Tumgik
#martial counseling
metaanoi · 8 days
Text
Navigating the Waves of Love: The Benefits of Online Marriage Counseling
In a world where technology connects us in unprecedented ways, it's no surprise that couples are turning to online marriage counseling to strengthen their bonds and weather the storms that relationships inevitably face. The digital age has ushered in a new era of accessibility and convenience, allowing couples to seek guidance from the comfort of their own homes. Here, we explore the myriad benefits of online marriage counseling and how it can be a beacon of hope for couples in need.
One of the primary advantages of online marriage counseling is the flexibility it offers. Traditional counseling often requires couples to adhere to fixed schedules, making it challenging for those with busy lives or conflicting commitments. Online counseling breaks down these barriers by providing sessions that can be scheduled at the convenience of the couple. This flexibility fosters a more relaxed and open atmosphere, allowing partners to engage in the therapeutic process without the added stress of time constraints.
Tumblr media
Additionally, the anonymity afforded by online platforms can be a game-changer for couples hesitant to seek help. Many individuals may feel more comfortable discussing intimate details of their relationship from the privacy of their own space, encouraging a greater level of honesty and vulnerability. This increased transparency can be pivotal in addressing underlying issues and building a foundation for lasting change.
The accessibility of online marriage counseling also addresses geographical constraints, particularly for couples living in remote areas or separated by long distances. With just a stable internet connection, couples can connect with skilled therapists and receive professional guidance without the need for travel. This accessibility ensures that quality support is available to couples regardless of their location, making it a valuable resource for those seeking help in rural or underserved areas.
Furthermore, online marriage counseling often proves to be more cost-effective than traditional in-person sessions. With reduced overhead costs, therapists can offer their services at more affordable rates, making it an accessible option for a broader range of couples.
Tumblr media
In conclusion, online marriage counseling is a beacon of hope for couples navigating the complexities of modern relationships. The flexibility, anonymity, accessibility, and cost-effectiveness it provides contribute to a supportive environment where couples can strengthen their connection and work towards a happier, healthier future together. Embracing the digital era's tools, couples can now embark on a journey of self-discovery and growth with the guidance of online marriage counseling.
0 notes
cleargreyskies · 3 months
Text
Nothing like the end of a year to really drive home your feelings of loneliness.
(some venting in the tags, it's that time of the year again. also to the two people from offline life potentially reading this: this is obviously not about you and I care about you deeply)
#delete later#i might leave this city next year and i do not have any friends elsewhere and even the ones here are not enough. it scares me.#justo nce i would like to spend new year's eve with a group of friends who care about each other and me#i love my girlfriend and i am so happy to spend time with her and looking forward to shared celebrations and all. i just need some other#additional connections somewhere and at this time of the year the loneliness that is pretty much part of my personality now always gets the#better of me.#i felt fine and mostly content with my social life in summer.#but the uncertain future and the already existing lack of deeper connections in a quantity and also qulaity that would be good for me is#draining.#i am also behind on work and stressed and my mother has a broken leg and can't move much so christmas will be bleaker than usual already.#actually everything combined might just be something to talk to the university's mental health counseling again. you don't always have to b#at breaking point to ask for some guidance.#/end of oversharing#ergh rereading this makes me want to delete it right away but this is still my diary so#i also have to add that i am making some efforts. i go to a martial arts class. i play d&d with some people (admittedly my flatmate and my#gf + 3 others). i go swimming with my gf + 2 people. i am active in a nature conservation group at my university. just - everyone there#always seems to have enough close connections already AND i am scared to get too close to people i might have to leave behind.#typing this out has actually helped me get some ideas on what to do. so i am cringing less about having put this out there.#still feeling bad but willing to make an effort#personal log
3 notes · View notes
sotwk · 27 days
Text
Taken (Eomer x Reader) - Part 3 of 3
Part 1 / Part 2
Tumblr media
Summary: After having his proposals and professions rejected by the woman he loves, Éomer still refuses to be dissuaded. He vows to continue fighting for a future with her--even if that means having to let go for the time being.
Word count: 6.7k
Dedicated to anyone who has ever known the pain of loving someone you could not have. <3
Content: Boromir lives (!), angsty romance, declarations of love, jealousy, mutual pining, class division, shield-maiden, Éomer King, Rohirrim OCs, post-RotK, non-canon pairing
Rating: T (Teens and up)
Warnings: Sensuality gets steamy, but nothing explicit. Mentions of old battle injuries.
To Read on AO3: Link
Tumblr media
Taken 
PART THREE
Third Age 3019 May 6
Minas Tirith, Gondor
“If you would allow me to propose something your Grace, I--”
“Éomer.” The King of Rohan growled the ungentle correction with an irritated shake of his head. “If I have leave from your king to continue calling him Elessar, then I will not abide frivolous formalities from you…Captain. And speak freely! It is your candor that I came here for, as much as your counsel."
Boromir chuckled faintly. “Very well.” He downed the last of the wine in his goblet before picking up the jug to refill it, then reaching across the table to serve his guest as well. 
While Éomer took a hearty swig, Boromir used the extra seconds of silence to weigh his next words. The noble horse-lord had done most of the talking since his arrival at the house not an hour ago, rambling on with barely contained agitation that would have frightened or offended anyone unfamiliar with his character. But Boromir had known Théodred’s cousin since he was a child, and while he was not nearly as close to Éomer as he had been with the late Prince of Rohan, their friendship had deepened enough--especially over the past few months--to familiarize Boromir with the trigger points of his temper. 
And Boromir had never before seen him more sensitive about a topic than the matter they had at hand. 
Love certainly wields such terrible power over a man, the Captain-General of Gondor mused, before clearing his throat. 
“I will gladly fulfill your request of watching over her in your absence, making sure she is well-treated and wants for nothing,” he began. “But a soldier can quickly grow restless without sufficient martial exercise.” 
“I agree.” Éomer leaned forward to fold his arms across the table. “Has she not been here long enough for your men to grow accustomed to seeing her at the training grounds? None of them need spar against her or even alongside her if they do not wish to. She would be content to practice drills on her own. In fact, she may even prefer it.”  
“My men will tolerate her presence just fine. The valor she showed on Pelennor was well-witnessed, and stories of it have circulated around our garrison,” Boromir said. “I admit she may inevitably overhear crass remarks from some passing boor among the citizenry. A woman warrior still remains an oddity in these parts. But I am sure she did not come to her status without learning how to weather such criticisms.” 
“Yes.” Éomer stared at the empty goblet he rotated slowly between his hands. “She has had to bear with a lot of ignorant talk over the years.”
“Which is why I propose taking her as a member of my company while you are away. Just temporarily,” Boromir added quickly, noting the immediate change in the horse-lord's demeanor. “It will help her feel more at ease while here, separated from you and her countrymen, if she had a group to belong to.”
“She has already taken a strong liking to your Aerdis. Which, I must confess, took me by surprise.”
Boromir smiled at this, his fool heart ready to burst with joy at every casual mention of his betrothed. “My lady is an easy one to love,” he said simply. “And indeed, the two seem to enjoy each other's company. I am certain Aerdis would be happy to continue acquainting her with all of her treasured haunts within the city and even beyond its walls. But…” 
He rubbed his jaw slowly, ever the unconscious tell of his discomfort with the situation at hand. But it was no use dancing around the real counsel he wished to present to Éomer King. “When it comes to daily labors, a shield-maiden will likely be happier with work better suited to her talents.”
Éomer cocked an eyebrow, clearly undeceived by Boromir’s attempts at off-handedness. “What sort of work? I sense you have something specific in mind.”
“I do,” Boromir admitted. “And I shall explain it to you plainly, although I will first say that it is both a suggestion and a request for a favor.” At this point he considered offering Éomer another refill of his drink, but the deepening scowl on the man’s face made him think better of it. “As you may have heard, I have been charged by King Elessar to lead the delegation that will treat with the Southrons. Sadhar has already come forward with an offer to parley, as soon as next month.”
Éomer’s eyes widened; he caught on even faster than Boromir had expected him to. “And you wish to include her in your delegation?”
“With your approval, yes.”
“You do not have it!” Éomer exclaimed. “And how could you propose such a thing?! Have you forgotten how she was so nearly dragged off by those animals to be taken who knows where for purposes I dare not even think of?”
“Are you really asking that of the man who came to her aid?”
It was a risky move to prod at that wound, but Éomer looked properly chastised by it. “You rescued her,” he conceded. “And for that I shall eternally be in your debt. But I cannot pretend to understand why you wish to involve her in any dealings with Harad.”
“You must see why I thought of her,” Boromir insisted. “You, who can personally attest to what she is capable of.” But Éomer continued to look too distraught to think, so he laid the rest out. “I can count on the fingers of one hand every person I know who can speak a Haradric dialect with reliable accuracy. Half of them died in the war.”
Éomer rose abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his state. Muttering indistinctly, he turned his back to Boromir to glare out the nearest window and brood at the rain lashing against the glass panes. 
“When Théodred used to boast to me about her, I dismissed it as a mentor's pride in his fanciful protégé,” Boromir continued. “I suppose I too allowed myself to be distracted by her sex. But she really is a hidden gem in your Éored, is she not? Your cousin invested in her training with great thoughtfulness, and it has borne fruit marvelously. He really believed--”
Éomer slammed the heel of his hand on the window frame. “Théodred was not the one hopelessly in love with her for so many years! There lies the difference!” he snapped. “So when you ask for my consent to take her to meet with our enemies, consider that you are asking me to risk the life of the woman I absolutely refuse to live my own life without!”
And while Boromir reacted with silence, he stood there, breathing hard, one fist on his hip and the other hand pressed over his forehead. “Forgive me,” he mumbled. “The wine, I…and I have scarcely slept since--”
Boromir waved off the apology. “I understand your agony well. It was not long ago that I lived through the same, and just mercifully survived to a happy end. I am on your side, Éomer. I know politics and duty might make the lines difficult to discern, but I hope you can believe that.”
“I believe it.” Éomer made another weary swipe of his hand across his face. “At least I think I do. Too many things are changing too quickly, and I fear a failure to keep in step shall result in my simply being dragged along behind everyone else like an unhorsed sot.”
“Then maybe there is wisdom in her request to stay behind and out of your way. The time apart may provide you the focus you need to regain your footing.”
The tired lines on Éomer’s face tightened again. “And why must time apart involve setting her on a perilous road?”
“The mission carries little chance of peril. Peace talks, even with Harad, are nothing compared to everything she has survived to get this far. You know this.” Éomer brushed past Boromir to return to the table, but the captain’s frank reproach pursued him. “Separation from her is what you dread, not the Southrons.”
So furiously did Éomer scowl at the table surface that for a moment Boromir thought he might turn the heavy shelf over in a fit of rage. Instead he seized the wine jug, poured himself a gobletful, and drank it in two forceful gulps. 
“I had hoped you could give me counsel on how I might change her mind, and convince her to simply come home,” he finally said. “Perhaps even quell her doubts in the future she can have with me.”
Underneath the anger and frustration, Éomer’s raw misery lay bare to Boromir, and suddenly he felt a swell of compassion for the young king. Would that he could offer a swift resolution to his predicament, instead of mere commiseration for the challenges that still lay ahead. 
“However hard it is to hear, separation is the soundest advice I can give you today,” Boromir said. “Time and distance are most effective at calming the storm in one's mind, so that the heart may have its chance to be properly heard. Many have learned this from experience, myself included. I believe it shall be the same for your lady.”
Éomer's shoulders heaved in a ponderous sigh. “If only it did not feel like such a gamble.”
Boromir could not help a chuckle. “Then I regret I must tell his majesty, that you cast your first of many dice the moment you let her take your heart. But in the end, you shall be the one to decide how much you are willing to risk, and you alone decide when you are done.”
The anguish that resurged on Éomer's face was almost a relief to Boromir. The King of Rohan was wise enough to already know the graver half of the truth: that his new throne was in many ways a cage, and there was very little a good ruler could afford to risk in pursuit of his own desires. 
* * *
“Take the names of any fools who might give you trouble,” Léodor said, unhooking the reins of his horse to start leading it across the muddy yard. “I can sort them all out on our return.”
You laughed as you followed him to the edge of the farmland property, marked by the scorched ruins of what had once been a granary. “Do you really think I could wait that long without sorting such fools out myself?” 
“Anyone with the gall to harass a rider of the king’s Éored deserves a second dose of thrashing, or a third or fourth.” Your friend turned to grasp your forearm and give it a firm squeeze. “Although I sincerely hope these men of Gondor would know better, for their own sakes.”
“They are our allies, now more than ever before,” you reminded him. “And I have every confidence in their courtesy and hospitality.”
“Perhaps if you were less of a recluse and better at making friends, I would not worry so.”
Your knuckles barely grazed his sleeve as he darted away and promptly swung up to the safety of his saddle, chortling and calling, “You are only proving my point, sister!” 
“Waste not a thought or care on me, and focus them all on your family!” you retorted, and stepped back as he spurred his horse forward. “Westu Léodor hál!”
You watched him gallop off across the plains of Pelennor, back to the distant towers of the White City. Tomorrow, he and the rest of the Éored would finalize preparations for the greatly anticipated journey home. But as soon as he heard that you had been tasked with staying behind, to remain with the body of Théoden King, Léodor alone took the time to come looking for you. 
Whatever his suspicions regarding Éomer's selection of you as the one to leave in Gondor, Léodor spoke nothing of them. He was content to spend his entire visit sharing the cask of ale he brought, and talking your ears off about all the things he planned to do with his wife and son and infant daughter upon their reunion.
How far your relationship had come, you mused, as you watched the shrinking speck finally melt  into the shadows of the deepening twilight. With him and with the rest of the men in your company, when you had once sworn, in tears hidden, that they would never accept you. Now their departure would sting as though you had been orphaned for the third time. 
It is only for several weeks, you told yourself, to ease the weight of doubt that sat upon your chest. As you turned to walk back toward the cottage, a fierce wind rose and ripped off the cloak that was loosely draped over your shoulders. With a startled cry you grabbed for it, but not quickly enough to save it from landing in a large puddle.
You retrieved the soaked fabric from the mud with a sigh. A fat raindrop landed squarely on the top of your uncovered head, and was immediately followed by another and another. Spontaneous rain had been pouring on and off over Gondor since the King’s coronation, and you heard the locals welcome and praise this tumultuous weather as a blessing, a sign of war’s filth being washed away to cleanse the lands for rebirth. 
Shielding your eyes from the sudden deluge, you looked up at the roiling clouds overhead, further entranced by the sight of jagged lightning flashing over the White Mountains.  But when your gaze dropped back down to the horizon, you were alarmed to notice a horsed figure crossing the fields through the storm, approaching fast, in your direction. 
It was him. Without proof of his face or voice, or even the support of logic, you just knew. It was him. 
The very thought of that froze you, mind and body, in place. Pale and immobile and increasingly drenched, you stood like a deeply rooted tree while the rider drew closer and closer, on a horse powerful enough to sustain its determined gait over the sodden ground and lashing winds. Dumbfounded and dazed, you remained, until at last he came to a stop just several yards away. He dismounted Firefoot, his heavy boots squelching in the muck, and that sound snapped you to your senses. 
“My lord,” you rushed forward with the soiled cloak twisted uselessly between your hands. “The stables are around the back. Let me take Firefoot there while you get out of this rain.”
“I shall stable him,” Éomer said sternly, but not unkindly, to warn you against arguing. “Go and wait for me inside the house.” 
Without speaking another word or sparing a backward glance, you obeyed your king. You shut the cottage door behind you to keep out the ill weather, hung your wet cloak on a peg, and crouched by the warmth of the fireplace to dry off as best as you could. You kept your jittery hands busy feeding the flames with more wood, but your mind refused to be calmed as easily. 
What is he doing here?! The agreement had been for you to report to him the following day, to receive in full detail your last set of orders before the entire Rohan contingent departed. Éomer had granted your request to stay behind quickly enough, and with so little argument that you had hoped perhaps the issue between you was settled, at least for the time being.
If he was not prepared to completely abandon his fatuous notion of asking you to marry him, then time apart would surely set his mind back to good sense. The Éomer you knew could always be trusted to do the right thing. You clung firmly to this thought while you waited the agonizing minutes for him to return from the stables. 
As soon as he entered, you offered him the last clean towel you could find to dry himself with. He raised his eyebrows at your attempt to give him royal treatment, but graciously swiped the cloth several times over his face, neck, and hair, before tossing it over the back of a chair. 
“So this is the place.” He peeled off his riding cloak to reveal clothing underneath that was just as soaked as yours; he may as well not have bothered with the outer garment at all. “You said it belonged to Lady Aerdis’s late…uncle?”
“A relative of sorts,” you said. When you confided in your new friend your wistful desire to be housed outside the city, where you could have more quiet and solitude, she had been quick to offer the empty cottage in near Pelennor that was recently willed to her by deceased relations. “There are things I can work on to help restore it while I am here. Even my meager skills will serve a farm better than sitting on my hands in the city barracks watching everyone else in their labors. I wish to remain useful, and do my part in the rebuilding.”
“I understand. You have explained all that, and well,” Éomer said slowly. “But regretfully, I must rescind the permission I granted for you to live outside Minas Tirith. You can stay here for the remainder of this week, to rest and do as you please. But afterward, I would like for you to go back to the city and remain there until my return.”
You bit back a protest, determined, now more than ever, to reaffirm your position as his servant. “May I ask what I am to do there, then?”
“Lord Boromir petitioned me to loan you to his company, and I granted it. He shall assign your duties, and you will take your orders from him while I am gone.” 
Although it surprised you to hear this, it was a welcome prospect. Of all the men in Gondor you liked and trusted Lord Boromir the most, having known him since you were just a girl, albeit not intimately. This would provide an opportunity to improve on the connection. “Lord Boromir honors me with his request. And as always, it shall please me to do as my king commands.”
Éomer responded to your formal pledge with a weary sigh. He braced his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, and the way his knuckles whitened in the tightness of his grip, while he searched for his next words, did not escape your notice. 
“Make no mistake, this command does not align with what I desire,” he said thickly. “Leaving without you violates every instinct in my body, but if that is what must be done to make you see reason, then I shall bear it.”
“Reason?” you repeated stiffly. “What conclusion are you hoping I might come to?”
Éomer raised his eyes from the floor to meet yours across the room. “I know you believe that putting distance between us may somehow alter how I feel about you. But I in turn believe the time apart will help you accept how deeply in love you are with me.”
The heat that flooded your face burned through your mask of composure. “I am not--”
“Enough.” The sadness that bled into that single word made it a plea instead of an order. “I did not come to reopen discussions on the matter. Especially not if denials are all you have left to say to me.”
“Then pray tell, what has my lord come for?” you challenged him behind your icy courtesy. “How else may I serve you, Éomer King?”
The hurt that crossed his face came on so suddenly, looked so profound and real, it was as though you had physically struck him. He stared at you in a dead silence, and you forced yourself to hold his gaze while you held your breath, guilt sinking into your gut from the knowledge that you were the wretch who had gone too far. 
“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Clearly there is nothing more to say, other than farewell.”
He picked up his cloak, turned, and left, leaving you utterly dumbfounded, staring at the door that slammed shut behind him.
The longest seconds of your life passed before your shock and indecision were overcome by a wild hysteria that made your entire body grow cold.
You leapt for the door and wrenched it open, and stepped into the downpour in time to see him vanish around the corner of the house, heading back to the stables. 
The loss of him from your sight smashed through your bravado, and you cried out into the storm. 
“Éomer!!”
Before you could grasp your reasoning for why you did it, or what you planned to do next, he reappeared, every footstep leaving puddles as his approach backed you up into the cottage. His eyes bore down at you, his expression now guarded and inscrutable and expectant. Gusting wind drove in sprinkles of rain through the door left open and ignored. 
I am sorry. The whisper sitting on the tip of your tongue was smothered by a hostile inner voice. 
Let him go. It is your duty. It is what’s right.
But your stolid face collapsed under the weight of your anguish. A grimace squeezed out the tears that blinded your eyes, finally betraying your shameful truth. I do love you, Éomer. 
Gentle fingers settled lightly over your lips, stilling their feeble quivering. A voice even warmer and more tender than this touch eased your struggle.
“I do not need words. This is enough.”
As the hardened pads of those fingers brushed across the plane of your cheek, you closed your eyes and at once forgot all else that existed. Such was the power of his touch that for years you so vigilantly avoided, until that fateful moment of weakness after the coronation exposed your secret. That moment could never be undone, no matter how hard you tried to bury the truth now.
Éomer murmured your name, his breath warm on your temple, and then his hands stilled where they lightly cupped your face. In that pause lay a question, and the last time you answered it, you had hurt him. Foolish liar that you were.
“Yes.” The whisper passed from your lips to his as his mouth wasted no time seeking yours. You clasped your hands around the back of his neck, urging him closer as your own hunger surged. You felt the tremor that ran through his shoulders when you slipped your tongue against his. How could you have ever chosen to cause him pain, when you could have given him this instead?
He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, but nuzzled your chin upward to gain access to your neck, so his lips could continue their quest to the hollow of your throat. You gasped at the scrape of his teeth on your collarbone, then moaned when he remedied his offense with reverent strokes of his tongue. His arms wrapped fully around your waist, pulling you greedily against him, fingers threading and tugging at your hair as he moved his worship to your shoulders.
But it was your touch, the scrabble of your hands over his hips and stomach as you held on to him for balance, that elicited a low growl. In just a few hurried steps, he backed you to the furthest corner of the cottage, until the side of the bed hit the back of your legs.
Your name was still the only thing he could utter, muffled in between the kisses he could not stop lavishing on every bit of your skin he could reach. Your hands found their way to his hips again, this time  sneaking underneath the wet fabric that clung to his torso, then brazenly gliding upward, past his belly to the taut muscles of his chest, high enough for your thumb to circle his nipple.
An ungentlemanly word suddenly rumbled from Éomer King's throat, so startled was he by the sensual touch. Within moments his shirt lay discarded on the floor, your back made contact with the mattress, and there he was, leaning over you, bare from the waist up to your hungry eyes. You gave yourself an extra second to appreciate the sight before hooking a hand over his nape to yank him back into a kiss. The fervor in his response left you writhing and whimpering and completely vulnerable in your weakness. 
A deep haze settled over you as you began to lose yourself to the pleasure of his ministrations. With every inch of you, you wanted this, and the way your body reacted to his every action, shaking in desperation for more, would surely tell him that. And yet… yet as you felt his fingers grope for the fastenings of your dress, felt his palm brush the back of your knee to your thigh, felt his hardness press against your hip… something inside of you jerked in reawakened panic.
“Éomer. W-wait.”
So soft was the protest, you were not even sure you had said the words aloud. But almost immediately, Éomer stopped and pulled back. He took one look at you, your disheveled state, and whatever expression lay on your face, and he sat up fully, turning away, dragging your heart out of your chest with him.
“Éomer, please. I am… I just…”
“No, I understand and I agree. To carry on would be unwise.”
He rubbed both hands roughly over his face, shaking away the stupor induced by his desire.
“All these years I have ordered the men to give you the respect you are due. I cannot risk your virtue or reputation now, however long I have wanted this. Wanted you.”
You moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You are my King, and it is my duty to protect you and your reputation. We must behave prudently.”
He nodded, but still looked so pained you could not help but lift your hand to try to soothe the scowl from his face. He angled his head to kiss the inside of your wrist.
“I will have you,” he muttered, his diverted gaze making it seem more a promise to himself than to you. But when he turned his eyes back on you, the wanton lust pooling in them stirred the heat in your belly. “I will wait for the right circumstances, however long it may take, but I will have you.”
He rose and walked a few steps across the room, perhaps in need of distance from you. As he stood closer to the fireplace, the light illuminated a view so rarely seen by anyone, many people in Rohan had come to believe that Éomer was simply hale and hard of body beyond the limits of mortal men. 
The numerous scars that decorated his body testified to both his fragility and his strength. Many of his wounds had been tended to by you on the battlefield, carrying terrible memories that were now also moments of pride and achievement that you shared with him. 
Éomer seemed to feel your intent gaze upon him, and he stretched out a hand to you, beckoning you to rejoin him. As soon as you were within reach, he wrapped his arms around you again, drawing you against him, sighing contently as your touch drifted over the bare skin of his chest and shoulders.
Your hand moved with intention, skimming down to his lower abdomen, probing carefully for the large scar you knew sat just below his ribcage. That injury was less than two years old. It still amazed you how it had managed to heal with little issue, under the constant strain of the many violent battles Éomer fought in since. 
So close. A chill ran through you as the memory rose unbidden: you pressing down hard to staunch the bleeding, screaming for someone to help carry the barely conscious Marshal to the nearest shelter, where you could safely attempt to clean and suture the wound. If the orc blade had sunk in only a fraction of an inch deeper, it would have been beyond anyone's power to save him. You came too close to losing him that day.
Eomer's lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he interrupted your reminiscence with a whisper. “How can you still doubt that we belong together, when already you are part of me?” 
Your fingers passed over several other scars from injuries you had tended to over the years, and came to rest over the tattoo on his upper right arm. The black dragon curled around the edge of his shoulder was identical in design and location to the mark borne by every rider in your Éored. Your possession of that dragon mark bound you to Éomer intimately, but also defined your role in his life. Sharing his bed, or even being with him just once, was not your place.
“None of these give me any right to claim you,” you said softly. “You must still marry. And it is your duty to marry well.”
He caught your elbow as you started to move your hand away, and guided it back to slide over his waist, to rest over the scar once more, willing you to hold fast to the memory it carried, and hold fast to him.
“What does it mean to marry? Is it not just the giving of one's entire self--mind and body, heart and soul--to another?”
He hooked a finger underneath your chin, urging your downcast gaze to rise and meet his.
“How am I to dispose of things that are no longer in my possession? I have long been taken, solely and utterly, by you.”
And with that gaze he set upon you, you wondered: how many glances must have he given you in secret all these years, with eyes that burned with something more than the devotion of one comrade-in-arms to another? What willful blindness had you clung to for years, for you not to have noticed it?
“I must fulfill my duties to Rohan, this is true. But not even a king can be asked to do the impossible.”
“But to wed a great king to a lowly servant--” You shook your head. “Many would argue that is the real impossibility.”
A new expression akin to anger flashed across Éomer’s face. Before you could wonder what you might have done wrong, he dropped to his knees before you, both knees, his hands wrapped tightly around yours.
“My lord!” you cried, aghast that he would debase himself, even in private. You tried to force him back up, but he would not budge.
“Never speak of yourself as lowly again,” he admonished. “King or peasant, there is nothing more lowly or humbled than a man so wretchedly in love, as I am with you.”
“Éomer…” You sank to the floor with him. “If only things were so simple. I wish it could all happen as you say, but I just do not see how. I do not know what can be done.”
“Let me hold your love for a while longer, and wait for me,” he said gently. “That is all I ask. The rest is mine to accomplish. As long as your heart is mine, and I know you have given it to me freely, I will fight for my right to keep it.”
You felt his grip around your fingers grow tense in the long seconds of silence that followed. At last, you brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing the hands you adored with such devotion.
“When you leave, you shall take my heart with you,” you whispered into his palm. “But I fear it will be a greater challenge than you believe, to keep others from wresting such an unsuitable offering from your hands.” 
“They may certainly try, if they wish to test me.” The ice in his tone unsettled you, even though that veiled threat was certainly not for you, while the warm caress on your cheek was. “Not for a moment will I appear unclear or undecided when it comes to my intentions towards you. I will never make that mistake again.”
“B-but the Council of Eorl. The lords…”
“They answer to the King,” Éomer interrupted. “Do not privileges, as well as duties, come with this crown? Trust me. Please.” He bowed to rest his forehead against yours. “While we are parted, I will prove to you that it can be done, that I will do whatever I must to marry you, and to honor and protect you thereafter.”
“Marry?” you murmured. The idea still seemed no more than a ludicrous fantasy. But then Éomer kissed you again, deeply, as though determined to memorize the taste of your lips, urging you to focus on the present moment. 
Because he was yours, even if just for that night. Even if by dawn, it could all crumble under the pressures of the world outside these walls. Éomer loved you, and held you in such high regard to want you as his wife and queen. You would swear to anyone that this knowledge alone was already a dream fulfilled. 
And yet. If you were brave enough to hope, maybe…just maybe, this would not be the last impossibility to come true for you. 
* * *
They do not know. Hundreds of Gondor’s citizens bearing streamers and flowers lined the streets of Minas Tirith that morning to join King Elessar in sending off the departing Eorlingas. But it occurred to Éomer how strange it felt that none of them had any awareness of a matter that was not only monumental for him personally, but carried significant consequences for all of Rohan.
Soon that will change, the young king vowed to himself. Soon his Council will hear the truth, and afterward all of Rohan, and then the rest of their allies. But for the moment, discretion--no matter how bitter the pretense tasted. 
No one except for Lord Boromir and his betrothed, the lovely Lady Aerdis, who both stood next to her, understood what truly lay underneath the courteous gestures exchanged between the King of Rohan and his shield-maiden. A simple bow, an exchange of a few words, and a locking of gazes that was all too brief. Had they not spent that one evening together, Éomer would have remained trapped in the false belief of her indifference towards him. The memory of her kisses would have to suffice for a while, and he could only hope he had given her enough to remember him by, as well. 
He brushed the edge of his hand over his lips just as he turned away, and forced his feet to carry him down the line of assembled well-wishers. 
A noticeable hush descended on the crowd of onlookers as Éomer came to the end of the road where, closest to the ruins of the Great Gate, the King of Gondor himself met him, flanked by none other than Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, and his only daughter.
“Lady Lothíriel.” As Éomer took the hand she courteously offered him and brushed a kiss on her fingers, he became aware of the wan smiles that surrounded them, and the unsubtle tittering of a few ladies watching. “Your presence this morning is an unexpected and most delightful gift.”
Lothíriel was astonishingly beautiful indeed, with such radiant grace and sweet smiles, that it would not have surprised Éomer if many citizens of the White City came out just to catch a glimpse of her. “I wish you, Lady Éowyn, and all your men a safe journey, your Grace,” she said. “And may you have great success in your labors, so that we can soon celebrate your speedy return.”
“You are kind, my lady. I certainly hope for the same,” replied Éomer. “We leave behind treasure beyond price here and shall be eager to return for our own.”
Two Rohan lords had already swooped in to engage Imrahil in quiet conversation, and only stepped aside when Éomer himself approached to exchange farewells. Éomer’s admiration for the Prince only grew the more he learned about him and spent time with him, but the unabashed thirst of his counselors for Dol Amroth’s friendship irritated him. Yet another issue he intended to settle in the ordering of his House’s affairs. 
Finally, Éomer came before Elessar, who embraced him tightly and honored him with a bow, from one king to another. “Worry not, my brother,” the man once called Aragorn said quietly to him. “I shall see to it that they are cared for, these ones whom you so dearly love.”
He smiled at the look of mixed wonder and apprehension on Éomer’s face, and dipped his head in another show of reassurance and of farewell.
With that, the Rohirrim set off on the North-way in a procession over a mile long, accompanied by the fanfare from the people that continued to line the road stretching across Pelennor. Countless flags in a multitude of colors and sigils from the different regions of Gondor fluttered in the air, and from every direction, enthusiastic cheering and waving followed the Riders across the fields.
At the head of the procession, behind his standard bearer and with Éowyn at his side, Éomer quickly fell into a brooding silence that did not escape his sister’s notice. 
“I truly did not think I would ever see the day when the two of you would be willingly separated,” she said lightly. When Éomer looked at her with raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “I am sure you have good reasons for choosing her to stay behind with our uncle.” 
“Many reasons,” Éomer grunted. 
Éowyn regarded him thoughtfully. “Has the time finally come when you would allow yourself to be open with me about these reasons? And the other concerns weighing on your mind and heart? It is just you and I now, Éomer,” she said softly, stretching out her hand to him.  “I may not have uncle’s experience or Théodred’s cunning, but I love you beyond words, and would do anything to see you happy. Let me help you.”
Éomer smiled at this, and reached over to take her hand and squeeze it. “Perhaps I can aspire to the happiness you have found with Lord Faramir.”
“Having my affections stolen by a High Man was not what I aspired to,” said Éowyn, trying to look annoyed but unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. “But love, it seems, is the wildest beast of all. It will not be tamed, or bridled, or even reasoned with. It goes where it wills. Éomer…” Éowyn’s sweet face turned stern. “You have suffered enough, and have been forced to carry so many burdens, not least of all our uncle’s crown, which I know you never wanted.”
“It is my honor to take the throne in Uncle and Théodred’s stead,” Éomer said firmly. “And why do you make assumptions about the things I want?”
“I know who it is you have wanted, for a long time now,” Éowyn said with a stout confidence that took Éomer aback. “You are discreet, brother. But I have watched you and looked out for you, more closely than you realize.”
Éomer shook his head. “I am still learning the many ways I have been underestimating you, Éowyn. Soon I shall believe myself unworthy of your care or help.”
“Someone has to care for you, during the frequent times you would not.” Éowyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still out of hearing range of the rest of his Éored. “Especially now that you have left her behind.” 
Éomer pressed his lips in a tight line and returned his gaze to the road ahead. “I will be back,” he said. “There is much to do in Rohan before then, but with Uncle waiting in the Hallows, I can hardly afford to dawdle or delay.” 
And she is waiting. Éomer caught a glimpse of his sister’s suppressed smile that told him she had already thought the same thing. Another person with strong opinions to contend with.
Éomer spurred Firefoot forward to signal the standard bearer, who promptly blew one quick blast on his horn. As the King took off in a steady gallop, the thunder of hooves rose behind him as nearly a thousand other Rohirrim picked up their pace to match his, drowning out the excited shouts of the Gondorians that started them off at last to their journey home.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Men Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @konartiste @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @quickslvxrr @scyllas-revenge @talkdifferently6 @emmanuellececchi @ass-deep-in-demons @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @alwayssevvy
Tumblr media
For more SotWK Fanfiction: Fanfiction Masterlist
Other useful links:
Introduction to SotWK
SotWK HC Masterlist
Fanfiction Request Guidelines
90 notes · View notes
dionysianfreak · 1 year
Text
Dionysos I call loud-sounding and divine, inspiring God, a twofold shape is thine: thy various names and attributes I sing, O firstborn Protogonos, thrice begotten Trigonos, Bakkheion king. Rural, ineffable, two-formed, obscure, two-horned, with ivy crowned, and Euion pure: bull-faced and martial, bearer of the vine, endued with counsel prudent and divine: Eubouleos, whom the leaves of vines adorn, of Zeus and Persephoneia occultly born in beds ineffable; all-blessed power, whom with triennial offerings men adore. Immortal Daimon, hear my suppliant voice, give me in blameless plenty to rejoice; and listen gracious to my mystic prayer surrounded with thy choir of nurses fair
LO EVOHE, DIONYSOS
— Orphic Hymn 30 to Dionysus
Tumblr media
405 notes · View notes
themotherofblood · 2 years
Text
Love on the Brain
Tywin Lannister x Reader
Tears of Gold AU
A/N: Like I’ve said before, a lot of stuff in this series is not going to be canon.This is the readers world, hence my world.
TW: mentions of rape, abuse, misogyny, SMUT! vaginal fingering, handjob. Mutual masturbation vibes.
Tumblr media
Grief is an unimaginable and intangible villain. You were sound of the body but your mind yearned for home, you’d found yourself watching the sunrise and within a moment it set. You’d sit between a horde of noble ladies, giggling and gossiping, none of it registering in your head. The world spun away while your body had stuck frozen. The nights felt longer as your dosages of nightshade had been lowered to keep your children safe. A few moments of comfort were rewarded when you felt them within you, moving and kicking while their father read to them. His hand rubbed the bump as he tried his best to get you to sleep. One particularly cool night, The King summoned Tywin to the throne room, while your husband wanted to walk you back to your chambers as you promenaded through the royal gardens. Instead, you chose to go with him, not wanting to be alone at that very moment. Both you and Tywin entered the room with your heads held high, your arm clutched on his extended elbow. Joffrey sat up top the throne, smug just like his mother; both you and your husband bowing before His Grace. More like bowing as best as you could while growing two humans within you.
“Is that the lowest you can go, my lady” Joffrey spoke up first. 
“I’m afraid so Your Grace.” your voice came out quiet and meek. 
Tywin walked forward as you stood behind with his nights. You cannot deny that watching Tywin tower over Joffrey wasn’t satisfying. In your time here at King’s Landing, you've come to realize that a crown gives no ma power, sure he might have armies or money but influence and wisdom reigned above it all. The boy king wanted to be counselled and so he was, they spoke of Stannis, the young Targaryen girl. What made your heart fill with warmth though, is Tywin holding his council meeting in the hall at the Tower rather than the red keep, so that he could be closer to you. The duties you’d taken up were completed each day as your husband watched in admiration of your strength to set your own sentiments aside as serve. That night was the first night you curled up to him since the news of your family’s death.
“Do you think we might win, should Stannis march on the city,” you whispered while tracing patterns on your husband’s chest “he knows of the city’s gates, he’d know where to attack,”
“We will hold him off, don’t you worry about that wife,” his voice rumbled through his chest as his hand played with your hair “you forget that I was the Hand of this city, long before Stannis Baratheon could even wield a sword.” He pulled the thick covers up higher to your shoulders, “Sleep, my lady. I will be right here when you wake up.” 
The next morning, the sun greeted King’s Landing yet again, the leaves were going to soon begin changing colour but you remained sullen, heavy-hearted still. That morning you had been awoken by one purring Lion, curled like a loaf of bread, on top of your husband's chest where your hand laid. His warm belly heated your cold palm while your feet pressed into Tywin’s calf, breaking him out of the glare he had fixated on the orange feline. 
 “Dear god, woman,” His raspy voice scolded you in a hushed tone, still unwanting to break the serenity of this new morrow. “Your feet shall put northern winters to shame.” 
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You quickly apologised while pulling away but Tywin’s hold tightened on your waist, keeping you in place. His eyes look down at your figure. 
The sun shone directly onto your martial bed, making your skin glow in a way that would bring every man in Westeros to his knees, your eyes that held so much sadness in the still twinkled as though an entire world existed within them. Tywin brought his hand up to stroke your cheek with the back of his fingers, making you hum as you felt them on your warm cheek. Your hand instinctively comes up to hold onto his hand, and another little meow finds a use for your other as your gentle pet through Lion’s little body. 
“My lord…” A few knocks end up interrupting the little cocoon you’d found yourselves in this morning, making Tywin groan and squeeze his eyes shut before pushing himself to get up. 
“Come find me at noon,” he says while gently picking up Lion to put on his pillow. “So long, wife’” He presses a kiss to your temple, longer than it needed to be before standing straight and looking at Lion, “Take care of your mother for me, will you.” before walking away to get dressed for the day. He showed you his face once more before leaving, but you were confused as to why he was in full armour. With the deep red chest plate and the gold lions on his shoulder guards, he stood tall and proud, looking more regal than ever. However, he silently assured you that there was nothing to be worried about before walking away, as the sound of clacking metal faded into the distance 
You too had gotten up for the day shortly after, you were to meet with Margery Tyrell today. You’d begun to spend time with her during your frequent visits to the city, going to the markets was mainly a detour to take food down to Flea Bottom. You remember that day clearly. 
It was quite hot for a day this late in the year, a red comet shone in the sky as you walked further past the merchant markets to Flea Bottom. Your armada of ladies loyal to you carrying baskets of food, toys and clothing, you’d particularly had your ladies, guards and yourself dressed lowly to not attract too much attention. A scuffle had caught your ear as you made your journey to the orphanages. Your guards created a circle around you and your ladies as you pushed through the crowds, a woman in the middle of it all was being beaten and stripped, she didn’t scream or fight back; she appeared to be murmuring under her breath. Her eyes closed, body tanned and all but wearing a metal choker with a giant ruby on it, hair as red as blood. 
“Stop them, Fred.” You nodded at him. Frederick remained loyal to your house and accompanied you since the day of your marriage under your brother’s command. He simply walked over and sacked his sword on the behinds of both men to make the cower away and scatter. You’d walked over to the woman to help her up, shielding her body with yours as best as possible. 
“Where is your home miss? Let us escort you there.” You offered as you covered her up with one of your guard’s cloaks. 
“It’s the last house off of the merchant markets, big glass windows, pale white walls. Do not fret my lady, I can walk there myself.” Your eyes widened at the mention of my lady, how did she recognize you? 
“Nonsense, lead the way.” You walked behind her until you saw her house. You wanted to ask her about what caused today’s scene but who were you kidding, most men were monsters, noble or not. Your own grandchild by law, the king of the seven kingdoms himself held demons of his own. 
“My lady, you must come in. I do not have much to offer but what I have is yours.” She bowed as she held her door open for you to enter
“Some water would be nice, please.” You smiled at her and turned around so that she could change, all your men and ladies turned too. You hadn’t realized you were thirsty until you downed the whole cup in one go. 
“Forgive me, you must think I’m a brute.” You chuckled while handing her the cup back and wiping her mouth with the back of your palm. “Alright then, let’s head off.” You clapped your hands twice as your company poured out of the redhead’s house. Right before you turned, she caught onto your wrist tight. 
You looked down to where your hands met and then you to her eyes that were flared with a kind of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. Her gaze held yours until you frowned trying to pull away. 
“You must remember me lady Y/N, the lord of light awaits you.” You were perplexed, you had heard of the Lord of Light from your mother, lore from the west, from Volantis. You merely pulled your hand away without thinking too much about it. 
You were pulled from your thoughts as lady Margery stood in front of you smiling. 
“He agreed, didn’t he?” You looked up at her knowing the only thing that smile could mean 
“Oh yes, yes he did.” She took your hands in hers and shook them in excitement as she sat next to you. 
“Tywin did too.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile. Both of you might or might not have batted your eyelashes at your partners to sanction the building of asylum, for women and children to stay in and to supply food every weekend. 
“Oh, this will be so good for the realm.” You nodded in agreement with her, slightly wincing at the pitch of her voice. “I have to tell my grandmother, my lady.” You nodded once more so she could take her to leave. 
You’d often sit here in these gardens, you’d grown this small section yourself. With the help of whoever was chaperoning you. Colourful daisies and sunflowers, tulips and a small bunch of orchids. A healthy growing line of lush green pothos plants curled around the pavilion stands. You’d watch the waves crash below onto the shore, someday hoping that you could just sail away back home. 
“My lady.” You shut your eyes in annoyance as a shrill man’s voice called out from behind you. 
“Lord Baelish.” You bowed your head as he came over to sit next to you. “I had heard of a growing escape in the Red Keep, though I might say you’ve grown a piece of heaven here.” He compliments looking around the garden. 
“Thank you, Lord Baelish.” You nodded at him before looking back at the sea. 
“My lady, I have come to you as a harbour, though what I say must stay in confidence.” Peter’s voice lowers and your attention is completely fixated on what he had to say. 
“I have offered to take Sansa Stark home, I could bring you with us too. My lady.” Peter whispers 
“Why would I wan-“
“Do you truly think Tywin Lannister would keep you after you bore him a son or two for that matter? Forgive me, for sounding curt but skinning a stag together like yesterday does not mean love, my lady.” You looked at him with your brows in a tight furrow as you took in what he was saying. In reality, there was some truth in his words, Tywin had not confessed to any love, though you had no idea what true love looked like anyways. “The things he does to people that are of no use are tales too atrocious to tell, I’m sorry I shouldn’t speak any further. 
“Go on, what do you mean by that.” You urged him to go on.
“You must have heard of what he did to Tyrion’s wife? Had her raped by fifty of his men to prove to annul his son’s marriage, to make it a sham.” Your eyes widened to show him that you were shocked and looked away. Only to spot Sansa sitting on the other side of the gardens, looking out to the sea. 
A small part of you wanted to go tell Joffrey of this plot, you know he would torment both Sansa and Baelish to their graves. You wanted Sansa to feel the pain that her family had caused you. You hated yourself for thinking this. 
“Speak no more of this, take Sansa home if you can.” you stood up and walked away before you could say anymore. Your legs moved as last as they could, walking back to your quarters, eyes nearly tearing up at wanting to cause someone else harm, at the thought of your husband discarding you, the thought of your dead family. 
“Milady, are you alright?” Your chambermaid asks as she walks faster to keep up with you. “Shall I call for Lord Tywin?” 
“No!” Your voice slight rose “No, just draw me a bath, please.” 
You sat in your bed with your hands shaking in anxiety, rocking back and forth to stop your head from running a hundred miles an hour. Once your bath was ready, you had yourself stripped immediately and dipped into the bath. Even with your maid’s protest of it being hot. It wouldn’t burn you but it was close to scolding, you’d simply sat down and dismissed all your maids. 
Tywin had returned from his venture a while back, he awaited you in the garden fine but you hadn’t shown up. At first, he chuckled it off as you getting slower the more pregnant you get but after half hour he grew worried. He spotted one of your maids and questioned them of your whereabouts and they informed him of you being in your chamber and having dismissed them all. 
Tywin’s feet took them up to his quarters as fast as they could while maintaining composure. When he entered he found the receiving chambers, varenda and both the bedrooms empty. He’d checked the bath upstairs after, that’s where he found you. In a humid room that smelled of Lilies. You were sat in the bath with your legs pulled to your chest, while your head rested on them. A slow break in the pattern of your breathing told him enough, you were silently crying. 
The jangle on his armour was enough indication of his person, so it didn’t startle you when he approached and sat next to the bath, his hand found your back and rubbed his palm back and forth. 
“Why didn’t you call for me, wife?” His voice sounded almost doting like he was speaking to a child. You turned your face to look at him, a small pout on your bottom lip and eyes red. 
“I want to go home.” A stray tear fell from your eyes. He knew of what you felt, but he wouldn’t agree or promise something he couldn’t give you. You gulped and closed your eyes and pushed yourself to stand up. If he loves you, he will make love to you right now. You needed to know that, all of the things he made you feel weren’t just for making a baby. His hands shot to your arms to help you stand, his eyes wandering down your body. Though it would fill a man with lust, it filled him with pride. His children were swelling out of such a beautiful woman. 
You got out of the bath, one foot after the other with the help of your husband. He looked confused as to what you were trying to do or had upset you. Your hands went up to the buckles on his shoulder guard as you began to remove them, the chest plate next. Though Tywin had to help you lift that one off, due to the strenuous weight of the armour. The chainmail and sword holster after. 
“Did you want me to bathe with you?” He cocked his brow at you, his reply was you smashing your lips together as your hiked yourself up on your toes. He was slightly taken aback but hummed in approval, bending down as one of his hands tangled in your slightly wet hair. “Easy, now.” He mumbled between kisses as you lifted his undershirt above his head. 
“Go on, get back in the bath.” He was slightly concerned at how hot the bath might have been when you got in because the water still held the perfect amount of heat for a normal bath. He undid his pants and breeches and stood before you in all his glory.
Your hormones make this a lot easier, it makes your mood change faster than the Iron Bank chooses its bet. You held your hand out to him and pulled him into the water once he grabbed ahold of it. His back against the head of the tub, you turned to straddle his legs. The tub was huge, much bigger than the one back home. Almost like a tiny pool, built into the floor of the upper veranda while the rest of the room was covered in blue and gold tiles. 
You began kissing him harder, he knew what you wanted but absolutely would not give it to you and began to push you away. A dread settled at the pit of your stomach. Peter cannot be right. Tywin registered the hurt on your face and quickly explained 
“We cannot do this. It isn’t safe in your state.” It wasn’t a good enough answer and you still looked hurt, making him elaborate further “Believe me, my sweet girl. I have wanted nothing more since the day they started to swell.” His hand lifted to your breast, one thumb going over your nipple, making them harden almost instantly. His other hand pulls you closer to his centre, his hard length a proof to his testimony. “You are carrying my children, and I will not endanger them.” His eyes darted between yours, hoping you would believe him. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew exactly what you were thinking. It’s what any woman would feel out of a political marriage. You were afraid that your marriage would be a sham after you bore his children. 
“Though that does not mean there aren’t other ways to pleasure you, my lady.” His eyes dropped low as his voice darkened. He took one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking on it before releasing it with a pop. All the while his eyes were fixated on you, while he repeated the same with the other; he moved on the side of the breast to suckle on the flesh right there a little harder. A soft mark began to redden, as his eyes dismayed further. His hands slowly turned you around and sat you over one of his legs, the water sloshing around the sides as he did so. His mouth found your neck as he pressed soft kisses all the way up to the back of your ear, making your body erupt in goosebumps. 
Tywin lowered the hand around your body, to the warm flesh of your cunt, barely grazing his hand there as he tweaked your nipple in his other. “What do you want, my lady?” He whispered in your ear 
“I wa- want you to touch me.” You stammered back as your brain already felt in shambles over how oversensitive you were from being pregnant 
“I am touching you, aren’t I?” He pushed further. His cock almost always throbs harder in need when he hears something filthy come out of a sweet flower like you. 
“Touch my pussy.” You whispered quickly, he wanted to press you further, make you enunciate. However, he knew from experience, to not tease a pregnant woman if he wanted his goods intact. 
His fingers began to rub into your needy nerves, making you gasp and push your hips out towards his hand, his other hand mindlessly playing with your tits. You worked up the courage to hold onto his cock, you had never done this before so you looked up to him for guidance. His hand wrapped around yours as he moved your soft hand up and down his shaft, before nodding at you. 
He entered a finger into you slowly to help open you up after being untouched for over a month, then popped another finger in, moving them in and out of you at a slow pace, his thumb all the while rubbing your clit. Your hips mindlessly ground against his hand, as you broke out into soft moans, your state of pleasure making you grab onto Tywin’s cock harder making him hiss. You looked to him to see if you hurt him and he nodded no 
“Doing so well, my little wife.” He groaned in pleasure as his fingers picked up pace within you, massaging that little spot within you that pushes you further to bliss. You matched his pace onto your husband's cock. “Here, touch yourself for me, my lady.” He brought your vacant hand onto your clit, guiding it to rub in circular motions. You looked at him panting as he nodded for you to continue. 
“Ahh, this feels, it feels.” Your world jumbled in you mouth as the knot in your belly grew tighter 
“I know, my sweet wife. Ease up for me and let go.” He urged you own as his own peak chases behind him. Your hand rubbed faster you clit as you wound yourself up to your peak. 
“Tywin, gah! I need it.” Your hands stroked his cock faster, your own hand growing tired before out of nowhere the bubble in you bursts, sending you right over the edge as your legs tremble, your hands still shakily stroking your husband's length before he too follows you; all the while fingering you through your own peak. 
His head rested against your shoulder as you rested against his heaving chest. Both in post orgasmic bliss as Tywin’s hand drew patterns on your inner thigh. 
“That’s one way to have a bath.” Tywin’s chest rumbles into a short chuckle. What breaks you out of your trance is meek meow. Which makes you duck further into the water and look to the door of the room. There sat Lion, with his big round eyes, he might be a feline, his eyes looked as though he’d caught the two of you committing a crime. 
You looked up at your husband horrified. “You don’t think he knows?” You asked him, making him chuckle again. 
“You wanted the cat, my dear.” He said before pulling himself out of the bath and shooing Lion away. “Come let’s get you washed, we have to get something in those two and you.” You reached out for him to pull you out of the water. He took special care in washing himself up and you, using the pails of water before drying the two of you up. 
Peter Baelish had to be wrong, sure Tywin might never love you but doesn’t mean he’d discard you. You were sure of it, you had to be. Tywin had called for your maids to help dress you up before he held his arm out and led you down to the dining gardens, where reheated food awaited the couple.
next chapter
513 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: In 1962 Taiwan during the White Terror martial law period, Fang Ray Shin, a female student at the hillside Greenwood High School is attending counselling with teacher Mr. Chang, and they gradually fall in love. It was a dangerous period where sensitive books were banned and free speech were restricted, but Mr. Chang secretly organised a study group for banned books, together with fellow teacher Miss Yin and male student Wei Chong Ting.
While the mod is not a fan of the 'teacher-student love story', this does look like a really interesting and kind of sad movie.
Fun fact: this movie was not released in China but still had great box office success in other Asian countries.
25 notes · View notes
alsostheon · 8 months
Text
Orphic Hymn to Dionysos
Dionysus I call loud sounding and divine
Fanatic god a two-fold shape is thine
Thy various names and attributes I sing
O first born thrice begotten Bacchic king
Rural, ineffable, two-form'd, obscure,
double-horn'd, with ivy crown'd, euion, pure
Bull-fac'd, and martial, bearer of the vine,
endu'd with counsel Eubouleos and divine:
Triennial, whom the leaves of vines adorn,
of Zeus and Persephone, occultly born
Immortal daimon, hear my suppliant voice,
give me in blameless plenty to rejoice;
And listen gracious to my mystic pray'r,
surrounded with thy choir of nurses fair.
Διονύσου, θυμίαμα, στύρακα
Κικλήσκω Διόνυσον ἐρίβρομον, εὐαστῆρα,
πρωτόγονον, διφυῆ, τρίγονον, Βακχεῖον ἄνακτα,
ἄγριον, ἄρρητον, κρύφιον, δικέρωτα, δίμορφον,
κισσόβρυον, ταυρωπόν, ἀρήϊον, εὔϊον, ἁγνόν,
ὠμάδιον, τριετῆ, βοτρυοτρὸφον, ἐρνεσίπεπλον.
Εὐβουλεῦ, πολύβουλε, Διὸς καὶ Περσεφονείης
ἀρρήτοις λέκτροισι τεκνωθείς, ἄμβροτε δαῖμον·
κλῦθι μάκαρ φωνῆς, ἡδὺς δ’ ἐπίπνευσον ἐνηής,
εὐμενὲς ἦτορ ἔχων, σὺν ἐυζώνοισι τιθήναις.
Dionúsou, thumíama, stúraka
Kiklḗskō Diónuson eríbromon, euastē̃ra,
prōtógonon, diphuē̃, trígonon, Bakkheĩon ánakta,
ágrion, árrhēton, krúphion, dikérōta, dímorphon,
kissóbruon, taurōpón, arḗïon, eúïon, hagnón,
ōmádion, trietē̃, botruotròphon, ernesípeplon.
Eubouleũ, polúboule, Diòs kaì Persephoneíēs
arrhḗtois léktroisi teknōtheís, ámbrote daĩmon;
klũthi mákar phōnē̃s, hēdùs d’ epípneuson enēḗs,
eumenès ē̃tor ékhōn, sùn euzṓnoisi tithḗnais.
42 notes · View notes
docgold13 · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles
Yoru Sensei 
Yoru was a legendary martial arts practitioner and instructor who operated a dojo in Kyoto.  Yoru was the latest in a long line of martial arts luminaries.  His ancestor had cultivated an extremely deadly brand of fighting that exploited the chi points on the human body.  This style, known as the Kiba no Houkou or ‘Way of the Fang.’ was too dangerous and the master who created it chose to keep the matter a secret, hiding the scrolls depicting the practice in a secretive cave on the side of a volcano.  The location of this hiding place was passed down from generation to generation ultimately coming into possession of Yoru.  
Bruce Wayne sought out Yoru in his youth and became a pupil of the sensei.  Young Bruce proved an excellent student, yet Yoru could sense a growing sense of fanaticism in him.  He counseled Bruce in tempering his fury with logic and compassion showing him that clarity of strategy is often more effective than brute force.  These lessons proved formative to Bruce and were greatly helpful for him as he went on to become The Batman.  
Years later a former student of Yoru Sensei named Kyodai Ken abducted one of his young pupils and threatened to kill her unless he divulged to him the location of the Kiba no Houkou scrolls.  Yoru reached out to Bruce Wayne for help and Batman was ultimately able to rescue the student and defeat Kyodai Ken.  
Actors Chao-Li Chi and Goh Misawa provided the voice for Yoru Sensei with he character first appearing in the 28th episode of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘The Night of The Ninja.’
16 notes · View notes
metaanoi · 1 month
Text
Harmony Renewed: The Essence of Martial Counseling
In the intricate tapestry of relationships, marriages often encounter challenges that can strain the bonds of love and understanding. The journey of matrimony is a profound one, marked by shared joys and inevitable trials. In such moments, the significance of martial counseling emerges as a guiding light, offering couples the tools to navigate stormy seas and rekindle the flame of connection.
Martial counseling, a dedicated therapeutic approach tailored for married couples, delves into the complexities that can arise in the shared life journey. This specialized form of counseling recognizes that each marriage is a unique entity, influenced by the personalities, backgrounds, and experiences of the individuals involved. The goal is not merely conflict resolution but the cultivation of a resilient partnership that can weather the inevitable storms.
One of the pivotal aspects of martial counseling lies in fostering effective communication. Often, misunderstandings and conflicts arise due to a breakdown in communication. A skilled martial counselor acts as a mediator, providing a safe space for couples to express their thoughts, feelings, and concerns openly. Through guided dialogue, couples can uncover underlying issues, gain insight into each other's perspectives, and develop healthier communication patterns.
Tumblr media
Beyond communication, martial counseling addresses the core dynamics of a marriage. This includes exploring shared values, goals, and expectations, as well as understanding the impact of individual personalities on the relationship. The counselor assists couples in identifying patterns of behavior that may contribute to discord and collaboratively developing strategies for positive change.
Importantly, martial counseling is not solely reserved for couples on the brink of separation. It serves as a proactive tool for enhancing marital satisfaction and preventing potential issues from escalating. Regular sessions can provide couples with a deeper understanding of each other, reinforcing the foundation of trust and intimacy.
The benefits of martial counseling extend beyond the counseling room, permeating into various aspects of a couple's life. As couples learn to navigate challenges together, they often experience a renewed sense of connection, rediscovering the joy and fulfillment that initially brought them together.
In conclusion, martial counseling emerges as a transformative journey for couples seeking to fortify their marital bonds. By addressing communication breakdowns, understanding core dynamics, and fostering positive change, this form of counseling breathes new life into marriages, offering the promise of harmony renewed and a shared future enriched by love and understanding.
0 notes
wordsandrobots · 1 month
Text
I went to the effort of typing this joke out on Discord earlier and since I think I'm very funny and I've entirely run out of queue --
Regarding a potential inter-canon Gundam protagonist meet-up, we have:
Two psychic teenagers drafted into a war they barely understand who are either hitting things or having nervous breakdowns about it
One psychic teenager drafted into a war he barely understands who is just trying to goof off and/or get his sister back
Assorted soldiers in various stages of PTSD and dishonourable discharge
Some guy (also psychic), his girlfriend, the queen of outer-space, and their highly-strung boyfriend who is doing his best
One twenty-year-old master martial artist who gets nervous talking to his wife
Five teenage terrorists who are alternately incredibly socially-awkward (science experiment gone horribly right), massively over-compensating (traumatised Catholic goofball), just plain weird (clown), in desperate need of therapy (corporate Lawrence of Arabia), or massively over-compensating (sword-wielding reply-guy), and their plus-one, the acting president of the world
One probably-not-psychic con-artist who would like to get back to stealing shit, please, and his actually-psychic girlfriend who is just very nice
The sweetest guy you've ever met, the queen of the moon, the queen of the moon's doppelganger, the doppelganger's tom-boy sister, and the one Char clone with a functional love-life
The most unstable long-range polycule you can imagine and this random angry idiot they've adopted for reasons beyond anyone's understanding
One terrorist who wants to be a Gundam (and succeeds), one to two shooty Irishmen, a comicbook-style schizophrenic super-soldier, his equally-so girlfriend, and their boss, the world's most not-trying 'honestly a human being for sure'
I utterly refuse to having anything to do with AGE
A bunch of school-age nitwits playing some sort of cod-Shakespearean lost twin-siblings/secret heir sub-plot amidst an energy crisis and/or religious war
A shy hick and her business-major girlfriend, plus their assorted classmates who are totally failing to form a consistent genre
And then there's Tekkadan standing off to the side being like... yeah, so... no one's paying us to fight right now, would you all maybe like to sit down and have something to eat? A bit of light couples-counselling? Thump a punching bag until you feel better?
(Obviously Tekkadan are doing the catering. They have a cook and better access to fresh produce than anyone else. Which, I mean, Celestial Being has the budget but Tieria is definitely vetoing the unnecessary expenditure. Everyone else is just on military rations or school food.)
(@thedancingwalrus-blog would like you all know that Mikazuki is claiming every unguarded plate that someone has abandoned to go have a misunderstanding-based fight within, like, 0.5 seconds of it getting left behind. I'd insert a GIF of him deep-throating a cannoli here, obviously, only shockingly, I can't find one. Anyone have that? I feel like we should have that.)
8 notes · View notes
crystalsenergy · 6 months
Text
The healing process of Chiron in Aries in each house
Tumblr media
Remember, the healing process for Chiron in Aries is a journey towards self-discovery and empowerment. Be patient with yourself, seek support when needed, and use your assertive energy to move yourself forward in your unique path to healing.+
Chiron in Aries in 1st house: Your wound is related to self-identity and assertiveness. To heal, focus on self-acceptance and embracing your uniqueness. Build self-confidence by setting small, achievable goals, and gradually assert yourself in situations that challenge you. Physical activities like martial arts or yoga can help you release energy. Remember, your assertive nature can be a strength when used constructively.
Chiron in Aries in 2nd house: Your wounds may involve self-worth and financial independence. Start the healing process by reevaluating your values and understanding that self-worth isn't solely tied to material possessions. Develop financial literacy to boost self-reliance. Engage in activities that empower you to create abundance and gain a sense of financial security.
Chiron in Aries in 3rd house: Communication and learning may be sources of pain. Healing involves expressing your thoughts confidently, even when met with opposition. Engage in activities that stimulate your mind. Cultivate patience when interacting with others to avoid unnecessary conflicts. Remember that assertiveness doesn't always mean aggression; it can also mean effectively standing up for your ideas.
Chiron in Aries in 4th house: Family and home-related issues may trigger wounds. Start healing by addressing family dynamics and taking care of past hurts. Creating a sense of inner security is crucial; this can be achieved by establishing your own home and traditions. Recognize that your independence doesn't mean you have to choose between one or other; instead, find a balance that allows you to maintain your identity within your family context.
Chiron in Aries in 5th house: Embrace your creativity and take calculated risks in love. Engage in artistic pursuits that allow you to express your unique self. Learn to balance your desire for independence with the need for meaningful connections in your romantic life. Remember that vulnerability in love can lead to deeper connections.
Chiron in Aries in 6th house: Health and work-related wounds are common with this placement. Start healing by taking control of your physical well-being through exercise and proper nutrition. Address work-related issues assertively, without becoming overly competitive. Seek a balance between your desire for independence and your responsibilities in the workplace. Collaborate with colleagues to achieve common goals while maintaining your autonomy.
Chiron in Aries in 7th house: Your wounds may relate to relationships and partnerships. Healing involves learning to assert your needs within relationships while setting healthy boundaries. Embrace the idea that interdependence can coexist with your independence. Seek partners who support your personal growth rather than diminish it. Balance compromise with standing your ground when necessary.
Chiron in Aries in 8th house: Your wounds may relate to power dynamics, intimacy, and shared resources. To heal, confront deep-seated fears and embrace vulnerability in your relationships. Consider therapy or counseling to explore these hidden wounds. Understand that your strength lies in your ability to transform and regenerate, both emotionally and psychologically. Seek shared ventures that empower both you and your partners.
Chiron in Aries in 9th house: Beliefs and higher education can be sources of wounds. Healing involves exploring different philosophies and embracing your personal truths. Travel and higher learning can aid in personal growth, helping you overcome any wounds related to dogmatic beliefs. Use your assertiveness to stand up for your principles while respecting diverse viewpoints.
Chiron in Aries in 10th house: Career and public image may trigger pain. Healing requires pursuing your ambitions with confidence and authenticity. Embrace leadership roles and work on your professional identity without fear of judgment. Remember that assertive, innovative approaches can pave the way for success in your chosen field.
Chiron in Aries in 11th house: Healing includes finding your unique role within groups and asserting your individuality without fear of rejection. Cultivate friendships that support your personal growth and encourage your assertiveness. Collaborate with like-minded individuals on causes that matter to you.
Chiron in Aries in 12th house: Spirituality, secrets, and the subconscious can be sources of wounds. Healing involves exploring your inner world through meditation, therapy, or spiritual practices. Embrace your spiritual path and find strength in vulnerability. Learn to assert your boundaries, even in situations where it's difficult to see them clearly. Trust your intuition as a guide through the hidden aspects of life.
16 notes · View notes
mytastessuck · 3 months
Text
Starbomb: Starbomb
Eeeeeyup.
So, to ruin my credibility even further...yes, I am a Game Grumps fan. I started watching them out of curiosity in 2016 and watched them on and off for a while until I fell in the trap of those damn Sleeping Aids videos uploaded by their fans and I've been watching them semi-regularly since.
Are they perfect? Fuck no. They suck at games and Egoraptor is the bad Mike Tyson simile of previously problematic content creators. But you already know I'm a NSP fan and I like Danny's singing voice and some of Egoraptor's raps (have fun finding the ones without the n-word!) are pretty skilled and he has a genuine love for the genre and, somewhat more importantly, those games he's bad at. So there, my justification for being a Starbomb fan...despite the fact I've uploaded Starbomb songs before so this really shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone. Since the album was uploaded for free, I'm going to upload the whole thing below so feel free to read after every song so that everyone can know how to feel after every song. Now...COMMENCE THE CRINGE!
youtube
Intro
God, this whole thing is nostalgic. The guys introduce themselves and Arin does a rather impressive paraphrasing of a Fair Use segment that shows that 1. since this album is a parody and 2. they acknowledge they don't own the characters, they don't technically need to be sued. as of January 12, 2024, Nintendo and others apparently agreed.
Song Score: 7/10
2. I Choose You To Die
This is the gate: if this song turns you off, you're probably going to hate this album. Starbomb doesn't care about canon, your feelings or even making clever jokes about the franchise: they thought it would be funny if there was a story about Ash going around fucking up Pokemon, going to jail, getting bailed out and shot in the sack by Pikachu. Is it funny? By my standards...meh. It didn't really grab me. My own description of the song is honestly funnier to me than the actual song itself. I don't hate it but it's definitely not how I would introduce someone to the band.
Song Score: 5/10
3. Luigi's Ballad
Here we go, the real shit: with special guest vocalist Rachel Goddamn Bloom (Crazy Ex Girlfriend creator and star), we get crassed up versions of Mario, Luigi and Peach as the brothers fight over her in a hilarious ditty. Arin is having fun, Danny is competent and Rachel is perfect, like always...I'm actually glad that Peach didn't pick a brother at the end because, as douchey as Mario was being, Luigi didn't give an actual reason for being attracted to her. Maybe he was just as shallow as Mario only he was more devious about it? Who cares? Peach is going to fuck a mushroom.
Song Score: 9/10
4. It's Dangerous To Go Alone
A bit darker but still a well-done song (Philly shout-out! Woo! We suck less than Raccoon City!). They gave Danny the lead in this and it works, Arin's freak-out at the end as Link is legitimately chortle-inducing. Chortle-inducing I say. Sexual predation has never been (subjectively) funnier.
Song Score: 9/10
5. Mega Martial Problems
Might be my favorite song on the album. Mega Man and his wife (Roll? Some chick? Who cares?) are being given marriage counseling (sex counseling, actually) by Dr. fucking Wily and Mega Man kills robot masters to get toys to fuck his wife with, ending with Zero being killed by his Mega Dick. Arin is a good rapper and Danny manages to sing distinctly as a german doctor and Mega Man's wife (he raps a bit at the end...it's actually listenable). Seriously, if you're not the biggest Mega Man fan and if canon isn't important to you, go check this song out.
Song Score: 10/10
6. Rap Battle: Ryu Vs. Ken
Hur hur, Ryu rules, Ken sucks, hur hur. That doesn't bother me though. What does bother me is the content of Ryu's lyrics: he's supposed to be talking about how badass he is and he keeps going on about his dick? Forget canon character, if he was just some nobody he would sound like he's eight years old! Once you hear it, you won't unhear it. It's just a bit...desperate? And I can't help but feel like I'm supposed to take him seriously. This song is fine for the most part but...yeah, definitely one of the weaker ones on re-listens.
Song Score: 6/10
7. Crasher-vania
Pretty funny song about Simon Belmont committing hate crimes against the creatures of the night having a Monster Mash. Fun fact: I don't know the story behind this but Arin and Danny did a censored version of this song for a MST3K telethon. See it here:
youtube
Song Score: 8/10
8. The Book of Nook
On a re-listen, this is a competently hilariously fucked up song about Tom Nook being a dickhead mafia landlord...but I'm detracting a whole point for the use of the archaic slur "mongoloid". I guess they didn't want to use "retard" and tried to be smart about it. Sorry guys; try harder.
Song Score: 8/10 (I still gave it a high score so maybe I'm part of the problem.)
9. Sonic's Best Pal
Probably my other favorite song on the album. The perfect Sonic darkfic: Tails snaps due to his insecurity (Hey! A canonical character flaw; I'll wave as I see it fly by.), gets on drugs, fucks whores and shoots Eggman. They knew what they were going for and they got it. Kudos, Starbomb.
Song Score: 10/10
10. Regretroid
Emily Hughes (pretty neat singer and apparently a friend of Danny's...I don't know) stars as an understandably grumpy Samus against the Nice Guy (TM) Kraid in this epic star tale. Awesome tune with a hilariously dark ending (I mean...it's not like the puppies were destined for a good life if space dragons were just handing them out in baskets.)
Song Score: 8/10
11. Kirby's Adventures In Reamland
Either this or the Tom Nook song was the first song recorded for the album and, unlike Tom Nook's song, Starbomb hates this one. Me? Another "meh"....it's crass for the sake of crass but the guys are doing that the whole album so I'm not really affected by it. They spitroast Kirby and namedrop Meta Knight and Dedede. That's it. Move along, barely anything to see here.
Song Score: 7/10
12. The Simple Plot of Final Fantasy 7
Ha! Take THAT, convoluted JRPGs! Seriously, this is one of the better songs on the album and I love how they try to turn Cloud into this smooth talking self-aggrandizing asshole (not a far cry from him in canon, mind) and how they didn't call Ryu by name. He's Ninja Gaiden now. Perfect way to end the album.
Song Score: 9/10
13. Outro
Just the guys being dorks and teasing the second album (Player Select; won't be reviewing that one so I'll spoil my opinion for you: it's not as good as the first one.). It was always fun to hear them fuck around. Reminds me a bit of their Sleep Aids.
Song Score 8/10
Album Score: 8/10
Decent album. As we all know, I have shit taste so that makes my opinion superior to yours. Since this was an album review, I'll be taking a week off to unwind and come back next Friday with the typical song a day schedule. See you then.
7 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Bangel fans, we want to hear from you! As we celebrate this year's IWRY Fic Marathon, we're getting to know each other through our Meet the Fandom series. Answer the questions here to join in.
What is your name?
Liana-Medea
Where do you hang out?
AO3 as well as Discord (and I do share my German fanworks on a German site)
Do you create any fan works?
Yes, I write fanfic - mostly German, but I started writing in English rarely (and something about Bangel is just asking to be written in English, somehow, especially, if my ideas are already in English)
Funniest Bangel/Buffyverse moment?
Well, it's Wesley pretending to be Angel in Guise will be Guise, especially when he has to drink the blood he is given and tries to dispose of it after he took a sip while trying not to gag.
What Buffyverse opinion would have you chased through the village with pitchforks?
The smashing of the Gem of Amara was more than justified, because the risk of it falling in the wrong hands was way too high (as proven in the episode itself)
Share a headcanon you have about Bangel or the Buffyverse?
Hm, I always thought that Buffy doesn't know that Liam was Angel's human name (and on that front we should be glad that he went with the English version and doesn't force everyone to pronounce the Irish Gaelic version).
How would you have given Buffy and Angel their Happily Ever After?
Allrighty, that's something I am probably gonna write at some point (as soon as I manage to put together a reasonable outcome for NFA). What I got so far involves a Shanshu in Ireland (probably even his hometown), that he goes by Liam again and well, he and Buffy somehow cross paths again. They'll probably eat ice cream at the Corrib at some point (or do a picknick there like half of Galway on a nice summer day) and Liam will be the one that cooks all the time (one of his first human purchases was an Irish cookbook), although he sometimes tried combinations that are not that great together and Buffy also told him to cut back on the potatoes, after he served her four different versions of potatoes with salmon and vegetables (on the same plate!). They spent quite some time in Ireland, Liam draws for a living, Buffy does martial arts or counselling work and they have children together. They are wearing their Claddagh rings on the left hand, heart pointing in and will grow old together.
Last fic you read?
The Grass Isn't Always Greener in the Sunlight by Ralkana
Slay, Lay, Obey - Connor, Doyle, Liam?
Goddess that's tricky!
I am going with Doyle for Slay (probably because I am the least attached to him and well, I am not going to lay with him and obey, hm, probably also not the wisest choice).
Lay: guys, seriously, I am a lesbian and we got three guys here, so I am going with the most conventionally attractive one and say Liam, who is also – come December – exactly my age. Who knows, maybe he will surprise me, Angel's positive character traits can't manifest themselves out of thin air! And maybe I get a drawing out of it or better language skills, which I both would appreciate!
Obey: let's go with Connor, because I like him too much to slay, but well, I am talking series finale Connor here!
Fill in the quiz so the fandom can meet you!
8 notes · View notes
Note
Would you mind elaborating on the reasons why someone needs to discuss their virginity with their future spouse? /gen
"It literally is not important whether you are a virgin. I mean, that is 100% something you need to discuss with your future spouse for a variety of reasons"
Although virginity has nothing to do with "purity" or your general moral standing, previous sexual experiences can impact your relationship in a few ways, so it's important to address it.
The biggest (and most obvious) reason is trust. You cannot hope to have a fruitful marriage if you cannot be 100% honest with your future spouse, and that includes your sexual history. They need to understand any past experiences so they can know where you're coming from, and adjust their expectations accordingly.
For instance, if you struggled with chastity in your last relationship, it's helpful for your S.O. to know, so they can give better counsel when deciding boundaries within your relationship.
If you were previously pretty promiscuous, you owe it to your future spouse to get STD testing.
Explaining your sexual history and the context around it is also crucial, because past experiences might have negatively impacted your view of sexuality (e.g. trauma, emotional baggage, unrealistic expectations), in which case it's something you need to actively work through with your future spouse. Otherwise it will effect your martial sex life.
Basically, sexual experience impacts your "expectations" regarding sex, whether positively or negatively. Your future spouse needs to understand those expectations in order to properly support and counsel you in the relationship. (Fyi, "sexual experience" includes masturbation and porn usage, too).
P.S: If anyone gives you grief for past sexual sins you've already repented and expressed regret for, run away. They'll hold that over you.
30 notes · View notes
thewrathfulwitch · 5 months
Text
Oskhophoria
Oskhophoria is a festival held on the same day as Pyanepsia in honor to Dionysos and Athena Skira, those who protect the grape harvest. This was honored with a procession from a temple of Dionysos to the temple of Athena Skira at Phaleron.
Two boys dressed as women would carry bunches of grapes on their vines while the herald led the procession. There was a garland wrapped around his staff, as per the customs set by the legend of Theseus.
Theseus was supposed to let his father know he had returned home safely by raising white sails. In his excitement to return home, he forgot to do so and the father leapt to his death thinking he was dead.
The herald who went from the port to Athens was greeted with the king's death, where instead of placing the welcome home wreaths upon his head, he placed it upon his staff.
Celebrate with me during this harvest, let us honor Dionysos and thank him for his blessings upon the land.
Fumigation from Storax Dionysos I call, loud-sounding and divine,
fanatic God, a two-fold shape is thine:
Thy various names and attributes I sing,
O, first-born, thrice begotten, Bacchic king:
Rural, ineffable, two-form'd, obscure,
two-horn'd, with ivy crown'd, euion, pure.
Bull-fac'd, and martial, bearer of the vine,
endu'd with counsel prudent [Eubouleos] and divine:
Triennial, whom the leaves of vines adorn,
of Zeus and Persephone, occultly born.
Immortal dæmon, hear my suppliant voice,
give me in blameless plenty to rejoice;
And listen gracious to my mystic pray'r,
surrounded with thy choir of nurses fair.
Orphic Hymn 29 to Dionysos, trans. Taylor
6 notes · View notes
memecucker · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Really interesting how this paragraph talks about in New York there’s an extremely-reasonable requirement that divination needs to denote that they are only there providing entertainment and amusement and it’s followed a totally non-sequitur parenthetical remark about Roma people that has nothing to do with the preceding sentences but in my eyes it kinda looks like the author may have realized “Oh shit, people are gonna think that New York State policy the person I’m talking to complained about sounds incredibly rational and reasonable. Better throw something unrelated in to make people think it’s bigoted somehow”
Like what other classifications would you use other than “entertainment”? Counseling? Financial advice? Medical advice? Based entirely off manipulating people into thinking the person they’re paying has some kind of authority or ability that would help them out when in fact this person has no ability to demonstrate their ability to do so?
Like, go ahead and do astrology and tarot and analyzing the patterns formed when the innards of a slaughtered animal fall onto the floor. Hell, when sometimes if I want some fuel for brainstorming campaign ideas I’ll use an online I-Ching site because I like how it can give really open ended inspiration at times compared to standard random idea generators. Feel free to believe in it as well as long as you’re not trying to coerce others into believing it especially for purposes of financial gain. But trying to fucking guilt trip people with the sloppiest effort ever with bullshit that depends on reinforcing ethnic and racial stereotypes is something I do think is fucked up quite frankly.
This is exactly the same type of shit that happens with bullshit fake martial arts about how you can knock people out by projecting their qi. If you wanna do no-touch knockout things as an art or for entertainment then alright go for it! Some kind of theatre or action choreography or hell even indie pro-wrestling since there was that fad of “invisible hand grenades” a few years ago in that scene. But when those “no touch knockout” masters are manipulating and deceiving people into believing they have fake supernatural powers and they can use those powers to teach and help people when really it’s just for money, that’s entirely different.
So yeah, the person quoted in the screencap complaining about having to put up a disclaimer about being for “entertainment” does not earn my sympathy anymore than if George Dillman went out and said someone was impersonating him and teaching an illegitimate form of his technique on how to project ki to cut off someone’s pressure points. “Hey I don’t like how this person is impersonating me and making money off it” is a totally fair point and if that was it I’d agree but nah fuck all the manipulative and tbqh racist bullshit that comes after it
90 notes · View notes