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allkordelia · 4 months

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Keep Me Near Your Heart XII

"Do it again! Do it again." I ask giddy watching Enith with a wide smile.

She gives me a look before shaking her head with a small smile, I sat criss cross across from her on the bed as she sat with her legs dangling off the bed. She moves her hands slowly, I turn my eyes to the object she had laid on the bed between us. A shell. A coin. And a red onyx stone. I watch with a small smile as each one slowly floats off the bed, I glance at enith as she focus on the objects in front of her. I look back at the object as they start to slowly dance as the spin in a circle.

When Enith came to my chamber with a conflicted look on her face, I thought the worst, I was worried and I didn't waste time asking her what was the matter. The last thing I thought she ever tell me was that she was a witch, well a red priestess apparently, I never heard of anyone like that before. When she first revealed her powers I was shock, and a little bit afraid, until the shock and fear finally wash over and I was elated. I always knew she was different, I just didn't know how didn't she truely was.

Enith let out a exhaust sigh as the objects dropped back to the bed, like before.

"I'm sorry," She said rubbing her temple with her figners, "I haven't use my abilities for so long, I forget how much it takes out of me." She explains.

"How old was you when you discovered your...abilities?" I asked curious.

"Since I was nine," she drop her hand to her lap, "I found out when I accidentally set my papa's barn on fire." She chuckle softly making me smile.

"You say your not a witch but a red priestess, what is that?"

"Well, I'm not a red priestess, yet. The red priestess are loyal servants to R'hllor, the lord of light, he is where we get our power from. Once I go back home to finish my studies, I, too, will be one. "

I frown.

"When must you go back?" Enith shrugs her shoulders.

"My sisters have yet to say, but do not fret, I was close to finishing back at Maegonsæte. If they ever call me home, i will be back no more than a month later." I nod my head slowly at her words, feeling a bit grateful.

"Well, let's hope soon, I would rather you do it now than later." I smirk slolwy creep onto my lips, "Maybe, once you come back, you can turn aemond and alicent into slimy toads."

"Mmm, I don't think I can turn someone into something they already are." We share a look before erupting into chuckles.

Enith got off the bed to move around the room to pick scattered clothes off the floor, I watch her as I lean against the headboard.

"I am happy that you finally told me, it means you trust me and that means a lot." Enith turns around with arm full before putting on the table in front of her to fold, she gave eyeroll as she start folding.

"I trusted you long before thus," she looks up at me.

"I know I just wanted to hear you said it," Enith snort looking away with a shake of her head as a smile grace her lips faintly, "I love that we could do this," I state making her glance up feom the task at hand to watch me, "That we trust each other so much to keep each other secrets, I'm happy that I talked aemond out of dismissing you." I smile blissfully, relaxing with a peace of mind.

It felt like a while since I had that, my life was alright, I didn't feel as stress or depressed like all those moons ago. I wouldn't say things gotten better with Aemond and I, maybe more civil I dare say, but I keep a firm line between us, we can be friends and we can fuck but we will never be romantically involved. And of course, in one ear and out the other, I think since River's departure, aemond had been spending even more time with me. I think this the first time in a while since he haven't been here, bothering me.

"As am I." Enith sighs, I blink twice putting focus on my friend as I tense Enith's anxiousness, "But, there is another reason I told you, what I am." I furrow my brows as she looks up at me.

Enith put the last folded clothing to the side before walking around the table, I move my arms to cross over my chest as I wait for her to explain herself. She stopped at the bottom of my bed with a nervous glint in her eye, I bite the inside of my cheek worried.

"What do you mean?" I finally ask, enith sigh again fidgeting with her fingers.

"I have...seen something." She said low with a dip chin.

"If it's about Aemond and Alys--" I started, but stopped when she looked up at me and shook her head.

"No, nothing about them, it's about you and aemond." I furrowed my brows, I moving to get off the bed.

"Okay," I draw out, "What about me and aemond." I asked, looking at Enith as she watch me warily before I stood in front of her, she played with a ring on her pinky for a moment before she begin to speak.

"I am so sorry that you have to found out this way, but maybe it is good that you found out like this rather than it creep up on you--"

"Enith, your rambling," I step close grabbing her hands stopping her from fidgeting with the fingers, "Please, whatever it is, just tell me."

Enith purse her lips as she swallow, after a second she let out a soft sigh and squeeze my hands.

"I sense it days ago, your aura was pure white as if you were glowing..." she looks up at me, "It wasn't until the night of the feast did I fully sense it...him..." I follow her gaze as it landed on my stomach, "A vision of a boy, it was hard to see him at first but I knew it was a boy, I could make out his small form from afar. When he finally faced me. His skin was sun kissed like yours and his features was soft. He looks so much like you, princess."

My hands slipped from enith's grasp, I step back not looking at her. I didn't know what to say, I turn my back to her, my hand going to my stomach.

"Can you tell me how long I am?" I ask, my hand turning to clench at my stomach.

"I-I think but it is hard to say--"

"Just tell me, please. " I beg feeling my eyes start to burn.

"Two, maybe three months."

I covered my eyes with my other hand as I dug my nails into my stomach, I shook my head thinking and thinking before letting out a sob.

"...princess."

I shook my head hearing Enith come up behind me, I felt her hand on my back making me move away.

"Please, don't touch me, right now I can't..." I move back to my bed to sit, I lean forward with my head in my hands, "This can't be happening, it can't."

It was too soon, It felt like it was too soon I only lost visenya eight moons ago, but it still felt like some sort of betrayal to her. I made a deal with Aemond that once winter end we could try again, at the time it was a good enough plan, I didn't have to worry about his insufferable mother hounding me not with Aemond keeping her away and I didn't have to feel pressure about producing a heir. What I didn't plan was Ser Krey.

"I am sorry, jaenara. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut," I sniff hearing Enith walk near me again, "I should have never open my mouth, oh please, my lady, please do not cry I can not bare to see you this way." I sniff again, lifting my head a bit to wipe my nose on the sleeve of my robe.

"I-It is not you, Enith. It is me...and my stupidity."

"Nonesense, your highness. Do not speak about yourself in such a way--" I shook my head angrily and look up at her.

"No, you don't understand." I said making her look at me with confuse look," I do not know who the father is."

Enith's bemused expression twisted into a look of shock, I look away from her putting my head back in my hands.

"Jaenara--"

"I can't have this child, not when I know how Alicent is, she will find out, and when she does she will use all her power to convince Aemond to get rid of him. To send him to the wall." I look at Enith again, "We can't let that happen."

"We won't, m'lady. Your son will be save." I nod my head.

"Yes, I know." I stood up before making eye contact with Enith, "Because you will take him away, far away from here," A look of panic passed through Enith's face," Once he is born, you will take him to my aunt and have him raise there at Dragonstone."

"Princess, I can't."

"Yes, you can. Your the only person who can." Enith stare at me speechless, she teeter away from me, "Enith, I know this is a lot to ask of you." Enith snort catching me off guard for a second.

"You think." She looks back at me, "Jaenara, I can't just take your child and give it to Rhaelle, that would be kidnapping and I could be put to death."

"That is only if you get caught, which I know you won't not with your abilities." Enith sigh with a shake of her head.

"Still, jaenara, don't you think this is all a bit rash."

"No, if my son is taken from me, he will no doubt be given to the Night's Watch. Aemond will not claim him as his own, his pride will not let him." I make my way to Enith, I hold my hands out for her waiting a moment before she place her hands in mine, "I am alone here. All I have is you and ser krey, I need you to promise me that you do this." Enith swallow glancing away.

"It must be another way we can--"

"It isn't. Aemond will send my child away if there's one little detail of him that he isn't his, and I will be back locked away from the world again." Enith looks back at me with a look in her eye.

"Can you truely say for certain that Aemond will take your child away," I furrow my brows taken back, "He claims that he loves you, now with River's gone, his attention is back to you and from what I heard. It seems river isn't the object of his affection anymore," I scoff at her.

"That may be true, but she like come back, she always do and when she does I will be cast aside once again--"

"But, you don't have to be, my lady." I purse my lips staring at her curious, "You been treated so badly for so long that you forget that you have power within these walls, Alicent may have spies but the knights serve only one house. Yours." I look away from her, "Let's say you are right that his affection for you dies and goes back to Rivers if she returns, but do you know how Rivers control Aemond?" I look back at her with narrow eyes.

"How."

"She used his love for her to get what she wanted, but ever since visenya's death, it seems he have fallen out of love for the whore." I chew my lips in thought.

"So, all I must do is sleep with him to control him?" Enith shook her head.

"No, that was River's mistake, whores believe fucking is the only way into a man's heart. You must show him your own heart for him to be smitten to you." I let go of her hands at what she was himting at.

"You want me to pretend to love him, so i can control him." Enith gives me a look.

"That is the only way to assure your son stays with you, his love for you could blind him from your son's misplace feature and even claim him as his own." I shook my head slightly in thought.

What she was saying sounded like a sound proof plan, but it sounded too good to be true. I have learn by now things aren't as easy as it seems, and what if it backfires in my face.

"Enith, I don't think I can--" Her hands went to my arms, I look at her as she gives me a reassuring look.

"Do you trust me?" She ask, i look at her mildly taken back before nodding.

"With my whole heart." Enith smiled at me before placing her hands on my cheek.

"Then, trust me when I say thus, aemond loves you and if you show him a little flicker of it, he will be devoted to you and only you. Your doing this for your son, jaenara." I lick my lips before nodding.

Enith's squeeze my arm before letting go, she moves away from me and collected the folded clothes and her hands before facing me again.

"I have to go clean these, I'll be back later, okay?" I nod stepping back and going to my bed.

As enith walks towards the door, I get under my covers resting my hand over my stomach.

"Jaenara." I glance at her, "You must remember that you have the blood of the dragon in you, do not make them think you don't. That bastad whore has nothing on you, princess." A small smile creep up to my lips making give a curt nod.

"Thank you, Enith." The handmaid bow her head.

"Of course, m'lady."

I watch her turn and leave, I sigh turn to lay on my back, my hand rubbing up and down my stomach in thought. Who do I tell first, my husband or my lover, should I even tell ser krey that i am possibly carrying his child, what if he wants to be part of his life? I can't have ser krey and aemond fighting for my affection and that of my child without fearing them kill each other over me.

I sigh out a exasperated sigh.

"What an dauting situation we are in, little one." I whispered.

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x black!reader #keep me near your heart #aemond targaryen smut #black!reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd oc #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you

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topaziraphale · 9 months

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Hi I still haven't gotten out of bed but I'm already fully armed and ready to shoot down anyone that tries to say Aziraphale doesn't care about Crowley anymore or WORSE, never loved him THAT much in the first place.

Crowley is quite literally his top priority, he made that very clear with how distraught he is when Crowley leaves. Why would he shout "Don't go!" "Crowley, come back!" and "I NEED YOU!" if Crowley wasn't always at the forefront of his mind? Why is he so visibly striken and upset when he gives him that last, longing look, begging for Crowley to come with him and be with him forever, before deciding to step into that elevator? When he gets in there, his entire purpose shifts. He IS going to make everything better, and he IS going to make Crowley see the error of his ways.

I can promise you all Aziraphale is going to stop at NOTHING to get Crowley to come be with him forever, as an angel. He is going to do WHATEVER it takes, now that he is the acting Supreme Archangel. It's Crowley he wants first, Heaven he wants second, and, sadly, due to the Mettatron making this offer, a life on Earth he wants last. And that sets up such a FANTASTIC conflict for S3!!!!!

Aziraphale, our beloved, fussy, STUBBORN Aziraphale, is now compromised. He is compromised with POWER. Power as the LITERAL, SUPREME ARCHANGEL. Is this NOT SUCH AN EXCITING AND HEARTBREAKING PROMISE FOR A WILD S3 EXPERIENCE??

Guys, we ALL know Aziraphale let Crowley down, but you have to see that Crowley let Aziraphale down in his eyes. Just as much. That's what makes this scene so tragic. We know Aziraphale isn't thinking the way we and Crowley thought he would, or HOPED he would despite how the world Didn't End. How despite everything in how S1 ended, he was still left with an uncontested sense of superiority that we were all too elated to see was something Left Behind within him.

This season brought all that stuff out:

"We will win of course. Obviously. Heaven will triumph over Hell. It's all going to be rather lovely."

"You were an angel once..."

"Why, yes, I am a great deal holier than thou, that's the whole point."

(after gabriel/beelzebub leave in s1) "See, Crowley, it's as I said--" (back to what he said in the Bentley in S1E2, how Evil always plants the seeds of its own destruction and Good will always win out in the end)

These types of thoughts, and him spending all of the 6,000 years he knew Crowley separating them as one inherently good and one inherently wicked.... guys, that won't just go away after only 4 years of being on their Own Side. We hoped it would. We wanted it to. But it doesn't make sense. Yes, even if the earthshattering realization Aziraphale had that Heaven never truly cared about what was Good did change his character and essentially complete his arc in S1... it didn't change everything.

His arc in S1 was completed when he learned that Heaven wasn't for him. That they never cared. That only he and Crowley could save this world. But this is where the show deviates from the book - Aziraphale in the book is angry. Bitter. Scorned. Aziraphale in the show is just heartbroken. He mourns for the only ever family he knew. He mourns what he always saw himself to be. That mourning isn't just going to go away after 4 years. What is 4 years to a creature that has lived for a possible billion before the Creation? 4 years on earth to 6,000? That terrible wound he suffered that day is still VERY much fresh. It's an open wound he didn't properly take care of. And the Mettatron noticed, didn't he? Yes, you can understand that someone or Something isn't FOR you, and know all the reasons why, yet still wish you could go back... it's how abusive relationships work. You confuse nostalgia with remorse. You confuse nostalgia for real love.

Of COURSE he would seize the opportunity to get what he felt he lost back. And HE could do it. HE has the power. He can make it ALL RIGHT again, everything he's ever wanted...

...and this is why he completely breaks down when Crowley doesn't want to be beside him to do it. Rewatch it. Look at him. Look in his eyes. The way he winces when Crowley kisses him. His internal conflict (Heaven/Crowley vs. Our Side/Crowley) is externalized through Sheen's brilliant acting. His arms coming up to embrace him, but they never fully commit, they just graze him and hover around his body. The way he launches himself backward, away from the kiss, but his body is still slightly leaning forward. When he brings up his shaky hand to touch his lips, and not crying. Never crying. Because he is an Angel, and Angels don't cry. Not like a Demon would. Crowley is all he wants, but now, Crowley doesn't want him. Not like this. Not anymore.

Because, well, Aziraphale said it, didn't he?

Nothing lasts forever.

#GOS2Spoilers #good omens #good omens s2 #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #character analysis #derpy speaks #*i do think he's going to be more of a figurehead than anything else but he has to at least gain the PHYSICAL powers of being an Archangel #that promotion DOESNT just come with name only. it comes with form.#I think a major part of him in s3 is realizing the true power he has now #despite being a figurehead

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eerna · 11 months

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ok so its been a couple weeks how do u feel about totk zelink now

(context: here is part 1 of the ask, and also SPOILERS AHEAD!)

For reference, I am currently done with the dragon tears and sages questlines, but still haven't finished the Kogha one. Whatever happens after this point, I have no idea, I'm chilling and doing side quests and leveling up.

There is a difficult line to draw between "this is what the game is saying" and "this is what I am projecting onto it", but to me, this game is about how well Link knows Zelda. BotW was about trying to remember her and why she mattered, and TotK is about trying to figure out her plans and what she was trying to tell you, as she is no longer able to guide you the way she did in BotW. It's listening to what people are saying about her and deciding if it sounds like Zelda or not. It is beautiful, and shows how close the two of them are now! BUT. It would have worked even better if we saw traces of their relationship in the plot. This is a three-pronged feature: 1) In the main quest everyone calls Link "Zelda's swordsman" or "Zelda's chosen protector" and are surprised when they see him without her, but the NPCs STILL don't mention him. The way I almost screamed when I stumbled upon that Lurelin NPC who is like "oh yeah the princess would disguise herself and go on vacation and hike up to the Lover's Pond at sunset!" and I was READY to hear about the person accompanying her. But there was no one. Zelda was alone as far as this guy was concerned. Like pls. 2) Link should have revealed his thoughts on the mystery of Zelda's identity for this theme to work, at least by being the one to figure out the Zelda prancing around Hyrule is an impostor. In fact, the way they didn't try to incorporate the tears quest into the main storyline is pretty disappointing - sorry but Link would NOT just ignore knowing where Zelda is. They should have hidden the last few memories until you're done with the fifth temple to make sure he doesn't look like an idiot. 3) We are STILL in the "Link doesn't react properly to Zelda" era. I'm not even talking about animation, I would have settled for a "Don't look so concerned, we will figure it out!" or a "I know you wish to bring her back right away, but leave the research to me and focus on beating Ganon first!" from Impa at the end of the tears quest. Sure, I choose to interpret his mad dash through Hyrule Castle to get to the sanctum Ganon fight as him completely forgetting any caution or reason in his desperation to get to her, but is that really it? EVERYONE ELSE cares so so much about Zelda as a person instead of a princess, they are constantly talking about her, so Link could have gotten some moments of that too. I'm glad the game stated that Link's duty ended with the Calamity and he CHOSE to stay with Zelda, so it's not that he only cares because he has to, but I wish it was shown outside that one line in a secret diary.

In conclusion, I still stand by my previous claim: Skyward Sword did this same dynamic better, so if I hadn't played that game I might have been elated over this one, but alas. I am still hoping for an earth-shattering emotional moment towards the end of the game that is gonna render all my complaints wrong, I haven't lost hope, but wow my imagination is working overtime to keep me happy

#eernask #eernanon #eernask talk loz #totk spoilers

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androgynealienfemme · 9 months

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"Dear DOB Sisters,

For some time now I have been receiving mail from you; I feel quite close to you through your newsletter. It is much like a letter from home each month. I would love to come to the meetings and functions, but my late working hours and our two small children at home make that quite impossible to do. My wife, Michelle, and I feel we know all of you through your names and articles in the newsletter; you are truly a household word. Our neighborhood is not at all oriented to gay life, nor is there any gay socializing nearby. Most of our friends are straight, and though it's pleasant, it is not as rewarding as one letter from DOB each month. It is our only link to a chain too far away to get to. I thank you for that.

I have read so often of the heartaches and humiliations suffered in trying to make a world of people who don't understand just try to. I understand these problems very well. In this new year, we must remember all the struggles we have gone through for recognition as a wholesome, normal people. All the marches, debates, and still the terrible degradations some of us have had to endure. All of this is our reason for God's placing us here. If at one point in the year just one of the thousands of people we have encountered turns to a friend and says, "You know, I think I understand them," well, then we have made some progress haven't we?

My wife, Michelle, and I have done this, and I thought you might like to know about it.

In the beginning of 1969, we found ourselves pretty much in hot water. I had left a job in New York to live in Jersey with Michelle. She wanted to move to New Jersey and so we did. Finding an apartment was pretty rough, because I had not yet gotten settled in a job, but we did manage to eventually get into a housing project that was still nice for the kids and Michelle.

After all was settled, furniture and all, we set ourselves done to living normally again with all the chaos involved with moving - you know this is not an easy task... but it was all done rather quickly. My wife is very capable and with me taking the kids our for the afternoon, she really got the house together. When we returned, I found a home where I had left a barren apartment that echoed everything we said. Michelle had even managed to hang curtains.

We sent Lori, our oldest, out to play, and soon after she came home crying. A little girl she had bene trying to play with told her that her mother said not to play with her. After much comforting, all settled down, and we shrugged it off, because often strangers moving into a building are not welcomed right away.

Time went on and soon we found out there had never been any lesbians in this project before, nor were there any "known" lesbians in this area. Michelle and I were almost totally ignored. Michelle did have one or two who would say hello to her, but to me they wouldn't speak to. I am very pronounced in my appearance; there is not mistaking me for what I am: I am butch and Michelle loves me that way. Everything I wear she picks out for me, and she gibes me my haircuts. I am a product of her and we are content with it. Although the men and women in the building seemed to feel my appearance was a threat to them- getting on the elevator with me was out of the question- with Michelle they would hesitate and get on anyway.

I believe to this day the only thing that helped was Michelle's way with the house and the kids. She kept a spotless home, and she is an excellent mother. Slowly she would run into a woman in the Laundromat who might comment on how well behaved the children were. Each time, Michelle would run home simply elated; nothing could have been better than someone really talking to her. It was such a small thing that meant so much to me. I thought I would ask her to move, but she said she is here and she will stay whether they like it or not.

Then I decided I would take her out for a night, go into New York, be with other gay people for a while; she might feel better. Michelle asked one of the teenage girls in the building if she would sit for the children that night. The girl said no first, then said that her mother finally consented. All was fine until the day after we went out. I came home and found Michelle totally wrecked! It seems the girl went home after sitting for us and was asked by her mother if she was propositioned, molested, or asked to return when we were both home. Well, I think Michelle's heart was broken, she adores children, and teenagers to her are still babies. Michelle is from a professional family, so I believe her nice manner was inherited and would have been a lot nicer than my manner at that point. She went to talk to the mother that evening. I don't know what was said to this day, but the girl is still baby-sitting for us, no questions asked. Soon after, we were known as "pretty nice people, but don't be alone with them."

Michelle asked a woman one day if she wanted a ride to the store with her. The woman said all right as long as her husband didn't know. Each month passed until summer finally came, when the usual habit of the women in this building is to sit outside with their chairs and talk. We passed this group of sunbathers quite often, and usually the air was pretty tense or the conversations would cease. It was very heartbreaking for Michelle. She had not wanted to be a part of any gossip or coffee cloth (coffee klatch), but the complete withdrawal from her was a bit too much. My heart went out to her then, as it does whenever she does something really great, which is pretty often.

But slowly people started giving credit where it belonged. Michelle and the kids won them over whether they liked it or not. First with the children, then with our home. One day the electricity went out, and our Lori walked a man all the way up to the twelfth floor, holding his hand, because he had a heart condition; she even saw him to his floor.

Then the day came when Michelle and I were giving a party for Lori. The children were to come at one p.m. and leave at three p.m. The party lasted until eight that night. Michelle even cooked dinner for all fourteen kids. They loved it; the kids just wouldn't go home.

The next day our phone rang constantly, mothers calling asking what we did, the children never stopped talking about how wonderful Michelle and I were, how they loved us. From the mouth of babes came the answer.

Now when Michelle and I go out the door, ten kids rush to kiss her hello, and couldn't they please come with us? Even the mothers are surprised at the affection they have for Michelle, a truly wholesome and normal affection too. Today int his community they know that lesbians are not stag-film replicas or degrading. Today when they need a good meat loaf recipe or their hair done, even an interior decorator or baby-sitter, they simply call on the two lesbians who moved up to the twelfth floor two years ago.

We all have our struggles. Isn't it great when we make enough headway to walk into a restaurant and not have the waitresses huddle in a corner whispering, or walk down the theater aisle and everyone keeps watching the picture, or walk down a street unnoticed?

Love to all of you,

Joanne, Michelle, Lori, Danny"

"Dear DOB Sisters" from December 1969, a letter by Joanne, Michelle, Lori, Danny, The Persistent Desire by Joan Nestle (1992)

#the persistent desire #the persistent desire: a butch femme reader #Joan nestle #lesbian #lesbianism #lesbian history #butch femme #lgbt #lgbtq+ history #butch history #femme history

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ticklepinions · 10 months

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Welcome to another episode of am I an asshole or just aroace.

Recently I've been in a situation where I've contemplated my sexuality a lot. My best friend has been telling me all about their dating escapades and honestly I'm a bit over it. Obviously as a friend I want to support someone I care about, but I just get into this mood I can't really explain??? I get so disinterested and even feel a bit hurt in a way. So ofc I do some reflecting and I think I found an answer.

A lot of my friendships with people ususlly looked different when they were romantically involved with someone. They would obviously need to prioritize their romantic partner, but sometimes I felt discarded. And i feel like we don't talk about that enough. I mentioned it a bit in my other post but to be pretty much replaced by someone you only know for a short amount of time feels some typa way. And I get it- I won't be priority #1 and I'm okay with that. But I feel like sometimes, men especially, have this toxic idea that their partners become their everything. And in turn, (in my case at least), pay less attention to their friends since their partner is now their sole support system.

So I think there's this small voice in my head telling me that when my friend(s) do find a partner, I'm just gonna be cast aside. I would be absolutely elated if my friend did find someone though, i just know for myself it would be an adjustment.

I feel like loneliness for an aroace person hits a bit different. Especially as I'm getting older, and seeing all of the people I know get into relationships, get married, and/or having kids. My family always asks when I'm going to get a partner (I haven't and probably couldn't come out to them safely). So many times I've been told I haven't found the "right person" or my aroace identity is "just a phase". And it's just gotten so old and bothersome at this point.

I can't even discern what thoughts are my own or the internalized aro/acephobia thats been deeply entrenched in my mind. I feel like I'm trapped in a state of just not knowing. And i get it, I have time, I can discover a different identity that makes more sense for me. But I don't want it!? I feel the most myself being asexual and aromantic (i think!). It's just that having to explain why or justify my existence is getting so exhausting. The way platonic love is just automatically pegged to be the least of all the other loves is just so sad to me.

I know about qprs and honestly they sound pretty dope but idk I might just end up with this loneliness eating away at me. The relationship I'd want with a person just seems so niche and unrealistic. I'm just real tired of living up to others expectations in every sense possible. Tired of not being enough. Tired of being stuck in this in-between of caring so much but not at all.

and I shouldn't have to feel like I have to be in a relationship of any kind to be whole 😩. But I think for myself I'd want it? But not the way society has envisioned it y'know?

#aroace #asexual #aromantic #onionpeelings #i don't think it helps that I'm insecure about literally every aspect of my being #they should invent a life thats not complicated #also I do not have thoughts that flow coherently so thank you for reading this jumbled mess of mine #love seeing people in love but hate that it's not for me? idk #try not to feel like a broken human while aro and/or ace challenge (impossible)#ace #aro #amatonormativity

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flightfoot · 1 year

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I am worried this season will drop the ball on two important interpersonal relationships for Adrien and miss some great humor and tension opportunities:

Nino. Nino thinks Chat Noir is a fuckboy and Marinette and Chat Noir were seen canoodling in Elation! Chat Noir "stole" Adrien's crush from his POV. I need Nino to know about this and have funny misunderstandings over it. Tension. Realization. Woo woo woo. Then he and Chat Noir can be on better terms by the end. I've been waiting on this with each new episode released. I hope they do something with it! (Speaking of which, also waiting on Monarch to use Marichat against them like he said he would. We haven't even so much as gotten a "That Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a hussy, son!)

Lila. Lila is Marinette's enemy, true. However, I feel like she's been very antagonistic toward Adrien too and I wish they would interact more. She's lied to him, stolen from him, teamed up with his father to spy on him, was purposefully akumatized to get back at him and he has to work with her because of the deal they made. Lila is the only person that Adrien has shown blatant dislike for to their face and I REALLY WANTED MORE OF THAT! I'm hoping there is a scene where Adrien calls Lila out for not making good on their deal because she's been trying to sabotage Marinette in two episodes now. I also have this head canon that, the more she leans into being a jerk, the more she'd grind Adrien's gears. He gave her a chance because he thought she was the lonely new girl who put up a front because she just wanted to be liked. He saw some of himself in her. But now that she's doubled down on her lying and faking, that recognition of his own qualities in her must aggravate him. I've always thought that's why he can be so cold to her without a hint of his usual padding. She confronts him with everything that is fake in him and he can't bring himself to fake back. Basically, I think Lila is just as much of a foil to Adrien as she is to Marinette and the writers should use that.

Those are my main two, but there are probably other characters I wish Adrien interacted more with. I'd like to see a heart to heart with Tom as they do have similar backgrounds with their fathers? And I'm always down to see Adrien/Chat Noir and Alya/Rena Rouge interact because they're just fun together. They can talk shit (lovingly) about Nino and Marinette.

YES PLEASE. I'm down for all of these! I kinda doubt that Rocketear and Nino's thoughts about Chat will come up again, but I do suspect that Gabriel's gonna use Marichat against Chat Noir at some point - maybe in Kwami's Choice part 2? I dunno, we're missing so many episodes, it could easily take place in one of the ones we skipped past.

And yeah, Lila being one of the few people who Adrien will blatantly express dislike for makes her unusual. I like that she's Marinette's nemesis in that, frankly, Marinette needs more interpersonal challenges (Chloe hasn't been much of a threat since the series began, so Marinette's main challenges have just been her being unable to confess to Adrien, and then her own insecurities about how she's doing as Ladybug. Lila gives Marinette an external threat to her social life and mental well-being to look out for beyond just Monarch). But it's important to remember that Marinette's not the ONLY person she's hurt, not by a long shot. Marinette's just the one she's personally gunning for the most.

ALSO MORE OF ADRIEN INTERACTING WITH ALYA AND TOM YES PLEASE.

#ask #miraculous ladybug #nino lahiffe #lila rossi #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

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mumms-the-word · 2 months

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In Your Name

Day 20 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

I am kind of obsessed with this little fic. I haven't actually gotten to the end of the game with Freyr yet, but I've seen videos of the Minthara romance (I think before patch 5? certainly before patch 6) and I've always rather loved the line she gives about abandoning her house for Tav/Durge's house.

The catch, of course, is what if the Durge doesn't have a last name?

CW: slightly nsfw, but not graphic

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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20. Tav/Durge gets a proposal (any kind) from their LI

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“My name belongs to my mother, so our House will have a new name—your name—and the world will learn to fear it.”

She said the words so plainly, so confidently, smirking as she sat with her arms around Freyr’s neck, straddling his lap. They’d refused to budge from their bed after falling into it, indulging in one another’s bodies as if they’d never gotten the chance to before. Freyr had woken the next morning to her hands on his chest and her lips at his ear, the rasp of her voice coaxing him out of slumber. Now, having taken their pleasure again, he sat with his back against the headboard and his beloved in his lap, admiring the fall of her pearl white hair and the way the tips of her elfin ears peeked through the snowy locks.

They’d turned to matters of the future next, discussing quietly while their hands wandered and their lips met between words, kisses punctuating their sentences. He said little, content to listen, his half-lidded gaze lingering on the little dimple nestled in the center of her bottom lip. The conquering of cities, of Baldur’s Gate and Menzoberranzan and Waterdeep, came as casually as the topic of breakfast and the weather outside. Freyr couldn’t help but smile to listen to Minthara plot war while her orchid skin was still flushed lavender-pink with the pleasure he had given her.

At the mention of his name, however, he paused. He repeated her words in his head, making sure he’d understood correctly.

Our house will have a new name—your name.

Their house, his name. Not the name of Baenre, but something else. Their own.

He should be elated, he sensed. Proud. The thought of their own house, a powerful house, a bloodthirsty house, a house founded by the two of them without ties to any other house, it should have filled him with a sense of ambitious regal authority. But instead, his thoughts snagged on the name. His name.

He didn’t have any name to offer.

“Do you mean…House Freyr?” he asked softly, feeling foolish. He knew first names did not make house names. But what name was he supposed to suggest?

Certainly not the name of the foster family that took him in. His first victims, his first murders. They were worthless. He was no more beholden to them for his birth or formative years than any other people in the world.

But neither did he seek to lay claim to the heritage of Bhaal either. Perhaps once, he would have chosen to do so. Once, he was proud of being not just Bhaalspawn, but the Chosen of Bhaal, handpicked, selected to rule. How tempting it had been to infuse himself with the dark power of the god of murder, to single-handedly wrench control of the Netherbrain from Gortash’s weak, pathetic grip, to sit on the throne of complete domination with Minthara at his side as his dark queen.

It was Minthara who had pulled him from that path. Minthara who had regarded Freyr as more than a puppet of a dark god. Minthara who had stood in Bhaal’s temple with the gore of Orin at her feet and challenged Freyr to take power for himself. Not as the puppet-child of a god, not as a spawn or an heir of some dark inheritance, not resting on the laurels of the gifts of a black divine, but seizing power through his own strength.

In another life he would have ignored her, but in this one…how could he resist? Even faced with the might of the blood-drenched power of Bhaal, the image she had painted, the vision he saw in her words, was beyond compelling. As a Bhaalspawn he was powerful, but unreliable, dangerous, and ultimately beholden to a force other than himself. If he rejected his heritage, then he could seize his goals through other means, in control of his own strength, as an equal to Minthara. No longer her Slayer, but perhaps, somehow, capable of becoming more.

So he had resisted. Rejected Bhaal and suffered the consequences, his soul banished to the Fugue Plane until the withered hand of the Last Scribe had reached out and plucked him back into the material world.

No, claiming the house of Bhaal was not what he desired. But that left him with no other name to claim.

Minthara chuckled softly at his suggestion of House Freyr and shook her head. “No. Another name.”

“I don’t have another name,” he said. “Unless you want me to claim Sceleritas Fel’s name.”

“Freyr Fel, hm?” She considered it for the briefest moment before grimacing and dismissing the idea immediately. “No. We are at last rid of that tiresome butler. The last thing we should do is resurrect him again, even in name only.”

Freyr said nothing. He’d grown somewhat fond of his strange little butler and found himself missing the little fellow from time to time. But even so, Minthara was right about one thing. There were better names than Fel.

“If not Fel, then what else?” he asked.

“I confess, I do not know. I did not anticipate you not claiming a name for your own.” She smoothed the pad of her thumb against the rough bristles of his beard, her eyes lingering there before meeting his gaze again, crimson to crimson. “We must think of one. A new name for us both. Fitting, don’t you think?”

Freyr’s response was to lean in for a kiss, a silent affirmation of her suggestion. Her proposal.

“A drow name,” he murmured against her lips, his hands smoothing up her back. “Worthy of a drow matron.”

She chuckled, her teeth catching his bottom lip just briefly before she pulled away. “A drow name, you say? Fitting of a noble house, ruled by the two of us. Very well. Let me consider…”

She studied him, her scarlet gaze roving over his features, playing idly with the metal skull-shaped stud in his ear as she thought. With the tadpoles gone, he could no longer enter into her thoughts and see them for himself. It was one of many things he missed about the power of the tadpoles, though he was glad now to be rid of the threat of ceremorphosis. But to join in her mind again, to communicate his thoughts perfectly, to see himself through her eyes again, show her how he saw her again, perfect and regal and exquisite…

The ability was lost to them, for now. So instead he remained silent and watched. He watched her expression shift subtly from a soft fondness to light thoughtfulness and finally, eventually, to a little smirk that hinted at some cleverness she had just landed on. He smoothed his hands back down her back and rested them in the dips of her slender waist, waiting for her verdict.

“Elgg-hor,” she murmured. “Duk-tak. You are my slayer still, but even these names are not befitting of one such as you, one who will stand by my side as we conquer all that our hearts desire. You are my champion, Freyr. My blade on the battlefields to come, and I, your shield. Together, we will forge a world anew, united under our banner. We will dominate this city, and the next, and the next, until all come under our power. If I were to name you, I would name you Deviir, champion of domination.”

“House Deviir,” he said quietly. He tilted his head. He had no real understanding of the drow language, with its nuance and intricacy, but he rather liked the sound of the name. Especially when she said it, her lips curled in a pleased smirk.

He trailed his fingertips up along her sides and back down, watching her only barely suppress a shiver at his touch. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers, soft, tender, his fingers skimming down her thighs and dragging back up, nails gentle on her skin.

“Minthara Deviir,” he murmured against her lips. The name lingered on his tongue, honey-smooth and acidic, just like Minthara herself and her poison kisses. He smiled. “Mm. It suits you.”

He felt her smile against his own as she encircled his neck with her arms, bringing her body closer to his. “Freyr Deviir. A name worthy of a king.”

Was it her words or her touch, the feel of her skin on his, that rekindled a fire in his core, his body responding unbidden? He didn’t know and ultimately didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around her and held her flush against his chest as he deepened their kiss, his tongue seeking more of her taste. He wanted to sheathe himself in her once more, show her in more than words what her proposal meant to him.

His name with their new house name had awakened something in him. Some fierce sense of pride, a pride that need not be bound up in his rejected identity as an heir to Bhaal. He was no longer Freyr, the Scion of Bhaal, the Chosen, Bhaal’s Slayer, the Dark Prince. He had abandoned that inheritance, that family, for someone far more worthy. Someone who, entirely of her own accord, offered him a new kind of family, a new house with a new destiny that they would forge together. No more gods or monsters, as she had said before. No devils or demons to manipulate their fate. Just the two of them and the empire they would build together under the banner of House Deviir.

He has never loved her more than he did in that moment. Never wanted her so fiercely as he did now.

She pulled back to look at him, holding his face in her hands. For a moment she gazed softly, a gentle smile on her lips, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes when she noticed the heat of his gaze. Then her smile grew deliciously wicked, her scarlet gaze sharpening with a look of ambitious, loving pride. She reached for one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, her eyes never leaving his.

“You, my love, will be a beautiful king.”

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #freyr #minthara #minthara baenre #or should I say Freyr and Minthara Deviir eh?#Deviir comes from a drow naming chart that a friend sent me #but i don't play dnd a lot so dnd people don't come for me if i messed up drow naming culture okay

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one-joe-spoopy · 2 years

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I am such a flipping sucker for an epic soundtrack, so the music at the end of 4.20 literally had me laughing sobbing with so much elation. I don't want to keep listening to the end over and over again because I don't want to lose the feelings I have with it, but at the same time I just want to keep it on loop!

Just—Juno and co making a break for it after being apart! Everyone lived! Peter showed up! (If not in his entire self, as Peter Nureyev, but still! He cares!) I haven't stopped thinking about it since I finished listening to it.

But what worries me is Jet. How is he going to get back to sobriety after being back on neometh for months (can't imagine future drugs are any better than today's, so withdrawal might be worse than it was the first time around)? I know he's done it once before, but I'm guessing relapsing and being on it nonstop for a long time wouldn't do him any favors. Plus Vespa's comment on his heart rate did not make things any better. There's no Curemother anymore either to help (though I'm not sure how it works, whether it's for physical injuries and such, or goes deeper) and I'm guessing that one of the focuses of the next season be all of them healing from all that time they spent getting better from being locked up in Aurinko Permanent Corrections Facility. Maybe they'll just wave it off and let the healing happen off-screen, but I hope not. I want to know what happened to everyone else, what Juno did between the episodes we've gotten, what NUREYEV has been doing in all this time, what's up with Slip—is he dead, alive, held captive, dying—, whether Peter's paid off his debts, why he was dressed as a guard in the first place, was this always his plan?, was this his creditors' plan because if all crime is done away with then how will they profit off of the poor and sick and dying. Just. There's a lot to unpack and understand, and I am absolutely frothing at the mouth to dissect it.

#the penumbra podcast #the Aurinko crime family #Junoverse #peter nureyev #S5 speculation

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liliallowed · 4 months

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Who's ur fav character in in starrail?

(I'm just basic and like March lol she's silly)

I was given very limited information about the "aeon" of elation but "aha" gives me jevil and crimson vibes. I didn't even SEE them and Idk if they're even an in game character but like... basically fave already.

if that doesn't count then hmmm.

well I'm not gonna lie mc has like a lot more personallity than your avrage protagonist lol.

I like her style. nothing too extravagant, plain simple (but also slightly tomboy).

other then that I'm too busy simping for all the women like the sapphic person I am... women... pretty.

as far as the lore and story goes Clara! (no I haven't gotten that far but I did try her as a trial character)

like..

they intergrade the LORE in the battle mechanics! I can guess from her fight that she's got this adorable father daughter relationship with some terminator ass butt kicking scary father figure...

I didn't see anything from it but I already just melted. god WHY DIDN'T I PLAY THIS GAME EARLIER

#honkai starrail #liligames

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jerzwriter · 1 year

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WIP Wipeout Weekend Check-In

Didn't get as much sleep as I would have liked, but I'm determined to make progress today!

Two things were bugging me last night.

WIPEOUT - well, that was unrealistic from go! lol If we do this again, maybe we should call it WIP Dent Weekend

I was struggling to think how I'll get all the T/C content I wanted to do by their "wedding" date of 11/12 (next Saturday). Then I realized I created this stuff! I can bump it to 11/19, and no one dies. lol So, I'm going to see how it goes, and I might do just that!

Work Update:

I did write a 3 part drabble for Ethan & Kaycee last night, It's called Three Times, and it's based on an anon request. Knowing my concentration will be on Tobias & Casey and that I really want to get into my HC for Eli & Zoe in Wake the Dead, I want to assure Ethan & Kaycee still get some love.

I worked on the next installment of Tobias & Casey's HC, but it's not done.

Goals for Today:

Complete the first part of the chemical attack fic for T/C . If I can get most of the way done on part 2, I'd be elated. How confident am I that will happen? Hmmm. Depends on some outside factors, so I'm not certain.

I haven't gotten a beverage yet, but I think a cup of tea is in order.

#wip wipeout weekend

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cricksims · 1 year

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Borowski Legacy - 1919

Amelia finds Otto sitting alone. They haven't spoken much since he's gotten back. Amelia presumes he feels guilty, being the only one to survive. On top of that, their mother Selma is completely incapacitated. Selma, who was once a bright, loving, and sound of mind now just sits in the garden, smiling and talking to herself. It's as if she's waiting for Moses and Abel to show up. Amelia knew that it was all in vain. She has also taken on the care of Francis, AJ, and her mother, who simply forgets to eat and shower.

Amelia's got an important question for Otto. After the death of Jerry Mayweather and the kidnapping of "Raymond Mayweather" (what a stupid name for her AJ!) the whole town was searching to find the killer and baby. She moved the family out to New Orleans with the baby, telling them that the child was hers. Selma, if in her right mind, would've questioned Amelia. However, she was just elated to have a grandbaby. Otto doubted her story. She knew he was suspicious of her.

"Hello, brother," Amelia greets.

Otto looks at her dejectedly. "Hi, Amelia."

"What is the matter? You have been out here for an hour."

Otto hesitates, then says, "I know that AJ is not yours, Amelia. Please be honest. Did you kill Jerry Mayweather?"

Amelia looks at her brother straight in the eye. He's been through so much.

"Yes. Yes, Otto. I killed him. He instructed his father to send Abel on a suicide mission. Then tried to take Abel's son as his own. Please understand, brother. You are my sibling, but Abel was my twin. We did everything together. He kept me out of trouble. And now that he's gone..." she trails off, trying not to weep.

It does not matter, Otto weeps for her.

"Oh, Amelia. This is not like your other crimes. This is serious. If you are caught... Please just be careful. I am not cross with you. I would have done the same thing, perhaps with less murder involved. You protect AJ, Amelia. And yourself. I cannot lose my sister."

The two embrace.

Amelia still needs to ask her question.

"Otto... Move out. Find love. Take Mama and Francis with you. If I do get caught, I do not want you all to be involved. This is my issue. I will pay in full. Any house in New Orleans, it is yours.

Otto looks at her sadly.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Amelia replies, "Plus it would get all of you out of my hair!"

Otto chuckles, "Just promise to not be a stranger, sister."

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #sims #my sims #sims 4 decades challenge #borowski legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #ts4 screencaps #ts4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #ts4 simblr #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 decades #ts4

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coochiequeens · 2 years

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I can’t believe CNN published this shit. Yes I am glad that her mother’s pregnancy complications were treated and the mother and sister survived BUT just because things worked out for her family doesn’t mean that it will work out for many families when maternal and infant mortality rates are increasing.

Editor’s Note: Franchetta Groves is a senior at the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. She is the campus marketing chair of the Network of Enlightened Women, a national organization of conservative college students and a participant in a fellowship program that the group runs. The views expressed here are her own. Read more opinion at CNN.

(CNN)In the coming days, the US Supreme Court could hand down a decision overturning Roe v. Wade, if we are to believe a draft of the decision leaked to the media several weeks back.

Those who want Roe v. Wade to stand believe it provides women with choice and freedom.

Those of us who feel differently, who fervently want to see Roe overturned, also want freedom for women. We just want it for their unborn children as well.

And if you believe, as I do, that life starts at conception, then you also know that all life -- even newly formed life -- has inherent dignity and is worthy of protection.

When news broke last month about the leak of a draft decision overturning Roe, I was elated but remained quiet. Students at the college I attend hold a variety of views about abortion, and I didn't want to say anything that might offend others. I also saw a lot of women on social media expressing despair and outrage at what they say could be a loss of control over their bodies if Roe is overturned.

I'm sympathetic about the distress felt by some in my generation, but I don't share their view. In fact, as a young woman who is an opponent of abortion, I look forward to a post-Roe America. And I know I am in good company. In fact, according to a Gallup Poll this year, 33% of American women are "pro-life."

Based on the angry reactions from people on the abortion-rights side following that leaked draft opinion, I can only conclude that our society has failed women facing unplanned pregnancies.

It seems to me that we've created a culture where women are not equipped with the information and resources they need to make the best decisions for themselves before and during pregnancy -- decisions that would allow them to keep their unborn children. Because they haven't had access to comprehensive and supportive care that women need during pregnancy, many have felt, mistakenly, that abortion was their only option.

That can be different in the world that comes after Roe. Anti-abortion advocates such as myself want to create a more supportive culture for women that would encourage them to reject abortion. When they do, they will perhaps feel not so much that they've given up a right, as they've saved a life.

I've gotten to see firsthand what a more supportive culture can look like. During my senior year of high school, I raised funds for a pregnancy center not far from my hometown in Pennsylvania. I got to learn about how these pregnancy centers truly walk with couples through every step of pregnancy and parenthood.

According to recent news reports, a number of pregnancy centers have come under attackin recent days. That's a shame, because this country will need them more than ever if Roe is overturned.

At the pregnancy center in my community, I learned how women can benefit from comprehensive prenatal care, even when their pregnancy is unplanned. I'm sure that such clinics around the country will do the same thing as more women seek out their services, empowering expectant mothers with the support and the resources they need. And I believe deeply that when women truly realize all the options they have at their disposal, they will choose life.

I'm against abortion for another reason: I've seen in my own family the beauty that can come out of unexpected and unplanned pregnancies.

After severe and almost deadly complications giving birth to me, my mother was told she couldn't have any more children. Then a few years later, she became pregnant again.

My mother faced intense pressure from doctors and family members telling her she should get an abortion. She visited doctor after the doctor who didn't want to take her case out of fear of complications and instead gave her medical advice that abortion was her best option.

I shudder to think what would have happened if my mother had allowed herself to be pressured into ending her pregnancy. Instead, she found a doctor willing to take her on as a patient -- one who honored her wish to keep her baby and helped her overcome the medical challenges she faced.

Every day, I see the outcome of my mother's difficult but wise decision when I see the loving face of my sister Isabella, who is just a few years younger than me. I am eternally grateful that my mother chose life for both of us. My mom's courage is a daily reminder to me that life is beautiful and worthy of protection.

In this country, we've seen the pendulum swing so far from "safe, legal, and rare" abortions to the practice being normalized and even praised as a positive outcome. But abortion is not empowering. My mother's courage and the courage of so many other women -- that is empowering.

As a college senior, I'm looking forward to having a full and rich professional life when I graduate before going on to have a family of my own one day. I want to live in a society where a woman can have her child and pursue her career. That is empowering.

I'd also like to live in a culture that provides effective education so that women can make smart and wise decisions for their sexual health -- have the information they need to avoid potential negative consequences of premature sex. There needs to be better education on the risks of sexually transmitted diseases, unplanned pregnancy and the emotional impacts of sex. That's empowering, too.

I believe that abortion harms women. It allows men to get off consequence-free after having fathered a child and avoid the responsibilities of fatherhood. It undermines the beauty of motherhood and tells women that their children are a hindrance to their dreams and that life is not a blessing.

After Roe, I believe it will be possible for our nation to be one that doesn't cast judgment on women who become pregnant, but one that embraces them with love and compassion. And it must also be one that always protects human life and appreciates the intrinsic value of each being from the moment of conception.

Over the decades, this debate has been characterized by hostility and villainization on both the abortion-rights and anti-abortion sides. Only honest dialogue can help heal a fractured culture that has so painfully betrayed women. We'll need that dialogue once Roe is gone, and the national conversation turns to how we can support those facing crisis pregnancies and their children.

As the future of this country after Roe v. Wade is being decided, I think a lot about how I as an individual should respond -- regardless of the outcome when the high court finally makes its decision.

How can I support the women in my life who may be facing an unexpected pregnancy? How can I engage with those who view the issue differently than myself to engage in productive dialogue so that I can grow and learn how to cultivate a society that better supports women? I hope that the highest Court in the land deciding this issue once and for all will make it possible for me to find answers to these questions.

I am anxiously watching what happens, and hope that the Court will recognize the inherent dignity of all human life, and take steps to protect those in the womb, the most vulnerable in our society.

#She opposes abortion because it lets men off scot free #But a Louisiana judge just awarded a rapist custody of his daughter and ordered the mother to pay child support to her rapist #Her mother may have survived pregnancy complications but maternal mortality are increasing #does she want women carrying fetuses that won’t survive till birth to carry through the pregnancy and draw out the suffering?#And she really wants more kids born into a country that can’t even keep baby formula on the shelves?

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ineffablehogwash · 9 months

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Some around-the-house work I felt like rambling about:

Why do people paint over this kind of stuff??

For the past couple of years, we've been renting a house in the city we've grown up in, but with an unfortunately, absolutely outrageous, exponentially growing cost of living - but somehow lucking the FUCK out, paying 1/3 of the rent cost that this property would normally go for.

The owners live a state north of us in an extravaganly large house, and it's the lady's deceased mothers home we rent, so we're guessing they're nice and like us and are therefore keeping it at this affordable (and frankly more reasonable considering wages, false inflation etc.) price? Idk, I'm afraid to question it...

Between the LOW ASS PRICE, knowing I won't be able to afford anywhere else, and since I have a drastic fear of eviction after being kicked out from my home with a 3 week notice before Xmas with my 3 year old because they decided on a whim to sell the property (and a whole lot of drama with that), I am always anxious to reach out to landlords with "issues".

Hence, I'm frequently fixing the toilet and sinks, etc. myself!

Well, my kid (who's about to turn 10 😭) has been having more and more trouble with his door not closing, the handle not working and what have you - this issue was existing when we moved in, but has gotten worse to where he has to use a wedge under it and some other stupid shit just to have a modicum of privacy or to keep the cats out when he's not home.

Since the landlords haven't fixed it in the last couple years, I went ahead and went for it, teaching myself the inner workings of old mortise locks and door knobs!

Took everything out and apart, rebuilt the portion of the door frame that was too far damaged, reset the plates, sanded and repainted the edges to where the door fully fits in the frame again from the now-100-year-old house settling and summer swelling, and did my best to restore the handle pieces to what they may have looked like a few decades ago.

To supplement, as I didn't take a lot of pics being so engrossed in the project, this is what the inside of a mortise lock looks like!

I'm kind of kicking myself for not taking more pictures along the way, but since it wasn't just his door that was apathetically slathered with landlord-special, I took a picture of another in the house to compare for before and after:

Getting the screws loose to start this whole thing was INCREDIBLY frustrating, stripping the paint off wasn't too bad, buffing the brass to a shine took *forever.* The tools I had on hand did leave a lil more sanding lines on two of the pieces than I would've liked, but overall I really cannot be too displeased.

I still need to recut the hole for the lock, might try to find him a key to use with it, cause it's so fucking cool.

Either way, he was elated to have a functional door again, and even more overjoyed with how it looks.

Took two full days, but I'm incredibly happy to have figured it all out!

#renting #home diy #mortise locks #diy repairs #personal

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whosjunglejim4322 · 3 years

Text

Bramosia | J.Seo (m)

Genre: pwp, knight!au, smut, fluff, he is, and I can't stress this enough, madly in love with you

Warnings: loss of virginity, pussy eating, mutual pining and longing, it's forbidden but who's gonna stop u??? Exactly. Inaccurate descriptions of the time period probably, inappropriate use of the word princess, he fucks you to tears, this is so self indulgent I gotta blast

The moons unearthly luminescence bleeds through the windows that sit directly above your wing of the old castles corridor, a reminder of why he bears the heavy sword that hangs off of his hip, of why he's here in the first place.

He rolls his aching neck, blinking his dry eyes a few times in an attempt to dampen them. He's usually not so worn by now.

Perhaps the two of you had gotten too carried away last night, it's too easy when you're with eachother. Effortless, like that of a flowers perianth traveling wistfully through a summers breeze. It's easy to forget.

He's here to protect you, nothing more, as he is was a proffesional in all that he does. He is a knight, after all. One of the best. Your father wouldn't have requested him from a province so far away if he weren't damn good.

Six months ago, it seems like a lifetime away and yet the memory of seeing you for the very first time is so vivid behind his eyelids, tangible as if he could reach out and hover his palms over the warmth the halo around you seemed to emit.

He smiles to himself, the image keeping him sane and distracting him from the ache in the soles of his feet. He knows you're probably not sleeping, he wishes you wouldn't worry about him. He's doing it to himself, really.

He is a warrior but he is only so strong, so resilient. He has never been stricken by such a force as to have his bones feel as weak as they do when he looks into your eyes, when you cup his face in your hands like he is the most delicate thing you have ever seen.

Sure, he hadn't been the most nonchalant. His eyes barely left you even during the brief moments in which his life is not sworn over to do so, and you being you, caught him almost every time. You'd smile, fleeting enough for only him to notice.

You never get the credit you deserve, he had come to find out over the past several months. Being a princess, as fawned over the title may be, it wasn't meant for you.

You'd scowl at the name of every prince your father mentioned might come visit, which he'd take pride in secretly. You wouldn't even scold him whenever he'd been clearly protective in a manner than suggested that it was more than just the job that inclined him to act that way.

Perceptive, and clever you are. And to think, you might feel even a fraction of what he feels, it causes his heart to thunder loudly behind his sturdy ribcage, momentarily reducing his fatigue.

You are the only one in all of his twenty five years of life that has threatened to shake his very foundation, like you've found a way to wind yourself through every ridge of his skeleton like vines of Wisteria.

Sundays are always the hardest, you're still so fresh in his mind, on his skin. It's like every inch of him has been permanently marked, he can still feel the weight of your body against his and the warm puff of air from your lips against his earlobe as you sing his name.

His sigh is quiet in the vast, empty space around him. He shouldn't be thinking of you so late, when he's so tired. It makes him ache for you all the more, make him wish life was anything but what it is now. That he could be with you unabashedly.

That he could be your protector, and not just in a way that could be be permanently devastated if anyone were to find out about the two of you.

He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes, not until he has to peel them open and search for the source of the soft voice he's just heard whisper his name into the dark.

He furrows his brows as a stream of warm candlelight spills through the crack in your door from your room, your form coming into a few just a moment later, as if beckoned from his dreams.

"You're really going to stay out there, John?" He foresees your incredulity, smiling at the hand thats propped up on your hip.

"Those are my orders, princess." He has a hard time not staring at you, even in such poor lighting you are still the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

He's always stubborn about breaking the made up rules you two have put in place, like only meeting in private on Saturdays. Despite his inability to resist you he still needs to keep you safe.

"My father is a whole wing away, don't you know," you emphasize your point by stepping out past your doorframe, tiptoeing at an almost imperceptible pace towards him. "and if danger were to arise, how much more convenient need it be, than for you to be right there with me?"

You're standing right in front of him now, weaking his resolve eith each syllable that passes those pretty lips of yours. It's strange, how he still wonders if your feelings for him are resolute as his are for you, when you're the one always asking for trouble. Eager to have your way.

When you reach out to grab his waist, he breaks.

"Princess, if someone were to see that I'm not outside of your room guarding as I'm supposed to,"

You interrupt him, pressing yourself closer until he can feel your chest against his, the barrier of his clothing suddenly a burden far heavier than before.

"Who? Who might see? Everyone is asleep, you should be."

You stare up at him and he can't seem to resist the pull, meeting your eyes and unclapsing his hands from behind his back to stroke the apple of your cheek with his knuckles.

You heel into his touch, beaming as you realise you've already gotten your way, evident in the way he sighs your name as if the word fills him with oxytocin.

"You really are trouble," he cups your face, calloused fingertips swiping a fallen lash from underneath your eye. "trying to lure me in, like a siren. I'd be willing to go, anyways."

You lift yourself to the tips of your toes, pressing a brief, featherlight, kiss to the surface of his lips. Just enough to bring forth warmth to his cheeks.

"You're silly, I'd be too selfish a siren to do any damage. I'd have to keep you all to myself."

His arms are strong and steady as the encapsulate you, the fears and worries of outside intruders fading with each second spent in eachothers presence. It's like nothing else exists.

"Please, Princess. It's hard enough already, to be away from you," he's on the verge of losing any bit of hope for his sanity, but as anticipated, you won't have it.

"And you don't think it's hard for me? You think that I enjoy knowing that it is prohibited for me to be like this with you? I am many things but I am not selfish, so if you don't want to come with me then I won't force you."

He has to bite back a laugh, or maybe a scream of frustration and agony all at the same time. Here you are, so close he's sure you can hear how his pulse pounds beneath his skin at your presence, actually accusing him of not wanting you. It's preposterous.

You glare up at him when his arms don't loosen their grasp.

"You must be mistaken, sorely mistaken. If you think that any moment spent without you is even the least bit pleasant for me, you're wrong. So wrong it's a bit humorous," he kisses your cheek, and then the other. Your skin tingles where his lips grace.

"You may not be selfish but I am. So selfish that I'd give into my own desires even if it meant that one slip up could ruin it all. Don't you see that?" You sigh blissfully, in spite of his words, when he kisses your nose.

"Well I think that's stupid, I'd never let such a thing happen. I've lived here my whole life, I'd be able to predict the likelihood of someone coming up here during such a late hour."

He doesn't miss the pitch of sadness that comes with talk of the castle, he knows that there is so much you still have yet to experience. So much you'd like to do, so far away from here.

Still, he can't deny the truth in which you speak. You're right, and he knows that you're as careful of these things as he is. He trusts you, as you trust him. And what is he going to do, say no? He'd never have the willpower.

His broad shoulders relax, his hands suddenly engulfing yours.

"Alright, you don't have to pout anymore. You know I'll end up kissing it from that pretty face of yours anyways."

You suppress a giggle of elation, squeezing your fingers around his as you turn to quietly pull him into your room, peering into the the hallway once more to make sure the coast is clear, before you ease your door shut.

And then at once, he is what you taste on your tongue.

His lips always leave you breathless. The way he kisses you, it's as of you are his only source of oxygen and his lungs burn with the need for air. He is fierce, but so very concise. You almost forget that he so ruefully pretended to put up a fight.

Your arms mold around his neck as he slouches the slightest bit in order to make the reach easier for you, knowing how you like to bury your hands in his hair and tug at the strands whenever he does something that you'd like more of.

Your eagerness is a bit more exuberant tonight, normally you'd still be a bit bashful, giggling between pecks and having to turn your face away before kissing him again.

But you haven't pulled away from him yet, not even for a breath and suddenly his skin is sweltering towards what feels like a hundred degrees. He's pretty sure you've just whispered his name.

He's already gone, helplessly lost in the way you're clinging onto him with all your strength.

"John." Just his name falling from your lips in the form of a sweet sigh has his knees buckling.

He's careful, hesitant even, when he cups the back of your knees and allows you to fall atop your bed, the sight almost too much to bear. He can never catch a break.

But he has to look at you, has to see the look in your eyes, the gleam that shines in your blown out pupils as your fingers tug at the clothing hanging loosely on his body. He fights back a groan.

Of course things have gotten intense between the two of you, but nothing more than over the clothes petting. And, even then, that drove him to the brink of insanity. He didn't think he could ever be putty in someone's hands until he met you.

It feels like everything is happening so fast yet not slow enough, it seems as if you're blooming like a lotus before his eyes and he wants to capture every little detail. Just incase one day his memories are all he has of you.

You pull him back down to your mouth, legs suddenly looping around his trim waist, knees locked on either side. You practically purr as his hands, large and tender, grace your thighs only to be met with bare skin where your nightgown has risen up.

He's breathing heavily when your mouths depart momentarily, his doe eyes an onyx pit of desire and emotion as he stares down at you, lips ruby red.

You nod, as if reading his mind and answering the dozens of unanswered questions that sit unmoving at the tip of his tongue. Still, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration, in tentative restraint.

"You can touch me. Please, touch me."

Your skin is heavenly underneath his trembling touch, from the soft hair atop your thighs to the way you so perfectly mold around his fingers. You're a gift of the most ethereal kind, here in front of him.

You coo at him with a voice of an angel, pulling at his face in an attempt to have him kiss you again. He's been too busy ogling, and repays you with the press of his mouth against the crook of your neck.

You lift your chin to allow him more access, eyes fluttering closed and thighs tightening around his middle when you feel the warmth of his open mouth against your throat.

"You're so sweet, so pretty." He mumbles, practically floating.

He nips at your collarbone, and you can't stop your hips from bucking up against him, your clothed center meeting his hardened length through the material of his bottoms.

The air is thick with tension now, you can feel it buzzing through the both of you like ths thrum of a thunderstorm. He sucks in a breath, lips ghosting over yours.

"I want to make you feel good, If you'd allow me." He tries to control the shake in his voice but he's not sure he's succeeded. What a mess you've made of him.

You kiss him for what seems like the hundredth time but feels like the first, still sending jolts of electricity through your body and causing heat to swirl in your loins. You can barely speak.

"Y-Yes, yes I'll allow you."

Your voice is foreign to your own ears, clouded with desire and a desperation that is as overwhelming as it is strange and new.

But having him here, knowing he's the one whose hands are touching you, it's comforting in a way that leaves no room for doubt that he is nothing but kind. Nothing but adoring.

It's hard to tell with just the luminosity of a single candle on your bedside table, but you're almost certain you can feel him shuffle. At least, his weight seems to have shifted, his arms suddenly caged around your waist, upperhalf between your legs.

And then you feel it, the plushness of his lips just above your knee as he lifts your legs by your calves, placing them over his shoulders. You're not sure you can focus on anything else now, breathing suddenly heavy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" His voice is so close, yet far away in an unfamiliar way. It has butterflies swarming your belly.

"I'm so lucky, so so lucky..." He trails off between kisses, shifting from one thigh to the other, slowly but surely making his way towards your center.

It's only now in your bird brain that you're beginning to realize what exactly he's about to do, and it's like some switch inside of you has been flicked on, toes suddenly curling in anticipation, wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

The desire isn't just in your belly now, its everywhere. All consuming, when he pushes your nightgown up and bunches it around your hips, the air cool against your skin. You shiver, and his cheek brushes against the crease of your thigh.

"Have you ever been touched like this, princess?" He's curious but not pushy, just wants to know. When you shake your head, he swallows.

He's slow and steady, pulling your underwear off your hips and down your legs, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. You don't clamp your legs shut, despite the instinct to shield yourself. You've never hidden yourself from him, and you know there's no reason to.

Esepcially not when he's looking at you like he is right now, like a man starved whose just been presented with a meal of his favorite kind. He glances up at you, with eyes that shine with gratitude, and awe alike. You reach out to stroke his hair.

And then, suddenly, his face is gone from your view. You feel it, first, before you register that it's happening. A gasp leaves your lips the moment your back arches ever so slightly off of your mattress, his hands keeping your thighs apart as his tongue licks another flat stripe through your folds.

You feel exposed in a way that only feels as intoxicating as it does, because he's the one with his mouth on your cunt, suckling your bud between his lips and swiveling his head side to side. You tug at his hair.

A guttural groan resonates in his throat and the vibration serves as direct stimulation, a mewl leaving your mouth as you buck you hips up against his skilled tongue.

"Shhh baby, stay quiet for me," you furrow your eyebrows, looking down at him with stars in your eyes. "I know, I know sweetheart." He reads the pleading in your eyes, soothingly rubbing your hips as he delves back in.

It's not easy to stay quiet. Not at all.

If you'd thought him rubbing your clit through your clothes was something to be noisy over, nothing prepared you for this.

He's so good at it, so generous with every lap of his tongue. The sounds are lewd and loud in the shared space, and his tongues pace only increases when you reach down to find his hands. He intertwines your fingers before you give him the hint.

You try to keep your volume low, your whimpers almost inaudible but loud enough to spurr him on, to have his hips rutting against the bed while he kisses your cunt with passion only a lover could have.

Bliss overcomes you faster than you expect, and swallows you whole like a vicious, unmerciful hurricane.

Your thighs tremble against his strength as he keeps them parted when they threaten to close, your fingers twisted in the comforter as tears well in your eyes.

You're not sure if you're making any noise, the light too bright behind your eyes, bones suddenly weightless as his tongue licks you clean. You twitch, aware that you've let out a whine. The feeling is agonizingly pleasant.

You're still throbbing when his hands suddenly grasp your jaw, head lolling in his direction as he presses his lips to yours. He's serene, slipping his tongue into your mouth, humming.

You're certain, now. Certain that you need to have him in every way there is to have someone, for your heart may forever be unsettled if it doesn't get to taste what it's like to love him wholly, completely.

"I want to-" you've got his rapt attention, as you always do, and he stares down at you with a lovesick expression as you struggle to find the strength to say it out loud.

He's grown accustomed to reading your countenance, only time allowing him to grasp the meaning behind every crease and line that forms on your face, he's certain you could give him one look and he'd instantly know what it is that you're trying to say.

One perk to having a secret rendezvous, though he still needs to hear you say it. He'd only take your word for it regarding something like this, something that he's dreamt about more times that he'd like to admit.

He can't hide his surprise, thumbs stroking your face.

"You want me to..." he quirks an inquisitive brow, nearly becoming distracted when your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. "you want me to be your first?"

Even the words have you latching onto him tighter, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Yes, I want that very much...do you...also want that?"

He grins, widely and for a moment you forget he was born to be made of steel, that he's fought all of his life and has bruised his skin for the sake of his kingdom. You want to kiss away every bad memory in his head.

"How could you even think you have to ask? I want nothing more, just you. You're all I'll ever want."

The veracity in his voice, suddenly hoarse, makes your skin feel like it's being tickled by a million, tiny feathers. You never knew anything could feel like this.

A heartbeat later, your hands are slipping underneath his top to make an attempt at pulling it off, your excitment not a good match for your lack of coordination. Of course, he doesn't mind helping.

He slips his sword from his hip while you stare up at him with wide eyes of reverence and desire, so much of him being exposed at once causing a swelter of heat to boil underneath your skin.

Your hands are hesitant, hovering around his lithe hips as he sits back on his haunches, chest rapidly rising and falling as the atmosphere begins to soak into his pores. He can't believe he gets to make love to you.

"You can touch me, princess," he's the one reassuring you now, knowing that beyond your headstrong personality when you're with him, you're still so timid; trembling like a leaf in autumn.

His dexterous fingers gently grasp your wrists, placing your palms over his abdomen, keeping your gaze all the while, head nodding in encouragement.

He's soft, soft on the surface at least. The soft down that covers his honey colored skin is like silk underneath your fingers, a juxtaposition to the rigid muscle underneath that flexes as your fingertips move upwards towards the broad planes of his chest.

You hook your fingers around his shoulders, and pull him down to your mouth, determined as your heart bellows inside of your body.

It's wilder this time, the wet sounds loud in your ears, his tongue waltzing with yours. You rake your nails down his sides, and he damn near growls.

It's a blur, the way he slips the straps of your gown from off of your shoulders, before removing the garment completely and throwing it behind him. Somewhere in between he pulls the covers out from underneath you, sensing the chill that runs through you like a tremor from the exposure.

It's during that brief moment when you're too drunk on adrenaline, that your fingers begin pulling at the buckle of his bottoms, too eager again and not being able to unfasten it correctly. Always the gentlemen, he does it for you, again.

He's careful now, not completely planting himself against you yet when he kisses your neck and takes your breasts in his massive palms, squeezing indulgently.

You pull him up by the ridge of his jaw, wrapping your legs around his middle as you had previously, letting out a small gasp as his hard length suddenly comes to lie heavy between your legs when you beckon him closer by your heels on his back.

"You're sure you want me?" He slips his hand that's not cupping your cheek, down in between your bodies to rub your clit with his middle finger, actually expecting you to be able to speak coherently. He supresses his gasp upon feeling the abundance of your essence.

It's hard to focus, when he's looking down at you like that, when you can feel every ridge and curve of his naked body against yours. Perhaps it's being able to to tell that he's feeling the same way just by the way he speaks, that makes it so intoxicating.

"You're all I'll ever want." You echo his earlier words, and his laughter fills your ears like a lullably. You reach out to push his dark hair out from in front of his eyes, his lips catching your palm and placing a kiss to the center.

"It'll hurt, I'll go as slow as you need me to." You see the worry creased between his brow, and you soothe it away by clenching your thighs around his waist, silently beckoning him.

"Please, please fuck me."

It takes him by surprise, cock twitching against your sex. You sound so sweet, so angelic even when you're requesting something so filthy.

He lifts himself on his forearms, reaching down to grasp his shaft. Your hands are in his hair a the while, fingers tracing shapes across the nape of his neck. You suck in a breath when he rubs the tip against your clit, arousal leaking from your slit.

He rubs his cock against you like this, through your silken folds and back up to your sensitive nub, until your head is thrown back against the pillows, face turned to the side and canorous mewls slipping past your lips.

Your eyes flutter open when he kisses you, finally prodding your entrance, readying you. Your teeth gently sink into the plush surface of his bottom lip, as if urging him to continue.

Your mouth falls open when he begins to push himself inside of you. You have to brace yourself by clinging onto his biceps, reminding yourself to breathe.

If you weren't as wet for him as you are, you're sure it would be more painful. It still stings, even more so as he begins to bottom out, using every bit of self control he has as to make sure he doesn't accidentally rut into you with too much force.

He meets your eyes when he's fully sheathed inside of you, your fingernails leaving crescent moons in his skin. He doesn't mind it one bit.

"Are you alright?" The tenderness in his voice is accompanied by his lips across your cheeks, down your jaw, over your eyelids.

"Mhm. J-Just stay like this, for a second, please." Your walls flutter around him and his eyes fall heavy. He stays as still as he can for the moment, fingers massaging your soft hip.

"I never thought...never dreamed we'd get to do this." He speaks in an irrevocable way, swelling your heart over two times its size with how he talks about you. Like you're truly something magical.

You wiggle your hips, his gaze searching for yours and lighting up with newfound determination when you give him conformation to move. He slowly drags himself out, before pushing himself back in.

"If you only knew...how much I truly think of you." You speak steadily despite the wave of pleasure that ripples through your body, from the pit of your stomach outwards, touching every nerve.

He's big, bigger than you expected, but curved in a way that has you fighting a cry. Your lungs ache with the need to make noise, to express how it feels to have him inside of you like this. You squeeze around him, and he smashes his lips against yours.

You never thought it would feel like this, you'd heard mixed reviews but clearly none of them had ever experienced what it's like to have someone like him demonstrating their skill.

He's precise, a little shaky but only because he's concentrating on not literally cumming after two minutes. You're everything he's ever wanted and more, you're soaked and warm around him, chest pressed flush against his. Your hardened nipples threaten to distract him.

His hair tickles your forehead as he begins to create a steady pace. He's got one hand behind your right thigh, cupping it and hiking it up just the slightest bit while he fucks into you, curling his hips.

He swallows your moans, tasting the sense of surrealness on your tongue. He feels it too, groaning when you tug a tuft of his hair.

"You're mine, all mine, fuck." His voice is hoarse, hips stuttering as he begins to rock into you, not completely pulling himself out of you before nudging your cervix again. His mouth catches the edge of your jaw, then your earlobe.

He buries his face in your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his hair as you keep yourself quiet. He can still feel the way you're shivering, the whispers of cries that are audible when you breathe.

"I'm yours, I'm yours." You're not sure you could ever feel this way about someone else, and not just because he is all that every single one of your senses seemed to be attuned to.

He's deep inside of you, reaching places you never would be able to by yourself, and still holds you like you're the entire world. Despite the need that consumes you both, he takes his time.

You feel him everywhere. On your neck, your throat, down to your clavicle where his hot tongue soothes over the mark he's just made.

You can almost feel him in your belly, the tip of his cock nudging the sweet spot of nerves deep within you causing your body to jerk in his hold. He takes note and is determined to drive you over the edge, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

He's yearned for it too long, and nothing his mind could have conjured up would ever compare again.

He lets go of your leg only to bring his hand to where your bodies are connected as one, your face contorted into a mask of pleasure as he begins to rub at your clit, in circular motions, with the same rythym as his thrusts.

"John, ohhh, you f-feel so good." You're slurring your words, high off of his affection. Your belly feels hot, a pressure just behind your navel leaving you writhing, trying to match his pace.

"Yeah? Feels good to have me inside of you?" He's being cruel now, already knowing the answer by the way tears are swelling in your eyes for the second time tonight, irisises shining back at him.

Your hands roam his sides, settling on his hips as you turn your face to hide it against his bicep. He kisses any expanse of skin that he can reach, till the wet spots leave a trail of chills along your body.

You're close, and he knows it. You're already leaking onto the bed, dripping down his shaft.

"J-John...p-please." You're blubbering now, and his fingers circle your clit faster, just enough to have you breathless and unable to speak as his strokes become inconsistent, cock throbbing.

"Shh, I got you baby, gonna make you cum okay? Want you to let go."

Looking up into his eyes, it's hard to resist. Suddenly it's the first time you've met and you're awestruck by his beauty all over again, by the sharp planes of his face that you'd come to realize are soft underneath your touch.

You're kissing him again for the first time, and his lips are as plush and pillowy as they look, his hands big and wsrm as they hold your face steady against his mouth.

You realize you're in love with him for the first time again, staring into honey colored irises and listening to his velvet voice, aware that when he's gone it feels like a piece of you has been taken along with him.

Your body suddenly stills, save for your back arching and his body, sturdy and whole, there to anchor you while you forget you breathe. Your orgasm is all the more powerful this time, with him inside of you, and it's like once youre unraveling it doesn't stop.

He holds the back of your head and allows you to muffle your cries against his chest, fingers latching onto any part of him you reach first, as if you might fall of the face of the earth. He's still rubbing your clit, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear.

You don't pick up all of it, only vaguely aware of the tremor in his tone as he says your name.

And then he's locked against you, every muscle in his body rigid and hard as a strained, muffled whimper resonates from beside your head. He's biting into a pillow, as warmth fills you to the brim and he sloppily fucks it into you.

You're still reeling, when he kisses you like someone who hasn't seen their lover in years and is finally getting the chance to touch them again, to wordlessly express how enamored they are. Wholeheartedly, and irreversibly.

He says it first, which surprises you, considering in your dreams you're always the one professing it to him, stroking his skin or petting his hair and whispering it in between kisses.

But you're sure this is real, you can feel ache in your bones, the throb of your centers where they're still connected.

"I love you." His voice is even more beautiful when he's speaking in such a simple, yet profound way. There's a quiver, but not because he's not being honest. He'd swear on his life, for his conviction.

"I love you too." You reply, looping your fingers round the nape of his neck, toying with the soft hair there.

Maybe he shouldn't be so shocked, but he is. His face can't hide it, the quirk of his full lips, the furrow of disbelief in his brow. You want to kiss his stupid face a thousand time over.

"I love you." He repeats it, as if the words bring forth sunshine on a day shrouded by the darkness of rain clouds.

He repeats it again, when he's hovering over your lips, breath warm against your skin. He repeats it again when he's placing kisses to your forehead, when you giggle and stroke his cheek.

"And I love you, silly silly man." You remind him, willing him by the longing in your voice, to believe it as you believe him.

He repeats it again, when a tear cascades down your cheek like a diamond shaped declaration of your honesty, and he kisses it away, claiming it for himself.

You love him, and he loves you.

And maybe, no matter what happens, that'll be enough.

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