#Existential dread be upon ye

[teaboot]

45. free space.

45.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm enjoying my life or just experiencing it, and more than fearing death I find I fear living poorly.

[transingthoseformers]

Back on my TFP au angst train, but. The second sparklet's loss must've hurt so much more when you consider just how much happened during when Megatron was first carrying Silverlight and they were fine. But. Now? After doing everything that could possibly be right right, just for this to happen? It's going to fuck with him and Optimus so much. There might be a lot of self doubt, and "what if...?"s. Which in experience is not a good line of thinking to go down as you can't change the past.

I've been doing a scene where after the initial medical frenzy, after it's confirmed that Megatron lost the newspark, he gets up, subspaces as much energon as he possibly can, and locks himself in whatever quarters is closest (if they're at the autobots' base, then Optimus's / Megatron's there. If they're on the Nemesis, then Megatron's / Optimus's quarters there.) After uttering the phrase "I want to be left alone." Optimus sitting outside of his/their quarters, acting as a protective sentinel. Sometimes Optimus has Silverlight during this, sometimes Silver is with Knockout and Breakdown instead. The medics, Breakdown, and Soundwave bring Optimus cubes but he stays. He doesn't move until Megatron lets him in, or until Megatron is ready to come out.

[zebuie]

TEACHERS PET.

❁ཻུ۪۪ ⋅ READ THIS. # DAILY CLICK ➹

# ☆ PAIRINGS ☆ ;: teacher!ellie x teacherspet!reader

# ☆ SYNOPSIS ☆ ;: college student develops a small crush on her philosophy teacher—but is it really small? soon, one thing leads to another. as feelings grow, they grow a secret romance.

# ☆ WC/CW ☆ ;: 9.2k, smutsmutsmut! , age gap between reader and ellie ( r is 20 and ellie 24 ) , cursing / swearing , situationship? , kissing , fingering ( r receiving ) , eating from the behind ( r receiving ) , tit sucking ( e receiving ) , strap on usage ( r receiving ) , pet names ( princess , baby , baby girl , babe ) , aftercare , lmk if there’s more.

You trudge into the school building, dreading the upcoming lecture. The hallway is packed with students milling about, creating a chaotic scene. "God I'm already fucking dreading this." you mutter to yourself as you try to make your way to the classroom.

Finally arriving at the door, you take a deep breath and enter the room. 

It's even more crowded than you expected, with people jostling for seats. As you scan the room for an empty spot, your eyes land on a woman writing on the chalkboard.

She turns to face the class, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. It's Ellie Williams, the notorious philosophy teacher. 

Her sharp jawline and piercing green eyes make her look more like a biker chick than an academic. 

She's got a fit, muscular build evident even under her tight shirt. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to today's discussion on existentialism," she says in a commanding voice that leaves no doubt who's in charge.

As you slip into an empty seat, you can't help but stare at Ellie as she begins the lecture. Her confidence and authority are undeniable, and you find yourself drawn in despite your initial reluctance.

You sit entranced as Ellie begins to expound upon the meaning of life, her husky voice and commanding presence washing over you like a warm bath.

 The way she struts across the front of the classroom, hips swaying, makes you imagine her strutting across your bed; demanding your total surrender. 

Her words echo in your mind long after the lecture ends - "existence precedes essence"...a fitting philosophy for a woman who seems to exist solely on her own terms. As the class files out, you find yourself lingering, drawn to Ellie like a moth to a flame. 

You clear your throat to get her attention, and she turns to face you, eyebrow raised in query. "Yes?" she asks, all domineering authority and sensuality. "I was wondering if you could...um...provide some extra guidance on the reading," you stammer, trying to play it cool. Ellie smiles - a slow, sultry curl of her lips. "Of course, I'd be happy to help. Meet me in my office after your next class." The way she says it, it sounds less like a suggestion and more like a command from your new mistress.

The rest of the day drags on in a sensual haze. You can barely concentrate in your other classes, your mind constantly wandering back to Ellie and the promise of her "guidance". 

Finally, it's time for your next class to end. You pack up your things with feigned nonchalance, all the while sneaking glances at the clock. 

As soon as the final bell rings, you're on your feet, eager to keep your appointment with destiny. 

Making your way to Ellie's office, you take a deep breath and knock on the door. "Enter," comes her response. 

Pushing the door open, you step inside the dimly lit room, the door closing behind you with a soft click - as if you're being locked into place. Ellie looks up from her desk, a gleam in her eye as she takes in your nervous figure. "Shut the door and come here," she commands. 

You obey, your heart racing as you approach her. She rises from her chair, looming over you with an air of quiet power. "So, you wanted some extra guidance, huh?"

"Yes, if you could just explain the chapter on existentialism in more depth, I'd really appreciate it," you reply, trying to sound casual despite your racing heart. 

Ellie nods, her eyes roaming over your face. "Of course. Have a seat." She gestures to the chair in front of her desk. 

You sit, suddenly very aware of how small and confined the space feels with the two of you alone. 

Ellie leans back against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Existentialism is all about taking responsibility for your own existence," she begins, her voice low and hypnotic. "It's about recognizing that, fundamentally, you are alone in the universe. No one else can live your life for you." Her gaze intensifies, boring into yours. "Does that resonate with you?" The way she asks, it feels more like a test than a question. You nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, it's like, we have to choose our own meaning in life, right?" Ellie nods, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Exactly. And that's a scary thought, because it means you have the power to create your own meaning. But it also means no one else can control your life for you." She pauses, studying you intently. "Does that set you free, or terrify you?"

"It's freeing, in a way," you venture, trying to sound braver than you feel. 

Ellie leans forward, her elbows on the desk. "It's the most freeing thing in the world," she agrees, her voice dropping to a purr. "But it's also terrifying. Because if you're responsible for creating your own meaning, then you have to confront the possibility that you might get it wrong. That you might waste your life chasing things that don't truly fulfill you." Her eyes hold yours captive, searching. "So, what do you think you're doing with your life right now?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly aware of how small and confined the space feels. "I...I don't know," you admit. "I mean, I go to class, I study, but is that really living? Is that what I want out of life?" Ellie watches you wrestle with the question, a knowing glint in her eye. "You seem like a smart girl," she says finally. "I think you have the potential to create something truly remarkable with your life. But first, you're going to have to take a leap of faith."

Just as Ellie is about to continue her line of questioning, her phone suddenly rings, shrill in the otherwise quiet room. 

She glances down at the screen, her expression unreadable. "Excuse me a moment," she says brusquely, grabbing the phone and stepping away from the desk. 

You sit in awkward silence as she takes the call, trying to ignore the sense of rejection that washes over you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ellie ends the call and returns to the desk, her eyes avoiding yours. "I apologize, but I'm going to have to cut our meeting short," she says stiffly. 

"I have another appointment." She stands, indicating that your audience is at an end. You gather your things in a daze, feeling the sting of dismissal. As you reach the door, you can't help but steal one last glance at Ellie - who is already focused intently on her computer screen, pretending you were never there.

As you trudge back to your dorm, your mind is a whirlwind of confused emotions. 

Part of you is thrilled at the prospect of getting to know Ellie better - but another part is terrified of the consequences. What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if you get hurt? Lost in thought, you don't even notice your phone buzzing in your pocket until several hours later. 

Pulling it out, you see a call from Lana - your best friend and confidante. "Hey, girl!" she greets you, her usual bubbly self. "How's the first day back going?" You settle in, ready to offload everything that happened with Ellie. 

As you recount the story, Lana listens with increasing amusement.

Lana's laughter echoes through the phone as the mysterious student recounts her tale of woe. "Aww, you've got it bad," Lana coos, her voice dripping with amusement.

 "Seriously, you need to loosen up! It's just a crush." You sigh, the sound carrying clearly over the line. "I know, I know. It's just...there's something about her, you know? The way she carries herself..." Lana snorts, cutting in. "Says the girl who's never had a real relationship. Trust me, I know the type. Ellie seems like a total fuckboy, anyway. You'd just end up getting hurt." There's a pause, and then Lana's tone turns thoughtful. 

"Although...we should maybe make you feel better. Go out, have some fun, get your mind off things. I say we hit up that new club downtown. You game?" You hesitate, uncertainty clear in your voice. But Lana's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon you've both made plans to meet up later that night. "Just relax and let loose, okay? Don't think about Ellie at all. We'll get you forgetting all about her in no time!"

You agree to meet Lana at the club later that night, hoping a night out will take your mind off your crush on Ellie. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes and studying, but eventually it's time to get ready to go out. 

You meet up with Lana, who's already dressed to the nines in a tiny dress and heels. "Gorgeous, let's go!" she says, dragging you into the night.

The club is pulsating with music and lights. You and Lana make your way to the bar, ordering drinks as you scan the crowd. 

It's a sea of unfamiliar faces - until you spot a group of girls from your sorority waving you over. 

You make your way over, laughing and chatting as you down your first drink. 

Gradually, the worries about Ellie start to fade away, replaced by the thrill of the night and the company of your friends.

Hours pass in a whirlwind of dancing, gossiping, and letting loose. 

By the time the club starts to close, you feel rejuvenated - your earlier heartache all but forgotten. As you and Lana are getting ready to leave, a boisterous guy approaches, asking for Lana's number. 

She plays hard to get for a bit, but eventually relents with a wink in your direction. You smile, feeling happy for your friend even as you can't help but wonder what Ellie is up to tonight.

You take a seat at the bar, ordering a strong cocktail to help take your mind off things. 

The night wears on, and you find yourself getting lost in the music and the company of a friendly stranger who joins you at the bar. 

Her name is Jenna, and she's charming and easy to talk to. As the hours pass, you find yourself growing more and more tipsy, laughing and joking around with Jenna as the night wears on. 

At some point, you both decide to hit the dance floor, moving and grooving to the pulsing beat. You're having a great time, but as the night wears on, your inhibitions lower. 

You find yourself getting more and more suggestively flirtatious with Jenna, pressed up against her and grinding together as you lost in the music. Just as things are really starting to heat up, you feel a sudden jolt of recognition. Turning, you lock eyes with a pair of piercing green ones across the bar. 

For a moment, you wonder if you're hallucinating - but then you see the familiar fit physique and messy auburn hair. It's Ellie. Your heart skips a beat as you realize your philosophy teacher is staring you down...

Your heart races as you realize Ellie is watching you closely from across the bar. 

you consider waving her over, but then you remember how the night started - with you confessing your crush to your best friend. 

You also remember Lana's words of wisdom about not wanting to get hurt. 

But then you see the way Ellie is looking at you - like she's undressing you with her eyes. Your resolve weakens. 

Grabbing Jenna's hand, you pull her behind you, pressing her against the bar as you rub up against her boldly. 

You catch Ellie's eye, holding her gaze as you grind against the other girl. 

Jenna laughs, assuming you're just playing around, but you can't help the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect of making your teacher jealous. You lost in the moment, feeling bold and reckless. Who knows what will happen tomorrow - but tonight, you're going to enjoy the thrill of the chase.

As you and Jenna put on a provocative show for Ellie, the philosophy teacher's expression grows more and more dark. 

Her eyes narrow to slits, and her jaw clenches visibly. 

You can practically hear the steam coming out of her ears as she watches you. 

Finally, she appears to reach her limit. Tossing some money on the bar, she storms off into the night, disappearing into the crowd. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, assuming the coast is clear. 

Turning back to Jenna, you grab her face and pull her in for a deep, messy kiss. She kisses you back eagerly, and you lose yourself in the moment. 

As you make out with Jenna, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at having made your teacher jealous. 

But as the night wears on, things start to get a little fuzzy... You remember snippets of making out with Jenna, dancing, and doing shots with new friends. 

But by the time you stumble out of the club in the early hours of the morning, you can barely remember your own name.

The sunlight streaming through your window feels like razor blades in your brain. 

You groggily sit up, your head pounding. 

The events of the previous night come back to you in hazy flashes - dancing, drinking, making out with a stranger. 

You feel a wave of shame wash over you as you realize how far you went. Did you go too far? You try to piece together the details, but your memories are fragmented and hazy. 

Just then, there's a knock at the door. It's Lana, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite the early hour. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" she says, bouncing into the room. "How are you feeling?" She looks at you with concern as you wince at the light. "I take it things didn't go exactly as planned last night?" You shake your head, feeling mortified. Lana sits down next to you, taking your hand. 

"Hey, it's okay. We've all been there. But maybe next time, drink more water and less vodka, yeah?" You manage a weak laugh. 

Lana helps you stumble to the bathroom to take some painkillers and splash some water on your face. 

As you're brushing your teeth, you can't help but wonder what Ellie is thinking this morning.

Lana helps you tidy up your room, putting away your clothes and picking up the remnants of the night before. 

As she works, she keeps you company, chatting amiably about everything except the previous evening. 

By the time she leaves you to get ready for classes, your head still throbs, but you feel a bit more human. 

You head to Philosophy 101 with trepidation, wondering how the day will go after your drunken antics last night. As you take your seat, you keep an eye on the door, waiting to see if Ellie will mention anything about your behavior. 

But she says nothing out of the ordinary, launching straight into the day's lecture. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the situation hasn't become awkward. At least, not yet. 

As the lecture goes on, you can't help but sneak glances at Ellie, wondering if she knows about your encounter with her last night. 

Does she think you're just another cheap drunk? Or did seeing you with another woman make her question her own attraction to you? You try to focus on the lecture, but your mind keeps wandering. One thing's for sure - this is going to be an interesting semester.

As the days go by, you try to put the drunken escapades of the first day behind you. 

You focus on your studies, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you're more than just a party animal. 

But no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get Ellie off your mind. In class, you keep stealing glances at her, wondering if she's noticed any changes in you. 

Sometimes you catch her looking at you, but whenever you meet her gaze, she quickly looks away. Is she avoiding you? Ignoring you? It's impossible to tell. 

You try to talk to Lana about it, but she just laughs and tells you to stop overthinking things. "She's your teacher. It's never gonna happen," she says, rolling her eyes. 

But you can't quite shake the feeling that there's still a spark there, no matter how much Lana denies it. 

One day, as you're packing up your things after class, you notice Ellie's door slightly ajar. 

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you peek inside. She's sitting at her desk, grading papers. Your presence must surprise her, because she looks up with a startled expression. "Can I help you?" she asks, her tone stern but her eyes revealing a flicker of—something.

You hesitate in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. Ellie's gaze bores into you, expecting an explanation. 

"I just...I wanted to apologize for last week," you stammer, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "I was way out of line, and I'm really sorry." Ellie considers this for a moment, then nods. "Apology accepted," she says simply. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the tension between you seems to be dissipating. As you turn to leave, Ellie clears her throat. "Actually— Can you stay after class today? I have something I want to discuss with you." Her tone is still professional, but there's a hint of something else in her eyes. Something that makes your heart skip a beat—lust. Pure lust in her eyes.

After class, you head to Ellie's office, your heart pounding in your chest. 

What could she possibly want to discuss with you? You knock on the door, and when Ellie invites you in, you take a deep breath and enter. 

The office is bigger than you expected, with bookshelves lining the walls and a desk in the middle. Ellie sits behind the desk, leaning back in her chair.

 "Close the door and have a seat," she says, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. 

You do as you're told, trying to calm your nerves. Ellie studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming over your face. "I've been noticing you in class lately," she begins, her voice low and measured. "You seem...different. More engaged. More curious." She pauses, searching for the right words. 

"I have to admit, I was worried about how you'd handle last week's activities. But you seem to have handled it with maturity." You feel a flush rise to your cheeks at the memory of your drunken escapades. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Ellie leans forward, her eyes locking onto yours. "I think you have the potential to be an excellent philosopher, But it requires dedication, hard work...and a willingness to challenge yourself." She pauses, studying you intently. "Are you up for the challenge?"

You nod eagerly, determined to prove yourself. "Absolutely," you say, meeting Ellie's gaze with a fierce look of your own. "I won't let you down." A small smile plays at the corner of Ellie's lips, and she reaches for a pen and paper. 

"Good," she says, scribbling down her phone number. "In case you need to reach me...or want to discuss some of the ideas we cover in class." She slides the paper across the desk to you. 

You take it, feeling a rush of excitement. Before you can react, Ellie stands, indicating that the meeting is over. "Think about the ideas we discussed today," she says. "And feel free to call me if you have any questions." You leave the office in a daze, the slip of paper clutched tightly in your hand. 

As you walk across campus, you can't help but stare at Ellie's phone number. 

Should you really call her? What would you even say? But then you remember her words - she wants you to challenge yourself. To grow. 

And what could be more challenging than asking out your philosophy teacher? Taking a deep breath, you pull out your phone and dial the number. It rings once...twice...and then Ellie answers. "Hello?" her voice is smooth as silk. "Hi, it's me." There's a pause, and then Ellie laughs. "Of course."

"It's nice to hear from you." Ellie says, her voice warm and friendly. You can almost hear her smiling over the phone.

 "What's up?" You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Well...I was hoping maybe we could grab a cup of coffee sometime and discuss some of the ideas from class. You know, challenge myself like you suggested." There's a pause, and for a moment you fear you've overstepped. 

But then Ellie responds. "I'd like that." You feel a surge of excitement, trying to keep your cool. "Great so um, when were you thinking?" How did you go from asking your philosophy teacher for coffee to making plans with her? You're not sure, but you can't help the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect of spending time with Ellie.

 "How about tomorrow afternoon?" she suggests. "There's a cafe just off campus. I know the owner, so we can get a quiet table if you'd like." You agree on a time, and hang up the phone with a huge grin on your face. 

You can't believe it - you're actually going to have coffee with Ellie. And who knows what might happen after that.

The next day, you arrive at the cafe early, nursing a nervous energy. You spot Ellie outside, looking even more finer than usual in a casual grey sweater and jeans. 

She smiles as she sees you, and you can't help but return it. 

Inside, the cafe is cozy and quiet, just as Ellie said. 

You take a seat at a small table by the window, and Ellie joins you a moment later, sliding in across from you. "So," she says, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me more about what you liked about last week's reading. What stood out to you." You launch into a discussion of the finer points of existentialism, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. 

Ellie listens intently, interjecting with insightful questions and comments. Before you know it, an hour has passed, and you feel like you've barely scratched the surface of the topics you want to discuss. 

Glancing at the clock, you realize you've been talking for over two hours. 

Ellie laughs as she catches you checking the time. "I guess we got a bit carried away," she says, smiling. "But I have to say, I'm really enjoying this. It's not often I get to have such thoughtful discussions with my students." You feel a flutter in your chest at her words. Is this a date? Or just a fun intellectual exchange? Either way, you're not ready for it to end.

As you finish up your coffee, Ellie glances at her watch. "I suppose I should let you get to your next class," she says, a hint of reluctance in her voice. 

You stand up, gathering your things, and Ellie does the same. Outside the cafe, she falls into step beside you as you begin the walk back to campus. 

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. "I have to say, I'm impressed," Ellie remarks, glancing at you sidelong. "Most of my students wouldn't bother showing up to a coffee date dressed like that." You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you realize you're wearing the same outfit you had on the first day of class. 

Ellie must have been checking you out. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. 

As you walk, the conversation continues, flowing easily between you. You discover shared interests and favorite authors, bonding over your love of philosophy. 

By the time you reach your dorm, the sky is dark, and stars are beginning to twinkle overhead. Ellie pauses at your doorstep, looking up at you. "I had a really great time today," she says softly. "Would you like to do it again sometime soon?" Her eyes search yours, and you can't help but wonder what she's looking for. With that, she leans in and presses her lips to yours in a sweet, brief kiss. It's chaste, but filled with promise.

The next few weeks pass in a blur of coffee dates, long walks, and deep discussions about life, philosophy, and everything in between. 

You find yourself falling for Ellie, hard. She's brilliant, passionate, and genuinely interested in you and your thoughts. 

You discover a sexy side to her, too - the way her eyes smolder when she's excited by an idea, or the way her hands move when she's gesturing enthusiastically. But even as you grow closer, you can't shake the feeling that there's something holding Ellie back. 

She's always quick to deflect when you try to get too personal, and there are moments when her expression shifts, just for a second, into something guarded. One evening, as you're walking back to your dorm after another amazing date, you decide to confront her. "Ellie—" you pause for a moment. "what are we?" you continue.

Ellie pauses, looking up at you with those intense green eyes. 

For a moment, you think you see a flicker of fear in their depths. Then her expression smooths into a mask of calm.

 "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice even. You take a deep breath and plunge ahead. "I mean...we've been seeing each other for weeks now. 

We have all these deep talks and go on dates. It feels like more than just a friendship to me. So...what are we?" Ellie looks away, staring up at the stars twinkling overhead.

 "I care about you, Really deeply. But..." She pauses, seeming to struggle with her words. "My job is to teach and mentor you. That's a pretty big power imbalance, and I don't want to compromise your academic experience." 

She looks back at you, her eyes searching yours. "I'm scared that if we keep going down this path, it will complicate things in ways I'm not sure I'm equipped to handle." Your heart aches at the vulnerability in her voice. 

But then Ellie does something unexpected - she reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But I enjoy your company more than anything else in my life right now. So...let's just see where this goes, okay? We'll take things slowly and figure it out as we go. Deal?"

You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak. 

Ellie smiles, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. 

"Good," she says simply. As you continue walking, the weight of her confession hangs in the air between you. 

You're not sure what the future holds, but for now, you're content to enjoy each other's company. When you reach your dorm, Ellie walks you to the door, just like she has every night. 

But this time, instead of kissing you goodbye, she leans in close, her forehead pressing against yours. "I really like you," she whispers. "More than I should." You can feel her words vibrating against your skin.

 "I know it's not ideal, but I don't care. I want to be with you." With that, she pulls back and waits, looking up at you with those deep green orbs. 

You realize this is a turning point. You can walk away now, preserving the status quo. Or you can take a chance on Ellie, and see where this forbidden connection takes you.

You look into Ellie's eyes, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability there. You feel the same way about her - more than just likes and crushes. 

This is real. And as much as you know you should be careful, you can't bring yourself to let her go. "I really like you too," you whisper, mirroring her words. Ellie's face lights up at your response, and she leans in once more, her lips brushing yours in a sweet, tender kiss. 

It's not a chaste kiss this time - there's heat and promise in it. As you pull back, you realize that this is the start of something new. 

Something that terrifies you, but also fills you with exhilaration. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Ellie asks, her voice filled with hope. You nod, smiling. "Definitely." 

As you step inside your dorm, you can't help but glance over your shoulder at Ellie, who's still standing there, watching you. 

You know that you're taking a risk by being with her. But right now, you don't care. All you can think about is the fact that the woman you've fallen for wants you too. And that's worth fighting for.

It's the week before finals, and you're running on fumes. 

Between classes, work, and your blossoming relationship with Ellie, you're stretched thin. 

You've been putting off studying, hoping you could somehow magically absorb all the material through osmosis. 

But as the pressure mounts, you know you need to buckle down and focus. 

The problem is, you don't know where to start. You consider hitting up Lana, but you know she'll just tell you to chill out and study with her later. 

You need help - and fast. So who do you turn to? Your philosophy teacher, of course. 

You're nervous about asking Ellie for help, but you're more desperate than ever. 

You send her a nervous text. "Hey...I know this is last minute, but would you be willing to help me study for my exams? I feel totally overwhelmed and I know your class is key to understanding a lot of the material. I really appreciate you, and I know this is a big ask..." You wait with bated breath for her response.

You nervously wait for Ellie's response, your phone glued to your hand. 

After what feels like an eternity, you see her name pop up on your screen. "Heyyy, no worries at all, Of course I'd be happy to help you study. 

When were you thinking? How about tomorrow afternoon, we could meet at the library and go over some key concepts together?

also how are you holding up, honestly? Finals week can be really rough. lemme know if u need help with anything else:))" You feel a rush of relief and gratitude at her response. 

You quickly type back a thanks and a confirmation of the study session. 

As you set your phone down, you can't help but smile. Even when you're being a mess, Ellie is there for you. 

She's not just your teacher or your girlfriend - she's a true friend. 

The next day, you meet Ellie at the library and dive into your studying. 

Having her guidance and support makes all the difference. As you work together, you can't help but steal glances at each other, both aware that this is more than just a study session. 

It's a moment of intimacy, of teamwork, of shared goal-oriented effort. And it only serves to strengthen your bond. 

By the time you wrap up your studying, you feel confident and ready for your exams. Plus, you got to spend quality time with the girl you love. It's the perfect outcome. 

As you finish up your studying, Ellie glances at her watch. "We've been at it for a few hours," she remarks. "How about I walk you back to your dorm?" You agree, gathering your things, and Ellie leads you out of the library and onto the quiet campus streets. 

It's a chilly evening, and you can see your breath misting in the air. 

But as you walk alongside Ellie, you don't feel the cold at all. You're too busy stealing glances at her, admiring the way her hair falls in loose waves around her face. Eventually, you arrive at your dorm. You pause at the door, unsure what to do. 

Do you invite her up? Do you kiss her goodbye? Before you can decide, Ellie leans in, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. 

One moment you're standing there, the next you're wrapped up in each other, hands exploring, tongues entwined. 

The kiss deepens and lengthens, until you're both panting, pressed up against each other. 

Ellie breaks away, her eyes dark with desire. "I want you," she whispers, her voice husky. "Right now." You don't need any further invitation. You lead her inside, your hands roaming, your hearts racing.

Ellie steps inside your dorm room, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. She looks around, taking in the scatter of books and clothes, the general chaos of a student's space. 

But her attention is quickly drawn back to you, as she takes a step closer. "Can I...touch you?" she asks softly, her fingers hovering against your cheek. 

You nod, your heart pounding. Ellie's fingers trace the line of your jaw, your neck, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the curve of your shoulder blade. 

Each touch sends shivers down your spine. As her hand explores your body, you can't help but touch her in return - running your fingers through her hair, tracing the shape of her breasts through her hoodie. 

The air between you crackles with electricity. Ellie steps closer still, until her body is pressed up against yours. 

You can feel every curve, every ridge - the swell of her hips, the jut of her collarbone. 

It's like fitting together two puzzle pieces, so perfectly do you mesh. Ellie's head dips down, her lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. She kisses you there, and then suckles gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

One of her hands slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across your stomach. You can feel her warm breath on your skin, her heartbeat pounding in time with yours.

As Ellie's lips trail down your neck, her hand slides further under your shirt, her fingers teasing the waistband of your pants. 

You can feel your heart racing, your breath coming in short gasps. The sensation of her touch, so soft and feather-light, is driving you crazy. You want more. 

Need more. With trembling hands, you reach down to grip Ellie's coat, pulling her closer still. 

Her body presses up against yours, and you can feel every inch of her, from the curve of her breasts to the line of her thighs. It's overwhelming, in the best possible way. 

Ellie's head dips lower, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. Her tongue slips inside your mouth, tangling with your own. You can taste yourself on her, musky and intimate. As you kiss, Ellie's hand slides further down, fingers brushing against the front of your pants. 

She cups you there, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head. You arch into her touch, a needy little moan escaping your lips. Ellie breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with lust. "Clothes off," she whispers, her voice rough. "Now."

Ellie's words send a jolt of electricity through you. Without breaking eye contact, you reach back and pull your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly across the room. 

Ellie's gaze rakes over your bare torso, her eyes lingering on your nipples, hard and betraying your arousal. She takes a step closer, her hands coming up to palm your breasts, feeling their weight in her hands. 

You let out a shaky breath as she leans in, her lips finding yours once more. 

The kiss is deep and hungry, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. With a strength you didn't know she had, Ellie pushes you back towards the bed. 

You fall onto the mattress, Ellie looming over you, her hands still on your breasts. She leans down, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I've wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you." With that, she claims your mouth once more, even as she reaches down to start undoing your pants.

As Ellie undoes your pants, you realize you haven't asked her to undress yet. You reach up, grasping at the hem of her hoodie. 

"Take this off," you manage to gasp out between kisses. Ellie nods, breaking the kiss to pull the hoodie over her head, revealing the sports bra beneath. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to her nipples, visible through the thin fabric, straining towards you. You can't help but lick your lips, the sight arousing you further. 

Next, you work on the drawstrings of her pants, pushing them down along with her underwear. 

Ellie steps out of the puddle of fabric, now wearing nothing but her sports bra and socks. You drink in the sight of her, from the toned curves of her arms and shoulders, to the flat plane of her stomach, to the juncture between her thighs. She's beautiful. Perfect. 

You sit up, grasping at the back of her head, pulling her in for a deep, devouring kiss. As you kiss, your hands roam - tracing the lines of her muscles, feeling the dips and curves of her body.

As you kiss Ellie, your hands explore her body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

You can't get enough of her, and you pull her down onto the bed with you. Ellie lands on top of you, her weight a comforting pressure. 

She shifts, straddling your waist, her sex aligning with yours. You can feel the heat of her, even through the thin fabric of her sports bra. 

Ellie breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire. She reaches back, deftly takes off her bra. It falls away, revealing her breasts - full and heavy, topped with pink nipples. 

You reach out, taking one in your mouth, suckling gently. Ellie throws her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips. 

As you kiss Ellie, her hands start to roam over your body as well - slipping her hand under your panties to cup your pussy.

She breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire as she pulls you back down onto the bed. "On your hands and knees," she orders, her voice husky. 

Obediently, you flip over, presenting yourself to her. Ellie settles between your legs, her hands spreading you apart. 

You can feel her hot breath on your most intimate areas, making you shiver. Her tongue dips out, licking through your folds, finding your clit. 

You let out a choked cry, your back arching off the bed. Ellie laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin as she continues her ministrations. 

She pays special attention to your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds between her fingers and sucking them deep into her mouth. You're lost to the sensation, your hips rocking against her face as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Ellie stops. She flips you over onto your back, her body looming over yours. "what d’you want princess? hm?” she whispers, her eyes burning with need.

You look up at Ellie, your lips parted, your chest heaving. 

You can't form words, not even a whimper. All you can do is point to your pussy, pleadingly. 

Ellie gets the message. She settles between your legs once more, her hands holding you open. 

This time, she doesn't tease - her tongue dives in, licking up your wetness, circling your clit. 

You feel yourself getting close, your walls clenching around nothing. 

Just as you think you're about to tumble over the edge, Ellie stops again. This time, she's got a finger poised at your asshole. 

"Like this?" she asks, looking into your eyes. 

You nod, too far gone to form words. Ellie presses her finger against you, pushing past the initial resistance. 

You feel her digging deeper, curling her finger inside you. It's a weird sensation, but not unpleasant. 

As she fingers you, Ellie leans down, her lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss. 

She tastes like you - musky and intimate. You can feel yourself getting close again, your body tensing. 

This time, when you crest, Ellie is there with you. She licks into your mouth, swallowing your cries as she brings you both to climax. You collapse back onto the bed, Ellie half on top of you, both of you panting. Ellie pulls her finger out of you, licking it clean. "Fuck,"

As you catch your breath, Ellie starts cleaning you up with gentle, soothing touches. 

She wipes the sweat from your brow, the saliva from your lips. Her fingers trace patterns on your skin, calming you. 

You feel like putty in her hands, pliant and relaxed. Eventually, you're both clean and comfortable, curled up together in a tangle of limbs. 

Ellie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Goodnight princess." she whispers. You smile, feeling happy and sated. Ellie pulls away, slipping out of bed. 

She gathers up her clothes, stepping into them one piece at a time. As she leaves, she turns back to kiss you once more, her lips soft and warm against yours.

 "I love you," she murmurs. Then she's gone, closing the door quietly behind her. 

You're left alone in the dark, a satisfied smile on your face, her words echoing in your mind. You love her too. More than you ever thought possible.

The next morning, you wake up feeling refreshed and happy. 

You can't help but smile as you remember the previous night's events. 

You're still on cloud nine when you head to philosophy class. But as soon as you walk in and see Ellie at the front of the room, 

all your good feelings evaporate. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you realize how inappropriate your relationship is. How could you do this with your teacher? You take your seat, keeping your eyes fixed on your notebook. 

But as the class progresses, you can't help but sneak glances at Ellie. She seems distracted too, her usual enthusiasm dampened. 

Eventually, class ends, and you file out with your classmates. Ellie hangs back, waiting for you. 

As everyone else leaves, she steps closer. "Hey—about yesterday... I know this is complicated. But I care about you so much. I don't want anything to ruin what we have. Can we just pretend class is cancelled today? Spend some more time together?" She looks at you with those earnest, hopeful eyes. 

You feel your resolve crumbling. What could a few more hours hurt? "Okay," you find yourself agreeing. "Let's go for a walk."

As you walk with Ellie, you can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Isn't this just repeating itself? You're just delaying the inevitable, aren't you? But the warmth of her hand in yours, the sparkle in her eyes when she looks at you, make you forget your misgivings. 

For the moment, anyway. You walk and talk, enjoying each other's company, trying to ignore the fact that you're alone on campus on a weekend day. 

Eventually, you find yourselves at the edge of the woods. A path stretches into the trees, dark and inviting. 

Without a word, Ellie takes your hand and leads you down it. The canopy of leaves blocks out the sun, casting the forest floor in cool shadows. 

Ellie pulls you into a clearng, the center of which is taken up by a small pond. In the center of the pond is an old stone fountain, dry and cracked. 

Ellie lets go of your hand and walks over to it, running her fingers over the worn surface. "I used to come here a lot when I was a student," she says softly. "It was my escape." She looks at you then, her eyes dark with emotion. "I know this is wrong, I'm your teacher, and you're my student. But I can't help how I feel. And I don't want to lose you." She takes a step closer, her hands reaching out.

As Ellie steps closer, you can see the desperation in her eyes. She wants to touch you, to hold you, but she's holding herself back. "I think... I think we need to take a break," she says softly.

 "Not from each other, from all of this. From the secrecy, from the taboo. It's eating away at me, wondering when someone is going to find out. 

When this is going to blow up in our faces." She takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. "I don't want to lose you, but I also don't want to do something that could ruin your life. You're too important to me." You feel a pang in your chest at her words. 

She's right, of course. But the idea of giving up what you have with her is impossible. You reach out and take her hand, squeezing it. "No," you say firmly. "I don't want to give up what we have either. We'll find a way to make this work." Ellie looks at you, her eyes searching. "How, How are we going to make this work when everything is against us?"

Ellie's eyes darken with emotion at your words. She wants to believe you, wants to think that you can overcome all the obstacles in your way. 

But she knows, deep down, that it's unlikely. She pulls her hand away, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a headache. "I think... I think we need to stop seeing each other. Until we can figure out a way to make this work, we need to stay away from each other. For your own good, for both of our sakes." Her voice cracks on the last word, betraying the pain she feels. 

She looks at you then, her eyes pleading. "Can we do that? Can we stay away from each other for a little while, until we can come up with a plan?" You feel a lump rise in your throat at her words. 

The idea of not seeing her, not touching her, feels like a death sentence. But she's right, of course. You both need to take a step back and regroup. With a heavy heart, you nod. "Yeah," you say softly. "Yeah, I think you're right." Ellie exhales shakily, some of the tension leaving her body. 

"Okay, then. We'll do that. We'll stay away from each other until we can figure this out." She looks at you one last time before turning and walking back through the woods, leaving you alone by the pond.

It's been a few days since you and Ellie decided to take a break. The last few days have been a blur of sadness and loneliness. 

You've been lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, missing her more than you ever thought possible. 

Just as you're starting to drift off to sleep, you hear a soft knock at the door. You stare at it in surprise - who could it be at this hour? You shuffle over and open the door, finding Ellie standing there, looking pale and exhausted. "Can I come in?" she asks softly. You nod, moving aside to let her in. 

As she enters and closes the door behind her, you can't help but notice how different she looks from the vibrant, energetic Ellie you know. 

This version looks defeated, her eyes shadowed by lack of sleep and worry. "I've been thinking a lot about us, about this situation. And I think I know how we can make it work." She looks at you, her eyes pleading. "But we're going to have to trust each other completely. Can you do that for me?"

As Ellie finishes speaking, you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to make this work. "Yes," you find yourself agreeing. "I can do that." Ellie's face brightens at your words, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Good. Because I don't want to live in a world without you in it, princess." She reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, let's go for a walk. We need to get out of this room." You follow her quietly, enjoying the feeling of her hand in yours. As you walk, Ellie talks, explaining her plan for how you two can be together. 

It's ambitious, and it won't be easy. But with Ellie by your side, you're willing to try anything. 

The walk eventually leads you to a quiet neighborhood, one you've never been to before. Ellie pauses in front of a small, cozy house. "This is my house," she says softly. “come inside with me?” You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, knowing what will likely happen once you're inside. 

But you want to be with her, no matter what. "Okay," you agree.

As you follow Ellie into her home, you feel a sense of nervous anticipation. You know what's likely to happen next, and a part of you is thrilled, while another part is terrified. 

Once inside, Ellie locks the door behind you, turning to face you with a serious expression. "Listen, princess," she says softly. "What happens next is up to you. If you want to stop, if you want to leave, just say the word. But if you're willing to take a chance on us, then...then I want to show you just how much I care." She takes a step closer, her eyes burning into yours.

 "I want to make you feel so so good baby girl. I want to show you that we can make this work." As she speaks, she reaches up and cups your face, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her touch.

Ellie's words send a jolt of electricity through you, her touch setting you ablaze. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing growing ragged. "Show me," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible. 

Ellie smiles softly at your response, her eyes darkening with possessiveness and desire.

She guides you further into the house, leading you upstairs to a small bedroom. 

It's simply furnished, with a large bed taking up most of the space. Ellie walks over to it and sits down, patting the space beside her. "C’mere baby," she invites, her voice low and husky. 

You hesitate for a moment, your hands shaking as you remove your clothing. 

But as you climb onto the bed and settle beside Ellie, you feel a sense of rightness, of coming home. 

Ellie pulls you close, wrapping her arms around you and holding you tight. Her lips find yours in a soft, sweet kiss. 

 she kisses you, her hands start to roam - tracing the lines of your back, the curve of your hips. She rolls you onto your back, looking down at you with those earnest, adoring eyes. "I love you, princess, so so much.” she whispers.

As Ellie's lips meet yours, you feel like you're melting into her embrace. Her touch is electric, setting every nerve ending in your body on fire. 

You kiss her back with all the passion and love in your heart, your arms wrapping around her waist, holding her close. 

As she rolls you onto your back, you feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you. 

But it's a good vulnerability, a trusting kind. 

You look up at her, seeing the love in her eyes, and you know that everything is going to be okay. 

Ellie's hands start to explore your body, tracing patterns on your skin, tugging gently at your clothes. 

She undresses you slowly, reverently, each article of clothing eliciting a soft gasp from you as it's pulled away. 

Once you're naked, Ellie settles between your legs, her eyes feasting on your bared flesh. 

You feel her warm breath on your most intimate area, making you shiver. 

And then her tongue touches you, sliding through your folds, seeking out your clit. You let out a soft cry of pleasure, your hips arching off the bed as she begins to lick and suck at you.

After a while, Ellie slows down her ministrations, her tongue dragging lazily through your wet folds. 

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. Without a word, she climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet. 

You hear her rummaging around in it for a moment before she returns, a long, thick strap-on dangling from her hand. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of it, a mixture of excitement and nervousness washing over you. Ellie looks at you, her expression serious. "ready princess?" she asks softly. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You nod, your mouth too dry to form words. 

Ellie helps you move into position, her hands guiding your hips as she presses the thick head of the strap-on against your entrance. You feel a moment of hesitation, of doubt, but then the head begins to slip inside, stretching you in ways you've never been stretched before. 

You gasp, your body tensing as Ellie works the strap-on deeper inside you. Finally, it's all the way in. 

You feel full, so very full. But in a good way, like you're being filled with potential, with possibility. Ellie leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "We're gonna take it slow," she promises.

As Ellie begins to move the strap-on inside you, you feel a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. 

It's a lot to take, being stretched and filled in ways your body isn't used to. 

But Ellie is patient, letting you adjust to the sensation. 

She starts off slow, her hips rocking in a steady, rhythmic motion. You feel yourself relaxing into it, your body starting to crave the sensation. 

As Ellie picks up speed, you start to feel a building pressure inside you, a sense of anticipation. 

It's like your body is getting ready to explode, to release all the tension and pleasure that's been building. And then, suddenly, you're coming. 

Your whole body seizes up as your climax hits, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your toes curling. Ellie keeps thrusting through your orgasm, riding it out with you. 

Finally, she slows to a stop, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

You collapse back onto the bed, spent and satisfied. Ellie lies down beside you, pulling you close. "That was amazing," she murmurs. "But I know it was a lot. Are you okay, princess?"

You nod As you lie there, caught on the wave of afterglow, Ellie tends to you with gentle, loving care. 

She takes the strap-on out of you, cleaning you up with soft cloths and warm water. Her touch is soothing, calming any lingering discomfort. Once you're clean, she sets about filling you up with soft, sweet kisses. Her lips trail across your skin, dotting your body with tiny pecks. She pays special attention to your breasts, your hips, your inner thighs. Each kiss feels like a promise, a seal of love and affection. As she kisses you, she wraps her arms around you, holding you close. You can feel her heart beating against your own, a steady, reassuring rhythm. "I love you," she whispers, punctuating her words with more kisses. "So very much."

“I love u too Els.”

tag list— @youfoundheavenn @gaylittleellie @xaaaavleg @sleepy-sheep-things

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Here's a funny kinda nostalgic post for commenting on.

In Husbandry Warhammer what media normally designed more for kids do Space Marines enjoy? (Aka what media are they latching onto because it is healing their traumatized inner child?)

I'm gonna go through some of my totally unbiased opinions. And if you're favorite legion isn't on here...

Comment it with your thoughts!

Thousand Sons - Take your damn pick there's so much magic based media but of course the Owl House is up there for recent examples.

...some of the Loyalist Thousands Sons do get a bit...existential when the plot line of the tyrannical Emperor Belos gets expanded upon.

Ironically despite its fictional nature Thousand Son or other psycher space marines use certain scenes in it almost like training videos for their offspring.

Ultramarines - You can't Tell me these guys wouldn't like Bob the Builder, and Thomas the Tank Engine. The main characters are Blue and so much of trains and building is logistics! And Cyberspace! Logistics is mostly math so Cyberspace is in there too.

Death Gaurd - Zoboomafo, the focus on flora and fauna is quite enjoyable for marines literally in tune with the cycle of life. Children's shows in general often use simpler language which is easier to understand or translate for Marines still coming to grasp with ancient terran languages. The similarly enjoy The Wild Thornberries

Nightlords - Goosebumps. They LOVE Goosebumps and 'Are you afraid of the Dark?' No I will not explain it.

Blood Angels - Art Attack! Never watched the show myself but Damn it looks fun! And perfect for craft inclined Blood Angels.

Alpha Legion - The animated Carmen Sandiego cartoon! Deception, mystery and most importantly disguises! What more could a hydra want? And Blue Clues...because.

Salamanders - Dragon Tails. Love watching it with their family or kids. The show has a big focus on family itself and giant lizards it's practically made for them! Would probably also like Dinosaur Train.

Emerperors Children - Steven Universe. The art, the music, the messy drama of the characters that makes them weep and the existential dread of being similarly tied to a parent or family that is...complicated.

They find a lot of comfort and catharsis in it.

Black Templars - Veggie Tales. Okay JK kinda they would like that just swap out God for God Emperor. Also...Winnie the Pooh.

Is it just because Pooh is Yellow like their gene father? That's not entirely it but they approve of the little yellow bear who isn't the brightest but he does his Best Okay!

I could also see them using it as another weird allegory for the God Emperor loving and protecting because in quite a few episodes of "The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh," Christopher Robin shows up to help Pooh and Friends out of their predicaments.

Iron Warriors - Reboot! My sister loved this show as a kid, and given its focus on computers/a digital world I could see them enjoying it! Also they like Cyber Space because Math. And...Chip and Dale rescue rangers But! They like it specifically for the scenes with Gadget because she makes cool things and they also want to make cool things/find a way to make them work.

See a video on AstartikTok about an Iron Warrior making a remote controlled roller skate and putting the families pet rat on it.

The rat is unharmed and even seems to enjoy the ride.

Dark Angels - Redwall. God that series gave me Nightmares but it Was still technically a kids show....technically. Also Jane and the Dragon, they like the medical aesthetic.

Space Wolves - No I'm not saying paw patrol. Blue Clues and Bluey! But All the legions have Marines who like Bluey! There's hardly a demographic on this planet that doesn't have a legion of Bluey Fans!

Also the old Tarzan Disney animated series because it was actually pretty damn hot shit! And full of cool action scenes fighting giant frightening animals.

White Scars - My Little Pony Friendship is Magic. Yes because horses, and yes because it espouses the values of community and collaboration and it has a kicking soundtrack. And White Scars are one of the few legions who both accept psychers but also acknowledge their inherent danger. They have a big focus on meditation and not becoming lost to the power you wield and finding support in those around you. They appreciate the similar messaging in the show.

War Hounds and World Eaters - Lazy Town. Because all of them want to become as strong as Sportacus and be able to lift a fuckin pyramid with a grappling hook from an airship!

Please stop them, the Pyramids of Giza need to stay where they are. Don't let them cause an international incident.

Ravengaurd - Ruby Gloom. They enjoy the macabre atmosphere merged with the cheerful main character. Plus the music isn't half bad.

Some tags for ya'll if you wanna jump in! And don't hesitate to comment about legions already mentioned if you've got more ideas about shows they'd like.

@egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @barn-anon

@kit-williams @bispecsual @angronsjewelbeetle @virozero @sleepyfan-blog @passionofthesith

@beckyninja @felinisnoctis

[writing-for-life]

Dream's Therapist

I’m not sure if I should apologise for this brain fart in advance, but it just found its way to the page after this. Yes, this is how my brain works (or rather doesn’t)…

Intake Session

The client presented for his intake session on 22/04. When he made his appointment, he showed particular interest in the fact that this is an integrative therapy practice which uses cognitive, behavioural, somatic and Jungian approaches and is also versed in sex therapy. Naturally the ethical kind.

He was extremely on time (that is to say, close to three hours early), but he insisted on spending that time in the waiting area instead of coming back later. My receptionist assured me he did not move from the offered chair during that time and that he, in fact, did not move at all. She occasionally had to check (inconspicuously of course) if he was breathing.

Upon entering my office, he was polite if slightly aloof. He was dressed all black and refused to take off his coat. No problems with personal hygiene could be perceived from a distance. After getting seated, he enquired whether I could dim the lights ever so slightly because it was too bright, to which I agreed.

I noticed his staring at the crystal paperweight on my table for an extended period of time before he, seemingly out of nowhere, asked: “I trust your office is a mere illusion, a fleeting moment in existence?”

DT: Something like that I guess. What brings you here?

Dream: Well, I have these recurring nightmares. Not while I am sleeping, since I obviously don’t sleep.

DT: Obviously.

Dream: I create them.

DT: The nightmares?

Dream: Yes. And all of a sudden, they all suffer from… existential dread instead of helping to get rid of it. Also, my hair keeps getting tangled and knotted all the time, but I am not quite… certain if this relates in any way.

DT: Interesting. And how does that make you feel?

Dream (deadpan): Feel? I don't “feel”. I weave narratives, conjure nightmares, and occasionally attend celestial tea parties. Emotions are for mortals. The hair is inconvenient though.

DT: Right. Let's explore your childhood. Did you have any issues with your family?

Dream (I notice uneasy shifting in his seat): My family? My father, always running late. My mother… (I notice a slight tremble in his bottom lip)… well, she is… dark. My sister, Death, tells me I am a buzzkill, especially at family gatherings. Truthfully, I believe all my siblings are just trying to gaslight me into believing so because I can be… quite entertaining? (I notice uncertainty). Plus, one of them is… let's just say: they are the reason I have commitment issues.

DT: Commitment issues. Let’s expand on that a bit. Have you ever been in love?

Dream: (I notice extreme rigidity): Love is a quaint human invention, like gluten-free pizza or reality TV.

DT (I don’t know what that means and ignore it): I sense reluctance around the topic?

(He stares at the paperweight for a good 3 minutes)

Okay, let's try word association. I'll say a word, and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Ready?

Dream: Proceed, mortal.

DT: Sand.

Dream (I notice a raised eyebrow and a slightly tetchy sigh): Golden grain sifting through my fingers.

DT: Pillow.

Dream: A convenient weapon during astral battles.

DT (I momentarily feel confused and lose my footing, to which he reacts with)

Dream: I could show you? (I notice he makes a move to get up from his seat)

DT: That won’t be necessary right now… Word association: Unicorn.

Dream: (I notice grave seriousness) My ex-wife. I think.

DT: That should suffice for now. Let’s briefly discuss coping mechanisms. How do you handle stress?

Dream: Stress? When the universe unravels and the fabric of the Dreaming tears, I binge-watch reality shows. The Kardashians, mostly.

DT: Why the Kardashians?

Dream: Distraction. Inspiration. For all manner of things. Mostly nightmares.

DT (I notice the recurring theme of nightmares): Do you hold any hopes or dreams for the future?

Dream (I notice a nervous twitch around his mouth which he tries to hide unsuccessfully): I am the King of Dreams. Dreams shape reality itself. But if you must know, I dream of a world where everyone flosses regularly and understands general relativity.

DT: Why is flossing important?

Dream: I just like good teeth.

DT: Why general relativity?

Dream: Because it would help. With ships.

DT: What ships?

Dream (I notice eye-rolling and bridge-of-nose-pinching): Never mind.

DT: It’s okay, we can talk about anything that seems important to you.

Dream: It is of no import. Is time up yet?

DT: No.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then.

DT (I feel confused but try not to show it and respect the client’s wish to leave. I’m getting paid either way): Same time next week?

Dream (who is already standing): Time is a mere construct. But yes, let us pencil it in. And remember, reality is just a draft…

Further notes: The client suffers from insomnia and thinks he creates nightmares. He potentially has internalised he is one. He seems detached from his feelings to the point he believes he does not have any emotions and does not seem to relate to being human. He feels misunderstood by his whole family and suffers from the delusion that his sister is Death. He makes another of his siblings responsible for his failed relationships, which has led to the ingrained belief that love is not for him. He seems to compensate with believing he is above others and refers to himself as the “King of Dreams”. I notice a tendency to shirk potentially painful topics. He seems to communicate diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities apart from binge-watching TV, but he seems quite enamoured with the concept of astral battles and general relativity, which requires further exploration…

Next Session >

[blushstories]

Astarion blurb!!!!! Where uhhh established relationship, if one has a nightmare the other comforts them but then one night tav and astarion BOTH have nightmares and wake up the same time and it’s like fluffy/comedic bc it’s like damn we r both fucked up

this is so on brand i love it !!

It’s the cold nights that cause the most struggle. When the chill eats at your bones, your shivers aren’t the only part of you that can’t settle. Your mind usually wraps around itself in existential circles, tentacles for each piece of anxiety it has decided to fight tonight, and it’s the creeping dread of this reality that makes you shuffle closer to the campfire. You’ve got goosebumps.

Through the flickering flames, you catch Astarion’s eye. His face is set, eyes unblinking. You feel them bore into you intensely, as if you would crumble if he looked away.

Karlach is sat on one side of you, Gale the other. They’re both chewing fiercely, not sparing a second for small talk; it’s been a long day, you don’t blame them. Astarion’s piece of bread is held long forgotten between his fingers as he watches you. He’s never been the type to be too openly affectionate, but his actions have always spoken louder than words. His protective gaze eases you gently, and you offer him a small, reassuring smile. But the cold bites him, too.

The warmth of the fire licks your face, while your exposed back drinks in the cold. Karlach says something sarcastic to Gale, who laughs, agrees, and follows her as she leaves. You watch tiny pieces of wood and kindling bubble and jump at the base of the fire, clutching your knees a little closer to your chest.

Astarion seems to have disappeared too, you notice. You quickly glance around camp, but you can’t spot him; Wyll’s reading a book near his tent and Gale is rummaging through his belongings, but you can’t seem to see anyone else.

Having been drained from a day with too much violence than you’d prefer, you turn back towards the fire and let your mind wander. Since the Nautiloid, your anxiety has increased tenfold. There’s always something to worry about, and you would never have imagined that every day you aren’t sure if you’ll survive. What’s worse is that each day you collect horrifying sights by the second, and it’s no secret to the camp that it’s been weighing heavily on your mind — and your heart.

Dirt is scuffed somewhere behind you, and you’re enveloped in warmth by a cloak that’s not yours.

Astarion’s shoes appear in your vision and he sinks down next to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, uncharacteristically serious. He breathes slowly and deeply, and puts a hand on your knee.

“Will you be alright?” He asks lowly. You pull the cloak further over your shoulders and swallow thickly.

“Yeah,” you lie, not wanting to create a fuss. “Will you?”

He turns and your eyes meet, silently assessing each other for any signs of distress. This mutual protectiveness for each other isn’t obvious to the untrained eye, but you both know that you have each other’s backs. Astarion’s nightmares are more frequent than yours, and it was clear that he’d never known someone who could comfort him after. Upon meeting you, you decided that you wanted to make that feeling a stranger to him.

“Yes, I’m sure. The cold doesn’t seem to terrorise me as much as it does you. Now,” he says. “Do you need me to stay?”

“You’re such a softie,” you tease, enjoying the disgruntled crinkle of his nose and twitch of his eye. “No, don’t worry. But thanks.”

“Soft?” He scoffs, “I’m not the soft one here,” he says dramatically. He pauses, then he adds softly, “If you’re sure.” He stands up, squeezes your shoulder, and departs to his own bedroll.

*

Your nightmare tonight has been recycled for months. Your mind conjures up fifty different ways in which you turn into an illithid, each complete with a gruesome transformation where your skin rips apart and tentacles spring from your face. You’re not in pain, but you imagine it, and with each rendition it gets worse and worse and worse until you can’t stop screaming because the pain is searing hot and you can’t breathe and then the stars stare back at you from the sky.

Astarion’s cloak has slipped askew, allowing the cold to seep in through the stitches of your clothing. Cold sweat sticks to your forehead and you immediately look to your boyfriend… who is already awake.

He looks much paler than usual, and some of his hair has stuck to his forehead, the light of the dwindling fire illuminating the dampness there.

It’s as if you totally forget your own nightmare when “Are you okay?” tumbles from your lips. His lips pull up in a half-smile, a haunted, disbelieving smile. He chuckles, but it’s humourless.

“Well, darling. It looks like we’re both especially fucked up tonight, aren’t we?”

You shuffle over to his bedroll and he lies back down, letting you settle in his arms.

“Was it Cazador again?” You say. He hums.

“Who else would have the pleasure of starring centre stage in my dreams? I would have put good money on me,” he scoffs, trying to make light of it. You feel him press his lips to the top of your head. “And you? What kind of horrors do we have the pleasure of unpicking tonight?”

You roll your eyes at the sky. “You jest, but my brain can do extraordinary things with very little information,” you say.

“I know the feeling,” he says. You purse your lips.

“Like an old friend,” you feign cordiality. “You think you can go back to sleep?”

He hesitates. “If you’d like.” You sense something is still off with him.

“That’s okay. I’m not sure I can either.” He hums again; you know him too well. “As long as you need.”

i super duper apologise that i’m so rusty!! i hope it wasn’t too obvious:)) thankyou for requesting!!

[startrekprodigyfan]

I’m going to make one last plea! If you’re in ANY of these fandoms: The Owl House, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Dragon Prince, Star Wars, Star Wars Rebels, Ninjago, Transformers, Gravity Falls, or any other similar series, please give Star Trek Prodigy a watch! Seriously, just answer the following questions:

Do you like episodic content with an overarching story that builds and builds over time like Avatar?

Do you like the found family trope?

Do you like mysteries and science fiction?

Do you wanna try Star Trek but are daunted by it’s enormous history and legacy?

Do you like characters that grow and change between episodes and become better characters?

Do you like dark plot lines, trauma, and existential dread hidden in a kids show?

Are you feeling like there isn’t anything new to watch now that The Owl House is over?

If you said yes to ANY of these questions then Star Trek Prodigy is the show for you! It’s a CGI Nickelodeon show that gradually introduces you to the Star Trek universe in a gentle way through colorful characters and crazy sci-fi exploits! When a bunch of alien kids enslaved on a mining asteroid stumble upon a Federation Starship, they band together and use the ship to escape their captors. With the help of a holographic mentor, the crew of alien kids learn to work together and become a family. Along the way there’s time traveling shenanigans, deadly alien planets, devious aliens, and an underlying mystery about the ship and how it got stuck on in the mining asteroid to begin with!

Please please PLEASE take a look! It’s such s good show with great writing and easily fills the void we’re in for new animated shows! I promise you, it’s worth the time to check it out!

[mingoooossii]

Library crush.

Seokmin x reader

Synopsis: In which his favourite book is actually a person.

Warnings:fluff, min being a goof ball(as usual), mentions of some authors(should that be a warning??),and yeah, that's it.

A/n: the synopsis sucks yo I'm sorry.

Seokmin wasn't a bookworm by any stretch of the imagination. Words on paper held about as much allure as a soggy napkin.

Perhaps it was the flickering image of a vintage library in a movie he watched recently or maybe a subconscious yearning for a different kind of escape. Whatever the reason, he found himself, standing awkwardly infront of the city library.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the doors, the hushed reverence of the place instantly washing over him. The scent of aged paper and leather mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere of quiet knowledge.

Rows upon rows of books lined the walls, their spines whispering untold stories. Seokmin, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, felt a flicker of panic.

"Excuse me." a soft voice broke through his anxiety. A young figure stood behind a mahogany counter, your smile warm and welcoming. Your name tag read "...." "Can I help you find something?"

Seokmin, caught off guard, fumbled for an answer. He couldn't very well admit he was a book-reading novice venturing into uncharted territory. So, he did what any self-respecting charlatan would do – he lied.

"Ah, yes," he cleared his throat, feigning confidence. "I'm looking for something… philosophical. Maybe something by...Camus?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Camus? Excellent choice! Have you read 'The Stranger'?"

Seokmin, whose knowledge of Camus extended to a vague recognition of the name, mumbled something about "meaning to" while internally panicking.

But you, oblivious to his charade, launched into a passionate explanation of existentialism and the absurdity of life. Seokmin, surprisingly, found himself captivated by your enthusiasm.

As you expertly guided him towards a shelf overflowing with philosophical texts, He couldn't help but steal glances at you.Your eyes sparkled with genuine love for literature, and your smile radiated a contagious warmth.

He ended up leaving the library with a book on existentialism (one you had highly recommended), a head full of borrowed knowledge, and a heart inexplicably lighter.

The following day, Seokmin found himself drawn back to the library. He couldn't admit it, not even to himself, the lure wasn't the philosophical treasure clutched awkwardly in his hand but it was you. It was the prospect of seeing you again, of getting lost in the world of ideas reflected in your bright eyes.

His charade continued, his fabricated bookish interests intertwined with genuine curiosity sparked by your recommendations. He learned about dystopian novels, explored the fantastical worlds of fantasy epics, and even dabbled in poetry (all the while hoping you wouldn't ask him to recite any).

Days turned into weeks, and the library became Seokmin's unexpected sanctuary. He still hadn't finished the book on existentialism, but he did discover a love for the quiet company of books and the even more captivating company of you.

However, one day, disaster struck. As he was attempting a particularly dramatic recitation of Kierkegaard (butchering the pronunciation in the process), you appeared beside him, a pile of books in your arms.

"Interesting interpretation of 'The Dread'" You said, a smile playing on your lips.

Seokmin's face flushed crimson, embarrassment filling him."I, uh…" he stammered, the book clutched to his chest like a blanket. "I just, really love… philosophy?"

Your smile widened. "Min," you said, your voice gentle, "you do realize the book you're holding is actually a cookbook, right?"

Seokmin's face flushed. He'd been caught, his charade exposed. Shame burned in his gut, the fear of rejection looming large. He mumbled an apology, expecting you to laugh him out of the library.

But to his surprise, you simply chuckled. "Don't worry about it," you said, your eyes twinkling. "It was actually quite entertaining watching you struggle with existential angst over a quiche recipe."

Relief washed over him, warm and sweet. "You weren't… mad?"

You shook your head. "Not really. I found your enthusiasm… endearing. Even if it was a little misplaced."

A blush crept back up his neck, this time for a different reason. "So, you… you don't mind that I, uh, pretended to be something I'm not?"

"Honestly," You admitted, leaning against the table. "the library can get pretty quiet sometimes. Having someone, even a fake philosopher, to chat with is a nice change."

Seokmin's heart did a happy little jump. Maybe he wasn't Dostoevsky, but at least he wasn't a complete fraud.

"Well," he stammered, a newfound confidence blooming in his chest. "how about we skip the existential dread and move on to something a little lighter? Like, maybe grabbing a coffee sometime? You know, discuss real existential problems, like what kind of roast is truly the best?"

You chuckled, a melody more beautiful than any book he's borrowed. "I'd like that very much, Min. And hey, maybe I can even teach you the difference between a philosophy book and a quiche recipe."

[quitealotofsodapop]

This is set as a hypothetical between S5 and S6 but in the Stone Matriarch variants, the world did not cleanly heal from reality breaking twice over and thus some strange things have started happening. The most drastic of which being an incident in which the Noodle Gang and our favorite monkey ended up falling through time and space into another dimension set several millenia in the past when Wukong was approximately the same age as MK and still a very young monkey.

The most stark contrast, however, is that this world is a world in which the Great Floos never wiped put the Stone Monkeys. Meaning the young Wukong grew up with both his parents.

While everyone else is marveling at the new world and the changes within it, Wukong is having a bit of an existential crisis of his own upon realizing this is the life that had been stolen from him by a flood that happened long before he was ever even hatched.

Its the end of Season 5; MK has tried his best to spread the power of the Heavenly Stones throughout the universe.

When during their celebration party on Flower Fruit Mountain; a portal opens up and drags the gang all inside.

When they all come too - it's to Flower Fruit Mountain.

But not the one they know.

Many spears and swords are suddenly poised at the intruders. They are surrounded on all sides by monkey demons, all wearing plain island-style clothing made of natural materials. Cleary wherever they landed; they've alerted the locals.

Leading the scouts is an eerily familiar monkey - Wukong himself?!

However this monkey doesn't look exactly like Wukong: his eyes are a deep blue rather than gold, and he has a younger, somehow cheekier smile.

His smile only widens at the sight of the Monkey King.

???: "Shihou! You're home early! Wukong: "Who... who are you?" ???: "Ehh? Gege, are you ok? Or are you unable to tell your own brother's face from a horse's bum?" Wukong: "BROTHER?!"

This encounter quickly leads to the gang getting captured by the monkey scouts - who bring him to the Stone Palace.

But not the ruin Wukong refurbished in the early years of his kinghood.

It's THE Stone Palace.

Unweathered by time or nature. It's decorated with tapestries and statues of past warriors and rules. At the end of the entrance hall is an imposing stone throne - upon it sits a ginger-furred monkey.

But it's not Sun Wukong.

It's a female monkey. Older than what Wukong had been when he took the throne. Her body adorned by a large red cape in harmony with multiple jade ornaments. At her side is a brunette male monkey of the same age, readjusting his spectacles at their guests. Guards and retainers, many of whom Wukong and Macaque know from their youth, line the room.

Wukong: "Mrs uh... Matriarch is it? We're a little lost - dimension wise. Where we were, the Heavenly Pillar was breaking and the lines between worlds thinned. We must have fallen through the wrong door." (*As Wukong speaks, the female monkey rises from her throne and walks slowly towards him. Her eyes narrow as she touches his scarf, comparing it to her cape. The whole room seems to draw in a breath.*) Shihua: "Where did you get this?" Wukong: "It was draped over the throne when I found the palace for the first time." Shihua: "Found? Have you not lived here your entire life?" (*A feeling of dread overcomes Wukong as he tries his best to explain*) Wukong: "When I was very young, none of us lived in the Stone Palace. But I accidentally rediscovered it when I fell through the waterfall. There was a plaque dedicated to whomever lived there before us, and a cape resting on the throne. I took the cape for my self when the troop crowned me King- er.. Matriarch." Ye Lin, concerned: "And what of your parents? surely they would not have let a mere cub rule?" Wukong, brow furrowed with sad confusion: "I... never had any parents. I was born alone atop of Flower Fruit Mountain from a lone stone egg. As far as I know, besides Macaque and MK here, I'm the only Stone Monkey there is." (*The two royal monkeys look at each other sadly. The Queen makes a deep sigh as she sniffs the stranger-king's scarf, offering it to her mate to inspect. The brunette monkey takes a sniff, his gaze widening when he recognises the scent.*) Shihua: "That explains it." Ye Lin: "What does, my Queen? How does this young man smell almost exactly like our elder son?" Shihua: "These strangers truly are from another world. Another time even. One where our people did not survive the Great Flood we weathered." (*every single jaw in the room is dropped from shock. The monkey marshals and generals quickly begin inspecting the strangers, grooming their fur and sniffing their effects. The Wukong-double from earlier looks positively smug*) Luzhen, excited: "So he IS Gege!!" Marshal Ma: "No little prince, I've already checked with the Celestial Realm. Shihou is still working off his sentence in the stables." Wukong: "Sentence? Stables? Oh sweet Buddha, you mean I'm still the bimawen?!" MK: "I mean! At least you aren't under that mountain!" Tang, covered in curious monkeys: "What year is this even?" Ye Lin: "I am unsure if our time keeping methods match yours - but the humans on the mainland have recently chosen a new Emperor. A man they call Taizong of Tang." The Monkie Kids, shocked: Σ(°ロ°)! Mei, looking on the bright side: "I can introduce you guys to my Grandpa Lie!"

Of course, now the Monkie Kids/Noodle Gang need to figure out why they fell through a portal, what has changed in this new world, and whether or not the infamous Journey to the West can even happen.

Its very fun AU to think about. A lot of sight-seeing occurs as Shihua glamours/hides the gang as her or her family's new retainers. :3

Au name ideas im thinking; "Stone Royalty au"? or something along those lines.

Btw for those wondering about the "reincarnation" aspect of Shihua's life... Guanyin still exists in this world. Bodhisattva is a keystone character who will find a way to exist. Even if it leaves Shihua mourning her twin who did not survive the Flood.

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Bridge Over Troubled Water -

Roboute Guilliman x M!OC (Finch)

Tags: Emetophobia, canon typical treatment of xenos, Nurgle mention, that flavor of large scale existential dread that only the Imperium provides BONUS DISCLAIMER: Finch has medical conditions that I don't (narcolepsy/cataplexy, seizures, mobility issues) but am writing to the best of my ability

This started out as pure Guilliman thirst but as soon as I started thinking about Finch (beloved oldest OC whom this blog is named after) it spiraled into being a very plot heavy slowburn. Apologies in advance for the extensive preamble to OLD MAN YAOI and big thanks to @cardinalcanis and Ovid for giving me the strength to write OC x canon, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond for even more Guilliman brainrot, and @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta read.

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

If there was one thing to be grateful for it was that the marine had given up on attempting to frog march him, whether it had been his lapsing consciousness or the limp in the absence of his cane, by the time he was aware of the thrumming of engines he was slung over a ceramite plated shoulder like a sack of grain. With the throbbing of his head and the wad of gritty fabric jammed in his mouth making his jaw ache, all he could focus on was breathing steadily through his nose. 

It wouldn’t do to dwell on what was in store for him, any other outbursts would only worsen his situation. So he listened and breathed and tried to remain conscious, noted the buzzing and thrumming and creaking of metal, the heavy clanking footsteps and the jostling of the marine carrying him. There was little use trying to keep track of the turns and lifts and steps, whatever vessel he had been taken upon was a maze his addled mind didn’t have the capacity to navigate behind the blindfold until they eventually came to a stop. 

“Yes! That’s the witch, my lord.” The pariah twitched, roused by a voice he couldn’t quite place. A reedy sounding male human, faintly wheezing from agitation. “As you can see, this is the xenos who has been impeding our Tithe, it has cursed our world for generations since its arrival.”

“You must understand, even without… there was simply no way to maintain the production expected of our workers, with the conditions as they… as they are.” The cautious murmur of a more feminine voice clicked the pieces into place. She had once orbited his presence like many a curious child, but she had grown to know better. The planetary governor and his daughter, likely called to an audience with their Imperial masters. 

Even the humans feared their avenging angels, and it was with bitter resignation that the Aeldari realized why he was brought here, why a small crowd of festival-goers had descended upon him alongside the marine now toting him. They needed their scapegoat. 

“Sergeant, report your findings.” A modulated voice sounded from somewhere near the humans, and on his other side a pair of ceramite boots stepped forwards to reply. 

“We have confirmed this xenos to be the source of the confiscated artifact, the same Eldar material were found throughout the items we searched.” Ah. How lovely, he’d already been ransacked. “According to our records, these denote an Eldar psyker who creates such materials with its voice.” His blood ran cold as he heard the empty clank of something being set on a metal surface. Undoubtedly it was his armor. 

“That bewitching voice has been whispering to our children. The daemons it has brought have been sung from the Warp itself.” The governor interjected shrilly, seemingly too eager for proper formalities when an escape was in sight. Suddenly jostled again, the pariah remained limp in the marine’s grasp before his feet touched solid ground, realizing he was being stood to face what was now his jury. 

“The Eldar appeared to be familiar with a few…“ His captor began, though oddly trailed off his explanation. In fact, a hush fell all around him, accompanied by a rustle of silent commotion.

“Please, do continue.” A new voice. Deep like a marine, whose large vocal chords resonated differently than a baseline human’s, but unmodulated and melodic, somewhere behind him and accompanied by more ceramite footfalls and a strange sort of presence. Not a psyker, but a being of immense impact on the Warp, one felt despite his self-imposed restrictions.

“…Yes, my Lord. This Eldar appeared to be familiar with a handful of adolescents, we tailed the target before apprehension and one such child was that which we had confiscated an artifact from.” 

So he had been trying to warn me. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest at his prized apprentice’s inadvisable loyalty, and if he had the chance he would have scolded him. Dedication to a comfortable distance between himself and his much more short-lived pupils had once again proven little use; Rami’s headstrong intelligence and talent had instilled a sense of pride in him.

“Would this be the artifact in question?” The sonorous voice asked, and the pariah strained his ears for the clink of Wraithbone against armored gauntlets. “If so, I would like to be permitted to participate in this… interrogation. Unbind him so he may speak as well.”

“With all due respect my Lord, the xenos has been gagged to nullify the previously mentioned abilities.” The touch of cold ceramite briefly tightened on his arms as if in warning. 

“If it is a concern for safety, then have faith in me.” Something heavy settled upon his shoulder and after a moment the vise of gauntlets around his arms retreated, sluggishly realizing he was changing hands just as he began to wobble and quickly trying to steady his weight back into his good leg. There was another touch at the back of his neck as the fabric binding his eyes and mouth was untied, the gag tugged out from between his teeth. 

Swallowing thickly as he let the strain in his jaw fade, the Aeldari waited a moment before opening his eyes, and almost immediately regretted doing so. The relatively dim light sent a jolt of pain through his pounding head, swimming blobs of color tilting sideways as his vision spun. 

He sucked in a rattling breath, gagged, and proceeded to vomit all over the blue wall in front of him. 

The silence following was almost more suffocating than the restraints, and as his sight cleared he glanced around to try and orient himself through his nausea and downright murderous headache. As he had guessed, he appeared to be on the bridge of a space vessel, the dark metal interior bathed in the green light of command displays framed by a vista of stars and the view of Valian, frost dusting the rocky red sediment of the ice planet. 

The governor and his daughter appeared to be frozen beside the console, with the Aeldari’s belongings laid out on a tarp at their feet with the exception of his helmet and his student’s Wraithbone dagger set upon a control panel, sporting matching faces of blanched horror. The blue clad space marines scattered about were unreadable behind their helmets, but they were likewise unmoving. 

Turning his head, the pariah cleared his throat and attempted to wipe the dribble of bile on his chin on his shoulder, before turning his attention to the only other face he could see. The Aeldari towered almost a head above the human colonists, so tilting his head up slightly to stare into the shiny red lenses of a space marine’s helmet was new to him. The wall of a man now holding him upright put that neck ache to shame, seemingly double his own size and clad in towering ceramite regalia whose gold embossed greaves were now dripping with the contents of his stomach. However, the man’s visage was what took his breath away, pushing everything else from the pariah’s thoughts. 

The restless silence made sense now, as the sheer presence of his inscrutable blue gaze held the gravity of a white hot star, pinning the prisoner with its weight. His hair was gold like the glistening trim of his power armor, framing a face that seemed carved from stone in its statuesque idealism. And yet the image of a demigod was chipped as the Aeldari noted the lines of his face, a well worn furrow in his brow and a sunkenness around his eyes; he knew well the look of a tired man. 

“…Apologies, I think I’ve been concussed.” The pariah warbled hoarsely, clearing his throat and grimacing at the mess he’d made. Suddenly the stony visage before him cracked into a look of… amusement?

“No harm done. It can be cleaned.” No sooner had he finished speaking than a hunched and waxy skinned human appeared accompanied by the squeal of machinery, and the Aeldari flinched at the grotesque sight. He’d heard tell of servitors, but he was thoroughly caught off guard, even as it knelt unperturbed to scoop chunks of sick into a biohazard container. The pariah’s lip curled and he rebalanced himself to be out of the servitor’s way, pushing aside his disgust in favor of the matter at hand. 

“You. Baron of House Delta.” Tilting his head, he gave a sidelong look to the trembling human leader of the colony below. “When I told your predecessor I would take responsibility for the reduction of productivity in the absence of your Imperium, my word was bond. I imagine this exchange would have been far more helpful had you considered that rather than leveling such accusations. While I never expected gratitude, I find this an utterly incomprehensible thing to stoop to, you absurd little man.” 

The Aeldari derisively bared his teeth at the man, watching his reddened face morph from fear to outrage. He briefly considered spitting at the governor’s feet in contempt, but dirtying the floor further seemed counterintuitive to an attempt at diplomacy. “Since you have taken the liberty of going through my things, did you think to pick up my cane? I doubt the angels would enjoy holding me up for however long this takes.”

The governor sputtered but couldn’t produce anything coherent in response, which the pariah attributed to his gaze continuously flicking above his head to the extremely large marine holding him. 

“Are you injured?” The demigod intoned, effectively snatching the Aeldari’s attention as well, grasping his other shoulder to look him up and down. Despite himself, his face felt oddly warm at being studied so intensely. 

“Just a bolter to the side of the head.” That heavy blue gaze wandered pointedly down to his leg, however the expression on the marine’s face showed only interest, and he said nothing of it. His earnestness was almost disturbing.

“It appears my men aren’t in possession of your cane, nor would the present company be comfortable with your hands freed.” The marine raised his eyebrows, glancing around the bridge. 

“Oh, naturally.” He replied drily, to which the enormous shining wall of a man laughed. Laughed?

“I’m sure seating can be arranged. In the meantime, I would like for you to introduce yourself.” That strange warmth spread through his chest, disarming whatever retorts he had been trying to muster seemingly surrounded by hostiles. What reason had this enormous glistening marine to offer him a forum to speak?

“...As in, what am I called?” Was this still an interrogation? What information did he hope to glean?

“That would certainly be a good start. Give me your name.” The behemoth replied with a bemused smile. Still, the Aeldari paused. There were many things he had been called. Xenos. Witch. Teacher. Asuryani. Bonesinger. The name of his birth that he had long since abandoned. Perhaps those were more appropriate, to denote his place in the whirl of lives around him. But there was another answer that felt right. “Finch. It was… a name gifted to me by late autocrat Tamsyn Delta. If I’m not mistaken, it’s what you called a creature of Old Terra.” Despite his reservations, Finch couldn’t keep the softness from his voice.

“Clever choice, the name of a songbird.” The marine said, his expression warming with mirth, forcing the pariah to avert his eyes. What matter of human was this to know the path of a Bonesinger? 

Of all the time spent organizing and shelving emotions, doing his best to keep them labeled and controlled, Finch found his thoughts swirling as he tried to grasp the names for them. Affection and grief for his friend, trepidation, perhaps an uneasy sense of relief. And the unbearable warm thing he had suddenly been shouldered with, something between discomfort and… want. He wanted to keep talking to this man, whose words were given so easily, and yet there was something Finch felt he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Those tired eyes he knew so well.

“...Thank you, they were.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, again looking up to meet that azure stare. “However, if you don’t mind, continuing in this manner will only waste your time. I was under the impression I was here to be interrogated. Who are you to be playing at pleasantries with the likes of me?”

“How dare you!” The governor squawked, shaken from his silence as his face flushed so red it was nearly purple.

“...Pardon?” Finch asked flatly as he turned to squint at the agitated official, quickly becoming alarmed when a few of the space marines around him began to shift from their positions standing at attention; they had remained orderly as he had conversed with their commanding officer, but perhaps their patience had similarly worn thin. Looking back to the marine before him, the warmth had vanished, leaving only a stony visage. Though he fought to suppress it, a dim but dizzying panic began to rise within him.

“Lord Primarch Roboute Guilliman, Imperial Regent, Avenging Son and Master of Ultramar.” A marine’s voice spoke up, prideful and reverent. 

“Enough. Continue talks with the delegation, I will perform this interrogation myself.” 

The Primarch’s word was final, unceremoniously scooping up the Aeldari in his grip and striding in the direction of his office. Stunned, Finch could only sit in the arms of the man he had spent the last few centuries telling mythologized stories of, helplessly toted away from the bridge like a misbehaving pet. Silence laid heavily upon the ship’s corridors other than the sound of Guilliman’s stride and the constant ambient machinery, allowing Finch to ponder the horrendous mess he had gotten himself into. 

Eventually they came to a stop in a room bedecked in golden trim similar to the Primarch’s armor, walls lined with shelves of data slates and books and a gargantuan desk at the far end. That was where Finch was deposited, seated awkwardly on its surface like a child perched on the kitchen counter as Guilliman stepped back to stand where he could scrutinize the Aeldari before him. 

“Be truthful with me and answer what I ask. I’m sure you’re well aware that it is not only your head on the line. You said you had promised to take responsibility for this world, do you stand by that statement?” He crossed his arms with a clank.

“Yes.” Anxiety settled like a leaden core in Finch’s chest, not quite expecting how quickly he replied. But it was the truth. “I told them their options; turn to subsistence or die. I taught them where to start.”

“Farming rather than goods manufacturing?” Finch nodded in response. “Yet you aren’t their savior.” There was that intrigue in his tone again. He felt as though he was being toyed with.

“No. I anticipated the return of the Imperium.”

“What of the children, then.”

The Aeldari took a steadying breath. Now this felt more like an interrogation. “The soul of an Asuryani is a beacon to the Ruinous Powers, even while properly shielded, and that attention could have been turned upon untrained humans touched by the Warp. That became my responsibility, as those who could not learn would have to be…culled. Again, I taught them where to start.” 

Unbidden, those first few years on Valian returned to him. The frozen ground couldn’t cover the smell of disease permeating the air, stagnant and festering. Famine, terror, the bitter taste of desperation assaulting his senses. He hadn’t known of humans and their disease processes, what he would come to know as scurvy and prion disease indistinguishable from the madness wrought from the fervent and hopeless worship of the Plague Lord.

“Guilt for the fate of what others of your kind consider to be lesser beings?” Guilliman stepped closer, sharp azure peering into dark viridian, making his prisoner balk but no longer look away. 

“A daemon world would surely do me in as well.” Finch replied defensively. “What my kin would think has crossed my mind, but it holds little sway now. I have… spent far more time with your people, anyway.” Ignoring his headache was futile as he felt his sinuses sting, recognizing the emotion but trying to push past it. I want to live. I want them to live.

“Listen very closely.” Guilliman’s voice was so low it rumbled, thrumming through Finch’s lungs in accompaniment with the arrestingly serious look on his face. “It will not matter to the Inquisition what your intentions may have been, all they will see is your presence as evidence of a taint in the populace. The Administratum will not consider the explanations if the Tithe is not paid.” 

Finch stopped breathing. He knew what Guilliman meant, it is not only your head on the line. Staring into space past the Primarch’s ear, the acrid prickling of tears burned, struggling to shore up his emotions as he felt a telltale weakness creep over him. It really had been doomed from the start, no matter how much he tried to maintain an arms length, how much he tried to disappear from the population’s consciousness. His presence was a dark stain, first to his Craftworld, and now to another world he could almost call home. With every passing moment his survival felt like a mistake. 

“Finch.” He was dragged back to the present, the frowning face of Macragge now inches from him, voice barely more than a murmur in volume but still carrying through his core.

“Help me.” The words punched their way out of Finch’s gravelly throat, a surprise to even himself. The dams he had built were not meant to withstand this turmoil, as the fate of millions pressed down upon him.

There was no way to wall off his mind completely, though long had he tried. With enough practice he felt only the faint brush of presence around him and the rumbling of conflict like distant thunder across the galaxy. He could not waver. I will endure, I must endure, I will endure. 

Practice couldn’t prevent the grief rushing through him. Feeling his heartbeat slamming in his throat, muscles slackening under the sudden emotional strain.

“Slow down.” Ceramite gauntlets once again found the Aeldari’s cloaked shoulders, firmly attempting to ground him as Finch’s thoughts threatened to burst from their confines and drag him under. “It is far too early for you to lose hope. I will help, with your full cooperation. I will not allow a settlement to be lost. There is time, and I have patience.”

Guilliman’s earnestness was dizzying, like a rock in a hurricane, making Finch wish his hands were unbound if only to grasp onto him. Wearily he closed his eyes, unable to hold up the weight of his eyelids, trying to justify the Primarch’s willingness to accept a task that would be so infinitesimal within the scale of his empire. A colony world, with lives that others would consider of no consequence. There was so much in the way of deserving to feel relief, and yet Finch felt his shoulders sag, his head hanging limply on his neck.

“I’m beginning to like you far more than your myth, Roboute...” The Aeldari slurred out with a breathless chuckle. 

“…Oh?”

“Such irony…”

Finch couldn’t finish his thought. The wave of fear and pain that had crashed against his mental walls ebbed, pulled into blackness.

[leletha-jann]

Headcanon: The destructive tendencies of the Heterodynes are at least partly influenced by the Doom Bell.

We're told that one of the occasions for ringing the Bell is the birth of a new Heterodyne. I'm willing to assume that this is more or less an immediate response. Live baby? Ring bell. The Castle likes literally everything involved in this event, so I don't think it would wait very long. And the Doom Bell is not only loud, but has a direct and dire effect on the sentient psyche. Which means that one of the first things this new baby experiences is a flood of existential dread, despair, and overall doom almost literally jackhammered into (generally) his consciousness. Everything will die! YOU TOO! Everything is fleeting and inconsequential and unimportant next to the inevitable DOOM.

I'm willing to venture that this is probably not a good thing to happen to an extremely plastic infant brain. Immediately upon birth. Just gonna hazard a guess.

After that, why not burn down the world and laugh in the flaming wreckage? You always knew it would come to this.

Additionally, the three Heterodynes we know were not born within hearing range of the Doom Bell - Bill and Barry were both born and raised outside Mechanicsburg, as was Agatha - are noticeably more stable and less, well, destructively evil than their ancestors. Upbringing? Yes. I'm not discounting that. But.

...before anyone starts planning the next generation of Heterodynes, perhaps they should develop some really good soundproofing first.

Or see how Agatha feels about temporarily - very temporarily! for their own good! - timestopping new babies while the Castle plays with its favorite noisemaker, I guess.

[hermit-lover]

hi! just want to say that i absolutely adore your writing! always finds a way to have me latched on! o(*^▽^*)o🌺

not sure if you're taking requests right now, but may i ask for a ren x sheep hybrid!reader angst/fluff? he needs more love, especially with what's been recently going on with him irl..

just the two comforting each other; giving each other hugs, positive affirmations, all the cute fluff that i really need! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ♡

feel free to discard this one if it feels a bit much.. no rush, of course!

remember to take care of yourself, eat and drink some water!💜

Reassurance

--------------

Character: Rendog x Sheep!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.3k)

Theme: Romantic, Angst to Fluff

Summary: When the world gets to be too much, you can always find solace in each others arms.

T/Ws: Mentions of existential dread, negative events, sadness

A/N: Sorry this took me so long!! Ren does deserve more love :D

A shudder ran through your body, trying feebly to ward off the deep chill that crawled into your bones. Even with your fluffy wool, the strange cold that blanketed the sever seeped in. It been lonely recently, the other hermits busied with end-season projects. You however felt....pointless. You had nearly completed your mega base, but were in no state to do the detail work it deserved. Minigames made and played, hermit harassed...

You had nothing. Hollowness a gaping hole in your ambitions.

Well, not entirely.

A small bubble of bitter warmth built up in your chest as the thought of him slipped through. Charming smile, welcoming arms, and easy words. You missed him, but he too was feeling the end-season grind. Fluttering around his boat raceway, Rendog ignored you.

It probably wasn't his fault, the day a hermit doesn't accidentally overwork themselves is the day the earth stops turning!- You quickly shake away memories of a looming anxiety and a too-large moon. Settling instead into this paraylzing chill. The fluffy blanket- a gift from him- cradled you snugly. But it was as if your blood had turned cold. Heart to stone.

A buzz from your comm pulls you back to the dark room, soft ear twitching, screen lighting up with a notification. Hope and confusion muddles your fuzzy head. You grope for the metal box, dragging it towards you. It takes some heavy blinks in order for your pupils to adjust to the onslaught of light, but when they do- your eyes widen.

'Hey, need any help with any projects?'

...

After so long of neglect from Ren the message pulls a mixed reaction. Excitement, and anger. Your fingers dance across the keyboard without thinking.

'No. No need to bother.'

Its snarky, you know it, but your too damn tired to be polite.

'Are you sure? is everything okay? :(' His message pings back, almost instantly. You hold back a cringe, knowing somewhere deep within that lashing out is childish.

'Yes.'

Turning the comm over you stare into the dark abyss of your room. Void a welcome blanket. Covering you and hiding from the outside world. Eyes drifting shut, and you nearly pass out before a buzz jolts you. With a huff, you turn away from the intruding device, nuzzling futilely into the soft sheets. A few more buzzes pass before the pressing silence is back.

Faint birdcalls, the wind against the windows and trees outside, occasional rocket. It was soothing, but reminded you how the world goes on without you. Every hermit plunged into projects or Decked out. While your here.

Here.

Withering away pitifully. Holding back a sniffle you mourn. How did they have such endless energy? How did they deal with the increasing pressure upon their shoulders? How did Xisuma stay so ontop of everything and everyone? How was Tango constantly there for Decked out? How did Grian manage his own life games? How did-

A knock startles you. Snapping your jaw shut to hold back a bleat.

...

The stretch of uneasy silence that follows almost has you questioning if it even occurred. Maybe you were so desperate you were going mad-

"I know you're in there. If you don't want to answer that's alright I just- ...wanted to see you."

His tone is...soft. Sincere. Almost...tired. It stirs in your chest again.

...

You could never stay mad at him.

"Come in." You answer, voice scratchy from lack of use. You swallow, feeling the grit. It seems to take him a minute to realize you gave permission, but you can hear him shuffle and the door click open. It casts a rectangle of light into the dark room, His shadow outlined against the back wall. Ren stumbles inside, kicking off his shoes, and setting on the very corner of the bed. His weight makes it dip, and your heart skips a beat at having him close. Longing to untangle from the bed, and tangle into him, but pride holding you back. He smells of the cold and pine, yet the underlying scent of sweet musk and pumpkin pie like you remember. Ears twitching as he takes a deep breath, indicating your attention towards him.

"So..." Ren begins, surely picking at his cuticles like he does when he's nervous. He's almost never nervous, seeming so sure in all his actions. It hurts you to know he's hurting. Stupid empathy. "How are you doing, baby? I know its been a while since we've had time to hangout.." You huff, bitter amusement forcing a harsh smile.

"Since you've had time to hangout." you correct plainly, and he cringes.

"Right...I'm sorry, baby. I-" He takes an unsteady breath. "This isn't an excuse, but i've been having a really hard time mentally. With the raceway, some weird lingering vibeys from the king, Decked out, approaching the end of the season...It's all a lot. And I've been isolating myself and I know it." He's been having a hard time too...The realization chokes you up. He wasn't ignoring you, he was struggling, same as you. That idiot.

"Baby?-" You cut him off before he can ramble further, lunging from your blanket prison and into him, grappling and flopping backwards to pull him ontop of you. His warm skin sends goosebumps down your arms and a jolt up your spine. He allows himself to be pulled- or perhaps he was genuinely shocked. For a second he remains tense, but your soft hands and hair against him soothe away the nerves and he melts.

"You're an idiot." You scold affectionately, blunt nails drawing up and down his back. For the first time in a long time, warmth crawls beneath your skin. Heart melting from its icy prison. He grumbles, warm breath in your neck shivering pleasantly.

"I know." He relents, you make a noise of protest.

"But you're my idiot, my brilliant, adorable, amazing idiot." The words fall easy from your lips, he was truly a light in your life, and it was easy to tell him. The thumping of his tail against the plush bed brought a smile, you always found it adorable how his body betrayed him.

"Don't flatter me baby, I should be groveling to you" Ren shoots back, leaning back to meet your gaze. His eyes are like gemstones, glittering with affection, yet tinted by exhaustion. "You're wonderful, caring for me despite your own troubles. So talented in everything you put your mind towards, and you always look damn sexy doing it." He winks and you flush, hiding the embarrassed bleat with a cough. Laughing airily he leans, resting his forehead against your own. "We'll get through this slump together, alright baby?"

Humming in agreement you admire his features in the low light. Long eyelashes and quirked smile. What you wouldn't do for him.

"And, lets work on communication. Right?" You raise an eyebrow, sending a flush across his cheeks. "What? don't get sheepish on me now." You joke, a common slight towards you due to your fluffy heritage.

"No no of course not- thats your job." Ren agrees, basking in your faux annoyed eyeroll and small bleat.

"But seriously- together." You insist, smile sweet on your lips.

"Together." He agrees, he would vow himself to you a million times over, give up everything in his life should you need it, wait on your every need.

And you would do the same.

His lips are as soft as ever against your own, slightly chapped from the cold wind, but supple and plush. Ren kisses like it was the last kiss ever, pouring his heart into the connection. Sturdy, warm, caring.

Yours.

[charmilyharmily]

The Amazing Digital Downpour

Woe, Rainworld and TADC au be upon ye.

It’s mostly just the designs but I’m still going to ramble about what’s planned down below

So the general premise is ‘What if the circus was in rain world’ and this is it.

Caine and Bubble are the classic duo of iterator and overseer. But Caine has kinda forgotten his original goal and so has taken on the task of keeping all these not ancient ancients from going insane through fun challenges and adventures. Especially since there’s no escape from his can due to some technical oversights during his creation, and the whole cycle thing prevents anyone from truly dieting, so that’s not an escape either.

(If they die they just get ‘respawned’ the next cycle with minimal harm; everyone still remembering and coping with it)

Now on to the main stars of this show. Everyone here was at some point an ancient and only remembers attempting to ascend before suddenly falling from a random pipe within Caines structure. Oh and ending up in rather unusual bodies.

Caine has no idea where they come from nor how they appeared, so that’s a dead end. And escape is practically impossible as far as anyone is aware.

So what’s going on with everyone?

Pomni

Weird lantern mouse (her tail glows instead of her open tire body)

Absolutely minuscule

Practically shakes from how much anxiety she has

Otherwise she’s the Pomni you know and love

Just add on some extra existential dread

Ragatha

Mostly a normal slugcat

Just extra fluffy

Surpassingly craft for having less dexterous hands

Kinger

Scavenger

Just a weirdly colored scav

About as obsessed with bugs as he is with pearls

Somehow has managed to get quite the collection of both

Jax

Really weird slugcat

Got lizard in him or something

Still just as much of a jerk

Has absolutely gotten everyone killed once

Zooble

They’re just a mix of everything, you name it, it’s probably in there (somewhere)

Which has somehow led to them being pretty chill, guess all those instincts just cancel everything out

Takes full advantage of their size, and uses it to scare off Jax (no it has not stopped him from being the end of them)

Gangle

A garbage worm with some vulture

She’s still heavily influenced by her masks for her emotions, although to a lesser degree

Without them she looks mostly like a normal garbage worm (just red)

She gets very upset and angry, and will chase whoever stole or broke her mask (only does it for awhile till she tries herself out)

After she tires herself out she just acts generally mopey

Is in fact made of three different organisms, the smaller worms act as her arms

Bubble

It’s Bubble not much to say

He’s an overseer and acts the exact same, if not more annoying since he has more free reign

Caine

He’s an iterator, capable of controlling practically everything in his can

His face got destroyed before anyone can remember (Kinger doesn’t count)

Just as clueless on how ancients work, he didn’t get to talk with them much

He will often create purposed organisms and alter his structure to fit the daily adventure, trying to keep it from killing anyone

The structure is unusual, almost like it was made for what’s currently happening

With huge rooms and areas just mostly empty, and much more editing capabilities than most iterators

Despite being trapped in his room, he tries to stay connected vie Bubble and built in screens

A better image of the height chart

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 5 - Fed

The rogue enjoys a nice meal, despite the rising, existential dread.

On AO3.

This is the third time he’s tasted her in this way. The first crunch of teeth piercing skin, sliding through muscle. He’s careful not to go too deep—a wrist isn’t a neck, with more tissue and thicker vein walls. He doesn’t want to cripple her hand.

Blood spurts. That first release. It hits the roof of his mouth, slides down the back of his tongue and his throat opens and he cannot help the low sound he makes. It would be embarrassing in any other context; a needy thing. But the monster within him is too focused, already too intoxicated in the taste of her.

Rich, like the memory of cream custard on a spring afternoon. A hint of spice—some hot drink as gray rain patters on windows. Salt and iron, surely. But so much more.

He’s got her arm in both of his hands, now. Lips latched, tongue lapping at the inside of her wrist. He tries to let it fill his mouth, wants to savor the feel of it, the hot slide of a gulp. But he’s too impatient. He needs this in his belly, needs it inside of him now.

He catches a sour tang: her fear. Not of him, he thinks, but of this cave. Of the Absolute and the gith and their uninvited cranial guests. And something else, something old woven all through her veins.

Beyond that, there’s her breakfast that morning: toasted bread with peppered eggs, her delight at slitting the yolk open and letting it run over her toast and the rich flavor as she chewed. There’s the scent of woodsmoke and the heat of roasted venison. Flesh tearing between her teeth and the grease she licked off her fingers lest it go to waste. The warm contentment of a full belly and a cool night. Laying on her bedroll and staring up at unfamiliar stars.

The acidity of sorrow.

He suckles as gently as he can. Pulling too hard hurts her, and he doesn’t want that. Gods, but it is a glorious temptation. Draw her in, draw in all that life. Suck it right out of her until it fills him, until he’s drowning in it, stuffed full and fit to burst—

A tap on his shoulder. Her captive hand flexes.

“I think that’s enough,” she says.

Oh, but it’s not. He could seat himself at the bottom of a river made of her blood and open his mouth and let it gush into him until he drained the whole of it, and it would never be enough.

But she doesn’t have a sea of blood within her. And he rather needs her alive if he ever wants to indulge again.

So he breaks off. Laps at the rivulets still so eager to be taken by him. Tongue at one of her punctures, feels the shape of it—he wants to jam the tip of his tongue into it, rip it wide open—

She hisses. He forces himself to pull away. She’s ready with a cloth bandage; of course she is. He takes over clamping it down. Needs that pretty wrist to seal itself back up. Seal off that delectable blood so she can make more. So he can feast upon her again.

“Did it help?” she says as they sit there, her wrist held tightly in his hands.

He’s kept his lids shut tight. Didn’t want to sour the experience should it not…

But now it’s time. He needs to know.

He cracks one eye open.

To utter blackness.

Both eyes open and it’s the same. Nothing. No light. No shape or colors, not even the miserable gray shades of his cursed nightvision. Just the deepest black he can imagine.

“No, it didn’t work,” he says. He’d fling her arm away if he wasn’t trying to stop her bleeding everywhere.

“What the fuck,” she says.

Indeed.

The panic turns sharp, claws digging out through his abdomen, climbing up his throat and he doesn’t need to breathe, but still he’s choked. He’s blinded. Left in the dark forever. Hideously underground, trapped and forever and he can’t claw through the walls, can’t even depend upon the tender mercies of his master—

“Astarion?”

Their leader. She’s here. He’s squeezing her too tightly, and he forces his grip to loosen. Clears his throat. “Yes?”

Her free hand touches his shoulder. Though “touch” is a generous description. It’s barely more than a pluck of his padded armor.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” she says.

Shit. He smooths his expression back to calm. Can’t go around wearing his weaknesses for anyone to see.

“Gale thinks it might be some kinda curse, and I know I can’t do magic stuff—”

“You do realize you’re making this worse, yes?” he says because he cannot stop himself. The fear is too great to contain. So rather than crumple before her, he does what he usually does to anyone not above him and opens that pressure valve to blast her instead. “You’re incapable of doing a thing about it, and we’re gods know how far from anyone who can. So spare me your reassurances. We’re both useless and we both know it.”

She says nothing. Hardly moves, save for a flex of the hand he still holds captive.

“The Underdark might be fun if I could bloody see, but now the both of us are going to die in some gruesome manner.”

While she continues to sit quietly, he feels her pulse pick up between his hands. Yet her voice is a forced calm when she says, “Gale seems to think there’s a network of them waypoints down here. All we gotta do is find one. Just one.”

“Because that’s likely.”

“Would you rather sit here and starve to death?”

She doesn’t understand. She can’t understand. He’s done this before. Curled into a ball in a dark, cold corner as his flesh mummified around his bones. How those bones cracked and chipped at the slightest movement as his mind cracked and chipped, but never sank into oblivion. He lay there for tendays, for months as his eyes withered into useless, wrinkled things like dried fruit. As his gums pulled back and his skin eventually cracked open, with only the stink of his own flesh for company.

“And you’ll have us do what, exactly?” he says. Sneers, if he’s being honest.

But their illustrious leader doesn’t lash back. Doesn’t belittle him or snap at him. Doesn’t strike him or choke him or command him to kneel and prepare for punishment.

He almost wishes she would. Because that he knows. His mind knows the paths to exit the immediate area, knows how to fade away and wait until it’s over. Instead, he has to sit here, still holding her arm while she churns things up inside him that he left long, long buried in two hundred years of rotting detritus.

“I will do my best to get us the fuck outta this tunnel,” she says. “And then I will do my best not to lead us into a crevasse or some kinda ambush and to find one single, goddamned motherfucking waypoint stone.”

Even her swearing isn’t angry. Not aimed at him. She just…just uses it as a vulgar garnish for her calm, steady words.

The woman is infuriating.

“Will you?” he says, all bladed tongue.

“Unless you got a better idea?”

Which… “settle in and wait for death” isn’t an actual idea and he pointedly doesn’t want to waste away down here, thank you very much.

He can feel her gloat.

“At the moment, no,” he says.

“Alright.” She’s so very good at not letting the gloat he knows she feels seep into her voice. Always acts like she’s listening to everyone. Even him. That she’s genuinely open to one of his silly ideas.

Ideas she…actually incorporates into her plans for some reason he can’t even begin to decipher.

Because she’s clever like that and she’s better at the game than he initially gave her credit for.

“Well, as we’re in a tunnel, which way shall we go?” he says.

She hums. The tadpole behind his eye squirms as she reaches out—not to him, but to the others.

“That way, I think,” she says after a pause.

And likely points, because that is helpful to a blind man. But then she does something. Taps the wall behind him with her staff, and then tugs his sleeve until he releases her wrist (the blood scent is weak and fading; she must finally be clotting).

She holds her other arm out, and he realizes she points his arm in the direction she intends to go. She’s used the sound on the wall to orient him, and he begrudgingly lets himself feel the first slither of relief.

It’s not towards the boulder field.

“The ground here is cracked to hell,” she says. “And there’s big rocks all over, looks like chunks fell off the walls and roof a long time ago. They’re all worn smooth around the edges. I’m thinking you give me that torch, and you take my hitting stick, and you can use it to feel the ground ahead of you a bit?”

She’s not going to leave him. She’s taking him with her and handing over her only weapon. Just so he can use it as a prop.

“And…” She pauses again. “You got rope in your pack, right?”

He does. Plenty of it, in fact. She’s not the only one who likes to stuff her pockets with more than the standard valuables.

“I was thinking we tie ourselves together. So we, y’know, don’t get separated somehow?”

He cannot fathom what her play is, here. He’s not valuable enough to keep as an ally now. Certainly not one for this level of investment. Should one of them fall down a crevasse or be snatched up by something lurking in the dark, the other one will be at risk themself. He’s not sleeping with her, can’t use his superior vision to scout ahead or even see an enemy to strike, and he’s just taken enough blood from her that he can catch the slow, deep inhales she takes now and again (she must be dizzy).

He’s a liability. Yet she’s treating him like an asset. Like there’s something he can do for her and she’s yet to name it.

He saw things when their tadpoles connected. She truly doesn’t want to have sex with him. She had such a visceral reaction to it, and he doesn’t think that’s changed overmuch in the last tenday or so.

But then, what else could she want? What kind of alliance could this even be?

Damned alien yokel.

“Lead on, then,” he says. He’ll just have to find another way to ingratiate himself to her. Find something he can provide her.

Previous - Index - Next

[grumpyoldfker]

Your wife is gone.

Shes long since dead.

But you remain a pawn.

To the existential dread.

A heart that has turned cold.

You bathe in her image of stone.

But it won't stay warm in your hold.

What crimes have you yet to atone?

Adonis stood before the bones of his deceased Matriarch, her form preserved in a marble tomb, sealed away from the world. Yet her memory lingered, vast and unyielding, haunting the Patriarch's thoughts. The weight of her absence pressed heavily on him, and he found himself lost in the fog of dark reflection, bitter for the present and longing for a time when life felt whole.

In that shadowed reverie, words—sharp and cold—pierced through the silence, cutting into him like a dagger. They had no mercy, no warmth, only intent. The darkness in his mind seemed to grow deeper, yet his body remained unmoving, rooted in habitual resolve.

Then, something shifted. A strange warmth washed over him, like invisible hands resting gently upon his shoulders, pushing back the cold that had taken hold. Whether it was a fleeting moment of madness or a glimmer of hope reaching from beyond the veil, the warmth was unmistakable. And with it, new words—soft, reassuring—began to sound in his mind, pushing against the suffocating darkness, offering solace where there had been none.

You speak of him as if he's lost A soul betrayed by true love's cost

But my love is no ones pawn Nor trapped in grief until the breaking dawn His heart, though heavy, has not turned cold In his chest, the warmth still takes hold He bathes in memory, yes it's true But not to linger in sorrow's hue He carries me with gentle grace, Not as stone, but in his embrace What crimes has he to atone? None, for his love has always shone The weight he bears is his to hold But it is love, not guilt, that makes him bold You speak of dread, of endless night But my love knows a deeper light So do not claim what you do not know My love for him will always grow He's not a prisoner of regret But a man who loves, and does not forget

[wordy-little-witch]

Random Taurus x Sun headcanons bc I am so totally complete normal about these guys I promise

This is mostly my Angel Aura AU, where Sun is like a Star Nursery due to a series of unfortunate events preventing his growth into an Astral himself.

• Taurus has little to no concept of how romance works, but he has people he trusts to explain it. (At least, initially - he trusted Gemini, but they were horrible, then Lunar, who made him even more confused, then Jack+Dazzle who taught him via movies and cartoons, etc.)

• Taurus actually asked for Moon's blessing regarding courtship - when Moon asked if he was "asking permission", the Astral being shut that down quickly - "Sunrise is far brighter than anyone gives him credit for. He is his own person, and I will respect his decisions on the matter in full. I do not seek your permission, Moondrop - instead, I seek your blessing" ((it was at that moment Moon knew - this bull is a keeper))

• Sun is aro-spec. It takes a WHILE for him to develop feelings for people and it takes longer to realize what those feelings are. He didn't realize he was pining until he was in a Stage Three Daydream. ((He immediately screamed into the closest cushion))

• Dazzle calls Sun Mama. She calls Taurus Papa. Jack also calls Sun Mama, but he calls Taurus not-papa and he refuses to be corrected on either front. Solar is so tired.

• Taurus is simultaneously GREAT with kids and completely horrible with them. Yes, he will keep them happy, safe and well cared for. He will also spoil them completely rotten because he is also somewhat terrified of them (they're so small, he could break them on accident, help him- )

• Sun's gender is a technicality- he's a man in the way a slice of Kraft American Cheese is technically a cheese. This will not ever stop him from wearing and presenting however the heck he wants, though.

• Taurus once spent an entire night counting all of Sun's freckles (seventeen on his right cheek, thirteen on the left, but he has a scar there that may have covered more)

• Sun is the reigning CHAMPION of Mom-Friending people and also of pet names. Ironically, he doesn't give the tauran being any until around when they start dating, and even then it's generic things like "dear" or "darling"

• Taurus calls Sun Pixie frequently - at first it was similar to him calling Lunar Puck, then it stuck, especially after Dazzle and Jack forced him to watch the Tinkerbell movies. Sun is small, thin, spritely, cute, and full of contradictions. ((He doesn't often use pet names, opting instead for things like "little one" or "little [species/animal]" - he does occasionally drop smth like "my heart" or "my dearest love" to Sun to get the other flustered))

• Earth took the news arguably the best out of the entire family at face value, just a sweet "oh, congratulations!" She did, however, immediately message Monty to ask if his star power rifle would work on Astrals - just in case. (It didn't, but upon learning the situation, he started working on one that would)

• Taurus assisted in the Daycare one(1) time, and a kid immediately asked if he was gonna marry "mistah sunny 'cuz he got red pants 'n yous a bull". Despite the temporary crisis, Taurus decided that no, he did not care for child induced existential dread, thank you.

• Bloodmoon lives bc I decide what to do with this AU and they are comically protective of and respectful to Sun - they often try to sneak attack Taurus to "test his capabilities as a mate". He has yet to lose, and they're mildly salty about it.

• similarly, the other Astrals look a bit further into things upon Taurus getting involved romantically with one who is on their radar. Fortunately - or perhaps unfortunately - most of them adore Sun to pieces in a variety of ways. ((I'm debating making Leo flirt with Sun incessantly for funnies))