#wonder if family business will do the same

[thatstargazingaquarius]

Update it’s four now

If I had a nickel for every project that included Jonathan Sims in some major way that had changed my perspective on life, I’d have three nickels.

Which isn’t a lot, but it keeps happening and I’m starting to get concerned

[lemurchick]

Another 'wonderful news' from Russia for your consideration! This week, the BRICS forum on traditional values took place in Moscow. And it was fucking insane.

In short, the opening meeting was BRICS countries representatives verbally jerking off on how well they oppress or plan to oppress their people especially women. The only person who bothered to contradict this narrative was Egyptian female writer Doha Mustafa Assy.

I will translate some quotes from the russian article. https://www.kommersant.ru/doc/7311174

Russia: "At some point the roles for women have begun to change towards independence and self-sufficiency. We, of course, love and respect our women very much, but we want them to pay more attention to their families, men and children. We do not want them to strive for business, politics, economics, power, or culture. <...> The main traditional value is the preservation of natural purpose, where a woman continues the family line and a man inspires her to give birth to children."

Pakistan: "Any traditional religion upholds and promotes social values and traditions. No father would want to harm his family. No mother would want to break up or disintegrate her family. This <rejection of family values> is deliberately imposed on us and promoted by some power circles”

Ethiopia: "In our country it is traditionally women who do the cooking, teaching children and other family duties. So the man's role is not as big as the woman's, and this tradition gives the man the freedom to behave like a child." (?????)

Uganda: [This country experience is “extremely important to the discussion of legislative protection of religious values,” emphasized russian politician Dmitry Kuznetsov, referring to the fact that in Uganda same-sex relations are prohibited, and in some cases violators face life imprisonment or even the death penalty.] “We did this to make sure that the country would be preserved. I would encourage countries to behave in such a way that the culture that exists in each country is not imposed on others.” btw Brazil and South Africa representatives didn't say a word here even though their countries legalized same-sex mafrriage years ago.

Brazil: "Marriage in no longer a goal for our citizens and the country has the highest divorce rate in history. Meanwhile, children are most often left with their mothers, with fathers unwilling to take part in their upbringing. As a result, many Brazilian boys are growing up without a father figure and 9% of male inmates in prisons don't even know their father's name. Shifting the balance in favor of women leads to the fact that the position of feminism is growing, and the number of people who identify as LGBT people is growing.” At the end of his speech, he marveled, “This is my first time in Russia, and I didn't know you guys were so conservative. I'm so happy, it's so impressive!” He also admitted that “the people of Brazil know nothing about Russia,” and Dmitry Kuznetsov promised: “We will come to you and tell you all about our saving conservatism.”

Egypt: As I mentioned in the beginning the only person who actively argued against this trend was Doha Mustafa Assy. She said: "We on the contrary has a struggle against patriarchy. Tradition and religion are not on women's side, they help men. A lot of women in Egypt ask for divorce only because they feel like slaves at home. He (the husband) has the right not to let her leave the house according to tradition. BRICS is India, it's China, it's Russia, it's Egypt. We are very different. And maybe what you are trying to do in Russia has already became a problem for us”.

To be honest I don't know what will come out of this forum. Maybe it's just empty posturing, maybe BRICS countries just sent people who had free time on their hand here as a formality. But I despair reading these quotes; twenty years ago we sent a singing duet posing as lesbians to Eurovision; ten years ago I was watching lesbian drama Blue Is the Warmest Colour in a full theater. Soviet Union gave women some attempt in an equal rights in fucking 1917 and we were the first country to send a woman in space. What happened? How has it turned this way? We are now friends with some of the most patriarchal countries in the world and with fucking North Korea. They are planning to remove the Taliban's terrorist status.

What the hell.

[revelboo]

I miss my husband Ratchet owo

Wasn’t sure which doc, so went with TFP

The Weakends Pt 8

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Stretching slowly, it’s the feel of something heavy against your back shifting against you that brings you wide awake. Relaxing when you realize you’re sprawled inelegantly on Ratchet’s red and white chassis, his servos draped across your back. He’s still out as you lift your head enough to see his face and you rest your chin on him to watch him, unwilling to wake him. As exhausted as you were, he’d been nearly dead on his peds and he needs this. Always pushing himself, driven to take care of everyone else and neglecting himself.

• There’s a spot of warmth on him, something soft under his servos as he comes back online. Starting to sit up and catching you against him when you start to slide. “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen you recharge,” you say as he grimaces and wonders how long he’s been out. He hadn’t meant to rest so long, used to recharging in short intervals at his desk, sometimes drifting off while working on research. How long has it been since he’s had any significant rest in his actual berth? Usually his mind is too busy, keeping him wound up. But somehow having you there, feeling the beat of your heart kept him still. “You really need to take better care of yourself, doc.”

• You wait for the cranky grumbling, but he just touches a servo to the back of your head in a gentle bump as a rebuke and sits up completely, warm servos pinning you in place. “We need to check on Bumblebee,” he says, but he doesn’t move or shift his grip on you. Like he’s reluctant to start the day. Leaning against his warmth, you listen to the hum of his spark. Feel his servos flex against you before he vents tiredly and slides off his berth.

• “I don’t think I’ve been so mad at someone as I was at you,” you say as his peds hit the ground and he pauses to look down at you. Your little head is leaned against him, avoiding his optics. “Do you know how hard it is to see someone you care about just not give a damn about themself?” There it is, the root of your anger before. The truth. That it wasn’t his grouchy act that set you off, it was because of the way he pushed himself. Working himself to exhaustion again and again, because of course you’d noticed. Even knowing you, being around you, it’s so easy to forget how observant you are. Always looking to him.

• “I’m fine.” Liar. It’s pretty much what you expect from him, though, to play it off. Everyone else so much more important than his own health and happiness. You expect it, because you understand it all too well. It’s the same way you worry over those three kids, anxiety cranking you tight when they leave with the bots and you want to go with them to watch over them, because they’re just kids. And they’re so easy to overlook, a wrong step, a wrong move? You hate that they might be in danger. Wanting to take care of them and Ratchet, all of the bots. Because as dysfunctional as this is, it feels like a family and you want to protect that.

• “Yeah, so am I,” you mutter in a tone that clearly says that you aren’t. At all. He can feel those walls going back up, but admitting the truth? That he’s so tired of this war, of fighting? That he just wants something to break their way. A place to call home once and for all where he doesn’t have to watch friends die right in front of him. He can’t say those things. Not without cracking wide open, because that anxious worry is all that’s keeping him together. That and you.

Previous

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.

[talonabraxas]

"The infinite is an arrow in the shaman’s quiver and his aim is true."

Jean 'Moebius' Giraud

Intuitive Astrology Forecast December 2024

As we move through the final month of 2024, our hearts may be in a reflective mode thanks to Mercury and Mars being retrograde in unison. We may feel the busy pace of the season too exhausting this year and find ourselves seeking comfort in a slower and more relaxed end to 2024.

Mercury and Mars retrograde together can create a general sense of sluggishness, lack of motivation, and a feeling of climbing uphill. With this cosmic energy at play, we would be wise to take it easy, not take on too much, and prioritize self-care. December can be a stressful month for many with holiday travel and family plans, but if you needed any excuse to keep it low key this year, these two retrogrades are a good one!

While we do have Mercury and Mars both slowing down our cosmic airways, we also have this theme presenting of wrapping up the past. Issues that we have been dealing with for the last 6 months may begin to settle or resolve. We may start to realize the bigger picture or begin to see new truths. This will especially kick into gear as Neptune stations direct on December 7.

December is also a special month as we are gifted with a Black Moon. This occurs when we have two New Moons in the same calendar month. December 2024 opens with a Sagittarius New Moon on the 1st and ends with a Capricorn New Moon on the 30th.

New Moons represent new beginnings and the start of a new cycle, so it seems we will be welcoming something new in the month of December. We may feel a burst of inspiration or fresh energy flowing our way, or we may decide to plant some new seeds for the months ahead.

Sagittarius is an adventurous sign, whereas Capricorn is ambitious, so we have some adventurous ambition on our side when it comes to creating new goals and laying new paths. Use this energy to your advantage by setting intentions on each of these New Moons, and watch how those seedlings sprout as we move into 2025!

December also brings the Solstice, a powerful day for our life-giving Sun. On this day, we celebrate the light. Whether experiencing the darkest or the lightest day, we are reminded that life always flows in cycles.

As we wrap up the year, perhaps it is worthwhile to honor the cycle you have journeyed. Even if you are not happy with where you have landed or if 2024 has brought some incredible struggles, this, too, is just part of the whole. Allow the cycles of our sun, moon, and stars to be a reminder that nothing stays the same for long and eventually, just like our Sun, we will enter a new phase of being.

Here are the key astrological dates for December 2024-

November 30/December 1- Sagittarius New Moon

We welcome our month with a new lunar cycle, a reminder that it is never too late to begin again. The adventurous and playful energies of Sagittarius will help us to make our mark. Represented by the arrow of the archer, Sagittarius reminds us that when we put our mind to something, when we take aim, there is nothing we cannot achieve. Plant some ambitious seeds under this New Moon, allow the prospect of these seeds to fill you with wonder and awe. Think big! And then watch how these seeds take hold in the new year. This New Moon also falls directly opposite the planet of optimism, Jupiter, so wherever you have found yourself at this point in your life journey, look for the silver lining – you will most certainly see it!

December 2-4: Antares Stargate Portal

Antares is known as one of the four Royal stars and during this time period, the Sun conjuncts with Antares, activating its energy and beaming it straight into our beings. Antares is known as the heart of the Scorpion, and this energy can open our own hearts. We may be feeling more abundant and creative. We may be feeling more compassionate and supportive towards ourselves and loved ones. In some cultures, Antares is considered the resting place for souls after they depart their bodies and make their way to the afterlife. It is under the energy of Antares that they can weigh up their regrets, triumphs, and memories. We don’t have to wait till we are on our way to the afterlife to do this. Take some time under this Star portal to reflect on the course of your life. Is there someone you need to forgive? Is there someone you need to call? How can you use this energy to bring yourself into a state of peace with all that has unfolded?

December 4- Retrograde Mercury Opposite Jupiter

Mercury has been retrograde since November 25, and now it aligns directly opposite Jupiter. Jupiter can expand whatever it touches, and as Mercury Retrograde is linked to miscommunications and delays, we may be experiencing our fair share of these today! Mercury Retrograde however, is also a highly intuitive time, so we may find our intuition peaking. Trust your instincts, especially when it comes to the timing of your life.

December 4- Sun Square Saturn

A potentially challenging day where you may feel tested, prodded, and pulled! Pay attention to what is happening around this time, as it will serve as a guide for where you need to set your boundaries and manage your time and energy levels throughout the month.

December 5- Sun Conjunct Mercury Retrograde

This is a power day in the Mercury Retrograde cycle! Known as Mercury Cazimi this is when we start to see a turning point in whatever miscommunications or inner wisdom Mercury Retrograde is trying to bring to the surface. It is at this point that we may start seeing things with clarity. Just be patient however, and give things time to reveal themselves. Don’t rush ahead and be extra mindful of your personal belongings- Mercury Retrograde can sometimes turn us into scatterbrains!

December 6- Mars Retrograde

It’s one of the most critical cosmic events of the year! Mars Retrogrades the least out of all the planets, so it is definitely one of the most consequential retrograde cycles we can experience. Mars Retrograde helps us to redefine how we are choosing to spend our energy. It can adjust what motivates us and help us to reorganize and reprioritize what we choose to give importance to. Mars Retrograde can create a sluggishness when it comes to our motivation and feelings of energy, but this is all part of the re-harmonization process. Mars will begin its retrograde in Leo before making its way back into Cancer. Both of these zodiacs are very heart-led, so we may find our focus on matters of the heart. Mars Retrograde through Leo will focus on self-love and our authenticity, whereas Mars Retrograde in Cancer will turn our attention to our home and family lives. Mars will remain in Retrograde until February 2025. You can learn more about this potent cycle here.

December 6/7- Venus Conjunct Pluto

Venus moves into Aquarius where it will align with Pluto. This planetary duo can bring up power struggles in our relationships, but can also boost the intensity. If you want to get your way, focus on your feminine powers.

December 7- Sun Opposite Jupiter

The Sun moves directly opposite Jupiter, the planet ancient astrologers considered the lucky planet! Lucky rays may shine upon us, but in the words of Deepak Chopra- “luck is simply opportunity meeting preparedness.”

December 7- Neptune Direct

Neptune ends its retrograde, bringing clarity and new insights our way. Neptune Retrograde can open our third eye and help us to access portals of higher dimension with greater ease. Now that it is stationing direct, we are guided to work with the transmissions we have already acquired. Chances are, some new information may have come to light, or perhaps we are now able to see the world or a situation in a different way. This is a day to honor our authentic selves and to trust our intuition.

December 12- Venus Opposite Retrograde Mars and 12:12

The two cosmic lovers rest on opposite ends of the zodiac. It is time for them to go their own separate ways before returning together again. How can you use this symbolism in your own life? Venus and Mars on opposite ends of the zodiac wheel can help us to balance our masculine and feminine. We may find that the feminine presence of Venus helps us to slow down and savor what we have achieved instead of reaching for more.

It is also the 12th day of the 12th month, giving us the number code 1212. 12 is a powerful number of completion. Sometimes it is only at the end that we are able to understand the whole and to see the bigger picture vision. Hold space for these ideas on this day.

December 15- Gemini Full Moon and Mercury Direct

It’s the last Full Moon of 2024 and it falls in the sign of the Gemini twins. The story goes that one twin was mortal, the other immortal, and together, they create the balance of what it means to be human. We are both a soul and a body and during our time in this earthly realm, it is our job to honor both sides of the equation. The Gemini Full Moon also represents a powerful point of completion and endings. If there are things you want to do away with and not bring into 2025, this is the perfect time to set those intentions.

Mercury also stations direct on this day, allowing our minds to move into a new clarity. Pay attention to what messages come your way at this time, as they are likely divinely inspired.

December 18- Sun Square Neptune

Neptune has just stationed direct and is now coming into a tense alignment with our Sun. Any lessons or gifts that the retrograde was supposed to deliver will be brought to the surface now. Trust your intuition and stand up for yourself if something feels amiss. Be mindful not to move through the day with rose-colored glasses. Don’t give the benefit of the doubt unless they truly deserve it.

December 19- Venus Trine Jupiter

A beautiful planetary duo! This harmonious combination of planetary energy will shed good fortune on this day! This is a great day for creative projects, socializing, and shining bright! Make use of this day by doing something you love.

December 21- Winter Solstice/ Sun enters Capricorn

Welcome to Capricorn Season and the Solstice! Here, we celebrate either the longest or shortest day of the year. But, no matter where we are on our great cosmic cycle, we won’t stay here for long! Things are always moving and shifting, and nature is a great reminder of that. Capricorn Season is a time to honor our innate gifts and to celebrate ourselves for all that we are. It is an ambitious sign that can give us the stamina to make it through the holidays and into another year!

December 27- Venus Square Uranus

Venus square Uranus can be a potentially volatile combination. Perhaps use this as an excuse to have a low-key day where you are able to focus on the things that you really wish to do. Instead of saying yes or trying to please others, please yourself!

December 29- Chiron Direct

Chiron ends the year with a power move! Chiron stationing direct represents a new turning point when it comes to finding peace. We all have wounds, and Chiron gifts us with remembering that our wounds can lead to beautiful openings and a deeper authenticity. As it emerges from retrograde, we too, can emerge from some painful wounding of the past. Perhaps we can create space to realize that even though we are wounded, we can still lead a beautiful life.

December 30- Black New Moon in Capricorn

We end the month like we began it, with a New Moon! The second New Moon in a calendar month is known as a Black Moon. This is perfectly timed with the start of the new year and is a great way to set intentions for the new chapter ahead. Capricorn is a very ambitious sign, so set some big goals for yourself- you may just surprise yourself on what you can achieve!

[rayan12sworld]

🧡our reflections as seen (when the water stills)

By:chatonnerie

Summary:

Lan Wangji was dreadfully concerned when he learnt his best friend's brother was a ghoul.

Jiang Cheng really wished his brother's new stalker wasn't a dove.

Wei Wuxian was just happy his friends and family seemed to care so much about him.

No wonder it took them all so long to figure out what Qishan Wen were up too.

Chapter:10/10

Words:121,220

Status:completed

[Tokyo ghoul au]

“And we’re just meant to take your word on that?” Jiang Wanyin asked, suspicious. Lan Xichen bowed his head.

“My word is all I can give. However, please know that I will never cause any harm to your brother.”

“Why?”

Lan Xichen blinked, resigned, “Because my own would never forgive me.” They all turned to the pair, to Wei Wuxian’s still form, Lan Wangji curled over so tightly to cradle him, foreheads resting together, lips moving in reassuring whispers too soft for even ghoul ears.

~~

Lan xichen straightened up immediately at the sight of dark tendrils spreading out from Wei Wuxian’s waist, getting ready to call a warning and grasping his pistol’s handle tighter. About five rinkaku tendrils slovenly drifted over, wrapping around Lan Wangji at the same time that Wei Wuxian wiggled his arms free to hug Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji, for his part, just felt the kagune embrace him along with Wei Wuxian, as if his partner found only two arms not enough limbs to properly cuddle him, still purring. (Adorable.) Wei Wuxian was adorable.

~~ your brother here has a heart attack, and you are saying Wei Ying is adorable 😂😂

“Wangji,” his brother’s voice was soft, cautious, staring at them vaguely perplexed, “. . . it’s dangerous to be so attached.” “It is alright,” he replied simply, “Wei Ying is my friend.” (Friend? I didn’t know friends cuddled together like that?! Are you still in denial, little brother? It’s cute, but a bit ridiculous?! Have I failed as a big brother in teaching you about emotional understanding????)

~~~

“I know.” Lan Wangji blinked and oh fuck he was about to cry, “B-brother has been busy. And stressed. I didn’t want to b-be a burden.” “Wangji.” “I can’t lose him, Brother,” he bit out, “I couldn’t bear losing him. If everyone knew, if Wei Ying got hurt, because of me, I . . . I would . . .” (What would he have done? What could he possibly do in a world without the one beside him?)

~~

“Hello stalker.” He sighed internally. “I am not.” Beside him, Jiang Wanyin looked like he’d sucked on a particularly sour lemon, ghoul taste included. “I know.” “I will not harm Wei Ying.” “I know.” “He is too important to me.” Jiang Wanyin squinted at him. “You’re just rubbing it in now, right?” Lan Wangji blinked at him, once. And nodded.

[masteredinstinct]

he follows lestat's lead and downs the rest of his drink , hissing as he sets the glass back down . the whiskey was meant to warm his belly up after that walk in the rain but , this time , it burns . so much so that it helps him ignore the smirk on lestat's lips ( like the cat that ate the fucking canary ) . before louis gets a chance to recover , there's more whiskey on the table . probably better this way ; if he continues to drown himself in alcohol perhaps his thoughts will become muddled abstract things , no longer prisoners to lestat de lioncourt's gravitational pull .

and , as if on queue , the other man tips his head back , contemplating the room's ceilings , exposing his pale neck to the dim lights . louis glances at him and feigns indifference perfectly --- but he cannot help but wonder what goes through the blond's head , sitting there beside him , buying louis drinks , calling him all of these pet names ... is he fond of him ? certainly not to the extent louis du lac is fond of the blond , but still ; to have a friend as close as he , one who has seen him shed tears at the opera and listened to him pour his heart out over his family , his fears , his dreams --- was that too not a form of love ? it was certainly not the romance he envisioned when left alone in his chambers ( louis quickly took a gulp from his drink , hoping it'd wash away the sinful memories from his mind ) but still --- to be known , TO BE SEEN ... some men would never know such joy but louis did ! and to have lestat de lioncourt as his unlikely saviour was a greater blessing than louis should have ever been given .

lestat comments on the temperature and louis scoffs . he's about to suggest that he should stop downing his whiskey like water but stops in his tracks ; the frenchman is undoing his shirt with the same nonchalance he had stripped naked whilst window shopping with louis . were these the european sensibilities all those well-travelled men spoke of ? or did lestat know just how beautiful he looked to the rest of the world ? brown eyes struggle to pull away from the exposed skin but still , they do . louis stares straight ahead now . anyone else might have thought he had set his eyes on the pretty redhead waltzing across the other side of the room ... but his peripherals are painfully aware of lestat's presence .

the ice clinks against the walls of his glass . and before he knows it , louis is speaking again . " you should take that vest off . " his brow is knitted but he does not glance at lestat after offering his helpful suggestion . instead louis busies himself with another sip from his drink . it's an innocent solution to a mundane problem ... why should he hesitate ? he shouldn't . dark eyes shift to meet lestat's and though louis' stare is steady , he feels as if he holds his friend's gaze for far too long .

      it feels like a stalemate. louis moving his pawns in a way that makes it abundantly clear that there are limits to what they can discuss. it is far from second nature for him to yield and yet he seemingly has by offering his apology.  “and to you, louis,” lestat raises the glass to his mouth another time with a smug, self-satisfied smile on his lips, “saintly and forgiving.” he empties the thing and ignores the wretched feeling that passes through his body. a shiver runs cold down his back: what a fool you are, lestat, to be in love and playing by his rules.

      lestat signals for another round to be brought to them. money is no issue and he has half a mind to bribe every person in the room to leave: empty the establishment and give louis a chance to act on the impulse. HIS GAME, HIS RULES. in lestat’s mind their roles are reversed and louis is the one leaping at him with a kiss. he nearly chokes thinking of what he might taste like - if the alcohol has become sweet on his breath or if he can taste the freshness of this evening’s rain. would he be wearing that same cocky smile? lestat leans further back into his chair, tips back his head and stares up at the ceiling for a bit. it seems perhaps like a nonchalant gesture, but it is far from it. he is trying and failing to get the images to leave his mind. 

      “it’s quite warm” he comments, eventually, while a hand comes up to fumble with the first couple of buttons on his shirt. to hell with propriety, he thinks,shame does not have a place at a whorehouse like the fair play and louis should learn as much. it’s all too tempting for him to seek out louis’ eyes and make sure that he is looking, but he doesn’t. instead, he undoes the buttons like HIS FRIEND is supposed to think nothing of it as he exposes parts of his chest - just a natural occurrence.  

[beans-and-shet]

"Welcome home, Aoyama-kun!"

Aka Masaya surprises Ichigo by completing his abroad program and coming home early.

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

had quite the night drive earlier this evening.

[h-doodles]

boy the sudden outpour of angst ideas for larissa weems x reader in my brain got me weeping so bad i feel a fever coming on

[prismatica-the-strange]

Nope, I'm still crying

[giantkillerjack]

My sister-in-law frustrates me to no end even though we barely ever interact because she keeps inviting my partner to parties with her Christian Republican friends, even though my partner told her not to send an invite to us if those friends will be there. And even though my sister-in-law is bisexual!!

And then she turns around and complains about not knowing how to deal with her friends saying, like, horrible sexist stuff as though that is just some natural unavoidable quirk of having friends!

Like, these Christian Republicans she has befriended don't seem to be kind - they're not even nice a lot of the time! They don't make for good friends, and she doesn't seem happy or supported in relation to them. In fact, she basically only ever talks about how her friends and/or current boyfriend are making her unhappy!

Because here's the thing: The effect of prioritizing 'including your Trump-supporter friends at your parties' over 'being invested in creating a safe space for marginalized people in your home', is that people who DO care about creating those safe spaces... won't wanna hang out with you! Because if you invite both cats and mice to your table equally, only the cats will show!

She's so afraid of losing the shitty friends she has now that she allows them to act as barriers to accessing friends who are invested in her wellbeing in a capitalistic hellscape!

It makes me sad because she's basically trapped herself, and there's nothing I can do to offer help without either compromising my morals or making my partner's life way harder by starting shit with her family.

Like, I consider myself a good friend, yeah? I try really really hard to be one, and it matters to me immensely. I am ride-or-die for the folks I love, and I am invested in being open and vulnerable and radically safe to be around when it comes to building strong friendships that are mutually fulfilling. I have a unique talent for validating people that I have honed for years because I genuinely want to make sure people feel safe and loved and seen.

And if my sister-in-law and I were friends, I could give all of that to her. I would strive to be an example of what it looks like when someone decides to care about you and treat you right on purpose, without expecting anything in return but your mutual respect. She would be family. She would be [Queer] Family. I would see to it that she knew she could call on me when she needed a friend.

But like.

This asshole has invited me to hang out with Trump supporters on multiple occasions.

We ain't gonna be friends.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

🪶

[ectoplasmer]

sorry it’s early and i’m brushing my teeth while the sun is rising since I passed out last night before I got the chance to, and we’re getting genuine sunlight for the first time in weeks, and I’m busy contemplating just how ridiculous this series is

[radiance1]

By all accounts, it shouldn't have worked.

By all bloody accounts, that should not have worked.

Constantine will repeat.

That, by all accounts, should not have worked.

The warehouse was shitty. The materials were shitty. The summoning circle was shitty. The chanting was shitty. The magic was shitty.

By all accounts, the summoning should not have worked.

So Constantine couldn't give much of a shit about really stopping it because the summoning was so shitty it shouldn't have worked by an means possible.

So what. In the ever-loving fuck. Was the Ghost King, known tyrant of the Infinite Realms. Standing in the middle of the circle and not, last he checked, imprisoned?

That was another thing that he thought would have made it fail, actually. Because the Ghost King was incapacitated, asleep, gone, unavailable, nada.

So what. The fuck. Was he doing. Here?

Constantine knew the day was going to well to stay that way but wow. The universe loves to fuck him over, apparently.

Or the Justice League in specific.

Or both.

Doesn't matter, because now he has to bullshit his way out of this or get ready to brawl for his life.

Good thing he's good at both of those things, then.

Mostly the bullshit-

"Phantom what the fuck are you doing-" Constantine wheezed out, watching one of their newest members-a ghost going by the name Phantom-fly over in front of the known tyrant and-

Oh.

Oh, holy shit this won't end well.

Ghost King.

Phantom. A ghost.

Well, shit.

This is fine. This is totally fine. He just needs to bullshit his way out of this or face two powerhouses.

This is fine.

He's done worse.

"Sup War" Phantom said, floating around the summoning circle that contained the king of all ghosts like it wasn't a problem. "Didn't expect to be seeing you here."

"Ward." The Ghost King inclined his head slightly, eyes trained on Phantom. "I would not have come here if not for Time's insistence and I have been meaning to..." The King paused, hands gripping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword. "...Check in... on you."

"Aww, were you worried about lil old meeeee?" Phantom, ever the little shit and holy shit did Constantine want to go over there and shut him up, said. Floating around until he was staring upside down in the Ghost King's face. "Didn't know you were so soft, pa."

"I am not soft." The King huffed, flame dancing at the edges of his hair. "I was merely... concerned. Over how you would be acclimating to your circumstances. This world's League of Justice covers far more than your small haunt."

"Weeeell, it's not that bad honestly." Phantom admitted. "Haven't really done anything too big yet just some smallish things here and there. So, you know." The ghost boy shrugged, swinging back in the air to turn upright and crossing his legs. "Nothing too bad."

"Good." The Ghost King nodded, shoulders slumping so slightly that if Constantine wasn't looking, he wouldn't have seen it. "That is good. Yes. Good." The King slightly cleared his throat, grasping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword.

Silence echoed in the warehouse as the King seemingly looked for words to say.

"Would you..." He cleared his throat again, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. "Would you like to join me and Time for a meeting? It has been some time since you had last joined us." The King shifted slightly before adding. "Of course, if you're busy you do not have too."

"Sure." Phantom said, rolling back and forth in the air as he hummed. "Been a while since we've had some family time-"

"Family time?" Constantine caught someone-who he thinks was Green Lantern-say. He was just as bewildered.

"And if Time sent you here then it must be important." Danny paused before shrugging. "Or maybe not, can never know with him. But yea, sure. I'll come."

"Wonderful." The Ghost King smiled. Smiled. At Phantom. "Then I shall. Leave. Now. To do. Things. Yes. Things." The summoning circle flashed a familiar green, the same green when the King was first being summoned. "Goodbye, ward."

"You can call me son, you know."

The King paused for a moment, blinking slowly before hesitantly nodding.

"Then goodbye. Son."

The circle flashed and just like that. The king was gone.

"Kid. What the fuck." Whoever said- okay wait no that was Constantine, him. But yea fuck it he agrees with himself. "What the fuck." He repeated.

Phantom, the brat, only gave him a shit eating grin and a peace sign before disappearing on the spot.

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel O'Hara blurb because I'm obsessed

UPDATE: Part 2

I love the DBF!Miguel O'Hara scenarios that have you sneaking around and fucking while your family is around and unaware BUT consider:

DBF!Miguel O'Hara who offered to let you stay at his place when you moved out for college. You don't have to worry about rent or anything because he'll take care of everything. He'll take care of you.

It all seemed so good and innocent at the start. You even got to have the place to yourself most of the days because of his demanding job. Miguel said you can bring your friends over but no romantic partners or flings allowed. Not that you had anyone in that way when you're so busy yearning for Miguel. You've had a crush on him since forever and every time you tried to get into a relationship or have sex with anyone, anyone your age, your mind always compared them to Miguel. For the longest time you were hopelessly yearning, convinced that he'd never return your feelings until one night.

You were lying in bed trying to catch your breath after fucking your pussy raw with your vibrator thinking about how hot Miguel looked that morning in his nice suit, ready for an important business meeting he had. You were about to fall asleep when you felt the bed dip and suddenly Miguel was pulling you close to him, your back against his chest. Your bare ass still wet from your own slick, flushed against his erection and the only barrier that separated you was the same sexy suit you had been fantasizing about. He was so big, he felt bigger than how you imagined him and your cunt throbbed, seemingly ready to be used and abused again.

He kissed your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his while murmuring how long he had been wanting to do this. He heard you moaning his name when you thought he was going to come home late and he immediately called in his office to tell them he's taking a sick leave. He's going to spend that time fucking you, on every surface in the house, making up for all those times you teased him in the mornings just walking around in an oversized shirt and no bra. You didn't even wear shorts around him, gave him a show of your cute ass, trying to reach mugs from the high kitchen shelves. He had to go shamefully jerk off in his car just so he didn't have to go to work with a very obvious boner. How'd he explain that to your dad when he inevitably bumped into him in the office? His precious little daughter living under the same roof as this pervert?

Hearing you moan his name while you fucked your slutty cunt was the last straw, all his self restraint went out the window. He took your vibrator from your hand and let it overstimulate your swollen clit but immediately take it away when he feels you almost going over the edge. You whine and beg him to let you cum but he just laughs. He promised you'll cum plenty of times, more than you can handle.

Of course he eats your pretty pussy out and fuck you all night in so many different ways, in positions you never even heard of. Your pussy was swollen and oversensitive, and you're pretty sure your cervix is deliciously bruised. Miguel kisses your pussy as an apology but gets distracted and tongue fucks you and makes you cum again.

You slowed down some time in the morning. Miguel made you breakfast but soon enough you found yourself bent over the kitchen counter getting railed again. You don't know how this man had that much stamina at his age. You were getting close to cumming when you heard your phone ring. Your dad was calling you. You helplessly looked back at Miguel, expecting him to stop so you can pick up the call but he didn't stop and clicked the answer button for you. Your dad happily greets you over the phone wondering how you're doing and you tried to keep your voice steady and told him everything's good and uni was going great. Miguel leaned over, pressing his chest on your back and driving his cock deeper and harder into you. It took everything in you not to cry in pleasure and you wondered if your dad can hear the erotic sounds of Miguel's cock abusing your sopping wet hole and his balls slapping your aching clit.

Your dad told you he heard Miguel was taking a sick leave which he has never done befor. He was convinced that he must be really sick for that workaholic to finally take a break so he asked you to take care of his best friend for him. You told him not to worry because you were taking really good care of him.