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slytherinslut0 · 1 day ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 23rd. tom riddle — wet dreams, house rivals.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom’s been infiltrating your dreams, and you decide it’s time to call him out on it.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNIIII, coercion!!!!, dark!tom, mind manipulation, religious undertones, gryffindor!reader, enemies if you squint, fingering, squirting, begging, dream sex, tom riddle is his own warning, so much praise, dirty talk, verbal sparring.

You've never been a heavy sleeper. Even as a child, the smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, a shift in the walls—would jolt you awake. For years, you chalked it up to some ingrained survival instinct, some form of trauma response to whatever part of your childhood still haunts you. You got used to it.

But lately, it isn't sound that been waking you. It isn't movement or foundation shifts, either. It's the dreams.

Dreams—strange, lucid, intense dreams of him. Always him. Dreams that make you feel like you're drowning, like you're flying, like you've found a new level of intoxication that you'd never imagined possible—and each time the dreams wake you up, the sheets (and whatever bottoms you may have been wearing) are always soaked, and your thighs are always shaking.

It's maddening.

They feel too real to be anything but a violation, his presence bleeding into your subconscious regardless of how much you try to fight it. You know it means something is wrong. You'd tried to rationalize yourself into going back to sleep, telling yourself it's just hormones or some form of stress, but you're too smart to believe your own excuses.

You know it's more than that.

He's haunting you in your sleep—in the most unexpected way. The dreams are always lucid enough that you can feel it—you can feel him—his mouth on yours, his hands on your hips, his dick bullying your fucking cervix and his magic on your clit—leaving behind nothing but hunger. Hunger that's so intense it makes you want him in a way it almost scares you.

You tell yourself you hate him, you've always hated him—but denial only lasts for so many days, as you realize you can't look at him or talk to him without the dreams forcing their way to the forefront of your mind, making you remember the feelings and the sensations and how much, despite hating him, you want them to be real.

You wanted to believe it would pass. That this was nothing but a phase, a trick of your overactive mind. But deep down, you knew the truth. Tom Riddle has wormed his way into your head, into your dreams—out of spite—and he's not letting go.

So after a hell of a week of this—with damn near zero hours of sleep—you decide to seek him out. To put an end to this madness. Once and for all.

It takes every ounce of courage and Gryffindor-like reckless bravery you can scrape together just to go through with it, but somehow you do. Somehow, you make it across the castle, make it to his door. You're in your pyjamas, for Merlin's sake. It's 1 a.m., and the slick still coating your thighs from what had to have been your tenth lucid orgasm in a matter of a week is a humiliating reminder of why you're even here at all.

And when the door opens, you have the strange feeling that he's been expecting you, even as he makes a great show of acting surprised to see you, looking you up and down with a lazy, smug glance that makes your pulse quicken so viscerally you lose the last shred of sanity you were pathetically clinging to—

"What the fuck—" you prowl forward without hesitation, forcing him a step back into the room. "—are you doing to me?"

Even if you're not imagining some form of surprise in that smug little smirk, he does his best not to let it show.

"Me?" He says, all pretend innocence, flicking his hand out to shut the door behind you with some spell you don't care to name. "You'll have to be more specific."

You glare at him, refusing to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks in just sweatpants and an oversized shirt—because of course, even casual looks like this are a weapon in his arsenal.

"Cut the bullshit, Riddle," you snap, and you're not sure if it's your lack of sleep or some form of desperation-fuelled bravery, but you're suddenly invading his personal space, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder. "You're fucking haunting me—"

He blinks. "I’m haunting you. And how am I doing that?”

There's a part of you that knows it's a trap—that this is probably exactly what the smug bastard in front of you has been wanting, but your brain is so deprived of sleep and your body is so starved of respite that you decide 'fuck it'—you want answers, and you're going to get them.

"You're in my dreams," you say, bluntly, forcing an exhale alongside it. "You've been in them every night for a week straight. I haven't slept a bloody minute."

That's when it happens—the tiniest flash of amusement in his eyes, so brief you might've missed it if you weren't ready to tear his fucking throat out.

"You're accusing me of giving you dreams?" He asks, in a tone that makes you want to grab him by the front of his shirt and make him cut the bullshit, and you can't tell how much of your own expression is irritation and how much is lust. "You think I've somehow managed to invade your mind?"

"Don't be condescending," you spit, trying to focus on the spot between his eyebrows that makes the heat in your core roar the least, "and don't act like you're incapable. As much as I can't bloody stand you, we both know damn well your mind magic is strong enough to do this to me—"

"Mind magic," he echoes with an amused snort, "you think I'm doing some kind of mind magic to invade your dreams, is that it?"

He's so damn good at this, you think—infuriatingly good. The way he's playing it off like the idea is absurd, completely laughable—

"Fucking precisely.” You can't hide the heat from your voice. You don't care to try. "These aren't just dreams. They're—they're strong. I feel you. Your hands, your tongue, your—"

Dick. You can't even bring yourself to say it.

And the bastard just smirks, like he's reading your mind anyway. Like he knows. That glimmer in his eyes—arrogant, insufferable—only confirms it.

"Hm," he says with something bored, running a hand through his hair. "Your subconscious—"

"It's not a bloody subconscious thing," you cut him off, uninterested in whatever bullshit he was about to feed you. "It's you. You're invading my dreams—I feel you—my body fucking feels you—"

He laughs at that. Like some sick, sadistic freak. He actually laughs—

"Listen to yourself." He says, with a mocking tone that makes you want to shove him. "Are you that desperate to hate me that you're pinning your dreams on me?"

"Hate doesn't even begin to cover it," you spit, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. He shifts slightly, his back brushing the wall. "You've got a hell of an ego, but even you have to know this isn't something I'd want. I wouldn't put you in my dreams willingly if you paid me to do it—"

He hums, smirk never faltering, if anything it fucking grows at the tirade.

"You've been dreaming of me for a week," he points out, coolly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. "And now, here you are—standing in my dorm in the middle of the night, dressed like this." He takes a step toward you, now. "Do you know what that's called, sweetheart?"

Your lungs hitch at the pet name. Your mind is at war with your cunt and it's losing—

"Delirium?" You choke out, noticing another flash of something in his eyes as the gap between you closes. "Insomnia? Sleep deprivation?"

He gives you a mocking arch of the eyebrow.

"No," he says, in a tone that makes you seethe. "It's called obsession."

"Oh. The irony," you can't help but hiss at him, heart pounding because he's in your space and you're in his and this shouldn't be getting to you the way it is. "It's rich, coming from you, that you'd put that on me when—when you've been mindfucking me every goddamn night—"

"Mindfucking you?" He repeats, almost lazily, as his gaze drops, sweeping over you—your pyjamas, the clear lack of bra, the flush creeping up your neck. "Is that what you think I've been doing? You think—"

The way he doesn't even deny it—doesn't argue the accusation—makes your blood boil in a way you can't control.

"It's the only explanation. You've been—you've been—" you cut him off but your sentence falters because his gaze is moving so deliberately, dragging over you like he's cataloging your weaknesses, and the anger curdles into something raw and desperate. "God, Tom, I just need it to stop. I'm so fucking tense and tired. I'm so wound I can't even focus—I'm wet all the time—"

His eyes snap up to meet yours at that, and he gives you a look you can't even begin to interpret. You bite your tongue, realizing the words that left your mouth just a moment too late to pull them back, and you know you've lost the upper hand in this, somehow. You feel the ground slipping from under you and you hate the way your body shivers as he takes another slow, deliberate, step forward.

"Is that what you are?” He wets his lips. "You've come all the way here, in the dead of night, in your pyjamas, half out of your mind with exhaustion because you're wet. Isn't that right?"

You know better than to answer, though you feel yourself walking straight into the trap he's set.

"Piss off," you snap, but the bravado in your voice is paper-thin as he takes another step forward. He's so close now that his scent overwhelms you—leather and spice, something sharp and smoky that makes your head spin. You recognize it, of course you do; it's the same as in your dreams, and the familiarity makes your knees feel unsteady. "You're—"

"Don't act so offended," he leans closer, his voice a low murmur, quiet, almost silky as it wraps around you, and suddenly you barely remember what you were so pissed off about. "You can't even deny it. I made you cum tonight, didn't I? In your dreams."

Your teeth grit. "You know you did—"

He takes one more step and now you're backed right up against his desk—and gods, Tom's tall, so much taller than you—and it feels like he's looming over you, caging you in.

"Mhm." There's a flash of triumph in his eyes as you lose your words. He leans down, breath grazing your ear just as he brings two fingers to your temple, pressing the pads against it. "Let's watch, shall we?"

Watc—oh no.

A cold sense of dread washes over you as you catch on to what he's insinuating, merely a second too late—

"Tom—"

He whispers something, something that pulls you under, and the next thing you know—in a flash of consciousness you didn't even consider possible—you're staring at yourself inside a dream you remember all too well. A dream sequence where you're moaning and trembling beneath him, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in unabashed pleasure as he drives into you, hips snapping with thrust after thrust after thrust—

And it's one thing to have felt it in the safety of your dreams, in the dead of night when you woke slick and desperate, clenching around nothing. But this—this is visceral. You can't look away because it's projecting inside your mind: the flush blooming across your chest, the arch of your back, the way your lips part with every desperate breath. You hear the obscene sounds spilling from your mouth, mingling with his low, guttural grunts—and worst of all, you can feel it.

You can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you, as if he's giving it to you now.

"Mm," you hear him hum from infront of you—it's too much—you're lost in the memory, the dream, and it's a strange, voyeuristic, intimate experience to watch yourself and him like that. "You're worse off than I thought."

You’re gripping the wood of his desk so hard your fingertips are numb, heart flying out of the room as his hand slowly slides from your temple down to your jaw, holding you in place—

"Stop it." You manage to hiss at him, trying to force some semblance of control back into yourself—the last thing you need is to start melting against this bastard. "Tom—"

"You feel that?" He murmurs, breath brushing your neck, and you can't even focus on anything but the sensations he's forcing through your memory—seeing him above you, feeling him inside you. "You do, don't you? This is exactly what you've been feeling all week, isn't it?"

You want to snap at him, cuss him out, but oh god—

"Damn you," you hiss, even as his hands slide down to your hips—and it almost feels as if he's touching you twice, as if there are two sets of hands on your body. "Fuck, Tom—"

"Mm, you look good from this angle," he murmurs, and you fucking keen as you watch, in your mind, his hands slide over your stomach, pushing up your shirt and exposing your tits, groping as he fucks you. You keen as you feel it. "You love this, don't you? You want this."

"I—" you gasp, trying to convince him, or yourself, or goddamn anyone. Still fighting some invisible battle between resistance and submission because you hate that he's right. "I—god, what are you doing to me—"

"What am I doing to you?" He whispers, and you're not sure if the question is rhetorical, or if he's giving you permission to ask it. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't letting me do."

Your knees feel like they're about to buckle, and it's taking all your strength just to stay standing because the pleasure playing out in your mind is pouring into your veins and you can't even fathom how it's possible but you can't do anything to fight it—

"Oh, god—" you moan, unbridled, your physical body slumping back onto the desk as you feel the slick between your thighs, growing with every goddamn thrust. "Oh my god—"

He takes the opportunity of you slumped back against the desk and instantly leans down, bringing his lips to your ear—

"Not even god could keep your legs underneath you." His hand creeps up your thigh. "You're helpless."

"Helpless," you repeat, with a shaky gasp, and you hate how much the word turns you on. This is the first time you've ever been called helpless, and you're not even sure that you care. He's got you in his clutches, he's winning, and it's so infuriating and so goddamn perfect. “Tom—please, please touch me. I need to—fuck—"

You feel his lips brush the skin of your neck in a way that has you trembling with want, but—fucking hell, that's not what you need—you need his hands on you, you need him to just—

"What do you need?" He cooes, and there's a sly tone to his voice that makes you want to throw yourself at him all over again. "You need to cum?"

You moan, low and needy, writhing against the desk because this fucker—he knows exactly what he's doing. He’s got the upper hand here and you want it back. You want—

"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "I need you to—I fucking need you—inside me—"

As soon as that leaves your mouth, the dream fades from your vision and he's urging you to lay back. There's a soft thud as he places a hand on the desk next to your head, and he leans down, bringing his lips back to your ear, and you can't remember a time when you've ever wanted anyone else this bad.

"I'm touched," he murmurs, fingers slipping to the waist band of your pyjama pants, "that you want me that bad."

"I hate you," you manage to gasp out, but that's a lie, and you think he knows it. His fingers on your skin as he pulls your pants down make you ache for him, and you're struggling to not make another sound that will give him ammunition. "Why do you have to—"

"Why do I have to what?" He asks, and you know he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. "Tease you? Make you helpless?"

Your pants get hardly half way down your thighs before he decides it's enough and slides a finger through your soaked slit, and you can't hold back the moan that tears itself from your throat.

"Fuck, you're soaked.” He hisses through his teeth. “You've been sitting in your dorm for days, hm? Dreaming of me touching you, wishing you could touch yourself without thinking of me—do you want to cum, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you gasp out, and you're not above begging at this point. "Yes, god, please—I want to fucking cum—"

"There we go," he cooes, and he's enjoying this more than you'd like to acknowledge. "You know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"

"I'd say at least a week," you throw back, in a vain attempt to keep a shred of your dignity, but that's hard when he's circling his fingers around your clit and your body is jerking against the desk beneath you. God you really are helpless. "Because that's how long you've been plaguing my head, giving me wet dreams like some goddamn incubus—"

He chuckles at that, and you hate him a little less when he slips two fingers inside you, "You think I'm a demon?"

"You certainly act like one," you choke out, because he's crooking his fingers and your mind is going fuzzy and he's not going to let you get the upper hand back, even for a second. "Fuck—oh, yes, yes, yes."

"You've got me all wrong," he says, with a smile that would be boyish if it wasn't so sinister. "Demons come to punish you. I'm here helping you get that relief you've been needing so badly."

"Just want t-to help me," you moan as his long fingers work you open, thumb brushing your clit, "out of the kindness of your heart—"

"Out of the kindness of my heart,” he repeats, with a mocking tone, and it's the way he murmurs those words that's making your thighs clench around him until he grabs the fabric of your pjs bunched around them and pushes your legs up to your chest, working his fingers impossibly deeper. "Out of the goodness of my soul—it's what I do, darling, I'm known for my benevolence—"

"You're a good man," you know he can tell you're being sarcastic, but his fingers are filling you so fucking full you're nowhere near ready to start a fight again when you're this close to losing your goddamn mind on his desk. "You're such a good man, Tom—“

"Mhm," his breath tickles your ear. "What else am I?"

"So good with your fingers," you're moaning, and he's going to get a bigger ego than he already has. You're too far gone to care. "God, you're so good, I'm going to—"

"Yes, you are," he answers, and it takes you a second to realize that he's not correcting your words anymore. He's simply telling you that you are, in fact, about to fall apart for him. "Give it to me. You've earned it."

You almost want to snap back at him, you almost try to, but you're so far gone the words don't form on your tongue and you're not sure you'd be able to fight the fire pooling in your stomach.

"Oh, fuck—“

He doesn't even let you finish that, he just dips his hips down, bringing his hand that's not buried in your slick up to cover your mouth, muffling those strangled screams before they spill out and echo down the hall—

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. "Be a good girl. Let it all out for me."

And it's that; that stupid combination of cooing warmth and the phrase 'be a good girl' that sends you over the edge, and you're muffling your gasps and moans and screams against his palm because gods, what would happen if someone heard you? What would happen if people realized what Tom Riddle was doing to you—your house rival, your sworn enemy—

"There we go," you're falling apart and he's watching you as if he owns you, as if this is where you belong—writhing beneath him, release squirting out around his fingers. "Ride it out for me. Such a good girl, you needed this so bad, I can tell you were aching for this."

You're struggling to say anything back, the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan of his name, and you've always known how bad he was, heard from other girls how good he could be with his hands, but this—you've never had this, never been this before.

"Such a fucking mess," he's murmuring, his voice low and rough and so goddamn beautiful. “How'd that feel? Hm?"

"So—so good," it feels like the words are being forced out of your throat, and you're struggling to think with enough clarity to form anything that's not an embarrassing moan of how much you needed this. "Needed it, need more, I—"

"More?" He murmurs as he slips his fingers free, and he's bringing his other hand up to your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he brings his soaked fingers to your lips. "Greedy girl."

You're not thinking about the implication of him calling you that, you're not thinking about how you should fight back, you're not thinking about how much you hate him—you’re just thinking about the sinful taste of you on his fingers, when they press against your tongue. Without a second of hesitation you suck them clean, tasting yourself, and it's obscene. You're obscene. But you don't care, it just makes that ache in you grow worse—you need more, you need him.

Dear god, what happened to you.

“So good," he murmurs, the praise dripping like honey from his tongue. You hum and he exhales. "I'll find you tomorrow."

"You'll find me tomorrow?" You repeat, as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and you're struggling for air, your chest heaving beneath your rumpled shirt. "What are you going to do, come into my room?"

"I'll come into much more than your room," he says, with a laugh that dances with promises of sin. "Now go. Before someone finds you here."

You push yourself up on trembling arms, pulling your pants up your thighs, your heart hammering in your chest because—god, that was incredible, you want more of it, and you can hardly even believe it happened. With a breath, you force yourself to move.

You look back at him as you get to the door. Your legs are shaking and you're not going to hold it against yourself for needing the wall to support you as his eyes rake over you, the corners of those lips curled up his signature smirk, and you want to hit him so goddamn bad—but then he speaks, like he read your mind, and it snaps you out of it—

"No dreams tonight." He says. "Scouts honour."

"You're no boy scout," you throw back, and your voice is a little breathier than you'd like. "And this changes nothing."

He smiles, slow and languid and knowing. "Of course."

You want to roll your eyes at the condescension dripping off his tongue, but you're worried that if you stay here any longer the only words on your tongue will be 'do it again'.

"You just owe me." You say as you crack the door open.

"I owe you," he agrees, and you think that his smile is just a little too genuine—like he would give you anything you wanted, just for another taste of that. “I'm keeping score, darling. Sleep well."

You hate him for calling you that, you hate his stupid smile, you hate the way he knows he's got you.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’re going to make him pay.

"Good night," you mutter, and then you open the door and slip out into the hallway.

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pha55ed · 1 day ago

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Winter Wonderland || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: decorating your home together for the holiday season with the drivers

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

Very vintage, and rich looking

It's a true money style of richness, with a big ass tree filled with presents underneath it

There's even ribbons on all the gifts

Why? Because his mom and other family members are so rich and retired that they're fucking bored and added it

Most likely you live with him and he just reuses the same ornaments and stuff from last year

But you don't care, it's so pretty

But!!!! You two get a little custom ornament that's really cute

Probably your anniversary date or smth on it

Charles Leclerc | 16

A nice rich Christmas too, but more sleek and modern-ish

He loved decorating as a kid with his siblings but now that he has his own tree??? Man that's so much work

He'll let you take care of the tree and most of the decor, but he doesn't just sit on his ass

He'll help pick the items, theme, etc

And also help put up the heavy duty stuff, like lights around the house and stuff

But putting each and every flower into the reefs??? Oh noooo he's suddenly so soreeee nooooo

After like 10 ornaments, he's suddenly complaining and saying "my physical therapist told me it's bad to do repetitive motions"

He's a liar but you don't even care, cause he bought everything for you

And he'll give you constant praise in person and online for your decorating skills

Lando Norris | 04

Frat boy party vibes but honestly,,, I fuck with it

Tons of colors, lights, and it's so fun to look at

Loves decorating with you and making it very chaotic

And also very ghetto...

This man doesn't even use staples or tape to hold up the lights on the wall

Why? Because he couldn't find any and didn't wanna go out to get them

So now your lights are being held up by wood glue... or your eyelash glue that he stole... or any random sticky substance...

No he doesn't use old condoms, don't think that

Oscar Piastri | 81

He don't gaf

However YOU want to decorate, he obeys

Whether that's an all pink tree, ugly ahh skinny tree that holds one ornament, or the biggest more extravagant Christmas ever

If his beautiful partner tells him to stfu he stfu, like a good boyfriend

And even better???

He not only pays for any decoration you want, no matter how expensive or stupid it is (he just loves seeing you happy)

But he also helps put up and cleans EVERYTHING

He's up on the roof decorating, cleaning the fireplace just to make it pretty, and even re-arranging the entire living room just for you to have the perfect spot for the tree

Some call him whipped

I call him a real man

Max Verstappen | 01

He also don't gaf

But, not in the Oscar way

He fr doesn't gaf at all

Expect an ugly ass tree, or most likely not even a tree

If you're lucky, you'll get the strip of reef in the pic above

But there's a very high chance that you'll just get a printed photo of a Christmas tree that's hung on the wall

BUT he does love stupid Christmas decor

So things like a funny statue, a creepy elf on the shelf, etc are all very welcomed

Luckily, Max isn't an asshole and will 10000% celebrate however you like at all

He's just gonna follow your lead and do whatever is needed from it... With minimal effort firstly...

Oliver Bearman | 87

Like Max, but really cute and funny

He has the Christmas spirit and loves it very much

One thing he did that's very very cute is that he ordered those big inflatable

But he didn't check the size...

So now you have a 35feet tall Satan in your yard!!! Yay!!!

He's in the Christmas spirit and he got the right idea

Maybe he doesn't have the skill to decorate it,,, but he has the spirit!

Paul Aron | 17

A classy and modern Christmas

Most likely white and a bit of a snow theme going on

Mixed with black too, cause that's his aesthetic ya know

He's very active when it comes to decorating

Always helping you pick what to get, which matches each other, etc

He's also very worried about the measurements, so he always makes sure to take note of the space you have to make sure everything fits

Also helps you put everything up, it's so sweet and domestic

Like: he holds your waist while you stand on the ladder to put the star up

Pepe Marti | 21

I'm mad at him rn cause why is every photo of him so bad

But he's so painfully unaware of the fact that he's tall

The tree only has ornament son the top

All the lights and decorations are put where you can't even see

And he keeps assigning you tasks that you cannot reach

Which he learns to take note of, always laughing at you before saying sorry

The decoration is very warm and homey

Definitely the type to bring over his friends to have dinner all together

His home isn't crazy decorated, but still nice and cozy

Which perfectly matches your relationship's vibes

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula 2 #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman x reader #paul aron x reader #pepe marti x reader #xmas celly!

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ri-writes-if · 2 days ago

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What if Oracle, in there dying breath was thanking RO for everything? Not mad. Just genuine happiness that they, and there friends loved them, and for the time they spent together.👀

It would break their heart even more. I can't put their reactions into a couple words in a way that won't feel repetitive, so I'll write a snippet for one character.

I wrote the last one with Vez, so I'm writing this one with Os!

Os cradles you in their arms, a rare lost look on their face. Pain spreads through your body like a fire that devours you from inside, piece by piece. You barely have any strength left, but you force yourself to speak. "I'm happy," you mutter, choking on the next breath. "Thank you. I have your love, and it's more than I could've asked for. So don't make such a face. I'll leave... happy." Your reach your hand up and trail your fingers over their cheek. As it falls, smudging their skin with blood, Os catches it and lifts it to kiss your palm, closing their eyes for a moment. "Don't thank me," they murmur, looking down at you with tears welling in their widened eyes. "We should've more time. I should've done more for you. This isn't how it's supposed to end..." It is. You always knew your story would end in tragedy. They were too blind to see it. Blindfolded by their love for you. Too drunk on the sweet illusion you spun to notice the darkness waiting ahead with the patience of a hunter. You're not scared anymore. You know you'll leave loved. It's all that matters to you. "It's just a pity I have to leave you heartbroken," you murmur. Your vision blurs and darkens, and you can't see their face anymore. "Don't leave then," they beg, their voice broken by the cry they stifle. "Stay. You've always been too stubborn to give up. Do it again, like you always do..." Silence is the only answer they get.

Thank you for the ask! 💛

#if you squint maybe you can see it's canon :)#the abyssal song #asks #tas: snippets #tas: os #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #twine wip

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radical-revolution · 16 hours ago

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In Memory

After I got the call that Ram Dass had died yesterday, I closed my eyes.

He is still here.

I could feel the vast field of love that was shining from Ram Dass when Trudy and I taught with him just a couple of weeks ago. And I always will.

On the final day of this last retreat, called “Open Your Heart in Paradise,” Ram Dass was frail and didn’t have access to many words. But he was there in the most powerful way. He swam delightedly with the group in the ocean, chanting “Oh Joy, Oh Joy.”

And on the retreat’s last morning, he put his hands on a basket of 350 wrist malas, each tied with a thread of his guru’s blanket, to tenderly bless them. Then, as participants came by slowly to receive their malas, he silently looked into each face, offering to all what is sometimes called “the glance of mercy,” a gaze so full of love that it left many of us speechless and weeping, drunk with blessing.

I have known Ram Dass for 48 years, as master teacher and inspiration and role model, as a dear friend and benefactor who helped me begin to teach, as a companion on the path, as a truth teller and prankster, as a profound healer and whisperer of souls, as a kind of prophet for a generation. Out in public with him across the years, over and over people would come up to him and speak lovingly, tentatively, urgently, offering thanks, “Ram Dass, I just want to let you know you changed my life!” And he did… for so many of us.

Yes, his book “Be Here Now” changed countless lives. Yes, his work with Seva Foundation cured 5 million people of blindness. Yes, he taught almost nonstop for 50 years, spreading wisdom and humor, wild devotion and love and a vast timeless mystical perspective across the world. His obituaries will be filled with his many other accomplishments.

For me he is family and Sangha, even now still spreading his playful, tough, delicious love everywhere, connecting with our hearts. “Yum, yum,” as he would say.

He was so ready to leave the wheelchair and skinny and broken body, to go home.

Home is not somewhere else.

It is here, in life and death, in the eternal dance of consciousness, weaving together form and the formless mystery from which it all comes.

Ram Dass is the vastness reminding us that in the end, there is only love.

~ Jack Kornfield, two years ago🙏

Be Here Now

Please read aloud, pause in-between, and listen to the poetic heart-words of a Great Teacher...a Beloved Guru, and a true inspiration for so many of us throughout this life.

_________________________________________

We're fascinated by the words--but where we meet is in the silence behind them.

The quieter you become, the more you can hear.

It is important to expect nothing, to take every experience, including the negative ones, as merely steps on the path, and to proceed.

The most exquisite paradox… as soon as you give it all up, you can have it all. As long as you want power, you can't have it. The minute you don't want power, you'll have more than you ever dreamed possible.

I would like my life to be a statement of love and compassion - and where it isn't, that's where my work lies.

In most of our human relationships, we spend much of our time reassuring one another that our costumes of identity are on straight.

The heart surrenders everything to the moment. The mind judges and holds back.

Your problem is you are too busy holding on to your unworthiness.

As long as you have certain desires about how it ought to be you can't see how it is.

Treat everyone you meet like God in drag.

The most important aspect of love is not in giving or the receiving: it's in the being. When I need love from others, or need to give love to others, I'm caught in an unstable situation. Being in love, rather than giving or taking love, is the only thing that provides stability. Being in love means seeing the Beloved all around me.

Suffering is part of our training program for becoming wise.

What you meet in another being is the projection of your own level of evolution.

The spiritual journey is individual, highly personal. It can't be organized or regulated. It isn't true that everyone should follow one path. Listen to your own truth.

Let's trade in all our judging for appreciating. Let's lay down our righteousness and just be together.

Only that in you which is me can hear what I'm saying.

Everything changes once we identify with being the witness to the story, instead of the actor in it.

We are all affecting the world every moment, whether we mean to or not. Our actions and states of mind matter, because we are so deeply interconnected with one another.

A feeling of aversion or attachment toward something is your clue that there's work to be done.

The next message you need is always right where you are.

I would say that the thrust of my life has been initially about getting free, and then realizing that my freedom is not independent of everybody else. Then I am arriving at that circle where one works on oneself as a gift to other people so that one doesn't create more suffering. I help people as a work on myself and I work on myself to help people.

I'm not interested in being a "lover." I'm interested in only being love.

The game is not about becoming somebody, it's about becoming nobody.

Learn to watch your drama unfold while at the same time knowing you are more than your drama.

If you think you're free, there's no escape possible.

Every religion is the product of the conceptual mind attempting to describe the mystery.

It's only when caterpillarness is done that one becomes a butterfly. That again is part of this paradox. You cannot rip away caterpillarness. The whole trip occurs in an unfolding process of which we have no control.

We're here to awaken from the illusion of separateness

We're all just walking each other home.

~ Ram Dass now, just as before,

at home with Divinity

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blueishspace · 1 day ago

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Hero, Villain God 37

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

Boogeyman calls you, well he calls Mother Spore, using Grumbot. How exciting, last time he was the one to call you it ended up being so much fun... you haven't done anything as Mother Spore in soooo long.

So you make your way to the lab, do the classic dramatic entrance by appearing behind him... this time around he doesn't look nearly as scared as when you appeared in his lab that first time, just a bit surprised and not even that much.

Oh no, you can't believe this is actually happening...it's too soon! Is he perhaps...getting used to Mother Sore dropping in unannounced? That just won't do, you'll have to change it up a bit- Oh right, he asked for you to come here for some reason so he was probably expecting you to appear like this. . . You are still going to mix things up just to be sure, you are going to be extra unpredictable.

... You should probably ask why he wanted you here.

"You asked for me?"

"Spore. I have need for you."

Ohhh just Spore? Not even the full title? That's new too!

"I see, and what is that you need me for?"

"I have another important meeting I would like you to chaperone."

Oh last time was fun, you could work with that again.

"Where?"

"Out of town. It's in a place called Las Nevadas, have you heard of it?"

...

You haven't actually, is that a new thing? Well, you can't exactly tell him that without losing the whole cool and threatening factor you have as Mother Spore... You'll have to figure it out.

"And when will this ...meeting take place?"

"...Do you have anything else to do in the near future?"

Oh he's paranoid huh? Is he worried you are working with other villains on the side? ... Well, technically you are but that's not the point.

"Depends."

He narrows his eyes, he stops it immediately but you notice, you definitely notice. Aha! Take that Pearl, you aren't blind!

"It's on the evening of the 26th"

"I see"

The 26th? Again? There is a difference between chance and this, some of the other gods are getting involved! That's exciting! ...but also very rude of them, not even saying hi... Well then, if the want to do it like this then you are going to give them quite the show. After all you are here to have fun and everyone loves free entertainment.

"Well?"

Right, Boogeyman, need to answer.

"I'll be there"

"As I thought... yes"

"Now I'll take my leave unless ...you have anything else to ask of me Boogeyman."

"There is something actually"

Wait, really? Why did he wait so long?

"Oh?"

"Why did you send those crooks to Cuteguy's inauguration?"

Ah, so Grumbot must have told him. You guess you should have predicted that since you didn't exactly tell the machine not to. Damn, you were almost getting excited too.

"That my dear Boogeyman is something that does not involve you."

"You used my artificial inteligence, the one I created to plan it, I should at least know the reason"

"Oh you don't understand, that isn't for you to know quite yet"

You caress his cheek, he freezes under your stare.

"If the time comes that it may involve you then I will reveal everything."

". . ."

He doesn't respond, you turn and just like that you are gone... You have a situation to deal with.

*End of Chapter 8*

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #hero villain god au

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wilhelminyard · 20 hours ago

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compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 2) :

ANDREW :

"I'm not here for your entertainment" "but as expected you are talented enough to multitask"

"you are neil josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive. I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. but you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it. on that day you're not going to run. you're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call."

"I'm not afraid of you" "that's why you're so interesting"

DAN :

"don't thank us, remember us. we're your teammates. we're here to help you with whatever you need."

"you've got us now"

"that was perfect. but don't do something that reckless again. we can't replace you. hear me?"

"neil, you can use the girls' shower while we're busy"

MATT :

"just try not to think about it until we get there. you won't do yourself any favorite if you spend the ride stressing out about things you can't change."

"if you don't have anywhere to go, I'll drag you home with me"

KEVIN :

"if you get hurt out there, you do something about it. you take it easy, you have coach pull you, you ask abby for help - I don't care. if you ever say 'I'm fine' about your health again I will make you rue the day you were born"

"neil has no place in riko's games. he is a fox."

"run. it's the only way you'll survive"

"you should be court."

"will you still teach me?" "every night."

"I will watch you. if you want to drink tonight. I won't let you say something you'll regret." "you'll be drunk inside an hour. then who'll stop me?" "I would stop drinking."

"you're not going. do you know what he'll do to you?"

WYMACK :

"why did you pay for stalls coach?" "maybe I knew you'd need them one day"

"neil, if you can't be here say so. abby can take you elsewhere until it's time to leave. get out of here and get some fresh air."

"what can I do?" "I don't know" "when you know, tell me"

"sometimes the world feels so big but then I'm reminded how small it is" "big or small just remember you're not alone in it."

"if riko really was behind it somehow, the blame is all on him. he chose to take out his petty rage on seth. he chose to cross a line. you didn't. you hear me? you didn't. don't ever blame yourself for seth's death. that it too dangerous a road to walk down. you keep your eyes on your own path and keep moving forward"

"neil" "I'm fine" "be fine inside where it's warmer"

"look I know I've always told you all to take your personal problems up with betsy or abby. I've said it's not my place to get into anything outside the court. I hope you've figured out by now I'm just blowing hot air. I'm not real good at being a shoulder, but I do have a working set of ears."

"help me" "let me"

"this doesn't mean anything. I'm still a fox." "of course you are."

NICKY :

"kid you're killing me. why do you always get that deer-in-headlights look when someone does something nice for you?"

"you worry about neil's career. I'll worry about his personal happiness."

"I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't reallt dan and matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you."

"there's obsession and there's dysfunction. you can't make exy your end-all be-all. this won't last forever, okay? you'll shine bright, then you'll retire, and then what? you gonna spend the rest of your life at home alone with all your trophies? you can't be just this, neil. this isn't enough to live for."

"thanks for taking one for the team, neil. you're a real friend."

"are we? friends?" "you are going to be the absolute death of me. yeah, kid. we're friends. you're stuck with us, like it or not."

"I only see that look on neil's face when someone tries to do something nice for him, but we all know kevin's as bratty as they come. what did you say, kevin, and do I need to defend neil's honor or what?"

RENEE :

"I am not the girl I once was but the shade of my old life will always existe inside of me. that is what helps me connect with andrew. I am hoping it will help me connect with you."

"I do not know your story. if you've trusted andrew with anything, he hasn't shared the details with me and he never will. but if you are as like us as we first predicted you to be, perhaps one day you can also come to see me as a friend."

"if either andrew or I can help you, please know we are here."

"and you neil? are you all right?"

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #david wymack #kevin day #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #psu foxes #the foxes #the raven king

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hd-erised · 2 days ago

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We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

#drarry #drarry fest #drarry fic #drarry art #hp fic #hp art #hp #hd erised 2024 #weekly roundup

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1shadowhole · 19 hours ago

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Since it's once again the 24th, here comes the annual reminder from me that Kingdom Come AKA the so called BBC MERLIN'S Canonical Season 6 is actually anything but canon and was made by fans.

BBC Merlin doesn't have a Season 6

And every year people tell me "I don't think that anyone actually believes that Kingdom Come is canon" and every year I cry because no, no a lot of people do. Maybe not on Tumblr but everywhere else you always see comment threads that go a little something like this:

"omg the ending was so sad why did the writers do that?😭😭"

"don't worry! The writers actually wrote the script for Season 6 that later got cancelled, but it's online you can read it!!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW THAT THANK YOU SO MUCH"

Ahhhhhhhh

And I also make these posts for all the new, wonderful fans that don't know the whole story, who may stumble upon the Kingdom Come blog and read "the canonical ending of the show" or whatever lie the people who made it wrote and believe it to be the case. Because why wouldn't you? It's says it is! BUT IT ISN'T!!

Why am I so pressed about it?

I mean I ain't going to lie the main reason is because I don't like it and think it is a great example of character assassination and disregard of what the original show wanted to share with the finale.

But I mean there are many fanfics (and kingdom come IS a fanfic) that I think are just as bad if not worse. Why don't I also complain about them? Because it isn't my place! I can criticise some tropes but you'll never see me directly attacking a specific fic by name! It's a story someone made for free just because they like writing.

But since these creators clearly believe that their work is somehow superior and has more value than other fics, I will treat it as such! And if you wanted it to be canon so bad I will criticise it like I do with the actual show. And trust me, as much as I adore BBC Merlin I am not blind to its flaws, and I am very critical about them on here.

So yeah. I think it sucks that a lot of fans believe that's the actual ending! Even if you liked it (and so didn't think that the show ended horribly with all its morals squashed) I don't think it's right that you fell for a lie. I had conversations with people who loved it and think of it as their personal season 6 while knowing it isn't canon. And that's wonderful! But you should know the truth.

So let me repeat this one last time

BBC Merlin has no canonical season 6

I feel like I was a lot harsher and aggressive this time around. I think it's because I lost a close family member just this month, and with Christmas so close my nerves are frayed.

But my goal is to make so many of these posts that when you look Kingdom Come up you find them before the actual blog lol. So anyone reading will know not to trust what the blog says.

And to make it clear. Hidden in their posts they do say it is fanmade. But you have to look for it, and if you just want to read you won't see it.

Plus the way they make it sound, the script they sent to BBC (btw... DON'T SEND YOUR FICS TO WRITERS FFS) was actually accepted lmao. And the only issue was the actors didn't want to come back.

Sure babe, sure. That's how shows work.

Damn I'm so salty today.

Again I wouldn't talk about other fics this way, I swear.

Now go read And like the cycle of the year we begin again. Or the Change Trilogy. Both very different, but very long and amazing possible Season 6s

#i speak #merlin #merthur #bbc merlin #arthur #bbc merthur #merlin fandom #merlin fanfiction #arthur pendragon #diamond of the day #kingdom come #merlin season 6 #merlin kingdom come #merlin finale #merlin anniversary #own post #and like the cycle of the year we begin again #altcotywba #the change trilogy

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slaymitchabernathy · 8 hours ago

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A Christmas Miracle

My dearest Soarynn, I'm writing to you with the grandest news I could ever bestow upon you. All Capitol troops will be returning home for Christmas. We'll be permitted to stay for one week before returning to our base camp. I know you'll want as much time as possible to plan for my arrival, although I am confident in your abilities to arrange for proper accommodations to be made. We will arrive on Sunday and there is to be a dinner on Monday night to commemorate our fallen comrades. I do hope you're well darling, not a single day goes by without me thinking of you. I cherish the photographs and letters you send me with all my heart, and cannot wait to have you back in my arms again. I do not know when our train will be arriving, so please, check the train schedules frequently. You are a constant light in the darkness of the Districts my love and I am anxiously waiting for the day when we can be together without worry or fear. I will see you on Sunday, please take care of yourself, my darling girl. Love, Coriolanus

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn nervously eyes her reflection in the mirror.

Does she look okay? Is her hair too shiny? Will he think she looks pretty?

"You look beautiful Miss Soarynn," her maid gushes, setting the hairbrush down on the counter, "Mr. Snow will be head over heels when he sees you at the train station."

Soarynn blushes, she's always been complimented on her beauty but his opinion is the only one that truly matters. Still, she appreciates the kind words, goodness knows everyone could use a kind word or two in these dark times.

Two years ago, war broke out in the Districts again. Soarynn had thought it was impossible, especially after the last war ended with the Capitol on top and the Districts on the bottom. Her husband, Coriolanus Snow had assured her time and time again that another war was impossible.

For once he was wrong.

The war didn't make its way to the Capitol this time, no, it remained in the Districts, and in an effort to contain it, the Capitol began sending troops to the wilderness of the Districts. Coriolanus was drafted due to his family legacy, his own father had been a general in the first war during the Dark Days and he was more than willing to serve his country.

Soarynn was less willing to watch her husband board a train and possibly never come back. Even though he assured her that he was simply there along with the other troops to impose their presence, she still wasn't convinced. They had been newly married and trying to start a family, why couldn't he stay with her where it was safe?

Coriolanus of course, saw it as a great honor to serve Panem and promised to write to her once a week and if allowed, make phone calls. Soarynn thought it was ridiculous, they lived together and now they were getting excited over five-minute phone calls.

Still, for him to come home for an entire week after being gone for so long was a treat as great as any and she wouldn't be taking it for granted. She had filled their week with lots of winter activities leading up to Christmas. She had the maids clean the penthouse from top to bottom, wanting everything to be perfect for Coriolanus.

She went out and bought him some new clothes, and...some new lingerie for herself as well. They'd certainly be busy at night.

"I certainly can't wait to see him again," she murmurs, reaching for her compact, "one week isn't long enough."

Being left alone in the Capitol had been hard on Soarynn. She used to spend nearly every moment with Coriolanus and now, she was on her own. She had turned to extreme measures, turned to something that galas and tea parties could not fix.

She got a cat.

She knew Coriolanus wouldn't exactly be thrilled but she was desperate for constant companionship. She glances out into her bedroom where her cat, Petunia, is curled up on her husband's pillow, sound asleep. She hopes they'll get along.

Coriolanus was used to a house with just the two of them and Petunia is used to a house with just the two of them.

There might be a war within the Snow household this week.

But they'll barely be home with what she has planned for them. At least that's what she tells herself.

Soarynn inspects herself one last time, making sure there's not a single flaw in her appearance. She wore light makeup today since Coriolanus has always loved her freckles so much. Maria styled her hair perfectly, curling it and then pulling back some pieces to tie with a bow. Soarynn grabs one of her favorite perfume bottles, one that holds a vanilla scent, and liberally sprays it all over herself. She wants to engulf Coriolanus in her scent.

She rises from her vanity stool and makes her way into the closet, the closet that feels so empty without some of his clothes in it. He'll certainly be glad to return with some new ones and Soarynn will be glad to wear his old ones. She often sleeps in his shirts, clinging to the scent of roses and something masculine that she just can't get enough of.

"Red or blue?" She asks Maria, pulling out two dresses, nearly identical to each other. Maria inspects both of them, gently touching the fabric, "I think the red one Miss," she tells Soarynn who nods in agreement, Coriolanus has always liked red.

"Perfect, will you please go fetch my coat and gloves?" She asks, unzipping the dress. "Certainly Miss," Maria gives Soarynn a small curtsy before leaving to go get her things and Soarynn slides off her silk robe.

She only looks at her almost naked self in the mirror for a second, reminding herself how lucky she is to be standing in a closet full of clothes with a household staff at her beck and call. She could be in the streets, starving and cold but she's safe and warm.

The war didn't affect everyone in the Capitol like it did last time. She remembers the first war, the bombs, her parents both dying, how hungry people were. This war has been different.

Only the lower and middle classes have been truly affected by it. Food has become limited but not scarce, there are ration lines but only for those who absolutely need it and Soarynn isn't one of those people. By marrying a Snow, she solidified herself in the upper class, in the elite. Every once in a while there will be a shortage of strawberries or meat but it's always resolved rather quickly.

If anything, the war has been a great inconvenience for her, disrupting her normal plans. She still goes to tea with her friends, still goes on shopping sprees, still gets pedicures every other week. Coriolanus didn't leave her with nothing. He suffered from the first war too, losing both his parents and a good bit of his family fortune. He spent the next ten years building his name back up and now, he's one of the richest men in Panem.

With his investments, business ventures, and connections, he left Soarynn to live a comfortable life of luxury. And the Capitol pays him to be at war.

It's the best-case scenario for a thing like this but she still wishes he didn't have to leave in the first place.

Soarynn shakes those thoughts off and slips into the dress. It's a very flattering look on her with a boat neckline that shows off a bit of her collarbones. It's sleeveless but she'll have her coat and gloves and it fits her figure perfectly, stopping right below her knees to show off her white high heels. With her hair and makeup done perfectly as well, she makes for a picture of sophistication.

Maria returns with her coat and gloves and helps Soarynn into them. Maria has been a godsend to Soarynn who had been quite overwhelmed once Coriolanus left. She's younger than Soarynn but very mature, always helping Soarynn manage in taking care of such a large apartment. She'll occasionally accompany Soarynn to the market if she needs to buy something specific and is always a good source of advice.

Soarynn had hired Maria right before Coriolanus left and she's been a loyal servant ever since.

"We'll be back later tonight," Soarynn tells Maria while searching for the right purse, "he'll want bourbon or whiskey, maybe both. And please make sure that the bath has been properly cleaned as well. He'll have lots of laundry that'll need to be done before he leaves."

Maria nods along to all of her words, "Yes Miss Soarynn, everything will be ready for Mr. Snow's arrival."

Soarynn picks a black handbag, leather and beautifully crafted, a gift from Coriolanus a few years ago when they were engaged, "Perfect. I'll call if anything comes up."

Maria walks her to the front doors and Soarynn buttons her coat, taking in a deep breath, "Enjoy yourself Miss Soarynn," Maria kindly tells her, "you deserve to have this time with your husband."

Soarynn smiles, she's right, she ought to enjoy every minute with Coriolanus rather than stressing about everything being perfect. "Thank you, we'll see you tonight."

Soarynn makes her way into the hallway and waits for the elevator, living in the penthouse is all fun and games until you're stuck waiting for the elevator. Coriolanus will probably remind her of a time when the elevator didn't work during the first war.

He's been doing a lot of that, reminding and remembering about what he went through the first time a war was brought to the Capitol's doorstep. Soarynn wonders if it's some sort of trauma response.

The elevator arrives with a ding and Soarynn steps into it, pressing the button to bring her to the lobby. She ends up being stopped on the eleventh floor where Mrs. Dolittle gets in, dragging her white, yappy dog with her. "Oh Mrs. Snow, don't you look lovely? Say hello to Mrs. Snow little Zeus," Mrs. Dolittle says to her dog Zeus who only barks at Soarynn.

"Thank you," Soarynn says to the older woman, "and hello Zeus, are you off for your afternoon walk?" Mrs. Dolittle hums and places a hand over her heart, "We're off to watch all of the troops come home, some of them are being brought in by trucks."

Soarynn's interest is piqued, "Trucks? Coriolanus is coming by train, I thought..." Her voice dies off and she begins to worry, has the schedule been changed? Is he not coming home today?

"Your husband will be coming by train because he's important dear," Mrs. Dolittle says before Soarynn can begin to spiral, "the rest of the troops are less important, or to put it plainly, less rich."

Oh.

Well, Soarynn can't argue with that.

"I see," is all she says before the doors open up to the lobby. "Enjoy your time with your husband dear," Mrs. Dolittle pats Soarynn's arm, "and if you have time, tell Coriolanus to pay us a visit so he can meet Zeus."

Soarynn knows for a fact that he won't have time or want to meet Zeuz but she smiles all the same and promises to do her best.

Soarynn walks out into the cold December air with a newfound energy inside of her. She's going to see her husband again, and for an entire week!

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn is giddy with excitement as she slides into the backseat of their car, "The train station please," she says, fishing her compact out of her handbag. She might as well check her reflection one more time, just in case something on her face changed from the elevator ride.

For their first wedding anniversary, Coriolanus gifted her a beautiful gold compact with a mirror and power inside. The power is her favorite scent, of course, vanilla. There's a beautiful rose engraved on the outside of the compact and even though they were apart on their anniversary, he still made the effort.

Soarynn applies a little more powder to her neck before glancing outside the car windows and she's astounded at how many people are milling around the train station.

"Looks like the whole Capitol's here," her driver remarks. Soarynn scans the crowd of eager faces, most of these people don't look like her, rich, but they might still be waiting for loved ones to arrive.

Her driver gets her all the way to the entrance of the station so she doesn't have to walk, "I'll wait right here Mrs. Snow," he assures her.

Soarynn nods and begins to make her way inside the train station. The glass pane ceilings let the natural light shine in and it's shaping up to be a beautiful day. The platform is even more crowded with hundreds of people pushing and shoving. Soarynn walks over to the schedule that's been posted on one of the ticket booths and scans one last time for her husband's train.

A Peacekeeper standing guard notices her, "Are you looking for a particular train Miss?" Soarynn shakes her head, offering him a polite smile, "I wouldn't want to trouble you, my husband is coming home today from District Five."

"Who's your husband?"

"Coriolanus Snow."

The Peacekeeper's eyes widen from hearing that name, that so very important name, "Allow me to escort you to the correct platform then Mrs. Snow."

Soarynn looks back over at all the people pushing and shoving, it does look very busy over there but she wouldn't want to impose. "I don't want to trouble you," she says sweetly, "I'm sure I can manage."

The Peacekeeper must not have a lot of faith in her, "I insist ma'am, please allow me to safely escort you." Soarynn jumps when she hears some shouting and looks back over to see that a fight has broken out on the platform, "Well if you insist," she quickly agrees.

The young man to his credit, gets Soarynn to the correct platform in one, safe piece, clearing a path for them the second people see his uniform. Platform Five is much quieter than the platform she just saw and Soarynn sighs, "This is much emptier," she notes.

The Peacekeeper chuckles, "Those other people don't know how to act, that's why they're all the way over there and you're all the way over here."

Before Soarynn can say anything else, the sharp whistle of an incoming train gains her attention. She looks around at the others waiting, mostly women like her, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their husbands. The train slowly pulls into the station, too slow in her opinion but she's excited all the same.

"How long has it been since you've seen him?"

"Two years," she answers, trying to look into the train windows, "two very long years."

It feels like a lifetime but she won't let that stop her from continuing to love him from afar. The train doors finally hiss open and several women rush forward in search of their loved ones. Soarynn being more shy and timid, stays back, looking for a head of blonde hair. It seems that all the men are dressed in their uniforms, donning their hats and coats, making it harder for Soarynn to see Coriolanus.

She watches several tearful reunions and can't help but wish for her own. More men spill out, some are greeted, some are not. Soarynn has heard the whispers about divorces left and right due to men being deployed. She can't imagine separating from Coriolanus because he's serving his country.

One man with tan skin steps off the train and he's looking directly at Soarynn, making her feel very self-conscious. He looks into the train and says something, pointing at her.

Soarynn stands up straight, her heart is pounding and there he is.

Coriolanus Snow is stepping off the train.

Soarynn is a woman who prides herself on following the unspoken rules of etiquette. No screaming, no shouting, no running in public or arguing.

She throws all those rules out the window the second he lays eyes on her. She breaks into a huge smile and runs towards him, not caring how improper it is.

Coriolanus doesn't seem to care either as he grins, opening his arms up. Soarynn shrieks and throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest, content to never let go of him again. Coriolanus wraps his strong arms around her and she can smell the roses, smell how manly he is, and how much she's missed him. Coriolanus groans and squeezes her tight, "There's my girl."

Soarynn might just cry.

She pulls away just enough to see his face, his handsome face. He looks the same as he left, prominent nose, beautiful blue eyes, full lips with a smile that still drives her crazy.

"I missed you," is the first thing she says.

He kisses her a second later, not wasting any time showing her how much he missed her as well. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck even tighter to deepen the kiss. It feels so good, so good to have his lips on her again. She didn't realize how much she took this feeling for granted until he left.

Two years without a kiss good morning, goodbye or goodnight.

They're going to have to pry him away from her cold, dead hands when this week is up.

"Soarynn," he says against her lips, "I might have to take you with me when I go back because I can't go without this again." Soarynn laughs into the kiss, it looks like she's not the only one who's been lonely. When they finally break away from the kiss, his eyes meet hers and they hold so much love, so much devotion, the need and want to keep her safe no matter what.

"Look at you," he says softly, resting a gloved hand on her cheek, "still so beautiful and radiant. You look gorgeous darling, absolutely gorgeous, I pity the men who didn't get to come home to you today."

Soarynn giggles and rests her head on his chest, wanting to be as close to him as possible. She lets go of his neck and wraps her arms around his torso, he feels so strong under all these layers, "I missed you so much Coryo," she tells him, "thought about you every single day you were gone."

She feels him place a kiss on the top of her head, another thing she's missed, how affectionate he is with her. "You have me for an entire week," he tells her, his voice laced with authority and yet completely gentle and patient with her. Soarynn hums, closing her eyes so she can remember this moment for the rest of her life.

She's grateful that he doesn't pull away, force her to move because she really doesn't want to. She wishes she could freeze time so they could stay like this forever.

"You weren't lying Snow," someone says, causing Soarynn to lift her head. It's the same man who was looking at her when he stepped off the train, "I told you she's beautiful," Coriolanus replies, kissing her temple. Soarynn feels herself blushing, she hadn't even thought about Coriolanus bragging to his comrades about her but it sounded exactly like something he'd do.

Coriolanus is a proud man, proud of his family, proud of his success, and proud to have secured a fitting match such as Soarynn. He's never shied away from boasting about her beauty, her charm, and femininity. Of course, he'd talk about her to his comrades, show off her pictures proudly.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," the man waves before walking down to the exit. Soarynn looks up at her husband, "Who was that?"

While Soarynn's letters to Coriolanus have included all the latest gossip and news, his have been more about how much he misses her and hopes for her safety at all times. Rarely has he mentioned anyone he's worked with.

"Lance Parkes," Coriolanus tells her, "we're in the same barrack."

Soarynn hums, she'll have to ask him about all his friends although she'll meet most of them tomorrow night. "How was the train ride?"

Coriolanus rubs her side, "It was fine, quite long but we were in first class so it was much more bearable."

Soarynn slips a hand under his coat, feeling the rest of his uniform, "You feel so strong, and you look so very smart in the uniform," she tells him, earning her a pleased grin. "Strong hmm?" He teases, making her giggle, "I should've known you'd ogle me the first chance you got."

Soarynn gasps, playfully shoving his chest, "Oh, please, you're the one who likes to ogle." He really is, Soarynn is more likely to silently admire her husband whereas he isn't afraid to make her put on a show for him.

Whenever they go shopping he has her come out and show him every outfit, praising her sense of fashion. And whenever she comes home with some new lingerie, well...she gives him a more private show.

"Well now that you've mentioned it, let me get a proper look at you," he says, loosening his grip on her, "give me a spin darling." Soarynn glances around the now barren platform, apparently, their reunion was longer than everyone else's so she doesn't feel too silly spinning around. Coriolanus lets out a low whistle and nods, looking her up and down, "You've got the type of beauty men go to war for," he tells her matter-of-factly.

Soarynn merely shakes her head, she wouldn't want to be the cause for any man to go to war, let alone her husband. "Where's your trunk?' She asks, changing the subject to something not about her. Coriolanus turns and points at the one trunk that's left, "I've come bearing gifts," he tells her, causing Soarynn's lips to curl up into a smile, "You don't say."

Coriolanus hums, reaching a hand out for her and she gladly takes it, "I've thought about you every single day," he continues, "thought about what you were doing, if you were feeling alright, if you needed anything." Soarynn's heart might just shatter into a million pieces, Coriolanus has been on her mind constantly but she always wondered if she was on his.

She squeezes his hand, smiling up at him, "Well we have a whole week together, so let's make the most of it."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn has forgotten how attractive Coriolanus is.

For once, the roles are reversed and he is doing the shopping while she lounges on a sofa and sips champagne. He stands on a small pedestal, looking at his reflection in the store's mirrors that show him every angle.

He had written once or twice about outgrowing some of his clothing which confused Soarynn since he was too old to grow taller. But now, she gets it.

He's bigger. Stronger. More muscular.

His shirts don't fit the way they used to.

He looks very handsome in what the salesman selected for him, black pants, perfectly tailored, and a simple white button-up tucked into the pants. They're shopping for a new suit for him to wear to the dinner tomorrow night but finding a shirt to properly fit him has posed a challenge.

The salesman presses his lips into a thin line when he sees the buttons threatening to pop off, "Still too tight?"

Coriolanus offers him a polite smile, "Just a bit."

The salesman waves his hand, "An extra-large then, I'll have someone bring you the proper size."

Soarynn resists the urge to jump off the sofa and run into the changing room with her husband, it would be quite scandalous, and also bad manners.

"Where has he been all this time?" The salesman asks, raising an eyebrow, "I see hundreds of men every day in here but he must've been hiding under a rock." Soarynn chuckles, she doesn't mind when women or men flirt with her husband or talk about him in front of her, at the end of the day, she gets to go home with him.

"He's been deployed," she answers, setting her glass down on the small table, "he's back for a week and he's in desperate need of clothing that actually fits him."

"Well, I can see that, he's doubled in size from the looks of it, let me go look for a few more shirts."

Soarynn looks around the store while she waits, watching people come and go, everyone is doing last-minute shopping but she did hers weeks ago. Then she got that letter from Coriolanus and her entire world turned upside down. She had been so excited, she cried tears of joy, her husband was coming back to her.

For a week but still.

A few minutes later, Coriolanus walks out with a shirt that fits him properly and that cocky grin she's grown to love over the years, "What do you think darling?" He asks, holding out his arms while giving her a slow spin, "Do we have our base layer down?"

Soarynn does her best to remain appropriate when looking him up and down but it's very hard, especially with his big hands, and his big arms, and thighs and...she's getting distracted.

"I think we do," she answers with an encouraging smile. Coriolanus nods, "Perfect, let's move on to suit jackets then."

꧁ ꧂

Two hours later, Soarynn is strolling down the street with her husband and two large shopping bags.

"He was a good salesman," Coriolanus says, pulling her a little closer, "although I do believe he was flirting with me." Soarynn laughs, Coriolanus is as charming as they come but he's always had a hard time deciphering when the same gender flirts with him. Women he can pick up on in seconds, but men confuse him greatly.

Soarynn simply sees it as a compliment if both genders find you equally attractive.

"He was definitely flirting with you," she tells him, looking into a few shop windows, "you've got a new look and people are bound to notice."

Soarynn nearly trips when she sees the perfect little black dress in a boutique window. It's strapless and somewhat short but she knows that with the right heels, she can pull it off. One look at Coriolanus and she can tell that he's already picturing pulling it off of her.

"Why don't we go in here?" He suggests, his voice slightly hoarse. Soarynn wraps her hand around his arm and pulls them towards the door, "If you insist."

They're immediately greeted by an eager-looking saleswoman who has bright red hair and very long eyelashes, "Welcome, welcome! What brings you two in today?"

Coriolanus nods towards the mannequin wearing the black dress, "The black dress in the window would look stunning on my wife."

Soarynn doesn't even have time to blush because this saleswoman is grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the fitting rooms, "Of course, it would! You just go right back here dear and I'll bring you a few sizes."

Soarynn finds herself mindlessly nodding to whatever this woman says and walks into the first fitting room she sees. She doesn't even wait an entire minute before there's a knock on the door. She opens it to find the saleswoman holding three black dresses, "I brought a few sizes, although this one will probably fit you best."

Soarynn takes the hanger into her hands and nods, "Thank you very much." Part of her worries that this woman might try to come in and help her so she quickly shuts the door. Soarynn takes a deep breath before taking off her own clothes and neatly hanging them on the hooks in the fitting room. She steps into the dress and pulls it over her hips.

It would look great if she could get the zipper up.

"How's it going in there?"

Soarynn grits her teeth while fighting to pull the zipper all the way up, "Fine!" She calls back, using one hand to balance herself against the wall, "If you need any help just let me know!"

Soarynn almost falls over, "That won't be necessary!"

Three minutes later, she's sweaty and has the damn dress on.

But it does look very good on her.

Soarynn opens the door and peeks her head out, the coast is clear. She can hear the saleswoman yammering away outside, talking her husband's ear off. "...and that's when I knew gluten wasn't good for me and...oh! Oh, you look fabulous dear!"

Soarynn brushes her hair behind her ears, she isn't very fond of being the center of attention but neither Coriolanus nor the saleswomen can keep their eyes off of her as she steps in front of the mirror.

She can see Coriolanus watching her, a longing, lustful look in his eyes and she feels a boost of confidence, "You have the legs for that dress," the saleswoman tells her, "doesn't she Mr. Snow?"

Coriolanus grunts, fidgeting in his seat, "She certainly does."

Soarynn does a quick twirl and she smiles, "I'll take it." The saleswoman claps, delighted to do some business on such a busy day, "Wonderful! As soon as you take it off, I'll ring it up for you!"

Soarynn turns to go back to the fitting rooms but Coriolanus is quickly rising from his seat, "Let me help you with the zipper darling, she mentioned it might be tricky." Soarynn knows what he really wants and he could care less about the zipper, "Alright," she says sweetly.

They both walk back to her fitting room and he's on top of her the second she closes the door. Soarynn gasps when he pins her against the wall, his lips latch onto her neck, "Coryo," she gasps, "we're in a boutique!" Coriolanus scoffs and squeezes her waist, "I don't give a fuck darling, now turn around and bend over like the good girl you always are for me."

Soarynn would be lying if she said those words didn't do something to her. Something to her body that's gone two years without him. His touch, his lips, his hands, his cock.

She turns around.

Coriolanus bends her over and she braces her hands against the wall, "Coryo we have to be fast," she urgently whispers, not wanting to get caught. Mostly because she really wants this dress. Coriolanus chuckles and kisses right under her ear, "I'm just having a little fun darling."

He expertly unzips the dress and slides it off her body, letting it pool around her ankles and he palms her ass, groaning, "Fuck I missed you," he says, "missed this perfect little ass, your pretty little moans, how soft you are. You don't realize how bad it is out there for us darling, no women, surrounded by District scum, only our hands for a quick release."

Soarynn whimpers when he pulls her panties to the side, his fingers graze her clit and she bucks into his touch. She hasn't been faring but better in the sexual pleasure department but she has her ways, the shower head, her fingers, she's made it work.

But nothing is better than the real thing.

A knock on the door startles her, "Is everything alright in there dear?"

Coriolanus sinks two fingers into her cunt and Soarynn can feel her eyes rolling back. It's such a delicious burn after not having sex for so long and she might just cum right now, "Fine," she stammers, "it's, it's fine, I'm fine."

"Could you just toss the dress over the door then?"

Coriolanus reaches for the dress and Soarynn lifts her feet so he can grab it from the floor. He starts pumping his fingers in and out of her cunt and her knees buckle. Coriolanus catches her, holding her against the wall, "Be quiet for me hmm?" He says in her ear, his voice husky. Soarynn nods, biting her lip.

Coriolanus tosses the dress over the door and starts pumping faster and faster. Soarynn's toes are curling, her breaths are ragged. She's going to cum, very, very soon if he doesn't stop what he's doing. "Please," she mumbles, "please, please Coryo."

He peppers the back of her shoulder with kisses, so gentle in comparison to his fingers slamming in and out of her, "Still so good for me huh? Still remember your manners." Soarynn whines when his thumb presses against her clit, she cannot have an orgasm in a boutique fitting room.

Right?

Her walls start fluttering, her body starts shaking and the wire inside of her is about to snap, "Give it to me," he orders, "be my good girl and cum all over my fingers like the little slut you are for me Soarynn."

That's all it takes for her to fall apart. She lets out a moan but he quickly slaps his other hand over her mouth, muffling any noise she makes. Soarynn twitches as her orgasm rides out, it's so intense, so good after so long. She can feel the stickiness between her legs, she doesn't know how she's going to walk out of her but Coriolanus has already thought this through apparently.

He brandishes a handkerchief from his coat pocket a second later and makes quick work of cleaning her up to the best of his abilities. Her legs are still shaking, how she'll be able to look that saleswoman in the eye is beyond her. "You didn't, didn't get to..." Her voice dies off when she sees Coriolanus shaking his head, a sweet smile on his lips, "If I'm going to fuck you, then I'm going to do it properly," he tells her, "and in the comfort of my own home."

Soarynn lets him place a kiss on her forehead before he leaves to go pay for the dress. She puts her own clothes back on quickly so she doesn't raise any suspicion and joins Coriolanus a few minutes later at the counter near the front of the store.

Apparently, he's revealed that he's visiting for the week because the saleswoman has her hand over her heart, "...just the noblest thing a man could do for his country," she says, her eyes drifting over to Soarynn, "and leaving your wife behind? You're a national hero Mr. Snow."

Soarynn keeps herself from rolling her eyes, Coriolanus certainly has done a great service to his country, but being called a national hero is a bit of a stretch. Coriolanus, of course, loves it and grins, taking the pink bag off the counter, "You flatter me truly, thank you so much for your help today." Soarynn nods along to his words and wraps her hand around his arm, "Yes, thank you so much for your assistance."

"Of course! Stop by anytime."

They bid the saleswoman goodbye and step back out into the cold, Soarynn immediately curls into Coriolanus who doesn't despise the cold the way she does. Maybe it's because of his last name, but the cold has little to no effect on Coriolanus whereas Soarynn hates it with all her might.

"You should wear that dress to dinner tomorrow night," he says, leading them across the street. Soarynn gives him a skeptical look, "To a dinner honoring dead soldiers? I don't think so. Besides, I already have a dress picked out for tomorrow night." And she does, it's navy blue and makes her eyes pop. He'll love it because he loves everything she wears.

Coriolanus simply hums and holds her tighter, "Whatever you want darling."

Soarynn cherishes those words for she won't be hearing them in a few days. She ought to cherish every moment with Coriolanus while he's here, every single second is precious.

꧁ ꧂

Later that night, Soarynn finds herself in a most domestic position, curled up in her husband's arms, naked under their sheets. She used to dream about moments like this, hoping she'd wake up to find him next to her, only to wake up to an empty bed.

His breathing is slow and steady, instantly calming her after a long night of passionate sex. Coriolanus could barely keep his hands to himself for the rest of the day after their little stunt in the dressing room. They still had to go to several stores and then to dinner before they could come home.

Coriolanus was more than pleased to be warmly welcomed by his household staff and a clean apartment. He wasn't however, too pleased when he discovered Petunia lounging on his side of the bed, surprised to see a man in the room she thought of as her own.

There was a clear rivalry the moment they laid eyes on each other, especially when she saw how handsy he was being with Soarynn. She had hissed and swatted at him while Soarynn tried to calm her down and fix the rift between her beloved husband and cat.

She ended up removing Petunia from their bedroom so they could properly reunite and after several rounds of passionate sex, Soarynn was more than pleased with how the day turned out.

Coriolanus presses a hand on her stomach, splaying out his long fingers, "I was thinking," he mumbles in her ear, voice laced with sleep, "we should have a baby."

That gets her wide awake. Soarynn pushes her hips against his, causing him to groan since he has yet to pull out, "A baby?" She whispers, thinking about the possibility of finally starting a family with Coriolanus. They barely had any time after they got married, war broke out and he was shipped out.

It's not like they didn't want a family, the penthouse is huge with so many empty bedrooms. Her mind drifts down the hall to the nearest bedroom, vacant and begging to have a crib inside of it. He kisses right under her ear and hums, resting his chin on her shoulder, "Mhm, if it weren't for the war then I'm sure we'd have at least one child by now. And I've heard rumors Soarynn, they're starting to pull troops out little by little. I'll be home before you know it, and for good next time."

Soarynn's heart is beating so fast, the war is ending?

Part of her doesn't want to believe him, but Coriolanus isn't one to lie, he hates lying and anyone who does it. "Okay," she says, finding nothing wrong with his proposition. He's right, if Coriolanus wasn't deployed then they'd certainly already have a child right now. These past two years have set them back and she's not getting any younger.

He wraps his arms around her tighter and groans, "Good, because I'm convinced that I already fucked a baby into you."

They both laugh, knowing it doesn't exactly work that way but she's past caring about logistics right now.

Her husband is home and that's all that matters.

꧁ ꧂

Much to Soarynn's dismay, the next few days flew by in the blink of an eye.

She and Coriolanus spent every waking minute with each other, from the moment they woke up to the moment they went to bed, they were together. Their friends had teased them about it at dinner one night, how inseparable the pair was but Soarynn found nothing wrong with it.

She and Coriolanus belonged with each other. How could they not see it?

Even now as he opens a present from under the Christmas tree, it's so evident to Soarynn that he's the one for her. His strong masculine aura mixes perfectly with her gentle feminine one. While he's effortlessly charming, she's endlessly graceful, making them the perfect pair once again.

Coriolanus grins when he pulls out several pairs of white socks, the ones he's always been so fond of since Soarynn met him. He's always been one to value routine and tradition, never straying from what he trusts which includes socks. "You remembered my letter," he says with a laugh, setting them down on the floor next to him.

Soarynn nods, in one of his more recent letters, Coriolanus had mentioned how worn out his socks were becoming. Soarynn was no stranger to sending him letters but packages were a little bit trickier. They required an outrageous amount of postage to start, and there was never a guarantee that it would actually be delivered. She's sent a few over the past two years and according to Coriolanus, he's one of the only men who receives both packages and letters from home.

Soarynn truly can't imagine not writing letters to a loved one who's away at war. She writes him a letter nearly every day.

"I did," she agrees, "once I knew you were coming home, I ran out to buy you some new ones."

They both sit in comfortable silence while snow quietly falls outside of the living room windows. Soarynn watches the tiny snowflakes fall from the sky, doing her best to think about anything but what tomorrow will bring.

The train that will take him away from her again.

She can't help but begin to fear the worst, Coriolanus getting caught in the crossfire, a bomb going off and taking his limbs off, a trap being set just for him.

Which is highly unlikely from what he's told her. He's barely seen any real action, just a lot of angry people who he has to keep under control with a gun. When Soarynn asked if he ever had to use it on anyone, he'd gone quiet. This war still affected him despite him acting like it didn't. And Soarynn doesn't want him to go back to it.

She can feel the tears forming in her eyes, they've had such a lovely week filled with dinners, parties, and quality time together.

She doesn't want it to end.

"Darling," he says gently, "come here."

Coriolanus opens his arms out to her and Soarynn sniffles as she crawls over crinkled wrapping paper until she's crawling into his lap, burying her face in his neck. He immediately slips his hands under her nightgown and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tight, "We'll be alright," he tells her softly, "I'll be back before you know it, and then we'll start our own little family. How does that sound?"

It sounds wonderful, like a dream come true to Soarynn who's been so lonely the past two years.

"Nice," is all she mumbles, not able to find it inside of her to act chipper when she's not. Coriolanus rubs his hand up and down her back, calming her with the smallest of touches, "I hope you know how much I miss you," he tells her, "how every night I stare up at the ceiling and wish you were there with me. You're all I have Soarynn, you've been the greatest gift."

Tears freely flow down her cheeks after hearing those endearing words. She doesn't know if this conversation is making his departure easier or worse. "I love you," she whispers, "with all my heart I love you."

She doesn't know how long they stay like that, curled up on the floor but it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters when she's with him.

꧁ ꧂

The morning of her husband's departure comes with heavy burdens for both of them.

Coriolanus, who must face what lies in the Districts once again, alone and without the comforts of home.

Soarynn, who must return to normal life with a smile on her face, and without the comforts of him.

They both fake it incredibly well to their credit, smiling at those they pass by as they walk towards his train. Just a week ago Soarynn was getting ready to come to the station, putting so much effort into her appearance. She barely even brushed her hair this morning since she planned on running right back home once he left to cry in bed.

Coriolanus hands off his trunk to a train attendant and Soarynn watches the man carry it onto the train, already stealing parts of Coriolanus away from her. She looks around the platform and is somewhat comforted by the sight of many other couples sharing tearful goodbyes.

At least they can all be miserable together is what she's concluded.

"Keep writing to me hmm?" He asks, nosing her cheek in an effort to make her laugh. Soarynn nods but can't find it in herself to laugh like she usually does when he's being so sweet, "You'll let me know if you hear anything else about deployment right?" She inquires for the tenth time today. She knows it must be getting annoying but she simply must know that he'll keep her updated with these things.

Coriolanus nods and rests his forehead against her own, "Yes darling, the second I know for sure I'm coming home, I'll let you know."

She rests her hands on his arms, feeling him one last time, "I'm going to miss you," she mumbles, her voice carries more of a tremor than she'd like but it's hard to act brave right now. Coriolanus leans down and kisses her, so sweetly and gently. Soarynn returns the kiss with her own gentleness for this will be the last kiss she's given for a long time.

"Be careful out there," she whispers, not pulling away from the kiss, "I can't go on without you Coryo."

He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her into his safe hold, "I will," he promises, pecking her lips once more, "and you take care of yourself hmm? I want you to enjoy yourself while I'm gone darling, spend time with friends, spend my money, all those nice things hmm?" A small smile forms on her lips and Coriolanus chuckles, "There's my girl, always smiling for me."

She knows this is hard on him too, to leave her, to willingly leave her behind goes against everything Coriolanus believes in.

But they'll be together again soon, she's sure of it.

The sharp train whistle pulls the couple apart, announcing that the train will be departing soon.

"Make sure to call me," Soarynn reminds him, clinging onto him for dear life, "and to write to me. And let me know if you need me to send you anythi-"

She never finishes her sentence due to his lips crashing onto her again, effectively shutting her up. Soarynn responds the way she always does, loyally and lovingly, letting him take the lead. Coriolanus brings his hand to gently cup her face while they share one last kiss.

Another sharp whistle from the train jolts both of them and they finally break apart from their last kiss.

"I love you," he tells her, looking down at her with those devoted blue eyes of his. So piercing yet soft and gentle when he's with her and only her.

"I love you too," she says, "and I'm so proud of you."

Coriolanus smiles, hugging her one more time and kissing her temple before he lets her go. Soarynn remains frozen on the platform while her husband strides towards the train, stepping through the door right before the train starts pulling away.

Soarynn waves goodbye with the other wives, with only eyes for her husband who watches her from the door. It's only when he's out of sight that she allows herself to properly cry.

She ignores the sympathetic looks she's given from the other women and trudges back to the car, alone this time.

She cries the whole way home and in the elevator. Maria seems greatly concerned but Soarynn waves her off, she'll be fine in a few days, she remembers being like this the first time he left. Part of her wishes she didn't have to go through this again, that he never came home but she's so glad she got to see Coriolanus again.

Petunia is still lying in bed where they left her this morning, pleased to have her spot back. Soarynn gives her a gentle scratch behind the ears, "Just you and me again," she says sadly. She ought to wash the sheets considering they had sex every night but she refrains from doing so, she'll wash them when his scent is no longer detectable.

Soarynn lies in bed for hours feeling sorry for herself and missing her husband, only venturing into their bathroom when she needs to use it. She walks past the countertops and then her vanity when she notices a small white box sitting on her vanity counter, wrapped in a red bow.

Soarynn reluctantly picks it up and unties the ribbon, letting it all to the floor where Petunia immediately takes it to play with. But Soarynn pays her cat no mind as she opens up the box, softly gasping when she sees what Coriolanus has left for her.

A pregnancy test.

And a note.

Never too soon to find out. Love, Coriolanus

Soarynn chuckles, they both know it's highly unlikely for her to already be pregnant but she appreciates the gesture. She holds the testing device in her fingers, "Might as well try," she mumbles to herself, walking to the small room where their toilet is.

It only takes a few minutes but Soarynn finds herself doing anything but looking at the results. She folds some laundry, fluffs out their bedsheets. Finally, she walks back into the bathroom and turns over the test.

She gasps when she sees two red lines.

She's pregnant.

Newly pregnant, barely pregnant, but pregnant.

She can't believe it. Coriolanus isn't even halfway through his trip back to Five and yet he's left her with a most precious gift. Soarynn rests her hand on her stomach, imagining what it'll look like in a few months.

She's pregnant!

She's going to have a baby. She's going to be a mother, he's going to be a father.

Oh, Coriolanus.

She'll have to write to him at once to deliver the news. She's only a few days along but still.

It's a Christmas miracle.

꧁ ꧂

To my dearest Coriolanus, I'm writing this hours after your departure. I simply cannot wait a moment longer to tell you the wonderful news that I'm pregnant! I know we spoke of it when you first came home but after opening the gift you left me, I'm proud to say that you're going to be a father. I will keep things quiet until I can visit the doctor but I just had to tell you. I miss you with all my heart my love, I pray for your safety and your quick return. Know that not a day goes by where I do not think of you my heart for you are all that I am. I love & miss you already. Love, Soarynn

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @villiansarehottest @kickmybark @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

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seas1mping · 2 days ago

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Jackmas Day 22/23: REDESIGN!!!!

My redesign is done, this time in COLOR!! or at least digital instead of pencil. BUT YAY!!!! I love LJ so much I love my redesign she's so cute I love her anyway yap in the read more <<3333

EDIT: I put a little red silhouette behind her so you could see her hair better cause the image is transparent <333

tw: child death (1 year old),

cw: oc x canon, implied canon x canon, fankids, angsty themes (see above tw)

in her last one it was mostly about her backstory and stuff but i want to explain some of the design choices here too as well as some minor beginnings of polycule lore (mostly just her and reena)

If you have eyes, you'll see that she has hearts broken and unbroken all over her. LJ was born to take care of Isaac, and when he went to boarding school and abandoned her, she finally experienced all of those negative emotions that he did. When she killed him, she was left with all of them, and she became heartbroken, because she was made for love and to be loved.

Candy Pop comes along, and LJ feels like they've been reborn. The love feelings they thrive on come back in full swing, and they have hope that this feeling will last forever and they can finally move on from Isaac. It doesn't.

Candy gets nervous, scared to be in one place after the Night Terrors assimilation, and leaves. LJ doesn't want to leave, they're content where their house is, and they don't see why he's trying to uproot everything just because he's being a baby.

Candy Pop leaves LJ a couple days later, and their only correspondence is a few text messages here and there for years. LJ falls back into that pit that she was sure she wouldn't ever go back to.

When Reena comes through, struggling with her newfound visual impairment and her baby, they begin to become friends, and this makes LJ feel nauseous. Reena could try to leave her all alone again, especially after getting on her good side and being understanding about her aversion to Nari.

LJ tells Reena she can have the house to raise Nari and anybody else who she wants, and says that Reena doesn't have to worry about LJ anymore, that she's leaving first so Reena can't leave them.

The surprising note, Reena immediately freaks out, asking LJ what she did wrong because she can't leave her too. She'll give her anything. Please don't abandon her too. And LJ realizes how stupid they were, just because it happened more than once doesn't mean its a cycle.

LJ betters herself from then on, helping to take care of Nari, mourning Nari after her death, sitting with Reena while she grieves, making Nari's new doll body so Reena can have her daughter back.

what

Nari is next in line for CREATION, and its gone so long without a proper host that waiting for the next generation isn't an option. Meaning that if Nari dies, so does it. LJ, being CREATION's personal (and favorite) assistant, is tasked with creating a vessel for Nari's soul to stay in until she grows up to be merged into the entity. (froggy reference??? /j)

So LJ works tirelessly to create the best possible doll that captures everything about Nari, even pushing little pins in to resemble her horn bumps, or adding boning to the lower to make her digitigrade legs.

When she's all finished, and Nari is infused in the doll, LJ leaves her in a drawer because she's technically not alive yet, the soul needs to attach to the body (PLEASE DO NOT REALLY DO THAT TO BABIES)

They kind of. forget. about Nari. whoops.

It isn't until LJ comes home from a meeting with CREATION that she sees Reena holding a real baby and looking up at them. Neither of them say anything, LJ can tell Reena knows, and Reena can't believe she's holding her daughter again.

Reena sets her baby down on the bed (surrounding her with pillows so she can't get hurt by some invisible force (or roll off)) and goes over to LJ.

LJ and Reena's first kiss is a memory they both look back on with fondness, salty from Reena's tears, and suspiciously candy scented from LJ (they just naturally smell like that)

Reena squeezes LJ so hard, they're sure if they were human something would be dislocated, and they stay like that until Nari makes a loud noise because it's hard work connecting to a vessel!! She's hungry!!!

sighs i love my goobers....... sighs,...........

#I LOVE YOU LJ REDESIGNS #i love making cringe content like yesssss yesssssss reblog my brainworms.....#nari is the best baby ever btw she'll tell you to stack her blocks and then eat you alive #laughing jack #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta oc #creepypasta art #laughing jack x oc #jackmas #laughing jack creepypasta #creepypasta

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oxytoxic-skeletonin · 3 months ago

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The End of a Multiverse(...?)

Synopsis The end is nigh, the cosmos is going to be collapsed, and there was not a damn thing they could do about it. But perhaps, even if everything is destroyed, something might survive.

Even if this is an awful end, it feels nice to write about and for characters I created and loved for many years of my life.

CW; Badly written combat, a literal war, copious amounts of body horror (Iktatra's not the sole one to blame this time!), descriptions of immense gore, and a lot of major character death.

This was bad. Eviveru knew that things were looking bleak. Even as he watched Kittara's fist shatter through the skull of that bitch. Nevaerys Merathalae, servant of Xul Mekuriz, Eld of madness and destruction.

Her laughter echoed from her broken jaw, and the mouths of that thing she kept in her body. It's tendrils roping backwards to pull Nevaerys from her assailant. "I'll let you all on in on a little secret~!" The insane look in the blue haired woman's eyes didn't fade for a moment. Her mouth twisted into an expression of glee. "The barrier that protected your cosmos is gone~! We've won this battle, before you even gathered your pathetic forces!" Kittara snarled, glaring her singular eye onto her. "We'll not fall without a fight." the Korathin woman called out, charging ahead once more to attack the thing that once was human. The amount of people they gathered to fend off the servants of Xul Mekuriz was paltry compared to the strange energy Eviveru could feel in the air, ebbing from all around them.

Arethinel's blade clashed against Wylli'vyrr's rapiers, the elven mage struggling beneath the fallen paladin's might.

"Aheheheh, I could rrrREALLY use a hand here, guys!!" Wylli'vyrr yelped. "I have gifted Humankind, and Mankind alone with the glory that is MY creation! Filthy creatures such as yourself, do not belong in MY world." Arethinel hissed, the mad paladin leaning down to drive the blade closer to Wylli'vyrr's head.

His efforts to harm the elf interrupted by bullets pelting the side of his face, tearing through his cheeks. "EY. Don't go touchin' Kitt's man, ya fuckin' asshole!" Meara called out, weaving through the battle between undead forces and eld-serving bastards as she continued firing at Arethinel with her guns.

"E... Eviveru... Something's wrong..." Okka'lier stammered out, a cold shiver ran down the Esyrrlian elf's spine. He backed lose to Eviveru as they stood back to observe the mayhem. "Yeah, I know..." Eviveru grit his teeth, swinging his hand outwards to cast out minor bolts of electricity at the forces that got too close to the back line. Most of them shrugging off the blow.

That wasn't the part they had to worry about. Evi grew a wicked smirk, as he quickly called down a powerful bolt of electricity to strike himself. Feeling electricity course through his body was always euphoric. Directing the flow of electricity towards one target and casting it out at the forces that drew ever closer.

He watched with the glee that he only felt as he felt that electricity flood into the body of his target, frying them from within, before scattering in chains to the prior foes he marked.

The sizzle as it tore through every foe between each mark was the only good thing in what was happening.

Speakers crackled to life on the Magitech mouse's head. Ornax mustered as much of his courage up that he could. Raising his thumb to his mouth and activating the microphone held within. "COME ON, EVERYBODY!!! LET'S GIVE THESE JERKS THE SHOW OF A LIFETIME!!" Ornax called out, the speakers of his ears amplifying his voice like a loudspeaker. The Robomouse pulled a song list up on his HUD. "IT'S NOT OUR CURTAIN CALL, NOR IS IT OUR SWAN SONG." Play an invigorating file with drums of war, drop in some techno beats, and spin some tunes. "I MAY BE TONIGHT'S DJ, BUT I AM NOT ABOUT TO BE A DEAD MAUS, AND WE ARE NOT GONNA BOW TO THESE GUYS!!!"

A wide grin on his face, as Ornax cupped a hand over the side of his head and nodded along to the music he mixed. Letting the magic he manipulated in his body flow out with his songs.

Ornax grinned more as he watched how the beat, how the music pumped up his allies, how he could tell that the magic was imbuing his allies with the inner strength that he lacked.

He hoped Mom and Dad would be proud of him. Standing against the end of everything.

"LET'S GIVE THEM A PERFORMANCE THEY'LL NEVER FORGET!"

- "Hah, knew tonight was missing somethin'." Karlos grinned, the pauldrons affixed to his shoulders sparking with his magic. Letting every thread he could latch on to anything around him.

Each of his 'adopted' hands holding weapons of various makes as he danced through the battlefield.

Karlos laughed like a maniac, while he cut down undead and cultist alike.

Heh, 'picking up' extra hands as he lobbed off limbs of his foes. Never got old watching people freak the fuck out when they saw their own hands or arms coming to life under his control.

Limbs, weapons, even the sands beneath his feet. They all were something he could use against this army of absolute fuck clowns.

He could take 'em, he could take ALL of 'em. And he would happily take it all from them. After all, these bastards were quite literally trying to take everything from everyone.

A lucky blow landed on one of Karlos' hands close to his body, cleanly cutting it in half.

.... That hand. That was...

"You FUCKER, that was the ONLY one that worked with smart phones!!"

Every hand with a gun tracked onto his assailant, an orcish cultist, and opened fire.

Swiss cheese, like the jackass deserved!

God damn it. That was the one bad thing about losing his original ones to those jackasses in the labs.

"HOW THE SHIT AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE PHONE CALLS NOW?!"

"LARCENERS! Status report!"

Devaux called out, using levitation to stay above the madness below.

They weren't heroes, they were thieves.

The Lavender Larceners were meant to procure artifacts of terrible power, to keep them hidden from those that would abuse them.

It was agony to put his crew, his family against this threat.

But desperate times required desperate measures. It even called upon them to distribute some of these artifacts to their allies.

"SA, We're 'oldin' the line, but nawt by much!!" he heard Estoran call out. Anxiety clear in his voice, which only made Devaux more worried.

The only thing that gave him comfort was seeing Otto's 'magnum opus' of his close, the "Giant mecha" as Haruki had called it, to where he heard Estoran's voice from.

Haruki wasn't hard to listen for, he could hear the Shuri twin laughing as he weaved through the battle.

"Missed me, missed me, now you gotta-- Oh ew, definitely don't kiss me!" Haruki made a sound of disgust, Devaux could imagine the sneer of disgust on the mouse's snout. A toppling sound. "Haru, you'd be lucky if you got kissed tonight." Fumeiyo, his sister, sneered as she yanked her blade out of the spine of her mark.

Devaux smiled, at least the two of them could still find it in them to banter. That meant that they weren't completely in despair at the circumstances.

"HEY!!! I COULD get a kiss tonight if I wanted to!" Haruki yelped back.

Fumeiyo chuckled. "Well, might as well get it tonight. From the sounds of it, if it's not tonight, it's never."

Haruki gave pause as he just stared at his twin.

".... CHEEEEEEEEEEERYYYYYYYYYYYYYYL!" Haruki yelled out. He swiftly dodged another foe. "YEAH???" Cheryl responded from a distance, her voice still as chipper as ever. "THE UNIVERSE IS ENDING, CAN I GET A KISS???" Haruki yelled out again. His sister made short work of the foes that had their attention on him.

"OKAY~!!!" Cheryl said, cleaving her claws through another undead troop's armor like butter. "COOL!!!" Haruki responded. Fumeiyo looked at Haruki with amusement. "CHERYL. THINK YOU CAN MAKE THAT A DOUBLE ORDER?" Fumeiyo called out. "YUP YUP! WILL DO~!" Cheryl made another swing. Her arm was caught. "Oh no, oh no, no no no n--" Her bloodcurdling scream resounded through the battlefield, as she felt it torn clean off. "Cheryl!"

Devaux wasted no time, quickly flying towards the sound of her scream. Quickly conjuring an array of shadowbolts to strike the goliath of a cultist holding Cheryl's torn off arm. "FUCK FUCK FUCK-- CHERYL!!! OH FUCK DID I JYNX IT?!" Devaux could hear Haruki's voice growing closer and closer, the Shuri Twins were likely on their way to lend backup.

"Don't, you, DARE, touch, MY, CREW!" Devaux roared out, casting a ball of antimatter at the cultist before they could raise their weapon at him.

It was painful to watch, seeing someone, anyone, implode inwards as their own armor compacted inwards in noisy fashion.

But he was not going to overlook such a transgression.

Cheryl whimpered on the ground. Trying to hamper over towards her removed arm. Haruki scampered to her side, checking over her. "CHERYL, Are you okay?!" Fumeiyo followed suit, she swiftly yanked her lavender scarf off and wrapped it around the remaining stub of Cheryl's right arm.

"B-Boss... D-Do you think Otto can get it back on...? L-Like, usable..??" Cheryl sniffled.

Devaux sighed, his whiskers twitching. "We'll have to get you to him as soon as possible."

He wasn't going to risk Cheryl bleeding out, and while her bones couldn't break, her flesh could still tear.

"LARCENERS. FALL BACK!!" Devaux called out. Hoping the others would hear him amidst the chaos.

"ORUNA'AJA. WHAT'S THE CHANCES OF US MAKING IT OUT OF THIS ALIVE?" Eviveru called out towards the seer. Oruna'aja, Seer of Jyll'Nybbek, Eld of knowledge. The Xelyrr woman's eyes on her head only ever opened when she'd look into the future. The eyes that covered various parts of her body served fine to let her see the world around her.

"I am sorry, Eviveru. The future is... Gone. For all of us, we will not survive this."

Okka'lier shivered, a look of horror dawning on the young elf's face.

"I thought you said before that MY stupid ass would outlive even the stars." Eviveru growled out. He hated this.

It would have been fine if it was just him that got to experience an eternal death. More than fine, it's what he'd always wanted.

But for everyone else around him, good people, who had a reason, and a drive to live... It was fucked up beyond belief.

"You... You're correct." Oruna'aja perked up, as if having an epiphany. She turned her head towards Eviveru and opened her eyes. Looking at the pastel rainbow lights held within her eyes was always unnerving as shit.

"There... Is no future. For any of us... You... Have a future."

So much bloodshed, so much organic material to consume strewn about, so much genetic material to utilize.

Iktatra weaved through battle as though it were a dance, the tendrils from her body lashed out and rend through countless, poor, brainwashed fools.

It was disappointing, were she to have obtained the godhood she desired, perhaps there might have been some hope for these people.

Still, the majority of them tasted so rotten.

It's entirely likely they still would have died to her.

After all, the sweetest fruit is the most ripe and decayed.

A smile on her face, as she consumed every bit of genetic material that touched her cells.

So much new information to analyze, so many new people to mimic, so many new powers for which to call upon.

A battlefield truly was a doppelganger's buffet.

A tall armored man roared out as he charged for her, sword drawn.

Awh. It was cute.

A smile of adoration on her face as she saw him raise his weapon.

A look that didn't fade, as his blade tore through her shoulder, it's momentum stopping in her chest.

She stared at him, her smile widening as he tried to pull it from her, and found it wouldn't budge.

"Awwwh, that wasn't nice dawwring. If I had a heart, you would've cleaved it in half." Iktatra pouted.

It was delightful to watch the man grow pale and that look of fear bloom upon his face.

"My turn~."

It was always so fun to make her created body make sickening pops and tears, as she split it in half. Revealing rows upon rows of teeth, tongues, and eyes.

Gasps of terror as a would-be predator became a meal were always such beautiful sounds.

The moment the man's body flinched to flee, it was too late. The many tongues lashed out and wrapped onto the man, harshly pulling him in to her fleshy iron maiden. His scream lasted but a moment, as she closed her body, she could hear the beautiful pops of his bones and armor as they were crushed inward.

Mortals of flesh and blood were much like those treats that Meara loved... Squishers, was it? Sweet candies that popped as you bit down.

Come to think of it. Where was her darling Meara in this mess?

- "GOD, FUCKING. DAMN IT. That's FUCKING BULLSHIT!!" Eviveru growled out, feeling the electricity coursing off of himself in his anger. Oruna'aja sighed. "Though you wish only to darken death's door with your presence... It shall never come for you... As I told you before, civilizations will crumble, kings and emperors shall fall, gods themselves will be forgotten and--" "And planets shall die and stars will fade out yadda yadda yadda, the thing is that I'm going to be STUCK with the fact that out of EVERYONE here, I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO'S GOING TO SURVIVE THIS." Eviveru roared out, seething with rage.

Okka'lier shivered, Eviveru could feel the elf doing his best to use his magic to soothe Evi's temper. "I'm... I'm h-happy... I'm happy you'll at least be okay"

Eviveru looked down, seeing the lavender doe eyes looking up at him.

"Evi... You... Won't forget about me, right?"

"... Okka'lier... If I could make it be you that'd survive instead, I would... You deserve it far more than I do...." "I-It's okay... If you remember me, then... W-Well, I'll always be with you." Okka'lier smiled, through the tears that were prickling his eyes.

God damn it.

Maddened laughter echoed out upon the battlefield, as it was clear something had changed in the air.

"THE ELEVENTH HOUR IS UPON US~!!" Nevaerys called out.

Kittara disarmed a nearby soldier, using his blade to block an incoming sword. Her hand crushing the disarmed soldier's throat with ease.

She couldn't use a weapon, they always broke with the force she swung them with. But they could be used to parry.

Nevaerys was an elusive opponent, she hid herself behind what poor souls they controlled, living and dead.

Kittara caught glimpse of sickly tendrils firing forth from that woman, she swung her arm to throw the blade towards them.

She hit her mark, lack of depth perception be damned.

But many more seemed to grapple onto their mark, and yank back.

Kittara watched Arethinel hastily pulled towards Nevaerys.

"Come, Arethinel! Xul'Mekuriz still has need of us~."

They're... Retreating?

No...

"Savor your dwindling last moments, for this world shall be reborn anew, and I, SHALL BE IT'S ONE, TRUE, GOD." Arethinel called out.

He.. Always called that out, whenever he failed against them.

Nevaerys wasted no time in opening a portal in the air. And pulled Arethinel in with her.

No. They left far too hastily...

Kittara's hackles raised, she could feel it, the darkness encroaching far faster than it had any right to.

Wylli'Vyrr... She had to find Wylli'vyrr!

"Eviveru, I understand.. It is upsetting... I foresee nothing but darkness for so long... I had lost hope, but then I saw it..." Oruna'aja recollected, her brow furrowing.

God damn it, did they have any time for being--

"SPIT IT OUT." Eviveru snarled.

"She does."

Eviveru stared at Oruna'aja in disbelief.

"... what."

"A woman. She spits out your hand. Your hand exists. She is overcome with fear, and flees. But your hand exists. And from the rest of it, you follow after..." Oruna'aja explained. Eviveru sneered, that sounded like the typical seer bullshit. Sometimes he wondered if Seers were just high off their asses most the time.

"Eviveru. We may not be able to save our cosmos... But we... Nay. You can warn another. We were unprepared for the foe we face... Warn them of Perniciem. Prepare them for what they may face." Oruna'aja's voice was dire.

Electricity sparked off of Eviveru as he grew increasingly irate.

"The fuck-- You mean you're asking me to be a MESSENGER BO--"

Okka'lier's scream of agony cut Evi off. The Essyrlian elf crumpling to his knees and gripping his head.

"Okka'lier! Shit... Did I--"

Okka'lier clawed at his skull, screaming in agonizing pain.

Eviveru crouched down, and hugged onto Okka'lier. Fuck... That wasn't from his electricity.

Okka'lier naturally felt the lives of animals around him, and was in tune with nature. He felt that pain as if it were his own.

Evi braced the back of Okka'lier's head, as Okka'lier's screams died down to sobs. His body shook like a leaf. "E... Evi... E-Everything's... D-Dying.." Okka'lier choked out.

It pissed Eviveru off to no end that there wasn't shit they could do.

"I.. I know. At least--"

It wasn't supposed to happen that fast.

Eviveru had been through a land slide before, felt the earth cascade down on him in a flash and crush him beneath it.

This was far less merciful.

In a mere blink, he went from holding onto Okka'lier to try and calm him down...

To feeling everything and everyone crushed together.

It was miserable being conscious for a short period of it.

Feeling his body crushed completely, compacted by bodies of friend and foe alike.

The sickening crunches far more deafening than the screams Okka'lier had made prior. He knew broken bones of his own friend were stabbing through what little of him he could feel.

He knew that the blood around him that he could comprehend was a slurry of so many people he knew.

All their lives, snuffed out in a blink of an eye.

It was bullshit.

None of them deserved that.

Eviveru drifted in and out of consciousness.

Sometimes? He was aware that he was dead. He knew and enjoyed the comforting embrace of the void.

And sometimes, he was aware he was nothing but mixed bits in crushed viscera.

Sometimes he swore he could hear voices.

Chatter, chatter, lots of it.

Others were still there. Alive? Entirely unlikely. But still there.

That or he'd gone insane.

Which was unlikely. He sure as shit didn't believe anyone else would survive. Nor would he want someone to be alive in this mess.

Sometimes it felt like the remains of everything around him moved. Moved a lot. And sometimes it was extremely still.

He hated it. He'd rather be dead.

Every time death's sweet embrace took him from the horrifying mess that remained? He was thankful.

He didn't know how long it lasted.

Perception of time becomes warped when you're dying, and coming back to live, and barely aware in the soup of the cosmos that was your own home.

Eventually? He felt a thump, a portion of his left hand. His pinky, ring, and middle finger once more feeling.

It twitched.

It wasn't long after that he felt himself succumb to death again.

And then Eviveru opened his eyes.

A gentle blue sky overhead. Clouds in the sky, white and fluffy. The sun beaming down upon him.

He could hear the breeze through the grass that he laid upon.

Man... He never thought he'd be thankful to be alive.

At least this alive was better than mashed up alive.

Eviveru groaned, as he slowly rose to his feet, grumbling.

Why the fuck was he the one who had to get stuck delivering a message.

Oh yeah, because death was a bitch who wouldn't take him, no matter how hard he wanted it to.

If death was some manner of entity he could speak to? He would happily lay into them for not carting his ass to the void permanently.

He sighed, conjuring forth his staff. Thank fuck that his clothes were so soaked in his magic, that the damn curse he endured thought that it was a part of him.

He really didn't want to get stuck on a murder spree of any person who looked at him stark nude.

"... Where the fuck do I even start..." Evi grumbled, glowering at the land around him.

Countryside, not a settlement as far as his eyes could see.

Well at the very least, he wouldn't have to deal with any humans anytime soon.

Fluffing his wings, Eviveru paused.

He knew where he'd start.

"Hey gods, divines, eldritch entities, what the fuck ever?"

Eviveru called out.

"You fucking suck."

Yep. That was a good way to start trying to save this place, and whatever shitheads lived here.

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