#SPIRIT WORLD ONGOING WHEN

[themyscirah]

Obsessed with the idea of Xanthe accidentally folding something/summoning something with their joss paper and then it's just like welp. I guess I have a dog now

[vaguely-concerned]

can you even imagine what a fucking horror show the early game is from spite's perspective, though. not only is this funky forcibly severed little slip of the fade having to deal with the reverse cosmic horror of physical reality as perceived by a spirit and being trapped in it against its will -- existentially confused and disoriented and hurting and nothing makes any kind of sense, at the mercy of human cruelty at its most deliberately sadistic. and then the one source of comfort and compassion and some kind of safety and clarity that lucanis surely must have been to him in the ossuary despite everything just goes and shuts himself in his room inside with a seemingly passive aggressive number of locks between them and no explanation and won't speak to him and they're STILL in the fucking ossuary. rook came and found them and they could be free now (rook is here!) and still lucanis keeps them in the ossuary even though he PROMISED he promised they'd get out of there together!!! what the fuck DO you think at that point? like did he trick me that whole time??? he wasn't like zara before, so why is he doing this to me now? why isn't he saying anything? 'he won't move. I can't reach him'. at least in the ossuary they had a deal, a goal, a hope -- each other. at least he wasn't entirely alone, before.

this poor poor poor little spite spirit really was ferried into the real world like 'hey welcome to reality! as your first introduction to it you're first getting horrifically tortured and then getting to vicariously experience one of THE most distressing and harrowing psychological conditions the human brain can cook up for itself (a fully fledged and deeply entrenched freeze response flaring up with catastrophic severity due to an unbroken ongoing and unlikely to let up any time soon chain of Unfortunately... Recent Events). I think spite is being extremely reasonable and patient about the whole thing, when you put it into perspective. I'm not saying let him eat the self-lighting candles or anything, but he's got some extremely valid points along the way lol. spite is not only child-like, the metaphor work going on is a lot more pleasingly flexible and complex than that, but he is also helplessly existentially dependent on lucanis in a way that, if anything, is a heightened version of the way a child (or child part) has to depend on a parent to navigate the world and survive.

tl;dr: we truly don't give enough sympathy to spite for having to live in the head of lucanis dellamorte. a place even lucanis dellamorte would prefer not to be. to be fair to him I think lucanis would be the first person to agree with this lol

[keyotos]

if this was a movie

summary — your book trope w/ hsr men!

includes — dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, & jing yuan

tana's words — i watched project x and let me tell you I WANT THOMAS SO BAD. something about a skinny nerdy white guy will ALWAYS GET ME. and then it inspired me to write different tropes bc project x is very 2010s trope type shi

also check out my note at the end!

dan heng

⎯ you guys are: grumpy x sunshine

⎯ i feel like out of all grumpyxsunshine duos you and dan heng would be the most chaotic grumpyxsunshine because to some extent the both of you are equally as unhinged.

⎯ if you ever need someone to pull you back when you get too erratic? leave it to dan heng! if dan heng needs someone to make him not sound as assholeish? leave it to you! you two balance each other out in the most perfect way

⎯the two of you reminds me of that one tiktok sound where it's like

"that's just the way he sounds, he has an asshole voice. tell him he's okay."

"everything's great."

"dude."

⎯ you two are my FAVORITE kind of grumpyxsunshine couple because you two are both so chaotic??

⎯ your energy is just so bouncy?? like you can bounce all over the place and you're just so energetic and he's over here like meh...

needless to say, he does appreciate your energy. most of the time, he usually fuels it (he says something purposefully boring bc you always refute his his boring response). your entire being makes him smile (which is rare), and that's why you guys work out so well.

and to add to my point, dan heng is just as important to you as well. you have a lot of energy, which is a good thing, but sometimes it can lead to distraction/erratic behavior/etc. dan heng is always the person who tugs you back to earth. he's your rock in every situation: he's the logical reasoning behind your ideas, he's your pragmatist, and he's your gravity, keeping you still and calm when needed.

— and i also wanted to indulge more in my hc that you and dan heng are so chaotic together

he doesn't shut down your ideas. he just adds logical reasoning to them. those are two very different things. if you have a good idea (you usually do) that sounds reasonable (it doesn't even have to be extremely reasonable either), he'll full on encourage it.

— so you could literally have the most random and out of pocket idea ever, and as long as you back it up with some evidence (doesn't even have to be good), dan heng will approve. i think that's true love.

⎯ such a chaotic duo like you would sacrifice yourself for the world but HE would definitely sacrifice the world for you.

gepard

⎯ you guys are enemies to lovers

⎯ ik a lot of people expect like friends to lovers or something softer but NO you guys are enemies to lovers.

⎯ gepard is so HEADSTRONG and STUBBORN which is why i think he’s the perfect person for the enemies to lovers trope. like ofc his love is going to be so sweet and kind later, but the beginning…

you two are both going to be very determined and you will both fight for what you believe in. that passion makes you two such a good couple, and it also makes your love exhilarating and ongoing, bc that stubbornness you two share will never go away.

you guys definitely have silly little banter and those moments where you guys accidentally brush hands and you guys both blush. lingering touches that may insinuate another feeling that gets you hot

⎯ but you two are like stubborn af. so no confessing anytime soon! it would definitely be a slow burn romance because of your stubbornness and you two are just in denial

⎯ i want to talk a bit more abt you two being enemies: i guess you ideals differ because gepard is so devoted to his orders while you are more of a carefree spirit. you’re more of a rule breaker and he’s more of a rule follower.

⎯ at first you would have rather died than ever spoke to him. his uptight nature and the way he acted so proper utterly pissed you off. serval would have to be the only way you could converse w/ gepard w/o biting his head off

⎯ in the end, after some forced proximity, you two would def be developing some feelings.

⎯ with enemies to lovers, there will be lots of pining. which is why i think enemies to lovers is the perfect gepard trope.

since he’s captain of the silvermane guards at such a young age, he probably doesn’t have a lot of experience in the relationship department. so he’s stuck dealing with being hopelessly and utterly in love with you

everything abt the enemies to lovers trope describes your relationship. the initial hatred, the touches, the PINING, the middle ground.

⎯ after you guys have like a hot make out session i think all the feelings will be cleared up (LMAO)

blade

⎯ your trope is: second chance romance

hear me out: you guys both met in the past because you two were both stellaron hunters. however, the paths you two chose were different. you two were so in love with each other, but destiny had other plans.

now we are in the present, where blade sees you once again, and all his feelings come crashing back down into him. everything he’s suppressed about you: your face, your smile, your laugh; it’s all coming back up

⎯ ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THE VISION!!!!

⎯ you guys make your first encounter, and (depending on your own scenario) it either ends in longing or pain. blade hasn’t seen you in (probably) years.

when you end up spending more time together, the tension is THICK. old feelings are obviously not gone. body language is all pointing to you. breathing gets faster and why do you really want to kiss him????

⎯ something abt intense pining and sexual tension just gets me y’all

there’s obviously past feelings in the air, and none of you want to acknowledge it. so, you two suffice on brushing each others’ hands when you walk past each other, long stares from across the room, and watching each other’s every move.

between the both of you, you would make the first move. it’d be like an accident; it would be one of those movie scenes where the girl/guy asks, “is this weird?” and the guy goes IN and he’s like “not at all.”

⎯ and then the next day you both are freaking out bc what if fails like last time??

idk something about longing and missing someone dearly just screams blade to me. the thought of someone on your mind 24/7. blade having you on his mind 24/7??

sampo

⎯ you guys are: fake dating

⎯ i’m a little on the fence but hear me out

⎯ you two agree to fake dating because it’s both mutually beneficial. it would be no strings attached. plus, you would be able to get away from that one guy who keeps flirting with you, and sampo has evidence that he can commit to something.

⎯ but when does “no strings attached” turn to more?

suddenly, the once friendly arm around the shoulder makes your heart beat quicker. the wink he always gives you makes your stomach explode with butterflies. the friendly offering of a rose makes you blush more than you should.

you aren't the only one affected. sampo swears he feels his heart skip multiple beats after he hears you laugh at one of his jokes. when you took his hand into yours once (it was an act to fool others), his heart nearly stopped in his chest. and suddenly he finds himself making more quips and trying to get closer to you, even though he knows the risks.

⎯ now, you both are left confused with your feelings bc BOTH OF U DON'T WANT TO MESS IT UP.

⎯ you both did not think it would turn out this way. before this, you were friends making a beneficial agreement. you guys were fine.

⎯ that is a lie. i just lied. you guys always had some thought about dating each other. sometimes sampo looked a little too good, and sometimes sampo found your eyes a little too mesmerizing…

back to present time. there is so much tension to the point where you both want to explode. and then there are thoughts. maybe you want sampo to be your boyfriend for real. maybe sampo does want commitment. scratch that, because he doesn’t want commitment. he wants you. he just wants you, and that’s all.

⎯ now how do you confess? or do you just hold in the feelings

jing yuan

⎯ CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS. I WILL NOT BE ELABORATING BC THIS HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE.

⎯ ik he was training hard asf in his childhood, but that doesn’t mean u couldn’t have snuck in (i haven’t got far enough in the game to know if you can or not LOL)

⎯ you guys are cute little buddies, because the both of you probably had no friends! and bc of that, an adorable bond formed between the two of you.

growing up, that bond would remain unchanged. even though you lived down w/ everyone else while jing yuan was living seclusively, that never stopped you from seeing him

honestly, you thought you were always going to be best friends. but when someone asked you if you were ever going to get a boyfriend, you realized that the only person you could really see yourself with was jing yuan.

⎯ teenage you had a CRISIS. like you were freaking out after you uncovered your recent revelation. bc you can’t see yourself w ANY GUY EXCEPT YOUR BEST FRIEND??? YOU WANT TO DATE YOUR BEST FRIEND????

⎯ you think you are the only one that feels this way but it’s a LIE. bc JING YUAN FEELS THE EXACT SAME WAY.

after his training, once he rests, his mind constantly flutters to you. sometimes he scolds himself for not focusing on criticism or improvements because he’s too distracted by the fact that you’ll be coming over that day. his thoughts are literally you.

⎯ there was a period in time where you both thought about confessing, however, the whole fiasco w/ his mentor got into the way of that. it was messy, it was sad, and it was not a good time for the both of you. bc of that, you two both set back your feelings due to personal reasons (you wanted him to be emotionally better, he didn’t want to be a burden).

it was years later when you two confessed your feelings for each other. you two were both looking at a photograph of the both of you when you guys were younger, and you confessed you had a crush on him back then.

bro goes, “i have a crush on you too.” and you were like, “haha we should’ve told each other,” but then you’re like PRESENT TENSE!?!?!?

⎯ eventually it is a happy ending in the end! obviously. hehe.

tana’s words ⎯ sorry this was a little vague 😭 if you would like for me to elaborate on some of these scenarios, lmk in my ask box!

[fiendishfables]

Hiii cookie bookie pookie bear, I was wondering if you could write for my short king again (lucifer)! Babyboy is short but how will he be with a gf/wife that is shorter than him! Rahh so cute ♡

Lucifer x Shorter S/O! Fem! Reader

Headcanons

warnings: fluff, short people jokes, Lucifer being an emotional dork and lover

words: 664

a/n: sorry for the lack of fics, I've been super busy and have had no motivation recently! Thanks for 300+ followers, I love y'all!

First of all, it's very rare that Lucifer finds anyone shorter than himself, so you'll have to excuse the literal squeal of excitement he emits the moment he sees you

When you first mention your romantic feelings for him, he had a field day

Someone like yourself, being so beautiful AND short, liking HIM?

He swore it was like being back up in Heaven again

Definitely never misses a chance to make a short joke, despite his own height misfortunes

The internet aided him in coming up with originals

"Hey, how's the weather down there?"

"My golly, it really is the little things in life that matter, isn't it darling?

You have attempted to bite his ankles a few times

Don't worry, if his jokes somehow ends up hurting your feelings, he will be quick to apologize and coddle you for the rest of the day

He is usually very ecstatic whenever you ask him to get anything for you off of a high perch; his chest literally swells with pride that he finally has someone who can come to him for that sort of stuff

"Oh, that old thing up there? No worries, my love. Step aside, step aside now."

Ends up having to get the kitchen stool

But by then, more often than not, it ends up with neither of you being able to reach it, not even with the help of his cane or the stool

Results in him having to get either his daughter, or the spider pornstar he usually tried to avoid if possible (mainly result of his intimidations due to his height, but he was a friend of Charlies)

He will physically deflate if he can't fulfill a need/request you have for him; it crushes his spirit

Likes to put his arm on your head whenever he stands next to you

Its a symbol of both his affection for you and his desire to playfully irritate you

Says you make a good armrest

He only got the satisfaction of saying it once though, because you kicked him harshly in the shin after

He thinks you are just the cutest thing when you're mad; he likes seeing you yell at other people, especially Alastor

But if you yell at him instead during these times, he will go wrap himself up in a blanket and have a breakdown on his own time

You wont see him for a good hour or two; he's off sobbing in some random corner

Eventually he will resurface and request your attention, which you gladly provide him with, apologizing and telling him your words were only humor based and not meant to be taken to heart

Lucifer is already such a sensitive soul, he claims you are turning him to mush by just being the cutest thing to ever behold him

He can't fathom the idea of ever making his precious lady mad at him

Loves getting you funny t-shirts and stuff that have short people jokes on them

Almost always insists on being the big spoon when the two of you cuddle

He's finally taller than someone for once in his life, okay?

He gets the chance to feel like he is effectively protecting someone, this time by covering them with his body like a shield; this has never happened before

Let him have this one victory; he feels accomplished, the poor baby

No one can deny that he has tons of fun with you, as he now gets to be the one who feels all high and mighty

Your height is an ongoing topic throughout the relationship

He often forgets that he himself still only stands just above five feet

He once even tried to fight Alastor because you genuinely make him feel like he's a 7ft giant

Safe to say he came back to you with his tail between his legs, feelings hurt, and still a whopping 5,2

But with you, he may as well have been standing on top of the world

[cityofmeliora]

notes on Primo's characterization 💖

let's talk about Primo! i think he's a really, really interesting character!

i've said before that i think Primo is the only one of the brothers who takes the whole ~satanic death cult trying to bring the end of the world~ thing seriously.

Primo was indeed very serious about the cult. maybe too serious? even some other members of the cult dislike that about him.

NAMELESS GHOUL: The first Papa Emeritus was someone very rigid, very strict, and very solemn. A real son of a bitch! (laughs) To be honest, we don’t miss him at all! MyRock #44 (2017) translated from French by @ a-wandering-ghoulette)

the best source of Primo characterization is a 2010 interview with Sweden Rock Magazine where Primo and the Nameless Ghouls kidnapped the interviewer. though i quote *a lot* of it here, i strongly recommend reading the full interview because it is truly fascinating. notably, Primo himself speaks in this interview rather than a Nameless Ghoul.

Primo is a misanthrope who believes humans are "vermin" that have doomed themselves due to their "intellectual decline". in his eyes, they are unworthy of life and will eventually be destroyed.

“Human beings are vermin, thus the end of humanity is ultimately a good thing. We play but a vanishingly microscopic role in this cosmos of nothingness.”

The devil-worshipping organization that the Ghost leader speaks of is claimed to operate on a worldwide level and among many different areas: from politics and business to religious movements, in the entertainment industry and on the street. It does not have a name, but its existence “can most easily be explained as a living and ongoing result of humanity’s intellectual decline and eventual decay.”

Primo affirms Ghost's mission statement as originally presented in the band's old Myspace page: to spread the devil's influence and convince other people that humanity deserves its inevitable end.

According to the statement on the band’s page, Ghost’s main mission is to trick mankind into believing that the end of the world is ultimately a good thing. “Our only task is to accompany the world’s downfall.”

A question comes to mind: wouldn’t the band, which with its poppy hard rock could by all means appeal to a much wider audience than ordinary black metal acts, gain more attention by engaging in more commercial modes of expression? “We have other entertainment groups within our organization who are doing just that. Our task is to emphasize the devil’s message in the part of society that has, to varying degrees, already accepted it. It’s directed at the social grouping that goes to the type of concerts that we perform. Our goal is to be able to carry out our black mass, our ritual, for them. Other members of the cult work with far more subtle modes of expressions, better suited for consumers who are not as receptive to the truth.”

though he openly calls the organization a cult, his religious belief is sincere.

to Primo, the band's anonymity and use of costumes are a way of showing reverence and humility in their task. if Satan is the Father, and Antichrist is the Son, the band is the (unholy) Ghost: the force which connects humanity to the power of the Father and the Son. for the audience to think of Primo or the Nameless Ghouls as individual people would distract from their message. when he takes on the role of Papa, he becomes one with their cause.

You refer to yourselves as a group of nameless spirits - should this be taken literally? Is the band actually something other than human? “To make it easier for mortals to deal with the fact that we, as individuals, have no significance in this experience, we have chosen to act as ghosts - hollow and diffuse.”

Why did you, as a leader, choose an outfit so similar to the one worn by the Catholic Pope? “For the Pope it is a way of showing reverence and seriousness, and at the same time humility before his task. He uses it to step into the body that is the essence and the fog, something we advocate too. It is our way of becoming one with the fog.” Things become clearer when the leader speaks of the meaning behind the name of the band: “Akin to the tripartite view so stubbornly proclaimed by the Christian faith, we too believe there is magic in the concept of three and we are part of it: there is a god, Satan, a son, Antichrist, and a ghost in the middle that is the inexplicable - the fog.”

Primo has a theistic view of Satan, believing he is real deity who speaks through / inspires the band's music. in this way, the Ghoul Writer could be considered a sort of prophet to him.

That’s right. Ghost have their music written for them. In one online interview, a so-called “ghoul writer” is mentioned who supposedly composes melodies and lyrics with the help of ungraspable powers from beyond – devilish whispers instruct him which words should accompany which chords, and so forth. “There is indeed a human individual who composes patterns of tones and words which operate ever so beautifully in unison. However, I am of the belief that there is a higher being who speaks through this individual,” asserts the Pope.

like a proper cultist, Primo cannot imagine having a life / identity outside of the cult. he remembers that there was once a time when he was not a member of the cult, but he cannot remember what it was like to be that person. his devotion to the cult has been a core part of who he is for a very long time.

How he got involved in this movement and dedicated his life to Satan, he has a hard time answering. After a long silence, the singer says: “I find it very difficult to remember the life I had before I found the darkness. It is therefore very difficult to answer your question. My memory doesn’t go that far.” Surely the Pope must remember something?           “I cannot remember a time when I did not find myself part of the dark energy. That does not mean that I remember nothing from my past life, only that I cannot remember how I felt then. This is because it was a time when I did not know very much.” Was it by coming into contact with other members of the organization that you found this darkness? “As I said, I do not remember when this happened. But I think…” He chooses his words carefully. “… I believe that, like many others, I was woven into this dark through subtle, human components found within it. Once again, my intellect was not as developed as it is now, so I have great difficulty in explaining what happened - when and where, and to what extent.”

while he cannot say exactly what happened to him or when, Primo seems to have had genuine spiritual experiences. he was always connected to the dark energy, and he feels that he became awakened and that his intellect has developed since he truly found his faith.

despite being a misanthrope, Primo admits he was brought into the darkness by some sort of human connection. he might actually have the capacity to care about some people.

in a Kerrang feature where Primo gets quizzed on "demonology, serial killers and stuff like that", he says the cult knew witches who were burned at the stake, but he doesn't like to talk about it. it stood out to me that he says he doesn't want to talk about it, because he speaks so openly and matter-of-factly about other dark / upsetting topics. at the very least, it appears he doesn't like it when bad things happen to other members of the cult.

WHAT DOES THE PHRASE MALLEUS MALEFICARUM TRANSLATE AS IN ENGLISH? A) HAMMER OF THE WITCHES B) HAMMER OF THE DEMONS C) HAMMER OF THE GODS PAPA: “That would be the witch-hammer. We knew some Witches, but unfortunately a lot of them were taken away.” KERRANG!: “As in burned at the stake?” PAPA: “Correct. But I don’t like to talk about that. (Answer: A) ✔

he seems to be quite pleased about other people dying, though. and he is certain they all go to Hell.

6. NAME ANY TWO OF THE THREE ORIGINAL MEMBERS OF MAYHEM. PAPA: “Though one was not an original member two of the band are actually burning in Hell, and they’re good guests, certainly. But yes, I will say Euronymous and Necrobutcher.” (Answer: Euronymous, Necrobutcherr, Manheim) ✔ 7. WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THE SHIP THAT WAS DISCOVERED FLOATING ABANDONED AND UNMANNED IN THE ATLANTIC OCEAN IN DECEMBER 1872? PAPA: “It was that ship with such a heavenly name, the lady Mary Celeste.” KERRANG!: “And can you finally tell us where all the people went?” PAPA: I’ll check the records. Obviously they’re all in Hell now, but the way they got there is a little cloudy. But then our Lord too works in mysterious ways…“ (Answer: Mary Celeste) ✔

some of Primo's other responses in this article reveal he has a dark sense of humor and perhaps cruel inclinations. when talking about possessions done by the cult, he says "sometimes you just want to do it for the hell of it" and "you want to make a bit of sport out of it", referring to a possession that (allegedly) influenced a serial killer. he refers to the victims of these possessions as "poor [name]", but his remarks on their misfortune don't indicate any actual remorse or sympathy. it might even be intentionally ironic.

5. WHICH PAINTER ALLEGEDLY UNDERWENT AN EXORCISM IN 1947? PAPA: “Poor Salvador Dali. You know we had his missus possessed as well, all in the name of Satan…” KERRANG!: Is possession something that’s done for serious reasons or just to pass the time? “Well sometimes you just want to do it for the hell of it…”  (Answer: Salvador Dali) ✔

13. WHAT AMERICAN SERIAL KILLER CLAIMS HE WAS COMPELLED TO COMMIT HIS MURDERS BY A DEMON THAT POSSESSED HIS NEIGHBOUR’S DOG? PAPA: 'That was that poor boy, the Son Of Sam. That sure was a successful possession, although it did involve far too much crotch-sniffing and turd-eating.“ KERRANG: "Is it easier to possess a dog than to possess a person?” PAPA: “Not necessarily, but you want to make a bit of sport out of it.” (Answer: David Berkowitz/Son Of Sam) ✔

also, many of the events Primo speaks about would've happened before he was born or when he was very young, so it seems he's studied the cult's history very well, and he keeps tabs on their current activities. he does his research!

and as a fun fact: Primo is pretty good at math :)

14. IF YOU’RE TRICK OR TREATING AND THREE HOUSES GIVE YOU SEVEN SWEETS, TWO GIVE YOU FOUR, AND ONE GIVES YOU NINE, AND YOUR PARENTS THEN DOUBLE WHAT YOU HAVE, HOW MANY SWEETS DO YOU END UP WITH? PAPA: “76.” KERRANG!: “That was alarmingly fast, sir. Are good mathematical skills important when you’re burning in the fiery pits of Hell?” PAPA: “We all have our different strengths, but of course the number we are most used to is 666…” (Answer: 76) ✔

there's not a lot of information about Primo, and what exists is hard to find, but i live to bring knowledge to the people 🫡. these are all the sources i have on hand that talk about Primo. if anyone else has other articles / videos talking about Primo, i'd really appreciate it if you shared them!

[madridfangirl]

Escape

Jude Bellingham comfort blurb.

Summary: Literally the title. Jude finds an escape from ongoing shit with the people he loves the most.

(Characters from Star Crossed Lovers.)

.................................................................................

'Heyy you.'

'Heyy.'

Ananya was met with a glum face and a glum voice when she video-called her boyfriend. Last 2 days were nothing short of hell for him. She had been away for her cousin's wedding in India, but the Clasico had bummed her out as well. They had exchanged messages and had a brief call but the wedding celebrations didn't leave her much time to spend with Jude.

And when she saw the Balon d'or fiasco while scrolling through her insta at the airport, her first reaction was disbelief. She wanted to throw her phone at the nearest wall. The travesty and scandal of the whole thing was beyond comprehension.

But she got her reaction out of her system before reaching out to him, knowing he would be 10 times as upset. Just last night he had sent her images of the fully done up suit, along with the classy watch (which she had picked). He had been so excited for the podium finish, to actually attend as one of the best players in the world and not an 'upcoming' player anymore. The post-event party was going to be epic too. But alas - the universe conspired against them real hard.

'How are you?'

'How do you think?'

He responded curtly, then checked his tone immediately.

'Just blah.'

'I know. Me too.'

'When did you see?'

'Just now when I reached the airport.'

She was about to board the connecting flight to Madrid.

'You?'

'Been a few hours.'

'You didn't tell me?'

'Didn't know where you would be. Didn't wanna upset you also.'

Upset was a massive understatement for what she was feeling right now. She wanted to burn down the world. Not just as Jude's girlfriend, but as a Madridista more.

But, she told herself what's done is done. She had to be strong for him. Both of them couldn't have a meltdown at the same time.

'Honestly thought it would be a good distraction from Saturday. But nahh. Man I still can't believe this is true.'

'Me neither. Part of me feels I'd wake up from this nightmare any second.'

'Yeah.'

'When do you go back to training?'

'Day after. Got tomorrow off as well now.'

'Hmm. Denise must be pampering you loads?'

First hint of a smile from the boy, as he thought of his mother fondly.

'Hotdog, pasta, cake, hugs - everything.'

'Awww. Didn't sing you a lullaby?'

She teased fondly.

'Won't put it past her.'

A half-smile again.

Jobe & Mark couldn't make it for the Clasico. Jobe's schedule didn't permit that. The brothers loved nothing more than to be there to support each other for big matches but the realities of their calendars barely permitted that.

Ananya hoped they had been able to make it. Would have been a massive comfort to Jude right now.

But Denise was a superwoman when it came to making Jude feel better & taking care of him. One of the best mums in the world.

Ananya had seen their bond up close for an year now. So she knew he was in good hands.

'She's the best.'

Ananya smiled genuinely at the screen.

'Don't know what I'd do without her honestly.'

He paused for a moment.

'And, without you.'

'Oh you'd walk around the streets crazy if it wasn't for me.'

She shrugged, grinning.

Jude smiled. The kind of smile that recahed his eyes. The ability of this girl to uplift his spirits, just by existing, befuddled him so much.

'How long till I see you?'

'Three hours. Boarding in 5 and coming straight to you from the airport.'

'Come sooner.'

She shook her head fondly at the screen.

'Unless you suddenly turned into Tony Stark and discovered a portal through time & space, not possible to come faster than a plane.'

'Such a nerd.'

'Proud of it.'

'Seriously, come soon.'

'Close your eyes. Take a nap. I'd be there when you wake up.'

Colour drained from his face at her words. He had barely slept AT ALL last two days. Even Denise's cuddles hadn't helped.

'Yeah, will try.'

'Jude, look at me.'

He looked up immediately.

'It's done. It sucks but it's done. Nothing will change it. Don't let it burn you from the inside. Last 2 days were shitty but we can only go up from here, yeah?'

'Easier said than done.'

'With you. 100%. It'd feel shitty for a while but hey, next 1.5 days, lets shut out the world and focus on what's dear to us, what's important, yeah? There is more to life, we both know that.'

'Hmmm.'

'I'll be there by lunch time. Should I get some Toblerone?'

'Yeah.'

'Cool, see you soon baby.'

'Come soon.'

'I'm coming.'

When she landed in Madrid and checked her phone, there were 5 missed calls from Jude. and a message to call him back as soon as she saw it.

Alarmed, she rang him up immediately.

'Hey, where are you? Don't leave the airport.'

'What?'

'We are going to Corsica for a day.'

'WHAT?'

'Mum and I are at the private section of the airport. There is a car waiting for you on arrivals. Sending you the details. Take that & come here. We fly out in 15.'

'Back up. What the hell are you saying? This doesn't make any sense.'

'Makes all the sense. I don't have training tomorrow and you have an off tomorrow. We'll come back early on Wed morning. 2 nights in Corsica. Resort is booked and the flight time is 1.5 hours. I researched, dove. Planned to the T. Now stop wasting time & get here.'

Ananya couldn't register anything he was saying. Freaking out hard at the idea of taking a holiday together with his mum. Sure they had stayed together at his Madrid house many times and she had even visited the family in theri Birmingham home during the summer and she had a good relationship with Denise.

But a holiday with your boyfriend's mum was a big step.

Of all the reasons she had to freak out, she chose the silliest one to voice out loud.

'I don't have any clothes for Corsica.'

'You'd be with me. Why do you need clothes?'

'JUDE.'

'Relax, she's not with me right now. On the phone with dad. Complaining I've gone mad. Her exact words - come get your son he's driving me crazy.'

'I'm with her on this.'

'Did you find the car yet?'

'Yes but Jude..'

'Dove I need this. Can't be here right now. Can't even be in this city. Need an escape. Need you guys. Please?'

There was no way on Mother Earth she could have said no to that voice and those words.

'Ok.'

The plane took off exactly 10 mins later. Ananya insisted on wearing a mask while boarding - the relationship was not public and if there was any chance she was seen with him (Jude insisted it won't happen coz private terminal) then at least they won't get her face.

'Why Corsica?'

'Remote. Pretty. Haven't been there. And you said it's on your list right?'

She had seen the place in a movie and told him about it. Months ago.

'Yeah. But...'

'You shouldn't be the one having to plan all this right now. We should be taking care of you.'

'You are. By being with me right now.'

He leaned down & kissed her, something she was still getting used to in the presence of his family. It had taken Jude some time to understand that PDA worked differently where she came from, and both had gravitated to a midway here.

They landed soon, on a private airstrip of a luxury resort.

Ofcourse.

Ananya didn't even dare to think how much a place like this would have costed. Coz it was luxury personified. Grand sea-facing villas. Normally, she would have told Jude this was too much. But now was not the time. The boy had the right to do whatever he wanted right now.

Instead, she focused on the clear blue waters in sight. And wondered if the place would have a shop to buy at least something appropriate.

The staff walked them to their villa. While Ananya admired the white marbles and fancy chandeliers all around.

'This is us. And that's you, mum.'

Ananya walked in. And kept walking. The place was never ending. Two bed rooms. Three washrooms. Private pool. Sea-facing deck. And a bunch of other rooms she couldn't even understand the purpose of.

'You took 2 villas?'

'Yup.'

'Why? This place can fit a village.'

'Why do you think?'

He said without missing a beat.

'Seriously?'

'I meant what I said about the clothes.'

He said matter of factly, while adding the wifi password to his phone. Leaving his girlfriend gaping at him.

'You can take off that mask now.'

'Oh yeah.'

She had forgotten about that. So lost in this place, and in him.

When his brows furrowed while gaping through his phone, Ananya interved.

'Gimme that.'

'What?'

'No phones while we are here. Let's try that?'

That didn't seem like a bad idea. He did want to forget about the world outside, atleast briefly.

'What should we do then?'

'Lets watch a movie? Ask Denise if she'd be up for it.'

'Naah she's cranky. I literally dragged her out of bed mid-nap. Not knocking on her door now she'll be mad.'

'Cool then we can watch something. On the deck maybe? Sea breeze would be nice.'

'Or we could do some other things. On the deck also if you want.'

She just shook her head at him in exasperation, and he knew it meant a no. But he also knew a no was only for now. She won't keep him waiting for long, not when she wanted to make him feel better.

Honestly, he just did it to get a reaction from her, something he enjoyed a fair bit.

Not having the constant buzz of the phone next to him helped a ton. As did the soothing air. The serenity seeping into his pores.

They watched a random rom-com, with Jude's running commentary on how cheesy it was.

'Please, have you seen you? You are cheesier.'

'Take that back.'

'Nope.'

'Name one cheesy thing I do.'

'Kissing me through the phone?'

'That's not cheesy.'

'Yeah sure.'

The bickering went on, as the movie kept playing in the background.

Denise sent her a quick 'how's he doing?' and she responded with an 'ok.'

After the movie, they did do a few other things he wanted. Not on the deck though, no way she was going to allow that.

It was time for dinner. The resort had set up a table sea-side for them.

'I literally have nothing to wear Jude.'

'Wear my jersey. I have it somehwhere.'

'What a great idea to not draw attention.'

But wearing one of his oversized shirts was the only option. With her jeans.

How badly she hoped she had a dress with her right now. Especially in a fancy ass place like this.

But the shirt, which made her look like a homeless person, will have to suffice. She tucked it in, doing the best she could.

'Don't tell me you're gonna wear a mask here as well.'

'On the way, yes. On the table, it's already dark at the beach.'

He raised his hand in surrender, knowing she'll do what she wanted.

They reached the table and Denise was wearing a supremely elegant dress. And Ananya wanted to jump in the deep waters.

She glared at Jude sideways, and he avoided it pointedly, starting a random conversation with his mum.

Jobe face-timed shortly, and Jude took the phone to show the scenery to Jobe. Denise watched them from a distance, content.

'How was he last 2 days?'

'Oh bad. Very rarely have I seen him like this.'

Ananya hummed.

'But he looks better now. Your being here helped.'

Jude had learnt the matter-of-fact mode of speaking from his mother. He was a carbon copy in this department, and in many other departments.

The said boy returned to the table then, giggling at something Mark was yelling in the background. About Jobe not finishing his dinner.

'I'm 19 dad. 19.'

'19 year old boys don't need to eat anymore.'

'Jobe - why aren't you eating?'

Denise chimed in and Jobe looked distraught.

'You guys - seriously?'

'They're right. You shouldn't skip meals, not on a school night.'

Jude added with a straight face

'Shut up, loser.'

'You're a loser.'

'Ananya - if you love me, you'd make him sleep on the floor tonight.'

She was happily sipping on wine, which she choked on when she heard her name in the middle of the family conversation. And in the context with which Jobe said it.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to string words together, but Jude stepped in to help.

'Who said she loves you?'

That did not help.

'Ananya - tell him you love me.'

'Ummm...'

'Alright stop it boys. Jobe - you have training tomorrow. Go to bed now.'

The ever disciplined Denise made her presence known.

'Gosh you guys. I'm 19. NINETEEN.'

'Still a teen.'

'I hate you, bro.'

'Right back at you, bro.'

They hung up shortly after, with another firm nudge from Denise.

When they were wrapping up, Denise took Ananya to the side.

'He hasn't slept in two days.'

'Yeah I figured.'

'Should we give him something?'

'No I think today maybe different. Let me try. Otherwise lets do that tomorrow.'

'Yeah ok. Just....can you check....'

'I'm on it, Denise.'

She smiled reassuringly at the worried mum. And the mum smiled back.

After the usual activities that night in bed, Ananya sighed softly as she was half-laid over Jude's chest. The shirt from earlier laid crumpled over the floor.

'Told you clothes are not a problem.'

'Oh shushhh.'

The sound of his giggle gave her such joy.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Ofcourse.'

'How are you? Truly?'

'Babe...'

'Please? It's important to talk, Jude.'

He was quiet for 2 minutes.

'Hasn't fully sunk in yet. Either thing.'

'I get it.'

'Makes me question a few things.'

'Like?'

'Like how good I am?'

Jude did not like such vulnerability. But the words just started flowing when he was with her.

'You don't need the validation of THOSE people to know how good you are.'

'What about my people?'

'Like?'

'Club. Coach. Squad.'

'Sweetheart - they know more than your family & friends. They are the ones who put you on this pedestal last year.'

'Am I still there though, on that pedestal?'

'What do you feel?'

'Things have changed.'

'For the better or for the worse?'

'A bit of both sometimes. Don't know how to explain.'

'No I get it.'

'Hmm.'

'And I think you should talk to him. He loves you, you know that.'

It didn't need to be said that they were talking about Carlo.

'It can get messy if I do that.'

'Do it nicely. It'd get messier if you don't. Jude, if your head is not in the right place, you think we have a real shot at winning everything?'

'Am I talking to my girlfriend or a Madridista?'

'Both. And both are telling you the same thing. So listen to both.'

'You know I'm not great at these conversations.'

'That's crazy. You're great at addressing things head on. Just do that.'

'Mum said the same thing.'

'See? I knew it.'

'You're so like her sometimes.'

'Like how?'

'Like how smart you are. How correct.'

'Yeah - well - I'm smart can't help it.'

She giggled and he pulled her up for a sloppy, messy kiss.

'Tell me it'll get better.'

'It's you. You will not rest till it gets better. You will turn the world upside down to make it better. And well, it's Real Madrid. No one can keep us down for long.'

'You really should work at the club you know. They'd love you.'

'My dream job. But my current one pays a lot more.'

'Hmmmm.'

As she laid wrapped in his arms, Jude felt a sense of contentment that had evaded him last 2 days. He thought his world was crumbling down, while his world was right there in his arms. And next door. And in Sunderland. And in Birmingham. The pieces of his heart were around him to make him whole again. Ultimately, that's what mattered. This was the most important thing. And he will turn the world upside down till he gets to the very top of it, again. Which was his rightful place anyway.

............................................................................

Written in 2 hours. Not edited at all.

Just me talking to myself, anything to distract from this mess.

Hope you like it.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Folly of Gel’vana

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The Terminus class warship “Gel’vana”, named after her captain of the same name, was the largest warship the Mogabi had ever constructed.

Outfitted with the latest technology, coupled with enough armaments to equal any single fleet, the ship was unlike anything the galaxy had seen set to sail amongst the void sea. The batteries of void cannons alone were capable of cracking tectonic plates like gingerbread.  

It didn’t take long for the intentions of such a ship to be made obvious as no sooner had it been launched from the orbital dockyards above the Mogabi homeworld did they declare war upon their galactic neighbor the Techno Autocracy.

The sentient machines held control over numerous mineral rich worlds that the Mogabi long since craved and so they dispatched the Gel’vana to drive the Autocracy out. Swarms of drones and carries were dispatched outnumbering the lone warship a ten thousand to one, yet the Gel’vana carved through them like a hot knife through butter. None of their weapons could pierce the warships shields as it unleashed devastating barrages against the mechanical adversaries.

By the conclusion of the Battle of Raxsus III the Autocracy had been crippled militarily and ceded control of the planets in question.

Emboldened by their victory, three months later the Mogabi declared war on their northern neighbors of the Tumani and Yulnucks. The pair had been locked in an ongoing border dispute for three years and the resulting conflicts had caused waves of disruption within the Mogabi trade network.

The pair was swiftly conquered by the Mogabi fleet with the Gel’vana leading the effort. Both fleets were swatted aside and their homeworlds conquered and instated as new vassal clients of the growing Mogabi empire.

This sad display of power played out again and again for the next ten years until to Mogabi controlled some twenty star systems, fifty worlds, and a dozen different client species serving their needs with resources and manpower. Their hubris was matched only by the fear they instilled when their enemies learned the Mogabi had dispatched the Gel’vana to their system. It was a sentiment that Mogabi felt with their soon to be latest acquisition.

A small empire of planets controlled by a species called “Humans”.

In short order the Gel’vana arrived in the human sol system and expected a fight. To their surprise they were met by a lone warship and a message of surrender.

To say the Mogabi were surprised would be an understatement. They had heard of the prowess of the human war machine and their spirit for conquest. Even with their previous victories the Mogabi were expecting a protracted war that could last decades and cost thousands if not millions of lives.

Human diplomats contacted the Gel’vana and expressed that they had no wish to see their people devastated by a long war. They were willing to negotiate with the Mogabi and give them favorable terms, even the possibility of limited subjugation, conditional on two terms.

1st: No human world would be subject to excessive occupation.

2nd: The human diplomats wished to sign the agreements onboard the Gel’vana as a sign of respect to both of powers.

The first the Mogabi could understand, but the second confused them.

Humans explained that while they were surrendering they still had a measure of pride to take into account. By signing the treaties onboard the Gel’vana they would show that it took the universes mightiest warship to bring them to heel.

Even with the explanation some of the Mogabi were still skeptical, but so drunk on their own supposed power the command staff ignored their suspicions and agreed to the terms.

Slowly the human ship approached the Gel’vana; the shadow of the Mogabi warship swallowing up the entire vessel like the maw of a great sea beast of old. A long lone docking tube extended outwards and latched on to the human ship and pulled it close as the Mogabi delegation gathered at the entry point ready in full military uniform.

As the tube finally stopped moving and the lights turned green, the entry door began sliding open slowly. When it finally slid fully open the Mogabi had just moment to register the tip of the Nova Warhead pointing right at them.

Before any of them could react the ignition triggered and the missile flew the length of the docking tube into the waiting Mogabi delegation, splattering several before colliding into the wall and detonating in a violent explosion.

While it was true that the Gel’vana was nearly impervious to exterior attacks, it was not designed to handle internal explosions. The detonation of the Nova warhead set off a series of secondary explosions in nearby ammo storage chambers which further added to the detonations until finally reaching the main reactor and setting off a critical overload.

In a single moment the deadliest warship the solar seas had ever seen was reduced to a momentary star of light and wreckage before being swallowed into the gravity well of Jupiter.

So assured in their own supremacy, the Mogabi failed to conduct even the most basic of scans of the human ship. Had they done so they would have seen that there was not a single soul on board, and quickly realized the ship was being remotely operated via a series of spy satellites floating throughout the Sol system. The destruction of the Gel’vana was recorded by one such satellite and then broadcast throughout the Mogabi Empire.

��Uprisings erupted throughout the entirety of their domain as their freshly conquered territories were all too eager to overthrow their oppressors; many of these rebellions aided by fresh contingents of human warships flooding in and engaging the scattered Mogabi forces.

Within six months the Mogabi Empire was no more and the human forces retreated back to their own domain. Many had expected the humans to become the new overlords, and it was a sentiment toyed with by some notable human leaders in flights of fancy; but that is all they were, flights of fancy. Their only interest had been in the complete and utter destruction of the Mogabi.

In their arrogance of sending a single warship to conquer humanity the Mogabi had done more harm to their cause then they could have ever imagined. They had wounded human pride at the insinuation that they were so frail and weak that they would cower beneath the gaze of one ship.

With their revenge carried out they were all too happy to leave the former vassals finish off what remained of the Mogabi; a vengeance they were all too happy to watch play out from afar.

[zepskies]

Outlander - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Ready for some more Cowboy Dean? Here we go with Outlander Part 1! This is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

This sequel series will be 4 parts! 💜

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Suggestiveness/implied smut and spice, hunting (in the more traditional sense), angst, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. **Pronunciation guide at the end!

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Two Worlds

Her people call this river Little Cheyenne. It’s because Big Cheyenne cuts through the land of the Sioux Indians by half, but Little Cheyenne almost meets it in the south, stretching all the way up to the Black Hills.

Mila’s tribe has always lived near this river. Its waters have bled red during battles with other tribes, and sometimes during battles with White Men.

The White Men’s fort, the one her husband came from, lies farther down in the south. The tribe had to move their village higher north along the river after Mila returned with Dean Winchester, just to be safe.

On a cloudy afternoon, Mila scrubs at a bundle of dirty clothes until they’re clean. She rinses them off in the river and is thorough about her work, but she knows she can’t be here much longer. She has a stew simmering on hot coals in her tipi…

Well, the one she now shares with her husband.

Unconsciously, she smiles. She remembers leading Dean through the tribe, to the place where she hoped he would find rest. They stopped at the foot of her tipi. 

“This one’s yours?” he asked.

She paused, giving him another small smile. 

“Ours.”

Mila continues scrubbing, though she frowns when her fingers slip through a tear in one of the new tunics she made for him (even though he keeps calling it a shirt). The tear was made by a blade, or maybe an arrowhead, she realizes. 

The crunch of feet on the riverbed’s gravel makes her raise her head and look over her shoulder. Unease prickles down her spine. She braces herself for a familiar shadow, come to disturb her peace.    

But then she relaxes. She’s being joined by two of the older women in her tribe. Mila has known them her whole life, and so she calls them tunwin. Aunt. They both greet her kindly and kneel beside her with their own bundles of clothes for washing, but Eyota, the older one, has a sharper eye. She is their tribe’s medicine woman. 

“Your husband wears out his clothes,” she remarks.

“He’s been working hard training with Šóta and the other men,” Mila explains.

“He seems to be learning quickly,” says Misae. She has a more playful glint in her eyes. “Who knew that you could catch and tame a White Man. Looks like they are no different from wild horses.”

Mila smiles slightly, but it’s not genuine. She nods in agreement. “He’s learning quickly.”

She holds her tongue from saying anything else, even though she wants to. Dean isn’t a man to be tamed, any more than she was, in his people’s eyes. She aims to change the subject. 

“Do you have any good herbs or spices for wahonpi? I’ve had the stew simmering all morning,” she asks Eyota. Not only is she a gifted healer, but Eyota is also one of the best cooks, and she knows it. She nods and straightens her shoulders the way she always does when someone asks her for advice—and even when they don’t ask for it.

“Of course, child. What you need is…”

“Goddamn it,” Dean huffs under his breath.

The jackrabbit flees from him again, or more accurately, from his terribly aimed arrow. He’s an excellent marksman…just not with a bow, it seems.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong here, and he’s not likely to figure it out. Not by the way Takoda, Šóta, and the other men are laughing at him.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows when he’s being hazed.

These men are bare-chested warriors, each of them richly tanned under the sun. Most of them wear their hair long, half of it gathered high on their heads, or braided in some way. Šóta is his wife’s cousin, and as the Chief’s son, he wears a small adornment of eagle feathers threaded into his hair. His closest friends are Takoda and Otaktay. Both of them laugh at Dean the most, and in their language, using just enough gestures and body language that Dean knows he’s being talked about. They point at his boots and his brown Stetson hat—two of the only things he’s kept of his own that make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

Finally, Šóta goes over to him. “Good try,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.

Dean knows he can’t punch out Mila’s cousin, no matter how bad he’s asking for it. Somehow, Dean manages to hold onto his temper.

“What’re they saying?” he asks lowly, gesturing at the two chuckle brothers.

Šóta’s lips twitch. He glances down at Dean’s feet. “They say your…shoes are loud on the earth. You give yourself away before the animal even catches your scent.”

Dean’s given up a lot of things, but his boots won’t be one of them. He wants to learn. He wants to belong here, in Mila’s world, but he also wants to stay himself.

So the men move on, mounting their horses. Dean rides with Baby at a plodding clip. Her black coat ripples with a healthy sheen. He thinks she’s come to enjoy the more natural surroundings and freer pasture of the grasslands, and he can’t deny, this part of it all feels right. The sun peeks through between the dappled leaves of oak trees, painting the ground in red, green, and gold. It’s quiet and beautiful here as Šóta leads the pack through the forest, just southwest of the village.

Eventually, he stops them between a denser thatch of trees and shrub. He raises a hand signal that Dean’s come to recognize. He raises his bow belatedly after the others though. He follows Šóta’s line of vision, and there is a deer grazing in a small clearing. A young buck.

Šóta signals at Dean. Try again, his eyes say.

Dean takes in a deep, quiet breath through his nose, and he takes aim.

He really misses his damn rifle.

Dean shoulders the sting of failure while he makes his way through the camp, leading Baby by the reigns. He drops her off at the large horse pen. There he feeds her and brushes her long coat, all while murmuring soft affectionate things. She’s still one of his only friends here.

But even she leaves him short to join her new friend, Mato. The two have become thick as thieves. Mato greets the black mare with a friendly whinny. Their noses touch in affection, and Mato playfully nips at her ear.

Dean raises his brows. “Well, that’s a little more friendly than usual. You guys start courting when I wasn’t looking?”

He walks over to Mato, who’s softened up to him in recent weeks.

“You sly dog,” Dean remarks, smirking. “Didn’t even ask me for her hand.”

Mato blows a hot breath through his nose at Dean, who has to blink, wiping his face.

“Now that’s just rude.” Still, he offers the mustang an apple from his pocket. Mato takes it from his palm, letting Dean rub his neck while he munches on his snack. “As fathers-in-law go, you lucked out, pal. See? I’m a delight.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Baby had her first foal by spring. Dean grins at the thought, but it soon falls. If only his father-in-law were so easy to please.

His mind dwells on it as he starts making his way back to the heart of the village. Chatan, Mila’s father, hasn’t warmed up to him any better than Šóta or the other men. Tahatan is the only one of them who treats Dean civilly, and overall, he seems to be a good leader.

Dean has that thought, just when he sees the older man himself walking with a woman Dean sort of recognizes. She wears a long necklace made of blue beads and seashells. Tahatan goes into her tipi, even though Dean knows…that woman isn’t the Chief’s wife.

Dean raises his brows, but he subtly pivots on his heel and takes a different route back to his own tipi. Whatever he just saw, it’s definitely not his business.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases.

She welcomes him into her arms, her hands traveling warmly up his shoulders. He bends to kiss her, soft and slow at first. And then deeper, sucking on her lower lip and teasing her with a sensuous tongue. She hums in surprise into his mouth, making him smile.

He’s exhausted and feeling low, but he doesn’t want to let on to her. He just wants to forget about his day, and hopefully recharge with a better night.

“How did it go today?” she asks, after he allows her to breathe.

Dean nods (and lies). “Pretty good.”

She waits for him to continue. When he just continues to hold her, she raises her brows up at him.

“Dean?”

“What? I’m workin’ on archery. Lots of progress.”

She eyes him in suspicion, and he knows he doesn’t have her fooled. Actually, she looks like she’s going to press him about it, so he releases her from his hold and goes to change out of his dirty clothes to avoid her gaze.

“Hey, uh, maybe it’s none of my business, but I saw the Chief go into some other woman’s tent today. Holding hands, bedroom eyes, the whole deal,” he says while he changes. He glances back at her and waggles his brows. Mila smiles slightly.

“Did she wear her hair in a half-braid, or did she wear a necklace made of seashells?” she asks.

Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t seem surprised, but he thinks back to what he saw.

“Uh, seashells. Yeah, she wore seashells,” he says.

Mila nods. “Yes, that woman is also his…the chiefs of my people are known to take more than one wife.”

At that, Dean becomes even more surprised. He finishes dressing and leaves his boots by the tipi’s entrance. His raised brows even out into a smirk.

“Well, okay. Guess it’s good to be Chief,” he says.

Mila’s lips purse as she eyes him narrowly. She goes back to stirring the stew with a wide, wooden spoon. Dean doesn’t see her reaction, but he does notices that something’s missing from his side of the bedding. He frowns.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” He asks Mila, who shakes her head without looking at him.

“I moved it,” she curtly replies.

Dean’s frown deepens. He touches her arm to get her attention.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, baby,” he says. He’s made sure that she knows the basics of a gun well enough, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of her hurting herself.

“Don’t leave it out, then,” she snips back. “It shouldn’t go where we sleep.”

Dean tilts his head at her. He’s a bit confused at her tone, especially because they’ve had this conversation before.

“I have it there just in case something happens at night,” he reminds her. His pistol is really just for emergencies though. There are only three bullets left in it, and he can’t exactly go shopping for more. 

Dean realizes then that Mila’s mood has shifted. He approaches her from behind.

“What’s wrong, huh?” His hands find familiar purchase along the curve of her waist. He swipes her braid away and presses a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. More teasingly, he asks, “What’d I do now?”

Mila remains tight-lipped, until she glances at him over her shoulder.

“Do you want another woman?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, but it succeeds in completely tripping him up. He blinks at her, incredulous and bewildered.

“What?”

She continues shredding another herb to put into the stew. Somehow, it makes the broth smell a bit worse. 

“You seem to admire the Chief for having three wives, so you must want another one too,” she says.

Holy shit, three wives? Dean wonders. The man must be a saint. Look at the hell I’m catching with one.

He can’t help but laugh, a deep belly chuckle that does nothing to take away Mila’s ire. She glares at him now, genuinely upset, and Dean knows he’s starting to shit the bed on this one. He sobers up and raises his hands in surrender.

“Sweetheart,” he says, in a placating tone.

Despite her annoyance, she allows him to hold her again. He plies her with more tantalizing kisses along her neck. He breathes in the sweet-smelling oil she uses on her hair.

“You’re more than enough woman for me. You know that, right?” he whispers against her skin. It earns her slight shudder, and he smiles. He teases the spot just under her ear, grazing with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. She can’t help but writhe against him a bit. It stirs a well of desire in his lower belly, especially when he squeezes her hips, pressing himself to her from behind.

She tries to remain strong as she clears her throat, no doubt feeling his growing hardness against her. She starts to blush hotly.

“It’s all I can do just to make sure you stay sweet for me,” Dean says, a hint of teasing returned to his voice.

Mila finally breaks into a laugh. She reaches back to swat him on the head, but his ministrations work. Once she manages to escape from his grasp with a teasing smile of her own, she more happily serves him a bowl of stew.

Dean smirks. Fine, he can be patient. He’ll just have to wait until dessert, then. After a moment to calm himself, he sits down on the ground beside her and brings a large spoonful of stew to his lips. There, he pauses. The strange taste that assaults his tongue nearly makes him choke, but he does his best to swallow it down. The meat’s tough as nails, for Christ’s sake…

Hearing a spoon clatter against the bowl, he chances glancing at Mila. She sits stock still, her brows furrowed as she frowns. Slowly, she sets the bowl down and says,

“Stop eating.”

She looks angry at herself. Dean feels bad for her, his sympathy striking at his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m hungry,” he says, and gamely takes another couple of bites.

She just watches him. Her upset worsens while he tries and fails to cover up a hacking cough.

Finally, Mila can stand no more. She takes the bowl from him, making some of the foul broth slosh over their hands and onto the ground. She tried to make wahonpi, one of the most basic soups in her people’s culture, made from bison, potatoes, corn, and carrots stewed in the broth.

Eyota told me it was simple! she thinks in dismay. How did it go so wrong?

“It’s no good,” she says, her voice hard. “I will go to my mother and see what she cooked. She may have extra for us.”

She rises to her feet, and Dean quickly follows her. He catches sight of her tears, even though she turns her face away from him to grab her shoes. He reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm. He tugs her back to face him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why’re you getting so upset?” he says. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

Or maybe next time, I’ll try doing the cooking, he thinks.

“Because!” she blurts. Tears well up in her eyes and begin to slip down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to brush them away. “Because you shouldn’t have to eat it. Because it should be good. You deserve to eat something good!”

Mila finally realizes why her mother tried so hard to teach her these things. She’s embarrassed, feeling sorry for herself, but it’s also far worse than that. Her heart hurts knowing what Dean has gone through, and what he continues to go through for her sake. The least she could do is make sure he eats well, and it seems she can’t even do that.

“Mila,” he says with a sigh. He guides her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She can’t allow herself to be comforted. She pushes at his chest to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what happens outside?” she says. “It’s a small village, and people talk when they think I’m not listening. I know what the men are doing to you.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You should not have to,” she insists, resting a hand over his heart. “You have proven yourself to be a man of honor. Tahatan said it himself. They should not be this way.” 

Dean smiles ruefully. “I can handle it.” 

He bows his head and captures her lips, plying her with a deeper kiss. The heat of it grows and becomes more than a distraction, more than comfort. It strips everything else away, until it’s just the two of them again, like the night she found him at the riverbank and held him until he woke up in her arms.

What they eat doesn’t matter. Other people don’t matter. All that matters is this.

He squeezes her hips and presses her harder against him, so she can feel every part of his desire. She moans into his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt. So he guides her down to the bedding, where he shows her what he’d rather get a taste of.

Later that evening, Mila and Dean have dinner with her parents. Her mother, Weaya, is a gracious host, treating Dean both like a guest and a proper son-in-law. She gives him a special cut of braised bison meat, not to mention extra corn and potato hash. Chatan says nothing to him and eats in gruff, stoic silence. 

Dean can tell it both hurts and annoys his wife, but he has to focus on answering Weaya’s many questions about his life—mainly about his family and the farm he grew up on. In some ways, raising crops and rearing up cows, chickens, and horses there isn’t so different from the Lakota village.  

“You must miss that place. Your home,” she says. Dean meets his mother-in-law’s eyes, pausing in polishing off the meat sauce on his plate with a piece of bread. Chatan looks up from his meal, and so does Mila, who hesitates too. He sees the thread of her concern there, behind her eyes, so Dean hides the stab of sadness that hits him every time he thinks of Lawrence. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. He looks over at Mila. “But I’m not alone. That’s what matters.”

She smiles at him softly. Dean has the urge to take her hand, maybe raise it up to his lips, but he’ll leave that for when they’re alone. He doesn’t want to upset her father any more than he has just by sitting in Chatan’s house. Tent…whatever.

He’s glad when, after almost another hour and a round of hot tea, Mila finishes chatting with her mother and stands. It means they can finally get the hell out of here. No disrespect to her parents, but with so much change happening so quickly, Dean had been able to put Lawrence out of his mind for a while. Tonight he thinks about his mom and his brother more than makes him comfortable on their way through the village. He follows Mila inside their tipi, then starts up a candle while she gets ready to rest for the evening. 

Living here is like going back in time—before the lantern, before indoor plumbing and the water heater. It’s not a huge hardship for Dean, who’s spent a lot of his life sleeping on hard, dusty ground, or military bases with less than most modern amenities, but it’s still another adjustment. 

He undresses down to his pants and settles down to the bedding and furs, waiting for his wife. She kneels beside him after undressing down to just her shift. He lays on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, and he watches her unbind her long, dark hair, undoing the braid from the bottom strands. She has this concentrated look on her face, like her mind is far away, even though she’s right here next to him. He threads his fingers through her loose hair while she works, giving her a smile.   

“You okay?” he asks. 

Mila pauses. She lets her tresses escape from her fingers and reaches for him, laying her hand on his chest. Dean holds it there and finally allows himself to press a kiss into her palm. 

I’m sorry, is what she wants to say, but she knows he’ll only reply, For what?

So she lowers down and slips into his warm embrace, as if this can make them both forget the day. She rests her cheek over his beating heart. 

“You will never be alone,” she promises. 

Dean quirks a smile. Instead of answering, he brushes her cheek tenderly with his hand, and he closes his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he finds sleep.

The candle slowly flickers out.   

On most nights, Mila falls asleep before Dean, and so his light snores don’t bother her. Tonight, even though she’s tried, she can’t tune out his rumbles. Or maybe it’s her own mind she can’t tune out.

She carefully maneuvers out of his hold and slips on her shoes. Maybe the moon will give her clarity tonight. 

She pushes open the front flap of the tent and steps out into the cooler air. She looks up at the moon’s white-blue glow, a wide crescent peeking out from between two large clouds. A strong breeze tugs at her hair and flutters her lashes when she closes her eyes. She crosses her arms when goosebumps spread across her tan skin.

“What troubles you, Kimmímila?”

The voice is steady and male, and all too familiar. Still, the intrusion startles her. Her eyes fly open wide and she jolts, inhaling sharply. She frowns when she realizes it’s him. 

“What are you doing? It’s late,” she says.

He steps out from the shadows with his pipe in hand. He smells strongly of tobacco. Her father and uncle smoke as well, but she doesn’t like it herself. She’s glad Dean doesn’t either.  

“Easing my mind,” he says, raising his pipe. “I see you’re up to the same thing.”

Mila shakes her head. She returns her attention to the moon. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are we not friends, Mila?” he says. “Can’t we talk and share like we used to?”

His voice is disheartened enough that it earns her gaze. She sighs at him. 

“I am sorry, but I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “Don’t test me anymore.”

He pauses with his pipe in hand. It drops to his side, and he takes measured steps closer, until he’s looking down at her. Even with the litheness of his form, he’s still taller and broader than her. His long, dark hair is half pulled onto the top of his head, threaded together with a beaded leather string she made for him when they were children. He has used it ever since. The rest of his hair lays loose down his back, brushing his arms. 

“If you actually loved him, it wouldn’t be a test,” he teases.  

He tries to touch her cheek, but she guides his hand down. She shakes her head and steps away from him. 

“This isn’t a game,” she says. “You know I mean what I say.”

His anger and frustration surfaces, with a sharp exhale of breath and the crunch of his dark brows.

“You would choose the Outlander over your own people,” he accuses.

Mila’s gaze is firm as she heads back to her tipi. If he will not be reasonable, then she will make it clear enough to hurt. 

“I choose him over you,” she says. 

Then, she slips back inside.     

The shadow outside remains, just long enough for the moon to become clear past the moving clouds. 

In the morning, Mila goes to her uncle, Chief Tahatan. She finds her parents there in his tipi as well, all of them sharing breakfast. Her aunt passes around more bread and wojapi, a sweet mixed berry sauce, while her father is resting a broken ankle. He’s complaining again, even though it happened over a week ago now. 

“If you hadn’t let the horse buck you off, you wouldn’t be hurting,” she says sharply now. She’s become annoyed with his griping. “Or better yet, you can finally admit that you’re beyond the years of breaking young stallions.” 

Chatan is the Horsemaster of their tribe, and has been since Mila was a little girl, inheriting the position from her great uncle, the former chief’s younger brother. Mila knows, however, that Chatan is getting too old to do the harder work. Many years have meant many battles too, and they’ve taken their toll on his bones. 

An idea grows in her mind, and she goes to sit beside her father. She applies the poultice Eyota gives Weaya for him, before rewrapping his ankle.

“Father,” she begins, imploring him gently, “perhaps Dean could help you care for the horses.”

Chatan eyes her with a frown. “Your husband already has his hands filled with training.” 

“Šóta and Takoda can’t do it all themselves, and Dean has experience with breaking young horses,” she reasons.  

Chatan ignores her and hefts himself to his feet without her or his wife’s help. He leaves with her mother on his heels, even though she looks back at her daughter apologetically. You know your father, her eyes say. 

Mila frowns at his back, both frustrated and upset. When they’re gone, she heaves a sigh. She remains determined though. 

She goes to Chief Tahatan next. He sits in his chair of whicker and wood while he smokes his pipe. Her aunt has gone to help the other women harvesting chokeberries and wild onions. Mila will go there soon, but first, she has business here.

“Uncle,” she says. 

He makes a sound of acknowledgement, crossed between a grunt and a groan. He knows what's coming. She kneels at his feet and touches his hand in a sign of humbleness, reverence, and familial love all at once. 

“Uncle,” she repeats. “Dean has done nothing but try to please Father, but still, he’s being stubborn…will you talk to him? Please?”

Tahatan sighs deeply. “You must understand your father, child. The decision you’ve made affects us all.”

“I do understand, Uncle. But the truth of it is, none of you have given Dean a chance to prove himself.”

“His chance is right now,” Tahatan says, his tone more stern. “Have I not been gracious? Did I not allow him to stay and live among us?”

“Yes, but you continue to judge him in your mind, like everyone else,” she says. The Chief remains quiet. She moves to stand before him, holding his gaze directly. “Let us perform the Huŋkápi.”

Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. Her people first created the tradition to make peace between Lakota and rival tribes, like the Ree. It can even be used to unite extended families within the tribe, especially in times of marriage. There is no better time for it, she thinks. 

The Chief shakes his head. “Kimmímila.”

“Is he not my husband?” she says. “In the eyes of our people, this is the joining of two families, and accepting an outsider into our tribe. That is exactly what the ceremony is for.”

“He has no family,” Tahatan snaps. “It is not exactly the tradition.”

“Then let us make it new,” she argues.

Tahatan hesitates. He shakes his head and rubs at his chin in a gesture of long-suffering. He thanks the spirits that he never had daughters. While he loves his niece, he has never envied his brother. 

“I will think on it,” he says. 

Mila frowns, but she tries her best to accept this, for now. She thanks him respectfully and leans in to kiss his cheek. Tahatan grunts an acknowledgement and watches her go with another shake of his head, despite a small smile. Between her and his sons, they will keep adding years to his life. 

On her way out of the Chief’s tipi, she runs into her cousin, Šóta. He walks with all the comfortable cockiness of a rooster among his harem.

“Good morning, sister,” he greets, even as he playfully pulls at her braid and tosses it into her face.

She flicks it away and meets him with an irritated frown. She’s in no mood to be teased, especially by him. “You’re still a child.”

“Ho-ho, hey now,” he chuckles, and he cuts off her path by standing in her way, crossing his arms. “Watch it. When I become Chief, don’t think I’ll let you talk to me so disrespectfully, my sister.”

“Just because you will be Chief one day does not make you wise,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as the snap of a blackberry vine. “And don’t call me sister. You have lost that right.”

Šóta finally becomes serious; he realizes that she means what she says.

“What are you talking about? What have I done?” he asks, more earnestly.

“It’s what you haven’t done,” Mila snaps. “If you were a good leader, you would take your father’s words to heart when he accepted my husband into our tribe. If you were my brother, you wouldn’t let the men mock him. If you were a man at all, you would do what is right. You would be guiding him right now, instead of letting the others ‘train’ him.”

She storms away from him, leaving Šóta feeling irritated, but also with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in his gut. 

Mila moves brusquely through the camp until she reaches the clearing edged by the forest. There the horses are fenced in. They’ve been given their food and water for the morning, so they’re rather frisky as they clop around and graze.

She looks for Mato. Baby is no doubt with Dean today, so the Kiger mustang keeps to himself underneath a large sycamore tree. His tail flicks when she approaches, and he turns to her with a sound of greeting. She allows her hand to run along his dun-colored coat as she draws closer.

“I need you, my friend,” she whispers. 

She holds his snout, pressing her forehead against his as she squeezes her eyes shut against the burn of frustrated tears. Mato bumps her shoulder with his nose, softly whinnying. She smiles, sniffling, and rubs his cheek. 

“Let’s go for a ride.”

AN: Well, here we go! Sorry for ending on some angst, but here we've got the pieces in motion for a fun-filled, four-part sequel. 😂💜 Dean and Mila are both struggling in their own ways while he tries to navigate this new world he's trying to live in.

And how do you think he's gonna react to the "mystery man" trying to win her back? 😬

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

Next Time:

But she feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They are getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring. 

However, she pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name. 

She gasps and whips around. He is there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip. 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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Series Tag List (Part 1)

(Going back to the regular Dean tag list, plus those who said they'd like to be tagged on this series!)

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean @k-slla

[sproutingliliums]

What are some Zutara fanfics you like?

thank you for asking anon! rubbing my hands together and laughing diabolically rn. most of these fics are completed, but i have a few incomplete or ongoing ones listed at the bottom.

The Color of the Stars by bluenebulae this is my zutara bible... i have read this 3 times, and i think it's still my favorite zutara fic. it diverges from canon during the day of black sun. katara and zuko are both captured and thrown into prison and after breaking out together, they become reluctant allies and travel the world in search of the gaang while also trying to warn the other nations about ozai's plans.

they call you refugee by akaiiko

an arranged marriage alternate universe where when zuko is banished, he leaves the fire nation with—actually, the summary does a pretty good job of explaining it: "Zuko goes into exile with a scar, a mission, and a wife." i think i cried the first time i read this.

refraction by caroes3725

this one's my post-war zutara bible. it is maybe the post-war swt ambassador/politician katara slow burn of all time. it is 200k+ words and it's all worth it, i promise! i prommy!!! read it now!!!! <- this along with The Color of the Stars are maybe my favorite zutara longfics. period.

Mending Wounds by FictionIsSocialInquiry

canon divergent fic where katara sees visions of zuko in the foggy swamp. except in these visions he is older, the fire lord, her husband, and he is gentle and loving, and katara feels sick to her stomach! one of my favs!!!!

lost and found by Smediterranea

hakoda discovers a young zuko, injured, and takes him in. beautiful alternate universe fic where zuko grows up in the southern water tribe with sokka and katara.

The Things We Hide by Lykegenia

katara is held in the fire nation as a political prisoner following the southern water tribe's defeat after an assault launched by fire lord ozai during sozin's comet. the swt, however, will not go down with a fight. love, love, love this one! it has painted lady katara, blue spirit zuko, a sweet romance, political intrigue, and betrayal!!! it's a fun time. also i love hama's inclusion in this :)

The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama

during the day of black sun, iroh takes matters into his own hands and becomes fire lord. shortly after, a marriage is arranged between zuko and katara in order to secure the peace. it's a beautiful arranged marriage au where everyone is so perfectly in character. i really think this fic is one of the best zutara fics out there with a natural and rewarding slow burn romance. and azula is there and she's perfect.

Smoke & Mirrors by sansonnets

blutara bible!!!!!!! that's all i got... blutara go CRAZYYY

so i can die where i met you by irridescence

canon compliant. zuko and katara, eighty years later. the fic is centered around major character death(s), so don't read if you can't handle it but i was sobbing like a fucking baby by the end of it. such a beautiful gorgeous fic that will haunt me forever.

if you don't mind incomplete or ongoing fics:

But Who's Counting? by halfhoursonearth

katara thinks zuko's going to need at least 100 healing sessions after the agni kai. lovely prose and characterization and it's so tender and sweet. just read it!!!

so let us melt, and make no noise by LittleLostStar

zuko is sent on a mission to bring back the heart of the last waterbender so he can restore his honor and return home. but when he nearly dies while in the south pole, a healer named katara saves him and nurses him back to health. (the author describes this as a kinda-sorta frozen AU, and i think it's a pretty good description haha). it's an incredible AU with so much mystery and intrigue and tension!

forgetting is a kind of mercy by nerdylizj

"Five years after Katara and Zuko go missing in Ba Sing Se, Kya and Lee are found living peacefully in the Earth Kingdom countryside." finally, i gotta plug liz's silly n goofy dai li brainwashing fic. it's so good. so painfully angsty. it's about the pain of remembering and about making hard choices and identity and parenthood!!!

[thejournallo]

Explain the basic: Shadow Work

As always, I will love to hear your thoughts! and if you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them! If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog (that is always appreciated!). if you are intrested in more method check the masterlist!

Desclaimer: Everything I will talk about is information that I got from books and sites online and even videos on YouTube. In my years of practice, I learned as much as I could out of curiosity and what works best for me. I suggest you do the same by learning as much as you can on your own (I will be here making posts teaching this kind of stuff) from multiple sources.

Shadow work in witchcraft refers to the practice of exploring and integrating the darker, often unconscious parts of oneself. This concept, which has roots in Jungian psychology, involves confronting and working through repressed emotions, fears, and desires that can influence behavior and spiritual well-being. For witches and those practicing modern paganism, shadow work is a means of personal growth, healing, and achieving a more balanced self.

What is Shadow Work?

Concept and Origins

The term "shadow" was popularized by Carl Jung, who described it as the unconscious part of the personality that contains repressed weaknesses, desires, and instincts. In witchcraft, shadow work involves delving into these hidden aspects to gain a deeper understanding of oneself and to heal from past traumas. (Do not take it as a substitution for a professional therapist.)

the Purpose is:

Self-Awareness: Gaining insight into one's unconscious motivations and behaviors.

Healing: Addressing and healing from past wounds and traumas.

Integration: Bringing the shadow into the conscious mind to achieve a more balanced and whole self.

How to Do Shadow Work in Witchcraft

Preparation

Safe Space: Create a physical and emotional space where you feel safe and comfortable. This can include an altar, candles, crystals, and other personal items.

Set Intentions: Clearly state your intentions for undertaking shadow work. This could be written in a journal or spoken aloud as part of a ritual.

Techniques

Journaling: Regularly write about your thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Focus on patterns, triggers, and recurring themes in your life.

Meditation: Practice meditation to quiet the mind and become more aware of your inner world. Guided meditations specifically for shadow work can be helpful.

Dream Analysis: Pay attention to your dreams and record them. Dreams can provide insight into the unconscious mind.

Tarot and Oracle Cards: Use tarot or oracle cards to explore your shadow. Specific spreads can help reveal hidden aspects of yourself.

Rituals: Perform rituals that focus on introspection and healing. These might involve candle work, invoking deities or spirits associated with transformation, and symbolic acts like burning written fears or burying objects representing old wounds.(Do not even think of doing this without the right preparation first!)

Mirror Work: Spend time looking at yourself in the mirror, speaking affirmations, and acknowledging both positive and negative aspects of yourself.

Integration and Healing

Acceptance: Acknowledge and accept all parts of yourself without judgment.

Self-Compassion: Practice self-compassion and forgiveness for past mistakes and behaviors.

Therapy: Consider professional therapy if needed, especially when dealing with deep traumas or difficult emotions.

Continual Practice

Shadow work is an ongoing process rather than a one-time task. Regularly revisit and update your practices to continue growing and healing.

Tips for Effective Shadow Work

Patience and Persistence: Shadow work can be challenging and emotional. Be patient with yourself and persistent in your efforts.

Support System: Have a support system in place, whether friends, family, or a community of like-minded individuals.

Self-Care: Engage in regular self-care activities to balance the intensity of shadow work.

Balance: Ensure you balance shadow work with other spiritual practices that uplift and energize you.

Shadow work in witchcraft is a profound journey of self-discovery and healing, leading to greater self-awareness and spiritual depth. By embracing both the light and shadow within, practitioners can achieve a more harmonious and integrated self.

[themyscirah]

ALYSSA WONG SPIRIT WORLD IS SO GOOD OMG

[kataang-week]

Trick or Treat, Kataangers!🎃

Katara and Aang sprites from Distant Horizon. Graphic created by Mod Belle @itsmoonpeaches.

🦇What is Kataang Halloween?

Kataang Halloween is a one-time, three-day mini-event hosted and created by @kataang-week on Tumblr for the first time this year. (However, there is potential for it to happen again in the future.) Kataang Halloween celebrates Kataang with a Halloween theme. All prompts were chosen by the mod team.

🦇Cool, when is it?

Kataang Halloween starts on Thursday, October 31, 2024, and ends on Saturday, November 2, 2024.

🦇What are the prompts?

In honor of Halloween, we're using lucky number 13! There are 13 prompts for each adventure.

"Trick" prompt list:

Old Spirits

Family Secrets

Altered State

Moonlight

Teeth

Demon Claws

The Deep

Offerings

Inner Palace

Lost

Grotto

Cliff Edge

Poison

"Treat" prompt list:

Taffy

Candied Haws

Lanterns

Mid-Autumn

Mooncake

Crunchy Leaves

Warm Drinks

Pumpkins

Chrysanthemum

Sharing

Toadstools

Apple Picking

Paint

🦇So how does this work?

Choose your own adventure! You can take inspiration from the Trick prompts, Treat prompts, or both! Feel free to mix and match prompts to create spooky and/or sweet Kataang content.

Anything you can think of counts as content as long as you fill one or multiple prompts at a time. Fanfics, fanart, gifsets, metas, edits, playlists, moodboards, music, etc.—the sky's the limit.

🦇What are the rules?

Please create your own original pieces. We do not accept AI-made fanworks.

We only accept new works created for Kataang Halloween, not works that are retroactively said to be created for Kataang Halloween. However, you may create something that fills a Kataang Halloween prompt for an ongoing work like a chapter fic or an ongoing series. See this ask for more information.

We accept all range of works. However, bear in mind that this is an all-ages event. If your work contains themes or imagery that may be intended for older audiences, tag and warn people thoroughly. Works with adult content must have an all-ages appropriate preview.

Do not repost other people's works. Reblog their original post if one exists.

If a creator/author/artist has requested you to post their work for them, remember to credit the original and link back to their page.

Be respectful in your fanworks and to others participating or enjoying the event.

🦇How should I tag my work?

The easiest way for us to find your work so we can reblog it to this blog is by using the tag “kataang halloween”. Using “kataang” and “kataangtag” also help. You must tag one of the three in your first five tags otherwise it doesn’t appear in the search. It is also helpful to tag us directly with @kataang-week.

Sometimes even properly tagged posts may not appear when we search the tags, so if you do not see your content reblogged, please let us know.

Once we’ve reblogged it to this blog we add our own tags (a prompt tag and a user tag) for easy organization. This means we can find all the work for one prompt or all the work from one user in one easy click (this also means that if you have changed your username since participating last year you need to let us know so we can update your tag!).

🦇Can I post my stuff other places online too?

Of course you can! However, we won’t be able to reblog anything that isn’t a Tumblr post.

For those of you who will be posting your works on AO3, feel free to add your fic to our Kataang Halloween AO3 collection.

🦇What if I have late submissions for Kataang Week 2024?

While we will not reblog any late submissions for Kataang Week 2024 during the Kataang Halloween event, late submissions for Kataang Week 2024 will still be accepted up until Kataang Week 2025, so don’t be shy and don’t worry about giving the world more Kataang content 💖 We always welcome it!

As always, if you have any questions, feel free to submit an ask to the Kataang Week blog. See you on Halloween, Kataangers!

🦇Who are the mods?

@airbender-dacyon AKA Mod Dan: A Kataang fanfic writer who prefers fluff, but also loves some drama and angst. Mod Dan started writing Kataang stories in 2013 and has helped organize Kataang Week since 2016.

@penguinsledder AKA Mod Atarah: A writer, gif maker, and musician–she enjoys fluffy young adult Kataang and all the ways they complement and parallel each other. She first joined Tumblr for Kataang Week 10 years ago, and started helping out with writing posts and making banners as a mod since 2016!

@itsmoonpeaches AKA Mod Belle: An avid Kataanger with a penchant for angst and mild violence who likes writing. Mod Belle has been a mod since 2021 and helps write posts and social media.

@chocomd AKA Mod Celes: Fanfic writer who adores Kataang for their fun and flirty side but also their bond forged through grief and loss. Mod Celes joined in 2023 and helps with a little bit of everything - whatever needs to be done!

[kalpeavaris]

Gangle - The Porcelain Doll, Angel of Revenge

(since I'm still too tired and fatigued bc of the daily migraines I resorted to posting her introduction with some sketches I have, rather than a full concept work like Caine got- will eventually draw one for her but... i'm TIRED)

The favourite girl getting her introduction after Caine, smh /lh Anyways, here she is! Her design is based off of porcelain dolls with the white & blue color scheme and floral design - the golden cracks are meant to represent "Kintsugi", a japanese technique to fix cracks in broken pottery.

The theme & name for the AU, Archangel!AU, gets a bit more obvious with her title. Each of the characters in this AU represents an "archangel" (they're not angels in the literal sense, it's more about ethic, morals and fate).

More about her below the cut!

(I don't have a human/IRL name for her yet, so I'll just use her normal one-)

Gangle started working in the "C & A" IT company shortly after her graduation from College in 2005, having made her bachelors in Computer Science while financing her student loans by working at a fast food chain (quitting when she finally got a job in IT).

During her time as human she lived with Jax, the two of them being partners, and renting an apartment together. She was a profund fan of small critters, like bunnies and rats, which they kept as pets.

When the events of the Archangel!AU take place in 2006 she's placed into the digital word of "The Game", a virtual world led and controlled by the admin & Caine, an AI in charge of watching the human avatars and making sure they're having puzzles ready to solve.

However during one faithful event and during one of the ongoing puzzles Gangle was knocked through the window by an entity the group was dealing with - with human avatars being installed killed when they leave the building there was little to be done.

Caine witnessed her death, realising that her status going Offline wasn't registered by the human admin yet as they had left the desk prior. Using this window of oporturnity, Caine resurrected Gangle - however, as there is no human soul anymore to inhabit the avatar, he created a new one from code, using his own as base.

Coding a personality is one thing, but coding a human's spirit and soul is another - erasing the memories of her death from the other human's minds, Caine made sure that they wouldn't instantly notice Gangle's behaviour possibly being off, since she does have all the memories the human-self had, but doesn't have her soul.

This would lead to issue in the long-run, since her own AI grew through the interaction with the other humans, with Gangle starting to doubt her own existence and who she truly was.

[kiwriteswords]

Cosmic Rollercoaster [Aaron Hotchner x Mystical!Reader]

Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN: This is so incredibly self-indulgent, but I thought this could be a fun one to write. I have a few others written/started/planned for Mystical!Reader, so I hope you guys like it!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, mention of clairvoyance, reader is spiritual (crystals, sage, intuition, etc.), established relationship. banter, Hotch and Reader fight like an old married couple, team dynamics, skeptic Hotch

Summary: Your intuition is never wrong, but when you decide to bring it up in front of the local PD on a case, Hotch is not too happy with you.

Aaron Hotchner never thought he'd find himself in a relationship that could only be described as a cosmic rollercoaster.The world he inhabited was black and white, full of procedure and protocol, whereas you lived in a vivid spectrum of colors, thriving on intuition and the energy of the universe.

In the quiet hum of the local police department’s briefing room, Hotch stood at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he briefed the officers on the latest serial case. 

You, draped in a flowy, ethereal dress that seemed more suited to a forest nymph than an FBI agent, leaned back in your chair, your fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. He’d seen your closet first-hand. A stark contrast to the greys and blues he hung in his own. Textured furs, lace, and embroidered fabrics hung in your closet. 

"Based on the evidence we've gathered," Hotch began, his voice steady and commanding, "the unsub is likely to strike again within the next 48 hours."

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you felt a pull in your gut--a whisper of intuition that often guided your insights. "I think he's going to move faster than that," you interjected softly, yet firmly. "The energy around this case...it's urgent, like a storm coming."

A murmur of curiosity rose from the local officers, their attention shifting between the stoic Unit Chief and the whimsical agent who often solved cases with a blend of hard evidence and gut feelings.

Hotch's jaw clenched momentarily at your words. Dealing with your unorthodox methods publicly was always a delicate dance of frustration and admiration. While deep down he knew this was a part of you--a part of you he loved and admired--there was another part of him that wondered how heavily you relied on this so-called intuition over black-and-white facts. 

"While we appreciate Agent Y/L/N's...unique insights," he said, his tone strained with the effort of diplomacy, "our strategies must be rooted in tangible evidence."

"But isn’t it tangible if it leads to the right conclusions?" you countered, just for him to hear, your voice lilting as if challenging him was a type of playful dance you both performed too often.

The team watched, the corners of their mouths twitching in amusement. Rossi leaned over to Morgan, whispering loud enough for nearby ears, "Ten bucks says they'll be arguing about this all the way back to the hotel."

Morgan laughed, “It’s like Denver all over again,” he reminisced about a previous case where you were feeling more than inclined to share your bewitched musings. 

Hotch’s feelings were a tumultuous mix of professional irritation and deep, unwavering affection. Each time you spoke, your voice pulled at something within him--a desire to loosen the reins of control he so tightly held. Your free-spirited nature both challenged and complemented his by-the-book demeanor. It was an ongoing battle between logic and feeling, one that neither of you could ever truly win.

He wanted to snap, he wanted to tell you there was a time and place for this sort of…nonsense, he wanted to call it, but his mind flashed back to all of the times you made the hairs stick on the back of his neck with your certain mystical charm. 

Hotch's eyes flickered with a mixture of annoyance and adoration as he addressed the room. "Let's continue to focus on the behavioral analysis.” Hotch looked to you, then toward the door, “Agent Y/L/N, a word outside, please."

As you followed him out, the smirks on your teammates' faces were clear. "Mom and Dad are fighting again," Prentiss teased, earning a chuckle from the others.

Outside, with the door firmly closed behind them, Hotch turned to you, his expression firm, every inch the Unit Chief that he was. 

"You can't base case predictions on 'energy,'" he admonished, his voice low to keep the conversation private. He was always conscious of maintaining the professional integrity of the team, and your unorthodox methods, though effective, often pushed the boundaries of his comfort zone.

You stepped closer, your presence unyielding yet somehow soothing--a contradiction that Hotch found both infuriating and comforting. "Aaron, when have my instincts not aided our cases? You know I integrate the evidence thoroughly before I speak. My intuition has always been an asset. I’m not claiming to ignore the facts or think I can see the future in some crystal ball. You think I would have graduated the academy if I didn’t use the logical side of my brain?"

Hotch's gaze softened slightly, though his stance remained as rigid as ever. There was no denying the effectiveness of your methods on paper, but the ongoing challenge was reconciling them with his ingrained need for hard, tangible evidence. 

"It’s not about doubting you--I’m not doubting you…" he said, struggling to convey the dual tides of professional concern and personal admiration he felt. "It's about how it’s perceived. We need the locals to trust our methods, conventional or not."

Your hand reached out, brushing against his--a touch that threatened to dismantle the barriers he worked so hard to maintain in public. 

"I know, Aaron. I do. But trust me too, okay? My 'woo-woo' hasn’t failed us yet."

Hotch looked at your hand on his, the simple contact sending a jolt through him that he wasn’t fully prepared to analyze in the moment. He took a deep breath, the ever-present conflict between his role as a leader and his feelings for you sharper in that instance than many others. “I do trust you,” he finally said, his voice a mixture of concession and caution. “More than you might realize. It’s just...hard. Balancing that trust with the need to lead a team in a way that everyone respects, including those who might not understand your...unique approach.”

Aaron Hotchner couldn't deny the spark of mischief in your eyes, a clear signal that you were about to challenge his all-too-serious world yet again. "Maybe you need a bit of my 'woo-woo' to rub off on you," you suggested playfully, your voice light but edged with a challenge that intrigued and exasperated him in equal measure.

The corner of Hotch's mouth twitched into a small, genuine smile--an admission of your effect on him that he rarely allowed others to see. "Maybe," he conceded, his tone laced with amusement and a touch of irony. "Just don’t expect me to start wearing crystals or chanting at dawn."

Your laughter, bright and unguarded, cut through the crisp air, momentarily lightening the weight of his responsibilities. It was these moments--your laughter, your relentless optimism--that reminded him of the stark contrasts between you. Here he was, a man who lived by the rules, and there you were, turning every rule on its head with a wink and a nudge.

Watching you laugh, Hotch acknowledged internally that your presence, though sometimes a whirlwind of unpredictability, brought a vital balance to his life. It wasn't just about solving cases; it was about understanding the interplay of different perspectives. Yours was a perspective that danced around the edges of intuition and energy, often leading to surprising yet effective conclusions.

As you both walked back inside, your side-by-side steps became a silent testament to your evolving partnership. It was a partnership that stretched beyond the confines of FBI protocols, reaching into the realms of personal growth and mutual respect.

As the evening wore on and the team dispersed to follow up on leads, you pulled out maps and spread them across the table, your fingers tracing the possible routes the unsub might take. "He’s feeling cornered, anxious. It’s like a high-pitched sound only I can hear," you murmured to JJ, who watched you with a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Hotch, overhearing this as he approached, folded his arms and leaned against the table, his gaze intent on you. "And you're sure it's not just the coffee talking?" he quipped, a rare tease that drew a small, delighted smile from you.

"It’s never just the coffee, Hotch," you replied, your voice light but your eyes serious. "He’s moving fast. Faster than we thought."

Despite his reservations, Hotch nodded, signaling to the team to prepare for a possible early engagement. "Alright, let’s tighten the timeline. Everyone, let’s move," he commanded, the team jumping into action with practiced urgency.

Hours later, as darkness bled into the early shades of dawn, your intuition was vindicated spectacularly. The unsub was apprehended at a location you had insisted be surveilled, far ahead of the projected timeline. Hotch watched the operation unfold, a mixture of disbelief and reluctant admiration simmering within him. As the team regrouped, tired but exhilarated by the swift capture, Hotch found his gaze seeking yours across the room, his eyes heavy with a silent acknowledgment of your contribution.

"You were right," Hotch admitted as he approached you, his voice low, intimate even amidst the lingering chaos of their successful operation. "About the unsub’s timing."

You shrugged, your expression a blend of satisfaction and mischief. "I usually am. But don’t worry, I won’t let it go to my head."

A rare grin flickered across Hotch's face, softening the hard lines that duty and responsibility had etched there. "Maybe just this once, you can gloat. You earned it," he conceded, his voice carrying an undertone of warmth that belied his usual reserve.

Laughing softly, you nudged him with your shoulder, your proximity a reminder of the chemistry that often sparked between you, igniting a blend of professional respect and personal tension. "So, does this mean you’ll start carrying a crystal in your pocket?"

Hotch chuckled--a sound so rare and disarming that it amplified the flush of victory on your face. "Let’s not push it," he teased back, the crinkles by his eyes betraying his amusement. Yet, there was an edge to his voice, a hint of challenge that suggested the battle of wits between you was far from over.

As you stood there, the adrenaline of the capture mingling with the electric charge between you, Hotch couldn't help but think how infuriatingly unpredictable you were--and how much he secretly relished it. 

The way you challenged him, pushed him, it didn't just spark frustration; it stirred something deeper, more primal. In another place, another time, he might have acted on the impulse to pull you close and explore the tension that danced like sparks between you.

Instead, he offered you a final, pointed look--a silent truce mixed with a promise of more battles to come. "Maybe one day I'll surprise you, and you’ll find sage in my desk drawer," he suggested, his tone playful yet laden with an undercurrent of something more, something neither of you was quite ready to define yet.

As you both turned to join the others, the shared smile between you was more than just triumph over a case well closed--it was a recognition of the complex, dynamic connection that continued to evolve, challenging both your limits and your desires.

On the jet back to the BAU, the atmosphere was a mix of exhaustion and relief, the gentle hum of the engines a backdrop to the team’s low conversations. You were sprawled across a couple of seats, your colorful scarf serving as a makeshift blanket, while Hotch was seated across the aisle, paperwork spread meticulously before him.

Morgan, sitting nearby, nudged Rossi with a grin. "Watch this," he whispered, loud enough for you and Hotch to hear. "Hey Hotch, Y/N was spot on today, huh? We should have her do all the profiling with her energy readings."

Hotch looked up from his files, his eyes narrowing playfully at Morgan before shifting to you. "Let’s not give her any more ideas," he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

You sat up, folding your legs beneath you. "Oh, come on, Aaron, admit it. You love that I keep things interesting. You’d be bored without me," you retorted, your tone light but pointed, the familiar dance of your banter drawing smiles from around the cabin.

Hotch’s eyes softened, and he set his paperwork aside, giving you his full attention—a rarity that didn’t go unnoticed by the team. "That, I can’t deny," he conceded. "Though 'interesting' is a mild way of putting it."

Prentiss, joining in from a seat behind you, chimed in with a laugh. "You mean terrifying and effective? Because that was some wild guesswork today, Y/N. Even if it was right."

"It’s not guesswork," you protested, feigning indignation. "It’s a highly refined skill set."

Rossi raised his eyebrows, joining the conversation. "Refined, huh? So, what does the energy tell you about Hotch here?" he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You glanced at Hotch, who was watching you with an expression of amused curiosity. "Oh, his energy? Perpetually exasperated...but there’s a lot of love there too. Mostly for me, of course," you said, winking at Hotch.

Hotch shook his head, a genuine smile breaking through his usual reserve. "You’re impossible," he murmured, though the affection in his voice was clear.

The team erupted in light laughter, the ease between you and Hotch evident to all. Morgan leaned back, his smile wide. "Seriously, you guys are like an old married couple. All you need is to start finishing each other’s sentences."

"And sentences should be finished with proper grammar and punctuation," Hotch added, playing into Morgan’s joke, his gaze still locked with yours in a silent conversation that spoke volumes about the depth of your relationship.

As the laughter died down, you moved to sit closer to Hotch, your presence by his side natural and fitting. "How about we finish this case report together?" you suggested, your voice softer now, away from the team’s ears.

Hotch nodded, his hand briefly touching yours under the cover of the table. "Together sounds perfect," he agreed, his voice low.

The rest of the flight passed with the team gently ribbing each other, the camaraderie a testament to the long hours and shared dangers. But amidst it all, you and Hotch shared quiet moments of connection.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

[marvelstoriesepic]

Last updated: January 17

I’m only writing for Bucky Barnes

Lots of love for my Bucky people! ♡

I do not consent my work to getting republished

My work can include heavy themes (such as sexual assault, abuse, panic attacks, death, toxic behavior, self-doubt etc). Each chapter and fic will have their own warnings, but if anything might trigger you, be cautious!

If you are interested in reading the Bucky fics I loved on this app, check out my list of fic recommendations on my other blog @buckbuckbarnesstuff

˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔ October Writing Challenges 2024 ˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔

⋆⁺₊❅. Whumpcember Masterlist 2024 ⋆⁺₊❅.

WIP Game

♡ - personal fav

❁ - fic with 300+ notes

✯ - fic with 500+ notes

Series .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚⊹

Breaking Chains (on hiatus)

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: Leaving behind an abusive and possessive boyfriend, and finding refuge in the hometown you once yearned to escape, certainly wasn’t a chapter you anticipated in your life’s story. Yet, eyes as blue as the sky at dusk, belonging to a mysterious biker drew you into a world of unexpected possibilities, where a job at his bar becomes more than just a means of survival - it’s a pathway to freedom and self-discovery. Though, breaking away from your past proves daunting when shackled by invisible chains.

Like a Phoenix (ongoing)

Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.

Two-Parts .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚ ⊹

1. Tangled ropes [8.2k] & 2. Beyond the Horizon

Sailor!Bucky x reader

Summary: A new sailor arrives at the docks amongst Captain Barton’s crew. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself, or perhaps it’s the way his eyes are the echo of the ocean in color and depth. But something about him makes you want to untangle the ropes that seem to choke his spirit.

1. The ropes that bind me [13.4k] & 2. Bridge to your world

Fisherman!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Being a creature of the sea, you are bound to a life beyond the surface, always in sight of the human realm, yet forever out of grasp. But after centuries of this finned existence it’s a fisherman coming to the docks day after day that compels you to bridge the gap between your worlds, despite the warnings about humanity being ingrained into your kind your whole life. Will you meet the same tragic end as several of your sisters before?

One-shots .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚ ⊹

Listen to your gut [2.8k] ❁

Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky is assigned on a Hydra mission. Letting him venture back in the lion’s den without backup sets a deep unsettling dread knotting your stomach. Drowning out logic and reason you beg him to stay.

Still on the list [14.1k] ✯

Frat!College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Casual Sweetness [2.3k] ♡ ✯

Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: You seek out your roommate and best friend Bucky for comfort after a girls night out leaves you shaken up.

Two [6.2k] ♡ ❁

College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Your friends Wanda and Nat drag you to a corn maze event at night. After a rather unpleasant encounter with Bucky, Sam, and Steve, you want nothing but this night to end. Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to find the exit first.

Latte (He)art [7.8k]

Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Ocean’s claim [5.9k]

Lifeguard!Bucky x Amateur!Surfer!Reader

Summary: Seeking a thrill, your friend Natasha convinces you to go surfing during stormy weather conditions - a bad idea as you come to experience.

Pirate Nights and Pumpkin Lights [1.7k]

Modern!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky and you take Morgan, Billy, and Tommy trick-or-treating on Halloween.

Drabbles .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚ ⊹

Paranoia [1.4k] ✯

Avenger!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky comes home to an unlocked door - his mind convinces him something horrible happened to you

Learn his way [1.5k] ❁

College!Bucky x College!Tutor!Reader

Summary: Bucky is more interested in learning about you than biology

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”

- Edgar Allan Poe

[tabarkraed]

As the world comes together to celebrate Eid al-Adha with joy and gratitude, my friend’s @bilal-salah0 family in Gaza faces a starkly different reality. Instead of the warmth and happiness that usually accompany this blessed holiday, they are surrounded by the devastating aftermath of war.

While many of us are enjoying festive meals and the company of loved ones, Bilal's family is struggling with loss, destruction, and uncertainty. The sounds of laughter and celebration are replaced by the echoes of conflict and despair.

Their hearts are heavy with grief, yet they hold onto hope and resilience. The spirit of Eid, which symbolizes sacrifice and faith, resonates deeply with their ongoing struggle. They pray for peace and safety, longing for the day when they can once again celebrate without fear.

This Eid, let's not forget those who are enduring unimaginable hardships. Keep Bilal's family and all those affected by the war in your thoughts and prayers. Share their story, spread awareness, and contribute in any way you can to help ease their suffering.