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lucyandalexiafan · 4 months

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blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything.

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms.

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed.

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl"

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body.

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want.

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin.

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me"

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut"

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact.

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfics #dom!alexia #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #jelaous alexia putellas #shoe humping

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pia-nor481 · 4 months

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Oscar Piastri NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

Always cuddles, whether she's resting on his chest or him on hers. I definitely see him being lazy afterwards and is all "do we have to get up, it's so comfortable" but he knows better and does so with a groan.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

He actually really likes his cock. Not overly sure why but just does. But also his hands, they can do a lot.

I don’t think there’s one part of his partner that he doesn’t like. But he like boobs. Always has and always will. Seeing them is a pretty bra just gets him off. But he will always have an appreciation for ass.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

Oscar likes things MESSY. He will happily cum absolutely anywhere, and he comes a lot. Also taking into consideration Australia's circumcision rate of 10-20% (depending on where you look) I reckon he isn't, and so is very sensitive, so it's quite easy to make him cum.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he might really like the idea of someone watching, he’s a bit of a voyeur. Not many would believe he’s so fantastic in bed. So he’s like someone else to see and say so. Not that her body language doesn’t tell him that. He’s a bit of a show off at times. But it’s always hot.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

Not very, but he's so willing to learn!! He wants to make her cum because she deserves. If he eats her out he doesn't expect anything back, but he'd never complain. I think he likes to do research and wants to try it out, so immediately he's telling her about this thing and he's all giddy.

F- Favourite position

Oscar loves so many positions!!! He really likes straddling positions where she's on top; any variation of cowgirl or where she's sat in his lap. But he also likes to be on top;any variation of missionary, but in particular when she has her legs around his waist and hands in his hair.

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

Definitely a mix of both. There's definitely times where nothing arousing or particularly intimate has occurred yet he really wants sex. Or times where they could have a pretty normal conversation while getting railed. But he like more serious sex too- he likes to focus on pleasure-not just cumming.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

I think Oscar's hair is the same colour. But I think he's very well groomed, although he's okay with mess (have you seen his drivers room?) I think this would be something he's quite picky about. Always trimmed to a nice length. Have you seen his happy trail? I think he’d be a little scared of razor burn (probably happened once and was suffering) so avoids them like the plague, unless she offers for him when in the shower ;)

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I’m lead to believe he’s very romantic, he wants to show her how passionate he is. He loves her with all of his heart, and what better way to show that than pleasure. He knows that the build up to an orgasm is just as fun as the final climax so he isn’t always desperate to cum.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In my mind he doesn’t masturbate often, but when he does he likes to tease. He uses such light pressure that he can’t get anywhere close to cumming. Or he’s so desperate that his main focus is the head, he just rubbing an open palm against the tip, moaning while is eyes roll back. However he doesn’t like to Jack off, he’d prefer her hand or mouth.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Switch- if it wasn’t made obvious I think he’s the perfect example of a switch. He’s equally as submissive as dominate, and it makes for a really good sex life. With his dominance, I think it comes mainly position and instruction; there will be times where he just picks her up by the waist, places her on the nearest surface and just fucks her brainless

Bottoming- is this even a kink? Well it’s here now. I think this came about from his little research moment, he saw a lot about how much pleasuring the g-spot could heighten his orgasm and practically begged for it.

Temperature play- I think ties into a fondness for toys. But also, now hear me out, when he’s getting a bj and there’s lots of spit on his cock, he likes when she blows air onto it, giving a cooling sensation.

Voice/sound- he loves when there’s some kind of music playing, but he also loves just hearing her voice, maybe it’s because he likes being told what to do.

Praise/degradation- this can be read in the context of either dom or sub. But he’s loves degradation with a mix of praise. “Such a slut, so good for me.” Praise him because he derives it!! But call him a slut for looking at lando like that. Oscar loves to give praise after sex, sweet nothings and pillow talk is his specialty if he’s coherent.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I’m going to have to be basic in saying the bedroom. However not just the bed. Say you’re picking out some clothes from the wardrobe, if you’re trying things on, you should know it’s not long until you’re being pushed up against the door.

Round two in the shower are a must.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

He really likes dirty talk, but the subtle kind. Or if you whisper in his ear out in public “I can’t wait to get home and have your cock in my mouth” he’s already semi hard. “I think it’s time we leave”

Lingerie- I imagine him to really like baby dolls or really pretty/ intricate bras and panties.

N- No (what turns them off)

CNC-he can’t see the appeal of it.

Spanking- I’m talking more about 5+ with the intention of it really hurting/being a punishment. He definitely likes to tap her ass. But not leave it so red and sore that she can’t sit.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

I think he may slightly prefer giving. Just seeing the pleasure he can give with his tongue/hands. He’s very skilled in eyes, I think that he’s desperate to please and so found different techniques to see what would work best. Oscar *fuck me eyes* Piastri like to be on his knees while you ride his face. However, when he sees how enthusiastic she is about blowing him, how can he say no?

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

He definitely prefers slow and sensual, but he does like it rough from time to time. He knows variety is super important and is very willing to give that. I think post race win!Oscar definitely likes hardcore, he feels like he deserves it.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I think he can see the appeal and is quite happy that he can cum pretty fast, the risk of it is nice so he does enjoy them. But he would definitely prefer hours long to have his way with you.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He loves to experiment. He knows to switch up his technique every so often, switching from deep thrusting to short and shallow. The following week maybe he tries to milk her g-spot. He will always keep it interesting

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

I believe he can go for quite a few rounds but he has a long refractory period. You have to wait quite a few minutes to even dare to touch his cock after cumming. But it will take him a while to cum again. But he’s easy to overstimulate

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

Absolutely loves them!! His personal favourite are vibrators. He loves using them on her, as well as on himself. If he was really spending the whole night focusing on her, his mouth and hands will need a break. So he’s ready to get out a rabbit or a wand. He might like handcuffs but it can be a spur of the moment thing, even if he’s in control. The first time he used one (a vibe) on himself he came in under five minutes, and overstimmed himself. He didn’t focus on the shaft enough. But he later realised to use a slow vibration and apply less pressure. His favourite dildo is 6-inches btw.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He loves being teased but not edged. When he wants to cum he should be allowed to!! Or he’ll pout. Slowing down while blowing him is one of his favourite things. But he also loves to tease back. He’s NOT all talk. He’ll make you wait for hours before you’re allowed to cum. Only kissing around your cunt. Or just twisting/sucking your nipples. But you won’t cum. Foreplay is a favourite of his.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

When dimming he’s not quiet, but not loud. He’s definitely making noises. He groans and had a very low moan. But the more he cums the higher and louder the moans become. He’s very breathy if that makes sense.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

He really loves flavoured lube. He’s got all of the fruity ones in the bedside table. He just thinks it’s nice to spice it up as lube isn’t just used on his cock or her cunt. Yes he does like whipped cream and sweet sauces, so he cheats on his diet quite often.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Definitely more thick. Although I can imagine 6/7 inches I’m not sure why.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not very, he just gets very caught up in the moment. So one day he’ll be begging for hours on end for pleasure as if he didn’t have morning sex or didn’t bend her over the sofa two hours ago. Other days he just doesn’t feel like cumming at all. But if you asked he’d definitely eat you out, or grab one of the many toys scattered around his messy room. Overall some days are 0/10 others 10/10

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Oscar Piastri sleepy boy confirmed. He loves his sleep so much, so pretty quick; especially it was very sensual and romantic. But if the sex was more rough I think the adrenaline would keep him up for quite a while.

Help why is he so pale. Like you’re from Australia babe, how are you as white as me. (I’ve not stepped foot in the sun for 3 years.)

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #oscar piastri x reader smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar pistachio #oscar piastri x reader #oscar pastry #Oscar Piastry #oscar piastri x female reader #Oscar Piastri x fem reader smut

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official-linguistics-post · 9 days

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Can you elaborate on the ways that the linguistics fiels may be racist? I'm white (as white as a mixed kid can be) and started uni recently, I'd like to be aware of the racist things in linguistics to better identify and unlearn them.

I'm already aware of the whole racist and classist judgment of certain language variations, but I wonder if there is more to it than I'm aware of, maybe more subtle things I couldn't pick up (if you could point out some sources, too, I'd be thankful).

again, i recommend decolonizing linguistics (that link is to the open-access pdf). the introduction is a good, well, introduction! you can also check out relevant topics from the podcast vocal fries, and the book antisocial language teaching focuses on ELT. this is just a smattering of the available material—scholars cited in those works have entire bodies of research out there.

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persephonessugarbaby · 8 months

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A fantastic resource for learning sign language FOR FREE is the ASL University website

Dr. Bill Vicars, who is deaf / hard of hearing, "has been offering online sign language instruction since 1997", and still adds to his websites to this day. After much research, he has determined the most commonly used words and created his lessons "moving from most frequently used to less frequently used" words and concepts. So what does this website offer?

Lessons that include a teaching video, vocabulary list, sentences containing words learned, practice quizzes, and information on deaf culture and asl grammar

A section on the 100 most commonly used signs

A dictionary that has (1) Written description of how to sign the word, along with pictures, gifs, and videos, (2) Sample sentences showing how to use the word, and the appropriate context, often with accompanying videos, (3) In-page links to signs with similar appearance or meaning, (4) Common variations of the sign, (5) Questions he's answered regarding that words

There's more on the website, including pages on signing the alphabet and one with deaf/HoH jokes that's got some gems, but those listed above are the features I find most helpful for beginners. GOOD LUCK 😁

#american sign language #asl #sign language #learning #resources #language resources

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cemeterything · 3 months

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how do you give your ocs last names that both fit the character and sound like a real plausible name? your oc names always sound really good and I can never figure out how to give mine last names without them sounding too fantasy

mostly i just cycle through name ideas until i find one that clicks. i usually have a vague theme in mind which guides my research on common surnames, word etymology and variations throughout language, culture and history. for example, giving annie, emery and jocelyn the last name "crane" came from wanting a surname that evoked both slender elegance and undertones of creepiness and/or the gothic, since the crane family is a gothic horror family associated with spider motifs. cranes are elegant but also slightly grotesquely proportioned birds, and "crane" is the protagonist's last name in the short horror story the legend of sleepy hollow, which has gothic themes. it also rolls off the tongue following the names "annie" "emery" and "jocelyn", so it checks off all the requirements. "tanaka", chiyo's last name, is a common japanese last name that translates literally to "center of the rice paddy", which reflects chiyo's humble origins as the daughter of rural rice farmers in the north of japan, while her first name translates to "thousand (years), eternal", reflecting her aspirations to achieve immortality either through a legacy of art or literal transcendence from the flesh to the machine/digital consciousness.

sometimes i also settle on last names before i choose first names, because it can be easier. "lincoln ray" started as "ray", a name that is both masculine and strong and also evokes light and hope, and "lincoln" followed as a first name because i wanted him to have a traditionally usamerican-sounding name with an implied hint of bloody violence (which, since president lincoln was assassinated by being shot in the back of the head, fits the bill). nicky's last name, dyatlov, is a fairly common russian surname which means "woodpecker". woodpeckers have black and white feathers; nicky has black and white hair. it's also a name associated with death and misfortune; the infamous dyatlov pass incident being of course the most obvious example, but also the surname of the deputy chief engineer on duty on the night of the chernobyl nuclear power plant disaster. nicky is a fairly unsettling figure whose presence usually means something unfortunate is going to happen, so it was fitting. "nikita" or "nicky" followed as a first name because nicky is nonbinary, and "nikita" is a gender neutral name. it also sounds rather cute and charming, which reflects nicky's deceptively polite, perpetually smiling nature. it actually means "unconquered" or "victor", which also neatly reflects nicky's iron willpower and relentlessly obsessive tendencies.

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mrsfoone · 6 months

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Dearest authors,

Please be aware that "checking into" and "checking in to" are two very different things.

When you CHECK INTO something you are doing research or gathering information.

When you CHECK IN TO something you are performing the action of checking in.

CHECK-IN refers to a time or place at which you do your checking in.

So ... after checking into a hotel you can arrive at check-in to check in to the hotel. Note a similar problem here with check out vs check-out.

This is also true of giving in to something and many other variations.

(Yes I know English is a confusing mess of a garbage language.)

Sincerely,

An appreciative reader

#book nerd #writing

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ddarker-dreams · 5 months

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Would hwr reader be the cool wine aunt? (I can see her accidentally getting drunk off wine thinking it was grape juice or non alcoholic, then chrollo having to supervise her the whole night lol)

anon ... are you a secret telepath because i've considered so many variations of this exact scenario.

for some context on HWR reader's abysmal alcohol tolerance — certain bloodlines from her home country hailed from the dark continent. they could temporarily boost their abilities, whether it be the five senses, strength, or speed, at the cost of enduring excruciating pain once the burst ends. a peculiar side effect owing to this constitution is that those who possess it are extremely sensitive to psychoactive substances. so, understandably, she takes great care in avoiding anything that could land her in a precarious position.

the common language in hxh isn't her native tongue, so if a word or term is obscure enough, all bets are off. for instance, in the earlier days when she just joined the troupe, paku once offered her a nightcap. HWR reader accepted. imagine her confusion when she was presented with a drink. it didn't look like any hat she'd seen before. the troupe greatly perplexed her at first.

the scenario you proposed has definitely happened before. here's the basic rundown:

her and chrollo were staking out an event under the pretense of being guests. a wandering waiter offered her a drink from his tray. it wasn't held in a champagne chute, martini glass, or the like, there was no indication to the beverage's true nature. she inquired over the ingredients. the waiter listed off what made up the concoction. the name of the hard liquor went over her head, it was the lovechild of a recent startup the event's owner had invested in to 'diversify his investment portfolio.'

it lacked the bitter tang commonly associated with alcohol. it was slightly sweet with a tarte aftertaste.

whilst sipping away and fraternizing with the other attendees, chrollo reappeared. he'd been piecing together a mental blueprint of the estate for later use. he easily integrated back into the social scene, almost as if he'd never left in the first place. before he'd even reentered the grand reception area, he'd caught onto a fluctuation in HWR reader's impeccable aura. while not an outright cause for alarm, he found it odd.

(some not SFW beneath the cut)

although he hid it well, he was genuinely surprised to see his normally abstinent lover indulging herself. she was critiquing the research of two gentlemen who had been not so subtly flaunting their game-changing findings the entire evening. the men appeared scandalized as she pointed out inconsistencies in their data and the like. he swooped in only when it became evident the men were about to raise a fuss, smoothly excusing him and his increasingly irate date.

he could roughly guess how this predicament came to be. he explained to her in a low and steady voice that this drink actually has a high alcohol concentration. it took a moment for her impaired cognition to catch up with his words. when the realization hit, however, she was not enthused.

by the time they'd made it back to their 'borrowed' vehicle, her legs were unsteady. there was a thin glaze over her eyes, like she was only half-present. on the drive back to the hotel, she'd randomly continue her earlier critique in an incomprehensive murmur. he never knew poorly falsified data was such an unforgivable slight in her eyes.

chrollo was growing increasingly intrigued by this unfiltered version of his otherwise prim and proper girlfriend. did he feel bad that she ended up in this position? kinda, but he wouldn't let anything happen to her. or, to be more precise, let anything happen to the civilians in the immediate area. not out of compassion, mind you, but for convenience's sake. he's trying to maintain a low profile in this area until the heist's completion. a dangerous, sword-wielding woman capable of wiping out an entire town's population should she see fit would be counteractive to this goal.

he dutifully keeps an eye on her in their suite. she vacillates between forgetting he's there or eagerly engaging him in a wide array of topics. everything from the separation of church and state to 'if he really likes her.' at this point, she'd shrugged off her outer garments (with his assistance), the heat of inebriation unbearable. chrollo had been exercising every modicum of self-control in his body as she crawled into his lap, perching herself there like it was her throne. her fingers, free from her usual gloves, brushing along the various grooves of his face.

"pretty," she hums. her blissed out expression, breathy voice, and the pressure of her body against his crotch makes him strain to behave himself. "my pretty boy."

he's grateful that she isn't lucid enough to note the rosy blush that spreads over his cheeks at this unexpected praise.

in a languid motion, her arms wrap around his neck. she embraces him tight enough that he can feel the soft swell of her chest, threatening to spill out from its restraints. she plays with the ends of his hair, humming a melody unknown to him, perfectly content. he allows himself some indulgence — his hands settle on either side of her hips. to help steady her, he tells himself. for such a proficient liar, this excuse is admittedly pathetic.

"boss."

"hm?"

"i have a secret," she whispers. this piques his curiosity, overriding his previous sentiments to respect her privacy. selfishly, he hopes she doesn't remember this come morning. otherwise, he'll be in for an earful...

"oh?" he goads her on. "and what would that be?"

(goodbye plausible deniability).

her lips brush against his outer ear and he shivers.

"i've fallen in love with someone."

his breath hitches in his throat. he ceases his previous ministrations of rubbing circles into her skin. despite enjoying three years of sex, heists, and frequent companionship, those infamous three words have yet to be uttered. they've made it evident that they're exclusive, but that's about it. neither of them have delved into the nitty and gritty of whatever their relationship truly means.

momentarily, he forgets how to weave elaborate webs that ensnare his victims right where he wants them. all eloquence and posturing melts away. what little of him that leaves remaining utters his next two words, not the persona whose charisma could rival a manipulator's hatsu.

"with who?"

the raw, guttural urgency he speaks this inquiry with is foreign to his ears. he wonders what he'd do should she profess devotion for another. would he have what it takes to respect her choice? it's a silly question; of course he wouldn't, not past a chilling smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

alas, this hypothetical is put to rest. its his name that she speaks. the accent she tries suppressing sneaks out, curling around each slowly enunciated syllable. after what feels like an eternity, he relaxes, sinking back into the plush couch.

"don't tell him," there's a threatening edge to her voice.

chuckling softly, he hugs her tighter.

"i won't."

#chrollo x reader #not sfw #hell within reach #this ended up getting longer than i expected GJSKDFL #answered #Anonymous

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beautiful-basque-country · 4 months

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ON BASQUE AND ITS TIES WITH GEORGIAN, ARMENIAN, AND TAMAZIGHT.

American linguist Morris Swadesh (1909-1967) created a world map of current languages according to comparative linguistics, taking into account their common origin. The lexico-statistical or glottochronological Swadesh method is based on taking 215 words in two groups of 100; key words such as personal pronouns, low numerals, parts of the body, kinship names, some action verbs, some adverbs of time and place, objects of nature, very common actions, bodily actions and questions.

Swadesh claimed that in the basic vocabulary the rate of change is so regular in languages, that he had been able to create a system of measuring the elapsed time in which two languages were related in the past and that today are separated geographically.

According to Swadesh, that basic vocabulary of 100 or 215 words changes less than 20% per millennium in each language. These variations in vocabulary leave a common ground between two or more languages related to each other, which is measured chronologically, thus establishing the time distance between a language and its more modern relatives. If the number of words with the same root between two languages in these two groups of 100 is less than or equal to 5%, it is considered a similarity by chance (the figure does not respond to anything specific, the method has many random parts), and if it is greater it would be the result of some common past.

There is a formula to know the time elapsed between the period in which the contact occurred and the current moment, and the result with Basque was the following (with the rest of the languages with which Basque has been compared by this method the result is inferior and not significant):

list 215 list 100

Northwest Circassian Caucasian:

6.62% 7.52%

Northwest Avar Caucasian:

3.80% 5.37%

Georgian, South Caucasian:

4.73% 7.52%

Rift Tamazight (northern Morocco):

6% 9.67%

Southern Tamazight (southern Morocco)

7.38% 10.86%

Many of the similarities considered good are more than questionable, since the evolution of words and languages is not taken into account, some borrowings from other languages are considered good, etc.

Nor can we forget American linguist R.L. Trask, that compared Hungarian and Basque and found in 2 hours of searching 65 similar words that could only be the result of chance, but that lead to question many investigations: this exercise tested by other researchers with other unrelated languages has given the same surprising result. R.L. Trask said “I can't understand why some linguists get so excited when they find two dozen Basque words that look like two dozen other Berber or Sumerian words.”

Basque and the languages of the Caucasus

The Caucasus is located 4,000 kilometers from Garonne-Pyrénées-Ebro where the Basques live. In the Caucasus, about 50 different peoples coexist with almost 22 languages. The main difficulty in establishing the Basque-Caucasian relationship consists of this lack of unity.

Swadesh's lexico-statistical ratio of Circassian and Georgian to Basque is 7.52%, higher than any other language in the world. The supposed contact would have occurred in the Magdalenian, about 10,000 years ago. With the rest of the languages of the Caucasus, current Basque is similar in typology (verbs, the ergative, etc.) and in the etymology of some words, but its lexical-statistical relationship with all of them is less than 5%.

There are also parallels between Basque and Georgian in syntactic aspects, such as the use of the ergative (transitive-intransitive verbs, “Nor-Nork” forms) that do not occur in any other European language, the reflexive way of making sentences such as: “I have seen my head in the mirror” (nire burua ispiluan ikusi dut), and not: “I have seen myself in the mirror”, the use of base twenty to count, etc.

But many current or recent renowned linguists are skeptical about the relationship with the Caucasian languages. Basque linguist Koldo Mitxelena (1915-1987) said that: “In summary, there are some Basque-Caucasian lexical similarities that cannot be demonstrated to be possible, but on the other hand there are a large number whose extraordinary implausibility can be demonstrated (…). Even if Basque and the Caucasian languages go back to a common origin, the number of missing intermediate links must be so high that it is to be feared that, due to not knowing them, the ancient ties of kinship will not be established."

If there is a relationship, for both Koldo Mitxelena and Xabier Kintana, it has to go back to the fifth and sixth millennia or earlier.

Basque and Armenian

Armenian linguist and Basque philologist Vahan Sarkisian, creator of the Basque-Armenian Dictionary and a Grammar of the Basque Language in his language, is the main promoter of the "Basque-Armenian theory" and the one who has done the most work in recent years on ethnolinguistic kinship between both peoples.

This prestigious Armenian linguist affirms that "the best promoters of this theory were neither Basques nor Armenians and, therefore, they had no direct interests in the issue. I am referring to the Englishman Edward Spencer Dodgson and the German Joseph Karst. The former knew well Basque. In Paris he began to study Armenian and quickly detected the similarities, which he initially summarized in a list of 50 words. Karst was an Armenianologist and, when he came into contact with Basque, he compared issues related to anthropology, the phonetic system, the grammar and the lexicon and extracted more than 400 similarities. (...) We understand without problems, for example, what Zabaltegi, or Ormazabal means, because it means exactly the same in Armenian. We feel at home, and that already means something. Armenian is considered an Indo-European language (Basque is the only pre-Indo-European language in all of Europe, prior to the invasions of these peoples), but if we bring to light the twenty most important regularities of the language we will see that they coincide more with Basque than with any other neighboring languages such as Georgian or Persian. And not only referring to the lexicon. In Armenian, for example, words are not formed with an initial -r, our throat has a hard time pronouncing it. The same thing happens to the Basque language, to the Basque throat.

Neither Armenian nor Basque recognize the accumulation of consonants, they are unpronounceable to us, while in other languages neighboring ours, such as Georgian, groups of up to five or six consonants are common. We could mention many other characteristics that separate us from our neighbors and bring us closer to Basque, such as the postponed article, the way of forming the plural, not to mention toponymy, which provides an enormous amount of similarities. (…) I believe that this type of coincidences - which even affect the articulation apparatus, which has a physiological nature - cannot arise from mere contact, they cannot be imported or exported. Karst said that Armenian and Basque are two varieties of the same linguistic stem (…) The only thing I would dare to say with any certainty is that perhaps in ancient times the entire area was occupied by the same ethnic-cultural element, which gave way terrain to other elements, leaving vestiges in Euskadi and Armenia, as survivors of a great and ancient civilization.”

It is curious that Armenian – which does not give any relationship with Basque through the Swadesh method – and Georgian are, apparently, more similar to Basque than to each other when they are neighboring peoples. To conclude this short summary, let's share a toponymic curiosity: in Georgia there is Mount Gorbeya (like the highest mountain in Bizkaia and Alaba), in Armenia is the sacred Mount Ararat (like the Aralar mountain range between Alaba, Gipuzkoa and Alta Navarra), and also a mountain named Gora (mountain in the language of the area and "up" in Basque). The curiosity is even greater because the Araxes River bathes Mount Aralar, and in the Armenian Mount Ararat there is a river called... Araxes.

Basque and Tamazight

Tamazight, by the Swadesh method, is not related to Arabic or Egyptian; nor with Georgian, but with Basque, as well as the Cadmitosemitic languages from which it comes. Therefore, Basque is a language that may have common elements with Georgian and Berber, but they do not have any with each other.

The percentage of lexical-statistical relationship of Swadesh of Basque with Southern Tamazight is 7.38% and with Rift Tamazight is 6% (taking the 215 words because with 100 the percentage increases). Therefore, by this method there would be a relationship or common substrate between both languages. Based on the percentage relationship, contact would have taken place about 8,000-9,000 years ago.

In Berber the names given to animals are very similar to those given in Basque. «Aker» & «iker» (billygoat), «asto» & «ezet» (donkey); They also coincide in the way of saying horse, crow, river, brother, lie, name ("Izen" and "isem"), "I" and others.

Within this analysis we must mention the Guanches, native inhabitants of the Canary Islands before the arrival of the Spaniards. From the writings found (archaeology confirms this) it is believed that the Guanches would speak a Tamazight language that, due to the isolation of the islands, would maintain a greater degree of relationship with Basque. There are those who even see Basque place names in the Canary Islands such as: Los Llanos de Aridane (Harrigane: stone peak), Argindei, Tinizara (Tinitzaha), Tajuia, Tenegia, Jedei (Iedegi) in La Palma and in Lanzarote: Masdeche (Mahats- etxe: grape-house), Haria, Orzola, Guinate (Gainate: high step), Yaiza (haitza: rock), Ajache, Tesegite, Mozaza etc.

An anecdote that is often told is that the first conquerors of the Canary Islands believed that the natives spoke Basque.

Between Basque and Tamazight the similarities are reduced to the lexical or lexicographic level, since syntactically and grammatically there does not seem to be any relationship, both in current speech and in the past; there are just similarities in verbal articulation or in the use of some particles.

Julio Caro Baroja said in this regard: “I must warn in any case that the relationship between Basque and the African languages called Hamitic is not as founded as claimed. On the contrary, the hypothesis of a relationship between Basque and the Caucasian languages, which is perhaps the one that has produced the least interest in the Peninsula, seems to be the most prudent, because it is based on linguistic, morphological and strict observations.

Koldo Mitxelena had the same opinion, and believed it was necessary to study more the relationship between Basque and the Caucasian languages which, unlike the supposed kinship with Tamazight, did cause serious doubts.

[x]

@knario47

#euskal herria #basque country #pays basque #pais vasco #euskadi #linguistics #euskera #euskara #basque #language #armenian #georgian #tamazight

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max1461 · 9 months

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I have a lot of thoughts about epistemology and the nature of procedural knowledge. Studying linguistics really impresses upon you just the sheer amount of human knowledge that is procedural and implicit. Languages are these huge, ridiculously complex systems, and even when it comes to the most thoroughly documented language in human history (English), you can still make an entire career documenting as-yet-unknown minutiae of some corner of a corner of the system. It's very difficult to impress upon non-linguists just how big and ill-understood languages are.

There is no book which explains the whole of English grammar. No one on earth knows the complete rule-set of English grammar. Not even for one dialect, not even for one single speaker. No one on earth could write a comprehensive treatise on English pronunciation. We do not know how English works. We do not know how any language works.

And yet, these systems are, in their entirety, already stored in the mind of every native speaker.

When it comes to synchronic information, I literally already know everything there is to know about my dialect of English. I know the timing of every articulation, the exact rules for verb and auxiliary and quantifier placement, the phonology, semantics, syntax, the lexical variation, the registers, all of it. I can deploy it effortlessly while I am thinking about something else. I can form reams of perfectly grammatical English sentences without a second thought. I can deploy the most arcane rules of wh-movement and quantifier raising and whatever else. With no effort at all.

Tens of thousands of people having been making careers trying to document these things, not for my exact dialect but for varieties essentially the same as mine, for 60 years in earnest. And they aren't close to done. And I already know it all. And so do they! They already know it too! The hard part is accessing it, putting it down on paper. That requires experimentation, systematic empirical investigation—science.

So what this has really impressed on me is how much of human knowledge is procedural. How much of it is known only in the doing. I'd wager that's the significant majority of what we know.

This is related to two thoughts that I have.

The first is about the value of unbroken lines of cultural inheritance. With language, the difference between native speakers and second language learners is stark. I think it's safe to say, per current research, that someone who learns a language in adulthood will simply never have the same command of it as someone who learned it in childhood. There are a variety of tests which consistently distinguish native from non-native speakers. You can get very good at a language as an adult learner, good enough for basically all practical needs (except being a spy), but there's a bar your brain just cannot meet.

The unfortunate fact about language is this: if the line of native-speaker-to-child transmission is ever broken, that language is lost. You can try to revive... something, if you want. Like was done with Hebrew in Israel. But it will not be the same language. And not just in the sense that, by the passing of time, all languages inherently change. In a much stronger sense than that. No matter how big a text corpus you have, no matter how well documented the language is, there is an immense body of implicit, undocumented, procedural knowledge that dies when the last native speaker does. And you cannot ever get it back.

I think, often, about the fact that so much human knowledge is procedural, is used and understood and passed on in illegible, difficult to codify ways. I think about the effect that a rapidly changing world has on this body of knowledge. Is it going to be essential for human prosperity? Probably not. But that doesn't mean that losing it will harmless. Certainly I expect much of it to be missed.

The second thought is about an epistemic distinction that I've had in my head for a long time, a distinction I'd like to refer to as that between a science and an art.

An art is any endeavor for which there is an established methodology, an established set of procedures and rules. These rules can be explicit and codified, like the rules of a game, or implicit, like the grammar of a language. They can be absolute or they can be mere guidelines. But in essence, an art is anything you can get good at. Math is quintessentially an art. Football is an art. Ballet is an art. Painting is an art. An art is any endeavor in which procedural knowledge is acquired and channeled and refined and passed on.

Art contrasts with science. A science is any endeavor in which one is shooting blind. Science is the domain of guesswork and trial-and-error. Sciences are those domains that do not lend themself to practice, because... what would you practice at? You cannot get better at science, because science is not about skill. Science is about exploration. It necessarily involves forging your own path, working with odd and faulty tools and odd and faulty ideas, trying to get them to work. Science only exists at the frontiers; when a path is well-tread enough that a body of procedure becomes known and practiced, that path is now art and no longer science.

This distinction is not a taxonomy. Everything we do involves a little bit of art and a little bit of science. Everything involves both a refinement of known skills and an exploration of new avenues. Of course there's a little bit of science in painting, there's quite a lot of science in painting. Every modern and contemporary art museum is full of it! And there's science in math, every once in a while. And there's art in biology and chemistry. Art and science are two modes of engagement, and different endeavors demand them of you in different ways.

Perhaps science is like a glider (you know, from Conway's game of life?), traveling ever outward, and with enough passes over the same area leaving art in its wake. And I think in some sense that all real human knowledge exists as art, that all endeavors capable of producing true insight are either arts or sciences buttressed by a great many supporting arts. Although maybe I'm wrong about this.

I think history is mostly science, and in large part history as a field seems to be on quite solid epistemic footing. So I don't want to convey the idea that science is inherently dubious; clearly from the above description that can't be my position. Nor is art inherently trustworthy—for instance I think jurisprudence is primarily an art, including religious jurisprudence, which of course I don't place any stock in. But I do think I'm getting at something with the idea that there are a range of epistemic benefits to working within an art that one lacks access to in a totally unconstrained science. This is also closely related to my ideas about abstraction and concretization schemes.

Language is an art, one of the oldest arts, but modern linguistics is more or less a science. Like any good science, linguistics has certain arts unique to itself—fieldwork and the comparative method come to mind—but the most vibrant parts of the field at present are science through-and-through. It's a science whose objects of study are arts, and I think maybe that's part of why I've become so aware of this distinction. Or, language is the ur-example of an art, the art from which (if I were to conjecture wildly) I think the cognitive machinery for very many other arts has been borrowed. But I don't really know.

Anyway, those are my thoughts.

#navel gazing #linguistics #math

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hanafubukki · 1 year

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Malleus Draconia’s Flower Bouquet Meaning

Twst Bdays Flower Language Masterlist

I have been waiting and waiting for the release of Malleus’ 3rd Bday card with such anticipation. I literally waited every day until the time Twst JP usually updates with news for some semblance of Malleus Bday card news.

AND NOW MY BOY IS HERE AND HE LOOKS SO FINE PLEASE. His smirk with the fangs sends me. His wink is so cute! Lilia is raising these boys right! Look at HIM.

January is the moth of Diasomnia and I love it, we have Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek card releases. (Diasomnia Stans I hope your gems survive).

As I did with Lilia’s Bouquet Post , I will be writing more than I usually do. Malleus Draconia is one of my favorite twst characters and he deserves it and all the effort (in this love essay, I will). In addition, I will be adding possible theories along the way and will be mentioning book 7 too and other cards that have been released, so heed spoilers for book 7 and cards that might have not released yet.

At first glance, Malleus’ Bouquet reminded me of Trey’s Bouquet . In the sense that it reminded me of a salad, and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because of it. When you think about some of the meanings previously discussed in Trey’s Bouquet, it applies to Malleus as well when you think about it: past, present, and future. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we will discuss that later.

It’s really nice seeing Malleus so happy especially without any worries right now (basically flirting with us lolol). After book 7 chapter 1, I am happy he is full of energy and amusement.

I do wish that his bouquet had more colors to make it pop more, but like Lilia’s, Malleus’ bouquet does fit him rather well. It can give you a glimpse of his past and current mindset, and also a hint to the future of what may come. (please, my heart.)

Some observations from just from a glance, Malleus’ bouquet may not pop as much color wise, but you know what it does really well? It blends into the environment rather seamlessly. Unlike Trey, who doesn't like to stand out and would rather blend in, which shows in his flowers. For malleus, it is not by choice. He blends in seamlessly because he is forgotten by those around him. When he is not forgotten, people are scared of him and tend to run away. The only ones to truly notice him missing are Lilia, Sebek, Silver, and MC.

We know that Malleus hates being forgotten and left out and this bouquet shows that while he blends in to the environment, it is not by choice and some of the flower meanings show his feelings towards being forgotten and ostracized. (I’ll never forget you Malleus 💕💕).

Greem flowers tend to be rare and on further research, they also tend to be mutations in some variations of flowers. This fits Malleus because we can all say that he is a highly respected figure, not only is he a future king in the Valley of Thorns, but he is one of the top ten strongest mages in the world. If we went further, Malleus is a type of dragon fae, and royalty, maybe he might or might not be the last of his kind? Only time will tell, as we know the only relative he has right now is his grandmother. I

In terms of magic power, malleus is extremely strong and we can see how the story swings and the narrative changes when he deigns to step in and help. Book 5, Malleus fixed the stage hence allowing for VDC to continue, and in book 6, he helped Vil by making him young again. We have seen in masquerade the magic potential he has and how that affects the environment as well, and in book 7 a well. Malleus is unique and rare, and that could also show why he is so revered heavily by everyone else when all he wants is to be invited and share experiences with others.

I love how Malleus is also winking in this card, as he is in other cards. You certainly get the Diasomnia closeness as because sebek was also winking in his cards. We also have the smile that Lilia and Silver all share too, which I think is cute! I might be wrong but I think all the third years so far have been winking?

Now, let’s talk about some rather interesting...moves that twst played with the release of this Malleus card. First of all, with the release of the Malleus Bday card, We also received the Silver Dorm SSR card. This is interesting because this is the first time they released a Dorm SSR card without a story update. What’s more, its rather interesting they chose to release it with the Malleus card which makes me wonder how purposely did they do this? Was this as a way to show the connection Silver and Malleus has?

As in a sense, Malleus can be paralleled to Maleficent and Silver could be Aurora (and the Sword, Shield, and Prince Philip technically) from what we see on the surface level. It's as if they are telling us these two are more connected than we realize and maybe they are a mirror too (or like that one promo where you see Maleficent on one side and the princess on another as two opposite spectrums).

Considering the opposite styles that Malleus and Silver were raise (by Lilia no less), it hurts to see how much this is stressed. You can tell familial love will play a big role in book7 from this alone. It also makes it seem like they are pushing Malleus to play this evil role that he clearly doesn't want to be in when all he wants is to belong and be invited.

Another interesting point I want to bring up is that, Silver is the only one without the title that basically says “___ Protector of the Valley of Thorns” Instead, He is the sleeping guardian. So, we have this disconnect between the four and shows how much of the role Silver might play when it comes to the other three diasomnia residents. This Post shows the English titles and this post is a jp comment about it as well I believe .

It alludes more and more to the fact that Silver has a connection to ‘dreams’ and that could also be a hint on how Malleus and everyone could be saved given that Malleus is the King of the Abyss as well. Maybe, Silver’s UM is connected to dreams as everyone speculate, but I digress. We know at the end of the day, these two have a connection and only time will tell what kind of connection and what it will put everyone through (and how it will eventually wreck us too, get your tissue boxes ready everyone. Book 7 chapter 1 already came for us without reprieve.)

Another fact that I find funny is that Malleus’ Duo is Ace. So, I can’t wait to see how Ace and Malleus interact given that Ace....doesn’t care for manners when it comes to people in power and will basically say what's on his mind. Which, we can see from Endless Halloween. I also personally find it funny because many people tend to ship MC with Ace and Malleus and these two always end up in a triangle and I can’t wait to see what happens after the interview lol Ace also doesn’t have his UM so maybe its a hint of Ace’s role in Book 7 (he could be hiding it as well, since we know how much of a trickster he is).

Malleus’ card spells are similar to those of Idia’s Bday ones apparently. Which is funny and interesting given that Idia will play a big role in book 7, especially in terms of grief and moving on and recovering from the loss of a loved one.

I can’t wait to see Malleus’ groovy. I hope its either in dawn or dusk because that would not only be beautiful but give a wonderful symbolism as well.

Malleus holding the bouquet so effortlessly also shows his strength, I mean look at him, no struggle at all.

You know what makes me so soft about Malleus’ bouquet? It’s that he has signs of those he loves in his bouquet. He has flowers that symbolizes Lilia, Sebek, Silver, and even MC/Yuu.

Now, lets talk about Flowers 🌺💚🌺💚

[As usual, my disclaimer from before stands, flowers have many different meanings depending on region and color, so the meanings I have might differ from the meanings you know.]

In addition, I know there were some feelings of sadness going around with Malleus’ bouquet because most of the associated flower language were negative, but remember every flower has more than one meaning and together, the flower language can change as a whole depending on the bouquet. It also depends on the meaning we choose to empathize over the others.

His flowers are kind of hard to tell, so I put whichever ones I thought they might be. Get your hearts ready and anything you have that has Malleus’ face because you are going to want to hug him. (total opposite from how I wanted to yeet Lilia during his post lol)

Flower Colors (general meaning):

Green Flowers: Health, resilience, good fortune, and youth. We know Malleus is young in terms of Fae age and we know he also has to learn and mature more when in comes to certain instances over the others. Some examples we have seen was when things didn’t go his way and you can see the weather being affected, but also we have to consider that he never really got to act his age has he? Health and good fortune for his future.

White Flowers: True love, purity, innocence, sympathy. We know True Love Kiss plays a role in Sleeping Beauty and I can’t wait to see how it plays a role for book 7. In a way, Malleus is innocent in his experience with anything related to modern times, and his situation does make you feel for him. (Malleus, we love you 💕).

Red Flowers: Love, passion, pride, vigor, and strength. (rather fitting, wouldn’t you say?)

Bouquet:

Green Roses: Renewal, rejuvenation of spirit and energy, growth, abundance, balance, stability, peace, good news and new beginnings. Possibly the future healing that Malleus will go through? (you know, after his mental breakdown...I know know, I’ll be quiet now) [To my knowledge, green roses do not mean jealously. It’s the yellow roses.] I was hoping they would give him red roses to symbolize his rose garden back home too.

Carnation: Fascination, distinction, and love. In Greek, it is known as God’s Flower. As some tend to worship Malleus like a God, it's rather fitting for him to have this flower. (Sebek and some diasomnia students come to mind).

Curcuma/Hidden Lilies: Love, Rebirth, Devotion, Purity, Fertility, clear and sincere intentions. When I first saw these, my mind literally went Lilies = Lilia and with several of the meanings it makes you wonder doesn’t it? Especially as Rebirth seems to be a themes in Malleus and Lilia’s bouquet. (Sleeping curse maybe?) These also look like the flowers you see in the Live Action Sleeping Beauty 2 Movie, during the wedding. You know when Maleficent walks Aurora down the Aisle. So it could also be stressing the relationship Malleus has with Silver. Technically, all three of them. Can be used to treated stomach problems and this makes me laugh because Lilia had stomach problems in that one Firelit Sky event, hence another factor in representing Lilia.

Green Lisanthus: Appreciation, charm, charisma, and confidence. (Malleus in a flower basically 💕)

Cala Lily (Burgundy): Life’s right of passage, purity, holiness, faithfulness, courage and determination. (Silver and Sebek determination to protecting their Lord.)

Dracaena Fragans: meaning Dragon, financial and career success (he will make wonderful king), peace and good fortune.

Amaryllis: to sparkle, pride, strength, determination. These flowers blooms every year despite looking frail and it doesn’t take much to have them grow year after year. An interesting story is about a maiden who fell in love with a cold hearted man. She pierced her heart with a gold arrow and visited his cottage. After 30 days, her droplets of blood became beautiful flowers and the man fell in love with her and she was healed. Another type of Amaryllis is the cluster ones, we know it as the spider lilies. Common ones are the red spider lilies which is basically a red flag because it usually means death and last goodbye. This could symbolize the long life Malleus has ahead of him as well. White Amaryllis means beauty, devotion, and love. In addition, White Amaryllis symbolizes children and the innocence that comes from them. It reminds me of the story that Malleus told MC about how he just wanted to belong and had a tantrum that led to the castle becoming frozen in ice. Lilia was the only one who stepped forward and helped him and it implies that's how Malleus ended up loving ice cream. (My heeearrrttt) Also, the other story of how Lilia had his hair burned because baby malleus blew fire too lolol.

Houseleeks/Succulent: Always Living, enduring and timeless love, forever, does not change, Will live in harsh environments (My heart damnit, my heart).

Elderberry/Elder: inner strength, courage, calm fears, resilience, joy, protection from evil, prolong life, and peaceful sleep. “Eld” can also mean fire.

Olives: friendship and reconciliation, cleansing and healing, light, victory and richness, and above all, a sign of peace. (I’m not crying, you are!).

Hypericum Berries: symbol of peace, protection, rebirth

Acai Palm: Nutritious, growth in wilderness.

Thistle: Pain, aggressiveness, pride, and Protection.

Cordylines: Added to flowers to add emphasize to other flowers meanings, good luck, and fortune. Often it is confused with Dracaena.

Random Fact: Anniversaries could also be considered, since its the 3rd bdays for all the boys, their flower will be Sunflower: strength be well, happiness, male healing, confidence, self-esteem, assertiveness. Sounds just like them, doesn’t it?

Credit: Thank you to Lala (@/mobagehellocal) for her help as always. Please go talk flowers with her too. We love talking about them. 🌺🌻

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

Text

MAD (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Chapter summary: Temptation is everywhere in the Red Keep

Warnings: Mature language. Westerosi sexism.

A/N: I was going to write the letters, but I promised myself I wasn’t going to go over 5k

Part 1

Aemond watches in amusement as you crawl around the gardens in the Red Keep. You are wearing a pale yellow sundress, covered by a pretty apron. It resembles a servant’s outfit, instead of a proper gown for a lady of your station. Despite it, you look well. The apron has lace much too delicate for a servant girl, and he guesses you must have sewn it yourself. Helaena sports a soft cotton variation, clearly stemming from her issue with lace.

Both of you are covered in grass stains. The pretty aprons serve their function well, preventing the ruin of your dresses. There is a certain attractiveness in the joy of your expression, he muses, in a detached fashion. Never had he seen a lady so happy about getting her hands dirty.

His careful plan to court you indicates Aemond has to come out and offer both of you refreshments. Yet, he finds himself hesitant about breaking the moment. No matter how unladylike your behavior is, he has never seen you more carefree.

So far, he is finding you much of a tough crowd for a farm girl. It was meant to be easy, but you are so guarded all the time, it takes more effort than Aemond thought would be needed. It’s not like he was expecting you to fall at his feet the first week in, but he had hoped to be able to talk to you alone at least once. Instead, you are either plastered at Helaena’s side or slipping away before he can get more than a word in. And tense. So damn tense, one would think Aemond bites.

It’s getting a bit ridiculous. You are infuriating, for a young maiden. Your only redeeming quality is your treatment of Helaena. You seem to have hit it off with her, and remain loyal and steadfast. Listening to her rambles with infinite patience, accommodating her needs and enabling her bug hunts.

Any other noble lady would have run for the hills already. But you seem to take your made-up position as companion seriously, doing research on his sister’s interests and allowing her to place all sorts of bugs on your hands. If any, Aemond supposes that is a good quality in a wife. It shows you have a strong stomach and a certain amount of bravery.

The Seven knew if he was the one getting crawled all over by Helaena’s pests, he would need to soak in a bath for a week. Just on cue, she gives a small yelp of surprise before grinning madly. Helaena is holding something in her hand, probably a caterpillar or something that has equally disgusting crawling habits. She looks deliriously happy.

Deciding to grant you the kindness of not having to touch it, Aemond comes out of the corner he is hiding in, carrying a small tray.

“Ladies.” Aemond tries to sound cheerful. By the tension in your shoulders, he doesn’t quite reach the mark. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too hot for all this?”

Helaena stops, giving him a wide smile. It has been far too long since Aemond has seen her this happy. Probably before the birth of the twins. One good thing you have achieved. His chest aches. Must be the heat.

“Brother!”

“My Prince.” You sound much less excited about it, going from your hands and knees to a respectable sitting position. Which, a shame. The more Aemond looked at you in that position, the more… agreeable he found himself to the prospect of bedding you.

“I brought you some juice.” Aemond says, awkwardly. In truth, no matter how hard he tries, this is not as easy as he had expected. He is not used to the flowery language of courtiers, never been one for it himself. The only time he has entertained preparing delicate compliments has been for disguising clever barbs at his nephews.

“Thank you.” Helaena puts down whatever bug she is holding, and daintily wipes her hands on her apron, before grabbing a cup. “Do you want to see what we found today? We have a caterpillar from a…”

Aemond tunes Helaena out. While he likes his sister more than he likes most people, everyone in the Red Keep must be going mad with all the talk about insects. It’s unavoidable. Even he has picked up a few facts on the things. Aemond is pretty sure you have driven his mother to insanity already, having to deal not with one, but two girls obsessed with crawling things.

And by the Seven, you are dedicated to your obsession. Somehow, you have procured a small shed outside for Helaena and her bugs. Aemond wonders idly if you asked for it, or just took it. Both are great feats, considering you are either very bold, or you managed to hold Viserys’s attention for more than five minutes.

You get up from the grass, eyeing him in distrust. Measuring, calculating. It’s a look that reminds him far too much of the older Beesbury. The man was bold, a trait that you seemed to share, but he trusted no one.

Aemond stares back at you. Your eyes are the one feature that he doesn’t really like. They are disquieting. Uncomfortable to look at for too long. They seem to know too much for such a young woman.

Other than that, you are rather pretty. The sort of beauty that seems to be heightened by the time spent outdoors. Much to his surprise, really. Your features glow from exertion, pieces of hair slipping out of the elegant updo you have it in. There is a softness in the curve of your neck, and a grace in the way you carry yourself. Unlike Helaena’s, your hands are stronger. A farm girl’s hands. The sun has you slightly tanned, yet, despite it, you manage to look healthy and not common.

You will make a fine wife, Aemond decides. Once he trains you out of the habit of crawling around in gardens on all fours. Best leave that for the bedroom.

“…. Brother! Brother!”

He is shaken out of his contemplation by Helaena’s nagging voice. Siblings. So annoying.

“What?” And she should be thankful, really. If it were Aegon, he would have smacked him with the tray.

“Lady Beesbury has been trying to fight you for her cup for the past couple of minutes.” She states, simply, and Aemond looks away from your delightful face, now marred with a frown, towards your hands. One of them is trying to reach the cup that’s just out of your reach.

“Oh. My apologies.”

As he hands you the cup, and you raise it to your lips, still frowning, he wonders if you are opposed to his advances or just too blind to notice them. Or perhaps, he is not so good at this courting business as he thought he would be.

Your tongue licks a stray droplet of the drink, almost absentmindedly. Lust is not a feeling he is unfamiliar with, but unlike other men, Aemond has always thought himself disconnected from it. Detached, as if he was more mind than body and heart. Yet, the sight of your small, pink tongue, makes his breeches feel uncomfortable.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling. Unlike some other members of his house, never has he considered himself to be particularly hot-blooded, nor has he behaved in such a manner. On that, he had taken pride. He was good. Better. Pious.

Aemond used to feel a sense of superiority about it. Look at Rhaenyra, he thought, and her inability to be faithful to one man. Look at Daemon, lusting over women half his age. Look at Aegon, chasing skirts everywhere. They were unable to control themselves and often made terrible mistakes. But not Aemond, no.

Until you came along. And now he is panicking and floundering around because you are smiling. Why are you smiling? Have you noticed a hint of lust under his impeccable mask and find it amusing?

His heart beats so fast, it feels as if it actually might come out of his chest and take flight. He doesn’t want you to think he is no more than a lustful dog, trying to hump your leg. He wants you to respect him, admire him.

“It has honey on it.” You finally put an end to his plight, your sweet voice sounding pleased. Your tone is a siren’s song, calling to him. It’s lure so great, Aemond thinks he might have been rendered unable of rational thought.

“It does.” Aemond answers, dumbly. He is more pleased than he should be, over you noticing that detail.

By the Seven, what is wrong with him? He is not Aegon, losing his head over a pretty maid. He is meant to be smarter, stronger than that. His grandsire would be disappointed in him.

“My favorite.” You say to him. As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t made it his task to know everything there is to know about you. “Tastes just like the one at home.”

Aemond, all tongue-tied from the way your face looks like when delighted, just nods.

Fuck. He should ask Cole for advice. He had heard he was quite the ladies' man back in the day. Even his mother had had a crush on him, or so the rumors said.

It has been a few weeks. You have settled into a comfortable routine by now. Avoiding the Princes, sticking by Helaena’s side. Garden time in the mornings, afternoons with the twins, supper with the family. Rinse and repeat.

With how careful you usually are, it’s hard for you to be ambushed. Yet, you are. As you turn down a corner, a book on apiculture you intend to show Helaena in your hands, you come face to face with Prince Aemond.

You are not dumb. You know what he is trying to do, but you never thought him to be so bold as to ambush you in a corridor. Everyone knew he had no interest in women, nor in tourneys or socializing. So his sudden shift towards chivalry and courtly love had made quite a few heads turn.

Your grandfather had warned you about him as soon as he started approaching you. Prince Aemond was, for some reason, trying to initiate a courtship with you. Usually so cold and dutiful, you couldn’t think of a reason for him to be pursuing you. Much less, why Otto Hightower himself would encourage his attentions. Too often you were made to sit next to him at dinner, or found yourself alone in a room with him. There was no reason for it. Except, of course, revenge.

“You can’t underestimate him, little bee.” Your grandfather had said. “If there is one of those children that’s ruthless enough to execute Otto Hightower’s plots, it’s that one.”

At first, you didn’t heed his advice. You had slowly started to be lulled into a false sense of safety, after days of nothing happening. Prince Aemond was not good at flirting, so you hadn’t noticed anything odd at first. Maybe, attempts at friendship.

Then, you felt slightly flattered. He was showering you with attention, which was something you didn’t frequently get, here. After all, you were a companion for Helaena. Your days revolved around making her happy, talking about what interested her, doing what she liked. While she was nice, she seemed to struggle with social interactions and so, she never asked about you.

But then, Aemond started to show his hand more and more. Your grandfather’s words had rung a bell then, and you started avoiding him. The better you got to know the layout of the Red Keep, the easier it was. Perhaps, for that, your guard lowered. Or perhaps, his clueless attempts at courting you had distracted you.

One thing to say about Prince Aemond? He had the same skill as a courtier as he did at embroidery, which is to say, none. Most of the time, it felt as if he was mocking you instead of courting you, although when he managed to get it right, it was quite sweet.

He is not as cold and calculating as you would have thought. A bit blunt, but otherwise pleasant to be around.

This time, though, his skill at planning is showing. Just as you left Helaena’s rooms, Prince Aegon appeared. In your haste to avoid him, you ducked into a side corridor, where Prince Aemond was conveniently waiting. There is literally nowhere for you to run to. This corridor leads to the Queen’s chambers, which you would not dare enter uninvited.

The Prince has you cornered. And you can tell, by the look in his eyes, that he is enjoying it.

“Are you alright, Lady Beesbury?” Aemond leans against the wall, sporting a smug smile. “You look quite agitated.”

“Oh, I am wonderful.” Your tone is so flat, you worry he will call you out on it. “Just wonderful.”

“Admiring the architecture?” Aemond asks, and you frown in confusion. The Prince then points to a new decoration in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star. “Mother put this here just last week. I can’t think of a reason for you to wander this corridor. Unless, you know… You were hiding.”

You snort a little, definitely unladylike, before schooling your face back into a polite mask. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing his antics amuse you, but he clearly notices. He gives you a tight-lipped smile, proud of himself.

“Perhaps I was.” It comes out slightly flirtier than you expected. More coy. Good Gods, what is going on with you? First you find him sweet, then you laugh at his humor, now you flirt? No. It can’t be. You clear your throat, but the damage is done. Aemond closes the distance between the two of you.

“Don’t try to run, little bee.” He warns, and you roll your eyes. If this is his attempt at seduction, he is even worse than you expected. It sounds as if you are about to get murdered instead of romanced. “Nor hide.”

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You complain because while you might tolerate it coming from your family, it doesn’t mean you like it. Aemond, as always, ignores you.

“I wanted to give you something.”

Suddenly, you do not feel as comfortable anymore. Dread makes your hands start to sweat, and you clench and unclench your fists. Is he about to try something to ruin your reputation? You are in great danger, you realize. You are an unwed woman, alone with a man who’s not part of her family nor her betrothed. This is bad. Really bad.

“Yes, my Prince?” You answer, very curtly, keeping your distance. Still, it’s a bit unnecessary. By the posture he is sporting, hands at his back, Aemond looks more likely to start marching than try and besmirch your honor.

But one never knows with Targaryesn, does one? It was just a thing of looking at the eldests. Like dogs in heat. Besides, you have been outmaneuvered. Again. The brilliance in this is, Aemond doesn’t need to do anything. Not even touch you. Just say he did. These are the facts. Prince Aegon saw you walk towards a secluded hallway. Aemond and you are alone. Everyone knows you have been flirting for a while now. Anyone can do the math.

Here comes the blackmailing attempt, you guess. You can already hear it, words ringing in your ears so clearly you swear he is the one saying them. You either convince your grandfather to vote this way, or act that way, or I say you bedded me.

Your instinct turns out to be wrong. Instead of starting an evil monologue and threats, Aemond presses a small lump in your hand. It’s something wrapped in silk cloth, and small. Despite it, you receive it as if it were a burning coal.

Unable not to, you peek at it. Inside the cloth rests a small hairpiece in the form of a bee. It’s set in silver and decorated with black and yellow stones. You are no expert in jewelry, but you can tell it’s expensive. There is no way your family could afford something like it.

Never before has someone gifted you anything as nice as this is. It’s not like you are destitute, but your grandfather is the Master of Coin because he is loyal and honest. Not because of his ability to amass wealth. He is smart, and knows how to make the most of little, but as far as accumulating wealth goes, you will be better off with a Lannister.

The temptation to keep it is strong. You love shiny things as much as any other girl, and this was clearly made for you. Besides, giving it back would be wasteful. With such an obvious allusion to your house, it’s not like it can be gifted to any other girl.

It would look pretty on your hair. And it would help you blend in. You knew you wore simpler styles than most of the ladies here. This would show that you were not only a farm girl, but as much of a Lady as any other woman.

It would also mean flaunting or even acknowledging Aemond has a claim on you. Despite the temptation, you can’t keep it. You are too level-headed for it. While it might be nice to show everyone you were as noble as any of them, you know it’s a bad idea. It’s nothing but your vanity speaking.

You ignore the little voice in your head that tells you that it’s charming that Aemond tries so much. Nothing but vanity.

Instead of doing anything, you do as always, playing clueless. Best that he thinks you are dumb instead of deliberately trying to offend him.

“You are one of the most thoughtful brothers I have met.”

“Hm?” Aemond blinks, as if he is unsure what you are talking about. You have to conceal your smile, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face from twitching.

“Your devotion to your sister is admirable. I will make sure to get it to her.” You smile, and turn back on your heel, pocketing the hairpiece.

The last thing you hear is Prince Aegon’s mocking voice, who apparently had eavesdropped the last of the conversation.

“Not very charming, are you?”

“Shut up.” Aemond sounds embarrassed. It makes you laugh a little, both in disbelief at having gotten away with it and delight at his plight. But as soon as you enter your chambers and the door is locked after you, the reality of the situation sinks in.

You were in real danger today. Prince Aemond could have hurt you. He could have damaged your reputation. And worse of all, you would have let him. You need to get away from this place. Fast.

“Her father is sick.” Aemond complains, as he sits in his grandsire’s chambers. “Oddly convenient timing.”

“Oh?” His grandsire barely lifts his eyes from the parchments he is looking at. He makes some notes with his quill. Despite the great catastrophe this is of their plans, Otto doesn't look too concerned.

“I was just starting to make some progress!” Aemond rubs his temples. “I don’t understand women. She looked like she was going to accept the hairpiece, I know it.”

In truth, he cannot understand you for the life of him. You had even been flirting back a little, for the Seven’s sake. You were clearly distrustful of him, yet as the weeks went on, you started to become much more playful. Perhaps, even more than just friendly.

You responded well to his advances. Guarded, at first, but the jewelry clearly had gotten to you. Aemond had wanted to press, then. Gift you another piece, something that made his intentions even more clear. He had abstained only because of your quick retreat.

This was a game of patience, Aemond tried to remind himself. Not strategy, but patience. Moving too soon might spook you.

“Perhaps it’s a good sign.” His grandsire sets down his quill, looking at him. Aemond scowls more.

“Is it? Now she is halfway across the country, being chatted up by farm boys and the Seven know what else.”

His grandfather rolled his eyes.

“Aemond. Please, I beg you. Do not subject me to even more idiocy than I already have to withstand. Think.”

“I am thinking.” Aemond complains, before risking a glance at his interlocutor. When Otto Hightower spoke, others listened. And by the look on his face, Aemond was doing a poor job of it.

“You are falling for the girl.” He doesn’t need to elaborate any further. The sentence is as damming as if he had spoken more than a thousand words.

Aemond wants to give an angry rebuttal, but forces himself to keep quiet. Out of everyone in the Red Keep, it’s Otto’s judgement whom he trusts the most. His grandsire has always had a good eye for reading people, and knows him since he was a child. If anyone would know, it would be him.

“You have to admit she has been an excellent companion for Helaena.” He says instead, keeping his tone neutral. Which, you are. You have fulfilled that part of their plan to near perfection. It’s not like he is saying anything but the truth, or even praising you. That’s enough to endear you to both Aemond and his grandsire.

“Very dutiful.” Otto agrees, looking thoughtful. “If a bit… Well. Farm girl like.”

“So?” Because if any, to Aemond that’s a plus, not a hindrance. Women at court weren’t exactly what he would choose for a wife. Too used to niceties and intrigues, your lack of refinement was refreshing. Not in your words because Aemond could tell you were holding back your real thoughts and opinions, but in your reactions. The face that you made when angered was very amusing.

“This is still the woman you are trying to manipulate to do our bidding.” His grandsire shifts towards the fire, casually. Like he would rather not see how his words are about to upset him. Aemond fights the urge to laugh because as if. He knew exactly what he was getting into. This was not the time for moral concerns.

“Is it so bad if I like her?” He truly doesn’t see the issue. Aemond will marry you, after all. Liking you is a good thing.

“As long as it doesn’t cloud your judgement.” Ah. Of course. Aemond walks around the desk, to be able to look at his grandsire in the eyes. Sometimes, it’s hard for him to do so. Having only one eye means having to compensate for the blind spots, and it ends up making things awkward. It’s not often Aemond puts himself through it.

“It would never cloud my judgement.” He tries to look as earnest and sincere as he can. Despite it, Aemond it’s not sure if he believes himself. Too frequently has he found himself distracted with thoughts of your eyes or your smile. Too frequently has he thought about what it would feel like to kiss you and hold you close.

“You are panicking. Over a woman.”

Aemond keeps quiet. There is not much else to say, after all. He can’t exactly claim objectivity, but at least liking you makes him more likely to succeed. Or that’s what he hopes for. Having the right motivation and all.

His grandsire sighs. He gets up, green cloak billowing. Just as Aemond and his mother, he is not very prone to affection. That’s why the hand on his shoulder comes out as a surprise.

“Back in my day…” Otto starts, and Aemond cannot help but roll his eyes. “We didn’t have the luxury of seeing our ladies every day.”

Despite the urge to tease him about sounding like such an old man, Aemond is not going to pass up his opportunity to get advice. He is desperate enough to leave his pride aside. All his plans counted on you being here, after all.

“What did you do, then?”

“I wrote her letters. And sonnets.” The idea of someone as serious as him writing sonnets, of all things, is a laughable one. But perhaps it holds some merit. Commonplaces were commonplaces for a reason, he had realized with the jewelry. If ladies liked letters, Aemond was not opposed to writing you a few.

A shame he was not going to get the chance to see your eyes gleaming with happiness. All the efforts in obtaining the damn bee that Helaena now wore had been worth it for the look on your face. You were rather cute when being greedy, after all.

“Sonnets? You?” Because his grandsire must be teasing. Surely. He can’t even picture him in love. Ew.

“The most artful.” Otto smiles slightly. Aemond cannot help but laugh, feeling a little better. “In your case, I would try letters. You would probably scar her for life with your attempts at poetry.”

So that night, Aemond sits down on his desk, scowling. His penmanship is not what it used to be, before the loss of his eye. Writing is a challenging endeavor, having to keep the letters in a straight horizontal line and legible enough for the person receiving the letter to understand its meaning.

“My dear Lady Beesbury.” Aemond shakes his head and scratches the greeting. “No, too presumptuous.”

“Lady Beesbury? No, too formal. But her first name is too familiar.” He scratches another greeting, quickly realizing he would have to rewrite the letter before sending it.

It takes about four separate rolls of parchment, and by the end of it, Aemond’s hands are stained with ink. He finally settles on a small note.

Dear Lady Beesbury,

I am writing to you to inquire about your father’s health. As you are a very appreciated family friend, I feel it is my duty to ask about your welfare and see if there is anything we can do for you. If you think it necessary, know every Maester at the Red Keep is available to depart to Honeyholt on your call.

Wishing you well,

Prince Aemond.

Perhaps, not his most graceful attempt, but he sends it by raven regardless. He spends the week oddly on edge, waiting for your reply. It’s a simple note, too, graced with your thanks, but that doesn’t really say anything.

He finds himself looking for excuses to keep talking to you. Asking your opinion on a name day present for Helaena. Your opinion on a book. Your thoughts on honey from the Vale as in opposed to Honeyholt.

Today, I read an old treaty about medicinal uses of plants. I remembered that the topic interests you, and so, have enclosed my notes, in the hope that you soon will be reunited with us and able to read it for yourself.

The fact that you answer at all surprises him. So guarded as you were in court, he would have never thought you capable of sharing snippets of your life with him. But perhaps boredom or loneliness is getting to you. It must be quite the change, going from running around the Red Keep with Helaena, the twins and him, to your lonely home and tending to a sick relative.

He likes you, Aemond realizes. You are quite witty, and the conversation flows easily now that he actually has time to think about his answers. No longer he finds himself paralyzed by his task. It’s much easier to talk to you, now that you aren’t in front of him.

It means he starts to get bolder, too. More open. Praising your beauty, your manners, your mind. Not only does your physique appeal to him, but now that he is actually getting to know you, Aemond is starting to enjoy your humor and conversation.

The days have been very sunny lately, yet it has only contributed to my loneliness. I fear you might have ruined me, for I cannot step out in the sun without searching for your beauty.

You get skillful at evading the topic. You do not respond to the compliments, rather evade them entirely. But slowly, hints of your real feelings start to peek through. The attention he bestows on you must be flattering because small words of fondness start to appear.

…. It’s not a lack of recognition on my part about the Maester’s arguments in favor of the historical ramifications of the fall of Valyria, but rather that I find myself inclined to agree with my Prince on the topic…

And there is, of course, the first time you admit your enjoyment of his company and attentions. A memorable occasion if there was one, both for making him feel like less of a suitor that couldn’t take a hint and wanted.

“Aemond, are you blushing?” Aegon teases as they wait for their meal. His mother has insisted that they should have at least one, as a family. It does not seem to be working. Most of the time, his grandsire is busy and Helaena, while physically present, has her head in the clouds. Yet, probably because Aemond was some sort of despicable vermin in a past life, everyone seems to be present today.

Aegon snatches the letter out of his hand before he can react.

“As the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I have never hoped to find myself in such a state of grief.” Aegon reads, in a mockingly high tone. He squints at the letter, either trying to decipher your terrible handwriting or to get the letter to stop swimming. He is past the amount of annoyance a sober Aegon causes, which means he is drunk. “I had not realized how much I had grown used to and liked your presence. Just as it happens to you, I find myself turning and searching for you among a sea of faces.”

“Give that back!” Aemond lunges for the letter. Aegon scrambles off the bench with surprisingly agility, crumpling the letter slightly. Aemond mourns the loss of its pristine state. He has been saving each one of your notes in perfect state.

“Poor girl. Clearly deprived, if she finds the way you feed Vhagar so fetching.” And it doesn’t even make sense, but it angers him anyway. Aemond lunges for Aegon, trying to snatch the letter out of his grasp.

“Why can’t we have a nice meal without you two arguing?” His mother asks, and takes the letter from Aegon, handing it back to him. “You shouldn’t be playing with her feelings. She sounds as if she cares about you.”

This time, Aemond’s blush is not from delight.

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