#it’s just wilful ignorance at this point.

[lorstone]

I am genuinely baffled that anyone could possibly think that Extraordinary Things is about anyone other than Geralt.

[aj-lenoire]

apparently the reason may december is being snubbed during awards season is because a lot of actors REALLY didn’t like what it had to say about actors who take on the roles of real people, and the idea that a bunch of former theatre kids might be sensitive about criticism of the industry they work in is, to me, just so shocking

[hyperexplosion]

.

[phoenixyfriend]

How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

-------------------------------------

Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

[gay-dorito-dust]

🐧

This is going to be really off from how bonding works lol.

But imagine that Aemon rants to Vaghar about reader having claim Cannibal to the Point that Vaghar gets curious over you (HC That Vaghar and Cannibal might have a big hate to friends relationship lol). So on one of these days when Vaghar its free to do as she pleaces she decides to look for the reader who is like "why the fuck does big old dragons keep coming to me" but reader is actually sweet to her and basically respects her a lot. Probably tells her how of a brave girl she is and how unfair too to fight human wars.

And Vaghar is like "oh if you knewww" and starts to like reader more than her own rider.

Cannibal IS getting jealous over this. Reader is his 😤!!

But one random day Aemon has the fantastic idea of try and persuade reader to marry him and he is being lowkey creepy and pushy. And what happens ? Not one, TWO BIG DRAGONS APPEARS.

Yes baby!! Canninal is sooo angry he may as well burn him alive but seeing the suprise and offended look Aemon gives to Vaghar as she protects reader its a nice suprise too.

And Vaghar its on mother mode. 😤💞!! She is lowley ashame over her own rider and will roar to him to stay away, then when reader and Cannibal leave together Vaghar wil ignore Aemons command and fly off with them too.

No because I love the ideas that reader is just so likeable that dragons just finds themselves attracted to them.

Besides I’m pretty sure Aemond and Vhagar don’t have a strong a bond as like daemon and Caraxes for example, so I wouldn’t be surprised if vhagar finds reader to be the better choice and wishes that reader was her rider, and not some wish version of Visenya.

Aemond: they should be mine, we ride the biggest dragons of Westeros, why can’t they see that we’re meant to be!

Grandma Vhagar: *sick and tired of hearing Aemond whine about you and just flies off to seek you out herself*

You would be with cannibal just chilling and all of a sudden an Aemond-less Vhagar just lands in front of you and stares you down as Cannibal growls at her in warning of what he’d do to her if she came here to harm you. He doesn’t fuck with you and neither should anyone else, not Vhagar, Craxes, hell not even Balerion or Meraxes if they were still alive would fuck with you with Cannibal to protect you.

But you just casually go up to Vhagar and start petting her snout and saying; oh Vhagar, you’re forced by the hands of man to do their bidding once again. You poor girl who just wants to be left alone in peace and yet they don’t respect that.

Vhagar is pretty much purring now as she closes her eyes, allowing your sweet words of praise to comfort her old and decrepit body into a state of rest; cannibal, you have chosen a true diamond of a rider with this little one.

Cannibal staring her down, still a little on edge but resonating how she feels about the selfishness of the Targaryen dynasty: I know and I shall treasure them as one until I die. But be reminded Vhagar that they are MY rider, not yours. You should’ve remained riderless if you wished to have them but it’s far too late, I’ve came for them and now they’re mine until death do us part.

Vhagar: I know that, dear Cannibal, but that does not mean you shall keep me from them for I shall always be watching over them when you can not.

Cannibal growls at this but doesn’t do anything outside of that because he doesn’t like you scolding him.

So when Aemond finds out where Vhagar goes when he’s busy, he will be ten times worse then before because if you claimed cannibal and also have Vhagar taking a liking to you, then this must mean that you are destined to marry him regardless! He would hunt you down himself and corner you somewhere remote as he looks at you with a weird and possessive look in his eye, as he then proceeds to spout nonsense about how you and him were two halves of the same soul and how you were truly a blessing for two of the largest dragons in history to come for your presence.

His dragon deity he’d probably call you because when has two dragons ever flew in search of someone before? It had always been people claiming them but never the dragons searching for their one true rider. You were truly a specimen for history to recount decades from now as historians ponder whether you were something else all together.

Could you imagine the future Targaryens reading about you in history books? The one whom summons dragons? Dragon priest/priestess? Whatever other titles they might give you in the future long after you’re gone.

So Aemond is obviously coming on too strong for your liking and all of a sudden, he’s eclipsed by not one but TWO behemoth shadows belonging to Cannibal and Vhagar, they have heard enough from Aemond and didn’t like the unease and fear that they felt coming from you as the one eyed prince kept hounding you with his advances for marriage. Once was fine but this was too much and they didn’t want Aemond to do you any harm just for saying no.

(Whether your are already betrothed to Cregan or Benjicot or Jace, or Addam Velaryon I’ll let you decide that)

Your hand is/is not taken as of yet and they will not allow Aemond to sully that because of his delusions and conceptions.

Aemond is shocked and upset to see that Vhagar was blocking him from you as you quickly mounted Cannibal, who was looking at him as though he were his soon to be dinner, and whispers; ‘Vhagar, why?’

Vhagar only roars at him and growling every time he tried to step closer to her, upset herself that her supposed rider was a weird man with an obsession for things he couldn’t have. She waits for when you and Cannibal to take off to the skies before following behind as a safety precaution, blatantly disregarding Aemond’s cries as they become nothing the further she goes, forcing him to realise that their control over dragons was merely a farce.

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / a/b/o dynamics / cisfem!reader

contrary to popular, old-fashioned belief, alphas and omegas can be friends.

long gone are those times of wilful ignorance, the use of nature as an excuse for shitty behaviour —well, i'm an alpha, see, so i really can't help trying to shove my hand up your skirt, so—

most people are chill nowadays, you like to think — like to being the key phrase. sure, you get the occasional tradomega trying to tell you that you need to dive into your divine feminine and serve your alpha as god intended — and you've definitely been on the receiving side of some ticking biological clock rhetoric, for sure, by snot-nosed alphas with not even a single yen to their name — but it is what it is.

all of this to say that: when sero hanta is guts deep in you, it's completely platonic. completely. cute. casual. nowadays, no hair-brained ideas of marriage or monogamy or commitment accompany your coupling — it’s animal instinct, dirty and intense and slick and hot, scratching a biological itch, and that’s it.

you really lucked out on your choice of partner, too. sero’s an alpha, yes, but not in the derogatory sense. he doesn't get pissed when he smells other alphas on you, like a territorial dog; doesn't tell you that you should be settled down, already, with a household of pups to manage at 25 years of age; doesn't push and prod when you work long hours and devote most of your time to your career. he's funny, and goofy, and tall, and lean, and — and, well, his hair is floppy and inky black, and when he's hunched over you, sweat dripping onto your collarbone from his pointed nose, his cheeks flush the cutest shade of pink…

ahem. anyways.

while there are many omegas that are no doubt stronger than you when it comes to heats, forgoing human contact in favour of 700-odd pounds of silicone, you're part of the large majority that would rather shack up with somebody real. you're not knocking it, of course! your sock drawer is testament to the fact that you love your silicone, really, but there's just something about a person. all heat and skin-to-skin, sticky and nasty in a way that leaves you more satisfied than anything else.

and sero — with his kind eyes and goofy smile (and skintight hero suit) — is not only more than willing to help you through your heats, but have you enjoy them. not an easy feat when your insides are tying themselves up in knots between orgasms, but by god does he do it. something about his hips... something about the way he bows his head to your shoulder, grinding long and slow into you, hips pressed flush to hips. his lips brushing against your skin when he groans, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back. you're not sure if you should be jealous of his obvious sexual experience, or just grateful that you get to be on the receiving end of it.

there is, of course, the obvious romantic connotations of it all. you’re not stupid enough to completely ignore it; after all, heats are these romanticised, coming-of-age-esque happenings, the plot of most early 2000 rom-coms and bad pornos. cute omega roommate forgets her suppressants and goes into heat! real alpha-omega love-making guaranteed!

but its not like that, because hanta is hanta and you are you. you’re like sharkboy and lavagirl. or fireboy and watergirl. whichever pairing fits the dynamic better — you’ve always been the hothead between you two.

“that’s a really shitty idea,” a friend warns you. she’d caught you with your scarf undone, baring the hickies that hanta had left on you to the world — an embarrassing result of the occasional non-heat trysts you’d find yourself caught up in. you couldn’t even blame the heat hormones for the way you’d almost mauled him, but a girl simply has needs! “i’m telling you, casual heat sex never works. trust me.”

but it works for you and hanta, right? because no matter how much you fight, how much you disagree, how much you chastise him for putting himself directly in the line of fire — on live tv, no less! — it all melts away in a pile of blankets and pillows. no matter how deep his cock drives in you, no matter how his teeth scrape your scent glands and have your toes curling against his back, it all ends up the same — slumped in front of the tv, lazily lounging on your phone while he boots up his nintendo 64 to kick ganondorf’s ass for the billionth time.

(and it doesn’t matter that sero isn’t seeing anyone else — it doesn’t matter that he’s deleted his dating apps, or that you keep the pillow he sleeps on when he comes over so that you can scent it when he’s gone. it doesn’t matter that he reminds you to take your anxiety meds — you know, omegas are 44% more likely to have GAD than the average person? — or that he remembers how you take your tea, coffee, and pho. these are things you’d do with any friend, of course.)

it’s cute. casual. not at all romantic, so surely you shouldn’t think twice about leaving a toothbrush at his place. and what harm could a set of pyjamas do? and you could always do with an extra pair of socks, and your skincare, and perhaps an extra phone charger…?

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏ'ꜱ Qᴜᴀʀʀᴇʟ ᴀᴛ ᴅʀɪꜰᴛᴍᴀʀᴋ. ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴘꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴛᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ.

Warnings: Aegon being Aegon, Canon events surrounding Aemond's 13th birthday, and the Madame (no explicit details.)

129 AC

The ocean water is warm today. It foams up as it crashes onto the shore where she stands barefooted. Today is a day full of uncertainties and untameable nerves. Today is the day she wil claim a dragon. 

“You will become sick standing in the sea like that.” Jace says

"The ocean is warmer here on Dragonstone than on Driftmark." Rhaella says, dismissing his concerns.

"Are you excited?" He asks, standing beside her, letting the ocean wash over his boots.

"I am nervous. Sona has never been claimed before." She sighs

"I am sure you will be able to do it," Jace assures her

"That is easy for you to say, Vermax hatched while you were still a babe." She sighs

"All true Targrayens are dragon riders. I will not see one of my children remain dragonless."

Rhaella whips around to see Daemon approaching. He is relentless in his father-daughter bonding attempts.

"Jacaerys, your mother wishes to see you." Daemon says

Rhaella ignores how he stands next to her after her cousin has left the beach. Waves crash against rocks as her eyes remain fixed on the horizon.

"This silent treatment is becoming old. You are ten and four, you're no longer a child." He reminds her

"What does Rhaena think of me doing this?" She asks, ignoring his comment, "Of me trying to claim a dragon before her?"

"Her thoughts are not important....Sona has rejected her attempts before." Daemon says, "This dragon is for you, Rhaella, no one else."

Daemon's words are touching. Their relationship is still a rocky one though. The past three years have been spent with him flying between Dragonstone and Driftmark. After his marriage to Rhaenrya she had expected that he'd abandon her, Baela and Rhaena. And yet, every few weeks he'd show up on the shore with Caraxes at his side. He'd spend time with her younger sisters and then come barging into her room as though he owned the entire castle. It had taken many moons for them to have a fully civil conversation devoid of yelling and rude comments but eventually, they formed a sort of friendship. That of course did not mean they got along, just that she had come to tolerate him since he seemed intent on not leaving her life.

"The Dragonkeepers say that it is best to approach Sōna now. She enjoys afternoon naps and will become angry if we disturb her later in the day." Daemon says

Sōna's lair is darker than any night sky Rhaella has ever seen. Water drips from somewhere as she points the torch in front of her, trying to see where the dragon might be. Gods, she hoped she was not about to be eaten.

Another 50 paces into the cave and Rhaella is beginning to think the Dragonkeepers have lied about this dragon existing at all. The dampness of the cave is beginning to seep into her bones, she swears every hair on her body has stood up on alert.

And then there is a glitter of white meeting her eyes, the fire that barely illuminates a few steps in front of her has reached something magnificent.

Sōna's brilliant blue eyes are staring at her. Rhaella is looking into the eyes of a dragon. A shiver snakes through her body as she maintains eye contact and slowly drops the torch.

"Zaldrīzes rȳbus, lo mērī udrirzi Valyrio eglio ȳdrassua"

Daemon's last words before she had entered this lair echo in her mind.

A dragon only listens if you speak in High Valyrian.

She finds herself unsure of what to do now, so she speaks and prays to every god there is that this beast does not open her mouth to burn her alive.

"Iksā gevie." She says slowly, "Eman dreamed hen ao syt ñuha giez ābrar.

You are beautiful. I have dreamed of you for my whole life.

Sōna lets out a deep rumble and Rhaella is unsure about the dragon's thoughts on her compliment.

She slowly begins to move towards the side of Sōna's head. The dragon lets out another grumble as she draws close.

"lykirī. Iksan daor kesīr naejot ōdrikagon ao."

Calm down. I am not here to hurt you.

Rhaella's heartbeat pounds in her ears as her hand touches Sona's rough skin.

"Kesi sagon rōvēgrie raqirossa, Sōna. Mazeminna care hen ao lo ao ivestragī nyke claim ao"

We will be great friends, Sōna. I will take care of you if you let me claim you.

Rhaella gently runs her bare hand along Sōna's jawline. The dragon lets out a sharp sound, almost like a trill of sorts. Rhaella smiles as Sōna lets her continue. Has she truly done it? Has she truly claimed a dragon of her own?

Sōna lets out another gurgle before pushing her head further into Rhaella's waiting arms.

"Sir iksi hēnkirī ēva morghon ñuha riña. Nyke kivio naejot gaomagon ao ȳgha"

Now we are together until death, my girl. I promise to keep you safe.

Her voice is no more than a whisper into the cave but the dragon hears it all the same. Rhaella cannot help the wide smile that stretches across her face when her dragon lets out a noise of agreement.

"The winter snow reaches out and claims a woman. Black banners rise behind them. Green rises to meet the snow."

Aemond is unsure what to make of his sister's words. He had come to her room to play with his little niece and nephew who are learning how to stand on their own. They babble with happiness when he shakes a wooden dragon in their faces.

"The snow will meet green over fields of fire and blood," Heleana says, not bothering to look up from her needlework.

"They are growing quickly." Aemond says, hoping to turn the conversation to something more lucid and interesting for him

"They eat often. The boy more than the girl." Heleana says to him

"You will sit the Iron Throne one day, Jaehaerys," Aemond says to the baby who grabs at his hand and attempts to place it in his mouth

Aemond smiles down at his nephew and niece, they are two of the few living beings in this castle that do not fear him.

The castle is bustling with life, as it often does during the day. Maids scurry about, cleaning, and rat catchers lead their dogs about the halls. The feel of his practice sword in its sheath is a familiar one as he makes his way toward where Cole awaits him in the training grounds. Normally he'd try to rouse Aegon from his sleep but it had been weeks since he had successfully dragged his older brother from bed to train.

The clashing of steel is better than any music he's heard as Cole points out how to hold his arms in a way that keeps the sword from being knocked from his hands.

Aemond takes note of how he is rapidly approaching his teacher's height. The top of his head is finally in line with Cole's eyes, just a few more years and he is sure he will outgrow him, after all, he is already a bit taller than Aegon.

"Have you heard the news?" Cole asks in between sips of water from a large flagon that sits nearby.

"What news?" Aemond asks, not recalling anything his mother might have told him this morning at breakfast.

"Word from Dragonstone to the king. Rhaella Targaryen has claimed a dragon." Cole says, "Queen Alicent read it this morning to his grace."

Rhaella had a dragon? Aemond wondered what dragon she might've claimed. He knew there were many unclaimed ones on Dragonstone. He tried to imagine the delicate Rhaella on the back of a beast like Vermithor. It was rather humorous in his mind.

"What dragon has she taken?" Aemond asked

"Your uncle conveniently left that out, my prince," Cole said

Of course, Daemon would leave that out. Aemond had wondered what changed between Rhaella and Daemon. The last time he had spoken to Rhaella she had been deadset on pretending he didn't exist and now he was helping her claim some unnamed dragon. Maybe he ought to write her again. Things had been tense when he hugged her goodbye on Driftmark's shores. Her nose had still been swollen from his punch, which he regrettably had yet to apologize for.

For the first year, they had exchanged many letters, talking of mundane things such as Rhaella's struggle with holding swords upright during her training with the Master of Arms at Driftmark. And how he had discovered that growing up also meant being forced to stand still for measurements to be taken regularly as he was outgrowing all his favorite clothes. Eventually, though, the letters became less frequent and one day stopped entirely. His mother said it was part of growing up and that it was all for the best since she was "separate" from their family. Aemond tried to believe her, he truly did, but at night when he lay in his bed he found himself missing Rhaella's companionship.

"Shall we continue?" Cole asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

Aegon could not believe he left his chamber for this. Surely his bed and cups of wine were better than all of this.

"It is your brother's name day, try to look presentable." His mother had hissed in his ears when she pulled him down the many steps of the Red Keep.

Aegon did not care about Aemond's name day. Why should he care if his brother was ten and three? Aemond was going to have a thousand name days, Aegon didn't see why he should bother himself to be at all of them.

He still could barely believe his Lord Father had been able to plan and attend this family dinner. Viserys had sent the invitations himself, apparently wishing for his family to gather for Aemond's name day. Aegon still thought it was a dull idea.

His eyes scan the dinner table and they land on Princess Rhaenys, or more specifically who was next to her. His Uncle Daemon's three daughters, loud-mouthed as they were, had grown, Aemond's friend most of all. That blue silk dress of hers was doing nothing to hide the curves Aeggon could practically taste from across the table.

"Stop your staring." His...dear Grandsire said, sending a kick to Aegon's shin under the table

Aegon knows he is dense, but even he does not miss they way Aemond's eyes...or well eye...remain fixed on Rhaella through the night. Perhaps he has underestimated his little brother, maybe there is more to him than books and sword training with Cole. Perhaps this was finally a chance for Aegon to introduce Aemond to true fun.

He can feel the smirk stretch across his face as he plans their evening in his mind. Yes, it was finally time to bring Aemond into his world, to show him what other fun there was to be had.

Rhaella has never felt more awkward. When Rhaenys had announced that they would attend a dinner for Aemond's name day at the request of King Viserys, she wished she could be like Lord Corlys, and simply declare she would not go. It was not that she did not want to see Aemond, she just felt distant from him.Perhaps it was the lack of apology for her face or maybe it was the three years that passed since she had chosen Driftmark over him. She swore he was still upset about all of that.

Aemond's eye had been on her the whole night, Rhaella couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

When they had first arrived, Rhaella had sought him out, perhaps it was just a force of habit but she had found herself at his door. When she peered in, she had expected Aemond to look the way he did when she said goodbye to him on the shore of Driftmark, a snot-nosed, one-eyed boy who was begging her to get on the ship or climb aboard his new dragon with him. Instead, she saw an entirely different person. He was sat with a large book. His newly broken voice had filled her ears, he was practicing his Valyrian. His hair was just past his shoulders and Rhaella could tell he had grown significantly in their time apart, surely he was taller than her now. What stuck out to her the most though was his face, it had sharpened and become rather handsome, most of all though, a gleaming sapphire sat where his missing eye used to be.

She wasn't sure why but she slipped away, not bothering to alert him of her presence. Maybe his new appearance had startled her, or hypnotized her, she truly was unsure of it all.

After dinner had concluded, Rhaella tried slipping away, perhaps she'd visit the library, the castle's library had always been far superior to Driftmark's.

"Are you scared of me?"

A foreign voice fills her ears just as she reaches the doors to the library.

"Aemond." She breathes when she turns to face him, his sapphire eye is now covered with a dark leather eyepatch, "Were you following me?"

She did not hear any footsteps but that did not mean it was impossible.

"You did not look at me once during dinner. Nor did you visit when you arrived yesterday. You are avoiding me." He said, his voice had a twinge in it, like his feelings were hurt.

When did he get so observant and bold?

"I was not avoiding you, Aemond." Rhaella said, looking at him.

"Then why leave dinner so quickly, you ran as tough your hair was on fire." He jests

"You..." She decides it is best to be honest with him, "You are making me nervous."

Aemond lets out a snort of laughter.

"Why? Does my appearance frighten you?" He asks, stepping closer to her so they were only an arms length away

"No! No. It is just...different. I was expecting the same boy who cried after I told him that I'd remain in Driftmark. You have grown up, that is all." She explained honestly

"As have you. You are ten and four now, yes?" He asked

"Yes." She said

It was uncanny how he was taller than her now, truly unfair considering he was still younger than her.

"Aemond!"

What did she do to the gods that they were cursing her with Aegon's presence?

"Aemond! Come, the festivities are not over." Aegon declared, wrapping an arm around Aemond's shoulders.

"Hello, Aegon." She greeted

"Yes, hello." Aegon greeted, his eyes briefly scanning her up and down.

"Where are we going? Mother and father have both gone to bed." Aemond asked, confused.

"I am going to show you the world, little brother," Aegon said

Rhaella thought that was a stupid sentence. It sounded like something out of a bad romance story.

"Might we bring Rhaella? I want to speak to her more." Aemond asked

"No." Aegon said immediately

Rhaella glared at him, how dare he say where she could and could not go?

"It is for men only. You are a man now, little brother, or well you will be by the end of the night." Aegon laughed "Come, we're going now."

Rhaella watched as Aegon walked off.

"I am sure he is just taking me to some tavern he likes. It isn't for noble ladies though." Aemond said

"How long will you be gone?" Rhaella asked, suddenly sad that he wasn't going to stay with her.

"Not long. Wait in the library, I'll come to you when we're done." Aemond said before turning, "I want you to tell me about the dragon you have claimed."

Rhaella smiled as she watched Aemond race after his brother, perhaps appearances had changed but he was still the boy she knew, even though years had passed.

Aemond has never felt more unsure of himself. He has spent the last three years creating a person that is untouchable, devoid of weaknesses, and yet his hands are shaking and his mind is racing. Despite the late hour, he sits in a bath that he ordered a maid to draw for him. The soap and soft rag are rubbing his skin raw as he tries to rid himself of the whore's sickly sweet perfume.

Aegon's laughter was ringing in his ears. The way his elder brother had laughed and pointed as her hands had run down his body. She had been soft and warm yet Aemond had not enjoyed any of it. His skin felt like it was crawling when it had ended. Why did Aegon enjoy doing that regularly? Surely acts like that were not worth dedicating entire establishments to.

His hair is sticking to his neck as he sits in the water. Perhaps if he sits here long enough he will be washed away and the memories of tonight will fall away as well. His eye squeezes shut when he recalls the way her voice had sounded in his ears, loud and wonton, almost like the sound of a dying animal.

Fuck. He wished he could take it all back, he should've ignored his brother and just gone to bed, then all would be right and he wouldn't wish to peel his skin from his bones. His skin is red by the time he is done with it all. Surely he has removed the layer that her hands were all over.

He feels dizzy as he forces himself out of the comfort of the bath. He thinks of Rhaella, surely she is not waiting for him still.

Once he is dressed though, his legs lead him to the library anyway. Maybe he is just seeking comfort in familiarity but all he knows is for once in his life, he is not alright with being alone. The library is silent, and very dark when he enters. He nearly turns back to return to his own chamber when a pale flicker of light catches his eye.

A stump of a candle is all that illuminates the scene he finds her in. Her head is resting in her arms as half her body is resting on the table. Her nose is whistling ever so slightly as she sleeps. He quietly sits down next to her, just her presence is enough to calm his racing mind. Her long hair is free from its usual braids and tumbles down her shoulders. It is softer than it looks as he wraps a strand around his finger. His eye examines her face that is just barely illuminated by the candle. Her features had sharpened, just like his had the past three years and Aemond cannot deny that it suits her. Her familiar scent invades his nose as he rests his head on the table to stare at her, he smiles as he thinks of her waking to find him next to her.

"Gevī"

Beautiful

And so we dig into the romance of the story...

Sorry if the Valyrian is wrong, obviously I'm not fluent in it and I used an online translator for this story.

By the way, Sōna means snow in Valyrian. ;)

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[communistkenobi]

something I’ve been thinking about is like, the internet is this magical system of technologies, never before seen in human history, and one of its capabilities is to answer virtually any question you ask of it. Which is not even remotely a novel observation obviously lol. But I’m thinking about this in the context of a point that Adorno & Horkheimer made (in The Culture Industry I think?) about the radio: that to expedience the radio, to live in a social context where there is this vast incomprehensible system of technological infrastructure that you do not understand or control, and which allows you, a mere peasant, to listen to news broadcasts, music, and advertisements, is effectively like listening to the voice of god. Like the average person’s relationship to modern telecommunications is so mystifying, incomprehensible, and abstract that we experience technologies like the radio as an all-powerful, indestructible authority, and this (obviously) shapes our relationship to the information that is shared through it. People make jokes on here about how transmission towers are angels, but like tbh that is essentially how we experience them - vast, incomprehensible, highly dangerous objects whose impact on our lives are at once all-consuming and unknowable. We do not just turn on the radio and listen to the news, we tune into what the voice of god has to say today - right now he’s selling toilet cleanser!

and all that to say, I always find something a bit incomplete about discussions about wilful ignorance online - that we live in an age of mass information and yet people still seem as ignorant as feudal peasants, or whatever. Nobody googles things, nobody tries to branch out and experience new kinds of art, nobody educates themselves on important topics they don’t understand. and like this frustration is very real and well taken, I feel it frequently, but what I’m grappling with is whether this is the correct framing - that maybe “why don’t people just google things” is the wrong question to ask, because I tend to find the explanations offered unsatisfactory. Like specifically I’m thinking of discussions on here that are about like, “anti-intellectualism”, kids these days are so ignorant even though they grew up with the internet, reading comprehension is piss poor, and so on. Recently I’ve seen a lot of weirdly moral-panicky posts about children not knowing how to type on computers because back in my day we were forced to learn how to touch-type by age 8 even though we couldn’t look up any tutorials on YouTube to help us, etc etc. And like I just do not buy that people are individually choosing to be ignorant, that people are “getting dumber,” and that this state of getting dumber is inversely related to the amount of information we have access to (which makes “getting dumber” even more dumb). An unstated assumption that goes into a lot of these “anti-intellectualism” discussions is that “information” is this universal object that has a standardised enlightening effect on the people who interact with it - that the only reason to have an ignorant, sheltered, or ill-formed opinion on something is because you have individually chosen not to Look At Information that will cure you of your ignorance. And so going back to the god radio thing, having regular access to the google search bar is not just having access to an encyclopaedia or dictionary - it is like having a direct line of communication to god, this authority that can answer any question you ask of it. But it’s not just one answer, it’s many answers, more answers than you could ever possibly read through. Google reports the number of hits it returns for whatever you type in - you will regularly get millions of answers to your question. And these answers are embedded with advertisements, just as radio news broadcasts are. Like if god is selling you toilet cleanser while telling you the number for a suicide hotline or news about what’s happening in the world, how do you psychologically deal with that, how is your relationship to capital-I Information shaped by this relationship?

The corollary to “we live in an age of mass information” is “we live in an age of mass misinformation,” but they both show up as answers on google (again, not a novel observation). but in the face of that how do you not simply stop asking questions? & of course this decision to stop asking questions is given form and substance by social circumstance, it reinforces systemic privileges and violences, and so this decision is not one free from consequence, and in many cases it is not an innocent decision. a white person deciding not to read the news because it’s too hard to figure out what is happening/too frightening/etc has the consequence of reinforcing the white supremacist outlook that is foundational to the social context of white people because they’re not reading anything that challenges that outlook. ignorance has many social contexts and many of them are violent. etc. like the consequence of “why does nobody google anything” is just a continuation of the status quo, just with this supposedly glaring and easy fix to it (simply google it). but that just leads us back to a discourse of individual choice, of people individually choosing not to “google shit.” it is a deeply individual fix to a systematic social problem. and so maybe the question is not, why doesn’t anyone google shit, but rather, why is the primary delivery system of knowledge a god that sells you toilet cleanser 

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

The Red Tieflings Bachelors (Rolan and Zevlor) Reacting to You (Tav) Thanking Them

Featuring: Rolan/Tav; Zevlor/Tav

A/N: Just a little something that popped into my mind while working to clear the writer's block. I was feeling very low the last week or two, so I apologize for my inactivity here. And then I was on vacation with my family. Thankfully, I’m feeling better now. (Currently working on Yandere! Alucard Part 4 and the next ask. Yan! Part 4 will probably take a while because it's long-form (not hc), so expect the ask after that to be posted first.) 

Rolan

🔮 It was just another bustling day in Sorcerous Sundries when you decided to stop by,  a newfound magical item in hand. To no one’s surprise, it appeared your favorite tiefling wizard was too busy sorting through the inventory of Ramazith's Tower to man his shop, seeing it was his programmed illusion who greeted you with a relatively uncharacteristic amiable tone.  

“Welcome to the Sorcerous Sundries. Is there something in particular you’re looking for today?” 

Knowing Rolan, in reality, his body was pacing around Razamith’s Tower, nearly tearing his hair out, as he obsessively mumbled, sorting through the piles and piles of books and scrolls Lorroakan had gathered in his time. The compelling image in your mind was such a stark contrast to the one before you, that you bit your lip to prevent your signature mischievous smile from dawning across your face. 

“I believe Rolan left something upstairs for me.” 

The illusion looked at you, eyes narrowed, presumably scanning its programming for an appropriate response. Yet, just as Rolan’s Projection opened his mouth to speak (in all probability to deny you entry) your conversation was interrupted by a boisterous halfling patron, hoisting an item that he declared comprised of defective magic. 

Never one to waste a distraction, you took the opportunity to make your way up the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries to its second floor and into the correct portal leading to Razamith Towers. 

Upon entering the portal, you were met with the familiar sound of Lia and Cal bickering with none other than the new proprietor of Sorcerous Sundries himself. 

“If you simply spoke to them instead of pining inside this tower all day and night…” Lia went straight to the point as usual. 

“I am not pining!” You could hear Rolan answer, in his usual defensive tone. 

“I think what Lia means to say is, it would be easier for all involved if you were to simply ask them-” Always the mediator, Cal must have jumped in. It did not surprise you, seeing as how he was rather skilled when it came to talking his siblings down. 

“Ask who what?” You interrupted, the concrete visage of Razamith’s Towers finally greeting you. Despite having known the tiefling family for months now, you were always amused by their antics. “Does Rolan have his heart set on an apprenticeship with yet another asinine wizarding master?” You had a feeling Cal and Lia were referring to something else entirely, but you’d prefer to speak to Rolan alone about that. 

Rolan rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by both your sudden presence and your insistence on teasing him. “I no longer require a master, nor a teacher. Lorroakan gathered enough magical books and knowledge within these walls for me to teach myself all I could ever wish to know.” Behind him, his pointed tail lashed sideways, always ending with an upward flick of the point. To a fellow tiefling, his irritation would have been quite obvious. Then again, you were not a fellow tiefling. 

You nodded, ignoring Rolan’s wilful tone. You had become accustomed to his many displays of false irritation and indignation. More often than not, your headstrong ally was more bark than bite. “That may be,” you continued. “But in case it isn’t, I’ve brought you one more tome for your collection.”

Rolan’s entire posture, tail included, stiffened upon hearing your words. The tiefling wizard was in disbelief. A gift? For him? But, why?

Lia smirked, before elbowing Cal, whose own knowing expression soon followed suit, spreading across his face. Nodding to each other, two brother-sister duo walked off, leaving you and Rolan alone, standing in a near deafening silence. 

“It’s a tome on the origins of The Weave, or, at least I think it is. That’s what Gale told me anyway.” 

Rolan's previously erect shoulders slumped at the mention of your former traveling companion’s name. “Ah yes, Gale, The Great Wizard of Waterdeep. How is he faring these days?” 

“Better,” you answered honestly. “It seems not living with a ticking time bomb just inside your chest does a man some good.” 

Rolan brushed off your attempt at lightening the mood, pushing past you to a stack of unsorted books piled on an end table to your left. “I assume the two of you have kept in touch then?” 

“Rolan!” You mock gasped. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.” 

“Pfft, you’ve clearly let the title of Hero go to your head. Why would I be jealous of a mere professor at Blackstaff Academy when I possess an entire library of magical writings, a shop full of magical items, and several arcane cannons to defend all of the former?” 

“He’s a very respected professor, and there’s something to be said for enjoying the simpler things in life.” 

Rolan scoffed once again. “He had the power to be a God and turned it down. After enduring all your group did, taking on the shadow curse, fighting the goblins, destroying the Absolute, a job instructing ungrateful, know-it-all brats hardly seems like a reward.” 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Well, it’s what Gale wanted. But I do have to wonder,” you slowly stalked towards the red tiefling, “If a very coveted and respected position of authority isn’t something you'd consider a reward, what exactly qualifies as recompense to the mighty Wizard of Razamith’s Tower?” 

Slowly, you trailed a finger up along Rolan’s robed arm, delighting in the little gasp that slipped from his lips. 

He both hated and loved how you could make him feel like this. How just one word, one look from you could leave him a needy, wanton mess, how he longed for you to step even closer, for his body to press up entirely against yours. In the back of his mind, he imagined what it would feel like for your strong weathered hands to run down his red infernal skin, but that time, with no gloves or thick robes in the way. 

Rolan was certain you knew the degree of power you held over him. He was sure you delighted in pushing and prodding at his buttons, drawing out each one of your visits with flirtation and playful verbal sparring.

“What… about…a…?” you enunciated each word with another swipe of your finger across his robe’s velvety material, your face moving ever so slowly closer to his. 

Finding his composure, Rolan shrugged off your advances with a shaky sigh. “Spit it out already. I don’t have all day.” Defiantly, he turned to face you, calling your bluff. His lips were mere inches from yours: red, plump, and just begging to be kissed. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, you continued to press forward, pressing your lips to his. 

With a breathy sigh, Rolan’s tension melted away as he melded his mouth back onto yours. 

Reaching up with one hand, you cupped the back of his head, ever so gently pulling him even closer to you. 

Rolan moaned into the kiss and moved to grab your waist, but before his hands could secure you in his grasp, you stepped away just as smoothly and silently as you had stepped forward. 

Embarrassed and flustered, Rolan flashed you his pointy teeth in a frustrated groan. “Why must you tease me so? Have you not grown tired, frequently coming here just to pester me?” 

You beamed, proud to see your previous suspicions confirmed. “No,” you stated, matter-of-factly. “It’s too much fun! Besides,” you held the book out for him to take. “You didn’t seem all that excited about my earlier thanks, and that simply wouldn’t do.” 

Rolan rolled his eyes, accepting the tome with a huff, his tail back to swishing violently behind him. “Was that what that was? And here I thought you were trying to come up with new ways to annoy me.” 

“Annoy you?!” You mock gasped. “Surely my kiss was not that bad.” 

“For a ‘thank you’, that kiss was highly inappropriate, it! Well…” he trailed off, his cheeks somehow blushing an even warmer shade of red. 

You tilted your head, encouraging the tiefling to go on. 

Rolan avoided your gaze, pretending to find interest in the book you had just gifted him. His voice was quiet, but also self-assured. “It was entirely too short of a kiss to count as a ‘thank you’. You might as well just have given me a peck on the cheek.” 

Rolan continued flipping pages of the tome, doing his best to act uninterested in your kiss and your presence, even though the both of you knew all too well it was a lie. 

“Don’t worry,” you started to take your leave, giving Rolan a playful pat on the shoulder. You paused for a moment, leaning into his ear to whisper, “I’ll make sure the next time I pester you goes more in your favor.”    

Watching your form retreat into the portal, Rolan brought a finger to lips, just ghosting along the surface you had latched onto not seconds before. 

Emerging from their eavesdropping positions, Cal and Lia could not help but give Rolan a pair of mischievous smiles. 

Watching as the whirls of the portal spun around you, you overheard one last bit of conversation just before your body was transported back to the upper floor of Sorcerous Sundries.

“Not one word,” Rolan warned, his stern body language failing to conceal the pleased sound within his voice. 

“Told you to just ask them out.” 

“Lia!” 

Zevlor

⚔️ It had been some time since you defeated The Absolute. Of course, despite the changing season, much of Baldur’s Gate was in need of repair and renovation. While Halsin had taken many refugees to his new settlement in Reithwin, a part of the former Shadow-Cursed Lands, many chose to remain in the city and restart their lives there. Being a frequent flyer of the city yourself, you found it easy to visit those who chose to stay behind. One such individual, a former Hellrider called Zevlor, was someone you found yourself visiting more than the others. 

You shifted the rather large rectangle basket within your grasp, moving it so it rested within the crook of your left arm as you freed your right hand, before raising it to knock upon the unmarked door before you. Faintly, you could make out whispered gossip floating up from the stairs behind you, but you paid the hushed voices no mind. Sure, to outsiders it may have seemed odd that the savior of Badlur’s Gate was so keen on visiting the same acquaintance, one who resided in such simple dwellings, but to you the luxury afforded as a hero and adventurer paled in comparison to a good conversation between friends. 

‘Friends’. The word echoed in your head, like a schoolmarm repeating the dishonest words of a misbehaved child. 

In truth, you found yourself more drawn to the older paladin than perhaps you’d like to admit. You found your admiration and respect for the former Hellrider only grew with each passing visit, and now, there was hardly a day the tiefling did not fondly cross your mind. 

Then again, those silly girlish feelings would no doubt ruin the peaceful nature of your current relationship with Zevlor, so you pushed them aside in favor of maintaining a friendship while pining rather than speaking your truth and risking having no relationship at all. 

Hearing a shuffle of objects on the other side of the door, you smiled and released a breath you didn't know you were holding. It was just like any other day, there was no reason to get nervous now. 

“Ah, Tav,” Zevlor opened the door with a soft smile, “Right on time, as usual.” Always the gentleman, Zevlor stepped back, holding the door open for you. 

“My parents always said punctuality is a virtue,” you smiled, remembering their words fondly. “As much as I try to embody their lessons, this life doesn’t present many opportunities to do so, so I like to fit them in where I can.” 

Zevlor hummed, closing the door behind you. “They must be proud of you. Not every parent can claim their daughter is one of the great heroes of Baldur’s Gate.” 

Walking over to the settee just beyond the door, you took your usual spot seated on the right-hand side of the rather cramped sitting area. Despite being inside Zevlor’s home many times, you still found yourself amazed at how the tiefling managed to move around without knocking his tail into everything. 

The furnished room Zevlor currently resided in was a single-room loft, settled above a rather quaint little cafe spot in the lower part of the city. It wasn’t much, and it had very little privacy, especially for visitors, but that was little concern of yours. And despite Zevlor’s constant apologies for the small space, you felt more at home seated inside his little apartment than you did your camp at times. 

In the corner opposite the door, a cast-iron stove and a washing basin with a faucet were secluded just beyond a shutter-style room divider. You knew from previous visits that was where Zevlor always warmed the kettle for your meeting tea. Next to the settee you were seated on was a single dresser, about waist high. Upon it sat the few various plates and utensils Zevlor used daily as well as the collection of mismatched tea cups and teapots. And despite never seeing the inside of them, you assumed the drawers of the dresser housed his clothing and armor. Although, you must admit you were rather curious as to how he got his chainmail and breastplate to fit. 

Directly across from the settee, on the opposite wall was a twin-sized bed, undoubtedly too small for the tiefling paladin, even if he was never one to complain. Zevlor always kept it neatly made, the sheets all tucked in evenly, almost as if no one had slept in it the night prior. You supposed he had no choice, if he wished to entertain guests, as there was no way for their eyes to avoid it. Then again, a part of you had a feeling that order and precision were just key elements of who Zevlor was. Despite no longer being a Hellrider, and having long broken his oath as a paladin, several of his attributes like discipline and respect went far beyond any former occupation or title. 

Setting your surprise gift onto the wooden coffee/dining table before you, you answered Zevlor’s observation with a much more melancholy smile. “I’d like to think that, if they were still here, that yes, they’d be proud.” 

Taken aback by your revelation, Zevlor’s face fell before he recanted. “Tav, forgive me. I did not know your parents had passed. But I do still believe that regardless of where their souls may be now, they are looking upon you with pride.” 

Careful not to accidentally knock you with his tail, Zevlor retrieved the teapot, ready with tea already steeping, and two of the mismatched cups, before he returned to be seated next to you. 

Due to the tight nature of the room’s layout, and the small stature of the settee, every visit between the two of you resulted in your knees touching. In the beginning, Zevlor was overly apologetic, insisting he could instead sit on the bed, and allow you to have the sofa all to yourself, but you insisted the proximity was more than fine. You knew many people still saw tieflings as devils, monsters, or hellspawns, but you were not among them. The tieflings were just like any other race you had encountered on your journey: they were simply doing their best to survive. 

If anything, the hardships Zevlor and the tiefling refugees endured before arriving in Emerald Grove only made you respect them more. You were no stranger to hardship. You knew how difficult it was to have to get back up after you’ve been beaten; particularly how hard it was to accomplish the sixth or seventh time around, but it was something Zevlor managed to do with dignity when leading his people. 

You knew he did not see it similarly, his mind having been temporarily corrupted by The Absolute, but you would have fared no better if it was not for The Emperor’s intrusion. Truth be told, few minds ever could have resisted such a powerful psychic force. And even though several of Zevlor’s former tiefling friends and allies held him in contempt to this day, you could not bring yourself to agree with them. 

After the tea had been poured and sipped, your comfortable silence gave way to conversation. 

“How long will you be in the city this time? Any adventures planned for the future?” Zevlor asked. 

“I do have some news,” you admitted, placing your teacup down. “I’ve been thinking of this for a while now, but I needed some time to come to terms with it.” 

Zevlor motioned for you to go on. 

“Well, it’s been nearly seven months since our victory against The Absolute, against Gortash, Orin, and Ketheric Thorm. The former Shadow-Cursed Lands have blossomed into a new hope for so many people. I’ve thought about hanging up my adventurer’s hat. At least for now.” 

“I see. And what will you do with all your spare time? Travel? The Sword Coast has much to see, or so I’m told.” 

You shook your head. “I’ve been thinking of settling down.” You fiddled with your fingers, hands resting in your lap. “Maybe starting a family.” 

“Oh,” came Zevlor’s deflated response. “I see.”  

You placed a reassuring hand on Zevlor’s shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people. And I want to continue to do it. But I think I can do it differently, in a way where I can have both, ya know?” 

Zevlor nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes, certainly. It makes sense. You’re young, you want to live life to the fullest but you also don’t want to live it alone. I understand perfectly.” 

Seeing Zevlor’s downtrodden posture, you brought your hand down from his shoulder and placed it on top of his. “The reason I wanted to tell you was because, well, I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to come with me?” 

Zevlor’s eyes snapped up. “I’m- I’m sorry?” 

“I found a house, a cottage in east of Reithwin. It’s nothing fancy, and it’s most certainly in need of some major repairs but there are two rooms. It’d be away from the chaos of the city, in a town itself that is starting anew. I thought, there’d be a chance, you’d prefer those circumstances as opposed to living here.” 

Zevlor swallowed harshly. “I’m not certain what to say. You’ve already been such a help to me and my people. You’ve forgiven me even after… I do not know if such an old tiefling like myself is worthy of such kindness.” 

“Oh Zevlor,” you sighed, pulling the older man in for a reassuring hug. “You deserve this kindness and more. You’ve survived so much, and you’re the reason so many others have survived. You stood up and fought The Absolute’s Army when it descended upon the city. You could have hidden. You knew what kind of power it had, you knew all too well the way it could destroy your mind. But you chose to do the right thing. You’re incredibly brave, and I wish you could hear me say that and believe it.” 

Letting Zevlor go, you could see the faintest bit of water welling up within his eyes. But to further spare the former Hellrider any embarrassment, you thought it best if you took this time to go. 

Standing up, you carefully slid over the rectangle box towards Zevlor before making your way toward the door. 

“What’s this?” Zevlor asked, taking a good look at the box. 

“Oh, I saw them at the market the other day, and I wanted you to have them.” 

“Tav, please,” Zevlor started, his hands held up in protest. “You’ve already given me so much. I couldn’t possibly-” 

You cut him off before he could start his whole self-deprecating spiel up again. “It’s nothing big, just a token. I wanted you to have your own set. That way, even if you don’t wish to come along with me, we’ll be able to use and enjoy them when I come and visit you here.” 

You opened the door, letting yourself out. But before you descended the stairs, you turned to face Zevlor one more time. “I’ll be at the Elfsong Tavern for a few more days, I have some things to get in order, some other people to see. I want you to know we’ll still be… friends if you don’t change your mind. Although,” you spoke, a relaxed smile upon your face. “I truly hope you will.” 

You reached for the doorknob, pulling it closed behind you. 

Zevlor waited, listening to your footsteps as your boots descended the stairs. When he was sure you were not going to return, his clawed fingers moved to carefully remove the top of the box, being mindful not to scratch the contents inside. Once the lid was off, the softest of gasps escaped his red lips. 

Nestled in the box was a matching tea set: one teapot, three teacups, three saucers, one sugar bowl, and one cream pitcher. The rims of everything were painted to look gold, and the main design itself was a collection of watercolor flowers, each very dainty yet boldly elegant. 

Gently, one of Zevlor’s hands grazed over his knee on the part where yours rested against his just moments ago. 

“Friends,” Zevlor spoke aloud. The word repeated inside the Hellriders mind. But unlike the commanding voice of The Absolute, it was soft and sweet and entirely in your tone. And in its echo a second word emerged, although similar in sound and nature, the weight of it felt differently settled upon his heart. 

‘Family,’ Zevlor thought looking down at the tea set you gifted him. ‘Yes, I do think I would like that.’ 

A/N 2.0: Can you tell how much of a soft spot I have for Zevlor? Related Fun fact I took a BG3 personality quiz once, and it said that I’m him due to my longtime suffering and constant masochist desire to keep doing the right thing even though life punishes me for it…

(个_个)

As always, please Like and most importantly, REBLOG!

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[valtsv]

also as a formerly bullied Weird Kid i don't think we talk enough about how genuinely fucked it is that sometimes other kids would just. threaten to or even actually attempt to kill you. or you'd hear stories about kids like you that were murdered and know in your heart that could be you. that you might be next. that the cruel "jokes" and whispered comments about how they honestly think a [insert slur here] like that deserved it, good riddance, one more down, good work guys, keep it up, applied to you. there's not really a point to this, i just hate how many times i've tried to bring it up with people outside of others who had the same experiences and been told "well they were just kids, they didn't know what they were doing". i was just a kid too! and the consequences of their wilful ignorance and casual cruelty and lack of concern for what happened to me nearly cost me my life! and if that's too uncomfortable for you to even acknowledge, maybe ask yourself why!

[fatkish]

If you’re up too it can you write some mitsuri x

Obanai x reader with maybe a chubby reader ^^!! If not ignore this wish you well

Mitsuri & Obanai x Chubby Reader

Insecurities

(Trigger warning: self deprecation, self body shaming, negative self talk/image. [this is mostly my thoughts that I’ve had towards myself and based on my experience])

You had always been insecure about your body. Compared to Mitsuri and Obanai, you felt ashamed of yourself. You never ate as much as Mitsuri but you ate more than Obanai. You hadn’t always been chubby. You remembered that you were skinny as a child, so much so you were called a twig. You don’t really know what changed, but eventually you found yourself having gained weight. Originally you struggled to maintain a healthy weight and now it seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t get rid of your fat.

You couldn’t even look yourself in the mirror. You hated yourself. You made sure to hide this from Mitsuri and Obanai. You don’t know what they see in you. Maybe they only want you around because…. Because why? Why are you here. Both Mitsuri and Obanai are so pretty and they make such a beautiful couple, they’re both strong, but where do you fit in? What could you possibly do for them that they can’t already do? You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even be aliv… tears. You’re crying. You hate yourself so much, you cover your eyes and sob.

Unknown to you, Obanai stood outside the room, listening to your sobs. Mitsuri had been coming around the corner and was about to greet him when he turned to her with a finger over where his mouth was, his other hand pointing at the door. Mitsuri walked over and heard your sobs. With tears in her own eyes she covered her mouth and looked at Obanai. “You stupid, fucking pig! Look at yourself, you might as well have a curly tail cause you’re fat like a goddamn pig…. I’m so fucking ugly” they heard you say to yourself. Obanai had a look of shock and Mitsuri one of horror.

“I shouldn’t even be alive! Why the hell am I even alive” You yelled as you sobbed, not aware of the two people listening. Mitsuri couldn’t take it anymore and ran into the room and wrapped her arms around you. “Wahhh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you felt this way! I’m so sorry, please don’t say such things, they hurt my heart!” Mitsuri wailed as she hugged you.

“Mitsuri is right. You shouldn’t say such horrible things about yourself. You want to know why you’re alive? You’re alive because we love you. You’re the one thing we know will always be here for us. Mitsuri and I could die at any time fighting demons, but knowing that you’re here, that we have such a wonderful person at home waiting for us. It makes us fight that much harder to come home.” Obanai said as he sat down beside you and rubbed your back.

“Obanai’s right! We absolutely love you and you’re the one constant in our lives that we can depend on. You take such good care of us, you always cook me such yummy food! How could we ever not love you?” Mitsuri cried as she squeezed you tight.

You wiped your eyes and looked at them. They both looked at you with such love filled eyes. They truly adored you. “Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling this way?” Mitsuri asked. “I didn’t want to be a burden on you guys, you both risk your lives and my worries are selfish compared to what you guys see and deal with” you replied. “Nonsense, you’re feelings are important to us, don’t you dare ever hold them back from us. If something is bothering you, tell us.” Obanai demanded. He wiped the tears from your eyes and looked at you so softly. “We love you, don’t you dare ever question it, understand?” He looked you straight in the eye. “Yes” you replied.

Obanai grabbed your hand and held it to his mouth before giving it a gentle kiss through his bandages. “You’re ours, understand. It’s our job to take care of you, just as it is your job to care for us, if I see you trying to hide your feelings from us again there will be consequences understand?” Obanai threatened. “What kind of consequences?” You asked. Mitsuri smiled and hugged you as Obanai blushed as his face turned red. “We-we’ll make you love yourself, we’ll force you to be kind to yourself!” Mitsuri cheered. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll force you to endure endless pleasure until you learn to be kind to yourself.” Obanai threatened.

You smiled and hugged them both, “I love you both so much. Thank you” you thanked them as they hugged you back. “Now c’mon. Let’s go make dinner. I’m so hungry and food always makes me feel better!” Mitsuri tugged you with her and led you towards the kitchen as Obanai followed. You smiled and held Mitsuri’s hand. You feel so loved, they love you so much, guess you are worth something after all. Why else would you be loved so deeply by these guys.

[junedenim]

library pictures

because it lasts longer

warnings: smut, oral (m & f), piv, nudes, etc.

word count: 5.2k

He's lost in you. Your body stretches out, lanky in form and tall—taller than him, which he supposes isn't saying much. You possess a certain quality that he hasn't seen before. Sure, there's beauty, that's undeniable. He's worked with a lot of beautiful models. Ones that have won the genetic lottery. But you have more than that.

There's little competition for your looks but the way you move, the way you gaze upon the camera, the way you made Jerry, the old bastard, laugh before you stepped in front of Alex's camera. He's never seen anyone do just that and he's worked with a lot of beautiful women.

Your hand skims up your body, sultry in action. Every way you move feels sultry like you're seducing the camera. The other girls beside you try, pushing their breasts forward to the camera showing the sexiness of the bras all the models are wearing but you lightly touch your shoulder and it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

Alex tries his best to stick to the task at hand, looking at you through his camera's viewfinder, but it's so easy to get lost in your bent knee, so accidentally but so intentionally. Every move you make feels careless and calculated at the same time like you're trying to get a rise out of him, out of every man in the room. Singing chants to the people who see this ad, imploring them: you want to buy this lingerie because it's the closest thing you'll have of me. Alex feels he is slightly losing it but he doesn't mind it. It's so easy to take intense pleasure in this sight.

"Should we do solo shots?" Alex suggests. It wasn't in the instructions for the campaign. They wanted a group shot of all the girls in the colour variety of their lingerie sets. But Alex knows they got the shot 20 frames ago so he might as well indulge a little if they still have 45 minutes remaining.

His assistant shrugs, not that he has any say. Everyone else looks toward Alex for the decision, asserting him as the boss of the set. "You," he points, "in the white."

You point a finger at yourself just to be sure.

"Yeah. Why don't you go first?" The other girls scatter to the sidelines and you slowly move to the center mark. You're not even posing, just waiting for him to lift his camera back up, and you already look magnificent, foot beveled to the side, hands behind your back.

He looks on, not even raising the camera, just staring at the sight before him. You quirk a smile. "Take a picture. It'll last longer." You giggle at your own joke, tugging his heart down and making him fall further.

Alex does as you tell him, snapping away. You're loose and in action. He swears every frame is usable and he's never had that happen before and it'll probably never happen again. He doesn't want to move on. He wants to get every angle he can. Wants to see every inch. Feel every inch. Memorize every inch.

He doesn't want to move on but you've already hogged a decent portion of the shoot so when Jerry nudges him that they should move on, Alex nods and just says, "Who's next?"

But you don't leave. You wrap yourself in a silk robe that probably feels as soft as your skin. You sit on the sidelines, right in his periphery, impossible to ignore. He takes a picture of it and claims it to be a test shot as if he hasn't been shooting with this camera on this set for nearly an hour now.

He runs through the rest of the girls quickly with little care and little notice. He watches you as you watch the whole photoshoot. The other girls are talking or on their phones, but you're observing, which leads to your eyes eventually landing on his. You send a coy smile his way, leaning back in your chair. He attempts to hold himself in by sending a friendly smile back.

When it's a wrap, everyone moves to change and Alex works to put his equipment away. Your eyes linger on one another as if some unspoken agreement is being made. Alex packs up pretty quickly, his assistant will handle the rest so he has a goodbye to his team and heads outside.

He's thankful smoking gives him an excuse to linger outside the building, up against the brick wall as toothpick-thin models pour out of the building. He waits, taps his foot on the asphalt parking lot, and waits some more.

And then you come out in big Jackie O. sunglasses and a trench coat, already smoking a cigarette. "Join ya?" You request, your leather loathers skimming the pebbles on the ground.

"Please," Alex invites. You walk closer, standing in front of him at the wall. Your hip juts out and he wants to reach out and feel the curve of you. He's not being secretive in his stare. He knows that you know he's looking. "You're good," he compliments. He's not sure if it's for your modeling skills or your role as seductress, despite being all wrapped up now, he's still turned on just by your aura.

You flick your cigarette and tilt your head slightly. "At modeling? No, no, I'm still kind of new to this whole thing."

Alex exhales. "Could've fooled me. You had everyone's eyes in that studio."

You raise an eyebrow. "Including yours?"

Alex softly chuckles, mildly mortified. "I guess I wasn't too covert in my stare."

You grin, shaking your head. "I don't mind though. You're the photographer. You are the eye of the beholder. It's very complimentary to a model."

Gradually, you two have moved closer to one another. Your shoe hits his shoe and it's impossible it isn't intentional. "You said you're new to modeling?"

"Relatively," you answer.

"You could come back to my home studio, I'll take a few photos of you that you can add to your portfolio. If you want," Alex offers. His eyes are clearly telling a different story as he looks at you from top to bottom salaciously.

You nod slowly, a sly smirk spreading across your face. "Okay."

He drops his cigarette and plucks yours from between your fingers, joining his on the ground.

*

You wait behind him as he unlocks the front door. His place is bare just like you had imagined. There's little in the kitchen and he doesn't own a television. He has a shelf of books but it looks covered in dust. He guides you, up a small set of stairs and past his bedroom to his home studio.

Compared to the rest, it's a mess. There are various sets of lights pushed to the side of the room. He desperately needs more shelf space as his cameras and lenses overtake the room. There's a small grey backdrop, but it's been partially rolled up. He has a makeshift darkroom to the side, which seems to have been designed to be the guest bathroom, but his stuff has overtaken it.

Alex seems to go right to work as he picks up a camera and instructs her, "You can put your stuff over there," pointing to a small chair in the corner of the room. You place your bag down and throw your coat over the back of the chair.

"Is what I'm wearing fine?" You ask, dressed in a black long sleeve and jeans. You feel nervous under his gaze, it's become more critical as he holds a camera in his hands than it was outside.

But he smirks and nods. "For now." He directs you again, pointing over to the messed-up grey backdrop, "Stand over there."

He fiddles with the camera and you realize it's film compared to the digital you used for the ad campaign. "Do you usually shoot in film?" You ask.

Alex chuckles, amused for some reason. "Suppose I'm pretentious in that way. I like the idea of having no idea what you're taking until you develop it otherwise we'd be here all day with how overcritical I get." He runs a hand through his hair and he seems stressed by even the idea of shooting digitally.

"You seemed fine back at the studio," you tell him.

"I had a good model." The compliment gets you smiling and he snaps a picture for you're even ready for it. "You're a natural, you know."

You shrug. "I've never had any work done."

He throws his head back in laughter. "You know how fucking cute you are?" He snaps another photo. "I feel like I could stand here all day and I'd never catch a bad shot. The way you move your body is like art. Like I'm watching Venus de Milo in action."

"Does that mean I have no arms?"

Alex laughs again. "Fine. The Birth of Venus or something then, some Botticelli painting in the flesh."

"Does that mean I should be naked?"

He stops and drops the camera to his shoulders, revealing his eyes, blazed and focused. "I won't stop you."

You're slow-moving and sensual as you reach the bottom of your shirt, tugging the shirt off, throwing it off somewhere in the vicinity of the chair. Your bra—different from the one from the photoshoot—is sheer pink, giving thin exposure to your nipples. He snaps away quickly, not even looking at the viewfinder, staring straight on at you.

You slip your shoes off and start to unbutton your jeans when he holds his hand out. "Wait," he commands, "just like this for a second."

"Okay." The idea of being captured half-dressed at one time would have felt foreign but you're used to being shot in much less, although, it still feels weird to be considered hot. To have Alex's voice boom across the room to stay dressed and not strip down to your panties. To be seen as desirable in your jeans as you did in lingerie.

"Bend down." You follow his command, squatting down, and he walks forward, hovering above you. "Look up." Your eyes stare straight into the lens up into his soul. He snaps two photos of your eyes piercing into him.

You take action, reaching up, tugging on the belt loops of his jeans. He's both choked up, blood rushing by the movement, and unable to take enough pictures of it. You're below him, practically on the ground, yet, dominant and controlling, completely taking him over and holding him in your grasp, smashing him like berries in between your fingers.

"Hold still," he orders.

"Haven't you gotten enough photos?" You argue, eager for more.

He rests the camera at his side, taking a deep breath. "No, I'm just pretty sure if you move anymore I'm gonna cream my pants."

"I can tell." You rub a hand over the hardness formed in his pants.

He jolts back. "Fuck, you can't do that to me." He chuckles timidly and you can't help but join him, giggling with pride.

You reach out, curling around his belt loop again, and yanking him back to you. "Come on. You can make a photo essay out of it. Call it: 'How to Give a Blowjob 101.'"

"Fuck, okay, but I gotta put the camera down or else I'll drop it." He takes one more photo of you, gazing up, bottom lip between your teeth, before placing it on the floor.

You're fast. He undoes his belt and you pull down his zipper, reaching in and pulling him out. You stare up at him and he stares right back. You take him around your lips and Alex immediately throws his head back, eyes shut, a groan escaping his lips.

Alex reaches down, fingers threading through your hair, pushing you down onto him. You engulf him completely, your nose rubbing up against his stomach, choking on him. He lets go and you pull yourself off of him, salvia covering your lips. Your hand continues the work, rubbing him teasingly. You play with the head, which really seems to make him go wild as he mutters, "Fuck," and is unable to make eye contact with you.

You take him back in your mouth, your tongue licking at the head. He grabs a chunk of your head, holding it tight in his grasp to simply have something to hold onto. He juts his hips toward you, shoving his cock deeper down your throat. It's easy to tell he's getting close by the rough pattern he's handling things, unintentionally forcing himself deeper into you.

He's moaning and his grip tightens even more. "Swallow it," he tells you as he pushes you closer and closer to him. He pushes you down one more time before erupting in your mouth and you take it completely, every drop. "Good, good." He pats your head, exasperated.

Alex catches his breath and then bends down to collect the camera. "Take your jeans off now," he says and raises his camera.

"You first," you counter, "equal opportunity." He gives a crooked smile before pushing his jeans off, leaving him in his underwear and shirt. He goes to shoot again and you instruct him, "And your shirt."

"Alright." He takes his shirt off, leaving both of you nearly bare. "Now, jeans. Off."

You stand with your back to him and shuffle out of your jeans. You're slow, as always, intentional in each movement, pulling him into your trap and capturing him. You kick them off to the side and look over your shoulder, he clicks away.

You reach up to your bra's straps, pulling them down. "Bra now?"

He nods. "Just like you did with the jeans. Taunt me."

"Is that some kink you have?" You obey and pull the straps off your arms first.

"I'm taking photos of you undressing, what do you think my kink is?"

You laugh and reach behind yourself, unclasping it, and just, carefully, slowly, pulling it off your body. "That good?"

Alex lacks a vocal response. He just nods.

Your hands tempt him, caressing your own body, pulling on the hemline of your panties. You look at him, questioning the removal, awaiting his response. He stays silent though, bending down, taking a picture of you from below, making you look even taller, towering on all the species on Mother Earth.

"You gonna go down on me now?" You ask.

He drops the camera into his lap. "Yeah, but take them off first." He pulls the camera back up.

You drop one side off your hips, then the other side, shuffling it down before it's at his feet, he takes another picture, you completely bare with your underwear at your feet before he puts the camera down and moves completely under you.

Every touch is teasing, not giving everything up at once. He touches you, runs his fingers through the folds making you shiver. Your spine feels tingles spread up it and you find it hard to stand as his mouth goes on you. Every movement eats away at you, your footing unsteady. His nails dig into your thighs holding you against him. You can’t help grinding against him, but he seems to like that if the satisfied sounds he makes are anything to go by.

He fucks you with his tongue, stroking your clit, teasing it, tugging it, pulling a string of vulgarities from your lips. “God,” you gasp, tugging on his hair, “higher,” and he shifts, accommodating, devouring and he doesn’t let you go until you've ridden out every wave, falling over him. Everything is overwhelming and unbearable but you're dying for more.

"Sit down," he directs you, pointing at the floor beneath you.

You listen, shaky in your movement, but he helps, taking your hand and carefully you kneel down onto the floor. "This good?"

Alex chuckles. "Whatever makes you comfortable. Sit back, we're not taking pictures anymore."

"You can if you want," you offer, completely bare, sopping in every aspect, your breath still laboured.

"Not unless you want to make a sex tape."

"Oh," you giggle, "I'll stick with eroticism photography."

"Fair enough." He smiles and it makes you buzz. "You'll be my pin-up girl."

You lift an eyebrow. "Your pin-up?"

Alex moves closer to you, hovering in front of your lips. "Yeah." His hand touches the small of your back, tingles running up your spine. "Lay back."

You do as he says, but reach up, rounding your arms around his neck and tugging him down with you, kissing him harshly. His body lays on top of you, his lips fight back violently. His skin is warm against you and you hold tight to keep his skin atop yours.

He reaches down in between your two bodies and lines his cock up, he pushes in a little then all at once. He's forceful and you're already hot and heavy in your breathing, sharing and mixing with one another. His hands move down, pinching a nipple on the way, and it's tremble-inducing.

You push up, rolling him onto his back. He watches you in awe, the way you arch your chest and throws your head back as you begin to ride him, your entire body moving rhythmically just like when he was photographing you. You have such grace in a moment that's so explicitly dirty. He is so captivated that you direct him, grabbing his arms and placing his hands on your hips, encouraging him to hold you and to speed up the pace if he wants.

And Alex does want. He wants to see you thrash and shake on top of him. He grabs your waist, his thumbs press into your hip bones to stall you, and then he's thrusting up into you, meeting your rocking hips harshly, pushing his cock as deep into you as he can get it.

You whine and bite down on your bottom lip to prevent moaning whimpers, and bucks your hips wildly, your skin slapping loudly against his as your bodies meet, connecting roughly in the most intimate way imaginable. Alex gains control of his movements, how his cock hits that spot deep inside of you so effortlessly. How quickly he's pushing you to the edge.

You reach down to pull one of his hands off your hip and bring it up to your chest, pressing it against one of your boobs and leaving it there, knowing he'll understand what to do. He cups your breast as he thrusts into your, massaging the mound before pinching your erect nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it roughly as you bounce on top of him. You pant out and arch into his touch, unable to stop yourself.

You start to clench around him and you know you're getting closer and closer. He releases the boob he'd been grabbing and moves his hand down, pushing his fingers up against your clit making it nearly impossible to keep breathing. You're crashing, grabbing his shoulders to not completely fall over on top of him but he doesn't let up, keeps pounding up into you and flicking away at you.

Your head falls forward, your hair curtaining around you as you convulse. His eyes close and sucks in a deep breath. He wraps his arms around your back and he flips you over. Alex just stays there a minute, gazing down at you, brushing the stray hairs off your sweaty forehead before he leans down interrupting the roughness by kissing you sweetly.

You're still kissing when Alex starts to move his hips, gently pumping into you, pushing into you shallowly. Your wrap your legs around his waist and your heels dig into his ass, pulling him closer into you. He starts to speed up, his thrusts getting longer and harder, each time he thrusts. He kisses you again through it, his lips slipping and sliding over your as your bodies intertwine. He rests his arm on the sides of your head, getting a better position as he starts to push his cock into you, hitting harder and harder each time.

"I'm gonna come," he whispers to her, nuzzling his nose with yours as his hips start to get frantic.

"Me too," you mumble, tightening around him again.

"Fuck, okay." He sharpens his thrusts, determined to get you off before him.

He moves quickly, plays all the same tricks again, brushes away at your clit again, making your engulf him, whining and moaning. You scrap your nails down on him, arching right into him, chest-to-chest, coming uncontrollably.

Alex is ready to follow soon after, pulling out, giving himself a few pumps before he comes onto her stomach. He takes a few moments to collect himself before lying down beside you, heavy breathing in sync with one another.

“I’ve never done it on the floor before,” you say.

He chuckles, throwing his arm over his forehead, nestling his head in the crook of his elbow. “Really?”

You shake your head, smiling, amused by his laughter. “I’ve only ever done it in a bed.”

“Really?” He turns his head over, looking over at you.

You shrug, resting your hands on your stomach. “Do I strike you as some sexual adventurous being?”

He muffles his laugh. “I mean, yeah. You don’t have to be sexually adventurous to do it on the floor. You’re telling me you’ve never done it in the shower.”

“I’ve never fucked in the shower but, you know, orally.”

He rolls over onto his side. His hand reaches out grazing around your belly button. “Let me fuck you in the shower.”

“Now?” You question, still setting your heartbeat to a normal pace.

He closes in on you. His hot breath radiating down on your vulnerable skin. “Yeah, come on, let me fuck you in the shower.”

“Gimme a minute.” You push him back down onto his back but gaze over at him, focused on the angle of his jaw as he swallows, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “What about you? You’ve done it on the floor before?”

Alex nods. “Yeah. Never in here.” Understandably so. The floors are hard on your backs and if the sex wasn't so good it would have been a pain the whole time.

You lay on your stomach, resting your head on your folded arms beneath you. “Well, don’t I feel special?”

“You should. You are.” He reaches out, petting back your hair. His fingernails scratch down, pull hairs behind your ear, and lightly tug on your earlobe.

You roll your eyes. “Come on, how many women have you photographed in here?”

“A lot. Never fucked one in here.”

Fascinated, you ask, “You’re a photographer and you’ve never fucked a model?”

“Never said that. But it’s not a habit.” You don't mind, he's naked with you now and not them.

“What did your last girlfriend do?” He remains silent, lips sealed. “She was a model!”

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “In my defense, I never worked with her. We met through friends.”

Alex places his hand down on your back, rubbing up and down the spine so softly. “What about you? This a habit for you?”

“My ex-boyfriend used to take pictures of me, but he was a stockbroker.”

“How grandiloquent.” His language makes you want him more. Who knew big words could be such a turn on?

“How boring," you countered. All those dull men before...

“No kidding," he quips, "you never fucked on the floor.”

“Well, you never fucked on the floor in here.”

He rolls over again, inching over you. His face right down beside you as he pleads, “Then let me fuck you in the shower.”

You sigh, “Okay.”

*

It's almost terrifying how comfortable you become with one another. Well, if Alex didn't take nude photographs of you and have sex with you within hours of knowing each other, however, he starts having you over more and more and not just for sex and photos, although that does often occupy your time. There are the dinners, the movies, and meeting his friends. 

And if you didn't already want to be with him all the time as a boyfriend, he's a great not-for-hire publicist, talking you up to his friends, who are photographers, company owners, and casting agents. He talks about modeling like it's the greatest art form (that might have something to do with him being a photographer, but he insists otherwise) and he's always proper with his words, never talking of sexiness or desirability. His love for it is always nestled in the words of critique: "beautiful arches" "delicate lines" or "the way her face catches the light." It makes you laugh.

One morning, after you've slept over, and he's needy and doesn't want to part, you accompany him to a gig. It's some high fashion shoot and you walk in your clothes from yesterday and one of his jackets carrying his equipment as he sets it up. 

An older woman with a thick posh English accent approaches you, asking, "And who are you?"

You extend your arm out, pointing to Alex, telling her, "The magician's assistant." Alex is all agrin over this and will have you refer to him as the magician several times. You'll laugh at him every time. 

When you walk over, he tugs you into him, arm wrapped around your hips. "We should have you in a costume next time."

You roll your eyes and pull away from him, placing the equipment down on a table. "I think you prefer me in a lack of attire."

Alex tilts his head side-to-side. "Fair enough. I'm liking you in my jacket though."

You slide your hands in the pockets. "It's very cozy."

He gestures to the set in front of you. "I need a couple test shots. Why don't you?"

"And have the scary woman yell at me again?"

"You're the magician's assistant. Help me work my magic."

You do what he tells you, not without saying, "You're corny, you know that?"

"You'll love it. You do love it." You fake annoyance but the smile across your cheeks tells a different story. He gets you giggling with all this corniness and dad jokes galore. The photos come out all happy and commercial compared to the serious haute modeling that follows but Alex says they're his favourite from the day. You roll your eyes, but the smile still tugs on you.

*

"Come back to bed," you tell Alex. 

He stays still, towering above you, camera in hand. It's early in the morning, freshly awoken, still naked from last night's activities. "I have to take a picture. How can anyone not want to take photos of you all the time?"

You sit up, the sheet kicked off you, fully exposed. "Well, usually, they like to touch the real thing, especially when it's their girlfriend giving you full range."

He tosses his head back, dropping the camera over his junk. "You know just what to say to get me hard."

You giggle, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging on it. "Don't fool me with your morning wood?"

Alex tosses back, "Who do you think gave me the morning wood?"

"Well, why aren't you giving it to me?" You lean back, pulling him over you, and the time to resist has fallen as he places the camera down on the bedside table and his lips on you. 

You reach down, picking up his hard cock, and guide to your pussy. He reaches down and runs his tip through your wet folds teasingly. "God, you feel good already."

"It gets even better inside," you urge him, desperate for him to enter you. He has you shuddering as he rubs his cockhead against your aching clit. You shiver and Alex moves his cock back toward your entrance, positioning the tip against your hole and teasing you, wanting you to beg. "Please."

He finally pushes you. "Jesus," Alex groans as he’s covered in your warmth. He pushes further, you taking more of his length. He's buried to the bottom of you, your thighs flush together as you both take a moment to gather your bearings and get used to this first feeling of the morning.

Alex swallows thickly and shifts his hips, falling just a little bit heavier onto you. He slowly starts to rock his hips against you. You grip his waist tight, wrapping your legs around him, countering his rhythm, pushing him into you. His thumbs leave imprints on your skin, guiding you up and back from him. He doesn't try to control you, though, just helps pick up speed as you get into a rhythm together. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

"You will," you moan, placing your palms flat against his back to have something to grip onto.

Alex picks up the pace again, his hips thrusting into you hard, making sure you feel him deeply. He hits that spot dead on, and then you're falling apart, coming around him, your walls tightening and gripping his shaft as your thighs shake, the orgasm overtaking you. 

"Oh, god," you moan, reaching up and gripping his hair to have some idea of an earthly possession.

His eyes are glued to your face, watching in astonishment every time you come around his cock. His hands help to hold himself inside you, his skin tingling. Your pussy throbs and vibrates around his cock, and he curls his toes, so close, wanting to hold on. You're both sweaty, completely spent as he ruts into you, his pumping getting a bit sloppy as he gets closer to the edge.

Alex leans back and hooks his arms under your thighs, and pulls you closer, tilting your body closer to each of his hits. It feels just right, bursts of light exploding behind his eyes as he comes into you. His cock swells against the vice grip you have on it before he shoots his cum deep inside you. You throb together. "Fuck," he groans, his voice straining and cracking. 

He stays inside of you, not wanting anything to leak. You're pressed up against each other like he's stamping you down like a wax seal and you're melting to the corners of him. You cradle his head, resting in the crook of your neck. He feels so good and he is so good. You cling to him.

Alex raises his head slightly, just to make eye contact. “I don’t want to move.”

“Then don’t,” you counter.

“You aren’t uncomfortable?”

You shake your head. “Not right now.”

“I’m not too heavy?”

You shake your head again. “No.” He rests back down, tired like he didn’t just get a full night’s sleep. “I’ll have to leave soon.”

“No,” he whines, his grip on your arms tightening. “It’s my day with you.”

“I’ll come back later tonight,” you promise, combing your fingers through his hair.

He groans in your neck. The vibrations rumble your insides. “I think you should ditch it and hang out with me all day. I’ll take just as many pictures.”

“You’re not paying me.”

“Isn’t my lovemaking paying enough?”

You laugh and then you lie smushed like that for just a little longer. 

*

a/n: all photography & model knowledge comes from america's next top model, which i do believe to be the top authority on things.

[freyjas-musings]

I am not really sure why E/riels don't understand the difference between skittering, skittering back and Skittered away .... But I hoped that they would understand that Azriel's shadows disappearing or vanishing is definitely a BAD THING

Shadows with Elain, this isn't unique to her either it was the same with Mor ... 2 people who clearly aren't going to be his end game

Shadows with Mor....

Now , Shadows and Az

They will always be with him, they are his companions and source of power.

They shield him , protect him and clearly care:

They give him power and are a source of magic

They react to him when he is happy , they basically dance.... He is the shadowsinger so that's not surprising that they sing and dance to his voice

The only other person the shadows react in the playful positive way is Gwyn... They dance in her presence

They also dance when Az and Gywn are being playful and banter

They also sing to her .... They Calm in her presence , they are curious about her , they just like lounging and watching Az and her talk ... Far cry from vanishing and skittering back

If this isn't SJM making it obvious Gwyn is his mate and end game I don't know what to say ... it is wilful ignorance at this point

[cameronspecial]

HIII I love your Dad!Drew Starkey x reader and I seen this video and I was wondering if you can write something about is with Dad!Drew Starkey x Black!reader? https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5v1u4kp62A/?igsh=MW1pZTBxOXJ1NnM3MQ==

If not just ignore this and please tag me in it💛

Save Me, Daddy

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.4K

A/N: This isn't Black!Reader exactly because I try to write the reader as neutral as possible. I hope that it is okay. Also, I am sorry I can't tag you because you are in anonymous mode. If you are off of it, then it will automatically inform you when I post the requests. If you want to join my taglist, then feel free to contact me in anyway.

Masterlist

Being a parent is never easy, Y/N knew that coming into it. Nevertheless, Wilson always finds a new way to make it not simple for his mother. She leaves the three-year-old on the couch, watching TV, to go to the bathroom. When she returns, she finds the lotion that was on the side table is now on the floor with her son. His small hand repeatedly pressing the pump makes it worse. Globs of white shoot out of the hole and onto the carpet, releasing the eucalyptus scent into the air. “WILSON XAVIER STARKEY, what are you doing?” she exclaims. The little boy freezes and turns to his mother with wide eyes. “Hi, Mommy,” he tries to play off. He hasn’t grown into his father’s acting skills because his guilt is written all over his face. If he becomes a criminal when he grows up, she really hopes he gets better at acting or else she might have to spend his teenage years picking him up from jail. She shakes her head, “Don’t hi, Mommy me,” she criticizes. Their head turns to the sound of the front door opening and at the appearance of his father in the doorway, Wilson goes dashing towards the male with the grocery bags. 

“Hey there, Slugger. What’s with the running?” Drew comments, laughing as Wilson wraps around his legs. Y/N points toward the dry lotion, “Look at what your son did. It’s my new expensive lotion too.” His eyes flick to the scene of the crime, stifling a laugh at the scene in front of him. “This isn’t funny, Drew. It’s a mess,” she lectures him, almost as if he is the one to make it. He throws on a neutral expression and nods. “You’re are right and Wils is going to clean it up. Then we’ll go to the store to buy you a new lotion for when that one runs out,” he offers. She looks between him and her son, “Yes, you will. Wilson, go get some paper towels from the kitchen.

The small boy runs off and they can hear his stool being moved a little so he can grab the roll. He rushes back, getting to work immediately. A sheet of paper falls on the lotion puddle and he begins to scrub. Satisfied that he is working, she turns to her husband. “Watch him, please. I’m going to go take a bath.” Without another word, she begins to make her way upstairs. Wilson looks behind him to see his mom out of sight and turns his attention to his dad. “Save me, Daddy, please,” he whispers. Except, Y/N isn’t far enough and she hears his pleas, “Nope, you made the mess, Wilson. You clean it.” The young boy’s head whips back to his cleaning, but he looks up at Drew with big eyes. Drew gives him a tight-lipped smile, “Sorry, Slugger. This is Mommy’s world and we are just living in it.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[centrally-unplanned]

On a recent trip home I picked up my dog-eared childhood copy of The Crystal Shard, the first-ever appearance of trope-defining dark elf Drizzt Do'Urden:

As my partner remarked on seeing the cover, "do you really need the whole wolf? The pelt ain't enough?" Darn right it ain't, when I was ~10 and playing basement D&D every weekend with my friend circle I fucking loved Drizzt, like all nerd kids back then did. Even better, this book was one of those things where he isn't even the main character, no one thought this would become the "IP" that it did. It is pure Early Installment Weirdness. So I was curious how cruelly the passage of time would affect this 1988 fantasy pulp novel.

Anyway we are 112 pages in and our first named female character has finally appeared. I am not exaggerating or even ignoring bit characters for that point. Women as a concept do not appear in the first 30 pages, until this line:

"Fetch the wenches!" he commanded.

And you occasionally get some mind-dominated sex slaves who are, again, unnamed, until Catti-brie (the named girl) shows up. As barbarian boy Wulfgar's romantic interest by the by.

This isn't, like, a gigantic bash or anything - Catti-brie herself is a primary character and well-realized and all that, and as always you can tell a story about a group of guys if you want. But back then the pulp fantasy landscape was just fucking rough my dude; this book spends a lot of time on the "societies" of Icewind Dale, governance & trade and war, and women just do not contribute to that society, in any way, beyond token references to mothers-and-lovers as a concept.

There is a line Wulfgar, someone from the "barbarian" nomadic tribes, makes - as a comparison to Catti-brie - about women in his society:

Barbarian girls were raised to keep their thoughts and opinions, unimportant by the standards of men, to themselves.

And I get it, like Catti-brie is headstrong and wilful and Wulfgar is Learning to Respect Women. I grok that this is an arc moment and depiction is not endorsement. But I think that idea works a little better if the author had put a single female character from the barbarian society on the page to help with that point! The book shouldn't agree that they are unimportant, right? I'm looking at George R.R. Martin's portrayal of the Dothraki in A Game of Thrones - published in 1996! - and seeing it for the progressive act it is now lol, that is a low bar. I have read later R. A. Salvatore books and he would never do this today of course; it was just how the genre worked back then.

Progress is just good sometimes I guess!

[space-robinhood]

// dsmp spoilers

Thinking about c!crimeboys sending eachother letters (ignore how idk how). Them getting to keep in touch and bond and recover but from a healthy distance. Wilbur asks how Tommy is holding up and how the others are doing. Tommy frequently asks him what Utah is like, and occasionally is sent back a polaroid that he keeps at his bedside.

But eventually, Wilbur picks up that Tommy isn't doing so well. Tommy isn't so much like Wil, who makes up some web of lies to convince Wilbur that everything's dandy. He's fairly honest about what's going on, but insists that he's got everything under control and to not worry about him, because he's a BIG MAN who can TAKE ON ANYTHING.

Until the final letter arrives. The letters are hastily scribbled, the page stained with tears. It cuts straight to the point in its first line:

"im sorry. im dying tomorrow."

He read through the rest of the letter two, three, four times. Tommy's entire detailed scheme to use Tubbo's nuke to finally end everything. It wasn't until the fifth read that it hit him.

"tomorrow." No, that can't be. By the time Wilbur gets these letters, its already been a few days, a few weeks sometimes.

He swore he'd never return. Should he even? If this is true, then he doesn't think he could bear to see it himself. He could very possibly make it worse anyway. No, no, Tommy could never do something like this, that isn't him, so there's nothing to worry about. He should just wait for the next letter and he'll know he's okay. But... He couldn't imagine sitting there for weeks and nothing ever arriving. He's not sure he could survive torment like that.

He wasn't conscious for most of the trip. He doesn't remember packing his things, or setting sail. Even as he arrived at the shore, none of it felt real. But when he ran up that hill, there was no denying it.

He was the brother of a crater.