#Shadows in Motion Web Event

[genshinresource]

Genshin Impact "Shadows in Motion" Web Event Official Album Photo Wallpapers: Miniaturized Nations (Mobile)

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Shadows in Motion - Genshin Impact 2/2

[welcometoteyvat]

fontaine should have a mermaid craze look at this

one of the seal things gets spotted sticking its head out of the water and ppl are like "singing humanoid ish underwater creature w fins?? mermaid ofc"

[genshinmp3]

Shadows in Motion (Map 5) from the Shadows in Motion Web Event HOYO-MiX

[hrefna-the-raven]

I want to thank you

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Words: 2302

Warnings: drunkenness, smut (18+)

Summary: Driders shouldn't get drunk unless they stumble upon intoxicated prey...what happens in the woods, stays in the woods 😏

Your group had finally made it out of the shadow-cursed lands. Despite the protests of your companions, you decided to let the drider Kar'niss tag along your merry group of misfits. They hadn't glimpsed into his mind, seen what you've seen, so naturally they wouldn't understand your reasoning but you simply couldn't leave him to his death at Moonrise Towers, especially not after he'd decided to defy his queen and help you defeat Ketheric. And, as you journeyed together, engaged in peculiar conversations along the way, you unexpectedly grew fond of the drider's company. Approaching the first bigger village, you decided to set up camp. While your companions sought solace in the comforts of a local tavern, longing for a soft bed, you chose to remain on the outskirts of the forest, keeping Kar'niss company as he dared not reveal himself within the village. Setting up a modest tent, you kindled a small fire and couldn't help but smile as Kar'niss skillfully spun his web between the trees.

"I'll quickly head to the tavern, have a few drinks, but I'll be back quickly", you said to Kar'niss.

"Yes, yes", he mumbled somewhat distractedly, "we need to hunt, we need food, go, we'll be busy."

"Remember to not kill any villagers", you warned him sternly, receiving only a nod in response.

With sorrowful eyes, he watched as you made your way towards the village.

Two drunkards staggered towards the forest, belting out an odd melody at the top of their lungs, swinging their tankards and occasionally taking a sip. The commotion caught Kar'niss' attention, prompting him to approach them cautiously while remaining hidden in the shadows. A smile tugged at his lips as he observed them walking straight towards his web. Easy prey, he thought, licking his lips hungrily, his arachnid instincts awakening. He made his move, his eight legs carrying him silently towards the trapped men. With a swift motion, he pierced their drunken flesh, letting the crimson elixir flow into his insatiable mouth. Kar'niss moaned with delight as their blood touched his taste buds, savouring its distinct flavour that was both sweeter and more tantalizing than anything he had ever experienced. The more he drank, the hazier his mind became, intoxicated by the unfamiliar warmth that coursed through his body. Relinquishing his hold on the men, he ran his tongue across his lips, relishing every last drop of blood that clung to his face.

As Kar'niss attempted to navigate his way back to his tent, he was taken aback by the surprising turn of events. His own body seemed to betray him, causing him to stumble and sway, his numerous legs becoming tangled in a rather clumsy display. Amidst the chaos, he found himself overcome by a mixture of laughter and tears, as these emotions washed over him like a powerful wave crashing against his fragile psyche. He almost felt like being thrown back to his earliest days as a drider, when he struggled to control his unfamiliar form. However, this time, along with the sensation of warmth, there was an overwhelming sense of joy that spread throughout his chest.

You rushed towards the woods, feeling guilty for lingering at the tavern longer than planned. Your footsteps abruptly halted as you caught sight of your little camp. Next to the fire you saw Kar'niss lying on his back, which immediately felt wrong, he'd be too weary to let his guard down like this. Concern gripped you as you heard him sobbing, prompting you to sprint towards him.

"Kar'niss, are you alright? Are you injured?", you called out, but all you received in response was a playful giggle.

A peculiar scene unfolded before your eyes. He lay on his back, his eight legs lazily sprawled to the side, occasionally twitching as he sniffed one of your tunics. He clutched it tightly to his chest as though it were the most precious treasure in the world.

"Kar'niss?", you cautiously inquired as you knelt beside him.

His gaze shot upward, quickly shifting towards you as a grin spread across his face. Attempting to raise himself, he gave up halfway and slumped back onto the ground, emitting an amused sigh.

"Our beloved queen has returned," he slurred, his words drowned out by a heartfelt sob. "We've missed yoooouuuuu."

"What happened to you? Have you eaten? Are you feeling unwell?" you inquired.

The drider inhaled the scent of your tunic once more before carelessly discarding it to the side, causing it to land directly in the fire. Great there goes my last clean untorn tunic, you thought to yourself. Distracted by your last precious piece of garment catching fire, you didn't notice that the drider finally managed to turn around. He lifted himself up, only to lose his balance once again. His upper body came crashing down upon yours, burying you beneath him. You gasped for breath, realizing how close the two of you had suddenly become. His torso pressed against yours, his hair cascading down on either side of your face and the tip of his nose nearly touching yours. Seven eyes were fixated on your blushing face as Kar'niss suppressed a groan that rumbled deep within his chest.

"We've grown fond of you, new queen, you saved us", he whispered, "we-I want to thank you."

Leaning in, he clumsily pressed his lips against yours. Surprisingly, you found yourself moaning into the kiss, which he interpreted as an invitation to deepen it with his tongue. It never occurred to you that Kar'niss would know how to kiss, but it made sense considering his previous life and the charm that still radiated from his face, probably being popular among female drow back then. Squirming beneath him, your hands gently pushed his face away, breaking the kiss as you gasped for air, still trying to process what was happening in this moment.

"She doesn't desire us, we are not deserving, we apologize," he muttered, attempting to retreat, but you refused to release him. Instead, you delved into his thoughts, seeking the memories of this evening. You witnessed the presence of two men from the tavern, observing how Kar'niss consumed their blood before stumbling towards your tent. It finally dawned on you: he was drunk, completely and utterly inebriated, without any restrictions, fear or doubt holding his true self back, baring his vulnerability to you.

The irony of the situation amused you; amidst all the trials you had faced, being trapped beneath an intoxicated drider who held affection for you was definitely an unexpected turn of events. With the connection severed, Kar'niss playfully nudged your cheek with his nose, demanding your undivided attention once more.

"We saw your memories too", he whispered, "secret glances, racing pulse, concealed thoughts."

Your eyes widened in shock and fear, realising that he had rummaged through your mind as well, finding feelings you'd planned to keep hidden.

"You desire us-me, you desire me", his voice sounded so fragile in this moment, "despite this curse, shattered, undeserving, ugly, you desire me."

His lips quivered as he tried to grasp onto your feelings for him, his heart aching as it experienced the love and desire it believed it would never feel again. You pulled him closer to you, your lips meeting his in a more intense kiss this time. Kar'niss moaned, feeling your hips pressing against his, your connection reigniting, both of your desires intertwining in a flawless symphony of lust. His hands delicately caressed your body, as if afraid that his sharp claws might accidentally tear your skin. Moans of pleasure escaped from your mouth, occasionally muffled by his passionate kisses, as you felt something firm pressing against your clothed arousal. Your curiosity led your eyes to glance downwards, where you noticed a long hard skin coloured member nestled between two plates, just above the point where his drow and spider forms merged. A question formed in your mind, but before you could ask, he released you from his embrace and moved away. 

"We were her ultimate failure, condemned to this existence, never to experience love, yet burdened with desires and the potential for intimacy", tears streamed down his face as he revealed the truth. You focused on flooding his mind with your love for him, the deep affection you held, and the burning cravings to be with him in his current form. Looking into his eyes, you severed the connection with one final statement: she was mistaken, I desire every part of you.

Perhaps it was the lingering influence of the alcohol or the consequence of the emotional barrier finally shattering completely, but it awakened a primal desire within Kar'niss. A wild instinct overtook his entire being as he pounced on you, violently tearing your garments apart with his razor-sharp claws. Before you could even process a fleeting moment of sadness for yet another piece of clothing shuffled off this mortal coil, his hardened length pressed against your wet folds. Your gaze shot upward, witnessing Kar'niss losing himself in the throes of pleasure. His many eyes shut tight, his mouth agape, and his tongue flicking over his lips as a deep growl reverberated from deep within his chest. The scene before you was captivating, etching itself into the depths of your being. A resounding moan escaped your lips as your hips involuntarily bucked, causing him to slide effortlessly inside you.

More moans escaped your lips, blending with the passionate cries of his name as he stretched and filled you entirely. Both of you gasped for breath and remained motionless for a brief moment, relishing in the sensation of being so perfectly intertwined with both your minds and bodies. Kar'niss slurred unintelligible words, his eight legs struggling to support him as one arm wrapped around you, pulling you close against his body. With great effort, he managed to stand up, still burried deep inside you, but the intoxication was still taking a toll on his coordination and he stumbled forward. Barely avoiding the nearby tent, his other hand slammed against a tree trunk for stability, causing your back to collide with the rough bark. The sudden movement caused Kar'niss to slide even deeper inside you, evoking a shared groan of pleasure. Your inner walls tightened around him, on the brink of orgasm from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Desiring more of him, your fingers curled around his neck, drawing him in for a passionate kiss. Your tongue eagerly explored his mouth, intensifying the connection between you. Kar'niss's body moved with a swiftness that surpassed his thoughts, struggling to grasp the euphoric situation he found himself in. His hips immediately began thrusting into you at a brutal pace. His heart threatened to burst from his chest as exhaustion spread through his body, yet every fiber of his being was determined to persist. Eventually, his legs trembled and gave way, causing both of you to collapse onto the tent, tearing it down in the process. In a desperate attempt to maintain balance, Kar'niss's claws slid off and left deep marks in the tree bark. However, neither of you cared about the chaos surrounding you as he continued to ravish you relentlessly while you moaned loud enough for all of Faerûn to hear you. In between panting breaths, Kar'niss uttered your name as his length twitched inside you as he filled you with his seed. With two final thrusts, he pulled out just before your own orgasm consumed you.

You were about to huff in protest when he forcefully pinned you to the ground, growling fiercely before he settled between your legs and his tongue eagerly began to flick at your clit. Your mind spun as you felt him suck on you, his tongue delving deep into your entrance to lick up the mingling of your fluids with his own.

"Gooooood....moooore", he mumbled against your wetness before sucking at your clit once more.

You could feel your climax approaching rapidly again and just as you were about to reach it, he thrust two of fingers inside you, pushing you right over the edge of pleasure. You cried out his name, your hands grasping onto his hair as your legs twitched and trembled. Kar'niss chuckled softly, gently lifting you up and stumbling unsteadily towards his web in the trees. He settled down, cradling you in his arms, ensuring your safety so you wouldn't fall.

You couldn't recall the exact moment you drifted off to sleep, but as you awakened to the animated discussions of two awfully familiar voices, it dawned on you that you were not inside your tent and the sun had already risen. Startled, you bolted upright, oblivious to the fact that you were entangled in a spider's web among the branches. Without warning, you tumbled forward, nearly letting out a scream until an arm swiftly caught you, pulling you back against a comforting form. When you turned your head, you discovered Kar'niss nestled in the web, still sound asleep while holding you tightly with a contented smile on his face. As you glanced down, you noticed Gale and Astarion standing by your tent. Gale appeared visibly agitated, gesticulating wildly, until the pale elf's eyes met yours, his face adorned with a self-satisfied grin.

"Oh I know exactly what kind of animal went on a rampage here last night", the vampire chuckled, "but rest assured, she is not present. It is likely that she slept elsewhere and will join us shortly at the tavern."

"How can you be so certain?", Gale huffed, crossing his arms.

"Gale, darling, I simply know", Astarion smirked, taking Gale's arm and leading him back to the village.

As they walked away, Astarion turned his head one last time to wink at you. It was clear that this day was going to be a tedious one, filled with questions you had no desire to answer.

Tags:

@orionspaperwork

[rootedinrevisions]

Rooster's Shadow: Part 3

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of Hangman’s abrupt departure, Carly wrestles with a mix of confusion and hurt. When they finally confront each other, the conversation is charged with raw emotion and vulnerability. Jake earnestly explains his regret, revealing the turmoil he felt and his desire to make things right. As Carly listens, she sees a side of him she hadn’t before—one of genuine remorse and longing for a second chance.

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

WARNING: Some angst.

PART 1 I PART 2

Carly lay against Jake, her head resting on his chest, her breathing steady and peaceful as sleep finally overtook her. Jake watched her for a few moments, his fingers lightly brushing against her arm. He felt the weight of her trust in that moment–something he wasn’t sure he’d earned, but something he cherished nonetheless.

Once he was certain she was sound asleep, Jake carefully shifted, moving his arm from under her with slow, deliberate motions. He paused, watching her stir slightly before settling back into a deep slumber. With a quiet sigh, he pulled the blankets up over her, making sure she was warm and comfortable.

For a moment, Jake stood at the edge of the bed, just looking at her. There was something about the way Carly looked at peace that tugged at something deep inside him. But as much as he wanted to stay, he knew he had and early wake-up call. Training tomorrow wasn’t something he could miss–not if he wanted to keep his edge.

Quietly, he gathered his clothes, slipping back into his uniform, piece by piece. The room was dimly lit, only the soft glow from the streetlights outside casting shadows across the floor. Once dressed, Jake took one last glance at Carly before he moved toward the door.

As he opened it, he hesitated for just a second, his hand gripping the doorknob. Part of him didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to. With a quiet sigh, he stepped out of the apartment, closing the door gently behind him. The thought of seeing her again later lingered in his mind as he walked down the hall, ready for the early morning to come.

Carly’s eyes fluttered open, the dull light of morning creeping through the blinds, making her wince as her head pounded slightly from the night before. She rolled over in bed, half-expecting to feel warmth beside her, maybe even catch Jake’s scent lingering on the pillow. Instead, her hand met cold sheets, the space next to her unoccupied. 

She pushed herself up, propping her back against the headboard, blinking as the events of last night rushed through her mind–his hands on her, his lips teasing her neck, the heat that had sparked between them. But now, there was nothing.

She glanced around her small room, hoping–against all reason–that maybe he’d left a note, some kind of explanation. But it was just her, a mess of sheets, and the fading memories of his touch.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, her stomach tightening. No text. No note. No number. Nothing.

Throwing her head back onto the pillow, she let out a long frustrated sigh. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself fall for it. She should have known better. She was Rooster’s sister, for God’s sake–she knew how the guys in his squadron operated. And Jake Seresin? Hangman? He was the worst of them all.

Carly pulled the covers tighter around her, the lingering warmth doing little to ease the growing pit in her stomach. 

“Stupid,” she whispered to herself. “You’re smarter than this.” 

But the regret clung to her, the disappointment of falling for his charm stinging more than she expected.

She sat up, running her fingers through her tousled hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room.

“Never again,” she vowed her voice firm.

She wouldn’t let herself get caught in his web of charm and cocky smiles. Last night had been a mistake, and she wasn’t about to repeat it.

But even as she tried to shake it off, a small, nagging thought lingered at the back of her mind–why had he left like that? Without a word? Did she mean so little? The unanswered questions twisted in her gut, but she pushed them down, refusing to let them take root.

It had been nearly a week since Carly had been around, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Phoenix leaned against the bar, her brow furrowed in thought as she sipped her beer.

“So,” she started, turning toward Rooster, “What’s up with Carly? She seemed excited to get to spend more time with you. But she hasn’t been back around lately. Did I miss something?”

Rooster frowned, his expression hardening as he looked into his glass.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, swirling his drink absentmindedly. “She’s been bummed lately. She said something about some guy who ghosted her after taking her home. Didn’t leave a note, didn’t get her number, nothing.” His voice was tinged with anger, the protectiveness of an older brother kicking in.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s low.” She crossed her arms, leaning in slightly. “Any idea who this guy is?”

Rooster shook his head, a scowl forming on his face. “She didn’t give me any names. I assume it’s some dumb college kid. All she said is the asshole dipped before she even woke up.”

Jake, who had been selecting a song on the jukebox a few feet away, felt a heavy weight drop into the pit of his stomach. He had been trying to shake off the guilt for days, but now it slammed into him in full force. His eyes stayed glued to the bottle in front of him as he overheard the conversation. He had to work hard to keep his expression neutral, to not give away the fact that the “asshole” in question was him.

Phoenix let out a low whistle. “That sucks. She seemed sweet when she was here. Carly doesn’t deserve that. ”

Rooster nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, she doesn’t. I haven’t seen her much since then, but I’m guessing she’s trying to get over it. She’s tough, but…she seemed pretty upset about it. Think she might've really liked this guy.”

Jake’s throat tightened. Carly wasn’t just another girl to him–he knew that. Hell, he had felt something different that night. He knew it wasn’t just a one-time thing, but he had handled it all wrong. The early call time had been real, but leaving her like that? No note, no explanation? He winced inwardly at his own behavior.

He knew he had to make it right, but standing there, listening to Rooster talk about his sister’s disappointment, only made the task more daunting. This wasn’t just about making up for ghosting some girl–this was Carly. And Rooster was bound to kill him if he ever found out.

Just then the door swung open and Carly walked in. The room fell momentarily silent as everyone’s eyes turned toward her. Carly’s entrance was like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise crowded bar. She scanned the room, her gaze landing on Bradley. A wide smile broke across her face as she made her way over to him.

“Hey, Brad!” Carly called out, her voice bright and cheerful.

Bradley turned around just in time to catch her in a warm hug. “Carls! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop by and surprise you,” she said, giving him a quick squeeze before pulling back. She then turned to greet the others. “Hi, Phoenix! Hi, Bob!”

Phoenix and Bob responded with smiles and waves, welcoming Carly warmly. Carly, however, made a noticeable effort to avoid looking at Jake, who was leaning against the bar with a drink in hand. His eyes followed her as she moved, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

Jake watched the interaction with a mix of frustration and curiosity. His eyes tracked Carly across the room, where she was chatting and laughing with various people. He noticed how her laughter seemed genuine at first, but as the evening wore on, it became more forced, her smile waning. Jake had been hoping to talk to her, to explain himself and make amends, but it quickly became clear that Carly was determined to avoid him.

Throughout the night, Jake made several attempts to approach her. The first time, he tried casually joining the group she was with, but Carly’s response was cool and dismissive. “Hey, Carly,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Can we talk for a minute?”

She glanced at him, her expression guarded. “No, Jake. I’m busy.”

Unperturbed, Jake tried again a little later. He found her at the bar, leaning on the counter and talking animatedly with a few people. “Carly, come on, let’s just have a quick chat,” he said, placing a hand gently on her arm.

Carly turned to him, her face a mix of irritation and exhaustion. “Jake, I really don’t want to talk to you.”

Jake’s frustration grew, but he tried to maintain his composure. “Please, Carly. Just five minutes.”

Carly glanced at him, her expression guarded. “I don’t really think there’s anything to talk about, Jake.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” Jake persisted stepping closer. “Please.”

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed and stepped outside with him. The cool night air contrasted with the warm buzz of the bar inside, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore added a calm backdrop to their conversation.

Once they were outside, Carly turned to face him, arms crossed defensively. “What do you want, Jake?”

“I want to apologize,” he said, his voice earnest. “I know I messed up. I should have never just left like that.”

Carly’s eyes narrowed. “You think an apology is going to fix everything? You left without a word. That’s not something you just brush off with an ‘I’m sorry’.”

“I know,” Jake said, his frustration mounting. “I know I messed up. But it wasn’t what you think. I didn’t leave because I didn’t care. I had an early call time for training. I should have said something, left a note…anything. But I didn’t, and that’s on me.”

Carly’s eyes flickered with skepticism, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Right. So, what? You expect me to believe that you’re different from every other guy who pulls the same crap?”

Jake stepped closer, his voice was soft but firm. “I’m not asking you to believe anything. I’m asking you to hear me out.”

Carly’s walls started to crack, but before she could say anything, she noticed someone moving toward them from the corner of her eye.

Bradley.

His usually easygoing demeanor was nowhere to be found. His jaw was clenched tight, and the look in his eyes? Pure fury. Carly felt her stomach drop. Bradley had no idea about Jake–until now.

“Bagman,” Rooster barked, his voice low but dangerous as he closed the distance between them, “what the hell are you doing here, talking to my sister?”

Carly’s eyes widened, and before she could intervene, Bradley was already stepping in between them, squaring up to Jake. “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do, but you need to back off.”

Jake’s posture stiffened. He put up with Bradley’s protectiveness over Carly the other night, but this time, he wasn’t backing down. Not when everything was on the line. “I’m here to talk to Carly,” Jake said evenly, standing his ground. “I’m not leaving until I do.”

Bradley’s eyes flashed with anger, and it clicked. “You,” Bradley growled, his voice low with rage. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the guy who took her home and then ghosted her?”

Carly took a step back, her heart pounding. The tension between Jake and Bradley was thick, and she could see the recognition dawn on her brother’s face, his fists clenching at his sides.

Jake didn’t flinch under Bradley’s glare. “Yeah, it was me,” he admitted, his voice steady. “But I didn’t mean for things to go down like that.”

“You didn’t mean for things to go down like that?” Bradley repeated incredulously, his voice rising. “You took my sister home, and then you bailed like some coward. And now, you think you can just show up here and make it right?”

Jake’s face was calm, but his voice was firm, unwavering. “I screwed up. I know that. But this isn’t just some game to me. I didn’t ghost her because I didn’t care. I had to be on base the next morning, and I didn’t think it through. But I’m here now, and I’m trying to make it right.”

Bradley stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think that’s enough? Showing up here after a week? I don’t care if you’re sorry, Bagman. You don’t get to mess with her like that. She deserves better.”

Jake squared his shoulders, his voice steady. “I know she does. And that’s why I’m trying to fix what I did.”

Bradley’s expression darkened, his anger simmering just below the surface. “I’m telling you to back off Bagman. Get the hell out of here and go back to base.”

Jake met Bradley’s gaze head-on, refusing to budge. “No. I’m staying. I came here to talk to Carly, and if she tells me to leave, I will. But I'm not going to leave because you’re ordering me around.”

Bradley’s nostrils flared, but Carly finally found her voice, stepping between the two men. “Stop,” she said firmly, looking between them both. “Just stop.”

Both men turned to her, the tension still crackling in the air. Carly’s heart was racing, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn’t going to let this turn into some alpha-male standoff.

“I can speak for myself,” she said, her voice hard as she turned to her brother. “I appreciate that you want to protect me, but I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Bradley’s face softened, but his shoulders were still tense. “Carly-”

“I get it,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. “But I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle this.”

She turned to Jake, her gaze piercing. As for you…” she paused, taking a breath. “You want to talk? Fine. But this doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook.”

Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he nodded. “I’m not asking you to. I just want the chance to explain.”

Bradley scowled but took a step back, his eyes still burning wit hanger as he glared at Jake. “Fine. You get your shot, but don’t think for a second that I’m not watching your every move, Hangman.”

Jake nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Rooster.”

The tension in the air lingered as Rooster finally stalked away, but Carly and Jake were left standing at the bar, the crowd bustling around them. Jake shifted his weight, his face softening as he turned back to Carly, his gaze more serious than she’d ever seen.

“Carly, I know I hurt you,” Jake started, running a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t my intention. I never meant to make you feel like you were just some random girl to me. But I get it—I made it seem that way, and I’m sorry.”

Carly stared down at the drink in her hands, feeling the swirl of emotions tightening in her chest. She wasn’t angry—at least, not just angry. She was hurt, confused, and conflicted. And she didn’t know if she could trust what Jake was saying now, even if she wanted to.

“I don’t do that,” she said quietly, surprising herself with how shaky her voice sounded. She glanced up at him, her eyes guarded. “I don’t go home with guys, Jake. Ever. And the one time I did... you left. No note, no number, nothing.”

Her words cut through the air like a sharp edge, and Jake winced slightly, the weight of her pain settling on his shoulders.

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers. “And I hate that I made you feel like you were just a one-night stand. That wasn’t what I wanted. But you’ve gotta know... I’ve never really been good at... this.” His hand motioned between them, as if trying to encompass all the confusion and tension that had built between them.

“This?” Carly echoed, her voice low and bitter. “You mean relationships?”

Jake gave a small, rueful smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve never really been the relationship type. Not because I don’t want to be, but because... it’s easier to be Hangman than it is to be Jake.”

Carly blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his tone. She’d never heard him talk like this before, not once. Not the cocky, swaggering flyboy who always had the perfect line and the confident grin. This was different. This was real.

“You don’t have to put on a front with me,” Carly said, her voice softer now, the edge of her anger dulling as she took in the vulnerability in Jake’s expression. “I just... you have to understand what that did to me. I don’t know what I expected when we went back to my place, but I didn’t expect to wake up alone. It felt like... like I was stupid for believing that it could be something more.”

Jake’s face fell, regret washing over him. He took a step closer to her, his voice low and sincere. “Carly, you weren’t stupid. I didn’t leave because I didn’t care. I left because... that’s what I’ve always done. It’s how I’ve handled things for as long as I can remember.”

He paused, running a hand over the back of his neck as he let out a breath. “Look, my dad left when I was young. My mom did her best, but... I never really had anyone show me how to do this—how to be with someone. So I became the guy who never stays. It’s easier to keep people at a distance. To be the guy who’s always fun but never sticks around. Hangman’s a shield. It’s easier to be him than it is to be the guy who could actually get hurt.”

Carly’s heart softened as she listened to him, seeing him in a way she hadn’t before. Beneath the cocky exterior, there was a man who was scared—scared of opening up, scared of being vulnerable, and scared of being hurt.

“I didn’t know that,” Carly said quietly, her voice gentle now. “But that doesn’t make what you did okay.”

Jake nodded, his expression serious. “I know. And I’m not asking for a free pass. I’m just asking for a second chance. A real one. I want to make it right.”

Carly’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, her heart torn between the lingering hurt and the sincerity in Jake’s words. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that he was different, that he wasn’t just playing her like some of the other guys she’d seen flirt their way through the bar. But she’d been burned before, and it wasn’t easy to let her guard down.

“And what would that look like?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Jake met her gaze, his eyes earnest. “I’m not talking about a casual hookup. I’m talking about taking you out. A proper date.”

Carly arched a brow, a skeptical smile tugging at her lips. “A date, huh?”

Jake nodded, his grin softening as he leaned in a little closer. “Yeah. Dinner, drinks... the whole nine yards. Just you and me. No games. No disappearing.”

She hesitated, still unsure, but the idea tugged at her. The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability he was showing—it was something she hadn’t expected from him. But there was still one thing nagging at her.

“If we do this,” she said slowly, her eyes locking onto his, “there’s one condition.”

Jake tilted his head, intrigued. “Okay, shoot.”

“You stop flirting with other girls at the bar,” Carly said, her voice firm. “I’m not going to be one of many. If you’re serious about this, you have to show me that. I want to be the only one.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

Carly blinked, surprised by how quickly he agreed. “Just like that?”

Jake grinned, but it wasn’t his usual cocky smile—it was softer, more genuine. “Just like that. I’m not interested in anyone else, Carly. I’m serious about this.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, the walls she’d built around herself starting to crumble just a little more. She didn’t know if she could trust him completely yet, but she could feel the sincerity behind his words. Maybe... just maybe, he meant it.

“All right,” she said, finally allowing herself to smile. “One date. But you better not make me regret this.”

She stepped closer to Jake, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and apprehension. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm, hesitant hug. Jake’s arms encircled her, holding her close as her head rested against his chest. He could feel the slight tremble in her body, and it made him tighten his embrace. His lips brushed softly against the top of her head in a gentle, reassuring kiss. 

“I won’t,” he promised softly. “I won’t.”

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab

[bardic-tales]

A Deal with the Devil - An Original / FF 7 Crossover Fic

Summary: Genesis Rhapsodos encounters the demon Asmodeus, who proceeds to tempt him with power and knowledge of Bianca’s role in an impending catastrophe.

Other Characters: Asmodeus, Bianca Moore (mentioned), Genesis Rhapsodos, Sephiroth (mentioned)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Betrayal, coercion, demonic manipulation, grief, mind games, psychological manipulation, temptation

Author's Note: This is a companion piece to Bloodlines and Battlefields. It happens after the events of that fic.

Banora Village

500 years after the main events of FF VII.

In the vast, desolate expanse of the ruined Banora, where the decimated apple groves met a cloudy sky, Genesis Rhapsodos wandered. His eyes were distant, lost in the echoes of a past filled with endless battles and unanswered questions. Marred by the failed legacy of Loveless and his own inner torment, the weight of his identity hung heavily upon him. He had heard rumors, at first. They were whispers of a dark figure, a malevolent force with ambitions far beyond anything he could fathom walking the Planet after a defeat by Sephiroth at the North Crater.

He hadn’t paid them much heed at first, but something gnawed at him, pulling him towards the edge of the city.

It wasn’t until the shadows seemed to warp and pulse unnaturally that he sensed it: the presence of something ancient, horrifying, and dangerous. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his rapier. Subconciously, Genesis knew it wouldn’t protect him from what was about to unfold.

Out of the shifting darkness, Asmodeus appeared. His form emerged slowly, like smoke rising from the ashes. His golden eyes glinted in the waning sunlight. With the presence of a being far more powerful than anything Genesis had faced before, the demon was tall and commanding. Wings of midnight unfurled, casting a vast shadow over the land. His voice, smooth and rich, flowed like silk, yet carried an edge sharp enough to sever the deepest bonds.

"Genesis Rhapsodos," Asmodeus's voice rolled over the distance, laced with an unsettling familiarity. "The tragic hero. The broken poet. Still clinging to a world that has long since abandoned you."

Genesis' eyes narrowed, as a small flame of defiance rallied within him. His tone was steady, but he couldn’t help the flicker of unease that crept up his spine. "Who are you?"

Asmodeus smirked. The wicked curve of his lips betrayed the dangerous depths of his ambitions. "I am Asmodeus, the Prince of Lust, and I have been watching you for some time now."

At this, Genesis stiffened. "Watching me? Why? I’ve no business with someone like you."

Asmodeus chuckled softly. His eyes glowing with amusement. "Oh, but you do. You see, I know exactly what you desire, Genesis Rhapsodos. The accolades. The fame. The love. The respect. But most of all, you seek to be remembered as a hero. A true hero of Loveless. A tragic soul, doomed to forever repeat the cycle of loss and regret. How quaint."

Genesis was silent. His jaw tightened. He had come to terms with the fact that his life, his legacy, would never be what he wanted it to be. That he had a part to play in the grand schemes of the Planet. But this Asmodeus, saw through him in ways no one else ever had. It was as if the demon exposed his every insecurity, his every hidden yearning.

Genesis had always thought himself above manipulation, but here, before him, stood a creature who could unravel his deepest layers with a mere glance. Asmodeus knew Genesis, as he knew all sinner's temptations.

Asmodeus tilted his head. The motion was unnervingly graceful, as his long, curly hair brushed against his sharp, angular features. "You think I am here for your soul, Genesis? No. I seek something far more valuable."

He stepped closer to Genesis. His every movement was mesmerizing, a predator inching toward its prey. "You see, I am not simply a collector of souls. I am a weaver of fate. And you, Genesis, are tangled in a web of my making."

Genesis recoiled and gripped his sword tighter. Though he knew, it was all for naught. Even infused with magic, his rapier would never be enough to fight this creature. "You talk in riddles. What do you want with me?"

Asmodeus's eyes gleamed. A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I know of Bianca, your former friend’s bond to her, and her potential to destroy this world. I know what she seeks. The power to bring back the ones she lost and to be free from the pain that humanity caused her. But I do not need to tell you what will happen when she calls the kilonova, do I?"

Genesis’ eyes widened. Bianca: the woman who had caused such turmoil in the whispers he had overheard. The woman whose grief could tear apart the very fabric of existence. His mind raced, processing the implications. Linked to Sephiorth? Bianca was the key to an apocalyptic prophecy. And somehow, Asmodeus had a hand in it.

"You want her to do it. To destroy everything," Genesis said softly, the truth settling in like cold stone. "Why? What’s your gain in all this?"

Asmodeus’s smirk widened, though his eyes betrayed the deep, ancient sorrow of a being who had lost his way. It was there for an instant before it was replaced by the impassive mask he always wore. "Ah, you misunderstand, Genesis. I do not need her to destroy the world. I need her to watch as Sephiroth dies again. And I need you to be the one to take the final step in ensuring that the soul she clings so desperately to is severed for good. All it would take is to infuse your sword with my essence, negating the regeneration in Sephiroth's body."

Genesis felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name. A chill ran down his spine, and the idea of participating in this dark scheme made his stomach turn. "I’ve no interest in your twisted plans," he declared. "I have no quarrel with Bianca."

Asmodeus laughed: a rich, dark sound that resonated in the very air around them. "Oh, Genesis. You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve heard the whispers of her powers, haven’t you? Of what she can do when she succumbs to her grief? And you—"

"You, who once knew Sephiroth as a friend, could be the one to show her what true betrayal feels like." Asmodeus’s gaze sharpened, and he stepped closer

Genesis swallowed hard. Betrayal. It was a concept he understood all too well. He had long since lost the trust of those he once called allies. He had been a pawn in Shinra’s games, and in his misguided attempts at heroism, he had betrayed even his own ideals. But this? This was different.

Asmodeus continued, his words like silk wrapping around Genesis’ thoughts. "I offer you power, Genesis. The ability to alter your fate and to rewrite the story of Loveless. All I ask in return is your cooperation."

For a moment, Genesis hesitated. The temptation gnawed at him. This creature was offering him a way to rewrite his history and regain what he had lost. But he knew better. The price was steep, as it often was. too And in the end, Asmodeus was a being whose motives were far darker than anything Genesis could fathom or even come up with when he, himself, was corrupted by Jenova and her influence.

"No," Genesis said firmly, though the weight of his decision settled on him like a burden. "I will not be a part of your schemes."

Asmodeus’s eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and frustration.

"Very well," Asmodeus murmured. His voice a low purr that reminded the former SOLDIER of an exotic cat. "But Genesis Rhapsodos remember this. Even heroes are nothing but pawns in a larger game. And, in time, you will see what you have denied."

With a final glance, Asmodeus spread his wings wide, and in an instant, he was gone, leaving Genesis standing alone with the weight of his decision heavy in the stillness of the ruined city.

Genesis stood still. His mind reeled. He hadn’t fully grasped the full extent of Asmodeus’s machinations, but one thing was clear. He would have to confront the consequences of this encounter. The threads of fate had been tugged, and soon, they would unravel. And at the center of it all, Bianca would stand, caught between her grief, her anger at what transpired in her life, her love for Sephiroth, and the prophecy that threatened to destroy Existence.

@themaradwrites @craftyhal @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon

[catmansquad]

“Unstable” (2)

I had intended for the first part to just be an excerpt I’ve rewritten, but since you people are clearly thirsty for this crazy, dangerously obsessed variant…(100+ Notes (Sweats))

So, here we are. More Yandere!Miguel

You were fairly sure you couldn’t mark the exact point in time where your life had suddenly become spontaneously more interesting. On second thoughts, you most definitely could; the other Monday, you were just on your way home from grocery shopping, arms heavy with bags, aching with the shopping and mind ticking over for what you could make. Would Miguel eat your cooking, or would he be exhausted from work again and subsist solely on store-bought empanadas? You admitted a soft sigh, well aware that your permanently exhausted husband had no time for your cooking any more. He had little time for anything but work and sleep these days. You were just considering that you could tempt him with something spicy when your attention was seized by a screech of tires.

You watched in horror as a car on Auto-drive screeched from the road, mounting the pavement and racing straight forwards, towards you. You were frozen in fear, a deer in literal headlights. Only the car never hit you, seconds before impact, you were grabbed by a strong arm across your waist, pressed against a broad body and both were sharply launched up and away as the car raced over where you had been, screeching for a few feet further as the brakes applied and the engine shut off. You didn’t see any of this, you were still trembling, eyes screwed shut. You felt soft grass underfoot. ‘Hey… You’re alright.’ That deep voice soothed you; you could feel it rumbling in that broad chest, and your eyes slowly opened, you looked up and around; you were being held by a masked figure who towered over you, clad in red and deepest blue. ‘… Y-you… Saved my life…’ ‘Yeah, I did… Sorry I couldn’t save your groceries, too. The important part is that you’re safe.’ You gasped softly as you felt the figure’s other arm come around to embrace you in a reassuring cuddle, almost squeezing you against that broad form before slackening his grip. You swallowed; you could feel just how buff your saviour was; that suit was utterly skintight. You tried not to blush, not to be embarrassed. You were married, with a loving husband. ‘C-can I, uh…?’ At your unfinished question, your saviour hummed, then finally released you from that embrace. You turned around to face the mystery man; as tall as Miguel, but outclassed him in sheer muscle mass. ‘Who are you…?’ You watched that mask shift, eyes narrow, they hummed again. ‘I’m…. I’m your friendly Spider-man. Just looking out for you.’ His hand was huge and warm on your shoulder, then he launched webbing from his wrist and was gone into the city. You were still, aware of broken bags and the pavement marred with the black streaks of tire burns. ‘… What the hell is a “Spider-man”?’

He followed you home, from the shadows, from the rooftops. He was in this world now, close enough to touch you. Holding you in his arms had only been a brief taste of just how deep his affections ran, in time he knew you wouldn’t want to leave his embrace. It had been perfectly easy; for Lyla to hack and reprogram the Auto-drive GPS, technology in this world was so laughably primitive. So very easy to engineer a tragic accident to rescue you from. Already, she was proving her worth once again, already setting more events in motion… He would have you, your love, your trust, as soon as he had dealt with the spare…

Of all the things that Miguel O’Hara could have imagined happening, he did not expect to be kidnapped on his way home from work. There was no creaky white van, no gangs in balaclavas. No, he was out into the car park when he registered the feeling of something wet and sticky gluing itself to his back, and then his feet were no longer on the ground. He floundered desperately for something to grab onto, but there was only empty air and the ground that was getting further and further away. Momentum ceased suddenly as a hand closed sharply around his neck, almost cutting off his air entirely. ‘Miguel O’Hara…?’ The masked figure demanded in a growl. ‘Wha…?’ He wheezed, trying to draw enough breath to speak, his feet were still not touching solid ground, his entire bodyweight being supported by the hand around his throat. The masked figure laughed, head shaking as if in disbelief. ‘Of course you are… Pathetic. We’re going to go somewhere quiet, and have a little talk, O’Hara, and if you behave yourself, I might just let you keep breathing…’ The strangled choking gasp squeezed its way out as the hand on his throat tightened crushingly, just for a moment.

You glanced at the clock, listening to the relieving sound of a key turning in the lock and the front door opening. Stepping out into the hall, a relieved smile settled across your face at the sight of your husband shutting and locking the door behind him, twirling the ring of keys around one finger before his eyes found you, a look of elation crossed his features, just for a brief moment. ‘Mig, I was getting worried, you’re not usually so late. Don’t tell me you stayed behind again? Seriously, I know your work’s important, but it’s not good for your health…’ You stepped closer, hands resting on his shoulder and a little yelp escaped you, unbidden, as you were all but pulled into a crushing hug, feeling him pull you tight against him, his face nuzzling into your neck as he inhaled your scent. ‘Heheh… Hey, what’s gotten into you, Mig…?’ You returned his hug, grateful for it, feeling him shiver softly at your touch. ‘Mm… Only good things, why’d you ask?’ With some reluctance, he stepped back, still smiling. It had been years since you had seen him like this, so full of life, so full of energy.. ‘You’re usually just so… Exhausted-‘ Your gaze turned critical; voice serious. ‘Miguel. Answer me, truthfully, right now; Are you on drugs?’ He chuckled at your answer, hands squeezing your shoulders reassuringly. ‘No! No, of course not. I… I managed to convince work to move my vacation time up. For the next two weeks, I’m all yours…’ His voice slipped into a low purr, leaning in for a kiss. You stopped him, hands on his chest, hesitating.

‘It’s…. Strange.’ ‘Strange?’ His smile faltered, just for the briefest instant. ‘… Yeah, just strange, seeing you so… Happy, so full of energy. When you weren’t back on time, I was starting to worry that something had happened, and then you come in practically bursting at the seams with joy… What did you do with my old husband?’ You laughed softly, and after a second, he joined in, squeezing you into another hug that you didn’t resist. ‘Oh, mi corazón, I’m the same man I’ve always been…’ He held you close, close enough that you could not see the crimson glint of his eyes, or the vicious smirk of triumph that crept onto his face.

-----------

‘Turn out your pockets. Everything. Wallet, keys, ID… All of it. Everything.’ Miguel O’Hara was in a panic; battered, bruised and bloodied, he struggled to obey fast enough. His kidnapper was not after the secrets of his job, did not want the details of his impressive bank account. Nor was he messing around, he had just witnessed the terrifying manic crush a steel bar effortlessly- nothing more than an effort in intimidation, to show off his inhuman strength. It had the desired effect. ‘W-why are you doing this-?’ ‘Why…? WHY?!’ The figure leaned in, scowling, masked eyes narrowing into slits. ‘It’s because you are WEAK! You’re weak. I’m not. I’m so much stronger than you- so much better than you- So… That’s why you’re going to go away now…’ Clawed hands snatched the belongings out of his grasp, still the voice was thick with venomous hatred. ‘… You’re going to go far, far away, and you’re not going to see or speak to your partner ever again… If I ever see you again, O’Hara. If I get even the tiniest inkling that you’ve been making contact with them… I’m going to find you, I’m going to hunt you down, and I’m going to snap your spine like a toothpick…’ He watched those masked eyes narrow again, voice a low growl. ‘… Comprende? Yes?’

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

‘I’m the man you married…’ You squirmed in delight as he peppered kisses on your cheek, still held in his arms, like he couldn’t get enough of you. ‘So, mm… Mig, give me just a moment, please…’ ‘I can’t help myself, you’re just too… Addictive…’ He finally released you, he had not taken more than a few steps into the door and already affection had spilled forth like a near endless font. ‘Go on… My restraint is only so long.’ You took a moment to recompose yourself, pulling him by the hand into the lounge, and he didn’t resist. ‘So… Two things, the first; since you’re on vacation now and have no further excuses; we’re still on for tomorrow night?’ You watched his eyes search your face softly, smile fading slowly. ‘Uh…’ ‘Seriously, Miggy? This is why you need to get more sleep. We were going out to the Yew Crozier for dinner with my friends? Remember now?’ He hung his head, smiling softly in embarrassment. ‘… Of course. What fun we’ll have. What was the second thing? You mentioned two.’ ‘Two? Uh, well, technically three things, but these two are entwined. I was nearly run over today, Mig… Someone’s Auto-Drive GPS decided to spontaneously plot a route right through me.’ You watched shock write itself across your husband’s face. ‘Mi vida-!’ ‘W-wait… I nearly was. I was saved by… Um. Promise you won’t laugh?’ You waited for Miguel to nod with a gentle smile, his eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘… I think I was saved by a… Superhero? Like, the guy came out of nowhere, picked me up like I was a sack of feathers and carried me to safety.’ Miguel raised an eyebrow, still smiling. ‘A Superhero, really? So, I’ve got competition, you’re saying? Was he hot?’ ‘Miguel!’ He laughed at your shocked response, waiting for you to calm down with a sly smile playing across his features. ‘No, I’m married! To you!... He was buff, though, and warm. Very buff.’ ‘Right…’ He nodded, eyes glinting as he stared into your own, then shuffled closer. ‘… Well, I’m warm and buff, too. Give me some affection, mi vida…’ His tone slowly dropped into a soft purr, hands taking your wrists and guiding them under the layers of clothing, letting you feel his warm skin and hard muscles. Much to the delight of you both. ‘M-Miguel… Have you been working out without me knowing?’ ‘Heh… I thought I’d get myself in better shape for you… Brr, your hands are cold, though…’ You kept your hands on his chest, snuggling closer against him with a pleased smile. ‘Mm… I love my tall, buff husband….’ Once again did you miss the crimson glint of his eyes, the smile that grew too wide for him to continue concealing his sharp fangs. He had practiced his smile many, many times, just the right amount of joy and sincerity to make it seem genuine without revealing those pointed, venomous mutations. Already, the dark flower was blooming in his gut; tomorrow he would have to be utterly on point- your friends, a whole evening with them, the mere thought nearly made him scowl. But tonight… Tonight he would have you all to himself- and oh how he planned to enjoy every single second… Already Lyla was mining the names, faces, and numbers of your friends from your phone, your social media connections, and all of their connections. Forming a spiderweb of information, he could tug and pull… To find the troublesome threads- and make them snap.

[thelarriefics]

SECRET RELATIONSHIP FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics where Harry and Louis hide their relationship. (Part I)

📖 i found love in you (and i learned to love me too) by @larrydoinglaundry (167k)

After months of battling with his own demons, Louis goes back to get what he once left behind, but Harry's not sure if he showed up in time. A journey of remorse, healing and love that's strong enough to break them down and build them back up again. Sequel to 'love is a word, you gave it a name'.

📖 blue moon by @aquietlarrie (152k)

or the self indulgent 50’s au where i wanted a safe space to explore the culture, history, and sexuality of being gay in a time when it was extremely difficult to do so. includes, lots of questionable dancing, healing your inner child, and one heck of an emotional ride.

📖 Behind closed doors (I got myself in a mess) by @teamlouis2023 (58k)

Louis, a renowned wedding planner, has everything he needs to be happy : loyal friends, a boss that is a little more than just a boss, a job that he loves with all his heart. Tasked with the planning of Gemma and Michal's wedding, he doesn't except to come across the man who had left him five years earlier

📖 Us Against the World by @chelsea-frew (58k)

It's time for the 58th Hunger Games. 18-year-old Louis, the victor of the 56th Hunger Games, is to be mentor to the latest tributes from District 4. It is the worst job in the world. Making it even worse is that one of those tributes is 16-year-old Harry, Louis' secret boyfriend. The stakes are life and death. Can Harry do what needs to be done to emerge as the victor? Can Louis help him from the outside? Against all odds, can these two be brought back together—or will Louis be saying goodbye to Harry forever?

📖 Train Tracks and Porcelain by @jaerie (41k)

The next moments happened in the strange slow motion of dawn. Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes. Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU

📖 Lover Boy by @brightgolden (27k)

Where Louis wants to tell everyone about his relationship with Harry, but his boyfriend clearly thinks otherwise.

📖 Unraveled by @allwaswell16 (18k)

Whilst Harry was prepared to protect the PM with his life, he wasn’t prepared for Louis’ secrets. As Harry helped investigate the attempts on Louis’ life, he found a tangled web of political rivals, possible terrorist attacks, and family secrets as well as an undeniable attraction to the man he has vowed to protect.

📖 Everything's going to be alright - Sixth Form AU by @boufantgirl (17k)

Louis is in sixth form with Harry Styles. A classic story about sixth form, love and coming out. There is some drugs and alcohol use. There are some adult themes. The people in this story are 18. A story about the end of school before going to university.

📖 On Thin Ice by @neondiamond (16k)

As the goaltender for one of the best hockey teams in the world, Harry never expected participating in his second winter Olympics would be so eventful. His hidden long-term relationship with the captain of their biggest rival team may have something to do with it.

📖 getting yourself wet for me by @dreamersdivin-headfirst (10k)

frat boys take on watersports

📖 Curves of your lips rewrite history by @lunarheslwt (8k)

everyone bows to Prince Harry, but in the privacy of his four walls, the one he is bowing and kneeling for is his knight, Sir Louis.

📖 The President and His Captain by @tommokat (5k)

Childhood best friends turn boyfriends Harry and Louis have kept their relationship quiet for almost a year now, so when Harry's basketball coach enforces a no dating rule for the season, they should have no problem sticking to that rule. Right?

📖 Battle Of The Balls by @greenblueish (5k)

the one where YouTubers Harry and Louis play Golf With Friends, go to the pub with Niall and return home six hours after posting the video.

📖 tongue-tied by @liberty-barnes (3k)

the one where OT9 participate in a game of Family Feud, and they really should have listened to Liam when he said this was a bad idea

📖 there are rumors we have to face by @louisandtheaquarian (2k)

In this scene, Harry and Louis are sneaking around in earnest while at the wedding of friends, Zarry's stunt is getting old, and rumors fly.

📖 every night with us (is like a dream) by @darkinfinity (2k)

A look into the life of a professional football player dating a physical therapist.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Raphael/Haarlep | there is wise valour (and there is recklessness)

A/N: 18+ | a pre-canon exploration of the possible origin of Raphael's Ascended Fiend form, and the begrudging rapport between him and Haarlep.

Words: 3.4k

Read it on AO3

Raphael stalks through the halls of his House – nothing so grandiose as to deserve the epithet, yet, but he is prepared to impress his will upon the universe until it is – cringing imps scattering into the shadows as they avoid his fearsome tread. A telltale haze shimmers at the edge of his vision, overwriting the dull stonework with rippling red. The door to his personal suite looms out before him, and he scrabbles at the handle, forcing it open just enough to allow him entry, then spinning to force it closed again with a barely-tempered thud. The resolute click of the arcane locking mechanism grants him some small measure of relief.

His servants, few as they are, know not to disturb him here, so he will have his peace.

This simple and inanely optimistic certainty is broken almost immediately, with the voice of potentially the last being he desires to encounter in this moment: Haarlep, his lord father’s wretched consolation gift.

Oh, he certainly did not deign to express it as such, but the timing made the implication exactly as clear as the Archduke of Cania required. Too slow to profit as he had desired – as he had planned, painstakingly – from the fall of Netheril, and the fatuity of the fool Karsus, the Crown and its fearsome power already swept up and shelved away in the vaults of Mephistar, to be ignored or studied – then ignored again – at his father’s leisure.

“Oh dear, our little lord’s in quite a state today, is he not?” The silken tones of the incubus’s voice might be enticing to another, but they grate against Raphael’s ears like the music of a fingerless bard.

Raphael grits his teeth, refraining from digging his horns into the wood of the door before him by willpower alone. Haarlep, his father had named the wretch, an insipid mirror to reflect his every action back to Mephistar. He could not afford to be known to his father in this state.

A fit of temper was one thing. Hypocritical though he be, Mephistopheles could not deny his blood ran true in such matters. An uncontrollable beast-form, however, one twisted and warped by the broken magics of Netheril? Such knowledge would bring either disdain or interest — and a scrutiny he would not be liable to profit from in either event.

“What are you doing here?” He grinds out, refusing to turn around. Poor form, to leave his back to an enemy, but better the suspicion of weakness than the truth of it, until he can master himself as he ought.

A light, chiming laugh floats through the air like gossamer webs, undulating as the incubus steps closer to him. They run fashionably tapered claws in maddeningly delicate tapping motions down his back, between the base of his wings. He’s certain it is meant to entice, but all it does is make his skin itch and crawl, hungering for slaughter – for satiation – in a ravenous manner he has not felt before.

The desire itself is certainly not new to him, but the drive to follow through, and damn the consequences? That is more of a struggle. He’d thought the beast-form would take a mighty shape, one that would augment his own power and prestige, that he could gloat about to rivals and hold over the heads of his siblings.

Instead, he is left to feel grateful for his position of no note, that he has no true household staff to warn away from loose tongues. Only a few wretched imps, too foolish to put one brick atop another were the plans directly before them, and the incubus, its true thoughts held scrupulously behind dancing eyes. Said incubus’s vexatious tapping continues, clawtips light enough to refrain from marring even a thread of his richly embroidered tunic, but refusing to respond to the intimation of his shifting motions and leave well enough alone.

“Why, I aim only to remind my lord that I am here at his disposal, of course.” The incubus’s tone is conversational, as though they are speaking over a formal luncheon, rather than after they had barged into his own private chambers without so much as a by-your-leave. Raphael’s fingers curl against the door, leaving slight gouges this time.

The incubus is not finished, however, continuing on languidly, “We have had so little opportunity to connect, you and I, since I was first remanded into your… care.” The subtle emphasis put on the last word indicates the incubus’s cognizance that the reality was anything but, and invites him to commiserate with their shared circumstance. Raphael declines. Their situations are nothing alike, and he’ll not be condescended to by this… this… wretch.

At his limit with the damned touching now, Raphael spins away, knocking the incubus’s overreaching arm to the side. “Enough, damn you!” His voice begins as a snarl but he manages to quell it to a hiss. “Your presence is neither desired nor requested, and thus you should be anywhere at all in the estate but my private chambers.” He gestures to the door in a clear dismissal. “You may count yourself fortunate that I have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment than your insolence.”

He knows as soon as the last word leaves his lips that he’s made an error. The incubus’s eyes light up behind the graceful drape of their hair, filled with a dancing glow as its plump lips curl with keen delight. “More pressing than making use of an esteemed gift? The little lord is keeping secrets.” Its tongue flicks out, long and forked, wetting its lower lip with a glistening sheen as it draws, achingly slowly, back in.

Raphael tears his eyes away from the gallingly-enticing gleam, displeased to find that, yet again, his threats are as puffs of air to this detestable creature. He attempts to draw himself up, mantling his wings with oblique menace, and flattens his voice to a firm register. “I have no obligation to keep counsel with you, cur.”

The incubus taps one long, slender finger mockingly against its chin. “Mmmm,” it lets out a long, unnecessarily drawn out hum. “‘Obligation’? Certainly not. I would not dream of prevailing upon the goodwill of your august personage to demand as such.”

It pauses, a glimmer of sweet-edged malice drifting across its face. “However… It might behoove the little lord to indulge an ally, rather than order an adversary.”

The hellfire haze, nearly dissipated while he was not paying attention, blazes back into being around him. The beast howls within, clawing at his bones, desperate to cleave flesh and willing to settle for his own if more suitable sacrifice was not provided. Raphael grinds his teeth against the cry of pain, keeping his voice unaffected even as it feels like speaking through blades of infernal iron.

“You presume much, gift-of-my-father. Perhaps too much. Why should I seek to find an ally in one so markedly bound to higher loyalties?”

The incubus laughs, light and mocking. “Loyalties? What a precious concept. A lord must have strength enough to protect his vassals, in exchange for their loyalty.” Their friendly mien drops entirely, pinning him with a flat, piercing gaze as that damned finger taps, slow and languid, against their chin. “Thus far, I have seen no indication of any such strength from you, little lord.”

At this final expression of disrespect, the delicate webs of Raphael’s remaining self-control fracture and wisp away. A hideous sound of ripping flesh and crackling bone echoes around the room, dissipating against the sound-muffling enchantments etched into the stone. Between one interminable blink and the next, his vision doubles, then trebles, the shifting haze edging out to line the fringes of his new sightlines. He looks to the incubus standing before him in triplicate – a reflection now in truth – with fury the forenote of the increasingly bestial bent to his mind. He loosens his disjointed jaw in anticipation, and awaits the wretch’s usual twist of mockery.

Haarlep stares – up, and up – at the mangled, marvelous creature before them. So this is what their little master has been hiding since his return from the broken remnants of Netheril, bare days after their own arrival. He’d slammed back into the House like a meteor strike, a furious tempest raging throughout its halls ever since. Haarlep’s sole attempt to ingratiate themself had been met with glowering fury followed by curt dismissal, and a silent, fraught détente ever since.

That, of course, simply would not do. Perceived failure at such a level would, sooner or later, make its way back to the lord of Mephistar. And, generous though the terms of his commandment had been, none were that generous.

Haarlep had bedecked themself in their finest things, gauzy drider-silks embellished with blood-pearls and ornate, embroidered sigils, and hied away to the little lord’s personal chambers for one final attempt. Either they’d finally come to some conclusive understanding, or… Well. The consequences for a failed contract with the lord of the Eighth Layer would not be pleasant. Haarlep took pain to bed as a lover as willingly as pleasure, but even their malleable form and aberrant senses had their limits.

And, at first, it had seemed like their cause was just as lost as it had initially appeared. The stubborn little brat, refusing to treat with them as their positions demanded, to engage with the realities they were – the both of them – constrained within. They’d pushed, pressed up close to his body the way they knew he loathed, needling at him with claws and words alike, pricking about for any crack in his obdurate mask.

And then — not a crack, but a shattering entire. Emerging from the stagnant shell of the lordling was birthed a monstrosity, pure and twisted.

An agglomerate skull, eyes glowing baleful and amber from cavernous sockets. Jagged limbs unsuited for movement and coated imperfectly with dappled scale, internal fire licking out from the crevices against undefended flesh, searing and cauterizing in continuous agony. Wings, groomed and genteel mere moments before — now marred with rot and ruin, mantled in tattered shreds held in place by blackened scar tissue.

What a mess. Haarlep could understand why the little master had been so reclusive if this was the shape now lurking within him. His new form’s structure might be passingly compared to that of a cornugon, but only to a witless imbecile. The bone-plate, tarnished and burnt, bore some similarity to the lustrous ossified mail of an osyluth, but lacked entirely their ordered and brutal beauty. In truth… beneath the surface, there was truly nothing of the Hells about this form at all, but rather — something far more Abyssal in origin.

Haarlep smiles, slow and sweet, their long tongue flicking out from their mouth and dragging back the scent of the beast as it returns, a delectable sweet hint of Chaos just discernible below the rest. Their smile grows wider still as they savor it, subtle fangs bared by the action.

“Little master has been quite the naughty boy, hasn’t he? Dabbling with magics too powerful for him, perhaps? Snooping around in pilfered Netherese parlors, grasping at scraps?” They tut chidingly, shaking their head at him.

The beast huffs out a gusting breath, fetid air coursing from its maw, its blackened claws all too obvious as they raise to strike.

Haarlep coos. “How cruel of the little lord to keep this lovely surprise all to himself. Why, we could have been playing together long since.”

Silence, for a moment. Then a reverberating growl shudders from its chest, emerging as a guttural hiss from its frayed vocal cords. With a crack of over-stressed bone, the beast crouches, then springs forward, toppling them both and slamming its forelimbs down on either side of Haarlep’s head. Its bone-jaws open and chitter against one another in accompaniment to its hissing. Hot, silvery liquid drips from the base of its throat, settling in searing pearls on Haarlep’s face before streaking wincingly away.

Haarlep clucks their tongue, reaching out a hand to caress along the roughened bone of the closest skull. “You can certainly take me like this, if you’ve a mind,” they say leadingly, rolling their body languidly upward to brush against the delightful texturing of the beast-form above them. Oh, it has been too long since they’ve dealt with any of Chaos’s get. An admittedly amateur transformation, perhaps, but nothing they cannot endear themself to their little lord by offering some much-needed assistance.

The beast responds with a huff, moving toward their touch for one brief moment, then away again, the creaking of misaligned joint and bone filling the chamber with a grisly cacophony. It seems the little lord isn’t particularly accustomed to his new form’s mind yet, either. That will make some things harder — and others easier.

Haarlep rolls their body up against the beast’s once more, to regain its attention and realign its purpose. Its triune head with trebled skulls, raised to scan the room around them, swings back down to pin him with those flat, glowing eyes, set so far back in their sockets. The vision on this beast-form must be disorienting indeed.

A snarling rumble rises up from the cavernous chamber of the beast’s chest — perhaps a disdain of the presumption, or an unfamiliarity with the sensation in this form. In either case, the little lord is welcome to communicate his desires to Haarlep should he choose. Otherwise, they shall do as a good attendant ought, and attend him.

They undulate again, aiming with particular focus for the most likely location of a hidden pleasure structure, sparing a moment to hope that their rash little lordling had not botched whatever ritual he’d stumbled upon with such talent as to lose that. Haarlep could certainly make an exemplary showing without any such element present – and had upon multiple occasions in the past – but it would certainly help the situation along. After a long moment, they feel an answering pressure coming from the boiling hot area between malformed limbs, and devote particular attention to encouraging it to emerge further.

The beast, plainly feeling the results of their efforts, snarls again, its claws scraping against the stone floor and leaving deep, gouging furrows. Its central skull flashes down and fastens around Haarlep’s throat, just barely stopping before it would cause true harm. They freeze for a moment, elegant neck extended, and luxuriate in the dull prick of those rending fangs — then moan, low and throaty, relaxing into them until the prick becomes true penetration.

The beast huffs, in what resembles nothing so much as sheer bewilderment. Haarlep throws their head back in laughter, relishing the bite of the bone-tooth collar, and the gentle rivulets of blood that begin to seep steadily from the punctures. “No stomach for the devouring, have we? A pity. By all means, then, allow me.”

They slither sinuously free of the beast’s hold, loosened in its surprise, earning more tender tears from the delightful drag of fang on flesh. The beast seems fully lost in its puzzlement now, crouching back on its haunches, its budding member just beginning to poke forth from the sheath at the twisted apex of its hips. Haarlep feels their mouth water, venom pooling slick and sweet, as it emerges in jerking, ungraceful spasms. Their eyes curl up in a true smile.

“Look at you,” they croon. The cockhead is blunt and brutal, with raised ridges at irregular intervals across its surface. The shape of it tapers just under the first bullying bulk of the head, then flares outward again, with diagonal, tiered ridges forming concentric circles underneath it. It looks delectable.

They slide closer on their knees, bowing their head and letting the smooth flood of their hair fall to the side to keep the nape of their neck – and its sluggishly bleeding marks – exposed. The beast observes the motion, skulls twisting to keep them centered in its vision and mantling its tattered wings, but makes no move to dissuade them by force — a clear invitation if Haarlep has ever seen one.

They lean closer, tongue flickering out to wrap around the flat tip and taste. The beast lets out a screeching cry, contorted hips juddering forward and one hand slamming down to tear at the floor. Misshapen then, but no less sensitive for it, it seems. Haarlep retracts their tongue slowly, savoring the taste of ash and burnt sugar. All things taste saccharine to them from contact with their venom, but the overwhelming edge of conflagration on the beast adds an alluring dimension they hunger for more of. And they’ve certainly never been one to deny themself an indulgence.

Prepared this time for the response of the beast – so clearly never touched before in this form – Haarlep wraps their long fingers around it, inanely delighted by the way they nestle into the hollows created by the banding ridges. The size would be difficult to fully encircle for the average mortal, but fits the grasp of Haarlep’s long fingers near-perfectly. The beast gives another rattling cry, starting forward as the stimulation encourages forth one final pulse of the cock from its sheath, a raised nodule at the base of the cock itself tugging free from the lip of the sheath.

Haarlep hums, eyeing the little structure with consideration, then moving their thumb down to caress it with the barest edge of claw. The beast growls, and the blaze of heat about it increases as it curls forward, its skulled head coming to rest in the air just above Haarlep’s upper back. They begin to feel enshrouded in the waves of heat rolling off of the beast, caged between it and caught in the dizzying miasma of Chaos.

They send their tongue out once more, this time holding the beast still by their hand around its cock. Their tongue flickers dexterously in between their fingers and the roughened flesh of the cock itself. The beast pants above them, gusts of air teasing down along their spine. With more of that ash and cinder scent filling their senses, Haarlep widens their mouth and takes the beast’s cock within them, the blunt head rubbing pleasantly up against the back of their throat. Their venom catches and pools in the crevices on the cock’s surface, easing its glide as it enters them. They shift away their fingers bit by bit as they usher the cock into their mouth, adjusting their mouth to its size before removing the last implicit constraint on the movement of the beast.

The head catches against the opening to their throat just as the beast recognizes its freedom, chasing the sensation they’ve granted it with jerking thrusts of its hips. Haarlep angles the flexible muscle of their throat to better receive it, feeling the ridges pressing back against their flesh as the beast bullies its way further into them, utterly uncaring of their own welfare. It is for the best that they’ve been the one to give the little lord’s beast its sorely needed outlet. Any other and the lordling would have more likely awoken to a shattered corpse, with the whole House aware of just how fastidious he is.

Overcome by the sensitivity of its fledgling flesh – and, if Haarlep might be so modest, the experience of their own peerless form – the beast only lasts a few more minutes before its thrusts grow even more frenzied. A sizzling heat permeates Haarlep’s throat as the cock flexes and shudders within it, seeming to grow larger for a few moments as the taste of ash and honey intensifies.

The next moment, the beast is tearing back from them, just barely avoiding slicing itself on their fangs as it stumbles backward, flesh cracking and splitting in a grating inversion of its earlier transformation. Its own form sizzles and steams, a haze in the air around it for a moment before, transmutation complete, their little lord stands before them once more. He looks lost, for a moment, before his scan of the room – now in quite some disarray – comes to a halt with his eyes on Haarlep, still kneeling gracefully with their hair cascading about them. His face twists, too many emotions to quantify spasming across it all at once, before settling on a faint, haughty sneer.

Haarlep licks their lips – and the visible remnants of their activities – slowly, sensuously. “Why, little lord, I do believe you and I have much to discuss.”

[jagged1]

Where Do I End and You Begin

Fandom: Outlast Rating: Gen Characters: Miles Upshur, minor appearance of the Walrider Summary: Miles takes a moment to think about his...everything immediately after the events of Mount Massive. Contains: Body dysphoria Word Count: ~800 AO3 Link

Miles isn’t quite sure what it says about his life that hiding in a dingy motel room doesn’t even rank as a bad experience. To be honest, he’s not sure it’s possible to rank anything after the absolute clusterfuck that was Mount Massive.

When you’ve already died once, there’s not much left to be upset about.

Don’t get him wrong; it’s nice to not be dead, but he’s not too sure this counts as living either. Maybe dead, maybe not, hunted by Murkoff, his jeep and everything he had in it hijacked. Yeah. Not the greatest place to be in, that’s for sure.

But he does have one hell of a trump card in his pocket. Well, more like in him. He manifests the Walrider separately from himself and just takes a moment to stare. Now that the overwhelming terror of being chased by it is over, Miles wants to finally get a good look at it.

It might have a basic semblance of a mind, but it doesn't seem to have its own solid appearance, beyond the fact that its whole form is a nebulous thing. It flickers between a hazy cloud, a dark skeleton, and what he imagines is a twisted idea of a man. The shape is there, but the details are wrong. Its body is oddly elongated, most obviously in the bony, creeping fingers on its hands. The shape of its muscles is tight and wiry, like someone severely dehydrated, whereas its veins and tendons stand out starkly against its skin.

The face is even more wrong. It has no nose and no ears and the expression of greed and hunger makes it look mad. That doesn't even touch upon the fact it looks like someone stretched its skin over its face, leaving odd gaps where its teeth peek through the thin web-like skin. The shape of its cheekbones is sharply defined. It's another detail where someone had the right idea, but wrong execution. Its eyes are darkly shadowed and deeply sunken (when they’re present). They flicker in and out of existence along with the rest of it, sometimes piercing through Miles, sometimes just a light in the dark, sometimes not even there at all, not that it stops it from knowing where everything is.

That’s another thing Miles has to get used to. Along with the weird powers, he feels like he has new senses. He instinctively knows or can feel where living and electronic things are. If he had to take a wild guess, it’s the Walrider reading the electrical waves they radiate, but he’s not a scientist or a wack job, and as far as he can tell it can’t talk. He hasn’t managed to communicate with it using words yet, anyway.

The lack of words hasn’t stopped it from making its opinions known. If he’s lucky, he just gets a weird mental nudge towards or away from something. If he’s unlucky, he loses control of his body entirely. One second, he’ll be moving left, the next, he’ll suddenly turn right and continue so smoothly he wouldn’t even think twice about it, except for the fact he didn’t do it.

It’s scary. It’s so fucking scary to be that out of control. He doesn’t feel anything like strings pulling him, like his muscles weirdly contracting before changing motions, like pressure in his head making him change his mind. It just- happens. He looks away from it and down at his hands, clenching his fists tight before letting go, unnerved at the lack of pain in his fingers, especially the fucking severed ones.

He can ignore the bullet holes in his torso and the eerily black and buzzing spaces where there should be blood and viscera spilling out. There’s always a low level hum in his ears, courtesy of all the nanomachines that make up the Walrider’s body and, now, his own.

(Is his body even his anymore?)

What he can’t ignore is his goddamn fingers. He’s always worked with his hands and as much as he can’t stand missing them, trying to replace with the Walrider is so much worse. He lets it cover the bloodied, raw stumps that won’t fucking heal, but he still has to look at every day.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, just staring at the missing pieces of himself. The Walrider stays too and how much control does he actually have over it? When he made it appear earlier, was really him doing it, or was it indulging him?

“What a bad joke.” He doesn’t know if he means himself or the situation. Is there even a difference? (Does it even matter?)

He collapses back onto the crappy mattress, arm slung over his eyes to block out the world. It doesn’t really work. (He pretends it does.) “Fucking Murkoff.”

[genshinresource]

Genshin Impact Character Sprites From "Shadows in Motion" Web Event

[genshin-impact-updates]

Web Event "Shadows in Motion" Now Online: Take Part to Obtain Primogems and Other In-Game Rewards

Within the microcosm of the toybox lurks mysterious surprises awaiting your discovery~

Come and take some photos together!

>> Click to Take Part in Event <<

〓Event Duration〓

August 9, 2023 – August 15, 2023 23:59 (UTC+8)

*Rewards cannot be claimed after the event ends. Please claim them in time.

〓Eligibility〓

Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 10 or above can participate in this event.

〓Event Description〓

During the event, you can log in to Genshin Impact daily, complete Daily Commissions, consume Original Resin, and complete other missions to obtain Stamina.

Stamina can be used to unlock different minimized landscapes, which can be accessed to let you take pictures of varied Sights.

Accumulate photos of Sights to obtain Primogems and other rewards.

〓Gain Stamina〓

Travelers can obtain Stamina through the following methods:

1. Complete the following actions in Genshin Impact every day including: log into Genshin Impact every day and consume 40 Original Resin daily.

2. Complete the following actions on the website such as: logging into the web event daily, etc.

3. Daily missions refresh daily at 04:00 server time.

*Stamina needs to be collected manually in the event page. Stamina that have not been collected will also be reset when daily missions are refreshed the next day. So, remember to collect them!

*If Travelers try to visit the event around 04:00 daily (Server Time), which is when the daily missions refresh, there might be a brief network error. Please refresh your page if you encounter such a situation.

〓Take Photos of Sights〓

1. After minimizing the landscape, Travelers can seek out Sights in the shrunken scenery and take their photos. The leftmost notice bar in the gameplay interface will show you which Sights need to be photographed while the rightmost controls can allow you to adjust how zoomed in or out you want the landscape to be.

2. After finding a Sight, you must take a photo of it as soon as you can. Travelers can manipulate the focusing controls to find the most appropriate distance for a photo. Certain Sights can only appear at the appropriate distances! Accumulate photos of Sights to obtain Primogems and other rewards.

3. Sights can be photographed multiple times but the album will only store the latest photo~

*If you exit photo-taking in the middle of the process, you can click the Sight or the leftmost notice bar to enter the photography page.

〓Event Rewards〓

- Sight Photography Rewards -

After accumulating 1, 3, 6, 9, 12, and 15 photos of Sights, Travelers can collect the corresponding rewards. The rewards include: Primogems ×120, Mystic Enhancement Ore ×8, Hero's Wit ×9, Mora ×60,000, and Sanctifying Unction ×3.

*The in-game rewards will be distributed via in-game mail. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the rewards in time.

*This web event is provided purely for entertainment. It is not indicative of any related gameplay features in Genshin Impact.

[madamlaydebug]

The Eclipse

Embarking on a discourse that endeavors to transcend human comprehension requires us to step beyond the veil of conventional understanding, into a realm where the phenomena of eclipses are not merely celestial events but cosmic symphonies with profound esoteric and metaphysical implications.

At the inception of cosmic time, the orchestration of celestial bodies was set into motion, laying the foundation for the occurrence of eclipses. These celestial events, marked by the alignment of the Earth, Moon, and Sun, are not mere happenstances but intricate cosmic dances that reflect the underlying order and harmony of the universe. Herein lies the first layer of understanding—an appreciation of the physical mechanics governing eclipses, revealing a universe bound by precise laws, where every shadow cast and light obscured is a note in the grand cosmic score.

Beyond the realm of physical laws lies the mystical significance of eclipses, as perceived through the lens of Kabbalah. In this ancient wisdom tradition, an eclipse is not just a shadow but a divine concealment, Tzimtzum, where the Infinite Source momentarily withdraws its light to invite deeper reflection and spiritual awakening. This act of divine contraction mirrors the soul's journey through the realms of concealment towards the ultimate revelation of Ein Sof, the boundless light, teaching us that darkness is but a path to enlightenment.

In the Gnostic tradition, eclipses serve as powerful metaphors for the soul's entrapment within the material world—a world veiled by the illusion of Maya. The transient darkness of an eclipse symbolizes the potential for the soul to pierce through this illusion, to remember its celestial origins, and to embrace the liberating knowledge that transcends the physical confines of existence.

Drawing from the ancient wisdom of Egypt, the journey of the sun god Ra through the underworld during an eclipse becomes a profound allegory for the cycles of death, rebirth, and eternal life. This celestial phenomenon embodies the perpetual struggle against chaos and the triumph of light, mirroring the human quest for order, harmony, and transcendence.

The Vedic perspective views eclipses as pivotal cosmic events that significantly influence the flow of karma and the unfolding of dharma. These moments of celestial alignment are seen as gateways to profound spiritual energy, offering opportunities for introspection, purification, and alignment with one's higher purpose, thereby navigating the soul through the intricate web of cosmic law and order.

Venturing into the realm of speculative esotericism, eclipses are envisioned as focal points in the fabric of the multiverse, acting as cosmic keys that unlock interdimensional gateways. This perspective suggests that during eclipses, the veils between worlds thin, vibrations shift, and channels of communication with higher intelligences open, offering glimpses into the interconnectedness of all existence.

In the shadow of an eclipse, we encounter the Shamanic journey of soul retrieval, where the darkness serves as a portal to other realms. Here, the eclipse becomes a ceremonial time for healing, for venturing into the depths of the soul's shadows, and for reclaiming lost parts of oneself. It is a profound reminder of the cycles of loss and recovery that define the spiritual journey.

Alchemy, too, finds in eclipses a symbol of the magnum opus—the great work of transforming the base metals of our being into spiritual gold. The interplay of light and darkness during an eclipse mirrors the alchemical processes of dissolution and coagulation, guiding the seeker through the stages of spiritual transformation and enlightenment.

From the perspective of quantum mysticism, eclipses are moments when the fabric of reality becomes malleable, when the potential for quantum leaps in consciousness is heightened. They are seen as temporal nodes where the probabilities of existence converge, offering unique opportunities for manifesting new realities and transcending linear time.

In the realm of astrology, eclipses are considered powerful omens that herald significant life changes and shifts in collective consciousness. They mark moments of destiny's acceleration, where individual and collective karma unfolds at an intensified pace, inviting us to align more deeply with our soul's purpose and the evolutionary currents of the cosmos.

The Tarot, with its rich symbolic language, associates eclipses with the Major Arcana cards of The Sun, The Moon, and The Tower, reflecting the themes of illumination, intuition, and sudden transformation. In the context of an eclipse, these archetypal energies invite us to embrace revelation, to listen to the whispers of the subconscious, and to navigate the upheavals that lead to spiritual renewal.

The Sufi mystics perceive eclipses as divine invitations to experience the annihilation of the self (fana) and the union with the Beloved. The temporary obscuring of the light is seen as a moment to dissolve the ego, to enter the dark night of the soul, and to emerge with a deeper realization of oneness with the Divine.

In the Hermetic tradition, "As above, so below" finds profound expression during eclipses, as these celestial alignments are understood to reflect and influence the microcosm of the human soul. Eclipses become moments of magical potency, where the correspondence between the heavens and the earthly realm can be harnessed for spiritual growth and transformation.

Through the lens of Depth Psychology, eclipses symbolize the confrontation with the Shadow, the unacknowledged and repressed parts of the psyche. They offer a powerful opportunity for shadow work, for integrating the dark aspects of ourselves, and for achieving greater wholeness and self-awareness.

Finally, in the collective consciousness of humanity, eclipses stand as universal symbols of awe, wonder, and the quest for meaning. They remind us of our shared humanity, our common gaze towards the heavens, and our eternal search for understanding in the vast, mysterious expanse of the cosmos.

In weaving together these multifarious strands of knowledge, wisdom, and speculation, this lecture aspires to illuminate the profound and manifold significance of eclipses—a cosmic phenomenon that bridges the physical and the metaphysical, the known and the unknowable, inviting us to explore the depths of existence and to contemplate our place within the infinite dance of the universe.

[rayneing-on-your-parade]

My Projects

I have a variety of fanfic and original content projects out in the wild, so here's a masterlist of all of them:

Original Works

Slowly Unspooling - A queer horror audiodrama about follows Kai as they try to figure out the reason behind some cassette tapes that showed up one day.

@solitudeseventhorizon - An upcoming queer horror sci fi following Eli after their ship encountered an anomaly, leaving them the only survivor

Long list of Fanworks under the break

Fanworks

The Magnus Archives

Completed:

I Know the Kindest Thing is to Leave you Alone - Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas - (Teen) - James Wright is getting old and wants to retire. Elias Bouchard is in a new relationship. Jonah Magnus is upset Elias isn't taking care of his Lukas, so he rushes to take over.

Sunshine - Eric Delano/Michael Shelley - (General) - Written for In Memoria by Behold_me - After Eric disappears one day, Michael has to raise Gerry, but doesn't know how to.

A Past Worth Fighting For - Jonathan Sims/Gerry Delano - (Teen) - The first part of my Rise and Fall series, All about Jon and Gerry growing up together

Delirious Desires - Gerard Keay/Michael - (Explicit) - A spiral!gerry ending, where Michael sends Gerry to the hospital on accident, and thinks the worst. That leads it to the archives to deal with a bigger problem.

The Desolation - Gerard Keay & Jude Perry - (explicit for graphic violence) - Part of my entity swap Gerry series. When Jude Perry shows up and takes a liking to Gerry, one can only guess at the shenanigans the two will get into. Soon she keeps showing up and offers a way out for him, if he only asks.

Ghost of Our Fears - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - (General) - Somewhere else, Jon broke the promise of together. Martin clung as long as he could. But a ghost can only hang on so long.

Come Back to Me - Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas and Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus - (Explicit) - Elias Bouchard has a yearly meeting with a Lukas to maintain a contract he had with Mordechai Lukas over a century ago. But he wasn't expecting Mordechai to be the one to walk in saying his name was Peter Lukas.

Gerry's Gener Grief - (General) - Part of Rise and Fall - Growing up, Gerry was only ever allowed to be what Mary wanted him to be. Now with Michael and Eric taking care of him, he's realizing that's not what all he's limited to. Starting with his gender.

Arrows in a Quiver - Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay - (General) - Also part of Rise and Fall - Martin is questioning his romantic orientation and Gerry has some strong opinions on gatekeeping

The Archivist's Statements - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - (General) - Jon always has a tape recorder on hand, what if he took advantage of that and used it as an audio diary since he can just talk without thinking?

The Benefits of Fingers in Your Hair - Michael Shelley/Gerard Keay - Gerry and Michael embark on a journey of love, trust, and overcoming the shadows of their pasts. Together, they find solace in each other's arms, cherishing the simple moments of dyeing hair and sharing tender kisses. In a world filled with uncertainty, Gerry and Michael have discovered a love that can withstand any darkness.

Whispers of the Woods - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Gerard Keay/Michael - (Mature) - Jon, the reclusive forest witch, used to offer answers to visitors seeking knowledge before he cut off all ties. When Martin is sent by his mother years later to receive one of Jon's famous answers he gets lost. However, guided by a mysterious stranger, he arrives at Jon's tower, and their encounter sets in motion a series of curious events, including a deepening friendship, an unexpected disappearance, and a tangled web of secrets.

Not Yet/Love Run - Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael - (Explicit) - Gerry's relationship with Michael hasn't been all sunshine and roses. No matter how hard he tries to make it. So he's not surprised when Michael comes home one day and kicks him out. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Whispered Affection - Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims - (Explicit) - Part of Rise and Fall - On the first day Jon and Gerry's new relationship as a married couple, Jon can't help but feel anxious over what is being missed. Gerry is very willing to give Jon anything he wants.

How to Live Again - Gerry Delano/Jon Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Gerry Delano - (Mature) - The main fic of my Rise and Fall series - Jon wakes up in the year 2022 in a bed that is not his own. And more surprisingly, it's not Martin curled up next to him. Jon has a fight with what was done, and the fact that he lived through it and Martin is no where to be found. Gerry has to come to terms with the fact that their husband is gone and the man in his place has no recollection of them. Martin is nowhere to be found and doesn't want to be found.

In Progress:

Still You Call Yourself my Friend - Martin/Jon/Tim&Sasha (Polychives) - (Mature) - After Jane Prentiss's attack on the archives and everything goes back mostly to normal, its the polychive's date night but sasha isn't showing up. Jon admits he's having some concerns over Sasha's attitude since the attack and soon they realize something is wrong. The three boyfriends have to work together with growing suspicions and hostility to try to save their relationship and their girlfriend's life

Sunday Dinner - Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay & Everyone - (Mature) - After Mary dies Gerry is left alone and the Avatars can't have this boy who learned to read on Leitners be free roaming. So now they're his family.

The End - Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood - (Mature) - Part of my Gerry entity swap Series - Gerry gets a Leitner at age 6 to keep him busy while Mary works on a business deal. Little did she know that it would set him on a path that would change his life for good

Twisted Up in You - Eric Delano/Michael - (Explicit) - 25 years ago, Eric tried to leave the institute and failed. Mary decided she had no need for him anymore and tried to kill him for it, but he managed to get away, leaving Gerry behind. Eventually he fell in love with his coworker, Michael Shelley. Then he heard the news of Mary's death, and got his child, now an adult, back. It seemed his life was finally perfect. So when Gertrude Robinson brought Michael along on a trip to Russia and came back alone, he knew better than to be surprised. And if a yellow door is stalking him, whats one more thing to add to the list?

Something Just Like This - Eric Delano/Michael Shelley, Eric Delano & Elias Bouchard - (Explicit) - Eric is Gerry's perfect dad, he tends to his every need and never even considers asking Mary to do anything. So when she volunteers one night Gerry wakes up from a night terror Eric is relieved, it allows him to stay in bed just a little longer before seeing if his boy needs him. What he doesn't expect is for the Eye to feed him what Mary is truly planning on doing. So after taking Gerry and running, he ends up in the Archives, trying to find where is safe from Mary finding and finishing her plan.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality

Completed

Corrupted Programming - (Teen) - Cw Suicidal Ideation - Guide goes on another Retrieval Mission through the glassways. It isn't really interested after Raptor Team. Head of Retrieval notices.

Guide's Holiday - Audio Tour Guide & The Clockwork Mother - (General) - The worst is past; everything is back to how it should be in the museum. So why does Guide still feel like this? The Curator notices and calls it to their office.

In Progress

Road Trips to the Finish Line - Amina & The Audio Tour Guide - (Teen) - Amina "kidnaps" Guide, and they go on a road trip. Where ever Guide wants she takes it. They find a few interesting things along the way and meet up with a few old friends.

Echoes of Forgotten Tales - (Teen) - The doors of Mistholme Museum have remained sealed until three friends stumble upon a forgotten entrance. Inside, they encounter fragmented guides with unique personalities, each holding secrets of the museum's past. As they navigate through its exhibits, facing challenges and uncovering truths, they must decide whether to save the museum from chaos and confront the enigmatic figures who now control it.

A Ghost in the Machine - Gerard Keay/The Audio Tour Guide - (Mature) - A TMA and Mistholme crossover - While the staff here at Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality do their absolute best to ensure the safety of all visitors, accidents can happen. The museum is not liable for any injury, death, or unfortunate feelings for podcast characters that hold so much gender in them that may occur during your visit. AKA Elias Bouchard has a new exhibit for the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. A gift for an old friend. Wherein Guide meets another "not quite person" person, and learns another emotion it had not considered an option for itself. But that person does not want to be an option after the Archivist promised to destroy them.

Your Tour Through the Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality - (Teen) - A collection of Exhibit Fics, all with the same patron

Blackrock Chronicles

The Magic Within - Rythian & Zoey - (Teen) - In the bustling corridors of high school, Rythian navigates a world that despises his magic. When newcomer Zoey arrives, possessing her own unique abilities, they form an unlikely bond amid bullying and prejudice. Together, they confront their hidden powers in a thrilling tale of magic, courage, and acceptance.

Destroyer of Worlds - Rythian/Zoey - (Teen) - The end is coming, and Rythian can feel it in every shadow that looms over his world. With the relentless endermen attacks escalating, he struggles to protect his beloved Zoey and keep his deepest fears at bay. But when a dire mission forces him to leave her side, Rythian's resolve is tested like never before.

Sanctuary Reforged - Rythian/Zoey - A year after a nuclear blast shattered their world, Zoey and her mechanical arm have found refuge in the desert town of Crooked Caber. As whispers of survival and rebuilding fill the air, a voice from the past brings scientist Duncan to Rythian’s doorstep, dragging secrets and old allies along. Reunions are fraught with tension and betrayal as Zoey’s miraculous survival is unveiled to her grieving friends.

Chronicles of Remembrance - Zoey/Rythian - Zoey works to defuse the nukes, but makes a mistake. Her last thoughts are of Rythian, though her next are not.

The Magic of Harmony - Zoey/Rythian - After the rebellion's tumult, Rythian crafts magical rings for Zoey, seeking to bring her joy amidst chaos.

[thelorehold]

The Shadow King's Gambit

In the opulent kingdom of Eldoria, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, a figure cloaked in darkness moved with the grace of a phantom. This was the Shadow King, a master thief renowned for his cunning and audacity. Tonight, he had set his sights on the Jewel of Aethel, a radiant gemstone rumored to hold untold power, locked away in the depths of the royal treasury.

Under the cloak of night, the Shadow King infiltrated the castle, slipping past the guards with ease. He navigated the labyrinthine corridors, his footsteps silent as whispers, his every move calculated and precise. Reaching the treasury, he bypassed intricate locks and disarmed cunning traps, his nimble fingers working with the skill of a seasoned artisan.

With the Jewel of Aethel in his grasp, a radiant gem that pulsed with arcane energy, the Shadow King felt a surge of triumph. But his victory was short-lived. As he turned to leave, he found himself surrounded by armed guards, their swords drawn and their eyes filled with suspicion.

The Shadow King, ever the master of deception, spun a tale of loyalty and betrayal, weaving a web of intrigue that cast doubt upon the integrity of the royal council. He insinuated that the true threat to the kingdom lay not with a humble thief, but within the very heart of the court.

His words struck a chord with the guards, who had long harbored suspicions about the council's clandestine dealings. The Shadow King seized the opportunity, sowing seeds of discord and distrust. He slipped away unnoticed, leaving behind a kingdom on the brink of chaos.

As the Shadow King retreated into the shadows, he realized that the Jewel of Aethel was not merely a treasure, but a catalyst for change. It had exposed the rot at the heart of the kingdom, revealing the fragile nature of the peace that had been maintained for so long.

He understood that his actions had set in motion a chain of events that could lead to either the kingdom's salvation or its downfall. The fate of Eldoria now rested in the hands of its people, who would have to choose between blind loyalty and the pursuit of truth.

The Shadow King, burdened with this newfound knowledge, disappeared into the night, leaving behind a kingdom teetering on the edge of revolution. His gambit had been successful, but at what cost? Only time would tell whether the seeds of doubt he had sown would blossom into a new era of justice and prosperity, or plunge Eldoria into an abyss of chaos and despair.