#to sort out whether they are legitimate

[an-android-in-a-tutu]

the thing is that I am cognizant about scammers and bad actors and I do worry quite a lot that I might spread faulty information by being hasty but sorry when your psa post about how you have to be careful because your donation to the wrong gofundme could be funding human trafficking (and calling anyone who donates to someone directly in need instead of giving to charity selfish) features prominently in the notes someone yes anding you and saying all those donations are probably being funneled to hamas anyway with no one challenging them.... I don't know I become a little skeptical of your intentions.

[reap-the-game]

Lil toddler Gia and his mother, Ada. She was (still is, really; she's alive as much as Gia has no idea about her current status) the village herbalist. Gia hasn't been her last child either, only her first.

What I'm saying is that Gia has siblings out there he's never going to meet.

[chlorinecake]

SO PRETTY IT HURTS | rough and handsy sex scenarios with switch!enha legal line ft. nsfw links

⟡ synopsis ⨾ basically just how each enhypen member would feel about you being rough with them in the bedroom

⟡ contains ⨾ NSFW LINKS, hair pulling, biting, slapping/spanking, marking, scratching, and unprotected sex

— HEESEUNG gives off the vibe that he'd be really into having a bit of pain mixed with his pleasure, whether that was you slightly grazing your teeth against his shoulder as he fucked into you, or you desperately clawing at his chest while riding him… Just imagine how cute Heeseung's scrunched up face would look in moments like that, his needy hands clinging unto your ass as his hips thrusted upwards at a rapid pace, both of you chasing your highs...

— JAY wouldn’t be too against the idea of having you rough him up a bit during sex, especially if it meant he was doing a good job of pleasing you... Just the feeling of your fingers tugging at his messy locks while he ate you out would be more than enough to keep him excited until he finally had you bent over on the mattress, holding your ass in place right before filling you up with his warm cum.

— JAKE is the playful type, so I can totally see him enjoying some switchy behavior in the bedroom, round one beginning with him domming you as usual, up until your nails dug into his shoulders for more leverage, bouncing in his lap like a touch deprived fuck bunny... It’d definitely be a tantalizing combination for him, but he always liked feeling crazy with you anyways, biting down on his lip at the sight of you finishing him off.

— SUNGHOON often treated sex with you like some sort of competition, especially whenever you behaved like a brat in need of taming before you two even reached the bedroom... a catty smirk would stain his features at the frustrated look on your face at his teasingly slow thrusts, provoking you to gently tap slap at his chin for a little sexual encouragement... oh when I tell you he’d get so into it after you hit him, fucking into your tightness with all his strength as you squirt all over the sheets, making him go weak in the knees…

— SUNOO doesn’t really strike me as the type to enjoy pain by any means, but it’d always be a treat for him to see you going so crazy underneath him as he fucks into you that his tiny groans could hardly keep you from marking him even more. The guy legitimately never came harder than when you’d tug at his hair while in missionary, or bite into the plush flesh of his neck to contain your moans from how well he was pleasing you …

— JUNGWON seems like such a sucker for rough stuff to me, whether that be on the giving or receiving end... Just imagine it: Jungwon fucking into you with all his might while you let your hazy vision wander, looking at the marks you left along his neck, and how pretty his hands looked wrapped around your waist matching your whimpers with his own as you both chased your highs together…

⚠︎ author’s note: Just another fic I had marinating in the depths of my private posts because it didn't do too well at first... hopefully y'all like what I've done with this time tho !!

⚠︎ tag list: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

⚠︎ path to my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested !!

[seat-safety-switch]

One of the greatest joys in life is using your shitty old car to shut down a legitimately nice car. For any law enforcement folks reading this, I would never endorse street racing. Also, I think I heard someone shoplifting in the other room, and you should go check it out. The best kind of street racing is the street racing the other person doesn't know they're having.

Now, I've had nice cars in the past before. Once, I had a Mercury Cougar XR7 with most of its original paint. Come to think of it, I might still have it somewhere in the backyard. Hard to keep them all apart these days. Anyway, when you drive a nice car, you get this sort of ego boost every time you see a lesser vehicle. How dare you peasants not realize how inferior your base Corollae are? Only a connoisseur can truly appreciate the divine features of this fine automobile.

That kind of mentality is simply not healthy. All of us, each and every one of us, are just a few generations away from being shit-throwing apes. The fact that we managed to make a machine that gets us down the highway quickly is a total miracle, and it's not any more of one because we put a pretty logo on it and charged $20,000 extra to put precision-engineered butt manipulators in the seats. It is this problem that the very fast beater is meant to solve.

When you have a shitbox and that shitbox goes faster than a nice car, whether because of superior driving (not me) or a significant amount of horsepower (not me) or a lack of understanding of your imminent mortality (possibly me) it is a great feeling to shut down those rich folks tooling around in their "good cars." It knocks them down a peg, which keeps them from doing things like going into work and causing another housing crisis. In fact, I'm going to go out and gap some Porsches with an old rusty fire extinguisher filled with nitrous oxide right now. You should come too, so I can get a ride home after the cops bust me for shooting my engine block across four lanes of the highway.

[squiddy-god]

hsr men manhandling pt2

(Blade, sampo, loucha)

Once again here we are, lust in my heart. The other one is quite popular so here we go with a part two<3 i really liked the way the last one turned out so i decided to do more characters, i think the next one i'm doing is gonna be female characters. Maybe a little sampo slander (i love him i promise) 

♥︎REQUESTS ARE OPEN♥︎

Cw: smut, suggestive content to nsfw, manhandling, top! Characters, dom characters, no pronouns, gn! Reader, fem/ftm/masc/mtf friendly, established relationship, implied chubby reader, rough sex, penetration, oral (you and character receiving), fuzzy handcuffs (sampo), marking (blade), stupid/silly petnames (sampo), dare i say…a bit of switch sampo??face fucking,  as always everything is consensual (very sexy) and aftercare is always given even if not explicitly mentioned 

Blade 

AUGH 

Bladie is legitimately strong as hell, but the thing is that whether he's doing it on purpose or accident depends on the situation 

Blade manhandles you a lot, he tends to be a man of few words so if he needs you moved he is moving you, if he wants affection he is moving you

Sitting next to him and he wants you sat in his lap where you should be? Hes grabbing you, hands gripping your waist as he pulls you against him

Speaking of that his kisses are quite similar, grabbing your jaw and turning your face so he can kiss you

Or a hand on the back of your head that pushes your face together, 

Blade likes having you lay on top of him and he will actually drag you on top of him 

These are things he does unintentionally that end with you getting man handled 

But let's not forget that dear bladie is a bit (read: very) feral

He is the king of manhandling, im talking he throws you on the bed type manhandling

Picking you up and pinning you to the wall while holding the backs of your knees to keep you good and folded in half.

His lower body pressed against you so you can feel how hard he his while he grinds into you 

And he KNOWS HE KNOWS what he's doing when he squishes handfuls of your soft fletch in his hands while he folds you however he likes, he knows how much it turns you on 

He's rough, rough hands and rough chipped edges that used to be smooth. Blade as a whole is a rough man and his bedroom habits are no different- his every touch and movement carries a strength and sort of force behind it 

There's a part of him that revels in the fact that his roughness turns you on, the little shudder that runs through your body when you feel his finger dig into your hips and waist 

I feel like marking plays a huge role in the manhandling actually because blade wants to see you so covered in his marks that they resemble the scars on his body 

He is covered in them, not an inch spared- and so neither will yours

Pinning you face down with his hips rutting against yours while he sucks hickeys and bites between your shoulder blades (im hilarious) and neck. 

Sampo

Him 

He is fully aware and it's on purpose 2000% 

He teases you about it relentlessly the second that he finds out, honestly he probably found out either by accident or because he was teasing you 

He runs up to you, picking you up while he kisses your stomach face buried it its softness- and when he looks up seeing how flustered you are hes already working overtime 

“Ohhhh ho ho! Now sweetcheeks don't tell me you like when ol’ sampo’s rough with ya” 

He's so mean! He bullies you honestly and he doesn't even feel bad! 

SHOVES HIS COLD HANDS UNDER YOUR SHIRT AND JUST HOLDS YOU THERE SO YOU CAN'T ESCAPE! The meanie! And it never lasts being cute either because it turns into him grabbing your tummy and waist, then hes going for your chest and oops his hands are in your pants and he's using you to the nearest secluded spot 

a lot of his manhandling comes from squishing and squeezing you 

He's a tummy and thigh man and i won't be taking criticism because im right- aha told me themselves 

He loves and adores your tummy and thighs, squeezing, groping, he really can't get enough and that leads to him manhandling you

Like i said lust in my heart- so im gonna need you to hear me out on this one guys i need, and i mean NEED sampo in one of those sexy cop costumes 

See it's funny because he is a criminal- 

But like he's pinning you down, the sound of clicking as he cuffs you with the fuzzy handcuffs before he is jerking your his back to slot oh so perfectly against his 

I feel like sampo kinda likes when you man handle him a bit too (i wanna grab his bewbs) and he wouldn't mind if YOU were the one in the sexy cop costume, the short shorts showing off the thighs he loves so much as he lets you pin and cuff him~ 

Sampo likes face fucking and its one of the ways he manhandles you. moving your head up and down on his length while he has the nerve to coo at you 

You can feel his hands cradle your head and you already know what's coming (him lmao) “come on love-bug wanna give poor sampo a treat?” and its the way he sounds almost desperate that has you always nodding your head as you feel his fingers tighten before he's pushing you all the way down 

I hate him <3 (i'm a big liar)

Loucha 

Now here me out this man is a gentleman

Wouldn't dream of manhandling you because he is oh so gentle, so sweet to you its almost- almost suspicious

That being said when he does it's on purpose

For all his gentlemanly acts there is something writhing just below the surface, the most miniscule glint in his eyes and the slight amount of extra pressure in his hand as he guides you with him through the streets 

But he is a man with seemingly infinite self control 

But thats only what it seems like

Even one with an abundance (haha) of patience can sometimes have said patience grow thin, its times like this that loucha takes it upon himself to remind you that things are often not as they appear

 Fear not however, most of his “frustration” comes when you try to squirm away or hide- loucha loves to see and hear you, watch your face twitch and your body write at the onslaught (abundance hahahaha) of pleasure that his hands bestow 

He keeps your hands pinned nicely above your head to make sure there is no hiding your lovely face from him, and it shows his slight sadistic streak because the way he looks down at you?

Those lovely olive green eyes looking down at you laced with something akin to condescension- as if you were so silly to attempt to hide away from his gaze,  

I think loucha is a big fan of you riding him, his hands able to grip fistfull of your plush hips and thighs when your legs start to burn and he can manhandle you up and down his length to his heart's content  

And he just coos up at you, voice rumbling as he holds you tight again him and all but slams his hips forward, the languid movement of his hips has stopped and been replaced with the deep bruising movements that have you clawing at his back and the sheets 

“Ah ah my sweet, my mercy has a limit when you have denied me the pleasure of seeing you like this” and you realize through the way his hands roughly grasp at every soft inch of you that it was indeed mercy, but the way he all but moans out his desire to simply see you writhe like this beneath him makes it all the sweeter to test the limits of said mercy 

[tpwrtrmnky]

The problems with the 'infighting' comic

So I deleted the infighting comics. Fundamentally, the reason why is that I think I did a bad job with them. Clearly this wasn't a popular decision, and I did say I'd elaborate on why when I had time, so let's talk about the problem with the infighting comic.

Just to get this out of the way, the problem is not that the 'wrong' demographic liked it, or anything of the sort. What I don't like about the comic, and what keeps coming up, is that the way I frame it and how I execute the attempt at doing something with the never-ending churn of Discourse in the queer community is that it:

Fails to state what I think the problem is. "Infighting" is vague, it can mean basically anything, and unfortunately a very common use of the term is "literally anyone in the community criticizing anyone else in the community for any reason whatsoever." The comic fails to do anything to communicate whether this is the intended reading or not. This is a problem because the most common targets of bad-faith infighting accusations are also the most marginalized in the community, and the fights start as completely unjustified backlash to marginalized people criticizing marginalization.

The comic doesn't sufficiently communicate the intended idea that these are marginalized people with actual problems. The complaints of the characters come off as trivial due to how they are only presented in an oppositional context, with no frame of reference given as to whether their complaints are equally legitimate, whether one of them is right and one is wrong, or whether they're both just saying some nonsense. This is a fundamental flaw in the premise, because depending on which real-life situation the reader assumes it's about, the entire meaning changes. Regardless of what I say I actually intended this is bad enough that by itself, it drags down the whole thing.

The framing that the bigot character doesn't care about the difference between the groups. This only works if you're operating under the assumption that the comic is talking about groups that are routinely conflated by bigots, which at the very least is a detail that should be clearly stated in the premise, not in the second comic, and again leads to a very artificial framing of the supposed "infighting."

The main character being presented as a neutral observer with no stake in the argument themselves is weird.

The follow-ups do very little to address any of the above issues.

The comic is spread over four separate posts, which means even if the above issues were meaningfully addressed, the circulation of parts of the comics without those problems dealt with would continue, with all the problems retained.

There are more criticisms, and I am not going to argue with them because I don't want to defend the comic as I made it. I don't like it. I am tired of seeing the arguments that come from it. I apologize for how it was made, and I will not attempt anything to replace it until I can meaningfully address the problems with it.

There are additional structural problems with the Pills That Make You Green comics that have become more and more apparent as I've kept making them. I think failure to meaningfully address these issues is going to keep causing comics to fail in similar ways, and so I am thinking that a serious change to how I approach these needs to happen if I even want to make them anymore.

[ipseitydelrey]

idk if you do headcanons but I wanna know what you think each member of the BAU team would get you for your birthday?

<33

hi !! yes i def do general headcanons too, and this is such a good idea 🫶

birthday bash ☆ the B.A.U.

characters aaron hotchner, spencer reid, emily prentiss, derek morgan, jennifer jareau, david rossi, penelope garcia, tara lewis, luke alvez, elle greenaway; can be seen as platonic or romantic with any character

content just some general headcanons

aaron hotchner is incredibly observant and he cares for his team, so he will make sure you get at least a basket-full worth of stuff. he’ll likely say it’s from everyone on the team, even if he did pay for everything in the basket himself. he also goes out of his way to get presents for people he cares about (à la the halloween special where he got that darth vader mask for jack). included in the basket are some office supplies, flowers (of course), candies, and maybe a replacement of something you broke (like your favourite mug).

spencer reid will make sure to get you something that is functional from both an aesthetic standpoint and a practical one. of course, he’ll likely get you rare books with the pages yellow and worn from use, but are still delightfully charming, even if you’re not that interested in the contents of those pages. he’ll also treat you to a sort of last-minute-birthday-breakfast if you’re all called in to work, where he’ll get you your favourite pastry and coffee/tea, just the way you like it. antiquities are also a go to, whether it’s jewellery or otherwise.

emily prentiss is an enigma when it comes to gift giving; nobody knows what she’s getting for you, and nobody knows if it’s going to be a joke present or a genuinely thoughtful one (or some combination of the two). one present she might get for you are aphrodisiac chocolates because “you’ll never know if you get lucky” (her words).

derek morgan likely wouldn’t get you a genuinely thoughtful gift at first if you were relatively new to the team. but after some time on cases and at the office and such, he will put effort into his gifts. so for your first birthday with the team, he might play it safe by getting you gift cards; but after getting to know you more, he’ll get you something that is geared to your tastes, but it will be a gift that will remind you of him. although, he is just as likely as emily to get you a joke present, if not more.

jennifer jareau’s presents are quite rushed on account of her having to balance being an agent and a mom, but she does put a lot of heart into them. she knows more than anyone how taxing the job can get at times, so expect some well-deserved spa day coupons that she managed to find strewn around her place. it’s possible she’ll get you a couple instead of one. she will also likely give you a couple drawings henry and michael made, and you can bet that you’ll hang that up on your fridge at home.

david rossi in the early seasons (especially season three) would very likely not even plan on getting you a present unless he was reminded by hotch. however, in the later seasons, rossi definitely acts like the wine aunt who gives you straight up cash as a present. expect anywhere from $100 – $1k+, he has to use up the money he got from being a best-selling author somehow. also alcohol; he will get you expensive bottles of whiskey, scotch or wine, no room for argument (unless you have a legitimate reason).

penelope garcia goes all out for your birthday; obviously she puts the most effort in her gifts and more. for her presents, she will buy quite a lot, to the point where she might spend maybe half her pay check on the presents. her gifts mostly consist of decorations mostly for aesthetic purposes, but has little to do with everyday use. possible presents coming from her include paintings, pillows, fidget toys and mugs, all of which are very colourful. but she doesn’t just stop there with presents; she will likely organize a group dinner (or maybe a group breakfast, just in case of a possible case).

tara lewis is simultaneously the least expected and most expected member of the team to be a chaotic gift giver. she will also likely get you a joke present but while emily would get you something along the lines of a prank present, tara’s presents would be subtle and remind you of inside jokes either within the team or just between the two of you. also, expect alcohol, quite a number of the team will get you a bottle, including tara.

luke alvez definitely tries the hardest with his gifts (after penelope, of course), especially if he’s newer on the team. he’ll ask around for any ideas, either on what to get you or what kind of person you are with the team so he can figure it out for himself. if you have a dog (or two…or five), he will spoil the dog rotten with new toys, biscuits or dog accessories — which he probably collaborated with penelope on.

elle greenaway’s presents are ones that you shouldn’t really open with most of the team present because of their explicit nature. she’ll probably get you incredibly revealing swimwear (yet another collaboration with penelope), and also alcohol — specifically hard liquor. those are likely to be the only presents that you can actually open in front of everybody on the team without getting a lot of stares.

taglist @queermaxwooo @pleasantwitchgarden @hbwrelic @kissesforapence @theoraekenslover join the taglist!

[andypantsx3]

BAKUGOU BARBARIAN-VERSE | MASTERLIST

tags/warnings: fantasy au, aged up characters, sfw, accidental marriage, part i is gender neutral but reader has fem pronouns in later parts

PART I (1.3K)

On a cold, windy night, barbarian Bakugou warms you up. Things get complicated from there.

PART II (1K)

Your traveling party visits a village where you accidentally trigger an ancient marriage custom. Now, aspiring suitors will fight for the promise of your hand in marriage, and you're not liking how many unknown villagers seem interested. You're just hoping you can figure out a way to sneak out of the village before the tournament wraps up—except, wait, why is Bakugou striding into the ring...?

PART III (0.5K)

You learn something unexpected about your barbarian sort-of husband.

PART IV (coming soon!)

Bakugou learns something unexpected about you, and quickly becomes far too smug about it.

PART V (coming soon!)

After all these months, you wonder what Bakugou's true feelings for you are and whether your marriage is legitimate in the custom of his people. You try to find out what his plans are for the conclusion of your adventure. A small gesture from Bakugou clarifies his feelings.

drabbles will be posted under the tag #bakugou barbarian verse

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

-

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

-

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

-

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

-

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

-

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

-

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

-

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

-

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

-

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

-

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

-

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

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[actiniumwrites]

kiss me (not)

synopsis: how they’d react when you dodge/ wipe off their kisses for a day as a prank

characters: gaming, kujou sara, heizou, tighnari, cyno, kaveh, and lyney x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, some humor, established relationships, etc

notes: i love this prompt so much omg. i’ve read a lot of fics other people have written for different fandoms and i’m actually shocked i haven’t written it before considering i eat it up every time (especially when there’s some angst 🫠)

gaming:

the first time he sees you wipe off his kiss, something in him dies a little, especially when you don’t say anything after he asks if you’re okay

so he starts doubting himself and compensating for where he may went wrong

maybe he had bad breath? or you weren’t having a good day today?

he hates that he doesn’t know what he did wrong, and even worse, why you keep doing it throughout the day

you only stop when you see the way he genuinely starts beating himself up over it, deciding it wasn’t funny anymore and honestly never was

“it was a prank,” you nudge him softly, regret overflowing from your voice, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. i shouldn’t have kept it going for so long.”

a relieved breathe and a small smile from him follow right after. you can tell he’s still a bit stuck on the whole thing, but deep down, he’s just grateful he didn’t screw up somewhere because there’s no way in hell gaming would ever let himself lose you

“it’s okay,” he breathes out, clutching your hand a little tighter than usual, “just please, don’t do it again, okay?”

kujou sara:

to say she’s confused is an understatement

she’ll immediately backtrack to make sure she actually just saw that correctly. did you really just wipe off her kiss?

so she goes in for another one, and sure enough, you dodge her this time and send her a quick goodbye before slipping out of the house and running off to work

it legitimately ruins her whole day. she can’t even function at work because it’s all she can think about

and by the time she’s home at night, she’s already tired and just wants you but she’s also too afraid that maybe she did something to upset you

fortunately for her, you spare her of the prank knowing your girlfriend well enough to know that the second she walks through the door she had a shitty day

so you apologize and tell her it was just a prank and you didn’t mean any harm

and she wants to be so mad at you for it, but literally can’t no matter how hard she tries so instead she just gives in and gets the kiss she’s been thinking about all day

heizou:

he realizes right away what you’re doing and finds it rather amusing

so he’ll play along too, not trying to kiss you at all and even going a step further and not showing you any sort of physical attention

try to hold his hand? not happening. hugging him? not a chance

and it ends up becoming a competition, because what can you say? you’re both competitive people

goes on until the end of the day and only ends when you’re both too tired to keep it up

“you’re no fun, you know?” you poke his chest as you tiredly lean against him

he smiles down at you, “how so? i let you play your little pranks, didn’t i? i even played along.”

you just scoff and scoot away, tucking yourself into the warm blankets and ignoring his teasing

but then he’ll grab you and pull you into his chest, giving into you, “fine. next time i’ll give you the reaction you want. happy now?”

tighnari:

the opposite of heizou: he’s very unamused, and is very aware of what’s going on.

as soon as you back away from him after he tries to kiss you, his face falls into a deadpan and he crosses his arms menacingly

“i’ll have you know i don’t find pranks like these very funny,” he’ll immediately tell you off, not wanting to act so childishly when it comes to affection

tighnari cares a lot about people, whether he shows it or not, so to have you pretend to dodge it upsets him — even if it is meant to be a mere lighthearted prank

so you apologize instantly, feeling a little bad over the whole ordeal, “it’s just a prank, you know? i thought it would be funny to see how you’d react.”

definitely the kind of person to feel a little bashful and guilty for overreacting over something so silly, but also doesn’t want to admit it

so he’ll just silently kiss you and act like nothing happened, secretly hoping you’ll never try to pull something like that again

cyno:

at first, he thinks it’s kinda funny since he always plays jokes. however, i think he’s similar to tighnari in the sense that he also takes a little offense to it

like, he knows it’s a joke, but he just can’t help feeling a little hurt over it

“is something the matter?” he’ll ask while you’re both on the way to meet with friends. you shake your head no, fighting a smile

defeatedly, he leaves it at that, knowing you won’t budge. he’ll feel miserable the entire time and won’t stop thinking about how you won’t give the prank up, even in front of your friends

and when you both leave for the night, he crosses his arms and confronts you as you both walk home, “it isn’t funny.”

“what isn’t funny?”

“your prank. it isn’t funny. i don’t like the way you’re avoiding kissing me,” he says bluntly. it makes your heart sink into your stomach a bit, admittedly starting to feel a bit bad

so you apologize and work everything out, telling him you got the idea from alhaitham who was curious to see how he’d react in a situation like that — that, and he felt like pissing cyno off for a day, but you didn’t need to know that part

he’ll get frustrated, but is glad it’s all settled. he’ll also be extra affectionate throughout the next week, feeling as if he somehow lost time with you

kaveh:

gets so offended omg he will literally hate you

the first time you do it, his jaw drops to the floor and he calls you out on it immediately

“what was that?” he points an accusatory finger at you

you bite back a smile and feign innocence, “huh? what are you talking about?”

will not let you leave for the day until you drop the act and properly return his kiss

when you continue to go on with the prank, however, he’ll start to get all pouty and just ask you to kiss him

and he just looks so cute that you cup his face and give him a big fat kiss and walk out the door immediately after without a word and a big smile on your face, satisfied with his reaction

lyney:

he gets so dramatic about it it’s not even funny

will literally clutch his chest and fall to the ground in public so that you stop him

when you don’t and you let him face public humiliation (because you find it funny too), he stops himself and gets back up

follows you around like a lost puppy all day and will constantly try to sneak in a kiss while you’re caught of guard, but you never fall for it and he gets so much more frustrated each and every time

then he begs lynette and freminet to help him, except they think it’s funny too seeing how whipped he is for you

and he knows it’s a prank too, but the fact that you won’t break makes him so lovingly annoyed with you

you don’t stop until lynette genuinely intervenes, complaining about how annoying lyney had gotten throughout the day, “please end his suffering already. you know my brother is an idiot who doesn’t shut up and i’ve had enough of him today.”

you laugh it off, but ultimately agree

so you go and find him, which wasn’t that hard, and tap him on the shoulder before planting a gentle kiss to his lips, “sorry for pranking you. it was just too funny of an opportunity to pass up.”

“you’re so mean to me,” he’ll complain, but will then continue to kiss you so often that you’re now the annoyed one instead

[snailchimera]

Having watched Nightmare on Elm Street for the first time last night, with no other context for the series, I have a proposition I would like to put forth to you:

The real actual human being, Fred Kreuger, may have been innocent.

Whether he was or not, the dream monster Freddy Kreuger actually originates from the minds of the parents, as the feverishly paranoid idea of an outsider predator lurking in a Nice Suburban Neighborhood amplified by the real lived experience of having a serial killer in your area growing up, and the necessary justification for burning a man to death in his own home and stealing his weird art gloves as a trophy you keep in your basement for some reason.

I don't really have enough of a functioning brain right this second to do a full essay right now, but. There's something about how the parents of the targeted kids in Nightmare on Elm Street are antagonists in a similar way to the mayor in JAWS, ignoring, dismissing, or misappropriating blame for the problem of Freddy Kreuger even once it becomes obvious that something out of the ordinary is happening. I'm not saying it actually makes sense to jump straight to "my daughter really is being attacked by a Dream Murderer", but throughout the film there's not only this intense insistence that Everything Is Fine Now even after multiple murders have occurred, there's a deep hostility towards any action implying that things are not fine now or acting like a problem still exists after it's been "dealt with", and an ongoing theme of looking away from the problem and acting like that makes it fine when it doesn't (which even helps make sense of that strangely abrupt ending).

The parents want simple actions and simple answers, and they want to not have to deal with the situation anymore. The clean even slashes on Tina's nightgown must be from too-long fingernails. Rod was the murderer and he killed himself, case closed. Nancy's acting "crazy", she must be dangerous herself. Would it be that surprising if people with this approach to danger, who know themselves to be in danger and crave a simple solution, two of whom grew up to be a cop and his daydrinking "learn to look away" wife, looked at a man acquitted of murder and decided that him being wrongly acquitted was an easier, more comfortable answer than still not knowing who the threat actually was? Would it be that far-fetched for people with these thought patterns and behaviors to have cemented said thinking and behavior by enacting horrifying mob violence (because burning someone to death is a hell of a thing to do, and to witness, regardless of who's burning to death or why) and needing to be able to live with that afterward?

And Kreuger doesn't act like a real person. Sure, yeah, it's a slasher movie, you're not necessarily going to expect a slasher killer to act like a real person. Also, horrible people can in fact be horrible in uncomplicated, unsubtle, over-the-top ways (see Donald Trump). Kreuger, though, is practically a distillation of the child predator and murderer as imagined by the kind of person who legitimately believes people are putting heroin and razor blades in Halloween candy, you know? Outsider, dirty and disheveled, visibly marked as Different (by their own actions), flat and seedy hypersexual behavior, a person whose only motive is to instill fear and who has no internal or external justifications otherwise. He's the, word choice intentional, reality-disconnected nightmare of an upper-middle-class centrist-to-conservative white suburbanite, a perfect subhuman threat of a monster, the kind you can look at and go "yeah, setting this guy on fire was a fair call".

(Speaking of, it's... interesting, the way he reacts to being set on fire, isn't it? Everywhere else he's either implausibly resilient and unconcerned, furious and still threatening, or has a hammy movie villain sort of distress when threatened or thwarted. But he sure does act like an actual person who's on fire there, doesn't he? Like the sort of scene that might be indelibly marked on someone's memory, if they watched a real person burn to death?)

And he's also pretty explicitly framed in the movie as a construction of some kind, much moreso than as a vengeful ghost. The (weirdly casually racist but period typical) lucid dreaming explanation, and Nancy's approach from that point on, certainly support that framing, as does the fixation on (drawing strength from?) fear and belief. Nancy seems to think he's coming from her brain, and maybe he is by that point, but Nancy didn't know who Fred Kreuger was when all this started. Her parents and her friends' parents did.

I dunno. Like I said, this is a ramble, not a coherent essay. But I think there's a decent argument to be made that the real Fred Kreuger was never involved here at all, except as a fossilized impression in the psyches of a nightmare's true source.

[riizebabie444]

𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 🤍

🤍 ─── hello and welcome to today’s tarot reading which will describe how your life will be five years from now.

🤍 ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

🤍 ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

🤍 ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 — 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚

for you guys who chose pile one, the first thing i see is feminine and motherly energy. for a small number of you, you may have become or will be becoming mothers (or fathers) in the next five years. but for others it means you will simply be entering a period of your life wherein you connect with the world around you and nurture your creativity. it seems for a number of you that you will have the life you've been dreaming of or manifesting. that is to say, it won't just fall into your lap but rather, you will have worked hard in the five years to achieve your dream life.

you may have had some unrealistic desires with this "dream life", however, with the life you end up with in five years, you will still be satisfied. you may have also realised that the things you wanted to badly aren't necessarily good for you and that other possible outcomes are just as acceptable. for some, i think insecurities will be prominent, and also feeling overwhelmed. you have finally achieved this but you also were not fully prepared for it to come into your life this way. but i see you actively working on your insecurities and accepting your new life. you may also be dealing with some temptations.

pisces energy and moon energy are also very prominent. you could be in a period of your personal life transforming, and also big changes happening in your external life. you could be leaving some things or some people behind; for example, toxic friends or a unsatisfying job. you may feel a heavy burden and guilt for walking away, but you will be in a position where you feel confident enough to do it and work on yourself to always improve. i also see a lot of inner work, therapy, personal growth etc. you will have learned at this point to purge inner negativity and trust your intuition.

you won't let bad people or bad habits hold you back anymore. you may have dealt with addictions or obsessions, control issues and materialistic tendencies. five years from now, you will have moved away from these things or at least be putting in the effort to start the journey of doing so. it's sort of like a rebellion. there will be people trying to hold you back but you will break from the shackles. those who chose this pile will be fighting against societal expectations, familial expectations and also personal expectations in order to become a better person and have a better life. there is a lot of personal growth in the next five years and life will still come with difficulties, but you'll be in a much better position to handle them.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 — 𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

for a number of you, i see that you will have travel on your agenda. it could be that you travel for work, or you have moved abroad. either way, there is a lot of focus on planning for international trips. i think travelling will help you discover yourself. in terms of travels, it may be a very big decision, probably one of the biggest decisions of your life. you'll be pondering a lot about whether or not you should have moved or move in the near future, or if a job which requires a lot of travel is the right job for you.

i see you being a very emotional person in five years but for the most part, you seem to be emotionally stable, or in touch with your emotions. i don't see a lot of wild or erratic emotions or behaviours but rather quiet and introspective moments trying to understand your personal feelings. you will feel confident and content with your life that you no longer feel the need to lash out or experience extreme stress. you can deal with emotions properly and even if it takes time, you will be gentle with your emotions and nurture them. you may also experience loneliness in five years. for some, you may be going through a breakup. for others, you could be estranged from your family. and for others, it could be that you feel lonely because of life itself. travelling can also make one experience heavy loneliness.

although emotional stability is prominent, i do think those who chose pile two should be wary of financial loss or instability. maybe isolation makes it difficult to have access to money. you may have lost some money due to poor investments or perhaps your lifestyle is too expensive. or perhaps it is due to economic factors which make it difficult to afford things. overall, you will feel quite insecure with your finances. it could also mean you feel poor in other aspects of life, such as relationships.

but on the plus side, there is some positivity because achievements and satisfaction are standing out. you may be meeting someone who can help you in a lot of ways. a person who helps you get back on your feet. there is a lot of generosity, too. those who see you struggling will want to help you, not just in a financial sense. you may be quite moody and dependent on bad things but you will also be working towards leaving it behind. you could have a habit of pushing people away, but what you really need is to push away the negativity in yourself and work through personal issues. i see that happening or beginning to happen in your life five years from now.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 — 𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙧 + 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠

my first impression is that there is tonnes of good energy here. your life in five years will be pretty nice and filled with happiness and content. around you, you will have a great community. a tight social circle but you may be a prominent member in your communities or networks. i see things moving very smoothly. also, i think you might be the type of person who has a lot to celebrate. in five years, you'll be going out a lot, maybe drinking and dancing and overall celebrating the achievements of life and also those around you.

i'm getting major extrovert energy, so maybe if you are currently an introvert, you will come out of your shell and find a group of people you can be comfortable around. and although there is a lot of outgoing and bubbly energy, there is an air of introspection and taking time for yourself. you will have time alone to rest. most of you who chose pile three will be in a relationship, likely a committed one. for some, it may even be marriage and for some it could be that you're starting a family. some may also be moving into a permanent home. you will have achieved a lot, even if it is not these things. for example, a job or a degree or personal development.

like i said, there's a lot of positive energy here and for a lot of you, you will be working on healing your inner child's. some will also be sharing this journey with someone else, such as a partner. there is also creativity and pleasure showing itself and i think you'll have enough free time to pursue personal hobbies and interests. a lot of you could also be reuniting with old friends or family members. i'm inclined to say that for a few, you will reunite with someone from your past and they could possibly be your life partner, if not a lifelong friend once again. i don't know what else to say, i've never had a pile with so much positivity. the version of you five years from now seems so happy and content, like you're accomplishing everything you put your mind to.

there may be some things you need to contemplate. a big life decision, such as getting married or having kids or buying a house or going to university etc. the possibilities are endless but i definitely see at least one big life-changing decision which will be made. but after meditation and contemplation, you will be very happy with your decisions in the end. there is so much harmony and love and bright energy, lots to celebrate and lots to look forward to. and for those who will be in a relationship, the attraction will be very strong!

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 — 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 + 𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙨

some of you will be feeling stressed and in a repressed or oppressed position, but you will still be accomplished. i honestly had a hard time getting cards for this pile so i think you will be in a "stuck" energy, like you can't get out. out from where? i'm not exactly sure but i think it has to do with finances and career. for example, you will be very stressed but i see your financial position will be decent, if not well-off. so you may be stuck in hard working job where you earn a lot of money but it's a lot of work and draining, could be forcing you to work too much overtime, etc. it could also mean you will be earning a lot but stuck in a financial cycle of not increasing wealth - for example, you may spend high levels of money or give money to those who are dependent on you so in the end you aren't increasing your wealth because your money is leaving you as soon as you receive it. be careful of those who ask you for money and make sensible spending decisions.

however, i still see you feeling very accomplished, as if you have the job you've been working for. you might also be working a "traditional" job, i'm seeing the generic nine til five except you're worked to the bone. but for some, i do see this energy only being for the earlier part. for example, the more you experience the work, the better you get at it. the job is stressful but it will get better over time. you might be wallowing in self pity thinking "did i choose the right job for myself?" but when you look at how far you've come, you will not want to leave it all behind.

i also see a new beginning for some of you. whether you leave the stressful environments behind or not, i think most of you will have a new take on life all together. you may also be travelling to different parts of the world. i think this negative energy may lead to you having missed opportunities. for example, you may be so stressed out that you forget to apply for a promotion, or you're too focused on work to explore interpersonal relationships or anything along those lines. this stagnant and heavy energy will get in the way of a lot of things.

but overall, the energy isn't too draining. you will have a lot to your name and a lot to feel proud of so whenever you feel down, you will remind yourself of all the things you can do. in the end, i think you can take better care of yourself and let yourself rest, learn to cater to yourself and nourish your personal attributes and hobbies, but it will take a lot to get there. the you in five years may be stuck in "bad" energy, but you will also have the power to pull yourself from it and put yourself first.

[crippleprophet]

rules of engagement before we begin: do not seek the original post out to interact with it negatively or harass op in any way. if i find out about anybody doing that sort of shit i’ll block them so quick it’ll be the fastest i’ve moved all year. ok thx here we go

[image description: three screenshots of a post with the username blacked out. the introductory & closing paragraphs are as follows, & the bullet points will be listed within the body of this post. the introduction reads:

nobody warns you this but addiction happens without you noticing and one of the first things that it attacks is your ability to care. if you find yourself using recreational drugs every day, stop and take one day a week sober. if you struggle with this or if you don't see the point of the exercise, you are likely already addicted and you need help.

nobody ever taught me the warning signs for drug addiction, only that "it costs lots of money and destroys your life!!!1" which is not helpful if you can't recognize a developing addiction in yourself. so here's some things to watch out for with recreational drug use.

the conclusion reads: yes this applies to weed. weed is a drug and you can get addicted to it like any other substance. addiction is not the same as physical dependence; it is psychological and it can happen to anyone. you are not immune to addiction. end image description.]

now! fundamentally why i will never align with this kind of perspective is that i affirm addiction as a social construct, like all so-called mental illnesses, & the psychiatric institution which invents & reifies them as a fucking sham.

answer quickly:

what substances is it possible for one to become addicted to? does this include caffeine? why or why not?

is the claim of sugar addiction legitimate or anti-fat pseudoscience? what, if anything, differentiates this from other addiction science?

what is the harm of the so-called opioid epidemic: access to a safe supply of narcotics, or the lack thereof?

can an autistic person who eats the same dinner every night, for example, be said to be “psychologically addicted” to it if they have a meltdown & subsequent ongoing distress + disinterest in food when it is discontinued?

can you be addicted to psychiatric medication? immunosuppressants? why or why not?

my point is less that these behaviors are not indicative of addiction but rather that that wouldn’t inherently make them harmful. fuck it, let’s take it point by point!

planning your day around drugs e.g "i'll give myself an extra half hour before heading out so i can get high first"

this whole post had me asking “literally what is the problem with this,” starting with this first bullet! why does someone need to leave for the grocery store at 5:30 instead of 6, or whatever? and the other recurring theme: what happens if you replace “drugs” with “pain management”? (chronic pain is not the only valid reason to get high—all reasons for drug use are equally value-neutral—but it certainly still is one.) “i’ll give myself an extra half hour before heading out for my pain management to start working” is the kind of calculation familiar to most people with chronic pain. “stop and take one day a week without pain management” is not a test of whether you “need help,” it’s torture.

now, disregarding one’s priorities or commitments to other people in favor of drugs can happen, & in many circumstances it’s harmful to the other people impacted. that’s not what was said here, & stopping that behavior does not require getting sober.

rapidly switching emotions around drugs. you love them but you hate that you love them so much. you hate the way you feel on them but you hate being sober. feeling guilty after using even when you didn't give a crap beforehand.

do you know what else i love but hate that i love, what else i hate using? my fucking bed. three years ago, my mobility scooter. this is not a logical argument, this is a bullshit argument. my feelings about something do not inherently reflect its harm to others – or to myself, even, though i firmly argue for the right to make “self-harmful” decisions regardless.

you know what people hate being on but hate worse being off? the vast fucking majority of medications.

why might a drug user start to feel guilty when they previously didn’t? being shamed by friends, family, or a fucking tumblr post; surpassing a constructed threshold of “acceptable” use they didn’t know they’d internalized; experiencing new or greater access issues; beginning to probe their morality around drugs & unpack things they were taught; experiencing consequences of criminalization; getting triggered.

caring less about spending money. if you are budgeting for drugs like they are food, you are likely prioritizing them more than is healthy.

“if you are budgeting for pain management like it’s as important as food, you are likely prioritizing it more than is healthy.” health is absolutely useless as a value for me anyway, but: the food’s no good if i’m too nauseous or too dead to eat it.

prioritizing drugs over other people’s financial needs is harmful! this wouldn’t happen if food & drugs were provided to people; some people wouldn’t need as many drugs if their needs were met otherwise; people’s needs being met shouldn’t be dependent on their parent / partner / self not using drugs; this harm is not what the bullet says.

getting high to do household chores and other unpleasant things because it would suck less and be more bearable on drugs

“things should suck. because god wills it i said so.”

feeling anxious or restless while sober, not knowing what to do with oneself, feeling lost or ungrounded.

again just. what’s the problem with that. so what if being sober sucks or is boring or stressful or demanding. so what if someone decides to deal with that sober or decides to use more because of that. who gives a shit.

thinking about doing drugs constantly even while sober. maybe it's the first thing you think of when you wake up. maybe when you're bored or otherwise have free time, drugs are one of the first things you can think of to occupy yourself with.

“thinking about getting better pain management constantly when you’re in pain”

i feel like you’re gonna tell me the only thing that can really take my pain away is jesus

again like. what is the problem with doing drugs because you’re bored. why do i need to occupy myself, what, fucking productively?

going to work or school while under the influence, especially if it happens regularly and if you're seeing your performance suffer as a result.

what’s wrong with going to school high. derailing a class discussion is a dick move, maybe, but that’s not inherent to being high. work & performance are both very broad terms – a surgeon or someone operating heavy machinery not being sober is putting others at risk of harm in a way a cashier is not.

the idea of taking a 'tolerance break' sounds good to you until it's actually break time, at which point you can come up with 20 very reasonable sounding points to explain why it wouldn't benefit you actually and you should just keep doing drugs regardless.

y’all think this is incredibly circular logic too right? “drugs are bad, so telling yourself drugs are not bad is proof that they’re bad.” took me right back to the sunday school classroom and i wish i was fucking exaggerating. it’s an argument founded upon the inherent wrongness of trusting yourself – what you want to do must be wrong because you want it. this is one of the points that’s a more solid indicator of, like, “congrats! you’re now in circumstances doctors are salivating to psychiatrize as XYZ Use Disorder,” but that doesn’t make it any less nonsense as a moral argument.

even if you succeed at quitting the drug, you keep your dealer's number on your phone "just in case"

so what. what’s wrong with giving yourself the continual autonomy to choose whether or not to do drugs. what’s wrong with quitting drugs for a while and starting using again.

you pretend to be sober when you aren't. you worry about other people noticing how much time you spend high. you make efforts to hide your drug use or minimize how much other people think you're using. you're scared of other people's judgement if they were to find out.

this one might be the most ludicrous to me, which is really saying something. “if other people being bigoted towards drug users makes you pretend to use less than you do, that’s your fault & not theirs.” cool! thanks for the quick heads up to not believe a word you say!

you have mood swings laced with self-hatred, regret, financial worries, and guilt. these mood swings are then very quickly wiped away by feelings of "but it doesn't matter, i can do what i want, and clearly i'm doing just fine while using drugs frequently". news flash, if you are rapidly switching between feeling numb-ok and hating yourself more than anything because of your drug use, you are mentally ill.

again, “the norm knows you better than you know yourself, you can’t listen to yourself, the body is wrong, wanting is wrong, pleasure is wrong, you are wrong wrong wrong.” but god, what a beautiful example of how oppression is psychiatrized: it’s not enough for the oppression to have worked, the system must then convince us that the effects of it working are our own fault. it’s not enough to just kill us with us fully aware of the knife, it’s gotta convince us we’re bleeding out for no reason. if you want any moments of pleasure during your miserable godforsaken little life you’d better put your nose back on the goddamn grindstone and repent. everything around you for your entire life has told you to hate yourself for your drug use but if the combined force of that violence works you are mentally ill, and that is the worst crime of all.

according to this post, when is it okay to use drugs, then? well, not planned into your day, and not at work or school, but not when you’re bored or have been thinking about it too much, and not if anyone who’d judge you or you don’t trust knowing you’re high or you just don’t want knowing is around, and not if you don’t want to quit, but also not if you’ve quit already. you have to hate your drug use otherwise that’s proof it’s attacked your ability to care but hating your drug use is proof you should stop. #JustSayNo

[crooked-wasteland]

Honestly it annoys me how both the show and the fandom treat Angel dust’s situation like a typical abusive boyfriend and not literal sexual slavery. His trauma is too fantastical to be written in a way where the only way to cope with your abuse is by not crying about your pain and confronting your abusers

If you want to know more specific rewrite ideas, this sort of Ask is how you get me off my soap box and more into the creative aspect of the story.

The issue with the contracts is a serious world-building flaw. Based on the Rosie and Alastor leak, there is no way to end a contract, making the theme about consent entirely moot. The other aspect of Angel Dust's contract is how it doesn't really have any clear payout for him. It seems like he just handed himself over to Valentino with no expectation as to what he was supposed to get in return.

I personally would have made the contracts more like real contracts. Each party offers something in return for something else, and either side can renege if their terms are not met.

Taking Alastor for example, since we have an idea of what he was supposed to get in return for his soul. He gets to be the most powerful Sinner in Hell, but only if he does what Rosie wants. If he acts out of Rosie's best interest, she can return his soul and take back the powers she gave him. On the other hand, Alastor could also tell Rosie that she isn't meeting his expectations and take his soul back, knowing he will lose the powers she bequeathed him in the process.

That means Valentino must have offered something to Angel Dust in exchange for Angel's soul, but we have no idea what that could even be, and the show really wants it to be that AD needs to be rescued.

And that's something we see in all the "contracts between Helluva and Hazbin: one party has no say in the contract. Blitz isn't the one who proposed sex for the book, nor did he have the opportunity to barter the agreement. All he could do, all the situation allowed for him to do, was agree. Because he doesn't just need to have sex with Stolas, he also has to return the book.

Blitz is the one who has the book currently. The ball should be in his court about whether or not he even accepts Stolas' offer. It doesn't play out that way because Stolas can just kill him with a look. There is no ability to barter here and that's why the deal is only able to be seen as coercive.

In terms of the Sinners, Valentino cannot die any more than Angel Dust can. So there is legitimately equal footing under the idea of the contract. And even if Valentino is an Overlord, that doesn't really mean anything to us. Maybe the show will add to their classification, but the main point is that, Overlord or not, Angel Dust should have agreed to receive something back in exchange for his soul. And whether that exchange is fulfilled or not, desired or not, should be fluid enough that either party has the opportunity to break that contract.

[windvexer]

Using Tarot to Identify: a Person From a Small Group [1/2]

Any tarot card can be assigned a variety of indicators that help identify a single person. Most commonly the court cards are used, but old-school methods (such as assigning specific appearance traits, like gender presentation, race, and hair color) may fall flat.

Instead, you can develop and assign your own indicators according to your reading preferences, and the situation at hand.

Suppose you need to identify one person out of a small pool, such as a group of friends. What information would allow you to single out one from the rest?

If all of your friends are equestrians, it's useless to have indicators for athletic, loves animals, likes the outdoors.

What differentiates them? Maybe some of your friends compete, and others just enjoy trail riding. Indicators for competitive; victory and relaxed; nature might be helpful.

Each tarot card has the potential to carry vast amounts of meaning. For any reading, you must identify the relevant meanings to the question, and discard the rest.

This is true also for identifiers. Suppose we think the Knight/Pentacles relates to an outdoorsy nature and connection to animals. A useless card to identify a single equestrian friend. Therefore, those meanings are irrelevant and should not be included in the reading.

Instead, we can focus on other indicators which do not apply to all friends. The Knight/Pentacles can also refer to a very responsible person, someone who is steadfast and slow to act, or someone set in their ways and uninterested in new ideas.

Here we may begin to have indicators which can actually begin pointing to individuals; Kori is very responsible, but so focused on getting every detail right that she barely meets deadlines to sign up for competitions, and refuses to change her ways.

In order to help gather this information, focus on the way you frame your questions, and what spreads you use.

"Who is going to win the next competition" is a weak question, in that it lacks a support structure to hold desired answers. Craft questions in such a way that they are the perfect mold to cup the jiggly jello of the answers you desire.

You must craft your questions to support your reading style, and what makes sense to you.

Does using personality indicators make a lot more sense to you than physical traits? Frame your questions that way.

"Of our friend group, describe the personality of the person who will win the competition." There we go - a solid support structure to encapsulate the exact sort of information you desire.

Be creative. Brainstorm ahead of time and think about what traits make sense to work with, and assign them in a balanced way to the cards you want to use.

Here is where playing with the structures of tarot can be useful. Do all King cards represent authority in some manner, whether legitimate or otherwise? Maybe all Page cards relate to how the person sees and interacts with the world; Page/Swords can be an observant learner, while Page/Pentacles is someone who must learn through hands-on experience, and values experiences highly.

Then you can start to get somewhere.

The winner of the next competition will be an emotional, poetic person (Page/Cups) who must do things for themselves in order to learn (Page/Pentacles) and always helps others with understanding manual tasks (Queen/Pentacles).

This is perhaps someone you can identify, especially when you apply other techniques of tarot. (Two Pages - maybe they come off as innocent or naive, despite their developed knowledge of horses. Two Pentacles - they are probably very down-to-earth and invested in a hands-on career or trade school, they would never just sit behind a desk doing spreadsheets).

The key here is being crafty with your card meanings, and making sure they align to your reading style.

Suppose that you need to identify someone out of a huge pool, such as someone's future husband.

Here the game changes.

Read about it in part 2.

[genericpuff]

yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father

and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗

so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.

And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.

Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.

And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.

Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.

Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.

Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.

But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.

First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.

But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.

And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.

Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".

But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.

Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".

But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.

First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.

And of course we have this one piece of concept art-

Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.

And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.

Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.

He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"

He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"

Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.

There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.

So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.

But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.

And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.

One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.

Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.

Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.