#It hit me so viscerally the first time I heard it

[ironykins]

Your heart is a muscle the size of your fist Keep on loving, keep on fighting And hold on, and hold on Hold on for your life

And the print by Dalia Sapon-Shevin that inspired it.

[signedkoko]

Alastor | Stolas | Vox [Comfort]

In which the two of you bump into your abusive ex who just arrived in hell.

You and Alastor always went on walks through hell together, since you enjoyed exploring the outdoors and he enjoyed people watching

Normally things were relatively peaceful, most, if not everyone, knew the radio demon down to every detail, and avoided him at a mere glimpse

He enjoyed telling you about things that reminded him of his past, or encounters he'd had just down the street, while you listened and observed with awe

Unfortunately, your usually peaceful walk was rudely interrupted by an obnoxious shout in your direction

There was someone who looked severely out of place, likely having just fallen, stumbling towards you with a seething grin

Alastor was already annoyed the moment anyone interrupted him, but even more so at the fact that this individual was shouting obscenities at his darling

Nevertheless, he stood stoic by your side, only glancing down at the shorter individual with an animalistic twitch in his eyes

" Can't you hear me, fucking bitch! You're the slut who put me down her- "

Once your hand gripped onto Alastor's wrist, tugging him, the man's head was sliced clean off, smashing into a building across the street and leaving a visceral splatter

Alastor was already removing his wrist from your hand to wipe the blood from his cane with a handkerchief

Once the body hit the ground with a thud, he had his arm around your waist and lifted you over it, continuing his walk as if nothing had occurred

" And that impeccable diner over there! I just have to take you, it reminds me of my many evenings after the late shows! "

Stolas had heard enough about the life you lived on earth, each momentous day and each sad tale that made up your story

He knew he was never able to protect you up there, and vows to do so now that you are by his side in the afterlife, offering an eternity of protection

Inevitably, he understood some people who had hurt you would eventually find themselves down here, and that some may try to hurt you, so he refused to let you wander alone for too long

It didn't even have to be him, so long as someone he knew could protect you was nearby

Unfortunately, the first to find you was the worst possible individual

The one who had raised their hand so many times to you, and left you with scars Stolas wished he could erase along with every worry

It was one of your date nights, visiting some upper class restaurant after having washed a romance in theatres

You were both dressed to the nines, laughing in one another's company and waiting for the cab you'd called since you'd finished sooner than expected

The both of you climbed in, only for the doors to instantly lock, tearing off without any word or signal from either of you

Stolas laughed it off for a moment, asking the driver if he already knew your destination, though he stopped when he noticed your eyes locked onto the rearview mirror

" Already moving on to someone else? Think I'm not good enough for you? "

The voice was calm but eerie, aimed directly as you

You looked horrified, and Stolas' heart raced as he connected the pieces together

One moment, the car was racing down the road, and the next, you were in the royalty's arms being carried away from a totalled car burning up in flames

You'd only blinked your eyes

Stolas held you tighter that evening, and refused to let go for weeks after

Vox was an extremely busy person

So unfortunately your intimate time together was rare

Despite that, Vox always invited you into his studio with him while he worked, so at least you'd be near one another and he could know you were safe

I mean, you were always safe so long as he could reach you, and modern tech was everywhere in hell nowadays

But he was extra protective since he'd learnt your ex had entered hell

Had he told you? No. Did he feel guilty about it? Yes.

But he just didn't want you to have to worry, and seeing you happily working away at a new project or hobby without a care in the world was just so, so...precious

Eventually he knew he would have to crack the news, but he hadn't anticipated your ex would find you so soon

It was a late night in the studio, with Vox overlooking several large screens as countless information transferred to and from his own database, analysing every media and algorithm

You were behind him, sat in a leather armchair, reading one of the many books that lined the book shelf he kept around as decoration

People came in and out of the floor through an elevator, though as the time got later, the frequency dwindled down severely

When it dinged for the first time that hour, neither of you were too bothered, Vox continuing without a flinch and you looking up for just a moment

Your gaze never went back to your book, though, stuck on the face that had a hateful sneer aimed straight at you

The phone in your pocket dinged with an alert, something about your heart rate increasing drastically in too short a time, and the information registered into Vox in milliseconds

" Finally, I fucking found you! "

One step out of the elevator, and the door clamped shut around their second leg with a loud crack, forcing your ex down onto one knee

Vox only turned to you, ignoring the wailing figure

" Oh man I really should have told you they were here! You can yell at me after. "

The suited man then walked towards your ex as the doors slowly released, kneeling down in front of him with a cackle

" Pathetic. Freak. "

Vox kicked them back into the elevator, and you heard the thing drop at high speeds back down the skyscraper

Security would handle the mess

Author's Note - I wanted to write for some of my favs to get us started off, and went for a prompt I see pretty often. If you like what I do, please consider sending in a request 🖤

[thesimpirediaries]

Pet names.

featuring: izuku midoriya, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shoto

or, the first instance in which they called you by a pet name.

⚠️: fem!reader, language, slightly suggestive themes/elements, fluff, slight bodily descriptors.

word count: 1.5k

You bet your ass that the first time Izuku referred to you by a pet name, he stuttered helplessly over it. Scratch that — the first couple times he did it he stuttered.

“B-b-babe, could you hand me my notebook?”

It had certainly caught you off guard; in the few months that Izuku and yourself had been dating, you were always (y/n) or your hero name to him — hearing the term “babe” fall from his lips, even as stuttered and botched as it was, sounded so damn pleasant that you couldn’t help the wide grin that split your face.

“What was that, Izuku? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Izuku’s face could have rivaled the hue of a tomato as he repeated, “u-um, my notebook? Could you hand it to me?”

With a teasing smile, you tutted and shook your head. “I heard that part; I meant the part before it.”

Your hand stilled inside his bag as you watched him expectantly. Izuku’s viridian orbs were darting around the room, landing on every object except you, and his freckled cheeks were so red that you swore you could feel the heat permeating off of them despite the few feet of distance between the two of you.

“B-babe?” Izuku repeated, still avoiding your gaze, cheeks still red as a tomato.

It was actually quite endearing, the way he tried desperately to sound casual even as his entire being threatened to spontaneously combust. You knew from past experience that it wouldn’t bode well to continue to tease Izuku, so you relented and once again began to fish through his backpack.

“Which one do you need?” You inquired, hit with the sudden realization the Izuku had multiple notebooks tucked away inside his bag; another facet of your boyfriend that you found quite lovable — you’d always had a thing for the nerdy ones.

“Ah, number six. Sorry, I forgot to add that.”

You smiled softly at Izuku’s statement and gingerly pulled out a stack of notebooks, sifting through them until you located the one marked with a large six. You stood from the bed and meandered over to your boyfriend, a sly grin teasing at your lips.

You placed the thick, slightly rugged edition into his waiting palm, wrought with the desire to tease him just a little bit more. You planted your hands on the armrests of his chair and pulled it until Izuku could face you, then leaned forward until your lips barely ghosted his.

“I like the way it sounds when you call me that. You should do it more often, Izuku.” You whispered, lids dropped halfway over your eyes and a heat simmering low in your belly. The shuddered, breathy, hot pant Izuku released against your lips only added fuel to the fire.

“You’re in the way, dollface.”

You were sure Bakugou hadn’t meant for the word to affect you so viscerally — at least, not at the moment he said it, nor with the situation that had prompted it.

Rescue training was far departed from the list of Bakugou’s favorite hero activities, and he’d been in a bit of a foul mood ever since Aizawa had mentioned it; and even as his girlfriend, you weren’t spared of the backlash of it. Though, you didn’t get it quite as hard as the rest of the class did, at least.

As Bakugou had griped moments before, you were indeed in the way — there was no way he could get through to the ‘injured citizen’ with where you were standing, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Dollface. Dollface. Dollface.

The name, wrapped up in Bakugou’s rolling timbre, bounced around your skull and completely rid you of the ability to move — your face was quickly warming, and your chest was brimming with something fluttery, and, the longer it stayed on loop in your head, the more it affected you.

Bakugou had never called you something like that.

“W-what did you say?” You squeaked out, wide eyes trained on Bakugou’s scowling face. One blonde brow twitched, and you faintly registered a distinct crackling from below.

“You’re in the way.” Bakugou barked out once more, with a lot more patience than he would have with anyone else; though you figured many of your peers wouldn’t have been able to register that like you could.

“R-right.” You mumbled, stumbling quickly out of the way. Bakugou released a chortled breath from his nose and stalked forward — but of course, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind; he had noticed the way your cheeks colored prettily the moment your brain registered what he’d called you.

After he’d secured the ‘injured citizen’ over his shoulder, Bakugou leaned close to your ear, completely careless of the man strewn over him, and whispered lowly;

“Come to my room later, dollface. I’ll need some good entertainment after today.”

With Kirishima, a term of endearment was never optional; it was a standard, one that he was quick to set pretty soon after you’d started dating — and it didn’t take him long to find the one that he felt fit you the most; the one that, in his eyes, you embodied in every way.

“Come on, princess. You can get anything you want — it’s on me.”

At first, you weren’t sure what you were more flustered by; the sudden term of endearment he’d coined you with, or his insistence on paying for the entire meal. Your stunned silence was quickly registered by Kirishima, who scrunched his brows in a mixture of worry and bashfulness.

“Ah, I’m sorry, do you want to pay for your meal? I’m all for an independent woman, by the way.”

You truly weren’t prepared for just how much you liked it. For a long time, your focus had been occupied solely by your goal of becoming a pro; truthfully, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating anyone until you met Kirishima. His kind, chivalrous, bright nature had captivated you almost instantly, and you’d been drawn to him since day one.

And this suddenly-formed habit of referring to you as ‘princess’ was quickly nestling deep into your chest and sprouting warmth all throughout it.

With a soft laugh you hooked your arms around his, chest hot and fluttery, and pressed your body against his. You didn’t miss the way he sharply inhaled when your soft chest met his bicep.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced at the bright menu above you, the cedar-y undertones of Kirishima’s cologne tickling your nose as you took a soft breath — then, with a small smile, you glanced shyly up at Kirishima.

“Anything I want?” You softly parroted, prompting a bright, toothy smile from your boyfriend. Kirishima’s eyes were soft and full of something deep as he met your gaze.

“Anything you want, princess.”

God, you swore you were already in love.

In retrospect, you and Todoroki were polar opposites.

Todoroki was cool-headed, skilled, and calculated — you, on the other hand, were quick to temper, prone to impulsiveness, and hardly ever second-guessed your choices. Not to mention, the two of you hailed from completely different backgrounds.

Todoroki was raised with money, was held to a certain societal standard which molded many of his mannerisms, and was, in general, what you’d call fancy.

You were raised far more humbly, with just enough money to scrape by and not many luxuries to call your own, and so you had adapted a sort of carelessness towards your appearance and manners — you were you, and people were just supposed to accept that.

Yet, Todoroki had a way of making you feel as if you weren’t raised that way, as if you hailed from the same exact background as him — as if you were just as fancy, just as sophisticated, just as elegant.

And he did it so effortlessly.

“Do you want another cup of tea, darling?”

You nearly dropped your drained, pristine mug directly to the floor of his bedroom — whether it was influenced more by the sudden shock of his voice slicing through the silence or the unexpected use of the endearment, you weren’t sure.

“W-what?” You managed to choke out smartly, and, as if he were completely ignorant to the sudden short-circuit within your head, Todoroki pointed to the mug clasped within your hands.

“More tea. Your cup is empty.” Todoroki stated, and you glanced down at the cup, blinking rapidly. Darling. He called you darling.

You weren’t sure what to make of the new, warm feeling in your chest; but what you were sure of was that you quite liked it, and you quite liked the way that word sounded from Todoroki’s lips.

With a small, nearly shy smile, you extended your empty cup to Todoroki with a subtle nod.

“Yes, I’d like more tea, please. Thank you.”

Todoroki’s smile was dazzling, painting his face an even deeper shade of handsome, and his voice caressed you with a featherlight touch as he murmured, “of course, darling.”

eeek I had so much fun writing these! If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to leave a like/comment/reblog. And, if you like the way I write, maybe consider following or sending in a request of your own!

[frownyalfred]

I came across a post where someone mentioned that Martha Wayne’s pearls were actually her teeth, but Bruce misremembered or blocked it out…

This has to be one of the most heartbreaking and gut-wrenching headcanons I’ve ever encountered about Martha and Bruce. Just imagine the scene—her teeth falling out instead of the pearls, either from the impact of the bullet or from the way she fell and hit her mouth.

The imagery is so disturbing and visceral. It adds a whole new layer of trauma to Bruce’s memory, making his recollection of that night even more tragic.

Also— I feel like we don’t talk enough about what the Waynes’ deaths must have really been like…

The thought that Bruce might have been splattered with his parents’ blood, or even brain matter, from the impact. .. I feel like the writers never really specified where exactly they were shot or what kind of gun was used, which could have made the injuries even more horrifying depending on the weapon. The unease in his father’s voice—something foreign that Bruce had probably never heard before—from a man who was usually so optimistic and confident, might have been the first time Bruce saw his father truly scared. And then there’s his mother’s screams. In Christopher Nolan’s movies, Martha’s screams still haunt me to this day. The actress did an incredible job capturing that raw terror.

But what really gets me is the time. How long did Bruce stand there, in the pool of his parents’ blood, waiting for someone to come and help him? Did he try to pick up his mother’s pearls, or maybe try to stop the blood from pouring out of their wounds? That time must have felt like an eternity for him—standing there, powerless, with his parents’ blood on his hands, the smell of rot from the nearby trash, the powder of the gunshot lingering in the air, the city’s humidity, and the iron tang of blood.

And another chilling thought: what if his parents died with their eyes open? The idea of Thomas Wayne’s lifeless eyes staring up at his now-traumatized, orphaned son is just devastating.

Anyways, sorry for the ramble… I would love to hear your thoughts !!!

oh my god. yeah…..I mean, yeah. I’m getting smacked speechless by some of these anons today.

I actually saw someone knock all their teeth out once like you’re describing and it is gruesome. seeing teeth where they aren’t supposed to be is horrifying.

I think comics and movie adaptations letting the Waynes get shot somewhere in center mass, away from their faces, by low caliber bullets so they bleed out with last words is a mercy, in some ways.

modern guns could make that scene could look very, very different. I won’t go into them here but…yeah. there’s a reason they die with their faces intact in the comics and most movies, in my opinion. and with a few words or screams, maybe, before they fully die.

but yeah. there’s a world where they both get hit point blank in the head, brain and blood go everywhere, and Bruce has to sit there caked in for a while. until the cops show up, and even then, he probably doesn’t get clean for a while, since he’s covered in the decade’s most haunting crime scene.

[temis-de-leon]

Day 8 - Unwanted kiss

Characters: Diavolo x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: non consensual kiss, implied other types of sexual harassment (not from Diavolo's nor MC's part), MC defends herself, pre-established relationship

.

There were a dozen reasons that could explain MC’s presence in his office. Did she miss him? It wouldn’t be the first time she visited him out of the blue with a wide smile, hands locked behind her back with a certain innocence that made him put his paperwork aside in order to pay her attention.

Sometimes she'd need his help for homework and in what universe would he say no? Of course, there were also the official meetings, but having part, if not all, of the brothers and his butler there made bonding time with her barely impossible.

No, Diavolo perfectly knew he very much preferred their private meetings, the ones where he could ask about her daily life without an audience and where her eyes were fixed exclusively on him.

So when he heard a knock and the one to enter was MC, he couldn’t help but smile immediately. However, her sour expression made him stop in his tracks. She was pulling the hem of her pleaded skirt down and her hair looked messier than ever.

“MC?” he called, but she wouldn’t raise her head.

Diavolo was in the middle of getting up to console her when she handed him a slip of paper showing a familiar signature and RAD’s official stamp. He grabbed it and read it, his face unpleasantly serious and stomach churning in worry. The signature belonged to one of the professors and his message described, amongst a myriad of insults to the human race, how MC had been seen punching a fellow classmate.

He gasped in surprise, instantly setting his gaze on her. MC still didn’t seem able to look at him.

“Is this true, MC? You punched another student?”

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms before finally locking eyes with him and nodding in silence. In a subtle movement that didn’t escape his notice, she pulled her skirt down again. It didn’t take him too long to put two and two together, and when it did, nausea hit him like a train.

Then anger.

He forced himself to stay calm, not wanting to aggravate her further, and the teacher’s notice, which he’d make sure to revise later, slipped through his fingers and fell to the carpeted floor. MC’s hands met his and he felt the primal, dark and visceral, need to keep her close.

“I’m afraid you will have to explain to me exactly what happened, MC. What did he do…?”

“He kissed me” she interrupted him, but would not let go of his hands. Not that he minded it. The sickening tendrils of jealousy filled his guts for just a second before he pushed them down. It was not what she needed at the moment.

“He’s part of my fanclub and has been asking me out for days, but I always said no. He asked again today, but I had a test and I was tired and I wasn’t in the mood to be nice and he had the brilliant thought of kissing me as a way to finally get me to accept his proposal… So I punched him. And the teacher saw, I guess, so now I’m grounded”

Diavolo listened carefully at her nervous monologue, discreetly caressing her knuckles while walking towards the sofa and sitting down next to her. She didn’t seem to be afraid, just frustrated and profoundly disgusted.

“I’m deeply sorry, MC”

“You don’t need to apologize...”

“Allow me to do it still”

He felt his cheeks heating up, the warmth only increasing when he bent down to kiss the back of her hands and her fingers let go of his to cradle his face and scratch the back of his neck.

There was nothing he wanted more in the three realms than stay next to her and enjoy her touch, but it wasn’t the moment.

“Wait for me here”

He got up, straightening his uniform.

“Where are you going?”

MC stayed on the couch and the distance between them felt impossibly long. He bent down, constraining himself to kiss her on the lips as to not remind her of the recent experience, and spoke in a whisper.

“I’m going to personally take care of them”

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @beatlebeesstuff   @mehkers

[stickyglitterwombat]

Sansa's harp training and Ned's trauma

So here's the thought.

It suddenly hit me that there might be a very good reason (not in the sense that it makes it a GOOD decision, but in the sense that it explains his actions) for Ned to refuse to hire a harp teacher for Sansa. A lot has been said about how unfair it was that he hired a 'dance teacher' for Arya and failed Sansa by not hiring a teacher to help her develop her own talents. There are many brilliant posts about how Ned and Cat failed their daughters as parents, so I won't go into that.

However, in this particular case, I believe that Ned might have a very good reason.

Do you know who else played the harp? Rhaegar.

Can you see how Ned might have bad associations with this particular instrument?

Jojen's stories tell us that when Lyanna heard Rhaegar play the harp for the first time, she felt very emotional. That she had tears in her eyes. So the harp plays a central role in their story, in their initial interactions.

Whether you believe that Lyanna was abducted or that she went with Rhaegar willingly, you can't deny that Rhaegar is at the center of the tragedies of Ned's life. The loss and brutal murder of his father and brother, the death of his sister, fighting in a civil war.

So it would make sense that Ned would have a visceral reaction to the idea of his daughter learning to play an instrument that, in his mind, is so linked to the events that doomed his family.

There is nothing to tell us (not that I remember) that he would have been more receptive had she asked to learn how to play another instrument, but I still thought there was an interesting connection to make there.

[ilguna]

Hey! Could I get a 1 and 3 from aisle 2 for the supply run? With finnick preferably and only if it inspires you! I’m in desperate need of some soft hurt/comfort.

Congrats on everything and thanks for opening this up!

☼ moments notice (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, blood mention, weapon mention.

wc; 1.4k

prompt; 1. "Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again." AND 3. "I'd come for you. No matter what, when you need me, I will be there."

—

“(Y/n)!” 

You whip around at the sound of your name being screamed deeper in the jungle, eyes searching the thick trees for the person who’s calling for you. You take a step, eyebrows knitting together, unsure if you should be running in their direction or not.

Slowly, you reach for the spear that Katniss had to help you attach to the purple belt the Capitol provided. The vines do a very good job of making it stay in place. No matter how fast you run, or how badly it bounces on your thigh, the knot never comes loose.

You pull the long pole out of the loop, gripping the metal tightly. Maybe you didn’t hear what you thought you did. There’s a good chance it was a bird up in the trees, the chirp coincidentally sounding like your name. Still, this doesn’t ease the tension in your body.

“(Y/n)!” The scream is raw, one that was caused out of fear.

A shot of ice goes down your spine when you realize why you had such a visceral reaction the first time you heard it. It’s familiar, it belongs to the one person that matters in this world. Your feet begin to move you forward without a real plan on what to do.

“Finnick?” You call back, “Finnick!”

He begins to call back, but it’s abruptly cut off. You race toward where you’d last heard him, arms pumping, barreling through ferns, rocks and roots to reach him faster. As you get closer, you think you can see movement beyond the trees, possibly another small clearing.

You raise your free arm, anticipating to block your face from the branch you’re going to run into. Instead, you slam straight into an invisible force. The side of your arm hits your chin, as you try to twist your body away from whatever it is that’s managed to stop you so harshly.

You land on the ground, the spear a few feet away. You don’t even have time to breathe before you’re springing back up, hand outstretched to feel what it is. You come into contact with a wall, one that you weren’t able to see before. The only reason why you can now, is because you’re touching it. It warps around your hand, and smooths out as it spreads.

You push into it, wanting it to budge.

It doesn’t.

“Finnick!” You shout, snatching the spear out of the grass as you travel uphill, wanting to get a better look from the conveniently placed trees. They block your view of the clearing,

From what you can see through the leaves, he isn’t in there. You stand there for a moment, catching your breath, thinking about your next move. Which becomes obvious when you hear Johanna calling for you, from the area you were all gathered at on the beach. 

You start to jog that way, “I’m coming!”

Johanna’s standing a few feet into the treeline, watching you come toward her. As soon as you’re in reach, she wraps her hand around your wrist, pulling you with her.

“Where is he?” You breathe, looking at the beach, but you’re not going in that direction. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stuck in one of the hours.” She tells you, letting go. “We heard Katniss’ sister screaming, so she went off running after it. Finnick followed her because he’s the fastest. We heard you, too, but it sounded different.”

“Well I was—”

“No, I know that.” She cuts you off, waving her hand. “I mean, the first one we heard didn’t sound like you. Beetee says that it might’ve been engineered.”

You pause, face twisting. The Capitol fabricated your screams? 

The two of you slow down when you can see Peeta and Beetee. They look up when they can hear you rustling through the greenery. Johanna takes a few steps, and then moves out of the way to let you get a better look of the situation.

Peeta presses his forehead against the wall, his hand right next to it. If he feels comfortable enough to do this, that must mean the wall isn’t electrified in the same way the forcefield at the top of the hill is. It’s safer to touch this one for long periods of time. 

Katniss is on the other side, body turned to face in his direction, but her hands are clamped over her ears, eyes shut, head between her knees. Her whole body is rigid, and you don’t understand, until you see a dark bird divebomb at her, beak aimed for her body.

You can’t tell if it hurts her or not, because she doesn’t twitch at the impact. You move around Peeta, looking for Finnick, and find them close to Katniss, in nearly the exact same position that she’s in. Except, his nose is gushing blood.

“What happened? Why is he bleeding?”

“He ran straight into the wall.” Johanna says. “They’re going to be in there for an hour.”

“Can they hear us?” You ask.

“No, and we can’t hear them, either.” Peeta says. 

“What’s going on with the birds?”

“I believe they’re Capitol mutts, engineered to mimic their loved ones' screams. They’re programmed using artificial intelligence. All we have to do is take clips from interviews and manipulate them. It’s quite simple.” Beetee murmurs. “We do something similar in District Three.”

“And he has to sit there for a whole hour?” You ask, “Listening to this?”

“Yep.” Johanna says, lowering herself to the ground. 

You stand there, staring at Finnick. What use would your screams even have, besides leading the tributes into an area? They could’ve done anything, and they chose dive bombing birds? You don’t understand why the Capitol wouldn’t go for something more sinister, considering they’re all about torture.

“I’m right here, Katniss.” Peeta mumbles, not caring that she can’t see him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Peeta suddenly falls forward, barely managing to catch himself in the dirt, unprepared for the wall disappearing without notice. The two of you get to your feet at the same time, but you have to walk farther to get to Finnick. Whereas he simply scoops Katniss out of the grass and goes to the beach.

You fall to your knees next to Finnick, grabbing his knee, reaching for the side of his face. You cup his cheek, running your thumb over his cheek, finding it wet from the tears.

“Finnick, honey.” You murmur. 

He looks at you, the corners of his mouth turned downward. You shake your head, scooting toward him. You grab his shoulder, pulling his body to yours. He hugs you tightly, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’re okay.” He murmurs to himself. “I thought I was too late. I thought they got you. Enobaria and Brutus… they’re fast and…”

“They could never take me down, Finn.” You tell him, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I do, especially here. It’s not like last time.”

“I know.” You pull away to look at him. “Let’s go to the beach.”

Finnick reluctantly lets you go, but it’s not for long. The moment he’s back on his feet, he reaches over to take your hand, holding on the entire way. At the beach, you pick a spot underneath the shade, away from Katniss and Peeta.

Once the two of you sit down, he stares off at the water blankly. You let him be, listening in on the conversation the others are having a few feet away. It isn’t until Johanna volunteers to go grab water, do you feel as if enough time has passed.

“Why don’t you lay down?” You suggest. “You’re exhausted, you need to sleep.”

“I won’t help.” He mumbles.

“It might help more than you think.” You tilt your head to get a better look at his face. “This took a lot out of you.”

He shakes his head, unmoving. A few minutes later, he sighs, “Okay.”

You smile a little, crossing your legs. Finnick lowers himself onto the sand, using your thighs as a cushion for his head. You immediately reach to rake your fingers through his hair. He’s facing away from you, but you can tell he’s resisting.

“Just close your eyes.” You murmur. “I will still be here when you open them again.”

He doesn’t speak, twisting his body to look over his shoulder, at you. “You know I’d come for you, right? No matter what, when you need me, I will be there.”

“Of course you will.” You stop touching his hair. “I know you were looking for me, Finnick, because I was looking for you, too.”

--

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on october 31st, at midnight! info at the bottom of my navigation post. you don't have to follow to participate :)

+ thank you anon!! feel free to send another :)))

[differenteagletragedy]

With the idea about the MC (Baxter route) with bad parents, got a lot of feels imagining a scenario where maybe Baxter had no idea that they do. Maybe like him, MC is very cheery and just doesn't show when something is wrong because they want everyone else to not worry and have a good time.

He learns about it the day that he cuts contact with MC. It could even be that MC's parents were actually pleasantly surprised that MC got a "rich" boyfriend (not why MC dated him of course) and then things went south when they learned about the breakup.

Baxter hears/learns about it before he leaves and (definitely very impulsively) decides to just take MC with him, because he wouldn't be able to handle the guilt of leaving them with those kinds of parents. MC're 18 (legally an adult) so it can't be considered a kidnapping and MC goes willingly anyway ofc.

He also has zero plan for once but won't regret it.

Aww, thank you for this one! I want to bundle up MC with Bad Parents and love them forever <3

Baxter was usually always so careful, meticulously planning every move for the best possible outcome. He knew his own limits, he knew what he liked and what he didn't, and things may not have always worked out as well as he hoped, but he did always have a plan.

Except for this time.

He sat in his cushy first class seat on the plane back to Virginia, legs primly crossed and hands placed delicately in his lap, and looked over at you, curled up in the seat next to him, fast asleep.

Yes, this time things had veered wildly off track.

It all had happened very, very fast. He'd said his goodbyes, dropped the news that he wouldn't be keeping in touch at all once he left, and he'd had to maintain a cool disposition while you cried. He closed the door on you, literally and figuratively -- he remembered sinking to the floor once he'd gotten inside, but he didn't recall how long he'd stayed there.

While Baxter was sitting in the dark of his empty condo, feeling sorry for himself and trying desperately to make himself believe that he'd done the right thing, he heard the yelling begin. He couldn't make out everything, but he heard your name several times, and he could tell the noise was coming from your home.

Even though he didn't catch every word, he certainly caught the tone, and the familiarity sent him reeling. He'd been screamed at like this before by his own parents. The racket across the street brought back some of his worst memories, and it also made the guilt that was already simmering inside him rise to a boil.

Before he really knew what he was doing, he'd pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the app for the airline he used. As the screams from your home brought up a visceral feeling of dread, he quickly hit a series of buttons, and soon he'd been able to purchase a second ticket for his flight. His fingers hesitated for a moment then, but then he heard your name cried out so much more brutally than he knew you'd ever deserved, and that spurred him on to take the last step.

"I'm leaving in three hours," he typed out in a text message. "I have an extra ticket if you would like to join me."

It didn't make sense -- even with as rashly as he'd acted, he knew that much. How would it look, for him to have been so detached at what he'd thought had been your final goodbye only for him to turn around so soon after and invite you to fly across the country with him? If you accepted, what would happen once you landed? If, as he assumed was much more likely, you refused, then he knew he'd tainted your memories of the summer even more than he already had, which didn't sit well with him either.

Before he could get too lost in thought, his phone vibrated in his hand. He looked down, and saw that you'd responded.

"Ok," you'd written.

He had his answer.

It had been a very eventful night, and Baxter was sure that he'd spend plenty of time thinking about it all in the days to come, but for now he was pulled out of his thoughts by a warm hand grasping onto his.

He looked over, and you were awake, a small smile on your face just for him.

With that, no matter what else happened, he knew he'd made the right decision.

[moodymisty]

Got inspired by the scenario in your Polux snippet (reader being rescued from an overly pushy lord on Terra). Decided to write something for Magnus. Reader is reincarnated from our Earth into Warhammer, but doesn't know anything about Warhammer. I have a ton of reincarnated!reader x Magnus thoughts. Also, sorry if Magnus is OOC. Please enjoy. -🌳 anon

----

The garden on Terra is calm.

You sit on a bench in the garden, watching the leaves sway in the artifical wind. The artifical light that allows the plants to grow warms you up. The artifical river flows gently nearby.

Whenever the truth of Terra's - Earth's - condition hits you, the knowledge that everything you ever knew and loved from Earth is gone, including the animals, the plants, the very water itself, you retreat to one of the many greenhouse gardens on Terra, a tiny slice of what once covered most of the land. A way to ignore for a moment the visceral disgust Terra invokes in you.

You've started favoring this garden recently. It's relatively close to the quarters you share with Magnus, compared to some of the larger gardens. It's small, and doesn't have anything of note. People rarely come here, so it's often just you, your thoughts, and when you're feeling up to it, your voice.

You mumble sing your way through the lyrics you've forgotten, then sing the words you do remember. It's the first time in thousands of years that song had been sung on this planet.

When you finish singing and lapse into silence, you're startled at the applause you hear. You turn around and see a man, probably of a high station based on his uniform, clapping.

"You have a wonderful voice, my lady." He praised.

You're not sure how to react. You'd chosen this garden because it was so often left alone, and now someone had found you here. Additionally, he had heard you singing. Was his compliment genuine? You barely remembered half the lyrics and hadn't done any vocal warm-ups. You doubted you were that good.

"Thank you?" You hesitantly answer.

The man continues speaking. "I've seen you around the Palace recently, my lady, but only now have I been able to catch you to speak. You are beautiful as your voice. Where are you from? I haven't seen you before, so you must have only recently arrived in the Palace."

"Uh," you say, a bit startled. "I'm here with the-"

The man interrupts you, striding forward and grabbing your hand. "Let me show you around, the Palace can be quite tricky to navigate."

"Thank you, but I don't need a tour," you tell the man, trying to tug your hand out of his grip to no avail, "I'm here with the-"

"Nonsense!" The man exclaims. He begins dragging you towards the entrance of the garden. He's a lot stronger than he looks. "It's so easy to get lost in the Palace, and I know all the best spots. I've been here many times before. I've even been granted a permanent bedroom here! It's quite luxurious, I'm sure I could show you later. And perhaps we could share some wine? It was gifted to me by Primarch Magnus himself! He's the one in charge of the Thousand Sons Astartes Chapter. I'm in charge of providing the Thousand Sons chapter with the ore that is needed for the pigment of their armor, you see. So I've met Primarch Magnus quite a few times. Why, he once told me-"

You tune the man out as he continues to drag you along, instead focusing on how to get yourself out of this situation. The man won't stop talking enough for you to get a word in, so you can't tell him that you (technically) serve the Thousand Sons directly. You can't scream for help, the garden is empty except the two of you, and you doubt there would be any in the hallway leading to the garden who would either be high ranked enough or strong enough to get this man to let go of you.

Actually, you can think of a way screaming for help might work.

Magnus! You scream in your mind. Magnus, please help me!

Magnus had once told you the sound of your thoughts were quite distinctive. You're hoping that he'll hear your discomfort through his powers and come rescue you.

Sure enough, just as the man drags you into sight of the garden entrance, Magnus walks through the doors. The man stumbles to a stop and stops talking, obviously surprised at the sight of the Primarch here.

"Lord Magnus! What a surprise-"

"Let go of her."

Magnus's voice is deep, and obviously upset. The man releases your hand immediately.

As soon as your hand is free, you run to Magnus's side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders protectively, still glaring at the man.

The man is surprised by this. "Oh, she was one of yours? M-my apologies Lord Magnus, I didn't realize-"

"Leave."

The man does so.

Magnus waits for a minute or two, until presumably even his advanced Primarch hearing can't hear the man leaving anymore. Then, he turns to you.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you anywhere?"

You smile up at him. "I'm all fine now that you're here. Thank you for coming, Maggy."

You know that if Magnus's title was something other than "the Red", he would've blushed.

"The arrogance of these Terran lords." Magnus fumes. "Attempting to kidnap my woman."

You blush at how possessive his tone is. "I don't think he knew."

"Irrelevant. He should have known to stop speaking to you as soon as he knew you were of my legion."

"He didn't even let me tell him so." You admit.

Magnus growls. "I'll be having words with that man."

You feel the tiniest tinge of pity for the man, but it's gone as soon as it appeared.

Magnus grasps your hand. "Let's return to our chambers."

You snuggle into his side. "Sounds good to me."

"I'll be assigning you a guard to accompany you in the future. I don't want a repeat of this."

"Yeah, I think that sounds good. Having an Astartes around would have helped. Of course," you add teasingly, walking your fingers up his arm. "I got someone even better."

The look Magnus gives you tells you you're going to be having a fun time tonight.

love the idea that magnus can hear our thoughts if we're loud enough, that surely will not be used for anything nefarious

[emkayewrites]

Lukola fanfic scenario, Luke POV: Luke and Nicola are in the middle of filming Season 3, and Luke has just realised he is infatuated with Nicola. Only problem is he's in a relationship and so is she. During a short break from filming, he catches up with his parents, who have some sage bits of advice for him...

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

31st October 2022 – Salisbury (UK)

“Oh my God, it’s Colin from Bridgerton.” He heard their hissing whispers before he saw them.

Two young women stood at the entrance of The Bell and Crown pub, trying desperately to appear nonchalant.  They were wrapped up warmly in thick coats with hats and gloves and holding an array of shopping bags.

In a situation like this one, he had decided he would follow suit and pretend he did not notice them noticing.  He sensed this might be hard to achieve as they were partially blocking his way into the pub, but he did his best to try to manouevre past them with his head down.  The brunettes’ eyes widened at the realization that their paths were about to cross.  Luke watched as she nervously took a few steps back from him, the back of her legs hitting the giant ornamental pumpkin that was placed on the ground behind her.  She had barely let out a squeal as she started to tip backwards before he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, steadying her.

“Woah, careful.” He gave her what he hoped would be his most reassuring smile. 

Regardless, the colour drained from her face.

“Oh m-m-my God, I-I’m so sorry.” She sputtered.  She looked like she was going to be sick.

“We’re really big fans!” Her friend in the mustard-coloured coat behind her suddenly burst out, her eyes widened with excitement.

He was not sure how to receive their two very different energies.

“Thank you.” He replied, again hoping that he came across kind.

“So, you guys are filming up at Wilton House, right?” Mustard coat continued.  “We love it up there, it’s so gorgeous.  Are you guys there for the rest of the week? Oh, wait, you probably can’t say! Or wait, can you say? You probably can’t say what you’re filming though.”

“Yeah, we are. I’m sorry, I’m going in for some lunch.” He gestured to the inside of the pub.

“Oh! God! Look at me going on and on. Of course, of course.” Mustard coat shuffled away, pulling her friend away with her.

He knew the whirlwind of emotions that you could experience when you encountered someone famous, he had been the fan many, many times in his life.  He hoped he had never been the embarrassing fan though.  He had also been recognised before, but this was the first time in his life that he had found himself being recognised this often. 

In fact, just a few weeks ago, he and Jade had been drinking in a London bar when a group of girls had realised who he was and had encircled them.  The situation had turned incredibly awkward when they started talking about how hot he was and then one of the girls tried to give him her number.  It did not help matters that the girls were a group of European models celebrating their last night of work in the city.  He had watched Jade’s face go from mildly annoyed by the inconvenience to viscerally angry.  They had ended up cutting their night short and heading home; Jade had remained stoically silent the entire way.  It had worried him.  He knew she did not blame him for the reactions he was getting but he wondered how much she would be able to tolerate.  How much could any woman’s self-esteem tolerate seeing other women throw themselves at their partner?  He had reminded Jade that it had been public knowledge that he and Nicola were this season’s protagonist and ever since filming had started; fans of the show were constantly awestruck when they saw him or Nicola out anywhere.  The reactions were even bigger when the two of them were spotted out together.  He had hoped it would reassure her somewhat that this was the Bridgerton effect.  He felt a need to remind not just her but also himself that he was not the one changing, it was the situation.  He had not suddenly become hot, whatever that meant.

If things are like this now, what will it be like when the season’s out? He thought.  He could hardly fathom it.

He thought about the ways Nicola had reassured him about what was to come.  In her typical, unflappable way, she had told him it would be hilarious, and they would get through it together.  It was silly advice but because it came from her, he believed it. Those words had been keeping him grounded.  No matter what happened, she would be with him, and they would surely navigate it all together.

Now though, he felt as if that certainty was threatened.  He had been having dreams.  Then out of nowhere, Ezra had shown up.  He could feel deep in his bones that he was agitated about what Ezra’s presence in Nicola’s life meant more than anything else.  He also knew that was wrong.  This should not be occupying so much of his brain.  He was also aware that he was not very good at hiding how wound up he was feeling.  It was becoming apparent in his body language, and sometimes it was slipping through in what he said.  This was why he was so grateful for an afternoon away from everyone and everything, and to be around the two people who always helped him gain a sense of perspective.

He walked through The Bell and Crown, taking in its historical features that included wooden ship beams suspended from the ceiling and stone floors.  The smell of fried food and woodfire hit his nostrils as he spotted them seated at a mahogany table right at the back. 

“Mum, dad!” He greeted them with a small wave as he made his way to them, pulling off his jacket as he did so.

His parents were sat with an assortment of small plates before them and three glasses: one with water, one with wine and the other with beer.  His mother, Sharon, was a petite woman with short blonde hair that was scooped up into a ponytail with a fringe.  His father, Lee, sat opposite her; his sandy brown hair was covered by a dark red beanie hat. 

It was too easy. Luke thought, as he yanked the hat off his father’s head and took a seat next to his mother. 

 “Thank you!” Sharon exclaimed, putting her hands together in a praying gesture. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Lee looked from Luke to Sharon, and then back at Luke: “Do you want to sit here with a man with hat hair or a man with a hat?”

“It’s ungentlemanly to wear a hat indoors.” Sharon shook her head at her husband. “Just smooth it out.”

“Why aren’t you using that hair gel I got you for your birthday?” Luke added, amused.

There was no escapism like being around your parents and watching them bicker over the smallest things.

“I’m not using any ruddy hair gel!  I’m a fifty-nine-year-old man Luke, not a member of One Direction.” Lee snapped back, making Luke roar with laughter.

“We ordered for you.” Sharon nodded at the food in front of them. “We knew you wouldn’t have long before you would have to head back and service here is woefully slow.”

There was something to really love about the predictability that came with your parents’ habits when they reached a certain age.  He had all but compiled a bingo card in his mind of the things he knew were going to be coming up during this meal.  At the top of the list was his mother picking fault with the service in the pub – never mind that the pub was five-star reviewed.  His mother could make Gordon Ramsay look soft.

“Thanks mum, I do have to get back in about an hour.” He popped a fry into his mouth.

“How are you, my love?  You look a lot more tired than when we last saw you.” Sharon eyed him carefully.

“You do look a little rougher around the edges.” Lee added, some concern in his voice. “How many hours are you doing on set?”

Luke was appreciative of how much his parents cared for him.  Even though Lee was not his biological father, he had always treated Luke like a son – in fact, Luke was sure he was treated better than most sons were by their biological fathers.  Lee had also been in the entertainment industry and had taken great pains to ensure Luke was protected and well supported as he sought to make a career for himself.  Luke was sure that he would not have been half as successful if it had not been for Lee’s wisdom.

“The hours are fine; I’m just not sleeping too well.” Luke replied, surprising himself with his own admission. 

“It’s a lot to be carrying a whole season your back.” Lee said sympathetically.

“Well, how’s Nicola? She will be a good one to help you through.” Sharon advised, taking a sip from the wine glass.  “She’s done it all before with Derry Girls. Although I imagine this will be on an even grander scale…”

He had not wanted to talk about Nicola.  He knew that between Ezra and his dreams, the topic was too loaded for him.  He had wanted to come away for a nice meal with his parents to get a break from those thoughts.  Yet, talking about her and about him seemed irresistible to him. 

He could barely stop the words exploding out of his mouth. “Oh, I don’t think she’s losing sleep. She’s got a distraction right now.”

The words came with a little more emotion than he had intended them to.  His parents knew him too well not to pick up on it. 

“Oh really?” Sharon raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“She’s got this… guy friend who’s visiting and she’s all over him.” Luke stated, he hoped he sounded less bothered than he was.  He picked up his knife and fork and began to make a start on the giant battered cod that sat on his plate. 

“Guy friend?  Is that what you millennials call boyfriends?” His mother laughed.

“They’re not calling themselves that… yet.” Luke grimaced.

He caught the exchange of looks between his parents out of the corner of his eye.

“So, I take it you don’t like him then?” Lee asked.

Luke realised there was no one around that could judge him for his real opinions on the matter.  He had had to put on a mask on the Bridgerton set but around his parents, he could be honest.  He felt liberated.

“I just don’t get what she sees in him.” He replied. 

“Oooh, that is really tough.” Sharon made a face. “But she isn’t just your friend.  She’s also your scene partner, you can’t upset things at this stage of filming by saying anything too honest.”

“I know.” Luke felt the frustration rise again slightly. “Believe me.  I’m swallowing it.”

“Nicola’s got a good head on her shoulders.  He might not be as bad as you think.” His father shrugged, slicing into his steak and taking a bite. 

Luke shook his head emphatically at this.  “No, this guy is everything we would make fun of.”

“Well, matters of the heart aren’t always a straight line.” Sometimes, Lee doled out predictably vague dad wisdom.

“I don’t think you should be making fun of anyone.  It seems cruel.” Sharon added, wrinkling her nose as she frowned.  Sometimes she said predictably mum things.

Luke pulled out his phone and with a few swipes on the screen, he pulled up an Instagram page and held it up for them both to see.  “This is him.  LOOK at him.  Skinny jeans, v-neck white t-shirt that’s too small for his arms, standing in front of designer luggage with the caption CEO mode.  Am I going mad or is this man not a parody of himself?” 

Sharon threw her head back in laughter. “Oh God, yes, he’s quite something.”

“And Nic – she’s the opposite.” Luke continued.  “She’s down to earth, she’s not flash, she wears designer clothes but it’s tasteful, it’s not like this-”

“I’m sure she is the wonderful, thoughtful friend you know but she’s also a woman.” Sharon interrupted him.  She surveyed the photo on the screen with a smirk. “You know, as a woman, I get the appeal.”

Luke made a disgusted face and looked at Lee for some help in the matter. 

Lee stopped, his fork mid-air, and moved his face closer to the phone screen.  He eventually shrugged. “He's a fine specimen of a man.  Sorry, I’ve got eyes, Luke.”

“Ugh.” Luke groaned, taking his phone off the table.

“But hey, this is good, isn’t it?” His mothers’ eyes twinkle with realisation. “You can knead your concern for your friend into Colin’s concern for Penelope.  They are keeping the love triangle element?”

“You know I can’t say script specifics, mum.” Luke said dismissively.  He could feel the simmering annoyance that had now settled in.  He needed to change the topic.

Just then, Sharon reached forward for a napkin that was in the center of the table and her hand knocked her wine glass, causing it to tip onto the table and onto the sleeve of her cream cardigan. 

“Oh, Jesus!” She leapt up in her chair.  Luke grabbed at the remaining napkins and started to pad the table dry, and Lee started to get to his feet to assist.

“It’s alright Lee, I need to wash this out in the ladies.”  Sharon gestured for him to sit. “Thank God it was only a white wine.” She grabbed her handbag and walked away from the table.

Luke continued to dab at the table, which was now drier but also stickier.

“Word to the wise, focus on the girlfriend you’ve got.”  Lee’s voice interrupted him, making him stop. 

He fathers’ words took him slightly aback. 

Lee took in his reaction and continued: “Look, Nicola’s a very beautiful girl. It’s easily done.”

“I’m not… nothing’s being done.” Luke responded, but his voice cracked as he spoke.  He knew he was lying to himself and Lee by pretending not to know what his words meant. 

“It happens, you know.” Lee spoke calmly. “I saw it all the time. Feelings getting intensified and confused on a shoot like this.  I’m just saying, keep the work as work and don’t neglect your real life.”

Luke felt the weight of what was being said.  As always, Lee was able to read him better then he could read himself.  Yet, the feelings felt too raw to be exposed like this.  He could not rationalise them so he did what his instinct told him to: deny them.

“I’m not.” He repeated, firmer this time. “Nothing’s getting confused.  She’s my friend, I just don’t like the guy.”

“Well, then do a better job of it.” Lee’s voice was equally stern.

“Better job of it?” Luke was confused.

“Of acting like you’re not.” Lee shot back. “You know, acting? The thing you’re good at but seem to be completely unable to do when it comes to this.”

Luke felt himself getting flustered.  He knew he was having a hard time hiding his feelings but was he really being that obvious?  Before he could respond, Sharon had appeared behind him, and she was carrying what looked to be a mountain of paper towels.

“Jesus, did you leave some for the rest of the restaurant?” Lee exclaimed.

“Very funny.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “What are you two looking so serious about?”

“Plotting your Christmas present.” Lee spoke before Luke could.  That was the signal to say that particular conversation was over, and Luke could not feel more grateful.  It was hard enough denying those thoughts and feelings to his father, let alone his mother.

“Oh, I already said I don’t want a big fuss.” Sharon sighed. “Don’t you dare let him make a fuss, Luke.”

“Well, I don’t control the man, mum.  I’ve already got him to downsize the gift from a trip to the Maldives.” Luke teased.

“The Maldives?” Sharon gasped.

Difficult as it was, Luke tried to enjoy the distraction of winding his mother up for the rest of the lunch hour.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 This city’s dying by the day, and you know it always will 🎶

Antoine kept his head dipped and his face hidden as he neared the spot where Giorgio had asked him to meet. The secrecy in Gio’s note had been absurd: Meet me at the docks facing the cathedral at eight. And come alone. As he approached, the rhythmic ringing of the church bells told him that he was just on time.

Antoine’s steps crossed from the cracked pavers onto the wooden dock, the hollow sound alerting Giorgio to his presence. He jumped to his feet and nervously took a drag off his cigarette, smoothing down his hair behind each ear. Antoine rounded the crates that he was hidden behind and narrowed his eyes, “Christ, Gio, what’s going on? What’s with all this fanfare and secrecy?”

“Antoine, thank god. To tell you the truth, it’s Jo. She never takes my ideas seriously and I’m sure she’d tell me I’m operating on false information. Plus I don’t want to create a stir, tip off my contacts that I’m sharing this information with anyone on the outside. Sit, please. I think you might need to.”

Giorgio sat back onto the crate next to Antoine, looking over each shoulder before he began, “I’ve got cousins, Antoine, cousins with real business interests up in New York. There’s serious talk that this whole bubble we’ve been riding, it can’t last forever, and the whole economy is gunna tank.”

Antoine shook his head in disbelief, but Gio went on, “I’m telling you, it’s true! Some of them are already pulling out stocks. Your sister will think I’m just as crazy, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be in any city when shit hits the fan. Especially this city. You see, I know I said one job, but once they get their teeth into you, once they know where you are, they don’t let you stop…”

Gio stopped for a moment to let the implication of he and Antoine’s entanglement with the city’s mafia dissipate in the twilight air, “Now I’ve heard talk of riches out west. Railroads or highways being built right through your property and being paid in handfuls. Plus land is cheap, real cheap. I found a plot through some connections with the farm house built. I’ve still got that money from the deal we made, so I can purchase it myself, but if you’re holding onto that cash we can split it equal, go in as co-owners.”

Gio’s proposal made Antoine’s head spin. Leave his home? To go West, of all places? What the hell did he know about the West? About a land he had only heard tales and hyperboles of, a land that seemed unreal, one that still seemed to promise some semblance of the American Dream…

As Antoine tried to focus, to force himself see his choices clearly, a series of images flashed through his head in immediate succession.

First, he saw himself atop a horse, the sun beating down on his his face as the arid breeze whistled through the brush and the blue sky blended into the yellow of the mountaintops. Around him was nothing but land: vast, empty expanses of land without a single rule or expectation to impose upon him.

Then he saw Zelda in a tiny chapel, bedecked in a white wedding dress and her finest pearls. She had a wide smile on her face and a delicate hand extended toward him, beckoning him to the altar at the end of the aisle. Through the windows the desert sun streamed in around them, finally free to walk in the streets however they pleased, finally married, finally his wife…

But with almost an almost visceral sense of vertigo he was transported back to New Orleans, back to the club with Violette, who was now grown as she sang along to the notes he played on the piano he had owned all his life. Her laughter told him that she had always loved it there, just as much as he did, and she would only grow to love it more, to be just as inspired and connected to the only home he had ever known.

Finally, his mind drifted back to Zelda, this time in their kitchen cooking a recipe that his aunt had taught him. He stood behind her in the same place where they had some of their happiest memories, their most intimate moments.

As he pulled her closer to him, he could hear people yelling in French through the doors open to the street below. Their accents sounded just like his own, just like his mother and his aunt, perhaps just like his daughter’s would one day. The sound of their voices drifted into the kitchen, mingling with the scents of cooking and the feeling of Zelda in his arms, telling him that he was already home.

In the seemingly suspended year of 1928, Antoine buried his head in his hands. None of the visions or the dreams mattered anyway; the choice had already been made. The money was gone, long gone. He had spent it paying bills for the club and buying food for his family, just trying to keep the club afloat while the bribes grew larger by the month.

Antoine finally looked back to Gio, making sure the tears in his eyes had dried enough so that they wouldn’t betray his words, “I’m sorry Gio, but it sounds like nothing but a pipe dream to me. Why would I leave when there’s nothing to go on but your word? I’ve got the club, my family, my city; I won’t throw that all away for a rumor.”

Giorgio visibly flinched, as though Antoine’s words had come directly from Josephine herself. Then he swallowed the dismissal, knowing that it was only a taste of what waited for him at home. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back out over the Mississippi River, “Suit yourself then, old sport. I hope it doesn’t come to all this, but I have a feeling it might.”

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 11

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 1,808

Notes: thank you all so much for all the love on my very first fanfic! 🥹 (and my first time writing smut 🫣) I hope I did the series justice and you all love this ending as much as I do 🥲 let me know what you think 🖤 ps I see all your requests and will get to them soon! thank you for sending them in 🫶🏼

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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

Part 11: Forever

Mate.

Breathing became difficult. You slowly backed away from him, off the couch and into the kitchen.

“What?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper.  

Azriel opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out.

His shadows, once swirling around your arms and hands, were nowhere to be found.

The buzz from the wine wore off as your heart sank into your stomach and you were hit with cold sobriety. The familiar prickle of anxiety tingled its way down your arms and legs, into your fingers and toes.

“How am I your mate?”

“I don’t know how, Y/N. I just know that you are.” Azriel’s eyes were pleading, begging, searching yours for an answer. “I’ve known since the night of Solstice at Rita’s. That’s when it hit me.”

At Rita’s? When you were all over Lucien?

It made sense.

The way Azriel was glaring at you that night, his moodiness during training, how you heard his thoughts in your head as if they were your own.

He wasn’t a daemati. He was your mate.

It made sense, yes, but why didn’t you know? Why haven’t you felt anything?

You began pacing, cold sweat trickling down your back. The cabin suddenly became too hot.

“I don’t get it,” you said, your back facing Azriel as you ran to the kitchen window, desperate for fresh, cold air in your burning lungs. You shut your eyes, letting the cool breeze calm and center you. “If you’re my mate, why don’t I feel anything? Why hasn’t it hit me, too?”

You heard Azriel push off the couch and take a few tentative steps toward you. “Sometimes the bond clicks for one person and not the other. I’m not sure why it hasn’t for you yet.” A few steps closer. “But…you don’t feel anything? You haven’t felt any spark between us? I…I can’t stay away from you, Y/N. You drive me absolutely mad. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, day and night. You don’t feel even…a tiny bit of that?”

Your body was on fire from his confession. Of course, you felt the same. But you had suppressed all those thoughts, desires, feelings. You told yourself it was impossible. Until today, you thought Elain was his mate.

But it was you.

His equal, his match, his mate.

You whipped around to find Azriel standing closer than you had expected.

“Of course, I—“

You choked on your words—something tugged in your stomach so hard that you almost stumbled toward him.

You looked down, convinced there was a thread caught in your shirt that was pulling you, but…no. This was deeper, something visceral, hidden in your body and soul.

You slowly lifted your gaze to him, your heart stuttering at his achingly beautiful face.

There it was.

A thin golden thread, connected from your chest to his, glowing between you both.

Azriel’s shadows swarmed around you, wrapping you both in a frenzy of darkness as the rest of the cabin melted away. It was just you and him, Y/N and Azriel. He was suddenly the center of your universe, his breath becoming one with yours. You felt him in every fiber of your being, every beat of your heart, every breath of air in your lungs. You could hear his shadows chanting softly in the distance, mate mate mate, a beautiful, melodious song that was written in your soul. You were his and he was yours and nothing else mattered, not now, not ever. The stunning, kind, strong, patient, beautiful male standing before you was your mate.

Your breath caught as you reached for the bond and gave it a tug, and Azriel gasped in response.

The bond shone brighter, stronger.

“You see it?” His eyes were watery as he asked with a deep, soft laugh, the one that sent shivers along your bones.

“My mate,” you breathed, marveling at the bond, and within a second Azriel had you pinned against the kitchen counter, his strong arms wrapped around your waist as he leaned in and growled against your ear, “Say it again.”

Warmth pooled in your core at his intoxicating scent, stronger than ever. You tangled your fingers in his hair as you moaned again, “My mate.”

Azriel’s chest was heaving, his breathing uneven. He pulled back with a crazed look in his sparkling hazel eyes, studying your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded, laughing and crying all at once.

“Do we have to do anything? To make it official?”

Azriel broke out in a feral grin. “You just have to feed me,” he murmured against your neck.  “And then I’ll be feasting on you.”

You shuddered at the thought, leaning to your side to grab an apple off the counter, bringing it up to Azriel’s mouth. He took a slow bite, your eyes fixating on the juice that escaped the corner of his mouth, dripping down his face and onto your fingers. The fruit dropped from your grasp, all you could focus on was his soft, plump lips as he leaned down, licking the juice off your fingers, never breaking eye contact. Fuck, you were barely breathing. You craned your neck in turn, licking the juice from the side of his mouth up to his lips. You waited, savoring the moment of being so close to him, drunk on his scent, unable to think about anything other than his hard body up against yours. Azriel grabbed the back of your head and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, flicking his tongue across the seam of your mouth. His shadows swirled faster and faster around you, and all that was left was their sweet, soft darkness, cocooning you and your mate. You opened for him, your tongues instantly dancing and exploring each other.

Azriel’s restraint snapped at the sound of your moaning into his mouth.

You wrapped your legs around his muscled torso as he carried you effortlessly into the bedroom, tossing you onto the soft bed before ripping off his black sweater, his beautiful Illyrian tattoos on full display. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, his perfectly sculpted body, his massive wings, the bulge in his leathers.

“Az…” you groaned, needing his touch, his mouth on yours, his body against you.

Azriel stared at you, mouth open. “I haven’t heard you say my name since the first night we met.”

You held out your hand, guiding him into bed. “Again,” he commanded between kisses on your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

“Azriel.”

He whimpered at the sound of his name on your beautiful lips, kissing your neck as his hand trailed up your stomach, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers. His touch was electric and you needed more.

Az stroked his way down the plane of your stomach until he reached the waistband of your leggings, slipping his hand underneath. A growl escaped him as he felt the wetness soaking you through the fabric. “Fuck, so wet already,” he ground out, barely coherent through his lust for you. You arched into his touch, grabbing a handful of his silky dark hair while he teased you, flicking his tongue across your nipples and trailing kisses down to your pelvis.

“Please, Az,” you begged, needing his mouth on you.

Azriel obliged, tearing your leggings off with one strong hand and pinning you down with the other. “Do you taste as sweet as you smell, pretty girl?” he purred against the inside of your thigh. You writhed under his touch, unable to bear his teasing.

Azriel began with a long, sweeping stroke of his tongue against you, his soft, warm fingers separating your slick folds, moaning into you, salivating at your taste. “Fuck, you taste even better than I dreamed.” You ran your fingers through his hair, over his massive shoulders, until you found his wings, now spread to their full, massive extent behind him.

His wings.

With a soft touch, you slid the pad of your finger across the inside of his wing, and Az released an animalistic growl in response. You continued playing with him as he feasted on you, sliding and pumping his fingers deep inside at a perfect, aching rhythm, until he was stroking that sensitive spot in your core.

“Az,” you rasped, and he knew you were close. He kept pumping inside, sucking your sensitive bud until you were screaming his name, arching off the bed and climaxing on his beautiful face.

You needed him still, desire coursing and aching through every vein.

“Come here,” you barely managed to get out through breathless pants, grabbing Az by the arm and pulling him towards you.

You looked down between you two, Azriel’s incredible length rubbing against your sensitive, soaked pussy. “Are you sure?” he asked, kissing and sucking on your neck. You had never been more sure of anything. You rocked your hips up to meet his in answer. Az immediately reached down, lining himself with your entrance and slowly inching in. With the first push of himself, you fell back, head slamming against the pillow, the sensation sparking fire through your body. Azriel kept going, inch by inch, until he was entirely inside. He fit perfectly, like he was made for you. You could barely breathe, barely think as you began rocking your hips again, letting Az know you were ready. He slowly pulled out, almost to the tip of his glorious cock before slamming his hips against yours. Az began pounding you at a devastatingly slow pace, climax building in your core.

Azriel pulled away from your neck to press his forehead against yours.

“My mate,” he breathed against your mouth. “I love you.”

His words were your undoing.

You cried out his name, over and over with each thrust, the bond shining brighter than ever between you two. Azriel locked his mouth around yours, moaning into you as his pace became wild, tears lining your eyes as you both became the stars and the moon and the sun and the sky, wind and fire and earth and breath and the entire universe, all at once as you both found your release together. You were his and he was yours until the end of time. Az drew out the maddening pleasure until every inch of your body was burning with desire and want.

“I love you,” you said back as he finally eased down, laying his head in the crook of your neck, his warm, muscular body heaving as you both tried to catch your breath.

Az pulled out slowly and rolled over to your side. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his hazel eyes burning with love and adoration. Your eyes welled up again at the sight of your beautiful mate. You traced a finger along the tattoos spanning his broad chest as you whispered back, “And you’re mine.”

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

taglist: @cute-baby-ducks @brekkershadowsinger @iangelofmusic @j-pendragonx @foggypeanutmongeroaf @luckypersonmentality @eddiesbixch696 @davinaclaire16 @lexie1o9 @thewarriormoon @halfmeltedcandles @cartoonnerdgirl @wrensical003 @abigailrose98 @cafe-inaaa @moonlightazriel @caosfanblr @redbleedingrose @lovebookie123 @sarahstone217 @minetticatinwonderland @jtargs @bookish-dream @blurredlamplight @rellik181 @simplywitchy @his-sweet-nightmare @theravenphoenix26 @icantthinkofanythingplease @sebby-staan @brooke3132 @azriels-angels @mrs-azriel @sparklymiraclecheesecake @cityofidek @dreambeliever13 @atlascorriganlovescookies @fo-cus @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @elenas-safe-spot @dreambeliever13 @mysticalcheescakemiracle @sarahstone217

[sister-lucifer]

hey yk how u did that dry humping with lucifer from obey me can u do it but with belphie or asmodeus

Inexplicably Needy 

Read the Lucifer version here 

Asmodeus* x Male reader

Genre: Smut 

Summary: Asmodeus can’t hold back, he needs you to make him cum now, in any way possible 

Content/Warnings: dry humping, thigh riding, a hint of dom reader

*Asmodeus is AFAB and uses he/she pronouns 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated! 

NOT fully proof read, let me know if you see any errors! 

Asmodeus was certainly no stranger to arousal. There was always a little thumping beat in the back of his head that gave his cheeks a little flush, but that was normal for the Avatar of Lust. There were a few times, though, where Asmodeus forgot to tend to his sexual health. Sometimes he would get too busy with schoolwork or photoshoots or modeling gigs and he simply could not make time for his human lover or to visit the succubi. Usually it would only take a day to two for her to feel better, but if left unchecked it could have visceral physical consequences.

That was how she found herself here, whimpering in a mess of blankets on her bed while knuckle deep in her cunt. She had been trying and trying for hours now, but no matter how many toys she used or how deep she hit with her fingers nothing would give her release. He grew more frustrated with each failed attempt, desperate tears beginning to well up in his eyes as he practically wailed in desperation. 

She had spam texted you over and over again, but you hadn’t even seen her messages. It seemed your errands were keeping you busy, and Asmo had given up on reaching you. He would simply have to wait for you to come home, however long that may be. Fortunately, only a few moments after he had retracted his hand, staring at it as it glistened wetly in the light, she heard a familiar voice from outside her door.

“Asmodeus, I’m home! I—“ You stopped dead in your tracks as you took in the scene in front of you. 

Asmodeus, legs spread wide and bottom half completely naked, blankets and sheets and pillows all strewn about carelessly, her needy pussy soaking the bed beneath her. 

“Oh, human! I need you, I need you now!” He whined, holding his arms out to you but unable to move himself from the bed. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed, opening your mouth to ask Asmo what she needed but you didn’t get the chance before she was climbing into your lap. Her bare cunt rubbed against your leg, leaving a wet spot on your pants where she was desperately grinding into you. 

“What took you so long, human?!” He yelped, voice shaky as he wrapped his arms around you. “I messaged you a million times!” 

“I’m so sorry, Asmo. My DDD died while I was out,” You explained. “But I’m here now, and I want to help. Wouldn’t you rather ride m—“

Asmodeus cut you off, breaths heavy and loud with her strain. 

“I’ve been trying for so long, human! I’ve been doing everything I could to cum but I couldn’t; I want your cock, really I do, but I just need to cum first…” 

You could see how desperate she was. Even in your most intense sessions Asmodeus always kept some composure, but this was something entirely new. He was rutting into you like crazy, every little movement making him mewl with long awaited pleasure. He rocked your body along with his from the sheer force and speed of his actions. 

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and letting him brace himself against your chest. One hand came down to toy with his clit, making him arch his back. 

“Yes, yes! More, baby, please!” She pleaded as she pushed against your touch as much as she could. “Oh yes, that’s exactly what I need!” 

You could feel him soaking through the fabric of your pants into your bare leg. Maybe it was just a magic demon thing, but god did he get crazy wet. Not that it wasn’t incredibly arousing, of course. You could even hear the soft, wet squelching noises his cunt made every time he pushed into your thigh. 

He began to push on your chest, encouraging you to lay back. You took the hint, relaxing into the welcoming feeling of the lavish bed. Asmodeus shifted a bit, moving up and instead positioning her bare cunt over your bulge that was now straining against your pants so hard you could’ve popped the zipper. 

Her excited grinding had you gripping onto her out of instinct. It was like Asmo’s lust and need was rubbing off onto you, making you feel confined in your clothes that had fit comfortably just a few minutes ago. 

She leaned down to pull you into a deep kiss, waisting no time pushing her tongue past your lips. She held your face with one hand and your hair with the other, giving it a tug every now and then. He moaned your name against your lips, intertwined with soft pleas for more. 

You grabbed her hips and began guiding them, pressing them hard into your bulge and forcing a broken moan from her throat. He buried his face in your neck as he whispered out a warning of his fast approaching release. 

“Oh, I’m gonna cum…finally, finally…o-oh…” 

Normally Asmodeus had a much better tolerance, but even he had his limits. He wasn’t going to hold himself back from this, he needed it, and you would gladly let him have it. 

“Go on then, Asmo. Make yourself cum.” 

Asmodeus shuttered at the filthy words, a lopsided, love-drunk smile crossing her face. 

“Oh, my human, you know just what I need to hear…” 

It wasn’t long before his whimpers and whines were crescendoing into wails. He cried out your name with the last of his voice, still grinding his hips with devilish fervor until his orgasm had completely finished. Even then, he couldn’t help but buck into you every now and then. She has never, not in a thousand years been rocked by pleasure the way she was then.

It was magical. 

You allowed her to catch her break for a few moments before speaking.

“You alright, princess?“ 

She nodded, melting into your warm body as she finally relaxed. 

“Yes, yes…I’m alright…my, I don’t think i’ve ever experienced anything like that…” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath, shifting beneath him and bringing a hand up to stroke his back. 

“Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? I’m sure you feel much better.” 

“Oh, no!” Asmodeus protested, making you quirk a brow in confusion. “Not at all! After everything I’ve been through alone, you owe me much more than that. I’m thinking…one orgasm for every S.O.S. message I didn’t get a reply to?” 

[merlintheactor]

Yeah okay so I scrolled through the alexithmyia tag and I don’t think it has this in any recent posts. I tend to be very dynamic while explaining stuff, so I’ll try and add that to the list

So, my aspiring students, what is this thing that you’ve probably never heard of, and why am I telling you about it?

Well, first let’s explain what it is. In the broadest possible sense, alexithmyia is basically a null condition. (Such as asexual, agender, aromantic) What I mean is it’s something describing the lack of something, which in this case is emotion. Alexithmyia is the inability to describe emotions or in some cases, not even feel them properly.

Have you ever experienced things like burning rage, or butterflies in your stomach, or the coiled rope of guilt deep in your stomach, or panic in your throat?

Alexithmeics (?) don’t have that. Or some do, it’s complicated. We’ll get to it.

I’m not a professional, this is all just my (and others) lived experience but I’ve seen the condition broken down into two categories, cognitive & affective. I saw this first on the reddit community for alexithmyia but I like it so I’m yoinking it.

Mu main source for this is an article by Zoe Blade (http://notebook.zoeblade.com/Alexithymia.html). It has sources, and is generally a better breakdown than what I’m going to do. Please check it out, it’s very good.

I’m writing my own thing on tumblr because most people won’t find it on reddit, don’t use it, or just won’t click a link on a random post. Itll probably sound very similar.

Cognitive alexithmyia is basically the original definition , where people with it have a great deal of difficulty describing their emotions. Sometimes it takes time to study the emotion, or sometimes you find out what the emotion was days later. This one isn’t really my lived in experience, but I have felt it occasionally.

Affective alexithmyia is the second definition, which I am a part of (yay!). It’s the inability to feel emotions on a visceral level. The way I’ve described it before is that metaphors about emotions don’t apply to me. I have never felt burning rage, I have never felt my stomach have butterflies, only once have I felt proper guilt.

This is mainly gonna focus on the second, because it’s the one I have.

Affective alexithmyia is complicated, as is anything that describes a null. I’m going to break it down into questions. So, in my best attempt to break it down, let’s begin.

How do you experience things like emotions, then? Are you unfeeling?

Yes and no. Affective alexithmyia means you can’t really feel things on a conscious level. As said before,the whole metaphor things about emotions don’t hit me. They’re just words. I usually have to infer how I feel from my body; if I listening to music, which I do enjoy, I can feel like bopping to the music, tapping my foot to the beat, stuff like that. From that, I can infer I’m enjoying it. If I’m very snappish and rude and it’s around six pm, I can usually tell it’s because I’m either overwhelmed from work, or I haven’t ate. If I read a hateful message, or a sad one, I can simply ignore it. I don’t feel angry. I can look forward to deleting the message, but I don’t get any emotion from it itself.

This is all to say that I’m not unfeeling, usually. I can express emotions, but they don’t come out the same way as everyone else, nor am I usually aware of them. Sometimes, I can just not feel emotions. I went to my mother’s funeral, and didn’t shed a single tear, not really feel the loss. This is to say it really depends. Sometimes my emotions don’t manifest, sometimes they do. The overarching point is that alexithmiacs with the affective side of things experience things almost fundamentally different to most people.

I am basically incapable of holding a grudge. What little emotion I do feel fades quickly, like a summer storm. I can’t be angry at someone for more than like an hour, most.

Why does this matter? How does it affect things?

Well, having the condition of alexithymia can cause a hell of a lot of social problems, especially as it’s usually paired with things like autism. People don’t generally like unemotive people. They’re hard to read and understand which can lead to a harder social life, harder times relating to people, hell even parenting. I haven’t conducted any research, obviously, but there’s a chance not having a broad social life might not really matter to people with alexithmyia. It doesn’t to me, anyway.

It can also lead to internal problems, physical or emotional. Because your signals aren’t properly getting to your brain, you can have issues with feeling hunger or thirst, bowels or bladder. You’ll probably still feel the signals, but only when your body is screaming at you. I wouldn’t say this is a uniquely alexithmyia related issue as, like I said, it’s comorbid with a lot of neurodivergent conditions. This could be due to ADHD, or autism, etc. it also leads to motivational problems, at least for me. I can’t feel invested in things easily. I’m always aware that I’m reading a book, playing a game, and when it comes to being creative, it’s hard to put my pen to paper.

On an emotional level, like I said, it can cause social problems. I personally don’t experience things like most people. It can make me seem cold and unfeeling. It can also lead to a lot of questioning and mental problems, because I mean. You’re fundamentally different to your peers. That will screw you up. It’s why alexithmyia needs more study and needs to be better known.

Things like raising kids and having partners is also pretty hard, from what I’ve seen. How does one understand a kid’s emotions when you don’t experience any? Some links for parenting are here, here and here. Partner links are here, here and here.

It also matters because I, god mage of everything, decided it does. Can’t refute that, now can you!

How does one get alexithmyia? When does it affect you?

My understanding is it’s broadly a genetic thing. I have it, my dad has it. It can also apparently be caused by trauma, repressing of emotions.

Does it manifest in kids? No idea. I was a fairly bubbly kid, apparently, but that changed as I started to approach teenage hood. I assume it has something to do with signals being too weak to reach the body, similar to depression with serotonin and adhd, but I have no clue. I haven’t done detailed research.

How does this affect creativity? Are you all maths people?

No. Much like anyone else, we have a variety of jobs and desires. There are actors with alexithmyia, writers, scientists etc. no one is bound to one job because of their conditions. I am bad at maths, I like writing and acting. I know another who doesn’t really read or watch things too often but loves maths and wants to do farming.

People are unique, no matter what.

Who’s got alexithmyia in media?

Far as I’m aware? No one. No characters have my condition. I assume it’s due to a few factors.

One, this is very unknown. You can’t write something you’ve never heard about, at least not intentionally.

Two, it’s extremely difficult to write someone with an inability to feel emotions. Characters are often emotionally different. Can you imagine FitzChivalry without his rage and emotion, or Kaladin without his deep sense of honour, drive for change and depression?

I hope to one day write a story with an alexithmyic character, but it’s a long way off.

Conclusion

Alright, finished! If you have questions, send me an ask or something. I’ll try and answer.

Please note a lot of these links, all of them except for Zoe’s, are anecdotal. There are a few science links within the subreddit itself, and Zoe has a lot of sources for her stuff. I’m not going to do a research kind of post until I have a firm grasp of said research. This is merely my experience, and people who exist on reddit because that’s the only place I’ve found an alexithmyia community.

I’m also interested in hearing from creatives about this stuff, and how it affects your work. God knows it affects mine.

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

I just watched the exile performance after processing this week for a couple days…

and I got chills. Like we always thought the line “I gave so many signs” was directed at her fans, and her hypothetically saying goodbye to the unsupportive ones when she comes out.

But now in the context of the whole week and the other surprise songs it’s just so much more visceral, especially because her performance was so passionate.

Also the line “I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending”, it’s always made us think of how until recently gay storylines in movies and tv shows always had a tragic ending (someone dies or they break up because of homophobia)…

but now it hits in two ways: it’s directed at the fans who leave, “I’m so sad you’re leaving but also I’m jaded because I was told my whole career that I would lose you if I was my true self and how disappointing that you’re actually proving those suits right” (already sobbing!)

But also, this time I heard it a second way too: an echo maybe what she would have said to herself or to karlie when they first came up with their long term plan and she was scared it wouldn’t work - but now they’re SO close! So it’s also kind of a beautiful line that makes me want to cry in relief and pride for them.

They are rewriting their (expected) ending, they are rewriting the story of sapphic love in the entertainment industry, they are writing gay history.

[agentmmayy]

2023 monthly music rotation

it's been a hot minute since i've made one of these, but here are all my favorite songs from each month of 2023!

january:

one i wanna be with - trella: oh bop!!!!!!!!!!! this ENTIRE SONG just makes me so happy!!!!!!! it’s so full of love!!! every lyric hits but especially i can’t help but wish we met before we did.

february:

antiques - holden laurence: god the desperation in this makes me want to claw my chest open and rip my heart out. the beat fucks in this jaunty rhythm that’s such a juxtaposition to the haunting lyrics and vocals. then the bridge?????? i promise to be strong i promise to believe in love that lingers on i’ll see you in my dreams. I’M CALLING THE POLICE. this is a tess/joel song. not only because of how apocalyptic this feels (which is a whole other discussion) but also meet me in the space between all the words unsaid when we could not speak meet me i’ll be waiting for you there. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

march:

borderline - tove lo: HOT. listen. everything tove lo writes and sings is inherently sexy i don't make the rules. this one especially wtf!!!!!!

unrequited night - lily kershaw: i- please respect my privacy at this time. this is a masterpiece. immediately a song i listened to laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. VERY tlou coded. (but then again every song i listened to in feb/march and lbr this past year was) AND THE GASP AT THE END GETS ME EVERY TIME.

april:

flowers in my hair - calista garcia: sweet, slow, and syrupy. i love this song and how it feels like a breath of fresh air. it’s achingly romantic and has got me singing along and twirling my hair and kicking my feet. though, at the same time it’s so intimate i feel like i’m intruding. 

labor - paris paloma: the intensity of it still continues to blow my mind. it’s unapologetic and awful. it’s incredible. i felt every lyric in my gut. i don’t want to over explain it since i can’t do the song justice but it’s so brutally honest in describing and dismantling traditional roles placed upon women and girls. the entirety of it is like poking at a wound that never closes, a wound that’s been gaping and bleeding for centuries and it makes me so angry. the visceral reaction i had to the lyric ‘if we had a daughter’ girl i- ouuuuugh. i got sick to my stomach. i was screaming crying throwing up etc etc. anyway this song is a masterpiece. still haven’t recovered from it. also it’s a fucking bop. 

may:

‘i’m just learning how to make peace with feeling small’ ‘but i might drive off if it gets too hard’ ‘there’s always a sunset that i wanna run into’ ‘i’m searching but i’m not lost’ and my all time favorite lyric that put me on the floor when i heard it the first time- ‘i’m a growing tree a few missing leaves i can’t shelter you don’t sit under me’ HELLO????? 

vagabond - overcoats: THIS song. this song has been the one i played the most in may because one it’s an absolute banger and second of all it read me for filth and the lyrics are so beautifully crafted and honest and pure and delivered impeccably. it’s a sweet, slow melody and coupled with the lyrics it reached into the depths of my soul and pulled out everything i can’t say and put it into this song like.

fireworks - JOSEPH: now for ANOTHER song that read me for filth. lately i’ve been feeling this exact way since all my friends and people around me have reached certain milestones in life- such as getting married, settling down, etc- that i haven’t and i’m left even more alone and bereft. but THIS SONG said that’s okay!!!!!!!! this song understood!!!!!! it said i’m not alone feeling this way!!!!

every lyric absolutely sent me through the roof but these especially:  ‘all these long songs might be no good for me’ ‘how long will i wait to be happy all my friends ask me’ ‘what if i’m wrong wrong to think there’s more to this story’ ‘an act of faith even though it hurts to shut that door am i holding out forever?’ ‘am i headstrong or foolish every night waiting for lighting to strike whole you’ve got blue skies?’ and my favorite- ‘i wish i could just flip a switch and accept your kind of muted bliss’ WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! once again HOW did they put it into words!!!!!! this song has such a special place in my heart. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve not only listened to it but also screamed along and cried to it 

also, JOSEPH always creates the most compelling and just fun to listen to songs and this is no exception!!!!!!!!! the harmonies are delicious and the music dropping at certain points is incredible and the beat has me dancing around the room. filed right under beach music! 

moonlight - madison rose: i wore this song into the ground!!!!! AMAZING beat and vibe. liberating rejuvenating sexy etc etc.

june:

cowboy take me away - the chicks: me personally!!!!! my favorite version of cowboy take me away. i DO wanna touch the earth and break it in my hands but i ESPECIALLY wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall!!!!!!!!! every summer is cowgirl summer but this song just turned the dial to the max. never have i ever wanted a cowgirl summer more.

july:

satellites - emi larraud: this one was interesting! VERY 80s themed. it's funky. it's powerful. it's just groovy.

august:

wicked game - ursine vulpine, annica: alright i'm a sucker for these intense ballads especially when they remind me of the 100 but seriously. it's sensuous. it's an experience. the vocals are out of this world.

pretty boy - LEON: of course i had to put a LEON song on here. while this isn't my favorite of hers it was just so nice to get a new song from her again. i felt like a wilting flower getting watered. to no one's surprise it's a bop and delivers lines that absolutely wreck me such as you can't outrun getting old, that hidden place where hope lives, well that's the last it goes. ma'am!!!

september:

moonburn - dani sylvia: feeling very seen rn thank you!!!!!!!! literally spongebob leaning against rock.jpg every time i listen. it's- ough. this song has layers and i am peeling them back like an onion. when does the healing start if you leave before daylight. saying SO much in one line!!!!!!! it's the inversion of the typical light vs dark trope for me! and the chorus is immaculate.

super graphic ultra modern girl - chappell roan: chappell hit it out of the park with her first album and THIS SONG SPECIFICALLY. the absolute journey @152glasslippers and i went on listening to this... especially at 22 seconds in. WHEW. super graphic ultra modern girl IS THAT GIRL!!!!!!! SHE IS THE MOMENT!!!!!

october:

honest mistake - bears den: screaming shaking crying throwing up etc etc. bears den always writes songs that lift me by my ankles and shake me until every humiliatingly private thought comes tumbling out in the lyrics of their songs. also i love how consistent they are with the aesthetics and formality of their songs. it's very soothing while ripping me up inside.

mars - noelle: listened to this 60 times in a day. you don't understand i found this song 10/17 and spotify stopped tracking 10/31 and it was my most listened to song of the year. it's dreamy. it's sweet. the vocals are stunning and the music is fantastic.

heart to heart - now more than ever: banger. when that beat dropped i was shook!!!!!!!!!! it's a very early 2000s emo vibe but also delightfully contemporary? the vibes are there. oh and the lyrics and the way they're sung is amazingly bittersweet.

november:

swimming pool - jack kane: one of my favorites of the whole year. if spotify didn't stop tracking before november this would have been my top song. it is 100000% a slow sad groove bop. every time i listen maybe not physically but spiritually i am girl at table.jpg. formally this song is delicious and lyrically it is devastating.

december:

scorpions - distance sprinter : okay this one might be a contender for top song. impeccable. there's crack in this. the beat is OUTSTANDING. i literally can't play this in the car if i'm driving because i will start dancing. the vibes are off the charts. at no point in this song do you expect what's next. the lyrics are heartbreaking and beautiful. there's so much i can say about this song but i am gnawing on the words it's just so good.

TOP SONGS OF THE YEAR: these have 5 stars. to me. 6 stars even.

antiques - holden laurence

unrequited night - lily kershaw

vagabond - overcoats

fireworks - JOSEPH

moonburn - dani sylvia

swimming pool - jack kane

scorpions - distance sprinter