#and quit essentially chasing me and waiting around for me

[goatcheesecak3]

How about Adam x reader who were dating before the trap, maybe got into a fight, but Adam lives because that’s definitely what happened and they find each other.

Also ur NSFW hcs were good so feel free to sprinkle some spice if you see fit :)

Lost and found

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x gn!reader

Fic type: angst, fluff

Warnings: missing person, medically induced coma

A/n: hello!! Thank you for your request, it was such a cute idea!! There's no nsfw because I couldn't find a way for it to fit into this story, but while we're on the topic I just wanna give a message to anyone who saw my Adam nsfw hcs!! I originally posted the unfinished version by accident, but I've gone back and added more to them since! So make sure you're all caught up on those, in my very biased opinion they're extremely canon teehee :^) all can be found in my masterlist as usual

You and Adam had dated for two years before finally ending it about a month ago. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, epic highs followed by epic lows. Being with Adam could be so wonderful at times, the way he kissed you like you were the only person in the world, the way he would have you folded in on yourself laughing. Your memory was filled with long nights spent talking and falling deeper and deeper in love. Adam was good with his words, which was a blessing and a curse- he could make your heart flutter just as easily as he could crush it. Arguments were frequent, and volatile, he always took things too far. Deciding that this was no way to live, with heavy hearts, the two of you called it quits.

You'd heard around from mutual acquaintances that he'd gotten into a pretty rough spot after the breakup, apparently he'd become some kind of stalker for hire? Like a private investigator but with absolutely no credentials or regard for his or anyone else's safety. It didn't exactly surprise you that he'd gone into a somewhat shady line of work, considering his lack of high school diploma there weren't really many options for him, you wished you could help, but you'd both agreed to keep your distance and move on.

One day however, you couldn't help but break the promise you'd made to yourself, and you asked about him. You'd run into his best friend, Scott at a video store, and despite all your restraint, the words tumbled out of your mouth:

"How's Adam been lately?"

"Pfft how should I know? I haven't spoken to that asshole since he totally bailed on my band photoshoot" Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes disinterestedly.

It wasn't like Adam to turn down paid work of any kind, so you decided to pry deeper,

"What do you mean? He just didn't show up?"

"Yeah, no call, no nothing. He hasn't spoken to anyone. Probably thinks he's too good for me and the guys now with his investigator bullshit, but lemme tell y-"

"Wait, he's actually doing that?! That's so dangerous, you don't think he's gotten himself into trouble do you?"

"I don't know, I got my own shit to worry about. Besides, no one bails on me and gets my sympathy. Scott Tibbs don't chase, baby." He said, all too loudly. You could practically see his ego bulging out of his head.

As you left the video store, the interaction played on your mind. After you and Adam had broken up, Scott was pretty much the only person in his life, and he didn't seem to give two hoots about Adam's wellbeing. Essentially, there wasn't a single person on earth who'd heard anything from Adam in the last week, and no one seemed to be trying to find him. You knew his family were estranged, and pretty much everyone else in his life were all acquaintances at best. If he was in trouble, it was up to you to help.

You headed to his apartment, just to see if he was home. Best case scenario he was, and you got some of your cds back, worst case.. well, you didn't wanna think about that.

You crept up the creaky mildewy staircase of his apartment complex until you reached his floor. Something in your gut felt wrong as you got closer to his door, something that you couldn't quite understand. It wasn't fear, it was overwhelming dread. You always thought there was a big difference between those two feelings; fear was wondering if something bad would happen, and dread was knowing in your heart that it would.

You knocked on his door and waited a beat. Nothing. For whatever reason, a voice in your head told you to try the door handle, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Adam's apartment looked frozen in time, a half eaten bowl of mouldy noodles sat on his coffee table, an empty beer bottle next to it. Everything looked untouched. That was until your eyes made their way to the floor next to his closet- his camera. Smashed to pieces, and left strewn all over the floor. Your eyes darted up toward his redroom, which appeared to have been ransacked.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. You repeated over and over in your head like a mantra.

Your first thought was that someone he'd been stalking had caught him, followed him home to destroy any damning evidence, then deal with Adam.

Panic set in at this moment, as you rushed through his apartment, desperately hoping he was just passed out somewhere.

"Adam?! Adam?!" You cried out, to no avail.

Of course, the second you had regained enough composure to remember to do so, you called the police and filed a missing person's report. The next few days were filled with police interviews, cutting out and sticking the few pictures of Adam you had onto missing person's posters and plastering them all over the city. You handed them out to anyone who would take them, you gave them to all the venues and corner shops that Adam often went to, and you hounded the police relentlessly.

Sure, Adam was your ex, but my god how you had loved him, how you still loved him. You were the only person in his life who loved him, and you refused to give up.

After 6 never ending days, your phone rang. It was a call from the police.

"We've found a young man fitting Adam's description on the outskirts of the city. He's currently in the hospital in a medically induced coma while the staff tend to his injuries. As he is unable to identify himself at this time, we would greatly appreciate it if you could come down and identify him for us" the voice from the phone said.

This was like music to your ears, you tried not to get your hopes up, but you just knew it was him. It had to be, you could feel it in your heart.

As you stood by the bed of the man, you fell to your knees and wept. He was far skinner, his skin pale and almost translucent, his hair tangled and dirty- but there was no doubt about it, that was your Adam.

"That's him! That's my baby! Oh my god, that's my Adam!" You sobbed, clutching into the police office for support. He looked happy for you.

...

After a few days, Adam woke up. He was by no means in good shape, but he was alert, he was safe, and he was asking for you. He'd had to speak to police before he could have any visitors, but they'd assured him that you had done a great deal to help them find him, and he was touched.

"I thought I was gonna die in that room.."

"You probably would have, if y/n hadn't tried to find you"

"No one else reported me?"

The cop shook his head solemnly.

"Damn... I gotta see her, i- I gotta thank her,  i-"

He rambled like this for a while, until he was assured that you were able to come visit him.

...

"Hey, sugar" Adam smiled cockily, despite how weak he was.

You approached the chair next to his bed and reached down to stroke his face lovingly.

"That didn't sound very ex boyfriend of you" You teased.

"Aw come onnnn, I nearly die and you still don't want me back?" He whined, giving you a playful pout.

You chuckled and kissed his forehead,

"I basically saved your life, don't get greedy"

Adam's eyes narrowed, and he looked uncertain, "wait.. are you saying you actually don't wanna get back together?"

You rolled your eyes and pinched his cheek,

"Of course not dummy, I just like watching you squirm"

Adam mustered all of his strength to lift his arms and place his hands on your cheeks, pulling your face towards his.

"You're such a bitch" he mumbled against your lips with a smile

"You're a bitch" you giggled back.

The playful teasing went on for a while, until you were sat in a love filled silence, just holding eachother's hands. Adam was the first to break the silence.

"I'm a changed man, you know, y/n"

"Huh?"

"While I was in that room, you were all I could think about. I kept thinking about all the times I hurt you and I knew I needed to make it right. I made a vow to myself that i was gonna get out of there, and I was gonna get you back... and I was gonna love you the way you deserve to be loved. I'm gonna do that, y/n. I'm gonna prove I deserve to be with you, even if it takes a lifetime... which it probably will now that you basically saved my life"

"Yeah, it's gonna be pretty difficult to level that playing field" you smiled jokingly.

"I mean it, y/n," Adam said, his voice serious, "I promise I'm going to devote the rest of my life to loving you, it's the least I could do".

And several happy years later, he's kept that promise.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Consequences

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: While hiding your relationship is an essential requirement of maintaining it, Maverick struggles to hide his feelings when another man becomes involved.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, and where would we be without the angst, people??

WC: 3000+

This is Part 3 in the There Are Rules universe.

You’re packing up when Maverick calls your name from the front of the room. You look up at him warily as the officers around you start rising from their seats.

Maverick clears his throat, his eyes locked on yours and, even as the rest of the room is bustling after a long day of flying and debriefs, you’re suddenly completely still. Everything always slows down when his gaze settles on you.

“Can you hang back a minute?” he asks.

You nod, sliding out of your seat. You head to the front against the flow of traffic while Maverick walks around his desk to meet you. He stands a good five feet away, riffling through some papers in his hand, until the last of the officers leaves the room.

Maverick glances up at you once everyone else has gone, gingerly setting the stack of papers down on his desk. “Lieutenant,” he says quietly. “That was some flying today.”

You blink at him, a small smile spreading on your face. Surely, he didn’t call you up here to talk about aviation.

Maverick watches you levelly, not a hint of humor in his face. “You broke the hard deck.”

“For a second,” you say, rolling your eyes. “To avoid a collision –”

“Breaking the hard deck is a collision with the ground,” Maverick interjects.

You sigh. “You would’ve done the same.”

Maverick shakes his head. “You can’t keep using that excuse.”

You stare at him moodily. “You’re not denying it.”

Maverick furrows his eyebrows. “We train like we fight, Lieutenant. So that we can fight like we train. You keep breaking the hard deck during exercise, you’ll end up crashing during combat.”

You seethe under the guise of a polite nod. “Yes, sir,” you reply.

Maverick narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side as though he isn’t convinced that you’re done arguing. “I don’t care if you’ve got bogeys on your tail chasing into the cliffside – you might as well have gone straight through the rock.”

You glare at him, holding back every single retort that threatens to escape your tightly sealed lips. “Yes, sir,” you manage to utter, gritting your teeth the moment the words leave your mouth.

Maverick watches you patiently, waiting for you to dispute his logic. When you don’t, he takes a step forward. “Lieutenant,” he says calmly, his eyes sweeping over your face.

“Captain,” you reply.

He moves just a touch closer, letting his fingers skim the back of your hand. “I need you to be more careful,” he says in a near-whisper.

His proximity dizzies you until you can hardly decipher his words. “Mm-hm,” you respond vaguely.

His thumb draws a couple of circles into your palm, but he never quite takes your hand. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” he says in a low voice.

You close your eyes, letting out a wavering sigh when his breath warms the apple of your cheek. “Aye aye, sir,” you say quietly.

Maverick releases a partially stifled groan, pressing his head against yours for a moment before he steps away. “That shouldn’t turn me on,” he says, backing away further as he holds his arm out, pointing at you.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” you ask, a little bewildered because you’re still stranded in a moment that’s already passed.

“You calling me that,” he says, shutting his eyes and shaking his head as though he’s attempting to clear it of your sorcery.

“Sir?” you ask.

He laughs tensely. “Stop.”

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. “Captain?” you say innocently, exploiting his weakness now that you’ve caught on. You take a step forward.

He sighs, bringing a hand to his face. “This is bad,” he warns as you approach, although there’s an amused grin on his face.

You bite your lip, smirking. “Do you like it when I’m bad, Captain?”

Maverick’s mouth drops open for a second as he watches you in awe. “Lieutenant,” he says hoarsely, placing his hands on your arms before you can come any closer. “If you’re trying to test my self-restraint, you’re winning.”

“Am I?” you ask softly, trying to push yourself against his hold.

Maverick moves his head to one side, setting his jaw as though he’s bracing himself for a difficult task. “I’m begging you,” he whispers, turning back to look at you as his breathing becomes more pronounced. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You started it,” you say.

He nods. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he says, finally letting go of you and shaking out his hands wearily. “We can’t do this here. If anybody finds out –”

“I know, I know,” you say. “There will be consequences.

…

Later that evening, you meet your squadron at the Hard Deck. You nod at Maverick and Cyclone, who are seated at the bar, but walk past them to join your friends. You spend the night going over the day’s hops with Phoenix, kicking Rooster’s ass at pool, and exchanging furtive glances with your instructor who has yet to run out of creative reasons to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of your group near the back of the bar.

It has been two weeks since the locker room fiasco but, in all this time, you and Maverick have barely had a moment alone. Between the grueling training and keeping up appearances, there has hardly been time for romance, so when you see Maverick getting out of his seat and pulling his leather jacket over the fitted, white t-shirt he’s wearing, you can’t help the disappointment you feel.

You down your martini moodily and rise slowly, leaning on the table.

“You doing okay?” Phoenix asks.

You nod, feeling the significant weight of your head as you perform said action. The third martini must have been a double. Still, you straighten your back and release the edge of the table. “Never better,” you respond, taking care not to lose your balance as you spin on the spot. You let out a sigh upon seeing Maverick’s back as he nears the door and start unhurriedly for the bar.

But before you reach it, a man in service khakis steps into your path. Not only is he wearing an exuberant grin, he’s also still sporting his aviators despite the late hour and lack of sunlight indoors. “Hey there, gorgeous,” he says in a jubilant voice.

Cyclone looks up from where he’s seated at the bar and raises his eyebrows in your direction before pointedly turning away. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Maverick has come to a halt near the exit.

“What’s your poison?” the man asks, putting a hand on your arm and gesturing to the bar.

You watch him quietly for a moment, trying to decide whether you’re devious enough to take advantage of the situation. After all, the moment the man lays his hand on you, Maverick turns to watch you from where he still stands by the door, and you can’t say that the pissed off expression he’s wearing isn’t wildly attractive. But, ultimately, you look up at the man who’s now putting his arm around your shoulder, and say “I’m good, thanks,” and slip out from under his embrace.

“Come on,” the man insists, taking a hold of your wrist as you start to walk away. “One drink, sweetheart.”

In your periphery, you see Maverick start to make his way back toward the bar. “No, thank you,” you reiterate, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

But when you turn away, the man steps into your path. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he says, putting his hands on your waist.

Before you can respond, you hear Maverick’s voice, much closer than you would expect him to be. “I believe the lady said no.”

You glance over to see the threatening look on his face despite the composure in his voice.

“Hey gramps, how ’bout you take a hike?” The man chuckles.

You notice Cyclone turning back to face the three of you, his eyebrows hovering even higher than the last time you saw them. He meets your gaze with a cringe just as Maverick narrows his eyes. “Step away,” he says in a low voice. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

The man leers at Maverick. “Or what?” he asks, tugging you forward.

It takes but a moment for Maverick to wedge himself between the two of you and grab the man by the collar of his uniform, nearly lifting him off the ground. “I suggest you get out of here right the fuck now,” Maverick growls, displacing the man several feet. He drives his back into the bar before finally letting go of his shirt.

“Woah! Woah!” the man yells, clearly not prepared to take a beating for what he thought might be a decent hookup. He holds his hands up, cowering. “I’m leaving, pop.”

Maverick glares at the man as he stalks off in a hurry. You glance nervously between Maverick’s curled up fists and the relaxed set of Cyclone’s shoulders. He’s watching Maverick in amusement. “Well, that was entertaining,” he comments while Maverick continues to seethe.

You wince as Maverick’s jaw hardens in response, not entirely optimistic that Cyclone won’t end up in his path of destruction. You bite your lip as Maverick finally releases a controlled breath and looks in your direction. His eyes sweep fleetingly over your face, although he holds your gaze for a deliberate moment before turning to Cyclone. “I can’t stand that kind of arrogance,” Maverick mutters, reaching for a bar stool next to his superior.

Cyclone smirks at him pointedly. “That’s ironic.”

Maverick gives Cyclone a flat look but doesn’t respond.

Cyclone takes advantage of the break in conversation to glance in your direction. “You alright, Lieutenant?”

You gravitate warily toward the bar. “I could use a drink,” you respond honestly.

Cyclone calls over the bartender while Maverick looks over his shoulder to steal a glance in your direction. He’s wearing an unreadable expression and this about doubles your level of anxiety. Cyclone distributes six shots of Tequila between the three of you and, lifting his shot glass, says, “I thought you were leaving, Maverick.”

Maverick eyes Cyclone impassively. “Is that your toast, sir?” he asks.

Cyclone chuckles. “Why not?” Then he downs his shot.

You follow suit, squeezing your eyes shut as the bitterness of the liquor settles in your mouth. You let out a quick breath before sticking a wedge of lime between your teeth and cringing as you bite down. When you notice both Cyclone and Maverick watching you in amusement, you give them a forced smile. “Oh my god,” you mutter around the lime wedge still in your mouth. “So good.”

The men laugh and you take a breath of relief, feeling the tension dissipate. Maverick raises his second shot glass and, while Cyclone reaches over the bar for the saltshaker, winks at you with a discreet smile. This tiny gesture is enough to send a ripple of electricity through your body.

Cyclone lands back on his barstool with a loud sigh and offers Maverick the salt. Maverick holds up a hand to indicate that he isn’t interested so Cyclone just shrugs and starts sprinkling his hand.

You glance at Maverick just as his eyes linger on yours once again and the desire to touch him becomes disastrously overwhelming. You feel your heart begin to race when you recognize the longing on his face before he squares his jaw and looks into his shot glass. He brings it to his lips, but Cyclone stops him with an outraged “Maverick!” He looks at Cyclone in surprise while the latter shakes his head in disapproval. “It’s your turn to give a toast.”

Maverick lets out a weak chuckle, reverting his gaze to the liquid in his glass. “To the mission, of course,” he says. He takes his shot quickly and then looks at you with a mild squint, as though he’s studying your reaction.

“Of course,” Cyclone agrees and, as he tips his shot glass back, you feel the back of Maverick’s hand brush lightly against your knee.

That’s when the troupe of enthusiastic aviators arrives at the bar. “Excuse the interruption,” Hangman says. “But this looks like a party I want to crash.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows at him. “Typically, I advise my pilots against crashing,” he says.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at Maverick’s joke while the rest of your squadron gathers around.

Maverick rises, allowing the newcomers access to the counter, and gives you a subtle wink as he moves through the swam of aviators. “See you kids tomorrow,” he says with a smirk.

“Captain!” you exclaim, leaping from your seat and squeezing through the bodies crowding the counter.

Maverick glances back at you warily. “Lieutenant?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering how appropriate your ensuing request might sound. “Mind giving me a ride back to base?”

Maverick blinks at you mutely before his eyes briefly slide over to Cyclone and then back to you again. “Sure,” he says pleasantly.

You give him a tight smile before turning to bid your friends a good night. Cyclone gives you a quick nod and returns his attention to the beer someone’s just handed him. Apprehensively, you make your way toward Maverick, who’s about halfway to the door. Maverick turns on his heel as soon as you reach him and marches briskly toward the exit. “Keep up, Lieutenant,” he mutters under his breath as you pick up your pace.

“Are you mad?” you ask quietly as he holds the door open for you.

Maverick meets your gaze. “No,” he says with a shift of the jaw as he fights to keep a straight face. “Impatient.”

You raise your eyebrows, stepping over the threshold with a small laugh. Maverick walks out after you and gestures to the parking lot at the side of the building.

Once the two of you are past the large windows of the establishment, you feel Maverick’s fingers weave through your own. The afternoon sun has sunk below the horizon and the long shadows of palm trees start to melt into the soft darkness of dusk. It's thanks to this cover of nightfall that Maverick pulls you aside behind the Hard Deck and, after a quick glance over his shoulder, finally looks you in the eye. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” he says and, even in your pocket of darkness, hidden between the spotlights of two unsuspecting streetlamps, you see the twitch of his lips as his mouth curls upward.

You smile back at him. “Good evening, Captain,” you respond, not meaning to sound quite as sweet as you do, only you’re so enamored by his eyes, it’s damn near impossible to keep from melting.

Maverick brings your hand up and presses it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he lets out a breath. He shakes his head, meeting your gaze with a more serious expression. “Sorry I intervened,” he says.

You blink at him in surprise. “I’m not,” you respond. “I mean, I know you know I can handle myself.”

Maverick chuckles. “I assure you, I don’t doubt your competence.”

You lower your gaze to watch his hand tighten around yours. “It was nice, having you stand up for me.”

Maverick reaches up with his other hand to lift your chin. “I almost decked him.”

You laugh. “I noticed.”

“I think I reacted before I realized that I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Hmm.” You pause, searching his face. “I know the feeling,” you say finally, perhaps a tad sarcastically.

He watches you quietly for a moment, knowing exactly what you’re getting at. “Your barrel roll,” he concedes.

“I was inverted before I even realized it.”

Maverick nods. “You’ve got great instincts.”

You gaze at him thoughtfully. “My point is, I don’t think I would have done the same maneuver at a lower altitude. Another reflex would have kicked in.”

“Look, I’m not going to stand here and deny that you’re a talented pilot. But I’m also not going to commend you for a reckless stunt that put your life in jeopardy and nearly caused your pursuing aircraft to lose control,” Maverick states firmly.

You pout your lips teasingly. “Not even a little?”

Maverick grins reluctantly. He brings his head down to rest over yours. He’s silent for a moment, breathing calmly, in unison with you. “That was some flying today, Lieutenant,” he mutters finally, echoing his morning lecture in an infinitely more agreeable tone. Affectionate. Proud. “Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he half-whispers. His hand moves to cradle your cheek while he places a tender, burning kiss on the corner of your mouth. Your lips part as you let a soft, whimpering sigh escape in the midst of your mounting desire. His lips linger longingly on your cheek before he shifts his weight to move closer and kiss you again. He’s not even kissing your mouth and the passion of the moment is already driving you wild.

Then, just as you’re about to insist on a proper French kiss, a booming voice impedes your plans. “Maverick!”

Maverick leaps away from you like he’s been stung, as though this action might negate what Cyclone has undoubtedly already witnessed. “Sir,” he starts, his tone confident despite the alarm on his face. “Let me explain” –

Cyclone silences him by holding up a hand. He glances mutely between you and Maverick. “I don’t have to tell you what kind of position this puts me in, Captain.”

“I understand that, sir,” Maverick responds with a stiff nod.

Cyclone stands quietly for what seems like a full minute before speaking again. “This ends now,” Cyclone declares levelly, the hushed quality of his voice adding a threatening tone to the statement.

“There’s nothing to end,” Maverick assures him. “This was an error in judgement, and it will not happen again.”

Cyclone juts out his chin in a grimace and shoots a stern glance in your direction. “This ends now,” he repeats, ensuring to enunciate every syllable to emphasize his point.

You don’t say anything, but Cyclone doesn’t wait for you to respond. He heads out into the parking lot, leaving the two of you behind.

Maverick drags a hand over his face. “Of all the fucking people” –

But you don’t let him finish. “Nothing to end?” you say hurtfully. He looks up at you wearily. “An error in judgement?”

Maverick watches you resignedly. “What would you call it?”

The despair on his face frightens you; makes you consider the possibility that his response to Cyclone might have been more deliberate than simply a spontaneous evasive maneuver.

Maverick sighs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. You meet his gaze; his eyes brim with tears but his jaw is set. “I take full responsibility.”

As if you want an apology. As if you need to place blame. You take a step toward him, but he retreats.

He lets out a labored breath and blinks back a flood of tears. Then, he says in a strained whisper, “This ends now.”

You might’ve accidentally broken the hard deck but, just like that, Maverick intentionally breaks your heart.

Read Part 4

Tag List:

Not sure when Mav's tag list got so long! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my works <3 The rest of the list is in the comments.

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 4

Summary: Reader makes a decision and goes home only to be met with a new type of monster.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Manipulation, PTSD elements, talks of abortion, pro-life/pro-choice debate, cursing

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This chapter is HEAVY. I apologize in advance. It’s uncomfortable, however, essential to this fic. Sorry in advance!

Masterlist

The apartment felt cold when you arose from your disturbed slumber. With an aching body, you had pulled yourself from the bed and searched the rooms for a sign of life; There was none. Aemond must have left, which meant this was your chance to slip out of his apartment and go back to your shared apartment with your brother without an immediate objection from Aemond. Or maybe, you’d just catch a flight or train and get out of Drone completely; go back home to your parents. The enticing idea danced around your mind for quite some time. You stared at the hardwood floors in contemplation.

Would he chase me all the way home?

Would he ruin my family?

Would he ruin my brother?

You found, rather unregretfully, each of your prior fears were becoming less prevalent in the wake of understanding that you were in true danger. Dorne wasn’t safe for you; not with your brother and not with Aemond. At least in the Riverlands, your father and mother could protect you. Save you from your brother’s wrath; and Aemond’s. 

Your eyes lit up with a newfound vigor and you set to work bagging up what little belongings you brought, calling an uber to your location and buying plane tickets for Riverrun. You were out of that apartment before Aemond could return and although it was lost on you, there was a vase of 8 red roses with a card that simply read “Stay” on the counter in the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed it…unfortunately.

Your plane landed late into the night and you were grateful your father was still waiting for you at the airport. His arms were spread wide, his smile genuine as he embraced you in a warm hug. You missed this, you missed genuine kindness from men; however, the last few years living with your brother and the last month or so knowing Aemond had left you a bit scarred, marred with trepidation, making you pull from the hug quicker than you’d like. Your father noticed, you could tell by the sideways smile that had appeared on his face.

“Hey dad,” you offered a tired smile while taking a step back and grasping the straps of your bookbag. 

Your father reached around you and took the bookbag from your trembling hands. “Traveling light, my little trout?” He put a hand on your back and the contact made a phantom wave of chills go through you, making you grimace as you began to walk out of the airport and toward the small parking lot of this two terminal airport. 

“Yeah, just wanted to see you guys while we were on break.” You forgot how cold it could get this far North and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Weird time to have a break in University.” He commented but didn’t pursue. “How’s your brother, we never hear from him anymore.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you continued to look at the ground as you walked, “What? I thought he was sending some money each month and-”

“Your mom told him to stop that a few years back, made her feel greedy. No, after he quit sending money, we hadn’t heard from him. I guess he’s real busy down there in Dorne?”

You nodded, trying to understand why your brother would lie about something so small as sending money each month to help your parents pay the bills.

“Don’t mention it to your mom. Makes her upset. I was just wondering-”

You nodded again as you two reached the car. You hopped in the passenger’s side as your father started the vehicle. “So he’s not even talking to you guys anymore?”

Your father shrugged, as he backed out of the parking space. “Nope. Your mother thinks he’s just busy is all.”

Your father had always been a terrible liar and you just caught a hint that he didn’t necessarily believe what your mom did. You wouldn’t push the issue yet.

“How are you guys doing on your bills if I might ask?”

Your father rolled his eyes, “That’s nothing that should concern you.”

“I’m an adult, I can handle it-”

“Hey, I was talking to Mrs. Tully the other day,” he changed the subject, “And she said that there will be an opening for an Early Education Teacher at the start of the next school year if that’s something you’re interested in?”

Your heart dropped, you hadn’t told him your brother forced you to change majors. Your dream of being a teacher for littles crushed. You swallow your self pity and lie to your father, “Thanks dad, I’ll talk to her.”

The drive home is filled with more small talk, mainly your father telling you the gossip of small town life. Who married who, who’s cheating who, and who died. You remind yourself that this is why you took a chance on Sunspear and moved in with your brother but then again, the gnawing feeling of ‘I brought this upon myself’ creeps back up into your throat and you have to remind yourself that you’re a victim and you are not the bad person or persons here.

The victim guilt doesn’t seem to leave you, even when you pull into your childhood driveway. 

Stepping through the threshold of the house, it smells like chocolate oatmeal cookies and home; you feel tension leave your body and finally smile.

Your mom comes around the corner with oven mitts on and you laugh, rushing to embrace her. “Oh my darling,” she says into your hair, “I’ve missed you so much.”

And that’s how the reunion goes, late into the night, catching up at the kitchen table, eating cookies when all three of you should be sleeping. It feels good to be home but you are awaiting the inevitable and it happens an hour in.

“I know you’re not on break,” your mom starts. She could never be fooled, even when you and your brother were kids, lying about who hit who first; it was always you…even when it wasn’t. Okay, maybe it was only you that couldn���t fool her. “Why are you here in the middle of the semester?”

You looked down to your cup of tea, it had gone cold with very little left in the mug. Could you really tell them, did you have a choice?

“Does it have something to do with that gash on your head? Or the wrapping around your wrist?”

You nodded, sighing a shaking breath. “That’s part of it.” Your voice was small, like when you were a kid taking your brother’s punishment.

“What’s the other part?” Her voice was stern and soft, coaxing the truth you could never hide from her, out.

“I-um- I-” How could you tell them? How could you explain to them that you’re pregnant? How would they react? Your body shook with anticipation and anxiety.

Your father put his hand on your back and you felt cold chills again. “It’s okay, it's okay to tell us.”

No it isn’t. You two will not understand. How could you understand? Is it not enough to have lived it but now I have to recount what fucking happened to me? I have to speak out loud the atrocities sinned against me by my own brother and a fucking demon of a human when I myself, havent even come to terms that I’ve been wronged? How can you understand when I don’t even understand?!

And so, the root of your pain fell out of your mouth without your brain deciphering your words, “I’m pregnant.”

Your father sighed deeply, your mother sat back in her chair, you continued staring at the little bit of tea left in the bottom of your mug; hoping the little bit of residue left from the tea bag would tell you something uplifting or helpful like the ancient art of tea leaves reading. Then the irony donned on you and you almost laughed.

Here I am, looking for comfort in my tea instead of my own parents. I had to leave Dorne for tea?

“Well,” your mother spoke up, “who’s the father?”

You nearly laughed again, “Someone you don’t know.”

“Is he willing to help you with-”

“I don’t want to keep it.”

Your mother scoffed, “You don’t have a choice in that now do you?”

Your eyes lifted from the cold cup to your mother’s eyes, warm and inviting; deceitful. “I do, actually.”

“Oh you do?” Maybe in Dorne but not in the Riverlands-”

“Then I’m not staying here, I’m going back to Dorne. I just wanted to let you guys know before I-”

“Before you murdered my grandchild?”

Your father scolds your mother for being so harsh with a hand lifted from the table, her name and shaking his head and there you are again, feeling like you brought this on yourself.

Why did I even come here?

“Does your brother know,” your father asks, breaking you from your trance of self-loathing.

You shook your head; unable to speak. Staring down at the tea again.

“What’s your plan? Drop out of school and move here? You could work at the elementary school as an aide until you finish your degree here?” Your father’s voice is kinder than your mother’s but not any less incessant.

“I don’t- I think I’m done. I can’t afford it.”

Your mother shifts into the table, closer to you and suddenly you feel put off by this proximity. “Well, that’s fine. You can get a job here, we will help pay for medical expenses and the baby’s care. If-” she starts, grabbing one of your hands with both of hers, they’re warm. “If you don’t want this baby after you give birth- that’s fine. I’ll accept full legal guardianship, no questions asked. But please, don’t rob us of a grandchild. Don’t be this person. You always loved kids, that’s why you went into early education.” She pauses, looking across the table to your father with tears in her eyes. “But give yourself the chance to look at your baby and make that decision.”

You chuckle, a tear falling from your eyes. “Yeah mom, but what if the eyes looking back at me are his?”

As always, comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated but never necessary!

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[skyyguy]

13. "Can I touch you? Please, I want to help you." for the Eighteen Aches ask if it inspires you 🥰?

Prompt This took me a hot second, and you can blame @hogans-heroes for this.

He’d been warned, of course, Benny had told him, but he hadn’t expected it. Not to be so bad, anyways. Gale, drinking? Ya, sure, a bottle of beer, a glass of whiskey, maybe. He hadn’t expected to see the bottles lined up, long empty, the half finished, just opened bottle at the end of the line. John bit his lip, studying the kitchen, trying to keep himself contained. It wouldn’t do any good for him to break down, not when it was clear Gale was already doing that. They could only afford one break at a time.

Gale had run out the back door the moment John had walked in the front, and John had frozen in place when he’d entered the kitchen while trying to chase the blond. Marge had tried to warn him too, told him this was far beyond anything he was imagining, but John hadn’t listened. She hadn’t seen Gale in the Stalag, hadn’t seen him on the March, hadn’t seen the way his cheeks sunk in and his ribs burst out, the way the hope and light drained from him within the first 10 minutes of the day until it was never even there as they woke up.

John thought he’d already seen Gale through the worst days of their lives.

He was wrong.

Taking in a deep breath, John turned away from the whiskey bottles lining the counters, the table, pointedly ignored the empty Lucky Strike boxes crowding a corner around an unemptied trash can, and made his way out the back door, following Gale slowly, making sure his foot steps could be heard.

But Gale wasn’t on the back porch. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. A spike of panic ran through him— and he knew it wouldn’t be the only one— and he grabbed the handrail in an iron grip. Gale’s house backed up to a huge, wooded area, and he knew just how much of that the blond owned. He didn’t know, however, how much of that the blond knew. And that was more concerning. John had always been good at making do if he needed to, but he wasn’t exactly peak wilderness explorer, and the idea of stomping around the woods after Gale didn’t excite him any. Especially because if Gale didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, John forced himself to release the tension in his shoulders, letting them sag, as if under a tremendous weight. He would have to wait for Gale to come back on his own, and he could only hope that would be soon. John went back inside, looking more critically around the kitchen, finding it alarmingly bare of actual food. Maybe, in the wait, he would try to get some groceries… But he didn’t want to leave and risk Gale coming home, only for this to happen again. He considered an empty bottle for a long moment, weighing his options.

In the end, John himself was hungry, and he wasn’t sure that Gale would come back anytime soon. A quick run into town, to the supermarket, couldn’t hurt. He’d leave a note and hope that, if Gale was back, he’d be calm by then. Finding paper was another story, but once it was found, a note was hastily scrawled onto it, and the paper was tacked to the cabinets right inside the door, John grabbed his truck keys and shuffled his way out, a small list of essentials tucked into his breast pocket.

Gale wasn’t back when John carried the boxes of groceries in, and he sighed, worry clawing at his belly in painful, insistent strokes. It was nearly getting dark, and John had heard how cold it could get in the Wyoming mountains. While Gale’s house wasn’t quite in the mountains, they were a backdrop, and John figured that still applied. Trying not to worry, John started making something for dinner— though his culinary skills had taken a hit with the coma— humming to himself as he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until finally the front door opened. Shut. The sound of boots, hesitantly, crossing the mudroom, the living room, stopping in the kitchen doorway.

“Hi,” John started softly, blinking at Gale. Gale froze, eyes wide, staring back.

“No. No, no, no, I got rid of you. I stopped… You were gone,” Gale forced out through frozen lips, grabbing the door jamb for support.

“I ‘unno what you’re talking about Buck, but I’ve never been gone,” John replied slowly, getting to his feet. He wanted to close the distance, to wrap Gale in his arms and hold him close, hold him tight, as if by doing so he could fit all of Gale’s broken pieces back together again. The look on Gale’s face gave him a pretty good clue as to how that would be received. He wondered if maybe, this time, Gale was too broken for even him to fix. If maybe, this time, Gale wouldn’t let him try to fit the pieces back together.

“I left you,” Gale whispered, his voice cracking over the words, face falling, as he looked away from John. It felt like all the air was sucked out of the room in a moment. He didn’t need Gale to elaborate, he knew exactly what the other meant.

“You didn’t,” John whispered in reply, taking a half step towards Gale. Gale flinched and John froze.

“I did. I ran. You died,” Gale’s tone was horrified and he wrapped his arms around himself, looking small.

“You ran, because I told you to. I wanted you to, Buck…” John trailed off, watching Gale shake his head.

“I left you. You got shot.”

“You did. I did. But that’s not on you, Buck.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t ‘ve left,” Gale argued quietly, looking like he was collapsing in on himself. John bit the inside of his cheek, watching carefully. He wanted to run forward, to support Gale, to keep him from falling to his knees.

“You don’t know that,” John shot back, “goons couldda shot me any time they damn well pleased, with or without you.”

“They shot you because I ran, Bucky,” Gale snapped, though he immediately shrank back in on himself, shoulders raising towards his ears.

“I don’t care,” John replied before sucking in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, aware that might not actually be helpful. Gale screwed his eyes shut.

“I stopped drinking, stopped smoking, why are you here?” the blond asked, voice small and scared, and John felt his heart breaking beneath his ribs. Benny had told him Gale had been seeing things, Marge had told him that he was seeing John. He knew, it just didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“Buck…” John started, trying to take a step forward, hands up to try to pacify the other. Instead, Gale jerked back, backpedaling quickly, only to trip over himself after a few steps. John lurched forward, trying to catch Gale, but the blond had gained too much ground and he fell, his head whacking against the edge of a small table.

“Fuck. Buck.” John was by his side in an instant, terror on his face, “hey, Buck, hey, stop, hold on,” he said frantically as Gale tried to get up, “Can I touch you? Please, I want to help you."

“You’re not real,” Gale ground out, trying to shift away from John, grimacing at the pain that sparked through him. He touched the side of his head, his hand coming away bloody, his face paling at the sight.

“Gale,” John said firmly, making the blond flinch, his eyes fixing on John. His gaze was hazy and disoriented, and John was worried he’d hurt himself badly, but he could still see the sharp edge of panic under the haze, and he knew he had to move slow, couldn’t even think to suggest a hospital, would have to make Gale know he was okay before anything.

“John?” and it sounded like a question. John’s expression softened.

“Can I touch you?” he asked again. Gale hesitated but finally nodded— though he winced in pain immediately after. John reached out slowly, wrapping his arm around Gale’s shoulders and helping him sit up, unsure if the way Gale’s face crumpled and tears sprung to his eyes was good or not.

“You’re real,” Gale muttered against John’s shoulder, taking a deep breath in, the warm scent of cigarettes and John’s cologne expanding in his lungs.

“‘Course I am, dove, ‘course I am,” John comforted him, running a hand down his spine. He could feel, even through Gale’s coat and shirt, every vertebrae, every bump, and John grimaced to himself. The others had all told him Gale had never recovered his weight from before the Stalag, but he hadn’t understood just how literally they meant it. When he felt the hot damp of Gale’s tears against his shoulder, John bit his tongue, keeping his surprise to himself. Gale didn’t need that right now.

“I… I left you.”

“You saved yourself,” John argued, not really wanting to rehash it, but willing to if Gale needed it.

“I’m sorry,” Gale gasped out the apology, his voice cracking over a sob, the only indication other than the wetness on John’s shoulder that he was crying.

“Don’t be, dove, I wanted you to.”

“You’re real. You’re alive.”

“Yeah, baby doll. Yeah. I’m real. I’m alive. I’m right here.”

[llovelyclouds]

notes on alecto

hii!! so a few months ago i did a full reread of the locked tomb and took note of anything i thought seemed particularly relevant. I want to share what I have but I'm not sure exactly how i want to format everything quite yet- but im just gonna go for it so bear with me if its a little disorganized!

throughout the process i've started coming up with some of my own theories, but i thought it would be cool to post everything i've compiled, so people could use that to make their own conclusions as well :D

I have sections for anything that seemed important about all the original lyctors & their cavaliers, so I'm going to start off with all my information gathered about alecto! buckle in, folks, there's a lot :-)

you can find links to the other posts in the project here!

(also ofc spoilers for the up to the end of nona ahead!)

ALECTO

titles:

Also referred to as “A.L.”, “Annabel Lee,”or “Annie Laurie”  John’s cavalier, the soul of the Earth. (And of course, nona <;3)

Annabel Lee poem  (mentioned htn. pg. 196)

Annie Laurie poem (mentioned htn. pg. 345)

notes from harrow the ninth:

Harrow's psychosis seems to begin after seeing Alecto for the first time (htn. pg. 51)

Augustine describes her as "more lucid" than Mercy as an insult to Mercy (htn. pg 168)

"'God, who did you bury?' [...] 'I buried a monster,' he said." (htn. pg. 195)

(depending on how much of The Body is real) Agrees that Harrow should kill G1dieon (htn. pg. 226)

“Augustine said, ‘To sisters, and to the women we‘ve left behind.’ God’s mouth was cheerful as ever, but his eyes were not when he said, 'Do I have to drink to that?’ For the first time, you were witness to the Saint of Patience discombobulated. ‘Apologies, John. Wasn’t meant as a jab.’ ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore- most of the time,’ said God, and he was still smiling.” (htn. Pg. 277)

"Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck… and the disciples were scared! I cannot blame them! I was terrified! But when the work was done- when I was finished, and so were they, and the new Lyctors found out the price- they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm… Oh, but it is a tragedy, to be put in a box and laid to wait for the rest of time." - Teacher (htn. pg. 328)

Says she has to go away for a while immediately after Varun appears (htn. pg. 334)

John says that G1deon doesn’t talk about her, but Augustine and Mercy still feel guilty about what happened (htn. pg. 345)

“When I first met her I just called her First, One. She had a real name, but I buried it with her, and nobody says it anymore.” - John (htn. Pg. 345)

“Annabel Lee was my- what do I call her? Guide? Friend? I’d hope so… [...] She was the first Resurrection. She was my Adam. As the dust settled and I beheld what was left and what was gone, I was entirely alone. The world had been ended, Harrowhark. One moment I was a man, and the next moment I was the Necrolord Prime, the first necromancer, and more importantly, a landlord with no tenants. [...] I was dazed… I was bewildered… and she was my defender and my sole companion, and my colleague in the scholarship of learning how to live again. It was bloody difficult. I had never been God. [...] She lived to see what happened at Canaan House. Not that she took much interest. My first Resurrection was not a normal human being, Harrow, and she struggled to pretend. Anger was her besetting sin. We had that in common. And when the cost of Lyctorhood was paid, when the emotions were at their peak… we found out the price for our sin. The monstrous retribution. To be chased for our crime to the ends of the universe, to have our deed stain our very faces and follow after us like a foul smell. She died after that first terrible assault.” - John (htn. pg. 346)

"That freak would have gone for me already… she could never act human." -Mercymorn (htn. pg. 408)

the lyctors knew some amount of truth about Alecto's resurrection, likely that shes essentially a resurrection beast (htn. pg. 478)

"'A monster, John!' Augustine barked. "She was a bloody monster in a human suit! She was a monster the moment you resurrected her, and then you went and made her worse!'" - Augustine (htn. pg. 478)

Gideon & Pyrrha liked Alecto despite the fact that the other lyctors (at least Mercy and Augustine) didn't (htn. pg. 479)

One of the reasons the lyctors wanted her dead was because the RBs were partially coming for her (htn. pg. 479)

Appears to claim Harrow's body after Gideon "dies" in the river (htn. pg. 500)

notes from nona the ninth

"Sometimes, [...] I don't like when you do- the necromancy word- [...] -but it feels nice at the same time. It's mixed up. It's like when you do that, it makes me sad- not sad that you did it, but sad that you can do it." - Nona, to Palamades (ntn. pg. 65) 

"Nona loved the blue sphere as much as she loved everything else. She, and nobody else, could hear it sing." (ntn. pg. 125)

"'And I'm not scared of dying. Really truly, Cam, I'm not…' 'Why not?' said Camilla. Nona thought about it. 'Because I like letting go of the pull-up bars and falling off,' she said. 'I don't like the part just before you let go and I don't like the part where you hit the floor, but I like the letting go.'"- Nona and Cam (ntn. pg. 125)

"Dust of my dust- such similar star salt- what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill- we see you still- we seek you still- we murdered- we who murder- you inadvertent tool- you misused green thing- come back to us- take vengeance for us- we saw you- we see you- I see you." - Judith, (as Varun) to Nona (ntn. pg. 164)

Nona likes Gideon's (originally Pyrrhas?? maybe?) sunglasses, but only so long as nobody wore them (ntn. pg. 165)

"then she told herself sternly, Stop it! If she was going to do it, she thought, she might as well do it. She had some vague notion that when you committed to a thing you had to do it all the way. Who had said that to her? Who had taught her that? Once you've stepped in, said the voice in the back of her head, you're in. This isn't the Hokey Pokey. She had remembered something- she had finally remembered something! Only she didn't have anyone to tell." (ntn. pg. 203)

"Nona had thrown exactly two tantrums in her entire life. She couldn't remember anything about the first one, but Pyrrha had told her about it. Pyrrha had been laughing with her mouth, but not with her eyes: her eyes had been very brown and distant and uneasy, as though this tantrum had reminded Pyrrha of something her brain didn't want to bring back." (ntn. pg. 275)

"'But you see, Palamades, I don't mind dying,' said Nona, trying to make him understand. 'I've been doing it for ages. I'm not scared.'" (ntn. pg. 289)

"'I am glad you did not tell us this. We had no idea there was any recourse from Varun the Eater's effects, nor any beast.' 'Its pure theory,' Camilla said curtly. "Something's being transmitted through the light spectrum. Absorption through the eyes is worse for the brain.' This made Nona think of something. It tugged at the edges of her memory and stayed there, nagging.'" - We Suffer & Cam (ntn. pg. 322) 

Nona says that she never liked her hands (ntn. pg. 357)

"She wanted to shout. She wanted to be listened to. She wished the barrier had taken her hands. She wished she had thrust herself into it- become that big seething mass of flesh and meat and tendrils- ruined her body, just melted it; come back messed up, so that nobody could want her body but her, so that it would be hers and nobody else's. This was a horrible thing to think. Nona hated herself immediately and fervently." (ntn. pg. 358)

She hates having just two feet (ntn. pg. 390)

“You were the noise that was everywhere. It was like trying to talk to someone down a phone line with someone screaming through a megaphone in the same room. You drowned everything out. You were so huge and so complicated, and you were screaming, You wouldn’t stop screaming, You were so scared. You were so goddamn mad.” (ntn. pg. 405)

“You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted… I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire… or the sun. I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn’t say anything…I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I’m ready. You kept screaming and screaming… like a baby in pain. So I tried to hurt you- I did hurt you. I reached out for you, and it hurt you… but I wasn’t strong enough. The caveman. The wildfire. The Neolithic priest staggering in front of the falling star.” (ntn. pg. 407)

“I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of. He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left…a handful of things that made me me… a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking… I didn’t do it like art. When I was seven, you know, all Nana had to play with in her house was some of Mum’s old toys. And my favourite out of all of them…” He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,” he murmured. “I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures. [...]” He said, from my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. I made you look like a Christmas tree fairy… I made you look like a Renaissance angel… I made you Adam and Eve… Galatea. Barbie. Frankenstien’s monster with long yellow hair. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you… I hid you in me. And when we were together… once the shaman had claimed the sun… I became God.”- John (ntn. pg. 408)

“Do you remember what you said to me once I had done it? When we stood here together?” She looked at him and she said, “Yes.” He said- “You said, ‘I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said: “You said, ‘What have you done to me? I am a hideousness.’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said, “Where did you put the people? Where did they go?” She said, “I still love you.” He said, "You said that too.” - John & Alecto/Harrow (ntn. Pg. 410)                                                

Nona has some kind of blackout on top of the truck and something happens in that time that convinces Pyrrha of her true identity (ntn. pg. 413)

Also based on Nona’s reaction at that point, maybe Alecto didn’t like Pyrrha even though Pyrrha liked Alecto (ntn. pg. 413)

“She’s scared to die. You’re afraid of so many things, but she’s only afraid to die. Then when the disciples come to you and say the word Lyctor, she does not understand that they want the thing you did to her- she watches as you watch… watch them misunderstand the process.” - Harrow, to John, (ntn. pg. 434)

“In [Aiglemene’s] hands was a huge black-metal pike about the same height as her, with an edge that gleamed in the light. Nona couldn’t stop herself looking at that edge: for some reason it made her palms sweat, and the back of her neck itch again.” (ntn. pg. 454)

“I might not help you when.. I'm back," she said, not quite understanding I. “I'll be different. I'll remember everything. I'll remember the thing I'm trying to forget. And Palamedes-  I won't love him. I won't love Camilla, or Pyrrha, or Hot Sauce, or even Noodle. I won't love anything… I won't know how. I won't be me at all, or.. I'll be the me who knows the thing, and knowing the thing means I'm not Nona- I'm someone else." (ntn. pg. 460)

she recognizes the tower, and the devils (ntn. pg. 440, and 447, respectively)

“You let that monster out of its box," said Ianthe, "and you start us down a path nobody can save us from. If God truly wants her out… if Teacher set this all up… if he wants her…"  “Wants her? He told me to kill her. He said Make it quick, but kill her, said me with my blood could do it- said me with my blood, I was the only one… " [...] “He loves her! " Ianthe howled. “John loves Alecto - John needs Alecto! Without that piece of Goddamn fridge meat, he's nothing- and we need to keep him that way!” - Ianthe & Kiriona, accidentally prompting nona to remember everything (ntn. pg. 470)

“She had been taken down this corridor: she had squeezed through this crack in the rock- not a passageway, not at that point. John had told her he had something to show her. He had said, It's very pretty. You'll like it. [...] John loved her. She was John's cavalier. She loved John. For she so loved the world that she had given them John. For the world so loved John that she had been given. For John had so loved her that he had made her she. for John had loved the world. [...] She hadn't come on purpose; the scrap of black-eyed meat had asked for it- the chain of a kiss: the ice that burnt the flesh of the mouth that had stuck to the mouth that was frozen.The teardrop on the hand. The hand that John had fashioned. [...] John had said, It's so beautiful. Come and look. She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia. [...] Glowworms, she had told John. Technically beetles, said John, but I always loved them. Narrow beetles with long strands hanging off them- a carpet of shifting, dead, winking lights at the top of the grave. Greenish, orangish, yellowish, moving over one another silently with those long filaments hanging down. [...] And the water- the huge pool of real salt water, where she had knelt and drank- [...] John and she had swum to the centre hummock rising out of the pool. Not an island, not really. An outcropping. With the marble pillars, and the marble top, and the long low marble table. He said he thought it was a nice place to be. To lie down. She had liked hard things to lie down on. It was hard to endure having a spine.” (ntn. starting page 471)

“There she was; John had made her so ugly, so unbearably ugly. The terrible face, with the terrible arms and legs and the terrible middle part, and the terrible hair, and the terrible ears: the nose too short, the ears too brief. But there she was- and within her the child, asleep, with the strange sword. The sword- her sword- her own edge had been pushed out, her swinging edge, her toy. Her plain bladed sword. And her body was chained up…” (ntn. pg. 474)

“Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her. But when the black-eyed infant showed her countenance to Alecto, Alecto recalled her, for it was a face one dreamed in Alecto's dream. and Alecto stayed the sword.” (ntn. pg. 476)

“And Alecto said, Pyrrha, he laid me down as an appeasement to them; he fed you to them as an appeasement to them; but he has never appeased me, and now all he has done was teach me how to die." (ntn. Pg. 476) 

"Alecto said, I am very sorry about Samael. The child made no answer. Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.” (ntn. pg. 477)

[blueberry-obsessed]

Growth

The Lestappen Song of Achilles inspired drabble based on this wonderful anon over at @f1writingbyme's blog!! Dear anon, I hope you find this somehow, I'll upload it on AO3 at some point (just not now, it's just too short to deal with right now).

Also!! @iamred-iamyellow mentioned that they wanted to be tagged so here you go!! Special thanks to @marieshyperf1xations for putting up with me

This is essentially a rewrite of the first scene in Chapter Ten (10) in the original book! I might make this a series of drabbles if anyone is interested

Word Count: 855 words (I tried to keep it short and sweet!!)

Fic is under the cut!!

They turned fifteen just before winter came, their world frozen in time in anticipation of winter’s icy hold yet kept alive by the faint rays of the sun. Summer had lasted longer than usual, kept them nice and warm under its yellow beams and fresh blue skies—Charles had been incredibly grateful for all of it.

Now, he’s covered in a fluffy fur cloak—one that is, admittedly, a tad large on him—and has been sentenced to chilly winds and quick washes in hollowed-out rocks by the Gods themselves. Despite the weather, Max chooses to take a stroll outside, beneath the frozen sun.

“It is too cold, Max,” Charles had chastised.

“We have spent too long indoors,” Max had pouted, pink lip jutting out against skin too fair given the climate they resided in. “My muscles are stiff. I will be useless at practice with Chiron if I do not stretch.” He had already made his path halfway outside, there was certainly no stopping him. Charles could not let him leave alone, surely. 

They did not do much. They stuck to walking through the forest, playing a chasing game until they came across a river. It was partially crystallised—almost mirror-like—and they spotted a few pieces of stone nearby. The rest of it is fairly obvious.

 °°°°

Max throws another pebble in. It ripples against the river water three, four, five times and lands further than Charles’ last one had. The river is clear—clearer than it has ever been, but Charles doesn’t track the movement on it. He watches Max, instead—watches him pick up another stone, watches the movement of the slight muscle in his limbs.

There are no mirrors here, and the surface of the river, unsteady. So, Charles has only ever been able to measure his growth by the changes in Max. Max’s limbs are slender, despite the muscle Chiron has worked into him—it is to be expected, they are still young. Charles imagines he is much the same. Although Max’s chest is broader, his shoulders are square, and his face firm around the edges—he, somehow, still looks soft.

“You have grown,” he mutters, chucking another rock. It is too heavy—bounces once, twice, thrice and unceremoniously sinks into the depths of the river. In their swishing reflection, he can see Max’s raised brow. “You look older,” he tacks on. 

Max turns to him, fully now. The pebbles slip from his hand and crush the fiery leaves as they fall to the earth.

“I do?”

“Yes.” It is said with a finality and he has to play with the cold soil beneath him to avoid his companion's gaze.

“Wait, turn here.” And, well, Charles has no choice but to force his hands by his sides and turn.

Max’s hands find purchase on the sides of his face immediately. He moves Charles’ head around as if he is inspecting him for any injuries. He’s a bit ashamed to admit to himself, but it’s not an unfamiliar feeling.

“You are different as well.” Max’s eyes shine with something Charles does not quite know, and he notes that Max’s hair is longer too.

“Different how?” his voice is quiet, and all his energy is focused on willing his hands to stay by his side—lest he do something unwanted, like brushing droplets of splashed water away from blond hair. Max regards him for a moment too long.

“Your face, mainly.” Max traces his fingertips along his jaw. The attention makes Charles feel warmer than the fur cloak ever did. “You are sharper here.”

“A lot?” He brings his own hand up, the touch of his flesh is cold. He does not find anything new, however—he still feels the same, flesh and bone. 

Max takes his hand. His grip is apprehensive at first, yet growingly confident as he drags it further down. Despite the training Chiron has put him through, Max’s hand remains soft as it meets Charles’ collarbone.

“Sharper here too,” he comments, intertwining their fingers and sliding them back up. He gently pokes at the newly emerged Adam’s apple on his throat. He swallows under the weight of Max’s finger just because he can and wants to—wants to feel Max’s skin move along his. “But here. You are soft, yet still sharp.”

That does not make any sense, Charles wants to say, but he finds himself unable to speak. 

Max does not mind his silence and instead drags their palms further down.

“That’s enough.” It is more abrupt than intended, yet Charles’ face is unusually warm given the weather and Max looks flushed from the cold. “We should head inside,” he offers, softer this time. Diligently, Max nods, still slightly avoidant, though. Thankfully, he helps Charles clamber onto his feet regardless—their hands intertwined once again.

“You would not be displeased,” Max shrugs, his hand in Charles’, “with how you look now.” His face grows warm again, and he can not help himself anymore—he brushes a stray leaf out of Max’s hair. His hand lingers for a second too long and he prays to the Gods that Max misses the action entirely.

“Neither would you.”

They speak no more of it.

[secretlywritingstories]

Maybe it's just the dark evenings, the cold creeping into my bones despite the heating set up high. My body turns lethargic and morning alarms are snoozed in such a deep state of half-awakeness that I cannot even remember. Yet I can sit up in the evening and night, feeling a renewed energy running through my veins and a desire to do all of these things that I cannot do in the day.

I've always been a self-proclaimed night owl. Type B, if that's your preferred term. Lots of different connotations to whatever you want to call it, but it all boils down to the same essentials. You come awake under the moon but when dawn is breaking, you're still snoozing.

It's a curious thing this time a year though, because the few hours of sunlight tips the balance even further. The nights are longer, encroaching on the light. And that should be good for a night owl, no? More time to fly around and exist in the shadows and street lamps.

Except it's not exactly how it works. Lack of sunlight settles into my skin like a chill I can't quite shake. The feeling like there's something missing, a misstep that leaves me hovering in the air. Waiting for the drop. (It'll come in the spring, with the long days, but that's a long time to be suspended).

I wake up and it's dark. I get off work and it's dark. Most of the hours of daylight during the week is spent inside an office building. I don't even notice during, lulled into routine and tasks that need to be ticked off. It's only those early mornings, the fumbling hands in the dark for a source of light, and when I step out into the cool air and see the world artificially lighted already.

I like the late nights because it feels like the world is standing still. Caught in some kind of stasis, but this one is comfortable. I am cradled warmly in blankets, and feeling like I have been given extra hours that do not count. Of course, they cannot count. Everyone is sleeping. Time shouldn't move when you're sleeping.

A trick of the mind. My logical brain can shoot right through it, but that matters little when my heart knows all of the ways to lock it out of the control room. The mischievous little thing will only win some hours, but oh, for that time it feels like the world lies at my feet.

Like now, at least two hours past when I should go to bed for a full night's sleep. I am always aware of the clock. I like to keep track of my activities on the daily because seeing it written down grounds me.

So, I know it's late. That I am making an unwise call, but if I don't give in yet, I can watch this thing, do this thing, think this think. Maybe my heart isn't alone and I slip it the key while I distract my brain. You'll never pry it out of me.

I'll pay for it in the morning. When it is harder to get out of bed, not only fighting the lack of light but also the lack of sleep. A ball that rolls so easily. A tiny push. One too many keys stolen. But how can you sleep when it feels like the world is at your feet? The day doesn't end until I decide, until I close my eyes. There's power in that, even if it's all in my head.

My heart won out tonight, but maybe I'll side with the brain next time. And try to get outside while the sun is out, soak up the gentle caress of it on my face to chase away the chill that always threatens to settle.

[poisonedfate]

"Don't you dare look him in the eye" is SO merwaine

hello!!! is it just me or are these getting longer and longer (the answers, i mean). either way! so very fun to write, not as much action as i had essentially wanted, but there's gwaine wooing merlin so. hope that balances out.

send me prompts

It was unusually quiet around him, even with the annoying ringing in his ears. He remembers most of the men being held up by the rest of the knights as Gwaine pulled him in the opposite direction. He remembers two of the men noticing, chasing after them. He remembers seeing the crystal in their hands. He remembers losing them. He remembers suddenly feeling the cold dirt under his cheek.  The men were mere soldiers of the sorceress whose name he couldn't place as he lay on the ground. She had given them a crystal that, if what they said was true, should help them figure out who Emrys was. He could feel the crystal, the pulse of it, when they were close, so he was inclined to believe it worked in its intended way. They talked of glowing eyes guiding them, so Merlin had averted his from their gaze. Maybe that's how they figured it out, maybe that's what tipped them off, maybe that's why they were chasing them.

Suddenly, there were two hands grabbing at the front of him, pulling him upwards, pushing his back against the tree. Merlin kept his eyes closed, both because he couldn't quite manage to open them yet and because it just seemed like the better option, all things considered. Gwaine was yelling his name, somewhere, in the distance.  He must've fallen unconscious because next thing he knew there was a splash of cold water on his face. It knocked a gasp out of him, eyes flying open. So much for better options.  "Come on, you've had enough rest, get up," the man growled, pulling at him again, this time upwards. He stumbled just so before finally finding his footing.  They must be waiting for the other man, he thought since this one hadn't reached for the crystal already. Merlin was right, as the other soldier soon approached: "Is it him?"  "I don't know, you had the crystal." "No, I- wait, yeah, there it is," the man laughed roughly. Were they playing some sort of game, or were they just plain stupid? Stupid, Merlin quickly decided. He's seen enough of those to know by now.  Merlin didn't think that the crystal had any other effects on his magic, though, in a perfect world, he wouldn't have to use his powers - he didn't know what had happened to the rest of their group, and though he trusted the knights, though he was quite sure he could deal with them as well if needed, he preferred not to risk it.  Before he could even think any further, he heard more footsteps coming in their direction. The first man was holding his head slightly upwards, the second was only about three steps away from him now. His odds weren't great, but as soon as he recognised Gwaine, he knew those odds were about to change.  The men barely had time to react before the knight was already right next to them, calm, sword drawn, eyes steady and dark: "Merlin," he said, almost like a greeting, more like a question. He could only muster up a small smile in response. Gwaine had come from the right, closer to Merlin and the man holding his face, clearly marking him as the first target. As the two fought, the second man took his chance to approach Merlin, committed.  "Don't you dare look him in the eye," Gwaine spat, as serious as ever, sword to the man's throat.  Merlin's head was still spinning slightly, everything moving both a little too slow and a little too fast, so he hadn't noticed how quickly Gwaine had taken care of the first soldier. Though if he was to judge by his second battle, the knight certainly wasn't wasting any time.  Merlin exhaled heavily, shoulders finally relaxing, as Gwaine came to hold him up, arm around his waist.  "Where did you even come from?" he questioned, trying to put the pieces back together.  "Can't get rid of me that easily, Merls," Gwaine laughed in response.  "You know, I could've taken care of them too," he continued, holding on to Gwaine for dear life, which did not help his case at all.  "Oh, I know, but saving you is such a rewarding quest, pretty one."

[pilot-posting]

🔞 "Asynchrosis" Pt.4

i'm so happy folks are reading and enjoying asynchrosis, this is easily one of my favorite pieces in a while,,,,,, anyway here's your part 4, i can't believe this is 3 nights in a row i've posted at least one part of this stuff,,,

"Lucid Dreams in the Trauma Center."

"Is she gonna' be alright? She's one of the few support pilots in this section of the fleet, we can't have her inoperable should we come under separatist fire." The doctor listened to the lieutenant, shaking his head slowly as she spoke. He was keeled over his desk looking through synapse reports on a collection of holo displays. Like all therapists he was overworked, mech pilots were a needy breed of soldier.

"Lieutenant, I can't assure anything. We've never seen a pilot go into Synchrosis that quick. This condition could be anything from a mild genetic mutation causing synapse reactivity to skyrocket, to a serious health risk related to pilot-mecha neurolink." He stuttered over his words as they tumbled from his lips, "If we put her back in a mechanized infantry suit, she could experience a total synaptic collapse, she could become neurologically dependent on halo connectivity, she could be even worse than other Class-X pilots -- chasing unreasonable, inhumane highs--" The lieutenant stared at him as he spoke, her lip furled on the right and her eye twitched a little on the left, it was clear that she wanted results, not... explanations.

"Find an answer doc, or I'll replace you with someone who will." She walked out, flapping her tailcoat in one swift motion as her hands moved down the zipper at the front of the jacket.

I climbed up the rickety mobile stairs which were placed at the foot of my machine, all the while staring at it's visage, a pink chevron struck into the purple finish of the rest of the machine, it's "faceplate" was a clean, smooth surface. This panel was made up of millions of LED bulb like sensor arrays, it was used to give me, when plugged into the halo port, an incredibly wide field of view to better survey and assess the needs of my squadmates on the battlefield. The stairs terminated at an entry port in between the two large shoulder plates of the mech. These plates contained a variety of medium explosive deployable armaments on a rotary wheel -- enough to bust really any conventional vehicles. I walked into the small space, it was a semi-spherical chamber of pure titanium planted in the upper breast-plate of the mech. This space, called the heart, was the shared containment chambers of the pilot, and also the synapse link drive, which was essentially the most advanced type of computer to have ever been developed.

I stared at the mold I would soon step into, suspended around the fairly innocent seeming system of clasps and locks, was a series of snug fitting silicon carbonate pads, held in open air by robotic arms. The functions mechanic walked into the pod behind me and gave me a wink. I just looked at her excitedly, waiting for her to help me get in. My functions mechanic was a little older than me, 31 to be exact, she had a head full of curly red hair which she was quite fond of wearing up on a ponytail. Today she was wearing a loosely fitting black sleeveless shirt, under it, she wore a sports bra. which covered her adorable B cups. The shirt was tucked into a pair of similarly loosely fitting cargo pants that were suspended by a mechanics belt. She looked rough in the nicest way possible.

"You ready starstrider?" she said with a smirk at me, I couldn't help but giggle a little, I was drunk off lust as the sensory enhancers caused any minor movement around my tip to make me almost quiver from want... this became a problem the moment I saw her, and got so horny I almost came on the spot. Most Class-X pilots have a pavlovian response to their functions mechanics, or handlers. They associate them with being allowed to use their mech, and they will do almost anything for them because of this. Handlers and pilots often form pseudo-romantic relationships, or extremely casual sexual relationships. It's not uncommon on a Galligos ship which carries Class-X pilots to catch handlers and pilots making out in the halls, fingering or stroking eachother, sometimes in private, sometimes in public. Other times you'll see a pilot wrapped around their handlers leg when in public lounges, or wearing little trinkets their handlers ordered for them. I was personally partial to the collar my handler bought me. It was black with silver etching on the side that spelled out her name. It blended in well enough with my bodysuit.

I blinked back to consciousness after imagining her plowing me into the ground with her 8 inch dick later, and nodded at her, "Y-yes ma'am!"

She walked up to me and helped me mount into the mold, applying a simple metal rig device to my bulge which would allow the siphoning liquid to vacuum seal my girldick erect, instead of plastered to my stomach. aside from that she latched all of the major ports to the holes in my body suit, and made sure the bodysuit itself was firmly connected to the airlocks between the port, the bodysuits preplaced entrances, and finally the connecting mechanisms as to prevent wasting siphoning gel. When she got to latching the collection mechanism to the airlock around my tip, she leaned down in front of me and slipped my tip into her soft lips, I couldn't even see her, my face was covered by the auxiliary vision link, a VR system which would allow me to see if my halo link failed. I gasped, and let out a high pitched "Mffffhaaaa~", when I felt her lips run over the small metal ring that formed the airlock when the collection mechanism was connected, I winced and attempted to move, but all I could do was go limp as she slipped my pathetic 5 inches all the way into her mouth. I felt her hands run up along my slutty waist, I couldn't hold it anymore. I immediately shot a load into her mouth, staying incredibly erect. When she finished swallowing it, I felt her head pull back and as she lifted off my girldick she made a cute pop with her lips.

"Naughty girl~ You should save that for the mech." She then roughly attached the collection mechanism to the airlock, causing me to shoot another load into the tube. She smiled at me and pulled the lever beside her, causing the plating to wrap around me, she listened to me moan through her vox channel on our halos as she couldn't hear through the compression plating. I knew she had reached into her pants to stroke herself, and imagining her nonchalantly standing with the lever pulled in her left hand, and her right hand moving up and down her massive dick made me cum again into the collection mechanism. Finally, I felt it start, the siphoning gel was all suctioned up through the tips in the neck in a matter of seconds. The tubes were evacuated from the neck port and instantly, I felt the airlock clasps ram into my neck. I yipped and whimpered into nothingness, once again cum pumping out of me. I felt the sustenance ports extend and directly inject me with liquid water and vitamin paste.

In my head, as if a phantom I heard "Bye bye pretty starstrider~" as the mech finally plugged it's thick fucking neurolink into my halo port. I felt my mind meld and warp, until eventually my eyes began to lie. I could see the hangar around me, oh what a familiar feeling. It was at this point that the stimulus methods were deployed to my body, splayed out and suspended in open air inside the heart. The fleshlights lips wrapping around my tip, then being pushed down to my base. It was designed perfectly for me, I instantly released a fifth load as it started to vibrate and suction onto me, the synthskin being activated in my bodysuit made it feel as if there wasn't even a centimeter of clothing separating my girldick from it's lubricated interior. Shortly after, my ass was stuffed with a lube drenched rectal vibrator, immediately feeling it poke against my g-spot, I winced with anticipation for only a second as it started violently vibrating, I know whatever noise I made as it assaulted me with pleasure, my handler probably enjoyed it thoroughly.

Finally, I was prepared to be given control. The mech was suspended off the hangar floor by a series of deployment racks which held it up by the shoulders. I could feel the claws gripping the mech as if it was my own body. My excited brain caused the vibration in my ass and around my girldick to grow aggressive, I heard the countdown start through my halo-link.

5.

I had already begun to lose my sense of self as I wanted nothing more than to be released,

4.

I yearned for the rush of battle, I wanted to watch separatist reactor cores explode, and tanks be throttled into oblivion by archer missiles.

3.

I thought of infantry, insignificant squirming people, running under my heels.

2.

I lusted for the spill of coolant fluids over my chest, the simulated cold applied to me through my synthskin suit.

1.

My body desired nothing but the cold grip of my rocket pistol, and the orgasmic joy of firing it's payload.

0.

My eyes shot open.

The blue overhead lights shot on and my boxers were soaking wet.

Fuck. Not again.

[tulipisreading]

king of sloth by ana huang (kings of sin book 4)

⭐️: 5/5

🌶️: 3/5

🥵: 4.5/5

He'd never wanted anyone enough to chase them...until he met her.  Charming, easygoing, and rich beyond belief, Xavier Castillo has the world at his fingertips.  He also has no interest in taking over his family’s empire (much to his father’s chagrin), but that hasn’t stopped women from throwing themselves at him…unless the woman in question is his publicist. Nothing brings him more joy than riling her up, but when a tragedy forces them closer than ever, he must grapple with the uncertainty of his future—and the realization that the only person immune to his charms is the only one he truly wants.   *** Cool, intelligent, and ambitious, Sloane Kensington is a high-powered publicist who’s used to dealing with difficult clients.  However, none infuriate—or tempt—her more than a certain billionaire heir, with his stupid dimples and laid-back attitude. She may be forced to work with him, but she’ll never fall for him…no matter how fast he makes her heart beat or how thoughtful he is beneath his party persona. He’s her client, and that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

First off, I ADORED this book. I adore this entire series, and can't wait for the next three. King of Wrath will always be my favourite, but this one surprised me with how much I loved it.

Sloane has been there since book one, and Xavier has cropped up a few times, mostly in book 3 if I remember right, and I couldn't goddamn wait to read their story. I was also surprised at how long it was at around 460 pages, the longest of the King of Sin series so far. It was well worth it though, as we get lots of both their family backgrounds, we get a lot of new characters, Sloane's background (which I was eating up oh my GOD) and a few other plot lines too. I particularly loved the emphasis on sisterly relationships, specifically how Sloane struggled with one sister and yet loved the other beyond belief, and how her friends are practically sisters to her as well. Often I think only difficult family relationships are shown in books, or sometimes the good ones are just glossed over, so I was glad Pen had a decent amount of page time. Xavier bonding with her also made my heart grow three times the size I think.

I also really enjoyed Xavier's family dynamics, though he definitely did not. His relationship with his father was really interesting, especially given how strained it was, but the loophole left in the will. I appreciate how Ana Huang wrote that part, the way we don't quite get all the answers, how like Xavier we have to just accept that it's happened, and we won't know why. In my opinion it really helped to immerse the reader in the story, because we're in the same boat as some of the characters. Xavier's growth as a character was one of my favourite things in the entire book as well, the way he went from coasting off his fathers money to wanting to make his own, to wanting to succeed by himself and wanting to be independent. Though I also loved how he admitted he likes the money, the allowance he gets from his father even as he tries to get away from his family. Like yeah, he didn't just suddenly turn entirely selfless and not care about the money.

That's something i always enjoy about the Kings of Sin series, because it's set amongst New York's elite essentially, all the characters are very comfortable with their wealth and have no issue spending it on what they want. There's no character that turns around and goes "I'm not like other people actually, I don't need anything apart from my tiny apartment and enough to pay the rent and bills :)" no they all like to be rich, and it's so much fucking fun to read about.

Sloane and Xavier's dynamic was absolutely perfect, no surprise there. Since it was Sloane's job to keep Xavier in line, I liked that she brought him down to earth a little bit, and that he brought her out of her shell a little. Another nice little touch was just that their dates weren't always out of this world. As I said they're all very comfortable with their wealth, but they went for dinner, they stayed at a hotel, they watched movies together, tried to bake etc etc. Though I love the other three books, Wrath had Dante renting out the entirety of the Botanical Gardens for Vivian for example, and Pride had Isabella taking Kai to an underground artists studio few people knew about. This was refreshing, having their first and arguably most perfect date be a movie night with snacks on a floor mattress.

I genuinely could not find many faults with this book. I'm sure there are some, and naturally there will be people out there who didn't like this one-but me? Fucking loved it. I loved it, I loved the first three, and I will love the next three. Also very excited to read The Striker, Ana Huang's new book based on Asher Donovan, the soccer/football player (???) mentioned a lot in this book due to Sloane being his publicist, but a few times in the Twisted series I think as well!

(Also, as expected, the smut was top notch 🤌🏻)

[supermarine-silvally]

Gooooood morning, I'm here to send you numbers 1, 2, 7, 10 and 13 from the Happy Together ask game for Yara and Ace, my beloveds. Hope you're doing well!

tysm for the ask!!! I am obsessed with these two fr (also tagging @oneirataxia-girl to share the brainrot heheh)

(ask game here!)

This got long so I'll put the answers under the cut!

1. What are your OTP’s love languages?

In terms of receiving, I headcanon Ace as a words of affirmation sort of guy-- we all know that between Garp and Dadan and all the adults in his life that Ace didn’t receive a lot of reassurance about his self-worth growing up. The only time he was probably ever praised was when he brought home dinner for the mountain bandits, and he definitely enjoyed that one time when Makino remarked on how well-behaved he was for her, so getting that sort of verbal affirmation helps chase away the doubts he feels about whether or not he deserved to be born in the first place. As for giving, Ace is always surprising Yara with little gifts he finds on his solo missions/adventures or on the islands they visit together. He just loves making her smile.

Though she may come across as a little distant and give off the occasional ‘go near me and I’ll bite you’ vibe, Yara actually loves being touched and held and getting that skin-to-skin contact with the people she trusts and cares about. She basically was never hugged or given much physical affection for the vast majority of her life, and has some pretty severe abandonment issues, so she’s very touch-starved. The first time Ace hugged her, she didn’t quite know how to react, but all she knew was that deep down, she never wanted him to stop. In terms of giving affection, Yara shows her love through acts of service. She might grumble about Ace leaving his stuff lying around, but she always picks it up and puts it back where it needs to be, and makes sure that he has clean clothes and enough food/water to last whenever he’s going to be away for an extended period of time. Whenever Ace falls asleep in the middle of a meal, she’s always patiently waiting with a napkin or a cloth for when he comes to again.

2. Is your OTP a battle couple? How do they work together?

They’re both on one of the strongest crews in the One Piece universe serving under a literal Yonko so they’d definitely fit the battle couple description! (Yara is technically second-in-command on 2nd Division under Ace, so they end up side-by-side in combat a lot). Now the fun thing about them working together in battle is their devil fruit powers. Yara’s Tōka Tōka no Mi (Pass-Pass Fruit) means that she’s basically untouchable to physical attacks, barring seastone or a strong application of haki (or the Yami Yami no Mi), and Ace’s Mera Mera no Mi, being a Logia, means essentially the same thing for him. So Yara doesn’t have to worry about accidentally hitting Ace with her sword (her devil fruit might give her an excellent defense but it has almost no offensive capabilities, so she has to make up for that with swordplay) and Ace can go wild without worrying about burning Yara. Being faced with them in combat is to endure both their terrifying powers and combat prowess as well as their (mostly Ace’s) insufferable flirting. 

7. Do they plan on getting married? Who proposes? What’s their wedding like? 

Oh, Ace was probably thinking about marriage even before he left the Moby Dick to chase after Blackbeard. He aims to live without regrets, and he’s found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with, so why wait? (Yara probably doesn’t think much about marriage, but if Ace asked, she wouldn’t say no). In alternate universes where Ace manages to avoid his unfortunate canon fate, they get married shortly after Marineford, after they’ve recovered from their injuries. Ace wanted to come up with an elaborate proposal plan and spent weeks crafting something, scrapping it, and annoying the hell out of Marco in the process. In the end, Ace and Yara are probably doing something simple like looking up at the stars and talking late into the night and he finally just blurts it out unprompted. (Yara is a bit surprised at first, but she eventually responds with a smile and a “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, you wonderful idiot.”)

The wedding is kind of chaotic, but in the best possible way. It was one of those things where it was supposed to be a small wedding (at Yara’s insistence, she really did not want to make a big deal out of it), but more and more people kept getting added to the guest list out of concerns it would be rude to not invite someone, so the event turns into a bit of a who’s who of the pirate world. Whitebeard’s entire fleet is invited, as are the Straw Hats because of course Luffy wouldn’t miss his brother’s wedding for the world. Curly Dadan and the mountain bandits also come, and Dadan spends the entire time ugly-sobbing into a handkerchief. At some point, Shanks’ crew stops by and brings a fresh round of booze with them. Yara begrudgingly (after many long discussions) allows Ace to extend an invitation to Mihawk, who surprisingly shows up. They find a nice uninhabited summer island for the venue, probably one under Whitebeard’s protection. If Whitebeard is alive, he officiates. If not, Jinbei does. Ace definitely cries a bit at the altar, which makes Yara tear up as well. (Neither of them probably ever imagined finding someone who would love them this much). The celebrations last for a solid week, but partway through, Ace and Yara sneak away on Ace’s striker to start their honeymoon early. Afterwards, Ace takes every possible opportunity to refer to Yara as his wife. Saying it aloud never fails to make him grin.

10. What’s their sleeping arrangement? Who falls asleep first?

Ace can fall asleep anywhere, at any time, so Yara has had to learn to adapt to that. Whenever it happens, she just shifts around and tries to make them both as comfortable as possible until he wakes up. He pretty much always falls asleep first and will actively seek Yara out whenever he wants to take a nap. Ace’s devil fruit makes him the perfect person to nap with, so Yara almost never turns him down. It’s not an uncommon sight on the Moby Dick to find them curled up somewhere, having a rest. 

13. What do they love most about the other?

For Yara, loving Ace is like loving the sun-- he’s so bright and warm and passionate and all-consuming, but what she loves most about him is his kindness. He can befriend almost anyone and actively helps others even when it doesn’t necessarily benefit him to do so. (This is the man she watched spend days crafting a very large hat for a giant just to give him some protection from the elements, after all). Ace touches the lives of everyone he encounters, commanding such loyalty from his first crew that they were willing to come back and try to rescue him after he was defeated by Whitebeard, risking annihilation from a much stronger crew just to get their beloved captain back. She counts herself lucky to have been drawn into the orbit of such a bright, wonderful, absolute sweetheart of a man who brags about his little brother fifty times a day and manages to maintain his cheerful demeanour despite how much the world might hate him for the blood that runs through his veins. When Ace turned his kindness towards her, how could she not fall in love with him? 

Yara’s beauty might have first turned Ace’s head in her direction, but that wasn’t what held his attention there. He appreciates her steadfast loyalty to her crew and her sharp wit, but what he loves most about her is her honesty. Yara says what she means and means what she says, so he can always count on her to be straightforward with him. He was absolutely terrified of what she might think upon finding out he’s Gol D. Roger’s son, but when she smiled at him and assured him it changed nothing, he knew that she meant it. Whenever he has his self-doubts, he knows he can come to her and that she won’t just coddle his feelings, but will truly and honestly reassure him of the value that he brings to the world and to the lives of everyone around him. He trusts her opinion more than perhaps anyone else’s and feels like he’s found a partner who truly sees him for all that he is. His heart is in her hands, and he’s certain that when she says she’ll protect it with all her might, that she means it.

[shytastemakerthing]

Hi I was hoping for a matchup!

Romantic and platonic of your okay with doing both if not just romantic :)

First off I am a Scorpio and my mbti is INTP but I'm more of amnivert.

As for my personality it depends on who I'm around. If it's people who are energetic and really loud I'll tend to keep a more motherly role, But if I'm around people who are more mature in nature I'll be the loud and stupid one. My sense of humor is pretty rude and sarcastic in general if I know the person I'm with can take it, if not I'll cool it down. I like to think I'm self aware of how others are feeling. I'm that one person who knows like everyone but isn't popular, if you know what I mean. However I don't have any close friends which kinda sucks but whatever. I don't wait around thinking things will get better, if I'm not being treated right I'm gone which has led me to ditching a few people.

I was accidentally told by my friend once that I come off as intimidating or hard to approach as well I didn't know till then but I have a horrible case of RBF so it makes sense. 💀

As for the things I like: the main thing has to be music I'm concerned for my ears atp, my favorite artists have to be Chase Atlantic, Lana Del Rey, The Weekend and Artic Monkeys. Candy, I have a sweet tooth but I'm trying to cut back a bit, trying new candies is pretty fun too. Video Games, but I'll mainly stick to hand held consoles(my phone or switch) I mainly play puzzle or mystery games, TV screens are too bright and loud. I enjoy going out and doing things with people too, helps get me out of the house.

My hobbies include: Lego: but the big complicated sets not the kids ones I swear 😭 Origami: I just like throwing Ninja stars at the people I know or maybe if a stranger is just sitting beside me I'll just give them a paper swan, the reactions are always cute y'know. Book/Manga collecting And finally trying out random things I have like one day hobbies y'know like maybe I'll start cooking for a week or crocheting, puzzles, stuff like that while watching a show I'm still trying to find a hobby to really pick up.

I don't play any sports though it's never been my thing, but I try to go on walks every other day which is nice.

Things I don't like are pretty limited, it's probably just bad scents and cat fur.

That's all I can think of right now so I hope I did this right and thank you!<3

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for your request as well as your patience given how long this one has been in my inbox! I hope that you enjoy your match-up and have a wonderful day/night!

Request: Twisted Wonderland Match-up

I match you with........

Floyd Leech

Look, there are a number of reasons as to why the chaotic, mood swings filled eel man was chosen

Make this man a ninja star and his menace level only increases

A lot

You may have had Jade and Azul come to you about this, one rather amused and delighted while the other is more frustrated

Not too hard to figure out which is which on that

Motherly mode comes out big time when he is one of his more sporadic moods

The chances of him getting into trouble or hurting himself is quite high but he loves that you are there to be able to take care of him, he almost seems docile........

Almost

But when he is in more of one of his sour moods, that's where your fun side comes out because no matter how deep in a slump he is in, you always manage to get him out of it

Yes, Azul and Jade have also come to you about that

Jade finds it rather impressive because not even him or his parents could get him out of a slump that easy

(Please marry him)

He strikes me as someone who would rather like Legos, whether they are simple or much more complex, it's a favorite pastime the two of you have

Crochet something for this man and he will carry it with him essentially for the rest of his life

Floyd is happy with you, one that won't be going away any time soon, he just hopes that you are as happy as he is, that's what matters to him

Thank you for your request!

[datusaguy]

Before I see even more posts and comments talking about the Fionna and Cake finale, I wanna write down my initial impressions before I see too much more analysis. I watched the episodes last night right before going to sleep, but now it’s the morning for me so I may not remember everything as exactly but it’s still relatively fresh.

Overall, I did enjoy both episode 9 and 10, the show in general was quite enjoyable. I did feel like the ending was underwhelming when I had just watched it, but on further thought, I think it did wrap up satisfyingly.

I think I might have just had the wrong expectations going in. I recall seeing a post that said something to the effect of “Tom Kenny said episode 9 was the most emotional thing he’s ever recorded.” When watching the last 2 episodes though, I kept waiting for a really emotional moment, although it never came. I don’t know if I had misremembered what the quote from Tom Kenny was or maybe it was a bullshit quote or what, but I think I setup the wrong expectations for the episode.

Also, just in general I haven’t watched that many currently ongoing shows that don’t dump whole seasons at a time for a while. So when someone like Fionna and Cake comes along where I’m actually excited each week for a new pair of episodes, I’m not very used to tempering my expectations. I don’t think I hyped myself that much though.

Anyways, to the actual ending, here’s my thoughts for Simon and Fionna + Cake separately.

For Simon, I think just a bit more time to connect everything together at the end would’ve been nice, but I think I enjoyed it a lot overall. Betty really hammered in that Simon fucked up a lot by leading him to the Casper and Nova story. For a man who already hate himself a lot and has been planning to essentially “kill” the Simon part of himself via wearing the crown, it’s a strange thing for Betty to hammer in his mistakes. I think it works though with what Betty follows it up with.

Even after all the mistakes and pain in their relationship with Betty being GOLB now, she still enjoys her memories of Simon. She values him and doesn’t let him put on the crown. She also helps save Fionna and Cake’s world, thereby making any decision with the crown just for himself.

So Simon essentially gets to ask himself if he’s worthwhile. Does his life matter? Even with all the mistakes he’s made throughout his life though, the answer is yes. He’s not a perfect father for Marceline, but he got to see the alternative of him not being around. We also only got a little bit of Marceline in episode 2, but what we did see was her happy. Then there’s Betty who, despite everything, still cared for him and valued him. Then of course there’s Fionna and Cake who spend most of the show warming up to and caring for Simon. Also want to mention that while their bond isn’t great, Finn does also care for Simon and tries to help him out.

Simon starts off the show hating his life. By the end though, I think they came to a satisfying way for Simon to care for himself.

Then there’s Fionna and Cake. I do think their situation does parallel some of Simon’s stuff. Similar to how Simon feels, they’re all “mistakes,” especially Fionna. We start off seeing her struggles to keep a job and find happiness in her life. Then there’s the fact that her and Cake spend most of the show being chased by some god-like bug guy who wants to annihilate for being a “mistake.”

We also see them make mistakes in their journey to find the crown. Like the whole “attacking innocent candy people” thing definitely isn’t very great. Or them just watching BMO kill themselves. They also didn’t do great in helping the war against Vampires.

Despite their mistakes and flaws however with both themselves and their world, by the end, they still chose to stick by their world and make the most of it. Fionna and Cake have had each other the whole way through and they’ve made friends along the way in life like Gary and Simon.

My main problem is that I don’t feel like they did enough to show why Fionna and Cake still want to live in their normal world. While Fionna I think did have moments of “hey, I don’t think this whole magic and adventure thing is really for me,” I don’t feel like they focused that much on her alternative of living in her current world. That is until the very end of the show at which point, it felt rushed.

Edit: Thinking about it more, I do think there was quite a bit of Fionna and Cake realizing that a “magical world” isn’t the perfect solution to their problem. It wasn’t just a few moments of Fionna going “oh maybe this isn’t great.”

As much as I enjoyed seeing Marshall and Gary’s romance unfold, I think it could’ve helped to show flashbacks of Fionna and Cake instead. Those segments did help me get invested in their world and a lot of the show already helped make me invested in Fionna and Cake, but I didn’t feel invested in them being in their own world. So I think having flashbacks for Fionna and Cake instead would’ve helped connect them back to their world more to setup the finale better, while still taking the time to make us care for the world in general.

Anyways, I liked the show overall. I did enjoy the stories both overall and episode-by-episode. There was also some good laughs in there and I thought the presentation was really great. I remember first hearing about this show and not really being that interested as despite having watched all of Adventure Time (especially a lot when growing up), I felt content with what we had. So I’m somewhat surprised by how into Fionna and Cake I got. On the other hand though, I did wear a Jake hat for fucking years in elementary school partly because I loved Adventure Time so much so I guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

[inbalanceofpower]

It has been weeks since she's been needed, or acknowledged— Tay wonders if that's her punishment. It's befitting of the crime. If she'd had a choice, she would have preferred a smack across the jaw. She might still get that yet, with the lack of attention she's paying. Though, it's much too late to rectify that mistake, because Dillan moves. She takes it as her cue that Klaus has finished addressing them, or rather him. Tay holds in her sigh, and turns.

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I can try again. Tomorrow—

"You, stay."

She has taken one step compared to Dillan's several. But still he turns, only to confirm it wasn't a request for him. He hardly allows time for her mouthed, "me?" It goes ignored, and he leaves. And with her back to Klaus, she releases that sigh.

"Have you had time for reflection?"

No hint of malice, yet. She spins on her heels to face him, but maintains the short distance she'd put between them. Not confident enough to meet his eyes, she looks to the floor and offers a clear nod. Tay can feel him looking so she lifts her head, which is burning with shame. "Yes," she tries again, not devoid of a voice crack. Neither of them draw attention to it.

"And?"

"And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I know I already said, but I don't— I don't know what else to say to you."

"I'll need more than that."

"I fucked up," she adds, as an understatement. He already told her as much, not quite as colourfully. "And I'm sorry." It's much louder than her previous apologies, as though her volume dictates just how much he believes her. She can't justify telling him she doesn't regret it, and she can't expect him to accept it.

Thankfully, he doesn't insist further. Assuming she has disappointed him, yet again, Tay waits for a dismissal that doesn't come. It's the first time she manages to look at him. He doesn't seem angry, but she can't tell. Wouldn't be able to anyway, because she looks away as soon as he asks, "why did you do it?"

"I don't know... I already told you." And told him more than she intended to, even if most of it had been incomprehensible. Technically, he is one of the few people to know the ins and outs of her family history, or lack of one. She doesn't say so— she's doubtful flattery would get her anywhere.

"Tell me again."

"I told you."

Klaus leaves too long of a pause. It makes her nervous. She should have just told him again, and recounted every last detail. Clearer too, she might have been able to save her tears this time.

@imbalanceofpower: Too much love will kill you.

Quickly, he replaces that anxiety with something just as nagging. It wasn't love, she wants to protest. It was the furthest thing from it, she thinks. It was the lack of it. But even the absence still had everything to do with love— she loathes being so readable. Tay doesn't try to counter him.

"Will you?" she asks, quietly.

"Why would I?"

"I ruined everything. That's what you said," or essentially what he had said. She prefers not to relive the humiliation, but it's written on her features alongside the creases in her forehead. She thought he'd made that clear— she thought that, now, she was dead weight.

"A momentary inconvenience." Nonchalant, she realises. It stills her completely. "Do you mean that?" slips out in surprise.

Tay expects frustration, but not the closure of their gap. She watches him, more vigilant than usual, before meeting his eyes briefly. Her glance falls to his moving hand. She expects it wrapped around her throat. Instead, his touch is light and his fingers travel no further than beneath her chin. With it tipped up, he gives her a soft kiss. She doesn't chase it, but all of her doubts disappear. When she lifts her own hand, she leaves it on his chest. Her forefinger lightly scratches at the fabric of his t-shirt. "Okay," she agrees, with a faint smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

He doesn't loosen his grasp, and she doesn't pretend to care. After another pause, one which she minds half as much, he says, "stay." It sounds much softer. It also sounds like a demand. Still—

"Do you mean it?"

Klaus looks at her, and immediately, she feels guilty. She goes to calm it with a second kiss, but stops just short of his mouth. "Can I..." If he thinks it ridiculous, he doesn't say and obliges all the same. When she pulls away, she agrees, softly, "I'll stay." Without asking this time, she presses a third and final kiss to his lips before shrinking back to her height, "I think I need you to tell me everything you told Dillan, anyway." Her nose crinkles, playfully, "sorry."

[starseedfxofficial]

RSI and Rounding Bottom: The Hidden Strategy Smart Traders Swear By RSI and the Rounding Bottom: Two Market Indicators Walk Into a Bar Alright, let’s start with a question that’s not quite a joke, but definitely food for thought: What do a rounding bottom and an RSI reading have in common? They’re like that couple at a party you never notice at first, but they leave you wondering why you didn’t pay attention sooner. Under the surface, these two elements quietly plot the big moves while everyone else is busy chasing flashy breakouts. So today, let's uncover why pairing RSI (Relative Strength Index) with the rounding bottom pattern could be your new secret weapon for winning trades. This isn’t your typical “put an indicator on a chart and hope for the best” kind of advice—we’re going way beyond that. Prepare for some game-changing insights into why this combo just might help you sidestep the usual pitfalls and finally catch those elusive big profits. Rounding Bottom: The Cinderella Story of Chart Patterns When people talk about technical patterns, everyone loves a good double top or head and shoulders—but let me tell you, rounding bottoms are like the hidden gems of trading. They don't get the attention they deserve, yet they have all the potential to turn a small account into something Cinderella-worthy. In case you're new to it, a rounding bottom is a gradual, curving formation where the price slowly turns direction, almost like watching someone make a lazy U-turn. It takes time to form, and that’s partly why traders often overlook it—we humans are impatient creatures after all, aren't we? Waiting for a rounding bottom to develop is about as exciting as watching paint dry... until you realize that the market’s preparing to take off. Think of a rounding bottom like an unpopular shoe sale—it might not look like much, but if you wait just a bit longer, you’re suddenly strutting away with a killer deal. Traders who stick around, pay attention, and wait for the completion of this pattern are the ones walking away with more than they bargained for. But Here’s Where the Real Magic Happens: The RSI Angle Now, let’s add RSI into the mix. Imagine RSI as your secret decoder ring for rounding bottoms. The RSI is a momentum oscillator that measures the speed and change of price movements, essentially giving you a way to see if a market is overbought or oversold. But that’s what everyone knows—we’re about to go deeper. When RSI dips below 30, it means a market could be oversold, but when paired with a rounding bottom, it’s actually an indication that a major shift is brewing. It’s like when the DJ starts slowing down the music—you know a big drop is about to happen, and you want to be the first on the dance floor when it does. The goal is to use RSI to confirm what the rounding bottom is trying to tell you. If the RSI has dropped below 30 (oversold) and begins to rise back up alongside the rounding bottom’s curving formation, that’s the market whispering, “Hey, this could be a solid buy opportunity.” But of course, the trick is to catch it before the whole crowd arrives—by then, the party’s usually over. Why Most Traders Get RSI Wrong (And How You Can Avoid It) Now, a lot of traders tend to misinterpret the RSI—they treat it like a magic wand, expecting instant riches when it’s not quite that simple. They’ll buy when RSI drops below 30, without considering whether there’s any sort of base forming. Enter the rounding bottom—it’s the sign you’re waiting for, the one that says the market is not only oversold but is stabilizing and getting ready to reverse direction. Picture it like ordering pizza: it’s not enough just to say, “I’m hungry” (RSI below 30), you’ve got to wait until the pizza is actually baked and ready (rounding bottom formation). When the two align, then’s your time to feast. A word of advice? Don’t rush it. The rounding bottom is like a really good slow-cooked stew—it takes its sweet time, but the end result is worth every second. The Hidden Formula Only Experts Use Here’s a ninja tactic that’s probably not on your radar. Expert traders who combine RSI with a rounding bottom don’t just look at the basic crossover signals—they’re searching for something deeper. The goal is to identify divergence as well. Divergence is when the price action on the chart contradicts what RSI is doing—a hidden clue that change is about to go down. Imagine this: you see a rounding bottom starting to form, but then you notice that while the price action shows the typical gradual U-shape, RSI is already climbing like a kid on a sugar rush. That’s a pretty good hint that momentum is returning well before the price has fully shifted, giving you a head start on everyone else. By spotting divergence early in the rounding bottom formation, you're effectively peeking behind the curtain of market sentiment, and that’s how the pros do it. The One Simple Trick That Can Change Your Trading Mindset If there's one takeaway from all this, it's to think in terms of probabilities, not certainties. I know it’s tempting to see a rounding bottom, check the RSI, and start dreaming of yachts and beach houses—but trading, much like life, is not about certainty. The key is managing risk with the precision of a brain surgeon. Experts will wait for a rounding bottom to show solid confirmation: volume increasing, price action holding the curve, and RSI starting to trend up but not overbought. They don’t jump in at the first sign of reversal. Instead, they know that patience and risk management are what set apart profitable traders from those who are buying and praying. Turning This Insight into Action (A Step-By-Step Guide) So how do you apply these lessons practically? Here’s a quick step-by-step guide: - Identify a Rounding Bottom Pattern: Look for a slow, U-shaped formation where the price begins to reverse direction. This is your first clue that the market could be ready to turn around. - Check RSI for Oversold Conditions: Look for the RSI to be below 30 or starting to climb back up—this indicates that the market has been oversold but is gaining some strength. - Watch for Divergence: Check if RSI is gaining upward momentum while the price is still forming the rounding bottom. Divergence here could be the early signal of a solid upward move. - Wait for Volume Confirmation: Make sure volume is picking up as the price reaches the right-hand side of the rounding bottom. Volume should confirm the move. - Set Entry and Stop Loss: Enter when you see RSI rise above 30, rounding bottom confirming, and volume increasing. Place a stop loss below the lowest point of the rounding bottom to manage your risk. - Use RSI to Monitor Exit Points: Ride the trend upwards but monitor RSI closely—if RSI approaches 70, consider scaling out or adjusting your stop loss to lock in profits. Why Patience Pays Off Big Time It can be frustrating waiting for a rounding bottom to form completely. But remember—trading is like fishing. If you pull the line too early, you scare off the fish. Waiting for RSI to move in conjunction with the rounding bottom is like patiently setting the hook; you need both momentum and confirmation to reel in the catch. And if you’re in need of more than just a rod and bait, well, we’ve got you covered. If you want the latest in Forex education or trading tools, check out what StarseedFX has to offer. Want exclusive insights and elite tactics that’ll give you an edge over the average Joe? Join the StarseedFX community, where we discuss daily alerts, live trading tips, and deep-dive analyses. Because the secret to trading isn’t just about having tools—it’s knowing exactly how to use them. Your Move, Trader So, will you be the one who waits out the rounding bottom, who pairs it with RSI to find that hidden gem of a trade that others overlook? Or will you be the one buying impulsively, only to watch the market tumble like an awkward sitcom moment? The choice is yours. Start applying these strategies today. Test them out, track them, and don’t forget—the key is patience and planning. Want a helping hand? Grab our Free Trading Journal to keep a record of every move you make, learn from it, and continuously improve. The market has its secrets—but they’re there for the taking if you know where to look. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[ithisatanytime]

[AMV] Xavier Wulf - The Last Jewel (Prod. By J.Schlump)

 this is gonna be a long post thats only really gonna be interesting to me, but i google phenibut stories still to try to make sense of it, this guys story is similar in many ways to mine with the doses and stuff, but whats most interesting is the red light in his field of vision that he likened to being scanned by a barcode reader, because i did experience that which i affectionately referred to as robocop vision, and it legitimately made me have raccoon like night vision. the colorful aura as well, i laughed at his description of god mode and his conversations with his wife, this is the most based redditor thats ever lived.

“ If your dose continues to rise, you will start to experience some health issues like massive rises and crashes of blood pressure, blacking out, insomnia and more. You may start to have audio and visual hallucinations. And most assuringly, phenibut will just stop working at all.You may eventually OD if you decide one day to go on a binge because more is better right? ODing on phenibut is very unpleasant and can require acute medical attention.   Raising your dose does not produce better effects. At best, you get the same results at at 9 g that you got at 3 g, but significant side effects start to materialize.Here is my story. I started out with kratom for many years. One kratom quit last year around July, I started a 2 g phenibut habit that was only supposed to last a few days. It went 6 days and by then I knew I was screwed. I was going to get WD. Of course the internet stories got me very concerned. So I just continued to take rather than going through WD. 2 g became 3g, became 6g, became 9g became 14-16g after 2 months where I “stabilized”.Between 3-6 g, I entered a sort of god mode phase. My mind could recall any experience or memory in my life. I could carry on incredibly complex mathematical and philosophical discussions with my wife. She just nodded her head as it was way above her understanding. Sex was off the charts and libido was constantly present. Amazing.I kept pushing the dose up because I was chasing the god mode which had disappeared at 9g. Remember the physical issues I discussed above? Those started at 9g. I also started to get strange hallucinations. One weird one was it looked as if my surroundings were being scanned with a red laxer (like a bar code reader). Giant read line would passed through my field of vision. There were auroras of bright colors everywhere (that wasn’t so bad).It was crazy how much powder I was consuming per dose. It literally felt like I was shoveling and I stopped being careful about even spoonfuls. They became very rounded teaspoons as I scooped and dumped rapidly.After 3 months, essentially my wife and her mother convinced me I had to go to rehab. I agreed. Only problem is no rehab or hospital would see me in my state. So I called American Addiction Centers and found two rehabs out of state that would help me.The night before I was to go, I stayed up all night , essentially realizing the extent to what I have done. Decided I might as well go out with a bang and did double my highest dose: 28 g. Was ok until morning when I had to go to airport. Wife had to drive me because by that point I was delirious and hallucinating. My body temp was very high and I could not get comfortable. I was dumping sweat with my head out the window. By the time I was at the airport, I was confused out of my mind and could hardly walk. Stairs and escalators were out of the question. I made it onto the plane with the help of a wheel chair. I really started to feel WD as I sat on the plane, waiting for take off. I thought this was going to be a long flight (even though only a 1.5 hour flight).I passed out and woke up in the ER near the airport with extreme body shaking that went on for 3 hours. Passed out again and woke up still shaking in cat scanner. Passed out again and woke again in bed. I was finally feeling better and ready to take the plain again after 3 hours. Nurse gave me some atavan (my first benzo) to relax me a bit and I passed out for 8 hours.When I woke, it was dark out side window and crew of icu staff were surrounding me busy with vitals. They said the only wake my blood pressure rose from a crash was to give me some phenibut (I had brought some in case it was needed to show rehab intake). Nothing else worked from naloxone to benzos to Snelling salts to, well, anything. I spend a few days in icu recovering with help of high dose benzos and other meds.I went down to rehab after Icu and finished phenibut detox for 10 days and went home. This happened around July last year. I stayed away from phenibut for a year. Used once or twice in last 5 months, but my gaba b receptors are still fried. Strong doses (1-2 g) do nothing for me. My tolerance never reset after last years phenibut blowout (my first real phenibut “habit”).Stop while you can or you may have physical issues like I described. It can get pretty dicy. It’s not worth it long before you hit a max dose. For me, phenibut stopped being beneficial somewhere between 6-9 g. It became negative and just made me feel normal as opposed to lifted.“