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astrobydalia · 6 months ago

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Aquamarine. Gold. Lavender.Colors of summer... Astro Observations

work by astrobydalia

Your 9th house rules your gandchildren! 9th house is 5th from 5th so your kids' kids.

Also, if you are any of your parent's first kid look at their 11th house to get a glimpse at how they will perceive your fs. (11th house is 7th from 5th, so your first kid's spouse)

^^these are derivative astrology methods so you gotta use whole sign system

The scorpion actually represents the underdeveloped/young version of Scorpio while the developed version of Scorpio is represented by the eagle which to me is analogous to the phoenix. That's why you see an eagle representing Scorpio in the The World card (cause this card signifies fulfillment or completion in tarot)

I think the song 'Part of Me' by Katy Perry really illustrates developed Scorpio energy. Is not resentful or vengeful but rather transformative and empowering, you can't end their spirit just like you can't end a phoenix. Underdeveloped Scorpio energy allows pain, trauma and resentment to ultimately k!ll their soul which turns into self-destruction, think how scorpion's stinger actually points at them (and fun fact: scorpions can actually k!ll themselves when they feel cornered)

Being "different" or an "outcast" is not an Aquarius trait, it's a Leo trait. Leo is all about being yourself, being unique, the one and only and main character energy. Aquarius rules inclusivity, equality, social cohesion, FRIENDSHIP (aka people who get you) and public validation, that's why it is a strong fame indicator. Aquarius energy is relatable to others, its new and fresh, Leo it not relatable because it is unique, it shines among the crowd and burns just like the Sun. Aquarius can be unique too but the main difference is Leos feel ultimately they only have themselves while Aquarius will always have people.

Leos are meant to experience feeling "different" or outcasted because they need to learn to accept and express themselves no matter what, that's why it rules bravery and courage. They often either feel alone in their "greatness" or feel like nobody accepts their real self. Either way its more common for them than for Aquarius to experience loneliness and rejection just like the sun can't never have anything come too close to it

Aquarius does not rule uniqueness per se it rules innovation, authenticity and detachment from the ego. Aquarians that try hard to be different and separated from "most" people are underdeveloped because they're still attached to their ego and this is the n1 thing that kills their innovative potential. Aquarius doesn't do things to validate the self like Leo, it generates ideas on how humanity can better express itself and develop, that's why it rules over technology, science and activism and that's why they're known to be trend setters. Air signs are all about finding common ground, aquarians are not meant to be different from communities or groups but rather find new and authentic new ways to represent them (hence the inclusivity).

All the Gemini Venus I've met were very loyal in their relationships idk what you guys are talking about. They are the golden retriever person that is head over heals obsessed with their partner. It's not easy to get them to commit cus they need someone who has that perfect blend between goofy and mysterious, too much of either bores them quickly. They love in a playful and child-like way so I see how they can be flighty and non-commital sometimes but if they're genuinely intrigued by you oh boy they'll be ALL over you in every way pretty consistently

Harsh aspects (esp square) between Mercury-Mercury in synastry are a no-go when it comes to compatibility. The two people can get along well and like each other if the rest of the synastry supports it but they likely have NOTHING in common. Efforts to try and find shared interests or ideas might be misunderstood or feel forced because there's none 😭. Even if you do have shared ideas or interests, you will have vastly different ways of looking at them because the way in which you both think/communicate always clash so you never really see eye to eye. You can get away with having unharmonious connections between venus or mars in synastry but mercury? Nah.

When it comes to predictions specially, you need to have AT LEAST three indicators for an energy to stick. For example, having just one planet at 29º doesn't mean you're gonna be famous, you need to have at least three fame indicators to even consider fame in chart. Also, I can't stress this enough, you REALLY shouldn't need to dig too hard to find the indicators, they're usually evident and fit into the context of the chart, meaning there are no other things contradicting or neutralizing said energy.

Even though we often look at 7th house for marriage, you are most likely to consider marrying and settling down with people who have their placements in your 4th house and/or 10th house, or you just see them as marriage potential in general. 4th house creates a sense of home, security and familiarity while 10th house synastry points to shared goals, seeing a future together, etc. That's how you'll feel tho, to see if that would happen you gotta check composite chart

If you have fire in your big 3 I just know you love being unhinged and a little wild once you get comfortable

Natives with Venus-Chiron aspects tend to have... questionable taste in lovers or get in relationships that are not so promising (forbidden love, etc). Their love life is always a struggle, they feel like they can't find someone that truly loves them and when they do it's always "complicated". With hard aspects they tend to date people who blatantly suck (abusers, psychos, players, etc). With easy aspects this can happen too but I've noticed they are more prone to attracting people who are alright however deep down are very troubled and/or unavailable individuals so the native tends to be the one to heal or sooth their lover.

Scorpio Mars can have sadistic tendencies... It obviously does NOT have to go that far for everyone, in fact most of them are pretty tame but this placement really gets off on the reactions of others I've noticed. Their n1 superpower is catching you off guard and poking at you psychologically. They know exactly what strings to pull and are very aware of how anything they do or say can trigger and affect others. This can manifest as smart and punchy humor, teasing... or really toxic behaviors. Oh and you do NOT wanna see them genuinely angry 😶 If you have this placement im gonna kindly ask you to please use your powers for good 😭💀

Females with Libra placements could have experienced being 'the other woman' I've seen this a lotttt. Either that or they constantly attract situatioships. They have a tendency to not be taken seriously by the opposite sex, only being seen as a trophy or a pretty face kinda vibe. Unless they also have Cancer energy

Which is interesting to see cause even though Libra rules marriage, the kind of women who are mostly perceived as marriage material by men are Cancer placements not Libra. If you think about it, it makes sense tho cause cancer rules family and motherhood

Water venus people have a very approachable and understanding aura. Very diplomatic and tactful, they'll effortlessly make you feel comfortable around them. Equally accepting of others both in public and in privet, but you'll automatically lose them if you make them feel invaded

Fire venus motto is "it's impossible to impress me.... but let's see you try😏". They purposefully market themselves as hard to get cause they want to see what you got. Will constantly crave interactions with some fun and friction

Earth venus are a lot more harsh, they haven't even talked to you yet but somehow have already decided you didn't make the cut 🥱 Silent observers, they'll have a mental spread sheet of what they like and don't like about you

With air venus you don't want to come off too strong otherwise you'll activate their fight or flight response 🏃‍♀️ You'll never know where you stand with them but if you wanna get closer you need to keep it playful and give them space

Virgo Sun/Mars/ASC like to help others but they do it in such way that is also indirectly self-serving to themselves. Virgos are sidereal Leos, they secretly want recognition for their modesty and want their actions and efforts to ultimately shine back on them

Underdeveloped Pisces Moons are selfish and out of touch. I’ve noticed this placement is painted in a way too innocent light but they can have a nasty shadow too. They will not accept anything that does not conform to their delusional expectations about life and when things don't go their way they’ll isolate in melancholy and victimize themselves using the ‘misunderstood’ card. They can have a really twisted perception of reality, confusing the lines between right and wrong to accommodate their own narrative. Think Thanos from MCU, that character is a perfect example of underdeveloped Pisces Moon fr!! They tend to be very aloof and weaponize their empathy to appear innocent . Can use the “I can understand the world but the world doesn’t understand me” mentality to justify everything they do without ever feeling bad about it.

Another Return that brings a lot of karmic lessons aside from Saturn Return is your North Node return which happens every 18 years (Ages 18, 36, 54, etc)

Gemini risings have a fabricated or fragmented personality. They're often attracted to things like astrology, personality stuff, psychology, etc because it helps them make sense of themselves through abstract concepts. They also tent to define themselves through imitation or comparison like "I do that too", etc. It's very easy for them to convince themselves they're something they're not (gemini rules lies and deception), that's why they're often good actors (Pisces 10th house). They come across as very air-headed cause who they present themselves to be is based on who they THINK and SAY they are vs. how that translates in reality

Based on my life experience and also the responses in astro/observation posts, I've observed Scorpio placements respond relatively well to criticism. Not saying they don't care, but they can handle being villainized quite well because when developed they can have a really healthy acceptance of their shadow side and toxic traits. They also don't mind being misunderstood cause that means people can't pry on their business

CANCER, Libra, Leo and Virgo placements on the other hand are the most sensitive to criticism.... They can't handle not being seen as "the good one" all the time

Most Pisces suns I've met gave off huge xNTJ vibes for some reason like very deep thinkers, silent, sarcastic with a low-key threatening and unapproachable aura. Also VERY elusive and protective their personal stuff, they embodied the "mysterious" Scorpio stereotype fr.

However Pisces sun+pisces venus combo gives much softer vibe, more quiet and doormat-like, you'd think they're high 24/7.

The other bunch of Pisces suns Ive met had a very bubbly and dramatic personality. Can be emotional in a really performative way

Libra Mars people are SMOOOOOTH. Not only with their words but also their mannerisms, how they move and do things in general. You'll never see them triggered or stressed, they make everything look so effortless

The Pluto in Scorpio generation (millennials mostly) were the ones who started this mental health awareness wave. All this concern with anxiety, depression, mental and personality disorders was started by them. They’re the ones who started putting focus on the deeper effects of the dark psychology (Scorpio).

All the people that have scared me and traumatized me deeply for life had planets in my 12th house with no 8th house synastry in sight whatsoever…

>>> In my experience 8th house synastry is only intense in the moment but eventually you get over it fast once you stop entertaining the person/situation. It might be hard to let it go tho cause the connection is intense and this person will leave a lasting impression, but once it’s done that person is forever dead to you. 12th house synastry on the other hand is giving "I fight with you in my sleep", 12th house feels harmless at first but it deals with themes of sorrow and shame. It lingers and haunts you fr. Let’s remember that Saturn, the planet of permanece and lessons, finds its joy in the 12th house…

8th house venus/juno is NOT a sugar baby indicator imo. As per my observation, it is actually the 8th house native that ends up making a lot of money and their spouse/partner benefits from the native's income and success. I swear every person I've seen with these placements had "we could hang out in my yacht if you want😉" as their main flirting technique LMAO. Their own power (8th house) is their main source of seduction and attraction (Venus/Juno)

I believe 2nd house Venus/Juno is more indicative of sugar baby energy. They want that spoiled good life with little effort even if that means being financially dependent on someone else or using family's money

In contrast I've noticed 8th house placements are not really like that, they have a HEAVY entrepreneurial spirit. Super ambitious individuals

With that being said, be careful if your have natal 8th house placements (specially Venus, Moon, Juno, 7th house ruler), cause the people you bond with WILL benefit from YOUR income and success. That's why these natives are prone to experiencing betrayal, cause if you surround yourself with the wrong people they'll take what they want from you or cause chaos in your life and then leave, so use your intuition!!

With 2nd house energy you are good at keeping your resources and income safe, but this means they can lose value if you don't use or invest them eventually just like food goes bad if it just sits in the fridge. With 8th house energy you are prone to loss, debt, loans and other financial risks where you either lose it all or gain lots and lots of money, the all or nothing nature of plutonic energy.

I bet any virgo placement can relate to being a little bit of mess but something I’ve seen in particular with Virgo risings is they are surprisingly sloppy?? You really wouldn't in a million years think so given how they always end up presenting good results but once you know them deeply you notice they often miss out on important details in the process or get so caught up with short-term things that they miss the big picture. Either way, they often look like they got it all together but they constantly improvise a lot more that what it looks like in the surface

Aquarius Mars is a placement I've seen A LOT in celebrities, specially well-liked ones. They attract people to them just by existing, they don't even have to try too hard

I’ve noticed a lot of critically acclaimed actors have air moons

Sagittarius Part of Fortune have a vibrant and fun spirit, you can’t never kill their vibes but they can tend to be immature. It’s like they’re completely oblivious to anything serious

Libras are people pleasers due to a hidden inferiority complex (sidereal virgo)

work by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #astrology observations #astro community

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astrocafecoffee · 3 months ago

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•Alkeste (124) - goddess of love and beauty , in your Groom pc / Juno pc /Briede pc

❤️ FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, ENJOY. ALL PHOTOS FROM PINTEREST ❤️

🥀 MASTERLIST

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✨ Alkeste (124) asteroid's presence in birth chart can indicate a strong connection to beauty , charm , love and romance. It can tell us what is most noticeable in someone's beauty/ outer look. Here, I covered alkeste in signs in groom/ briede/ juno pc.

🧡 Alkeste in Aries :

Aries is known for its vibrant energy and assertiveness, which would manifest in the person’s look as bold and attention-grabbing. Your fs might possess striking features that command attention, such as a strong, defined face with prominent facial expressions that convey confidence and enthusiasm. Their overall style is likely to be daring and original. They might favor fashion that is edgy or unconventional, reflecting their need to stand out and make a statement. Their choices in clothing and accessories might be influenced by their desire for immediacy and directness, often opting for outfits that are both eye-catching and purposeful.they might have a distinctive and energetic charm. Their beauty could be characterized by a kind of raw and magnetic quality that draws others in with its authenticity and fervor. This can include anything from a striking eye color or unique hairstyle to a vibrant and radiant skin tone.

🧡 Alkeste in Taurus:

Taurus, ruled by Venus, emphasizes a strong connection to sensuality and physical beauty. Your fs might have a calm, grounded presence that exudes a sense of stability and grace. Their features might be well-defined and harmonious, with a natural allure that draws people in without needing to be overly flashy.Their style often leans toward classic and timeless fashion, favoring high-quality materials and earthy tones that enhance their sense of comfort and luxury. They might be known for their appreciation of textures and subtle details, reflecting a sophisticated taste. Additionally, their beauty is often complemented by a serene and nurturing demeanor, adding to their overall charm. Their look can be described as understated yet deeply attractive, radiating a steady and enduring magnetism.

🧡Alkeste in Gemini :

With Alkeste in Gemini in groom pc/ juno pc your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often reflect a lively and versatile charm. Gemini's influence brings an air of curiosity and adaptability, which manifests in a dynamic and ever-changing style. Individuals with this placement are likely to have expressive and engaging features, such as bright, inquisitive eyes or a vibrant smile that captures attention.Their style is typically eclectic and playful, characterized by a mix of different trends and accessories. They enjoy experimenting with their look, frequently changing hairstyles or incorporating unique, attention-grabbing elements into their wardrobe. This adaptability makes their appearance fresh and interesting, showcasing a blend of creativity and wit.

🧡 Alkeste in Cancer:

With Alkeste in Cancer, your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often embody a soft, nurturing, and comforting quality. Cancer’s influence imparts a gentle, empathetic charm, making their features appear warm and inviting. They might have a round, soft face with expressive eyes that convey depth and sensitivity.Their style typically leans towards classic and cozy, with a preference for soft fabrics and soothing colors that enhance their comforting presence. They may choose clothing that reflects their personal and emotional connection to their surroundings, often opting for pieces that evoke a sense of home and security.their beauty has a tender and caring essence, characterized by a natural grace and an ability to make others feel at ease.

🧡 Alkeste in Leo :

With Alkeste in Leo, your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often exude a regal and charismatic flair. Leo's influence brings a sense of grandeur and confidence, making their features bold and striking. They might have a strong, well-defined jawline, bright, captivating eyes, and a radiant smile that draws attention effortlessly.Their style is typically dramatic and eye-catching, with a preference for high-quality, luxurious fabrics and vibrant colors. They may favor fashion that highlights their individuality and flair, often opting for pieces that make a statement and showcase their unique personality. Accessories might be bold and glamorous, such as statement jewelry or eye-catching hats, reflecting their desire to stand out and shine.

🧡 Alkeste in Virgo :

With Alkeste in Virgo, your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often reflect a refined, meticulous, and understated elegance. Virgo’s influence brings a sense of precision and attention to detail, making their features appear harmonious and well-balanced. They might have a clear, fresh complexion and features that convey clarity and neatness.Their style is typically characterized by classic, clean lines and practical yet sophisticated clothing choices. They favor well-tailored, high-quality garments in neutral or muted colors that enhance their natural grace without being overly ostentatious. Their accessories are likely to be subtle and functional, focusing on quality and simplicity.

🧡 Alkeste in Libra :

With Alkeste in Libra, your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often embody balance, harmony, and sophisticated grace. Libra’s influence lends a natural sense of symmetry and elegance to their features, which may include well-proportioned facial features and a refined, attractive appearance.Their style is typically characterized by a keen sense of aesthetics and a preference for harmonious, well-coordinated outfits. They often favor fashion that blends classic and modern elements, choosing pieces that are both stylish and timeless. Colors are usually soft and harmonious, reflecting their desire for beauty and balance. Accessories are likely to be tasteful and complement their overall look, often chosen for their elegance and ability to enhance their appearance without overwhelming it.

🧡 Alkeste in scorpio:

Your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance are often intensely magnetic and deeply transformative. Scorpio’s influence imbues their features with a compelling and mysterious allure, which may include striking, intense eyes that seem to reveal profound depth and an enigmatic aura.Their style tends to be bold and dramatic, with a preference for rich, dark colors and luxurious fabrics that enhance their powerful presence. They might favor clothing and accessories that reflect their complex personality, often choosing items that convey sophistication and a touch of mystery. Their wardrobe may include elements like deep reds, blacks, and metallics, adding to their intense and captivating image.their beauty exudes a potent and seductive charm, marked by a strong sense of individuality and a profound emotional resonance.

🧡Alkeste in Sagittarius:

Sagittarius' influence brings a sense of freedom and expansiveness to your future spouse's look, making their features appear vibrant and expressive. They might have an open, engaging smile and eyes that sparkle with enthusiasm and curiosity.Their style tends to be eclectic and influenced by their adventurous spirit. They often prefer clothing that is comfortable, practical, and suited for a range of activities. Bright colors, bold patterns, and global or bohemian-inspired pieces might feature prominently in their wardrobe, reflecting their love for exploration and diversity.Accessories are likely to be unique and meaningful, possibly including items from their travels or those that tell a story.

🧡 Alkeste in Capricorn:

With Alkeste in Capricorn, your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often exude a classic, refined, and understated elegance. Capricorn’s influence imparts a sense of professionalism and poise, making their features appear strong and well-defined. They may have a composed and mature look, with an emphasis on practical, sophisticated aesthetics.Their style is typically characterized by timeless, high-quality pieces that reflect their appreciation for structure and formality. They often choose well-tailored, classic garments in neutral or muted tones, highlighting their preference for a polished, no-nonsense appearance. Accessories are likely to be minimal but elegant, focusing on durability and subtlety.

🧡 Alkeste in Aquarius:

With Alkeste in Aquarius, your future spouse often gravitate towards pieces that break away from mainstream trends, embracing a style that reflects their unique personality and forward-thinking nature.they might opt for garments with unusual cuts or asymmetrical designs, combining different textures and materials in unexpected ways. Their wardrobe could include elements such as oversized silhouettes, metallic fabrics, or geometric patterns that reflect a futuristic aesthetic. They have an eye for integrating bold colors or unconventional prints that challenge traditional fashion norms.Accessories play a significant role in their style, often serving as the focal point of their ensemble. They might choose statement pieces such as sculptural jewelry, unusual hats, or accessories that incorporate modern technology or artistic design.

🧡 Alkeste in Pisces:

With Alkeste in Pisces, your future spouse's beauty and outer appearance often exude a dreamy, ethereal quality. Their style is typically soft, romantic, and fluid, favoring flowing fabrics and delicate, pastel colors that enhance their gentle, mystical aura. They might choose clothing with whimsical or artistic details, such as intricate lace, soft drapes, or patterns that evoke a sense of fantasy and escape. Accessories tend to be subtle yet enchanting, such as delicate, nature-inspired jewelry or items that have a bohemian or vintage feel. Their overall look often conveys a sense of otherworldliness and sensitivity, combining elegance with a touch of mystery. This placement suggests a beauty that is not only visually appealing but also emotionally resonant, reflecting an inner depth and an intuitive sense of style.

Thanks for reading, my lovelies 💕

- PIKO 💖

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edenesth · 11 months ago

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The Painter's Muse

Pairing: painter!Wooyoung x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Stay still, your highness."

You fidgeted in your chair, adjusting the satin dress to alleviate the stifling warmth within the famous painter's studio. The movement inadvertently exposed more of your skin, causing him to clear his throat and avert his gaze, a blush colouring his cheeks.

After enduring hours of posing, you finally voiced a plea, "Wooyoung, it's been ages. Can we please take a short break?" The subtle pout on your lips sent a rush of emotions through him, the desire to kiss you now more potent than ever.

Succumbing to your request, he nodded hastily, "Y-you're right, let's take a break. I apologise for losing track of time, princess."

In reality, both of you needed the pause to collect your thoughts and calm the rapid beating of your hearts. The artist grappled with the realisation that nurturing feelings for the princess was a forbidden path. Surely, you were destined for a match of higher societal standing, not with a mere painter. But your enchanting presence made it increasingly difficult for him to resist falling in love with you.

The intricacies of this predicament were not lost on him—the princess of Wonderland being his muse presented its own complications, especially when emotions became entangled in the delicate dance of artistry and affection.

Wrapping a robe around yourself, you opened a window to let in the fresh air while Wooyoung occupied himself with tidying up his paintbrushes and changing the water. Stealing a few glances at his familiar silhouette, you sighed, contemplating the possibility of a future with him.

Never did you anticipate that things would progress to this point. It started months ago during one of your occasional trips to the town, seeking respite from the burdens of your princess duties. The joy of blending in with the commoners, momentarily forgetting your responsibilities, was something you cherished.

As an avid art enthusiast, nothing brought you greater delight than your visits to the local art museum. Unaware of the lingering gaze fixated on your every move, you settled into your regular spot at the museum one day. Little did you know, the very artworks that captivated you were born from the inspiration drawn from you.

The painter had committed every nuance of your ethereal beauty and graceful gestures to memory from the moment you first graced the museum with your presence. While Wooyoung was no stranger to the allure of beautiful noblewomen, there was an indescribable quality about you that set you apart.

As he observed you engrossed in one of his favourite paintings—a celestial figure bearing a striking resemblance to you—he felt compelled to unravel the mystery of your identity. What had initially captivated him was your poised demeanour, but over time, his admiration had blossomed into something more profound.

You looked up, meeting his gaze as he gathered the courage to take a seat beside you, marking the first time he made his presence known. Returning his polite smile, you gestured toward the painting, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The artist nodded, a faint blush tinting his cheeks, "I agree. After all, it finds its full inspiration in you, my lady."

And that was how you met your favourite painter and how he discovered that his muse was none other than the sole princess of the nation. Despite the initial disbelief, he came to accept the truth, recognising the unique qualities that made you different—a true embodiment of royal elegance.

Since then, your visits to town have become more frequent, driven by the desire to spend more time with your new friend. As you grew closer, he gathered the courage to request the honour of painting you in person. Given your profound admiration for his work, you were more than happy to pose for his paintings.

Now, in one of your many sessions, there was tension lingering in the air. Both of you were acutely aware of each other in a different light as romantic feelings blossomed, leaving you both uncertain about how to address them.

Biting your lip, you shed the robe and settled back into your chair, frustration evident as Wooyoung deliberately avoided meeting your gaze. The awareness of mutual feelings lingered, yet the uncertainty weighed heavily. Both of you, usually playful and carefree, now trod cautiously, reluctant to overstep any boundaries.

It irked you—the palpable connection between you, the unspoken desire—yet the circumstances demanded a careful dance around your emotions.

Deep down, you pondered the unfairness of it all. If your brother, the crown prince, could marry a palace maid, why should there be obstacles for you and a talented painter like Wooyoung? Besides, he was no ordinary artist but a renowned one. Why should anyone else dictate who you could be with?

The resolve built within you. The opinions of others mattered little. No one can tell you what to do; you were the princess, and this is the man you love.

To hell with it. You're mine, Jung Wooyoung.

Opting to revive your playful side, you deliberately shifted around, purposefully trying to get on the artist's nerves. A smirk played on your lips when he emitted a tired sigh, "Princess, please, why are you being so difficult today?"

Your scoff echoed through the studio, "You're acting as if you don't already know what a brat I can be. Admit it, you secretly enjoy it."

He rolled his eyes, visibly uneasy as you continued your antics, causing your dress to ride up and reveal more skin, "Just sit still; we're almost done."

Crossing your legs, you shot him a defiant glare, "Well, what if I don't want it to be done?"

Frustrated, he set his brush down, reciprocating your glare, "I swear, princess, if you don't cooperate—"

With a challenging gaze, you interrupted, "And what exactly will you do about it?" Your taunt hung in the air as he shot up from his seat, advancing toward you, "Will you quit being a brat?" He growled.

You grinned mischievously, "Make me."

Unable to resist any longer, he muttered, "You asked for it, princess." Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned down, kissing you hard enough to leave both of your lips tingling and bruised. This was it; he was tired of feigning indifference, tired of concealing the depths of his love for you. The pretence was no longer sustainable; he craved to have you close to him every second of every day.

You smiled against his lips, reciprocating the fervour of his kiss. He pulled you close, orchestrating a swift turn until he was seated, and you straddled him on his lap.

Breaking the kiss, you both caught your breath as he rested his forehead against yours. Tenderly caressing his cheeks, you whispered, "I love you, Wooyoung."

His arms tightened around your waist, overwhelmed with emotion at finally hearing those words from you, "Are you sure, your highness? What would the people think?"

Cupping his jaw, you locked eyes with him, "It doesn't matter what they think; no one can stop me. Now, will you submit or stand beside me?"

Biting his lip, he responded, "I'll be on my knees, worshipping you for the rest of my life. I love you too, my princess."

By the end of the day, you found yourself subjected to endless teasing from your royal tutor. It seemed like a fitting revenge for your previous interference in his love life. Secretly, you relished the playful banter; it meant that what you and Wooyoung shared was real.

Holy crap, 400+ followers already?! Thank you all, my lovelies! <3

Also, this ended spicier than I planned HAHA only Mingi's part left to go and we're finished~

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

#edenesth #ateez crazy form #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #ateez fic #wooyoung drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #wooyoung imagines

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bestanimatedmovie · 2 years ago

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Choose your favorite!

Vote in the other polls!

What fans say:

The Lorax:

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse:

It had a very big impact on meme culture. And a really catchy soundtrack. Plus it has the silly sexy green man. What more could you want from a film.*

The Once-ler and the let it die song. This movie is glorious.

It is legit the mother of all great animated movies nowadays. From Mitchells vs the machines to the new mutant mayhem movie! The plot is so good and you can really see character development from almost all of the characters, plus the designs are BANGER.

THE MUSIC?? TOP FUCKING TIER. THE CASUAL DIVERSITY? IT ALSO HAS LITERALLY THE BEST SHOT IN CINEMATIC HISTORY (Miles rising after taking his leap of faith)

BRO THE ANIMATION IS SO SICK. The amount of sheer effort put into this movie is insane. The character growth was so amazing to watch and such a great movie to analyze. Best scenes are obviously the leap of faith. Actually gorgeous. And also the scene where aunt May sees Peter b after her Peter died. Her “you look tired, Peter” is just so heartfelt

Where the hell do I even start. The visuals are incredible and the plot is engaging. Every scene is perfect.

This film has EVERYTHING. Humor, action, inspirational scenes, kickass music, absolutely killer animation, an art style that is an homage to comic books, loveable characters, a talking pig, DR OLIVIA OCTAVIUS, I could go on

This is the best superhero movie ever made, the leap of faith is one of the best movie scenes of ever

The animation style is better than all the others, and makes the movie funnier too! The representation is also good, and the romantic storyline isn't too prevalent in the movie. Probably the best animation Marvel has made. My favorite scene is when the villains show up to Aunt May's house -- its my favorite fight scene!

I’m sure this movie’s been submitted already because it’s arguably the greatest animated film of all time. I have a personal connection to it because I saw it in theaters on opening night with my late father, and we both loved it and I still do. The animation is revolutionary and it’s one of the only 3 movies that make me cry.

gsksvbsvsbsvs I love everything about it, I love the animations, the story, the soundtrack also the style of animation AAAAAA its so beautiful its art it belongs in a museum i get goosebumps everytime I rewatch it

It’s just so good. All the characters are amazing and I love Miles dad. It’s hilarious and sparked my love for spider-man. It’s such a sweet movie about finding yourslef and has such a powerful message. I totally recommend it so I’m not adding spoilers, but like. Ohhhh, it’s so good.

Interesting villains, well-developed character arcs, a fresh take on Spider-Man, unique use of animation, funny, good use of multiverse that adds to the nature of the story being told, complicated character dynamics

It's the best animated movie because A: it takes one of the most well known comic characters of all time, kills him off in the first few minutes, and then shows you every cooler version of him. B: Has a large amount of representation in its main cast, considering that they're all versions of Spiderman, and that requires a white guy by default. C: everything in it is so well done I can't pick a favorite scene, but the most iconic is the jump off the skyscraper window.

The animation is incredible, the movie has so much story and heart, and there’s a perfect balance between humor and seriousness. And the soundtrack slaps

This is probably the best animated film I've ever seen. The animation is definitely the highlight, the way they blend comic book art styles and 3D animation is an absolute joy to look at and is so overwhelmingly creative, every frame of this movie is gorgeous. The impact this had on the industry is undeniable, as we start to see more and more movies getting more creative with their animation styles. It's not just the animation though. All of the characters are entertaining, all of the jokes land and the story is really well done. It leaves me blown away every time I watch it.

This movie kind of changed the western animation industry from the ground up. Apart from being expertly written, funny, and heartfelt, it is also stellarly animated, with a unique visual style that takes direct inspiration from the comic books it adapts and mixes 2d- and 3d-animation in a way and to a degree that hadn't really been seen before in western mainstream. Its critical and monetary success paved the way for mainstream 3d animation to open up to new and excitingly stylised movies that were like a breath of fresh air between the generic Pixar-style animation that had been the largely unchanged norm in the industry since Toy Story circa twenty years earlier**. ITSV divides the screen like panels on a comic page, it uses dots and lines for shading and gradients, doesn't shy away from lowering framerates for stylisation, and makes liberal use of onomatopoeia, both to comedic and dramatic impact. Impact frames and SFX are often hand-drawn and stunningly colourful, and even the simple dialogue scenes astonish with an expressiveness and realism in their depiction of emotions that makes me rewatch a two-second scene of Miles laughing fifteen times in a row. My favourite scene has to be the What's Up Danger scene, the emotional climax of the movie. Set to an absolute banger of a song, it is the moment the entire film has been building up to. I won't spoil anything plot-wise in case you somehow haven't seen this movie, but both from an emotional and a visual standpoint it is Fucking Dope. Conclusion: Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse is my favourite movie of all time and I could talk about it for hours. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. Thank you.

Have you SEEN the Whats Up Danger/rising and falling scene? it's a work of art that makes me fall in love with storytelling all over again whenever I see it. Also the impact that it's had on animated film is absolutely being felt at current, if incrementally. Incredible film.

It has an amazing art style based on comics and mixed up due to genre differences. It's really fun and the characters are great, even the side ones. The story line is great and I love Miles and his family.

*Mod note: errr, quite a lot more than memes and music actually

**Mod note: amen

#The Lorax #Spider-Man Into the Spider-Verse #best animated movie #round 2 #tournament poll #tumblr's favorite

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forumda · 2 years ago

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Bosphorusshopping - Devasa+ (2)

It appeals to all tastes with its Turkish delight flavor. It has different varieties and is especially served with coffee. With its unique taste and perfect texture, it contains different fruit searches, whether with pistachio, hazelnut or walnut mixtures. Besides, Turkish baklava is indispensable for Turkish delicacies. Baklava comes to mind first when Turkish delicacies are mentioned. Layered with this special flavor intense syrup, it is at the forefront of traditional Turkish delicacies.

Turkish coffee provides different benefits with its excellent taste. It opens the mind and strengthens immunity. In addition, this special taste is recommended by experts. Herbal tea, another Turkish beverage, can be consumed at any time of the day. It is indispensable for Turkish cuisine, whether for breakfast or after dinner. It is definitely preferred with various dishes or desserts.

Iranian saffron flavor can be consumed either as a dessert or as a meal or beverage. Freshness is always preserved in carefully prepared packages. It is extremely useful. In addition, there are many Herbs and spice varieties in Turkish cuisines. There are many types of spices, bitter, sour and sweet. The real taste of the flavors in Turkish cuisine comes from these special spice blends.

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rel124c41 · 7 months ago

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PSILOCYBIN AND HONEYCOMB. jade leech

There is something terribly wrong with the queen bee. Gentle and kind. Out of her mind. inspired by @merakiui dabbles and @pathosprit asks about god!floyd/cultist!reader

tags: alternative universe - cults, implied/referenced drug use, old gods, falling in love, blood and gore, beekeeping, fluff and smut, unhealthy relationships, thought projection, gentleness, inspired by psilocybin and honeycomb by harley poe, murder

word count: 11,895

When you are ten, round-faced and small, you watch the Reverend heat up the branding iron. He twirls it in the fire like it is a marshmallow, making sure the iron is covered evenly with a brilliant scarlet red. Gold dances over the thick, ebony gloves that the Reverend wears and shadows jump across the stone creases of his aged face. You watch the sigil rotate in numerous circles.

A foreign hand pulls up your dress, exposing your stomach and underwear. You keep watching the circle of iron and fire; as the speed of the Reverend's hands pick up, the two materials blend together in a racing whirlpool of a red and gold comet. Beautiful.

“It won’t hurt will it, Mom?” Your small voice is full of terror; your wrists tremble in the hold of the two adults pinning you down to the table.

“No sweetie, no it won’t.” Your mother, the unmarried woman who got pregnant, presses a kiss to your forehead.

When the Reverend presses the branding iron down on the skin on your hypogastric skin, right under your belly-button, it is the last time you know fear.

By the stream, God – The Odd One – calls and beckons and sings.

Hands fall idle in surprise. You were not expecting a summon from Him today. Raising your head from your task, you listen closely. It could have just been the snapping branch under a rabbit’s foot or the breeze blowing too roughful in a bush. You wait patiently for that divine melody to resume itself.

In the pregnant pause, a white dress rustles through the current of the stream. Its arms wave helpless. Under the water, the fabric mimics a dead gray hue.

There is no secondary call or beckoning. Holding your breath long enough, you fall back into your task.

White dress in hand, you scrub it with a mixture of mammal fat and lye. The cleansing agent bubbles and carries down the stream. If the heart of your God resides anywhere on land, it is here, your favorite place; in His heart, you do your laundry, domestic.

The Reverend would be appalled at that thought. You think with a smile. Water collapses from the dress as you wring it out. But it is an entirely true thought. The deeper you venture in the forest, the more you can hear Him. It is only when you reach for the robin egg blue dress does He come back, voice oscillating through nature.

A testing call? Dropping the garment, you listen intently, waiting to see where you can jump into the melody. After a beat, you find your place in the song. The construction of the deut sounds like this:

A stream sweeping in a downward incline, splashing in playful, petite waves as it tickles lower. It is bordered by plentiful grass. Like boats caught in a fierce storm, a handful of pine-cones freckled in the water move across the stream. Rocks break apart the smoothness of the water. The song emphasizes that the rocks give it a fresh uniqueness rather than damage the serenity of the stream.

The chorus is a bumble bee landing on a black dahlia. Silk, ebony petals curl off the center like a hundred thumbnails in a bouquet. In the light of nature, the black of the flower shines a red-violet. Nestled in the middle like an arrow in a bullseye, the bumble bee robs and rapes the center of the black dahlia, stabbing at the nectar with their needle-thin legs.

Carrying your voice higher, you sing about the breeze. The breeze puppets the leaves to give a graceful, continuous wave to the visitors of the forest. The bridge focuses on an earthworm. It is alone, red with speckles of earth. You take your voice past its limit when you find yourself singing about a forest fire. The ballad continues under two watchful, olive-brown eyes.

Unnoticed, the son of the village’s livestock handler watches you break your vocal limit for God. So devoted to him. Piety works itself over the tendons of your throat, pushing and pressing too hard, like a violin’s bow. As the unknown, dueting voice, Jade watches and listens to your consecrating voice, peeved.

Around you, Jade finds that his inhibition has been escaping.

He has been alive for numerous generations, witnessing patterns of human speech, human practices, and most importantly human fears. Fear is older than Jade. Older than the sediment on the ground that you sing to. Thus, innate fears often stay with generations – the fear of death, thanatophobia, is a prominent recurrence.

As the God of nature, Jade knew. He had felt men press their heads into the crust of the earth, begging for the other men chasing him to let him live. Felt people rack up dirt with fingers, feverishly pleading for the resurrection of a sick son or sick daughter. Felt fists pound the trees in frustration for the souls he collected and ate.

Even still, they worshiped him. Thinking they would be allowed into a paradise, ignorant that the old door death opened was a door made of teeth and tongues. Even with the false promise of paradise, thanatophobia reigned supreme and trumped all other fears in humans. In all humans except you.

You. How strange you are, altering the rules of humanity, since your tenth birthday.

You focus on nature; he focuses on you.

As you two sing together, he feels that familiar retreat of inhibition. All of it dissolves into the color and shape of nature like a technicolor sea, blending together. Everything he thought he knew about humans changes with a tiny paint splosh, ruining the masterpiece he made.

“Oh, look at you. All alone,” a voice breaks the song.

Rounding around, you glare at the intruder as God falls silent. You look at Jade as if you two were hunters and he had just scared off a deer you had been tracking. God galloping away off on hooves. Vexation like a gleam in your eyes.

“What do you want, Jade?”

Jade Leech is perhaps the most annoying villager in your town, sticking to you like his surname suggests. He had shown up with his mother and father about three years ago when you were twelve. Usually, outsiders did not join the congregation, but the Reverend spoke positively of them. You trusted your Father’s judgment until the boy proved to hold great interest in you and all the things you did.

“I was just checking up on my dear friend, (Name).”

He is not even respectable about your status. The village calls you ‘One’ for Chosen One. At ten years old, you lose your name like one loses a sock. Not Jade; he likes to call you by the name your mother picked.

“How kind of you,” sarcasm drips from your throat, sore with singing.

“You’re most welcome. You’ve taken to changing the spot where you wash your clothes.”

“Yes, I was hoping someone wouldn’t find me here.”

“It is very nicely secluded so I am sure that they won’t be able to locate it.”

I thought so too, your inner thoughts mourn.

“Though it might be a bit dangerous. So far off from the ocean and village. Why, who knows what kind of coyotes or animals could be wandering around in the thicket.”

“I assure you, I’m quite alright in the wilderness.”

It is a true statement. You were particularly blessed when it came down to manners of the environment and the animals which it housed. Call it divine intervention, call it confidence. Whatever it is named, you are spared a lot of trouble that could potentially come from inhuman footprints.

“Who knows? That unwanted company might seize the opportunity and attack.” Jade’s olive-brown eyes watch your back. Your shoulders move with the pattern of your scrubbing. Sweat latches tight to the curvatures of your visible skin. “Like right now, going for your jugular.”

“Try it, Jade,” you challenge, smiling – not in a friendly way.

Accepting the challenge, Jade stands back and watches your shoulder fall still. The smile on his face is not shark-toothed but it beams with the animosity of such a creature. You have other teeth to worry over. Fangs full of venom, a water snake has wrapped itself around your arm, sneaking up from its hiding spot under the dress and soap.

A copperhead snake twines itself up your forearm like an orange-brown vine. Immediate, your hand falls comatose, not waiting to disturb it. Here. Here is where the human pattern of thanatophobia should come into play. Jade waits eagerly for a shriek; copperheads are venomous, he is certain you know this.

You do not tremble with your actions. You do not tremble with your voice. Irking Jade further, you reach a finger from your opposing arm over the copperhead’s head. The snake does not acknowledge your stroke, continuing to squeeze, as you move down and grasp the tail.

“Jade.”

“Hm?”

“You should step back. This is dangerous.”

A fire of anger ignities on Jade’s shoulders. Cheek twitching, he glares at the back of you. You were concerned for his safety? There is a venomous snake acting friendly with the veins in your arm, yet you told him to stand back. So caught up in disbelief, he misses you successfully unwrapping the copperhead from yourself.

Which you proceed to throw in a bush, just a foot or two away from Jade is standing. “Bravo,” Jade says, unflinching. He stalks towards you.

“Told you to move.” You pull your clean dress out of the water, wringing it out.

“I do not see how you can be so composed in the grip of death. It is perplexing.”

“Death is always at our sides.” In the water, Jade’s shadow oscillates like a match’s sparkling flame. A quarter of it folds over your shoulder. “Why would I have any reason to be afraid of it?”

“You are the sacrifice of this village.” Jade puts a hand to his heart, leering expression painting itself on his face. Waits patiently for you to get frustrated with him. “I think it is natural that you would think about it more often.”

You look up at Jade, trying to decipher why the thought causes him qualms. Into your wicker basket, you lay the slightly damp dress. Task finished, you bring the basket to your hip as you stand up from the stream.

“I have no qualms over it.” Then the conversation dies as you walk off, nobody’s buttercup.

The stream babbles as you walk alongside it. Like a puppy barking at your heels, you two move in sync. Somewhere in the bush, you think you can hear the sound of the copperhead rustling. A person disinclined towards the very thought of death, that is who you are. Embracing it, you jump upon the fallen, precarious log that hovers over the stream.

You glance at Jade who watches you. Then, wicker basket in hand, you step with a note on your tongue. Walking down the log to the other side, you say with each footfall, “do re mi fa sol la ti do.” Your voice goes higher as your steps evolve into stomps.

You crash onto the other side, leaves crunching, as Jade asks, “What was that?”

“Something I’ve been orchestrating.” You challenge him with a look, separated by running water. “You should try it. You never sing at any of the entheogens.”

Before the village drinks the holy wine mixed with the holy mushroom of God, the entheogens ceremonies call for everyone to sing. You have never seen Jade’s mouth so much as twitch. Though, surprisingly, no one ever makes a fuss about it. The village turns it back on any of the blasphemous actions of Jade Leech.

“Unless you sing like a croaking toad … ah, then I suppose it all makes sense. It would be a disgrace to your parents if you sang. Unfortunate.”

Jade’s brows furrow. Got him. As he walks down the log, forgoing the stomping you did, he sings the rising scale, “do re mi fa sol la ti do.” He lands by your side, hopping off the behemoth log. There is a golden firecracker of satisfaction in his olive-brown eyes.

“I did not know you could sing like that.”

The firecracker sizzles out as Jade’s brows shoot up. He feels a light pink start to tiptoe up to his cheeks.

Your voice is soft like honey, full of awe. Your reticent inhibition around Jade melts at that moment. Like snow on spring ground, you warm up eternally – just a bit! – to the invading pest that is Jade Leech. Someone who has been like a mite in your otherwise well kept paradise. You take him in a different light: cropped black hair, slim face, and olive-brown eyes just a bit less obnoxious. You had only heard such a singing voice from –

“Come. Let us go unless that someone you want to avoid finds this spot.”

The thought disappears. Blinking, you watch Jade stalk off. When you regain yourself, basket in hand, you walk just a bit behind him. Like the stubborn child you are, you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking:

Jade sounds good when he sings.

You two continue silently back to the village, Jade leading. It is a content walk, not even many rocks or lifted ground to trouble the path. Nature sings around the two in a musique concrete of twigs, leaves, and dirt. It is only when you feel a small tug that you wander off.

Jade watches with knowing, incorrectly colored eyes.

Your eyes sparkle upon a holy sight. More than a dozen light brown and ivory white jellyfish caps stand up straight in grass off the path. Like toads in mud, they break through the dehydrated grass in poor camouflage. Psilocybin mushrooms. The mushrooms that your congregation holds in high regard; a mushroom on piety par with a cross or a clerical collar.

Like the winner of an Easter egg hunt, you go to collect the mushrooms. Prizes God had hidden from you so you could search and prove yourself. Carefully, you start to put them in your wicker basket, sprinkles of dirt landing on the top dress.

Shadow folding over you, Jade inquires, breaking the silent retreat, “How many more days until you die, (Name)?”

No one should ever smile at such an inquiry. Yet, here you do, proud of the psilocybin mushrooms in hand, you answer with a big grin, “1,746 days.”

“Jade Leech, you little thief! Get back here right now!”

You look up upon hearing those words. Four buildings away, you watch as a towel crack on the back of Jade’s spine as he walks out of the bakery. The head chef seems to be the one caterwauling at him, twisted towel weaponized like a claymore. A sly smile is plastered on Jade’s face despite the hit.

Idiot; no one steals from her and leaves without a tussle. She, the head chef, is caterwauling like a soaked cat. A smile still emerges on your face despite your previous trouble. Speaking of those troubles –

You turn back to your work. There are not many jobs for you to take in the village. As the ritual’s sacrifice, labor is something you do not need to concern yourself with as the Reverend says. Attending prayer services, purifying yourself, and connecting with nature are your top priorities. You stretched out the limitations on the last priority and managed to convince that soft-hearted Reverend to let you start beekeeping with two village elders.

If our God is in every mushroom, every flower, every faucet of nature, it must be alright for me to care for His holy insects too? : that pathos and ethos argument won you the rights to take up beekeeping.

Right now, you are troubled by your job. Hairy white sections are on the lower burr comb and cells. It festers on a block of the hive where the queen is. A sign of another pest within the hive. However, none of the other signs were present upon last inspection. Of course, the sign of incursion would be near the queen – the most sensitive and paramount part of the hive.

The queen bee eludes your gaze right now, worker bees swarming around. You go to see if you can get a few to walk on your hand when something breaks your line of sight. Your hand stills. Held out to you is a half-ripped piece of bread.

Not taking it, you look up at the smiling face of Jade. Far away, surprisingly not giving chase, the head chef shouts: “Little devil child! You pest!” The grin on Jade’s face widens, teeth flashing at you.

“If only she knew the half of it. Here.” Jade holds up the bread, trying to appear generous in his motives. “Freshly baked.”

“Freshly stolen,” you correct. You take it either way. Stealing is frowned upon by the congregation but you have no fear left to worry about consequences. A tiny bite leaves you pleasantly surprised. Sourdough. You go back in for a bigger bite.

Jade sits down beside you, eating his own share and looking into the broods. Glancing up from your piece, you say, “You did that on purpose.”

“Stealing is often a motivated task.”

“No. You got caught on purpose; you’re slippery enough to steal and not get noticed.”

“I assure you that I was trying my hardest to not get caught.”

“Ah I see,” you say, wholly unconvinced.

“Your mind is not at ease. Usually you smile more when attending to your bees.”

Like a chipmunk, you stuff your cheeks with sourdough to avoid answering. “It is unlike a person of your standing,” Jade continues. Your standing: your life’s merit as a sacrifice. The reason that everyone calls you One instead of (Name). The Chosen One connected to the Odd One through nature and, thus, nature’s creatures.

“Sumtin’ s ‘rong wit the quee.”

“Pardon?”

You swallow, “Something’s wrong with the queen.” You spear a crescent into the bread’s crust with your nail. Despondent, you explain, “There are signs of an infestation near her section. I also noticed the capped cells were full of holes and overall seemed frail. That’s a sign of Varroa but I haven’t seen a single mite or deformed wings.”

“Always the queen isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand why I can never raise a healthy queen. The cell caps of hers always appear healthy, but halfway through, she suffers from signs of unknown invasion.” Quarantining your bees is the most viable option but you would rather solve this matter before taking a drastic measure. If only you could locate her –

You jump when Jade presses his hand close to the honeycomb structures. “Hey, be careful! You need gloves!”

“You do not wear gloves.”

“That’s different!”

“Hush.”

At that word, you happily wait for him to get strung. With his inexperience, it should only take a short amount of time. Sourdough in hand, you sit back to watch the show. Bees crawl like pouring vinegar over his pallid hand, curious, and you huff at his gentleness. Any moment now. Any moment comes but it comes with Jade pulling hand away with the queen bee on his forefinger.

“How did you –”

“What, like it’s hard?”

“I hate you.”

Jade smiles wide at that. The queen on his finger flicks her wings as he moves his hand to hover between you two. She seems fairly healthy despite all the disturbance around her. “Trying to steal my job, Jade,” you ask when he passes her to you.

“Do not even entertain the thought. I do not particularly enjoy insects. They may be entertaining for an hour or so, but I am content with the thought of their entire colony going up in flames one day.”

“Monster.”

Jade smiles in his you-don’t-know-the-half-of-it way.

Jade stares up at the statue of himself, contemplative.

For five out of thousands of years, Jade has passed time wearing fake human skin. Fake pallid hands find themselves stroking his neck for gills no longer there. Those hands hesitate over touching his ears, feeling thick muscle and bone instead of a thin membrane of skin. His trepidation around looking-glasses has eroded over the half decade. But, Jade still finds himself not entirely accepting parts of the body he puppets.

Walking around in the wrong skin is like wearing clothes too small. It squeezes over him like latex, tightening when he moves a certain way and constricting when he looks at it too long.

His hands especially are wrong, lacking webbed structure and the correct hues. How his fingernails flush purple and his fingers red when it is cold … it disgusts him. How his veins are blue under sand toned skin … it is a sickening sight. The human body wrapped around his working brain and working heart, it is the most grotesque part of this trail. Sometimes, he wants nothing more to shed it off an amphibian.

Jade takes his vexed gaze off his hands and returns to staring at the monument. Cleaners are put on rotation to polish and scrub down the entirety of him, forbidding moss or dirt to lay upon him. They are quite meticulous about it too. Meticulous like how a mother bathes her child. They scrub behind his ears, over the ridges of his dorsal fin, under the extended points of his claws. He has seen real, palpable joy on the faces of those given the job.

The sculptor … died about 2,050 years ago if Jade’s memory is right.

Withstanding the test of time, here the effigy of his true form lies, propped up on a block of marble chiseled to look like a sweeping wave. His face is sculpted in a polite mien with the slightest hint of malice. Smiling with teeth yet not with all his teeth. Just the top row. In stone, his tail dips in backwards J and is hooked upward like the frozen neck of a screaming horse on a carousel.

If asked, Jade thinks he misses his tail most right alongside his hands. The only change that he does not mind is his hair. Living on a warm island with long hair would have been bothersome, especially on his neck. The cropped style is nice; his real hair would have made him sweat.

Then, staring down the effigy of himself, Jade realizes he made a mistake earlier. He knows he misses swimming the most. His tails and hands: they are mere tools to propel him when in the sea, so deep in his plunge that it feels like he is moving universe to universe with each wide stroke.

Only less than three years remain until your death. 819 days if his memory serves correct. And this time it does; he is as certain as stone is hard. But such a long time in fake skin feels like the lifespan of a human, dragging day by day. Each inhale of the sun and exhale of the moon feeds the bugs crawling on his skin, uncomfortable in this fake skin.

Jade wonders, scratching his forearm, if he should speed this sacrificial ritual as he watches you race across the field towards him. He glances down at your nude human feet. Quadriceps, sinew tendons, and bone propelling you forward until you skid to a stop in front of him – with a jar in your hands?

“Look what I have!” There is a big, prideful grin on your face. With a flourish, you raise up said jar. And Jade responses –

“Wow. A jar. How marvelous.”

Your expression flattens at that. As if retreating, you pull the jar to your ribcage, protective arms around it. “It’s not just any jar. It’s my – Itchy? I think we have some medicine in –”

Jade pauses his scratching to interrupt. “No, I’m quite alright.” The marks running up his skin are angry and red, yet miraculously not bleeding. “So,” leaning in, he grins with all his teeth and says, “what’s in the jar? Must be revolutionary with how fast you ran over here.”

“It is!” Pride relights your body. You unscrew the jar with flying fingers. Then, you hold out the open mouth of the jar towards Jade, waiting for praise.

“Ah, honey.”

“Not just any honey; it is the last flow of honey.”

“I see. There is no more honey after that. So we will eat pancakes without honey soon, correct?”

“You’re not getting it, are you?”

“Afraid not.”

“Hmph.” You bring the jar back to your chest as Jade ponders on why humans are so sensitive. “The best months to harvest honey are from July to mid-September, right? And it is mid-September, right?” Jade nods at both your inane questions. Still not getting it. “Honey is the sweetest and best when you collect the last honey flow. The nectar flow from this is the one they make in the summer! It is going to taste Godly!”

“Careful what words you use, (Name).”

You two glance up at the company you keep. Though his gray left eye and yellow right eye are the same hue of stone, they seem to shine. Something fierce and glowing breaking through inert expression. You smile mischievously. “I’ll make it up to him when I’m dead. Now. Taste this.”

With a roll of olive-brown eyes, Jade leans in to observe the jar which you are once more offering him. Inside, the yellow honey tilts like a slow avalanche with the degree you hold it at. Gold gleams like the surface of the ocean under sunlight, almost sparkling. I almost miss home, Jade thinks as he dips his index finger in.

Oh.

Finger in mouth, Jade does not want to admit it but you are right. This is perhaps the best honey he has sampled before. The nectar slides down his tongue, touches his throat, and slugs down to his stomach. It is almost an addictive taste.

It is an uncleaned sweetness that melts down his throat. Like blasphemous scripture.

Jade really should not show you his enthusiasm for it; your pride will only increase knowing he enjoys it and you will grow more annoying. Yet, as if pulled by strings, he sticks his finger back into the jar. Before tasting, he asks, “What did you say the difference with this flow is?”

“It is the last flow of the season. With the bees hibernating soon, you can maximize the honey you are collecting by being patient. But there’s really an entire system to it, making sure you don’t strike too early or late.”

“Would it not be the sweetest during summer when the bees are most active?”

“Nope. Patience is the key; beekeeping is a waiting game.”

A waiting game? He watches you stick your own finger in, feasting on the rewards of your patience. The later harvest yields a richer taste. How splendid of his sacrifice to say just the words he needs to hear to understand himself and motives.

Eventually, almost telepathically as if both of you know what your companion is thinking, you and Jade stare up at the statue. Your saliva-coated finger and dry fingers place the cap back on the jar, leaving it unscrewed yet lidded. Jade waits until you are enraptured with the sculpture before he turns his attention to you.

You stare, contemplative. The sun is three hours off from its peak. Thus piscine shadows of the statue fall onto awaiting blades of grass. The silhouette of his dorsal fin like a knife and the silhouette of his hunched shoulders, leaning in like he is going to burst to life any moment. He has this hardly contained enmity is his expression, upturned eyes too sharp and smile too tiny.

“Can’t you just see me and him, together in paradise?”

“You two will make a lovely couple.”

“Heh, that’s what they all say.”

Jade studies your profile. There is just a tiny droplet of animosity in your worshiping eyes that he is desperate to uncover the truth about. You are bitter about something. However, whenever Jade tries to peek into that hate circuit rivering itself through your cortex, he gets nothing.

He supposed he could ask; if he is going to bid his time in other realms, he has more time to analyze the ecosystem of your brain. You startle when he speaks. “(Name). If you were not the chosen one, what would you do with the rest of your life?”

The expression you give Jade is easy to read: confusion. “If I wasn’t the – why, I couldn’t imagine my life any other way.”

“But try to. Try to imagine your twenty-first birthday.”

“Stop being ridiculous, Jade.”

“I am as serious as death.”

You shake your head furiously. “There is no other choice to make, but I am using my choice and have chosen to be there. As the chosen one.”

Jade, with all his immortal life wisdom goes huh? at your verbal affirmation.

“Such a boy,” you mourn, frowning up at his statue. You shuffle your bare toes on the ground, feeling the dirt cling onto them and tune into the radio of nature for a bit. After a contemplative moment, you say, “I am nobody’s buttercup. But I must do something so I will do that.”

“I see.”

Taking your words as a challenge, Jade leans in. Your nose scrunches, thinking he is going to do something odious and ruin this perfect, honey-coated day. If you were built in the image of your God, you would want his teeth so you could snap at Jade’s nose. The sentiment grows when Jade flicks the lid off the jar — it frisbees through the air — and scoops up a handful of honey. Some of it doesn’t even make it into his mouth!

“Hey! No stealing from the chosen one!”

“You never said there was a time limit on the honey you offered.”

“Well, there is one now! We have to make this last until next September! I have only two Septembers left!”

Jade laughs, licking the honey off his wrist. He makes another grab at the jar as you rush away from him, trying to retrieve the lid. “Back! Back, you heathen!” And the smile Jade makes as he chases you around the field is a perfect copy of the expression that is carved into stone.

Time passes like it always does. Life is a constant stream that connects in the ocean of death, making itself the estuary of mortality.

Those two Septembers pass and twice more you successfully harvest the perfect honey flow. Even when Jade jokes all sinister that you should enjoy these last moments of good food, dipping sourdough into honey, you never even shake. At the apiary, all the jars are empty, trails of gold stubbornly clinging onto the glassware. You and Jade make the effort to scrub all the ones you used clean until they shine.

“You’re not afraid at all,” Jade asks, watching you scrub the remains of your presence from the world. All you are: congealing honey on a rag which you will dip into the nearby stream, which will carry you away to a water funeral.

“Not at all.” It must be true. Because under the winter’s sun, your hands are steady and determined. Because when Jade asks how many days are left, you respond with an unshakable voice. Because Jade thinks with some sort of thrill unlike any he has known, you have been waiting as patiently as he has.

It is only when the number of days decrease and shrink down to the number seven does Jade’s patience break.

There is no sunshine shining down on you but you are still as bright as ever. Under the silver moonlight, you twirl and run and even cartwheel in the open field. You have been forgoing any sort of sleep, utilizing all the hours in a twenty-four hour day until you pass out from exhaustion, nature as your mattress. No one in the village disapproves of it, seeing it as you embracing your God. Jade wishes someone would though. He has unfortunately been dragged out for the past seven nights by you, wanting his company.

And I still have seven more to go, Jade thinks, leaning against his statue. He never thought he would grow tired but even a human body has limits. Sleep addles Jade’s brain as his neck bends as if he is caught in prayer.

He snaps back up when you shout. “Jade! Jade look!”

Seeing that you have his attention, you launch right into it. You take a running start, hands up in the air. Cartwheel, cartwheel, cartwheel, ending with a front flip. Supernaturally energetic, you raise your arms up in your success, dress billowing around you, ready to accept the claps.

Jade manages a few light ones and says, “Well done, (Name).”

You smile happily. “Praise me more; this is the last week I’ll be alive to hear any sort of praise.” You twirl and watch the white of your summer dress puff up in a jellyfish shell. “Make sure they do not neglect to make mention of how good I was at cartwheels in the legends and stories.”

“I won’t, (Name).”

You fall back into it. Among the tall grass, you do a wide variety of different exercises and a variety of different dances. You move with the ease of an autumn leaf, trusting the wind. To the unheard and unsung song of nature and God, you gyrate around. Like God’s personal instrument, you bend yourself to the symphony that no one in your village has ever heard.

I’ll miss dirt, you think just as you blindly twirl into a patch of fireflies.

Fireflies explode around you like a firework. Wide-eyed and gasping, you pause with your hands raised up. Buzzing and rapid, the tiny comets of gold lift up from the flora and paint the night with tinier stars. Gripping the train of your dress, you rotate yourself to make room for the fireflies launching up to the west, laughing all the while.

Eventually, they dissolve into the sky, leaving your eyes chasing after them. They dissolve in dying breaths and dying heartbeats. You watch the last of them flicker out, finding a new patch to lie on or traveling too far for you to see them.

Oddly, an invisible bruise on your chest starts to ache.

Dirt encrusted feet carry your body before you comprehend what you are doing. Wildly, like something monstrous is at your heels, you run into the nearby thicket of trees, determined to reach the deepest part of the forest which surrounds the village.

“(Name)?” Jade squints at your fast-retreating form. “(Name)!” He picks himself off the statue as you rush into the forest, almost like you are in a panic.

“Catch me!”

The chase prematurely begins.

Jade dives into the forest after you. Pushing branches out of his way and jumping over protruding vegetation. Hundred elements of nature flicker across his vision as he runs and runs. Shadows elongate and distort under the occluding moon. He elbows his weight on a tree so it pushes him faster. Blanketed under nebulous black, the world beats with a thousand different songs.

All the while you are hollering and screaming. Screams evolve into frantic giggles and hollering matures into singing. Do Re Me Fa Sol La Ti Do, your feet race down the cliff slide in the pattern of the musical scale.

Your body is an instrument, Jade. Listen to it and you will be closer to God. Narcotic words you once said, deranged out of your mind. Narcotic words that you said while certain that patches of grass were growing from the planes of your skin. Narcotic words he had not paid much mind to. Closer to God, hm?

The crunch of leaves as you two run are like lyrics, right? Yet, the soles of his feet are like the percussion too? Guitar strings tendons pull with different frets and notes. Piano key fingers reach out and crush the branches in his way. His most powerful instrument is acting strangely though. His voice. That particular instrument is doing something it has never done before: laughing.

Is this what being human is, always running? He thinks this might be the faintest sniff of what it means to be a human: always running away from time. The epiphany is not about being human through sweet acceptance or love. His first taste of humanity is in the sweat of running and running while chasing.

Closer to God. Closer to humans.

At times, your aptitude is unreadable to Jade … that aptitude that guides you to never fear death. He wonders why there is such a wide gap between you and others when it comes to the terms of death. Closing in, he thinks: This Is The One. His fingers reach out, A0 from C8 scale running across phalanges. He could push you. With the momentum doubled with the rocks –

Still running, you turn to laugh at Jade. The pure joy on your face is blinding, hands up your shoulders and dress swaying. Your smiling face brightens at the sight of him (one close-eyed, titanic grin directed at him) before it winks away, flickering behind a tree. Jade watches as he loses you as you gather speed and sprint harder. Miraculously, you disappear from his sight, breaking the distance Jade had attempted to close.

God and human, you two run frantically through the forest. You throw out insults about his speed and he throws out his laughter in your duet. When the ground starts to decline, Jade finally figures out where you are heading to. He pumps his legs faster as the thickness of nature decreases gradually.

He breaks into the clearing by the stream, hoping to beat you, only to be confronted with the sight of you crouched by the water, twirling something between your fingers.

“Th-The forest is teething. I can feel it.” You pant like a dog. Jade watches the process of deflate and inflate; with each behemoth breath you take, exhausted and spent, your shoulder and ribs move with the hard work of your lungs. “It –” You choke around the salvia in your mouth, breathless. “It is the start of something here.”

“Teething?”

“Yes. Like babies do.”

I’m teething, Jade contemplates, unsure of what that word really entails. He knows little of human babies. It is only until you show Jade what is in your hand that he thinks he gets it.

“Look at this.”

From your hand, you present a black dahlia flower with a bright sunny center to him. The sunny center squeezes into a tiny circle then widens out in the average size. It is like a nostril, flickering and changing shape with each inhale and exhale. It is trying to breathe but as a flower it does not understand how to do that with a lineage of photosynthesis written in its body.

That flickering feeling of the beginning is so thick in the air. The start of something is here. It permeates in your bones. All through your skin, it permeates.

“It is certainly …” Jade trails off, not really used to seeing this side of himself.

“Beautiful,” you supply. There is a warmth in the space as Jade sits down besides you. The space between you is bright despite the midnight. “Can I tell you something? And you must keep it a secret.”

“Go ahead. I am as quiet as a church mouse.”

“I had this vision during the last entheogen.”

You still remember it. Swallowing the wine and, from within, bringing out the divine. Psilocybin on your tongue, you laid in a technicolor sea, holding up the receiver of your brain and waiting for that connection with God. You had a vision about the sacrament that is less than a week away. You look up to the sky as you speak. The moon is past the peak of midnight noon.

“I was at the ceremony. The sky was completely cloudless so you could feel the warmth of the sun. I was walking down to the slab bed. Dressed and ready.

“But when the Reverend told me to say my final prayers, I couldn’t.”

The black dahlia gives a sneezing breath at that. “Why couldn’t you?”

“My mouth was full of bees. I opened my mouth.” You look at Jade and decide to demonstrate. A fist moves up to your face before stretching fingers out like you are cupping a ball. “And blaaah, a hundred or so bees flew from my mouth.”

“The singer’s last ballad.”

“Odd, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it is your mind rationalizing with the fear of your impending death.”

“Do not make me laugh.”

You are smiling, secondary to laughter. Returning attention to the black dahlia, you see the breaths have dwindled down to delicate stutters. It only stops breathing when you set it into the stream, watching it float and spin once. A dance in water, the revelation makes you grin softer. Your little theater show is only interrupted by Jade.

“What are your opinions on the ceremony? Now that it is so close, realer almost.”

You contemplate for a moment on the navel of the world, or as others call it ceremony. “I’m quite content with it.”

A picture paints itself: the stone rock, the slab bed, the omphalos alone in a field of psilocybin mushrooms, devoid of life beyond yourself. It is a bed you will eventually rest down upon and let the Father of your religion cut out the heart in your chest.

“I’m not going to die,” you whisper. Rejuvenate with that fact, you shuffle your body until your knees are tilted towards Jade. You lean in with flame eyes, a whirlpool of heat in them. Your next words cause the black dahlia in the stream to go breathless in surprise. “I’m going to find out if I’m really alive.”

“Th –” Jades breathes out a tiny laugh. “That is quite contradictory, (Name). Such an event would not inspire such a thought.”

“Well, it’s true so you have to deal with it.”

“I will burden myself with knowing it and trying to understand it.” He puts a hand to his heart in promise.

“Good. Agonize over it.”

You take to putting your feet in the stream as you reposition yourself. Spreading out your legs, you draw up your dress to your thighs. Dirt floats up and follows the path the black dahlia is being pushed away to as water cleanses your soles. The percussion of your heart beats through your toes as you wiggle them, trying to gather warmth under cold water.

You look like a high renaissance painting: ideal and perfect in Jade’s eyes. You blink your own eyes when your body is slowly moved. “I waited.” Before you question Jade’s harsh words, his hand on your chin, the start of something new blossoms and the forest sings.

You pull away from the kiss first. Eyelashes butterflying open, you gaze upon Jade with a fondness he has never seen. “How do I taste?”

If Jade will be your only kiss, he thinks it makes sense that you want to know what you taste like. He will not allow you to kiss another in the next six days. Considering it, his focus narrows to his mouth. Your bacterial corpse rests on his taste-buds, measuring and remembering the taste of you. Floral notes are encrusted with a sort of raw grime.

“Earthy and sweet.”

Giggling, you dive back in for another kiss.

You think this has been a long time coming which is why you can fall into it so easily. Your amygdala – once a ripe grape – is dried up like a sun-kissed raisin.

Cupping Jade’s face, you feel no indication that is the wrong course of action. Grass and dirt tickles your flesh, teasingly happy. Nature reaches slippery hands into your brain, infecting you with dopamine. This all feels so unnaturally right.

It takes about seven kisses in total before Jade’s hand starts to run itself up and down your thigh. Across a field of goosebumps, he draws his hand from the ankle freckled with water to the midpoint of your upper thigh. It is only when he moves up to the barricade of where you placed your dress that you grab his wrist. Partially in his lap, you squeeze the bones of his wrist.

“You’re not here for too long so what could go wrong,” Jade, eyes closed, asks the question towards your hesitation.

“Only two things are required of me in six days,” you kiss Jade to appease and because you want to. “That I die in six days on my twentieth birthday and that I remain a virgin.”

“Surely we can negate one of these constricting restrictions. I say that God is being a bit selfish.” Jade seethers inside, hiding it well with his returning saccharine kiss. Hoping to persuade and because he wants to. There is no possible way that his own rules are going to leave him with a painful stiff, is there?

“I think the man can handle one lapse of judgment from His prized singer. He knows you well. Say ‘oh dear God’” He vocalizes a facade of your frightful feminine voice, nipping at your ear. You giggle at the foreign sensation. “‘There is this awful, stealing, odious man down there and I. Fell. From. Grace.” Jade punctuates each word with a kiss. He moves down the musician’s scale of your throat, returning to his own deep timbre.

You shiver and, against better judgment, relax the hold on his wrist. “I do not fear the wrath of any man or God.”

The tune of acceptance, Jade thinks as he kisses down to your breasts. When he cultivated from the ceremony, it was only the human hearts he ate. This meal will be a new experience for both you and him. “Good. If you started being frightened, I would find you weak.”

“Is that so? I thought you were always veering for me to be more,” you gasp, toes frozen in the stream, as Jade cups over your sex. He lies his hand over it but does nothing more. “-- Veering for me to fear death?”

“Is this your death?”

“It could certainly be close to that.”

“Well, let this be the sweetest death you could ever know.”

With skillful fingers, he unties the back of your dress with only one hand. Though it comes undone quite quickly as if he has taken scissors to it. Strange. You do not focus on it long as tiny knives fall over your shoulder, removing the sleeves of your summer dress. Treading a hair through short black hair, you keen under his gentle, attentive touch. Jade sucks hard on your right breast.

The sensation sends a ripple of goosebumps along your arms. It feels sweetly blasphemous, all the attentive kisses pepper to your breasts. A taste of something new and at its peak. You twitch when you feel Jade’s blunt nails move from cupping your sex to trailing a finger over the space where hip and thigh meet.

“Wait,” you stop Jade. His mouth falls away, teeth sharpening a bit with annoyance. He looks up at you, big olive- brown eyes gleaming. “I’m – Well –” You glance down at his hand that is swallowed under your dress. “It’s not a pretty scar,” you whisper.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful like the rest of you.” Before you can protest, the rest of your dress is pulled over your head. He leaves you in only your panties, sitting in the dirt by the stream. Your eyes widen.

“Don’t,” Jade grabs the hand that goes to block his sigil. It has never looked so appetizing on a sacrifice until you. He licks his lips. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s still a scar.”

“Not to me,” Jade says, pressing his body against you so you lay down.

Delirious, like you are floating off a substance, you go to unbutton his long sleeve, wrestling your hand from him. Your skull is cushioned by your dress, bundled into a ball. The sharp point of sticks hit your skin. Wet sediment, a mixture of sand and dirt, clings onto you.

Under the ground, a foreign heartbeat drums. It hammers in a rhythm over your spine, bottom, shoulders, and soles. It is a mimic of the heart resting in your chest, syncing with nature in some incomprehensible way just like black dahlia managed to breathe. Chary thoughts dissolve from your head when Jade moves down to press a kiss to the sigil.

You manage to wrestle the shirt off Jade, using it as a rope to pull him, meeting in a kiss of tongue and teeth. Let go of your inhibitions, the forest beckons. Treading a hair through short black hair, you keen under his gentle, attentive touch. You float with the floating pine-cones as Jade presses himself against you.

“God,” you moan, breaking away from the kiss.

“Come now, you know my name.” Jade teases. He works himself out of his pants, patient in his motions. “Can’t you say it?” The head of his penis kisses the wet spot of your panties. His grin is so familiar like you've seen it somewhere else before .

“Jade.”

That is all it takes, panties torn by claws. A dozen frenzied thoughts crash into your mind when he pushes himself into you. You cling feebly to him like a caterpillar to a leaf. He thrusts in, starting slow and then fortissimo-ing the act. The sound increases, skin on skin, along with the speed, inch by deeper inch. It feels like your insides are being ripped out of you. I think I’m dying is your most prominent thought. Then, you cum, singing in moans.

It is, in all senses of sensations, la petite mort.

“Aaah — mmmmph my God aah!”

You push your hands against the trunk of a tree. On trembling, fawn legs, you stand with arms outstretched in a tight caress of the pine. Behind you, down the long arch of your spine, Jade presses kiss to each golf-ball indent of bone. Heat spreads like a virus to your shoulders, smoldering, as you feel his length lightly trace down the curvature of your bottom.

Butterflying eyelashes glance up at pine. Your head feels heavy like a whirlpool heat courses through it, scarlet and yellow. Salvia holds itself heavy in your mouth; stimulation – if pushed any further – will have you drooling from your blissed out state. Even disoriented, you recognize nature and the creatures it keeps.

Jade stills when he sees you moving your right hand off the tree. There is something on the tip of your finger. “Keep your hands there. You will need to keep yourself balanced.” He kisses your last vertebrae, eyes glowing, as you ignore his words.

“Cen-Centipede,” you manage to say, breathing heavily.

You hold out your finger to him. On your index, the orange legs of the arthropod flow like oil down your knuckles. With deep fondness, you watch it move. The same fondness is found in Jade’s eyes. He stills you look strangely beautiful: two leaves threaded in your hair, the streaks of dirt that birthed themselves on you when Jade plowed into you, and admiring a centipede in the middle of your third sex position change.

“Yes. I see.”

Jade says, resting his chin on your shoulder. Leaning over you, his length makes a pointed reminder of existing when the warmed blood of it hits and throbs on the center of your ass. “Pretty thing, isn’t it?” You nod before moving your arm down, letting it crawl off into the ground. Over your shoulder, you drag Jade back into another kiss. “Earthy and sweet,” he says, feasting on a taste he will have the pleasure of knowing for eternity.

Around you, the forest sings happily. Surrendering to that wonderful melody of nature, you put your hands back to the pine, using them to keep yourself upright. A slug of drool falls off your bottom lip as a soundless gasp exits you. You and Jade met; he presses himself into your cunt, two harvests of cum soaping and sucking him in easily.

The taste of you is entirely sweet like a honeycomb. The sensation of him is hallucinogenic like psilocybin. Earthy and sweet.

“S-Ssso deep.”

Your left leg twitches when Jade starts to move, experimenting with his speed. He was insatiable the first two rounds; he thinks he will test that beekeeping patience of yours. Yet, at only the first thrusts, Jade finds it a futile effort.

Your hand twitches on the pine at a foreign sensation. Where Jade’s hands rest on your hips, there is a difference in texture. There is silk between his fingers like some type of webbing. You startle at the odd sensation. Going to look behind you, you ask breathless, “Jade?”

“Cl – ugh – Close your eyes. Listen to … fuck … Listen to the forest.”

The thought of that strange texture of his hands is punched out when he finds a finger to your clit, rubbing in circles.

Fucked dumbed and drolling, you manage a “Fuck Jade!” before all your vocabulary burns itself from your brain.

“You have kept me up for the past week … (Na-Name) – uuk! –” Skin slaps in a thundering clap. Subconsciously, you tighten and moan. Summoning his breath, Jade leans in towards your ears, “I hope you can judge my next words fairly: I won’t stop until dawn. It will be a sleepless night for us.”

The night fills itself with the song of your moans.

“Men only think about the past right before their death as if they were searching frantically for proof they were alive.”

Like a bisque doll, you are washed by the village nuns. Two flank you on each side, one designated for your arm and the other for your leg. Assiduous, they move soapy towels down the length of your spidery limbs. Bisque dolls are beings without autonomy. You certainly do feel quite similar, disjointly watching a foreign hand lift your arm, twisting and rubbing soap on each finger with care.

Joints and skin do not belong to you anymore. A sterile hand lifts your left leg higher. Heart, not your possession.

Split into fourths like a filet, you try to remember who said those words: “Men only think about the past right before their death as if they were searching frantically for proof they were alive.” As you are being stewed and cooked into a gallimaufry, you find that the past is not what you think about.

You are thinking about the cloudless skies outside. You are thinking about what it will be like under real warmth, not the warmth of bath water. You are thinking about whether tomorrow it will rain or remain sunny.

“Is something wrong, One?”

The image of skies dissolves in your mind. You blink in surprise. Head off in the cloud, you do not know which of the four nuns spoke. Between all the pallid moon faces cloaked in black, you choose to look at the one cleansing your left arm. You two met curious eyes.

“Your face was scrunching up. I was wondering if you were feeling any discomfort, One.” Your right arm talks to you.

“I’m quite alright. Thank you.”

Your left leg chimes in, soapy brine slathered on it. “If you feel any sort of stress, please let us know.”

Now that silence has been broken, your right leg says, “I cannot imagine being stressed on such a wonderful day. Ah, I’m so terribly envious.”

“I am quite at peace on this holy day,” you smile as to appease the fear all your limbs display. Moon faces hum their agreement, tranquility only broken when you say softly, “but –”. You gaze at the bathhouse’s windows, glass blocking off where nature carols. “How much longer? I long to be outside.”

You glare at the shoes on your feet.

Flanking both your sides, the congregation sits in the village’s woodsmith-made chairs. Beyond you, the stone slab lies; behind you, the statue of your God. Yet, what is most vexingly is in front of you: the sight of shoes on your feet.

Each birthday, you were dressed in the ceremony clothes and made to practice. Each birthday, you gave no fuss over the attire. Letting them dress the bisque doll, you resigned to putting on the empire dress with the square cut to display your iron branding on your stomach. Down to the fiber of your being, now, you wish you could take off the blasted shoes.

Your pointless glaring only stops when a voice approaches, asking, “Did I ever tell you about your grandfather?” You turn to the Reverend with a smile. The ceremony is commencing.

With a soft voice, you answer. “Not often enough.”

The Reverend always walks the sacrifice down the aisle. You suppose this might be a bit more sentimental, considering who you are to him, which is why he talks to you. Gently, you two find yourself joined at the bend of your elbow.

“He was a religious man. Devoted in a way the others around him were not.

“He would go out in forests people were too scared to venture into. The villagers would find him, sketching things they could not see in nature. It frightened and delighted them too, his sketches. He would polish that very statue like each day it would bring him luck. Each day before he went out in the forests, that was his routine.

“When he died … he died saying it was all for vain.” Your lips press together tightly. “A man so devoted and so close to God, shaming it. It was perhaps the worst day of his sons and daughters lives. On his deathbed, he brought upon such … shame to his family. Men only think about the past right before their death as if they were searching frantically for proof they were alive.”

Ah, that is where you heard it. You remember finally, you had heard it in the future which is now the present. That was why you could not remember the speaker because he had not spoken those words yet. You did not think you would find the future in the entheogens; how curious.

You two start towards the stone slab. As nobody's buttercup, you keep your eyes straight and refuse to yield towards distractions. Devote unlike your grandfather. Devote unlike your unsourced father who knocked up your mother exactly twenty years and nine months ago.

“I tell you this because I am incredibly proud of you. I have witnessed such growth from you. Piety flows in your bones as if God has smiled upon you Himself. My child –”

You look towards the Reverend, curious.

“You have been good.”

Nature stirs. At least, this time, the queen bee in my honeycombs is healthy. I leave behind something good.

When you reach the sacrificial table, you part like droplets rolling off a leaf in opposite directions. You press your hands on the omphalos, kneeling down and bowing your head. Eyes closed, you listen to the words you have heard since your tenth birthday.

You cannot help it – your mind wanders back to the past. Not searching for the merit of life, simply remembering how you became the Chosen One. A decade ago … such a long yet short time, such a juxtaposition.

The ritual involves the ocean. The ocean in which that faithful stream bleeds into. Every twenty or so years, just after the sacrifice predating them dies, everyone below the age of ten is made to stay underwater. The one who remains the longest is regarded as the Chosen One. Time slipped from your fingers like sand, underwater. A minute is an hour, an hour is a minute.

When you walked out of the ocean, your mother ran to embrace and to collapse to the ground crying. You had been underwater for a full twenty-four. The villagers thought you got swept up a riptide and died like some three year olds and two year olds of the past. Blue-lipped and shivering, you told them you thought you were the first one out.

There is no way you should have survived and felt as fine as you did.

Since then, nature talks to you like a baby conversing with an adult. You can make some syllables, understand the babbles that make up baba mean dada, and read the unconcealed emotions clearly. Now, it sings along with the Reverend, soft and gentle … somniferous almost.

You know you shouldn’t but –

You glance, barely moving your head, at Jade. He is staring right at you. His eyes are different, tiger eyes of flaming black and flaming gold. Somniferous eyes stare at your soul. Promptly, you pass out.

You wake up.

Your feet are encrusted with dirt. A multitude of trees enter your eyesight and the sound of a running stream worms into your ears. You are standing by the river where you washed clothes as a young teenager; the place where you and Jade had sex seven days ago; the place where you broke God’s trust.

Yet, no fear is present. Chest unusually light, you stare at the familiar pattern of trees dotted across the opposing side of the river. To your limited knowledge, this is you facing divine judgment. Retribution must be collected for your only sin.

You can accept that.

Curious eyes fall across the wilderness as your vision clears. You can not really tell what song nature is singing; there is a disconnect between you and the world. Blocked from the majority besides a single instrument: buzzing. You hear the harmony of humble bees buzzing, which you search for the source of. When you find it, a gasp breaks apart your lips.

Spread across the planes of your two arms are a thousand octagonal holes. Skin drenched in a mixture of golden honey and scarlet blood, the only breakage is pitch black, tiny honeycomb structures dug in your flesh. The concave pits freckle the entirety of both arms.

From the inner elbow and wrist of your left arm, two bees emerge from two separate holes. From the radius of your right arm, another bee. The rest of the colony is inside your skin, tickling your nausea.

That is not all that summons that high-pitched gasp. Clenched in the Swiss cheese flesh of your hands is a knife covered in blood.

You watch as the once cement knife starts to vibrate back and forth the longer you stare at it. Whole body shivers rape your bones and the shining red knife trembles with the movement.

For reasons unknown, your parted lips spill out one last rhythmic note, “J-Jade?” The world goes black.

You wake up.

Black, directionless water swallows you. There is no end or no beginning, so you float in the abdomen of the universal ocean, body tilted and head heavy. No calamity stirs your buoyant bones. Quite peaceful, you exist like a free-roaming satellite, untethered and left to bounce alone in directionless galaxies. No light, pitch black.

This is what you have always wanted from death. No God paradise, just a nebulous space to drift. This is the ideal death. Body propelled and caressed by unsourced waves that rock you peacefully to infinite sleep. No stars, pitch black.

It stops being peaceful when you need to take a breath. Water instead of air travels in. You have no mouth or nose. Body manipulated, water goes in the waiting nostrils of the seven pairs of holes in your abdomen and the three pairs of holes in your thorax. And, suddenly, that tranquil black gains a blinding hue of pain.

Depressing, the water does not float around you but pushes onto you. It clings like you are a magnet. The tiny caves in your thorax and abdomen flicker with agony, gathering more water. It clings to you like spandex. You throw an arm and leg into the atmosphere, and the absence of everything (beginning and end) is no longer a comfort. It clings like a leech, suctioning itself to you and filling the spiracles.

Mouthless, your heart throws out an unheard scream. The world goes blinding gold.

You wake up.

The first texture you feel is the cold granite on your cheek. It is a welcome balm until the granite grinds painfully on your pelvic bone and the skin of your breasts. Disorientate, you push yourself away from the surface. The granite rumbles under your hands … no, the granite is soundless but there is a rumbling. Still sitting on the ceremony’s sacrificial slab, you open your eyes.

The village is on fire. There is no building left intact. Flames rumble and tremble, fueling their physical form with all that a house has to offer. Red and gold climb upon the outer walls and black climbs out from the pumpkin innards of each house.

Snip-snap-woosh-woosh. The conflagration’s volume drowns out any and all sounds of nature. Beyond the roar of fire, you hear absolutely nothing.

Irrational, you turn your head in the direction of where you know the bee colonies are. You cannot see them through the thick plumes of smoke, separated from you by several burning buildings. You knew you would not be able to see them; why even look in their direction? Regardless, you squint even more to try to catch a glimpse.

If the queen moves, they would too. Survival instinct would make them take flight, right?

On the verge of tears, you start to squirm on the slab, taking your hand behind yourself and moving it by your thighs, angling your body so you can lean closer and squint at the flaming barricade, one of your legs slides off the slab, perhaps there is time –

“(Name).”

You look behind and down at Jade Leech. He rests with his arms folded on the slab, knees in the dirt. On his index is the queen bee, walking around and around in circles on his nail.

Your heart falls in despair. “She’s sick … She has a parasite.” Even when vocalizing the issue, you do not want to accept your own words.

“She does; she has had it for a while.”

“Is there anything I can do for her?”

“I’m afraid not. Soon the egg in her stomach will hatch. And the pupae will break out of her throat and head. It is truly odd. Usually, when bees have parasites like these, the bees throw them out of the hive. They kept her though. Even when there was something glaringly wrong with her.”

“Because she’s the queen.”

“Precisely.”

You and Jade watch on in a moment of silence. The queen rotates on twitching legs. Zombie-like, her tiny legs will give out momentarily and she tilts on the perch of Jade’s finger before getting back up again relentlessly. Circle turning into an octagon as she stutters in her steps.

Your hand drags across your face, flustered. The single, heavy as an anvil tear spreads thinly on your cheek. You blink the rest away.

Jade glances up from the parasite-raped bee. “Are you afraid?”

“No … I’m sad.”

Jade considers that. Mourning is a human process when death happens; mourning is like kintsugi to the heart, repairing it layer by layer. In the face of death, one sheds a predictable tear. The queen bee twitches, losing her strength. Jade mourns that he might never see true fright on your face, like missing a piece in a chocolate heart-shaped box.

He falls out of his pondering when you gently press your finger to him. Under the light of dozens of suns, gold and red flickering over, you are ethereal. His eyes fall helplessly to his sigil. He allows you to move him at your heavenly will.

“What happened to the ceremony,” you ask, taking the queen from him. You cup her like she is the tiniest pearl or the fragilest shard of sea glass. “Do we still have time to complete it?”

You do not receive a verbal answer. Instead, Jade gently pinches your chin in his hand, pulling your focus away from the insect. A warm smile settles on his face, olive-brown eyes soft with admiration. Then, grip steady on your mandible, he turns your focus to the open field, on the opposing side of the burning buildings.

When his hand falls away, your mouth falls open with the loss of stability.

The attending nuns and villagers are dead. A deep cavern is cut like a mouth across their throats, blooming a million liquid roses that stain their white garments. In their chairs, their heads are tilted back to display the rings of muscles in their body. Dead eyes face up the heavens, ignorant of their God who is venturing on land and swimming in the oceans of Earth.

The Reverend though – he lies in the middle of the walkway. He is headless, body supine and incomplete at the shoulders. All that remains of an indication he had a head is red splattered upon the grass. This butchery is inevitable. A priest of your religion is not allowed to impregnate women, under your God’s vow of celibacy.

“Oh.”

Is this punishment? Life snuffed out from your devoted village, leaving you and Jade who had broken the rules. You look down at your dying companion; she is halfway through a rotation, legs trembling on a trembling hand. Nature feels disconnected from you and yet, simultaneously, you feel like nature nestles herself in you.

“Oh, look at you. All alone.” Jade purrs, almost singing.

“I – I’m assuming you did this. Or God did this.”

“You are correct on both parts.”

“Do not toy with your words, Jade.”

“I'm as serious as death. Here, let me show you.”

Raising his hands, Jade presses palms to mouth. As he tilts his head back as far as possible, he follows along with his hands, running them up and over. Upturned olive-brown eyes quell with the pressure. Cropped black hair trembles with the motion. And when his hands finally return to the granite slab, Jade stares at you with a new right eye that shines a honey gold. His hair is considerably different.

Different, not unfamiliar. Far from unfamiliar. You have seen that style of teal hair with a single black strand since birth. In paintings on your mother’s nightstand, in books shelved away in the school, and carved into a towering stone effigy.

You think you have always known, looking so intently into nature thus looking so intently into Jade as well.

The queen bee on your finger grinds to a halt and dies. Crushing down in enclosing fists, the ceremony narrows; all the world is lost to you besides God’s/Jade’s voice. Nature beckons. He beckons. The fists you make are a comforting caress.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Never.”

“Prove it to me.”

“How?”

“Sing for me.”

Swallowing thick saliva, your chest puffs with air peppered with ash. You two stare at each other. Then … you sing.

Tongue volatile, you sing. It is not a melody that follows along with the rhythm of a river or the instrumental of an insect. You sing out your heart, sending it out on delicate honey bee wings.

#jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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↱ whispers of nature ↰

➘ summary : the new girl is the center of everyone’s attention including our darling serial killer billy loomis

➘ billy loomis x reader, scream x reader

The halls of Woodsboro High School buzzed with the familiar energy of students shuffling between classes. Among the crowd, Billy Loomis navigated the chaos with practiced ease. His tall figure and striking looks drew attention wherever he went, but his eyes were drawn to a newcomer who seemed to stand out in the sea of faces.

(Y/N), the new girl at school, had quickly become the subject of whispers and intrigued glances. Unlike most of the students, her style wasn't dictated by trends or peer pressure. Instead, she embraced a unique blend of fairy core fashion, adorned in flowing skirts and floral headbands that seemed to belong to a different era.

Billy, despite being in a seemingly happy relationship with Sidney, found himself stealing glances at (Y/N) when he thought no one was looking. Her carefree attitude and genuine smile were a stark contrast to the facade many wore. And then there were her walks in the nearby woods, often without shoes, as if she sought to be one with the earth itself.

As the days went by, (Y/N)'s presence became a quiet fascination for Billy. He watched as she sat under trees during lunch, lost in a book or simply gazing at the world around her. Her affinity for nature was palpable, and it was a world he had never paid much attention to.

One afternoon, (Y/N) found herself in the library, seeking refuge from the bustle of the school. She browsed the shelves, her fingers trailing over the spines of old books. A soft smile graced her lips as she read titles about herbalism, folklore, and the mysteries of the natural world.

Unbeknownst to her, Billy had followed her into the library, curiosity tugging at his thoughts. He observed her from a distance, his eyes tracing the way she seemed so at ease among the books.

Sidney's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see his girlfriend approaching. She wrapped her arm around his, her gaze following his line of sight. "Checking out the new girl, huh?"

Billy's cheeks flushed, and he tried to play it off with a casual shrug. "Just curious, you know."

Sidney chuckled, her tone playful. "Well, you're not alone. Everyone seems to be intrigued by (Y/N). She's a breath of fresh air in this place."

Billy's gaze flickered back to (Y/N) who was now engrossed in a book about plant symbolism. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye, and a strange yearning tugged at his thoughts.

As the days turned into weeks, (Y/N)'s presence continued to weave its way into Billy's thoughts. He found himself drawn to the woods nearby, curious about the world she seemed to find solace in. The natural beauty around him took on a new meaning, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was something more waiting to be discovered.

In the midst of his introspection, (Y/N) remained a quiet enigma, a reminder that beneath the surface of his seemingly perfect life, there was a yearning for something deeper, something that (Y/N) seemed to embody with every step she took in her fairy core world.

One day after school, as the golden hues of sunset cast a warm glow over the town, Billy found himself at the edge of the woods. He had taken an impulsive decision to follow in (Y/N)'s footsteps and explore the place that seemed to hold a piece of her spirit.

The trees stretched overhead, their leaves whispering secrets in the breeze. He walked deeper into the forest, his steps guided by an inexplicable curiosity. It wasn't long before he spotted (Y/N) sitting against a moss-covered tree, her bare feet digging into the earth.

She looked up as he approached, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a welcoming smile. "Hey, you're Billy, right? From school.”

Billy nodded, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "Yeah, that's me. You're (Y/N), right?"

She nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That's me. Enjoying the beauty of nature?"

Billy felt a warmth spread through him as he took in the tranquility of the scene. "Yeah, I guess I just wanted to see what it was all about."

(Y/N) patted the ground next to her, inviting him to join her. "Well, you're welcome to sit. Nature has its own way of healing and connecting."

As he settled onto the ground, a sense of calm washed over him. The worries and expectations of his daily life seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rustling leaves and the soft sounds of the forest.

"I've seen you around school," (Y/N) began, her tone casual yet genuine. "You seem to have a lot on your plate."

Billy chuckled, surprised by her observation. "Yeah, it can get pretty hectic."

She turned to him with a thoughtful expression. "Sometimes it's good to escape, even if it's just for a little while. Nature has a way of grounding us, reminding us of the things that truly matter."

As the conversation flowed between them, Billy found himself opening up in ways he hadn't expected. He talked about the pressures he felt, the expectations he faced, and the yearning for something more genuine in his life. (Y/N) listened attentively, her empathy a soothing balm to his troubled thoughts.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. (Y/N) rose to her feet, brushing off the dirt from her skirt. "It's getting late. I should head back."

Billy stood as well, a newfound lightness in his step. "Thanks for letting me join you. It's been... refreshing."

(Y/N) smiled, her gaze holding a depth that resonated with him. "Anytime you need an escape from the chaos, you know where to find me."

As they walked back to the edge of the woods, Billy realized that (Y/N) had awakened something within him—a curiosity for the world beyond the surface, a desire to find his own sense of grounding amidst the chaos.

As the woods echoed with the sounds of their footsteps, he couldn't help but feel that (Y/N)'s presence had brought a touch of magic into his life, a connection to nature's whispers that would forever change his perspective.

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mutant-distraction · 4 months ago

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Azores islands

The Azores Islands, an autonomous region of Portugal, consist of nine volcanic islands located in the North Atlantic Ocean:

1. Geography: Situated approximately 1,360 km (850 miles) west of mainland Portugal, the islands are grouped into the Eastern Group (São Miguel and Santa Maria), the Central Group (Terceira, Graciosa, São Jorge, Pico, and Faial), and the Western Group (Flores and Corvo).

2. Volcanic Origins: Predominantly of volcanic origin, some volcanoes on the islands are still considered active. Mount Pico on Pico Island is the highest point in Portugal, rising 2,351 meters (7,713 feet) above sea level.

3. Natural Beauty: Known for their stunning landscapes, the Azores feature crater lakes, thermal springs, verdant valleys, and rugged coastlines. The islands are a paradise for nature lovers and outdoor enthusiasts.

4. Culture and History: Influenced by Portuguese, Flemish, Spanish, and Moorish traditions, the Azores boast UNESCO World Heritage Sites like Angra do Heroísmo on Terceira Island, renowned for its well-preserved architecture and historical significance.

5. Tourism: The islands attract tourists interested in activities such as hiking, whale watching, diving, and exploring volcanic caves. They offer a unique blend of adventure and relaxation in a pristine natural environment.

6. Local Cuisine: Azorean cuisine highlights fresh seafood, dairy products, and traditional dishes such as cozido das Furnas (a stew cooked underground by volcanic heat) and queijadas (cheese pastries).

The Azores Islands provide a distinct and captivating destination for travelers seeking a combination of natural beauty, cultural heritage, and outdoor adventure in Europe.

📸:karolnienartowicz

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luna-azzurra · 1 year ago

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Tips for creative writers who want to write about fantasy:

1. Build a rich and immersive world: Create a detailed and imaginative fantasy world with its own history, geography, cultures, and magical systems. Consider the rules and limitations of your world's magic to ensure consistency.

2. Develop unique and compelling characters: Craft memorable characters with distinct personalities, strengths, flaws, and goals. Explore how their backgrounds and abilities shape their experiences and interactions within the fantasy realm.

3. Weave in elements of magic and mythology: Introduce mythical creatures, mystical artifacts, and ancient legends into your storytelling. Use them to add depth, mystery, and wonder to your fantasy world.

4. Embrace world-building details: Pay attention to small but significant details in your world-building, such as food, clothing, customs, and languages. These details will enhance the believability and richness of your fantasy setting.

5. Create a compelling conflict: Develop an engaging conflict or quest that drives your story forward. This conflict could involve a battle between good and evil, a personal journey of self-discovery, or a struggle for power and redemption.

6. Blend familiar and unique elements: Combine familiar fantasy tropes with fresh and inventive ideas to create a unique reading experience. Balance the comfort of the familiar with the excitement of the unknown.

7. Use vivid and descriptive language: Paint a vivid picture with your words, using descriptive language to transport readers into your fantastical world. Engage all the senses to bring your settings, creatures, and magic to life.

8. Establish consistent rules and logic: While fantasy allows for imagination and magic, it's important to establish rules and logic within your world. This will ensure that readers can follow and invest in the story without feeling confused or disconnected.

9. Include themes and depth: Explore deeper themes and messages within your fantasy story. Address topics such as power, identity, morality, and the human condition to add layers of depth and resonance to your narrative.

10. Read widely in the fantasy genre: Immerse yourself in a variety of fantasy novels to familiarize yourself with different styles, world-building techniques, and storytelling approaches. Analyze what works and doesn't work for you as a reader and apply those insights to your own writing.

Remember, fantasy writing is an opportunity to unleash your imagination and transport readers to extraordinary realms. Have fun, be creative, and let your passion for the genre shine through in your storytelling.

Happy writing and happy adventures in the realm of fantasy!

#creative writing #creative writers #fantasy writing #fanfic #writing #writing tips #character development #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer tumblr #writblr #writing advice #oc character #fantasy writer #novel writing

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glasshcvse · 2 months ago

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ficswap for @pickmedolls !

(D)OLLIES is the first mini-album by a fictional girl group, PICK ME!, known for blending bold rebellion with a playful charm. the album was considered a collaboration with GLASSHOUSE INC., home of the renowned producer GLOOMY, who took the lead in producing it.

the album reflects its core themes of individuality and breaking free from societal expectations. the six songs feature a dynamic mix of pop, hip-hop, and dance, capturing a spirit of confidence and empowerment. the group released their debut single, ANGEL OF MY DREAMS, on april 20th, 2022, which was also included in the mini. key tracks include BADITTUDE, a powerful pre-released anthem celebrating self-assurance and defiance, and TALK THAT SHHH, which highlights staying true to oneself and embracing authenticity.

(D)OLLIES received mixed reactions. knetizens thought this album was a dig at them for judging the members for the previous rumours and callouts they made about the girls. at the same time, international fans praised the group for their fresh sound and empowering message, establishing PICK ME! as a standout figure in the music scene.

album inclusions. ( they might have )

photo booklet + folded poster ( 1ea ) + sticker sheet ( 1ea ) + lyric booklet with illustrations + miniature dollhouse set + postcard ( random member ver. ) + photocards ( random two out of five ).

track list. ( analysis cr. to /plasticflwrs )

ANGEL OF MY DREAMS ... described as a 'shape-shifting banger', the song explores the group's love/hate relationship with the pop industry they've been at the heart of since their survival show. *there has been lots of speculation that this song is about their former companies, especially with the line "sold my soul to a psycho" could be directly linked to that rumour.

BADITTUDE ... is all about owning your confidence and standing up for yourself. lines like "girls with that bad attitude" highlight the power of embracing your true self and rejecting anyone who tries to bring you down. it's an anthem for anyone who's ever felt misunderstood or pushed aside, encouraging them to embrace their unique edge with pride.

TALK THAT SHHH ... is a declaration of self-confidence and authenticity. the lyrics focus on staying true to who you are despite the noise and expectations from the outside world. the chorus evokes a sense of intimacy and self-assurance. it’s about confidently owning your individuality and living life on your own terms, celebrating the freedom to express yourself fully and unapologetically.

DIE FOR ME ... portrays a bold and confident female character who enjoys having control over her partner and demands their submission and admiration. the song's lyrics suggest a sensual and intense dynamic between two individuals but with a hint of danger and risk.

SO WHAT ... is all about shaking off the weight of overthinking and self-criticism. it’s a reminder to not get stuck down by worries and to take life a little easier. the chorus, with its “so what?” attitude, is a push to let go of perfectionism and just be okay with things. it’s about allowing yourself to slow down, make mistakes, and not sweat the small stuff.

FINDER ... is the desire to break free from routine and monotony and to explore new possibilities. the lyrics reflect that despite the fear of the unknown or the dangers of pursuing their dreams, the group strives to overcome their fears and take action to obtain a better life. they urge others to take their hand and join them on this adventure.

poster.

#ficnetfairy #THEFICSWAP #˚✿⸼ . . ⠀⠀ other.#fake kpop group #kpop oc #kpop au #kpop addition #fictional oc community #fictional idol group #fake girl group #idol oc #idolverse #i loved making this sm!!#hopefully you like my vision of pick me! <3

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katyawriteswhump · 10 days ago

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omega found, omega lost (final chapter)

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 7/7; WC: 3309; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort. CW: knotting, marking, biting, sex!!!

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr Chapter 4 on tumblr Chapter 5.1 on tumblr Chapter 5.2 on tumblr Chapter 6 on tumblr

On AO3

Chapter 7: yours forever, soulmate

Steve snapped his teeth then hissed like a viper, setting Eddie recoiling. “If you don’t get on with it, Alpha mine, I’m gonna chew your fucking hand off.”

A startled laugh exploded from Eddie. He was kneeling between Steve’s spread legs, while Steve spawled on his front in the nest. “Talk about rogue Alpha. I got me one rogue Omega,” said Eddie.

“You’re a sheepie in wolf’s clothing, you know that, right? Eddie, pleeeease?”

Steve’s tone shifted from acidic to desperate, and he levered himself up onto his hands and knees to scrub his butt against Eddie’s thighs. He quivered with mad purrs. Tiny beads of perspiration quivered too, on his back and on his face, so recently milky pale but now a bright pinkish hue. His neatly groomed hair had gone feral already. His spine undulated toward a c-shape, as he peeped around one shoulder, around his squirming butt and hips, back at Eddie, and…

…damn, Eddie needed to taste that glossy mouth. He needed to mate Steve.

Now.

Nevertheless, a heart-to-heart chat festered in the back of his mind. Which was a miracle in itself, because most of his blood had rushed to his dick. He put granny’s salve aside. Could he really claim his soulmate—and not just any soulmate, but Steve Harrington—on Jim Hopper’s basement floor, which was grungy at best, and not in a badass way. The only source of heat was an ancient oil-filled radiator. Okay, and the rising steam of their lust.

Either way, it was hardly fitting. Could Steve, deep down, want it to happen like this? Reality check—Eddie needed a luxuriously fitted-out castle, with a moat, a drawbridge, and battlements primed with archers, pikemen, and vats of boiling oil to defend his princess from all comers.

On the other hand, all he saw in Steve’s eyes was a ravenous desire that mirrored his own.

A fresh gush of slick pooled around Eddie’s knees.

“Okay. I surrender, Stevie.” He sounded more strangled than bass-note Alpha. “We’re still taking this sloooow, all right?”

“Yeah… yeah… Sorry… Really sorry… didn’t mean to snap… just… desperate, Eddie… Alpha… Oh God, feels so good.”

Eddie had started nuzzling at Steve’s throat, dousing Steve’s mating gland, lathing it with his tongue. Drinking in that bananas-and-cream sweetness, blended with that smoky-marijuana twist that was uniquely and addictively Steve. He flattened Steve to the nest, cloaking the Omega’s body almost entirely with his own. The pressure seemed to settle Steve while Eddie supped.

“Sweetheart, listen,” murmured Eddie in Steve’s ear. “There’s a fuck load going on with our bodies right now, especially yours, that we’ve got very little control over, so don’t apologise and… Holy crap!” He licked Steve’s throat again, relishing the thrum of Steve’s irrepressible purrs against his tongue. “Wanna gobble you all up.”

Okay, maybe not the most loving choice of words, but… damn! His Alpha needed to feast. Steve was always delicious. Today, his flavor was off the charts, and his gland leaked almost as generously as his pussy. Eddie lapped and sucked, raising the already swollen gland into one helluva hickey. His own canine incisors quickened, and a red mist swirled up in his vision.

Fuck.

His body blatantly had its own agenda, equally potent as Steve’s, and he had to reel it in. He didn’t want to bite, let alone pop a knot, before he’d even got inside his Omega and he intended to do that the sultry, smoochy way. Heck, the romantic way.

Trouble was, Steve’s neck was beyond addictive. Steve, meanwhile, had fallen very still. As Eddie suckled Steve’s heated flesh, his suddenly vise-like grip gouged into Steve’s shoulders. Only when Steve whimpered with something that might’ve approached pain, could Eddie muster the willpower to release him.

He’d barely snatched a breath when Steve twisted his head around, chirruped convulsively, and all but inhaled Eddie in for a kiss.

The kiss lingered, as Eddie’s tongue swept out Steve’s mouth to its depths. Steve scrubbed his tongue against Eddie’s, slickly and sweetly, sending electricity buzzing through Eddie’s veins. Briefly, he let his inner Alpha unleash. He bit lightly into Steve’s lower lip, sensed a confused panic bubbling up in his Omega’s throat, then released.

“Neeeeed.” Steve fretted his swollen lip. His eyes were huge, hungry, as much predator as prey.

“Need you too, Stevie.”

He manoeuvred Steve back onto his hand and knees, piling pillows beneath Steve’s taut underbelly, pausing briefly to give him a tender rub there. Steve now kicked off purring like a maniac again. Eddie paused, briefly, to fight his way out of jeans sodden with his own precum and Steve’s slick.

Steve glanced back at Eddie’s dick, already swollen at the head. Though not even faintly as big as it was going to get:

“I… I… n…need… in me… n… need.”

“I get it, Baby. You need.” He smoothed slow circles on Steve’s back. “You’re gonna get. But I need to stretch you out, okay? And, you know, I got needs too… and I need to taste you. You’re too delicious, my darling.”

Eddie dragged his tongue over and up Steve’s slick-drenched thighs, and the next few minutes passed in a blissed-out blur. Steve pressed his ass toward Eddie’s mouth, inviting Eddie to explore both his holes. Fun though this was, Eddie’s inner Alpha was getting as impatient as the Omega. By the time he smothered his face between Steve’s wet pink folds, tongue dabbing and swirling around Steve’s soaking hole, his barbed Alpha fangs were beginning to protrude again.

As a result, Steve’s bucking and clenching was getting slightly dangerous. Realising Steve was openly sobbing now, Eddie’s heart panged. “Sorry, Babe.”

“No… no… love everything… felt… am-amazing… but please… need to be yours, Alpha.”

“You’re already mine, Omega.” The grin erupting from his core felt thrillingly savage. “Always mine.”

As he leaned over Steve, arms bracing around Steve’s middle for a brief, tight hug, his weighty dick slapped against his Omega’s thigh. With an effort, he once again restrained his inner beast from carelessly popping a knot.

He drew back, took a deep, calming breath, and breached Steve’s hole with his fingers.

…

Steve was coming apart at the seams, a quivering, boneless, liquidy mess.

Yeah, Eddie’s fingers felt awesome, stretching and scissoring inside him. He’d stopped purring, so far gone he was barely breathing. The mattress beneath him was in truth, kinda lumpy, yet he’d been floating on puffy cloud and now he was fucking flying. The basement, the rest of the world, had long since vanished. When Eddie got maybe a fourth digit in there, his toes curled: “Yes, yes, yes, yes, please, please, please.”

“Missed your gorgeous pussy,” cooed Eddie and Steve, despite everything, peeped back and kinda rolled his eyes. Eddie responded with a fiendish grin and another soothing rub of Steve’s belly, rubbing in synch with his slow finger fucking and all-out kneading of Steve’s vagina.

Eddie found that sweet spot. Steve’s impatience faded slightly, because—gnnng!—he was feeling kickass full now, the friction mind-blowing. His euphoria bubbled up in a sudden rush, and that crazy little bud inside him clamped super-tight.

Oh crap! They’d hit home too soon—his walls clenched, and what felt like rivers of slick rushed from him, and his cocklet squirted too. He started chirruping uncontrollably, sensed the sweet vibration of Eddie’s laugh, as he rode the wave, which crashed too soon, and then…

…oh God, it was already one of those ‘little death’ orgasms. Fun but not enough. His desperation for more seized him more strongly than ever.

“Please!” His voice was a wrecked squeak. “I don’t… can’t… Don’t wanna beg!”

With a rush, Eddie’s hand was gone, and Steve… kinda froze, save his g-spot and pussy still quailing in the aftermath.

“Gonna mate you now, Baby,” said Eddie. “You sure you’re ready?”

Words failed again. A trail of desperate chirrups escaped Steve’s tight throat and he managed a jerky nod.

“Steve? My Omega?”

“Yes… Yes, please… Alpha.”

“You’re doing so good, my darling.” Eddie stroked the length of Steve’s spine and Steve’s purrs returned with a vengeance. Eddie lowered his lips to Steve’s ear: “I need to take you the other way around. I have to see your pretty o-face.”

Desperate to obey, Steve rolled over. Eddie guided him with hot, sticky hands after tossing some of the cushions aside, then wedging one under Steve’s hips. Steve hugged his knees to his chest, offering his open pussy. Eddie loomed over him, and Steve’s vision swam so madly that Eddie’s skull tattoo leered, and the spider’s legs scuttled as if alive. Okay, slightly scary. He still longed to kiss them, to lick the glistening perspiration from every inch of Eddie’s pale skin.

All this passed in a flash. Then Steve’s scattered attention zeroed in on Eddie’s monumental Alpha sacs, his huge dick patterned with pulsing veins. Steve’s mouth dropped open, suddenly dry.

“You’re doing so well, my beautiful Omega,” cooed Eddie. “If I hurt you, if anything doesn’t feel good, tell me. If you need me to stop—"

Steve nodded his head, clenched his teeth, and his tunnel clenched madly. Christ, get in me!

At last, Eddie moved in to drag his cockhead along Steve’s cleft. It felt as it looked—impossibly hard and large as he spread Steve, setting Steve whimpering at the intimacy of the contact. Every nerve ending in his vulva set alight, relentless shivers wracking him. Eddie stroked Steve’s chest, drifted lovingly over Steve’s erect little cocklet.

“I love you, Steve,” he said.

“Just fuck me to oblivion!” Steve’s own scream shocked him back into breathlessness. Eddie grinned, wickedly, and lined his cock up at Steve’s entrance, slowly increasing the pressure until Steve’s body gave.

For a moment, Eddie lingered there, his cockhead wedged in Steve’s opening. Steve gulped air, adjusting to the scorching penetration—yup, as he faintly recalled, Eddie’s dick was much, MUCH bigger than those fingers. Then Eddie nudged forward, coaxing Steve’s body toward its unbroken limits. His senses overflowed, and even Eddie’s look of love was too much to take. He scrunched his eyes tightly.

Eddie… Eddie had got this, and Steve wanted more, his body wavering just about on the pleasurable side of pain. He remained slightly scared, because to seal the deal Eddie was going to bite, and even his fright intoxicated him. Even with his eyes closed, all he saw was Eddie… and, okay, laughing skulls and a smattering of fireworks. Eddie planted a soft kiss on his mouth, and Steve’s hips took on a life of their own, bucking forward, urging him on. Eddie started fucking him for real.

Which was cool, because Steve could feel his next orgasm already, building and building. He gasped and whined and threw his arms around Eddie’s neck, and his ankles around Eddie’s hips, causing the bandaged one to twinge slightly, though that was soon lost in the flood. He peeped again to see Eddie’s face, which was… Okay, kinda ferocious, the curl of his lip deliciously savage. Those gorgeous eyes remained relentlessly adoring, with maybe just a hint of bloodlust. Yeah, this was exactly what he needed. He’d never felt so… no, not only connected. So cherished.

And then the world flipped.

Eddie hoisted Steve up off the cushions and into his lap, impaling Steve completely on his dick. Woah! Talk about Alpha strength! The shift had taken any pressure off Steve’s ankle, though he felt impossibly full, and… Oh God, he still wanted more. Hugging Eddie ever tighter, he moved on reflex—tiny jerks seeking the barest of friction, though his every limb was jello, his parted lips gaping.

Eddie had stopped moving, however. Deep inside him, Eddie started to… Christ, it was like a mini earthquake in Steve’s guts.

Then Steve felt the knot.

It was swelling further up inside him than Steve would’ve believed possible, and a shocked chirrup escaped him. He braced for pain—and fucking son-of-a-bitch, yes! Steve’s head cracked back, as Eddie’s hot seed erupted inside him, setting Steve’s insides convulsing with white-hot pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah! Yes!”

Steve squeaked, and Eddie just kept coming, his hot seed coating Steve’s insides. Jesus Christ, was it gonna come gushing up through his eyeballs? He couldn’t fathom which one of them was shaking the harder. Steve’s every fibre pulled impossibly taut, and it really was almost too much. If Eddie didn’t stop quaking and, goddammit, growing inside him, he might be ripped into a thousand pieces...

…and then he was.

The best orgasm of Steve’s life went supernova. Bright stars shot into streaks of fire that tore up his spine and frazzled his brains. His face smacked to Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie clamped his fangs down onto Steve’s mating gland, piercing deep. Steve’s heart pumped wildly, and then Eddie was sucking and lapping at his blood, cooing softly between:

“Ssssh, shhh. You’re okay, Sweetheart. It’s done.”

Eddie cupped Steve’s neck, chafing the sweat-drenched hair at Steve’s nape with his thumb, holding him in place. Steve’s brain had gone woolly, a dull throb gathering pace in his throat. “Sore,” he murmured, and Eddie’s butter-soft lips nuzzled his gland, and Steve… Okay, he was not done orgasming after all. With Eddie’s knot buried up somewhere near his heart, a final bittersweet agony seized him, echoed by the purest sweep of bliss.

He was still riding the aftershocks, spasming contentedly around Eddie’s knot, when Eddie gently lowered him to the nest and sagged forward to wrap him in his arms.

“I do love you, Steve.”

“Love you too,” mumbled Steve, his feeling of fullness now a kickass honeyed glow.

Yours forever, soulmate.

…

Eddie wasn’t going to lie to himself.

The responsibility should be terrifying. He’d been reaching for that terror, even while lying in the nest with Steve in his arms. Even while coming down from far and away the best orgasm of his life. It’d taken a while for his knot to subside enough to gently drag himself out of Steve, and his dick still felt almost painfully hard.

But, nope, not scared. Eddie Munson had got this. Kind of.

He lay there cuddling Steve, who’d sunk into some strange stupor. He sure looked edible, debauched and pretty—a vivid pink flushed across his pale cheeks, his wet lashes sparkling, and his hair was a wild, fluffy halo. And his wet pussy dribbled Eddie’s come down his thighs, mingled with all that endless slick.

Steve’s neck was smeared with blood, too. The first thing Eddie did, after gently dabbing Steve’s thighs with a damp cloth, was… uh, yeah.

Follow his instinct to lick it.

Granny Munson and even modern science claimed saliva had some healing properties, so he took comfort in that. He licked away the drying blood, enjoying their mingled flavors on Steve’s skin. Also, because he couldn’t help himself, he savored the quiver of his Omega’s lifeblood, palpable through such a thin layer of skin.

Willpower, Munson. No more biting!

A renewed surge of guilt almost outweighed his pleasure. He was also concerned about getting Steve up and into Hopper’s bath, before the latter came back from work, or his pups home from school.

Not that Hopper could really object, mind. They had to use the washroom. Eddie still didn’t fancy running into the Chief with Steve smeared with slick, come, and blood and more-or-less unconscious. And if he ran into any of the Chief’s kids with Steve in this state…

Yeah, now he felt a faint ripple of apprehension. He would be dead meat and deservedly so.

“Huh, now that’s kooky.”

Eddie lifted Steve’s hair to shine the single buzzing bulb’s light beneath the Omega’s chin. The puncture wounds around Steve’s mating gland had almost totally healed, leaving only the two mild pink marks that showed Steve to be a claimed Omega, Eddie’s own.

“What’s kooky?” murmured Steve, rolling over, smiling sleepily, hooking an arm around Eddie’s neck. Then sucking a hissing inbreath. “Jesus!”

“Uuuuuh, sorry I bit you,” said Eddie, because it kinda had to be said. “Totally crazily it’s…”

“All healed, right?” Steve fingered his gland. “Feels a bit bruised.” He curled his lip, snarky. “Believe me, my insides are bitching way more right now.” Eddie grimaced and parted his lips to apologise again. Steve slid his fingers up over them: “Don’t you fucking, dare. I bit first, remember? I’m sorry for that, seriously. I’ll try to do better.”

“It’s fine, Babe. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

Eddie helped Steve up and then bundled the comforter about the two of them. This didn’t make getting up the basement stairs particularly easy, but they made it to the bathroom. Eddie sat Steve down on the toilet seat, while he revved Hopper’s old boiler to the max in running a warm and bubbly bath.

They settled down in the spacious tub, with Steve lying between Eddie’s legs, leaned on Eddie’s chest. Yeah, Eddie’s dick pepped right up again. That was inevitable. No way should he take the Omega again so soon, and he let the rising steam soothe his raging impulses.

“How did you know your throat was healed?” he asked, nosing Steve’s hair while remaining safely away from the bite zone.

“You’re the one who spouted that crazy stuff about us healing each other, dipshit.” Steve was lathering up a ton of bubbles around his crotch, which was… Screw it, a fun watch. “Seriously, I’m tempted to put that to the test. You know, smack you in the mouth just so I can kiss you better?”

“You are kidding, right?”

“Yeah. Unless you really piss me off.” Steve laughed and drew one of Eddie’s wet hands to his lips and kissed it. “Did you say that there was a Winnebago on offer? For when it stops being so cold?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look, Eddie. You’re basically an open book.” Steve started scrambling over onto his front, sending bubbles and water spraying. “You’re fretting your lil’ Alpha brains that I need a palace or something.”

“I was picturing a castle,” admitted Eddie, as Steve settled on top of him again, nose-to-nose and dick-to-dick.

“Jesus, you’re an idiot. Can’t you see? My life before wasn’t exactly perfect. Okay, I had nice clothes and shit, but you’ve met my mom—she’s an ogre! I only want you. For the rest of my life, that’ll be enough.”

“But a Winnebago?”

Steve pecked Eddie’s lips. “I’m telling the truth, Eddie. You could keep me in a basement or a creepy cave, and I’d be all right. In fact, I have this dumb fantasy that…” His cheeks, already pink from the steamy heat, blushed cherry-red. Eddie was curious. However, Steve swerved back onto the business in hand. “I really like the idea of a Winnebago. Cozy, and it’ll be totally big enough for my nest. To begin with, at any rate. We can save up for a bigger one in the future, for the pups. I want at least six, by the way.”

“Then we’re definitely gonna need a goddamn castle.”

Eddie beamed anyhow. Nope. Not scared anymore. How could he be, drowning in Steve’s amused gaze at point-blank range? His inner Alpha had got this. Or maybe they’d got this?

Or maybe he was simply totally, insanely in love with his soulmate.

“Okay, and for future reference, dude,” said Steve, “if I’m feeling snappy, like earlier, banana flavored ice-cream helps. I mean, it doesn’t always fix it, but I find it’s worth a shot, if I’m struggling to rein it in. Oh, and sex, of course. You got that one covered. Took your sweet time, tho’.”

Eddie grinned like an idiot. The last remnants of his tension seemed to sigh away, and he couldn’t wait to get his Omega clean and dry and straight back into their warm nest.

The End

(although there might be some more short ficlets in this universe... it's been fun to write.)

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

My Steve whump fic on AO3

#steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie smut #steve x eddie #steve harrington #bottom steve harrington #top eddie munson #katya's omega whump #omegaverse steddie

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