#something something the lady doth protest

[electric-beaugaloo]

I see your “Alice and Celia are anagrams” post and raise you a “Alice and s1 Jon are wearing the same hat”

S1 Jon is desperately skeptic bc he’s scared & doesn’t feel in control so he’s bluffing in a way that comes across as unlikable. I think Alice is also haunted by the job but faking her way through it by bullishly insisting others don’t think about it… also in a way that can come across as unlikable.

[shitelock]

this seems…. y’know

[theminecraftbee]

"You know, I kind of get it now," Gem says to Impulse.

"What?" Impulse says. He's nervously playing with a frozen shard in his hands. Come on, Impulse, head into the dungeon, don't be shy, you can do it. Keep hyping yourself up, you didn't die horribly last time. Ugh, he wishes he were a little less into the game, or maybe more uncomplicatedly addicted, like Gem; it would make everything easier if he thought he could either just leave or play.

"I get it now!" Gem says. "Oh, stop debating if you'll go in like that, either do it or don't."

"I'm trying, Gem!"

"Yeah, but if you aren't gonna do it, I want a go."

"You used all your shards."

"In principle!" Gem says. "It's the principle! You wouldn't get it. You don't hang out here nearly as much as I do. You don't understand, understand the vibes." She sticks out her tongue at him for good measure.

"Well, inform me of the vibes, and maybe I'll work up the nerve," Impulse says.

"It's like--I get it now," she says. "When you were complaining earlier this season about Tango not going outside, I was like, aw man, you redstoners and your caves. I'm a sunshine girl. I like trees. And bloodshed."

"Don't see how those things are related but continue," Impulse says.

"I thought you were complaining because Tango is equally lame as you are about stuff like 'going outside' and 'talking to people who don't drag him into it'," Gem clarifies.

"I go outside!" Impulse says. "I go outside all the time! I ran a rebellion! I pranked you and Pearl! I yelled at Grian! I helped cover the perimeter! I have a whole island and a giant shop! I got a job with Scar! I even went through the Rift! I don't know what you want from me, here. It's not like I'm Tango. I did things that weren't my base from time to time."

"The lady doth protest too much," Gem says.

Impulse sighs. Gem laughs and hops into the air and squeezes herself into a gap between the walls near the entrance to the dungeon. Impulse has seen her in there a lot recently; it's almost like she's a gargoyle, or an inlaid relief for the dungeon. Weird thing to think about his friends, but--

"Besides," Gem continues. "Besides. I just said I get it now."

And something about that makes the hairs on Impulse's arm stand on-end.

"You get why we have to work so hard on circuit design?" Impulse asks hopefully.

"No, I don't get the redstone stuff, that's all still stupid nerd stuff," Gem says cheerfully.

"Jock," Impulse says.

Gem smirks meanly. "Script kiddie."

"Ow, that hurts. And it's not even true. Where did you even learn that one, you just admitted you hate that stuff!"

"Lady never tells her secrets," Gem says.

"Well, if you don't understand the redstone, what do you understand?" Impulse asks.

"Just--you really could stay in here forever, couldn't you? It'd be fun while you did it! I even built a tree and everything. Not much I have to leave for anymore, is there?"

Impulse swallows. Ah.

"Except when you run out of shards," he says, after a painful long several seconds in which there's a rock in his throat and he can't breathe and he has to try very hard to find an excuse to refute that.

"Yeah, except for that. Why did Tango have to go and limit how many times we can go in, huh? If I didn't get bored halfway through the week I think I could just move in!"

And Impulse--

Impulse thinks of Tango.

"Yeah," he says. He plays with the frozen shard in his hands. It feels very cold. "I wonder why."

"So? Are you gonna run or not? I want to mock you when you die," Gem says.

"...I might as well spend them all sooner rather than later," Impulse says, and he puts the shard in the barrel. His heart skips a beat as the door opens. Gem cheers. He shakes his whole body to shake off the conversation as he goes inside. It never does, after all, to try to run the dungeon while distracted.

[lesbianrobin]

lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men

"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.

"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you even use conditioner?"

"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."

Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”

Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.

Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."

"No, but you do need shoes."

Eddie looks down.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."

-

"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."

Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."

“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”

“What's leave-in?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.

Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”

“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”

“Your hair isn’t curly.”

“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.

"...Oh, there's a story here!"

"No, there's not."

"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.

"Don't laugh."

"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.

"Alright… so, you know Lucas."

"Yes."

Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"

Eddie bursts into laughter.

Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"

"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"

"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.

He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.

"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."

Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.

"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.

-

This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.

Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.

Astoundingly, Eddie rises.

“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.

The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.

“What in the hell is all this racket?”

Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?

“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”

As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”

“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Three!”

"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"

“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”

Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”

“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”

“Four!”

"...Steve, Steve..!"

“—what makes life worth living, after all.”

Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.

“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”

“Dad,” Mike groans.

“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.

“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.

"What do I owe you, again?"

"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.

"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."

"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"

"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.

Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."

Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."

[invisibleicewands]

Bringing revolution to Port Talbot - by Michael Sheen

On a recent February morning, I woke up to find I was wrong. Not a particularly uncommon experience in itself, but unusual to discover that on this occasion I was being publicly accused of it by the Secretary of State for Business and Trade. “Michael Sheen has said that ‘the people of Port Talbot have been let down’,” Kemi Badenoch wrote in the Daily Mail. “But he is wrong.”

It was a big day. I spent all of last year directing a three-part drama series for the BBC called The Way, which was to air that night. It begins in my hometown of Port Talbot, where a strike at the local steelworks becomes the spark that ignites a violent descent into national chaos. Clearly, Ms Badenoch had been given a sneak peek of the series before forming quite a strong opinion on it. But no: reading her article, Ms Badenoch admits that she hadn’t watched it at all. Why let a total lack of information prevent a full-throated denouncement, eh? Presumably, she also assumes that we managed to write, film and edit the entire series after Tata Steel announced the imminent loss of some 2,500 jobs at the steelworks mere weeks ago.

While the winds of change have only been blowing in one direction for many years, the events in our story were dreamed up some years ago and act as a fictional catalyst for all that follows. Surely even Tory ministers understand there is no VIP fast lane for making a TV series. This isn’t a PPE contract, after all…

Nothing to see here

After that episode aired, it occurred to me that such shenanigans in the right-wing press could have been about a couple of things. Since the ITV drama about the Post Office scandal, Mr Bates vs The Post Office, caused public outrage, I imagine the government has a new fear of the impact a TV show can have. A pre-emptive strike against a series it perceives to be criticising its actions around the steel industry must have seemed a useful tactic. And, having seen Breathtaking – based on Rachel Clarke’s memoir of how the Covid crisis unfolded in the NHS, which aired on ITV the same night as The Way – I wonder if her piece was an attempt to distract attention away from more dangerous territory.

It gave Ms Badenoch a chance to trot out her line about how the people of Port Talbot should be grateful for all that the government is doing to save the steel industry, not moaning about the impact job losses will have on their community. But the people of Port Talbot have been let down, no matter what Ms Badenoch wants us to think. Not by any single entity, but by years of neglect. That she immediately assumed my comments referred to her and her government tells its own story. In the words of a much older drama than mine: the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Then and Nye

“This crisis is a privateering racket with your friends lining their pockets!” No, not an accusation against Boris Johnson, but something I currently say to Winston Churchill every night. We opened a new play called Nye at the National Theatre this week. I play Aneurin (“Nye”) Bevan, who attacks the prime minister for turning a wartime crisis into a money-making scheme for him and his cronies. It’s one of many moments in the play that seem to speak to past and present at the same time.

The entanglement of “now” and “then” is heightened by the fact that I am wearing pyjamas. Nye is lying unconscious in his hospital bed at the end of his life, and we follow him through a dream of his past. He wanders from childhood memories of overcoming his stutter in Tredegar library to his meteoric rise through local politics, to becoming the youngest member of Clement Attlee’s pioneering postwar cabinet. And, of course, as minister for health, his tumultuous birthing of the NHS on 5 July 1948. It’s an extraordinary, surprising and moving experience telling this story on stage each night. That shared space between actors and audience, where all is felt but unseen, crackles with electricity.

Once more, with feeling

It seems that exploring the motives of politicians, the uses and abuses of political power, and the quest for justice that saw the creation of the NHS taps into deep wells of emotion. Like the pockets of gas that miners feared within the coal seam, their release brings risk and reward. At a recent show, we had three instances of people needing to be helped out of the theatre, the final one forcing us to pause the show moments from its end. Thankfully, it was nothing more serious than someone fainting. But emotions are running high.

I’m more than happy to invite Ms Badenoch to a performance. But I realise, of course, there’s no guarantee she would make it to the end.

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Love Doth Run Smooth

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Princess!Reader

Hello girls, gays and theys I am back with one last fic before the old year ends and the new one starts. Enjoy this short little fluffy and angsty Brienne fic and Happy New Year 🥳🥳❤���❤️

Thank you again for @weemssapphic and other friends for beta reading my silly little fics <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Little Angst, mention of war and wounds, fear of abandonment, fear of loss, taking care of Brienne, lots of fluff.

Authors Note: Brienne comes back home to you after another victorious war. What will you do to make her feel at home?

Words: 1'500+

A03 Link

Taglist

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You were anxiously waiting, pacing back and forth in your chambers. It had been months since you’d last seen your knight and you missed her dearly. It didn’t sit right with you that she had to go to war. You were worried, scared she wouldn’t make it back, but evidently she IS the best and most skilled knight in all seven kingdoms. Still… war wasn’t something you wanted her in. The knight has fought enough. Her whole life has been a fight. She deserves to relax, to sleep, to rest. 

You knew very well that she first had to go to the king and queen, telling them of the war. You knew you had to wait, but you couldn’t. With trembling hands and a hammering heart, you left your room, against your father’s wishes. Sneaking through the hallways, you made your way to one of the balconies overlooking the great hall, where your eyes immediately fell onto your lover. 

Her short blonde hair was dirty and matted with dried blood. You knew why your parents didn’t want you present. The sight of her bloodied and injured physique made your heart ache. She stood stoic as she recounted the events of the war, how many soldiers they’d lost and how many had been injured beyond saving. But they were victorious. SHE was victorious. She always was. Your knight in shining armour, the strongest woman in all the seven kingdoms. But also the gentlest, the softest and the one deserving of all the love. 

It wasn’t a secret that you were courting the blonde warrior. Your father and mother have blessed your courtship, proud to have such a strong knight defending their lands and, at one point, continuing their reign with their daughter. Seeing her stumble when trying to get up from her kneeling position almost made you gasp out loud. She was injured more than she led on to believe. Your strong love. With quiet but quick feet, you made your way back to your chambers, calling the maids to get the bath ready for your lover.

Gathering some fresh clothing and a soft towel, you suddenly heard the door to your chambers opening and closing again. 

“Y/n?” A low, hoarse and quiet voice called out. You dropped everything you were holding onto the bed and rushed out to fall into your lover's arms.

“Brienne!” You whispered, your arms slung around her neck and nuzzling into her, holding back tears. She had her arms wrapped around your waist tightly and hid her face in the crook of your neck. You missed her, oh you missed her so very much. Pulling away, you looked into her eyes and your heart broke. She had cuts and bruises on her face and she looked tired, but she looked at you with so much love. 

“Oh, my love…” you whispered with a shaky breath and brushed some hair out of her face, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“I am sorry you have to see me like this my Lady…” she said quietly, searching your eyes for any negative emotion but all she saw was concern and love. It made her want to sob. The letters you sent her had kept her on her feet, fighting, fuelled by her love waiting for her. She still held you close against her, almost afraid of letting go. 

“No! No, don't apologise. Let me take care of you. Please. Let me tend to your injuries.” You said quickly, pulling away softly, taking the towels and clothes on the bed and grabbing her hand, gently tugging her towards the great bath. She was about to protest but seeing the determination in your eyes, she just gave you a small nod and a sweet smile. 

The bath water was ready, steaming up the room slightly and the maids had added some scent oils, making the room smell heavenly. You sat Brienne down on a chair and started taking off her armour. You made sure to be careful, as not to hurt her, in case she had any hidden injuries. Brienne tried to help you, but you just grabbed her hand, kissed it and put it back on her lap. Once all the armour was off, you started unlacing her underarmour, carefully peeling it off her body. Your breath hitched, and your brows furrowed in worry as you saw all the bruises and hidden injuries. 

“Oh Brienne…” you whispered out, looking into her eyes and she looked away quickly, ashamed of herself for making you so worried. With a soft hand, you lifted her gaze back to you and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Please don’t feel ashamed of your scars. They're proof you’re still here. With me.” You whispered and stroked her short blonde hair back. She wrapped her strong arms around your waist and held you close, leaning her head against you and burying her nose in the fabric of your dress. The both of you stayed like this for a while, just basking in each other’s presence. After a few minutes, you pulled back gently. 

“Come! Let’s get into the bath!” You whispered as you pulled your dress and undergarments off, holding out a hand for her, which she gladly took. Leading her into the hot water, you were careful to not go too fast and help steady her.

Once in the bath, you sat her down again and moved to grab a washcloth. Dipping it into the water, you started gently cleaning her face, pressing kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her forehead and her lips. Brienne hummed gently, and a small, relaxed smile settled on her lips. After her face was all clean, you moved onto her arms, torso and back, making sure to pepper small kisses over her face as you went on. After her skin seemed to be cleaned from the dirt and blood, you moved on to her hair, grabbing a small bowl and pouring it over her hair as she tipped her head back. With gentle fingers, you washed the blood out of her hair, checking for any head injuries and just finding a dried-up cut. You cleaned it as well as possible and then set the bowl down. 

“Let's get you dressed in something comfortable,” you whispered to her and stroked her cheek lovingly. Brienne grabbed your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it. She didn’t answer but just nodded in agreement. 

Out of the bath, you helped her dry up and get dressed in some comfortable linen trousers and shirt before drying off and getting dressed yourself. When you entered your chambers, the maids had already placed a bowl of fruit, some fresh water and some pastries on the table. You placed Brienne on the bed gently, telling her to lie down and get comfortable. You grabbed the bowl and a glass of water for Brienne. 

“Drink my love.” You said gently, handing the glass to her and watching her drink it all. She looked way better now that all the blood and dirt were washed off, but she still looked exhausted and defeated. Climbing into bed next to her, she immediately turned to snuggle in. Your strong and deadly warrior. Pride and honour spread in your chest, knowing that Brienne only showed her vulnerable side to you, and you promised to protect her no matter what the cost would be. Laying like this, Brienne gently ate fruit from your fingers, and you made sure to be very careful when running your fingers through her soft blonde locks. A hum escaped her lips and she nuzzled her nose into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you”, the blonde whispered quietly. You knew she wasn’t used to this type of care and love, but you were determined to show her just how much she deserved it. 

“There is no need to thank me, Brienne. Everything I do, I do because I love you, because I care, because you are my soulmate,” you whispered softly, so as to not startle the calm moment. 

“I love you,” Brienne sniffled and wrapped her strong and toned arms around your waist, pulling you close. You set the bowl aside and wrapped your arms around her as well, placing gentle kisses on her hairline as you hum sweet praises and words of affirmation to her. Feeling Brienne relax in your arms, was the most wonderful feeling to you. It almost brought you to tears every single time she fell asleep in your arms. Your strong knight. You vowed to protect her heart, even if you’d have to kill. You would keep her heart safe. 

“I love you, Brienne,” you whispered against her and continued rubbing her back and running your fingers through her hair, keeping her safe from nightmares and anything that could keep her awake. You were her safe haven, her love, her everything, and she loved you more than anything. She wanted to marry you, and she wanted to marry you soon. Being a knight, her life was a dangerous and short-lived one. If she dies… when she dies, she wants to die knowing that she belonged to you, and you belonged to her. That your hearts and souls were one and that even in the afterlife you would know that she would be waiting for you. 

You were hers, and she was yours, and no force of nature could change that. Because when she’s with you, Love doth run smooth.

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Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorius

As always: Comments likes and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

[possamble]

do you have any particular thoughts regarding marcille being a half-elf? its interesting to me considering the fact that she seems self-conscious about being a half-elf, but denies it when its brought up

i remember marcille looking visibly uncomfortable over laios simply asking her how old she is, which i think the only reason she might feel nervous about this is because it might reveal her as a half-elf to him.

she's never corrected anybody whose called her an elf either.

never mind the circumstances of the reveal, in which thistle goes on about how half-elves are inferior and accusing her of wanting to become full blooded elf, she seemed particularly upset like he struck a nerve-

i wish the half-elf thing was built upon more. also, underrated marcille line:

okay so i revisited this sequence just to make sure I could back myself up and it's just... man. there's a lot going on.

the first reaction we get from Marcille is this huge panel that takes up half of the page

she is viscerally affected. flushing to the tips of her ears with the intensity of it. and we see it again, a few pages later

so it might seem like she's embarrassed about it and lying to herself, but... I really think it's just that Thistle is accidentally hitting sore spots. If you really look at what he says to get these reactions

"you'll live out your entire life [...] and die that way too"

"a hundred years from now, nobody will be there"

Hear me out. I think, if he stuck to harping on about her inferiority without bringing up how terrifyingly long-lived she is, she wouldn't have been as bothered. But right now, Thistle is accidentally hitting all the marks on Marcille's deepest fears-- and this is after the Winged Lion promised her that her dreams could come true in an extremely vulnerable moment, so it also hits her slightly guilty conscience as well.

I do truly believe that Marcille isn't bothered about being a half-elf the way that people assume she'd be bothered by it. To her, the biggest problem with being a half-elf is that it's isolating.

On one hand, it's not hard to imagine why she'd distance herself from elves in the west. A lot of them can clock her as a half-elf on sight, unlike other races, and therefore she's always branded with this weird stigma of being Othered -- I would even say that she considers herself lucky for being born outside of elven culture instead of having to grow up in it. I mean, just... look at the way elves talk about her.

Skipping past the uncomfortable implication of what 'not tolerating the existence' of half-elves would actually entail, this is incredibly fucking annoying. You can see why she wouldn't want to be around elves much. You see a lot of Marcille reacting badly here, but honestly, almost all of it can be attributed to her freaking out that her bluff completely failed. She's honestly more paying attention to Izutsumi's footsteps and trying to coordinate an opportunity to escape.

And in the end, you see her built-up frustration at being asked if she wants to be a full-blooded elf like 2-3 times in a row.

Yeah, yeah, "the lady doth protest too much," and all. But we know Marcille. We know that she's a lot more embarrassed and horrendously unconvincing when she's being prodded about something she's actually self-conscious about.

Moving onto the flipside of things, it might seem weird that she "pretends" to be a full elf around other races, but it's not really that strange if you think about it. Again, people are weird about her being infertile or whatever, and a lots of them don't even know much about what sets half-elves apart from everyone else. I mean, look at how uncomfortable Laios is just asking her about it

and look at how exasperated and resigned she looks

And like... she's right. Where would that come up in normal conversation? Why would she go out of her way to tell them? She's functionally a normal elf to other races anyway -- got the ears, the abnormally long "childhood", and the huge mana capacity. Unless it's directly relevant or important for people to know, I don't think it's all that strange or indicative of insecurity that she prefers not to bother with it.

(This combined with her sense of being an "outsider" to elf culture also explains why she thinks elf superiority is embarrassing. She sees the way elves treat short-lived races from the "outsider" perspective nonetheless, and thinks it's obnoxious; especially more so because she usually has to play the elf around short-lived races and deal with the reputation of arrogance that elves have built up.)

The sad thing is, this all means that... she doesn't actually fit in anywhere. She doesn't like going out West much because of how elves treat her. But she's also an outsider in the continents she was born in, treated like this exotic long-lived alien choosing to live among short-lived races for some reason. She is always an outsider, the Other, no matter where she goes. Add in the fact that she'll live longer than literally anyone she knows, and it's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

And I think that's the crux of it. Marcille really doesn't act like she's at all self-conscious about being a half-elf because of any feelings of inferiority or being half-made or whatever. She considers herself a perfectly legitimate being and might even, in some ways, consider herself superior to normal elves because she's not blind with elf supremacy or whatever. (And whatever "elven biases" she displays, all of them are born more out of the fact that she's kind of bad at conceptualizing how other races age and mature compared to herself, not that she actually considers herself better or more mature simply for being an elf.)

I think that whatever self-consciousness Marcille has about being a half-elf is, instead, related to terror and loneliness. The reminder that it ensures she'll never truly belong anywhere for the rest of her very long life. The reminder that, in truth, even she's not actually sure how old she is by other races' standards (hence the discomfort when asked how old she is). She doesn't want to not be a half elf, or be a full elf or full tall-man-- in her ideal world, she's still a half-elf. She just gets to live out her life at the same pace with the people she loves and doesn't have to say goodbye again and again and again until she dies.

and one last very important panel, right after Mithrun tells her that all her desires would be devoured

In her ideal world, she's still a half-elf and reality magically starts marching at her pace. But failing that, the second best thing is that she's still a half-elf-- but one who is able to accept reality and let go of her fear.

(But the rest of the story pans out the way it does because, to Marcille, taking reality apart and reshaping it was less scary than simply and fully reconciling with it.)

[ripdragonbeans]

Shakespeare In Love // Modern!Aemond x reader

CW: afab reader, p in v, creampie, second hand embarrassment, oral f receiving, smut

Summary: Your roommate and best friend, Helaena, and her older brother Aegon, have decided that both you and her younger brother, Aemond, need to go on a date. Both of you are too wrapped in your academics so they decided to take it into their own hands to bring you two together.

Ever since the accident, Aemond knew he was different. That everybody stared at him with curiosity and fear. Usually the latter. With a jagged scar running over his face, and a dazzling sapphire in the other. It’s no wonder to him why they gave him those looks.

Aemond sighed, slid his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket, and braced himself against the cold wind that would hit him as soon as he walked out the door. He was on his way to meet up with his brother and sister, Helaena and Aegon. Surprisingly, they met someone whom they both agreed that they needed to introduce to Aemond.

He still didn't really know why he accepted the invitation. Well, he did, but was confused as to what was the why. At first he agreed to meet up because Helaena put on a pouty face and begged him to. Then Aegon kept pestering the hell out of him, constantly texting him and sending annoying ass Snapchats. But as the day to the meeting creeped closer Aemond couldn't help but feel curious, hopeful even, that there might be someone else to talk to.

Aemond was quiet; he studied hard and put all his energy into his work, but didn't have company outside his family and close family friends.

He picked up his pace to get to the cafe faster, the blistering wind slapping him in the face. Thankfully, he got there without freezing his ass off. Aemond entered the cafe and was instantly welcomed by a cozy warmth and the smell of coffee. He barely had time to take in a deep breath when Helaena called out to him.

"Aems! Over here!" She shouted. Well, not really shouted. Helaena never raised her voice above her usual delicate tone but Aemond could hear her anywhere if she was calling to him.

Aemond gave a soft smile to his sister and rolled his eyes at Aegon, seeing him sprawled over the table, most likely feeling the effects of a hangover. Aemond quickly got his black coffee before joining his siblings at the table.

"I'm so excited for you to meet my best friend, she's an absolute sweetheart!" Helaena exclaimed in a sing-song voice. She leaned closer to Aemond and gave him a sly smile, "and she has a very soft spot for Shakespeare."

Aegon groaned without lifting his head. "Did you seriously just say something about Shakespeare?"

"Be quiet and be nice when she gets here," scolded Helaena.

This time, Aegon rose, putting on the grandest voice he could muster. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

Helaena glared at Aegon while Aemond closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He couldn't help himself, he had to correct him. "While the sentiment is the same, that line is frequently misquoted. The correct line is actually -"

"'The lady doth protests too much, methinks.' said by Hamlet's mother from Hamlet."

Aemond's eyes went wide as he saw the girl who finished the sentence for him. She was right behind him, how did he not notice?

She gave Aemond a shy smile and gave him her name. "Hi, I'm Helaena's friend,and I guess I'm Aegon's friend, too."

A high pitched squeal erupted next to Aemond. Helaena never makes such sound unless she’s extremely excited. She shot up from her chair and nearly tackled her.

"I can't believe you made it!"

"Of course I made it, you know I always pull through for you.”

Helaena pulled out of the hug but kept her arm around her best friend.

“And I'm not proud to admit it, but Aegon did help a bit with easing the nervousness of meeting up with…"

Her eyes locked in on Aemond. She had never seen a guy so beautiful and it made her heart flutter a bit. His silver hair fell down just below his shoulders. Against his all black attire his hair and his eye beckoned her attention.

Eye. Only one. A vibrant violet eye, but still only one. In place of the other eye was a black eyepatch that sculpted his face perfectly. What the eyepatch didn’t cover, however, was the angry scar that marred his face.

"Meeting up with you. Yeah, hi, um… I'm -” she stopped herself from introducing herself again. “Sorry, I already said that when I interrupted your conversation. I just get really excited about Shakespeare, you know? And there's so much of his work to digest and analyze and his work is so prevalent even today and can really help actors because his work is just beautiful and -- shit, I'm rambling aren't I?"

Aemond couldn't help but smile at her babbling. It wasn't every day that he came across someone who gets as excited over Shakespeare as him. Even though it was brief, he noticed how her eyes lit up when she mentioned Shakespeare. He could tell she was nervous but her passion covered anything that suggested otherwise.

“My girl is here for a few weeks on her winter break. Initially it was just gonna be me and her but then Aegon brought up that our fellow sibling might need a new friend,” Helaena explained.

She reached out her hand to Aemond. “I’m going to assume you’re the famous, brooding sibling your brother and sister talk so highly of.”

Aemond went to run a hand through his long silver hair. She watched him, completely entranced by his beauty. She knew she was fucked. She knew she was fucked when she interupted their conversaion and laid eyes on him.

“Yeah, I’m Aemond,” he took her hand and gave her a little shake. “Glad to know my brother and sister speak so highly of me to others,” he chuckled.

Her eyes went wide. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, no that's not what I meant. I meant that they talk about you a lot and I think you're interesting and oh shit." She proceeded to flop her face on Helaena's shoulder while her best friend patted her head.

Aegon grinned at Aemond. "See? She's just your type. Rambling and all."

A muffled noise came from Helaena's shoulder.

"She’s right. Shut up, Aegon."

Aemond looked at his siblings and then her. He awkwardly coughed to break the tension.

"So…uh…" Aemond had no idea what to say in this situation so he blurted out the first thing that darted through his mind.

"Ya like jazz?" Silence fell as Aemond registered what he said. "God fucking dammit," he immediately snapped his head to Aegon. "Shut the fuck up, Aegon."

"Seriously? That's the first thing you say to someone? 'Ya like jazz?' from the Bee movie?" Aegon was almost falling out of his chair from laughing too hard.

Aemond was too focused on trying not to punch his brother in the face that he didn't notice that she had lifted her face from Helaena's shoulder and softly giggled with her.

“Okay, I’m not gonna lie, that definitely caught my attention, and in a good way,” she laughed.. “Really, it’s a nice break from my stream of consciousness.”

Aemond turned to look at her and gave a small smile. His face now had a tint of color and went down the sides of his neck.

“Glad to be of service, then,” he said, almost giving a theatrical bow before deciding against it. Instead, he opted for a cheeky wink.

Aemond locked eyes and for a moment it was just them. A violet eye meeting warm brown ones.

“And I think that’s our cue to leave, Aeg,” muttered Helaena. She knew Aemond and her best friend would hit it off, but not this quickly.

Aegon clapped Aemond on the back. “Okay, little bro. Have fun on your date!”

Aemond snapped his eye to Aegon and she snapped hers to Helaena.

“I’m sorry, a date?” she asked Helaena.

“Yeah…sorry, girl. But you know you need to go out more, especially after that, and, well, here’s my solution to that. You can’t stay cooped up in your apartment by yourself all the time.” Helaena looked at her and then Aemond. “Both of you.”

She drew in a deep breath then turned to Aemond.

“I’ll give it a shot if you do.”

A date. She was going on a date with Aemond Targaryen, her best friend's brother. The idea shouldn't excite her but she would be lying if she said it didn't make her heart leap up in her throat.

Once Helaena and Aegon left, the rest stood there not really knowing what to do.

"You said you'd give it a shot?" She asked. Aemond nodded. Offering her hand to Aemond, she quickly smirked. "Well then, let's go."

Aemond deeply inhaled, smiled back, and took her hand. She led them out of the cafe and walked them around a block before realizing she didn't know the area at all.

"So…do you know where you're going?" Aemond asked.

"Not really, but that's what an adventure is, right? And this surprise date is certainly one."

Realizing that he was still holding her hand, Aemond pulled his hand away and shoved it into his pocket. Some color stained his face as he coughed and said, "There's a bookshop nearby if you want to check it out."

She stuffed her hands in her pockets as well and glanced a look at Aemond, smiling. "Yeah, sure, that would be great."

In comfortable silence, the two made their way to a hole in the wall bookshop. Her eyes widened at the view. She thought this was going to be your usual bookshop. But this was no ordinary bookshop. This was heaven on earth. What looked like a mess to an outsider was really shelves upon shelves of books that have been loved. Some were donated books with scrawling annotations for the next reader to delve into. Others were sparkling new, completely untouched, books ready to be loved and hated.

"Hey, Aemond!" A friendly voice sounded.

At the counter was a guy who didn't look like your stereotypical bookshop employee. If anything, he was the opposite. His face was worn and he had what looked like an itchy five o'clock shadow. He obviously worked out and could easily be assumed to be an off-standish person but his eyes were kind and welcoming.

"Cregan, hey. Just wanted to show my, uh, date here,the place," Aemond introduced.

Cregan gave you a welcoming smile. "Go on in, my guys. If you find anything you want you know where to find me," he winked at Aemond before turning back to his work.

Aemond took her hand and led them through the shelves, weaving in and out. "There's this one spot here that I think you'll love," he said.

A red tinge creeped up to her cheek as she smiled and picked up her pace to keep up with Aemond. The only thing she knew they had in common was Shakespeare so she could only assume this has to do with those famous works. Her mind flooded with thoughts of The Tempest and Richard III. Those beautiful, and in Richard III's case, subtly distressing, stories.

She once saw this production of Richard III had a grunge, steam-punk style but still maintained some modern form of politics, suits and all. The beauty of it, the darkness splattered with blood, and the eerie chanting of the opening line in Richard's monologue, "Now is the winter of our discontent," over and over again, layered on top of each other until all that could be heard was a cacophony of voices. The mere thought of it sent shivers down her spine and caused her to physically respond.

Aemond felt her little shiver while he was directing her to nook that was what he considered his own private spot. He tugged her hand a little more as they closed in and came to a stop.

"We're here," he said.

She pulled her attention away from her memory and took in the beauty that was before her. Stacks upon stacks of Shakespeare's plays ranging from old and used to new and pristine. There were even programs of professional productions scattered around. She released Aemond's hand and slowly approached the book shelf closest to her. Her hand grazed the spines of these books, these plays, that have granted her an escape from reality.

Aemond watched her as she explored the section. He couldn't help but stare at the wonder in her eyes. While she was flustered and a bit scatterbrained when they first met, here she was calm and inspired. It was as though every step she took was calculated. She stopped at a book and carefully reached for it.

"Macbeth," she breathed out.

She simply stared at the beautiful copy, a collector's edition. The cover was a soft black with gold roses interwoven with snakes. In the middle was elegant silver lettering of the title sitting above a bubbling cauldron.

"You dare say the title aloud?" Aemond feigned concern.

Snapping out of her trance, she smack Aemond with the same play she was entranced with and rolled her eyes."We're not in a theater so we're fine."

Aemond crossed his arms and leaned on the nearest book shelf and chuckled. "Are you telling me that you actually believe in that superstition?"

She gently laid the book down and slowly walked up to him. "Of course I believe it. You'd believe it if the myth became reality to you too."

"I'm sorry, love, but I don't believe you," Aemond said. He silently cursed at himself for calling her love and prayed to the gods she didn't hear him.

She heard him.

"Now," Aemond started, "I've never been involved with a Shakespeare play -"

She was quick to cut him off, "and that's where I have the one up on you." She gave him a little smirk. "Let me tell you the story of the Old Valyria Theatre." She dramatically cleared her throat before beginning the tale.

"On a dark and stormy night -"

"Was it really dark and stormy?" Aemond interrupted.

The storyteller huffed and rolled her eyes. "No, but I was having fun so shut up."

Aemond gave an amused smile and nodded his head to let her continue.

"Anyway, it was fucking August, happy now?"

"Very," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Okay, so it's August and the Old Valyria Theatre decides to take on a Shakespeare show, like any other company does. Such a big brain idea, I know. Out of all the plays, they chose Macbeth hoping the audience would have some knowledge of the play and it's nuances. Old Valyria Theatre had a stellar cast, every actor playing a named role had previous experience with Shakespeare, which is always a plus. Shakespeare is fucking hard."

"Hmmm."

"Don't 'hmmm' me, Aemond. It is! You're distracting me again."

"Wonderful, experienced cast, right? Well, except for the children who played Fleance and Macduff's son; they were menaces to society. Everyone told them the significance of the 'myth' of Macbeth as well as other superstitious within theatre. Of course, like all children, they didn't really care and thought it was all fun and stupid. Until the accident." She stopped and stared at Aemond.

"The accident? Really? I don't think it's truly that dramatic, love, but go on." Aemond shook his head.

"Okay fine, it wasn't all that dramatic but it was still pretty intense. Because these kids were little shits, they tried out all the other superstitions: whistling in a theater, turning off the ghost light when everyone has gone, and yelling good luck. Once the first week of shows were finished, the cast knew they were pushing their luck by continuing the rest of the month but they kept going. The show must go on, right? Well, as they were closing up, the one playing Macduff ran up to the second floor platform and yelled out 'MACBETH!' Everyone in the theater looked at the kid in fear as he laughed his ass off. He was laughing so hard that he had to lean on the railing and, lo and behold, the railing broke and the kid fell off and nearly broke his tailbone. Aemond, I'm telling you the curse is real!"

Aemond cocked his head to the side and pondered the story. "So you're telling me," he started, "that you believe the curse of Macbeth is real because a kid decided to be a little shit, scream it, and then ended up falling off a set piece?" He chuckled and shook his head. "That's just kids being stupid and sets not being properly built."

"It was safe! We had gone on it thousands of times! There's no other explanation!" She argued.

"Okay, okay, I'll take your word for it," he said as he pushed himself off the bookshelf and slung an arm over her shoulders.

She leaned into him and snaked a hand around his waist as they headed out.

"Not buying anything?" Cregan asked when they appeared.

"Eh," Aemond said while the girl beside him called out.

"Next time, I swear!" She giggled a bit and pushed herself closer to Aemond.

The two walked out of the bookshop, still linked to each other. Aemond looked at her and thought she was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. When he first saw her he knew she was pretty but watching her become so passionate and silly over Shakespeare made everything about her shine.

They were heading back to the coffee shop when Aemond paused, almost tripping her, and blurted out what he's been wanting to say ever since the book shop. "Wanttoheadtomyplace?" He blurted.

"I'm sorry, what? I couldn't make out what you were saying."

Aemond took a deep breath. "Want to head to my place? It's not far and it's warmer and we don't have to spend extra money."

She looked at him with bright eyes. "Yeah, let's go."

It was a bit of a longer walk to Aemond's apartment but neither of them minded it much. Aemond held her hand right, refusing to let it go for even the briefest of moments. He still couldn't believe that a set up from Helaena and Aegon would actually pull through but here she is. This beautiful young woman who is as witty as she is passionate.

Around two blocks away from the apartment Aemond squeezed her hand and came to a stop. "I know I said we'd go to my place but I want to show you this first. That okay? I know it's freezing out here."

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah, sure! I don't mind the cold, really. Kinda makes me feel alive, you know?"

"I do. The cold makes you…feel." He paused for a moment, lost in thoughts when a tug pulled him out of it.

"So this place you wanted to show me? I'm intrigued now."

"Yeah, um, right this way."

He led her through the city, weaving between pedestrians. As brisk as the walk was, she couldn't help but take in the beautiful sights, a dusting of snow beginning to lay upon it all. Shops had their Christmas lights up and began to glow. The smell of pine danced through the air along with sugary sweets as they passed a bakery. The smells and the sights had her so entranced that she didn't realize Aemond had come to a stop.

“I wanted to show you this,” he said as he turned to face you. “I don't know if this is considered moving too fast but something about you feels…right.”

No, I agree, Aemond. It does feel right,” she smiled at him and stepped closer. Wrapped her arms around his waist and resting her head against him she knew he was right. He felt right. This felt right.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, resting his chin on her head.

After a few moments of simply taking her in, he stepped aside to reveal the hidden beauty. It was a lake. A beautiful lake that sparkled even more than it usually would. The ice on top reflected the sun in the most perfect way it was as though it came straight out of a fairytale. Despite the lake being further from the hustle and bustle, it was also decorated with bells and lights among the trees.

“Aemond, this is stunning,” she said in awe.

A slight breeze encouraged the trees to dance and the bells that decorated them jingled a little song. Like the lights on the shops, these lights were beginning to glow as well.

She stepped forward, the pull of the lake too strong to be ignored. Aemond wrapped his arms around her waist and gently rocked them back and forth. She turned to face him and he pressed his forehead against hers. His breath was warm against hers as he gently bumped his nose against hers.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered. It was almost too quiet for her to hear.

“Yes.”

Aemond gently closed the gap between them and brought his lips to hers. It wasn’t a rushed kiss, it was simply soft and sweet.

“‘I kiss thee with a most constant heart’,” he said as they pulled apart.

“Henry IV, Part 2, good choice,” she laughed. “Cheesey, but a good choice nonetheless.”

*“Would you rather I call you my acorn, my knotgrass?” He joked.

“Really? Acorn and knotgrass? That’s an insult!” she said. “If you call me either of those then I’ll climb you and scratch your eyes out,” she grinned.

“Scratch my eyes out? Yeah, that doesn’t seem great but climbing me? Maybe I’ll take that chance.”

Aemond captured her lips once again but there was little softness this time. There was passion. Aemond swiped his tongue across her bottom lip asking for permission. She opened and let him in, all of him in. When their tongues touched it was as though lightning struck her. She wanted him and she wanted more. Her hands moved up to the nape of his neck and pulled him closer while his grip on her waist tightened. When they broke apart they pressed their foreheads together again.

“Can you take me to your apartment now?” She asked him.

“Absolutely,” he said with a kiss.

Aemond grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the lake and back to the sidewalk. This time there was a rush to get to his apartment. No waiting, no time to take in everything. The main goal was to get to the apartment.

The young woman holding his hand couldn’t keep the excitement at bay. Every time he squeezed her hand a shot of anticipation ran through her and straight to her core. All she could think about was his lips on hers, his hands all over her, his hands going under her shirt and -

“Thank the fucking gods we’re here,” Aemond interrupted her thoughts and dragged you into his apartment.

As soon as the door closed she was on him. She took charge and pushed him against the wall but Aemond wouldn’t have that. As soon as his back was against the wall he flipped them over so she was the one pressed against it.

“Trying to gain the upper hand, my flower?” He teased her while kissing down her neck.

“Flower? What happened to acorn? I thought - oh, fuck,”

Aemond brought his lips back up her neck and nipped at her earlobe. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I - I thought you were going to -”

He ran his hands down her body only to snake them under her sweater. The skin on skin contact shot pleasure all the way through her.

“Aemond please,” she begged.

“Aemond please what?” he smiled against her lips as he captured them once more.

“Please touch me.”

Aemond immediately brought his hands around her to unclasp her bra underneath her sweater. He slowly brought them back around and gently swiped a thumb over a nipple. His cold hands were quick to harden them and all she could do was whine. She arched her back to get more friction but as soon as she did he took a step back.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” Aemond took this moment to take her in, her face flushed and her hair slightly messy.

She, however, took this moment to pull his hands back to her and encourage him to take off her sweater. Aemond chuckled at her impatience.

“Slow down, don’t you want to make this last?” He asked her.

“Yes, I want to make it last but I need to get out of my clothes and so do you,” she growled.

Aemond let her take off his clothes. She wanted revenge, though, and she had a plan once she stripped him of his jacket and shirt. He took her hand and led her to his bed. She pushed him down and stepped away from him.

“You want to be a tease? I’ll tease you back,” she told him.

He leaned back on one hand and watched her as she slowly stripped all her clothes off. She swung her hips and played with the hem of her shirt, making sure that Aemond could see just the tiniest bit of her tits before pulling it back down. She walked up to him and turned around to grind her ass on him as she took off her shoes and socks. She could feel him move to grab her but as soon as he did she moved away from him.

“Nope, no touching, Aemond. I told you if you wanted to be a tease then I’ll tease you back.”

She heard him growl in frustration but that only spurred her on even more. With her back still facing him, she slowly shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in only her panties and sweater. When she turned around Aemond was out of his pants and underwear and touching himself at the sight of her. She smiled at him and lifted the sweater over her head before sauntering over to straddle him.

She bent down and whispered in his ear. “Is this what you wanted, babe?”

“Holy fuck yes,” Aemond responded. Immediately he flipped them over so he was on top and she was laying flat on his bed.

He kissed her hard before dragging his mouth over her jaw and down her neck. He nipped at her collarbone and she tangled her hands in his hair, urging him to go lower. Aemond complied and kissed his way to her tits, slowly circling from the outside of them to the pert nipple. But he wouldn’t touch her where she wanted, not yet. He kissed right next to her nipple then blew on it, causing it to become a peak. She whined and arched her back wanting more. Aemond looked up to see her eyes closed and smiled before finally taking one of her nipples into his warm mouth.

“Fuck, Aemond,” she whined.

“Is this what you wanted, babe?” he parroted back.

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Don’t worry, there’s more.” He switched to the other nipple and brought his hand up to the one he just left to play with it.

It felt so good, she could feel herself soaking her panties. Aemond could feel it too when she tried to grind against him. He smiled against her before letting go of her nipple with a pop and bringing his lips back to hers.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are. But I think you need a little more, do you agree?”

All she could do was nod in response as he kissed his way past her tits and down to her core. He kissed her over her panties and made her arch up.

“Patience, babe.”

He placed a hand on her lower stomach to keep her from bucking up as he continued to kiss her over her panties. He soon let go of her to drag them down. Aemond licked his lips at the sight of her glistening pussy. This was all his, she was this wet because of him and the thought drove him crazy. He gave her little to no time to recover before he was back between her legs, kissing and licking. He pressed an open mouth kiss to her center before dipping the tip of his tongue inside her. She cried out in pleasure as he began fucking her with his tongue. He brought one hand up to knead one of her breasts and play with a nipple while the other gently stroked her clit. She could feel the pressure building up.

“Aemond, please, I’m gonna cum,” she cried.

He simply hummed against her and picked up the pace with everything. It was all too much. The pleasure building inside her was coming to a breaking point and with a slight pinch to her clit she soaked him.

Aemond pulled away smiling. “Fuck, you taste perfect,”

He bent down to kiss her and she savored the taste of herself on him. He was hers, she knew it.

“Tell me what you want,” he said against her.

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered against her.

“Good, because that’s all I’ve been thinking about since the lake.”

He pulled away from her and let her position herself in a more comfortable position while he reached for a condom in a drawer.

“Don’t worry, I’m on the shot,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “I want to feel all of you inside me.”

Something snapped in Aemond that had him on top of her in an instant. His hands were on her tits and he could feel her reaching for his cock. She gently tugged him forward, lining him with her entrance.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now fuck me, Aemond.”

In a quick motion he sheathed himself inside her as she cried out loud in pleasure.

He let himself settle but she didn’t want to waste any time. While Aemond was catching his breath she moved her hips against him. He gripped her hips and pulled out slightly before slamming back into her. She didn’t want any slow fucking, she wanted fast and she wanted hard.

Aemond’s grip on her hips didn’t lessen as he fucked her into the bed. But he wanted to go deeper. He pulled out of her, making her whine, but was quick to flip her over so she was on her hands and knees. He pushed her down so her chest was against the bed and her ass was in the air.

“Fucking love this pussy, and it’s fucking mine.”

Aemond wasted no time joining them together again. This was even better. She could feel him hit all the right spots, making the pressure build up again. She felt Aemond’s hand snake around her hips as he started to rub small circles on her clit.

He bent down over her and whispered, “I need you to cum on my cock, babe.”

“AEMOND,” she screamed as the pleasure peaked.

“Fucking hell,” Aemond said as he felt her tighten around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You feel so good, taking me so well.”

“Please, please, please,” she begged. “Please cum inside me, I want it please. I want you.”

Aemond’s thrusts became erratic, his grip on her so tight that they would leave bruises. He began pulling all the way out and slamming back in. With one last thrust he finished inside her, collapsing on top.

Together they lay there, his cock still inside her.

“Fucking hell, that was perfect. You are perfect,” Aemond whispered as he kissed her cheek.

He slowly got up and pulled out of her. “I’m gonna clean us up, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed out.

When he left the room she rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. That was the most perfect fuck she has ever had and it was with someone she actually liked. This was perfect, he was perfect.

Aemond came back with a wet rag and cleaned her up, being careful around her clit and core. When he was done he discarded the rag and got into bed with her and held her.

“So what do we think about this? Want to make this an us?” He asked.

“Yes, let’s make this an us,” she smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before tucking into his chest and falling asleep.

*Acorn and knotgrass/climbing and clawing eyes out is a reference to Midsummer Night’s Dream when someone was called an acorn for being short*

[prince-liest]

Don't mind me getting on my soapbox for a moment... a lot of this musing is admittedly for the sake of my own processing of this topic, re: aroaceness. Read at your own peril! <3

I'm generally a very "ship and let ship" kind of person, but I think I would definitely append a little caveat of, like, "As long as you're not being actively invalidating and detrimental to others" to that. Which is a delightfully vague statement that can be interpreted practically any way, I know, hahaha.

In the case of this particular post I've just been thinking about how, like... seeing an aroace character like Alastor get written into dozens upon dozens of PWPs (including ones that don't even touch on the subject of his aceness at all) is really not something that I personally find to be hurtful or offensive. It's just smut for the sake of smut, of a character people want to see awful, sexy things done to (or doing). Valid! I vibe with you! More people should just write the PWPs they want to see in the world!

But on the other hand, I've several times seen this very particular type of art (usually it's a comic, but admittedly I haven't been reading very many Hazbin Hotel fics so maybe it's there, too) where Alastor is slotted into the "methinks the lady doth protest too much" trope. As in, he's expressing strong feelings about a character (usually Vox or Lucifer, sometimes Angel Dust) to someone, probably Rosie, and the person he's confiding to is some variant of, "Oh, silly Alastor, you're obviously in love!" And then he denies it, says that the very idea disgusts him, and the character titters to themselves about how he's so naive in the matters of romance or whatever.

And it's, like.

The "strong feelings" in question are almost always frustration/annoyance/disgust, and him being like, "Nnnno, I just hate his person" is treated like a silly and naive misunderstanding of his own feelings because obviously he's in love. Please imagine that Alastor was a female character who was established to be a lesbian. Now examine how that suddenly makes this scene feel.

(Also, Rosie being the go-to for this is a little frustrating when she's the one who, in canon, explicitly says that she wouldn't make that assumption of him.)

There's such a chasm of difference between how I see people wanting to ship Alastor for reasons of "I just want to!" vs folks who engage with him being aroace in ways that are infantilizing and invalidating. There are so many people out there - not just aro/ace people, but anyone who's not exclusively into the standard type of person they should be into at the time society deems they should be into them, which is most queer people and even many cishet folks - that have been told that exact kind of thing in real life. It reads like something out of a compulsory heterosexuality guidebook, and it actively makes it harder to leave the closet or even realize that you're in one at all.

So I guess it just feels frustrating to see it get made into a punchline, especially by folks who are shipping queer ships. I genuinely can't wait until fandom society advances to the point of consistently treating aro/acespec folks as queer instead of Queer Lite (TM), because let me tell you, ime the comphet experience and the amato/allonormativity experience are in fact nigh-identical except for how they're treated within online communities. There's a reason the pan -> gay -> ace pipeline is a thing.

But, hey! We're already doing way better than we were in 2012!

[sgkophie]

Hate To Love You - Chapter 6 - The Lady Doth Protest (Charles Leclerc Series)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (OFC) Warnings: language Word Count: 3200 Tag List: Drop a comment or add your name HERE. Synopsis: Enemies to lovers + sizzling banter + fake dating with Charles Leclerc. Full synopsis & master list HERE.  Author’s Note: Wow, it's been way too long and damn it feels good to be back with you all. I'm feeling good about posting 3-4k words each week, probably on Thursdays or Fridays. THANK YOU for your patience!!! It's been a crazy summer and fall, here's to a nice and settled winter ❤️ A Man's World has officially been PUBLISHED. Interested in a copy? Click HERE! As always your feedback on my content is truly INSPIRING and makes my day, so if you liked the chapter let me know what you think below in the comments! I eat them up like DESSERT! Want more updates or just want to launch at my hilarious Georgia and Lily reels? Follow me on TikTok Or Instagram! @authorgracenewman Now enough of my shameless self-promotion... let's get back to Lily and Charles!

You'll definitely want to chapter up with Chapter 5 HERE.

I woke up the next morning to the ringing of my cell phone. With my eyes still groggy with sleep, I turned over and groaned, reaching over to the bedside table as I fumbled for the device. The phone stopped as soon as I grabbed it, and I sighed in relief, hoping that whoever was on the other end of the phone call had realized that it was still the morning, although I knew I should already be awake.

As soon as the ringing stopped, my mind wandered back to last night, and the horror of what I had done settled on my chest. I’d done what I had promised I would never do again –  I’d ended up back in bed with Charles fucking Leclerc. Charles had once again dragged me back under his spell, and just like last time, he had managed to leave me feeling as if I was trash in the gutter just by one look on his face.

Regret.

Charles had regretted me the last time we had traveled down that road, and I knew he regretted me this time. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I didn’t care about how Charles Leclerc felt about me, I knew deep inside my soul that it wasn’t true, especially not when that feeling was regret.

I looked at my phone and immediately went to open Instagram, but before I could open the app my phone rang again, and Georgia Dubois’s name flashed on the phone’s screen.

What on earth did Georgia want with me on a morning after a night out?

“Georgia… I feel like the pre-season debrief could wait until we’re back at the office, hmm?”

“Lily, I need you to come to my room, now. Floor 15, room 1568.” There was urgency in her voice, urgency and something else., something that sounded like panic.

“… Now as in… now now?”

“See you in five.” Before I could protest, Georgia hung up the phone. I looked at the clock - 10:10 a.m., which meant the hallways would be fairly empty since most guests had either left on early flights or were still hungover in their rooms. I threw on some clothes and made my way up to Georgia’s floor, which was of course much higher up than mine.

No expense spared when it comes to Ferrari and their drivers, I scoffed to myself. The Mercedes F1 team was known for its cost savings when it came to hotels and drivers. Lewis used to always complain that as a 7x World Champion, he was lucky to get a suite when it came to Toto and Mercedes’ purse strings.

I headed straight to the room that Georgia had texted me and knocked on the door. It was as if Georgia had been standing there waiting for me, because she opened it on the second knock, causing me to fall forward, only to catch myself on the coat rack that had been placed right next to the door.

“Jesus, Georgie…” I grunted, shaking off the small moment of shock as I walked into the room. Seated on the couch was her fiance Carlos, who just nodded my way as he kept his eyes on the TV, glued to the Real Madrid game going on in the background.

Georgia motioned for me to take a seat, which I obliged as Carlos immediately lowered the volume of the television, finally turning to face me and Georgia. As soon as Carlos looked at me, I felt dread take over my entire body. Carlos was always so happy-go-lucky – and I likened him to a golden retriever, barely anything got him down, but the solemn nature of his face told me exactly why I was here.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the three of us. I could see that Georgia was trying to find her words.

“So… after the pre-season party last night, what did you do?” Georgia finally asked, and I frowned, giving her a pointed look to let her know that I wasn’t thrilled with her nosy question.

“Not really any of your business,” I scoffed at my ex-teammate, but I knew my cheeks had gone slightly red. I wasn’t sure what Georgia had heard, but I wasn’t about to admit that I had slept with her brother last night.

“Well, it seems like it is my business now,” Georgia quipped, clearly unimpressed with my snarky reply. Her tone sounded like a mother who had just caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.

“… just fucking spit it out, Georgia.”

“Lily, I don’t care if you and Charles are fucking. I don’t care that you and Pierre are fucking. Hell, I don’t care if you have slept with the whole fucking grid…” Georgia’s tone was sharp, and I could feel her words start to slice through me.

So she did know that I had slept with her ex-boyfriend Pierre. Guess I wasn’t as discreet as I had hoped.   

Before I could get a word in, Georgia continued, “… but what I do care about, is your reputation. As only one of two women on the grid, you know what is at stake here. I fucking hate that the entire world looks at the female drivers through a magnifying glass, but they do. The world shouldn’t care about who you are with, and quite frankly, it’s none of their business… but that just isn’t the case.

What we do is, and for the foreseeable future will be, looked at through a microscope. Am I making any sense to you?” Georgia sighed and looked back at Carlos, who just grabbed her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before nodding at her in supportive agreement.

As if out of instinct, I felt my lips starting to apologize to Georgia. “Look, Georgia… I’m sorry about…” But before I could finish, Georgia cut me off, putting her hand up to signal that her tirade wasn’t yet complete. 

“I’m not done, Lily,” she said tiredly. I could see that the actual lecture was about to happen, and I felt my stomach sink to the floor. By the look on her face, I knew she was more upset with me for something other than sleeping with her brother – and that thought disturned me more than Georgia admitting she already knew that I had slept with her brother and ex-boyfriend.

“Lily, someone caught you and Charles in the elevator last night. And to make matters worse, as of this morning, the video is all over Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, you name it. I had a call from Toto this morning, who debriefed me on the situation… 

Lily, are you listening to me?”

No, I wasn’t listening one bit. Truth was, I had stopped listening after the word ‘caught.’ Dread started to fill my entire body, and I could feel my hands and legs start to shake from all-consuming panic.

How could I be so fucking stupid? Of course, someone had caught us. Charles was the number 1 driver on the grid, people knew his face everywhere, and this hotel was crawling with tourists.

I just stared back at my racing coach, not able to utter a single word. The silence for the next minute was deafening, and it was clear that even Georgia didn’t want to continue with this conversation, but I could see from the urgency in her eyes that we had no other choice.

“How bad is it?” I eventually managed to force out my question, gazing up at Georgia through my flooded eyes.

“Salvageable,” was all she responded.

“What are they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I knew from the look in her eye and tone of her voice that it did matter.

“Bull shit, Georgie. We both know I’m going to hear it eventually from my mother, so you might as well spit it out.” The uneasy expression on her face and exasperated sigh told me exactly how bad it was, and I immediately pulled out my phone, but Georgia grabbed it from me, placing it back on the table screen facing down.

“Let me guess, it’s a lot worse for me than it is for your brother?” I scoffed, and the lack of response from both Georgia and Carlos confirmed my suspicions.

It was always worse for the woman.

“It’s not great for either of you, honestly.” Again, she paused, and as I watched her mouth something to Carlos, the anger inside of me started to explode into full-blown rage.

Fuck this.

“Georgia, if you don’t tell me what’s happening this instant, I am going to go down the hallway and start yelling until I find someone who does. Clearly, Toto and the team have asked you to tell me what is going on, so spit it out. This torturous silence and limbo you have me in is crucifying my soul!”

“I know, you’re right,” Georgia sighed. “Here’s the lowdown. You and Charles were caught, in the elevator, before rushing into his hotel room. The tourist, or whoever it was, filmed the two of you. Unfortunately, they also caught you coming out of Charles’ room, looking like you were doing a walk of shame.

“By early this morning, the photos were all over the internet, and The Sun posted a ludicrous story a few hours on the matter.”

“Please, no one believes The Sun. I mean, it’s The Sun, the crappiest tabloid ever made. Plus, these photos should blow over in a week - maybe two tops, right?”

“Yes… except this morning, someone decided to fan the flames of the article.” Georgia didn’t have to say the words for me to know exactly who it was.

Fucking Louis, my ex-boyfriend, and the gift that kept on giving. Every fiber of my being told me he was behind this, and if he wasn’t behind it, I knew he damn well would make the most of it.

“Louis was caught this morning at the airport offering up his opinions on the photos in front of tourists, VIPs… anyone that would listen…”

“Lucky me,” I sneered. “And tell me, what did my dear ex-boyfriend have to say about this?”

“He insinuated that you and Charles have been sleeping around for a while.”

“And by ‘insinuated,’ he just fucking flat out said it, didn’t he?” Again, the silence between the three of us told me everything I needed to know.

Oh, Louis. 

He must have been immensely pleased with himself in that moment. He had always believed Charles and I had slept together during my first season in Formula 1, something I never confirmed as I knew it would only serve to make him more jealous. 

I couldn't risk Louis's suspicions of Pierre growing further by making him aware that I had slept with someone else on the grid – that wasn't a reputation I wanted for myself.

”Georgia’s foot was now tapping up and down as she eyed me warily, not ready to utter the words that I could see were killing her on the inside.

“He accused you of sleeping around the grid, said that Charles wasn’t the only one…. Lily, Louis said that’s why you came third in the championship behind Charles last year, because you have been sleeping with him and a few of the guys.”

“I’m sorry… did my ex-boyfriend, who I caught in bed with another woman, dare to accuse me of cheating on him when he's had his dick in how much pussy?” I was now standing, my arms outstretched as I just motioned to me and then back to my phone like a buffoon. I was both speechless and had too much to say at the same time.

“Not in so many words.”

“Good grief, Georgia, just say yes.” My voice was laced with sarcasm as I said the words. I knew lashing out at one of my closest friends was not the answer, but the utter despair and frustration of this conversation was starting to get the best of me. My racing coach was phenomenal with data –bad with people.

“Look, he didn’t directly say it, but it’s clear that social media is inferring it from his words, especially considering everyone assumed you guys were dating… and now you aren’t.”

“Everyone thinks we currently aren’t dating because he was seen with a new blond bimbo!” I exclaimed, still waving my hands frantically in the air as I stood up, as if that was going to make my point hit home. “Of course, everyone was going to think it was my fault. No one ever blames the white man… Let me guess, Charles is coming away unscathed from this one?”

“Now that is where you’re wrong. Apparently, his sponsors and PR team aren’t thrilled about him sleeping with one of the two women on the grid, especially not one that just got out of a relationship with a supposed friend of his.”

“I didn’t think who either of us slept with was any of our sponsor’s business.” Georgia just gave me a pointed look that told me to stop daydreaming – of course, sponsors cared. I was their property until they stopped paying my bills.

“But the good news is, there is a solution to this.” Georgia’s face slightly lit up, and I immediately knew where she was going with this. 

“You’re out of your mind. Like hell am I going to pretend to date Charles Leclerc. I don’t care if he’s your brother. I don’t care if he’s Ferrari’s golden boy. I don’t care that his stupid smug face could save my career. No. No way. Not a chance.” I downed my coffee and began pacing the room, but Georgia’s silence and slight uptick of her mouth told me that nothing I said had gotten through to her.

“Why do you hate my brother so much?” Georgia’s tone wasn’t as upset as I had expected. As twins, she and Charles were incredibly close, and yet Georgia always seemed so amused by the visceral reaction I had every time I saw her brother.

“I don’t hate your brother,” I bit back – unconvincingly.

“Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Georgia winked.

“There’s no way Charles would agree to this! Why would he? The sponsors aren’t actually going to drop the racer all of the bookies have their money on.”

“No, you’re probably right, but his sponsors could make this very, very painful for him. Being seen having a one-night stand with a female driver who was dating your friend and a fellow racecar driver jsut days after their supposed break up, is a very bad look for Charles – and judging by the comments on his Instagram this morning, the fans have noticed. Believe it or not – Charles loves his golden boy image, and that image is unmistakably tarnished.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe that Charles loves his golden-boy image.” I couldn’t help but snicker, as if Georgia thought the entire grid wasn’t constantly witnessing Charles enjoy his status as the grid’s most desirable driver. The press loved him. The fans loved him. All of Monaco loved him.

Well, I guess until he slept with a certain rebellious Brit. That thought had me slightly grinning, a grin that was quickly wiped off my face as Georgia cleared her throat; her look of disappointment was noticeable. 

“Georgia, there’s no way Charles is going to agree to this,” I insisted. The only thing Charles hated more than losing his precious reputation was the idea of dating the rebellious, stubborn British driver whose dirty laundry filled up a laundromat full of machines. 

“He already has.”

Stunned didn’t describe how I felt as Georgia said the words. Not a single bone in my body believed what she was saying. 

I was speechless.

“There’s no way…”

“There is. I spoke to my brother this morning after I chatted to Toto. Toto didn’t ask me if you were dating, but I could tell by his voice that he was definitely hopeful the two of you were dating. The Mercedes social media posts have been full of fan’s inquiries – and Toto said Petronas were asking as well.”

“So what you’re saying is none of these traditional sponsors want a grid slut… really puts a new meaning to grid girl.”

“Lily….” Georgia chastised as she rubbed her temples.

“No, no, it’s fine. No need to remind me of my place Georgia. I suppose I should be happy that my ‘hero’ Charles has come to my rescue, hmmm? Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Again, I knew the sarcasm was untimely and incredibly rude, but the entire thing felt like a slap in the face.

“Look, I know it’s not what you want, but not only will it help boost both of your images, but it’ll put all of those dating rumors from Louis at bay and shut him up. 

We’re looking to get ahead of things. If you and Charles announced that the two of you are dating, then Louis can’t exactly come out and say that 'no, in fact, Lily and I were dating.’ It would be much too embarrassing for him, especially since he has a new girlfriend. This stops all of the rumors about you and him and settles it once and for all.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There’s no way this was a good idea. Even if this worked, it wouldn’t matter, Charles and I would kill each other before either of us could see the benefits of this arrangement.

"And what does precious Charles get out of this?" 

"Charles can restore his image and reputation. He's always been a relationship boy, and his relationship with whatever-her-name-was has been out of the public eye for some time now. He's never been the one-night stand type of guy, and this way he can have a positive relationship that won't get in the way of his racing."

I threw my hands up in disbelief as I exclaimed, "That's just great! So now I'm helping not only my rival with his PR image but also his racing? Fabulous!" I could only hope that Georgia would pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. "As far as I see it, you're helping each other," she said pointedly, and I knew she was reminding me of what I had at stake here. "Look, you don’t have to get back to me today. We have a couple of weeks’ break, and you have a few days at home. Take a day to think on it?”

“I don’t have to think on it. It’s a no.” Georgia just smiled at me as she sipped her small decaf coffee.

“Just take some time to think on it, Lily.” 

Without sparing Georgia a glance, I stormed out of her hotel room and marched myself back to mine. 

The notion of even considering this idea was so absurd that my blood boiled in rage.

Hell would have to freeze over before I would ever date Charles Leclerc. 

Hate To Love You Tag List

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[buckybarnesss]

hi hello, it's me again

I'm rewatching the pool scene because of Reasons, and you know what? Derek never gets mad at Stiles for dropping his ass in a pool. Derek's potential last words are, "Stiles, son-of-a-bitch" and yet he's never like "thanks for getting us into this mess!!"

The idea that Derek gets super pissed when Stiles messes up or does something out of pocket, just isn't factual. He doesn't even throw Stiles against a wall after this, they have their big eye intense staring moment!!

abomination my beloved. whichever person came up with this specific scenario on the writer's team had a galaxy brained moment.

they came out to have a good time and it's not going well.

derek immediately knew stiles's felt more than a little betrayed at derek saying he didn't trust him (the lady doth protest too much derek).

he knew what he did and probably sat on the bottom of the pool contemplating that perhaps he should've said yes to the trust question. yet stiles still comes back for him and derek doesn't even get mad about it. instead he asks if stiles got ahold of scott.

derek never once blames stiles for any of it. he got scratched trying to protect stiles (fuck erica i guess). he's the one who turned his back on the kanima. stiles caught him despite being told to run and attempted to get him to safety and than stiles stayed with him for two hours holding his paralyzed ass up.

than stiles puts a bow on the whole situation by confirming he doesn't think werewolves are abominations.

derek rarely gets actually angry at stiles. annoyed and exasperated isn't the same as angry. not once does derek act angry or upset at stiles over the whole pool situation. the man is practically giving heart eyes by the end of it before he pulls the walls back up.

it's like derek had an epiphany about his feelings about stiles.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Josh lane come get y'all juice!!

This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a hot sec and I’ve finally finished it! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for any typos/mistakes!

Summary: Good things come to those who wait. And our sweet Josh is about to find out just how good those things can be. 

Content Warnings: Oral (m and f rec.) fingering, pegging, slight edging. Needless to say, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4961 

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

You can’t help but leer at him as the two of you make your way into the venue from the parking lot. Josh always looks gorgeous, but tonight you find yourself wishing that the two of you had just stayed home. 

“Enjoying the view?” Josh asks, turning to catch you staring at his ass with a cocky smirk.

“Meh. I’ve seen better.” 

“Have you now?” Josh stops, allowing you to catch up with him. Grabbing your wrists, he pulls you into him so that your chests are flush against one another. 

“Oh ya. Way better.” You tell him, grinning as he places his hands on your hips. 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He says, cocking a brow at you and giving you a mischievous smile.

“She doth protest too much because she has not the words to describe such beauty.” You say, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and looping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Ethereal. Divine. Transcendent. Such lofty words that still fall short.” You continue, giving a mock frown. 

“Not to ruin the vibe here, babe.” he tells you with a sideways grin, “but it makes my dick hard when you talk about me like that.” 

“Literally shut the fuck up.” You slap his chest playfully. “You better behave tonight.” 

“No promises. I still think we should have just stayed in tonight.” 

You just roll your eyes, pulling away from him to enter the venue. 

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

“Baby?” 

The sound of Josh’s sweet voice makes it to your ears over the sounds of the bar, drawing your attention away from your conversation with another friend of yours. 

“Yeah?” You ask him, swiveling in your high top chair at the bar to see him taking a seat in the one next to you. He’s got an odd look about him, and his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol. 

He leans in closer to you, tilting his head downwards so that his lips hover just above your ear – it’s loud in the bar, but not so loud to warrant his pretty lips coming so close to you in order for you to hear him. 

“Can we go home, baby?” The words slip from his lips, accent slightly more prominent since he’s been drinking, and there’s just a tiny hint of a whine in his words. “Please?” 

He’s been extra clingy all night. He’s always touchy, but tonight he’s turned the touchiness up to 11. You’re not really complaining – his obvious desire for you makes you feel extra special tonight.  

“We just got here.” You tell him, furrowing your brows at his sudden lack of interest in parties. Normally, you’re the one that has to drag him away from an event like this. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Just wanna be…” he trials off, raising a brow in a way that’s so ridiculously attractive you almost choke, “alone with you.” 

You bite your lip – the neediness of his words affecting you in a way that, perhaps, they shouldn’t be. Certainly, in a way that isn’t appropriate for a social gathering such as this. Especially when he’s sitting in front of you looking so delectable in his tan suit and white turtleneck. The outfit looks better on him than any article of clothing has a right to, and there’s a large part of you that would be more than happy to just go home and tear it off him. But you’re enjoying yourself, too. You haven’t seen some of these people in ages, and you want to spend a little more time with them before leaving. 

Not to mention, there’s another little part of you that loves how much Josh wants to go home – solely to be with you. You want to soak up the feeling as much as you can. Why not draw it out? It just makes the reward that much more enjoyable.  

“We’ll go home soon, babe.” You say, waving your hand dismissively, “Just be patient.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, sarcasm dripping off him, “have you met me before?”

“Patience, Josh. Or I’ll make you stay here much longer than either of us really want to be.” 

That shuts him up, and you watch in humor as he slinks away, turning back only once to give you a bratty look before disappearing back into the crowd. 

You mix and mingle for a while longer, catching up with old friends as you flit about the room. Occasionally, you’ll catch Josh’s eye and he’ll give you a pleading look – one that normally would have you falling to your knees and giving him whatever he wants. But tonight, there’s a fire within your veins that renders his magical puppy dog eyes useless on you. 

As the revelry of the night ensues, you find yourself tucking away in a corner with a few of your closer friends, lounging on the leather sofas and catching up. It doesn’t take long for Josh to come and find you though, and he settles next to you – so close you can feel the warmth of him as he presses his thigh against yours. 

“Now?” He whispers, once again leaning in close to your ear. 

“No.” You tell him, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Babe…” He sighs, shoulders slumping, “I want you so bad. Please can we go?”

“Josh,” you place your glass down on the table and turn your body to face him more fully, “I’m enjoying spending time with my friends. You can wait.” 

He sticks his bottom lip out and looks at you through his pretty lashes. 

“Laying it on thick, huh Joshy?” You bat your own lashes at him in response. 

He shrugs. 

“And why do you have to be so mean?” He’s not serious, but he is losing patience. 

You raise a brow at him and sit up a little straighter. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” 

“Have you seen you?” He asks you, raking his eyes up and down your form. “Your dress is going to kill me one of these days. A happy death, no doubt. But a tragedy nonetheless.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully, chest warming with affection for the ridiculous man in front of you. 

“Are you really that desperate for it?” 

He just nods at you, soft curls bouncing where they rest on his forehead. 

“Too bad.” You tell him simply, reaching your hand over to rub his thigh softly with your fingertips. You stifle a gasp when you feel him, half hard, through his pants. 

He whines quietly as your fingers brush over his clothed cock, rocking his hips delicately forward. 

“Please.” He whispers, cutting his honey brown eyes to look back at you. His cheeks have become a dark red and his chest heaves with each breath. You’ve never seen him look so ravished without having even done anything to him yet. 

“Patience, Josh.” Is all you give him, stroking his length through his pants one more time before you turn away, jumping right back into the conversation with your friends. 

You hear him stifle a groan as he shifts next to you, clearly uncomfortable. You feel slightly bad for him, imagining how he must be feeling – popping a boner in public like a teenager. But that’s as far as your sympathy goes. You’re not ready to give up the game yet. 

After a while, he calms down enough that he can rise from the sofa. He gives you a frustrated glare as he retreats, and you can’t help but to smile into your drink as you watch him go. 

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

Eventually, the dull ache between your own thigh becomes too much, and you rise from your seat to go in search of your lovely partner. Weaving in and out of the crowd of people, you find him quickly, and his eyes practically sparkle as he sees you. 

He walks over to you in quick strides, a bashful smile on his face. 

“Are we leaving?” 

“Yes, baby.” You tell him, heart alight with affection as he grins widely at you and laces his fingers with yours. “Let’s go home.” 

“Fucking finally.” 

The drive back to yours and Josh’s shared home isn’t particularly a long one, but it feels like years have passed before you’re finally pulling into the driveway. Josh had been silent in the passenger seat, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his plush bottom lip between his teeth. 

You climb out of the car, and the two of you make your way to the front door. Josh walks in front of you, opening the door for you like the gentlemen that he is. 

“Thank you, baby.” You tell him, stepping inside and immediately slipping your heels off. Breathing a sigh of relief, you walk further into the house. Josh follows behind as you make your way up to the bedroom. 

Entering the room lit only by a salt lamp and a floor lamp, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Josh makes his way into the room. 

He walks over to the middle of the room, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and a fire in his eyes as he looks at you. 

“Something you need, Josh?” You ask him, a coy smile painting your lips. Why not tease him a little more?

“Babe, you know what I want.” He mutters, walking over to the side of the bed where you’re sitting and slotting himself between your legs. “Been wanting it all night.” 

“Yeah?” Your question lilts out in a breathless whisper. 

“Yeah.” He confirms, splaying his warm hands out on your thighs. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad, mama. So bad.” 

“You were so patient for me.” You tell him, running your hands up his sides. “Take your clothes off, Josh. I want to see you.” 

Obediently, he steps back and begins to strip. You watch in rapt attention as he undresses, until he’s standing there – naked and glorious, before you. 

You allow yourself a moment to stare at him. You admire the way his slim waist is accentuated by the dim light, and your mouth waters as your eyes rake up to his sharp jawline and gorgeous lips. 

He’s looking at you in that way that only he can – like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He’s looking at you in awe, almost as if he doesn’t feel worthy enough to gaze upon you. He’s more than worthy, a fact which you have, on numerous occasions, tried to convince him of. But in his mind, no one is worthy enough for you – not even him. 

At last, you allow your gaze to fall on his pretty cock, hard as a rock and leaking already. The tip rests just below his belly button, curving just slightly and flushed red with need. 

“It hurts.” He tells you, lip sticking out in a pout. 

“I know, baby.” You say in sympathy, noting the way his entire body seems to tremble – tensed and eager to fulfill whatever command you give him. The power you hold over him in this moment makes your core weep and throb with want. 

You rip your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor before turning your attention back to Josh. His eyes have come to rest on your breasts, eyeing them through the lace of your bra. 

“You’ve been such a good boy tonight, Josh.” You praise, sliding backwards in the bed and leaning up against the pillows. “Can you be patient just a little longer for me?” 

“Anything.” He breathes out, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“I need you to make me cum, baby. And then I’ll give you whatever you want.” You spread your legs wide, allowing him to see the damp spot on your cotton panties. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Whatever you want, mama. I’ll make you cum. Wanna make you feel good.” 

“Come here, then.” 

The bed dips as he climbs onto it, crawling his way over to you and settling between your legs. He leans down, pressing his nose to your panties and inhaling deeply. Almost as if in a frenzy, he dips his fingers into the waistband and yanks them down your legs. You kick them off to the side, not even bothering to see where they went. 

Josh descends onto your cunt, licking a stripe up through your slick folds – drawing a loud moan from you. Expertly, he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to drive you absolutely crazy. Relentlessly, he swirls your swollen bud with his tongue, the feeling almost too much as he lavishes attention on you. His speed makes your eyes roll back in your head, his ministrations a mix between too much and not enough. 

You reach down and thread your fingers through the unruly curls on top of his head, tugging as he finally plunges his talented tongue into you. You whine and moan as he fucks you with it, his nose pressing into your clit perfectly. The sound of your wetness and his slurping is obscene – pornographic and loud in the otherwise silent room. He’s got both hands splayed on your thighs, and he groans into your cunt, sending delicious vibrations through you. 

Josh is nothing if not eager to please, and it doesn’t take long for the coil in your belly to tighten, warmth spreading through you at a rapid pace. 

“Fuck, just like that.” You command him, as he takes turns between suckling on your swollen clit and fucking into you with his tongue. “You’re so good, Josh. So fucking good.” 

He moans at your praise and the feeling sends you hurtling over the edge, drenching his face in your release as your entire body shakes with pleasure. 

Sitting up, you watch as Josh licks his lips. The light reflects on your juices that are smeared across his chin. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so good at that.” 

His eyes glimmer and he opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt him. 

“If you say ‘vocalist’s tongue’ one more time, I’m gonna slap you.” 

He grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You and I both know it’s true.”

“Come here, baby.” You say, beckoning for him to switch places with you. He crawls up to you and settles into the pillows, allowing you to toss one leg over his waist to straddle him. 

“Please, mama. I’ve been so patient. Please.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve been such a good boy. And what do good boys get?”

He takes a stuttering breath. 

“Good boys get a reward.” 

You nod at him, sliding downwards on his hips to settle between his legs, leaving a trail of your slick as you do so. 

“That’s right, Josh. And now you get yours.”

Slowly, you lick a stripe up his cock, tracing the vein that runs on the underside of him. You flick your tongue over the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. He tosses his head back in response, mouth dropping open in pleasure. Delicately, you press a kiss to his tip, just barely pressing your tongue into his slit. He gasps, arching his back as his entire body tenses. 

“Fuck.” He stutters out, as you sink your mouth down around him. You swallow him down, relaxing your jaw and breathing through your nose as you allow him to hit the back of your throat. You press your tongue into him and hollow your cheeks as you start to bob up and down on him, taking him as deep as you possibly can. He really has been so good for you, and you want nothing more than to return the favor. 

Blindly, you reach out and find his hand, bringing it towards you to rest in your hair. Josh takes the hint, threading his fingers through it and guiding you down on him, allowing him to fuck into your mouth. 

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes and your jaw aches, but you persist, focusing on breathing through your nose as he seeks out his release. 

“Oh fuck, baby. Shit.” He whines through gritted teeth, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure. “Gonna cum. Feels so fucking good.” He tries to pull away from you, unwilling to allow himself to finish yet – no doubt wanting this to last longer. But you stop him by pressing your forearm over his hips, keeping him grounded as you start to bob your head again, this time taking him so deep that your nose presses into the soft hair at his base. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!” His moans and wails are like music to your ears, and just like that he’s spilling down your throat. You greedily swallow it all down, before pulling off him with a lewd pop. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum.” You tell him, licking your lips. “You taste even better.” 

He blushes, suddenly bashful – just as he often becomes in the bedroom. For someone who normally seems so confident – and for someone who’s just had his dick down your throat, his shyness seems silly. But it's just another facet of Josh that makes you love him even more. His timidness is endearing, and is so specifically Josh that if you think about it too hard, you’ll start getting emotional. 

You sit up more, leaning upwards so that you can kiss him. He parts his lips, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting him. You remain there a moment, before detaching your lips from his, pressing hot kisses down his jawline that you love so much. 

“No marks.” He warns, turning his head up to give you access anyway. 

“You have a makeup team.” You say into his sweaty skin. “Plus, I don’t care if anyone sees. Want them to know who you belong to.” 

At that, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh, hardening again at your words. 

“Oh?” You say, sitting back on your haunches and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You like that? When I call you mine?” 

He whines, and his dark, lust-blown eyes gaze upon you – filled to the brim with renewed need and desire. 

“Yeah. So much, mama. M’all yours.” 

“I know you are.” 

You reattach your lips to his neck, kissing down the hollow of his throat before going lower. You wrap your lips around his right nipple, sinking your teeth into the delicate flesh and drawing a breathy moan from him. 

“Y/n?” He asks suddenly, his tone a little more serious than before. You stop, sitting up to look at his pretty face. 

“Yes, baby? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I just-” He stops himself, biting his lip and you can see him battling with himself. 

“You know you can tell me anything baby.” 

“I know. I just don’t know how to say it.”  

You cock your head to the side, waiting. You don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking, but his trepidation is setting you on edge slightly. 

“I want-” he sighs, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Your eyes widen and a fresh wave of slick gushes from you. 

“I- are you sure?” You ask him, timid in the face of his own hesitation. 

“I’m sure. I’ve been wanting it for days, I just… I didn’t know how to ask for it.” 

“Oh, sweet boy.” You coo, swiping your hand over his forehead, brushing his sweaty curls off of his skin. “Is that what had you so worked up tonight? Wanting me to fuck you but you were too afraid to ask?”

He nods, closing his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Don’t ever be embarrassed over what you want. I’m more than willing to give it to you.”

He opens his eyes at you, and the look in his eyes is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. 

“I want it, mama. I want it. Please give it to me.”

You see the change overtake him – like a switch has been flipped. Generally, the two of you switch up who’s in control depending on the day. And Josh’s neediness for you today had been nothing out of the ordinary. 

But right now, as he pleads with you to give him what he so desperately needs, there’s something more. It’s a headspace you’ve only seen him in once before – months ago when you’d first broached the topic with him. He’d asked you to finger him, timid and so afraid it had made your heart hurt. You’d obliged, and you’d assured him over and over that you weren’t put off by his desires. If anything, you enjoyed giving it to him more than he enjoyed receiving it. Afterwards, the two of you had gone online together to pick out a strap on that Josh liked. You’d kissed him all over and told him that you would enjoy anything so long as it gave him pleasure, and he’d hit the ‘order now’ button. It had arrived quickly, but had since remained untouched and unmentioned. Weeks passed without him saying anything, so you hadn’t said anything either – afraid to push him too far. 

But now, here he is, needy and desperate for it. He’s looking at you with complete trust, confident enough in your love for him that he’ll let you take care of him the way he needs it – absent of any judgment. Shaking yourself from your thoughts as you feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes, you lean over to the bedside table and open the top drawer. 

You pull the toy out, the glossy black plastic reflecting the dim light. Josh’s eyes track its movement as you bring it over to you. You flick your eyes to meet his, giving him one more chance to change his mind. 

“I’m sure.” He tells you, reading the unspoken question in your gaze. “Fuck me, mama. I want you to fuck me.” 

“Anything you want, baby.” 

With shaky hands, you slip into the strap – slow and deliberate as you secure it around yourself. Once it’s on, you slide the straps of your bra down, unclipping it and tossing it to the floor. 

Josh watches you, eyes dark and lips shiny with spit. His chest is flushed a gorgeous red and his golden skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat. As you turn your attention back to his face, he allows his legs to fall apart, leaving himself on full display for you. Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight – suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the beautiful creature that lays before you, open and completely trusting in you. 

You crawl up to him, the plastic cock bouncing obscenely as you move. You grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand and squirt a generous amount over your fingers. 

“You ready, Josh? For me to take care of you?” You whisper, settling between his thick thighs. 

He nods feverishly, chest heaving. 

Slowly, you circle his rim with your finger, messaging the tight ring of muscle. You study his face as you press one finger into him. The heat of him envelopes your mind in a lust-drunk haze, the breathy whine that falls from his lips makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You tell him, carefully stretching him inch by inch. 

“Don’t stop!” He whines, mouth falling open as you add another finger. “God, don’t fucking stop.” 

You scissor your fingers in him, focusing on the sounds that fall from his pretty lips and on the way his facial expressions shift with each movement of your fingers. He’s beautiful like this, completely spread out for you as you prep him. 

“More.” He stutters out between heavy breaths, squirming and whining as you comply. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. So pretty for me, Josh.” 

The sight of him, awash and lost to pleasure is affecting you more than you thought it would, and you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You want nothing more than to reach down and give yourself some relief, but you abstain – instead focusing all of your attention on Josh’s pleasure. Tonight, you want this to be about him. He’s always so giving in bed, and he deserves to be spoiled. 

You pull your fingers from him and he sighs at your absence. You wipe your fingers on the bedsheets before reaching for the bottle of lube. You coat the strap in it, wanting to ensure that he’s not uncomfortable at all. 

Glancing up at you through half lidded eyes, Josh whines quietly in his chest. 

“Fuck me, baby. Please. I’m so ready for it.” 

“Ssshhh.” You shush him, lining your plastic cock up with his entrance. “You don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I’m going to take care of you. You know I will. Just be patient.”

Finally, you slowly sink into him, and you bite back your own moan as his beautiful noises hit your ears. They’re breathy, practically a whine – needy in a way you’ve never heard from him before. You sink to the hilt and pause, allowing him to adjust to the stretch, still slightly afraid of hurting him or going too fast. 

He squirms beneath you, beginning to delicately rock his hips to meet yours, fucking himself lightly on your fake cock. 

“Move, mama. Need you to move.” He grips the sheets in his fists, hands clenched so tight that his knuckles have turned white. 

You oblige, beginning to rock your hips into him at a steady pace and he groans loudly in response. 

“Look at you.” You mutter, more to yourself than to him. He’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. “Feel good, baby?” 

“Feels so good.” He moans, voice turning pitchy. You place your palms on the bed on either side of him, caging him in and bracing yourself to fuck into him harder. 

“Fuck, please touch me.” He begs you, eyes completely screwed shut. 

“Not yet, sweet boy. Be patient just a little longer longer. I’ll get you there.” 

Selfishly, you don’t want this to end yet. Seeing him like this, completely lost in the throes of pleasure – pleasure that you alone are giving him, is like a drug. His moans and whines are addictive, lighting a fire in your veins as you fuck into him without mercy. His cock is red and leaking, angry and neglected as it bobs between the two of you. You’ll relieve him soon enough, but you allow yourself a moment longer to revel in this feeling. 

You pull completely out of him for a moment, ignoring his groan of displeasure as you hook your palms behind his knees, pressing them up to his chest so that he’s practically bent in half. You thrust back into him, and the new position allows you to slip even deeper into him. You can’t feel it, but you can only imagine how tight he must feel. As soon as you bottom out again, Josh’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream. You’re almost afraid he’s in pain, but his hand suddenly shoots out and wraps around your forearm tightly – his fingers pressing into your skin harshly. 

“Fuck, baby, right fucking there. Holy shit.” His words suddenly begin to slur together and you assume that with the new position, the toy must be brushing against his prostate – if the noises he’s making are anything to go by. His tiny whines have morphed into loud moans, and you’re thankful that the walls are thick. He’s never been this loud before, and your own desire at the sound of him threatens to overtake you completely. 

“Fuck, harder, harder.” He chants as you piston into him, your entire body begining to shake at the effort with which your fucking him. 

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” He all but screams, and suddenly he’s finishing, shooting ropes of cum all across his taut stomach. You watch in awe as he cums completely untouched, and his orgasm seems to go on forever. You still in him, allowing him to come down from his high and back to the land of the living. 

His eyes blink open at you and a dopey, fucked out smile spreads across his lips. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you sigh out, “that was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He just mumbles at you, leaning his head back to rest on the pillow. 

“Gonna pull out now, okay?” 

He nods, and you slowly pull out from him. He hisses at the feeling, and stretches out his legs. You unclasp the strap from your waist and place it on the nightstand, before reaching down to grab his boxers from the floor. You carefully clean him up, being careful to not overstimulate him. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him, concern washing over you as he just lies there with his eyes closed, chest heaving. 

“More than okay. Fuck. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I love giving you what you want. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Always trust you.” He mumbles, sitting up and reaching for you. “Lemme return the favor, mama.” 

You swat his hand away and place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards so that his back presses back into the pillows again. 

“Watching you was more than enough for me. Just want you to rest now.”

He frowns at you, but you just give him a soft smile before pressing your lips to his for a sweet kiss. 

“Another time, baby. Tonight was about you. Let’s go draw you a bath. How does that sound?” You rise from the bed, reaching your arms out to help him up. 

“Sounds nice,” He says tiredly. 

He goes to stand, but his knees buckle as soon as he tries to straighten. You quickly wrap your arms around his waist, helping him to carry his weight. You giggle. 

“Damn, you really did a number on me, huh?” He asks you through his own quiet laughter. 

“You were just so patient for me, baby. You deserved a reward.” 

-----------

If you're reading this, I love you! <3

Taglist:

@ignite-my-fire

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from my taglist 💗

[limeade-l3sbian]

I've seem some people showing disappointment in the fact that Kurtis Conner is still supporting his friend, Dean, even after all this racist shit (racist tweets, blackface) came up about him. And Kurtis' response was, "Do you really think I'd still be friends with him if he was still like that? He's changed. That was a long time ago. If you don't like him, don't watch him." And my whole thing was...is this surprising?

Kurtis Conner is the definition of "doth protest too much". This grown ass man (that people love to infantilize) must take at least five minutes every video to remind you, "Hey, I'm actually really open minded male feminist and I think that women deserve basic respect. Amiright, ladies?" And he does this because he knows his audience is extremely liberal women.

And I'm not implying that he started off edgy, because he didn't. He's always had that "safe, golden retriever" bullshit persona from the jump. I'm not even implying that the guy is secretly a Nazi or something.

But what I am saying is that he's still a Youtuber. He's still a media figure. He's still a guy making money on how he's perceived. He's the silly man with the mustache and mullet, so you should go see his comedy show and listen to his terrible podcast (it is absolute garbage, he is shit without a script). Media personas will always give you the version of themselves that sells the most.

"But why aren't you shitting more on the guy who actually did the blackface?" Because people already did! He got "cancelled" for something completely unrelated a while ago and this only affirmed people's dislike of him. He's never really come back since. And not to mention, he's not even really that big of an internet "celeb." Most, if not all, of his exposure came from Kurtis. Kurtis brought him on his channel, and Kurtis went on tour with him.

This generally happens with white feminists (male and female). They will go to war over slights and attacks against the LGBT, but because they have no true connection to racism, don't hold as much ire for it beyond what is socially acceptable.

They might speak out against it online, but it's not crossing their mind all that much once they click "post". But more internally, they might also be thinking, "Was it even that serious?"

And listen. Nothing is going to happen to Kurtis Conner. He's going to be fine. He'll apologize for something like "I'm sorry if you felt like I didn't care" or whatever and then it'll be business as usual. 2+ million views a video and all that stuff.

But I just found it interesting that people were surprised he was defending Dean. Don't put your trust into media personalities. Because that is what they're selling to you. A personality. And nowhere in this social contract did they ever insinuate it was their real one.

[multidimensional-trashcan]

hamlet but i haven't seen it (yet)

there's this guy named hamlet who's the prince of denmark

somethings foul in the state of denmark or something

hamlet's dad, the king, got killed before the play and hamlet suspects his uncle claudius (is that his name?)

claudius marries hamlet's mother and is now king (bit weird but okay)

hamlet doesnt like that

the ghost of hamlet's father appears to hamlet and tells him to kill his uncle in revenge

hamlet the master of indecisiveness™

to be or not to be

thats like about whether to act or not i think

hamlet is a college student so actually quite young (i think boy started to go to college at age 14 and hamlets probably around 16 but nobody's sure)

a phrase stuck in my brain is "hamlet the frat boy" but im pretty sure he's more of a theater kid

instead of killing his uncle hamlet stages a play similar to what he thinks transpired to watch how his uncle reacts to it

the lady doth protest too much, methinks

shakepeare does love to make his protagonists spiral into insanity

i heard hamlet is a story about grief and i also heard that it's like a mirror, what you see about hamlet says more about you that hamlet himself (but dont ask me to elaborate i am realising my brain retains information i have no clue how i got)

in the end almost everyone dies because of hamlet

hamlet stabs someone through the curtain i think its the father of ophelia (polonius or smth i dunno) cause he thinks is his uncle

im not sure why his uncle should be behind a curtain tho

hamlet randomly gets kidnapped by pirates but we never see it because shakespeare already new how expensive special effects are

i bet the pirates let hamlet go because he's a little bitch

hamlet is A LITTLE BITCH

i think in one scene he just tries to fluster ophelia (his not-quite-girlfriend) by turning everything she says into sexual innuendo (may i lay my head in your lap so on so on)

there's one scene with a grave digger whom hamlet asks for whom the grave is the man is digging and the man responds it is his own to which hamlet answers something along the lines of

one would thinks so for thou dost lie in it

great pun

ophelia actually manages to drown in a brook which is characterised by it's shallowness

its unclear whether she did it intentionally

there are some guys named rosencrantz und guildenstern (probably didnt spell that right) and i know nothing about them except that they die because of hamlet and for some reason they always get mentioned together which makes me think they are an item

many people die because of hamlet

also there's a skull

is that yorrick?

hamlet talks to it

david tennant got the role of hamlet because he randomly picked up a real human skull

hamlet dies (big surprise!)

there's a duel? and one of the sword's is poisoned and hamlet picks up the wrong one? is that with laertes? i know he dies, too

also there's horatio, everybody seems to like him so i tried to not mention him for as long as possible to annoy them (not really i just dont know much about him)

people think hes gay for hamlet

hes not nobility but wellspoken

something something sweet prince?

horatio does not die

he lives to tell the tale

which is somehow worse

while i know (claudius?) hamlet's uncle dies and thats kinda the point of hamlet's whole actions i do not actually know when or how he dies (but i know about the curtain stabbing, the brook and the duel, weird)

or is he the one in the duel?

i bet hamlet's mother dies too

i also dont know how hamlet dies, something with the duel and the poisoned sword i guess, i know he picked up the wrong sword but im not sure if the wrong one was that with poison or not

WHAT DOES THE PIRATE KIDNAPPING HAVE TO DO WITH EVERYTHING?

AND WAS HE REALLY SIXTEEN?

i am very confused about how much there is in my brain about the guy

i do think there must be more to horatio except 'gay for hamlet' but i dont know anything

rosencrantz und guildenstern sound like a comic relief duo who dont know what they're doing

something about mother and knowing about playing with her drapes... (is that from hamlet?)

im sure this is enough for now

please do tell me how wrong i am

also tell me if you know why i seem to know so much about this (even if it's not true)

yes, this was inspired by @weirdly-specific-but-ok 's good omens post and @hello-ello-ello 's post about macbeth

[tall-glass-of-nope]

Let’s talk about “the lady doth protest too much,” because it’s a phrase I heard and used before I knew the actual context. And now, after I’ve finally gotten the context, I find myself continually thinking about its intent.

When I first heard it, (and pretty much exclusively how I still hear it) it’s been used to mean “it is suspicious that this person is denying something waaaay too hard.”

Ex. “The PR people keep insisting this chemical won’t harm the environment. They doth protest too much, methinks.”

And I never questioned that usage, because it makes sense.

Then I read Hamlet, and found that the line comes from a scene wherein Hamlet is trying to trick the people around him into revealing their guilt by having actors perform a thinly veiled parody play of his current predicament as he sees it.

In his actors’ play, the character that parallels his mother is solicited by her husband’s killer — who is also her brother-in-law. And the actress in the show denies her solicitor several times before succumbing to him.

When Hamlet turns to his mother and asks what she thinks of the show so far, he’s looking for her to see herself in the part. To react, or provide some kind of recognition of what she’s done. To condemn the clearly uncomfortable situation her character is in. But all she says is

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

And I LOVE analyzing that, because my personal takeaway is like.

You know how you can write a whole poem or story about someone who’s wronged you, and they’ll read it and not see themselves in it? Yeah. (If you don’t know: this happens. A lot.)

So, whether or not she saw herself in the character onstage, My interpretation is that Gertrude (Hamlet’s mom) is revealing that her decision to marry Claudius (Hamlet’s uncle) was not a tearful and tormented decision made under coercion and duress. (Which is how Hamlet has experienced seemingly every major decision in his own life, and explains why he’d find this lack of passionate waffling to be offensive.) For better or for worse she’s revealing she just… didn’t say no to her brother-in-law.

And from there you can get into the why behind all that and her motivations and whatnot but that’s beyond the scope of what I’m trying to get into here.

“The lady doth protest too much” doesn’t read to me like condemnation of insincere delivery. Not exactly. The difference is kinda subtle, I guess.

A more parallel usage of the phrase is difficult to imagine, then, because there is some amount of self condemnation that it should invoke.

Me: “I baked you these cookies”

Them: “I shouldn’t; I’m watching my figure”

Me, knowing full well I ate five of the cookies before boxing the rest up to give: “The lady doth protest too much. Take the cookies.”

[the-empress-7]

Didn’t the Waleses clip only end up being a minute long. That documentary was basically an ode to The Chuckles.

Nothing more appeared on documentary, they all used it as promo because they know what attracts people. William kept himself and his family out of it. Good. I just laughed so hard at the bishops or whatever they were pretending that charles and william have this extraordinary relationship, which even if its true (which is not obviously) its not something we should be exited about.

The lady doth protest too much principle applies here. If their relationship really was that great, you wouldn’t need every sycophant to repeat the same lines would you?

It’s basically how Meghan’s PR has to constantly remind everyone that she is kind and down to earth. Sure Jan, we all know the reality is entirely different.