#I don't know if I have time and faith to color

[mokolat]

♫ "Mamma mia, does it show again My, my, just how much I've missed you?" ♪ (Preview ♥)

[hamofjustice]

nemona feels like an obscure blorbo instead of the main rival character from the latest pokemon game because to get to her really good content from people who really get it, you first have to wade through the ocean of yandere pervert obsessive stalker annoying punchable bimbo amazon goddess interpretations of...

... a neurodivergent and possibly disabled high schooler who's desperately trying to make any friends or get any support from her rich neglectful family - while everyone in her school is jealous of their own imagined version of a privileged asshole version of her they made up - who deeply and platonically loves and supports the one new kid who agreed to take the time to get to know and respect her and her special interest without having to hold back her true self

unlike her, it's not great!

kinda feels like she has the same problem in our world that she does in hers.

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 054 - Lovesick! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Isekaing to the world of your favourite protagonist, but nothing is ever a coincidence. ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[tw: Manipulation, Murder, Death, Yandere depictions, Implied assault but not executed, a darker Jinwoo overall. Also Kyunnie lowkey rambling ....]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ He Would Find You No Matter How Long It Takes, And Once He Has You In His Arms— You're Never Leaving] ¡! ❞

You died from an accident in the streets, well, not really an accident. Some drunk bastard was stumbling across the desolate street you normally take to go home— But poor you as that faithful meeting lead to your murder.

The paramedics tried everything they could to save you, but alas, you were dead on arrival.

That's what you suspect atleast. After losing so much blood from the multiple stab wounds of course that would be your death.

Dying was such a cold, cold feeling. It felt terrible. But what were your last thoughts?

You only thought of a single person only: Sung Jinwoo, the protagonist that you were madly in love with.

That man died three times or more if you count regression as a form of death. You thought of what he must have felt in his first death was similar to yours. How his feeble body sprawled on the altar with his leg cut off and his arm mostly torn off— It must have been terrible for Jinwoo.

Back then, you can only speculate. But now? Now you knew what he felt as he dies.

The only regret you have was not finishing the manhwa for the fifth time of the week.

But then you suddenly shot up, and when you did, you were met with a kind smile from a nurse, telling you that you passed out while doing a raid in an E-ranked gate from overexhaustion.

E-rank? Gate? What?

You were livid, feeling absolutely dizzy as you tried to ask the nurse. So you feigned temporary memory loss and asked the nurse what happened and why you're here.

As she had said, you passed out from raiding an E-ranked gate because of fatigue. You yourself, are a hunter, an E-ranked one.

The laughable rank your beloved once had.

You tried to wrap your head around it, tried to make sense of it all that you must be in purgatory, that this was all an illusion after death and the gods just had mercy on you and granted you your truest wish.

You tried to sleep it off, tried to bang your head to get you out of this illusion. But everything was real. You did normal human activities, and every pinch of a needle pricked onto your skin hurt like the way it did when you were alive.

You are alive

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh, you were in a world similar to Jinwoo's.

Jinwoo?

"Hello, are you alright?" A kind voice asks you out of nowhere, pulling you out of your daze. "Ah, I thought you passed out while awake!"

A boyish almost childlike face, pretty and cute with unkept fluffy hair that has grown too much and has a weird sort of mushroom-like appearance. Wide, innocent, puppy-like grey eyes full of wonder and life.

You knew that color of grey, that lovely shade that has placed you in a complete rampage of obsession and love.

"I'm Jinwoo, nice to meet you" He stretches his hand out to you, offering a friendly shake.

You accept his hand, trembling as you do so but he doesn't seem to notice as he shakes your hand so kindly while you shakily state your name to him.

Calloused, his hands were calloused.

He then sits down on the empty spot beside you, chatting you up.

Your heart was pounding like crazy as you two talked, you were for sure about to pass out anytime from the overflowing euphoria filling you up.

You don't know how you survived the conversation. But somehow you did.

And Jinwoo himself even offered that you two should team up as E-ranked hunters.

Ecstatic, of course you were, you were so joyous you jumped in bed and rolled around like a madman.

Jinwoo was here. Your Jinwoo.

Your Jinwoo before his ascension as a monarch, your Jinwoo that is still childish and soft.

You loved teaming up with him.

But something was weird.

Already, he had exceptional knife skills, his expertise with using a dagger was too good. Too uncharacteristic of the Jinwoo you know in his earliest days. Is his puberty coming a bit too early?...

That's just it,

,... Right?

Surely it is.

It's not weird that Jinwoo is extremely flexible and fast, that he is sharp and seemingly has such an advanced spatial awareness, that he easily cuts through the hard skins of various monsters.

...Really.

It's not weird at all.

꒰ .... ꒱

It's another hunting day where you accompany Jinwoo yet again in a raid. But this time he seemed a bit more guarded against the raid team you both had signed in for just to experience a higher ranked gate.

"Stay close to me, yeah?" Jinwoo leans down, smiling gently at you that made you forget the chilling expression he had just a second ago.

"S-sure?" You smile awkwardly, growing bashful at his distance.

Why is he a bit antsy anyway? The team you both signed up for isn't the Hwang.... Hwang dong.... Who?

The team of Hwang Dongsoo's brother? That bald headed bastard's family? Ah... You can't really recall his name.

Dead men don't matter anyway.

The only thing you really remember was how hot he was when he ultimately lost his mind momentarily and became absolutely ruthless.

To this you mourn the lack of psychotic Jinwoo in the manhwa.

Do they not see the potential?

This man has the temper and charisma to pull off a serial killer vibe.

So why not?

Why the hell not?!

"!!!"

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted when Jinwoo suddenly placed him in between you and the approaching hunter who had a displeased look on his face after what he did.

"I'm only trying to check on the little miss" The hunter smiles wryly, but Jinwoo was unmoving.

"Really now?" He remarks, his tone sneering even. "Does that involve you luring us into this isolated part of the dungeon with your team surrounding the exits? Sure."

"Ah you're no fun buddy!~" The hunter laughs, patting his shoulder to try and get Jinwoo to relax. "It's just us here, why not have a little fun? She's a pretty one."

Oh right.

Being a hunter is dangerous.

But what had always been dangerous in the first place?

Being a woman.

Ever since society recovered from the shock of the gates arriving— There is a significant uptake in death counts, crime rates, and missing people mia after entering a gate.

And what is the gender of 70% of those missing people?

Women.

If one wanted to do a crime, the best way to do it is in a gate. Rumours spread that disgusting fiends would lure women with a promise of a hefty sum by a small hunting group.

After that? All the women seemingly disappear.

And with the lack of a body and evidence to imply malpractice in the dungeons— What can the law do?

Nothing.

Dead corpses dont talk.

And as the hand reached out over Jinwoo's shoulder towards you—

It suddenly flew off with a swish

The severed limb took it's sweet time floating on the air before plopping on the floor with a wet splotch.

"...."

Everyones gazes were locked on the motionless hand on the floor before a bloody scream rang out from the C-ranked hunter.

"Y-you!" He sobs, gripping his empty wrist as it sheds a copious amount of blood. "I was nice to you by hiring you useless E-rankers and this is how you repay me?!"

He then turns to the rest of the members who were left frozen, "What the fuck are you bastards doing standing there? GET HIS FUCKING HEAD."

"It's always bastards like you who pull this kind of bullshit off" Jinwoo sighs, as if the whole situation right now is troublesome for him as a dagger materializes into his hand.

It was gleaming a mad crimson, as if the blade itself was made of a bloody moon's fragments.

Kamish's Wrath.

Daggers gifted to him by Thomas Andre as an apology for the trouble Hwang Dongsoo and the overall situation they were on. A symbol of peace between them and a sign of friendship between them.

He isn't supposed to be having those until later.

Unless The Jinwoo in front of you isn't the E-ranked Jinwoo who is slteadily climbing the levels at a rapid fast.

Jinwoo's blade seems like it's merely flying with how fast he is moving. Everytime he moves he just tilts his body a little for them to miss him narrowly.

And while everyone else is screaming in frustration, Jinwoo just throws them a sly smile, as if he is reveling in messing with them.

It was obvious he was teasing them, making them overly frustrated where they want to hit him but can't quite reach him at the way he expertly dodges them narrowly.

And when he's already bored of them?

He slices their limbs one by one and letting them bleed to death on the floor.

By the end of it Jinwoo is standing atop a pool of blood with crimson splatters sliding enticingly down his handsome features.

Whoever said Jinwoo isn't charming even in his baby-faced era must be blind.

Because even in the lack of his significant height, even when his cheeks are a bit chubbier, even if his eyes are a bit rounder and that his build is nothing more than bone and flesh— He has this haunting beauty to him that makes him look like a mischievous fae about to drag you into the abyss he calls his home.

"Do you understand now?" Jinwoo asks, his blank and empty grey eyes looking down on you as he lefts you cheek with his calloused hand. "Why I told you to quit being a hunter before?"

"I-I..." You sputter, unable to find the words from the shock of seeing your beloved murder people live in front of you.

"I'll get a rank evaluation after a month as soon as I fix this blasted body" He said, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're scared, aren't you? If I wasn't here, what could've happen to you?"

"....."

He's right.

What would've happen if Jinwoo isn't here? What would've happen if Jinwoo lets that man's hand go over to you?

The vision of it makes you falter, tears prickling your face as it slowly sunk in— That the only thing awaited you was unspeakable horrors had he not step in.

"Sssh..." He comforts you sweetly, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. "You must have been scared, hm? I know, I know. I took care of it, didn't I? Don't be scared anymore."

You don't have to know the fact that he orchestrated all of this.

That Jinwoo himself is the reason why you died and was brought to this cursed world.

That he was well aware of what the hunters have been pulling off whenever they sign contracts with women.

He just wanted to scare you a little, really.

What better method can he do to make you reliant on him?

To make you extremely dependent on him and paranoid of him not being there?

The world of hunters is a cruel and unforgiving world.

He knows that himself.

Jinwoo isn't blind to any of the darker side of this path you both choose to thread on.

Except that right now his intention is to make you too scared of ever stepping into a gate.

That the thought of ever stepping into one makes you shiver into cold sweats and becoming sick at the mere thought of it.

And if this plan doesn't shake you enough?

Then he'll just do it again.

Shake you to the core, make you have a glimpse of hell and then swoop in the second he sees you frightened enough.

You'll be in his arms, weeping and completely afraid.

And he would drill it himself in your head:

You only need Jinwoo.

Just like right now, where you're too shaken to even process the fact the timeline is all wrong. That somehow the Jinwoo in front of you right now already has two hearts with the beat of two organs in his chest. One heart belongs to him, the other belongs to the late Ashborn who chose him as his heir.

Nothing is making sense right now, but you're stuck sobbing in his arms and seeking for solace and safety.

"We'll have to pretend to be hurt when we go out, hm?" Jinwoo lifts your face up with the palms of his warm hands, his expression hauntingly saintly despite the muddled color of grey in his lovely eyes. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod, sniffling, earning yourself a kiss on the forehead as a reward for your obedience.

"Good girl."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What better way to start off my 2025 with a Lovesick Sung Jinwoo fic? Hahah, my beloved<3. No matter who I put into my extensive list of sweethearts Jinwoo will always be on top of everybody else! I love him it's unhealthy. I might make a lads post after this or a wholesome sylus fic that has been brewing in my mind for a bit? I wanna branch out more when it comes to my fics wwww!!! So aside from Hsr there will be the lads boys. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[rice-fae]

Boycott hoyoverse, please.

I used to be a big genshin impact lore buff, i played, i read, i was on forums, i made fanart, and then i was deeply disrespected by the game itself (this post is about natlan)

I am brazilian and i follow a religion named candomblé. Long story short, its from yoruba people who were sent to brazil as slaves, then went through a big process of spreading out to not just black people, but light-skinned people of lower classes like my family. We believe in the creation by Olorum, the power of Axé, and the Orixás.

Natlan, as of now, has two characters named Iansan and Ororon. These names come from not just the yoruba predecessors of candomblé, but also the religion itself, the Orixá deities Iansã and Olorum.

My religion, my deities. My mother's deities. The statuettes in my house. Their names are recycled cheaply to be used trivially. Never have we of candomblé ever gotten mentioned by AAA games or films that give such attention to detail like Genshin does, and we are disrespected. Our Gods are used like rags for someone's profit to be thrown away, washed out. They do not convey our beauty, our grit, our wonder, they do not convey us but they profit from us.

People love to tell us that it is just a game, but think again: games are not entitled to disrespect us just because of their nature. We are entitled to complain, to scream, because this is cruelty. You brutalize our image, butcher our names, for what?

When I was younger, I used to look at games with religious imagery very curiously. It was always weird to see the faith of the people I know be used for aesthetic reasons or just because it looks cool. The same has now happened to me, but times worse. People will say anything to justify this mockery and throw excuses to keep playing the product of a corporation that won't ever understand what it means to be us.

Boycott, complain, scream, because I will do it too. I regret the time I invested in playing, in reading, in watching, in dedicating myself to something that would never do me justice. It is not expensive to change a character's name, not even talking about the model. I don't plan on re-entering the fandom while it still lies unaware of the gross source material's true colors. Candomblé is not mythology, it's faith. We are alive. We have existed for centuries and will continue to grow, despite the challenges we face.

[sublimitymp3]

Pray for me

Pairing ✵ Gwayne Hightower/Niece!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, littleee bit of crybaby!reader, smut (frottage, oral F receiving, fingering, and slight dacryphilia), and religious themes

Word count ✵ 2.5k

Summary ✵ Your uncle Gwayne arrives from Oldtown at your brother's call, and pays a visit to you while you pray.

"Your mother told me I might find you in here,"

You whipped your head around to see the source of the voice that disturbed you from your prayers and saw none other than your uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower. He had finally come from Oldtown, answering your brother's call for assistance in his war.

"It is the seventh day, I thought I ought to pray. Especially now..." You explain with a small smile. You stood from your kneeling position on the cold, unyielding sept floor so you may look upon him. Your face twists into a cringe as you feel the bruises from kneeling for so long begin to form on your knees, and you are sure they'll be an ugly purple color later. Relaxing your features, you finally turn on your heel to face your uncle. It has been so long since you've seen him.

Too long.

He's as handsome as you remember, with his auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and the faint freckles that dust his face. How you wished you could map kisses along those freckles, connecting them with a trail of where your lips had been. But your faith and virtue prevent you from giving in to the desire. Besides, you are sure that if he ever found out you ever thought such things, he'd look at you with such revulsion that you'd crumble to the floor in shame.

He steps closer to you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly. "You have your mother's beauty, but your father's features," he hums, tweaking your nose playfully before wrapping you in a firm hug. It is not lost on you the slight curt tone his voice took on at the mention of your late father, but you dismiss it.

"And tell me, how have you been fairing during these trying times, hm? Don't tell me you hole yourself up in this sept all day." He teases, bringing a feeling of embarrassment over you for he had guessed correctly. Recently, you do spend the brunt of your days at the sept, praying to almost every facet of the Seven for mercy, strength, wisdom, and safety. Today, you were praying at the statue of the Mother, and after you lit a candle for her altar, you prayed for mercy and protection for your family members. It is one of the few things that brings you comfort nowadays, your faith in the Seven who are One.

"Well, there isn't much I can do," you shrug, letting a small frown tug at your lips. "It's not like I can sit in on a council meeting, and mother refuses to let me on my dragon. She seems perfectly content in keeping me idle and useless," you remark with a tone of annoyance, one that draws a low laugh from your uncle.

"Your mother means well, sweet niece. You're better suited here, getting favor from the gods as opposed to being in the midst of battle. Believe me, it is a bloody, nasty affair, and you are far too delicate to join in," he grips your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, keeping your lilac gaze trained on his ocean-blue eyes.

You cannot even think of a response to his dismissing words, as you are too busy trying to push away the familiar ache you get between your thighs. It always comes at the most inconvenient of times, like when you watch the men in the training yard move, sweaty and shirtless, or when you spy on your brother coupling with a serving girl. All you know is that it persists for ages, and no amount of praying stops it.

But you can only try.

"S-Shall we pray, uncle? So that the Mother may grant us safety, of course," you propose, shifting nervously on your feet. Perhaps it is the light flush that has appeared on your face, or how you try to discreetly press your thighs together for some form of relief, but Gwayne knows. He always knows.

To save yourself some embarrassment, you resume your kneeling position before the statue and altar of the Mother, clasping your hands together in the standard praying position. You expect your uncle to kneel beside you, or just leave the sept all together, so you are quite surprised when you feel him loom behind you.

His firm chest swiftly presses against your back, and his larger and calloused hands come to rest over your softer ones, and you find yourself trapped in this embrace. Whether it is to your delight or misfortune, you cannot decide. You squeeze your eyes shut and silently beg for forgiveness for the unseemly thoughts that run through your brain at his actions. 'Who thinks such perverse things in a holy place?' you think, mentally chastising yourself.

"Well, go on then, sweet one. Pray for me," he whispers, and you can feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. Gwayne is enjoying this, enjoying this little game of denial you two play. Of course, it is wrong for him to want to take you in the lewdest positions, to have you scream his name so everyone knows who is fucking you so good, but he has restrained himself all this time. Patience is a great virtue, yes, but he wishes to reap his reward for remaining ever so patient now.

"M-Mother Above, have mercy on us all. I beg you for your protection, and for you to-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as your uncle buries his face into the crook of your neck, and gently nips at the soft skin there. He begins pressing himself against your ass, making your cheeks flush even more.

Noticing your sudden pause, he pulls back to look at your blushing face with a devilish smirk. "Well? Go on, don't mind me," he says before going right back to nipping and sucking at your neck. It is impossible for you to stay concentrated on your prayers as he continues, and you resign to praying in your head as your words fail you.

Your prayers only falter as you feel something hard poking against your backside, prodding and bumping against you relentlessly. Gwayne begins peppering kisses from your neck and to your jawline before tugging your head back gently, and letting his lips brush against yours. He only pauses as you tilt your head a little bit away in reluctance.

"U-Uncle, this is wrong. N-Not here, we cannot do this-"

"Shh, enough with that. It isn't wrong, not in the slightest. It's not wrong, not when you're meant for me. Surely even the gods will understand," he mumbles against the softness of your lips. You feel in that little moment of pause that his are a bit chapped, most likely from days of riding on horseback and camping in the wilderness. But it matters little then.

Once his lips are on yours, you cannot help the cascade of little moans that leaves you. His mouth is overwhelming and easily overpowers your rather inexperienced one, and you feel his hands move from their position over yours. One hand moves to your neck, and the other to your breast, fondling it through your dress as he continues humping you from behind.

You are thankful the sept is empty today. If word of what you do now reached your mother, of the depravity you partake in with her own brother, you're sure she'd have you sent far away to become a septa.

With a final peck to your lips, your uncle stands. He drinks in the sight of you like this; cheeks flushed, hair a bit messy, clothes rumpled, and swollen lips, all from him, of course. He swears then and there he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Up you go, princess," he mumbles, before picking you up with ease and setting you to sit on the edge of the altar. He messily pushes away the candles and various offerings left there to make room for you, and you cringe at the disrespect, disrespect born from lust and hastiness.

The new position allows for you to be relatively level with his face, and he soon hikes your dress up and stands between your parted thighs. As he begins to rub his erection against your clothed cunt, you grab onto his forearms to ground yourself.

His erection rubs against your dampened smallclothes, brushing against your bud and your folds. With each grind of his hips, you feel something like a fire burning through your bones. But with your clothes acting like a barrier, and the slightly awkward angle, it's not enough for you. Even with your unfamiliarity to such actions, you still know it is not enough.

"M-More, more. Uncle, I need more." you whine, pulling him closer by the laces of his breeches, eliciting a sly smirk from him.

"Well well, I never thought I'd see the day where my own niece was begging for me like a whore." he teases, making you frown at the crude and cruel word.

A cruel word indeed, and you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes watering, and your nose instinctively sniffling. Gwayne's smirk falters for a moment as he watches little tears spill from your eyes, but only for a moment.

"Aw, come now sweet girl, don't take offense. It was all in good fun, yes?" he coos to you, and you feel him begin to lick your tears away, catching the salty evidence of your crying on his tongue. "But oh, darling one, how pretty you look when you cry. Are you gonna cry more with what I do to you, little princess?" he asks with a mocking little pout, before kissing back down your neck.

You've always been a bit of a sensitive girl, everyone knows this. The smallest hint of frustration or anger to you, or even words spoken to you all in jest send you easily into tears. What you were not expecting was for them to be met with something other than the typical annoyed shushing you are used to receiving when you begin to cry.

Soon, Gwayne is kneeling before you, and pulling your wet smallclothes down. His lips pepper light kisses along your soft inner thighs, teasing you once more. "So wet...all for me, little princess?" he asks before nudging his nose against your bud, making you jolt with pleasure. He inhales your sweet scent. 'The scent of a wet virgin', he thinks crudely to himself.

You keep yourself propped up with your arms, and you look down at him between your thighs. Both of your legs have been thrown over his shoulders, and the instinct to wiggle your core closer to him grows. With a knowing gaze, Gwayne looks up at you with a smirk, before his tongue darts out and he dives in.

He eats you like a starved man.

His tongue licks stripes along your core, lapping up your arousal hungrily. His mouth works expertly, and all you can do is sit there helplessly and moan. Your little squeals and high-pitched whines sound adorable to him, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations, of course, make you jump again.

"My my, little niece, aren't you quite the sensitive one? Is your cunny as sensitive as your heart, hm?" he teases, as he continues to lick and suckle you. You cannot respond, too incapacitated by the pleasure his mouth brings you. It is nothing like you've ever felt before. Even your pillow or your hands don't feel as good as this.

"U-Uncle, uncle Gwayne, it feels s'good," you practically babble out as the lewd sounds of him slurping against you echoes around the sept. Your hand comes down to grip at his auburn hair, tugging him closer to your cunt. You care not anymore if this depravity is sullying a holy place, or if the gods watch with disapproval. There's always time to repent, after all.

The little pain you yanking his hair brings him makes him groan against your puffy folds, adding only to the stimulation you feel. "Yeah? Feels good? Oh, baby, you have no idea..." he murmurs, leaving you a little confused at his choice of words.

But you soon find out what exactly he means.

His mouth moves to focus only on your sensitive bud, sucking on it gently while he introduces two fingers to your wet folds. His fingers dance along your slit, dragging up and down in a slow, almost torturous manner.

You cry and squirm against him, greedily pushing his face right against your cunt. He heeds your signal, and finally pushes his fingers inside your velvety walls.

The stretch and feeling of something penetrating you are new and utterly foreign, but with the added stimulation his mouth still gives, the uncomfortableness of it all soon washes away to make room for pleasure. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, careful to not hurt you as he works you open.

Once he is sure you are ready, only then does he move his fingers faster. Your thighs squeeze around his head with the intensity of it all, and he has to wrench them back apart. "I can't move if you're trying to block me, sweetling," he chuckles, earning a sheepish "sorry" from you.

As he continues his ministrations, his fingers finally brush against and find that spongy sweet spot hidden up you. He begins to nudge against it with his fingertips, making you gush your arousal all over his face. You've never felt such an intense and yet wonderful feeling in your life, and soon you find it all beginning to build up and crescendo.

His free hand massages and strokes your hips gently, and rubs circles over your belly a little, just to soothe you. He can feel your walls tightening up, and how your thighs tremble and shake around his head. "You can do it, baby, you can do it. Go on, sweet niece," he coos, finally sending you over the edge.

With a loud cry, you tremble and feel such intense pleasure crashing over you like the waves during a tumultuous seastorm. You chant his name, worshipping him as if he were a god.

Once your peak washes over you, you slump against the base of the statue of the Mother. Gwayne promptly stands, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Perhaps I should have you every night instead of wine." he smiles, before thumbing stray tears that rest on your flushed cheeks away.

He wipes his mouth with his forearm, before kissing you once more. You can taste yourself on your tongue. "I have to go now, sweet one. Pray to the gods for me, will you? And when I come back, we can pray together again. Wouldn't you like that?" he grins, cupping your face in his hands.

A knowing smile forms on your kiss-swollen lips as you understand the insinuations of his words. As he rides off to fight your brother's war, you will remain praying in the sept, longing for the day he will return and come to pray with you again.

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Tags- @unicornfartsmella44

[planetsandstarsandstuff]

Synastry & Composite Chart Notes/Observations ll:

(please do not copy or repost on other platforms)

Moon in the 10H synastry: I find Moon often feels a sense of pride in the 10H person, even if they don't know them personally. They can become very emotionally invested in this person's success and are often highly defensive of them, particularly from public scrutiny. (sidenote: if you have your Moon in or ruling your 10th house, you may find people feel this way about you regardless of where their Moon sits in your chart.)

Composite 3H Uranus/Uranus-Mercury: These placements can often speak to sporadic communication - going long stretches without speaking, conversations lacking rhythm, communication over text feeling incohesive, etc.

Venus in the 2H synastry: Venus loves giving compliments to the 2H person; making 2H feel good about themselves makes Venus feel good in return.

Moon in 1H/Moon-asc synastry: Moon is often very attached to the way the asc person looks and can be sensitive to changes in their appearance - this synastry reminds me of when a baby starts crying after their dad shaves his beard or gets a new haircut LOL

Composite Libra Mars: Conflict tends to feel particularly uncomfortable here.

Planets in the Composite 12H can point to themes the two are shy about expressing with one another:

Venus - love, affection

Sun - personality, authenticity

Moon - emotions, vulnerability, earnestness

Mercury - communication, unfiltered thoughts

We might be able to see how others feel about our relationship with someone by looking at how their planets interact with the composite chart. Their Venus can tell us what they like or possibly envy about the relationship, their Mars can tell us what might anger them about it, Pluto may be able to show where they feel jealous or try to assert their power, Mercury can show where they're most curious about the relationship or what aspect of it they may discuss with others, etc.

Both Jupiter and Neptune can often grant a lot of forgiveness in synastry, but in slightly different ways:

With Neptune, there tends to be a presumption of innocence about the other person - it's easy to forgive them because we have a difficult time believing they could ever intentionally cause harm. There's often a lot of tolerance here.

With Jupiter, we're more likely to recognize this person's flaws than we are with Neptune - we don't view them through the same rose-colored glasses. However, we still tend to be very forgiving of them because we have faith in their overall character and ability to grow. There's often a lot of good will granted here.

Saturn-Moon synastry: As the Saturn person, we often feel responsible for the Moon person's emotional well being - there's a strong sense of obligation here. I find that even if we don't particularly like this person, we can't help but feel somewhat protective over them.

That's all, thanks for reading!

[rottiens]

How often do you think Neuvillette makes love to reader in his dragon form? And how do they prepare for it all?

⊹ tags . . 18+, neuvillette in his dragon form, monsterfucking, established relationship, female reader.

⊹ wc . . 1.4K

⊹ notes . . didn't expect to write so much for this lol but, as always, I really enjoy the ideas you put in my head and ily.

Neuvillette is very shy at first about his true nature. Very withdrawn and perhaps ashamed of his original form. He has spent so much time among humans, understanding them and being part of them, that being with you, he forgets that this non-human part is still kept inside him.

You know the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the way he presents himself to others, you know how respected he is, how loyal he is; you know your husband and you have no doubts about him. But you don't know the Dragon Hydro. So, it is understandable that he feels shy to show his true nature before you.

Your sweet words gradually encourage him to trust you and what you assure him. You promise him so many times that no matter what you see, nothing will make you turn away from him— you do this by kissing his hand, pampering his neck, adoring his body that eventually, Neuvillette decides it's time.

As expected, his dragon form is as majestic as you had imagined. The imposing Neuvillette appears before your eyes, a being of breathtaking beauty and mystical presence. His winged figure combines the grace of an eagle with the strength of a dragon. His plumage is a symphony of colors that oscillates between deep blue tones and brilliant azure hues, creating a visual effect that evokes the power and serenity of the ocean.

You witness the magnificence of his transformation, a sight that takes your breath away and fills you with awe. As you approach, his eyes, deep and full of centuries of wisdom, look at you with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. You are honored and amazed by the faith he has placed in you, knowing that now, more than ever, you must keep your promise to stand by his side, accepting and loving every part of him, human and non-human.

His wings, broad and ethereal, appear to be sculpted from liquid light, adorned with undulating patterns reminiscent of gentle ocean currents. Each feather is outlined with silvery sparkles, giving the impression that a piece of the starry sky has been caught in its wingspan.

Neuvillette's head is noble and distinguished, with piercing eyes that sparkle with ancient wisdom. His silver mane flows back like a cascade of liquid silver. His words echo throughout the room, and he lovingly rests his forehead on yours, speaking to you through your thoughts. All the energy that fills the room bristles your skin, electric sparks that make your fingers move with a life of their own towards his face. Neuvillette drops into your hands, gazing intently at you with narrowed eyes.

Watching him, you can't help but feel that you are in the presence of an entity that transcends the mundane, a living connection between heaven and earth, the ethereal and the tangible.

"You are so beautiful, Neuvillette," you confess quietly to him. He lets out a sort of purr that fills the cave where you are, his tail visibly vibrating a tender blue, tossing back and forth like the waves of the sea.

The passing years have made him more comfortable at your side in his majestic form. You snuggle next to his body as he curls up next to you, his purrs like whispers on the wind lulling you into a placid slumber. But it is not until mating season that he realizes that opening up more with you has been both a blessing and a danger.

In that period, his desire becomes uncontrollable and his dragon nature intensifies. Neuvillette struggles to maintain control, but your gentle words and the trust you have placed in him give him the security he needs to fully embrace his true nature.

The mating gifts he has brought to you —pearls that glow even in the dark, coral crystals, jewelry created from sapphire— were now accompanied by something else. Something he considers terrible and carnal. Grunting, touching more than usual in public, slightly more possessive grips. It's second nature for you to join together in bed, to merge your bodies as one, to sink into you and make love to you all night long until you're both exhausted. But this season, there's something about Neuvillette that has him all the time with his pants tight, his hands sweating under his leather gloves and his boot clacking against the floor, he needed to be back home soon.

. . . He breathes heavily as he holds you against him. Your forehead rests on his as he recites one of the ancient poems stored on scrolls. His mouth is open, salivating, his majestic body jerking with every touch of your delicate fingers on the scales of his face.

"What's wrong?" your tone is almost pained, as if you are hurt. With a frown. Neuvillette hates himself for making you worry.

His whole body shudders as soon as your fingers tangle in the mane that hides his sharp eyes.

"My body doesn't seem to listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm burning up."

Your countenance softens, a tender smile tugs at your lips and Neuvillette jerks away from you, but you are quick to act and reach out your hands, stopping him in his attempt to escape.

"It's okay," as always, you encourage him. "I love you. In this and all your forms, Neuvillette. You have nothing to hide from me."

You prompt him, urge him to follow and explore his desires. It hurts his chest to see you so beautiful for him, to see you covered by a thin transparent cloth that barely covers your nakedness; your erect nipples are visible in the moonlight streaming through the cave and he pauses to think how firm they would feel under his tongue, your thin cotton panties soaked by a sticky layer of your arousal that provokes him just and only to push them with his claw and watch you squirm beneath him. Neuvillette suffers from not being able to control himself. But seeing you ready for him makes his animalistic senses fill with adrenaline.

Soon, he leaves the comfort of your warmth to push his face against your small body. You are so fragile, and he watches you carefully. His nose sniffs you, his scales tickle you, and you laugh. But Neuvillette is so focused on what he wants that he pays no attention to anything but that smell.

He descends under your body, determined. His face pushes the fabric up while he stands on all four paws so as not to crush you. His teeth tear at the fabric and you groan in surprise, for you have never seen him so desperate. Quickly, his long tongue darts out, cuts through the moonbeam and sinks between your thighs, exploring your slick folds with ferocity.

The dragon growls hungrily, devouring everything he can reach with his insatiable tongue. The split tip of his tongue does a dance on your clit, and you raise your hips in search of that pleasure, clinging to the silken sheets as waves of pleasure lash you. Neuvillette grunts, salivates and devours you as if for the first time. You melt with each lick until the impending end of your orgasm hits you.

Even after, he continues to lick you slowly, still greedy, still hungry.

Adoringly, his nose is wet from every trace of skin he gets, worshipping you like a deity.

After this, shame consumes him, so embarrassed to let this barbaric behavior that he has shown to no one else come to light, those instincts that make him lose his composure. Yet, with you by his side, promising him that everything is fine, that you are fine, Neuvillette allows it to happen a second time and then a third. How often? I think it happens spontaneously, but especially when he is in heat, he can't help but take you in his original form, in fact even if he won't admit it, in this state it is his favorite way to make love to you. Although he may lose control of his thrusts, he always tries to be gentle with you, always leaving a mark or two after the session.

These always start with him first in his human form, stretching you with his fingers, making you cum several times with them, then with his split tongue. Finally, when you're ready, one of his two cocks slides into you smoothly, so deep you don't remember how to breathe. Deep inside, he longs for the day when you can take both at the same time.

[2thestars-andbeyond]

Little Rabbit

Summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. While training with Rhysand, she winnows herself to the Autumn Court by mistake and finds someone she can't seem to get off her mind..

"Just close your eyes and try again." Rhysand told me, sternly. I'm sure he was getting pretty fed up with me and my training. Plus we'd been at this for a good three hours now. "Close your eyes and concentrate."

"That's what I've been doing Rhys! And its not working!" I took a deep breath trying not to lose my temper. "I just end up five feet from where i'm standing."

Winnowing was hard and learning how to use the power was draining. Taking a seat on a near by stump, I wiped away a stay tear that started to roll down my cheek.

"Winnowing is a power not all Fae have. It takes a good deal of concentration and strength. try again Y/N. Try to think of another spot in the woods."

All the woods looked the same. Every tree the same type of maple. Every blade of grass the same shade of green.

I rolled my eyes at Rhys. "I'm not sure why you have so much faith in me winnowing anyway. I'm obviously not that good at it so i'm not sure why it matters so much."

Rhys took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. "Y/n, I know you can do this. Close your eyes and try again. Focus on the tree that Azriel is standing next to."

Az just nodded at me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I always loved being in the woods especially during autumn. All the colors and cool breezes. Soon, in my minds eye, the tree behind the Shadow Singer had vibrant orange leaves and a cool breeze blew my hair. I ripped my eyes open.

"You've got to be kidding me." I whispered in disbelief. I had done it. I had finally winnowed, right into the Autumn Court...

"I knew that asshole was up to something" Rhysand had been trying for the past week to get me to winnow. I hope he's happy now.

"I know you can do it" I mocked my brother in law as I walked through the unfamiliar forest of Autumn. I knew it was a matter of time before Beron's sentries found me. Rhysands "I know you can do it" is probably going to get beheaded or whatever they do to trespassers in this Court.

I heard shuffling in the nearby bushes. I stopped so abruptly I almost fell. "Please don't be a bear or a wolf."

I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel jetted out of the bush.

"Are you lost little rabbit?"

I whirled around and bumped right into a red haired male.

"Shit." I murmured under my breath, finding it hard to find my voice.

He smirked. "You are far from home. Don't worry. I already informed Rhysand."

I had never met this male before. So how did he know who I was? He took a step around means continued down the path.

"I do have to say that it is pretty impressive that you winnowed this far away from Night. nearly four courts away. Come. We will meet your high lord somewhere safe. Beron has eyes and ears everywhere. Sometimes I fear the creatures are on his side as well."

I ran to catch up with him. "Wait so you aren't going to turn me in?"

He chuckled. "Why would I do that? Hmm?" His amber eyes met mine.

His gaze was intense and nearly took my breath away. "I-it's just that i'm trespassing, correct? I was sure that would be punishable in such a cutthroat Court?"

"Oh, it is. Usually anyway, but I told Beron i'd check out the breech in the border."

We walked for what seemed like forever. Passing by tree after tree, all of them different it seemed, unlike the forest back home. Every tree different shades of Autumn colors. More vibrant than I had ever seen back in the night Court or the human lands for that matter. Before I knew it we had reached a clearing.

"Take my hand" The male told me. "Rhysand waits for you in the clearing."

I gave him a skeptical look, "Ahh. I don't see anything inside the clearing"

"Just trust me." He replied offering me his hand.

"How do I know I can trust you? I don't even know you."

"I would never let any harm come to you, Y/n." I gasped as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of crackling fire and spice engulfed me as he winnowed us into the clearing.

Rhysand, Feyre and Az appeared before me. Azriel, noting how close the male held me, drew his knife.

"Calm down Shadow Singer, she is unharmed. Aren't you little rabbit?" He asked, bringing my chin up so that my eyes met his again.

Azriel growled. but the male let me go. Taking one more look at his face, I ran into my older sisters arms. "I'm okay. " I assured them.

"Thank you Eris for keeping her safe." Rhys stated.

"It is strange though. That she winnowed so far from home." Eris mused. "Makes one wonder what drew her to a court she had never stepper foot into." With that, he disappeared.

Shocked was an understatement. The male that had saved me was the Heir of Autumn. the male every one talks so much shit about. And all I could think about was how his warm hand felt wrapped around my wrist. How his finger had gently raised my chin, how his amber eyes seemed to darken as they bore into mine.

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Thirteen} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request {@hiddledede-heddlededo}: I have this idea for kinktober about Klaus teaching the inexperienced reader all the ways she can pleasure her self how to do a BJ, ridding, alllll the lessons an the reader is so overwhelmed by the feelings and good sex that she squirts and is so embarrassed but Klaus is pleased with what he managed he starts laughing because he didn’t know she had it in her. She gets very insecure but he assured her he loved it by doing it all over again.

♡♡♡ This idea??? HOT. {Just like the man himself} ♡♡♡

2.6k words - Kinks: Klaus bring sweet, art studio flirting, inexperience, teaching && squirtinggg....

Your boyfriend's art studio was your favorite place in his house. It felt the most like him, a place where you could see his personality on every wall. The best times were when he allowed you to watch him work. You loved listening to him hum under his breath while he sketched, the soft sound of his pencil moving on the paper, and his concentrated frown as he worked.

He encouraged you to try and create something yourself, but you were nervous about ruining his nice canvases and paints.

You had sketched out a simple landscape with a pencil, and were using paint to fill it in, trying your best to match the colors of the sky and trees.

It was going terribly, and you had been working at it for hours. You groaned and put down your paintbrush, leaning back to stretch your sore muscles.

He could see your frustration, a feeling he knew all too well. He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, taking your hand and guiding the paintbrush back to the canvas.

"Just go slow, love," he murmured into your ear. "Take your time."

You nodded and leaned back into him, letting him control your hand.

"The trick is to go from the outside in," he told you. "You have to let the color blend into each other, don't force the brush. Don't worry about the details yet, just get the base layer down."

His lips trailed down your neck and he sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below your ear. You giggled and the brush slipped out of your fingers, splattering paint across the canvas.

"Shit," you muttered. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"It takes practice," he said, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck. "You'll get better with time. I have faith in you."

He took the paintbrush and placed it in the jar of water next to your palette. He turned you around in his arms and cupped your cheek, his blue eyes warm and full of love.

"Maybe we should take a break," you said, giving him a shy smile. "I'm not really in the mood to paint anymore."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well," you bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes. "I... you know how we haven't? done it ... yet?"

His lips twitched and he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. "You want to have sex?"

You nodded and glanced away. You were blushing hard, feeling a little embarrassed at having to ask.

He chuckled at your shyness, so sweet and innocent. He had been waiting patiently for you to be ready. He had taken things slow, wanting to make sure you were comfortable before taking the next step.

"We can have sex if you're sure," he said.

"I am," you replied quickly, a little too eager. "I mean, only if you want to."

He let out a hearty laugh, then lifted you up, causing you to squeal. You wrapped your legs around his waist and threw your arms around his neck.

"What do you think, love?" he asked. "Here, on my desk, or should I carry you upstairs?"

"Your bed," you replied, leaning forward and brushing your lips against his. "Please."

He carried you out of his studio, not breaking the kiss. He kept his hands under your thighs to support you. His lips were soft and his tongue was warm as it met yours. You were a little embarrassed by how much noise you were making, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips. You didn't know if that was something he liked or not.

When you reached his room, he tossed you onto the bed, sending you into a fit of giggles. You watched as he removed his shirt, tossing it on the floor, followed by his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. You blushed, not used to seeing him so exposed.

You nervously reached for the buttons on your dress and began undoing them, slowly revealing the lace lingerie underneath. He grinned as he saw the white babydoll top, his eyes trailing down your body, taking in the sight of you.

"Oh, so you planned this, didn't you?" He asked, pointing to your white panties. "You came here today hoping we'd end up like this."

"I may have had something like this in mind," you admitted, giving him a small smile. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," he said, pulling you towards him.

You squealed as your body was pulled under his, his weight a pleasurable warmth against you. You let him take control as he kissed you deeply, his lips never leaving yours. He shifted so he was lying next to you, his hand resting on your lower belly.

"Wait," you murmured against his lips, pulling away. Everything was moving so fast and you needed a moment to breathe. "I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"I'll teach you," he said, his finger tracing the straps of your top. "If you'd like."

"Yes, please," you nodded and he leaned forward to give you another kiss.

He took your hand and guided it toward the band of his boxers. You grasped the elastic, looked him in the eye, then began pulling down. Your fingers fumbled, trying to figure out what you were doing, and you let out a nervous laugh.

He stared down at you, watching you struggle with a slight smile on his face. He was amused by how unsure you were. He enjoyed that you needed his guidance.

He guided your hand into his underwear and brought you to his hardening cock. Your eyes widened as you felt it for the first time, the thickness of him, his silky skin.

"Have you ever been touched before?" He whispered, eyes half closed as your hand explored.

"Just by myself," you admitted, face heating up from the admission.

His mouth curved up into a smirk and his eyes sparkled. "Show me," he told you. "I want to see the way you do it."

You nodded, letting his cock go and moving your hand into your panties, keeping your eyes on him. You liked how he was looking at you, it gave you confidence.

You started off with gentle movements, finding your clit easily. You had never managed to bring yourself over the edge, not even close, but with him watching everything was more intense. You lifted your hips and let out a moan, feeling your pussy getting wetter. You could hear the soft squelch as your fingers began to slide faster, your clit starting to swell from the attention.

He took your other hand and placed it back on his cock, encouraging you to keep stroking him. He enjoyed your little moans, watching as you worked yourself up.

Your moans became louder, and your pace quickened. You arched up and grinded against your hand, the sensation so much more intense than before, but you couldn't reach that peak, no matter how close you got.

You finally broke, panting and pulling your fingers away from your clit, face bright red in frustration.

"I-I can't," you told him, and looked away. "I've tried so many times before and I just can't."

He tilted your chin, making you look back at him. His thumb stroked your cheek and he gave you a reassuring smile.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers trailing over the lace of your panties.

You nodded, too nervous to even speak.

He pulled the lace aside, humming at the wetness he found. He pressed one finger inside, and you gasped, surprised by the intrusion.

"Nik," you moaned, reaching for him, gripping his shoulders.

He kissed your neck and moved his finger deeper, slowly fucking you. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back, and he could see how flushed your face was.

"Sometimes, just touching your clit isn't enough," he told you, sliding a second finger inside. "Some people need a little bit more. Like this."

He curled his fingers and hit a spot inside of you that made your whole body jolt. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulder.

"Ahh," you whimpered. "Klaus, what...?"

"There we are," he smirked and continued rubbing that same spot, over and over. "Does that feel good?"

"Y-Yes," you nodded, gasping and clinging to him.

You were panting now, the pressure inside of you building and building. Your hips were bucking against his hand and you felt tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

"That's it," he praised, watching you. "Fuck, you look beautiful like this. Cum for me, love."

You didn't have time to reply before your orgasm slammed into you, your whole body tensing and trembling. You squeezed around his fingers and you felt your pussy pulsing, clenching and releasing. It was an incredible sensation, unlike anything you had experienced before.

You were gasping for air, trying to catch your breath. You had no idea orgasms could be that intense, you had never felt anything like it.

"See? All you needed was a little guidance," he said, smiling at your wide-eyed expression. "Now, are you ready for the main event?"

"Um," you hesitated, suddenly feeling anxious.

"If you're not ready, we can wait," he assured you.

"No, I want to," you nodded. "But... can I try something first?"

"Of course," he sat back on the bed and waited for you to tell him what to do.

You blushed, and took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him.

"Can I..." You licked your lips. "Can I taste you?"

His cock twitched at the suggestion, and he nodded. "You don't have to ask, love."

You gave him a shy smile and leaned forward, gently pulling his cock from his underwear. You looked up at him, unsure of exactly what to do, then placed a kiss on the tip.

"Go slow," he told you. "There's no rush."

You wrapped your lips around the head and began sucking. His breath hitched and his hand came to rest on your head, but he didn't push you further.

You moved further down his cock, using your tongue to taste him, to get a feel for him. The weight of him on your tongue was new, and not entirely unpleasant.

You used your hands to stroke what you couldn't fit into your mouth and he seemed to like that. You continued sucking, listening to the sounds he made. They were low grunts and sighs, and you liked that you were the cause of them.

"Good girl," he praised, his fingers tangled in your hair. "Go a little slower, use your tongue more. Yes, just like that. So good, darling."

The praise made you moan, and you wanted to do everything in your power to keep hearing those words. You bobbed your head faster, and you heard him mutter something under his breath. You felt him twitch and then his hand was on your shoulder, pulling you off his cock.

You looked up at him, wondering if you did something wrong.

"I'm sorry, I-,"

"You're perfect," he said, cutting you off. "But if you keep going I won't be able to last."

"Oh," you smiled, happy with the compliment.

He leaned forward and kissed you. You let him maneuver you until your back was flat on the bed, his body over yours.

He tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"I think so," you nodded.

"Just tell me if it hurts," he told you.

You gave him another nod and he placed himself at your entrance. He pushed inside, the head popping past the ring of muscles.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he said, seeing how tense you were.

You took a deep breath and he pushed forward, sliding in the rest of the way. It felt a little strange, and uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," you said.

He slowly pulled out and thrust back in. You felt a spark of pleasure, and he smirked when he saw your reaction. He kept his thrusts slow and gentle, and after a few minutes the discomfort had faded and was replaced with pleasure.

"How's that?" He asked.

"Feels good," you replied, and he picked up his pace.

You gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. You were a little overwhelmed. He was bigger than you expected, and you were feeling so many things. It was amazing, but also a lot.

"Nik," you panted, moaning as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

He reached down, grabbing your waist and lifting you into his lap. The angle was different, and it felt even better. You could feel yourself clenching around him, the heat in your belly beginning to burn hotter.

"Move your hips for me darling, like this," he murmured, showing you how to grind against him.

You rolled your hips, moaning as he hit deeper than before. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him as you tried to keep the same pace he had set.

"There, use your knees and bounce on my cock," he told you. "That's it, sweetheart. Just like that."

He gripped your hips, helping you stay steady as you moved. Your nails scratched his shoulders and the sting only made him want you more. Another orgasm was quickly approaching, but it felt different, somehow. Bigger.

"N-Nik, I'm-," you panted, unable to finish the sentence.

"Me too, love," he told you, his breath heavy and uneven.

You bounced harder and faster, and then he hit something inside you, sending a jolt through your entire body. It was like an explosion, and you felt every nerve in your body light up. Wetness gushed out from between your legs, soaking his thighs and the sheets below you. You couldn't stop shaking, it felt like there was an earthquake happening inside your body.

You felt him still and tense beneath you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you closer. He buried his face into your neck and groaned, filling you with his cum.

The two of you stayed still, holding each other and trying to catch your breaths. It was quiet, and neither of you spoke, your cheeks were burning hot with embarrassment. Had you just lost control of your bladder? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, you couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, voice filled with concern.

"No," you shook your head, eyes focused on the bedsheets. "I just... I-I didn't know that could happen."

"Neither did I," he said, giving you a grin.

"Oh God, I'm so embarrassed," you hid your face in his neck, hoping the world would just swallow you up.

"Why? That was amazing, love."

"But it was... It was all over the place, I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he kissed your neck and pulled back so he could look at you.

You were sure your face couldn't get any warmer. You felt a little better, knowing he was impressed and not disgusted, but you were still mortified.

"It's not... not normal, right?" You asked.

He shook his head and laughed, pushing you back onto the bed and hovering above you. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you slowly.

"It's normal," he assured you. "And it's very, very hot," he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I hope you're not too tired because I want to make you do that again."

You bit your lip, nodding at him, eager for him to continue.

"And again, and again, and again..."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[reborn-readings]

What does your heart need from you at this moment?

Tip Jar | Masterlist | Personal Readings

Hello hello! Back with a new Pick a Pile, the third one in my 'needs from you' series. Let's see what messages your heart has for you 💚

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Left)

Rx Queen of Cups | Four of Swords | Inner Wisdom – Odin | Three of Swords | Seven of Summer | Lapis Lazuli – Expression | Mercy | Enlightenment – Moving Forward

Immediately the Rx Queen of Cups suggests a loss of control over emotion, or maybe a lack of emotion. This is also a rather sword-focused reading. Cups govern our heat, but swords can guide it. The four suits of Tarot are not separate—they intertwine and work together to improve out lives.

In order to get back to a place of evenness, you must allow these elements to work together. It sounds contradictory, but in order to help your heart heal, it asks you to follow your mind for now. It especially wants to emphasize that recognizing and feeling grief is important for your health and that rest is necessary—not only that, but the requirement of rest is a gift to humanity.

Allowing your mind to accept new knowledge and to expand will give you the tools you need to follow your heart. The world right now seems like a lot, what with spring coming (in a physical or metaphorical sense) and all these new, budding options available to you. For now, let logic guide you with the faith that your heart will return to you when it’s ready to help guide you.

In your relations with others, you walk a tightrope between honesty and compassion. Though you seem to be the kind of person whose kind words are not competing with your honest words. Continue your march of kindness and others will soon recognize you and show their bright colors in return.

Contrary to popular believe, protection lies not in the past or what is stable and unchanging, but in the future and in your ability to move on from past events. Each step forward is another bit of strengthening for your ward.

Other messages – Kindness to all living things (and maybe even some nonliving). What goes around comes around. Your true expressions are needed. Making a decision and moving on (it’s not as big of a decision as you might think—will it matter in a year?). Solitude/pulling back to gain wisdom.

Symbols – A matte feeling on your fingers and thumb. The color blue, like a snowy winter sky. Gold thread.

Pile 2 (Middle)

The Chariot | Eight of Swords | The Magician – Creator Gods | Queen of Swords | Four of Winter | Topaz – Manifestation | Change | Independence – Carving Your Own Path

Pile 2, have you ever seen a cicada coming out of its shell? That’s the image that I get of you right now. They spend the first seventeen years of their lives in bodies that aren’t theirs, only to climb up from the ground, anchor themselves to a tree, and split open on the back, emerging for a few months of whirlwind love.

This is an intense reading for me. It’s like you’re shock still now, but about to break forth and go tearing across the world to find your home. My heart is pounding just thinking about it! I suppose your heart just wants to warn you about the upcoming flurry of activity?

Yes, all your bindings will drop around you and you will create something magnificent. You will learn easy, rest easy, manifest what you desire, and transform into the new you. My throat got a bit tight when that message came to me—if this is something that you fear, know that your heart, your core, will stay the same. You’ll still be you! Only a more competent, independent, creative, merciful, confident, masterful you! When you’re through the transformation, it will feel as if it happened in the blink of an eye, and your heart will swell and feel warm with recognition of your accomplishments.

Other messages – Embrace the light of a new day. Confidence and belief. Make sure you get enough sleep. Heat and words as tools of creation. Energy.

Symbols – As I mentioned, insects coming out of pupae/cocoons. Races. The colors blue and yellow. The number 7. Soft/textured fabric.

Pile 3 (Right)

Rx King of Pentacles | Ace of Swords | Master of Wands – Giacomo Casanova | Ace of Cups | Ego | Rutilated Quartz – Confidence | Nature | The General of Knowledge

I get a distinct feeling of loss from you, Pile 3. Not something tangible or concrete that has been lost, but the loss of a certain feeling or thrill. The loss of passion. First, please know that these feelings, or lack thereof, are only temporary. Second, your heart has some messages for you to help you haul yourself out from this place.

Firstly. Several of the cards are pointing toward too much of an emphasis on the material. I see this manifesting as a sort of fear—fear of losing what you already have, fear of not being able to get what your body needs, fear of not being good enough to earn your keep, as they say. The counter to this fear is to invest in areas of life that develop you as a person. Be grateful for the opportunities that come your way, recognize your feelings and that each new relationship could be the start of something grand, maybe take up a new topic of interest to study or contemplate. Go for a nature walk and see what the world has to offer! I see you getting your hands dirty—maybe you’d like gardening, or something similar?

Secondly, a lot of the cards are pointing toward confidence. It feels like everyone can see how much swagger you have except you. But a lack of confidence is a self-fulfilling prophecy, and if you don’t believe in yourself, who will?

There is so much in this world waiting for you to dig it up. Hold onto hope, please, and remember to take life one day at a time.

Other messages – None. Listen to your heart, take note of how it feels. I sense that a higher power wants to bring you the rest of your messages, if you don’t already feel like you understand what comes next.

Symbols – Globe. Droplets of water. Overgrown plants.

If this was helpful, please consider donating or expanding on your personal messages in a reading💚

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[johanna-517]

"Special and unique"

(CHAPTER 6)

After what happened, you stayed locked in your room again. It was for the best... Staying within these four walls, hoping that being here would protect you from being hurt by your siblings again.

Maybe if you stay in this room for the rest of your life, they won't be able to find you, and they won't be able to hurt you again, right?

Alfred quickly noticed your depressed expression and the fact that, once again, you completely refused to leave your room. He asked if something had happened, but you denied it and lied, saying you were just sad because you couldn't get along with your family.

Alfred also didn't know you had a little monarch butterfly that came to your room from time to time. So there was no point in telling him you were depressed because Jason killed your little butterfly friend.

So, just as you had been doing since you arrived here, you had to suffer in silence, inside this large, empty room.

The only good thing was that Alfred recently found Toti for you and returned him to you. At least your faithful stuffed animal was back in your arms. He was the only one who made you feel less alone.

Because yes, you know, Toti is just a stuffed animal, just a fuzzy bear-shaped thing stuffed with cotton. But what of that? That doesn't change the fact that you've been with him for years, doesn't change the fact that during the nights, when you cried over your mother's death, or when you cried about not being accepted here, he always stayed with you.

You don't need Toti to talk, he already comforts you enough just by being with you, in your arms.

As you lay on the bed, hugging Toti, your eyes scanned the room.

The room you were given when you arrived at Wayne Manor... It's big. You're still not used to its size, because you never thought you'd have a room like this.

However, no matter how big the room is, or how elegant the furniture looks... It doesn't make you hate it any less. You don't like it. You don't like this place, you don't like this cold room. Its large walls simply serve to remind you how alone you are.

You hate it, you hate how even when it's daytime, this room still seems dark and gray.

Or maybe it's because at some point everything started to feel gray for you?

"I want to get out of here..." you murmured to yourself, hugging Toti tighter.

You closed your eyes tightly, you just wanted your mother... You tried to imagine, you tried to remember your mother's voice, her sweet, soft voice, and the gentle way her hands used to caress your hair.

You smiled slightly as you remembered her, as you remembered the warm color of your mother's eyes, the beautiful color of her hair, and the beautiful smile she always used to dedicate only to you.

But then your thoughts were interrupted, remembering now what had happened and what you wanted so much to forget; your father's indifference, receiving false promises and false kindness from Dick, being seen as nothing more than a nuisance by Tim, Stephanie's attitude towards you, the cold indifference of Cassandra and Barbara as well, and Jason's cruel comments towards you from the first time he met you.

You opened your eyes instantly, wanting to push those terrible memories away. You just wanted to remember your mother, not what happened to you with this family.

"Now I can see why Mom never let me meet my father," you said softly, staring up at the ceiling. Now you understood your mother. Surely she already knew that, right? She already knew how cold and indifferent Bruce can be, which is why she kept you away from him. She didn't want you to have a father who made you suffer. She would never have allowed anyone to hurt you, not even your father.

You sighed softly. Well... Now Mom wasn't here, and you were too far away from your aunt and cousins, so... There was no one to protect you anymore. You were alone... Where's your family? They're definitely not in this mansion. Those heartless guys can't be your family. You don't want them to be.

It's late at night, and you can hear the rain pounding against your window. Almost without thinking, you get out of bed, leaving Toti on the bed as you head for the door and leave the room.

You haven't left your room for days, so why are you doing it now? Well, not even you know. You just... got fed up with being in your room, maybe.

Since it's already late, the mansion's hallways are darker than usual, but you don't care. You just walk aimlessly through the mansion, not thinking about anything.

After walking for a while, you see some lights coming from a room.

You raise an eyebrow in curiosity and decide to approach, peeking a little through the half-open door.

Your eyes widen in surprise as soon as you see them. They're... several people in strange outfits, and Alfred is with them. After paying a little more attention, you notice who they are... It's Batman and his companions, right? There's Robin too, and Nightwing. You don't recognize the rest, but you know they were related to Batman as well.

You only knew Batman and his companions because you saw them in a newspaper when you arrived in Gotham with your aunt. But definitely... Never in your life did you expect to see them yourself, much less here.

Your heart freezes the moment you hear Alfred call Batman 'Bruce.' Then... Everything in that moment started to fall into place. You discovered that... Your father was Batman, the famous Gotham hero. And your brothers were vigilantes too.

You stood there, almost forgetting to even breathe as you tried to process this information.

Wait... If your father is Batman, and the others are vigilantes too, no one is supposed to know their identities, right? And now, you found out by mistake. You shuddered at the realization... If they find out you know who they are, they'll be really angry, right? Bruce will probably scold you severely, and the others will intimidate you just to make sure you don't say anything. You can't... You don't want them to do that, you don't want them to scold you, to yell at you, to hate you more... You don't want.

So, with shaky breaths, you start walking as quietly as you can away from the door, mentally praying that you'll make it out without being noticed.

Then... Because the hallway was dimly lit, and you were too focused on looking back to make sure no one saw you, you inadvertently... You trip over your own feet and fall to the floor, obviously making a noise.

Your heart nearly stops when you feel someone's presence right behind you. When you turn around, you see your father—or rather, Bruce in his black Batman suit. He stares at you, and you shudder at how serious he seems.

The others leave the room as well, a little surprised to see you on the floor. It's obvious that you've now discovered their identities.

Receiving each of their intense stares is completely unbearable. Why did this have to happen?

You sigh softly, and stand up on your own, since of course, no one will help you up.

You watch as Batman opens his mouth, wanting to start talking. But you don't need to listen to him, not when you already know what he's going to say. You know he's going to scold you for being nosy and finding out something you shouldn't. And you know the others will agree with him, talking about how rude and stupid you are for wandering around the mansion at this hour in the first place.

And honestly... By now, you've had enough of them, you don't want to hear them anymore.

So, before Bruce can start talking... You just look at him indifferently, and turn around, starting to walk, intending to go back to your room.

But then... Before you can get too far away, you feel someone stop you, you feel that strong grip on one of your arms, and oh my... You instantly know who it is. It's not the first time you've felt this rough grasp.

"Where do you think you're going, you little freak?" Jason asked, his tone serious and demanding. "You can't just leave, not after being nosy and discovering something you shouldn't have. Seriously... Didn't anyone teach you not to eavesdrop?"

Just hearing Jason's voice makes you grit your teeth, that bastard... He's still the same. He still thinks he can talk to you however he wants, that he can do whatever he wants.

He's wearing that red helmet, and yet... It's completely obvious to you what kind of expression he has right now. The same angry expression as always, right? Well, that's to be expected from someone like him.

You look away for a moment, now looking at the others. So now you know everyone's identity. It's obvious, you can recognize them even if they're wearing masks.

And... None of them come closer, they just stare. Boy, they really don't care about the way Jason roughly handles you, a 9-year-old girl. You'd say it surprises you, but it really doesn't. They won't do anything because they don't care about you, right?

At that moment, Alfred looks at Bruce, trying to tell him that he needs to do something to stop Jason's attitude.

Bruce understands, so he takes a step forward, staring at Jason.

"Let her go, Jason. That's not the way," Batman said, his tone completely serious.

But before Jason could respond, you jumped in. "Save your words, Batman," you replied in a flat, gruff tone, slipping out of Jason's grasp.

"It's not like I really care if they wear colorful suits at night to go out on the streets to fight... I don't care" you muttered under your breath, walking away quickly without looking back, with no one able to stop you.

Finally, you reach your room and slam the door behind you. Then, you collapse onto the floor, your legs feeling completely weak now.

Even though you walked away from them seemingly indifferent, deep down... you were actually an emotional wreck. But you didn't want to show it to them, you didn't want them to see you vulnerable, no more. Because, when you were weak and sought them out, no one was there for you, so you don't need to be weak in front of them again.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you gaze up at the mansion's ceiling.

Finding out your father is Batman, that this is a family of vigilantes... You never expected this, there were a lot of things you never expected when you arrived in Gotham, but this is number one, definitely.

Replaying the scene in your mind made your lips tremble slightly... The fear and panic you felt in your chest as soon as they discovered you, the way even with his Batman suit, Bruce still had a strict look for you, the way Jason called you that way again and took you by the arm tightly, and no one said anything to him, no one stopped him, they just... They just stared.

And above all, knowing that Bruce simply tried to stop Jason because Alfred asked him to, but if it hadn't been for that, he would surely have stood by and done nothing like the others, right?

Besides, even though you tried to hide it, you actually... actually freaked out when you realized Jason was near you again. You almost wanted to cry at the way he held you. Even more so because it brought back memories of your first encounter with him, those painful memories of how he destroyed your butterfly in front of your very eyes without a shred of guilt.

None of them ever do anything for you. They just hurt you more and more. And that's... That's not what a family should do. But then again, you have to remind yourself that they probably don't even see you as part of their family in the first place.

Finally, you get up, walk around your room, and stop until you reach your closet. You take out a medium-sized box and open it. Inside, there's a small Batman plush.

When you arrived in Gotham, your aunt bought it for you, and gave it to you before leaving you at Wayne Manor.

"Lo siento, tía... Pero realmente, no planeó conservar esto." And with that, you took some scissors and instantly, you started to destroy the Batman plush.

You hated him, you hated Batman, because Batman is your father, he's everyone's hero in Gotham, except yours. He can save everyone, except you. He can protect everyone, except you. And it's just... Because he doesn't even care about you in the first place, right? He's probably so busy being Batman at night and a famous billionaire by day that he never has time for you, even if you're his daughter. Which is funny, considering he always has at least a little time for his other children, except for you.

He never has time for you, and he never will, right?

With one last movement of anger and frustration, you finally... finish destroying the small Batman plush that was left in pieces by you.

You pick it up, you pick up every single piece of the Batman plush, and you just go and throw it in the trash.

Ah... Somehow, this helped you relax a little, to vent your anger at the way Bruce has treated you. Feeling a little better, you finally get into bed, beginning to sleep peacefully with Toti in your arms.

❦: (In this chapter we could see the different emotions that the reader now has for the batfamily. First she tried to seem indifferent, then she felt bad and at last she was angry while destroying the Batman plush. Here it can be reflected that she feels both sadness, fear and anguish for the batfamily, but also hatred and anger. It could also be observed that in this chapter she tried to hide it, since now she develops a quite strong need to avoid them seeing her vulnerable again due to the previous events. We know that in some cases, it is difficult not to end up hating those who hurt you. And it would be a mixture of sadness, pain and anger. Because even if you hate them, it does not mean that you are not really affected by what they do.// Well, I hope you liked this chapter, and I plan to make the next chapter longer, so it will probably take longer to publish it.)

✯/Tag list: @hopingtoclearmedschool @simpingpandas @ryuushou @ninihrtss @soulsire @artistwithcreativeburnout @the-dumber-scaramouche

[cerruleon]

☆ EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS / SIGNAL B👀ST☆

Hi, nice to meet ya! I'm Leon and my life has rapidly fell apart since August 2024. This was due to my dad's sudden decline from what we thought was from MS, but from a rare stage 4 colon cancer.

With that, there's a threat of homelessness for my mom, who has sacrificed her life for my dad and our entire family.

○ WHAT WE NEED ○

- About 5,000 USD minimum. This will cover moving expenses at the very least.

● WHAT I'M OFFERING ●

- $3+ doodles through my Kof-fi or DM me!

- $5 to $10 messy colored sketch commissions (some examples here)

- Virtual nerd yard sale through Mercari (I got a Daft Punk ita bag, keychains and all sorts of fun things will be uploaded over-time.)

- A discount for stickers through my sticker shop here. Discount code is: SOS2025 [I have a LOT of sticker designs. Shipping is forever and always free. Waterbottle friendly and weather resistant.]

- Novel writing critiques, beta reading and sensitivity reading (DM me but know my pricing is extremely cheap with This Economy, I don't want to break anyone's bank)

- Business stuff such as cheap logo designs, email templates, commercial t-shirt designs, business cards, I can help with that.

♡ IF YOU JUST WANNA HELP ♡

- GoxFundxMe here lol 🚑

- Donate to my Kofi ☕️

- I have CashApp, Venmo and Zelle, but I feel more comfortable sharing that via DM.

♡ BOTTOM LINE ♡

I really sincerely appreciate your help. My goal is to cover the finances so that my family can be able to focus on grieving my father and have some peace.

If you can't donate, I seriously appreciate any reblogs and signal boosts. The support I've been given from strangers has drastically boosted my faith in humanity so thank you!

[seelestia]

⟡ within your waking thoughts (there i’ll be).

⎯ what do they do when they miss you? how do they cope with yearning when you're away? { y for yearning ノ ordered by @floraldresvi! (sorry for the ping!) }

RESERVED FOR! ノ characters. aventurine, sunday, dr. ratio ft. gn!reader. { 1.3k words }

FLAVOR! ノ genre. fluff, slight angst (my apology to sunday lovers yet again), established relationship.

TOPPINGS! ノ tags. aventurine has his tech savvy moment, pre-2.2 sunday (heavy references but no spoilers), ratio has two phones (king of separating work & personal life !!!).

BAKER’S NOTE! ノ thoughts. a repost! bcs tumblr didn't like it the first time. hopefully, this one will be here to stay. thank u to vivi for requesting this ‹3

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

in your absence, aventurine welcomes little thoughts of you that float around his mind with open arms - and the way he indulges them is by simply texting you. effective and efficient, there is a reason why the cosmos calls it the second most used means for long distance communication. what about the first? well, he would've opted for calling you with his earpiece if only his line of work doesn't require 90% of its usage time.

let's just say the idea of fellow stonehearts interrupting his conversation with you ruins the fun. besides, he has deft fingers; coin tricks aren't the only thing in his book, you know, typing a few sentences in one go is no problem at all.

but maybe, he is using that too much to his advantage . . . considering the “25+” staring back at you from your notifications every few hours or so. aventurine is truly, irrevocably relentless.

anything even remotely in your favorite color found within his vicinity? new message: Saw something that reminded me of you, you must really like crossing my mind.

an item he thinks would fit you well? new message: I got you a gift. Does it suit your fancy? [1 attachment]

reminded of how cruel fate is to separate you two for so long? new message: Haven't seen your face in a while. Fifteen hours are a total too cruel, don't you agree?

have faith that you will never grasp the true meaning of boredom when you’re apart from him. luck follows a man like aventurine, so do interesting events - remember how he won a vacation to a resort with one chip? he revels in telling you stories of his encounters while you're away. it is as if thrill revolves around him constantly. . . one wonders just how he fares living on the edge of it all.

(you, for one, are aware of his ways. he has allowed you to wander far enough behind his masquerade, after all.)

of course, texts on an illuminated screen can barely compare to seeing you in person. he prefers having you in his arms instead - but he'll live. solitude is an old friend of his, albeit distant and cold, aventurine can deal with its company every once in a while. at the end of the day, he knows you’ll be there when he comes home.

though, it's such a shame he cannot see your face when you're apart. the curve of your lips as you smile, the twinkle in your eyes with his reflection in them, and. . . ah, seems like he is making this harder for himself. maybe, he should consider buying that HD holographic communicative device on the market? his ears caught wind of some P45 officers at pier point whispering about it before.

it'll cost a large sum of credits but hey, he thinks it'll be worth it. for you? anything is possible.

(...him? clingy? well, guilty as charged.)

sunday’s self-discipline is not something to be underestimated. halovians are a species known for their enchanting voices, yet he feels as if he cannot spare any for even his inner thoughts. what an irony. his longing for your presence is persistent, tumbling at the edge of his tongue - but he is equally as, if not more, stubborn and so he swallows this yearning down instantly.

you are not confined to the dreamscape like he is, as self-imposed as that may be. sunday is aware of that, hence his first instinct is to keep quiet. the curse of sealing his lips till forevermore; watching you leave through the grand doors, letting his gaze fall to where your shadow used to be, savoring the last of your remaining fragrance from when you last bade him goodbye - all without a word.

(don't go, he wished he could say.)

is it a bad habit? “your voice shouldn't be used just to utter words that others want to hear,” you reminded him once. “it's also for you. it's yours.”

but even then, your words are akin to a faint whisper; muffled by the thoughts that plague his mind like a mist. he can't help how they fog up his reflection in the mirror, leaving remnants of something acrid that wafts in the air. something like doubts, sunday would know because he has dwelled in it for as long as he remembers.

you are outside, fluttering your wings in the sky and enjoying what it has to offer. does he have any rights to disturb you? perhaps, in his eyes, sunday views himself as a string tied around your talon, trailing all the way from the heavens where you soar to the humble ground where he resides. each time your absence compels him to reach out, it is as if he’s tugging on that string and dragging you lower from the height you truly relish in, from the height you deserve to be at.

(sunday believes that you belong to the sky, unlike him.)

so here, he shall stay and here, he shall wait until you return. sunday’s heart begins to grow cold - but the farewell kiss you've left on the apple of his cheek hasn't faded. its warmth remains, even when he brushes his freezing hand against it, it remains.

you remain.

(and that is enough for him.)

dr. ratio is a man with a packed schedule, so it's safe to say he keeps himself occupied particularly well. tasks at the intelligentsia guild are nothing short of demanding, after all. there are researchers asking for his input left and right, although some tremble while speaking to him even when he hasn't even uttered a word yet. ignoring that, he also aids in projects that require his expertise. last but not least, his students and classes which he takes very seriously.

(but be careful with how you phrase it — the doctor doesn't view them as distractions, no, he sees them as his responsibilities — saying the former might offend him.)

as you can see, he is perfectly capable of spending time away from you. . . .or at least, until it's time for a break and a part of that perfection chips off.

his office is quite tranquil, free from outside noise, just the way he likes. this place bears a similar purpose as his headgear, to let him focus in silence without disturbance - but he hasn't expected that exact silence to be this deafening. hah, how absurd! in what realm of possibility could silence ever be associated with deafening as an adjective? he supposes it could be a case of tinnitus. . . but veritas knows that isn't the case.

something's missing and it is, much to his dismay, you.

veritas has his standards. he prefers things to be set at a specific level - and this level of silence, one marred further by your lack of presence, is too low for him. he's getting too used to seeing you barge into his office with neatly packed sandwiches in your hands, a revelation he'd rather keep to himself.

veritas reaches for his personal phone, his work one left neglected at the far end of the desk. he considers making a call to you but the clock is ticking. tick tock tick tock, as if to hang the fact that his break is reaching its end over his head.

utilizing whatever time he has left, his finger gives the gallery app a tap. various pictures pop up on the screen; selfies of you with silly expressions, candid shots of veritas himself and some photos of random objects like your matching mugs. all of these were taken by you, of course. seriously, is this his phone or is it yours?

who knows at this point? he nearly lets out a snort, but that smile on his face is fooling no one. the doctor continues scrolling through his gallery, utterly content with just this until he gets home. to you.

(yes, yes, this still counts as keeping himself occupied. thank you for your concern.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.

[ladyoftheflowers-witch]

Who are you going to marry? 🌹🌹🌹

Welcome to a new pick a pile reading, I hope you are doing well.

Disclaimer:

Images are created by meta ai. I don't want to infringe any copyright lol. Do you guys have free sources for the images in your readings ? I'm curious how you manage this things and if you have any thoughts about this.

Anyways, lets start with the readings. Remember always to take what resonate and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 1:

Where are you meeting them:

You are going to meet this person in an old building, between march and April, chance will play an important role. When you meet them you are going to a place you didn't want to go in the first place, I see you wearing a beautiful white dress tho, could be another color.

First impressions:

There will be tensión in the air pile 1, the attraction between you Will be instantaneous from both sides. He thinks you are beautiful and you have a supernal aura arround you. You will find them inspiring, he have a splendid sense of fashion, I think he changes his look according his music's taste, maybe he dye his hair different colors.

How you two will feel as you get to know each other:

Awww I'm happy for you pile 1, this person is what you always wanted, you share almost the same taste in music. Love songs are important maybe you will play a song in your Spotify playlist and he will be omg I love that song, can this song be our song please? He will ofrecer remember you for that one lovesong. When you two talk, you understand each other in meaninfull way, you two talk about material and spiritual things with the same depth. At first you will feel hesitant about letting him enter your life but your faith in love will be restored as you see he is a sweetheart. You Will inspire in them strong romantic feelings that he will not be ashamed to show openly to you. Also he is going to support you in your goals and motivate you to acomplish them as he knows you are totally capable of anything you set your purpose to.

Warning! Some 18+ messages coming through:

Sex is going to feel like heaven pile 1, planets and stars will collide as you two unite as one in kisses and sweet caresses, the sensation will be like spiralating in space and accidentaly finding god for a few seconds. They honestly think you are a goddess, they love your body and how you make him feel. Sex is almost spiritual, you touch each other souls. This will make you realize that this could be true love, not only for the sex, but because he has such a pure heart and has no conditions to show it to you. For the first time in your life you feel safe and protected by the person you love. I hope you find each other very soon pile 1, you are the perfect couple.

He could be a Virgo, Aquarium or capricornus.

Initials or important letters: J-I-Z-G

Pile 2:

Where are you meeting them:

This is a morning setting, you are going to or leaving from work. So either you find this person outside your job or they work with you in the same place. So you probably already know this person. Month of august could be important.

First impressions:

You will find them eccentric and a little bit vain. You first will be thinking he is gay lol or he simply has an androgenic look to him. He is young and has dark toned skin or his skin is tanned with the sun. He will think that he has competition, that if he is willing to chase you he will have to step up from their comfort zone. Don't know if this is true or not, but they feel like you have a lot of suitors in love.

How you two will feel as you get to know each other:

I see a lot of stress coming from this person's energy, he feels like he don't have the courage to aproach you and he doesn't know how to call your attention. His confidence is low, he will need an impulse to surpass their indecision. They see you as you were out of their league pile 2, I feel sad for them. But don't worry it's a question of time until they find the strenght to confess their feelings for you. Once this person lets go of their mental barriers you will meet a person who loves nature and animals, a person who brings joy to others with their stories and anecdotes. And despite his past indecision towards you he will transmit energy, strenght and courage to you. He will also teach you that life shouldn't be taken seriously and that what matters in life is not what happens to you but how you deal with it. He will find comfort and peace with you, they like how silence between you is so romantic and soathing.

This person could be a Leo or Aquarium.

Initials or important letters: I-M-J-V-A

Pile 3:

Where are you meeting them:

You are meeting this person in a time where you are regaining confidence in yourself. Maybe you are dissapointed with people who used to be in your life, friends don't seem friends anymore, lovers can't keep their word and family isn't as familiar anymore. You will meet this person in some sort of competition outdoors, maybe he is running in the park or maybe you join a gim and get to know an interesting person. Another possible escenario is that he lives in a different city or he lives far from you.

First impressions :

As I said before you are feeling down babe, you feel like noone understands you, so you will exude apathy wherever you go and you seem very distant as you are occupied with other things in your life. Your person will think of you as a self supporting individual, who has their shit together and doesn't seem to need anyone. This will awaken their interest, but at the same time they are afraid of approaching you due to your air of superiority. If you don't do this on purpose and you don't want to be perceived that way I suggest you to work in your relationship with your parents, see what paterns did you learned from them.

How you two will feel as you get to know each other:

I think you are delaying meeting this person due to your fear to let people enter your life. You are afraid of getting hurt, but I have good news for you pile 3, not all the people arround you want to hurt you, some of them admire you from afar and want to see you shine again. When you finally let your guard down you are going to find a person who fulfils your need to be understood and feel heard. They are athletic and handsome, they take care very well of their body, but they are not shallow. I see you both sharing a dinner with candles on, such a romantic atmosohere. As their feelings for you I think they will only see what you want them to see and nothing else. Try to work in your insecurities pile 3, you are lovable and apreciated in this world. The rainbow is at the end of the road, you just don't see it, and please be patient with yourself, you are going to be fine.

This person could be a Leo or Cancer.

Initials or important letters: H-R-T-C

[inkedinshadows]

A Place Called Home

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Follow Azriel as he recalls all the places where he's lived but never belonged, until he finds the one where he finally does.

Warnings: a bit of Inner Circle slander, I guess? But not really tbh. Mentions of wing clipping

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I don't know what I think of this one tbh. It's not exactly what I had in mind, but I've made my peace with it. @azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had never belonged in his father's mansion. He never once believed he did. But he didn't belong in Illyria, either.

Though he was Illyrian, he always disapproved of their backward traditions, especially regarding females.

He had seen how his mother was treated; he knew what had happened to Cassian’s, and too many times during his training in Windhaven, he had to witness brutal clippings without being able to stop them.

How could he belong in such a place? A place where females were treated as little more than objects and breeding mares, where children were taught to fight as soon as they could walk and left to care for themselves in the mud and cold?

He had done horrible things—most of which to protect his family and court—and they still haunted him in his sleep at times. But he liked to think that he was at least better than the Illyrian brutes he had grown up among. That there were certain lines even he wouldn't cross.

Illyria was a beautiful land, with its snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes. It could be merciless and harsh, but that was nature. Its inhabitants, however, chose to be that way, and Azriel had long since lost faith in any change.

~~~~~~

He didn't belong in Rosehall, either.

He was always welcome there and visited as often as he could, but that was his mother’s house. He had bought it for her as soon as he had enough money.

It was her safe place, her haven, where she didn't have to worry about anything and where she wasn't anyone's servant. Azriel remembered the tears shining in her eyes the first time he brought her there, when the house was still empty and cold.

It had taken him a long time to convince her that she didn't need to worry about money. He worked directly for the High Lord now, and he was paid well enough for her to furnish the house however she liked.

She had still tried not to spend too much, but she had chosen each piece of furniture and decoration with attentive care. It was the first time she had a place she could call her own after centuries of living, and Azriel liked what she had done with it. The place was simple yet elegant, with cream-colored walls and wooden furniture. Colorful flowers bloomed on the windowsills, and paintings hung in the hallway and the living room. She had even made sure to have a bedroom for him, so he could stay as long as he wished.

But Azriel's favorite part of Rosehall was probably the delicious smell of food wafting through the rooms. Now that she no longer had to cook for domineering males, she had rediscovered her passion for cooking. Whether it was spices, freshly baked bread, or roasted meat, the smell never failed to make his mouth water.

Yes, Azriel enjoyed his time in Rosehall and tried to visit as often as he could, but it was still his mother’s house—not his.

~~~~~~

He belonged in the Inner Circle, he guessed. Though sometimes he felt like he didn't.

Azriel cared about Amren; after all, he had known her for centuries. But it was still Amren. How many times had it been just the two of them, spending time like normal friends? Once, maybe twice, and even then, their conversations had mostly revolved around Court matters. Sometimes he wondered if they would have ever approached each other at all if it hadn't been for Rhys bringing them together.

And then there was Mor. He had spent centuries quietly loving her, longing for something he could never have. He had long since stopped believing that her concerned glances and gentle touches meant anything beyond deep affection—sisterly affection. Yet he'd held on to those feelings even when they started to fade, because he had never known anything different. It was a twisted form of both protection and punishment: if he still loved her, then he wouldn't risk his heart being broken by another rejection. Yet knowing Mor would never feel the same, that she had her own lovers and relationships, was like being stabbed in the chest. He wasn't sure when it started to hurt a little less each time he thought about it.

With that pain easing, the resentment he'd carried buried deep down for most of his life began to fade as well. He never once held it against Cassian. He knew it wasn't his fault Mor had chosen him. Who would have chosen Azriel anyway? He wished things were different, but he didn't blame either of them. It still chafed, though. It was something he couldn't shake, like a shadow lingered on the edges of his heart, and it resurfaced whenever he saw Mor and Cassian together.

And his brother… Azriel loved him deeply, and he was grateful to have him in his life. But there was no denying how different they were, and sometimes it felt as if Cassian didn't really understand him. There was a rage inside Azriel, rarely rising to the surface but it was there, born the moment he'd seen his mother's fear in the presence of his father. That rage never left. It grew until Azriel had to learn how to contain it, to live with it, for the sake of the people around him and his own.

Cassian never really understood it. Rhys did, though. Azriel knew that if he pushed, Rhysand would match him. Yet his brother still tried to thaw and tame that icy rage he had grown so accustomed to, which was probably an honorable aim—if Azriel hadn't lived with it so long that he wasn't sure who he would be without it.

He loved his family deeply, and he knew they loved him back. But they didn't always understand him, and he often felt out of place among them.

~~~~~~

Velaris was his home, and he'd do anything to protect it. He tortured and killed for that very reason many times. But at the end of the day, the City of Starlight was just that—a city. No matter how beautiful or welcoming, it was too vast a place to call home.

He had never bothered buying an apartment or a town house for himself. Maybe he should have. But the House of Wind had always been enough, with its views and endless rooms. It was practical living there—there was the training ring, the hall where Rhys held court, and the library for when he wanted some quiet.

But the House of Wind belonged to Rhys. Now that he had given it as a mating present to Nesta and Cassian, it was theirs. They assured him he could still live there, that his room would always be his, but Azriel had preferred to move out. He had no interest in living there during their mating frenzy.

The townhouse and the river house belonged, once again, to Rhys and Feyre. They never made him feel like he owed them anything for staying there—Elain lived there too, after all—but Azriel longed for a place he could call his own. Yet the idea of buying an apartment had still felt too definitive. He had tried, but none of the places he'd seen made him want to own them.

He had almost given up hope of finding a place he could call home, but then he met you. And he realized, after five hundred years, that maybe home wasn't a place at all.

“Az?”

Your voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present, to the feel of you in his arms and your big eyes staring up at him.

“Baby, are you listening to me?”

Azriel blinked, slightly shaking his head to chase away the remnants of his past. He looked down at you, and his heart fluttered at the love shining in your eyes.

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. Your hand came up to cup his face, the touch warm and familiar. “I lost you. Where did you go?”

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I was just thinking.”

You waited patiently, giving him the freedom to continue or return to your conversion. Embarrassment flooded Azriel as he realized he couldn't remember what you were talking about.

He held you imperceptibly tighter, trying to find the right words to convey what he felt.

“I never felt like I fit in anywhere,” he said eventually. His voice was quiet even in the silence of the room, and he struggled to keep his eyes open when all he wanted to do was lean into your touch. “I've been looking for where I belong for centuries.”

It came easy to voice those thoughts to you. You never judged. You listened, and then you gave your opinion or simply shared your own thoughts. You saw all of him, and you didn't run from it. You accepted him. You loved him.

Sometimes, Azriel still wondered if it was all a dream or if you were really a part of his life.

“And have you found it?” you murmured, your thumb brushing his cheek just below his eye.

Azriel nodded. “I found it.” He took your hand, gently removing it from his face to bring it closer to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to your palm, his lips lingering on your skin before he repeated the gesture with your fingertips. Your smile was soft as he murmured, “I found you.”

Your eyes, which had been following the movements of his lips, shot up to meet his. Even after a year together, he was still mesmerized by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. It was so easy to read you, and right now, blended with your unconditional love, he could see curiosity and amusement playing on your features.

“Me?” you repeated, your voice a murmur.

Azriel nodded once more, letting go of your hand only to bring his own up to your cheek. “Yes, you, my love.” He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. “It doesn’t matter where we are. You’re where I belong. You’re my home.”

Wherever you went, he would follow. If you woke up one day and told him you wanted to move to the Spring Court, or even to Vallahan far east on the continent, he would go with you. He would go with you to the end of the world if you asked.

He could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and a playful smile appeared on your lips as you pulled back to look into his eyes. “So… is this the right moment to tell you that I wanted to ask you to move in?”

Azriel stared at you, eyes wide, a huge grin slowly spreading across his face. His arms tightened around you, and then you squealed in surprise as his hands found your backside and he picked you up. The sound was quickly swallowed by his lips crashing against yours, and you could do nothing but kiss him back and wrap your legs around his waist, careful not to brush against his wings.

You were both breathing slightly faster when Azriel pulled back, but he didn’t let you go. If anything, he held you tighter, as if worried you might disappear.

“I’ll take it that’s a yes?” you chuckled. Your fingers brushed the hair on the back of his neck, his wings rustling quietly at the sensation.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Of course it’s a yes, love.”

He didn’t care if your apartment wasn’t suited for an Illyrian, if he had to carefully maneuver his wings to avoid knocking things over. He had already spent so much time at your place that he was used to it by now. The thought of staying there permanently—of waking up with you in his arms every morning, of coming back after a long day knowing you’d be there too—filled him with so much joy that his heart could burst.

You beamed, and all Azriel wanted to do was to spin you around and never let you go. And so, he did, because nothing was stopping him. He was going to share a home with his love, and nothing had ever made him this happy before.

As he spun you around, you threw your head back and laughed joyfully, the sound echoing off the walls. Azriel’s laughter joined yours when he stilled, and then you were kissing him again.

After more than five hundred years, he finally knew where he belonged. And it wasn’t a place.

It was with you.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever