#Black Literature Festival

[miguelsslvt]

punk! miguel x innocent! reader

word count: 879

TW: nsfw, smoking, hair-pulling, corruption, swearing, creampie.

request: @sukioyakio ★

A/N: this isn't edited and is poorly made so i'm so sorry. also can i just say thank you so much for over 600 notes on my first drabble?? oh my gosh?? anyways, enjoy and welcome to the club! ^^

imagine punk! miguel being the 'bad rep' of the school. in the 3rd year of college, he took physics, chemistry and spanish language. he would smoke behind the science classrooms, refuse to wear clothes that he calls 'society norms' like a blazer or a button up, and instead wear a black leather jacket with pins like 'pink floyd', or 'anarchist' all around it. he would yell, slander and mock almost every teacher whenever he's in class (which is very rare).

most of the girls honestly adored him, apart from the odd popular girl or two finding him too 'annoying' or too 'muscly' for their liking. he didn't give two shits, he already knew his body count was probably higher then their grades.

but then there's you. sweet, innocent little y/n. where most college students spent their weekends partying, you spent it in your dorm room re-reading 'moby dick' for the 6th time. you took phsycology, english literature and spanish language. and if you were completely honest, the only reason you chose spanish language is because your boyfriend at the time (now ex) was spanish. god, did you regret picking it for him.

you noticed miguel, like every other person in the school would. but your first time was different. you were running late, extremely late for your first class of the day. damn you, alarm. that's when you noticed miguel, outside science block, groaning.

despite being late, you took a curious peek at what the man was groaning about.

'stupid fucking lighter..' he mumbled, trying to light his cigarette, but failing. you knew better then to interfere, to even speak to the most intimidating man in college. but, for some reason, you ended up giving him your lighter.

'thanks, you smoke? i can give you one for a trade.' miguel said, as you smiled so sweetly. you explained how you didn't smoke, or did anything like that, and that you only carried a lighter 'just in case of emergencies'.

that's when miguel's interest in you piqued. you were such a sweet, innocent girl, and that drove something in him. something that he didn't realise he wanted. he usually only went for girls with his taste and style, girls he'd meet at festivals or clubs and were either high as heck or sexy goths. but you, you were different.

soon enough, he realised you were only in his spanish language classes, and that you weren't the best at it. perfect. your weakness was miguel's strength.

that's how you ended up in this situation. bent over miguell's desk in his dorm, mumbling his name as hee proceeded to sbuse his way into your sweet cunt.

'you want to tutor me..? that would be so nice miguel!' you had said so excitedly, there was a spanish exam coming up and miguel so kindly offered to tutor you the friday night. and being so naive and quite desperate for the help, you happily accepted.

his room was filled with different posters and signs like his favourite bands, anarchistic posters, stickers saying things like 'fuck the government!'. his leather jacket was discarded somewhere on the messy floor, as his hands grasped your hips to push you even deeper onto his cock.

'm-miguel.. m-miguel please!' you whined, your mascara running down your face.

he just chuckled, as he pulled your hair lightly, moving you onto the bed as he laid you down on your back, as he started bullying into your pussy once again. he was so mean.

your light blue dress was somewhere on the floor, ripped to shreds. it was your favourite dress, but you had other things to think about at the moment.

'yeah.. you like that, cariño? you like being fucked like a slut? not used to being so used, are you?' miguel teased, as you just moaned in response. he hadn't realised that fucking a cute little angel could be this enticing. fuck, he could get used to this.

'i.. miguel! i-i've never-' 'shh.. i know, i know, a sweet girl like you hasn't ever been treated this way.. i'm sorry for being so rough, but i dunno.. the way you're tightening around me suggests you like the harshness..' he said, his hand wiping your mascara-smudged cheeks. your body was submitting to him in every way possible, and he felt like a starved predator being fed for the first time in years.

'i-is it normal to feel l-like this..?' you whimpered, eyes shut from the pleasure. 'yes.. yes my sweet girl it's very normal to feel like this.. let me give you all the pleasure you've missed out on.' miguel whispered in your ear, as he started thrusting faster and faster, pushing you over to the edge.

you let out a loud moan, your back arching as you came. the way you clenched onto him drove miguel over the edge too. his thrusts became erratic and sloppy, as he let out one more groan as he came deep inside you.

you were panting, your eyes still shut. he pulled out slowly, placing a sweet kiss on your temple. 'god you're so cute..' miguel whispered to you, as you just whimpered in response. he chuckled deeply.

god, he might just get addicted to such a good innocent little thing like you.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[astrosky33]

HOUSE MEANINGS IN ASTROLOGY

[READ] People often question why there’s so many meanings for each planet/house and the reason is so that you can learn more than just one thing about yourself through each placement. Otherwise astrology would be very vague and boring. These are all meanings that I’ve learned from my astrology classes at Kepler College

1ST HOUSE: identity/self, outward personality traits, outlook on life/approach to life, appearance, physical body, beauty, confidence, beginnings, how you initiate/ambition, your mannerisms, your outward behavior, physical fights, your presence, individuality, and passion

2ND HOUSE: money/finances (how we spend it, store it, and manage it), work, short term jobs, your work ethic, material possessions, self worth, values, emotional security, stability, financial security, how you meet financial obligations, your singing voice, giving/receiving, and resources (both material and non material)

3RD HOUSE: communication, your speaking voice/the way you talk, your mind, the way you think/your thinking skills, your perceptions, your opinions, your conscious mind, neighbors, siblings, interests, gossip, ideas/information, mathematics, literature, transportation (only ground not flying/air), local media, social media, cell phones, phone calls, visits, social activity, publishing, early education (before college), short trips, and short journeys

4TH HOUSE: homes/houses, family/family roots, your parents (particularly the mother/motherly figure), your inner child, emotions, foundations, your childhood, heredity, tradition, self-care, places of residence, real estate, properties, femininity, and conditions in early life

5TH HOUSE: children, childlike spirit, talent, creativity, drama, risk-taking, spotlight, romance (shows short term relationships, flings, hookups, and if long term relationships then only puppy love), hobbies, pleasures, objects of affection, vacations, games, speculation, fertility, concerts, festivals, and joy

6TH HOUSE: daily routine/day to day life/daily tasks, your health/fitness/the work you do on your body, your duties, self improvement, consistency, step-siblings, your hygiene, innocence, systems, service to others, co-workers, analytical nature, diets, animals, and your pets

7TH HOUSE: long term relationships, marriage, concern for others, attraction/attractiveness, charm, conflicts, partnerships, business partners, contracts, love affairs, open enemies, close associates, lower courts, negotiations, peers, agents, equality, harmony, and sharing

8TH HOUSE: major transformation, sex, death, longevity, changes, joint/shared finances, investments, stock market, your partners resources, taxes, inheritance, reproduction, seduction, intimacy (in general not only sexual), rebirth, merging, taboos, resurrection, loans, assets, secrets, mystery, businesses, spiritual transformation, magic (especially black magic), psychology, surgery/operations, trauma, periods, and the occult

9TH HOUSE: wisdom, law/laws, beliefs, religion, philosophy, higher education (college/university), viewpoints, languages, foreign environments, in-laws (your relatives through marriage), ethics, long journeys, travel, ideologies, higher courts, media, television, interviews, cross-cultural relations, grandparents, and learning

10TH HOUSE: your legacy, your career, your public image, your status, your reputation, fame, long-term goals, worldly attainment, sense of mission, responsibilities, recognition, authority, father/fatherly figure, experts, bosses, achievements, and professional aspirations

11TH HOUSE: friends, friend groups, gains, money made from career, desires, step/half parents, step/half children, uniqueness, inventions, technology, film, social awareness, influence, manifestations, hopes and wishes for the future, ideals, humanitarianism, associates (not just close ones), groups (in general), politics, social networking, where you make your debut into society, companions, allies, science, socialization/social interaction, clubs, organizations, and parties

12TH HOUSE: healing, the hidden, karma, karmic debts, old age, sleep, mental health, solitude/isolation, dreams (the ones you have when you sleep), hidden enemies, hidden causes, illusions, secret bed pleasures, spirituality, fears, losses, endings, escapism, impersonations, closure, need for withdrawal/privacy, afterlife, limiting beliefs, subsconcious memory, subconscious mind, hypnotism, self-undoing, hidden desires, the past, delay, and restrictions

MASTERLIST

MORE BEGINNER ASTROLOGY

PLANET MEANINGS

© 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[foolishlovers]

hii could i request some of your favoruite human au fics? nothing specific :))

ahhh always!! i have so many!! 💜

Postcards From Paris by ghostrat (12k, G) Crowley has just moved into his Mayfair apartment and finds a postcard addressed to the previous tenant. With no return address, he's left to collect and read the mysterious A.Z.F.'s adventures across Europe, where he hunts for bizarre bibles and rates ridiculously expensive wine in his free time. The question is: How will A.Z.F. react when Crowley finally gets his return address and writes back? --- It was different, he knew, to accidentally read someone else’s postcard versus intentionally perusing one in place of good newspaper over coffee. Crowley decided he was allowed that indecency, to balance out the good deed of safeguarding the mail in the first place. He kicked his feet up onto his desk, scooped up the takeaway coffee that was brought around by their newest intern, and settled in to read some of the most densely crowded handwriting he’d ever laid eyes on.

London, Libraries & Love by wolftea (13k, E, WIP) Smiling warmly at the huddles of students, Aziraphale made his way over to Crowley, who was leaning against his desk. Crowley was dressed in layers of all black (as per usual), his red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail (not as usual, he often wore it down) and he was twirling Aziraphale’s fountain pen between his fingers. “Mister Fell.” Crowley drawled, but the warmth in his amber eyes and the upward curve of his mouth betrayed any attempt at appearing nonchalant. Aziraphale found himself grinning. How on Earth had he ever disliked this man? “Crowley.” He said, eyes crinkling as he plucked the pen out of Crowley’s hands and put it back by his notebook.

New Approaches by FeralTuxedo (19k, M) Aziraphale Fell, Professor of Creative Writing at Tadfield University, welcomes the attendees of the First Conference on New Approaches to Genre Fiction. Among them is keynote speaker and best-selling thriller author Anthony J. Crowley. Aziraphale has not seen him for twenty-five years. Sometimes, he can still feel the ghost of their parting kiss on his lips. Or: Exes reunite at academic conference. A Human University Professor/Author AU.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (27k, T) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (41k, M) Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers. Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye. A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

Fledging by FeralTuxedo (53k, M) Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy. Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him. A human AU/kid fic.

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (70k, E) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

South Downs by summerofspock (76k, E) Blackballed from the industry ten years ago, Anthony Crowley jumps at the chance to star in a new Regency romance miniseries with well-known gay actor Aziraphale Fell in the hopes that it will help him restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley has played all sorts of characters and for the life of him, he can't figure out why he's struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

Or Be Nice by charlottemadison (151k, E) Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbours. And…it does not go at all well, until it does. A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way. +++ “So what’s your deal?” “My-my-my deal?” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m a bookseller, is my deal.” “Oh,” Crowley replied, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound. “It’s just, I couldn’t help overhearing, and --” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You really are an accomplished musician. But I thought -- for after 11PM -- perhaps we could reach some arrangement?” “Arrangement?” Aziraphale felt his his smile turning forced. “Such as, perhaps, playing the drums before eleven? Instead of after?” Crowley stared blankly at him. In fact he stared for so long that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he'd lapsed into ancient Greek again, which he was known to do in bad dreams or during panic attacks.

[natalia-lafourcade]

TONIGHT @ 7PM EST

The Palestinian festival of literature is hosting a panel titled “BUT WE MUST SPEAK ON PALESTINE AND THE MANDATES OF CONSCIOUS” featuring notable guests:

MICHELLE ALEXANDER - Black civil rights lawyer and author of “The New Jim Crow”

TA-NEHISI COATES - Black Award winning writer

NATALIE DIAZ - Award winning Mojave American poet

RASHID KHALIDI - Palestinian- American professor and historian

MOHAMMED EL-KURD - Notable Palestinian journalist, writer and poet.

There will be updates about the ongoing genocide of Palestinians, poetry readings, and additional discussions. Please attend!

Palfest will be streaming it live on their YouTube channel, link below:

[its-alex-drawing]

@olnfweek2024 : Day 3 (Crossover/Memories) (plus my first fanfic!)

-----

Crossover: Avis participating in the Italian Formula 4 Championship!

It might be embarrassing, but I don't really play anything outside of sim racing and other racing games (and OLNF, apparently)—mostly because those were the only ones I bothered to spend money on!

Still, I wanted to incorporate stuff I truly enjoyed into my art. And that's how we ended up with this—along with this fanfic I wrote! It's actually my first time (creatively) writing, so I know it's not the best—though, I still hope that it's not an affront to literature. Anyways, here it is!

----Racing in Rome----

The light azure of the Roman sky was effectively unbroken by clouds, the sunlight absorbing into the black asphalt of the Vallelunga Circuit. This May Saturday, the modest comune of Campagnano di Roma was made into a particularly festive fever. And no more permeating was the competitive spirit than the team pits: tyre warmers being unwrapped, steering wheels fitted to their columns and Abarth engines buzzing to life.

And in those sitting in their Tatuus chassis, a yellow and green helmet familiarized herself with the form-fitted interior. "And—there, in the striped helmet, is Avis Whistler, the newest driver on the grid, hailing from Milan," a commentator noted. "Though, I believe she karted both in Italy and the United States." added another.

Avis sighed. Qualifying left her disappointed—16th out of 24. It would take a tremendous drive to get herself into the points. She steeled her nerves, flipped down her visor and sped out into the crowded pitlane.

The pit exit light flashing green, the pole-sitter's tyres screeched as the chassis bolted forward. Avis was equally impatient when she trailed 15th.

Even on the formation lap, it was apparent to anyone that Avis's driving style—even if it occasionally sent her kart careenering with a tyre torn to shreds—was aggressive, hounding for the brink between over steering and spinning the vehicle out completely. She pushed her Abarth not one rev below its limit on the straights, braked hard and scrubbed her tyres whenever she could—the numerous hairpins were great opportunities to do so. She'd need all the temperature she could get, after all.

It was only passing Roma that Avis slowed herself, aligning the Tatuus with the grid box. Now, the entire grid—all 24 cars—lay still, four cylinders growling in anticipation. Avis's gloved hands tightened around her wheel as her eyes stared ballista bolts at the overhead lights. Her foot subconsciously put revs on the engine.

Suddenly, a red circle pierced the noon sunlight.

Then two, exactly one second after.

Then three.

And four.

Five.

Then there were none.

And away Avis went—tearing across asphalt lanes with a passion unmatched.

----Fin(?)----

It's really short and the ending's a total cliffhanger, but I think I wanna define Avis's character a bit more before I go overboard with the story-writing!

Still, it was mighty fun! I think I'll keep doing it.

-----

Memories (Bonus): The Trio Out for Lunch!

This was just a fun idea I had in my head when I heard the second prompt—not sure if they'd find this experience the most sentimental in their lives, but I think it's with a thousand more of these momentary polaroids that they really take on meaning.

[st-eve-barnes]

Burn (Modern AU Aemond x Fem Reader/OC)

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you're stuck in the library with one other visitor: the quiet and mysterious Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: 18+ for Explicit language and content, mild angst and comfort, some Christmas feels.

Word count: +3700

So my obsession with this man isn't going anywhere soon, I just can't get him out of my head and I had a real craving for some Modern Aemond this week.

Poems used in this fic are from Lang Leav and one of my personal favorites, Pablo Neruda.

(All my fics are also on AO3)

Darkness fell over university campus that December evening. Thick soft snowflakes covered the grounds and the buildings with a peaceful white carpet, just in time for Christmas. Inside the library the only lights were coming from the small reading lamps on the tables and the colorful festive lights from the big tree in the middle of the hallway. 

You sat by one of the tables, tucked away in your warm winter sweater, nose stuck in your books, oblivious to the weather magic outside. There had been a few other people here tonight when you had arrived but by now they had all left, one by one, leaving you alone with the librarian, a young lady who was always more interested in playing games on her phone than in the many enchanting stories in the books surrounding her.

Sometimes you didn’t understand people. 

Your head had been buried in poetry books all week, rereading old favorites and discovering new gems, highlighting sentences that spoke to you, anything to find that spark and become inspired but so far all they left you with was that heartbreaking feeling that you were incapable of feeling anything. 

Your pink marker moved across the page over another favorite : “There are days when the melancholy settles on you like a sudden change in weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. Like the presence of an ache where you can't pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.”

You sighed deeply.

It was Christmas Eve, you could have been with your family, surrounded by your brother’s dumb jokes and your mum’s traditional Christmas roast, drinking too much before unwrapping the presents and then passing out on the couch while some sentimental Christmas movie you’d seen a thousand times played on the old living room tv. No, it wasn’t a big deal or anything, the whole night wasn’t even that special but you had always been a sucker for nostalgia and right now your heart ached for just a little glimpse of home.

Instead you were here and the smell was not one of Christmas turkey but of old books in an old building, a continent away from everyone you knew and loved. You wrapped  your arms around yourself to fight the cold chill running up your spine. 

Focus. You came here to write so why weren’t you writing?

You looked up to see the hands on the big clock ticking away, the page in front of you still as empty as it was 3 hours ago. You stretched your arms up over your head and let out a deep breath.

That’s when you noticed him, seated two tables away from you.

Aemond Targaryen.

You’d seen him around campus before but he was the last person you expected to see here tonight. 

You wondered why you hadn’t noticed him before now because everything about him demanded to be seen. From his long legs covered in black jeans and black leather boots to his long blond hair and pale beautiful face. Tonight he had traded his usual black leather jacket for a black fuzzy sweater, making him look softer than usual. 

And of course the eye patch…you’d heard the rumors around campus but nobody seemed to know exactly what happened except that it had been a violent, tragic accident in which he lost one eye at a very young age.

Aemond was leaning on his elbow and kept his face down, buried deep into his books. Not Literature and Poetry like yours but History and Philosophy. 

His family was one of the richest founding families of the town, everybody knew who they were and who he was. But Aemond wasn’t like the other Targaryens, he never displayed his wealth, he was quiet and usually kept to himself. An outcast almost, everyone knew who he was but nobody seemed to really know him. Every single time you’d seen him around campus he’d been alone. 

Much like yourself.

God, you were getting distracted again. Focus.

You returned your attention back to your books, reminding yourself why you came here tonight. To find that spark, that one little nudge that would kick your writing into gear. The story was right there, in the back of your mind, it just needed to come together and find its way onto the paper.

You leaned forward in your seat, head in your hands and staring down hard at the empty page, willing it to come to life.

You had nothing. 

And the hopelessness set in again. What were you even doing here? Did the world really need another uninspired writer?

You pushed yourself out of your seat. Maybe taking a walk would help clear your mind.

**

Your fingers brushed over the hard covers of the poetry books in the back of the library. It would be closing time soon, there was no point to this anymore. You could read a thousand poems and it still wouldn’t change a damn thing. You had no muse. How could you write a love story when you didn’t even know what love was? How could you write about desire when it was a concept so foreign to you?

You placed the last of the books you borrowed back in its place when a shadow moved behind you, startling you.

When you turned around you found him leaning against the book shelves, arms crossed and a curious look on his face as he watched you. Aemond.

“I apologize, I didn’t meant to frighten you.” His voice was deep yet strangely soft and you realized you had never actually heard him speak before.

“That’s okay, you didn’t."

He gestured to the last remaining book in your hands,”May I?”

“Oh, it’s…”

“Pablo Neruda,” he read, quirking his eyebrow.

“I was just…looking for some inspiration."

He opened the book and started browsing, giving you time to study him without him noticing. His pale long face, full lips and sharp cheekbones, the eye patch you so desperately did not want to focus on but couldn’t help yourself, the blond hair resting on his shoulders. Everything about him was exquisite. His frame strong but thin, his long legs…

“Hmm, I like this one,” his voice pulled you from your thoughts and without looking up at you he started reading the poem:

“While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the gray light unwinds in turning fans. My words rained over you, stroking you. A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. Until I even believe that you own the universe. I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.”

He looked up to meet your eyes before reading the last sentence, voice dropping even lower as he whispered,”I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”

You were frozen in your spot, mesmerized by the raw sensual tone in his words and the way he was looking at you as if he wanted to devour you.

Desire.

That what had been unattainable to you suddenly right here in your grasp, as unexpected as it was undeniable. And he sensed it.

You turned away from him, needing a moment to catch your breath. Aemond didn’t give you one.

Even with your back towards him you could feel his eyes on you, feel him move closer until his hand was on your shoulder. You shivered, no longer from the cold, in fact you were no longer cold at all. He caressed your shoulder gently, then your arm, fingers tracing patterns into your sweater, making you wish you could feel him on your bare skin. When he reached your hand, his fingers brushed against yours…electricity like you’ve never felt.

He waited for your response. You had none, your entire body was burning up and he had barely touched you.

He laced his fingers with yours, thumb circling your skin softly, caressing you as if you were already lovers. His voice a whisper in your ear,”Tell me to stop and I’ll walk away.”

You could feel his warm breath in your neck and you thought you might die if he stopped now. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him.

Your voice was barely even a whisper, but it was all he needed to hear. “Please, stay.”

He pressed his body against yours, his chest to your back, trapping you between the book shelves and him. He grabbed the hem of your sweater with both hands and pulled it up, over your head. 

Then his hand was in your neck, pushing your hair to one side and pulling your top down just enough so he could kiss your shoulder blades. Soft and delicate at first, easing you into it, letting you get used to his lips and his touch. You sighed against him, leaning back against his chest, silently asking for more.

When his lips moved up to your neck his kisses were no longer chaste, he was all tongue and teeth now, needy and wet and you felt so high you were afraid you’d never come down again.

His hands grabbed hold of your waist, keeping you close, lips curling up into a grin when he became aware of his effect on you. He caressed your hips, your stomach, up to your breasts, cupping them softly through your top. You arched into him, starved for every touch.

Neither of you seemed worried about being in a public place where someone might come in at any time and catch you.

But there was no one, there was only him and him was all that mattered. His hands were so warm on your skin, a comforting fire you would gladly get burned by. His lips still on your neck, marking what he claimed as his now.

“Aemond,” you moaned, unable to hold back.

He spun you around to face him and your lips were on his instantly, returning the fire with which he’d kissed you. His teeth grazed your lips while his tongue refused to untangle from yours, kissing you deep and slow and so incredibly passionate. He licked into your mouth as if you were giving him life. 

You wanted his tongue in between your legs. 

Your hands pulled at his fuzzy sweater, desperately needing  to get rid of the layers still separating you two. He took the hint and pulled it over his head, leaving him in just a black t shirt. Your hands roamed over his strong chest and stomach, pulling. More. Closer. God, you needed him so much closer. Your hips involuntary rocked against his and he bit down on his lip, his erection now pressing hard against your inner thigh.

Impatiently he pulled his own shirt over his head, offering you more skin and you eagerly took it, licking his neck and kissing his shoulder while your fingers moved down over his stomach. He hissed when you reached his happy trail and when you started unbuttoning his jeans he quickly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Nuh-uh. You first,” he breathed and he pulled your shirt over your head and unclipped your bra.

You had no time to feel self conscious because his mouth was on your breasts right away, sucking at your nipples until your back arched  and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning so loud the librarian would hear you. His fingers started fumbling with the buttons of your pants, pulling them down and letting them drop to the floor. 

The sudden cold made you shiver for a moment but it didn’t last when Aemond’s lips found your ear again,”May I taste you? Please?”

“Yes,” you breathed, biting your lip in anticipation”God, yes."

A smirk on his face when he added in a low whisper,”I want to lick you until you cum on my tongue.”

You couldn’t speak or function when he dropped down on his knees in front of you, his eye looking up into yours and you realized this was the first time you really looked at each other.

Time stopped.

He was so beautiful, the intensity in his stare made you feel all kinds of things you as a writer should be able to describe better but there were no words for him. No words at all for how he made you feel except that for the first time in a really long time you felt. 

Your hand slipped into his hair, caressing his head softly.

He never took his eye off you as he slowly pulled your panties down and started putting soft kisses on your inner thighs. Your leg was pulled up over his shoulder, giving him all the access he needed. 

That first flick of his tongue on your clit sent shivers right down your spine. He drank you in as if you were the best thing he ever tasted, the soft whimpers and moans falling from your lips encouraging him. His hands searched for yours, finding them and lacing your fingers together as he held you, his mouth pushing you closer and closer to your release.

When he suddenly pulled back you whined at the loss. “Don’t stop!”

He smirked up at you,”I’m not going to stop, but you need to be quiet for me or we’ll get kicked out.”

“I’m sorry,” you couldn’t help but giggle.

He squeezed your hands,”Can you be quiet for me, sweet girl?”

You nodded and bit your lip. Aemond held eye contact for a moment and then his mouth was back on your clit. And you could see stars.

You wanted to scream but you didn’t make a single sound when he made you come undone, hands squeezing yours hard, giving you an anchor to hold onto as your entire body started to shake around him.

You weren’t sure how long it lasted but it felt longer than ever before. The next thing you knew Aemond’s mouth was back on yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His fingers now exploring your folds, not giving you time to recover, teasing, circling, you were so wet and he revelled in it. That satisfied smirk back on his beautiful kissable lips. And then he slipped two fingers deep inside your walls, stretching you, making you bite your lip again just so you would keep quiet.

He was struggling to open his jeans and get rid of his boxers, “Fuck, I need to be inside you, right now.”

This time he was the one fighting to keep his moans quiet and the desperation looked insanely attractive on him. You couldn’t explain it, this pull he had on you, you barely knew him and you doubted he even knew your name. But none of that mattered, if he didn’t fuck you soon the world would end.

“You want it?” he breathed into your ear and teased your entrance with the head of his cock.

Your legs wrapped around him and he lifted you against the book shelves, pushing in slowly while his lips found yours in a sloppy kiss.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he spoke in between kissing you, his voice as soft as his lips ,”I don’t want to…”

“I want you,” you whispered and to encourage him you moved your hips with his,”I don’t care if it hurts.”

He moaned into your mouth and then grabbed hold of your hips, fucking you slowly but more urgently with every thrust. He was big and he didn’t hold back but you could take it. You would take anything he would give you, you were so lost on him.

“Look at me,” he breathed,”You doing okay?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close,”I’m okay.”

His hand moved up to cup your cheek, eye seeking yours and holding eye contact as he started fucking you harder. His forehead pressed against yours. Did he feel it too? This need to be even closer to each other. You whimpered when your orgasm started to build.

“That’s it, my darling, give it all to me, let me take it,” he moaned softly into your mouth,”That’s it, you’re doing so good…so fucking good.”

You were gone after that, not only did you see stars but the entire universe was right there when his hand moved between your legs to find your clit again. His dirty words in your ear pushing you closer and closer to the point of no return. He was as lost as you were, slamming you into that bookshelf and biting down on your shoulder to keep his moans quiet when your walls squeezed him so hard he fell apart.

You couldn’t come down from it, and you didn’t want to. Right here in his arms, with him still buried deep inside you, is where you wanted to stay. 

Aemond’s breath heavy against your skin, hands caressing your face and hair, putting soft kisses on your forehead. You wanted to disappear right there.

***

“Hey? Hello? Sleepy girl? Wake up.”

Your head moved up from the table, confusion on your face when you found the librarian looking right at you, both amused and slightly annoyed.

“What?”

“You dozed off about an hour ago," she pointed out.

“No…I was just…I,” the reality of the situation dawned on you, especially when you noticed Aemond sitting in his seat, still buried deep inside his books, not even looking up. He hadn’t moved, and neither had you. “Oh, no…”

“You’re drooling a little there,” the librarian teased when she noticed you staring at him.

“Oh, god,” you covered your face,”Was I…loud?”

She gave you a little smile,”No, don’t worry about it. I just came to warn you we’re closing in an hour, so anything you still want to get done, now is the time.”

She left you alone and you buried your face into your hands. For a few minutes all you could do was sit there, trying to get the dream and Aemond out of your head and come back to reality. Then you realized you couldn’t, and maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should just use the gift your imagination had given you.

Your fingers found the keyboard and you started typing. You didn’t stop until the library closed an hour later and you had written 10 pages without even really trying. The characters were there, and their love story…it was dripping with passion, still foreign to you somehow though not so much anymore now. Your lips curled up into a smile at the thought of him. Even though it had been nothing but a dream you could still feel his lips burn on your skin.

While you were gathering your stuff and putting on your coat you’d noticed Aemond had already left. You couldn’t help but feel your heart ache a little. For what could have been, for what he might have meant to you, if only it could have been real. But he would never know, nor would he ever know you or even notice you.

You braced yourself for the cold when you opened the library door and stepped outside but instead of the biting chill of winter you were met with soft small snow flakes falling down on your head while you could hear people sing Christmas carols in the distance. Another involuntary smile curled around your lips and suddenly your eyes were feeling teary. Who knew it would turn out to be a magical Christmas Eve after all?

You should call your mum in the morning, wish them all a merry Christmas and let them know you were doing okay. Not entirely there yet, but okay.

When you continued walking the path away from the library you noticed him. Black leather jacket over that fuzzy sweater, hands deep in his pockets to fight the cold. For a moment you froze, unsure of what to do. Should you approach him or just ignore him? But then you noticed he was already walking straight towards you.

“Hey,” his voice came out a little hesitant, almost shy even,”I…um…I noticed we seem to be the only two people on campus tonight.”

“It would appear so,” you hid in your scarf but looked up to meet his eye and gave him a smile,”Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned your smile with one of his own,“I’m Aemond.”

“Yeah, I…I know who you are,” you confessed,”I’m Y/N.”

Another smile on his lips.“Hello, Y/N. I saw you in there,” he looked back at the library,”Actually I’ve seen you in there a few times but…you always seem so immersed in your books I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.”

His eye held your gaze.

“You wanted to?” you carefully asked,”Disturb me?”

He smiled shyly again and you thought he never looked more beautiful than he did right now, staring at you with such softness on his face as the snow kept falling down around you both.

“Can I…,” he hesitated, searching for the right words,”Can I buy you a coffee or something? Or a very late Christmas dinner?”

You laughed and his face lit up.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded,”Both sound very nice actually but…can you do something for me first?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Can you pinch me?”

He looked a little confused at your request. Confused but not unwilling to do as you asked. 

He stepped closer to you and carefully reached for your hand, letting his fingers brush against yours ever so gently before lacing them together and giving a soft but firm squeeze.

His touch…electricity like you’ve never felt.

“Like that?” he asked, his voice now just as deep and seductive as you remembered from the dream and you couldn’t look away from him.

“Yeah, exactly like that,” you smiled softly and then bit your lip. Neither of you broke eye contact nor did he let go of your hand as you both started walking.

[tiktowafel]

Headcanons for Neito Monoma?

yup here you go! tagging @fabpops1 because she also asked for Monoma headcanons

no coloring today because the one i made two years ago sucks and i don't feel like remaking it :'D honestly i feel like Horikoshi and I both half-assed his casual clothing sketch lol

him and his parents were all born in Japan but he has some relatives in Belgium, whom he really enjoys visiting. it's the main reason why he seems so interested in european culture (his profile page states he likes french cuisine and franco-belgian comics)

he can also speak french very well thanks to that

he's also fluent in english (though he has trouble understanding Pony sometimes - he's much better at reading and writing than he is at listening) and has a basic knowledge of several other languages. he doesn't really expect it to come handy at any point in the future, he just learns them because he finds it fun

besides that he also likes history, classic literature, theatre... yeah this guy is a huge humanities-leaning nerd and i don't accept criticism

nor do i accept the fact that he's supposed to be a bad student in canon?? like, he's so smart and also competitive, no way he isn't top of the class... he may not be as good in science and math as he is in japanese and history, but nothing an all-nighter can't fix

in middle school he was part of the drama and debate clubs. and while hero course students aren't supposed to join clubs because they should focus on hero work, he managed to argue his way into the same clubs in UA by saying that his theatrics and speeches are an important part of his hero persona. Kuroiro joined the drama club alongside him (didn't contribute to the argument at all, just nodded wisely every time Monoma presented a point)

class 1-B's culture festival performance being a stage play was actually his idea! it didn't really go the way he intended (he did NOT expect it to turn into a four-way crossover more ambitious than infinity war) but he greatly enjoyed performing in it anyway! maybe even too much

his knowledge of quirks rivals Midoriya's. he researches them a lot mostly to help his copy quirk but also out of genuine curiosity

he often helps his classmates with training their quirks and comes up with new techniques to try out. he's particularly good at it because he can actually try other people's quirks himself, which gives him a better understanding of how they function and what their limitations are

^ which is why i believe he'd make an awesome hero course teacher!! (in all might's role - i don't think making him anyone's homeroom teacher would be a good idea, he'd be just as biased towards his class as he is now lmao) it's definitely one of my favorite "future" headcanons

he praises his classmates' quirks a lot and says he considers them all great, but he does have preferences when it comes to copying them

his favorites are Yanagi's poltergeist (somewhat boring, but easy to understand and very versatile both in battle and everyday life), Tokage's lizard tail splitter (he almost died when he copied it for the first time because he barely managed to put his body back together before his quirk's time limit ran out, but that didn't stop him - he always found Tokage's quirk very fun and useful, so he put a lot of work into fully figuring it out and now he uses it pretty often), Shoda's twin impact (Monoma's physical strength.... leaves a lot to be desired, and the second impact always being significantly stronger than the first helps make up for it) and Kuroiro's black (you can move around very fast and it's fun :) )

quirks he does not like copying Honenuki's softening (fun, but quite difficult to control and avoiding collateral damage with such a destructive quirk is a pain in the ass. Honenuki understands that perfectly) and Shishida's beast (just... really not his thing lol)

for some reason i see a lot of people headcanon that he has pet ferrets, and you know what? i agree. he does seem like a ferret person

prefers smart clothing, a polo shirt is the most casual he'll go. he only ever wears tshirts for exercise (which he hates doing lol) and probably doesn't own a single hoodie

in general i think he has a good eye for elegant design... his dorm room is very stylish and nicely coordinated too. i think one of the light novels also describes it as "vaguely french" and yeah that fits

while he tries to keep his room neat and tidy on the outside, all his drawers and cabinets are horribly messy

he's that one kid who has like 17 different allergies and is completely useless if he forgets his meds on a spring day (spring is his least favorite season due to this. i think winter would be his fave)

luckily he is not allergic to dairy so he can eat as much stinky french cheese as he wants 👍

speaking of food i think he's a pretty good cook actually

prefers listening to older (and mostly foreign) music and is a huge snob about it

honestly he probably acts the same about movies and books too

arguing with people on the internet is one of his favorite ways to spend his free time. if there are no 1-A students around, you can always show off your impressive vocabulary by bullying random internet strangers with bad taste in movies!

almost everyone in 1-B considers him a friend despite his... anti-1a bullshit, because he's just really nice and helpful to people he likes + he's a great leader! however he's closest to Kuroiro (friendly drama king rivals! they're constantly arguing about dumb shit using the fanciest words they can think of and they're always trying to outperform each other in the drama club meetings they both attend, but they love each other trust me <3 also Monoma helps Kuroiro with studying because he sucks at school), Pony (when he's not trying to trick her into insulting 1-A he can be pretty helpful with japanese, he also likes listening to her talk about her home country), Honenuki (he's Pony's best friend, so you usually befriend them both at once, but Monoma thinks he's also interesting to talk to by himself) and Tetsutetsu (they don't share many interests but Monoma hates exercising so he has Tetsutetsu force him to do it. his positive energy certainly helps a lot)

ever since they got to know each other during their joint training fight, Monoma's been using 100% of his persuasion skills to convince Shinso to join 1-B instead of 1-A. Shinso is conflicted to say the least

aaand that's all i have for him! hope you enjoyed these!!

[respectthepetty]

15 Questions

Tagged by @italianpersonwithashippersheart and @pandasmagorica

1. are you named after anyone?

Yes. First name is after my cousin's imaginary friend because my parents were wild. Middle name is after the song I was conceived to because my parents were really wild.

2. when was the last time you cried?

Externally? I joke that I haven't cried since 2009, but I really think that is the last time I cried. Internally? Every single fucking day.

3. do you have kids?

Oh, Lord, no.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

Basketball, volleyball (horrible at it), fast-pitch softball, but I love watching all live sports.

5. do you use sarcasm?

Strange story, but many educators have to get "empathy training" because we do not understand declarations of self-harm to be serious. We think they are sarcastic comments. I think as an aging millennial, sarcasm is all we have, so we do not recognize when someone else is being serious. So . . . yes, I use sarcasm.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Vibes. I travel alone, so if the vibe ain't right, I'm out.

7. what’s your eye color?

Very dark brown

8. scary movies or happy endings?

Happy Endings. Both kind. *wink*

9. any talents?

Navigation and directions. Stick me anywhere, and I will find my way to where I need to go. Metro, bus, interstate, walking. Doesn't matter. I will figure it out. Also driving. I can drive loooong distances and any vehicle is my friend, which is why I got a ticket on the autobahn because I was just vibin' in the Audi at 150 km.

10. where were you born?

Japan

11. what are your hobbies

Traveling, especially for live music. I've seen hundreds of artists individually and have been to almost fifty music festivals. Some of my favorites are Austin City Limits (Austin), Electric Daisy Carnival (Las Vegas), Lollapalooza (Chicago), Country Music Awards Fest (Nashville), Osheaga (Montreal), Ultra (Miami), Primavera (Barcelona), Mad Cool (Madrid), and Pa'l Norte (Monterrey, México). Some of my favorite venues are Meow Wolf (Santa Fe), Red Rocks (Denver), and Fenway Park (Boston), and I had a ticket to see a concert at the Palace of Versailles in France for May 2020, then everything went to hell in a hand basket. But strangely, I saw Bad Bunny, Big Freedia, and French DJ Gesaffelstein in 2020.

I could talk for hours about music, but I'll stop with this picture (not mine because none I took came out good) of Gesaffelstein who dresses like this for his shows with an all black background and all black equipment. Ah-maze-zing.

12. do you have any pets?

Oh, God, no. I'm a Disney villain. I don't mess with animals. Or plants.

13. how tall are you?

5'9" (This is a good country song too)

14. favorite subject in school?

Languages & Literature, which is why I teach English now.

15. dream job

What I'm doing now. Teaching. Except I would like to grade less than ~150 essays every month, but education is a mess right now, so y'all be nice to your professors.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

🍷The Heir of Evil🐉 AU fans have decided, and...

🍷The Heir of Evil🐉 AU Reader will be an IceWing!!

I have a few headcanons for them, and a a bit of backstory and lore planned, too😊 Let's dive in:

• ❄IceWing!🍷Heir of Evil!🐉 Reader is the grandchild or great-grandchild to the wicked IceWing queen, specifically the one who put the tribe into multiple wars and skirmishes and tried to take over the dragon world. Reader isn't like her (they're not an irredeemable monster who hurts others for fun)

• Heir! Reader wears jewelry that is mostly silver or black, but loves any sort of colorful gemstones or charms...

• Heir! Reader only wears the pieces of jewelry that are necessary; they don't want to waste the tribe's treasure on frivolous items, and if the jewelry appeals to other tribes, then it might make Reader and the IceWings seem more appealing, like they're dragons, too...

• Heir! Reader is good with algebra, dragon biology, and creative writing...

• Heir! Reader is torn between what the two sides of their kingdom wants: to stay unscheming and try to foster peace, hoping other tribes will leave them alone and not hurt them further... or to amass enough power and treasure that they can wage a war against the other tribes, or at least the IceWing hybrids who some view as traitors...

• Heir! Reader's necklace they were told to never take off is enchanted, but they don't know that. The necklace hides something about them, which is why their vanished/dead parent gave it to them...

• Heir! Reader has had to stop a coup for their throne/title at age four (about 12 year old in WoF dragon years), which led to them earning the respect of the remaining advisors and generals of their late parent/late family, as well as the respect of the few nobles left and the different IceWing villages...

• Heir! Reader's hatching day is a mystery, as no one ever saw their egg, nor them, when they were first hatched, save for their deceased parent and a late ally of their's...

• Heir! Reader has an army of pet foxes, all of which are (diet) platonic yandere for them (they're all so cute and cuddly and fluffy-!)

• Heir! Reader, unlike most IceWings, enjoys trying cooked meats and exotic dishes from other tribes and kingdoms...

• Heir! Reader prefers to sleep with a fur blanket, not because they're cold (they're an IceWing), but because they like the soft fur and fuzzy texture...

• Heir! Reader is an aromantic-asexual...

• Heir! Reader enjoys traditonal IceWing foods such as fresh salmon with lemon juice, thinly-sliced caribou strips, puffin and moss salad, kalimari (squid), bear jerkey, ox ribs seasoned lightly with moss, seal meat marinated in ginger/lemon/honey, as well as ice cream, frozen berry slush, and lemon-flavored shaved ice...

• Heir! Reader likes traditional dishes from other kingdoms such as: MudWing's Diamond Delta Gumbo, SandWing's Cinnamon Milk and Roasted Lizard Kebabs, SkyWing's Charred+Barbecued Eagle Wings, SeaWing's Thousand Scales Thousand Fish Sushi, RainWing's Mango-Orange Juice, NightWing's Smoked Boarchops, HiveWing's Honey-roasted Shrimp, SilkWing's Loaded Baked and Sweet Potatoes, and LeafWing's Planter's Pie...

• Heir! Reader sometimes wears a small, spiked tailband on the end of their tail, nestled above where their spikes are...

• Heir! Reader enjoys sunrises, and writes new poems and hymns for their tribe to sing at their Gifts of the Ice Dragon Festival...

• Heir! Reader enjoys old literature, especially comedies...

(I will make another post about Heir! Reader facts, but dealing with IceWing culture)

(I wonder what their name could/should/would be?)

[denimbex1986]

'Writer and poet Benjamin Zephaniah has died aged 65, after being diagnosed with a brain tumour eight weeks ago.

A statement posted on his Instagram account confirmed he died in the early hours of Thursday.

The statement said Zephaniah's wife "was with him throughout and was by his side when he passed".

"We shared him with the world and we know many will be shocked and saddened by this news," it added.

Zephaniah was born and raised in Handsworth, Birmingham, the son of a Barbadian postman and a Jamaican nurse. He was dyslexic and left school aged 13, unable to read or write.

He moved to London aged 22 and published his first book, Pen Rhythm.

His early work used dub poetry, a Jamaican style of work that has evolved into the music genre of the same name, and he would also perform with the group The Benjamin Zephaniah Band.

As Zephaniah's profile grew, he became a familiar face on television and was credited with bringing Dub Poetry into British living rooms.

He also wrote five novels as well as poetry for children, and his first book for younger readers, Talking Turkeys, was a huge success upon its publication in 1994.

On top of his writing work, Zephaniah was an actor and appeared in the BBC drama series Peaky Blinders between 2013 and 2022.

He played Jeremiah "Jimmy" Jesus, appearing in 14 episodes across the six series.

Zephaniah famously rejected an OBE in 2003 due to the association of such an honour with the British Empire and its history of slavery.

"I've been fighting against empire all my life, fighting against slavery and colonialism all my life," he told The Big Narstie Show in 2020.

"I've been writing to connect with people, not to impress governments and monarchy. So I could I then accept an honour that puts the word Empire on to my name? That would be hypocritical.

He often spoke out about issues such as racial abuse and education.

When he was younger, Zephaniah served a prison sentence for burglary and received a criminal record.

In 1982, Zephaniah released an album called Rasta, which featured the Wailers' first recording since the death of Bob Marley.

It also included a tribute to the then-political prisoner Nelson Mandela, who would later become South African president.

In an interview in 2005, Zephaniah said growing up in a violent household led to him assuming that was the norm.

He recalled: "I once asked a friend of mine, 'What do you do when your dad beats your mum?' And he went: 'He doesn't.'

"I said, 'Ah, you come from one of those, like, feminist houses. So, what do you do when your mum beats your dad?'"

In 2012, he was chosen to guest edit an edition of BBC Radio 4's Today programme.

Zephaniah was nominated for autobiography of the year at the National Book Awards for his work, The Life And Rhymes Of Benjamin Zephaniah, which was also shortlisted for the Costa Book Award in 2018.

During a Covid-19 lockdown, Zephaniah recited one of his poems in a video for the Hay Festival.

"Benjamin was a true pioneer and innovator. He gave the world so much," the statement announcing his death said.

"Through an amazing career including a huge body of poems, literature, music, television and radio, Benjamin leaves us with a joyful and fantastic legacy."

A statement from the Black Writers' guild, which Zephaniah helped establish, said: "Our family of writers is in mourning at the loss of a deeply valued friend and a titan of British literature. Benjamin was a man of integrity and an example of how to live your values."

Others paying tribute included author Michael Rosen, who said: "I'm devastated. I admired him, respected him, learnt from him, loved him. Love and condolences to the family and to all who loved him too."

Actress Adjoa Andoh posted: "We have lost a Titan today. Benjamin Zephaniah. Beautiful Poet, Professor, Advocate for love and humanity in all things. Heartbroken. Rest In Your Power - our brother."

Peaky Blinders actor Cillian Murphy said in a statement: "Benjamin was a truly gifted and beautiful human being.

"A generational poet, writer, musician and activist. A proud Brummie and a Peaky Blinder. I'm so saddened by this news."

Broadcaster Trevor Nelson said: "So sad to hear about the passing of Benjamin Zephaniah. Too young, too soon, he had a lot more to give. He was a unique talent."

Singer-songwriter and musician Billy Bragg added: "Very sorry to hear this news. Benjamin Zephaniah was our radical poet laureate. Rest in power, my friend."

Comedian, actor and writer Lenny Henry said: "I was saddened to learn of the passing of my friend Benjamin Zephaniah. His passion for poetry, his advocacy for education for all was tireless."

Writer Nels Abbey said: "To call this crushing news is a massive understatement. He was far too young, far too brilliant and still had so much to offer. A loss we'll never recover from."

The X/Twitter account for Premier League football club Aston Villa, whom Zephaniah supported said everyone at the club was "deeply saddened" by the news.

"Named as one of Britain's top 50 post-war writers in 2008, Benjamin was a lifelong Aston Villa fan and had served as an ambassador for the AVFCFoundation. Our thoughts are with his family and friends at this time."'

[horsegamergirl]

"MEDIEVAL MADNESS

Hey, StarFam! Perk up your ears and follow the sound of clinking armor…

Big Bonny Brings A Medieval Marvel To Jorvik!

Big Bonny may be a woman of science and inventions, but she is also a big fan of romantic literature and knights in shining armor! Together with a couple of hard working people, she has now managed to set up the start of a medieval fair on Jorvik. 

Pledge your loyalty to either of the houses of Cerise Unicorns, Yellow Wolves or Blue Oaks, or forge your own path as a Knights Errant, and begin your journey towards becoming a fully fledged knight in shining armor! Participate in jousting to build up your reputation, and claim your very own lance in the colors of your house.

Where better to kick off this fair of a forgotten time than in the Forgotten Fields? To be able to speak to Bonny at the festival area you need to have reached level 6, be a Star Rider, have unlocked the Harvest Counties, and have helped Ed Field tear down the bushes covering the road to Jarlaheim.

This medieval area is permanent!

Two New Coat Variations

The black Ardennes that made a surprise visit to Jorvik a few weeks back is now here to stay! This beauty has also brought a friend along - a new chestnut Lipizzaner. Both horses can be bought at the medieval area and are a permanent addition to Jorvik.

Medieval Sets

With the Ideal Knight set you can proudly wear the colors and armor of your house (or any of the other houses of course, we won’t judge where your loyalties lie…). If you’d prefer a less clunky outfit for the day, the Cottage Core set is now also available for purchase! Find both of the sets in the medieval shops.

The Return Of Birthday Pets

The furry little friends from the past birthday celebrations were a little bit late to the party, but are now a permanent addition to Jorvik! We’ve now pulled the rabbit and the cat from the hat, and placed them in the pet store in Moorland, waiting to find their forever homes!

Coming NEXT WEEK!

More coat variations, more clothes, and more medieval fun!

Have a mighty medieval time, fellow StarFam!"

[pearwaldorf]

Ta-Nehisi Coates spoke to Democracy Now (transcript at link) about his experience in Palestine as a participant in the Palestine Festival of Literature and talked about the similarities in experience between Black people in the US and Palestinians.

The bit that starts at 3:00 is what stands out: the way "complexity" has been used as a silencing tactic to discourage understanding. But on the ground, the experience is familiar and uncomplicated, especially to a Black American.

No doubt you've seen the posts where Palestinians shared tips on how to deal with tear gas during the Ferguson protests in 2014. American police train with the IDF, and those tactics are then used to enact violence upon Black Americans. This is what we mean when we say all struggles are connected: not just on an intellectual or ideological level, but a practical one.

I know it's a long video. But I think you should watch at least the first ten minutes or so (the actual interview starts at the timestamp above).

[stephofromcabin12]

What are your thoughts on a Dionysus kid who’s opposite or slightly opposite of a stereotypical Dionysus kid? Don’t get me wrong, they’re cool, and I like it, but imagine the dynamic it would be.

One who hates alcohol, parties, and loud noises who prefers literature, plays, and being alone.

My OC… wouldn’t hate alcohol(except she’s underage anyway) and parties, but definitely loves literature and plays and likes to be alone sometimes. But when she gets excited over something, she’s all in. All energy, and it’s hard to keep up with her. But she also has a temper, which usually includes shouting and pure rage that scares the crap out of people. She’ll act calm for a second, then go off.

But I do like the opposite traits thing, but I’m not sure how to put more of that into my character. Ideas? Please? if you don’t want to it’s okay:D

I have a whole thing with demigods who don’t fit their cabin’s stereotypes, bc statistically it’s bound to happen that a cabin 7 camper rocks up and is completely tone deaf, or a great musician but has zero aim (literally someone make a blind apollo kid who’s like freaking Beethoven but for obvious reasons cant be an archer)

Similarly we have (and I promise I’ll get to cabin 12)

- Hades kid who’s terrified of death. Absolutely horrified of the idea of skeletons and dark spaces and hates coldness. Best of luck with the existential crisis. Also just Hades kids who don’t dress in black, don’t avoid the sun and generally don’t subscribe to the whole “child of death” thing — cause they’re not dead. Heck. Their dad isn’t dead— he’s like the ceo of death. It would be like if their dad ran nasa and they walked around in merch 24/7.

- Ares kid with zero strength. Also refuses to gain strength, absolutely not. Coaches don’t play. Except they dont even want to coach, they just wanna do other stuff. Also Ares kid who used to have anger issues but got therapy and now don’t really respond to the adrenaline rush of it all. Even better; somehow was raised in a pacifist household and finds their brawling, jock siblings repulsive and barbaric.

- Demeter kid who loves meat and processed snacks and doesn’t like vegetables. It’s bound to happen. Also can’t keep a houseplant alive if they were paid a million drachmas. Pollen allergies.

- Aphrodite kid who wears the same clothes constantly. Allergic to make-up/has sensory issues around it. Same with perfume (since the cabin canonically smells perfumed which is my personal nightmare but nevermind that). Also aro/ace cabin 10 kids. Cabin 10 kids that take after the spartan Aphrodite Areia, who everyone assumed were Ares kids until they were claimed.

- Hephaestus kid that’s clumsy and has hand tremors. Hephaestus kid that cannot sit still long enough to make stuff. Hephaestus kid with the inability to imagine things, which makes ideating difficult.

- Hermes kids who are lawful goods. Hermes kids who are homebodies. Hermes kids who are also clumsy and can’t be stealthy. Hermes kids who only use their sleight of hand to do magic tricks. No not the cool kind. They can do the quarter thing and some card tricks. That’s it.

And finally:

- Dionysus kids who are teetotalers. No, they didn’t “overdo it” and reform. They just never liked alcohol. Dionysus kids who can’t tolerate alcohol even if they wanted to. Dionysus kids who are not social, and shy. Dionysus kids who don’t like to eat. Worst nightmares include social gatherings and festive get-togethers. The words “mixed seating arrangements” gives them cold shivers. Dionysus kids who are dog people. Dionysus kids who don’t like grape flavored stuff. Health nuts. Hates movies and doesn’t really watch tv. They’ve never set foot in a theatre. Couldn’t name a play if someone held a gun to their head. “Who’s Josh Groban?”

The rest of cabin 12 and a few cabin 7 kids, in unison: “‘Who’s Josh Groban?’ Kill yourself!”

(That’s from glee, clarifying bc glee is now an old show and I’m not sure how many younger people have seen it/remember it)

I think it’s a good idea! I think there’s a million ways a person could turn out in each cabin, and Dionysus’ cabin is no exception. Sky’s the limit when you’re writing, esp with fanfic; do whatever you feel is cool!

[lboogie1906]

Laureate Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin (August 17, 1936 – February 25, 2006) was an Ethiopian poet and novelist. His novels and poets evoke retrospective narratives, fanciful epics, and nationalistic connotations. He is considered to be one of the most novelists along with Baalu Girma and Haddis Alemayehu, his books were successful in commercial sales and even academic thesis. His works are solely based in Amharic and English.

He was born in Bodaa Village, Ethiopia. He is part Amhara and part Oromo. He learned Ge’ez, the ancient language of the church, which is an Ethiopian equivalent of Latin. He helped the family by caring for cattle. He was still very young when he began to write plays while at the local elementary school. One of those plays, King Dionysus and the Two Brothers, was staged in the presence, among others, of Emperor Haile Selassie.

He attended the prestigious British Council-supported General Wingate school. He attended the Commercial school in Addis Ababa, where he won a scholarship to Blackstone School of Law in Chicago. He traveled to Europe to study experimental drama at the Royal Court Theatre in London and the Comédie-Française in Paris. He devoted himself to managing and developing the Ethiopian National Theater.

He attended the first UNESCO-organised World Festival of Black Arts and the Pan-African Cultural Festival. He was awarded his country’s highest literary honor, the Haile Selassie I Prize for Amharic Literature. The prize earned him the title of Laureate.

He was appointed as vice-minister of culture and sports and was active in setting up the Addis Ababa University Department of Theatre Arts. He wrote an extended, and very poetical, essay “Footprints in Time”, which appeared in large format with photographs. It traced Ethiopian history from the prehistoric time of Lucy, the first-known hominid that had been found in the Afar Desert in eastern Ethiopia.

He remained in close contact with the Ethiopian diaspora. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[tarabyte3]

I'm finally home from 10 days of traveling so I can post that

Dallas Fan Festival was last weekend!!

It was so much fun! 😭 I got to see Andy Serkis again and hangout with some of my dear friends (who are also some of my beloved mutuals 💕🥰). We all got autographs and to torment each other in line—some of us (me) more than others. 😇😈 We also got a group photo with him, which I absolutely adore! It's one of my favorite photos ever. He was SO excited when we all swarmed him! We all look so cute and he has a massive grin on his face.

(During the photo, I also rested my hand directly between his flexed shoulder blades and THE MUSCLES ON THAT MAN, DEAR FUCKING GOD, Y'ALL 🥵 trying to MURDER me)

Here are some photos I took of him in the autograph line

I had him sign the covers to Pandaemonium and The Accused 😍🥺 He was thrilled about Pandaemonium and said he really liked that movie. I told him I have a degree in English Literature and Poetry (which he seemed very impressed by 😎 My degree finally came in handy lol), so I really liked it as well. That it meant a lot to me to have a movie actually about poets—even moreso because he was in it. AND I finally got his signature next to Liam Black 🫠 There isn't a lot of open space on the cover so he wasn't sure where to sign it. I said, "We might have to sacrifice Sean Bean's head." He chuckled and, in a fake serious voice, said, "Sorry, Sean." HE'S ALWAYS SO SWEET AND LOVELY AND WONDERFUL 😭🥹

Sunday we went to the Perot Museum of Nature and Science in Dallas because they were playing Blue Whales: Return of the Giants. Which is a documentary on blue whales...narrated by Andy 😂 The lady checking our tickets said she liked our shirts because of course we rolled in there representing. (The documentary opened with him going, "Can you hear that? Can you feel that?" And we were all Very Normal 😌)

The panel was really good. I know there are people that don't like that actors can't talk about their projects with the SAG-AFTRA strike going on, but I LOVE that we get to hear him talk about himself. He talked about his acting and performance capture, theater, mountain climbing, his love of jazz, and his photography, which he doesn't talk about a lot and was very exciting!! The interviewer was fantastic and asked a lot of fun "this or that" questions (he picked art museums over history museums, vampires over werewolves, but struggled with plays vs musicals lol). Here's a link to the panel if you want to watch it yourself!

I got a Caesar Funko, a Snoke figure, and an OG Cornelius figure. We also ""acquired"" some of the photos you could get signed if you didn't have anything special for him to sign, so I ended up with a David Robey and a Caesar print 🫠😌🥵. (Bless you and your taste for crime, H. I love you.)

Overall, it was such a great convention and an amazing weekend. I loved Dallas. Huge thanks to @communism-bitches, @csboz, @the-eyes-of-andyserkis, and @tarrenterror25 for making the weekend extra fantastic and for being so lovely. 🥹 I love and appreciate you all so much. We're absolutely doing this again soon, hopefully with the rest of TNBF crew to make it EVEN better! 😍💖 Andy Con 2024!

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series

Valentine's Day Bonus Content: Festival of Love II: Want

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

Cal reaches out to a trusted friend to figure out what was wrong with the celebratory food. Rating: 18+ Words: 1.8K

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I stand in my office, wearing the thick material of my Inquisitor pants and only my undershirt; a tank top. I sit at my desk, but find the fabric, while useful in hiding an erection, rather abrasive when sitting with said erection. 

The holopad sits centered on my desk, a new staple of my life. While my Light was in a coma, I sought comfort; finding solace in the plethora of stories housed in the handheld device. I attempted to read her stories, but our tastes differ and it became painful to read the words that she once held dear. 

I lean against the desk’s edge, finding small comfort in the position and pick up the treasured reader. Sending a message to my most trusted advisor, Kaahlii. 

Kaahlii, 

I may have made a mistake. What do you know about Camby berries and Chak juice? Are they both safe for human consumption? 

-Cal 

I wait, my free hand palming my erection, desperate for relief from the painful discomfort of being unnaturally hard. Kaahlii, ever reliable, doesn’t make me wait long for a response. 

Thirteenth Brother Cal, 

Odd to hear an Inquisitor admit to a mistake, perhaps there is hope for you yet. I am aware of the traditional food. Naboo is home to many Cambylictus trees and the people there, human and otherwise, consume it regularly. 

The Chak juice is a different story. It only comes from the Spirit Tree on Endor. However, there are no cases of human consumption being a problem. 

How did you get your hands on it? 

-Kaahlii 

Owner and Operator of Second Chance Literature 

I chuckle at the dig towards my kind. Kaahlii’s a straight shooter, something I like; gone are the days of honesty. Most fear me and speak to appease my temper. Those above me care not for my personal development. Kaahlii is an outlier; she has never feared me, perhaps because Light likes her and I love my Light. Or maybe because she can tell when I’m bluffing. 

Kaahlii, 

You don’t have to be so formal with me, please. You said yourself this is a secure way to contact you. I know your technology exceeds the best of the Empire. 

The Camby berries came from Naboo, but the Chak juice… You’re going to be mad at me. Go easy on me, okay? I got them from a goods smuggler. 

Also, your bookstore has a name? Why did you put your position and business too? 

-Just Cal 

The carnal need is driving me mad. I consider throwing care to the wind and demanding my Light’s body, taking her as I had before the accident. But I resist, refusing to sacrifice progress for my own selfish needs. To my relief, the reader chimes and my eyes scan the screen, eager for a distraction. 

Just Thirteenth Brother Cal, 

This is a secure line, but considering how loose you operate with safety (the Black Market, really?), I’m not sure that you won’t slip up and let my technology fall into the hands of someone with more sinister values. 

I’ll need a moment to research with this new and horrifying information. Also, Rosara continues to ask when you will read for the children again. You should visit as soon as you are able. 

You would know my business had a name if you had ever bothered to enter as a customer. It’s called a signature. Businesses use it to seem more professional when messaging clients. 

-Kaahlii 

Owner and Operator of Second Chance Literature 

I smile at the prospect of seeing Rosara, another person who sees my true nature. I type out a message to Kaahlii, emphasizing my original name. 

Kaahlii, 

I know, I messed up; I was just trying to do something special for her. I’ll await your research, though, if you can, faster is preferable. 

Visitation will be a possibility once things are more stable here. I fear she’ll run if I take her anywhere at the moment. 

-Cal Kestis 

Minutes elongate as I wait for Kaahlii’s response. I stealth towards the open door, wondering if my Light is feeling similar effects. She sits on our couch, the back of her head visible. I look harder; one shoulder moves rhythmically, barely perceivable. A smile creeps across my face. She is needy, too. 

I listen, wanting to catch any of the sweet sounds that fall from her mouth as she works. Frustration leads me to peer into her mind, hoping to hear her desire, hoping she thinks of me. 

She imagines a compromising position and, to my delight, I see I am in control of her pleasure. My face buried between her thighs, her head thrown back in open-mouthed ecstasy. My fingers stuffed deep inside her hungry cunt, curling and relaxing with each thrust. 

I rub myself through my clothes, wishing to give into her desires. If she would only ask, I would eat her out until my tongue stopped working. The holopad dings and her head turns as I move out of view, walking back to my desk in silence. 

Inquisitor Cal, Thirteenth Brother Kestis,

I’m afraid that I may now know why you are so eager for a hurried response. I truly do not want to imagine you in this light. I’d rather hear of the crimes you’ve committed against your fellow Jedi. 

The Black Market is an unreliable resource for novelty goods, something I should not have to explain to someone with so much power. Chak juice is often cut with a nectar commonly found in Kashyyyk. This allows dealers to keep a high price while giving you a fraction of what you were hoping for. The taste is similar enough but has a few unfortunate side effects. 

It is commonly used by black market animal breeders, to encourage their stock to stay plentiful. The side effect is similar in humans: high sex drive. 

That’s not all, it also causes memory loss. 

Cal, I know you stopped reading at those words, but come back and bear with me. The memory loss is only of the day of consumption, nothing else. You aren’t going to lose her again. I promise. 

If anything, she may be more eager to spend some…quality time with you. Do yourself a favor and delete the messages from today. It’s not worth the stress you will feel later when trying to piece together more lost memories. 

-Kaahlii 

Owner and Operator of Second Chance Literature 

I freeze, sickened, knowing she will forget again. Rage bubbles at the loss; a day I made for her, to honor and love her, to show her I can be everything she wants. 

I consider writing myself a detailed note, outlining the events of today, hoping to preserve what will soon be gone. Kaahlii’s words ring true; I can’t cause myself more stress with another unsolved mystery. I consider meditating on the matter, but the dull ache of being hard reminds me I lack the blood to think clearly. 

After consideration, I delete the messages and decide I will clean the kitchen and erase any evidence of today. To avoid further confusion, I create a mess on my desk, hoping my future self will assume I was completing mundane activities on the missing day. I stride toward the kitchen, knowing there are no consequences for today’s actions. Intentions set on making the most of it. 

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You almost jump out of your skin when Cal’s footsteps approach from behind you.Stilling your frantic movements as your heart pumps a surge of adrenaline through your body. 

Cal doesn’t glance at you, busy instead cleaning the kitchen. You sit there, paralyzed, wondering if he is reading your mind, aware of the need at your core. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you aren’t sure. You debate excusing yourself to the bathroom, but his arms being on display keeps you firmly seated on the couch. 

Your eyes drink in his beauty, looking over every inch of exposed skin, feeling disappointed he wore a shirt. Cal doesn’t glance up, as he often does when you admire him in your mind. He looks distracted, maybe even disappointed. 

You decide to take a risk, bringing your hand back between your legs. The movements are timid, attempting to enjoy yourself in secret. But your eyes track Cal’s every movement, though your head angles forward. 

Cal washes the dishes by hand, laying them to dry on a towel, his biceps flexing as he scrubs. Sparks of pleasure shoot through you as you make contact, using three fingers to sweep the entire area in long drags. The needy ache seems momentarily appeased, but demands more, urging you to watch the attractive man that could solve your problem. 

He turns to the counter and furrows his eyebrows. You watch, eyes raking over his arms, following down as he uses his middle and ring finger, gliding it along the stone surface. Your heart skips a beat at the extremely intimate gesture. The motion stops and he holds the hand before his eyes, curling the two filthy fingers to rub smoothly against his thumb; determining the counter will need cleaning. 

Unconsciously, your hand imitates the motion, stuffing yourself with the same two fingers and curling just as Cal had. You press your lips together, calming yourself. But your mind pictures Cal’s fingers instead, begging you to ask for his help. You refuse the impulse, but don’t look away. 

Cal wipes down the counters before moving to dry and put away the pile of clean dishes. He opens every cabinet and drawer necessary, and upon completion, he moves to close them all. Only, he doesn’t close the drawers with his hands. Instead, placing his hands on the counter and using his pelvis to bump them closed. The movement is inherently sexual. 

You’d typically laugh, but the desire in your belly replaces the humor with lust. Feeding the fire and creating imaginary intimate scenes with the man. Picturing laying beneath him while he thrusts deep into you, claiming your body. You want to know what he might feel like. 

Your thumb brushes over your clit, and a tiny moan slips out. Cal looks up, eyes dark and focused. Yours widen in panic, awkwardly clearing your throat. He says nothing, and it feels worse. 

He resumes working, and you slide your fingers out, wiping the mess on your thighs. You toss the blanket to the side, heading for the back of his quarters, needing to finish in private. Cal also heads for the hallway, forcing you to dodge to squeeze past him. 

Except you stumble, and Cal’s warm hand envelops your upper arm. You look up, meeting his eyes. Time stands still. 

Your mind, hazed with lust, draws your attention down to his full lips. The heat of his gaze lingers on your face, waiting. He smells good, and he’s so close, it wouldn’t take much. 

Your body decides for you, a tiny step forward, lifting your chin. Cal leans down to meet you halfway. Your lips collide, hands quick to find purchase on the other’s body. Yours in his damp hair, fisting handfuls of the soft coppery waves. Cal’s find the backs of your thighs, lifting you to wrap around him as he presses you into the wall. Everything in your body lights up. 

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Next Chapter: Need