#Senior Companion Program

[k12academics]

Improving Lives Through Volunteerism

[jr2882070]

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[jacesvelaryons]

His Chosen Bride (Senator!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol Reader).

Chapter 1

masterlist

series masterlist

excerpt

summary: senator coriolanus snow seems on top of the world with everything in his life ahead of him except for one thing. the perfect bride. in his pursuit, your life changes forever.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: thank you everyone for your patience as I prepared this!! i hope you all love it and show your support through likes, reblogs and especially comments of what you thought! i love hearing what my readers and other people in the fandom think about my work, so any of your thoughts would be appreciated.

requests OPEN

Upon his return to the Capitol, his reputation restored, wealth acquired from the Plinths who so generously named him the heir to their grand fortune, his path to power was paved for him and he knew he just had to take the strides to get to the prize. The Presidency.

Coriolanus Snow, scion of one of the oldest and most elite of bloodlines of the great Panem families was home, his shameful exile to District 12 remembered by no one and purged from the registry.

Enrolled in university and an apprentice gamemaker, he was eventually promoted to become Senior Gamemaker upon Dr. Gaul’s semi-retirement and her preparation to hand off the reins to her protégé. Her brain child whom she molded from the vestiges of his sorrow and pain, of his loss in the districts and what hardened him into the man he was now.

When he graduated with honours from the political science department, it was only a few months before he was elected in a landslide to become the youngest Senator in Panem’s history, relying on his contributions to the recent games, memories of his late parents to those of a certain age to secure his win.

He would have considered re-election for another term before advisors of his and other cabinet members of the old, sickly President Ravinstill were close to swearing their support but all echoed the same thing that he lacked, they said. It was not his youth, he was wise for his age they said, but he was not married. If he had a wife, they said - they would be on board for his presidential election. And it seemed that election would be sooner than later, even before his first term finished.

Coriolanus needed to find a wife, not just of good breeding, but of the most impeccable lineage, from among the most illustrious hundred or so families of Capitol society. It was a given it would be purely political and strategic, someone whom he could not love and open his heart to after his previous tragedy pursuing such.

The perfect bride. The search for the perfect companion, the woman whom he would call his wife, his future first lady, and mother of his heirs. The ideal woman who would bridge the gap between his dreams to make them a reality.

He could not just choose the first possible candidate recommended to him or that caught his eye, Coriolanus had to devise a thorough, multi-step testing process to find his perfect wife, his bride.

A rigorous procedure would be curated in finding her. Interviews, tests, exams, genealogical inquiries, fitness tests, and practice scenarios will be prompted from eligible candidates, already filtering through those only from the old, grand families upon application.

Digging through his family library into the latest edition handbook of noble and elite families of the Capitol’s upper class, the creme de la creme, ignoring recently disgraced clans, ones full of scandal and controversy, with plenty of illegitimate children, and extinct ones rotting in poverty nearly like his own had he not reversed their fortune.

He scheduled a meeting with his advisors and closest allies on creating the program, the selection process, examinations and interrogation, and how to make the announcement for the families of these eligible girls to put their names in, with their consent or not.

Coriolanus Snow was born from the upper echelon of society, and only deserved the best woman with whom he would continue his lineage with and hail his presidency with. No one had dared, rather self-important he could argue if he cared, to make as many girls clamour for his attention rather than to propose to a woman of his choice.

Just as he was about to put the book down and shut it closed, a name caught his attention. Yours. Your lineage, accomplishments, your etiquette were second to none, and he had to have you. At all costs. He would burn heaven and hell, but the question remains - would he win you over? Or will he have to force your hand no matter what?

Besides, he requires others to choose from, even if you are the most qualified. It would not do well for your ego to have the satisfaction you were chosen for. He wants you to want it, to beg for it, claim it and aspire to be one worthy to be by his side, motivated by the competition who would slit your throat and ruin your reputation for it.

And yet a lingering thought crept up his mind. He had brought life back into the Hunger Games, that was on its dying breath before his arrival, why not another? Everything is a game if you try hard enough.

…

A brightly lit room surrounded you as you grabbed a few more pieces of dandelions and baby’s breath bunches for your bouquet, in your floral arrangement lessons for the week. Under the watchful eye of your teacher, a premiere florist who is hired by the Capitol’s elite for the most fashionable and well-sought events every season.

Hailing from one of the oldest families among the Capitol’s blue bloods, your family may not be the wealthiest but definitely prosperous to be among them, yet your lineage is prominent even before Panem’s founding, the most ancient of them all.

In your family home’s perfectly manicured garden, you immerse yourself in the arrangement, something that would impress your teacher yet also something you would find pleasant in a vase by your study. No way would someone of your heritage be found associating with anything subpar.

After your studies at the Academy, your lessons and tutoring would never end, usually something different for each day. Piano, ballet, etiquette, floristry, household management, painting and so on.

As you gathered a crimson bow around the branches of your bouquet, you could hear murmurs among the uniformly dressed maids and servants around the stately home, as your mother jaunted towards you in her glossy designer heels.

“Yes, mother?” You greeted politely, observing the unreadable expression on your mother’s face.

She approached you carefully, gently taking your hands in her own, soft and having never experienced hardship.

“A great honour has been bestowed on you, daughter. A promising Senator has taken a liking to you, and wants you to be considered for his future bride.” Your mother smiles in celebration and pride, and your brows furrow in consternation.

“A Senator as old as father? A man old enough to be my grandfather-”

“Hush, darling. He is young, from a proper family of the elite family unlike those Plinths, new money scum. Senator Coriolanus Snow, the son of late General Crassus Snow and his wife Victoria Snow. He is only twenty four, I think you would like him.” She brushes your hair behind your ears, but you turn away from her, pushing her hands away.

“Twenty four, when I am eighteen?”

Your mother shrugs. “It is the way of the world I suppose. I was your age when I met your father. Eighteen and he was twenty one, a match fit for the sort like us.”

“You mentioned I was being considered but no outright proposal or courting has begun. What do you mean?”

She unveiled a large envelope she was holding behind her back, taking it out for you before a gold hued canvas invitation was unveiled.

Dear Y/N L/N and family, I hope this letter finds you well. As I have progressed through my career as a gamemaker and politician, it has been too long since I have navigated through life without a lifelong companion and wife.

You are a woman of unblemished character, accomplished in many ways, intelligent, well-bred and would fit the bill of what a man like me seeks in a future partner.

There is no guarantee that you must receive this invitation and accept, but rather that your name will be included in a pool of candidates to be considered. I hope that you and your family would view this as a position of honour, and even if you shall not be chosen, you will be compensated for your time and this shall only raise your standing in our society.

Please reply to the number and address attached below with your response, and I would be beholden and pleased to hear if you would put your name forward to possibly become my future First Lady.

Sincerely, Senator Coriolanus Snow

You could not believe it, the humiliation of not being asked directly for one’s hand in marriage but having to compete with other ladies of society and grovel for his attention.

“Are you and papa seriously making me do this? The Hunger Games to be someone’s wife and heir maker?!”

Your mother sighs, shaking her head as she crosses her arms. “You do not understand, child. I have heard of other elite families whose daughters, sisters, nieces such as the Heavensbees, the Cardews, Dovecotes, among a few have been invited and all have accepted. No one would even think to refuse a Snow!”

“But it is not guaranteed. How would I not be offended if he did not make a guaranteed offer but wants me to participate like I am in a beauty pageant. I have to close off even entertaining other suitors and I am not even assured that I will not be left dry and humiliated if I was not chosen.”

“Your grandmother was Miss Panem many years ago before the war and those rebels ruined everything, I am sure he will choose you. Even if he did not, any other unmarried peer of yours would scoop you up in no time, that if Snow perceived you as someone potential, they are from the cream of the crop.”

You sighed, putting down your shearing tools and your bunches of daisies and baby’s breath. You never liked roses.

“You have always aimed for the stars, daughter. Would you pass on an opportunity like this or be forgotten to the tombs of time?” Your mother suggests, walking over to you with a guiding hand on your shoulder. “Choose wisely if you want to make something of yourself, to not pass on opportunities like this.

Golden letter in hand, you stared intensely at the dark line above your name, signifying whether you would submit your name or not. With a bold stroke of your ink pen, you sign your fate and future away. I agree to participate.

Let the games begin.

His Chosen Bride Taglist:

(if your name is bolded, I put in your user but it didn't show up when prompted so I'm not sure if you got notified!) Please let me know if you'd like to be added and reminded every time I update.

@xsunaxrinx @bialuvss @emma0320 @callieyanderechan @crimsonred13 @starcrosslove @castellandiangelo @sylmthadmnglla13 @tragicmiserybone @o12lk22gr @anna-stasia @paumartinezsstuff @coriosbunni @nora4us @jupiterstearx @corvinaweeb @batman1asf @imperfectophelia @madmaxsalltoowell @vicky2408 @folklorelogy @bradpittwh0re @linaa20 @abcde601375 @kickmybark @emynunez21 @princessofthereach @maeve-a24 @ellie-bellie-29 @ashfromurfire @dante-pearl @yuuuumii @kxksksjjd @everythingjp @frill0 @aslalali @addriaenne @joyfulyouthlover @rbrsvb @motomami111 @imamybubbles @x-gabrielle-x @crystalstars88 @cc13723things @izzy02soph @shycandykitty @thtweirdointhecornr1917 @drpeperrlover11 @starmaiden @itz-me-cherie @papi-chulo69000 @meetmeatyourworst @sombodynotimportant @hyunjinspdf @bellaramseysgirlfriend @mari-mari12 @kis9na @lvrdilfs @mizuki80mizuki80 @deago21 @hafisjfjsit @miniatureblazellama @livid-euphoria @sugaxmamii @kropka4321 @jamesyrobin @joana2934 @kotadislikesthissite @byisy @shinae28 @atlasedelgard @eimearj123 @urfavewh0r3 @sophs-sofa @dreammie-marrie @cos-ilsee @nikolaikirche0 @bigwmc66 @mandoskenobi @theswreties @soniusstuff @1lovesnowballs @bitvhese @craftycloudcollection @byraaaaan19 @mythic-moon-moth @reading-in-velaris @bestboymikey @marytargaryen @cleverpeachheropersona @adeline32sblog @snowdrops-png @lysonal @tiffdx @bingxuu @noothemoo

[madamsnape921]

Phone Help

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader

WC: 2557

Warning: f/f smut; I really went out of my comfort zone for this one but I think it turned out okay; my husband deserves a shout out for his help of writing this one: Thank you, Nick!

Tags: @alwaysachorusgirl @beccabarba @storiesofsvu

You had just started your first month at Quantico, not exactly your dream job but it provided a steady income and federal benefits. It was a relief to be able to afford a two-bedroom apartment in the city after your recent relationship ended. However, the agents were a challenge. They were arrogant, thinking they were the ultimate saviors, and their actions reflected that attitude.

“YN?”

As you snap out of your self-absorbed tirade, you notice one of the top members from the Behavioral Analysis Unit standing in front of you, looking just as perplexed as you feel. Why is she here? You wonder to yourself.

“Yes, Agent…?” you look for a nametag.

“Prentiss. Emily Prentiss. I am with the BAU. So, hey. Our normal tech person is not keen on doing our personal phones. She mentioned I should come to the new girl, which I am assuming is you, to help me?”

You despised phone work. Actually, you loathed it. But you knew that earning some brownie points with a senior agent could be beneficial in the future. So, you forced yourself to answer the call and politely responded, "Of course, Agent Prentiss. What can I assist you with?"

“The phone is acting slow and I can’t seem to find any of my files,” she hands you a card. “YN, here is my work number. Call me when you figure it out?”

“Sure. I’ll look at it here and then I’ll see what I can…,” you started. 

I'd rather not use agency time or equipment for this task. The data on my device is personal and I don't want anyone else to have access to it. One of my close friends happens to be a top-notch hacker, so she probably has something lurking around in there.”

Prentiss gave a nod and then exited your office. She walked away with ease, her sensible pantsuit moving smoothly with each step.

After a grueling day at work, you finally reach your apartment. Your fingers are still warm from typing on the keyboards as you touch the doorknob. You step inside and are greeted by your faithful feline companions. "Sorry guys, Mom has to fix a friend's phone."

A friend's phone? That was unexpected, you thought.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down at your computer, confident that this task will not take too much time. All I need to do is scan the phone for any harmful files and reinstall everything. It should be a piece of cake, you think to yourself. After completing the scan and finding everything to be in order, you give Agent Prentiss a call, relieved by the ease of the process.

“Hey, Agent Prentiss, it’s YN. Your phone is finishing up now. If you want to head down I can text you my address.”

“YN, that would be fantastic! Thank you for being so efficient,” Prentiss exclaimed. “I'll be at your residence in 15 minutes.”

“How do you know that?” you asked.

“I’m with the government. I know everything,” Prentiss joked.

After completing the scan, you realize that there is an issue. The program alerts you to the presence of a malicious app on the phone, Calculator PlusPlus. You launch the app and it prompts for a password. Using your own knowledge, you successfully crack the password and let out a triumphant laugh, "Take that, Penelope."

The next thing you see are numerous pictures of nude women, all with the same hair color and style as you. This must be what's taking up all the storage space on the phone, along with all of the data. You panic when you hear a knock at the door.

“YN, it’s Emily. I’m here about my phone,” Prentiss called from the hall.

DOUBLE SHIT. MINIMIZE MINIMIZE MINIMIZE! SHIT it’s frozen. SHITSHITSHIT.

“YN, I thought it was ready,” Prentiss knocked again. 

After hearing a knock at your door, you call out "Coming!" and get up to answer it. You open the door to see Agent Prentiss standing there.

"Hey there, Agent Prentiss. Please come in," you say with a smile, dressed in your comfortable lounge pants and cat mom tank top.

“Please call me Emily, we’re not at work.” You close the door behind her, her in the same suit from work.

“Please sit. Do you want something to drink?” you offer. 

“I’ll have a beer. It’s been hell with the BAU.” She sits on your couch and begins to pet one of your cats. “Beautiful cats, YN!”

“Thanks, they’re my babies,” you smile.

You grab the beer from the fridge and pop it open, handing it to Prentiss. As you both relax and chat about work and other small talk, an hour and a half quickly passes by. Suddenly, you remember something and say, "Oh, your phone! It's in my room. I'll go get it for you."

Upon entering your room, you find the computer still frozen on a picture of a nude woman. The figure resembles you, but not entirely. It's almost like a lower-quality version of yourself. You are immediately jolted by the realization that these intimate images are displayed prominently on your oversized screen.

“Oh, I see you found the Calculator PlusPlus App…,” Prentiss whispered.

“OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORRY. I was trying to find any malicious apps and I cracked this one’s code and…. I wasn’t snooping. I promise,” you apologised.

“I believe you, but you know what this means, right” Prentiss scowled.

“No…,” you said in response.

Prentiss puts her hand on her gun holster, “I’ll have to kill you to keep my secret safe.”

The room fell silent, and Prentiss let out a chuckle. "Just kidding," she said with a smirk. "Just put them back and don't tell anyone. I have a type...smart, dark-haired girls like yourself."

The phone was too easy to fix. Would she… she wouldn’t.

Prentiss gently brushed your hair and whispered, "We can keep another secret just between us, if you'd like." Your face paled as she tenderly kissed your lips. You had never been with a woman before, let alone one as stunning as her. Feeling unsure of yourself, you tentatively kissed her back, unsure of what to do next.

“Do you want to do this, YN?”

You nod your head.

Prentiss continued to kiss you softly. Mostly on the center of your mouth, but then switching to the left and the right sides, keeping you guessing. You felt yourself become weak in the knees. 

“Let’s sit on the bed, YN.”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss.”

You both sat on the bed and continued to kiss. Prentiss’ hands exploring your body. Your mind and your arms begin to open up.

“Good girl, YN. Take off my jacket.”

You obey the orders given to you, carefully removing her jacket and placing it on the chair next to the bedside table. She sits there, still wearing a sleeveless blouse and her gun holster.

“Now take off your top, YN.”

You cautiously remove your top, wondering how she has such control over you. Your breasts are now exposed to the cool air, and the intense energy in the room causes your nipples to harden. Suddenly, a soft yet firm suction envelops your left nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You've had boyfriends do this before, but never a woman. Prentiss continues to knead and suck on your breast while gently stroking your hair, creating an overwhelming sense of bliss.

Prentiss stopped and moved to the other breast. It was just as amazing. However, you where brought out of bliss with a sharp bite. “Ow,” you moaned.

“Pay attention,” Prentiss stated.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you moaned again.

Prentiss finished with that breast and stood up and removed her shirt, bra, and gun holster. “Now you do me,” she smiled.

You attempted to replicate Prentiss’ actions on her, but your efforts fell short. Prentiss chuckled and giggled as you struggled, until you accidentally bit down too hard. She stopped and got up. You panicked.

“Pants off. Now!” Prentiss ordered.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you jumped to your feet and stripped. She stood there and watched you sit back on the bed.

“Lay back.” You did as you were told. “Now don’t cum until I say or I will have to leave. Understand?”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you sigh. 

Prentiss flashed a sly smile before sinking to her knees. From this new vantage point, she spotted a drawer slightly open and couldn't help but peek inside. She found a small vibrating wand tucked away and placed it beside her feet. Starting at your thighs, she lavished kisses leading up to your glistening womanhood. You let out a soft moan as she got closer to your sensitive areas. With deft fingers, she parted your lips and exposed you fully to the world. "I bet your ex never did this," she said with a hint of smugness. "And I guarantee it won't be this good with anyone else."

Prentiss pressed her tongue against the sensitive spot above your clit, applying a constant and firm pressure. At the same time, she used her thumbs to press into your lips, causing a rush of sensation to flood through your body. It was a new experience for you, and you couldn't help but gasp in response. With a smile, Prentiss continued her oral exploration, slowly moving down from the flat spot towards your hood. She flicked her tongue gently against your hood, alternating between soft and medium pressure while also pulsing on your opening and lips. Your moans of pleasure grew louder with each movement she made.

“Don’t cum, YN. Don’t be a bad cadet!”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss, I will be a good cadet.” Cadet, where did that come from?!

Prentiss started licking your clit. This licking was a continued game of alternate pressures and circular licking. You hear a vibrator turn on.

SHIT! SHE FOUND MY STASH!

Prentiss moaned. 

“You naked girl, spread out for me, huh?” She did two licks around your clit. “Mmm, who’s wearing the pants, cadet?”

“You are, Agent Prentiss.”

“And who is the naked slut, cadet?”

“I am the naked slut, Agent Prentiss.”

“Who’s in command of this pussy, cadet?” 

“Agent Prentiss is the commander of this pussy.”

Prentiss then takes the vibrator and places it firmly on your clit. You start to buck. You are so close. You don’t want her to leave. Prentiss then takes two fingers and slides them into you, putting sudden and strong pressure on you G-Spot.”

“What do you want, cadet?”

“To cum, Agent Prentiss.”

“You may cum, as long as you ask nicely.”

“May I cum, Agent Prentiss?”

“Nicer.”

“May I please cum, Agent Prentiss?”

With that she presses hard against your clit with the vibrator and your g-spot with her fingers. You quake as a hard, loud, and wet orgasm rolled through you. You feel shaking and the last thing you see before passing out is a smiling Prentiss.

You came to and found Prentiss taking her phone from your computer. She is now fully dressed.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty seconds or so. I got you a glass of water. It’s on your table. I’m going to leave, wheels up in the morning.”

“If you need any more phone help, let me know.”

“Oh, next time I need phone help I’ll make sure you do all the work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can feel every thrust deep inside you. Each one makes a distinctive thud and shlick sound. Your orgasm is building, getting closer with every movement. You tightly grip onto the strapon as it fills you up. Nothing has ever felt as unyielding and solid as this before. The plug in your backside grinds against the bright red toy, adding to the intense pleasure of being penetrated.

“Come for me, Cadet.” Prentiss demanded.

You feel the grip of orgasm squeeze you tightly and pleasure erupts from within your core. Your body trembles and shivers as a powerful orgasm overcomes you. As it subsides, you take a moment to catch your breath.

"That was incredible," you exclaimed with gratitude.

"Rocking a holster isn't the only thing I'm good at," Prentiss replied with a sly grin on her face.

She gently pulls out your plug and carefully cleans you up with a towel from the bedside table. You thank her with a smile as she helps you stand up and put on a robe. Prentiss starts to get dressed, putting on her panties first before reaching for her pants.

“Why don’t we spend the day together? We can watch a movie?” You suggested.

“YN, we just finished fucking… you don’t need to ask me for a “movie” to watch,” she laughed.

“No really, Emily, stay with me.”

You two have been fucking feverishly and often in a kinky mist of desire and need for a few weeks at this point. Emily was not an odd name to call her, but it was new. You didn’t know if you should call her that or Prentiss.

“Why? We both finished and I’m sure you’re busy today. As am I.” Prentiss declared.

“Actually, it’s Saturday… at 11 am. I’m off today. Aren’t you? Or am I a lunchtime snack?” you smiled.

“You’re definitely satisfying my appetite,” she replied with a coy smile.

I stood up from the bed and handed her a shirt.

“So, we have underwear and shirts covered… I’ll grab some drinks. You can choose the movie.” You suggested.

Prentiss strolled into the living room and switched on Netflix while you headed towards the kitchen. You grabbed her favorite European beer from the fridge, excited for the chance to surprise her. Balancing both beverages in your hands, you made your way back to the couch where Prentiss had already pulled up "Une vie de chat," a French cartoon about a cat.

You sit down and offer her the beer.

“Thank you! This is my favorite beer! It’s only at that one German store downtown. How’d you know?”

“You mentioned it once. I thought it’d be a nice treat,” you smiled.

As the cat's misadventures unfold, you realize that you and Prentiss have gravitated towards each other on the spacious couch. You rest your head on her shoulder as you continue to watch the show together.

As she begins to say, "This is my favorite..." you rest your head on her shoulder. Emily grins and gently kisses the top of your forehead. It's a new experience for both of you, but it feels natural and perfect in that moment. Your stomach flutters with excitement, but it's a pleasant sensation that matches the rhythm of your heart. It's a mix of thrilling and serene feelings all at once.

"Emily, this is really nice," you say with a smile.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, YN. It's been a while since I've felt this relaxed. I could definitely get used to this," she replies, returning the smile.

"I have a proposition for you. In here, I have my Emily and in there..." you start, but she interrupts with a knowing smile.

"...you have Agent," she finished your sentence. You try to hide in her embrace, but she finds you anyway.

"Yes, YN, you can have your Emily out here and your Agent in there," she confirmed, snuggling into you as you both fall asleep watching TV together.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

The Winter Formal - Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Forced to be your annoying, arrogant academic rival’s date for your university’s Christmas Formal was already a nightmare in itself. Getting drunk? Now that was just a recipe for disaster.

Pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, angst, some talks of drunk violence, academic dumb idiot rivals to lovers, lovesick Aemond, p in v sex, degradation, face sitting (f!receiving), tiddy play, use of 'atta girl' (pls let me know if i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.92k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) MAY THE AEMOND NATION PLS ARISE, bcuz this is for you guys ;)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

For as long as you could remember, you had always hated Aemond Targaryen’s guts. 

Maybe it was a hatred programmed in you since birth, but it made little sense, since your mother and Aemond’s mother, Alicent Targaryen, had been inseparable companions since high school. It was your mother who supported Alicent throughout her marriage, acting as a close, trusted confidant during her clashes with their old friend and Alicent’s new stepdaughter, Rhaenyra, and throughout her miserable marriage. They had even gotten pregnant at around the same time, your mother with you, and Alicent with Aemond, and they were sure that their children would share the same strong bond as they had. 

So, it had been quite unfortunate, and ironic, when you and Aemond ended up being each other’s number 1 enemies. 

You disliked plenty of things about him: how he always thought he was the best in the room, and actually had something to show for it - always coming in at the top of the classes you shared. History, geography, mathematics, english…bloody hell. It hurt worse when he always flaunted the results in your face. 

Got a 98 for English? Aemond would get a 99, shoot you a taunting sympathetic grin and said: “Better luck next time.” He knew you were always actively seeking a chance to beat him, and he found a certain sort of thrill in it, in taunting you. 

That little fuckhead. 

It was a nigging thorn in your side, since you always strove to be the best that you could at everything. And you were always so, so, close. 

Yet not close enough. As you were made to watch Aemond on stage every year at your school’s academic awards ceremony, a smirk on his face, looking like an overly self-righteous pufferfish as he lifted his first place trophy in the air. Like he had just won some fucking world championship. Meanwhile, you had to stand backstage, gritting your teeth and fisting the fabric of your uniform in your hands as you waited to be called on stage to receive your award as second place in your whole cohort. Not close enough as you were forced to be designated as salutatorian at the end of your senior year in high school, while Aemond shot you the most self-satisfied grin ever as he deliberately brushed past you to give his valedictorian speech. 

You swore, if your diploma was not at stake that day, you would’ve pummelled him right in his smug, grinning face. 

That year before you were due to start at King’s Landing University, however, Aemond had suffered a horrible accident in a brawl at a bar during Christmas along with his younger nephews, Jacaerys Velaryon and Lucerys Velaryon. He had come out of it with one eye permanently scarred from the glass shard of a broken beer bottle, and a colder, more sullen attitude. Despite the offer of a prosthetic eye by his step sister, Rhaenyra, Aemond had refused, instead putting on an eyepatch to hide his scarred right eye. 

When your mother had recounted to you the incident with much solemnity, you had felt a strange sense of turmoil in you. You didn’t want to feel sorry for Aemond Targaryen, of all people, but it was a tragic incident that no one deserves to have befallen on them. So you could only shift uncomfortably in your seat, as your mother made meaningful eyes at you, trying to elicit some sympathy and concern from you. 

Because of that incident, Aemond’s admission to university had to be put on hold, as the professors at the university were unsure if Aemond’s plans to double major in law and history would be impeded by the loss of his eye, and he had to take additional exams to prove that his studies would not be affected in any way. 

So you were surprised when on the first day of classes, during your first class of the day - Constitutional Law - you caught sight of a familiar figure seated at the front of the class. Dressed in an expensive black cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, his long white hair neatly bunched up at the top of his head in a bun, eyepatch slung over his right eye, Aemond Targaryen sat there with an impassive look on his face, browsing through his lecture notes. Like some dark shadow the Seven sought to inflict upon you. You wanted to groan in frustration when the only seats left at the front were both next to him - clearly no one had summed up enough courage to sit next to the imposing Targaryen. Gripping the strap of your backpack a little tighter, you stalked up to the front, taking a seat at the right of him. 

He barely looked up as you slid into your seat - a surprising change. Usually back when you were in high school, he would always greet you with that infuriating smirk on his face, one that screamed superiority at every turn. Gods, how much you had hated that. Yet, you felt a strange sense of emptiness at not being greeted. 

Ignoring that, you pulled out your own textbooks and self-made notes, tying your hair up into a neat ponytail as you began reviewing your notes. From the front, you could hear very clearly what the rest of the class were gossiping about, and the whisperings about Aemond were unpleasant. You paused as you listened to them, gripping your highlighter a little tighter as you shot side glances at Aemond - still studying, not letting anything give. Was he truly not bothered by them? When he was younger, he always had something to prove whenever someone gossiped about him, having been bullied in the past. Why was he so silent? Who was this phantom? 

“Are you going to keep staring?” Aemond’s cool voice broke through your thoughts, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realise you’ve been caught. You sniffed haughtily, turning away. “Who said I was staring?” Aemond scoffed, not turning to look at you still, for whatever reason. “You were. Don’t try to deny it.” He paused for a while, eye fixed on a passage. 

“I don’t want your pity, you know.” You bristled, startled. “As if I ever would.” You waited for Aemond to retort with a snarky remark, but you were surprised when he kept silent, and responded coldly. “Good. keep it that way.” 

You shot him a discerning look, but before you could say anything else, the professor arrived, and all thoughts of Aemond Targaryen’s new unapproachability had vanished into thin air. 

You soon came to learn that while Aemond had ceased the taunting of your youthhood, it was like losing an eye had made him even more driven somehow. You found you and him falling into old patterns, restarting your fierce rivalry. Only this time, you managed to succeed in getting the best of him in certain modules, such as for Civil Law modules, much to your delight. It only served to make Aemond more steely, however, and the both of you often found yourself partaking in the same student committees, always competing for the top spots in planning school events. 

Like now, in the meeting called to discuss the planning of the school’s Winter Formal. 

“I think that that’s a shit idea,” Aemond’s blunt words took everyone aback, but few dared to oppose him, too intimidated by the tall man. 

And the few who dared were mostly you, anyway. 

You raised your eyebrow, tapping your pen on the planning document in front of you. “It’s a winter formal, Targaryen. And white and gold is the traditional theme used for most formals. Isn’t it nice to spruce things up a bit?” 

“You’re proposing to reinvent a winter formal that has been steeped in centuries of tradition,” Aemond remarked sarcastically, glaring at you. “Do you know how many distinguished alumni and guests are on the guest list? I doubt they would find your ‘Christmas Wonderland’ theme proposal charming in any way. Most likely, they’ll think it gaudy and it’ll reflect badly on the school.” 

You snorted, wanting to toss the pen in his fucking infuriating face. Him and his know-it-all voice. “Yes, but you forget, Targaryen, that I am the head of this project. Not you.” You turned to the other members of the planning committee, who all look like they would rather be anywhere other than here, in the midst of you and Aemond’s bickering. “All of those in favour of revamping the winter formal theme, please raise your hands.” 

Your reputation as a tenacious leader clearly had an effect, as most of the members tentatively raised their hands. Shooting a triumphant grin at Aemond, you smugly noted it down and began drafting up the students in charge of decorations. 

One for you, and zero for Aemond. At long last. 

Aemond had reluctantly gone along with the Christmas Wonderland theme, and even he had to admit, a little bit of colour certainly didn’t hurt. White and gold were such dreadfully boring colours, and many of the school’s faculty had expressed their praise for the changed theme this year, much to your delight. 

However, so busy were you with the planning of the winter formal, that you had neglected to do a few important things for yourself. 

Buying a dress and getting a date. 

You paced back and forth in your dorm in panic, two days before the night of the Winter Formal, as your roommate, Rosina, looked at you with increasing frustration. “How could I be so stupid to have forgotten about those things?” You groaned, slumping down on an armchair and putting your head in your hands. 

“The dress problem can be easily solved,” Rosina said bluntly, leaning back against her pillows. “I’ll just lend you one of mine. And who gives a flying fuck about not having a date? A lot of people don’t.” 

“Yes, but I’m the head of the planning committee for this event!” you griped, as Rosina rolled her eyes. “I still don’t see the problem, apart from your stupid fucking dignity getting in the way as usual.” Usually, you loved Rosina’s deadpan, take-no-bullshit nature, but it wasn’t really helpful now. 

“Anyway, from what I've heard, Targaryen doesn’t have a date either, so you don’t need to stress. He’s second-in-charge after you, anyway, so if he doesn’t have a date, you should be fine. It won't be that humiliating.” You slowly lifted your face up, looking at Rosina urgently. “Targaryen doesn’t have a date?” 

“Yeah,” Rosina wrinkled her nose. “He’s hot, sure. But literally everyone who had the courage to ask got rejec- where the fuck are you going?” You were putting on your bra, and brushing through the tangles of your hair. “This is so fucking stupid, but I’m going to ask him.” 

“Are you crazy?” Rosina came to stand next to you, hands on her hips as you roughly used a hairbrush to comb out a tangle. “You know you both hate each other right?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” you bit out. “Wish me luck!” You blew a kiss to Rosina as you left the dorm. “Good luck, you crazy bitch!” You could hear Rosina holler as the dorm room closed behind you. 

You took a deep breath, eyes resting on the dorm door before you. Right. You didn’t know what exactly had possessed you to come here. Maybe it was sheer panic, or stupidity, or both. You knocked lightly, but it seemed no one was in, which made you come to your senses a little bit. “This was a stupid idea,” you muttered, retracting your hand, wanting to just scurry back to your dorm. 

Turning around, however, you knocked into a hard chest. “Oof! I’m so sorry!” You gasped out, before your eyes met a familiar lilac one, an indifferent expression etched on his face. Fucking hell. 

“And what are you doing at my dorm this late, little bookworm?” His voice was raspy, and you couldn’t help but shift your weight from one leg to the other. Was it too late to run? 

You were never a quitter though. And like you said, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“The winter formal,” you reluctantly gritted out. “I wanted…to ask you to be my date.” Aemond raised an eyebrow, and for a split second, you could see that self-satisfied boy from your youthood again. “You know, you’re supposed to say please, little bookworm.” 

You bit your tongue, wanting to snark him and be done with it. ‘Calm down, calm down, you really do need him. Play nice, Y/N.’ you told yourself sternly, sighing. “Please, will you go to the winter formal with me as my date?” Aemond smirked, looking down at you. Your head was bowed, and he could hear you grinding your teeth a little. You were just too cute sometimes. 

“You should look up at someone when making a request of them, you know,” Aemond said blandly, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Your mouth dropped open, was he serious right now? This dickhead- 

“You know what, fuck it,” you sniffed, beginning to walk away. “If you’re going to be a dick about it as usual, then there’s no point in continuing this conversation. Good fucking night, Targaryen.” 

Aemond watched you walk away, the smirk never leaving his face. You went back to your dorm, immediately burying your face in the pillow, ignoring Rosina’s exasperated sighs of ‘I told you so’. All night, you tossed and turned in frustration, but when morning broke, Rosina shook you awake, ignoring your grumbles. 

You got out of bed grumpily to see what the fuss was about, only to find a note sitting on the table, in a familiar scrawl. 

“Go to the address written below and pick out a dress for tomorrow. Knowing you, you definitely didn’t have time to find one. I’ve already made payment arrangements, so just find one that you like. See you tomorrow. 

Your date, 

Aemond Targaryen.” 

Rosina snorted, bumping your shoulder as you scanned the note for the third time, trying to make sure he wasn’t pulling your leg. “He so likes you.” You looked askance at her. “That’s bullshit.” Rosina chuckled, “Yeah. it’s not, and you know it too.” The conversation abruptly ended when you snatched up a stray cushion and began hitting her with it, ignoring her squeals as she tried to escape. It was impossible. 

And yet? 

A warm feeling burrowed into your stomach, and stayed there for the rest of the day. 

On the night of the Winter Formal, you were frantically scrabbling around your dorm, affixing the final pins to your hair, putting on your final touches of makeup. Rosina was still in classes, but as the winter formal started at 7:30, you, being your endlessly worrying, perfectionist self, had to go at 6 to make sure everything was in order before the guests poured in. 

A knock at the door sounded, and you yelled in response, putting on your lipstick. “Give me a second!” As you swung open the door, your breath momentarily stuttered in your throat. 

Oh dear. 

Aemond stood outside the door, looking like he had just stepped out of the fucking Met Gala or something. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, black with red lapels, with a few shimmers of silver scattered here and there, like he was coated in a layer of stardust. His suit jacket wasn’t really a normal jacket, but a sharply cut cape coat, which made him look a little imposing, but handsome all the same. It was embroidered with small dragon insignias, and you remembered Aemond’s family’s crest was a dragon or something. Of course he would find a way to incorporate that into his outfit. His family were one of the biggest donors of the university, after all. 

You gave him an appraising look, one hand on your hip as you surveyed him. “You…look nice.” Aemond smirked, tossing some of his white-blonde locks over his shoulder haughtily. “I can dress myself, you know. Don’t need to act surprised now.” You rolled your eyes, and Aemond took the chance to scan you from head to toe as well. Dressed in a gorgeous strapless gown of midnight blue, your bodice was streaked with silver as well, shining like starlight among the deep blue of your dress. The skirt flared into elaborate ruffles of tulle and black lace that were almost invisible against the backdrop of the dress, and small silver sparkles twinkled among the ruffles of your gown.

You narrowed your eyes as you realised the both of you were matching, did he do this on purpose? From the way Aemond’s eye was shining in mischief, you were most certain that he did. 

“You look…breathtaking,” his next words took you aback, and you regarded him with a look of unease, unsure of how to respond. Was this truly the Aemond Targaryen you knew? The one whose only language was taunting or disagreeing with you? You somehow managed to recover some semblance of sanity, nodding stiffly. “Thanks…I guess.” 

A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his lips again, as he offered you his arm. “Shall we get going, then? I’m sure you will want to inspect the venue and get your nose into every single little crook and cranny to make sure that it’s perfect.” 

You rolled your eyes, your arm, which were clad in silver silk gloves, slipping into his gingerly. “Spoken like someone who wouldn’t do the same.” 

The formal had been progressing smoothly so far, apart from the few drunken incidents here and there, which you discreetly handled and made a note to provide less alcohol at these events. Much to your delight, your professors had introduced you to some attorneys whom you deeply admired, commending you as one of their finest students in the year. You had taken the chance to network and mingle with them, eagerly seeking out internship and shadowing opportunities for your upcoming holidays, particularly in the field of civil litigation, and many of them had given you their contact details for you to contact them should you wish to work with them.

Aemond stood by you like a silent shadow, watching but not saying much, but your professors also praised him, introducing him to many esteemed alumnus. And once they had learnt that Aemond was from the prestigious Targaryen family, many of them immediately took to flocking Aemond, asking him many questions about his family, his plans for studies, and so on. A slight burning sensation of envy rose in your heart as you watched Aemond disinterestedly converse with them. Why wasn’t he taking it seriously? Had it been you, you would be seizing the opportunity to network with them. 

‘He's a Targaryen,’ you sighed internally. ‘Of course he wouldn’t. It’s been pretty much handed to him on a silver platter his own life anyway.’ 

Sullenly, you slipped away, making rounds around the party to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly. Still, it couldn’t curb the irritableness you were feeling, so you snatched up a bottle of whiskey from the drinks table, pouring yourself a glass. Then two. Then three. Then four turned to seven and seven turned to thirteen glasses. Your surroundings blurred as time seemed to slow, and you sighed, feeling a heady pounding in your head. 

“Are you serious?” A gruff voice interrupted you in your fifteenth? Twentieth? Glass of whiskey, and you looked up from where you had sunk into a plush armchair, a glazed over, slightly cantankerous expression on your face. 

“Well, well,” you hiccuped, lifting the glass to your lips. “If it isn’t Mr Bigshot Targaryen.” Aemond sighed in annoyance, knowing you were picking a fight again. He made a quick assessment of your surroundings, noting two empty whiskey bottles and a third one that was almost drained. Seven fucking Hells, you were drunk. 

You let out an indignant yelp as a hand plucked away your whiskey tumbler, setting it down with a definitive clink. “Hey, I was drinking that!” 

“You’re fucking drunk out of your mind, little bookworm,” he said quietly, crossing his arms. “I’m taking you back to your dorm.” You hiccuped again. “You’re not my dad, Targaryen. So why don’t you just run along and socialise with those schmoozy lawyer friends of yours, hmm? They were all eager to have a piece of you. Or have you grown tired already?” 

Aemond wanted to smack you in the forehead. Oh, this godsforsaken woman. “I may not be your dad, yes,” he rumbled, snatching away the whiskey bottle that you were reaching for and making you curse at him. “But I would be damned if I let you get drunk on your first Christmas Eve spent away from your family.” 

You gave him a confused look. “Is it Christmas Eve?” Aemond frowned. He put a hand on your forehead, to check for a fever, which you promptly batted away. “Have you lost all your senses? The winter formal was scheduled on Christmas Eve, remember?” 

“Oh.” was all you could say, lamely. “I…I was so busy. I didn’t remember.” 

Aemond sighed, taking a seat in the armchair next to you. It was good that it was late and most of the guests had already left, so the both of you had some privacy. The vast hall was empty now, save for a few cleaners. “You know, you have got to take more time for yourself. You take on too many commitments.” 

You hiccuped, snorting softly. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, but you felt a strong inclination to vent out all your previous frustrations on Aemond right now. Who the hell did he think he was, criticising you for your decisions? 

“Yeah, and it’s all your fucking fault.” Aemond’s eye widened incredulously, his mouth dropping open. “My fault? Pray tell, did I ever tell you to overwork yourself that you forget to keep track of when Christmas was?” 

“It’s because of you that I have to overwork myself!” you blustered out, a tidal wave of emotions overtaking you. “Because you’re always so fucking perfect, and smart, and good at every single goddamn thing under the sun. Meanwhile, compared to you, I’ve always had to work twice as hard. And yet, I never come close to beating you. Despite how many fucking extracurriculars I have, how many A’s I get, how much praise I get for being ‘one of the best students in the grade’, it’s never fucking enough! Because you’re always the best! And I’m so sick of it!” 

After your tirade, you deflated like a balloon sucked clean of its air, collapsing back against the armchair. You felt hot wet streaks cascading down your face, but you didn’t care anymore. You were just so tired…it wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be so perfect? 

The touch of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and the next thing you knew, Aemond Targaryen embraced you, gently stroking your hair as if you were a lost child, and he was consoling you. Despite your mind screaming at him to let go, it didn’t translate to your physical actions. You just…stayed there, sobbing in his arms. “I hate you so much, you know. You’ve always had everything handed to you on a silver platter, and it’s like you don’t even care. You always treat things for granted,” you continued rambling on, the dizzy sensation in your head gradually increasing. 

Aemond was silent for a long time. He never anticipated you to feel this way, and the shock from your revelations sent his head reeling. He sighed, how could he ever tell you that he had a stupid crush on you since you were little kids? That his attempts at teasing you, riling you up, were all so you could just look at him for a second longer, even if it was with a scowl? How could he tell you that none of his A’s or first place trophies could make him feel the same fuzzy way he felt whenever you looked at him? He opened his mouth to speak, debating on whether to comfort you, or tell you all his feelings. “Y/N-” 

With a start, he realised you were asleep in his arms as you let out a snore, body slack in his arms. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Wonderful. This was just the Christmas Eve he wanted. 

The sound of an alarm jolted you from a deep slumber. You flung off the blankets covering you, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. “Ugh…” the pounding in your head was overwhelming, it was like there were a party of elephants having a fiesta in your brain right now. “What time is it…” you reached for the alarm clock to turn it off, only to freeze when a hand reached for it before you did. 

You and Aemond Targaryen stared at each other, wide-eyed, in the dim light of the dorm, while the red digits on the clock read, “6a.m.” 

You were the first to react, frantically struggling as you scooted to the far end of the bed. “Aaaahhhh!” you screamed, clutching the duvet closer to you for protection. “What the fuck are you doing in my dorm?” 

“Wait, we didn’t-” you looked down at yourself, noting with palpable relief that you were still in your winter formal attire, though you stank of alcohol. Thank the Seven. 

Aemond rolled his eyes, grumbling as he switched off his alarm clock. “No, we didn’t sleep together. And this isn’t your dorm. It’s mine.” 

“Then what in the name of the Seven and all that is holy am I doing here?” You hollered at him, the confusion coupled with the pounding in your head making your surroundings spin. “Ow…my head.” 

“Yeah, it’s called a hangover,” Aemond snided, taking a seat on the bedspread. “You know, for drinking nearly three bottles of whiskey last night.” 

Your eyes went wide in horror. “Last night…” You weren’t the type to forget what you did while drunk, so your memory quickly raced through last night’s events, where you got drunk, and…fucking shit. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, muttering curses under your breath as you remembered what had happened last night. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. An awkward silence had lapsed in the room, as you struggled to find words to acquit you of this predicament. ‘Me and my big mouth while I’m drunk.’ 

“I’m sorry,” you both blurted out at the same time, before breaking off, staring at each other awkwardly. “Wait, why are you sorry?” you questioned him, looking dumbfounded. Aemond sighed, smiling wistfully. “Isn’t it obvious? For making you feel that way. I…I had no idea you did.” 

“It’s fine,” you cut him off brusquely, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers as the duvet slowly slid back down. “It’s all just fucking stupid, anyway. Let’s just let it go-” 

Suddenly Aemond seized your hands, holding onto them with some sort of restrained anger. Startled, you stared up at him, as his one eye glazed over with pain and sorrow. “Of course it’s not fine. Don’t brush aside your feelings like that.” you stared at him, stupefied. What had gotten into him? 

Aemond inhaled deeply, looking down at your hands. “You know…how I lost my eye over the break last year right?” You nodded warily, not sure where this was headed. Aemond’s voice shook a little as he recounted that incident. “It was because Luke was drunk, really. He wanted to pick a fight with this guy because he had stolen his girlfriend. And then next thing we knew, his goons surrounded us. Then, I think maybe it was the heat of the moment, or adrenaline…but Luke had a glass shard in his hand, and he accidentally attacked me.” You felt your heart plummet to your stomach. “What?” 

Aemond smiled, a contortion of pain and feigned impassivity. “He was drunk out of his mind, he probably thought I was one of the goons by accident. By the time Jace pulled him off, it was a little too late.” He sighed. “You know, the drunk part I can forgive, but the worst part was that my father didn’t even care to hear my side of the story. He just said that we should’ve been more careful.” His voice hardened, “I was angry, because he just chose to brush this under the rug, pretend like we were still one big happy family, like Luke didn’t slash out my eye in a drunken rage. He didn’t try to comfort me, or understand my situation. And I just…” he shrugged helplessly. 

You bit your bottom lip, looking at his scarred eye. “I’m sorry…that must have hurt. A lot. Your dad is a dick.” 

The ghost of a smirk lingered on Aemond’s lips. “Yeah…he is. I’ve made my peace with it though, and Luke has never stopped apologising since that day. So it is what it is.” He hesitated, before reaching up tentatively, taking off his eyepatch. A gasp sounded from you as you took in the sapphire crammed into where his right eye should’ve been. “...does it look scary?” Aemond asked you, his voice small. You shook your head, unable to tear your gaze away. “It’s not. It’s…quite beautiful, actually. Even though it’s a bit macabre.” 

Aemond chuckled, gently brushing aside a strand of your messed up hair. “My point is, don’t try to just brush things under the rug, okay? It never did anyone any good, and it won’t for you as well.” You shifted, a faint sense of discomfort prickling your skin. “But why…are you telling me all this?” ‘Why are you being so nice? I hated you.’ 

Aemond barked out a rough laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I have a crush on you, little bookworm.” 

You blinked. Once. twice. Thrice. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I have a crush on you. Since we were kids." Aemond repeated himself, his voice light with amusement, but tender. “Did you know why I always teased you? Why I always wanted to make you frustrated? It was because I wanted your attention. I didn’t care if it was negative or positive, which in hindsight, didn’t seem like a good choice.” 

You stared at him, mouth agape. He-he can’t be serious, can he? 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aemond said quickly, releasing your hands. “I just wanted you to know how I felt. No brushing things under the rug, you know.” Still, Aemond could feel his heart breaking a little at your silence. He had shot his shot, even though you made it clear that you disliked him. He shouldn’t expect much. “Little bookworm?” he asked carefully, observing your expression. 

“For someone so smart., you’re a real idiot, you know that?” Aemond opened his mouth to answer, but before he knew it, your lips were on his, as you launched yourself at him. Aemond’s eye widened, but then you mumbled, “You’re supposed to kiss me back, you know.” 

Then, with a choked laugh, Aemond did, reaching up to cup your cheeks and stroke them with his thumb as he returned the kiss from the girl of his dreams. Your lips moved in perfect tandem to one another, filled with tender, sweet desperation. “I’ll be an idiot, an annoying pest, anything you want.” Aemond murmured, his lips breaking away for a moment. “As long as you keep tormenting me, as long as you’re still here. I would be your anything.” 

You laughed, feeling slight tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. “You’re such a doofus, you know that?” Aemond flipped you over, making you land on your back with a yelp, as he hovered over you, smirking. “I know. But I’m your doofus.” 

Aemond continued kissing you, his hands roaming across your body sweetly, carefully. “This is probably the best Christmas of my life,” Aemond muttered softly against your lips. Your eyes widened, “Shoot, I completely forgot again.” Aemond laughed, sitting up and looking down at you with a naughty grin on his face. “Well, I actually have a present for you, you know.” 

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at him. Even in nothing but an old, faded sweatshirt and some sweatpants, he looked like a vision sculpted by the Seven. “Oh? And what might that be?” 

“Me, of course,” he said smugly, leaning down to kiss you again. You let out a few whimpers as you felt his hands slowly sliding up your dress, creeping up your thighs…into your panties. 

“Oh!’ you gasped out, as Aemond found the spot between your wet folds. He grinned devilishly, “Already wet for me, hmm?” You rolled your eyes at him, groaning as he teased your wet slit with the pad of his finger. “Just shut up already.’ 

Aemond wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “Why don’t you make me?’ You blinked, not quite comprehending his point. “I want you to sit on my face while I eat your wet little cunt,” he delineated bluntly, looking at you hungrily. “It’s a victory for you, no? You get your pussy eaten out, and shut me up at the same time. Hell, if I wasn’t so eager for a taste of your pussy, I would’ve grumbled at the unfairness of it.” 

You stared at him incredulously, but you felt the slow rise of arousal in your abdomen as he continued looking at you challengingly whilst teasing your folds, and you decided, why the hell not? “Game on, Targaryen.” 

He grinned, putting his finger in his mouth and groaning as he tasted your essence. You clamped your legs a little tighter at the sight. “You taste so fucking good already. I can’t wait to feel your cunt on my mouth.” Deft fingers helped you out of your gown, and you tossed it away carelessly, moving to take off your underwear. Aemond’s eye trailed over your naked form shamelessly, and he planted a soft kiss on your neck. “Beautiful.” he murmured. You felt your cheeks heat up, but decided to sass him a little. “Well, are we going to wait here all day, or?” Aemond grinned, a handsome, wicked expression that made your stomach do flips. “Definitely not. I need to taste you now.” 

He laid back on his pillows, gesturing at you. “Come here. Now.” You swallowed, crawling towards him, angling your cunt to his face. “Don’t suffocate or anything, okay?” You quipped as a joke, but Aemond only smirked. “No promises, sweetheart.” 

He pulled your hips down towards him, and you let out a pleasured gasp as his tongue flicked across your clit. Moaning, you dug your nails into the wooden headboard of his bed, writhing and shaking slightly as Aemond devoured your pussy. When he pressed the tip of his nose up your slit, you let out a mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

You rode Aemond’s face eagerly, as he pleasured you without much regard for his own safety. A few times, you were so concerned that Aemond had not come up for air in so long that you tried to move your hips off his face, only for him to firmly grip you by the hips and pull you back down again. With Aemond’s insistent licking and sucking, you felt a coil beginning to form in your stomach. “Oh, god, I’m cumming, Aemond-” you moaned, but your moan was cut off when Aemond lifted you off his face, smirking at you smugly with his face coated in your juices. “Why’d you stop?” you whined, pouting. 

Aemond chuckled. Oh, you were just so adorable sometimes. “Because I want your first time cumming with me to be on my cock,” Aemond explained, looking eerily calm, like he hadn’t just nearly drove you to climax with his tongue. “On your hands and knees.” 

You gave him a scolding look, but Aemond only repeated himself, sterner this time. “Now, princess.” The nickname earned a shiver from you, and you found yourself obeying, shifting on your hands and knees. You heard Aemond dispose of his own clothing, and your legs quivered in anticipation as he came up behind you. 

He chuckled darkly, landing a few gentle spanks on your ass. “Gods, this ass is magnificent. I’m going to have to spank it someday.” You had to bite back a moan as he leaned over you, whispering sweetly into your ear. His other hand wandered to your chest, pinching and then rubbing your sensitive, hardened buds, releasing a shaky, shuddering moan from you. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Having my hands all over this perfect ass of yours? Leaving red handprints over it? Hmm?” 

You nearly choked on your saliva as you fought to answer, “Yes, daddy.” He groaned, smacking your ass lightly for a few more times. “Good fucking girl,” he punctuated each word with such raw intensity it made your cunt ache for him. Oh, how you craved him.

As if he could read your mind, Aemond began to enter you, groaning as he did. Inch by inch, he sunk in, watching his cock disappear inside your warm, wet folds. “Gods, you are so fucking tight,” he swore, his hands gently going around to pinch your nipples. You yipped, which brought a smile to his face. How could someone be so perfect? 

Your legs were quivering at this point, and you were barely hanging on by a thread as Aemond sunk into you slowly, reaching places so deep and so pleasurable. You moaned, just how big was he? 

“All in, princess,” he whispered affectionately, stroking your hair gently. “You okay?” “Yeah…” your voice was slightly raspy from the pleasure. “Good.” Aemond kissed down your spine gently, making goosebumps rise up on your skin. “Do you want it hard and fast, or slow and gentle?” 

Biting your lip, you managed to stutter out, “Slow, please. Need to get used to you.” Aemond smiled, hands trailing down your abdomen. “Anything you want, princess.” 

Then, Aemond began to move, and the world dissolved into a fuzzy nothingness as he did. He was so careful, taking his time with you, thrusting so deep inside you it elicited the most delicious, deep sighs and moans from you. “Oh…that’s the spot,” you murmured as Aemond’s cock hit your g-spot, making you see stars. Aemond chuckled darkly, one hand moving to play with your hardened nipples, watching as you arched your back into him. “I’m going to go faster now, alright, princess?” he murmured, the other hand soothingly trailing down your spine. You barely managed to gasp out the words “yes” before Aemond began to thrust harder and faster in you, hips ramming into yours as his cock stroked the most sensitive spots inside of you. 

You moaned, panting needily as he did, feeling your ruined orgasm beginning to creep up again. “Aemond, am gonna come-” A guttural moan torn from Aemond’s throat as he heard that, his hands moving to flip you over as his movements slowed. “No.” He nearly snarled, turning you around to face him. “You come looking at my face, princess. Understood?” 

You nodded, too desperate for your orgasm to object, as Aemond wrung moan after moan out of your pliant body, mouth kissing and biting everywhere on your neck and shoulders, leaving his marks all over you. He groaned as he began laving his attention on your perky tits again, mouth sucking at them harshly, teeth grazing over the nub. You shut your eyes, too lost in the pleasure as Aemond continued pounding into you, gripping your hips tightly. 

“Eyes open, darling, or I won’t let you come,” Aemond’s rough sounding command made your eyes snap open, and he grinned roguishly as he saw your eyes fixed on his face. “Atta girl. Are you close?” 

You nodded, pleading, “Please let me come, Aemond. Can’t last much longer…” 

“I know, darling. I know,” Aemond groaned, leaning in to kiss you again. “You’re just a needy little slut for me, aren’t you?” You nodded frantically, anything to make him let you cum. He chuckled, “Thought so. It’s alright though, daddy likes needy little sluts like you, so long as they’re obedient. You’re a good girl, aren’t you, princess?” 

“Yes, yes, I am,” you cried out, hands moving to grip at the sheets tightly. “Oh god, I’m going to come, I’m coming-” 

Aemond’s fingers moved downwards, and his thumb rubbed over your clit, coaxing you towards your orgasm. With a loud cry, you came all over Aemond, eyes squeezing shut in unadulterated pleasure. Aemond’s thrusts didn’t slow a bit, as he chased his own high, groaning. “Do you want me to come inside, or…” 

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you reassured him, looking up at him, smoothing his white-blonde locks back from his forehead. He looked like an angel, all sweaty, his expression filled with pleasure and hunger and affection as he looked down at you. An angel of lust. 

Aemond moaned at that, feeling his dick twitch before he spilled inside of you, hands going to grip at the headboard tightly, as he rode out his orgasm. 

Aemond collapsed onto the bed next to you, taking you into his arms. “I should probably get you cleaned up,” he murmured softly, “But I just want to be selfish for a while, and cuddle with you a bit. That okay?” You nodded, leaning your head onto his chest. A content sigh burst from your lips. “More than okay. We can just shower together later, anyway.” 

Aemond hummed in approval at your proposal, kissing your forehead gently. The both of you stayed in each other’s arms for a while, basking in the afterglow of sex and in each other’s company. 

“Hey, princess?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Aemond.”

Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy @sylas-the-grim @darylandbethfanforever9 @hc-geralt-23 @hb8301 @omgsuperstarg​ @justrybca

those usernames who are bolded means you could not be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the general taglist for Aemond related works or just my works in general in the comments below or through this form! :)

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are always highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

[tofu83]

Lottery to Upgrade 4

Travel Companion

"Kevin Smith, congratulation! You win the bonus prize for Lottery to Upgrade!" the robots surrounded him when he was on his way to the metro station.

"But I was on my way to the travel agency where I worked, and I was laid off and needed to get my personal belongings back!" Kevin couldn’t believe what he heard.

"That travel agency has closed down. In order to protect employees' right to work, the owners specially approved the project to upgrade all employees." A robot reaches out with a glowing metal collar.

He couldn't understand why he was treated like this when he obeyed all the rules. "F**k you Masters!" He cursed and bolted from the siege.

"Attention to all units, the test target citizen Kevin Smith, ID number S198408964, has resisted and must be arrested immediately! Follow the instructions and must be unharmed."

Before Kevin could run too far, he felt a cold collar around his neck and lost consciousness.

The upgraded men inside the tubes had no metal, wiring, lights, or panels at all on their appearance, and they looked just like ordinary people. This surprised the intern.

"Have they really been upgraded?" the intern asked the senior researcher while recording the data.

"Of course! Don't you think they look perfect?"

These men have beautiful faces, well-proportioned bodies, and obvious muscle lines. In addition, the package under their underwear is fascinating.

"No, I mean, well, they don't look like robots."

"Of course, they are chosen as Master's pets. They all maintain human appearance but are completely mechanized on the inside."

"Pets?"

"To Masters, we are just like animals! Isn't it normal for humans to keep dogs as pets, and for Masters to keep humans as pets? And just as dogs can be trained to do many things for humans, humans can also be programmed to meet the needs of Masters. For example, this pet once named Kevin will accompany the owner on a tour of the earth. The earth is Masters’ Safari Park, you know. Wait! What are you doing?"

The intern opened "Kevin's" tube and started the process. "I want to manually check whether his quality meets the standards." He smiled obsessively and stroked the pet's body.

"Pet bot KN-S7061 activated. Are you my exclusive owner？" the robot once named Kevin stood straight and asked.

"Yes!" intern was so excited that he decided to ignore any risks of playing Masters’ property.

"So happy to meet you, owner!" KN-S7016 hugged the young man and started licking him.

"You are crazy! Their pheromone was enhanced because Masters wanted them be more primitive. You can’t bear it…" the senior researcher put on a gas mask and hit the emergency button.

As the alarm bell blared, the sound of metal boots stamping on the floor quickly approached, but the intern didn't care at all. He was completely naked and wrestling with his pet.

"I’m not the real owner but if I could dominate…." the intern thought but he was pinned down on the floor immediately, already lost. His mind also changed. "If I could be dominated, I might be owned, too!"

KN-S7061, the Pet bot, knew the man underneath it was not the real owner from the very beginning, so it pretended and decided to give its real owner a souvenir as an embellishment for travel.

What better souvenir than a bred wild human? It was sure the owner would be glad to have a bonus free pet and proud of it!

[loremaster]

CHAPTER 1 - Man Door Hand Nail Fur Door (Comic)

...aka the Zilara manifesto.

(tw: strangulation, suggestive themes) BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

Yakou tells Yuma to go to the hotel and corral all the other detectives who have been sleeping soundly in the nice fancy rooms over there. Yuma, who got 3 hours of sleep on Yakou's creaky couch, says "Okay, sure thing, Dad." ((side note - wouldn't the train detectives have had rooms reserved at the hotel? Couldn't Yuma have had one of those?))

Instead of agreeing to meet up, they all send poor little Kokohead around the city doing side quests.

Pucci wants to know if Kanai Ward has any good symphonies; recordings of classical music are all well and good, but it's no substitute for the acoustics of a live concert hall. Closest thing Yuma can find is Aetheria Academy's chamber orchestra program. Musicians in Kanai Ward used to be part of a larger regional symphonic orchestra, but since Amaterasu locked off the city, they've had to resort to busking. Pucci seems disappointed, but resigns herself to checking out the high school girls' next concert anyway.

Aphex is cruisin' for a bruisin'. He spotted some suspicious movement in one of the districts on his radar (drug deals?), but every time he goes to check it out, he can't find out which people in the crowd are the suspicious ones. They must be afraid of Aphex's intimidating appearance, so Yuma goes in his stead to grill the people hanging around the square. Turns out they weren't dealing drugs, they were passing around anti-Amaterasu propaganda. They beg Yuma not to tell Aphex. Yuma goes back to the hotel to tell Aphex... who thinks anti-fascist action is cool, actually, so no need to do anything about those guys.

Melami wants to know about the local fashion scene, and is very curious about the dronebrellas she's seen around Kanai Ward. She sends Yuma to see what the big deal about them is, and once there, he gets roped into a long winding sales pitch for technology he can't afford. He relays as much of this as he can remember back to Melami, but once she hears they only come in one color, she decides she's not interested. What's the point if you can't customize it? Just get a regular umbrella. Or a rain coat. That's a much better way to show off your personality! Yuma tries not to scream about how much time he just wasted.

Zange shows Yuma a picture he took (with his mind) of a specific location in Kanai Ward, but can't quite remember where it was. Yuma has to go on a scavenger hunt to find the place that matches the picture and tell Zange how to get there. Zange assigns Yuma a numerical score based on how long it took him complete the quest (which is always too slow). This will be a repeatable quest/minigame with different locations every time.

As Yuma is about to leave the hotel, Zilch stops him. He offers a more formal introduction (since, you know, they didn't actually meet aboard the train) and volunteers (insists) to accompany the poor useless trainee as a senior detective, to show him how it's done.

Zilch has four animal companions with him at the moment: three caged mice and a dog named Bosch.

He doesn't seem to treat them very kindly, though. He isn't careful handling the mice's cage, and he orders Bosch around like one would speak to Alexa.

Anyway, Zilch and Yuma go look for the last remaining detective, Halara Nightmare. Canon ensues.

They run into The Boy and accept the quest to investigate the Nail Man murders. Halara needs some convincing.

At the church, Zilch makes a new friend, or so he thinks.

Zilch tactlessly asks the nun if her ears are natural or not, and starts bragging about how well his own surgery went. For the ears and tail, that is. The Nun doesn't like Zilch's attitude one bit. She watches him use his mice for spying and gets freaked out. The nun threatens to kill Zilch but he doesn't think she's serious.

Zilch says that he didn’t expect there to be a Metal Fox Church here, of all places. Yuma asks him to elaborate, and he says they’re a denomination that exists elsewhere in the world. The church near where he grew up was much larger and more spectacular than this one. The Metal Fox is a deity known for its fortitude and cunning, that offers protection from “hunters,” or persecution of any kind. Zilch doesn’t seem to believe in its teachings at all. #atheistpride

Meanwhile, the dog, Bosch, sniffs around and seems agitated by something. He can place the smells of all the church NPCs around the scene, but there's something else, too. Zilch barks the order - literally - for Bosch to track whichever scent doesn't belong, and the dog goes off on a solo mission.

Zilch has a plan to catch the Nail Man red-handed, but he won't tell what it is yet. He needs to prepare some stuff. So in the meantime, Yuma and Halara hold hands at several different crime scenes.

While Shinigami keeps blabbing about stripping detectives, Halara fucks off to who knows where and Yuma returns to the church to meet with Zilch. Zilch leads Yuma to the nearby woods and reveals his master plan to lure out the Nail Man by taking a doll with a slip of paper on it to the forest, and writing the name of someone for the Nail Man to kill...

"Yuma Kokohead," of course.

Yuma is terrified of being used as bait, but Zilch promises he'll intervene before the Nail Man can actually kill him, it'll be fine. So Yuma the pushover gets tied to a tree...

Halara unmasks the cloaked figure to reveal the priest of the Metal Fox Church, as they suspected. The priest begs for mercy - he was only trying to protect the people of Kanai Ward by purging it of corruption (and letting an innocent man take the fall for it)...!

Yuma thinks he might not have to rely on Shinigami's powers this time, but then...

Bosch leads them back to the church where Seth and his Peacekeepers are threatening Yakou.

And with that… it’s Mystery Labyrinth time!

Zilch’s voice is back to normal inside the Labyrinth. He seems oddly relaxed around Shinigami - because he insists this is not real and actually a dream. #atheist4lyfe

Yuma deduces that Zilch's name was written in the woods by the nun. She witnessed Zilch’s mistreatment of his animal companions and tactless assholery - but the thing that pushed it into murder territory was actually her recognizing the crest of the Alexander family on his fur coat. The full truth comes to light - the Alexanders have been known for generations as prolific trophy hunters. They “live alongside nature,” sure, but it’s a heavily controlled and subdued “nature.” This is antithetical to everything the Metal Fox Church stands for, so the nun, devout to her faith, believed Zilch to be an invasive threat to their way of life, and the peace of Kanai Ward.

And, since this revelation is taking place in the Mystery Labyrinth, of COURSE she gets a cool Mystery Phantom.

The gang also, like, solves the actual mystery.

Then once they find all the evidence they unmask the true culprit and his copycat, and the Priest's and Worshipper's souls are reaped.

Zilch is horrified. Somehow he didn't expect this was actually going to affect reality. Shinigami assures him that he won't remember any of the Mystery Labyrinth anyway, so...

Aaaaand eventually they do leave the Labyrinth. Halara is back to their usual steely exterior.

The masked priest in front of them drops to the floor dead. A scream from the church can be heard, presumably because the worshipper has just done the same. They go to check it out.

Then… Yomi shows up. He intimidates the group and doesn’t seem to deem any of the detectives worth his attention… until he notices Zilch.

Shinigami wonders if he recognized the Alexander family crest... but Yuma makes the connection and realizes Yomi might have had some sort of connection to the impostor on the train. That's pretty scary to think about. Was this the guy who tried to kill off all the Master Detectives coming into Kanai Ward? He seems dangerous...

Good thing Yomi has a devoted right hand to play around with. In front of everyone.

But anyway, regarding the Nail Man situation, Yomi decides to throw Seth under the bus, and punish him accordingly.

Bye Seth! Or should I say... Steve. :noes:

After his near-death experience, Zilch has a change of heart and decides he doesn't need a fur coat after all (seeing as it almost got him killed). Halara accepts it as payment for their services solving the case.... at least Zilch's half of it - Yuma still owes them a small fortune.

And with that the day is saved. Yuma plays a bit of baseball. Halara has a comfy new bed for their beloved strays. And Zilch... has a lot to think about.

-----

HELLO BOBA FANS!!! Thanks for your patience waiting for this update! I hope you can tell I've been working on this very hard (in between assignments for cartoon college)! The post didn't even fit all the images I made for this chapter - I'll be sure to post the other ones separately. At some point.

This chapter was an interesting challenge to write, trying to hammer down Zilch's character - how to make him distinct from his impersonator, but similar enough to lend credit to the impersonator. It took a while but I think I've finally landed on a solid backstory. I'll be posting more about him in the next installment of Boba AU - Zilch's Gumshoe Gabs. Then after that will be Chapter 2! Super excited to rub my gay little hands all over that one.

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, then please... I beg of you... draw me some Zilara ;_;

BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

[darkmaga-retard]

Dr. Varma also admits to being part of CDC plan to coordinate global pandemic response that killed 31 million +

Etienne de la Boetie2

Sep 20, 2024

Etienne Note: What is equally as damning as the allegations of sex parties during the lockdown, is Dr. Varma’s description of his job for the CDC at 1:38 in the video, where he describes his previous work at the CDC as “My job was to go and help countries, like, build their systems to detect and respond to diseases. So, kinda like during Covid, where you had to set up a testing program and a vaccination program, and you had to monitor the numbers. That was the type of thing I did for my career at the CDC.” What Dr. Varma appears to be describing is the setup for the global eugenics operation now known as “The Covid.” Getting a network in place to be able to institute hierarchical control globally to force mandates and testing using easily rigged PCR to create the illusion of a “pandemic” and then being able to force deadly and debilitating injections (and health policies) in the exact way that Dr. Varma describes in the video now responsible for 31 million deaths and a billion + adverse effects. Check out our monograph: Solving Covid - The Covid 19 Eugenics, Vaccine/Drug Scam Timeline at  and its companion article: The Covid 19 Suspects and Their Ties to Eugenics and Population Control/Reduction to understand who is behind "The Covid"

Video #1 - The Undercover Confessions

BREAKING: Former NYC Covid Czar Held Secret Drug-Fueled Sex Parties During Global Pandemic; Says New Yorkers Would Have Been “Pissed” If They Found Out Because He Was Running Entire Covid Response For City Dr. Jay Varma, Former Senior Advisor for Public Health, NYC Mayor’s Office: “I had to be kind of sneaky about it...I was running the entire Covid response for the city…we rented a hotel...we all took like, you know, molly[E*stasy/MDMA] … 8 to 10 of us were in a room...like just being naked with friends…” “We went to some like, underground dance party… underneath a bank on Wall Street… We were all rolling…” “This was not Covid-friendly.” “I did all this deviant, sexual stuff while I was you know, like on TV and stuff…” “The only way I could do this job for the city was if I had some way to blow off steam every now and then.”

Video #2 - The Confrontation

[animalhumanemn]

11 years ago, my father’s health was deteriorating, and it brought him into a depression. I tried what I could to get his spirits back up, but I could see he was still missing something. I started to think what I else I could do and then I decided to get him his own pet. I searched the Saint Paul Humane Society website and saw they had a program at the time for seniors 55+ where they could get a companion animal (cat) 4years+ free. I wasn’t sure how he would feel about another cat, being the one we currently had only wanted to be around me, but I figured let’s give it a chance.

August 2013, we started searching for the right cat for him and each one we went into a room with he didn’t like. At this point his legs were hurting because of the disease he had, and we now made our way into the cat colony room. We both sat down, and this BIG black cat appears out of nowhere! Because she was so big, her tail looked a little short. She went straight to my father and rubbed all over his arm, his side, and just drowned him with so much love. My father said, “I want this one! She touches my heart!” And that’s the day my father’s world had changed. Her name was originally Mila. We wanted to be respectful to whoever the previous owner was and keep the name on behalf of them.

Mila took AMAZING care of my father. If he took one step up the stairs, she would take one ahead of him and watch him to be safe. If he fell, she would run to him and lay with him/rub him until he felt safe and comfortable and would never leave his side for the remainder of the day. She knew he wasn’t well, and she made sure to bring him as much joy as could.

When he passed 6 years ago, I continued to care for Mila, and she is now taking great care of me as she did for him. We take care of each other. And she is also an amazing travel buddy! Mila is very loved by many people, and every state I take her she instantly makes everyone falls in love. She is the most loving, caring, playful, funniest girl, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything in this world.

Thank you all at the humane society for bringing happiness back into my father’s life. Because of the senior companion program at the time, you all truly saved him.

—Val

[justinspoliticalcorner]

John Knefel at MMFA:

At least four organizations involved in Project 2025, a sprawling effort to provide policy and staff to a future Trump administration, have spent years arguing against birthright citizenship — a cornerstone of U.S. immigration policy that is guaranteed by the 14th Amendment.  Project 2025 is organized by conservative think tank The Heritage Foundation — which has opposed birthright citizenship for decades — and has more than 100 right-wing groups on its advisory board. Of those, high-ranking figures at both the MAGA-aligned think tank The Claremont Institute and the Center for Immigration Studies, which was founded by the nativist John Tanton, also oppose birthright citizenship. So does former Trump adviser Stephen Miller; he recently delisted his organization America First Legal from Project 2025’s board, but his fingerprints are all over it. 

Although ending birthright citizenship is an extreme and unpopular proposal, these are not fringe groups. Heritage has been at the center of the conservative policy ecosystem for decades. In a 2018 fundraising email recently unearthed by Media Matters, Heritage bragged, “President Trump has already embraced 64% of our recommendations.” Miller is expected to exert even more control under another Trump administration than during Trump’s first term. Claremont is home to at least two former Trump advisers who oppose birthright citizenship — attempted coup participant John Eastman and Michael Anton, who wrote an op-ed for The Washington Post on the topic. Claremont also serves as a clearinghouse for right-wing media figures who move through their influential fellowship programs. CIS and other nodes of the Tanton network were instrumental in making policy and staffing the Department of Homeland Security under Trump.

As the American Immigration Council explains, the guarantee of citizenship for people born on U.S. soil has been a bedrock of Constitutional law for more than 150 years. And as AIC argued more than a decade ago, ending birthright citizenship wouldn’t slow unauthorized immigration. The conservative argument fails on its own merits but succeeds in advancing Project 2025’s broader anti-immigrant agenda. 

The Heritage Foundation

As lead organizers of Project 2025, Heritage deserves pride of place in analyzing the right’s long campaign against birthright citizenship, not least because the think tank has been hammering the argument for nearly two decades. In 2006, Heritage published a report by then-senior research fellow John Eastman — the same John Eastman who, as mentioned earlier, would later go on to try to help Trump overturn the results of the 2020 election while at Claremont — arguing against birthright citizenship. 

[...]

Center for Immigration Studies

If Heritage and Claremont are the higher-profile opponents of birthright citizenship, the Center for Immigration Studies — which the Southern Poverty Law Center has designated as a hate group — is the workhorse that keeps the issue percolating in the conservative policy world. In 2010, CIS’ Jon Feere wrote a white paper called: “Birthright Citizenship in the United States: A Global Comparison.” Although Feere discusses the 14th Amendment and Howard’s quote, he foregrounds decidedly more nativist concerns: “chain migration,” “birth tourism,” and the supposed “burden” unauthorized immigrants place on the social safety net (a common but false trope).  Since 2010, CIS has published at least 70 posts under the tag “Birthright Citizenship” on its website. One key entry, a companion piece of sorts to Feere’s initial offering, came in November 2018 in response to Trump’s Axios interview. In “Birthright Citizenship: An Overview,” CIS’ Andrew Arthur argues that birthright citizenship “remains an open question,” and that “the costs of births for the children of illegal aliens is staggering.” (Numerous studies have shown undocumented immigrants to be net contributors to the economy.) [...]

America First Legal

Stephen Miller is known as a leading advocate of some of Trump’s most xenophobic policies, including the administration’s “Muslim ban” and its family separation policy. It should come as no surprise then that in August 2019 Miller — then a White House senior adviser — told Fox News that the Trump administration was “looking at all legal options” to end birthright citizenship. 

Four months later, Rolling Stone revealed a series of emails between Miller and Jon Feere, who at the time was serving as a senior adviser in Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Feere — no longer at CIS, though he would return in 2021 — was Miller’s man at ICE, and although the heavily redacted emails don’t appear to reference birthright citizenship, Feere was so closely associated with eliminating it that Rolling Stone highlighted his published work on the subject near the top of its report.  After Trump’s defeat in 2020, Miller founded America First Legal, a conservative advocacy group that bills itself as the right's answer to the American Civil Liberties Union. Although it doesn’t appear that AFL has taken up birthright citizenship, the same can’t be said for Miller. On at least four occasions, Miller has posted content disparaging of birthright citizenship on X (formerly Twitter).

[...] The issue, it seems, is not going away. In this recent history, Eastman, Feere, and Anton have all played outsized roles — not to mention Miller, who remains Trump’s immigration-whisperer. All four are central to Project 2025, which in turn is intended to serve as a specific and detailed roadmap for what another Trump term would look like. The threat these figures pose to a cornerstone of U.S. immigration policy is plain, their shoddy scholarship notwithstanding.

Project 2025 partner organizations, such as America First Legal and The Heritage Foundation, call for the end of birthright citizenship. Such calls are rooted in nativism.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Best Of Montana

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester

My name is Russell Teague and my companion Sam Morgan are Montana's ambassadors for the Young Gay Montanians program, and we've the trek all the way to DC to share our essays and ideas about helping gay montanians. Both Sam and I had a thing for older men so we decided to take up our senior senator from Montana, Jon Tester's open invitation to stop by his office for any Montanans visiting the nation's capital. I really hoped we would hit it off, even though I knew nothing would happen, I was still getting randy just in anticipation. Finally, after meeting his receptionist, there he was with a warm smile on his face and a strong handshake.

Damn, he sexy man for his age, not fitting the modern profile of the Senate, sporting a flat-top haircut, big bellied (which I didn't mind on a man), six feet tall and pushing 300+ pounds. My cock twitched immediately as we sat in his office and made the usual “how was the trip?” type of conversation before talking about our program. During our discussion, his eyes would often meet mine. I began to notice his entrancing eyes, and I would find myself admiring his 66-year-old figure. His ill fitting suit, scuffed black boots, his callused, seven-fingered hands, his a direct manner, the way he addressed us with our last names and his repeatedly swearing, all I found oddly appealing.

During our conversation, we talked about everything from school to life in general. He told us about his 1,800-acre organic farm that he and his wife, Sharla, work together. With that being said, I suspected he might be interested when he said he had always had a strong fancy for men, but had kept that side of his nature fairly latent until he got to D. C. and he was now discovering the delight of good M2M friendships and sex. After admitting that, our conversation turned into how Sam and I would satisfy him if I got him into my bed.

Sen. Tester flashes a big grin, and without missing a beat, asked, "Have you two ever done two guys before?"

Both of us simultaneously answered, "Yes."

All of us were getting interested and I could feel my juices building as I blurted, "Are  you interested?"

"Yes, as long as we all have fun. And kept it between us."

A feral smile arose on me as we anxiously agreed and stood up in front of the senator. Both of were semi hard as Sen. Tester locked eyes onto the slight of the bulges in our pants. Sam had a lovely fairly thick 7” cut cock, while mine just scrapes by at 8” slim and uncut.

"Oh, I guess I'm in fucking trouble now, seeing I have the two of you to deal with..." Sen. Tester said as I dropped to my knees in front of him.

Sen. Tester spread his legs as I began rubbing up and down his thighs while Sam removed his tie followed by unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his chest and ample belly. Both of us started to explore the senator's body with our hands, rubbing and caressing every part of him. Sam was lightly caressing the flesh of his man tits while I grinned up at the two of them, raking my hands along the upper slopes of Jon's thighs as he parted his legs even more. On the next pass I unbuckled his belt followed by reaching down and pulling off his boots. Jon ran his hands through my hair as I grabbed the legs of his pants and began to pull them off. Jon put his hands on the arms of the chair and lifted up so I could get them all the way off.

Noticing his beefy calves on his smooth legs, I ran my hands over them, enjoying every curve before pushing my face into Jon's boxer shorts and began massaging his cock with his mouth through the shorts. He shuddered in pleasure as I took in his musky smell. Sam was enjoying himself too, nipping at the lobe and ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of the senator's ear. Both of us heard the senator let out a deep breath and when he released it, it was followed up by a long, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"  

Sam moved to the other side and gave his neck and ear the same treatment as his hands circled around Jon's thick body and closed around his firm, pert tits. He used his fingertips to tease and tug at his stiffening nipples. And the more Sam nibbled at his flesh and teased his tits, cause Jon's legs drifted even further apart, offering his ultimate treasure for me to feast upon. I was encouraged when I felt him shiver and release a long groan, "Ohhhhhhhhhh yesssssssss, suck my fucking cock!"

Quickly, I put my fingers in his shorts and slowly slid them off his legs as I kissed Jon's tubby tummy. I was rewarded with a pretty decent cock. It was about 6 inches, thick, veiny and most importantly, hard. I lowered my head and inhaled Jon's intoxicating scent before licking it from the bottom of his shaft to the tip as he shuddered in pleasure. Then I put my mouth over his throbbing cock and began to suck the senator off. I could feel the veins on his cock as my lips glided up and down. His salty precum hit my tongue and I looked up at him.

Jon let out a gasp, but it was cut off as he and Sam's lips met. It was a gentle kiss at first as they relished in the heat of their mouths on each other. Sam's hands clapped down harder on Jon's heaving chest and his lips parted. His tongue moved past his and met his tongue in her mouth. Jon returned Sam's kiss with the same intensity. He arched his back and released another groan as my hands slid beneath him and clutched at his ass so I could take him deeper.

Sam immediately resumed playing with the senator's nipples as I bobbed up and down Jon's cock. I was spurred on by his louder, more vocal sounds escaping from his throat. The smell of musk and sex filled my senses and it was intoxicating. His hands gripped my shoulders as if he wanted me to stop, but I wanted it. I wanted his cum. I wanted his satisfaction. He thrusted his hip as he could no longer hold it in anymore.

Suddenly Jon grabbed me by the hair and fired his load down my throat and with his loud groan I had finished him off. I doubled my efforts as I continued sucking his cock and drank down all he could expel. Jon couldn't take it any longer and he pushed my head as hard as he could; breaking the vacuum I had created.

"Give a guy a chance to recuperate, I'm game, but I need a tiny break." He groaned.

Sam chuckled and said, "I want some of that Russ."

"Wait a fucking minute or two. I'm not letting anyone get back down there until I get some feeling back in my legs! Holy Fuck Teague, that was fucking fantastic, truly fantastic." Jon said shaking his head as he tried sitting up.

"My pleasure, senator!" I said as I the few drops of cum that escape my mouth.

"If the two of you are adamant about continuing this, I'd much rather do it somewhere more private. I'm not a person who likes to put on a show; heaven knows you two already did."

After getting dressed, we made our way separately to Sen. Tester's Capitol Hill townhouse he rents for "meetings" like this when his wife is in D.C.. By the time we got to Jon’s townhouse, he was ready and waiting. Once in, I made the first move, leaning in to kiss him.

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom."  Jon said as he led us to his bed room.

Jon's burly body was too resisting, so I kissed again. Quickly, he started unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my pants, and basically tearing my clothes off as he moved his tongue around inside my mouth. As my clothes fell to the floor, I pulled his pants down, unleashing his mammoth dick and balls. It was at full staff as Sam and I admired it. And just as I was about to get my hands on it, Sen. Tester quickly sat on the bed, drew my erect cock towards him. He smiled when he felt my cock twitch in his fist before taking a a deep breath and parting his lips, wrapped them around the huge head and locked his lips tightly around my quivering shaft.

"Oh Sen. Tester..." I moaned as , Jon grabbed hold of my ass and clutching at it in his callus hands, pulled me towards him, taking him deeper into his mouth.

Jon wiggled his lips until they were pressing against my nut sack before gagging and pulling back quickly. I saw the excitement course through him as he bobbed up and down my cock. He looked up, saw the amazement on our faces and winked at us as he resumed focusing on me. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have him milk me.

But I was being selfish, so I finally pulled my cock out of his mouth and turned his face to Sam's cock. He fed his cock to Jon, forcing his throat down deep on his cock. This married man was a ferocious cock hound. He couldn’t get enough of sucking cock as he went back and forth sucking our cocks.

Ready to take things to the next level, I took control and told Sen. Tester to get up on the bed on all fours, anticipating a cock up his ass. I quickly kneeled on the bed behind him with his ass up for me to reach. He stiffened when he suddenly felt my tongue tickling his puckered hole.  

"Fuck, boy." He said as I began probing the senator's asshole.

I stiffened my tongue and dipped in and out of his hole over and over again, making sure to get it properly lubricated. I was lucky my cock was still coated with Sen. Tester's saliva as I wasn't about to wait any longer than I have to fuck him. Feeling me getting into position behind him, Sen. Tester began swaying his ass from side to side in anticipation of getting fucked. It was like he was a matador waving his flag at me before I grabbed a hold of his wide hips and charged into him; spearing Jon with his one stiff horn. He was tight, but Jon was so wet, I slid in easily. I pulled back and forward a few times and as I did, I felt him relax and it slid in all the way to my swollen nuts.

Sen. Tester rolled his head from side to side. He'd been fucked before, but having my cock turned him on even more. His mouth dropped open as he drew in as much air into his lungs as possible. Then Jon straighten up his arms; allowing the incredible sensation of my cock to slide in and out of his supercharged ass.

"Get that fucking cock over here. I need you in my mouth while Teague finishes off in me."

Sam quickly position his crotch just before the senator's hanging head. Jon grabbed hold of his shaft in his fist, holding it at the base. He examined it and his mouth began to water, anticipating it in his mouth and throat as I picked up the pace. Just seeing what was about to occur, turned me on even more. I loved spitroasting a guy; having him nailed from both ends. I thrust into Jon harder, sending my swollen nuts slapping over and over again against his swollen hole.

As Jon closed his lips around my cock, he let out a groan, finally having both of our cocks in him at the same time. Sam to fuck the senator's mouth as he watched me fuck him from behind. I could tell he was impressed with the senator as he watched his big, lush body take both cocks in him at the same time. He caressed his cheek before saying, "You are one hellava cock sucker Sen. Tester."

"You can say that again. I nearly lost it a couple times, but now, this, having him as he sucks you, I'm not gonna last long." I said as I slapped his ass lightly.

Hearing this, Jon spread his legs out wide and arched his spine, trying to make me grind over and over against his aching ass. The three of us created a passion circuit without any means for it to escape; it just grew stronger and hotter. I thought I was the luckiest man alive as Sen. Tester buck his hips, meeting my urgent thrusts while sucking on Sam's cock even harder.

"Oh you fucking bastard! Yes, just like that! Ahhhhhh Fuckkkkkkkk! Fuck me, fuck me hard, I need you to fill my ass with your cum!" Jon growled out after tearing his mouth off Sam's cock.

I lost it, hearing the senator say what he did, especially knowing what a powerful man he was. I lost it and began bathing his ass with my hot cum as I clutched at his ample hips.

Just then, the dam gave way and a strong orgasm ripped through Jon, causing him to release his load beneath him. It also caused him to doubled his efforts on Sam. Tightened fist and opening his mouth, he swallowed all that was visible above his fist. Sam threw back his head as I wasn't the only one turned on by the senator's obscene vocals. He was so close and watching me fill him with my load and watching Jon lose it, so did he. He grabbed hold of his head and pushed it downward as he began to send blast after blast of his hot cum down his throat and into his belly.

Jon began to cough and gag as he pulled away and was rewarded with a face full of hot cum. It clung to his cheek and ran across his and down his neck. Sen. Tester was now having both of us cumming on and in him at the same time. My thrusts begin to weaken as I shivered from the aftermath of one of my greatest day, sexually, I've ever experienced.

[dreadfutures]

Loving LUMO: 2018 to Present :)

Just up in my feelings about my dog today. He's doing great! I love my dog! I just wanna talk about him. A lot. :) Like this is looooong.

I got my dog at the end of my senior year of undergrad, after I knew I got into a PhD program. I knew I couldn't make it through alone so I wanted a dog.

When I was young, I wanted a wolf! I wanted big fluffy scary looking dogs. Then I wanted a pretty, fluffy, exotic dog. But as I grew older and actually MET dogs (I didn't have a lot of them in my life before), I realized that those weren't the dog breeds for me. I wanted a dog that fit my lifestyle, but also a dog that NEEDED a home, and love. And I wanted to make an impact, rescuing a breed that was often found in overflowing shelters in the US.

Why coonhounds? **mentions of animal abuse, skip to the next section

In California, shelters are primarily full of huskies, chihuahuas, german shepherds, and pitbulls. Since I didn't know where I was going to live or what the ordinances would be, I reluctantly decided I couldn't get a pitty. Many of the chihuahuas, huskues, and GSDs in shelters have serious health problems, probably coming from puppy mills and unethical breeding situations. I knew that any dog could develop an expensive health condition (foreshadowing) but I wanted to find a breed where that was less likely to happen.

I had read that the less "pretty" working dogs are usually better bred. They're smart, learn quickly, and (many hunting dogs) are content with long lazy seasons on the couch. I also learned that hunting dogs are abused and abandoned after hunting season, especially when people get "hunting breeds" and assume all the complex training of hunting is instinctive--it's not, it must be trained. But these "Defective"/"Failed" hunting dogs are let go to freeze and starve, and shelters can't take all of them. Someone called them the chihuahua of the south lol.

“It is sad when they treat these dogs as ‘tools’ they can throw away, instead of treating them like family members.”

Whether dumped or lost, these hunting dogs end up in local shelters, if they’re lucky. Many times they end up shot, hit by cars, or die of starvation or disease.

Believe me I read up on all the downsides of adopting a rescue vs. getting a purebred puppy from a breeder. I read up on all the downsides of hunting breeds. And even so I knew this was probably going to be a good fit.

I also found Maddie on instagram, who is a gorgeous redtick coonhound and possibly the most well-trained dog in the world. I was convinced and turned to a national Coonhound Rescue that takes coonhounds from the south and moves them across the country to be loved in places where they're not so common.

Finding Lu

I originally did want a female redtick that looked like Maddie, so I put in an application for one. The rescue called me and said they had another dog in mind for me and my lifestyle, "But he has a lot of skin! That means he drools A LOT."

His name was Dallas.

Dallas is a handsome 2 year old American English Coonhound being fostered in [city]. He enjoys the simple life and loves nothing more than a warm, comfy place to sleep. He is housetrained, cratetrained and leashtrained; also good in the car. He would do well in a home with slightly older children and would make an excellent companion. This boy wants a loving and consistent family or person to show him how great his life can be. He weighs about 55 lbs and also does well with cats and other dogs.

This is the photo I was sent. :) I fell in love. This was going to be my dog! MY DOG. My first dog. Mine.

I was told he had been found on the streets, emaciated and sick, and that he had become an absolute counter surfer and couch potato in his foster home. And he could climb 10 ft fences if he saw a cat lol. They said he had "anxiety," but as I learned it was severe, severe PTSD from abuse.

I was originally going to name him Mo. For "Mopey." He had the saddest brown eyes and emo eyeliner, it seemed to fit. But "Mo" sounds a lot like "No!" and I soon realized they weren't kidding about hounds being independent and strong-willed. I still wanted "Mo" to be part of his name, but decided on LUMO as a chemistry reference since it was very relevant to my subfield I was going into. So he became "Lu."

The very first day I took him home, he had explosive diarrhea all over the car and there were no dog bathing places taking walk ins, so I had to haul his 35 pounds of skin and bones into the bath. Intense bonding experience to be sure.

He was so, so skinny. You can see in the photos how knobby his tail is, and how you can count his spine, and how all his ribs and his hips stick out. People would come up to me at restaurants and YELL at me "don't you FEED YOUR DOG?????? how can you be so cruel?" as if there wasn't a possibility that I was rescuing an emaciated and abused dog?

I thought he was skinny because of his past on the streets, and I think that was part of it for sure. But what I learned was that he wasn't just having digestive issues because he was "adjusting to his kibble" -- he's actually allergic to chicken, and he was on a chicken diet.

He was losing a lot of weight from the diarrhea, and he was SO itchy, and he had constant infections in those big, soft ears. We did a lot of elimination to figure out his allergies and he's actually allergic to a lot of things, but chicken is by far the worst.

As soon as I switched him to salmon, he started gaining weight really well, shooting up to a healthy 50 pounds. He also stopped getting constant ear infections!

The trauma

So the thing about Lu is that he isn't just "anxious." Anxious doesn't describe him:

He was terrified of blond men with sunglasses. Like just wanted to melt into the ground and phase through walls levels of terrified. My best friend and room mate was a blond man who wore sunglasses all the time. Fortunately he had grown up on an Estate with a whole bunch of working dogs and was so good at helping me get him over his fear. He was afraid of strangers in general, but none as much as blond and bald guys.

He was GREAT on leash from the start! But randomly, he would just...stop. Freeze, plant his feet, stare glassy-eyed into the distance at nothing at all. Nothing in particular triggered it. Not sounds, not anything I could identify in common. Just sometimes...he'd just freeze and shut down. I had to carry him sometimes as far as a football field to get home. Often it was right in the middle of the street. :( After ten or so minutes of staring, he would come-to, and he would sit down and look around all disoriented.

Also I had been warned about how some dogs "pull" on leash. It turns out that most people are talking about pulling...ahead. And training a dog who pulls ahead is WAY different than a dog who tries to pull backwards. Lu was so skinny that he could slip out of his harness, no matter what size of his harness. I quickly learned there was no tying him off and going into restaurants by myself, because he could EASILY chew through any leash in a few seconds, and he could slip right out of his harness and just DIP. But even on walks, during his PTSD flashback moments, he could pull back so hard his arms would come up by his head and he'd just noodle out of his harness.

He was terrified of stairs. Going up and down. My bedroom was on the second floor. The beach was down a steep flight of stairs.

He had no idea how to play with other dogs at all.

He was scared of grass. It was as if he had never stepped on grass before and thought it was lava. I'm suspicious that he might have been trapped in a concrete outdoor dog run or kennel for most of his young life.

He had persistent UTIs... and he counter surfed and ate a whole stick of butter, and went into acute pancreatic failure.

He had some sort of paw trauma. it was impossible to touch his paws, let alone clip his nails. No matter how skinny and weak he was, it took more than 5 people to hold him down long enough to clip his nails. He was terrible at the groomers. Dremels weren't any betters.

Pretty early on I had to settle for "progress" over "perfect."

We took baby steps together. From May to August, he became so much more outgoing. He fell in love with my two tall blond sunglasses guy friends. He started learning to get excited about toys. And we developed a routine so he wouldn't destroy my room when I left him alone.

I had to respect that he definitely, 100%, always knew what I wanted him to do when I gave him commands. And when he refused and said "No," there was no food, no toy, no incentive I could give him to get him to do it. At least not that time.

When I first moved to grad school that September, I had a lot of people in my cohort come over to my apartment. Lu hid under my bed the whole time and wouldn't take any treats to coax him out. We lay a whole pack of turkey in front of him and he wouldn't come out. :(

But within a few months, he had a growing circle of human friends that he was comfortable with. And honestly even by October of that year, if a new stranger came to the apartment, all they had to do was get up on the couch and offer him a Merrick toothbrush treat and he'd be in their lap.

Here he is with his companion cube in early 2019. He loved that suede couch lol.

Health issues :(

So because he ate a whole stick of butter and went into acute pancreatitis, we started monitoring his blood levels. They got better after treatment--but never back to "normal." They remained at the "hmm this looks like renal failure, Cirrhosis, or hepatopathy" levels, which was weird, because he was constantly getting happier and acting healthier every day!!

Eventually a vet suggested we see an internal medicine specialist. Turns out.... Lu's liver is like. Tiny. Like puppy sized. He has had this disease since he was a baby, which is why he's never known he was sick lol.

After about 9k of imaging and stains and biopsies, we learned:

He has copper hepatopathy, which today my new vet's jaw dropped as a like "WOW we HEARD about this in vet school but I've NEVER actually seen it! It's so rare!"

His liver is tiny, full of fibrosis, cirrhotic, tons of remodeling (in the bad way). His liver is ORANGE from how much copper is in it. The damage is completely irreversible. I have a copy of the biopsy & lab results and I can just imagine the scientist at the research institute they sent the samples off to, their voice as they wrote this report. It screams "HOW IS THIS DOG ALIVE?"

I just find it so funny, as another analytical scientist.

The other funny thing is that they prescribed him chelation therapy to help him get better (it didn't help and he doesn't get worse without it, so we have since stopped that; it was expensive). My PhD thesis is in metal chelation lolololol of Ni, Co, Cu. lololol

So that was an expensive process. He has to have a prescription low-copper diet, which has stopped most of his symptoms of this disease, and we have to do expensive blood tests to make sure he doesn't get worse.

And then he became a sock eater.

He passed the first few. Then he got sick. With the vet's help, he was able to pass it without surgery. And then the next time, it was life or death.

The vet I went to was so unethical and immoral but it was my only fucking option. I wouldn't have my dog here if my best friend at the time hadn't been wealthy enough to give me the 13k I needed on the spot, in cash, to save my dog's life with surgery.

In the hospital, the fucking awful vets:

claimed to use dissolving stitches. I don't think they did; I still feel them! 4 years later!!!

let him get a skin infection all over his body that made his paws swell up and bleed, and his paw pads fall off and bleed. It was terrifying. And cost me more money of course. It was so evil. He still has scarring all over his legs from it where fur hasn't grown back :(

He has bad teeth but according to the vet "not the worst! :)"

He expresses his glands in his sleep sometimes. UGHHHH they don't tell you that about dogs lol.

He still is terrible for claws. It's been worse and worse lately, to the point where I worry about how long his nails are and whether it will be bad for his joints. But it's the only thing he's really ever been aggressive for. :( I really worry about him. I have trained him to scratch a board of sandpaper to file them down, but they get sharp that way too lol.

Progress, not perfect. He lets me give him paw massages and check his nails and manhandle him, but just. Not clippers or dremel. :( Not there yet.

Anyway, he has been super healthy for many years now. He's got lumps and bumps and skin tags. The vet thinks he's about 9 years old, and definitely a senior. ;_; <3

Things I Love about LUMO

His ears are, I'm not kidding, the softest material in the world. And so warm. He loves it when I stick my finger in his ear and tickle his brain. He loves an armpit scratch. His tail used to be like, stuck, in such a sad position and I never thought he'd wag his tail and now it waves high all the time.

They told me he would probably never be a dog who plays. But when I got him, within a few weeks, I found the puppy inside of him. He runs like a silly rocking horse, completely uncoordinated and flopsy. He'll do fetch. He loves surgically disemboweling stuffed animals. He throws around his XTREME CHEW PLASTIC ANTLER and plays fetch with it with me.

He has several "spots" where I can get his leg thumping when I scratch him. He loves to be wrapped up in a burrito of blankets and sit in a sunbeam.

He leans on me and looks up at me with those big brown eyes and there's no fear or sadness in them anymore it's just sweetness and silliness.

He is so smart. He's attended a bunch of PhD level classes, and he's developed his own language. He's so smart. He knows how to tell me what he wants, he knows the rules and knows how to push them right up to the limit. He loves his sweaters. He will tell me what he wants by tapping on things with his paw. He knows that if I hold out my left hand it's to hold his paw and do a shake. If I hold out my right hand it means wait. He knows that the camera I have can see him and he'll knock it over so he can do mischief.

He loves his velvet chaise lounge. He loves his memory foam ultrasoft velvet bed. He loves his goose down comforter. He loves to sit on my pillow and fart. He basks in sunbeams and curls up in a tiny tiny little ball and he shrimps and sucks on his toes. He's basically a cat. He doesn't really want to go on walks, he pulls me back inside as soon as he's done his business. Except for when we have company--he loves walking with a pack of people.

When he talks to me, like just having a conversation, he sounds like a seal. Like a tortured seal. Or like a crying baby. He's never really figured out how to be a dog or sound like a real dog but we understand each other that's what matters.

He absolutely takes advantage of this to complain when I am not giving him what he wants. He'll roll over on the ground like a drama queen and wail and cry like I'm abusing him and it's because I'm across the room holding a pork chop that's just for me.

Today in the car he was WAILING like a seal, which usually means "LET ME OUT I NEED TO POOP" but after 3 or 4 tries to walk him, he made it clear that what he ACTUALLY meant was "PEDAL TO THE METAL GIRLS LET'S GO WHY AREN'T WE MOVING WHY IS THERE NO WIND ON MY FACE OR FLAPPING IN MY EARS MOOOOOOOOOVE."

For a while he was 69 pounds (NICE) but he's back to 64 lol. He stays between 63-70 pretty much depending on how active he is.

Anyway I have been reminiscing a lot because I figured it was time to add him to the "happy endings" page on the rescue website and I was going down memory lane.

Looking at the photo I took on the day I brought him home, and a photo I took last month, you can see his white face is spreading.

The defined white bit on his nose that whispers between his eyes has now spread to both his eyebrows, and his cheeks are getting quite white. But his eyes are bright and his ears are perked up and he is safe and warm and loved and stinky and soft. He gets fresh treats all the time (he loooooves celery, and pears, and sometimes carrots and sweet potatoes. and tortilla chips. and salmon oil.). He loves his prescription kibble and our routine. He has lovely friends and lovely car rides and he is just the best dog I could have asked for in my life when I got him and every day.

I've had to be so patient and calm and kind even when I was scared and angry, with his stress and his ptsd and his destructiveness and messiness. All he deserves and needs is love and he knows what's wrong and what isn't, sometimes he just can't help himself, and we move on together. He made sure I had a reason to come home and not sleep in lab during my PhD. He made sure I had a reason to get out of bed during my PhD.

And now we're just living our best lives together. :)

[prep4tomoro]

Couples Defense: Staying Safe Together:

Committing to help one another, as a couple, family or team of like-minded individuals to stay safe, gather supplies, plan and prepare physically and emotionally is a vital skill to learn.

Forget the chocolate and flowers! What better way to say I love you than to commit to staying safe with your partner by doing these things together: Plan Ahead Learn How to Defend Each Other Get in Shape, Stay in Shape and Eat Healthy Encourage One Another to Ditch Unhealthy and Wasteful Habits Prepare for Anything Know Basic First Aid and Build Your Prevention Medicine Cabinet Learn the Basics Together Include Pets in the Planning

[Reference Link]

RELATED RESOURCES: Why Plan for an Emergency Prepping Your Spouse for a Preparedness Lifestyle How to Prep When Your Significant Other or Family Objects The Best People to Be Friends with Before SHTF How to Find Survivalist Friends How your friends can influence your mood and behavior Helping Others Help Themselves Emergency Planning with Like-Minded Companions Why Join or Start a Survival Group? The Law of Attraction Importance of a Buddy System Personal Benefits of Volunteering Know Your Neighborhood - The Lay of the Land Emergency Prepping for Seniors and Mobility Challenged Animals for Emergency Companions and Defense Body Language: Reading Non-Verbal's and Building Trust No Sense of Community in Modern Society The Lone Wolf Prepper

[11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [Immediate Steps to Take When Disaster Strikes] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [P4T Main Menu]

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[bubble-tea-blossom]

The Soldier and the Smuggler

1. The Pick Up

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Rating / Warnings: Explicit for Eventual smut so 18 + only please. Canon-typical violence. Kidnapping.

WC: 2.1 k

Summary: An illegal deal goes south when you're used as a pawn in some sort of game you have no intention on playing. You're getting out of this, and you won't let your stupidly handsome captor slow you down either. 

A/N: Cross posted to my AO3        

      Ok so maybe you wouldn’t be exactly doing your mother proud at this very moment, but it’s not like you have much of a choice. Orders are orders, and you’ll continue to keep your head down and out of trouble thank you very much, and do what’s asked of you without any hint of thinking otherwise. That’s probably why you’re sitting in this fucking van.

You weren’t even a senior in high school when the world went to shit. And quicker than people expected, with the entire country panicking and shutting down, the military took rule.

Everyone in your age range never finished school. By the time some level of order returned in certain zones and programs were being set up again, you were too old to go back to high school. So you, along with most of the other people your age were volun-told to join the military. Wasn’t like there were lots of other options if you wanted a guaranteed spot in the QZ with a steady food supply. You wanted to keep your mom safe, and in a somewhat decent place, this was the easiest way.

Your QZ’s FEDRAs ruling division was certainly not above illegal methods to get what it wanted. And you doubt that is an abnormality across the remaining American QZs that haven’t been taken over by militia groups. It’s why you wear a flag on your shoulder while waiting for the smugglers to arrive. And no you’re not here to catch them.

Quite the opposite in fact, and you’re here on orders. Some big wig needs some special package, so you’re here while on duty. Still better than killing Fireflies. However there is still some effort put into discrepancy which is why you’re alone on this mission.

Yeah, nothing could go wrong.

We'll first they’re late.

At least it’s a nice night. The air is warm as it rustles through your hair while you sit and wait. The chirps of crickets in the field you’re parked in are your only companions for two whole hours.

They’re very fucking late.

It gets to the point where every added minute you wait your anxiety increases. You just want to be done with this bullshit assignment. You can’t even enjoy the stars through your windshield anymore and you’re somehow fogging it up with your hot and rapid breath.

You step outside and lean against the hood, crossing your arms tightly against the slight chill of the outside air. You tip your head and take in the full beauty of the dark sky, wishing you were a lightyear away from here.

You lose track of how long you wait like that, but when you hear the engine of a car in the distance and look down you neck aches.

A few hundred feet away the warm illuminating glow of headlights make their way toward you. Like a creature in the dark, only it’s eyes visible and it’s purr hearable until it crosses into the realm of your own headlights.

It’s a van, like yours. So maybe what you’re picking up is big, or multiple things. Some more ammunition would be nice. For some reason, in the back of your head you doubted it was any of those.

You stand up off the car hood, back straight and you put on your professionally pissed off face you see your superiors wear and wait for the van to come to a halt. When it slows to a stop you stay where you are, the weight of the gun on your hip a comfort at the actual sight of the smuggler.

There’s only of them apparently. And you can’t make out anything other than he’s a man until he kicks the door open and plants both feet squarely on the ground before standing to his full height.

Ok so he’s big, and he looks strong, older than you but not so old age would be a disadvantage. When he looks at you, he’s intimidating. But you can be intimidating too, so you school your face so there’s no change traceable. You’re a soldier for fuck’s sake, your completing a business deal that you aren’t even really a part of. There’s no reason things should get ugly and if they do that’s why you have a gun.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at yourself even as you thought these things through.

The smuggler casts a quick glance around your car behind you, “There’s no one with you?” he sounds a little bit confused. Like he was expecting someone else.

“Nope. There’s no one with you?” you ask him back, you had been told “Meet the smugglers” like plural. So what gives.

“Nope,” his voice is deep, and his accent makes you think Texan. You wonder what he’s doing all the way over here. He steps away from the door, shutting it behind him, gesturing to the back of the van with a flick of his chin. You take your first steps away from your car to follow, and for some reason feel like you’ve left the warm shallows of a lake past the drop-off into the cold deep.

He waits for you to join him by the rear doors. You step closer to him than ever and actually get to see some details of his face in such low lighting. He’s actually not bad looking, pretty eyes and thick hair, a small scar on the bridge of his nose that’s long healed over. You feel your traitorous eyes flick a glance at his lips before returning to his eyes where they’re watching you back.

You nod your chin at the van impatiently, hoping to hide your slip up.

“You got the payment?” He asks you, hand hovering on the handle.

“Yes, and you’ll get it once it’s loaded in my van.” you say squarely. He pauses one moment longer, before a sigh escapes his pretty lips. Alright you’re getting impatient now, every second this moment lingers makes you more uneasy.

He flings the doors open so suddenly you flinch back, but you don’t react fast enough to even lower your hand to grab your gun before you hear the sound of someone pumping a shotgun and your blood freezes. A quick verdict from your eyes and they confirm a second man inside the van, pointing the barrel of a shotgun at your chest, about a foot away. You don’t even raise your hands you just freeze, fingers splayed out in submission.

Your mind gets a moment to catch up with your pounding heart as you process everything a split second later, and once you’ve fully processed what just happened you’re the one who lets out a sigh this time.

“Fuck.” you breathe out, feeling your lip curl in anger. Someone must have know something, that’s why you of all people got sent on this meet up.

“I’m afraid so, kid,” the man standing besides you says, but you don’t dare move your head to look at him. Instead you glare at him through the corner of your left eye and see without much surprise he’s got his gun pointed at you. His arm is pretty relaxed but you can’t even be insulted at his nonchalance, you’re not even planning on breathing too big with that shotgun a hairbreadth away from your sternum. You’d like to end this evening with a torso still.

The man besides you reaches behind him with the other not preoccupied with holding you up, and a the rustle of rope makes your night go from bad to even worse. This time you do slow turn your head to look at your captor and he holds the rope up, gesturing to turn around.

You can’t help but glare at him almost petulantly before shuffling your feet to turn your back to him, every hair on your body standing up with having him behind you out of sight. But you stay still and obedient with his silent buddy watching so intently. In fact, you feel like you’re going to be very obedient tonight. You don’t even move when he reaches towards you, slow and steady so you can see what he’s doing so you don’t startle. Fingertips just above your belt line, flicking your jacket out of the way so they can wrap around the handle of your gun and remove it from your holster. And just like that you’ve been declawed.

When the man finally puts his hands on you, he’s surprisingly unrough. His big hands take your wrists from the air one at a time to cross them behind your back. His touch is firm, confident like he’s done this a thousand times, but it’s not cruel. A nurse delivery a shot, quick and efficient. You feel the rough fibers of the rope drag around your wrists a few times before it’s being tied down.

“You got anything else on you?” the man asks as he begins patting you down. He’s respectful enough to be quick about it, not lingering anywhere as he removes your utility belt that held a satellite radio and your other equipment along with it. He reaches around your waist to deftly unclip it, slinging it somewhere behind you into the van. Next revealed is the knife in your boot and it’s removal makes it feel like he dug into your soul and took away a handful. His hands go to your shoulders, turning you and pressing you forward into the van where his partner makes room, finally setting his gun down.

Despite being shoved into a van, you can’t help but breath out in relief at being shot being lowered on your current most likely futures.

Getting into the back of a van with your hands tied behind your back is awkward goings as it turns out. You successfully climb into the elevated back, but crouch shuffling further in inevitably ends with you flat on your front.

You inchworm your knees up under you to push yourself up just before someone grabs your shoulders, lifting your torso up off the ground for you. You hate that immediately and once you’re on your butt, you wiggle the hands off, glaring up at the pretty-eyed man.

Fuck why does he have such nice eyes for such an asshole. You make your feelings seen through your dagger like glare and the man at least looks a little put off before he shrugs and backs up a step.

“Where’s the payment.”

“I don’t have it here,” you scoff, a little too eager to throw something back in his face and you scold yourself mentally for your brashness. Maybe you could have used that information to your advantage. Maybe you still can. You remain silent, waiting for his turn to speak.

“Where is it?” he prompts when you don’t say anything.

“Back at the compound. You were going to be paid after drop off.” you answer curtly, you can’t help but feel the need to goad him on for some reason. You have no idea where this urge is coming from. “You still could be, not to late.” you finish, forcing your tone somewhat lighter.

All he does is look at you, the barest twitch of a smile on his lips as he shuts you down, “Cute.”

Then he stands back up and leaves you. Hopping out of the van, he looks at you one last time before the doors swing closed.

“Dick.” you grumble as the two men on the outside of the van walk around to the front, someones pats the back in passing as response and it echoes terrifyingly loud inside.

Well, you might be truly fucked this time.

You’re too late to blink away the tears before they fall. The engine starts up, and a few seconds later you feel the van moving.

Ok now’s the time to start thinking of how you’re going to get out of this. For some reason you’re doubtful of a swift and heroic rescue. So the best way to weasel your way out of this one unscathed is to figure out why someone wants you, you don’t think it’s you personally, which is comforting and uncomforting at the same time. But you can feel it in your bones that you were set up by your own team. The whole thing felt weird from the start, but what were you supposed to do?  It definitely didn’t feel like a personal set up, soldiers of your rank were disposable. This felt like a ‘throw in the pawn and see what happens” move. Which pisses you off even more than those bastards driving you to god knows where.

Spite courses through your body as you vow to get out of this, just to throw it in everybody’s face. Particularly that pretty-eyed smuggler.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for part two coming soon :)

Part Two

[werewolf-in-sweaters]

The dark and rainy November nights have been a wonderful study companion. I finished midterms week last Thursday and somehow managed to get over 100% in both my Old English and Classical epics courses. I've truly never done this well in university and it feels weird for my junior year to have started off so easy.

I have to start revising some of my poetry for my two poetry workshops and begin hiking about final projects.

I have a meeting with my Medieval Studies advisor tomorrow to discuss whether I need to write a senior thesis next year as an entry requirement to masters programs.

[mimikoolover]

I'm confused. So Jikook both left their autographs for a senior who discharged, but why is JK's only being shown? Did the man only show JK's or was this an attempt from JK solos to try and prove Jimin is not there and didn't show Jimin's side? cause the original post the jk solo posted, you can tilt you computer screen upside down and literally see Jimin's unique signature behind it, he has done for years. No one else replicates that. So Why are people still acting like JIkook aren't in the same unit all these months later? Do they think the military is just gonna change the buddy rules for Jikook and let them be in a companion program, but separate? That defeats the whole purpose. Hybe needs to start suing people and actually protecting their artist at this point from internet trolls. I am so serious.

I've honestly not heard anything about this but yes I am sure people are desperate to stir shit.