#your content quality will only suffer

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “INTERLOCK YOUR LIPS WITH MINE.”

#. — synopsis. imitating that of a lamb with his love-sick actions should’ve gotten anyone sick to catch the slightest glimpse of his foolish grin, yet he’s way too blind to plainly realize that when his nimble fingers are so tenderly intertwined with yours, isn’t he?

#. — content warning! woah, barely any and none at all. first kiss, lots of kissing, tongue n shit, away from prying eyes, frottage, dry humping, obsessive — male kylar, ‘angelic’ male reader and well, fuck. some pining and yearning as per usual, mostly on kylar’s part.

#. — word count? 3.5k.

#. — asher, please. shut the fuck up. : “shitty tribute to the loser who made me discover this sick ass game. your reward? a tongue deep down your throat, you little whore.”

Evidently speaking, the last of things Kylar should be gleefully content about is the undeniable fact that here you are, sat atop this cushioned mattress due to your sheer brashness, impulsivity that had landed you both straight into the nurse’s office. Or perhaps, you had initially intended for precisely this to happen, so that he may naturally tag along with you.

Confidently raising your hand amidst an important lesson in class, falsely claiming that the quivering freak here, miserably suffered of a stomach ache as if he truly had one, huh— carefully roping the poor boy in another one of your clever, little schemes. Immediately tugging onto one of his used sleeves with an innocent expression of your own, how you so seamlessly fool the teachers is beyond him, really.

Though, he does get the slightest idea that it’s either from your shockingly pristine reputation that others are inclined to openly favour you or, the angelic gaze you prettily bless anyone with when gazing in their direction. Easy to delve further into sinful temptation, including your boyish charms if a mere flutter of your eyelashes and quirk of your rosy lips renders someone so stupidly dumb like— well, him. And others, too. Forgot that unnecessary part.

A liar is how he intricately knew you best, after all. Not necessarily a widely spread title you should’ve worn proudly, but hey, who’s he to possibly complain when it meant he could finally, spend some much-needed, well-deserved quality time with his one and only, beloved? Even if through somewhat unethical means entailing that of muttering out plain falsehoods which coincidentally had long since then, slipped past his forgetful mind. No, who’s he to blame himself when you did it firstly, and he simply followed suit to your patient guidance? Imitating that of a lamb with his love-sick actions should’ve gotten anyone sick to catch the slightest glimpse of his foolish grin, yet he’s way too blind to plainly realize that when his nimble fingers are so tenderly intertwined with yours, isn’t he?

Easily distracted by your soothing presence dizzyingly close against his, discreetly hidden amongst the draped curtains that surrounded your sprawled frames within the otherwise desolate room. Save for you two and the absent nurse who’s somehow conveniently away on some unintended business in some other class closely residing nearby. And, ah— truly, you smell so fuckin’ good.. Would it be so bad if he were to subtly close the remaining distance between you both, steadily draw closer to sneakily steal a whiff of your pleasurably sweet scent?? Yeah, no. Damn it, Kylar— Get ahold of yourself. Surely, that’s borderline immoral if not downright creepy to satisfyingly indulge in your depraved instincts simmering beneath this carefully fabricated mask of timidness he’s built over himself. But.. It’s not like you’d actually notice, right?

Ah, who’s he kidding. Was this not your original plan to begin with? Sparing you and him, a moment of solitude to yourselves, the eerie, yet somewhat tranquil silence that had easily settled onto you two, majorly concealed by the rhythmic thudding of his pounding heart deep within his chest. The things you do to him, truly.. Which hopefully, you hadn’t caught ear of that humiliating display of his pure want for you, if not already, obviously shown by the blazing flush adorning the entirety of his face and, not to forget that one minute detail— aching cock securely tucked away beneath his ripped jeans, dying to be coated by the welcoming, warm heat of your tight hole. Hah, even your soft palm would do, at this point, really— he means it.

And if not for the noticeably sweet hitch in his breath when promptly interrupted by a single question you dote upon him, fluttering lashes and glimmering eyes so innocently peering up from below him as though you’re stupidly unaware of the intended effects you possess over the depraved freak. A mere command wistfully whispered out from your lips would be all he needs to readily obey in turn, but he manages to with some measly restraint lazily placed upon himself, in favour of listening to your ushered curiosity.

“Say, have you ever kissed anyone before, Ky?” Simplest of questions, really— that would require an affirmative response of either yes or no, yet he finds himself unable to properly answer when faced with that subtle tilt of your head. ‘Course you’d be crudely conscious of whether or not he had done so, wouldn’t you? Unless you’re dumbly feigning ignorance to the undeniable prospect that he is seen as nothing more than undesirable by most and rightfully so, actually.

Anyone who truly attends the local school of Oxford would’ve grown painfully aware of the humiliating fact that this loser, right here, could’ve been nothing more than a miserable virgin because who the hell in their right mind — would possibly want to lay their untouched hands, much less their precious lips upon his own? Not necessarily a factual rumour that realistically bothers him since it simply means he gets to solely concentrate his energy on you; His loveable darling, right?

Quick to frantically shake his head in retaliation to the uttered query, more or less due to the increasingly pleasurable realization as to why you’ve originally dragged him along here in the first place. You.. ah, you intend to grace him with a blessing of your own, surely so? Grant him the chance of a lifetime and graciously allow him to breathlessly press his chapped lips against your own unblemished ones. How he has desperately longed— no, yearned to do so for ages and here you are, selflessly offering yourself up to him like the sweet fruit of sin a feathered breath’s away from gratefully being savoured by his drooling maw. Yeah, he’s definitely not hurriedly jumping off to conclusions from the sole, albeit indiscernable hint that you idly inquired him with a hyper specific question tumbling forth from your lips, right? This is definitely not just some make-belief fantasy his fogged up, deluded mind dreamily decided to suddenly make up, right??

“N-No, I’ve.. never k-kissed anyone— before.” He replies, breathless and shaky. Voice quiet, small, sounding barely audible to the ears. Embarrassingly enough, stuttering off in his stifled speech, strung up in a series of incoherent nonsense he wishes to truly express. Scalding warmth creeping up the sides of his skin, spreading out like a wildfire out of control — to the point where he can feel the scarlet flush of red extensively growing all over. Mainly a question of his own as to why it’s him of all people you’re lovingly in contact with right now, tenderly clasping your hands together in an affectionate hold.

Ah, right— is this seriously happening? Not only is he preciously embracing you within his fragile grasp, but you’re also willingly choosing to peer so intimately close to him like this? Considering your well-beloved status, held in high regards by the entirety of the school, openly revered by the same students who don’t dare to glance twice in his direction nor accept him for his nervous oddity— it’s an.. interesting choice on your part. Not that he’s complaining, not at all!

However, he’d like to know if you had, before him. Anyone else who could’ve stolen such a gesture meant to be happily cherished, preserved for the right person who’d somehow come along. A person which he hopes is himself when it comes to you, curious eyes meeting your own underneath the mess of a fringe he doesn’t bother to brush out early in the morning. Tentative bite of his swollen lip, soon becoming bloody in the anxious act of chewing upon the sensitive flesh.

“Um… Have— Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Redirecting the spotlight onto you, maybe to soothe the growing anxieties burrowing deep within his pumping heart, anticipation dizzyingly occupying him in a held breath when awaiting for your eventual response in return. Honestly, if you had.. He wouldn’t entirely know what he’d do then.

“Me? Hm, no. I haven’t either. I’m saving it for a special someone.” Special someone. Yeah, that’s all his sluggish brain hazily registered from that answer, solely fixated on who— wait, could it be him? Are your coy, little hints subtly being dropped here and there, discreet glances sent his way when accompanied by the aversion of your eyes in a slight display of shared nervousness, meant for a loser like him of all people? That serene smile you habitually wear though is making the whole ‘figuring out’ part a bit difficult for him. And, as properly known by most, specially when he repeatedly echoes out to the school that you two are ‘boyfriends’, unaware of your fragile status at hand — he’s not exactly the best at picking up on subtle social cues being decisively shot towards him, either.

“O-Oh, so you’re.. You and I are the same.” Probably shouldn’t be gleefully filling him with such giddiness to know no crooked bastard didn’t steal your precious first kiss, solely meant for him, but it still does. Familiar, manic grin cracking upon his face, eagerly tugging at his lips the same way his shaky hands come to invasively paw along the hem of your school shirt. Lightly tussled with the tailored collar scandalously coming undone, just for him, right? And, he’s soooo lucky to be the only one to gaze upon you in such a disheveled state, least, he hopes so.

“That’s right, we’re the same. Isn’t that funny? Me, being the same as you — of all people too, but y’know.. that doesn’t really bother me actually.” If that was intended as an insult cruelly shot towards him then, the entirety of the punch-line or hinted implications thinly veiled at hand, had gone over his blurring head. No, no— all he’s acutely aware of is that here, the both of you are, in an otherwise isolated room without the annoyingly probable possibility that someone might mindlessly walk upon your perched frames, catch you in the.. uh, yeah, the act. Act of kissing.. each other?

Or, is that impulsively moving a tad bit too far? As much as a clumsy ditz he can be, at the worst of times too, this must mean something, no? Like the mere gesture of hastily hauling him along to the nurse’s office, a shitty excuse you promptly made up on the spot, to grant you two some privacy isn’t just originally meant to be spent for idle chatter, surely so? Simply fiddling his thumbs together won’t aid him in finding out either, so he might as well.. ask.

Swallowing down thickly the anxious lump annoyingly residing deep within his throat, skittish eyes evasively avoiding your sharp gaze boring into his own to at least, somewhat calm himself before precisely asking the lingering question that’s been hanging heavily upon his mind. That— well, god.. he’s never been really good with words, has he?

“Why’d you— Why did you lie to the teacher about me having a stomach ache and bring me here then?” Good. That’s pretty direct, isn’t it? Save for the droplets of sweat quickly accumulating along the edge of his forehead, noticeably trickling down the length of his heated cheeks as if it wasn’t painfully obvious enough on its own what a nerve-wracking mess he suddenly becomes within your presence. You’re just so— so… shit, he can’t possibly describe it! All he desires is confirmation at the moment, confirmation for your mutual sentiments towards each other.

“Oh, cmon. Don’t tell me you’re that clueless, are you?” Well, yes. He is. Subtle cock of your head, sweetest chuckle he’s ever heard along with that rather innocent smile you adopt when asked your self-evident intentions here. “Wow. You really are, huh. Isn’t it obvious? Why do you think I went through all the trouble of coming up with a little lie for you, give us some alone time together? I’m not that nice to anyone.”

Recognizable smile effortlessly shifting to that of a smirk, feathered breaths alarmingly close against his burning face as the distance between you both progressively shrinks down to barely any space entirety. “You see.. I need a bit of reassurance to soothe my anxieties, y’know. What I want is for you to prove your love to me. Right now.”

Thumping heart steadily increasing at an alarming rate, scarred fingers nimbly picking and fiddling with the loose threads hanging along his used hoodie. Prove his undying love to you? “P-Prove it?” Audibly gulping down before echoing out the previously uttered command. “How should I prove it?” Oh, anything. He’s willing to do anything for you. Without hesitance nor objection. Hell, you could ask him to jump off a building, and he’d do it in a heartbeat. Just — for the love of god, say it already — say what he needs to do to selflessly prove his inborn devotion precisely made for you.

“Kiss me.” Uttering it out so effortlessly, breathlessly and well, he’s not one to make you sorrowfully wait, is he?

Nodding vigorously, like the lovesick puppy that he is for you — already peering closer towards your sprawled frame in a held breath, slightest hitch and rhythmic thump! of his heart when he’s selflessly granted the opportunity to finally, fucking finally — steal your first kiss away from you.

And, hah— truly, he’s so grateful for your direct orders, y’know? Because without it, he’d basically be a sweating, quivering mess, not that he isn’t either, just that — his nimble hands, normally shaking with second-guesses wouldn’t be so confident in their movements, tenderly cupping at your smooth cheek within the cup of his palm as he breathlessly presses his needy lips upon your awaiting own. Oh. Oh, fucking god, how dizzyingly sweet you taste, a full-on body shudder immediately descending the entirety of his arched back, instantly bending forward to pin you down onto the squeaky mattress underneath you both.

Careful not to make the smallest of sounds however! Wouldn’t wanna be caught sloppily making out with the most popular student in school, or maybe he does.. Just to— ah, prove to those repulsive creeps shamelessly salivating over the mere sight of your figure, that you’re strictly off limits. His alone to greedily savour. Mine. His mind endlessly echoes as this continuously carries on, and he’s not one either to selfishly complain, is he?

Love you— Love you so much. Repetition drumming along his brain, however, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing off the bat, not when you two were so desperately clinging onto each other like this. Fervently locking your lips together in a soundless kiss, hitched breath threatening to slip past yours if Kylar were to go any further — probably would though. Bad idea, yeah. Knew it was, but the mind numbingly good haze gradually washing over him as you both mutually caved in to your instinctual desires drew him in. Since it feels way too good to intimately be pressed against each other like this, openly whining down one another’s throat currently occupied by his. “I-I love you.” He murmurs, gasps against your mouth. Slick, wet tongue desperately sliding against his own, crudely sharing each other’s spits that yeah— he’ll probably be reminiscing upon later for certain.. purposes meant to be shared in an unoccupied stall of the school’s bathroom, pervertedly fisting his fat cock to the sheer memory of your addictive taste like a starving man, an utter freak.

Unable to help himself with the borderline pathetic whimper freely drawn out of his mouth, eyes easily slipping close to hungrily drink in yours too — rather subtle, faintly audible to the naked ear, but he still manages to catch it, catch the stifled whine, minor tremble in your perfect fingers instinctively finding themselves entangled within the mop of loose hair on his head. Tugging at the dark strands even, ah fuck.. His arms, already wrapped around your frame, tightening automatically to make sure you don’t somehow, escape from his clutched grasp. As if you could with the death-grip he’s withholding over you right now, practically digging in the white material of your school uniform, ruffling it all up for you to harshly reprimand him for later — not that it’s his actual initial concern here, really. Oh, if anything, he’s got something way better pleasurably keeping him busy.

“K-Kylar—“ Your incoherent mewls are just the cutest, y’know? Yes, yes, he’ll briefly apologize later for rudely cutting you off! But, something simple as a kiss when done with you, feels so fucking good — fuck, he might as well be cummin’ in his pant, which he sort of is with all the accumulated pre-cum messily dripping from his leaking tip, staining the elastic fabric all sticky in his ill-fitted jeans from precariously grinding your clothed erections together, seeking friction.

His hips involuntarily thrusting forward, or maybe intentionally — truly he’ll never admit to it! — instantly flushing at his salacious actions that, oh.. you’re a blubbering mess under him, heaving chest rhythmically puffing out before ultimately descending down to shakily exhale out a sigh. Cutest, erect buds blatantly visible underneath the rather thin fabric of your uniform, ones he’d like nothing more than to sloppily drool all over, savagely suckle on with a wet pop! of his tongue and leave his slippery mark there like some sort of— of, fucking madman.

Fuck, fuck fuck… if this keeps up, he’s bound to cream in his pants from a single kiss! Eyes automatically rolling to the back of his skull with every eager tug on his ripped sleeves, cock profusely leaking out slippery, warm pre to leave behind a trailing mess in his boxers. So fuckin’ whipped, downright enamoured by you that he’d be dying a happy man simply from having his longtime wish fulfilled, hidden desires fervently reciprocated by a lock of your lips upon his. All because of you — hah, you, darling. Don’t you realize the weight of his unending love for you by now?

Unfortunately though, as much as it would’ve been thoroughly appreciated to contentedly continue on like this, paired by the couple of gasping moans and wistful sighs collectively drawn forth from each other’s lips; One had to eventually be the one to pull away and you, of course, you were the first to reluctantly do so, drawing back slightly in a sloppy attempt to create some much needed space between your quivering bodies. Disheveled hair carelessly brushed aside to display the scarlet flush of your cheeks accompanied by dazed eyes hidden beneath the fluttering of your lashes.

Nearly whimpering when you effectively slip back for air, clutched fingers instinctively chasing after your retreating figure as though he was merely nothing without it. Which, he sort of is, pleading gaze and pouty lips sinfully directed to your decisive move, slumping back miserably once you’re out of his clawing reach. “A-Ah, don’t go.. I mean! Was — Was it good? Did I do okay?” He asks sheepishly, pink tongue experimentally swiping along his bottom lip to lick it clean, wild, green eyes flicking downwards to your kiss-swollen lips before hurriedly darting away. Seeking for your judgement and approval as per usual. How typical of him, huh.

“You— ah, you did, actually.” Catching your breath, looking so damn pretty when your usually flawless composure is crumbled along with his. He wants to break it till you’re a crying mess, really. “God, I didn’t know someone could kiss like that. You sure this is your first time, Kylar?” Don’t tease him like that! ‘Course it is, how could it ever be anyone but you??

“Y-Yeah, you’re my first— first kiss.” A confirmation to your question, meek nod of his head as he now wonders what exactly is there left to be said after such a heated encounter, but as always, you’re the one to make the first move — a step ahead of him every single time and, honestly, he loves you for it.

“Wanna kiss me again?”

Who’s he to not oblige to your every whim anyway? He’s only Kylar. The school freak. Absolute loser in town and the one you’re also, pervertedly sharing spit with too.

Guess he won’t have to creepily suckle on the tip of the chewed straw from your strawberry milkshake you normally sip at during lunch then. Since his lips will find themselves far more busy with something else later.

And by the sultry look you adopt, regarding him carefully with a quirk of your lips — he’s getting the slightest idea that maybe, his time will be better spent in the nurse’s office from now on, hasty kisses sneakily shared underneath the cooling shade of a sapling, arms eagerly looped around your waist to steal a quick kiss of his own. Whether in the tight space of a bathroom stall or the dusty storage closet, he’s content to have you in his arms no matter the place.

So, this time, don’t be the first to pull away— no, he’d hate to have to pin you down beneath his weight for you to properly take what he has so selflessly prepared for you today, ‘kay?

It’d be only be rude to deny him of what he’s patiently waited so long for like a good boy, no?

[loveemagicpeace]

🦋Mercury & Communications🦋

Mercury in Aries - your way of expressing yourself is very direct and you can be harsh with your words. You focus a lot on topics that interest you. You can have a strong opinion when it comes to things that involve you. You can be very impatient when it comes to information and you want to know it right away. At times, your communication can be more aggressive and you don't like so many details. You use highly expressive language and throw a lot of slang into your speech.  You are not so attentive to things around you. Criticism or negative feedback can be taken personally. Still, they are not afraid of a fight or a challenge, on a mental level. They like to talk about sports. In life, they can be involved in many sports activities. Mercury-in-Aries people suffer from headaches, especially in a raucous and noisy atmosphere.

Mercury in Taurus- your way of communicating is more slow, monotonous. You like to have conversations (especially you like to talk about food, music, money, movies), I also noticed that they like debates that are of better quality and include rich content. They stubbornly stick to a certain opinion and give in only when they have good arguments for it. They like to talk about clothes or beauty in general. They also like to talk about nature or plants. These people rely on their senses when it comes to processing information. Smells, noises, and mood are all employed. Mercury in Taurus people have an overall pleasing manner of communicating. These natives learn best when they see real-world uses for the theories they’re trying to absorb. They will not talk with all people , but only with those they feel comfortable with. Taurus are often successful art and antique dealers.

Mercury in Gemini-your communication is very fast and variable. Also, your way of expressing yourself can be too fast for some people. You can absorb a lot of information, but you are not a person who would think about something for a long time. You can quickly change your mind and decide on something else. You like to change topics and get information from several different sources. Many times you are more interested in the opinions of others and can make decisions based on them. You can quickly get bored and replace your energy. Gemini people pick up more from their environment than most, and they can process information at lightning speed. At times there is a distinct lack of order in your life. You would make a wonderful debater, public speaker, or ac- tor, and you have lots of friends because of your infec- tious good humor.

Mercury in Cancer-your way of expressing yourself is usually emotional. A lot of your words come from emotions and how you feel at a certain moment. You put a lot of emphasis on family and their opinion. There can also be a mother here, who in some way affects how you think and communicate. You have to be careful not to rely too much on your mother's opinion. You like emotional conversations that cover many deeper topics. Most of all, you like to talk in a comfortable place, such as at home, on a comfortable chair, on the sofa, while drinking your favorite drink. You can quickly become emotional in a conversation and if someone hurts you, you can be rude with your words. that Mercury in Cancer natives will remember almost anything — from their own past, to your conversation two months ago. Mercury- in-Cancer people are successful as scholars, historians, teachers, and writers. You are likely to make a profit in real estate and may inherit money from the maternal side of your family.

Mercury in Leo- your way of communicating is fast but superficial. Many times, if you are not interested in the topic, you will no longer listen or give importance to it. Sometimes you can say things that are out of place and only later realize that you may have exaggerated. Your way of expressing yourself is also dramatic. You like to talk about others, gossip, love dramas. In conversation with others, you often find yourself in it. You are excellent at promoting ideas and getting their message across. These people can be very attached to their opinions, taking pride in their beliefs, which are often rather idealistic. You are also very confident in everything you say.  You have a sunny side that is always with you. Though you would rather play than work, you are determined to be successful.

Mercury in Virgo- your way of expressing yourself is stable, sometimes judgmental, firm, realistic, even political. You like to talk about serious topics. Many times the topics can be politics, the world, work or general happenings in everyday life. When you speak, you always tell everything in detail and you can go very deep into the details of certain things. You can also be conflicted when it comes to expressing opinions. Many times you can give advice to people even if they don't ask you for it (you always want to find a way to solve a problem). They generally pick up a lot of facts and figures, and learn their own trade well, but have trouble truly absorbing the knowledge they collect on a deeper level. Mercury in Virgo natives may appear humble at times, but they get quite protective when it comes to handling day-to-day affairs. A fault is your eagerness to take on too much work or too many projects. You wear yourself down, and at times become nervous and hypercritical. As a Mer- cury-Virgo you have a superb talent for creative crafts.

Mercury in Libra-your way of communicating is beautiful, gentle, warm, pleasant. You can talk to any person and you can create a way of talking to any person. Although you can be a bit judgmental at times. You can talk a lot about your partner and the relationship. The theme of love is primarily in the foreground with this Mercury. If you are interested in anything, it is the relationships of others or what is happening with others. You can also have the quick influence of others (which means that sometimes you think with the head of others or rely on what your partner says). Your partner's opinion can be very important to you. You are also always looking for harmony and peace in conversation. You are good at solving other people's relationships because you know how to look at things from an objective perspective. You are especially successful if you team up with a strong person who can direct you.

Mercury in Scoprio-your way of expressing yourself is through depth, emotion, directness, truth. You are always looking for the way to the truth, no matter what the situation is, you will always want to know the truth, because that is what will set you free in a way. You can have obsessive thoughts, and especially if you like something, you can only think about it for days. You like long emotional and deep conversations. You like to have a really open, real conversation with someone. You like it when the person tells you their secrets and that you can share a dark side with the person. You don't like small talk. You are direct and sometimes very harsh, especially if someone makes you angry or hurt. You can say the harshest things to a person without a bad conscience. Your way of communicating is also very passionate, inspiring and dedicated. You always know how to empathize with other people. You probably have a volatile temper, and Mercury-Scorpios are known for their biting sarcasm when crossed or upset. You have an emotional intelligence. You will fight for a cause even if it is hopeless, or sacrifice your time and ener- gies for someone you love.

Mercury in Sagittarius-your way of expressing yourself is very energetic, intellectual, optimistic and happy. You always know how to find the good side of a situation and you know how to see the key things in a conversation. You can help others with your words. You give good advice to others. You can also help others find their way. You are open-minded and honest. You're a life-long learner who loves discussing deep, philosophical questions. You also have an expressive nature and a great sense of humor, which often make you the life of the party. Your opinionated and honest personality can sometimes hurt peoples’ feelings, and your visionary way of thinking can make it hard for you to focus on small details. Your mind naturally absorbs new information, and you love pondering life’s deep questions. Some people find you too blunt and outspoken, but that quality springs from Sagittarius’s basic honesty.

Mercury in Capricorn- your way of expressing yourself is usually very realistic, serious and maybe sometimes more cruel. You can also have a pessimistic view. This makes you a practical person; your thoughts are more realistic and down to earth; and communication over concerned matters is precise and clear. You don’t waste time and get down to the point, earning people’s respect. You speak when you have something to say and choose your words carefully to ensure you appear well-spoken and knowledgeable. You can talk a lot about work and this could be the theme most of the time. Mercury-Capricorns often at- tain positions of leadership because they are so dependable and have an air of authority. Life is serious to Mercury-Capricorns and you see its dark side—though a redeeming trait is your dry sense of humor.

Mercury in Aquarius-your way of communicating can be very different from others. Many times you can emphasize things that involve society and friends. You can also look a lot at your friends and what they think about a certain thing. You are rebellious when it comes to your opinion. You can talk about very strange, unusual topics (such as: aliens, robots, etc.). You are intelligent, idealistic, humanitarian, open-minded, eccentric, and unconventional. • You spend a lot of time in the realm of your mind, and you’re always searching for logical, rational explanations for things. You love to analyze character and motivation, and with your finely tuned powers of observation are able to predict accurately how someone will react in a certain situation. Sometimes you may seem eccentric, for your ideas are ad- vanced and you also enjoy saying things that shock other people.

Mercury in Pisces- your way of expressing yourself is very poetic, dreamy, cute and loving. You can have a very friendly way of communicating with others and you never want to hurt other people. Many times you pay more attention to how others feel than how you feel. When you talk about a certain thing, you really get into it and your mind really opens up and you usually have a sparkle in your eyes. You like when someone listens to you and you are happy to talk about it. Because you can often be misunderstood, you don't like to talk to many people, but only to those who bring you warmth and give you the feeling that they understand you. You are also sensitive, imaginative, and open-minded. You think in colors, shapes, and feelings and express yourself through abstract ideas and art. ou prefer to live in your fantasies rather than deal with facts, logic, and details. You are big on feelings and impressions rather than words, trusting your inner voice to tell you what’s going on rather than what’s right in front of your face.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🩷🧚🏻‍♀️

[prettieinpink]

Cultivating a Growth Mindset

A growth mindset is the belief that one's skills, qualities, and abilities can be nurtured and enhanced through hard work and learning. Adopting this mindset makes you more open to challenges, embracing the unfamiliar or uncomfortable and willing to experience failure.

However, adopting this growth mindset means we must challenge our limiting self-beliefs that reinforce our fixed mindset. Limiting beliefs is the negative thoughts that hold us back, hindering our journey of self-improvement. 

RECOGNISE YOUR FIXED MINDSET. Start to be aware of how your fixed mindset, became your everyday internal dialogue. Fear of failure, procrastination, always being in your comfort zone or being a constant quitter could be why this mindset has been reinforced in your mind.

That being said, you need to start being conscious of what you’re saying to yourself daily. If you struggle with that, try speaking to yourself out loud, as it helps to be more aware of what you’re saying. 

REMOVE ANYTHING THAT DOESN’T ALIGN, i’m specifally talking about social media. There are so many self degarding or depreciating content(which are always disgusied as a ‘joke’) and the more you consume it, the more you believe it. 

However this can apply to your physical environment as well, such as people, sentimental objects or your actual space. 

START TO REDEFINE FAILURE. There are so many ways you can define failure, but my favourite has to be failure is the sacrifice for success. Of course, you can research other ways to redefine it that resonates with you.

However, allow yourself to grieve failures, especially if they had a huge impact on your life. The only way you can apply the lessons from failure in life is to process them. 

DO SOMETHING CHALLENGING EACH DAY. Whether it is giving yourself an extra 20 minutes at the gym, or trying to advance yourself in your studies, just do something that pushes you and hopefully, makes you struggle. 

Once we allow ourselves to struggle and be challenged, we start to develop the belief that being challenged is okay, not doing it perfect on the first try  is okay we can still do tasks without them being perfect + you’re also embracing failure. 

APPRECIATE YOUR EFFORT. Something is always better than nothing, not everything that we do has to be perfect to consider ourselves accomplished. Once we acknowledge the value of hard work and see how it impacts our day-to-day life, it enforces the belief that we can expand our skills even just by a little.

The perfect way to appreciate your effort is by celebrating or rewarding yourself. Allow yourself extra screen time, to sleep in, or do any of your favourite ‘unproductive’ activities. 

SEEK OUT NEW KNOWLEDGE. Not just reading an article and calling it a day, but actively researching something memorable. This doesn’t have to be a scholarly topic, it could be anything. When we start to desire to learn, which is practically the main thing about a growth mindset, it enforces those beliefs. 

BUILD RESILENCE. You’re going to fail, struggle, lose and maybe suffer. While it is important to grieve what happens, you should be able to bounce back after some time. Building this skill is so important in the growth mindset, as it helps you to take control of your emotions and not the other way around. 

This applies to constructive criticism as well. People will not always give you praise, but that doesn’t matter, what matters is your ability to act on that criticism. An outside perspective always helps to improve yourself and your abilities. 

[jaythes1mp]

Do you think readers' lives would be different if they were a deer hybrid?

Fun Fact: Did you know that cervids (from the deer, deer and elk family) are considered extremely sensitive animals. When suffering severe stress, such as when captured or rescued, for example, the animal's reaction can cause what is called 'capture myopathy' ', which compromises the organism of these animals.

I do, actually. Because, another fun fact! In June of this year me and my roommate saved a baby deer who was laying next to her mums dead body (she was less than 48 hours old). Fortunately she wasn’t injured. We were extremely lucky to be living next to a wildlife specialist, our neighbour, who’s been looking after Astrid and will continue to until she’s old enough to be relocated. Thankfully this wasn’t the first deer that’s been brought to her. So unfortunately I'm very acquainted with that fact.

She’s still striving strong though! These were the first pics taken of her.

Anyway, how they’d react:

Batfam x deer hybrid reader

With Damian's exceptionally caring nature when it comes to animals, he has already meticulously planned out the perfect environment for your deer forms comfort. He has considered every possible scenario and tailored everything to ensure your contentment as well as a space to meet all of your needs.

The young Wayne would thoughtfully strategize and visualise your reactions to every minor action or stimulus. He would carefully consider the most appropriate responses and adapt his behaviour to ensure a positive and nurturing environment for you. Even if the environment in question was one that you were forced into.

The bats would handle your transformed state with great caution, disregarding if your human mind was in control when you were transformed or not. Given your affiliation with the Cervidae family in your animal form, the Wayne family would be especially mindful and considerate of your natural tendencies, behaviours, and instincts.

Despite Dick's intelligence and expertise as a vigilante, being second only to Bruce Wayne himself, his impatience would become apparent within the twenty-ninth attempt to approach you for some affectionate ‘big brother cuddles’. Assuming you’re an adult or older teen, you would be extremely skittish and resistant in your deer form to his advances and attempts to get close, if not completely avoid his presence altogether, let alone let him cling to you for a ‘snuggle.’

Jason wouldn’t comprehend why you’d consistently conceal yourself, in both forms, hiding behind the couch every time he arrives, or why you involuntarily freeze at the sound of his motorcycle, or even why you instinctively flee at the slightest hint of him standing or making a move. But despite his confusion, he doesn't hold it against you. He’s witnessed the horrific experiences and trauma the children of Gotham City are subjected to, and if hiding and evading is the way you cope with what you’re going through, then he’s willing to wait patiently for you to feel secure in his presence. As your sibling, he vowed never to give you a reason to fear him. He knows just how overwhelming it is in this new environment, and he’s not planning on giving you any more reasons to be frightened by them.

Tim would find it easier to deal with your distressed nature than the others, opting to monitor you through the security cameras, allowing him to work on his cases simultaneously, rather than being overly affectionate with you. This way, he could keep a watchful eye on you without having to directly interact, which allows him to multi-task and focus on both keeping you safe and solving his cases.

Despite Jason and Dick no longer living in the Manor, Bruce would likely be the one to spend the least time with you. However, he's not neglecting you. He makes a conscious effort to rearrange his busy schedule, keeps certain days free every week, and meticulously plans time for some quality family bonding. Even if the quality time in question only consists of him quietly sitting in your vicinity, sipping on some freshly made tea while reading the newspaper, he cherishes every moment that he gets to share with you. Simply being near you is enough. Because you're his child, and he's not planning on fucking that up ever again.

[eetherealgoddess]

can you one with mikey where he is deeply in love with reader but she is oblivious and one night his dark impulses take control of him and he fucks he in her sleep??? love your content btww

thank you!! hope this turned out the way you wanted!! <3

ꨄTemptationꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Mikey Au

❦You didn’t know how tempting you were to those dark eyes❦

Sano Manjiro x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Temptation

The moonlight gleams through the cracked curtains, shining over the bed as a figure lies underneath the white comforter. You slumber, snug and warm as you lie on your stomach, one leg lifted as well as both of your arms though with bent elbows. Your other leg is planted straight down as your cheek meets the pillow. Light snoring echoed throughout the room as well as steady breathy. You were oblivious to the eyes gazing over your limp frame. He’s kneeled on the floor as his head lies on top of the arms that are crossed on the mattress in front of your face. His blonde strands hovering over his face, disheveled from his lack of care considering his sleepless nights.

Ever since he found a way to break into your room despite you still living at home, he hasn’t been able to keep himself away. He likes to visit you at night. It helps with easing the dark thoughts he succumbs to when he tries to fall asleep. His past haunts him, entrapping his mind with nothing but dark whispers of various impulses. The intrusive thoughts sneak up on him as a snake would before snapping the venom in their prey, trailed by the shadows of darkness looming over his back and reminding him that all he is meant to experience is suffering.

Ironically, sneaking into your room at night gives him a sense of normality. He can’t help but to live in the moment once you’re in the picture. A sane person wouldn’t think twice of you, having accidentally bumped into one another which resulted in you apologizing before running off. It didn’t make sense why he decided to follow you the rest of the day or command one of his gang members to search for more information about you. It doesn’t make sense why there isn’t a day he goes without thinking of you.

Maybe it was the sense of normalcy or distraction from his inner world. Maybe it was the qualities you had as a person that he found interesting after looking into you. The fact is that he is mesmerized by you. It’s been months since you first met, the accidental shove forever leaving a ghostly tingling sensation on his arm. He sits up for a moment, resting his elbows against the bed as both of his hands tangle through his hair, holding up his head as he eyes you with a half lidded gaze.

After a moment he stood up before slowly pulling the cover back, deciding to see more of you to get his fill. He gazed at your body that only consisted of a t-shirt and shorts. He loved to see the fabric of your bottoms wrapped tightly around your curves which is why his favorite nights are when you have them on.

He figured out that your sleeping habits vary. Sometimes he’d get there and you were in the middle of changing, scrolling through your phone, or… sometimes even catching you in the middle of a session with your sex toy. The tree next to your window and the space in your walk-in closet as well as the placement of your bed from across made those specific nights a lot easier to observe.

He uses a hand to caress your back gently before slightly lifting your shirt to reveal the skin on your lower back. His palm rubbed along the crease in which your derrière and back meet, squeezing your side before continuing his strokes, staring at your face cautiously. He bit his lip as he squeezed you once more, firmly as he watched your nose scrunch. He released your skin as he felt a tightness form in his pants.

It wasn’t his first time gaining an erection simply from gazing or touching you. In fact, there have been times he had rubbed his tense cock in your closet as you were watching porn, both of you orgasming together as he edged himself until you were ready for release. He’s used your clothes as towels and stole them. He’s also jerked off sitting right in front of you as you sleep on the bed, imagining all the different ways he can have his way with you.

The way your legs tense when the toy hits that spot that sends you into convulsion, your moans filling the air as well as the curses as you grind out your orgasm. Sometimes you’ll even repeat your sessions back to back, in search of the relief he wants to provide for you. He palmed his bulge as he reminisced those favorable moments. He looks down and gazes at his own hard on, his hair hovering over his face with his lips slightly parted as a red hue forms on his cheeks.

“Shit.” He whispered, feeling the overwhelming urge to climb on top of you. He just wanted to take a look at your wet pussy again. Leaning over to where he uses a hand to slide the leg nearest to open to gain a better viewpoint of your covered vagina. The tight shorts caused an imprint to outline the frame of your center. He glanced at you before gently connecting his fingers with your pussy, rubbing over the slit. He watched you as his middle finger moved to where your clit is hidden under the shorts, applying a still pressure to test the waters. Your hips twitched as you slightly readjusted but your eyelids stayed shut.

His fingers slid until he reached in between your ass cheeks, grazing over your covered anus before removing his hand all together. His torso bends over, crawling until he climbs over your legs. His hands connect with your shorts before he slowly pulls them down, revealing your naked bottom half as he tossed them to the side. He scoots to a better position over your legs and cupped both of your butt cheeks, squeezing and using his thumbs to caress the skin before spreading your labia with his fingers still planted on your ass.

He glanced at you to see your sleeping figure once more before he released you and shoved a hand into his pants. He lowers the lining of his underwear before pulling his cock from his pants. Deciding to ease some of the tension, he positions himself closer to your ass, using a hand to spread a cheek before pressing his cock in a downward position to where he could feel his head against your warm pussy.

He released a quiet grunt before lowering his torso on yours, basically hugging you as he eased his arms under yours, pressing his hips against you as he held it there. He thought he would have enough self control to not go all the way in since he just needed to feel you. It felt so good to feel your body against his, soft and warm. As time went on it was beginning to feel a little too good. He pressed down his hips before pulling back and repeating the same motion slowly in an attempt to not wake you up. He pants as the feeling becomes too hard to handle.

Deciding to just use the head of his cock, he licks his hand before lathering up his girth and using his fingers to position himself to your already wet vagina. He pushes forward slowly, your labia popping open wider as his tip stretches your hole. He accidentally released a moan as his head dropped, arms slightly shaking as they balanced himself over your figure.

“Oh fuck.” He hissed as he pushed in just a smidge more of a distance than before, stopping himself before he continued. It already feels like your pussy is sucking him in, the walls tightening the part of him already inside of you.

“So warm.” He groaned as he sat up more, breathing heavily with his lips apart as his head fell back. You slightly squirm against him as you attempt to reposition yourself, your leg that was bent moving down to where your feet are parallel. You wince as you take a deep breath before the slumber takes over once more.

He’s had to wait so long for this. He was having a hard time thinking rationally as all he wanted to do was shove his cock inside of you as deep as possible before forcing you to take all his cum. His hands reach the skin of your back under the shirt. His hips twitch back before he pushes back in, only his tip immersed in your walls. He can feel your pussy releasing more juice from the stimulation. Everything felt so hot.

He couldn’t take it anymore, lowering his upper body as he repositioned one of his arms under you and the other hand covering your mouth, lifting your head slightly. Your eyes finally flutter open into a squint, only just coming back to reality as you feel a heavy weight above you as well as a pressure from below.

“Forgive me, Y/n.” Your eyes widen at the low whisper before the hand tightens around your mouth and someone leaves a kiss on the back of your head before you feel a sharp pain in your core, causing a muffled grunt to leave your mouth as Mikey’s hips lock against yours in a swift motion.

He moaned when his hips smacked against your ass. You whimper at the pain as you attempt to push against the bed in an attempt to throw him off of you. You failed miserably, not even being able to move from your position because of his immense strength overpowering you from atop. You couldn’t even turn your head to see who the culprit is forcing themselves upon you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grunt loud from another hard impact from his thick cock.

“G-get off of me!” You attempt to scream but his hand only muffled your speech. Both of your bodies rock as he gains rhythm, his hair flailing as he grinds against you.

“Shhh.” He nibbles on your ear as he makes an attempt to quiet his own moans, not wanting to risk your parents walking in though if it happened, he wouldn’t have a problem with ridding himself of the inconvenience of their presence.

“M’ gonna find it and make you feel so fucking good, Y/n.” He says in your ear, forcing his fast strokes in deeper as he searches for the spot that has you quivering when he watches. Your nails impale the sheets as your grip tightens, the pain having resided once he found the spot, a moan escaping your lips.

“There it is.” He smirks before pressing his head against yours and closing his eyes. He continuously aimed to kiss your cervix as his head dropped to your neck, his lips connecting with the skin before he thrusts harder, rutting against you as he humps your backside. His cock is suffocated by the warm gummy walls inside of you, your juice lathering him as a natural lube as you reflexively push your ass against him, meeting his thrusts as your nipples harden against the bed.

“Th-this isn’t right!” You try to speak once more, struggling to push yourself off the bed as he adds more weight to your form, cock rubbing along your inner lining as your g-spot is assaulted. “I don’t even know you!”

“The only thing…” he breathes, “…that matters is my lo…” He pants as his eyebrows furrow before the smacking of his hips against your body becomes louder as he brings you both closer to your orgasms, his tip beating hard against your g-spot. You release a loud grunt followed by a moan as your hips move against him desperately.

“Ah fuck, baby this feels so good.” He hissed before his lips fell apart. Lowering his head, he rests it against your shoulder as he fucks into you with firm yet fast strokes. You bite your lip as your eyes shut tight, your hips bucking as you release a desperate moan, a wave of pleasure engulfing your abdomen as you orgasm on the stranger’s thick cock.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispers before his grip on your face and shoulder tighten, his hips rocking as he thrusts out his orgasm. You both pant as you catch your breath, his cock still inside of you before he slowly pulls his hips back causing a grunt to leave you both. You feel him kiss your shoulder and neck as your eyes widen in horror at the realization of your circumstances as he releases your mouth.

“W-who are you?! Y-you j-just…” You try to turn around to get a look of him but he only pressed your head against the pillow.

“When we get to know each other better, I’ll explain. For now, just know that you’re my wifey, okay?” He smiled, ignoring the look of confusion and fear that appeared on your expression.

“I-I don’t even know you! HE-!” He covers your mouth once more and leaned to your ear.

“I don’t want to kill your parents, Y/n. So don’t make me, okay? I’d like to meet your family properly.” Tears stream down your face as he tells you to close your eyes. You comply, shutting them tight as you feel his weight shift before completely disappearing.

“See ya next time.”

tbh i liked the request but idk if i liked how i wrote it

[mahgyu]

JJK MEN reacting to you asking for love advice about someone else to them

๑ featuring: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro and Ryomen Sukuna.

๑ content: Unrequited feelings (they like you in case it wasn't clear from the title), manipulation of feelings in certain parts, light angst. No fluff, I'm back to my era of pain (*evil laugh, the return* )

๑ a/n: Actually, there's nothing to say, I hope you enjoy it

GOJO SATORU

"Well, if he doesn't notice how amazing you are, he's an idiot. But, you know, sometimes idiots need a little push. Maybe you should... show him."

As Satoru sat next to you, the woman he secretly loved, he struggled to maintain a relaxed facade, smiling as he took in your every word. Inside, however, your heart was beating wildly, yearning to be the man you sought advice from. Your every gesture and laugh only intensified his desire to be by your side, as he battled to hide his emotions and waited for you to realize the truth behind his rehearsed words and gestures.

GETO SUGURU

"Ah, you deserve someone who treats you like the queen you are. And if he can't see that, then rest assured he's not worthy of all your effort. But you know, there's someone out there who has always known your worth..."

Suguru, with his captivating smile and persuasive skills, listened attentively to your romantic dilemma, calculating each word in his mind as he weaved his suggestions with subtle persuasion. He highlighted the flaws of the man in question but discreetly praised your qualities, seeking to show his own interest deliberately. Behind his serene expression, Geto calculated every move in the hope that you would see in him not just an advisor but a potential lover, eager for the moment when you would recognize his true worth and choose to share your world with him.

KENTO NANAMI

"My suggestion would be to approach the situation calmly and rationally. Communicate your feelings in a clear and direct manner. After all, communication is the key to any relationship. If he is worthy of you, that will be enough."

While Nanami Kento listened attentively to your venting, he offered practical and direct advice, demonstrating his usual calm and clarity. However, internally, he grappled with his own unexpressed feelings, hiding his deep emotions behind a serious and professional facade. Every word of comfort he offered you was a painful reminder of his own unrequited desires.

Despite the intense internal struggle, Nanami continued to counsel you, keeping silent about his own pain. He wondered if he would ever overcome the fear of ruining your friendship by expressing his own feelings, remaining trapped in a cycle of anguish and doubt.

CHOSO KAMO

"I... know what it's like to feel that way. I think... maybe he just needs a little push to realize how special you are. If I were him, I wouldn't hesitate for a second..."

Choso couldn't hide his emotions, his gaze reflecting internal anguish as he listened to your love story. While offering advice, he was emotionally honest, sharing his thoughts and revealing the weight of his unrequited feelings. Choso saw in the situation an opportunity to perhaps get closer to you and show what he truly felt, longing for a deeper connection and hoping that his honesty would touch your heart, as he prepared to face any challenge to be by your side.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

"You're wasting your time with that idiot. Men like him will only make you suffer. If this guy is too blind to see how amazing you are, then you're better off moving on. But, of course, if you prefer to keep deluding yourself, I'm not the one to stop you. Just don't come crying later when things don't work out."

Toji, with his impatient posture and piercing gaze, doesn't hesitate to launch biting criticisms about the man in question while you vent to him. However, internally, he grapples with his own inability to express his feelings, using his rudeness as a shield to hide his vulnerability. While his sharp tongue continues to push away those around him, Toji yearns for an opportunity to truly connect with you, but fear of failure and rejection keeps him trapped in his role as a solitary tough guy.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

"Ah, so you've come to me seeking advice about that fool? Hmph, he's just another insignificant worm, don't waste your time with someone like him. You know, I'm not one to flatter, but you, you're too good for that piece of shit."

Sukuna, with his ironic smile and malicious eyes, absorbs every word that comes out of your mouth, carefully choosing each piece of advice to weave his manipulation web. His enigmatic words, full of double meanings, cast doubt on the man in question while subtly suggesting that he himself would be a better option for you. He delights in the control he exerts over the situation, using both you and the man as pawns in his power game, relishing the feeling of power it gives him, determined to achieve his own ends at any cost.

[etirabys]

meandering post about reading Orson Scott Card again

I've been offline starting at 9pm every day (except once. I was drunk at karaoke and asked for anons at 8:30pm) for six weeks, with the result that in befuddled boredom two nights ago I picked up Orson Scott Card's Songmaster from the house bookshelf.

I read Ender's Game and three sequels when I was a teen thought the books were mid. Since those are OSC's best works I assumed he had nothing more interesting to offer me and didn't try more of him for fifteen years, but Songmaster was compelling enough that I immediately afterwards picked up The Memory of Earth, the first book of a pentalogy.

TMoE is extremely my jam: after humanity blows itself up on Earth, AIs monitor thriving human civilizations in the planets that survivors managed to escape to, and suppress any tech that enables large scale violence by exerting low key mind control via satellites. But forty million years pass, many of the satellites break down, and the AI needs help from humans to restore capabilities. Because as its control wanes, people are starting to e.g. conceive of airplanes or bombs again, and override the injunctions against entering military alliances more than two edges of connection away.

The AI is worshipped as a god all over the planet, but the fourteen year old protagonist that becomes one of the AI's agents tells the AI from the beginning that he'll break with it if its morality seems wrong to him. I like the fourteen year old – unlike Ender or Songmaster's protagonist (adult minds piloting ten year old bodies), he's a normal gifted kid who's unpopular 50% due to his ego and big mouth and 50% because he's socially inept and offends people even when he's trying to be nice.

Songmaster is also partly about a permanent solution to large-scale violence, albeit through one guy who establishes a monopoly on violence and sweeps in pax galactica. Both it and TMoE are preoccupied with the eradication of suffering from evil / human violence, which is closer to my resonant frequency than narratives about defeating particular people or ideologies. At the moment I can't think of any other book with such an insistent focus on the matter than T.H. White's The Once and Future King. It's hard to make a compelling story out of, and I don't think Songmaster really succeeds, but TMoE's premise is well suited to explore that. (I'm also enjoying the matriarchal culture where everyone is expected to have multiple serial-monogamous marriages.) After reading 70% of TMoE last night I wrote:

Usually when I read fiction there's a small part of me going, how can I use this as fodder for my own growth, how can I remix or improve or react against this, how do the author and I measure against each other? (If the quality and content are at an anti-sweet spot, the small part becomes quite large and I feel all teeth towards the author.) But on occasion I read something so close that the absence of that measuring-feeling is its own sensation – ego departs, or at least is split across two bodies. There's just amity and recognition

And it's pretty interesting to feel this way about Card for, well, the reasons.

(If you're familiar with Card drama none of the following will be new to you; I'm coming to it fresh so the rest of this post is me going "uh... wow")

I vaguely knew he was a homophobic Mormon who'd gotten into fights about gay stuff, but I couldn't tell from the Ender books I read. But in Songmaster his issues spring off the page in such a weird way. Every fifth Goodreads review of this book is "Card, u gay?" because, well,

(One review, possibly from a fellow Mormon, that went "Card, it's so sinful of you to be this gay in your novel". Why did he write this book that would predictably make everyone mad...)

it's full of gay male desire. The protagonist (Ansset) is approximately a castrato and characters notice him sexually a lot. The first and only time Ansset has sex it's with a Kinsey 4-5 male character he loves, who's married to a woman but has fallen in love with Ansset. It turns out the drugs Ansset took to prolong his singing career painfully and only-kinda-figuratively explode your balls when you have your first orgasm and you'll never feel sexual desire again. (You'd think his loving teachers would have warned him of that, but, whatever, they didn't.) The other guy is literally castrated in punishment for inadvertently torturing a highly valuable castrato. It's pretty bald: GAY SEX IS ALMOST IRRESISTIBLY TEMPTING BUT YOU SHOULDN'T DO IT.

(Sidenote: both Ansset and the guy's wife are very close and have a "there's enough love to go around" attitude about the gay sex initially, before they go "wait Josif is a SERIAL MONOGAMIST... he can only love one person at a time... the moment he had the gay sex his marriage was destroyed". It's funny in a mildly stupid way that Card would set up this parable of homosexuality destroying lives and a marriage but almost everyone involved is peacefully ready to sail into an open marriage. I guess it makes sense if you want to say very clearly that THE GAY PART IS THE BAD PART)

which is fascinating to me, because... why would you tell on yourself like that

(81k also told me secondhand of an essay? interview? where Card openly says "we have to stand against legalizing gay marriage because everyone will get gay married and society will collapse", so that's informing my read of Songmaster as well)

I am pretty dang open about my personal life online but if I had a lot of feelings I thought were disgusting and immoral I would not write a novel dripping with those feelings before pointedly castrating the leads for them. Especially if it wasn't relevant to the actually highbrow themes of (checks notes) winning over your adversaries with kindness and never relinquishing your monopoly on violence. I would be so so so so embarrassed to let this go to print, it's so psychologically transparent, what was he thinking

(Well, I assume he's a very different person with different social incentives. For all I know, people in his church went "hey Orson we read your book and it's clear that you're gay but signaling strongly that you won't give into the gay feelings, we're here for you, it was really brave of you to publish this".)

[ak319]

Yan Socialite brother x Fem G!P reader x Yan?Wife

➺Ezra Headcanon

As soon as Ezra was satisfied that your carriage had left the mansion safely, and after muttering a few prayers, he turned to Rowan, who immediately tensed in anticipation of the command to follow.

"Send invitations to all of my friends for a party. It will be held tomorrow evening at 7."

"But--milord, if I may ask, you've never thrown a party when the Lady of the house is away."

"Oh, Rowan, Rowan," Ezra's voice turned sharp as he stepped closer, his grip tightening on Rowan's face. "How could you even think it’s because my sister left that I’m hosting one, hm?" Rowan’s heart sank, panic rising as he feared he had offended his master. "N-no, no, I didn't mean it like that--"

"Oh, shush. I know exactly what you mean." Ezra's eyes narrowed as his grip loosened, but the cold edge in his voice remained. "But let it be clear, Rowan--this party isn't because my dear sister has gone on a trip. It's to celebrate her divorce."

Rowan’s face stayed tense, heart pounding in disbelief. A lavish party… because of the divorce? Of course, his master would. And it wasn’t as if your divorce had been a simple one, no, it unraveled painfully, each depressing knot pulled loose until it all fell apart. Your wife, Mabel, had suffered through two miscarriages--both of which, of course, were caused by Ezra. The relentless pressure and cruelty he'd put the poor woman through when you weren’t around like making her slip on the stairs--Rowan flinched, unwilling to relive that moment.

Afterward, Mabel had spiraled into such a deep depression that not even you could lift her out of it. Desperate, she finally asked for a divorce, which you granted. All because Ezra, in his twisted mind, deemed her nothing but a cheap whore, seducing his sister for money due to her lower-class background.

Rowan had conspired with his master throughout it all, so he wasn’t blameless. Yet, guilt still weighed heavy on him. Loyalty, after all, could blind a man just as easily as love.

"As you wish, master. I'll get straight to the arrangements."

Ezra sighed, clasping his hands together in front of him, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he basked in the sunlight, the gentle chirping of birds filling the air. Despite missing your presence and quietly worrying about your journey, he knew you needed this time away. You needed it to forget about that witch.

He prayed you wouldn’t return with another one.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time passed, and you slipped back into your usual routine after returning. Ezra, too, had finally found some peace. But, of course, his mother had to ruin things somehow. Out of nowhere, she brought up the topic of your marriage, prattling on about some suitor she had found--a girl from a "good family," Fiona Royce. Who the hell was that?

Ezra wasted no time investigating this supposed "catch." A good family, indeed. The eldest of three sisters, all of whom were well-bred. Fiona was smart, outgoing, and fashionable—qualities that, annoyingly, reminded Ezra of himself. But there was no way he was going to accept her. Not ever. In this estate, there was only room for one like him.

Without hesitation, he began spreading rumors about this so-called Fiona before you even had the chance to meet her. But Grace, sharp as ever, found out about her son's antics and scolded him harshly.

"You will not interfere in this matter, do you hear me?!" she snapped. "How can you spread such vile nonsense about someone’s daughter? The same could happen to yours one day. How would you feel then?!"

"Mother! I am not going to sit through another one of your lectures! (Y/N) just went through a divorce, and now you want to burden her with yet another problem?!"

"And I wonder what caused that."

Ezra folded his arms and scoffed, as if he had done nothing wrong, not a trace of regret on his face. "Gold diggers like her deserve exactly what she got."

"Well, news flash, Ezra--this marriage will happen. I can't stand to see my daughter in the state she's in, all alone. And just because her spoiled brother is too arrogant to accept it doesn’t mean it won’t. After (Y/N) gets married, I'll be finding your suitor too, so you can finally focus on your own life instead of meddling in your sister’s!"

"Mother, you can't do this! How-" Ezra’s voice was cut off as Grace stormed over, grabbing his shoulders firmly.

"Quiet. Enough of your tantrums, Ezra. Grow up. Learn to share--that's what I taught you, and what your father believed in. I swear, if you pull another one of your stunts, I will cut you off entirely. I won’t speak to you, nor will I see you again!"

His own mother, emotionally blackmailing him. Just… wow.

"You know what? Fine. Bring her here as your daughter-in-law. Let’s see what happens." Ezra's voice was laced with venom. "But mark my words--she’ll be just like the others."

With that, he slammed the door on his way out, leaving Grace standing there, wiping her tears. This was exactly why she had chosen Fiona. Only Fiona had the strength to tolerate Ezra, to stand toe-to-toe with him and still be a good wife to her daughter.

Grace composed herself before heading to your room, determined to ease your concerns about Fiona. She kept the truth hidden, though—about how Ezra had been the one to ruin Fiona’s reputation. She didn’t want to stir up unnecessary conflict between her children before the wedding.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

You met Fiona and were immediately drawn to her confident, sharp mind--not to mention her undeniable beauty. Her soft, golden hair seemed to glow in the sunlight as you both strolled through the gardens. Fiona wasted no time in trying to win you over. She needed to--she had wanted this for so long, ever since she first laid eyes on you at a party. Everything about you fascinated her, igniting a quiet obsession.

This was why her mother had subtly spoken to yours about Fiona being a potential suitor. Her parents, too, were impressed by their daughter’s choice and were eager to see it come to fruition.

The wedding soon took place, with Ezra maintaining his polite facade throughout the ceremony. But Fiona wasn’t fooled. She knew he was doing it all to stay in your good graces. Still, she wasn’t afraid. She had prepared for this moment, for the day she would become your wife and slowly capture your heart. She understood it would take time--after all, you were still likely weighed down by thoughts of your first marriage and the painful losses that came with it.

"How do I look?" Fiona asked, twirling slightly to show off her attire as you both prepared to leave for a dinner hosted by your business partner.

"Gorgeous, wife." You smiled, watching as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing your collar as she adjusted it.

"Is this the one Ezra gave you the other day?"

"Oh, no," she replied, smoothing the fabric. "I was going to wear that one, but I noticed the back was a bit torn, so I sent it off to be mended."

"Torn?" Your hands instinctively found her waist, pulling her gently toward you. "But Ezra is meticulous with his handiwork. How could that even happen?"

"No, he did a great job as always, perhaps the maid was too rough while washing it. But it's alright, darling." Fiona's voice was calm, but her resolve was unshakable. She wasn’t going to let Ezra control her life. What did he think? Showering her with gifts in front of you, trying to impress you with his false thoughtfulness, only to turn on her when you weren’t around? Not on her watch. She wasn’t Mabel--she wouldn’t crumble under his manipulation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, since my sister isn't here, you should go back to your parents' house."

"Why is that, Brother Ezra?"

"Because your duty is to my sister, and she’s not here. It’s not like you’re contributing anything around here anyway." Ezra stood abruptly, pushing his chair back, but paused as he heard her voice behind him.

"I am not leaving."

"What did you just say?" Fiona rose gracefully and faced him with a determined look. "I said I am not leaving my wife's home. I am part of this family and this house, it's mine just as much as it is hers, and I will leave when I choose. In fact, I think (Y/N) would be quite upset if she returned to find her beautiful wife absent to welcome her."

She flashed a sharp, disdainful smile at him before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving Ezra dumbfounded. The audacity of this woman was infuriating. He knew he needed to take action before she became even more of a problem. But he had to be more calculated, she was not a meek lamb like Mabel.

So, before you returned, Ezra made an effort to apologize to Fiona, attempting to be as genuine as possible. Fiona remained wary, her suspicion of his motives not easily driven away.

When you returned, Ezra eagerly requested that you allow Fiona to work with him in his Clothing Workshop, praising her fashion sense. Fiona at first didn't want to work under him but this could be handy in way to win your sympathy if Ezra pulls another stunt and she also just wanted to please you , seeing how happy you were when he proposed this.

You agreed without hesitation, pleased to see them getting along. But your satisfaction turned to concern when Ezra erupted in tears and rage over half of his new line being destroyed by fire--on a night when Fiona had been working late.

After managing to calm Ezra and escort him to his room, you returned to your own, where you found Fiona sitting on the loveseat in the balcony.

"Are you here to scold me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "If you are, go ahead. I don’t mind. I don’t even care if you don’t trust me anymore because I’ve disappointed you... and even Ezra. I’ve caused a loss to this family--"

Before she could say more, you gently cupped her chin, guiding her gaze to meet yours. "Shh, don’t say that. I don’t want these beautiful eyes to be clouded with despair, love." You wiped away a tear, and she immediately sought comfort in your embrace.

"Ezra has always been a bit... sensitive and intense about his work," you said softly. "I think it might be best if you focus on managing the household instead."

Fiona looked up at you, her expression anxious. "Do you think I caused the fire?"

"No, no. I don’t think it was your fault. I’ve been informed that the fire started because of a faulty electrical wire," you reassured her. "Why would you put your own life at risk like that?"

Fiona’s relief was palpable. The truth was, she hadn’t caused the fire--Ezra’s sabotage was the real culprit. She could hardly believe she had managed to save herself in time. How low could Ezra sink?

"I just--worry for your safety," you continued softly. "After this, you two obviously can’t work together. So, please stay at home and manage the budget instead."

Fiona nodded, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. At least she had achieved something, despite the cost. 'Take that, Ezra. You won, but at what price?'

As time went on, you found yourself falling in love with Fiona, gradually healing from the trauma of your first marriage.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Where’s your ring, Fiona?"

Fiona looked at her hands in confusion and chuckled nervously. "Oh, it must be in the bathroom. I’ll be right back, love." She gave you a quick peck on the lips before hurrying to the shared room. To her dismay, despite turning the room upside down, she couldn’t find it. Panic set in--what would she say to you and your mother if she lost a family heirloom?

She suspected Ezra’s involvement. If he was behind this, he had made a grave mistake.

You were indeed pissed at her carelessness but eventually joined her in the search. Fiona managed to convince you that she might have left the ring at her parents' house during a recent visit to which you calmed down. It broke her heart as this was the first time she had seen you mad and it was because of her stupid mistake.

The next day, Fiona went to her parents' house first thing in the morning to look for the ring. Her hunch proved correct. She found it in the room of Obelia, her second sister, who had a known crush on Ezra.

"I-I’m sorry, sister," Obelia stammered, looking guilty. "Ezra’s servant brought the ring here and said it was just a harmless prank Ezra wanted to play on his sister-in-law. I didn’t realize it would cause such trouble."

"How many times have I told you to stay away from him? You should have informed me about this! Don’t you understand? HE’S TRYING TO DESTROY MY LIFE, MY RELATIONSHIP! HE EVEN TRIED TO KILL ME!" Fiona's mother stepped in, attempting to placate her daughter and offering apologies on Obelia’s behalf.

"W--why is it that you get to marry the person you choose, and I’m not allowed to have any say in who I like? Shouldn’t you be happy for me and arrange my marriage to him so we can be together? Maybe then he won’t harass you anymore!" Obelia’s own frustration now evident.

"Are you out of your mind? You want to marry that selfish bastard?! What kind of lies did Ezra tell you?"

"He didn’t lie, Fiona!"

"You know what? Fine. I’ll talk to Ms. Grace about Ezra’s marriage and see what happens. But listen to me, Obelia--don’t blame me for what happens to you if you choose to pursue this."

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

To everyone’s surprise, Ezra agreed to the marriage, and preparations swiftly began. Fiona, however, was not taken aback. She saw through Ezra’s schemes--this was merely leverage to manipulate and threaten her using her own sister. 'If only you knew, Ezra, what I have in store for you.'

Almost a week after the wedding, tragedy struck when Obelia suffered a severe accident in her carriage, resulting in paralysis from the waist down. She was confined to bed, leaving everyone devastated. Ezra, however, was less concerned about her condition and more troubled by the prospect of being publicly labeled as having a handicapped wife.

“Something on your mind, Ezra?” Fiona’s voice cut through the silence, interrupting his contemplation in the gardens. Annoyed, Ezra turned to face her with a forced smile. “Just enjoying the scenery.”

“Hm. I’m also enjoying the view, but not here. Inside, watching my sister bedridden and helpless, unable to even manage something as simple as keeping track of a ring--now that’s truly satisfying,” Fiona retorted, her tone dripping with disdain.

“Wow, didn’t expect you to be so ruthless, sister-in-law. Nearly killing your sister over a ring? Tsk, tsk. How pathetic. Just what you'd expect from someone of your low class.”

“Call me whatever you want, Ezra. This is a warning--to show you how far I’m willing to go to stay by (Y/N)’s side. Obelia means nothing to me. I’ll fight anyone who tries to take her away.”

“I still don’t care, because guess what? She’s getting divorced. There’s no way I’m spending my life with... that.”

“Be my guest. But remember, Ezra, I’m just like you--willing to go to great lengths to protect what’s mine. And at the end of the day, there are some things only I can give (Y/N).” Fiona's words were laced with a cold certainty.

Ezra’s face flushed with rage as she leaned in closer, whispering in his ear.

“As in, you know... a child. You’re not that naive, are you? And believe me, (Y/N) really wants one. Really , really does. She tries every day.”

Ezra recoiled in disgust, his anger barely contained.

“Your parents clearly never taught you basic decency,” Ezra sneered, wiping his ear and glaring at Fiona with fierce determination. “I’d like to see you give birth to one first.”

“I’m not Mabel,” Fiona shot back, her voice cold and steady. “I’m not clumsy enough to fall or... reveal what happened on that ferry.” Ezra’s heart skipped a beat. Though he tried to mask his panic, Fiona saw through his facade.

“Oh, I’m aware of that incident. Anyone with a brain would be. But don’t worry, I won’t mention your name in connection with it. After all, you’re my wife’s brother, and I wouldn’t want her to face any humiliation or business losses because of you. So, let’s set aside this animosity and try to be... civil.”

“I won’t let you get away with this,” Ezra spat, swatting Fiona’s arm before storming off. To Fiona, now well-acquainted with Ezra’s manipulative tactics, it was clear he had assented in his own way, though he remained defiant. This was going to be an intriguing game from now on.

[forestlv4r]

Undercut gojo satoru x fem!reader

containing; fluff, pet names, gojo being touchy, suggestive content idk i forgot

sam's 2 cents: i thought of this while i was on a road trip ❤️ so pls appreciate my awesome mind

Gojo walks into the living room, his eyes darting towards you laying on the couch. As you scroll on your phone through the useless apps you feel a heavy weight on your body, only to look down and see your husband gojo.

"hey baby" gojo muffles while his face buried into your chest, closing his eyes as to peacefully sleep.

"hey, what you up to?" You question, continuing to scroll on your phone while the other hand goes you brush through his hair.

"my undercut is so grown out" he speaks, "can you help me cut it? Please baby?" The man pleads as he looks up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes darting at you.

"you really cant do it yourself gojo?" You question, raising an eyebrow knowing he's just playing to be a big baby.

"no, you do it better, please baby do it for me" he begs as he pulls himself towards your face to give your lips a few quick pecs.

Sighing, you throw your head back as to show you're annoyed but deep down you know you're gonna enjoy the quality time with him,

"fine get up" you pat his back to move.

-

"gojo! Stop laughing you're gonna mess up the cut!" You yell at him for giggling as you try to buzz the under part, knowing he's ticklish from that part of his neck.

"im sorry baby, im sorry" he says in between small giggles, looking at your adorable focused face from the bathroom mirror, with part of your tongue poking out of your lips.

His hair is tied up in a little ponytail to keep it out the way, as you finish up the last few spots from under his hair you brush off any excess hair that has fallen off onto his neck, which causes him to start giggling again. Finally having enough as he turns around and picks you up by your waist,

placing you on the sink-counter in-front of him.

"didn't i tell you to stop doing that baby?" We says flashing you a cheesy smile, "now i have to punish you"

"oh yeah?" You say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you by your legs to his waist.

"Mmm, yeah" he says, leaning in to kiss you,

capturing your lips with his, the soft skin making contact as he slides his tongue across your lips waiting for you to grant access, both of you fighting with your tongues, not stopping for air, not even for a second, as if air was overrated and you needed eachother to live.

His hands start to roam all over your body, grabbing you by your waist pulling you closer than ever to him, as he subtly grinds his hips to your core.

"nuh uh not right now" you pull away, breathing heavily and your lips all puffed up and swollen from his biting and sucking on them.

"wha- what." The fucked-out man speaks, a confused look plastered on his face.

"We will finish this later, in the bedroom. For now you get to suffer." You slyly say, jumping off the counter and out the door leaving the man alone, baffled, in the bathroom.

"what- baby wait!" He chases you around the house like a lost puppy confused as to what he did to get punished like that.

"thats what you get for eating the last of my chips" you speak, turning around letting that sly smirk at the corner of your mouth get the best of you.

"babyyyyyyy, im sorryyyy come onnnnn" he pleads dragging out his sorries dramatically.

"nope not budging" you turn around to quickly pec his lips and go on about your evening routines.

-

Sam's 2 cents: sorry to edge you guys like this(>ᴗ•) but do you want a part 2 with smut?(｡♥‿♥｡)

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ -

@pinkwhiskers @happymangospot @levermillion @bria101na @antisocialinlw @madzmoxy @milkari73 

tags - 🏷️

[mactavishsgfandwife]

141 When They’re Sick

bilingual privilege is using your second language to scribble down notes for your tumblr fanfiction in class with the reassurance that no one else will be able to understand what you’re writing 😋 pure fluff (not proofread)

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

soap has such man flu vibes

i just know he will have a little cold from never dressing appropriately for the english weather (he thinks he can tough it out) (he can’t) and then lays on the sofa for a week, miserable and constantly pining for your attention

he loves a cup of tea when he’s sick but he also swears that irn bru has magic restorative qualities, and "that’s how i keep m’physique, bonnie"

Johnny groans, rubbing his face with his palm as he lays stretched out over the sofa, his feet resting on one arm and a hot water bottle flopped lazily over his stomach. For the most part, the grunts and sighs seem genuine, but you could swear that he makes sure to emphasise his suffering when you walk past, just to let you know what a big strong boy he’s being for dealing with his sore throat and slight headache.

"Head hurts…" he groans, holding a forearm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

"I know, honey… you want a paracetamol?" you pat his head, trying to hide your little, sympathetic laugh.

"Nah, only just had one… Y’could gimme a kiss, though," he grinned up at you, his tone lightening a little.

"Ew! Stop, I don’t want your germs," you laugh, pulling your hand away from his hair.

"Aww, c’mon… might make me feel better," Johnny teases, sitting up a little (he wasn’t really that weak in the first place) and holds your wrist so you can’t escape. When you see the stupid, irritating grin on his face, you know you don’t really care about germs. You just want to kiss him.

Captain John Price

price, when he’s feeling ill, likes to be looked after - the number one cure for ANY of this man’s problems is a warm bath

he loves it when you act like a little housewife for him, running him a warm bath and bringing him a constant stream of cups of tea - sometimes he’ll pretend to be sicker than he is for a little longer than he has to just for a day or two more of being doted on by you. not that you don’t do that anyways.

but he’s a menace when you try to go off shopping or to work - he lays a strong, hairy arm over you, mumbling something about being sick and needing you to stay

if you massage his back and shoulders when he’s feeling sick, he will be so happy. it takes a little longer than when he rubs your back because there’s just more of him, with his broad shoulders and muscular dad-bod (yum)

You have John laying on his front, on the bed, arms crossed under his head. His hair is damp, getting the bedsheets a little wet beneath him, and he has a soft white towel wrapped loosely around his hips - he smells strangely like lavender (he definitely used your shower gel instead of his because yours is nicer - you pretend not to notice, as your hands gently move up and down his sore back).

He’s managed to come down with a bad cold the day after an intense workout, so his body is totally exhausted and nothing really appeals to him other than laying down. Being as fit as he is, you wouldn’t expect him to be in such a state, but the man needs a break and it’s plain to see.

The soft light from the nice-smelling candles that you’ve lit on the bedside table plays in his wet hair, which you gently comb your fingers through.

"You been using my products again, hmm?" you grin with a gentle tone, leaning in closer to him.

"Sorry love…" he starts to respond, his voice a little hoarse.

"It’s okay," you laugh softly, nuzzling your face into his back as you lower yourself on top of him, like a weighted blanket. Your soft hands wrap gently around his scarred sides, as little sighs of contentment leave your mouth.

"What happened to my back rub?" he teases, feeling your body laying against him. Still, he doesn’t a muscle to stop you from cuddling up to him.

As you keep quiet, enjoying the warmth of his body, he chuckles and pulls himself into a more comfortable position below you.

"That’s alright, sweetheart…" he replies to your silence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

simon would try to be an unphased tough guy but he’d have little moments of weakness

he’d insist that he’s not that sick while taking paracetamol and drinking tea constantly, pulling you close to him as often as he can and being clingier than usual (he’s always touchy, but he is particularly reliant on you now)

he’s in a terrible mood, but just resting his head on your shoulder or holding you while you work helps him… better yet, he loves it when you’re sitting on the sofa and working on your laptop, or watching a film, and he gets to lay down with his head in your lap - with your soft fingers occasionally brushing through his short hair

he’s a tough guy, but when it’s just you and him, he can just lay down with his girl without worrying about being ghost. he’s just simon - poorly simon, with his sweet girlfriend taking care of him.

Phone in your hand, you quietly text your friend about her crazy ex boyfriend and the dress that she’s going to wear out tonight - the red one or the other red one, with the different neckline? You look up to the doorway to see a tall, tired man walk into the sitting room - 6’4", dressed in an old grey hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms, ruffling his hair and looking utterly exhausted.

"Thought you were asleep, Si…"

"Can’t sleep," he mumbles gruffly, silently moving towards you and finding a spot to lay his head - right in your lap, his feet resting on the opposite arm of your big sofa.

Understanding his fatigue, you sigh softly and stroke his head as it lays against you. His skin is pale, showing his sickness, and his eyes look tired and dry. A little groan escapes his lips as he shuffles on the sofa, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Love you, darling…" he whispers softly, his eyes shutting in preparation to finally sleep.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

i feel like kyle’s love language is food

if you make that man a curry or a good spag bol, he will secretly be making plans to propose to you as he eats it

and that’s all the more true when he’s ill or tired out - some comfort food home cooked by you would mean the world

Gaz had a bad cold and had been hibernating in bed all day, mostly asleep but occasionally watching the football or texting Soap to complain about how sick he is. As you walked into the room, brandishing a bowl of spaghetti carbonara, his eyes lit up.

"Hey, what’s this?" he grins, his voice a little hoarse.

"Carbonara. For you," you chuckle, placing it down on his bedside table, "I have some work stuff to finish, I-"

"Y’could just stay with me instead. I’ve been locked up in here all day," he teases.

"You’ve been asleep all day! I really need to… well…"

"Come on, baby."

You struggle to hide the grin that’s creeping onto your face, not wanting to procrastinate your work any longer (this wasn’t the first time Kyle has stolen you away from typing up emails) but he got what he wanted when, a moment later, you were cuddled up to him. Wearing his tshirt and your underwear, with your head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh my God, this is so good!" he chuckles, eating, voice still strained from the sore throat. He’s mostly just happy to have you next to him (oh, as well as the pasta).

gaz is my babyyyyyyy i don’t think you guys get it 😣😣😣 this took an age and a half to write i hope it’s up to standard thanks for reading!! xx

[kaybreezy3000]

Five Hargreeves Dirty Headcanons ABC's

(Rated M for sexually explicit content, 5438 words, the last one for Z is sort of a mini story for you to enjoy. This list explores Five and his relationship with 'you' while taking a small dive into his very complicated psyche and looking at some of the reasons why he is the way he is. This is written with 'you' as anyone-not male or female specific.)

Note~ me doing this idea was actually born from me not sleeping last night, and a request my dearest friend Bad Kitty got to do a list this way. She just did a headcanon for Five, so she respectfully declined. Check her stuff out with the link above and I swear you won't be disappointed.

All right.... I hope I did this in a way that's satisfying for all you lovely Five fans out there. 🤞

A-      A student, Aftercare

Number Five doesn't do anything half ass, and that includes you. He’s a hyper focused genius who is going to study you like you’re just another thing he needs to conquer. Every sign your body gives him that he’s doing something right will be cataloged and used to his and your benefit. Five is all about attention to detail and from the moment the tip of his thick cock slips inside you, to the moment he’s done filling you, your pleasure is his. He will always make sure you come, usually more than once and always screaming his name.

With aftercare, he’ll be sure to touch you with the most cautious and gentle of touches as he wipes up the mess he made of you, his soft green eyes dementedly delighting in the glisten of his seed leaking out of you onto the sheets.

B-      Biting, Bondage

Five may seem refined, but he loves to let the feral part of him go wild when he’s with you, not just when he’s swinging an ax through someone’s face. Biting his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you cry out, or softly nibbling on the shell of your ear never gets old. Your agitated sounds of complaint when he does these things arouse dark parts in him that only make him want to drag his teeth along your skin and confuse you even more. Biting your quivering lower lip as his hips violently thrust into you and your nails dig into his back is just one of the ways he makes sure you never forget that you are his.

As a trained killer who loves to exert his power over others, Five is not opposed to using the silk length of his tie to bind your wrists, fastening them above your head, then to the headboard so you can’t touch him. Now you can’t get away-not that you want to.

The look of you that way and the feel of your body under him reminds Five of being with Dolores. She couldn’t touch him back no matter how much he wished she could, and now neither can you.

C-     Control

Thanks to Five’s upbringing where he didn't get to learn what it meant to have the love of a real parent, he suffers from issues of self-worth and trust. He wanted approval, but all he ever got was ridicule and abuse. Due to this, he naturally developed coping mechanisms, such as the need to be the best at everything and becoming extremely self-reliant.

Five is the king of survival, and he knows how to take care of himself.  As such, he struggles with the need to control everything. This includes many things in your relationship, especially with all things sex.

D- Dominance, Dolores

Five is dominant, there’s no question about it. Living a lifetime with Dolores as his only companion only instilled that quality in him even more. This plays heavily in his joy of you calling him Daddy, and that has little to do with his real mental age of being way older than he looks, and much more to do with him wanting to take care of you because that’s what he knows and is good at.

Just like with his beloved mannequin, Five loves manhandling you into positions that make it even better when he fucks his long hard cock into you. With a sheen of sweat causing his chocolate fringe of hair to stick to his forehead, Five could pin you down and thwack his hips into your ass while it's flipped up in the air all day long, all the while maintaining a devilish side smirk and insisting that you are doing such a good job for Daddy.

He's such a wonderfully fucked up jerk, but you love your daddy for all his kinks and oddball quirks. Even his little ticks make you want him even more.

E-      Escapism

Sex is about love for Five. He’s just that kind of man.

He could fuck anyone, but he didn’t, not until he found you. He couldn’t open that part of himself without the intimacy that a real love based relationship gives him. That’s not to say that sex isn’t his favorite form of escapism because it is.

Five is hardly a simple man, but to him, the ecstasy of having an orgasm and the momentary blind eroticism of feeling your body release in that way are just part of what it means for him to be human. He is filled with a mysterious power that may or may not be originally from the alien race his adoptive father belonged to, but he’s still a man and he loves to fuck.

F-      Fingers

This guy’s long sexy fingers are really something, whether you look at him using his dexterity when steadily pulling the trigger that ends someone’s life in the blink of an eye, or if it’s when he’s running them between your legs, languishing in the feel of your engorged flesh wetly dripping for him. Don’t be surprised if Five sucks your lust off his dangerous digits, or if he forces them in your mouth after he’s had them inside you. Both options are great in his mind, and he’ll never get enough of tasting you or good naturedly debasing you.

G-     Grasping, Growling, Groping, Gripping

While hoisting your ass off the bed so he can pump his cock into you with an unforgiving rhythm that makes your insides clench around him and your mouth drop open wide while you gasp out stuttering profanities, Five is for sure going to latch onto your hips, your waist, your hair, your neck, your thighs, or basically anything he can get his hands on.

What you have is his, and he’s not letting it go. When your bodies are connected, he couldn’t be happier. Growling out throaty sounds of euphoria as his tip slips back and forth just inside your slicked entrance, Five knows just how to manipulate your body, and he knows it’s driving you equally crazy.

H-     Humping, Holes

With no shame and little other options, Five is no stranger to getting off by humping inanimate objects, but thankfully, now he has you. Still, you are often a target for his hip thrusting exertions where his hot length grinds against the side of your leg, or your ass crack. He really likes doing this when he wakes up with a boner that refuses to be ignored.

You don’t mind, he is young again after all.

It’s hot as hell watching Five lose himself in such an innocent way, but your heart also breaks a little when you think of all the loneliness he’s had to endure and why he’s still attached to doing this.

The good news is, he’s healing from all that. He has other options when it comes to being with you, and he’s not about to overlook several places on your body where he can insert his needy cock. Five isn’t picky, he will fuck any hole you let him pound.

 I- Imagination

Let’s face it, Five has a very big imagination. Dolores anyone….

Without his ability to imagine her love for him, he wouldn’t be here. She was his voice of reason, and what he considers the personification of all the best parts of him. Without Five there would be no Dolores, and without her, there would be no Five.

Thanks to that enamel covered molding of plastic and resin, you have Five and his imagination is just as strong as it ever was. He never seems to run out of ways to ravish you. Like in public, when he blinks you into a fitting room where he then shoves you against a mirror and slips his fingers and then his cock inside you while he watches your hands palm the glass and your eyes droop.

It’s all Five and his imagination coming to life. He makes your head spin and your body spasm your shuttering release.

He gets stuck in his head sometimes, but it’s not all bad. Sometimes it's just in him fretting giving you small gifts to show how much you mean to him or it's in the simple but as meaningful things he loves to do, like him quietly reading your favorite book to you while you lay together in bed.

J- Jerking off

Five knows how to polish his palm. One might say he’s the master of masturbation.

Needs being such in his many times of despair, the act of self-love gave him something other than pain and suffering to think about. Eventually, for a young boy all alone in the apocalypse, his desire to lose himself in this way became an addition. Smart as he is, Five knew this was happening, but he still became reliant on it, and now he’s still partly that boy, and also that lonely man, sometimes a bit too involved with playing around with his hands down his pants.

He’s shameless about it, never shy about taking his hardened shaft out to show you how it’s done. Fingers tightly curled around the base, he’ll slide them up and down his erection, sure to prolong his climax as long as possible. Not until he’s had enough will he tease the super sensitive slit and the bulbing band of his cherry red tip with his forefinger, circling it round and round before he goes at it hard, fucking himself so brutally his hand is nothing but a blur.

Not one to leave you out, when Five throws his head back and growls, “Get your pretty mouth over here,” you listen. Then you are compensated with the sound of Five groaning out your name as hot spurts his nearly translucent semen flick onto your waiting tongue and then drip down your lips onto your chin.

K- Kissing

The simple pleasure of kissing someone real was something Five had not known until he found you. Not until your first kiss did he understand why people in the romance novels he’d read seemed to be so taken by it.

The first time he looked into your eyes, knowing you saw him for who he really was, all the good and the bad, and that you wanted him anyway, he nervously but determinedly advanced. Slowly at first, he came within a hair’s width from your lips as his uneasy breaths danced across your skin. He was scared, but the moment his mouth touched yours and then molded around your warmth, softly pressing into your acceptance, he never looked back.

Now, after he’s had time to learn how to do it. Five is all about kissing. Running his tongue across your teeth, or tangling it with yours, it doesn’t matter. He’s in heaven when his mouth is on yours.

L- Licking

Five may not look it, but he’s strong, and so is his tongue, and he’s not afraid to fuck you with it. Before you come, he’ll get you so worked up and dripping with anticipation that it’s insane. He’ll happily lap your liquid desire for him until you’re a puddle of goo, laying there with him between your legs, the backs of your knees dangling limply over his heaving shoulders. Catching his breath after your body has just repeatedly tensed and then uncoiled, giving itself over to his mouth, he’ll chuckle at your state of complete and utter destruction, his boyishly handsome dimple doing you in even more.

M- Manipulation

Five is very clever and knows how to get what he wants but he doesn't mentally try to manipulate you. He will however indulge in the fantasy of using you as his own personal fuck doll. This, as is many of his tastes is simply something that's a part of him ,as much as his witty yet dryly delivered comments. Sometimes he asks nicely for you to lay down and not move as much as possible, sometimes he prefers to take your options away manually, and that's when we get the extra special suppressive simulation of bondage added to his sexual exploits.

N- Nuzzling, Naughty talk

Five is many things, uninhibited in bed being only one of them, but he’s also the most loving and tender person you’ve ever known. He shows this in many ways, but one that never gets old is when he’s feeling exceptionally needy and he buries his face against your neck, murmuring sweet nothings about how much you mean to him while he brushes the tip of his nose along the underside of your jaw. He’ll press his face against your ear, cherishing the smell of your hair and the feeling of your skin against his. Five can’t get enough of loving you in these small but passionate ways.

Also, while doing this and at many other times as well, Five lets his silver tongue go verbally, never ceasing to shock you with the dirty things he comes up with. If he tells you to get over here and sit on his dick and ride until he says stop, that’s always fun, and so is watching his eyes comically roll back in his head as he cries out how fucking good you are a taking his cock.

O- Ownership

Five is possessive. He doesn’t covet things unless they have value, and he doesn’t have much to his name and never did. He is a simple man in this way. He was also the kid who did not let the other kids play with his toys, and with you now it’s no different.

He’s not the type to prevent you from doing anything you want, but he is extremely territorial. If something is important to Five, like you are, or even when we are talking about something as seemingly insignificant as one of his tailored suits, if someone dares fuck with the things he holds dear, they are in trouble.

Five doesn’t own you but you own his heart, and if anyone he’s not okay with gets too handsy and lays a finger on you or the fine wool fabric of his sexy suit, expect retaliation and not always something as simple as him angrily swatting their hand away followed by a few choice words of distaste.

P- Punishment, Promises

Being someone that considers their opinion to be more often than not the only one that matters, Five comes off very harsh at times, but with you it’s all a game.

Teasing him about his real age brings out a side in him that’s all about showing you who’s the boss. And one of his favorite ways of doing it is threatening you with holding back when your body is just about to start convulsing from the rhythmic roll of hips pushing his dick so far inside you that you're sure he’s hitting your belly button. Another way is when he throws a hand back and smacks you in the ass while you’re already struggling to keep hold of the sheets so he doesn’t fuck you straight through the mattress.

Five’s promises to take care of you are just as true as his promises that you will pay for your sassy little comments. Together, your back-and-forth, fight style flirtations always lead to him getting overly worked up, and you getting pinned somewhere like against a wall while he frantically fucks his own brains out by way of pounding the fuck out of you.

Q- Quivering, Quaking

Five is beautiful. His soft bedroom eyes with their long dark lashes fanning his flushed cheeks as he looks down at you underneath him take your breath away almost as effectively as his desperate kisses.  But it’s after he’s finally let go and let himself fall over the edge, when you can feel the heat of his cock quaking its last grievances inside you, his body quivering as his legs let go and he collapses at your side, that you are both the most at peace.

R- Rough

Five loves to take you any way he can, but the guy loves it rough. His lean body and his sinewy muscles making a mouth watering ‘V’ as they point like an arrow downwards towards his perfectly tailored dress pants, spelling out all kinds of trouble, but in this case, it's the good kind of trouble.

His body is built for action and that’s what you’re going to get. Five loves to surprise you by blinking himself right on top of you, holding you down with his legs as he attacks. Be it all his training as a child, or as an assassin, Five Hargreeves likes to fuck hard and fast, with his hands holding you down under him with no mercy.

S- Submission

Five craves your submission. Just hearing you beg for it gets him hard, and he often demands you verbalize how much you want him to fuck you harder, or make you come. He'll get you to say it, or he’ll stop thrusting his cock inside you. While you’re losing your mind, he’ll merely look down at you with his cocky grin, just waiting for you to plead with him to give you his cock again.

When it goes the other way, at least when it’s in between the sheets, Five is rarely the one to give himself over that way, but with you, he will. But he only does so knowing that it’s in his benefit.

There’s been more than once he has shown you how much he trusts you, and wow is it a sight to watch Five Hargreeves wither and writhe as you torment all his sense, using blindfolds and gags, and even handcuffs to keep his greedy hands off until you say so.

Imagine his face twisted with agony, lips parted as helpless moans for more pour out of him.

T- Tits

Your body is a wonderland, plain and simple. Anything Five can stimulate himself with while also getting a rise out of you is fair game, and that includes tits.

Small ones, big ones, his or yours, whatever. Five adores the perky points of flesh that he can nipple and suck on. Making them hard nubs with the carefully cruel but also sometimes achingly gentle tugs and rolls between his fingers, is one of his favorite pastimes whether in the privacy of your bed, or in public if he can get away with it.

U- Unlimited energy

The nature of Five’s ability to teleport is something that he never really talks much about, but you know that within him is an infinite strength. Without it, he’d never be able to summon enough energy to propel himself through time and space; it's just simple math.

That said, this same quality of his very unique power allows him an unfair advantage in bed.

Five has unlimited levels of vigor while he’s bucking his hips back and forth and his cock slips in and out, over and over and over. Always a perfectionist, he prefers you get off before him, but even when he’s not so lucky, he can rally. Using his already spent dick, semi hard and still throbbing from the loads of cum he just dumped in or on you, Five will show you that his recovery period is just as extraordinary as he is, and the next thing you know, your sexy teleporter is showing you a whole new rhythm with his hips smacking into yours.

V- Vulnerability

Most of the time, the people in this world that seem the most aloof and coldly indifferent are actually the most desperate and in need of love.

Five is this person.

All his traits point to this. With his extreme levels of trauma, he will always be this way. He longs for the acceptance he never got from Reginald and his siblings. Deep down he’s terrified of showing weakness because if he does, that means he can be hurt. The reality is, he’s already been hurt more than almost anyone that’s ever walked the planet, but in his vulnerability and fear is so much love.

Never the one to give up, Five is trying to learn how to accept the parts of himself that he hates and see that he’s someone deserving of happiness. You are a huge part of that.

W- Whimpers, Whispers, Whines

Anything that comes out of you that sounds broken and desperate makes Five’s dick and mind go wild. The more you keen and struggle, the more he tries to get more of it. It’s pretty much a vicious cycle of torment that’s part narcissistic fulfillment, and also purely for the joy of making you feel amazing. Five feeds off your pleasure.

X- X marks the spot

Five has left his mark on you. Whether he knows he’s doing it or not, he’s taken claim of your body and soul. Let’s face it, he occupies way too many of your thoughts. But his accusation of all that is yours doesn’t stop there. He also loves to mark physically.

Five uses his teeth, tongue, sucking, and licking. He’s an expert, using anything he has at his disposal. He leaves trails of his claim over you for all to see. He’s like a puppy, unable to help himself as his mouth covers you with anxious expressions of love.

Y- You

When we think about Five Hargreeves, we outwardly see a person that one would think only thinks about himself, but it’s actually the complete opposite.

As we know from his troubling past, he’s made mistakes and he’s paid for them, and all along it’s been his love for his family that willed him to keep going. Now, that’s still there despite their continued differences, but his aim in life is more directed at you.

Five wants nothing more than to make you happy. He’ll never stop being scared of losing you no matter how confident he seems. It’s not his fault; he’s lost so much, over and over.

Right or wrong, he also makes you a priority in all things orgasmic bliss. If he’s going solo, you and your naked body welcoming him are all that’s on his mind. When you are together, he’s damn sure to see to it that you get off. He’s a teleporting, ex-temporal assassin that may or may not be the founder of a time controlling agency, but first and foremost, Five Hargreeves is a gentleman, and a gentleman always takes care of his business, and you are his number one business.

Z- Zippers (Heads up~ This one is special because with it, I’m giving you guys a little taste of more in the moment/story writing that I am more used to doing. This part being very similar to something a very naughty version of Five does to someone in the story I wrote called ‘The Devil Within’)

            One of the most erotic sounds in Five’s opinion is the sound of his zipper being pulled down by your careful hand as you coyly gaze up at him with your adoring eyes.

Looking between his widely spread legs at the sight of you kneeling before him, ready to do as he asks, makes him feel more powerful than he’s ever felt, and that’s saying a lot because Five is very, very powerful and has done unimaginable things.

            It starts with a steadiness in his soothing words and his hand brushing along your cheek, then moving back into your hair. His fingers thread along your spine as he pulls you closer.

You can already see the bulge of his desire even before you open his pants, but now, pulling the fabric aside, you see the outline of Five’s erection filling the thin cotton underwear still covering him.

You know what he’s going to do but he warns you anyway.

“You’re going to eat my cock and love it, honey.”

Licking your lips, you nod.

Coming down on him, you kiss the wet spot of darkened material covering his deliciously rounded tip. Just thinking of it inside you, opening you up almost painfully, has you wishing you could touch yourself, but you don’t dare because right now, this is about him.

Sliding a hand down, Five pushes his underwear down, freeing his stiff cock.

You let out a little whimper.

Feeling pretty damn proud, Five grabs a wad of your hair, then sharply pulls your head, pushing you down closer to his body.

“Don’t be a tease, sweetheart” he tauntingly sings with misleadingly boyish play in his voice.

You lick your lips again, then open your mouth around him, your tongue leisurely tracing up the raised veins roping the length of his engorged shaft.

After only one pass, you stop to gauge Five’s reaction. 

The moment he locks eyes with you, you wrap your lips around him and Five is quick to push you down without warning, forcing you to gag around him as you struggle and gasp for air. 

Smirking, Five lets you sit that way, allowing you to adjust as he lets out a low groan over that sinful act of ruthlessness. His fingers play with your hair, petting you even if it is a degrading form of encouragement. Doing as he pleases, Five refuses to adjust the pressure he is putting on the back of your throat.

With a small smile of approval over your quick submission, Five reaches down, requesting you give him your hands. You do, then he proceeds to place them palm down on his thighs. Taking your hair again, Five lets you move freely, bobbing your head up and down, mostly working his tip with your tongue.

Your eyes flutter and your fingernails gently dig into Five’s slouched slacks as he starts rocking your head back and forth over him, making his dick disappear inside your wet mouth. Holding you the way he is, with your head tilted back, your throat open and lined up perfectly, it gives Five the deepest penetration and a view that before being with you, he’s only ever seen in porn, and the sight and the feel of it is making his already heavy cock feel like it might truly choke you if he gets any more turned on.

“If it’s too much let me know,” he says, clearly indicating that you should push back if he is too rough or if he makes you take him too deep.

He isn’t expecting it, but you immediately push back, then start circling your tongue around his cockhead as you moan. This is all part of the fun, but since this was not what he wants, Five's mind whirls with punishments he could deliver, but his stomach also fills with wonderful butterflies the more he listens to you. As you tease the underside of his shaft, his breathing grows heavy, and he can’t help but grind against your marvelous tongue.

Reaching up, your hand drags down over Five’s tensed abdomen. You’re taking your time with him, and it is evident you’re enjoying it, and the feeling of each ridge between his muscles as he holds his body tight, trying not to sway.

Five has to admit, he is enjoying this too, but then you wrap your hand around him, covering the base of his shaft, only not moving it. His hands clench and his knuckles whiten as he lets out a rough sounding sigh of exasperation.

Letting his penetrating gaze settle on you, Five is just about to start thrusting down your throat again when your hand begins to move and your head shallowly bobs over his drizzling tip while you softly suck.

Five’s body shudders and you respond by moving your hand up his length, jerking him a few times before pressing your thumb gently but firmly against the underside of his shaft where your mouth is popping on and off.

Sudden waves of pleasure hit him, followed by shaky breaths as his fingers tighten their grip on you. Taking complete control of your movements again, Five forces your head down, pushing your lips sliding along all the way to his pubic bone, only pulling your head up again so he can fuck into your throat all over again.

It’s not like he didn’t warn you or give you an out. Still, there’s no denying he isn’t getting a sick sort of pleasure from your tears, wet gags, and each and every spasm of your throat, and there is no way he isn’t enjoying the sound of your desperate whines and moans.

You want this as much as he does and you are not tapping out, but your fingers are digging into his thighs as your eyes roll back so far in your head that Five is sure your brain must be turning off because he just skewered it.

Loving every second of dominating you by roughly fucking your face so hard he is making it impossible for you to think, Five pays you back for doing so good by not holding in his deep moans and low grunts of euphoria, but all too quickly he has to stop, or it will be over, and he doesn’t want that at all.

As his hips slow and pull away, your swollen lips gently popped off him. 

Your brows furrow upwards as you watch Five with a needy expression. Feeling like he can get away with it, he taps your chin with the end of his cock, spreading the drips of drool that you can’t help but have after taking him that long and hard. 

Five smiles down at you, a wickedly charming sort of look spreading across his face as he watches you wordlessly begging. He tightens his grip on the back of your head.

“God, you are fucking beautiful,” he breathes, then suddenly yanks your hair back, forcing you to crane your neck back. “I can’t wait to paint your face.”

After a few more taps to your waiting tongue, Five swiftly brings you down on him again, immediately causing you to gag. The sound of your body fighting him and the feel of your moans buzzing against him as you twitch and repeatedly try to swallow, all have him close to the edge again, but he can’t stop now even if he wanted to.

Soon, his rhythm becomes even more aggressive as he takes your head in both hands, slamming his cock into your mouth while griding the back of your throat against his tip before pulling off, only to repeat the process.

“You really wanted my dick, didn’t you?” Five breathlessly sputters as he throws his head back and his pale green eyes disappear under his heavy eyelids.

Inevitably his brutal pattern has become more erratic. Eventually, Five pulls back, fully pulling out. His hand that was tangled in the strands of your hair is moved to your puffy lips instead.

Jerking your chin up with his free hand, he urgently askes, “Do you think you can swallow all of it?”

You eagerly nod.

With an air of desperation coming out of him, Five strokes himself needily, bringing himself closer and closer as you watch in anticipation, your mouth open and tongue out.

With a few sharp inhales, Five’s body begins to tremor, and his legs begin to feel like they could give out on him. One of his heels squeaks on the floor as he drives himself forward, intent on delivering. 

A long string of rough groans fall from Five's gaped lips as you flinch and reactively shut your eyes in response to the pearls of white falling over your waiting tongue.

Having plenty of pent-up sexual tension, not to mention a lifetime of being deprived of anything to this level of sexual eroticism, Five’s superpowered youthfully charged load repeatedly spurts out of him in heavy ropes, just like it always does.

You swallow and swallow, trying to keep up, but even though you are, Five deliberately pulls back, letting the last of his cum land across your flushed cheeks, some even dripping down, landing on your breathless body.

"Oh fuck," he gasps with his hand clasped around his shaft. His angry grip keeps moving but much more slowly as it passes over his length while he rides the last incredible waves of his release.

His crisp white dress shirt moves up and down, faster than normal as he looks down at the mess he’d made of you.

“Such a good job for daddy,” he dizzily breathes before coming down to kiss your lips, his come covering them not at all stopping him. As his hands cradle your head, he breaks away just long enough to say, "I fucking love you.”

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

There we have it people…..

🎶-Now I know my ABC’s…and you guys got to get inside’s Five’s pervy head with me. 🎶

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[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment. 

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end. 

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue. 

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies. 

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning. 

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully. 

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands. 

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him. 

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.” 

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters. 

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands. 

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.” 

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking. 

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention. 

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today. 

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps. 

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father. 

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather. 

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon. 

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand. 

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence. 

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels. 

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers. 

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon. 

“Uncle Aemond,  I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same.  Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim.  Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful.  Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble. 

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image. 

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.” 

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in. 

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen. 

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades. 

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness. 

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.” 

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it. 

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone. 

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.” 

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you. 

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you. 

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth. 

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys. 

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind. 

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress. 

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye. 

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates. 

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons. 

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep. 

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon. 

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes. 

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.  

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle. 

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it. 

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of. 

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms. 

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.” 

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.” 

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.” 

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit. 

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard. 

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls. 

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom. 

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side. 

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears. 

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again. 

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.” 

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight. 

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives. 

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire. 

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.” 

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity. 

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not. 

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes. 

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.” 

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?” 

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes. 

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs. 

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you. 

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece. 

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal. 

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers. 

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.” 

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up. 

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved. 

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Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[determinate-negation]

an example of the debate in left wing jewish circles about zionism in the early 20th century. this is an introduction and translation of articles written in the wake of the 1929 riots in palestine. in response to a popular yiddish anarchist newspaper breaking with their previous anti zionist stance and embracing zionist militancy, a group of polish jewish anarchists wrote a condemnation of zionism as an imperialist project

The Zionist devil, with its criminal, irresponsible demagogic agitation, has convinced the “helpless” Jews, the naïve masses, that it will return them to their national home under the protection of the expansive, powerful wings of that great biblical people, the English. The gullible, naïve masses took this at face value and set upon the conquest of Palestine’s land with cries of “Hurrah!” under the British flag and assisted by English battalions. This pitiful people, agitated by Zionist demagoguery, was not content with just conquering the land, with just becoming the owners of the land, but they also joyfully began a new campaign: the conquest of labor[5] with the slogan “Swój do swego,”[6] under which they themselves suffered in their land of Poland and condemned as an injustice. It was not enough simply to steal the Arab’s land; we needed to then drive him from his land! Jews wanted to consolidate all rights for themselves. When it looked like a certain right would fall into the hands of the Arabs and do them good, the Zionists began an outcry: “The Philistines are upon you, Israel!” The goal is to turn the Arab into a disenfranchised, degraded creature which should never stop shaking in fear at the thought of the Jewish landowner. We had the chance to speak with many ordinary Jews in Palestine who gleefully bragged that the Arabs shake in fear for the Jew; “We hold them in fear!”; “Should an Arab make a peep, he gets a strike in the teeth and learns not to do it again.” This criminal Zionist agitation has brought so much foolish chutzpah against the Arabs into the psychology of the Jewish public, that they regard the Arabs worse than the Black Hundreds[7] in the Czarist period regarded the Jews! Is it such a wonder, then, that the Arab spirit has gathered so much hate of an uncontrollable nature that it was bound to break out sooner or later? The kindling was certainly taken advantage of by both the English imperialists, the Communist schemers, as well as the effendis who all sped up the whole process. But even without them, it was bound to be released. If only the Jews had merely come with their “piece of historic pretension”! As you have written, they have instead come to “drain [Palestine’s] swamps, construct cities and villages, increasing the quality of life of its backwards, half-savage inhabitants.” Without this, there would have been no confrontation! One piece of evidence is the history of the Old Yishuv, as well as the long and quiet Hibbat Zion[8] movement which the Arabs regarded with calm and largely left alone. This was not enough for political Zionism, however, which wanted to exploit its “historic pretensions” to become the sole owners of the land. It is for this reason that the Jewish “historic pretension” was destined to clash with the concrete claim of the Arabs, the actual owners of the land. The Arabs answered the Zionists with an old Jewish saying: Loy meuktsekho veloy miduvshekho, “We don’t want your honey and we don’t want your sting!”

[inkdrinkerworld]

throwing up bc i can’t stop thinking about dealer!remus and r high and spending new years together bc they just want it to be them two and them being each others new years kiss and using that as a way to make a move on each other bc they were too scared to do anything before pleaSe sedate me

No because why didn’t I have a dealer!remus to kiss me breathless for the new year??!

There’s a frog in your throat. There usually isn’t when you’re alone, but there always seems to be a lump in your throat when you’re with Remus that no amount of affection for him will lessen.

In fact, it seems that the more affection you harbor for him the bigger the lump grows.

You’re sitting on his sofa, in a sparkly New Year’s Eve midi dress and tall socks that are hidden under a fleece blanket.

Remus is in dark slacks and a white shirt- both outfits remnants of the party you’d both escaped from.

“Sure you don’t want a sweater, dove?” Remus asked as he’d undid his tie and honestly, a sweater would’ve been so much worse than suffering in your sequin dress that’s scratching the sliver of skin exposed of your thighs.

“The blanket’s fine, Remmy,” you’d promised, mostly because the idea of being in a sweater that smelled exactly like Remus- a little like his detergent, his citrus and pepper perfume and weed, would’ve made you even more of a mess.

Currently, you’ve got a blunt hanging from your lips, content to have the smoke billow from your mouth and around your head.

Remus is halfway done with his own, watching you mostly as he lets the last bit of the weed burn out.

“There’s something wrong with my hands, Remus.” You say, and he supposes that there should be more urgency in your words, but you get this even softer, mushy quality about you when you’re high that makes every thought seem like nothing.

“What’s wrong with them?” He asks, turning his body so he’s facing you. Your knees knock as you turn to him too.

“Can’t move them,” the blunt almost falls from your lips, and truly your arms feel like lead. Remus catches it before it falls, holding it close to your mouth in case you still want a pull. “Thanks.”

You’re always earnest and shy, but it only seems to become that much more endearing when you smoke, and Remus finds he loves it even more.

The way every word sound wistful, the way your eyes blink up at him slowly like you’re trying to stare at him for as long as possible.

“You’re really pretty, Remus. Which is strange for men,” you say it thoughtfully, like you’ve been thinking it forever.

You’re not sure why you can’t stop talking, or ally you’ve a lot less words to use; but tonight it seems resolutions have come earlier.

“Yeah?” Remus smiles as you nod and take a drag before exhaling.

“Yeah, and your lips, they’re so pretty.” If your hands were working you’d probably reach out to touch the thin scar that slices through his lip, but right now you can’t and maybe it’s a blessing.

Unconsciously, you lean into Remus some more, your thigh covering his knee.

“You’ve got a better pair, pretty girl.” Remus insists and your eyes widen. It’s funny that you seem to find the compliment unhinged.

The distance closes some more.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, you and Remus are almost lip to lip, noses brushing.

“Yes, dovey,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours and before he can even ask, you close the distance.

The kiss is shy, an experimental press and then you pull back. Remus doesn’t let you get far and sets the blunt into the ashtray before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him.

It’s a kiss not like what you’d expected; Remus tastes like weed, but there’s something else and it fogs your head even more than the high grade you’d just been smoking.

The kiss is slow but deep, a dance Remus leads with ease. His fingers tangle in your hair to keep you in place and yours finally seem to work again and climb the back of his shirt.

“Happy New Year, dove.” He pulls away and is almost as breathless as you are, the light of the fireworks being set off brightening the window behind you.

“Happy New Year, Rem,” you hide your face in his chest when you catch your breath and Remus chuckles. “Dunno why you’re laughing. Can’t kiss a girl like that and not expect her to get flustered.”

That only makes him laugh even more. Remus’ hands rub down your back.

“You’d get flustered if I only looked at you baby, let’s not pretend.”

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Sturgeon Moon in Aquarius ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

This year’s Full Sturgeon Moon in Aquarius is also a rare blue moon that occurred on 19 August (sorry this PAC is so late aaagh!!!). Following an insane influx of aenergy during the Lion’s Gate, the theme surrounding this blue moon is Perseverance. This period is all about amassing resources and gathering momentum.

I’ve a feeling this year’s autumn (Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius) season is going to be massive and possibly even life-changing for the spiritually awakened ones ^^ You’ve got to be in the receiver mode of miracles and rare opportunities to really notice! Practically all the aenergies now are leading us to a greater sense of freedom to do what we want when we want.

Also, there’s this sense of…a mandate…? That should push Humanity towards liberating themselves from the enslavement of automation and AI. See, technology isn’t necessarily evil, right? Think about how great it is to have the kind of connectivity we have today; how amazing information dissemination has become in this Internet era.

Technology, just like currency, is impartial. In the end it all boils down to how you’re entertaining the evil agendas of evil people using tech for evil purposes. Become aware of your own habits and inclinations if you don’t want to be a fool-tool of the raggedy corporations. In essence, this Full Moon’s Aquarius aenergy is saying: ‘Use tech to your advantage instead of becoming a slave to it.'

‘Don’t be tech’s little bitch; make it your biotch.’

High time you reclaimed your divine birthright to co-create high-quality Reality instead of getting enslaved by tech that seeks to ‘map you out’. This the era you say to yourself: ‘I’m engineering a more prosperous Reality with my clear conscience.’

GNOSIS: The Dark Rise of Brain Rot Content by Moon

deck-bottom: XV The Devil Rx, Gold Astrologer (Simon Forman), Priestess of Ritual

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Pile 1 – Heart Filled with Sweet Colours

t r a n s f o r m a t i o n – Page of Cups

I see that you’ve transmuted very many negative aenergies within yourself, most of all, negative emotions as well as sensations in your body. Seems you were guided to do this by your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides after having experienced an extreme level of suffering—could be emotionally or physically or both. When you arrived at the most extreme end of what you were struggling with, you couldn’t have gone any other way but to turn your situation around by reclaiming control over your own thoughts and emotions, which effectively shifted your directions and decision making.

There’s a really good quote that says this: ‘When a situation is good, enjoy it. When a situation is bad, transform it. When the situation can’t be transformed, transform yourself.’ You had to learn quite a bit and finally chose to do the last. You’ve known more; now you’re wiser; but wise people are sometimes very pure and childlike. And that’s the beautiful paradox of ‘growing up’ with compassion in your heart. You transformed yourself to be kinder and more loving towards yourself and the crazy-ass situations you found yourself in; now, it’s just easier to extend that love and compassion to the world outside of yourself~♪

t r a n s g r e s s i o n – 4 of Swords Rx

Many of you tuning into this Pile most likely have been in isolation mode for quite a while. The aenergy of this FM in Aquarius, namely the ruler of the 11th House of networking, is pushing you towards becoming social again. And this time everything is going to be (or has been) different. You’ll see that not only are the people in your physical Reality a lot nicer and more compassionate (like you’ve shifted timelines) but you’re also more capable of handling the low-vibing monsters that you may sometimes still have to interact with, with more patience yourself XD

Basically, you’re learning or have learnt to operate in society with more ‘tact’ now. You’ve spent a great deal of time learning to accept a more practical conception of ‘good and evil’ in the world. But to you, good and evil isn’t just black or white; you’re a person who’s come to understand the many colours of good and evil when applied in many different situations. This is wisdom, a gift, that not many have yet to grasp. Your ‘return’ to society is for you to expand this consciousness further and wider!

t r a n s c e n d e n c e – 10 of Wands

The vibe of your ‘return’ to society at large is reminiscent of the Gautama Buddha LMAO He returned to his hometown/home and became a teacher for those who weren’t yet awakened to the higher level of consciousness he had worked so hard to attain! So yeah, a ‘modern priest’ aenergy surrounds you very strongly here; although I find that the majority of you tuning into this Pile are actually quite cute XD Idk why I’m getting a strong ‘gamer girl’ vibe from you. You could also possess a strong sense of aesthetic of your own.

You’re a highly spiritually advanced being but in a cute package, is what I’m getting LMAO At this point in time, your communication skills are getting polished and refined, far beyond what you’re already capable of doing. You may want to look where your Mercury is located in your natal chart, what aspects it makes, and check out what you have in your 3rd House, as well as check out what House is ruled by Gemini ^^ The insight will empower you further at this point in time!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Red Alchemist (John Dee) & Priestess of Intuition

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Pile 2 – Solid to Liquid, Calmly

t r a n s f o r m a t i o n – Knight of Pentacles

Hold up! You’re about to jettison down a new portal of adventure, pretty soon but before that, hold up; planning and a readiness of the mind is very necessary at this moment. This Moon Reading is very tardy so I’m going to be reading an aenergy that’s pretty much already transpired by the time you’re reading this XD More to come for you in the next FM in Pisces PAC regarding this aenergy, OK? But for the most part, I’m sensing that you’re still in preparation mode for something big that’s just around the corner for you.

Just like the liquid in the glass in the pic you’re attracted to, there’s something solid that’s turning to liquid, but slowly and naturally. You’re not being burnt or heated up to melt…you know what I mean? Because melting solid to liquid can be a painful experience for peeps who’ve been through a lot, right? The Universe is gracefully granting you a peaceful time to manifest your Life Purpose in the most natural and pleasant way just yet!

t r a n s g r e s s i o n – 5 of Pentacles Rx

So, enjoy this peaceful time. I sense that it’s possible that a lot of you tuning into this Pile have been SO used to chaos and drama—so used to bubbling madly at 110C—that now you don’t know how to just…be…when no stress, no drama is going on. It could be that you were a dramatic person before. Maybe you were toxic. Or maybe you couldn’t help but be that way because you were simply surrounded by toxic betches! But that’s all in the past, OK?

If you look around and become aware of where you are now, it becomes super clear how far you’ve carried yourself away from all of that low-vibrating Reality ^^v Understand that you’re ‘weaning off’ drama, chaos and other types of ‘addictions’ caused by high-level toxicity in your old Reality. I’m getting that this is the prime time to study as much as possible about ‘surviving narcissistic abuse’ to give you not only knowledge but also validation :D

t r a n s c e n d e n c e – Knight of Cups

Other than just ‘surviving’ trauma, if that part doesn’t necessarily ring true for you, there’s also this sense of just using this peaceful time to readjust yourself to a more spiritually attuned Life. Perhaps some of you are getting into crystals, meditation, healing audio tracks, subliminals and reiki. Maybe there are other ‘spiritual’ hobbies and practices beyond these ones hahah You’ll know if you resonate~ I’m being told that this Aquarius FM really does bring that sense of balance between ‘spiritual practices’ and ‘modern technological living’ for you.

Maybe you’re meant to know more about this (especially if you identify as a Starseed) but a lot of the human qualities that we classify as ‘positive mental states’ are…technology. Things like harmony, peacefulness, positive mindsets, intelligence…all of these are practically technology. There are ways we can trigger such ‘states of mind/being’ by means of…technology. So yeah…Imma leave you with that for now XD

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Green Magus (John Dee) & Priestess of Energy

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Pile 3 – Integrity Just Like Jelly

t r a n s f o r m a t i o n – Page of Pentacles

The other two Piles are very focused on the idea of rest and self-care, but as per usual, Pile 3 is always about going places and learning shit LMAO In this regard, if you’re not physically going places, this is indicating your mind going places through meditation, daydreaming, movie-watching, or documentary-binging. You know what I mean~ This the period you’re enriching your inner world through any means available to you at this moment.

Whilst doing this, don’t forget your water intake, OK? Vitamins and real foods are crucial for you at this moment. Your cells are digesting a lot of Light. Remember that Light is INFORMATION. That’s why Darkness is the absence of information, right? Light is Information; when Information is digested well it becomes Knowledge; when Knowledge is applied well it becomes Wisdom; when Wisdom is put to the service of all it becomes En-light-enment~

t r a n s g r e s s i o n – 7 of Pentacles

Prospering towards wisdom, I’m seeing that you’re currently being taught to be perfectly OK with things taking their sweet time to unfold! If this is the Pile you resonate with the most, you’re literally on the precipice of your grandest Life Purpose yet! Your Life Purpose is big, you know that, right? It could possibly even change the world or perhaps you resonate with having a Life Purpose that revolves around the creation of a Prototype what will alter the way Humans think or do shit~

This either shares a resemblance to Nikola Tesla or Adolf Hitler. This either takes on the archetype of Sadhguru or Teddy Bundy~ Your take LMAO Either way, you’re meant to disrupt your society and scatter it all! But that’s the thing, right? If you’re gonna be a social menace that’s in the service of Light instead of Dark, you’ve gotta learn to keep your INTEGRITY. Because… what was that again? Absolute power absolutely corrupts?

t r a n s c e n d e n c e – King of Swords

‘Nothing discloses real character like the use of power. It is easy for the weak to be gentle. Most people can bear adversity. But if you wish to know what a man really is, give him power. This is the supreme test.’ – Robert Ingersoll

‘It is from weakness that people reach for dictators and concentrated government power. Only the strong can be free. And only the productive can be strong.’ – Wendell Willkie

‘To have intelligence there must be freedom, and you cannot be free if you are constantly being urged to become like some hero, for then the hero is important and not you.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

Do you understand your role in the next chapter of your ARC? Not to be some kind of a narcissistic wielder of power but to be a gentle-albeit-passionate reminder for the people, that only they can save themselves from this pathetically enslaved existence of theirs caused by a lack of Integrity.

Got no integrity? Got no intelligence? Go succumb to AI already -__-;

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Gold Astronomer (John Dee) & Priestess of Integrity

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[pokedash55]

Turbo, Internalized Glitchphobia, and how King Candy is a clever Parallel to Vanellope's arc

So KC is so hateful and derogatory of Vanellope's Glitch in a way that feels beyond simply keeping power and control of the kingdom. There is so much distain in his voice for Vanellope both in public and private. He is obviously paranoid of returning to a life without his rule, but I think it goes deeper. He's also terrified of returning to a life without a game. Returning to a life as a glitched homeless outcast. Remember Turbo was to some degree homeless before 1997, almost 10 years of hiding and game hopping. He's still a power hungry asshole (and I love him for that) so this isn't justification but hear me out (cause angst for angsts sake is my jam)

I love giving him this internalized hatred of glitches because he was one before Sugar Rush. After the crash in Roadblasters, the console crashed and his code was probably damaged. Without his game nothing could repair the code. He was stuck as a glitch and he attacks Vanellope ruthlessly for it as an ego defense. It's almost a subconscious response to her and a reassurance that he's in control and isn't like that anymore. It was possible at one point he was in the same position as her: Alone and worthless, long ago he too had nowhere to go and was a glitch hated and scorned by those around him, becoming nothing but a fear mongering story and a freak to those who should respect him (So the obvious way to heal from this is to make another person suffer the same fate in order to feel the satisfaction of being in control)

Attacking her and labeling her Glitch is his internalized hatred of the weakness that he is running from every day he masks as KC, gaining more and more gratification and ownership of a game he is not apart of. He made his move to usurp the throne on day one and is so psychotic and proud that he has fallen for his own ruse. The King Candy character exists and is just as real as the "Turbo' character. Turbo ended up entranced by his perfect little sandbox world. He had a home and a life again. He had access to whatever he wanted and players who would love him. His subjects loved him and he was free to bask in that attention. It was an echo chamber of comfort and instant appreciation. He could fully accept the narrative he constructed if only SHE didn't exist. But her presence is forever a stain to his new home and a threat to his ego. She will always be there to remind him that he stole this game and without it he has nothing. That the life he has, although still entitled to it, is fake. Her glitching was always a reminder of the decade he spent just like her.

People love to connect Turbo and Ralph, talking about what happens if you grow too selfish in your desires for self respect and how rejecting your role in the world can be disastrous for everyone. I love the parallels with Turbo as the ultimate extension of Ralph's negative qualities. In the movie it also directly connects Ralph and Vanellope with themes of belonging and rejection from society. But what if these thematic Parallels became a triangle?? King Candy is living a lie and claiming an identity that is not his own and doing it with glee. He relishes in the escapism of being the King. He is technically doing the opposite of Vanellope, fully denouncing his actual self and embracing a self created fake persona in a ploy for power instead of accepting his place and being content as Turbo. But once "Turbo" became an outcasted glitch (totally from his own actions but still) from the crash, that "character" wasn't popular anymore he needed to become something else. With all that access to the code someone is bound to grow nihilistic or existential with who they are. He changed every bit and strand of his code just to become popular. But Vanellope never abandoned her true self. Through all the persecution, loneliness and maybe even jealously, she accepted her state as a glitch. Even when becoming royalty she wasn't about to change herself for others. Turbo changed everything about himself in order to become Royalty Vanellope gave up royalty to be herself.