leather and the boots he refused to take off on board. You couldn't see that yet, but your mind easily painted the image of his eyebrows drawn together.

Boromir’s heavy sigh gusted against your wet hair. He probably said something. You lifted your head and noticed a massive wet stain on his shirt. Some crew-mate’s words suddenly came to your mind about that shirt, which “probably costs like our yearly payment”. A panicked thought rushed through your mind. You pushed away, nearly tripping over the damned candelabrum.

“-sorry, deepest apologies. I didn’t mean to get it wet,” you breathed out hastily, adding a weak chuckle, before a human wave of crewmen washed you from the deck to below the boards.

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Considering your dive a sign of bravery and fortune, fellow sailors left you with no work to be done upon arrival to Umbar. It seemed nearly alien to sit idly on a barrel with the gilded trophy in your lap, while they were busy carrying the cargo ashore. So much life happening around and you were out there like a ghost. Invisible and long forgotten.

“Why would you risk your life for that trinket?” the wind asked.

You shuddered and turned around. Boromir stood just a few feet away. On solid ground he seemed taller. With his hand on the hilt of the sword, he would look threatening, if it wasn’t for his gaze. There was genuine confusion and concern. Almost as if he was looking at a child, who regularly acts against all advice and gets hurt.

You clutched the ‘trinket’. “It’s how one gets their fortune – through daring and courageous acts.”

“Or loses everything,” he stepped in. “You could have died! Taking such chances... It is not worth a handful of coins. If silver or gold is what you wish for, you could have begun selling fish in the market, saving up for a better life-”

“No!” you jumped off the barrel, momentarily getting nearly face-to-face with him. “I- Not a single soul has built their fortune, putting away a bronze at a time. It is known no merchant gets off well if their first pouch isn’t full. That is how life is. That is why the tradition exists.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Until...the catch is good enough, our lives are worth so little, my lord. We gamble less than you do in a single game of cards.”

Boromir opened his mouth to say something, but not a sound rang. His eyes filled up with painful understanding and fear. For a moment you dreaded to see the pity in them, but instead there was pure terror of recognition. His entire spirit was shattered by this simple thought that you lived with for years. His hand rose to grip your shoulder. The touch was feather-light.

Someone called out for Boromir. He looked back for a moment before returning to you. His grip tightened just a bit.

“Come with me. Find me here tonight. And, I promise, you will never have to put your life on the line for coin. It can be so different from now on.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Nothing scandalous, I assure you,” he turned again, hearing another question coming his way from afar. “Just be my guest. There in Gondor your life could be started anew.”

His hand finally left your shoulder and he quickly regained his posture, stepping away. Once again he looked as a noble lord of the great kingdom. But his eyes still betrayed the fear of a young boy, who couldn’t bear to see you willingly putting your life at stake. He bowed his head, and in a moment – was gone.