#honey arbor dress

[honeyarborfashion]

Honey Arbor White Sharara With Green Banarsi Kurti Sharara Fabric Georgete Kurti

[bailey-writes]

So You Want Your OC to be Jewish

So you’re writing a story and you want to make a Jewish character—great! I’m here to help. I always want more Jewish representation but I want good Jewish representation, so this is my attempt to make a guide to making a Jewish character. What are my credentials? I’m Jewish and have been my whole life. Obligatory disclaimer that this is by no means comprehensive, I don’t know everything, all Jews are different, and this is based on my experiences as an American Jew so I have no idea, what, if any, of this applies to non-American Jews. 

If there’s anything you want me to make a post going more into detail about or if there’s anything I didn’t mention but you want to know please ask me! I hope this is helpful :) Warning, this is long.

Jew PSA

If you are Jewish you can use the word Jew(s), e.g. “She’s dating a Jew.” If you are not Jewish you cannot use the word Jew(s). This is not up for debate. Non-Jews calling us Jews has a negative connotation at best. Don’t do it and don’t have your characters do it.

Basics, Plus My Random Thoughts that Didn’t Fit Anywhere Else

A confusing enduring issue is, what is Judaism? It’s a religion, but some Jews aren’t religious; is it a race? A nationality? A culture? A heritage? The only constant is that we are seen as “other.” There’s a lot of debate, which makes it confusing to be Jewish and as such it’s common for Jews to struggle with their Jewish Identity. However many people agree that Jews are an ethnoreligious group, aka Judaism is a religion and an ethnicity.

Temple/Synagogue/Shul = Jewish place of worship. Shul is usually used for Orthodox synagogues.

Keeping kosher = following Jewish dietary rules: meat and dairy can’t be eaten together and you can’t eat pork or shellfish. Fish and eggs are pareve (aka neutral) and can be eaten with meat or dairy (but again not both at the same time.) When eating meat it has to be kosher meat (e.g. kosher Jews are allowed to eat chicken, but not all chicken is kosher. I know it’s kinda confusing I’m sorry.) Kosher products in stores will have symbols on them to identify them as kosher. If someone is kosher they’ll probably have separate sets of utensils/plates/cookware/etc. for meat and dairy

Shabbat/Shabbos/Sabbath = holy day of the week, day of rest, lasts from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. Depending on observance Jews might have Shabbat dinner, attend Shabbat services, or observe the day of rest in its entirety (making them shomer Shabbat)

Someone who is shomer Shabbat will refrain from any of the prohibited activities. These can easily be looked up but include: working, writing, handling money, cooking, and using technology.

Bat/Bar/B’nai Mitvzah = tradition where a Jewish boy/girl becomes a man/woman. Celebrated at 13-years-old for boys, 12- or 13-years-old for girls. Girls have Bat Mitzvahs (bat means daughter in Hebrew), boys have Bar Mitzvahs (bar means son in Hebrew) and twins or two or more people having one together have a B’nai Mitzvah. They will study for this for months and then help lead services and, depending on observance level, read from the Torah. The ceremony is often attended by family and friends and followed with a celebration of sorts (in America usually this means a brunch and/or party.)

Goy/gentile = non-Jew. These words are not slurs, they are literally just words. Plural of goy is goyim and is a Yiddish word, plural of gentile is gentiles.

Jewish holidays follow the Hebrew calendar, meaning that according to the current solar/Gregorian calendar the dates of our holidays are different each year.

Jewish law recognizes matrilineal inheritance. This means that Jewish law states your mother has to be Jewish for you to be Jewish. This is because of reasons from biblical times that I can explain if you wanna come ask, but as you can imagine is a bit outdated. While Orthodox Jews might embrace this idea and only consider someone Jewish if their mom is Jewish, many Jews are more flexible on the idea (and yes, this does cause tension between Orthodox Jews and other Jews at times.)

Judaism =/= Christianity

Some people think Judaism is just Christianity without Jesus (some people don’t even realize we don’t believe in/celebrate Jesus so newsflash, we don’t) and that’s just wrong. Yes both religions share the Old Testament, so they also share some history and beliefs, but the entire ideologies of the religions are different. In brief, they are similar in some ways but are not the same.

What seems to me to be the biggest difference is that Christianity (from what I understand) has a heavy focus on sins, more specifically repenting for/gaining forgiveness for your sins. In Christianity you are born tainted by original sin. In Judaism we believe everyone is born pure and free from sin and everyone is made in God’s image. Judaism has some concept of sin, but doesn’t focus on them and instead focuses on performing Mitzvot (plural, singular form is mitzvah. Direct translation is “commandment” but basically means good deed or act of kindness. It also relates to the commandments, so following the commandments is also performing mitzvot.) Examples of mitzvot include anything from saying a prayer or lighting Shabbat candles to helping a stranger or donating to charity (called tzedakah). One of the main tenets of Judaism is tikkun olam, which directly translates to “repair the world” and means exactly what it says on the tin. Instead of focusing on being forgiven for doing bad Judaism focuses on doing good. The only day we focus on past wrongdoings is Yom Kippur, one of our most holy holidays, discussed below.

Holidays

Rosh Hashanah – The Jewish New Year, occurs around September and lasts for two days, though Reform Jews often only celebrate the first day. Day of happiness and joy, celebrated by eating sweet things for a “sweet new year” (often apples dipped in honey) and circular challah to represent the end of one year and beginning of another. Also celebrated with services and blowing the shofar (rams horn.) Some spend the day in prayer and/or silent meditation. Possible greetings: chag sameach (happy holiday; can be said on almost any holiday), Shana Tovah, or happy new year (which is what Shana Tovah means, some people just say it in English.)

Yom Kippur – Day of Atonement. Occurs ten days after the start of Rosh Hashanah. One of if not the most solemn day for Jews, but also the most holy. The day is spent reflecting on yourself and any past wrongdoings and atoning. The day (sundown the night before to sundown the day of) is spent fasting, a physical way of atoning. We do this in hopes of being “written in the Book of Life” and starting the year with a clean slate. The shofar is blown at the end of the holiday. Most Jews will end the fast with a grand meal with family and friends. Most common greeting is “have an easy fast,” but happy new year is still appropriate.

Sukkot – Celebrates the harvest, occurs on the fifth day after Yom Kippur and lasts seven days. Celebrated by building a temporary hut outdoors called a sukkah and having meals inside it, as well as shaking palm fronds tied together (called a lulav) and holding a citrus called an etrog. Very fun and festive holiday. Possible greetings include chag sameach or Happy Sukkot.

Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah – Some Jews (mostly Reform Jews and Jews living in Israel) combine both holidays into one day while some celebrate them as two separate days. Either way they occur immediately after Sukkot. Shemini Atzeret is similar but separate from Sukkot and features a prayer for rain; Sukkot is not mentioned in prayers and the lulav isn’t shaken but you do eat in the sukkah. Simchat Torah celebrates finishing reading the Torah, which we will then begin again the next day. It’s a festive holiday with dancing and fun. Some Temples will roll the entire Torah out and the children will run under it. Appropriate greeting for both would be chag sameach.

Rosh Hashanah through Simchat Torah are referred to as the High Holidays.

Chanukah – We all know about Chanukah, celebrating the reclaiming of the Second Temple and the miracle of the oil lasting eight days. The most represented Jewish Holiday there is. Unfortunately it’s one of the least significant holidays for us. Occurs around November or December and lasts eight days and nights. Celebrated by lighting candles in the Menorah each night with a prayer and kids usually get gifts each night. Also celebrated with spinning tops called dreidels, fried foods like doughnuts (sufganiyot in Hebrew; usually the jelly filled ones) and potato pancakes called latkes. Greetings: happy Chanukah or chag sameach.

Tu B’Shevat – Birthday of the trees, basically Jewish Arbor Day. Minor but fun holiday, sometimes celebrated by planting trees. Occurs around January or February.

Purim – Celebrates how Queen Esther of Persia defeated Haman and saved her people, the Jews. Occurs in Spring. Festive holiday traditionally celebrated by dressing in costumes, eating sweets, and giving tzedakah (it’s also technically commanded you get drunk so woohoo!) Whenever Haman’s name is mentioned you make a lot of noise, booing and using noisemakers called groggers. Greetings: happy Purim, chag Purim, or chag sameach.

Passover/Pesach – Celebrates the Jews being freed from slavery in Egypt. Occurs in Spring and lasts eight days. The first two nights (some only celebrate the first night) are celebrated with seder, a ritual meal with certain foods, practices, prayers, and readings from a book called the Haggadah and often attended by family and friends. Most famous prayer/song of the holiday is the four questions, which ask why that night is different from all other nights and is traditionally sung by the youngest child at the seder. The entire holiday is spent not eating certain foods, mostly grain or flour (the food restrictions are complicated and differ based on denomination so look it up or ask a Jew.) We eat a lot of matzah during Pesach, which is like a cracker kinda. I personally hate it but some people actually like it. Greetings: happy Passover, chag pesach, or chag sameach.

Tisha B’Av – Anniversary of the destruction of the Temple. Occurs in Summer. Very sad, solemn day. Some celebrate by fasting from sunrise to sunset. Not the most widely celebrated holiday. Some also commemorate the Holocaust (also called the Shoah) on this day as it was the destruction of a figurative temple.

Denominations

There are a bunch of denominations in Judaism, we’ll go into it briefly.

Religious denominations:

Reform/Reformed: This is the least religiously observant level. Often Reform Jews don’t keep kosher or observe Shabbat, their services on Shabbat will use instruments. Reform Jews probably attend services for the high holidays at the very least and probably had a Bat/Bar Mitzvah. Might say they consider themselves more culturally Jewish. Their Temple/Synagogue will be the most “liberal”—aka have more female/diverse Rabbis and a more diverse congregation. I’m Reform and my Temple’s lead Rabbi is a woman and we used to have a Rabbi who’s a queer single mother.

Conservative: More religiously observant and more generally traditional. Might keep kosher or observe Shabbat, but not necessarily. Services likely won’t use instruments (not supposed to play instruments on Shabbat). Most likely had a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, but girls might not read from the Torah, though this depends on the congregation. They do allow female Rabbis, but in my experience it’s less common.

Modern Orthodox: Very religiously observant but also embrace modern society. Will keep kosher and observe Shabbat. Men will wear kippot (singular=kippah) and tzitzit under their shirts. Women will cover their hair (if they’re married), most likely with a wig, and wear modest clothing (only wear skirts that are at least past their knees and long sleeves). Emphasis on continued study of Torah/Talmud. Parents will likely have jobs. Might have larger families (aka more children) but might not. Services will be segregated by gender, girls won’t read from the Torah publicly, and female Rabbis are very rare. Children will most likely attend a religious school. Will attend shul services every Shabbat and for holidays.

note: there are some people who fall somewhere between modern Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox, or between any two denominations really. as you can imagine people don’t all practice the exact same way.

Ultra-Orthodox: Very religiously observant and not necessarily modern. Will keep kosher and observe Shabbat. Men will wear kippot or other head coverings and tzitzit under their shirts, and are also often seen wearing suits. Women will cover their hair (if they’re married) with a wig or scarf and wear modest clothing (only wear skirts that are at least past their knees and long sleeves). Emphasis on continued study of Torah/Talmud. Men might have jobs but might instead focus on Jewish studies, while women most often focus on housework and child-rearing. Don’t believe in contraception (but this is kinda nuanced and depends). Will often have very large families because having children is a commandment and helps continue the Jewish people. Might be shomer negiah which means not touching members of the opposite sex aside from their spouse and some close family members. Services will be segregated by gender, girls won’t read from the Torah publicly, and there won’t be female Rabbis. Children will attend a religious school. Will attend shul services every Shabbat and for holidays.

Ethnic denominations (the different denominations do have some differences in practices and such but tbh I don’t know much about that so this is just the basics):

Ashkenazi: Jews that originate from Central/Eastern Europe. Yiddish, a combination of Hebrew and German, originated from and was spoken by Ashkenazim and while it’s a dying language it’s spoken among many Orthodox Jews and many Jews of all levels know/speak some Yiddish words and phrases. Majority of Jews worldwide are Ashkenazi.

Sephardi/Sephardic: Jews that originate from the Iberian Peninsula, North Africa, and southeastern Europe. Ladino, a combination of Old Spanish and Hebrew, originated from and was spoken by Sephardim. It is also a dying language but is still spoken by some Sephardim. After Ashkenazi most of the world’s Jews are Sephardic.

Mizrahi: Jews that originate from the Middle East and North Africa.

Ethiopian Jews: Community of Jews that lived in Ethiopia for over 1,000 years, though most have immigrated to Israel by now.

Stereotypes/Tropes/Controversies/Etc.

There are so many Jewish stereotypes and shit and I ask you to please be mindful of them. Stereotypes do exist for a reason, so some people will fit stereotypes. This means your character might fit one or two; don’t make them fit all of them. Please. Stereotypes to keep in mind (and steer away from) include:

All Jews are rich.

All Jews are greedy.

All Jews are cheap/frugal.

All Jews are [insert job here]. We’ll go into this more below.

All Jews hate Christians/Muslims/etc.

All Jews are white. 

First of all Ethiopian and Mizrahi Jews exist, many Sephardi are Hispanic, and today with intermarriage and everything this just isn’t true.

All Jews have the same physical features: large and/or hooked nose, beady eyes, droopy eyelids, red hair (this is an old stereotype I didn’t really know existed), curly hair.

Many Jews do have somewhat large noses and curly hair. I’m not saying you can’t give these features to your characters, but I am saying to be careful and don’t go overboard. And don’t give all of your Jewish characters these features. As a side note, it is common at least among American Jews that girls get nose jobs. Not all, but some.

Jews are secretly world elite/control the world/are lizard people/new world order/ any of this stuff. 

STAY AWAY FROM. DO NOT DO THIS OR ANYTHING LIKE THIS. If you have a character that’s part lizard, do not make them Jewish. If you have a character that’s part of a secret group that controls the entire world, do not make them Jewish.

Jews have horns. If you have characters with horns please don’t make them Jewish.

Jews killed Jesus.

The blood libel. Ew. No.

The blood libel is an antisemitic accusation/idea/concept that back in the day Jews would murder Christian children to use their blood in religious rituals and sometimes even for consumption (did I mention gross?) Not only did this just not happen, but it’s actually against Jewish law to murder, sacrifice, or consume blood. Yes these accusations really happened and it became a main reason for persecution of Jews. And some people still believe this shit.

Jews caused The Plague.

The reason this conspiracy exists is because many Jews didn’t get The Plague and the goyim thought that meant it was because the Jews caused it/cursed them. The real reason Jews didn’t get it is because ritual hand-washing and good hygiene kept them from getting it. Sorry that we bathe.

Jewish mother stereotype.

Ok, listen. I know stereotypes are mostly a bad thing but I have to admit the Jewish mother stereotype is not far off. Jewish moms do tend to be chatty and a little nagging, are often very involved in their children’s lives, and they are often trying to feed everyone (although they don’t all cook, my mom hates cooking.) They also tend to be big worriers, mostly worrying about their family/loved ones. They also tend to know everyone somehow. A twenty minute trip to the grocery store can turn into an hour or two long trip because she’ll chat with all the people she runs into.

Jewish-American Princess (JAP) ((I know calling Japanese people Japs is offensive. Jews will call girls JAPs, but with a completely different meaning. If that’s still offensive I am sorry, but just know it happens.))

This is the stereotype that portrays Jewish girls/women as spoiled brats basically. They will be pampered and materialistic. Do these girls exist? Definitely. I still recommend steering away from this stereotype.

Names

Listen. Listen. There are some names that Jews just won’t have. I won’t speak in definites because there are always exceptions but you’ll rarely find a Jew named Trinity or Grace or Faith or any form of Chris/Christopher/Christina etc. Biblical names from the Old Testament? Absolutely Jews will have those names they’re actually very common.

I’m in a Jewish Sorority. My pledge class of ~70 girls had five Rebeccas and four Sarahs. Surprisingly only one Rachel though.

When it comes to last names I have two thoughts that might seem contradictory but hear me out: a) give your Jewish OC’s Jewish surnames, b) don’t give your Jewish OC’s the most Jewish surname to ever exist.

By this I mean I would much rather see a character named Sarah Cohen or Aaron Levine than Rachel Smith. Just that little bit of recognition makes a happy exclamation point appear over my head, plus it can be a good way to hint to readers that your OC is Jewish.

On the other hand, please don’t use the most stereotypical Jewish names you’ve ever heard. If you have five Jewish OCs and one of them is Isaac Goldstein then fine. If Isaac Goldstein is your only Jewish OC I might get a little peeved. There are tons of common Jewish surnames that are recognizable and easy to look up, so don’t revert to the first three that come to mind. Maybe it’s just me, but I find it yucky, for lack of a better word.

Jobs

We all know there are certain jobs that are stereotypical for Jews to have. We’re talking lawyer, dentist, doctor, banker type stuff. To an extent these stereotypes exist for a reason, many Jews go into those careers. Do not make these the only careers your Jewish OCs have. Stereotypes might have reasoning behind them but it doesn’t mean they aren’t harmful. If you have multiple Jewish OCs some of them can have these careers, but not all of them. I do know a lot of Jewish lawyers, dentists, and doctors. I also know accountants, people involved in businesses (“mom, what does Brad do?” “he’s a businessman” sometimes there just aren’t more specific words), people involved in real estate. I don’t actually know any bankers personally, and with money and stuff being one of the most common and harmful Jewish stereotypes I would suggest steering away from that.

These are common fields for Jews, but Jews can have literally any job. Please feel free to get creative. And if you have more than one Jewish OC you can think about making one of them a Rabbi, but DON’T do this if they’re the only Jewish OC. Please.

Yiddish

So I mentioned Yiddish earlier. Like I already said, it’s not a very widely used language anymore but there are some words and phrases that are still used by a lot of Jews (in America at least.) Here’s a list that is absolutely not comprehensive:

Oy vey = oh no

Shvitzing = sweating (but not just a little bit. Shvitzing is like SWEATING)

Kvetch/kvetching = whine/whining or complain/complaining

Mazel tov = congratulations; this is the same in Yiddish and Hebrew

Chutzpah = nerve or gall (e.g. “He’s got a lot of chutzpah for breaking up over text like that”)

Kismet = fate; I just learned this is Yiddish

Bubbe and Zayde = grandma and grandpa

Schelp/schlepping = drag/dragging, can also mean carry or move (e.g. “I had to schlep the bag all around town” doesn’t mean they literally dragged it)

Schmutz = dirt or something dirty (e.g. “you have schmutz on your face”)

Schmatta = literally means rag but can be used to refer to ratty blankets or clothes

Plotz = collapse (usually used in the sense of “I’m so tired I might plotz” or “she’s gonna be so excited she’s gonna plotz”)

Schmuck/shmendrick = both mean more or less the same, a jerk or obnoxious person

Shtick = gimmick, routine, or act (can be used like (“I don’t like that comedian’s shtick” or “he always makes himself the center of attention it’s his shtick”)

Spiel = long speech, story, or rant

There’s so many more so look them up and think about using them, but don’t overdo it. A Jewish person isn’t gonna use a Yiddish word in every sentence (or even every day or every few days.)

Israel

In my community at least it’s very common that by the time your college-aged that you’ll have been to Israel at least once.

Israel is a controversial topic within the Jewish community and in the world. It’s sensitive and complex. I really, really suggest not getting into it. Just don’t bring it up because no matter what you say someone will be unhappy. Just don’t do it.

Ashkenazi Disorders

Ashkenazi Jews have some sucky genes (I’m Ashkenazi so I can say this, you cannot.) These sucky genes cause certain disorders to be more prevalent for us. Children only get the disorder if both parents are carriers of the disorder, so Jews usually get genetic testing done before having children. If both parents are carriers the risk of the child getting the disorder is high, so parents might reconsider or have some indecisiveness/fear. Some of these are:

Tay-Sachs

Cystic Fibrosis

Canavan Disease

Familial Dysautonomia

Gaucher Disease

Spinal Muscular Atrophy  

Fanconi Anemia

Mucolipidosis IV

Niemann-Pick Disease

Torsion Dystonia

Bloom Syndrome

Ashkenazi Jews also have a high prevalence of the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes, which increase the risk of breast and ovarian cancer in women and increase the risk of breast and prostate cancer in men.

Crohn’s Disease, Ulcerative Colitis, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and Lactose Intolerance are also very prevalent

In a dorm of like 40 Jews, six of them had Crohn’s.

Ways to Show Your OC is Jewish

Wears Jewish jewelry, e.g. Star of David (also called Jewish Star and Magen David), Chai symbol (means life), jewelry with Sh’ma prayer, or hamsa (but beware this symbol is used outside of Judaism).

Mentions their temple, their Rabbi, having a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, going to Hebrew School, Shabbat, or a holiday coming up.

Have someone ask them a question about Judaism.

Have someone notice they have a mezuzah on their door. 

Most Jews will have a mezuzah on the doorframe of the front door of their house/apartment, but they could even have one for their dorm room or whatever. It’s traditional to kiss your hand then touch the mezuzah when walking through the door, but most Jews don’t do this every time, at least not most Reform or Conservative Jews.

Have them call out antisemitism if you’re feeling spicy

The end! I hope this helped and if you have any questions my ask box is always open!

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

Lmao 🤣 I know to which post you are replying about them being besties . That scene always gave me more ominous vibes than actually something that would ignite friendship . Also the title of " Usurper's Dog " isn't something @ry@ is going to take lightly .

Ha! I actually didn't have any particular post in mind. The Dany/Arya friendship is just something that I see float around the fandom from time to time and it drives me absolutely bonkers (not fanon. feel free to explore all your platonic dreams with these two in fanon. Go wild. You do you.)

If we are talking canon though, I can't think of a single character that has more anti-Targ foreshadowing in their chapters than Arya (even Jon comes in second place). I actually started pasting bits of Arya's chapters into a word document awhile ago, because I couldn't believe how much GRRM uses her POV to detail the horrors of fire and burning...it's almost comical how heavy-handed he is with it.

And yet...

After I saw this ask in my inbox, I looked at the Arya Stark tag and immediately found a post about Dany and Arya being best friends.

So.

Here we are:

A Storm of Swords - Arya I

Later they passed through a burned village, threading their way carefully between the shells of blackened hovels and past the bones of a dozen dead men hanging from a row of apple trees. When Hot Pie saw them he began to pray, a thin whispered plea for the Mother's mercy, repeated over and over. Arya looked up at the fleshless dead in their wet rotting clothes and said her own prayer. Ser Gregor, it went, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. She ended it with valar morghulis, touched Jaqen's coin where it nestled under her belt, and then reached up and plucked an apple from among the dead men as she rode beneath them. It was mushy and overripe, but she ate it worms and all.

That was the day without a dawn. Slowly the sky lightened around them, but they never saw the sun. Black turned to grey, and colors crept timidly back into the world. The soldier pines were dressed in somber greens, the broadleafs in russets and faded golds already beginning to brown.

Hot Pie opened his mouth and closed it. He did not fall off his horse. The rain began again a short time later. They still had not seen so much as a glimpse of the sun. It was growing colder, and pale white mists were threading between the pines and blowing across the bare burned fields.

A Storm of Swords - Arya III

That night they sheltered in a burned, abandoned village.

A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

The next night they found shelter beneath the scorched shell of a sept, in a burned village called Sallydance. Only shards remained of its windows of leaded glass, and the aged septon who greeted them said the looters had even made off with the Mother's costly robes, the Crone's gilded lantern, and the silver crown the Father had worn. "They hacked the Maiden's breasts off too, though those were only wood," he told them. "And the eyes, the eyes were jet and lapis and mother-of-pearl, they pried them out with their knives. May the Mother have mercy on them all."

A Storm of Swords Arya VI

"Please," Sandor Clegane rasped, cradling his arm. "I'm burned. Help me. Someone. Help me." He was crying. "Please."

Arya looked at him in astonishment. He's crying like a little baby, she thought.

Clegane tried to stand, but as he moved a piece of burned flesh sloughed right off his arm, and his knees went out from under him. Tom caught him by his good arm and held him up.

His arm, Arya thought, and his face. But he was the Hound. He deserved to burn in a fiery hell. The knife felt heavy in her hand. She gripped it tighter. "You killed Mycah," she said once more, daring him to deny it. "Tell them. You did. You did."

"I did." His whole face twisted. "I rode him down and cut him in half, and laughed. I watched them beat your sister bloody too, watched them cut your father's head off."

Lem grabbed her wrist and twisted, wrenching the dagger away. She kicked at him, but he would not give it back. "You go to hell, Hound," she screamed at Sandor Clegane in helpless empty-handed rage. "You just go to hell!"

(Okay, so she's not exactly sympathetic to the Hound's plight here, but still...another reference to burning, and a pretty graphic one at that)

A Storm of Swords - Arya VII

Jack-Be-Lucky, Harwin, and Merrit o' Moontown braved the burning septry to search for captives. They emerged from the smoke and flames a few moments later with eight brown brothers, one so weak that Merrit had to carry him across a shoulder.

The septry soon collapsed in a roar of smoke and flame, its walls no longer able to support the weight of its heavy slate roof. The eight brown brothers watched with resignation. They were all that remained, explained the eldest, who wore a small iron hammer on a thong about his neck to signify his devotion to the Smith. "Before the war we were four-and-forty, and this was a prosperous place. We had a dozen milk cows and a bull, a hundred beehives, a vineyard and an apple arbor. But when the lions came through they took all our wine and milk and honey, slaughtered the cows, and put our vineyard to the torch.

A Storm of Swords - Arya XI

"Dead," he shouted back at her. "Do you think they'd slaughter his men and leave him alive?" He turned his head back toward the camp. "Look. Look, damn you."

The camp had become a battlefield. No, a butcher's den. The flames from the feasting tents reached halfway up the sky. Some of the barracks tents were burning too, and half a hundred silk pavilions. Everywhere swords were singing. And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with not a soul to hear. She saw two knights ride down a running man. A wooden barrel came crashing onto one of the burning tents and burst apart, and the flames leapt twice as high. A catapult, she knew. The castle was flinging oil or pitch or something.

"Come with me." Sandor Clegane reached down a hand. "We have to get away from here, and now." Stranger tossed his head impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. The song was done. There was only one solitary drum, its slow monotonous beats echoing across the river like the pounding of some monstrous heart. The black sky wept, the river grumbled, men cursed and died. Arya had mud in her teeth and her face was wet. Rain. It's only rain. That's all it is. "We're here," she shouted. Her voice sounded thin and scared, a little girl's voice. "Robb's just in the castle, and my mother. The gate's even open." There were no more Freys riding out. I came so far. "We have to go get my mother."

(heart: broken)

Look, there is a lot to say about fire and about rain in Arya's chapters, particularly in A Storm of Swords. I don't have the energy for it, so I'm just dumping quotes. Draw your own conclusions.

This collection is by no means exhaustive, and I'm sure there is someone more dedicated than I am, who has written something about this symbolism. (If anyone has it, send me a link).

All I'm saying is that GRRM isn't throwing all this devastation by fire and blood into Arya's chapters as positive foreshadowing for how she'll feel when a certain conqueror cross the Narrow Sea with her dragons.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

“My darling, my darling, my happiness, my life. But let's not get emotional! Enough! I have to tell you more about the life of Paris, of the Righteous, the phone calls and the letters. I'll do it, but first let me tell you that tonight I'm happy in a way, for the last few minutes. My love. Paris. Since you left I haven't looked at him. I'll try to do so in the coming days to tell you about it. The Righteous. This week has been less brilliant - recipes - than last week. We were expecting it. Hot, sometimes cold audiences. Tonight I almost left the stage to offer a gentleman in the front row some Valda lozenges, a handkerchief to quell his cough, or two tickets to come back another time, when he's better. I restrained myself.

I heard that Elsa [Triolet] and Aragon came back a second time. Today, Montherlant was in the room. The Hebertot advertisement is following its timid little path. Serge [Reggiani] plays irregularly. Yves B [rainville] and Jean P [ommier] are getting soft. Michel B [ouquet] and Maria C [asarès] support as much as they can. Last night, a communist journalist came to see me to find out what I thought of this "hate play". Last night! You think! I was in the mood for a flea market! He knew what I thought of the play and of him - the discussion lasted 15 minutes. He left my dressing room, shot - Henriette told me.

Who is Max Bizeau? He echoed me in Combat. He then sent it to me with a letter in which he said Maria, spoke to me in a warm tone and asked me for a "photo" big enough for his office. Speaking of letters I receive, I'll send you a few copies one of these days. It's worth it. Michèle Lahaye bugs me with the story of Dr. Laënnec I told you about. She wants me to have dinner face to face with him, to please her. It's unbelievable. She keeps on bragging about her merchandise and when, a little outraged, I ask her if she realizes the role she's playing, she answers: "I know. I'm very embarrassed, but I like her very much, and it doesn't cost you anything."

What do you think about it? I can't believe it. But it's enough. I'm tired of them all. Let's leave them, darling. I can't suffer any more and my only moments of tranquility I find at home. Dad's doing good or bad, depending on the hours. He's getting thinner and looks very tired. Alas, I see him very little; radios and theatre take up all my time. The house is getting furnished. I'll have carpeting for both bedrooms in a month. I have bought a very pretty chest of drawers, a round breakfast table (all in light wood), a very pretty standing ashtray, a chandelier for the living room. I'm waiting for the furniture that is being made for the job. The curtains for the entrance are already mounted. And all this is starting to come alive.

Next week I'll take care of the balcony (laths, arbors, plants, chairs, etc.) Serge [Reggiani] has already put aside a few pots of soil with sweet pea seeds. Faced with all this, Angeles, Juan and I all react like children to beautiful toys. You should see us, you'd have a great time. What else! I read The Witness*. That's good. I'm continuing Dostoevsky's correspondence. But right now, I don't have much time left; I have to earn my carpet.

There you go, honey. That's it for me. Forgive me if I'm always writing to you wrongly. I come home tired, and I'm not thinking very clearly. Next week I'll be more rested and write letters from a normal person. And now, finally, you! I feel discouraged at work, but that seems normal to me at the moment. Don't let yourself go. Don't tense up, insist. It will come and it will be so good for you. Now, may I summarize the account of the external events from now on? I'll go into more detail on the points that interest me, you understand. May I, if I wish, write to you every day? Or would you prefer every three days? Answer me quickly. Tomorrow afternoon I'll continue this letter. I can't take it anymore; I'm dead tired and tonight I hope to sleep well. See you tomorrow, my dear love. Go to sleep. I love you."

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, January 7, 1950 [#118]

* Book by Jean Bloch-Michel published in 1948 in the collection "Espoir" that Camus directed at Gallimard.

[eelhound]

"'Treasure' is not much of an overstatement when it comes to yuzu. The knobbly-skinned Japanese fruits are among the most exquisite members of the citrus family: more floral than an orange and nearly as tart as a lime, with a scent that is dense and disarming, the Froot-Loops-y honey of a lemon blossom wrapped around an astringent armature of industrial floor cleaner (which is somehow exquisite), then magnified tenfold, then mailed to the moon. 'The yuzu fragrance is entirely its own,' Shizuo Tsuji, a titan of Japanese gastronomy, wrote. It 'resembles no citrus familiar to the West.'

The fruit is also a treasure in a more material sense. Yuzu trees dot California, an arboreal legacy of Japanese immigrants from the late nineteenth century, but their commercial growth there is limited, and the U.S.D.A. has a ban on the import of fresh yuzu from abroad — the fruit and the trees. So, for citrus aficionados living outside the farmers'-market radius of the California coast, processed, pre-prepared yuzu products are pretty much all we’ve had. In the rare instances when I’ve seen fresh yuzu for sale in the tri-state area, almost always at a Japanese specialty grocery, they’ve been staggeringly expensive, running fifteen to twenty dollars a pound. (In contrast, lemons are generally a dollar or two per pound.) I’m told that, among New York chefs, there is a thriving black market in fresh yuzu smuggled from Japan.

The fruit’s honeyed tartness is clear and lovely in all its packaged, processed forms — perfuming vinegars and hot sauces, infused into vodka and shoyu, tarting up yogurt and cheesecakes. If you were yuzu-obsessed, you could soften your lips with yuzu balm, garland your meals with yuzu salt, soothe your throat with yuzu tea, and dress your buttered toast with yuzu marmalade. But — as with all citrus — even the brightest processed-yuzu product is a tinny AM radio compared with the full, lush surround sound of the fresh fruit. A ripe yuzu is rough-skinned and yellow-orange, almost spherical, flattened slightly at the stem and the flower ends. Its skin is pitted and pockmarked, and often hangs loosely around its flesh. The fruit’s scant juice is puckeringly sour, but its rind is gently sweet, and rich in aromatic oils.

Yuzu is thought to have originated in China, but the fruit is most closely identified with Japan, where it is one of the nation’s essential aromas and flavors. It’s a key ingredient in ponzu sauce, the tangy blend of yuzu juice and soy sauce that often accompanies cold noodles or fried pork cutlets. It also lends zing to highballs, seasons potato chips, and is a favorite flavor for candy. On the winter solstice, bathtubs and onsen throughout Japan teem with whole yuzu, bobbling in the hot water to give bathers (including capybaras) a bracing soak."

- Helen Rosner, from "Nothing Compares to Yuzu." The New Yorker, 27 February 2020.

[jtargaryen18]

Dance Hall Days

A request from @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​: I wanted to request something. Can you do whatever you want with this, I dont have much planned for it but the reader is a dancer for Steve's tour in the 1940s and he likes her, so he takes her backstage or whatever idk. You can do whatever with that! You're the best!

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only Warnings: Explicit sexual content, fluff. The reader has large breasts in the story and just want you to know that. Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader

Tagging @nekoannie-chan​ and my beautiful @princess-evans-addict​ who I’m thinking about this morning. HUGS

~~~

It was cold and rainy in Chicago and you’d changed out of your costume and into your street clothes. You’d saved the pink dress with the flower print for tonight because Donny said it was his favorite.

He’d promised to meet you for dancing tonight. You stayed a little late to touch-up your hair, your makeup. Pulling on a sweater and your best heels, they weren’t much, you grabbed your purse and got ready to find him at the hotel where they’d put the crew up.

Only a few of the other Star Spangled singers still lingered about. A couple repaired their costumes, a few were cleaning the helmets as punishment for getting drunk a few nights ago in Ann Arbor and almost missing the bus. And then there was the show’s star, Steve Rogers, sitting there pulling on his boots.

You felt his gaze on you in the staging room as you placed your costume and helmet in their cubby. Zelda was doing the same, getting ready to head out as you were.

“You meeting Donny?” she asked you with a wink and a smile.

You nodded. “If I can find him.”

“You’ve got competition,” Zelda told you. “All the girls love his dance moves… Well, some of you like his other moves too, dontcha?”

You giggled at that. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Will be if you come back with hickeys again, girl,” Zelda cautioned you. “The costumes are unforgiving so behave.”

You headed for the door, stopping not far from Steve. “I’m not going to try too hard to behave,” you teased.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had you turning to find Steve watching you speculatively.

You blew out a sigh, smiling at him.

Steve was a sweetheart. A complete gentleman with the most innocent baby blue eyes and lashes you’d kill for. He had a body made for sin and it really worked on you when he lifted you on the bike at the shows. You were one of the smaller girls, so it was usually you and two others up there.

Yeah, he had a body you’d love to play on and the strength to throw you around but… No clue what to do with it. Steve wasn’t the guy you had a night of fun with.

Steve was the one you took home to your mother.

You weren’t ready for those days. Yet.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you said contritely. “Zelda and me? We shouldn’t be talking like that in front of you.”

You expected him to blush red or drop his gaze at the very least. You didn’t expect the smirk that earned you. Steve was lacing up his boots now that he’d changed into his regular fatigues, those blue eyes on you.

“Because I’m a pearl-clutching virgin, is that it?” he asked.

That took you off guard.

You recovered quickly, winking at him before looking around the door for an umbrella you could borrow.

“I’d never judge you if you were,” you told him affectionately.

There! You spotted an umbrella next to the craft table and dashed after it before someone could get to it first. Now you were all set.

Glancing back over your shoulder at Steve, you threw him your best grin.

“But if you ever decide to come to the wild side…” And you left it there.

Yeah, you knew it wasn’t nice to tease the poor man. But he was just so damn cute.

***

Steve finished lacing up his boots, his gaze following you out into the dark, rainy night.

“You have plans?” Zelda asked him as she fished around for an umbrella for herself.

“Not at the moment,” he replied, your words still playing in his head.

But if you ever decide to come to the wild side…

“Oh, honey,” Zelda came up behind him, a kind hand on his back. “You’re not getting that tart to your dessert plate. She’s sweet and beautiful, sure. But she’s got a type. And you’re not it, big guy.”

“And what type is that?” he wanted to know, hating the bitterness that crept into his tone.

He’d been sweet on you pretty much since the show started. Zelda was right. You were beautiful and kind. Just the sort of girl he’d always wanted to have on his arm before Dr. Erskine’s serum.

But apparently you had a wild streak a mile wide. It wasn’t that you were a promiscuous girl. He wouldn’t say that. He’d only ever seen you go around with Donny. But Donny went around with a lot of girls. Steve didn’t understand how you were okay with that.

And Steve really wanted to know the answer to his question.

Zelda appeared to weigh her words. Finally, she said, “She’s looking for a good time right now. Not a good guy... You know what I mean?”

“I think I do,” he told Zelda who nodded sympathetically.

“Have a nice night, Steve,” Zelda told him, heading out to wherever it was that she went after the shows each night.

Steve shook his head. He knew where you were going. Steve was staying in the same hotel as Donny and the rest of the male crew who set up the show and moved the production from city to city on the tour. Donny was actually only a couple of doors down from him tonight.

Throwing on his overcoat, Steve headed out. There were several dance halls out in the city, but he had little trouble finding the one where most of the folks from the show were. You were dancing out there with Donny when he spotted you.

It reminded him of the old days with Bucky when he’d set him up on double dates. If his date appeared to notice him at all, she ended up fighting Bucky’s date for him on the dance floor later.

And here Steve stood, choking on frustration. Now he was a bigger guy, a much stronger guy. He knew he wasn’t hard to look at now. Was he in the army fighting for his country? No. Was he able to get a dame on his arm? Have someone of his own since he couldn’t be in the Army?

No.

Nothing had changed.

When Donny started dancing with another girl from the show – Penny? – he watched you make your way to the sideline, balefully glaring over your shoulder at Donny and the other girl and wobbling on your heels.

You’d been drinking.

At first, that pissed him off. What gentleman did that? Especially if he didn’t intend to make sure the dame he’d gotten tipsy got home safely. Bucky may have gotten a few girls a little drunk in his time, made them more agreeable to going home with him. But he made sure they got home safe.

You danced with another couple of guys before Donny finally looked ready to leave with Penny. Steve watched you grab your purse and sweater, looking like you meant to follow them.

Just to make sure you got back safely he’d follow you.

And as Steve followed all three of you to the hotel, Steve considered Zelda’s words.

She’s looking for a good time right now. Not a good guy.

Steve knew something about a “good time.” He didn’t have a lot of experience, true. But he wasn’t a virgin. And he’d heard plenty when Bucky brought girls back to the apartment. Sure, he’d even snuck and watched a few times. He was probably going to burn in hell for that but since he was going to hell anyway…

If that’s what you were after, Steve decided he’d accommodate you.

 ***

You weren’t proud of it, but you followed Donny and Penny from the dance hall back to his hotel.

The evening had been going so well. You’d found Donny at the hall. The punch had been spiked and that was fine. You wanted it to go to your head. You wanted to dance with him, go back to his room with him since he’d lucked out this go around and had one all to himself. The sex would be good. Your night had been planned out.

When Penny showed up, and he was suddenly all about her? Had he really ditched you for the lanky blonde? You were trying to wrap your mind around it. She was always such a little ingenue. Had she actually had sex before?

Either way, she’d managed to completely ruin your night.

You stopped when they disappeared into the hotel, pausing on the sidewalk. You’d been hoping she’d keep going and you could follow him in.

Guess not. It was time to head back for your own hotel, turn in early.

You slammed into a solid form when you spun around to do just that.

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, blinking up in the light rain at the tall man whose face was obscured by the shadows above you.

“You okay?” a familiar voice asked.

“Steve?” That had to be him. “What are you doing here?”

“Going into my hotel.” Careful hands steered you out of the drizzle and into the warm lobby. Steve looked you over, tipping your chin to get a better look at your face. “Okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”

“The question is what are you doing here?” Steve asked.

Steve knew why you were here. You’d made no secret of that. But you didn’t want to admit that you’d just gotten spurned.

“I’m going to my hotel too,” you said simply, embarrassed. “Calling it a night.”

That smirk again. Steve had a look in his eye you’d never seen before. He didn’t look like the wholesome Captain America just now. He looked like a man who was up to something.

“Thought you weren’t trying to behave tonight,” he reminded you. With the light shining off his golden hair, the way he filled out the olive overcoat he wore. Steve was gorgeous.

Okay, he was messing with you. He owed you that considering how often you teased him. You slipped back into your normal character easily enough.

“I don’t have anyone to misbehave with though,” you told him with a sly grin.

Steve’s gaze searched the room. No one else in the lobby. No one was at the front desk at the moment.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

You did not expect to be moving so fast your stomach unsettled through the hotel lobby, hoisted over the shoulder of the Captain America.

“Steve?” you asked when the elevator doors slid closed.

He wasn’t putting you down. And he didn’t answer you as the doors slid open again. Your heart was flying as he kept moving, leaving you hanging onto the back of his coat. Was he taking you back to his room?

“Hey… Rogers?”

Oh, it couldn’t be.

“Rivers,” Steve said curtly.

Oh, fuck it was. Donny!

Steve stopped at a door, unlocking it and leaving you hanging, watching as Donny knocked on the door of another room only a few feet away from you. Probably looking for a condom because he never remembered to get any. When Donny’s buddy Vinny answered the door, they both watched as Steve hauled you into his room over his shoulder caveman style. Donny’s jaw dropped.

Steve shut and locked the door before carefully dropping you onto the neatly made bed at the center of the room.

Your mind scrambled to catch up.

Steve Rogers, America’s hero and poster boy for all things wholesome, had just hauled you up into this hotel room. The guy you’d wanted to spend the night with just saw this. And now you were on your back in the bed of that poster boy and…

Was there a downside to this?

“Steve?” You watched as his fingers nimbly undid the straps of your heels and pulled them off. “What are we doing?”

“Thought you wanted to do something on the wild side,” he reminded you, climbing onto the bed at the foot.

You were lost in his shadow. You didn’t realize until now how much bigger Steve was than you. Straddling you, he threw off the coat and began unbuttoning his shirt. You watched mesmerized as he peeled off his uniform shirt, then the undershirt beneath.

That beautiful, smooth expanse of muscle? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

You were a lot less nervous now.

Steve lowered his powerful body over yours, planting his elbows on either side of you. Oh, he was so warm. So welcome after walking in the cold rain. He smelled good, clean. You hooked an ankle around the back of one of his thighs – damn, they were almost as big around as your waist – and encouraged him to drop more of his weight on you.

Oh, he did. He ground the hard length of himself into your belly and you shuddered, dying to see what was under there.

You grinned up at him.

“You want me to show you the wild side, sugar?” you teased. And you were so ready to do it.

Steve’s lips seared the tender flesh of your neck, gentle teeth nipping at your skin.

“No,” he pulled back to whisper against your lips. “I’m gonna show you.”

Huh?

Steve’s lips claimed yours, gentle, soft. A sweet kiss. At first.

When the kiss turned demanding, when his tongue traced the seam of your lips for entrance, you let him in. God, he can kiss. Where did this come from?

At first, Steve’s hands cupped your face, slid into your hair. Yet as he drugged you with kisses, those hands slid down, under you. The hooks at the back of your longline bra were no challenge and he was careful when he pulled it away from your body.

You got the satisfaction of watching his eyes widen as his gaze moved over your chest. You favored the longlines because you had larger breasts and you wanted to keep everything bound as much as you could so you wouldn’t have to worry about it while you danced. You could tell he wasn’t expecting that.

And he looked far from unhappy.

Steve smirked at you, one breast filling his hand. “Always wondered what you had going on under that costume.”

You pressed yourself up into his grip as his lips blazed a path from across to your jaw and down your neck. His lips were soft, his tongue a tease as he made his way down to your chest. He shifted on the bed as his hot mouth closed around the other nipple.

“Like what you see so far?” you asked, gasping as he teased the peak with his teeth.

Steve hummed around you, his tongue a wicked torment as he teased your flesh. His touches were tentative at first, careful. You couldn’t decide if he was all that experienced to begin with or if he was learning you. Either way, you didn’t give a damn.

Your hands clutched in the gold locks of his hair, hanging on as he worked your breasts with his hands and mouth. Somehow, you’d ended up with your legs wrapped around him. He had you so worked up you were grinding yourself into his abs, trying to get some friction and relieve the ache he was building. Your gasps filled the room, a chorus you couldn’t stop.

One big hand slid down your body, down to cup you through your ruined panties. His touch was too light, too soft. When he lifted his head to smile at you, you wanted to smack him. The bastard knew what he was doing to you. He was enjoying it.

“What’s under here?” he wondered playfully, not having any trouble with the girdle you wore. Somehow, he managed to peel it off you with ease, peeling it down and taking the garters attached and your stockings down with it.

You wore the damn thing to give you a smooth silhouette. Most of the dancers did. Steve grinned at you as his hands slid beneath you, those strong hands closing around your ass.

“I want to see it,” he told you, his gaze heated.

It startled you how quickly he flipped you onto your stomach, peeling your panties down now to bare every single inch of you to him. You squeaked – literally squeaked – when you felt his teeth nip at one of your cheeks.

“This is beautiful, Sweetheart,” his whisper was husky. His hands slid over your cheeks, squeezing them. “If I’d known you had this under there…”

“You what?” you tried your teasing voice but missed it by a mile. Especially considering he was hauling your ass up, shoving a pillow under your hips.

“I’d have shown my appreciation,” he muttered.

You cried out, you couldn’t help it, when he went high diving next. No way he was learning that as he went along. His lips and tongue drove you wild as he held your hips in a vice grip and spent long minutes lapping at your clit with his tongue and fucking you with it at turns. He knew how tease that bundle of nerves with just enough pressure and swirl that your eyes crossed. When he teased your opening with that tongue, when he started teasing you with those big fingers, you went right over the edge.

“You like that?” he whispered while your orgasm shook you like a rag doll.

His fingers slid in and out of you, teasing your front wall just enough to keep your pussy clenching, dragging it out.

“I used to imagine you were sitting on my face instead of that motorcycle,” he told you before lapping at your clit intensely and then stopping, leaving electrical currents shooting through your body. “I used to imagine eating you until you begged me to fuck you… I’d think about bending you over the dressing table where you’d powder your face. I’d flip up your skirt…”

Another stroke against that place in you with the pad of his finger. You howled. More lashes of his tongue against your clit and it was already throbbing. Steve kept at you until you came again – you’d never come on a man’s tongue before – making you shriek as you kept a white-knuckle grip on the bedding beneath you.

You were dimly aware that he was shucking off his pants behind you. You lifted your head enough to see him rolling on a condom.

You didn’t know they came in that size.

You giggled. You wouldn’t be able to dance right for a week.

“See something you like?” Steve said, climbing on the bed behind you and smoothing a hand over your ass.

You wiggled it for him. You wanted that cock.

“I do,” you teased, breathless but you made it work. “Gonna give it to me, soldier?”

Your world spun when he flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing. Being manhandled only pushed your desire higher.

“Like this,” he whispered, moving to kiss you. A dirty kiss, all lips and tongue. Your taste was tangy on his mouth, your hands climbing back up into his hair.

Steve pulled you flat beneath him, insinuated himself between your thighs.

You sucked in a breath when the swollen head of pressed into your entrance.

He stopped. “Are you okay?”

So sweet. Those baby blue were on your face, looking for any sign of distress.

Steve Rogers was too good to be true. Who wouldn’t want a man who could fuck you like the devil one minute and be a guardian angel the next?

Were you even going to survive this?

You nodded enthusiastically. “Maybe just go slow?” you asked.

“I can do that,” he whispered, dropping gentle kisses over your face, your chest.

Oh, the burn. Your walls burned and stretched around him as he slowly sank into you. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. It seemed like it took forever until he reached the end of you. His hips moved, a dirty grind when he couldn’t push in further.

You were already on the edge. He’d stuffed you full and your walls were quivering around him, strained and wanting.

Steve moved in careful strokes until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, enough slow,” you told him, more desperate than demanding. “I need you to fuck me, Steve… I need it so bad right now...”

Oh, that had him preening. Steve couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he began to move faster.

“Yeah?” he asked, lips nipping at your jaw, your neck.

“Yeah.” It sounded a lot whinier than you intended and in the moment you could really care less.

With your arms and legs wrapped around him tight, you pumped your hips up into his strokes. You loved the increasing speed, the mild force he added to his thrusts. The muscles of his back and shoulders, covered in slick flesh, flexed under your hands. Oh, he was holding back. But his cock felt so good, his weight pinning you to the bed, making you take it.

The old metal headboard was banging wall. You thought that was the sound you were hearing. Maybe it was your heart slamming in your chest as your pussy clamped around him. You came so hard the room faded. It took your breath away as you convulsed around him, your nails carving paths down his back while your hips worked frantically for more, riding it out.

Sweat stuck fine blond stands of hair to his forehead. Steve’s huge form tightened around you as he got close to reaching his own end. His thrusts came harder, but not too hard. Those beefy thighs pushed yours wider as he sped up.

Steve’s cry was half sob and it was a gorgeous sound in the quiet of the room as he rode you hard, pumping into your body as he came. Finally, his thrusts slowed, stopped. Dropping a kiss onto your lips, he then collapsed at your side. Heavy enough in the older bed that it pulled you against him. And that was just fine. Your head nestled against his shoulder, one powerful arm wrapped around you as you both fought to breathe normally again.

After a few moments, you shook your head.

“What?” Steve asked, trying to sound playful but worry had bled into his tone. It gave him away.

“All this time you could do all that?” It defied belief. “All this time, you could have been showing the girls a good time?”

Steve’s grin was smug at that. His eyes slid closed. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You propped yourself on an elbow so you could gaze down into his face. “What do you mean maybe, Steve? Look what you just did to me. Why haven’t you?”

“All I wanted was you,” he admitted, slowly opening his eyes.

Your heart squeezed in your chest at that. He meant it. So much emotion in those gorgeous eyes.

Steve Rogers was still the guy you took home to your mother. But if he could fuck you like that…

You grinned at him, tracing your finger along that gorgeous line of jaw. “What are you doing for the rest of the tour?”

Steve pulled you down for a careful kiss. “I’d like to spend it with you.”

For once, you couldn’t come up with a single cute thing to say. You didn’t want to. Smoothing a hand over his face, you kissed him. Kissed him like you meant it because you did.

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

Thank you 🙏

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Conquest of Makkah and Afterwards

The Prophet Keeps Away From His Wives For a Month

In the 9th year of the Migration, the light of Islam covered the whole Arabian Peninsula with its magnificence. The Messenger of God had many material things. The wealth of the Islamic state increased and the financial situation of the Muslims improved.  

Despite all kinds of material opportunities, the Messenger of God continued to lead a plain and modest life; he did not have any luxurious or wasteful things.

However, due to the inclination to the jewels and worldly goods inherent in the nature of women, the wives of the Prophet wanted their share of clothes and jewels from the wealth of the world. Therefore, they sometimes said to the Prophet, “We also want some jewels like the other women.” Then, they told the Prophet what they wanted.

However, the Prophet wanted his wives to lead a plain life like his life and show consent to it. Therefore, he did not give them what they wanted. He also felt disturbed by their requests like that.

The Prophet had a custom. After the afternoon prayer, he visited all of his wives asked about their health and determined their needs. In the evening, all of his wives gathered in the room of the woman who was going to be with the Prophet that night and the Prophet talked to them there. After that, everybody went to their own room.

During these usual visits, the wives of the Prophet treated him to the food or drinks that they had.

Once, somebody gave Zaynab bint Jahsh a leather bag full of honey. Whenever the Prophet visited Zaynab, she treated him to the sherbet she made of that honey that the Prophet liked very much. Therefore, the Prophet stayed with Zaynab longer than usual.

Aisha noticed this and wondered why the Prophet stayed with Zaynab longer than usual. She found out through her female slave that he stayed there longer due to the sherbet made of honey.

The Instruction of Hazrat Aisha

There was a competition between Hazrat Aisha and Hazrat Zaynab; due to this competition, the wives of the Prophet were divided into two groups.  Sawda, Safiyya and Hafsa (may God be pleased with them) supported Aisha; Umm Salama, Umm Habi­ba, Maymuna and Juwayriyah (may God be pleased with them) supported  Zaynab bint Jahsh.

Aisha felt grievous and jealous because the Messenger of God stayed in Zaynab’s room longer. She gathered the wives of the Prophet that supported her and said to them,

“When the Messenger of God comes to any of our room, we will ask him, ‘O Messenger of God! Have you eaten maghafir?’ The Messenger of God will say, ‘No’. Then, we will say, ‘What is this smell then?’ He will say, ‘Zaynab gave me honey sherbet.’ Then, we will say, ‘It means that honey was produced by bees that collected nectar from urfut tree’.”

Maghafir is the plural of “maghfur”. Maghfur is sticky and sweet gum from the urfut tree; it has an unpleasant smell.

The Messenger of God did not like this smell; he felt disturbed by it. Aisha knew about it. That is why, she gave them an instruction like that.

Once the Prophet was entering Hafsa’s room; she asked, “O Messenger of God! Have you eaten maghafir?”

The Prophet said, “No!”

Hafsa said, “What is this smell then?”

The Prophet said, “I drank honey sherbet in Zaynab bint Jahsh’s house.”

Then, Hafsa said, “It means that honey was produced by bees that collected nectar from urfut tree.”

Thereupon, the Messenger of God said, “I will not drink it again.” And he vowed that he would never drink it. Then he said, “I have vowed. Never tell about it to anyone (Aisha or anybody else).”

Thus, the Prophet vowedthat he would not have honey, which is halal (permissible), because he wanted to rejoice his wives and he and to prevent the competition caused by jealousy among his wives from causing a negative effect on the order of his family.

He asked Hafsa to keep it secret along with some other things he told her. He made her promise not to tell anyone about them.

When the Prophet vowed that he would not have honey from then on, the following verse was sent down:

“O Prophet! Why holdest thou to be forbidden that which God has made lawful to thee?, Thou seekest to please thy consorts? But God is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.”

Hafsa did not keep those secrets very long; she told Aisha about it. Then, the other wives of the Prophet knew about it.  

God Almighty informed His Prophet through revelation that the secret that he wanted to be kept was disclosed: “When the Prophet disclosed a matter in confidence to one of his consorts, and she then divulged it (to another) and God made it known to him, he confirmed part thereof and repudiated a part. Then when he told her thereof, she said, ‘Who told thee this?’ He said, ‘He told me who knows and is well-acquainted (with all things).’”

Thereupon, the Messenger of God reproached Hafsa. Aisha supported her. Altogether, they requested some things about the worldly life.  

The Prophet felt grievous about the situation and he felt disturbed by the fact that his wives were jealous of one another.

Thereupon, he vowed that he would keep away from his wives for a month in order to show them that the worldly life was unimportant for him, to teach them a lesson, to decrease the jealousy among them and to measure their love of and loyalty to him. After this vow, he started to live in the arbor called Mashraba.

This incident is called “the Incident of I’la”. “I’la” lexically means an absolute vow; as a fiqh term, it means vow by a man that he will not approach his wife for sexual intercourse.

The Panic of the Companions

When the Companions heard that the Prophet started to live in Mashraba alone, they panicked because they thought he divorced his wives. Hazrat Umar narrates that panic as follows:

“I was living in Awali, a district of Madinah. I had a neighbor from Ansar. We visited the Prophet every other day. When I went to visit the Messenger of God, I informed my neighbor about the revelation that was sent down that day and any other news when I returned. When he went to visit the Prophet, he informed me about things when he returned.

It was my neighbor’s turn to visit the Prophet. It was late at night. He knocked on my door very loudly. I opened the door in panic.

I asked him, ‘What is the matter?’

He said, ‘A great disaster!’

I said, ‘What happened? Did Ghassanis attack Madinah?’

He said, ‘No! They say the Messenger of God has divorced all of his wives.’

Thereupon, after performing the morning prayer, I got dressed and went to Madinah. I went to my daughter, Hafsa. She was crying.

I said, “Why are you crying? Did I not warn you against opposing him and not demanding anything from him?’

Then, I asked her, ‘Did the Messenger of God divorce you?’

She said, ‘I do not know.’

I asked, ‘Where is the Messenger of God now?’

She said, ‘He is there, in that Mashraba; he is resting.’

I stood up and approached the place where the Messenger of God was. Rabah, his servant, was at the door.

I said, ‘O Rabah! Ask the Messenger of God permission for me to see him.’

Rabah went in and then returned. He said, ‘I asked him but he did not say anything.’

I went to the mosque. Some Companions were sitting around the pulpit sadly; some of them were weeping. I sat there for a while. I could not overcome my sorrow. I approached the room of the Messenger of God again.

I said to Rabah, ‘Ask the Messenger of God permission for Umar to see him.’

The servant went in and then returned. He said, ‘I asked him but he did not say anything.’

I returned to the mosque. I sat near the pulpit for a while. I could not get rid of my anxiety and sorrow no matter what I did.

I approached the room of the Messenger of God again.

I said loudly, ‘O Rabah! I want to see the Messenger of God. Ask for permission. If the Messenger of God thinks that I will intercede for Hafsa, I swear by God that I will kill her if the Messenger of God orders me to do so.’

Rabah went in. When he came out, he said, ‘I told him but he kept silent. He did not say anything.’

While I was returning, I heard the servant say, ‘Come in; you were given permission.’

I went in. I greeted the Messenger of God. He was on a mattress made of straw. There were marks of the mattress on his body. I looked around. I saw a handful of barley and a fleece hung on the wall. I started to weep.

The Messenger of God asked, ‘Why are you weeping?’

I said, ‘O Messenger of God! How should I not weep? The kings and sultans of other countries lead a life of pleasure but you lead a very simple and plain life though you are the most beloved slave of God.’

The Messenger of God said, ‘O Umar, son of Khattab! Do you not consent to the hereafter for us and the world for them?’

Then, I said, ‘O Messenger of God! Did you divorce your wives?’

He looked up and said, ‘No!’

Upon this answer, I said, ‘Allahu akbar!’ All of the Companions are in sorrow. Did I go and tell them the truth?’

The Messenger of God said, ‘Alright’ and he talked to me until his sorrow disappeared. Then, he became happy and started to laugh.

Thereupon, I stood near the door of mosque and shouted loudly: ‘The Messenger of God did not divorce his wives.”

The Messenger of God Leaves Mashraba

When one month passed, the Messenger of God ended the seclusion and started to see his wives. Meanwhile, the following verses were sent down:

“O Prophet! say to thy Consorts: ‘If it be that ye desire the life of this world, and its glitter― then come! I will provide for your enjoyment and set you free in a handsome manner."

But if ye seek God and His Messenger, and the Home of the Hereafter verily God has prepared for the well-doers amongst you a great reward.’”

According to the verses, the Messenger of God offered two options to his wives: To prefer the world and the possessions in the world or to prefer God and His Messenger.

When the verses were sent down, the Prophet was near Aisha. He told her about the verses; he said she could also talk to her parents regarding the issue.

Aisha gave her answer at once: “Why should I talk to my parents regarding this issue? I definitely prefer God, His Messenger and the hereafter.”

The Prophet smiled at Aisha’s answer.

His other wives also preferred God, His Messenger and the hereafter to the world and worldly possessions. Thus, they proved their love of and loyalty to the Prophet.

[potionsclasss]

Hii <3 can i please get a ship from the golden trio era? My name is Kasia, im slytherin, INFJ, taurus sun, gemini moon, scorpio rising. Im pansexual. I am cold from the outside and can be kinda bitchy but i will do anything for my loved. I have HUGE daddy and mommy issues. I love fashion, art, psychology. I focus on learning at school and growing. I am also therapist for my friends haha. I love drinking black coffee and chilling in bed on rainy days. My looks: i Have straight Brown hair, green eyes , kinda full lips, my body shape is hourglass. Thank you so much <3333

Who your ideal partner is and why

Luna Lovegood. She is the perfect person to melt down your cold and hardened exterior to reveal your soft selfless inside. It was a little bit of the opposites attract situation, her being a honeyed light of evening, a sun flowering blossom, and you, a crystal-white icicle, dangling just within her reach. For once, you would be able to be the one getting love and support and advice, not the other way around. She would be an incredible listener, and love hearing about everything from your favorite artists to simply hearing your delightful humming.

How you met

In the herbology garden. You both loved the herbology garden for different reasons. You soaked in inspiration for fashion and art in the sun-lit glass-paneled room. Luna on the other hand loved the plants themselves, digging her fingers in the cold soil, enjoying the promise of new spring buds. You were often there after class together, unspokenly enjoying each other's quiet company. One day, Luna sat beside you as you were scribbling in your notebook. She smelled of rosemary and lilys. “There's a nargal on your shoulder.” she would speak, barely above a whisper. And with that, just as the garden buds continued to expand and grow in the sun and rain, as did you and Luna.

First Date

A walk through the enchanted forest. It was only fitting since you had met in such a nature-laden spot. She would meet you at the entrance, pale blue lace dress hanging loosely from her milky white skin. She outstretched a soft hand to take yours and would lead you into the magical sage green forest, the deep brown earth elevating each step with its ever-giving soul. A billion verdant wands of pine waves swayed closer to the two of you in the arboreal air as if craving to be a part of what you had. While the forest was magical, it was nothing compared to the electricity and love and admiration that rippled between the two of you.

Little things about the two of you:)

-Luna would let you sit in her lap and braid daisies into your shiny silky brown hair.

-Even when you were dating, Luna would be nervous to ask you to be her date to the Yule ball.

-CONSTANTLY holding hands. Her hands knew just when to hold on and yet simultaneously set you free.

-The two of you would always sit together at quidditch matches, her in her adorable Gryffindor lion hat and you in an equally endearing snake hat (a loving rivalry of course ;)

A song that reminds me of your relationship: I wanna be your girlfriend by Girl In Red

@idontunderstndu

[honeyarborfashion]

Honey Arbor Green Orgenza Suit Set Anarkali Floral Print Size: s - xl

[slippinmickeys]

The Countess (2/4)

She did one country dance with the Duke before dinner was called, and she was forced to sit next to him during the meal. Food and spittle came out of his mouth at regular intervals as he spoke, and when she tried to converse with him of books and science in an effort to find a shared interest, he informed her that he thought women had no place reading, much less discussing topics like science.

She grew more and more depressed as the meal wore on, and when Missy tried to catch her eye from across the room, she couldn’t take it anymore and excused herself awkwardly, rushing off down the nearest hallway, just needing to get away from him.  

She rounded a corner into an empty corridor and leaned back against the wall, taking large, heaving breaths, her breasts practically spilling out of the top of her dress as she did so. She hated this dress. She hated this place. She hated the Duke and her father and all the choices made in the world that led to her current situation.

After a few deep breaths, she began to calm a bit and felt cool air on her face coming from further down the corridor.

She knew she shouldn’t be on her own anywhere in the house without a chaperone -- the very last thing she needed was to ruin her reputation and thereby her chances of an advantageous marriage if she were discovered. In London Society all it took was a word in one person’s ear and any woman’s prospects could be shattered. Her family would be ruined and so would she. Nevertheless, she welcomed the feeling of the cool air on her hot skin, and rather thought a breath of fresh air might help her to center herself so she could return to the party.

She rounded the corner and found a door that led to the garden. She stepped through it gratefully.

The garden smelled of roses and jasmine and was blessedly deserted. She stepped under an arbor dripping with wisteria and found a bench in front of a small fountain. She sat.

She wanted nothing more than to loosen her corset and fling it away, but she leaned back instead, trying to take as deep breaths as she could. It was hopeless. Everything was hopeless. She felt the sharp sting of tears at the corner of her eyes and finally let them fall.

She wept for what felt like an hour but was probably only a matter of minutes, before she heard what she thought was a footfall from the doorway through which she’d come. If her mother found her out here, she’d be furious, and Dana had no doubts that she’d noticed the empty chair next to the Duke and would come looking for her. She needed to get back to the dinner -- and the Duke. There had to be another way back into the house.

She stepped around the fountain and under another arbor, and when she turned the corner, there sat the Earl of Wexford, sitting on a twin of the bench she had just been occupying.

They both started at the presence of the other and then the Earl shook himself and stood politely.

“Lady Dana,” he said, squinting at her, no doubt seeing the tracks of tears on her cheeks, “are you all right?”

Dana quickly wiped at her cheeks then smoothed her dress. Finally she raised her eyes back to the Earl.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

He nodded once and reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a crisp white handkerchief that he handed her without a word.

She looked at it for a long moment before accepting it with all the dignity she could muster, wiping it delicately under her eyes and nose. She handed it back with a small smile.

“Can I escort you back inside?” he asked kindly, “it wouldn’t do to be caught out here alone together. I’m afraid I do have a bit of a reputation -- earned or otherwise -- and being out here with me is sure to get you one, too.”

She knew he was right but didn’t want to go inside just yet. The open sky and the fresh air lent her a feeling of freedom she knew she should revel in while she still could. She sat on the bench. He looked at her for a long minute then sat gingerly down beside her, giving her as much room as was possible on the small seat.

“Your reputation isn’t earned?” she asked him boldly. He leaned back and smiled at the ground in front of him.

“I suppose that depends,” he said.

“On what?”

“On what you’ve heard,” he looked back at her and she hoped he couldn’t see the blush she could feel blooming on her cheeks in the dark.

“I’ve heard you keep a fallen woman in a luxurious apartment in Mayfair,” she said, surprising both of them with her boldness. “Is it not true?”

He looked at her -- his eyebrows still up -- and then back to the ground.

“It is true,” he finally said.

Dana was shocked. She barely knew him, but he seemed a decent man and had treated her with dignity and respect. He didn’t seem the kind of man who would keep a whore.

“And you keep her there for your…” she wasn’t sure how to demurely ask it, but something inside of her really wanted to know, “...personal use?”

He threw his head back and laughed once, mirthlessly.

“That part is not true.”

“It’s… not?”

“She is a friend,” he said simply.

Dana didn’t want to pry further, but couldn’t keep the interest from her face.

He rested his elbows on his knees and looked at the flowers surrounding them.

“She is an old friend,” he went on, “who was met with an unfortunate series of events in her life. We were childhood friends. When I found out what became of her, I… did what I could for her.”

“So she now lives comfortably in Mayfair?” Dana asked, realising only after she said it how rude it sounded.

“Yes, and she no longer has to prostitute herself to do so,” he said curtly.

Dana felt the sharpness of the words in her chest.

“What is her name?” she asked quietly, and his posture softened. He turned to look at her.

“I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that,” he said. “It’s kind of you.”

She waited for an answer and finally he gave it.

“Her name is Marita.”

“Then I shall tell all who will listen that your reputation is unearned,” she said, sitting up smartly. “When I’m a Duchess, they’ll have to listen.”

“I pity the person who doesn’t listen to you,” he said softly. “Duchess or no.”

She felt tears well in her eyes for his kindness.

“I do hope we can be friends,” she said, standing and then holding out her hand for a shake, “after I’m married.”

He stood as well and clasped her hand warmly, giving it a firm shake. The hair on her arms stood on end from the contact. He let go after a moment.

“It is my hope as well,” he said, “though it would require your Narcissus of a future husband to permit you.”

“He had better,” Dana said, laughing a bit now with gallows humor, “for it sounds like he won’t permit me to discuss anything more exciting than the weather... I shall need someone to discuss Evanston with.”

Lord Wexford’s eyebrows rose.

“You read Evanston?”

“Evanston and a good deal more,” she said, proudly.

He smiled at her, impressed.

“I look forward to discussing his newest prose with you --  I admit I have a hard time picturing those elegant words emitting from the Duke’s flexuous lips.”

“Ugh,” Dana shuddered, thinking of the food that had flown out of the Duke’s mouth not an hour ago, “do not speak to me of his lips! And to think -- my first kiss will be to those.”

A look came over his face with her words.

“You have never been kissed?” he said, his voice taking on a rough quality. His eyes drifted from her eyes to settle on her lips and then flitted briefly, for the first time, to her bosom.

“I have not,” she said primly, for the first time feeling a bit nervous about being alone with a man in an empty garden.

He seemed to sense her change in comfort and put his hands behind his back as if to reassure her.

“Would you like to be?” he asked quietly.

“Would I like to be what?” she said dumbly, both hoping and not hoping that he meant what she thought he did.

“Kissed,” he said simply, and unconsciously licked his lips slowly, drawing her attention to his mouth, to his plump lower lip.

She felt something low in her gut, and before she realized she had said it, the word sat there in the air between them:

“Yes.”

He said nothing but took a slow step toward her, allowing her time to turn and run away if she had any second thoughts.

She was surprised to find that she didn’t. Not one. In fact the only thing she wanted in the world right now was to feel this man’s lips upon her own.

When he got close, as close as he had been when they had been waltzing, he reached his hands up to lightly touch her face, and her breath hitched in her throat.

“You will permit me?” he said as he leaned down slowly to bring his lips level with her own. She nodded once and her eyes slid closed.

She felt the light fan of his breath on her face, smelling a hint of honey and something else more sharply masculine. And then his lips were upon her own.

His first touch was gentle and light, the briefest whisper, like the touch of a butterfly’s wings. His second was more firm, the press of him becoming more insistent. She found herself kissing him back, leaning into his lips as he pressed into her. She felt one arm come around her waist to pull her body into his own, and she felt a thrill -- a frisson of energy running from her toes up to the top of her head and then settling, like the fizz of champagne, where their lips met.

When her body pressed into his further, she heard the lightest of moans from him and her heart thrilled at the power she felt -- like Aphrodite holding the golden apple. She tentatively put a hand around his waist and pressed gently.

It was all the encouragement he seemed to need, and she suddenly felt his tongue gently insisting on entry passed her lips. Surprised, she opened her mouth, and his tongue plunged inside, rubbing against her own. She felt her womb contract up into her body and a heavy feeling she’d never felt before settle between her legs.

She released a moan of her own and he moved his head slightly more to the side so that he could more thoroughly plumb the depths of her mouth with his tongue. Feeling a bit like a fencer, she parried with her own and he breathed in once deeply through his nose, moving his other hand into her hair.

She had never felt anything like this. Not once in all of her 20 years. All she wanted was to kiss this man for the rest of her life and never stop, not for sustenance, not for air.

Then in the haze of her desire and the ringing in her ears, she heard a noise and a sharp intake of breath from behind her.

She pulled her lips from the Earl’s as if in slow motion and turned just in time to see both her brother and her mother standing behind them, shocked looks upon their faces. Her brother’s face slowly turned to outrage.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he shouted, and took a menacing step forward.

[mycatshuman]

The Emo Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 1 : Story time!

Word Count: 3,068

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxiety, pre-established Logicality, pre-established Demus

Warnings: Commercialization of Christmas, falling down the mountain, Grinch used as an insult? Small car crash with no harm, brief mention of playing with matches, mentions of messing with mail? Almost getting crushed by a stamp, child being wrapped in wrapping paper, that might be it I'm not sure and I know these sound weird but I'm just being careful.

Remus and Deceit don't come in until the next chapter.

Thank you so so much to @icequeenoriginal !!! You are basically the co-creator to this fic and it really would not be as good as it is without you. And I also have to thank you for coming up with such and ingenious title!!💜💜

Masterlist | Next | More Chapters

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Snowflakes fall through the dark sky. A sparkling flake flies close and then we zoom inside the snowflake, watching sparkling crystals fly by as we start on our journey. 

Storytime! Inside a snowflake, like the one on your sleeve, there happened a story you must see to believe. The clouds break away and we see snow-covered mountains and evergreen trees dotted across the landscape. 

And in that snowflake, way up in the mountains, in the high range of Pontoos, lay the small town of Whoville: the home of the Who's. Ask any Who, And they'll say: "There is no place like Whoville around Christmas Day!" 

Every window was flocked, and every lamppost was dressed and the Whoville band marched in their Christmasy best! Or holiday best if they celebrated a different holiday. Who's run through the town as the snow falls around them, their arms full with bags and gifts and decorations. 

Arbor Day was fine, and Easter was pleasant and every Saint Fizzin's day, they ate a Fizz pheasant. But every Who knew, from their twelve toes to their snout, they loved Christmas (or other winter holidays like Kwanzaa and Hanukkah) the most, without a single Who doubt.

------

A man with dark skin hurriedly says "Farfingle's welcomes you! Thank you! Happy Holidays! Thank you for shopping at Farfingle's!" The man is looking a little pale as he tries to keep up with the sales as people shove money at him to pay for gifts. No one stopping to take their receipts, causing the man to become exhausted and fighting to keep his smile on his face. 

Patton walked around as he stared at his long gift list. "We got a snoozlephone for your brothers Stu and Drew, a muncle for your uncle, fant for your aunt, and a fandpa for your cousin Critic. That means we just need….." Patton paused and looked around, realizing he couldn't find his child. "Emile?" He called out.  "Emile? Honey?" He turned to find a set of legs sticking out from under a square of presents. He crouched and pulled a wrapped gift from the middle and his child's face peered out at him. Their face was pinched slightly and they seemed uncertain about something. "Doesn't this seem like a bit much?" They asked as they glanced at the presents. 

Patton chuckled heartily. "Oh no! This is what Christmas is all about!" Emile scrunched their nose as they looked at their father. "Can't you feel it?"

Emile shook their head and sighed as they left the store getting ready to head to the post office, where Patton worked. In the background, the sound of the store clerk’s increasingly exhausted voice sounded. "Wait! Don't forget your change!!!!!" 

Outside, the loud bell tolled and everyone froze. The Counter shouted, "Another Minute Closer to the Holidays!"

"And now, for the next ten minutes only, 99% off!!" A store owner shouts out into the busy streets and everyone rushed forward to try and get as much as they could from the store. 

-------

Yes, every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot. But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not.

-----

Four Who teenagers climbed up the mountain quickly laughing and giggling, on their way to cause mischief. Or so they thought. "Come on! All the good mistletoes at the top! Missy! I'll race you!" Emile's brother Pranks shouted. 

"The last one to the top is a stinky old Grinch!!" Missy shouted as he raced past his brother. 

"Where are we?" One of the teens said as she climbed up alongside her sister. "I think we should go back before something bad happens."

"What? Are you scared of the Grinch?" 

The other sister huffed and grabbed her sister's arm and marched up to the door and hesitated. "Go on! Touch the door!" Pranks cried out. The sister gulped and reached forward only for the door to swing open and a huge ugly purple face with piercing fangs stared at them with malevolent eyes. A thundering growl sounded from the pit of the beasts' throat. The teens screamed and turned around only to tumble down the mountain head over heels. 

"Remy!! Look at them run!! Scared them so bad they fell right off our mountain!!" A deep voice laughed as he picked up an apple. "It serves them right. Those Yuletide-loving sickly-sweet, not-sucking cheer mongers! I don't like them. I really don't." The voice paused as they stopped and a flush spread across their pale face. "Well, most of them."  The voice moved out the door and stood looking down at the town of Whoville. "Remy! Sass master! Get my cloak!" The figure grimaced as he looked down at the town. "I've been too tolerant of these delinquents and their "innocent, victimless pranks." The figure's frown deepened as he glared at the town. If looks could kill. "So, they want to get to know me? Do they really? Want to spend a little quality time with the-" the future's nose scrunched in disgust. "Grinch!" He spat out the name as if it had hurt him. And maybe it had. He huffed and then turned to his cat Remy who sat next to his midnight colored cloak. A wicked grin spread across his face. "I guess I could use a little...social interaction." 

---------

A dark clothed figure walked through the town, A small dark grey cat trotting along beside them. Well, maybe walking wasn't so accurate. The figure seemed to glide and float across the ground as if it was an otherworldly spector. However, none of the Who's seemed to notice this different looking figure. "Happy Holidays!" A person called cheerfully as they walked past the figure. Virgil grimaced. "Yeah, yeah, you bet. Ho, ho, ho, and all that stuff or whatever." If any Who had stopped to peer closer at the hooded figure they might find a weird creepy mask and a lanky body covered in dark purple fur. It was a suit Virgil used to frighten the Whos more. It also to stay warm in the biting cold weather. 

A horn blared as a car crashed into a pole and Virgil gasped overdramatically. "Oh no!" He exclaimed and looked down at Remy. "Someone must have vandalized that vehicle. Don't you see, Remy? This city is a dangerous place!" He snickered after he confirmed his little trick hadn't hurt anyone.

The Grinch hated the holidays. The whole Holiday season. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe it just hurt to remember what the Who's had done to him. But please do not ask why. No one quite knows the reason. Aside from one other.

Virgil stopped two children and handed then a play saw, perfectly harmless but looked very real. "Here's a present for you two! Now be sure to run real fast with it! Double time!" 

Some believe it's because his head wasn't screwed on just right. Or that his shoes were too tight. But they think the most likely reason of all is, maybe his heart is two sizes too small.

As Virgil was walking a man stopped him from moving any further. "Hey, there stranger! Won't let you go until you buy a chapeau!" Virgil lifted his mask and hissed. The salesperson who had stopped him fainted out of sheer terror. Virgil held back a snort and he and Remy were on their way. 

-------

Patton carried presents alongside his child, Emile as they made their way to the post office. "Oh boy! Nothing beats Christmas! Right kiddo?" 

Emile frowned. "I don't-I guess." 

Patton frowned and turned to look at his child. "You guessed?" He asked, concern lacing through his words. 

Emile shrugged as they looked down. "I mean, I look around and see you and Pa getting all kabbabled and doesn't it seem...superfluous?" 

Patton opened his mouth to say something when a loud screaming reached his ears and he froze, turning towards the source of the noise as everyone around them did the same. 

"DAD!!!!" Missy and Pranks raced into the town square as the Mayor came out of his office along with his assistant to see what the commotion was about. 

"What happened to you?!?!" Patton asked panicked. The two boys were covered in frost and snow as they tried to stutter out a response. "It was the Grinch!" 

Virgil looked up. "What do you want?" He froze, "I mean.." He pitched his voice higher. "'Grinch? Oh, no!'"

"Did you say Grinch?" The mayor, Anton Who said as he stalked over to the family. 

Patton froze.“H-Hello Anton, M-Mayor Sir.” Patton said as he moved his children behind him. 

Anton sighed "Patton, I don't think I need to remind all of you that this Christmas marks the one-thousandth Whobilation."

"Whoville's most important celebration!!"

"As you know," the Mayor began as he pulled out a very large and thick book. "The Book of Who says very clearly, 'Every size of Who we can measure knows that Whobilation is a time we must treasure!'" He closed the book, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Now, Patton. Please tell me that your children have not been up on Mount Crumpit provoking one and only creature within a billion bilometers of here who hates the holidays!"

Missy and Pranks began speaking quickly, "But it was the Grinch-" 

Patton stopped them by covering their mouths, terrified of what the consequences may be for them and their family if they kept talking. "No, Mayor. They didn't see no Grinch. They were probably just up on the mountain playing with matches or defacing public property or something…" 

The Mayor let out a sigh of relief as he placed his gloved hand on his chest. "Oh! That is such a relief." He turned his extravagant cape dragging behind him. "All right! You heard the man! There is no Grinch Problem here! Happy Holidays!" The mayor called cheerfully. 

Virgil frowned and raised his mask and stuck a straw between his lips and spit a ball of paper at the Mayor. The mayor frowned and whipped the ball off his face, disgusted. Virgil chuckled as he pulled his mask down and went off again. 

-----

Roman May let out a sigh as he realized he still had four hours until it was dark enough to leave town. So he just rolled his new purchase home, slowly, hoping to kill more time. He paused at the post office however and let out a faint chuckle as he noticed the end of a cape and a cat's tail slipping through the crack in the door as it fell close. He sighed dreamily. "That's my love," he muttered fondly to himself and walked away with a lot more pep in his step than before. 

-----

Emile frowned as they watched their dad walk down a long hallway with envelopes and presents as he stuffed them in small cubes lining one wall that leads into the room on the other side. "Dad, I just- I don't understand something."

"Hhm?" Patton asked as he continued working but made sure to give his child the attention they deserved. 

"Why so everyone so against talking about the Grinch?" 

Patton huffed quietly, a little admirable of his child's fascination. "You kids and the Grinch…” he said softly. "You see, Emile, the Grinch is a Who, who always…." He paused. "Well...he's actually not a Who. He's more a..." 

"A what?" 

Patton nodded. "Yeah, he's more a what who doesn't like Christmas or any other holiday." Emile's face pulled down into a frown as they listened to their dad. "Just take a look at his mailbox. Not a single card, in or out. Not ever!" 

Emile looked at the empty mailbox that had seemingly been empty for so long that cobwebs filled the dead space. "But why?" They asked as they turned to look at their dad, unsure why someone wouldn't have at least been kind enough to try and include him. 

Patton opened his mouth to answer his child only to be cut off by people crowding around the front counter. "Patton! I got the wrong mail!!!" Someone cried out frantically and Patton gave Emile an apologetic smile and walked to the counter. "I'm coming!" He called out. "We can sort this all out!" 

-----

Virgil grinned wickedly as he stood in the mailroom and looking at the mailboxes from the other side. "Oh, this will take them years to sort out!" He began to grab envelopes and switch them around. "This is his and now it’s yours. This is hers and now it’s his!" He giggled gleefully and turned around. Picking up a stack of bright yellow envelopes he spun around. "And for the rest of you!" He flung envelopes into random mailboxes with great force as he chuckled madly to himself. "Jury duty! Jury duty! Jury duty! Blackmail! Pink slip! Chain letter! Eviction notice! Jury duty!" Remy watched unamused as Virgil tried to wreak havoc. He rolled his eyes, as well as a cat could. Virgil may seem threatening but in all actuality, he was just a hurt soul trying to hurt those who hurt him but was too nice to do so. At least he had Remy to keep him in check. 

-----

Patton walked over to Emile and held out a small stack of envelopes. "Hey, Emile, would you mind helping me take this to the mailroom?" Emile nodded and took the envelopes from their father. Patton smiled and ruffled their hair. "Thank you. Now be careful of the sorting machine, alright?" 

Emile nodded with a small smile and turned around and opened the door to the mailroom and glanced over as they watched the conveyor belt drop presents down a hole to have Fragile stamped on the side. They set the mail down and turned to leave only to hear a loud splat. They turned around and frowned as they noticed an ugly, overly happy mask sitting on the floor. They bent over and picked up the mask and inspected it. 

Virgil and Remy stared down below at the small Who child that had entered the mailroom. They were squished into the corner of the ceiling, trying to stay perched where they were until the child left. Then Remy sneezed. "Gesundheit," Virgil muttered. Emile gasped and whirled around, their gaze going to the ceiling. "Whoops."

Emile stuttered as they stared at the purple fur of the Grinch and the dark grey cat and screamed. The Grinch screamed back. Emile screamed again, and as the Grinch let out another scream they slowly composed themselves.  "You're the...the...You're the..."

Virgil jumped down and leaned forward into Emile's face. "The Grinch!" He snarled. Emile screamed and fell back into a pile slowly falling through the hole in the floor leading to the conveyor belt for the sorting machine. Virgil blinked as he tried to calm his racing heart. "Well...I guess that worked out..." He quickly turned towards the door, terrified of getting caught. "Remy, let's go. Our work here is done." 

"Help!! Help me! Please! Somebody!" Emile screamed as their head fell closer to the conveyor belt. Remy stopped just short of the door and gave Virgil a look that said, 'I know you're gonna feel guilty about this. Go help them, gurl.' 

Virgil huffed at being called out despite not actually hearing what Remy said, he was pretty good at telling what his cat was thinking. "All the bleeding hearts of the world unite! Ugh!" Virgil turned around and grabbed a hold of Emile's ankle before pulling the child out and quickly turning them upright. "There!" Virgil exclaimed. Although he turned his voice down at noticing the slightly shocked face of the child. He huffed and yanked the mask from them. "Give me that! Don't you know you're not supposed to take things that don't belong to you?! What are you, some kind of wild animal?!?!?" 

Emile blinked, desperately trying to process what exactly had just happened. They quickly found their voice as they vaguely heard the Grinch say something about leaving to their cat. "Thank you for saving me!" 

Virgil froze and slowly turned around to face the child again. "Saving you?" He asked slowly, carefully. "Is that what you think I was doing?" Emile nodded. Virgil huffed. He couldn't have this getting out, who knows how many teens would come up to bother him then! He grimaced. "Wrong-o!" He glanced to the side and noticed a roll of wrapping paper on a wrapping paper holder. He glanced back at the child. They can't know where I'm going. I have to make sure to stall them. "I simply noticed you weren't properly packaged, dear child." 

Emile stepped back only for the Grinch to began rapidly wrapping them up in the shiny red wrapping paper. "Hold still!" The Grinch exclaimed. Then he turned to his cat. "Remy! Pick out a bow!" Then the Grinch paused. "May I use your finger for a moment?" After a few more moments, Emile felt the Grinch's presence move away. They heard a snap and an "ow" at what, Emile assumed, was the Grinch putting his mask back on. 

Emile stood silent for a few moments after the Grinch left before they began shouting. "Hello! Hello!"  

Patton frowned as he looked for his child. A small "hello" drew him towards the mailroom and he opened the door. "Emile?" 

"Dad! Daddy!" Emile called out as they sensed their father moving closer. 

"What ...?" Patton was speechless as he noticed a figure wrapped in wrapping paper around the size of his child. "Emile? Is that really you?" He asked again and began removing the wrapping paper.

Once Emile's head and torso were uncovered, they grinned excitedly at Patton. "Dad! It was astounding! Th-"

"You have been practicing your Christmas wrapping!" Patton exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "Oh, Emile! I am so so proud of you!! That's the holiday spirit!!" 

"O-oh…" Emile train of thought halted as they took in their father. His black-framed glasses and the grey cardigan pulled tight over his postal uniform. The smile that was wide on his face, beaming with pride. Emile subconsciously rubbed at the grey material of their school uniform. 

Kind little Emile didn't know what to do. In their head, a conflict or two humbled around their brain. 'If The Grinch was so bad, then why did he save me?" They thought. "Maybe he wasn't as bad as they say." Maybe. Just maybe. 

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Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

[honeyarbor]

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[lesbianarcana]

Codex Entry: Dalish Medicine, A Recipe Book

[This appears to be a collection of dog-eared papers covered in a neat cursive script, bound together with cheap twine. Another person seems to have written notes underneath each recipe.]

For venomous bites - juice of gossamer type canavaris, antivenin (2 parts venom, 1 part distillation agent), powdered lifestone. Combine and bring to boil over heat, maintain gentle simmer until mixture turns a dark amber. Cool and ingest by spoonful.  Note -- give to Inquisition healers. Creators know we run into enough giant spiders.

For sedation - whole fresh leaves of the blood lotus, boiled and cooled and applied as eye compress. May also be applied warm over nose and mouth. Note -- only do latter with assistance and as needed.

For frost-cough, swamp lung, pleurisy, lung fever - crushed fresh leaves of spindleweed, powdered lifestone, tallow, peppermint. Combine over heat. Cool and apply as salve directly to chest.

For joint pain - extract of embrium flowers, tallow, crushed petals of crystal grace. Combine over low heat, cool and apply to joints.

For indigestion, colic - sliced root of bitter canavaris. Chewed raw or gently steamed and placed under the tongue.

To reduce swelling - dried, powdered root of spindleweed, juice of gossamer canavaris plant, powdered lifestone. Dissolve spindleweed in juice and add powdered lifestone as needed until mixture forms a paste. Apply to affected area. Alternative - crushed berries of prophet’s laurel, extract of embrium flowers, extract of sweet herb. Ingest as needed.

Stimulant - juice of spindleweed root, powdered Frostback crocus, juice of royal canavaris plant, extract of embrium flowers. Combine over heat, cool and ingest. Note -- adjust spindleweed for less hyperactivity.

Alternate - dried, shredded leaves of arbor blessing. Light and inhale smoke.

To relax muscles - juice of deathroot pods, powdered Frostback crocus, powdered bitter canavaris root, water. Combine over heat, cool and ingest by spoonful. Note - small amounts ONLY. Accidental laxative if used too much.

Laxative - flowers of deathroot plant, crushed ginger, extract of milk thistle. Boil and mash flowers, combine with ginger and thistle extract. Ingest in minute quanities. Note -- again, small amounts. Pain and cramping caused by overdose.

Emetic - chopped brimstone deep mushrooms. Rinse and steam thoroughly until tender. Feed to patient in minute quantities. Alternate with water.

For lung fever, congestion - oil of embrium flowers. Add spoonful to hot (not boiling) water and have patient inhale vapours.

To aid clotting - juice of embrium leaves and stalks, juice of royal canavaris leaves. Combine at room temperature and soak dressings before applying to wound.

For burns - fresh leaves of vandal aria, tallow, honey, powdered foxite. Combine over low heat, cool and apply directly to affected area.

To induce birthing - juice of dawn lotus petals, juice of bitter canavaris, juice of sweet herb. Combine at room temperature, ingest by spoonful. Note -- overdose causes tearing of birth canal and severe pain. Expectant parent rarely happy to hear.

To thin blood - juice of prophet’s laurel stalks, extract of heatherum, powdered lifestone. Combine over low heat, cool and ingest in minute quantities.

To relieve pain - juice of prophet’s laurel stalks, juice of royal canavaris leaves, powdered Frostback crocus. Combine over low heat, cool and ingest.

Alternate - dried, shredded leaves of royal canavaris. Inhale smoke. Note -- causes passivity and heightened hunger.

To reduce inflammation - root of amrita vein, extract of embrium flower, juice of royal canavaris leaves, tallow. Steam and mash amrita vein roots, combine with other ingredients. Apply to affected area.

For dehydration - juice of amrita vein, extract of foxite, powdered lifestone, juice of elderflower. Combine at room temperature and ingest. Note -- drop of deathroot juice can be added if patient cannot keep mixture down.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

                                                       HONEY

                                                         chapter 1.

{The gods give Sansa her crown, her prince, her greatness and her love songs. It's still not enough for her life to taste sweet.}

                                                              *

It happens at the Storm’s End, like most good things in Sansa’s life lately do.  

Shiera and Alyssa love their cousins with an intense, blinding love only children know, and Arya’s boys love them back just as much; pure and sweet and innocent, they run around the castle grounds in a flurry of little legs and giggles, playing come-to-my-castle and looking for pretty shells on the beach until the night falls.

Sansa knows it’s improper. Or maybe not entirely proper, to be more exact. The girls are princesses of the realm and they should behave as such, not tear their dresses on rose bushes or wrestle with boys on the sand until their long curls are ruined, stiff with saltwater. Aegon does not like it, those visits; every time they come back, trying to get their daughters to do anything for a week or two is a pure nightmare, as the only things they want to do is to ride horses and frolic. And wear breeches, the way aunt Arya does.

But it’s the only issue in their marriage where Sansa puts her foot down; she will visit her sister and she will take Shiera and Alyssa with her. And she will not back down from it.

She hasn’t been to Winterfell ever since she got married. Has lived in the South almost longer than in the North now. And she still longs for it, dreams about it; of endless plains, of frost, of merry feasts and weirwoods’ scarlet leaves. Of Mother and Father, of Robb and Bran and Rickon. Of Gendry, Jon and Theon, direwolves pups and the smell of first snow lingering in the air.

Now, after Lady’s passing, Arya with her smiling grey eyes and long face is the only ounce of home she has left. Sansa’s not giving that up, she refuses to sacrifice it.

Besides, it feels so nice to sit in the gardens with her sister and goodbrother, drinking Arbor red and watching their children shriek with joy when they’re chasing each other endlessly. She wants her daughters to have it, to have those memories. After they’ll flower, they won’t have any chances to be as careless, as unbashful happy.  Better to let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Arya and Gendry run Stormlands with wit and will that has many high lords blinking in shock, watching as such a difficult and unfavorable land turns prosperous beyond wildest imagination. The trade flourishes, the ports grow and the new kinds of crops withstand even fiercest storms. The castle itself becomes  warmer, more comfortable place than its reputation could ever suggest;  the orphanage and school opened within its inner walls fill the corridors with laughter of children and Arya has taken to breeding fine destriers, so there are always some traders from far and near trying to strike a deal and enjoying the hospitality of the Lord and Lady Baratheon.

Some nobles also like to come and stay for a moon or two, from Stormlands and beyond. So, when Sansa steps out of the ship and learns from her sister that Lord Edric Dayne is currently visiting them under the guise of discussing plum wine import, she is not at all surprised.  She’s happy, even – she knows Ashara and Arthur quite well and even met Allyria during her wedding to Lord Dondarrion, but she hasn’t any chance to meet Lord of Starfall yet.

Later, she will remember this moment in excruciating detail; the light purple dress she is wearing, Shiera’s little clammy hand in hers, the blinding sun above. The shade of the sky and the smell of horses and warmth.

Edric Dayne’s handsome face, his fair hair and the dimple in his chin as he smiles at her so kindly and lowers his head in a bow elegant enough to belong in the songs of courtly romance.

‘’Your Grace.’’ He greets her, pressing his lips to her knuckles delicately, as a petal falling on her skin. ‘’What an honor to finally meet you.’’

‘’The honor’s all mine, Lord Dayne.’’ She answers and, somewhere at the back of her mind, she realizes that her heart suddenly is galloping in her chest, that the world is swimming in front of her eyes and that her legs tremble slightly under her dress.

She’s all hot, the laces of her dress are too tight. Edric’s tall and lean, and is staring at her with such poorly concealed awe that Sansa can hardly believe her own eyes.

That’s how she thought it would feel, meeting Prince Aegon. But it did not, not even once, not even when she was a woman wedded and bedded. Not a single time her magnificent, beautiful husband, as noble as one can be, made her breath hitch the way this pretty Dornishman just did.

Later, she will blame her blush on the unforgiving heat. But the truth is, it is the first one she gives to Ned.

                                          ----- read more on ao3--------   

[sims-psycho]

♡ sim oc questions ♡

I was tagged again by @littlefrenchsims thank you honey!!

Full Name Tegan (Fidelia) Ramirez

How old is your sim? 177, 19 physically

When is your sim’s birthday? 20 of May

What is your sim’s zodiac sign? Gemini

What is your sim’s ethnicity? Portuguese

Does your sim have any nicknames? Little witch, the traitor

Do they have a job? If so what is it? She co-owns a couple of properties with Maya, mostly just shareholder kind of stuff, she’s also a fashion blogger

Where does your sim live? Anne Arbor

Who does your sim live with? Billie

What environment did your sims grow up in? (strict, loving, cold etc.)  Her birth family were very abusive and cold, but Maya and Erik have always been extremely loving towards her

What are your sim’s favourite foods? Paella pizza (sounds gross but she loves it)

What is your sim’s favourite drink? Any fruity cocktail

If they have one what is your sim’s favourite colour? Dark purple

Does your sim believe in any clichés? (love at first sight) She used to when she was young, but now she just feels embarrassed and stupid that she ever thought that way

What is your sim’s sexuality? Straight

What is your sim’s gender identity? Female

Is your sim type a or type b? A

Is your sim introverted or extroverted? Extroverted

What is your sims favourite woohoo position? Cowgirl

Is your sim a pet person? If so what is their favourite animal? She doesn’t really like animals a whole lot, other than kittens

Does your sim have a best friend? Maya, Billie and Andie

What is/was your sim’s favourite school subject? She never went to school

Is/was your sim a high, mid or low achiever in school? N/A

Are they planning to go or have they already been to college? If so, what would be or what was their major? Only been to college parties, never studied anything lol

What are your sims political beliefs? (if they have them) She leaves the politics to her parents

What is one thing your sims wants to do before they die? To actually fall in love

Does your sim have a favourite tv show (cable) and/or movie? She loves the Bachelor/Bachelorette

Is your sim a Netflix viewer? If so what are their top 3 shows? She loves basically every romance drama on there, so probably Gossip Girl, Riverdale and Dynasty

Does your sim like books? If so what’s their favourite one? She used to read with Erik a lot but hasn’t in a long time, she remembers liking Dracula though

Does your sim enjoy video games, if so what is their favourite one and do they play on pc or console? She sometimes plays Sims 4 (lol)

What is your sim’s personal style? Anything designer. She loves dressing up in expensive, pretty things.

Does your sim have a lucky charm? Her first spellbook, given to her by Maya

Is your sim religious? Because she’s a witch, she follows the old religion, but it’s not really a religion in the same way as others

What kind of music does your sim listen to and who is their favourite artist? She loves 90′s divas and R&B. Xtina and Ariana Grande are probably her favourites atm

Is your sim a festive person? If so what’s their favourite holiday? Any opportunity to be with her family and get given presents is her favourite time of year

What is your sim’s favourite type of weather? Sunny, but not humid

Does your sim prefer to start fights or finish them? Both

Does your sim have a dream job? Not really, she switches interests too often to have a constant ‘dream job’

Does your sim have any siblings? Billie, Andie and Kit are pretty much her siblings

Does your sim get along with their family? Yes  

What is your sims favourite hobby? Retail therapy. She also likes practising witchcraft with Billie and going to the shooting range and letting loose a few rounds

What does your sim look for in a romantic partner? She’s incredibly picky so writing it all out would take forever lol

What is a secret about your sim? I’ve already kind of revealed this at the beginning but Tegan isn’t her birth name. It’s actually Fidelia but it reminds her of her birth family so at some point she asked Maya to name her.

What is a wish your sim has? To find her true love

What is a flaw your sim has? She has a tendency to be kind of shallow sometimes

How do others generally perceive your sim? Dumb and snobby, which is exactly what she likes people to think, they won't ever expect her to be able to run circles around them with her wicked tongue. She has lived for 100 years after all and has two of the most intelligent vampire as parents

Does your sim have a greatest achievement? If so what is it? She doesn’t really have one

If they have one, what is your sim’s greatest regret? She won't admit it now, but she really does regret what she did to Kasper

Does your sim have a favourite emoji? 👼

Does your sim use simstagram? If so what’s their  @? she does have one but I haven’t made her one so there's not @ to follow

What is the last text your sim sent (and who did they text)? NOW WAY!!! Stay where you are, I’m coming right now!!! Xxxx to Billie

Most of you guys have done this by now, but if you wanna do it again just say I tagged you! I love reading about everyone’s oc’s