#and the posing would not work its a nightmare

[eldritchfae]

I really wanna learn how to make poses, anyone have any good tutorials for them?

[itsswritten]

teeny tiny

Pairing: Fairy reader x Azriel

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Azriel practices dwindling with you. (Just some fluff, mutual pining, pre bond snapping)

Wings Universe - read more from this couple here.

Azriel was watching you intently, a soft smile spread on his lips as his gaze danced across your expression. You were so passionate when you spoke about your work– your duty as a fairy. 

A stark difference to how he felt about being an Illyrian.

But knowing you now for only a year, you had softened that perspective he had for his own heritage. Purely by how dedicated you were to yours, and how you lit up whenever you got to speak about it. Naturally, when getting to know the IC you had wanted to learn everything about the Illyrians, everything about the sisters, about Amren. Every finer detail.

That warm nature of yours, got even the most reserved opening themselves up to you. You were always genuinely interested too, mesmerised in the differences and similarities you found among your new friends. You would never scrimp on compliments either, lovely words rolling off your tongue in awe when Cassian had explained some Illyrian lore. You even went as far to admit that you’d always thought the dark winged fae looked very cool and fierce. 

Azriel could vividly remember the heat filling your cheeks one evening at Rita’s when you’d admitted that, the faerie wine offering you some liquid courage. The comment had gone straight to Cassian’s head, prancing round Rita’s flexing in front of Nesta with a stealthy look, posing for her. “Look how fierce I look, Nes,” Nesta only rolled her eyes.

Azriel, though, had kept that comment. Tucked it away in the corner of his mind that he saved purely for you. A space filled with compliments from you, mentions of the things you loved, or observations of when he thought you looked especially beautiful– which truly was everyday. That corner of his mind was slowly growing by the day, bit by bit consuming him more and more. But he didn’t mind. For every new area you occupied in his consciousness, it replaced something dark instead. Those nightmares became few and far between after you entered his life, and he felt lighter, brighter. 

A mark that could only be left by a radiant individual– you.

Ever since he’d met you, he was absolutely smitten. There was a magnetic charge between you both, that just couldn’t keep him away. He was like a moth to a light, fluttering so dangerously close that if he wasn’t careful he might just burn. 

But he couldn’t stop. Despite the risk of it all, the risk of you burning his desires down. The obvious rejection you would undoubtedly give him if his feelings ever became known. So he settled for friendship, in fact savoured in it. He welcomed the friendly banter and familiar touches you so kindly offered him, but sometimes he dared to imagine…selfishly letting himself wonder, if he was to confess, would it really all go up in flames?…or would a warm glow await him instead.

Azriel began to look for the good parts of his own culture, an excuse to be able to share something with you. Little anecdotes of younger years with his brothers, the plants that grew in the harsh terrain of Ramiel, and what creatures may lurk in those mountains. Something Azriel noticed had piqued your interest. 

He found you numerous times after that in the library with Nesta and Gwyn, looking through bestiaries and field journals. Your commitment to the land and its creatures never wavering. You had found old scriptures, thousands of years old, of rare creatures that roamed the Illyrian land. Feline-like beasts that apparently once lived among Illyrians as their companions, a familiar of sorts. You had practically barged into Azriel’s room one evening when you had unearthed this new information, kneeled on his bed sharing this new discovery word for word as you read the translated version Gwyn had given you. 

“We’ll have to go look for them Az,” You had beamed, “It’ll be like an adventure, and well I could write it off as work too seeing as technically this falls under my jurisdiction.” 

Azriel had never cared much for his own culture and myths, actually, had rather hated every aspect of it. But somehow, watching you find the beauty between the cracks changed something in him. Over time the dismal opinion he had of Illyrians and that part of himself, paired with the progression in the camps had made a slight difference.

Today though, today, you were sharing even more of your world.

“So I thought, you know with you already being able to winnow you would grasp this the easiest” you smiled at Az.

You had brought him to the edge of one of the night court meadows you usually worked at. Elain had asked to join you on a day's work for the spring season, once confessing she wished the cauldron had turned her into a fairy just like you. You had told her she was perfect the way she was, exactly who she was supposed to be, and promised her anyone of any kind was welcome in the meadows. 

What was supposed to be a fun girls day with Elain had quickly snowballed into a field trip, the rest of the inner circle adamant they had to come too. But if your friends couldn’t master the art of dwindling then they would not be permitted in the meadows. Rhys and Feyre were fine, that unlimited pot of power they both possessed actually meant you’d caught them several months ago, rolling around in a flower enjoying some quality time together. You’re not sure who was more embarrassed, yourself or Feyre when Rhys clumsily fell out of a flower bell stark naked covered in pollen.

Before the others would be allowed to cross the threshold of the meadows you would need to teach them first.

“Dwindling is a lot like winnowing, how you move yourself to a different space. Or even how your shadows move you through space. It’s essentially the same, but it’s the space within you that’s moving…well smaller.” 

Your hands had been spread wide in your explanation, bringing them closer together as if your movement were perfectly representing how it worked. Your brows furrowed though, as Azriel looked at you with a soft dazed expression. Almost glassy eyed with a dumb smile on his mouth.

“Are you even listening to me Az?” Your tone felt stern leaving your lips. A little huff following after, that got his shadows moving in a giddy manner. It wasn’t just Azriel that found you utterly adorable, but his shadows too had a hard time hiding how your expressions caused a stir in them.

How they basked in your laughter, grew agitated in your discomfort or selfishly, liked to relish in your charming pouts.

Azriel quickly shook his head, as if shaking himself from the daze you so often ensnared him in, “I’m always listening,” he promised.

You rolled your bottom lip through your teeth gently, pausing for a moment to take in his words. How it had struck a ripple through your body, that often created butterflies in your stomach. Glancing up through your lashes you took your friend in, his large strong frame towering over you, never in an intimidating way. No, his presence, however daunting to others, always filled you with safety and comfort you hadn’t felt around many. And there were those beautiful hazel eyes that often reminded you of the sunrise after you’d worked the night shift. Golden rays breaking through the midnight blanket, spilling hazel threads into petals of blue.

Maybe one day you would tell him how when the sky filled with ribbons of gold and sapphire, that you only thought of him.

Quickly you stopped yourself from falling into your own daze, remembering his passing words. 

I’m always listening. 

That he was. So attentive, so kind, you’re not sure what you did to deserve the friendship of the Shadowsinger. You continued on, brushing over how genuine his words sounded. Rummaging around in your bag you pulled out a pouch of fairy dust.

“This amplifies your power, makes it easier to shrink. Should also help with the nausea,” you muttered, now choosing to ignore the way his eyes seemed to drink you up.

It was getting increasingly hard to disregard the effect the Shadowsinger had on you. He was so beautiful, so pretty– in that rugged Illyrian way. And he was very thoughtful too, and there was the way he said things to you sometimes that made it hard not to assume it meant more. Every word felt like a whispered kiss or unspoken promise, that you found yourself at times hoping, and daydreaming that perhaps it did mean something deeper.

Sprinkling the dust over Azriel, his nose scrunched a little at the scent. So familiar, he realised it reminded him of you. That lingering scent of fairy dust was always on you, mixed with vanilla and hints of honey, an underlying breeze of peonies. Your scent alone was enough to enchant him, enough to know he would be dreaming of you again tonight. His consciousness would slip him into a blissful haze of what it would be like to envelope himself in the crook of your neck and laze in your aroma.

Gently you took his hands into yours, his ragged hands engulfing your own. 

Azriel couldn’t help notice the stark contrast. How perfect and soft you were, delicate and light. He was rough and weathered around the edges, hardened by war and conflict. A gentle squeeze from you pulled him from his thoughts, realising how close you were now, he would only have to lean down slightly to bridge the gap between you. So close he could press his lips to top of your head and–

As if brushing that thought from his mind, his shadows moved towards you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face, while the other tendrils wove through the air in between you both like a dance.

“Are you ready Az? Remember everything I taught you?”

He nodded. 

Channelling his power in the technique you had shown him, his eyes fluttered shut. Honing in on the warmth of your hands and the faint sound of the breeze. His siphons simmered a glow as vibrations of power and space moved over the sharp lines and angles of his body, retracting and restricting the space within.

The air sounded different all of a sudden.

Vibrations growing louder, rustles becoming more powerful. Slowly Azriel opened his eyes, looking down at you, standing as you were before. He questioned if he’d even managed to do it, but as he glanced up he saw the tall green vertebrae of the grass tower above. The strands gently swaying in the wind, allowing the morning sun to filter through and cast viridescent shadows across the earth.

He had done it. He had dwindled.

The air was filled with a symphony of sounds, the song of crickets and the gentle rustling of the grass in the wind. Butterflies flitted by, leaving a gentle gust of wind in their wake. They were larger than him now, and he could vividly see the intricate designs and colours that lay on their wings.

“Az? Azriel are you okay? How do you feel?”

He hadn’t even realised you were talking, not until your hand gently pressed against the side of his face. Your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, as you looked up to him in concern.

“I feel fine,” he replied, finally remembering to take a breath as your touch left him.

“No nausea? You looked a little peaky for a moment, I was worried,”

Your remaining hand had slipped from his gentle grip, a simmer in his chest wishing it would remain. But Azriel unfurled his wings, stretching the dark membranes out, distributing his weight onto either feet to check his balance. 

“Okay…” You smiled then, “This went better than I thought, you know it’s Cassian I’m most worried about. I just have a feeling he’ll sneeze himself into a giant or something,”

“Wait, is that possible?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so. But somehow I could see it happening with Cass,” You laughed. The angelic waves of your laughter pulled up the corners of his lips as he let out a chuckle.

Oh Azriel could stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you, no one else in sight for miles.The sun basking it’s glow upon you both. Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence before you closed your eyes, head tilting up towards the sun as the rays washed over your face. 

Azriel thanked the Mother again for the blessings he had received since knowing you, because this moment right here– to be with you was surely one.

“Y/n…” Azriel couldn’t help breathe your name out, it barely a whisper as words he kept tucked in that corner of his mind seemed to pile into his mouth.

Gently your eyes fluttered open, your expression turning to him with a light hum in question. But before he could even untangle the mess of confessions on his tongue, a shadow loomed above.

With a slight jump, you hastily stepped back, colliding into the tough warm frame of the Shadowsinger, craning your neck up to see what had cast such a darkness.

A shadow– Azriel’s shadow.

The smokey tendril seemed to loom over you both inquisitively. It’s movements speaking of a curiosity to how its master was now so tiny.

“There’s always one,” Azriel grumbled, his hand tenderly moving to the small of your back for a moment as he stepped to your side.

Azriel crossed his arms across his chest, his expression boring on unimpressed as he glanced up at the disobedient wisp.

“You’ve got no excuse,” Azriel chastised, referring to the other shadows that had obediently followed an appropriate size to him after dwindling. 

The shadow slumped a little in response, eliciting a small gasp from you at how utterly adorable you found it. As if remembering you were there the shadow turned it’s attention. Azriel’s earlier command to resize itself held no authority but it quickly slinked itself slightly smaller for you. It’s size resembled something of Azriel’s shape as it twirled around you making the layers of your dress flutter up in the wind.

“Oh my…” Your cheeks heated a rosy hue as you attempted to hold your dress down in the gust of air.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel heaved, his patience growing thin as he tried to hide his slight embarrassment at his unruly shadow.

“It’s quite alright Azriel,” you reassured him with a light chuckle, the smile on your lips easing him. The use of his full name, raising goosebumps on his skin.

It wasn’t the only thing your smile eased, the shadow, as if melting under you, softened like honey. Oozing back behind Azriel’s wings in a dazed infatuation.

“Come,” you took Azriel’s hand in yours. Pulling him gently through the blades of green. “You should settle in this size for a while, make sure everything feels okay before we return,”

Azriel watched your fingers interlock with his, the smaller wisps of his shadows winding around your joined hands. Whispering words to one another that he couldn’t hear. 

He swallowed hard, once, twice taking in the view before him. Your usual pink dress dipping to the small of your back, taut flawless skin kissed under the sun as you pulled him through the green. No wings on show, though.

He wondered when you would share that part of you…if ever. 

Azriel would never ask, but he hoped one day you trusted him enough.

That he would be so lucky. But as you glanced back over your shoulder, sending him a soft smile that seemed to bury itself deep into his chest. He pondered, if for only a moment, that perhaps he was lucky.

a/n: just a little instalment from your favourite couple! <3 What else do you want to see from them?? (Other than flower sex , I promise this is coming👀)

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Michael is an Asshole

Near death experience

An Angel cries

Chapter 3 < Chapter 4 > Chapter 5

Lucifer was on edge. 

What is Michael doing here? 

Why Michael of all? The one that hates him more than anything. 

Michael was standing in his home destroying the peace Charlie and you had.

The peace you enjoyed so much that he wanted to keep. 

For the sake of you two.

His inner demon wanted to rip Michael limp from limp.

Its craving to use Michael’s blood to paint the town in pure gold with his blood.

Lucifers feather rustle out of anger.

“You would never pay me a visit Michael. We both know that.” After all it was his Fault.

Michael and Gabriel gave him the Idea to begin with.

And in the end they were the one who let him fall into this personal nightmare.

In hell. 

Lucifer almost lost his life because of them.

Meanwhile confusing was written all over your face. 

Brother? 

Michael? The Arch angel? 

Your brain was working on overload. 

Slowly it started to click. You completely dismissed the thought that Lucifer is an arch Angel.

An offspring from God himself. 

The Soulmate bond let you feel Lucifers rage, and his urge to protect you and his daughter.

It pushes you to stay put and to have faith in him. 

Lucifer was still in a protecting pose to protect you.

He didn’t even realize when he was in front of you.

In a blink of an eye, he saw himself protecting you with his wings. Making them larger and covering you.

What was wrong with him?

Was it because you grew close in these last days, or was there more?

Has he caught feelings for you?

It made sense. Common logic.

His train of thoughts were Interrupted by Michaels speech.

“You’re clever as ever. But I do have to disappoint you. I’m not here for you, but rather for that seraphim behind you.” Michael’s gaze moved from Lucifer towards you. 

His pure blue eyes bored into you, you felt almost naked under his stare.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress hoping it will help with your anxiety that started to build up in your system.

You heard an animalistic growl coming from Lucifer. 

“You better get the fuck away Michael.” 

It is terrifying. Lucifer is terrifying. You should be scared, but you aren’t. 

You found this utterly attractive. 

Lucifers horns were showing in all their might and all you could do was looking at them in awe. 

Michael was still staring at you, Ignoring Lucifers threat.

It fueled Lucifers Anger even more, the lights started to flicker in the hotel. 

Sweat pearled down from Charlie’s face.

She’s never seen her father that pissed before. Not even with Alastor nor Adam.

His eyes showing nothing but crimson red. But he remained calm in front of his older Brother. 

It would’ve scared Michael if he was a mere lower-class Angel or a demon in Hell. 

But he was the Arch Angel Michael, nothing scared him except his father God and Gabriel. 

He started to smirk showing his pearl white teeth, and it settled off you.

Lucifer and Michael looked so similar, same hairstyle, same face.

There was a huge difference between these two though. Michael was cold, his aura was dark and with nothing but anger and Ignorance.

Meanwhile Lucifers Aura was warm, like a hot bath that was pure relaxation. His aura was white and pure.

Maybe it was the bond. But you see a foul soul when there's one.

But one thing they had in common, and that's their pride.

You don’t have a good feeling about this.

He wants something, but what?

What can be so special in here that an Arch Angel comes down here and confronts his brother?

What makes you so special that Michael would come down here?

Michael's predatory gaze was following your every movement making you want to run or plead for your life. 

Lucifer widened his wings shielding you from the other Arch Angel.

You sigh in relief; you don’t want to spend any second longer with Michael's stare.

Not with the way he was looking at you.

Like a treat he could eat for breakfast.

“You should leave.” Lucifer’s eyes never left Michael’s.

All what he did was starting to laugh at Lucifer, “Aww, Little Lucifer protecting a fallen Angel How cute.”

In the next moment Michaels wings spread and he flapped them to create a hurricane like wind blow.

Wind blew softly in your face, Lucifers wings helped that you didn’t fly away from the force. 

With a crash Nifty flew into the alcohol bar, leaving a mess with broken bottles. Husk frowned, “Oh great.”

The whole crew hid behind the staircase to take cover from the Arch Angel.

Michael whistled. “You seem to grow a liking towards that girl.” He pointed at him then at you, “what happened with Lilith? Cheating on her?” Lucifer gritted his teeth and took a step forward. 

He wants to crush Michael skull on this hellish floor. Drawing an abstract painting in pure Gold on a red canvas.

“That’s none of your business.” Michael gasps at him, holding his mouth with his hand. Acting all shocked. 

You could swear Lucifer was ready to bounce on him.

His devil tail flicked dangerously from side to side.

That’s what Michaels want. 

He wants to see Lucifer loses control and letting his guard down. 

He wants to piss his little Brother off. And Lucifer fell for it. His pride is taking over not thinking correctly.

Your feet carried you towards Lucifer, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. “Luci, don’t. That’s what he wants.” 

He didn’t look your way but stopped in his track. 

This disappointed Michael.

Deep.

Usually this works, it always worked. Why not now?

He came here to have fun with you and Lucifer, but you ruined it for him.

“You are listening now to a random bitch?” 

This was the last straw for Lucifer. No one talks to you like that.

Lucifer flew up to get more speed when he flew back down to kick Michael in the stomach. That send Michael flying towards the nearest house.

Leaving nothing but ruins from the building.

Coughing he looked where Lucifer was, nowhere to be seen.

Confused he threw stones in every direction trying to hit Lucifer. 

Lucifer laughed at this useless attempt. “That’s what you’re doing now? Throwing stones? Who's the Bitch now?”

His heart started to race out of fear.

He whipped his head frantic searching for his enemy. 

A howling laugh vibrated through hell and a crash followed it. 

Lucifer punched Michael hard into the floor letting Michael see black for a minute. 

The earth shook under the force making you slump down at the sudden ground movement. 

Michael spit out one of his Paper white teeth, it was covered in golden blood.

Michael realized that Lucifer got stronger and could easily get rid of him.

But that can’t be true, that’s not fair.

“Fuck.” He screamed as he heard Lucifers laugh from joy.

Michael panicked; he still couldn’t see Lucifer anywhere.

He was scared to death. 

Sweat covered his injured now dirty white skin. His golden head piece had a slight crack in it. 

How can I get away from here? 

Then he remembers.  

you. 

You were his compass right now and Michael can use you.

Use you to cause mental damage to Lucifer.

Lucifer stepped out of the dark, stalking slowly forward like a predator to their prey.

Michael crawled back. His hand slipped on a small rock making him fall on his back. 

Lucifer took the opportunity and charged forward. Michael dodged his attack just in time, flying towards your direction in 200km/h. 

Searching for Lucifer in the distance, you saw someone flying towards you.

Your eyes widen in excitement, thinking it is Lucifer. 

You walked slowly towards him, only to see that this is not your Lucifer. 

This Aura, so dark and it was scary.

It was Michael. 

You started to run to the opposite direction, you knew he would catch you easily if he wants to.

But you won’t give up without a fight.

Michael’s hair was all a mess, he looked like a maniac who lost control.

Blood all over his white attire and dirt all over him. 

He grabbed your wrist lifting you up in the air. 

You screamed, kicking your feet all around you. 

For the first time in decades, you seem scared of heights.

Not having wings comes with fear from heights. Not being available to fly when you fell. Getting crushed by gravity wasn’t exactly how you planned on dying. 

Your scream was quickly caught the attention from Lucifer, out of panic he teleported his way to you. 

His tail swayed dangerous from side to side as he looked at the disgusting mutt of a brother holding you up with your wrist. 

Pain and fear were written all over your demeanor and for the first time in this battle he felt scared.

Scared that he’ll do something to you.

Scared that if he interferes, you’ll die.

Michael Shaked you a bit to piss off Lucifer more. As if you were a mere piece of meat laid on display in an auction house.

Meanwhile he swung you around your sleeve of your dress slipped down revealing the apple mark on your wrist. 

As fast as you could, you tried to pull the sleeve back up, but Michael stopped you. 

Michael raised an eyebrow at you, what was your plan?

He took a glance at the thing you tried to hide, and oh did he never forget that mark. 

You share the same mark like him.

Like Lucifer. 

“Really? That’s all the fuss why you’re doing all of this?” You looked away in shame. 

Michael was to say at least very confused. You were ashamed of being Lucifers soulmate? He would be too, but you clearly enjoy his presence way too much to hate this. 

Then it clicks, “Ohhh, he doesn’t even know.” You bitt your lip, showing Michael that his speculation was Indeed right. 

Lucifer was standing there at his friendlier form, observing the scenery above him. 

He doesn’t know what? 

You knew this would happen at one point. 

You hid it very well the couple days, even though your heart was aching for that man. To tell him the truth.

But you were afraid. Will he reject you? Or does he even enjoy your presence, when he finds out the soulmate bond makes him feel that.

Michael pulled you in front of his face, you two were so close that you could feel his breath on your lips.

“You’re not better than your mother. To keep a secret that huge and so small,” His hand stroked your mark, it started to burn in your wrist making you scream in terror. 

It felt like someone was burning a piece of iron into your cold skin making your blood underneath boil. 

You felt hot and lightheaded.

You wiggled your whole body, trying to get out of Michaels grasp. 

The tears that fell out of your eye collides on Lucifers face; his clawed fist clenched hard the claws shoving into his palm drawing blood. 

Michael ripped a piece off your long-sleeved dress showing your mark towards Lucifer. 

Lucifers eyes widen, no that couldn’t be. 

He searched in your eyes the answer, but you looked away, ashamed. 

And it hurts him. Why didn’t you tell him? 

He unconsciously rubbed his mark on his wrist which started to itch since Michael touched yours.

Now everything made sense for him. 

Why he felt that kind of euphoric, why he felt so in love. Why his heart ached for you every time you’re not there.

That’s why he was so attracted to you. 

And you lied to him. God knows how long. 

He is mad at you, but he won’t lose you out of his anger. 

You were his last chance, his nemesis. 

He must get rid of Michael before he can deal with you. 

Meanwhile you struggled in Michael death grip on your wrist. Your hand felt numb with no blood getting pumped in it.

“I can’t kill you Y/n. But I can cause you pain which will hurt him even more.” His eyes shifted towards Lucifer smiling from ear to ear. 

His laugh that rippled through his ribcage made you cringe.

 His hands let you fall out of his grip. Before you could relax, thinking he would let you go. He grabbed your hair making you wince. 

He pulled out a little dagger and pressed it against your neck. “Let’s see if your blood is still golden.” 

Lucifer flew as fast as he could towards you stretching his arm towards Michael and you. Michaels words echoing in Lucifers brain. Let’s see if your blood is still golden.

But it was too late.

His knife slashed a cut on your neck, golden blood started to gush out and you started to choke on your own blood. 

“No!” 

It was hard to breath, every time you tried to take the oxygen in your lungs, blood filled them which made you cough and choke every time. 

Michael let you go, disgusted that your blood spilled on his cloths. 

He removed his golden strand out of his face smiling widely at Lucifer. 

“Next time I make sure to you two will never see each other. Farewell.” With that he teleported away leaving a mess in hell behind him.

Lucifer punched into the cement where Michael was standing. 

His heart stopped when he heard you choking from your own blood. 

Ache

Rushing to your side he pressed on your wound tight. “Please, please don’t die.” 

All you could feel was pain, and the warmth of Lucifer by your side. 

And there it was again, the warmth of his powers flowing into your system. 

it was calming. Making you almost forget the pain you’re in. 

Lucifer was on the edge of crying. 

Forgetting that you didn’t tell him that you were his soulmate. 

All he could think about is that you were slowly dying.

He feels useless.

Charlie watched the scene, feeling bad for her dad.

He told her that he has a soulmate, someone who is his other half.

But since he fell, he’d never see them. 

It was sad to see his depressed expression when he thought about it.

But now he found out in the middle of the battlefield that he found her. And now he may lose someone precious. His other half. The reason he still had faith.

She looks at her father saying a mantra all over and over again. 

Please don’t die, please, please Y/n don’t leave me. Please.

He felt alone like he did when Lilith left him, but this is not the same. 

You’ll never come back. Leaving him with an empty void in his heart that cannot be filled. 

He survived the void that Lilith left in him. 

But not you, his soulmate that helped him without even knowing. 

Every night he thought of you. Not even in a sexual way. 

He held the duck he made for you tight to his body to feel comforted in some kind of way. 

And it all makes sense. But it may be too late.

Here you were, slowly dying in his hands. Passed out from your blood lost. 

His tears dropped down on your lips making you feel the salty sweet substance. 

An Angel cries.

Your neck wound started to close making him sigh in relief.

you have lost a lot of blood, and it was still life threatening but the bleeding was stopped.

You have a chance to survive this.

He stroked your cheek softly removing the dirt that was on your face. 

He pressed his forehead on yours in a comforting way.

“Please wake up.”

A/n: 👀 Soooo, how y'all doing? Thank you to all who are writing so sweet comments<3

Hope you enjoyed this chapter❤️

💫

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgates-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift

[catlvrmax]

RACE DAY & NIGHTCLUBS.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary it's race day! you and amara decide to spend your sunday night out in the city. you make new friends in the process.

cw ONE use of [Y/N] - it was inevitable. idk the deets of how f1 works exactly, but i tried. this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest, but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want. (the pictures are for aesthetic purposes.)

a/n i feel like the alonso scene is kinda useless but idk i put it in ite.

masterlist | taglist

—

"I'm so excited!" Amara squealed as you grabbed her wrist to keep her close.

Today is race day. You woke up early, buzzing with anticipation. Amara tried to (poorly) contain her excitement and constant giggles until you had at least one cup of coffee in your system but failed ten minutes into breakfast. You don't blame her—she loves the sport.

She also loves the drivers. Loves the gossip and the drama on and off track. A new thing she has picked up, one you really want to put a stop to, is teasing you about a certain Dutchman. It was already bad enough that your conversation kept replaying in your head, and her playful teasing increased the thoughts of the two-time world champion.

You tolerated it on the walk to the circuit, rolling your eyes at her dreamy sighs and romantic scenarios, which she mostly made up to annoy you but changed the subject as you approached your destination. You refused to look or sound like a crazy fangirl in case... well, in case of actually running into him.

Arriving at the circuit and checking in the paddock had been a nightmare. You and Amara were not huge fans of crowded places you more than her, and the heat of the sun beating down on you made it ten times worse. Alas, you finally found yourselves away from the masses and around the corner of the Aston Martin hospitality building.

Amara was not paying attention to where she was going, and you were listening intently to the plans for the day. At the last minute, you saw a green shirt from the corner of your eye. You pulled on her wrist, and she stumbled towards you, but not before softly colliding with the side of the tall man in the green shirt.

"Oh, shit. ¡Lo siento, señor!" The apology comes in Spanish. (I am sorry, sir!)

"Esta bien, señorita? I was not looking in my path." You try to catch your jaw from falling to the ground when you eye the Green Shirt Guy. (Are you okay, miss?)

That's Fernando fucking Alonso. Fernando Alonso, the man you may or may not have a tiny crush on, is helping Amara stand up after she bent over to grab her discarded water bottle.

"Ah, si. Lo siento, señor Alonso. Estaba mostrando a mi amiga alrededor—"

"It's you from yesterday, no?! The girl with the great, uh, Spanish skills!" He talks to her as if they've known each other for years.

You stand there stunned, trying to compose yourself as your F1 crush stands before you, casually conversing with your best friend. Amara must be ready to explode right about now. You would laugh if you weren't fighting the urge to scream and run around from the joy.

You hear your name fall from Amara's lips, and your gaze focuses back on them. "That's my best friend. I gave her the hat!"

Fernando nods, his gaze on you as a polite smile causes his dimples to appear. You show him the signed Aston Martin cap by tilting your head.

"Amara said you are a big fan. I appreciate it. Do you want to take a photograph?"

"Uh-Yeah! Yeah, I'd love to!" You take your phone out. Oh-em-gee. Oh-em-gee. Is this really happening? "It's nice to meet you, sir!" You can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Fernando, being taller than you, asks for your phone. He raises it above your head and takes a couple of selfies. You muster the brightest smile, copying his funny faces and poses. When he hands it back, thank yous stumble from your lips faster than any car on the grid.

"Mucha suerte para ti hoy!" (Best of luck to you today!)

Fernando laughs but bows his head in appreciation. "Muchas gracias, querida." He turns to Amara, who's watching you both with a smile. "Enjoy the race, girls!"

And with that, he's walking away. You and Amara stand still for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner. You lock eyes, jaws on the floor. Squeals escape the both of you as you grab each other for support.

"Oh, my fucking God! We just—I—You—"

"I talked to Fernando fucking Alonso, and you took a photo with him. Shit!" Her tone betrays her disbelief.

"Oh, pinch me, 'mara, because this can't possibly be fucking real!" You cup your red cheek with one palm. "He remembered you. That's crazy!"

Amara giggles. "We talked in Spanish yesterday, and he told me he was impressed by my fluency!"

You smack her arm, suppressing a smile. "What? Why didn't you tell me all of that!? From past experiences, your Spanish has been shit."

She gasps dramatically, feigning offence. "How dare you, missy?! My Spanish is almost perfect. I just happened to get nervous around native speakers!"

You laugh and raise your hands in surrender, muttering my bad. Amara links her elbow with yours. "Are you ready to watch twenty cars go in weird-shaped circles?"

"Yup," you answer, popping the p before pulling her towards the building you will be watching from. "He is hotter in person." You cannot help but add.

Amara rolls her eyes but hums in agreement.

—

"Max Verstappen wins the Spanish Grand Prix! Another flawless performance by the current World Champion!"

You can't help but smile as the camera cuts to his team celebrating. Amara claps in delight, gathering her scattered things from the table to put inside her bag. The VIP room you watched the race from is slowly emptying as everyone walks down to where the celebration will take place. Amara wants to go and get as close as she can to the front, so she can take pictures of the podium. Lewis Hamilton came second, followed by George Russell, and your best friend was beaming and eager to see the podium from up close.

"You don't have to come with me. It's pretty tight there, with the crew, and fans, and stuff." You nod, thankful to her for not forcing you to tag along. "You can wait by the Red Bull hospitality. I think it's closer to the exit." She pauses as you stand from your seat. "And who knows. Maybe a Dutchman will pass by, and you deliver on your plan."

You huff at her wiggling eyebrows. "Seems kind of impossible since Max is celebrating on the podium, 'mara. You have a better chance at meeting him." You snort at her deflated expression.

"Oh, yeah, you're right." She shrugs. "Well, who knows? You might bump into each other again."

"I highly doubt that. Now, give me everything you don't need. I'll put it in my bag. I don't want you losing anything in that crowd."

Amara hands you her handbag and kisses you on the cheek before walking away. You're the only guest in the room now, accompanied by the bartender on the other side of the room. You contemplate staying here or leaving for the Red Bull hospitality. The track fills with fans, as is the ground below the podium. Lewis and George are already there, which means that—

"Here's Max Verstappen, the winner of this year's Spanish Grand Prix." Crofty, the commentator, announces the champion's arrival at the podium's top step.

He looks handsome, with a smile decorating his face and high cheekbones glistening with sweat. He waves at the crowd and takes his Pirelli hat off. His hair is messy, but it just makes him look hotter. Wow. You need to stop, or you'll salivate all over the bloody floor. You turn away from the TV as the Dutch national anthem starts playing.

One thought keeps repeating as you walk out of the building and to the sunny paddock. Max Verstappen is undoubtedly handsome.

—

You're aimlessly pacing in front of the Red Bull building, skipping through the pictures you'd taken. Most of them were of Amara posing in front of different buildings, eating or walking. You don't notice a chest heading your way until it's too late, and you collide. Ouch, you mumble as you rub your forehead.

"We should stop meeting like this." You recognise the voice immediately. How could you not? The man has been plaguing your thoughts.

Your heart is racing. You don't meet Max's eyes at first, hoping that a simple apology will make him walk away. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't paying attention."

"Are you lost again? Do you need help?" Max is quick to offer, but you shake your head negatively.

A hand comes forward, a featherlight touch on your elbow. You finally meet his gaze, rubbing on the spot that stings. What the fuck is he made of? Rock? His eyes hold concern as they rake over your face.

"What are you made of? Rock or something? That stung!" You offer a shy smile and a joke, for his worried expression makes your palms sweat.

He returns the smile. "Hey! You were the one not paying attention."

You shrug. "I was looking through the photos I've taken." You raise the old camera for him to see.

"Oh, yeah? Any cool ones?" He asks, stepping closer to you to see.

You notice a man behind the driver, wearing a Red Bull polo and an impatient expression. Anxiety sparks at your chest. He's got somewhere to be. Leave him alone. "Don't you have media duties to attend? You did just win a race." His smile turns guilty at your words.

"Yeah. I've got to change from this," he points at his racing suit," and attend interviews." He doesn't look too excited to do so.

"Well, then, I shouldn't be keeping you." You move a step back, nervously glancing at the other man.

Max does as well, the flush on his cheeks bolder than before. He opens his mouth, and you watch him have an internal war with himself before he decides to voice whatever thought he has. He motions to the man to go ahead without him. I'll be there in a minute, he mutters.

"I'd love to see those photographs."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you know you look like a fish as your mouth opens and closes. Your face heats up. "Uh—They're really nothing special. This is an old camera."

Max shrugs. "Why don't you give me your number? I can be the judge of that." Oh, shit. You nod.

He does an immaculate job of looking confident as if this isn't affecting him. A pretty girl agreed to give him his number. It's dangerous for a person with the number of young fans he has to give his phone number to a stranger, but he feels he can trust you. You haven't given him a reason to think you might be a crazy fangirl.

"D'you have a pen? I don't have my phone with me." You nod, rummaging through your handbag to find the emergency glittery pink pen.

Once you pull it out, Max can't help but comment on it. "Nice colour." You send him a playful glare.

He stretches his palm, and you softly pull his fingers closer. You scribble down your number, writing your first and last name underneath it. Max feels remorseful for not even having asked you your name. He knows that you no doubt know who he is now. He repeats it, and your breath hitches. He says it so perfectly, you might melt in a puddle. Caaaaaalm down. You sound insane. He's just stating your name.

"Pretty name," he thinks out loud. You don't believe you were meant to hear that, yet your face grows a shade darker.

Before you can say anything, the man shouts his name from the building's door. "Come on, mate! You're going to be late!" You can see the disappointment Max feels from his deflated smile.

"I have to go. Media duties." You chuckle when he rolls his eyes and nod. "I'll, uh, text you. For the pictures." He takes a step back, eyes locked with yours.

"For the pictures, yeah."

His face is flushed. You blame the race he just won. It's a poor excuse to give someone your number, no matter how famous they might be, yet you did. Amara will have a field day with this information. You half expect her to revive her old Tumblr account for the sake of acting on her scenarios.

"Bye." You wave, and he waves back, exchanging bashful smiles.

You watch his figure approach the man by the door when it hits you. "Oh, Max!" He turns quickly, eyes searching for yours. "Congratulations on your win!"

His eyes crinkle from the smile that he gives you. "Thank you!" He adds your name, and you don't deny it this time; Max Verstappen is extremely handsome, especially when he smiles.

—

MESSAGES: two. From > unknown number.

unknown number

hey, it's Max!

Verstappen. The guy in

the RB shirt.

you

hm... i don't know anyone

with this name. sorry!

max verstappen

Two-time world champion?

you

nope.

never met any world champions

in my life, sorry.

max verstappen

I helped you yesterday

and saw you today outside of

the RB hospitality.

This is [Y/N], right?

you

🤣 yes!

i'm just messing with you max!

max verstappen

*phew* had me thinking you

gave me the wrong number

you

*dramatic gasp*

i am NOT that cruel, mr verstappen!

btw, i havent transferred the photos yet!

camera's charging.

max verstappen

That's totally okay!

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

you

contemplating whether i should share my

whereabouts with a random man....

max verstappen

HEY! you've met me!

two times already!!!

you

and how do i know this is the REAL

Max Verstappen????????

max verstappen

....you gave me your phone number.

you

oh, yeah. that makes sense.

i'm very sleep deprived haha

max verstappen

😂😂

you

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

  ↪ to answer your previous question,

me and my bff are going clubbing

in Barcelona!

max verstappen

Oh, that sounds fun!

you

i'm secretly terrified of getting lost

in the city, but hey! i'm only here for another

night. might as well have fun

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

max verstappen

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

   ↪ THAT'S TRUE. Carlos is an

expert in all things nightclub when we're

here for the GP

you

you have any places to recommend?

amara is still looking on trip advisor

max verstappen

😨 TRIP ADVISOR?

you

WELL WE HAD TO START SOMEWHERE

max verstappen

the Vault is a really great place. Great

drinks and the DJ plays nice songs.

You should try that one!

you

i'm guessing it's expensive

as fuck

max verstappen

not as expensive as it is packed

BUT there's always the Disco Diva

and other clubs down that street

you

max verstappen, you know your

clubs, i see.

(the disco diva? really?)

max verstappen

you caught me ahahahahah

(the disco diva? really?)

   ↪ it plays really cool stuff

you

it plays really cool stuff

   ↪ i trust ur judgement.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

max verstappen

how do I know I'm not giving away

my location to a super crazy

fangirl?

you

you dont! YOU wanted MY number.

soooo.... 🤷🏻‍♀️

max verstappen

LOL. you're funny.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

  ↪ I was thinking of gaming, but the

boys want to party.

you

WELL, YAH! you totally deserve to let loose!

max verstappen

Hm, I might think about it.

Ha! Maybe we'll find each other in the club!

you

hahahahah it would be pretty embarrassing

if i ran into you again.

for the third time.

have fun with whatever you choose

to do, Maximus Verstappen.

max verstappen

that is definitely NOT my first name.

but i thank you, schat 😁

seen, now.

—

"Who are you talking to?" Amara asks, her eyes glued on TripAdvisor.

"H-Huh?" You barely register her words, fingers tapping on your screen incredibly fast.

"You've been giggling for, like, ten minutes now. I'm assuming it's not your mom. She's probably having lunch."

"Oh, you know. Just this guy I bumped into today. You might know him. His name's Max. Ma—"

"Fucking Verstappen?!" Amara all but yells, sitting up swiftly.

Your eyes meet her shocked expression, and you can't help the chuckle that escapes at her priceless reaction. You shrug in response, feigning nonchalance. Truth is, your best friend has hyped this guy up a lot, and your poor heart beats somewhat faster now that you're talking to him.

"You told me to get his number, didn't you?"

"W-Well—Yeah. But I didn't actually think you'd do it!"

You gasp as if offended. "You dare think so little of me? Think that I wouldn't honour my promise to feed your delusions?"

Amara laughs, lightly smacking your arm. "Okay, weirdo. Tell me what the fuck happened."

After pushing yourself to a sitting position, you tell her every detail of your second meeting with the world champion, including the texts. Amara's reactions are comical. At the end of your story-telling process, she's sitting there, with her jaw mere inches from touching the ground.

"So, do you think we'll meet him in that nightclub?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He said he'd think about it." You show her your phone, scrolling to the text he had sent you mere minutes ago. "Doesn't sound that eager to me."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go by the Vault, or whatever its name was." Amara wiggles her eyebrows.

"Are you trying to get me laid with a celebrity?"

She grimaces. "Pfft. He's hot. You're pretty. If you take out the millions on Instagram—" "—and his bank account." Amara shoots you a pointed look. "He looks like a pretty normal guy." She exhales before continuing. "You should have fun. We didn't come here just for me. And he seems like a lot of fun."

Amara wasn't wrong. Yes, you had come here for the Grand Prix, which was her thing, but there was plenty of time for you to have fun. And if fun meant drinking and meeting with an extremely handsome guy, who were you to refuse? You'd probably never see him again, either.

—

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—

"Finally!" You shout excitedly.

After waiting for a solid thirty minutes in a very long line outside of Club Vault and paying an entry fee that you're sure is way too expensive, you have finally made it inside. The place is flooded with people drinking, dancing, and talking. The lights are dim, and the music loud; a promising, fun night.

You barely dodge swaying on the dancefloor as Amara drags you to the bar. She orders for you while you look around. The DJ and his setup is on a balcony, above which there is a VIP sign. You squint your eyes as another face comes into view. Is that...Lando Norris?

You blindly reach for Amara, turning her around by the wrist. "Hey, isn't that Norris?"

Despite the ear-deafening music, you're able to hear your best friend's gasp. "Oh, my fucking God! Yes, that's him!" She looks at you, a knowing smile on her lips. "Does that mean that he's here—"

"I don't know!" The bartender nods at you, showing you your drinks. "Let's drink!"

And that's exactly what you do. Your drinks are cold enough to help with the heat of dancing, and you can't lie, Lando—with the help of the actual DJ—plays decent music. Max was right about the place being fun. Amara is doing her weird dance moves, and you're copying her, trying to best her.

You're two drinks in, back turned to the DJ booth, when your best friend's eyes widen, dance moves faltering, and you hear everybody cheer. She elbows you to turn around, and your breath hitches: it's Max. He's actually here with Lando and the DJ. And your heart is racing with excitement. He waves at the crowd below, and everyone cheers louder.

Your lip twitches as an idea forms in your mind. Taking your phone out of your boot (an extremely smart and safe place to hide it—if it fits—btw), you snap a picture of the champion, sending it to your chat.

—

MESSAGES: two. To > max verstappen.

you

one file attached.

just found your lookalike!

max verstappen

THATS ME! WhEere are yoU?!?!8@

you

how much have you had to drink? lol

max verstappen

not drunk .

just shvoing past poepel to get to you

where re uoy?????

you

by the bar

max verstappen

real helpful

you

im wearing black?

seen, now

—

You wait a couple of seconds for the grey bubble to appear. When you don't receive a response, you shrug, putting your phone back in its hiding spot. Your gaze focuses on Amara; she's biting her lip while holding two shots in each hand.

"I stole them!" is all she says.

Your jaw drops, and you giggle, accepting the tiny glasses. You yell cheers before chugging down both of them. Tequila. Nice.

You take a step back, eyes blinking away tears caused by the burn in your throat. You don't realise you've stepped into someone's toes until a shout almost bursts your eardrums.

"Jesus Christ!" You yell, covering the side of your head.

Turning around, you're faced with the one and only; Max Verstappen, holding on to the bar railing with a pained expression. Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" You can barely hear yourself.

He nods, throwing a smile your way. "Yeah, I'm good! It's nice to see you!" You're barely able to read his lips.

A pinch on your lower back startles you, and you turn around with a gasp. Amara's standing there, expectant, wide eyes moving from you to Verstappen.

"Oh, Max! This is my best friend, Amara!"

She smiles politely, shaking his offered hand. "Nice to meet you!" You wonder if she's close to passing out from internal fangirling.

His eyes return to you. "Hey, you wanna join my table?"

Shaking your head with a confused grimace, you shout. "I can't hear anything you're saying!"

"What?!"

"I can't hear any—"

It's futile to communicate this way, he decides. Max's slightly cold hands are suddenly pulling on your wrists, gently guiding you closer to him. Goosebumps take over your entire body, forearm burning as he moves his fingers to your elbow, keeping you steady, and he leans toward your ear.

"Wanna join me and my friends?" He feels your breath hitch and pulls back to meet your hesitant gaze.

"We don't want to bother you," you say once you pull him down.

Max shakes his head. "Nonsense! I won the race, and I want to celebrate with my friends."

He hears your breathy chuckle. "We're friends, now?"

"Unless you're some super crazy fangirl I should be worried about." The smile in his voice gives away his amusement. He's quoting his texts.

You pause for a second. Knowing Amara, she would agree immediately. You should have fun, you recall her words from earlier. And he seems like a lot of fun. Yeah. She's right.

"Let me ask 'mara." You point to your best friend, awkwardly standing by the bar.

He watches you talk in her ear, a smile forming on your best friend's lips before she eagerly nods. "You're coming?" He asks once you approach him as if he hadn't been staring at you already.

"Okay." As soon as you nod, Max's smile widens, eyes shining.

You nod, and he feels his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "C'mon," goosebumps raise on your exposed arms as Max grabs your hand. His hand is so soft. "I don't want you getting lost." The wink he throws your way only fuels the flush on your neck and cheeks.

It's definitely going to be a fun night.

The walk to the VIP section is extremely difficult, with Max getting recognised and patted on the back every few seconds. When you finally make it, you sigh in relief before Max pulls you both by the wrist to meet his friends. Be cool, you mouth to Amara who only nods, wide-eyed.

"Pierre and Kika, Charles and Alex, this is [Y/N] and Amara!" You're sure they can barely hear him over the loud music but wave at them anyway. Charles shares a look with Pierre, the latter unable to contain his smile.

Max leans down, his nose brushing your temple. "Wait just a moment. Lando's around here somewhere." Before you can say a word, he flashes you a smile and disappears into the crowd, leaving you gaping like a fish.

You have no time to recover when the pretty girls approach you. Alex introduces herself as Alexandra, but she doesn't mind going by Alex. Kika's name is Francisca, but she goes by Kika. It's nice to meet them, and you don't hesitate to tell them so.

"Shots?" Amara reappears with four shot glasses passing them to each of you. "Cheers!" You clink your glasses before downing them.

"Oh, are you doing shots without me?!" A new voice pops up from behind you. Amara's eyes widen momentarily, meeting yours in poorly contained excitement.

You turn, gaze landing on Lando Norris and then gluing on Max Verstappen. This lighting makes him look even hotter. Is it normal to be thinking that? Probably not.

He introduces you to the tipsy-looking Brit, who shakes your hands in return. Amara's pulled to the side by Kika, something about doing more shots, and Charles motions for Max to go over to him. Once you're alone with Lando, a smile breaks onto his face.

"He's said a lot about you!" Your brows furrow, confused.

"What? That I tend to get lost easily in big places?" You nervously laugh, but Lando just shakes his head.

"Somethin' like tha'!"

—

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—

You haven't had this much fun in a while. You and Amara usually go to two clubs as a duo, but you admit having more people to dance and do shots with is way more fun. You're usually the sober one, having a higher tolerance for alcohol than your best friend, and this time you're extra careful since you're in a foreign place.

At some point during your dance battle with Kika and Amara, you grow tired. As much as you liked exaggerating your moves, your boots were made for walking, not jumping. Max had been out of your vision for a while, and you decided to look for him. He wasn't hard to find, considering he was nursing a drink on a couch further away from the action.

"Hey!" You plop down, bumping your elbow with his.

Max grinned. "Hey, stranger. Are you having fun?"

You nod excitedly. "Your friends are really nice." He snorts at that. "No, really! Drive to Survive does justice to none of you!"

Max's eyes widen, mouth hanging in shock. "Your source of information is a Netflix show?"

"Hey! I had to start from somewhere. I knew next to nothing about racing."

Conversing with Max comes naturally. He's funny, and he listens to what you have to say. He asks about your job: a photographer for brands. He laughs when you tell him you prefer the make-up brands because they're easier to manage than people.

He explains racing to you in simple terms. You nod along, trying your best to take in the information. It's harder with all the music and dancing bodies, but you make it work. You've shuffled even closer to him as Max leans down to talk directly in your ear while his hands move animatedly in front of you.

At some point, the conversation shifts to cats. You're delighted to learn that he has not one, but two big babies. Jimmy and Sassy. Max is a very proud cat dad, you conclude, from the excitement that exudes from every pore of his body as he slides from picture to picture.

"Oh my goodness! They're so cute!" You try not to literally squeal as Max stumbles upon a picture of them napping on his chest.

"They sleep all day and ask for treats all night." You laugh as he rolls his eyes, probably recalling every time this has happened.

"Oh, I'd love to meet them one day. They look lovely!"

"Yeah, I could introduce you someday," he says, and you turn to look at him with a huge smile.

"I should bring my Cheddar when it happens."

"Cheddar?"

"My cat. He's a big fluffball." You reach for your phone, unlocking it to search for pictures of your orange cat.

"And you named him Cheddar? After the cheese?" He looks at you incredulously.

You giggle at his expression. "He's as orange as the cheese. It was my mom's idea to name him that."

You turn your phone his way, showing him a selfie of the fluffiest cat Max has ever seen on top of your shoulders. You're clearly giggling in it, a hand over your mouth. Cute, he thinks.

"He's adorable."

"And fat," you add.

Tapping a most recent picture, you show it to Max. Cheddar is on his back, his fat ass making him look like a pear. Your mom had sent you this just a day before.

"He's staying with my mom right now. And she's feeding him more than needed."

"We should arrange a playdate." You chuckle at Max's suggestion.

"Sure, if you fly out to England."

Before Max can respond, a very loud and drunk Brit makes his way to you. Lando grins when he spots you two sitting close, indiscreetly winking at Max. Your face feels warm.

"Do you guys wan' t' leave?" You barely make out his words.

Charles notices the three of you and pulls a dancing Alex with him, who pulls Amara with her. The three make their way to where you're seated.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Lando turns to him. "Are you hungry, mate?"

Charles shakes his head, leaning close to Alex to ask her the same. She also shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"I am!" Amara nudges Lando, and his eyes light up.

He turns to Max and you. "Me and my new friend," he pulls Amara by the shoulders, and she drunkenly stumbles, "are hungry. Will you take us somewhere to eat?"

You look at Max, who mirrors your smiling expression. Lando says something about Max promising to be his chauffeur if he got too drunk.

"I could eat," you shrug. Max nods, agreeing.

He stands up, looking at the drunk pair. "Okay, let's go."

—

views 68 / views 95

[ taglist @alexmarie29 , @angelfreckless, @algae-tm, @chonkybonky, @lovely-blackinnon, @namgification, @taygrls, @ssprayberrythings, @ilove-tswizzle, @leclercdream, @halleest, @yaesflorist, @liafterhours, @mrsbrxkkxr ]

[danosrosegarden]

*slides across the floor and strikes a pose with a rose in my mouth*

Ok hi it's meee! Idk if you take requests like this, but I had an idea that I think you could write FLAWLESSLY!

Ahem, I've written about Eddie boy being roomies with y/n before...but I wonder...

What if Edward is a huge creep and has this pervy crush on y/n as his roommate? Would he get jealous if they had friends over? Would he get angry if they went on dates? Oh dear, oh gosh, oh golly! What if he steals articles of their clothing for his own personal use?! Gee wilikers! What if he takes pictures of them when they are sleeping?! And what if he gets caught pleasuring himself to those pictures? *gasps dramatically* WHAT WOULD HAPPEN?!

(you dont have to write this if you don't want to i just thought I'd share this idea with a fellow Nashton lover <3)

if only - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (slight NSFW)

{contains: jealousy, creep behavior (laundry sniffing, taking secret pictures), and references to masturbation and sex.}

♡ Edward couldn't help that a swarm of bright, buzzing butterflies thumped loud and fast in the cage of his heart each time he laid eyes on you. It really wasn't his fault, it was yours.

♡ You were the perfect fill for his gnawing emptiness. You were shockingly beautiful and sharp as a knife and stupidly hilarious and the best roommate a Gothamite could possibly wish on a star for. He'd wait at the front door each time you went out, tail wagging like a needy puppy, pleading eyes filling with glossy tears. Come back soon, I miss you so much. He'd roll over and do tricks for you. He'd eat out of your hand and nuzzle against your neck, if you'd let him.

♡ For the first time in forever, Edward found himself talking to God again. More, he said. Give me more of them.

♡ You were the sparkling beam of hope in his life. The glittering ray of warm sunshine beaming down on the slushy, gray streets. But that was just the problem. Edward fed his heart that steady diet of unbridled obsession. He'd refresh your social medias like it was his job. He always hungered for more. He'd take measly scraps if it had the slightest trace of you in its aftertaste. He was utterly enamored, and you weren't.

♡ You were kind enough. You always helped with the dishes and never forget your share of the bills. You'd occasionally pick up snacks for him on your way home from work and you had no problem indulging in a movie night with him on the weekends. But you had warm, loving family. You had fun, exciting friends. Worst of all--the nightmare that ripped all the wings off the butterflies fluttering in Edward's heart--you got dates.

♡ He wondered, with a crackling storm of rage drenching him to the bone, if you did it on purpose. If you talked with your friends on the phone extra loud when you knew he was home about how lovely your date was, how handsome he is, how you just can't wait to see him again. For fuck's sake. Edward would buy all the colorful, sweet-smelling flower bouquets in the world, take you to all the expensive restaurants in Gotham. He'd blow those little maggots you saw out of the water. He'd sweep you off your feet and never let you go if only you'd let him.

♡ But he knows the depths of his spiraling infatuation, and he sure knows he'd much rather keep you as a friend than have you be scared of him. Just the thought of you finding the pictures he's secretly snapped of you makes his stomach churn. If you knew of the times he snuck into your room and rifled through your laundry basket to huff your clothes like they were candles, he'd probably jump into the sea with weights attached to his ankles. He was in a fucked up position. The passion he felt for you tingled in his blood and sprouted in his body stronger each day, but with each day you seemed to have another new story about your date, another text message from him to giggle and twirl your hair over, another party to go to. Edward mourned the life he could have if only he could be brave.

�� Maybe this was it. Maybe he was destined to be the freak stroking himself furiously alone in his bedroom to your lingering scent while you went out and probably got fucked with mediocracy by your stupid date. Maybe it was fate that he'd end up here, stuck whining and bucking his hips to the pictures he'd taken when you weren't looking. Pictures of you making breakfast. Pictures of you solving one of his crosswords. Pictures of you smiling at the TV. Pictures of you living.

♡ He wouldn't take his time with you. Edward would. He wouldn't notice and memorize each whimper, each sigh, each wince. Edward would. He couldn't care like Edward does. If their dedication could stand side by side, he wouldn't even be close to competition.

♡ What a different life he'd be living, if only he had a spine. Maybe someday. Maybe someday he'd get to hold your hand and kiss you until he was breathless. Maybe one day he'd get to snake-charm groans of pleasure out of your throat and bottle them up for himself. For now, he could dream. That was something, right?

[youremyheaven]

Decoding Venus: A Journey Through the Nakshatras

Cancer rashi is considered the most feminine yet all the naks in Cancer rashi are ruled by masculine planets except Ashlesha ruled by Mercury which is a "eunuch" planet.

Similarly, Venus is the most feminine planet but Venusian nakshatras embody true masculinity.

Sexual polarity is imp because men are drawn to women who may outwardly seem feminine and charming but who embody strength and are emotionally masculine. The same way, women are drawn to men who seem outwardly masculine but who are in tune with femininity inwardly; this is what manifests as gentleness, kindness, appreciation for the fine things etc

The opposite of Cancer/4h is Capricorn/10h, 3 nakshatras fall into Capricorn rashi, Uttarshada, Shravana & Dhanishta. But I'll explain their masculinity later.

Now here are some things to consider,

*all Venusian naks are Ugra nakshatras (known for being fierce and cruel)

*all Venusian naks are Manushya gana

*all Venusian naks belong to a fire sign rashi

*all Venusian naks are assigned the cosmic purpose of 'preservation' (in Hinduism, the 3 cosmic functions, creation/preservation/destruction are personified as the Trimurti and different naks are assigned different functions)

The first Venus nak is Bharani and it is the second nak overall. It is important to understand that the Venusian journey begins in Bharani.

Bharani's deity is Lord Yama, the God of Death. He delivers justice and embodies Kala or time. Bharani is symbolised by the Yoni (which means "vulva" in sanskrit) and the word Bharani itself means "to bear".

Birth and death may seem like polar opposites but there is an element of each in the other. To be born is to experience the death of passivity. To die is to experience the birth of the spirit in another form. Lord Yama is associated with divine punishment and dharma but it would be more accurate to say that Lord Yama metes out the treatment that is the result of our own actions. He rules over time, hence what we do in the present is what we will taste in the future as its consequences.

"Time takes the ugliness and horror out of death and turns it into beauty"- Dodie Smith (Bharani Sun)

In French, orgasm is referred to as "La petite mort" which translates to "little death" and it connotes the "brief loss or weakening of the consciousness". Sex and death have had close associations in many cultures.

Hanya Yanagihara's novel 'A Little Life' has the following book cover:

its a photograph by Peter Hujar and is called 'Orgasmic Man'. The author insisted on using this image for the novel's cover because of how its difficult to tell whether the man is in pain or pleasure. This ambiguity is a major theme in the book as well, that deals heavily with sex, trauma, abuse, addiction etc

Hanya Yanagihara has Bharani Moon with Purvaphalguni Mercury & Saturn

The book, you could say explores the dark side of Venus in some capacity. one reviewer described it as "There may never have been a cover that better captures the emotional heart of a story — that is to say the agony and the ecstasy of desire."

"It poses this question: How does one navigate desire when all pleasure to be discovered in the sexual act has been forever stripped away and turned into the stuff of nightmares, and yet the deep longing for love remains?" the conflict between lust and love is a theme that's explored in the works of many Venusian natives.

Ishtar is a Mesopotamian Goddess of love, fertility and war. Like many ancient deities, she was a dualistic deity, associated with life and death, making love and war as well as thunderstorms and food preservation. Ishtar was closely associated with Venus.

Ishtar, though responsible for all life is never considered a Mother goddess. She bore arms as the Goddess of War. She is a paradoxical Goddess figure with many contradictions; sex and violence, fecundity and death, beauty and terror, centrality and marginality, order and chaos. She occupies a liminal space and her influence spans every area of society, she governs all of civilization (think: the preservation aspect of all Venus nakshatras). She was even worshipped as the Goddess of transition between life and death due to her ability to come back from the underworld after she died.

She was widely worshipped in Mesopotamian society as an administrator of justice (see the parallels between Lord Yama and Goddess Ishtar?)

All of this gives us an idea about the highly complex nature of Venus. it amuses me when people think that Venus is some soft uwu nakshatra with bright colored aesthetics and cute lighting when the actual Venusian themes are of violence and war💀💀💀Venusian naks are hardcore af, let me just say that.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.” ― William Shakespeare (Bharani Sun)

Bharani is closely associated with birth and procreation, however its cosmic function is "preservation" and not creation. This is because with other naks assigned the cosmic function of creation (ex: Ashwini & Punarvasu) creation must manifest from nothing. It manifests itself on its own; you are the creator and the creation. It is a spiritual and metaphysical concept, so to speak.

But Bharani is not associated with that sort of cosmic creation where the universe manifests itself from nothing, instead its connected to the most primitive and primal of human acts; copulation and procreation. Its directly associated with sex and reproduction. And this is not something that can happen on its own. by nature, procreation necessitates the union of man and woman. its not a symbolic act or a metaphor, it requires two people to get down and dirty. Creation of this sort is necessary to "maintain" or "preserve" our species; it does not arise out of nothing; certain prerequisite conditions have to be met in order for it to take place. this is why Bharani's purpose is "preservation".

from the minute that one is born, we are all on a journey towards death. Lord Yama embodies time because the actions we perform in the present can only be revealed in their true nature with time, i.e, whatever we sow, we reap but this is something that takes time. everything in life can be said to come down to timing. be it lessons learnt or success achieved.

its important to keep in mind that Bharani's aim is Artha

There are 4 aims, namely and each nakshatra has a specific aim assigned to it.

Dharma: doing what you are supposed to do. Fulfilling your soul in daily activities Artha: generating income and wealth so you can provide shelter and food for your body. Kama: going after your desires. Moksha: liberating your soul.

Venus itself is a planet associated with wealth, luxury, abundance, beauty etc

The first Venusian nakshatra is associated with the material aspect of Venus which is creating income and thereby attaining security. If we look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs and correspond it to the 4 aims, we can say that Artha is at the foundational base and Moksha is at the very top with Kama & Dharma located in between the two.

It is very telling that while Venusian nakshatras are split among Artha, Kama & Moksha aims, there is no nakshatra assigned the aim of Dharma, which is doing one's duty. With Venus there is no duty, no obligation, no decree; whatever one does we do out of love, this is the essence of Venus energy.

Therefore Bharani concerns itself with the most basic of needs, which is creating security for itself. It occupies the sign of Aries, ruled by Mars and we can say Mars represents the 'soldier'; it is raw, primitive and only concerned with survival.

As we progress through the other Venus nakshatras, we see how the aims ascend on the hierarchy, finally reaching its peak with "Moksha" or liberation in the final Venusian nakshatra.

Bharani is concerned with the most raw, primal and primitive of acts and located in the very first fire sign of Aries, it is an outcaste nakshatra and is the ONLY venusian nakshatra that is outcaste which is in itself unusual because Venus is concerned with refinement, grace, elan and elegance but the fact that the Venusian journey begins in a nakshatra that is outcaste with the aim of Artha implies one deep cosmic truth; in order for an individual to truly embody Venus and understand the planet's energies, you must first begin at the very bottom and ascend to the top. in Bharani, represented by the womb, we see the aspect of a human being taking physical form and being born, they are not born to riches or pleasures but in the most dire of circumstances, and they must now create security for themselves before they can even think of pursuing pleasures of any kind.

All Venusian nakshatras perform the cosmic function of "preservation" or "maintenance".

this is because they are all Manushya gana nakshatras, and human nature is one that's primarily best suited for this cosmic function over the functions of Creation or Dissolution (for deva gana and rakshasa gana naks).

Creation itself is the feminine principle but "preservation" is inherently masculine. Destruction or dissolution is a different expression of the same feminine principle.

All Venusian nakshatras are also of Pitta (fire) nadi

In Ayurveda, people with pitta are said to usually have a muscular build, be very athletic, and serve as strong leaders. They're highly motivated, goal-oriented, and competitive. They are said to possess an aggressive and tenacious nature.

The second Venusian nakshatra is Purvaphalguni, presided by the deity Bhaga, God of Marital Bliss. Purvaphalguni is symbolised by the front legs of the bed or a swinging hammock, indicating relaxation and comfort.

while Bharani was concerned with birth and death, in Purvaphalguni the association is with the sexual act itself.

Purvaphalguni's aim is Kama (desire) and this nakshatra is associated with love, romance, wealth, luxury etc.

Bharani's yoni animal was the elephant, a large yoni animal signifies the immense sexual appetite of the native but also the capacity for a certain breadth of experiences👀 with Purvaphalguni, the yoni animal is a rat, which is widely considered to be the most sexual animal as it copulates and reproduces at an immense pace. It makes sense as to why Purvaphalguni is about sexual pleasures and bliss and not about the how or the why; its purely concerned with the process. These natives are freaky af and the most openly and unabashedly sexual of all.

“Beauty is desired in order that it may be befouled; not for its own sake, but for the joy brought by the certainty of profaning it.” ― Georges Bataille (Purvaphalguni Sun)

Purvaphalguni men love the idea of corrupting something that is innocent and pure and making it filthy.many of them perhaps have a virginity kink 👀💀

In addition to this, Purvaphalguni men and Venusian men in general tend to exhibit the "Madonna-Whore Complex"

Jesse James (Purvaphalguni Sun, Bharani Mars) was married to Sandra Bullock and was outed as a serial cheater.

Tiger Woods (Purvashada Sun, Ketu in Bharani) was exposed as a chronic cheater (he slept with over 120 women during the course of his marriage) and spent time in rehab for his sex addiction.

Elvis Presley (Purvashada Sun) met his wife Priscilla Presley when she was 14 and he was 24. He was hell-bent on "preserving her purity" and they had a very "chaste relationship" after she was married and had a baby however he did not want to have sex with her anymore because she was a mother.

In the 2002 movie Spider, Ralph Fiennes played a man who struggled with the Madonna-Whore complex. He has Mercury in Purvashada as his amatyakaraka.

the movie Vertigo (1958) has this complex forming a major plotline. it stars James Stewart (Ketu in Purvashada) and Kim Novak (Mars in Purvaphalguni atmakaraka and Ketu in Purvaphalguni) as the lead actors.

The novel Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man features a protagonist who suffers from this complex and its the primary plot of the novel as well. Its written by James Joyce who is Purvashada Rising.

Madonna (Purvaphalguni Moon) often toyed around with the Madonna-Whore complex early on in her career and even has a song called Like A Virgin, the lyrics go like this:

"Like a virgin Touched for the very first time Like a virgin When your heart beats next to mine

Gonna give you all my love, boy My fear is fading fast Been saving it all for you 'cause only love can last You're so fine and you're mine Make me strong, yeah you make me bold, oh, your love thawed out Yeah, your love thawed out what was scared and cold."

Since Purvaphalguni is symbolised by the marital bed, and the consummation of the marriage was always associated with "losing innocence and virginity" and how sexual experience is linked with "knowing" and maturing from child to adult.

Black Swan, starring Natalie Portman (Purvaphalguni Moon) and Mila Kunis (Purvaphalguni Mercury & Venus) is a sexually charged movie that explores this dichotomy very well. Nina is a good little girl whereas Lily is highly sexual and wild.

A major theme of this movie is merging these two opposing forces. For good girl Nina to embrace her dark, wild "Black Swan" side. (spoiler alert!!) obviously in this movie, Lily's character is said to be an extension of Nina and not a real person which drives home this point even further.

Losing innocence and corruption/being corrupted are major themes in Purvaphalguni nakshatra and this is not just sexual. An ordinary person losing all sense of morality and submitting to utter debauchery and depravation is a common trope found in the works of many Purvaphalguni natives.

Take the movie, Taxi Driver, for example, it was written by Paul Schrader who has Bharani Moon, Purvaphalguni Venus & Mars

This movie revolves around Travis (the titular Taxi Driver) who is experiencing an extreme existential crisis and is deeply troubled by the prostitution he witnesses around the city; he is unsettled by the moral bankruptness and urban decay around him. He sets out to rescue a child prostitute and the movie has major elements of sex and violence.

This movie is a good example of Bharani's restrained Venusian expression meeting with Purvaphalguni's excess.

Hardcore (1979) directed by Paul Schrader (honestly all of the movies he's written and directed are LOADED with Venusian tropes, themes and motifs) is about a father who goes looking for his daughter who went on a church trip to Cali and ended up working as a porn star.

Like I've mentioned before, the dichotomy between innocence and corruption, divine and human, Madonna and Whore are core themes in the works of these natives. Like Taxi Driver, the protagonist has to descend into hell in order to save the person who is lost. The contrast between "polite society" or the prim & proper "morally upright" side of society versus the depraved, sleazy, immoral underworld is depicted in a very stark and raw manner.

Antichrist (2009) directed by Lars Von Trier (Bharani Sun, Purvashada Moon) and starring Willem Dafoe (Purvaphalguni Moon, Purvashada Rising) is another movie that explores Venus at its most chaotic, unrefined and truthful. Its about a grieving couple who lost their son and go to a cabin in the woods to cope but of course, crazy shit starts happening and is rife with sadomasochistic elements.

Purvaphalguni is the height of Venus, located in the sign of Leo which is ruled by the Sun; here a native loses all sense of ego or pride and gives in completely to their pleasures and desires. Its a very hedonistic nakshatra. Given that its aim is Kama and is a Manushya gana nakshatra, it points to how a native is willing to do anything to attain what he desires; there is no sense of "right" or "wrong" here because Venus is a planet of indulgence.

In Bharani, presided by Lord Yama, the themes were strongly tied to karma, justice, time etc but this is the initiatory stage of Venus, where Venus acts with restraint. In Purvaphalguni, Venus is at its most expansive and wild. Bharani's yoni animal is an elephant; are elephants known for being very sexual? no. they are known for how they protect their herd and how nurturing they are of their young ones. Compare this to the rat (Purvphalguni's yoni animal). Rats have millions of kids and don't stick around to care for them particularly. Since they procreate at such a fast pace, it's every rat for himself. they are associated with filth and dirt.

Its very common for Purvaphalguni men to be involved in sadomasochistic sexual activities; in fact, two of the most famous writers to address these themes, Georges Bataille and Marquis de Sade both have Purvaphalguni Sun & Moon respectively.

“Life has always taken place in a tumult without apparent cohesion, but it only finds its grandeur and its reality in ecstasy and in ecstatic love.”― Georges Bataille (Purvaphalguni Sun)

"Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.”― Marquis de Sade(Purvaphalguni Moon with Ketu in Purvashada)

As such, many Purvaphalguni men have been involved in some type of sex scandal at least once in their career.

Nabokov who wrote Lolita had Purvaphalguni Moon and its a book about a old man who falls in love with a child. Like I said previously Purvaphalguni/Venusian men in general tend to have a virgin kink/a thing for innocence and corrupting someone and derive a sense of satisfaction from it.

in the 90s, Hugh Grant (Purvaphalguni Sun) was caught with a prostitute while he was in a long term relationship with Liz Hurley.

Freddie Mercury (Purvaphalguni Sun & Rising) was known for his wild and freaky love life, he openly spoke about his "enormous sex drive", he once celebrated his birthday with a 5 day orgy💀💀

Namjoon (Purvaphalguni Sun) received flak for recommending the book Almost Transparent Blue which featured graphic sexuality and violence including threesomes and rough sex. In his early career, he also received flak for his sexually suggestive songs like "Expensive Girl", "Trouble" and "Joke".

I don't want to go into this because I don't think there can be astrological evidence of someone being an abuser (i.e anyone could be any abuser regardless of their placements) but many Purvaphalguni men have had sexual harassment charges pressed against them.

“One must do violence to the object of one's desire; when it surrenders, the pleasure is greater.”― Marquis De Sade (Purvaphalguni Moon with Ketu in Purvashada)

This nak is the height of Venusian indulgence and as every peak is followed by a valley, Venus after ascending through the aims of Artha and Kama, now finds itself in the concluding Venus nakshatra of Purvashada. The aim of this nak is Moksha. When all else is satisfied, the only thing left to do is seek salvation.

Purvashada's yoni animal is a monkey and Purvashada belongs to the Brahmin caste. It is a Manushya gana nakshatra.

It is symbolised by “a fan/winnowing machine which separates grains from the husk”. It occupies the sign of Sagittarius and thus its sign lord is Jupiter.

The deity of Purvashada is 'Apah', Goddess of Water/Ocean.

In the final Venus nakshatra, the themes of refinement and purification are at their height. There is a relentless desire for expansion and the combined energies of Jupiter & Venus together can make a native simultaneously expansive but still constricted at the same time. Purification is a major theme in this nak. Bharani was concerned with birth and creation, Purvaphalguni with the sexual act in itself but in Purvashada, the Venusian focus shifts beyond either of the two.

Although Magha is most commonly associated with the "Goth" aesthetic, I would say even Purvashada natives have a tendency to lean towards a darker, macabre aesthetic.

Ozzy Osbourne (Purvashada Moon) was lead vocalist of the heavy metal band Black Sabbath and called himself "Prince of Darkness".

Johnny Depp (Purvashada Moon) stars as Edward Scissorhands in the movie of the same name. The movie revolves around an artificial humanoid creature who tries and fails to adjust to normal society despite the efforts of those around him. He falls in love with a woman he cannot be with. This is a common trope in the works of many Purvashada natives.

Lars & the Real Girl (2007) stars Ryan Gosling (Purvashada Moon) as a socially awkward man who begins to have a relationship with a lifelike doll believing her to be real. His family tries really hard to help him and ultimately (in a very Purvashada esque ending; because of Purvashada's connection to water) he believes that the doll is dying and mourns for her while submerged in water.

Charles Addams who created The Addams Family had Purvashada Sun (he was also Magha Moon), Morticia Addams was played by Carolyn Jones who was Bharani Sun & Moon, in the 90s adaptations she was played by Anjelica Huston who had Purvaphalguni Moon & Ketu

in the movie City of Angels starring Nicholas Cage (Purvashada Sun) the theme of a human and non-human being uniting is once again repeated, this time, Cage plays an angel who falls in love with a mortal woman. (spoiler alert!!) the movie ends with Cage choosing to be a mortal but his human lover passing away tragically. In true blue Purvashada fashion, the movie ends with Cage near the ocean, accepting his grief and new life as a mortal being.

in Francois Truffaut (Purvashada Rising) Jules et Jim, we see the tale of two men who both love the same woman, Catherine. The story repeats the same trope of how neither man gets to truly be with her (true union being impossible is a common Purvashada trope) and the movie ends with her driving Jim and herself into a river while Jules watches on. (death in the water or mourning someone in the water etc seems to be a common motif in the works of these natives)

“Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself; the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another soul.”― James Joyce (Purvashada Rising)

“The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.”― Ernest Hemingway (Purvashada Moon, Purvaphalguni Rising)

Hemingway's most famous work is titled The Old Man & the Sea and its set almost entirely on the water/the beach.

Christina Ricci who is best known for playing several dark edgy characters is a Purvashada Moon (she's also Magha rising)

I've also noticed that certain Purvashada natives have associations with Satanism 💀💀 or star in films that feature violent, gorey rituals etc

Rosemary's Baby stars Mia Farrow (Purvashada Moon) and Satanism is a major part of the movie's plot 💀

Zeena Schrek (Purvashada Moon) is the daughter of the founder of the Church of Satan and was the first baby to undergo a Satanic baptism. She's probably best known for conspiracy theories stating Taylor Swift is her clone lmao 💀😭

While Jennifer's Body's main story can be considered an Ashlesha themed one, there are significant allusions to the occult, virgin sacrifice and demonic possession which makes me believe it can be attributed to Megan Fox's Purvashada Rising

in the movie Satanic Panic (2019), Rebecca Romijin (Purvashada Rising) stars as the leader of a satanic cult.

Jane Levy (Purvashada Sun) starred as the protagonist in the 2013 film Evil Dead that features a lot of demons and demonic possession.

Nina Dobrev (Purvashada Sun) is best known for playing Elena on the show The Vampire Diaries. while i know demons and vampires are not the same, you've got to admit they share a lot of similarities xD

Dakota Johnson (Purvashada Rising) stars in Suspiria which is about a young woman who accidentally finds herself in a cult/witches' coven.

Some very well known people who could be called evil personified are also Purvashada natives, such as Hitler and Harvey Weinstein (Purvashada Moon)

Purvashada natives love to play the devil's advocate, the quality we most associate with a monkey (this nak's Yoni animal) is its playfulness. Purvashada natives do things simply for the heck of it/thrill of it. There is no sense of purpose or direction to which their Venusian qualities are directed. Thus it represents the dark side of Venus. When all other desires are fulfilled and the only thing left is to seek Moksha, the nakshatra tends to exhibit the Trickster archetype.

the 2002 movie May, stars Angela Bettis (Purvashada stellium; sun, mercury, jupiter and rahu) and depicts the cruel and sinister side of Venus very well (trigger warning; this movie is VERY gore-y), its about a woman who ritually murders several people who she did not feel loved by (to put it simply).

While Bharani being the initiatory Venus nak is Venus at its most ethical, all sense of "right and wrong" evaporates into thin air as the Venusian journey progresses. In Purvaphalguni, this manifests as a desire for sex itself but in Purvashada, the native is dissatisfied with mere bodily union, it seeks something bigger. This theme of union being impossible/not satisfying can be seen in the works of many Purvashada natives. The desire to delve into the occult arises out of a desire to transcend ordinariness, find something that addresses the darkness and uncover the truth within it.

The Venusian journey passes through the sign lords of Mars, Sun & Jupiter; beginning as a soldier, working out of a sense of duty, reaching its height in the individualistic Sun, seeking pleasure merely for one's own sake and finally concluding itself in the expansive Jupiter where things get unusual. Venus is a complicated planet full of contradictions and combining its energy with that of Jupiter which expands beyond control means the darkness of Venus makes itself seen in ways we don't quite see in the same way in the other naks.

The tattvas of these naks are earth, water and air respectively. It originates in a very grounded fashion, full of practical concerns, then dissolves itself entirely in the formless water before becoming the element that's hardest to narrow down; air.

Bharani with Aries, Purvaphalguni with Leo and Purvashada with Sagittarius and all these signs are traditionally perceived as masculine and the Fire element in general is understood as masculine. The opposite of fire is water, which is feminine (water being related to the Moon, which is a yin planet) whereas fire is related to the Sun which is a yang planet.

it is the combination of masculine with feminine that heightens the effect of the other. a highly masculine man or a highly feminine woman have integrated the opposite energy within them fully; they are internally almost androgynous . they dont lack the influence of the other

in Bharani, we have the womb and creation, in Purvaphalguni we have the bed, in Purvashada, we have the winnowing basket, separating the husk from the grain, depicting the different functions of Venus; as source, hedon, and order.

[prospectivereality]

Burning desire | SV5

your complex relationship with Sebastian, your co-worker, reaches its climax during that one infamous night in cold Milan. Is it better speak or to die? Well, when you are both jealous stubborn maybe the way is to show

words: 4.9k, warnings: slight mentions of alcohol overuse, minor angst, mature (!) sexual content

Milan, late winter of 2019

Your breath hitched in your chest. You would have been lying if you said you weren't anxious. It seemed like just another day at work, but you felt like something was eventually going to happen. How could it? After all, it was just another season and just another gala di apertura with guests, sponsors and staff. It happened every year and you were part of it. Yet, you couldn't identify the reason why you felt different in that case.

The taxi driver just said you had arrived. Looking out the window, you checked out the surroundings where the event occurred. The tall, chic and historic building with luminous lights on the walls looked welcoming. It contrasted the city itself, full of graffiti, crumbling townhouses and streets. Such gems hidden in this city were not uncommon, and you allowed yourself a few seconds of silent praise for the Ferrari’s choice before leaving the car and paying.

A long, silky red gown hit the carpet, which was prepared for the guests, as you took your first step. Goosebumps immediately showed on your skin the moment the chilly wind enveloped your whole body. Your entire back was exposed in that dress, you could have been prepared and taken a jacket. For the sake of a ”flawless look,” you had resigned. After slightly fixing the dress by hand, you headed towards the door passing the assistants in suits waiting outside with a faint smile.

This was the time to put your charm on.

The inside was already boiling. The excited bustle and warm laughter filled the spacious red-decorated hall. Dimmed lights added intimacy and elegance to the décor, while an orchestra hidden somewhere in the corners played Italian classical music. Ferrari events were, well, to say at least pleasant in terms of the atmosphere and venues. They always had an Italian touch framed by timeless elegance. Sometimes you even regretted being here because you worked there. Those nights would have been so much easier as the wife of a millionaire posing for photographs by his side.

You began to pass shy but elegant smiles to every single guest who locked their eyes on you. With the long dress and perfectly styled hair, you could simply blend into the sea of guests. A person who did not work with you every day would not be able to distinguish you from a worker or potential investor. Some men seemed to keep their gaze on you for a little too long time to be considered appropriate, which you found amusing. However, unveiling the whole truth and speaking frankly - you were bored. You were extremely bored with those events and you have discovered in recent months a rather risky but effective way for passing the time. Little innocent talks with gentlemen. They were always pleasing and showering compliments. You heard a lot of stories about their miserable love life, cheating wives or unfaithful girlfriends. To some extent, you had a lot of fun listening to their monologues but part of you was telling you ”they think that you can be a perfect replacement and distraction”.

But now, you headed your steps to the waiter holding the champagne tray and took one glass, just to create an aura of warmer appearance. In darker corners of the room, you always drank with lustful sips this light liquid and swapped glasses with waiters in a discreet way. You couldn’t let yourself to be actually seen drinking champagne by your boss. However, it was encouraged to just hold it in order to make the whole event more social and less resembling a big sponsorship hunt. It soon turned out that coping with all your evening positives or nightmares was impossible for you without getting intoxicated. This made you start to suspect that someone must know your little secret, and you honestly didn't know which of your two secrets would be more awful if they went out.

You barely had time to notice that some gentleman in the near distance of two meters seemed to approach you. Smiles that you were giving out to other guests in the recent minutes were apparently encouraging him to do so. Trying to remain your mask and give him as natural appearance as possible you moved your gaze at him and welcomed by passing your hand and offering your name.

”Is my pleasure to meet you. My name is Niccolo” the man bowed slightly with respect and squeezed your hand with grace. A soft smile danced on his lips. In his words, you couldn’t sense a single note of an Italian accent in his perfect English.

He looked rather old money in his dark grey suit and perfectly plain shirt. Some expensive watch shined on his wrist and a tiny gold brooch sparkled on his suit. You quickly noticed how his sharp jaw and nose enveloped his face giving a masculine appearance. His sparkly dark eyes were looking at you quite empathetically. It was not difficult to observe that his dark bushy hair was also arranged impeccably. He was probably in his late 20s. You would be lying if you said he didn't look handsome. Elegance was beaming from him and he was undoubtedly a resemblance of every woman’s dream.

”I bet you are representing ferrari tonight? Looking at your dress” he said halfway letting out a soft chuckle.

You laughed politely at his notice.

”Actually I am. Does my covered inspection of guests give everything out?”

”Mh.. I would rather say it was the way you move around the place. With confidence and grace. Seems like you are in your element”

His words were genuinely astonishing to you. But you knew you couldn’t fall for intelligent banter.

”If I may ask to get to know about you a little more. Are the finances or something else close to your profession at ferrari?” He asked locking dark eyes on you and taking a sip of champagne.

”None of it. I don’t actually know why they insisted me on going here. I work for scuderia ferrari”

”Woman in motorsport? That is very impressive to see” He admitted

Throughout the conversation, he seemed highly professional and did not seem to ask you about any details. You were in a way surprised by the respect he paid to you by showing how equal he treated you.

It was still the bare minimum.

”I would love to learn something about you too,” you said pretending to be truly interested in conversation ”What is your purpose for tonight?”

He changed his look to a more serious yet excited one, looking as if he had been waiting for such a question.

”My family company has been working closely with ferrari for the past few months in terms of marketing. We are delighted to have this manufacturer as our client. We know that Italians see the Ferrari as the sacred thing for their culture”

”You are not Italian?” you said with a confused mimic on your face before you had time to think about it.

”Well, technically I am” he laughed seeming amused by your reaction ”but we are based in Geneva, Switzerland. It is our hometown”

”Oh I see now” you said passing a bland smile.

Another rich man who will try to make you fall in love with his money and prestige

”You really intrigued me” he said suddenly looking straight in your eyes ”I love dropping by Monaco in May to see the formula races, but I still haven’t had any opportunity to speak with someone who works in that industry. Could you tell me more about it?”

”Well” you started ”It is rough. Much more different than fancy galas and special events. It’s loud, it is chaotic and emotional. You have to think and act fast, especially if you sit in a garage like me. I am an engineer” you said faking a smile.

”I thought I couldn’t be more mesmerised by a woman tonight. I am looking up at you” he sightly laughed with astonishment and disbelief.

You sensed that someone was observing your conversation. That was when you saw him. Looking to your right at a distance of a few meters and observing you carefully with discreet, light-shot diamonds from his eyes. Without shame, he looked intently at the two of you while sipping champagne, one hand held in his pocket.

He looked annoyed, like a little brat that was taken away from his favourite toy. You know him, he acts like this when he doesn’t get what he wants. There was a slight assumption in your mind earlier that he would also be here tonight. Why wouldn't he be? He was the Ferrari star that they like to show off to sponsors.

You looked again at Niccolo and tried to act normal as the cold, unpleasant shiver ran down your back. It wasn’t caused by fear, it was anger.

”Are you alright?” your speaker turned to you snapping you out of trans.

”Yes, everything is fine” you said trying to sound convincing and passing a bland smile.

You knew that he was still looking at you.

_

You did not have to wait long till he found you and caught you near the tables with fancy appetisers. The place was much more intimate and discreet than the rest of the ballroom, allowing you to catch your breath and take a break from the business small talk. But even solitude accompanied by a single potted palm couldn’t save you from Sebastian. After catching him approaching, you averted your gaze immediately.

You didn’t have to look at him to be sure who was standing next to you. His presence, smell and movements suddenly appeared similar to you, even natural. For several seconds, he did not speak until he faced you fully and shamelessly while you were still pretending to be curious about the appetisers.

”Hmh” the unnatural sound left his throat. He seemed tensed.

You continued to ignore him by putting perfectly sliced smoked salmon with celery crunch on your plate.

”Good to see you’’ he said with more conviction in his voice slightly raising his head up.

It was becoming hardly possible to ignore him anymore. You allowed yourself to shed the last remnants of your pride and face him. A familiar sight of black steed on his chest first caught your eye, but this time it was falling up and down along with his white shirt underneath rather quickly with each of his breath. The black suit looked flawless, but he still had trouble finding the right length of pants.

”Surprised you decided to talk with me”

”Why wouldn’t I?”

”You are no longer worried about your boss's opinion now? A very important gala for the brand and here you are chatting with your engineer. Maybe he is annoyed with you at this very moment because you are more needed next to some Italian billionaire"

”You like to be bitter shatz, do you? What is wrong with talking about work in work? Don’t you think I have different intentions”

”Hm, honestly I stopped after some time when you limited your words towards me to some quick analyses after the sessions” you could see how Sebastian already opened his mouth to say something in his defence but you continued ”but now I think you just wanted me to stop talking to that man”

”Honestly, I couldn’t care less” he said full of himself, but you knew that his words were far away from being honest.

A silent treatment was given to him by you. He never was a good liar and his pride and stubbornness never made it better. You watched as he reached for one of the appetisers in front of you. This movement forced him to take his eyes off you, which he did rather willingly, and get a little closer to your left to be able to grab food.

”What did you want to discuss Herr Vettel?” After some time you went on with irony in your voice ”some problems in the sim? Or questions about new regulations-”

”What was his name?” He interrupted you and gave no interest in what you have been saying. His tone was firm yet definitely not jealous. Casually and still not looking at you, he took another bite of his appetiser. Watching how his lips sank into the food you blinked astonished. He is the only person who could deny the accusation a few moments earlier just to confirm later the obvious.

Before deciding to answer his question you took a glass of champagne that lucky was nearby.

”Niccolo? I guess. Some wealthy old money from Geneva”

”Sounds like most of them” he said looking amused ”Young, good-looking and prosperous. Did you give him your contact already?”

Sebastian was behaving mean and viciously. He knew he was stepping on thin ice and regretted the words that hung in the air.

”What kind of a woman do you take me for?” you huffed, visibly disappointed with his behaviour.

The moment of realisation hit him when the content expression was fading from his face. He genuinely looked concerned suddenly, almost scared. A lump in his throat appeared in a matter of seconds while he swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple visibly popping off.

”The wisest one, shatz” he tries saving his position like a soldier on the front losing an inevitable war. ”Don’t mind what I sa-”

”If you think you are able to sweet me up with your silly words you are mistaken Vettel” you say sharply looking straight into his eyes ”I am not a goddamn FIA”

Normally Sebastian would share a chuckle at your words but he wasn’t able to take such a risk at the moment. He just stood there with an empty mind and lack of words on his tongue, but at the very moment when you turned around and made your way towards the lavish parquet he stormed after you, your name leaving his lips in a rather jittery tone.

”Hey! Stop” his voice reaches your ears to your great dismay. You attempted to gracefully escape from him and hole up in a crowd. Dozens of lavish guests and scrumptious businessmen had become a jungle in which you tried to escape from your predator.

You were so close, that you thought you almost got it when you felt his warm hand grabbing your shoulder. Reluctantly you turned around trying to behave normally somehow. In the crowd next to all your coworkers, there was never any room for error.

”Talk to me” says Sebastian softly, his tone and mimic visibly different than from minutes ago. He took off his mask and was honestly asking you for this privilege. His hand still hasn’t left your shoulder, probably forgetting where you were or simply doing it by habit.

”Not here, Sebas-” you started sounding defeated.

”Come on” without hesitation he adjusted his grip this time grabbing your hand and directing the both of you somewhere. He didn’t care if someone saw you so he led you towards the corridors, passed bathrooms and finally reached one of the backrooms.

To his delight the doors were open and the sight of a private lodge appeared before your eyes. Sebastian was fast closing them behind and sighting deeply, standing his back to you.

”Well, what a scene” you huffed ”I thought that one in Hungary would be the last one”. The tension of the situation wasn’t in your favour which forced you to practice mockery as a coping mechanism.

”Listen,” he said his accent getting thicker ”This doesn’t work”

”Sorry?” you said bewildered frowning your brows.

German turned around slowly now facing you but still having trouble with maintaining eye contact.

”This dynamics or whatever it is”

You could feel how anger bubbled inside of you and the colour of your cheeks started to match the one of your dress.

”Yes! Because what have you been thinking while you don’t dare speak a word to me? As you play push and pull game with me around the paddock and live in the delusion of whatever is going on!” you raised your voice taking a step closer to him.

”Sorry, but I don’t quite understand what should I do? What do you expect from me? Just to pretend everything is fine and continue this?” He started to step away from his calm stance seeing your reaction.

”See? You are running from responsibility, and consequences. You act like everything is amazing and then you completely ignore me the next day, I see you in that garage and you just stare as if you see a ghost. That’s fucking heartbreaking”

Your voice sounds for a second like it is close to cracking. Sebastian is standing before you, looking at the floor as he is debating internally. You decide to say something more, something that was deep in your thoughts for a longer time.

”Why are you just so cruel and do this to me and then leave me? I don’t understand you. You leave me every time. Every time after you begged me to stay, after kissing me, making love to me. You are not decided. Why do you do this shit and then I see you flirting with other women?”

You feel burning in your eyes and you swear internally at yourself because the last thing you ever wanted to do is to show him that you care that much.

”You need to understand” Sebastian says quietly knowing that his heart is fighting with his mind. The words he is saying are unnaturally formulating on his lips, and he is feeling the weird taste of the lie he will hate afterwards. ”You are just my engineer. Nothing more”

An uncomfortable spike in your chest appears unwillingly but you don’t want to believe his words. You know he lost this war. He can be untruthful with himself but you know him too well now to not know what is the reality.

”It is not true,” you say taking the risk. He is now fully looking at you ”You are scared.”

Sebastian felt like he was sinking. His knees never felt tonight weak but suddenly, someone, made them unstable. The sound of fears spoken aloud happens to be the worst wake-up call. He swallowed hard taking a step closer to you and a weird sensation of madness appeared in his body. It was so strong that he couldn’t compare it to anything that made him angry about you earlier. It wasn’t near to that stupid argument over the strategy or the time you first time drunkenly made out at the celebration party.

”Honestly, I can’t bear you,” he said staring into your soul. He wasn’t lying, you knew he spoke the truth once you noticed his dark gaze. ”I can’t stand being in the same room with you, hearing as you speak. You cursed me.”

”Sebastian” left your lips more as a warning than a plea.

”You consumed me so much, that I had to do that. Don’t you understand? You messed up my head, you ruined me in a way nobody will fix.”

Your chest was falling up and down quickly. Suddenly, it became even harder to breathe than speak. ”Could you..” You started but his eyes were almost eating you and your bodies involuntarily got closer speaking for your thoughts. Choosing to listen to your own selfish needs that appeared in your body like an uncomfortable itch you closed the gap as your lips smashed on his. He was tensed, but as soon as it happened he started to attack your lips mercilessly. There was a lack of gentleness in his action; he was starved as you of tasting each other. Slowly taking in more air between kisses you sweetly moaned.

Sebastian grabbed your arms hardly pushing you against the marble counter standing nearly. He pressed his bodyweight into yours, gaining some stability and power in the position and shamelessly grabbed your breast, sensually yet firmly caressing it. Drowned in desire you bit his down lip hardly and felt how the man parted his lips and groaned. He always looked so beautiful as he did it. You could swear to death that nothing ever made you more full of yourself than hearing his pleasure. Soon enough you felt the taste of his blood on your teeth.

”Up for me” German said touching your thighs now.

He didn’t have to ask you twice. You willingly sat on the marble, feeling its coldness through the thin satin of your dress. He continued to kiss you, now more slowly moving his interest over the chin and neck. You threw your head back slightly hitting the mirror that was on the wall behind it. The guilt washed you weirdly mixed with overwhelming pleasure and desire. Closing your eyes you imaged how his dumb full lips would feel on your breasts. Your hands got lost in his blonde curls pulling them rather painfully.

His firm and soft palms rolled your dress up as your legs parted to make just enough space for him, you needed him closer. You felt how his interest was moved to your neck and to the forgotten necklace you wore for the night. Unexpectedly the end of his fangs grabbed it and dug into the gold harshly.

”I will buy you the one with ”S” on it,” he said under his nose more to himself than you. He was being possessive now, which normally would annoy you but now you were too lust-drunk.

His hands moved smoothly to your open back not breaking the kiss. Goosebumps welcomed you as you experienced skin-to-skin contact, Sebastian was quick to take off your spaghetti-thin straps and the satin fell exposing your breasts. Seeming very occupied with worshipping your neck he only touched them and twisted your nipple earning a high whimper from your mouth.

”That’s my girl.” he murmured against your skin.

But he was tempted for more as he a few seconds later moved his pinky lips to envelope one of your now painfully hard nipples. You let out a moan that was louder than once before, welcoming him and tugging his curls even firmer. He was the only one who could bring heaven and hell for you, purity and sin, unconsciously linking your souls through invisible string.

His soft and very much adored hands were on your hips as he kissed your sternum moving down. It felt like torture that could make you blush easily, all this intimacy was sky-rocketing with each of his movements.

”Seb” you whispered not knowing exactly what you wanted to say.

He returned to your lips, kissing them hungrily. You felt a spark of energy and decided to put your hands to use. They landed on his shoulders taking off the jacket and loosing up a tie in blind movements. He quickly got your idea and added his pair of hands to help you. Soon his shirt was loose, with a few undone top buttons.

You tried desperately to bring him even closer and place sweet kisses on his lips again. Moving them down you peppered with kisses properly his jaw until you reached his neck. Feeling all dominant all of sudden you sucked his skin, biting gently. A shaky groan left his throat as you let out his skin with a wet pop. Your masterpiece was done - red marking showing that Vettel is not such available as it may appear to women.

He took a few seconds to look at you. His eyes were now in deep ocean blue mirroring your body impatiently. His movements were yet controlled, and his hands again found their way on your thighs but you felt like he was winning at this game.

”Sebastian, could you just fuck me” a whine left your lips. You were done.

Normally if he was cruel, he would just chuckle and mock how needy you are for him. He would show his infamous half-smile and take pleasure in it. But he was far from fucking it up this time, again. He wanted it to be serious, he wanted it to be the time.

That was a moment Sebastian Vettel promised himself to ruin all men for you.

”Schatz” he said lowly, kissing your face again ”Schatz, Schatz, Schatz. Anytime”

He didn’t hesitate unbuckling his belt and to get his semi-hard manhood on display. He gave it a few strokes and looked for the condom, he knew he had somewhere in his pocket. You didn’t give a second thought why he came to the gala with protection, trying to push out any feelings of uncomfortable jealousy it could give, you wanted him too much to worry about it now.

Positioning himself you moved a bit on a counter, and soon with a feeling of him being inside you both gasped. He started to move putting his hands on your hips as your legs enveloped his waist.

You would lie if the feeling of him wasn’t addictive. It was too addictive. It shuttered your world to pieces and made it an eden at the same time, leaving you longing, wishing that he could be more than just an undefined sex partner. The labels have never been put on, and this to much of your dismay itch you a bit.

Oh but you know it wasn’t just sex. Oh, it wasn’t

Sebastian was more and more confident and adjusted to your walls as he began to thrust deeper, faster. It was purely erotic as he was able to create sweet moans coming from your mouth. He got closer kissing you shortly before placing his head near your shoulder and erratically breathing right in your ear.

It felt too intimate, but you didn’t care. You also didn’t care as the furniture gave a little sound with your movements. You didn’t care about the probability of half of Ferrari looking for you right now at the ballroom. You only heard husky ”I missed that”, ”you take me so well” and ”show me how much I do you right shatz” praised right next to your ear.

It was getting sloppy. Your skin and clothing started to get sticky to each other, your breathing pattern was irregular and you weren’t so quiet anymore. Sebastian's movements were more and more firm now, taking you right, fuc- making love to you properly.

”Schatz. fuck. You are- ” you really wanted to listen to him but your head was feeling dizzy. ”You are mine. Never fucking again I will leave you”

”Oh, Seb” You started to cry, You weren’t sure if it were emotions anymore, pleasure or just the sense of relief.

Sensing you were close to German placed his thumb on your clit rubbing it in a circular motion.

”For me? Come for me pretty” he begged trying to kiss you but missing greatly due to his fast thrusts.

The orgasm hit you shortly causing your back to arch and again banging your head by the mirror. Warm pleasure taking over the control of your body felt better than you last remembered. Him being with you, doing this to you was your sweetest curse.

His movements got more irregular and soon he groaned lowly spending himself and kissing you again hotly. The image of his closed eyes and open mouth was undoubtedly an underrated artwork you could admire the whole day, and do everything to see it again and again. You both were going back from your high, catching your breath.

You wish it was simpler, you wish you weren’t coworkers. You wish he could see you the same way and don’t break your heart by confusing you.

”Seb?” you whispered gaining his all attention and eyes on you.

He didn’t say a word just stared patiently at your flushed and wet cheeks.

”I shouldn’t be wanting you”

”Why?” He asked confused frowning his brows, which quite didn’t match his blue angelic eyes.

”If we weren’t in such dynamics it would be easier. I just- it is wrong. It makes me feel bad and guilty” you confessed ”and so tired and confused fighting with you.”

Resisting too.

He hesitated for a moment, his hands gently stroked your back.

”If you think of the reaction of others, well I would lie if I said we should fuck them. But remember, it is about you. You make decisions about your own life. You cannot just live and be people pleaser all the time. You believe you are doing something wrong because someone told you it must be, we cannot choose what we like, can we?”

”Or we love,” you said without thinking.

Sebastian looked at you with visible terror in his eyes. It was not supposed ever to leave your lips.

”Don’t play with me” he said quietly resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes.

You kissed him and stroked his hair gently. It was in mess now, the strands of hair falling on the warm forehead were wet from sweat.

”Please, you can- may, continue, Sebastian”

”I think” he started with a puzzled expression ”that we just fucked a couple of minutes ago”

”Again, please” you looked at him sadly ”I don’t want to leave, go back to those people. I want to stay with you”

Stay with you for eternity. I missed the feeling of being in your arms,

I wish I could never leave them.

You thought but you had enough sanity not to say.

[bonefall]

(dif anon) So is Ashfur grooming Shadowsight a plotline you would keep/rework in BB? I'm not so keen on the way canon used it to retcon his epilepsy, but I do think a plotline examining how clerics can be vulnerable to abuse from StarClan spirits is kinda compelling

Shadowsight's epilepsy is staying in BB, the Erins can try and take it away again over my dead body

Yes, that's staying and BB!StarClan was reworked with unfairness in mind.

This time around, I'm considering the idea that Ashfur didn't work completely alone. After the events of Squirrelflight’s Horror, Silverpelt's divisons are starting to crackle the stars.

Skystar and the other more traditional spirits are losing patience with the peace that Fire Alone brings, and the ways that the code has been bent.

They feel that honor is being lost in their descendants.

Even angels disrespect the collective; see how Skypelt has its own heaven? With a demon in its midst? There is blasphemy even in the skies.

Firestar and the more modern pantheon are ferociously defensive of the choices of the living. StarClan exists for them; not the other way around.

Meanwhile, Mousefur has gone missing. Others start to blink out, too. This is causing panic... and Ashfur keeps it quiet that he's the only one who knows where they've gone.

The angels that plan action probably were a small group to begin with, radical spirits. Skystar and Ashfur are two of them, and Ash is the "youngest." So when he comes down to the mortal plane and betrays them, very few other angels knew what had happened.

(I might even have a few angels be doing the various supernatural things in that first book, but slowly, Ashfur is wittling down their numbers until it's just him.)

I'm still working out specifics, but the other angels that Ashfur has consumed are giving him a massive power boost. He can use this to jump between planes freely, and he's able to do some whacky things like weave dreams and pull nightmares out of the Dark Forest.

The most important unique power he has, which he can do ALL on his own once he's absorbed enough starpower, is blast Shadowpaw with a bolt of lightning. The electric current runs through Shadowpaw's brand new scar, giving him a connection to StarClan like he's a little radio tower.

Thing is... when StarClan is blocked off, the only signal he receives is Ashfur's.

So, Shadowpaw.

From the time he was very young, Shadowkit has had an unhealthy relationship to life and death

He watched a lot of cats die before he was old enough to really understand it, and the only one who came back was Heartstar.

His epilepsy was so severe it would have been terminal. He was prepared to die as a kit.

Tawnypelt took him to the Tribe to learn more about treatments, bringing back a method of refining chamomile to manage the convulsions.

When people come back from death, it was to serve "a purpose."

He feels like he needs to be special, like he needs to find the great meaning in his life. The reason why he's still here.

In BB, there can be guardian angels. Cats you knew in life who decide to watch out for you in the afterlife. Moleflight is Jayfeather's, Shrewface is Squirrelflight’s. Ashfur poses as Shadowpaw's.

THAT is how I plan to address my criticism. Ashfur DOES build a very personal, trusting relationship with Shadowpaw, pretending to be the one who's here to give him the destiny he craves. Pretending like he's someone looking out for him.

I actually LIKE how desperate the situation was in-canon and I want to stress how none of this was Shadow's fault, so I also plan to keep that they had very little choice. Shadowpaw trusts his angel completely, and Ashfur coaches him on saying all the right things.

The older Clerics are suspicious, but... what else can they do?

Also, instead of framing this all as something Shadowpaw needs to "atone" for, I'm going to make certain cats unfairly scapegoat him for bringing the Impostor into the forest. Shadowpaw himself agrees with them, blaming himself, but he has to learn it wasn't his fault.

He DIDN'T let anyone down by failing to live up to great expectations, and there's no way he could have known that Ashfur was using him. This never happened before, he always made the choice he thought was right and tried to make up for harm done, and he's not responsible for what his abuser made him do.

I actually want to have him figure out some of this by talking to DF demons, towards the end. Cats faaaar more responsible for what they did in life than him.

Ravenwing in particular, who was also mislead by a rogue StarClan spirit, but... ultimately decided that if StarClan was right in their judgement.

He was told (by Birchface, but he still doesn't know who it was in particular) to make three kittens unsafe by revealing their parentage. His choice killed three innocent children, and lead to the Queen’s Rights.

And StarClan was furious that he'd ever believe they'd want something so CRUEL.

And even if they DID want something so cruel... "Then they wouldn't have been ancestors worth following. And that's why I believe it's right that I'm here."

As a Cleric, he had authority on their behalf. And if they would misuse it through him, he wishes he could have just given it right back.

And Shadowsight's lightbulb goes Ding!

The very last thing Ashfur does in TBC, when the jig is up and he's about to be killed by the Lights in the Mist and a bunch of Demons who have come to defend their home, is swallow a Founder-- Skystar.

He takes the level of a true god, and reaches a nearly undefeatable level of power. Instead of black water, he's so large, malicious, and has a gravitational pull so massive it starts destroying the afterlife. It shatters the purgatory (Meadow of Young Stars) into floating cosmic fragments, and Heaven and Hell are set to collide.

Shadowsight confronts Ashfur, politely explaining that he's, well... done a lot of thinking, and, he doesn't really want what he gave him. "You can, uh, have this back!"

And blasts the lightning from his scar right back at him, like a chain, holding the screeching eldrich horror in place. Every ally he's made, here in the DF, come down from StarClan, and as Lights in the Mist, jump to his side. They can't hold down Ashfur, but they can hold SHADOWSIGHT

While they're all supporting him, Bristlefrost sees the one chance to get rid of him, once and for all. A clear shot. She bolts, pounces, and SHOOTS right into Ashfur like a falling star, knocking them both off the edge of the heaven he destroyed, burning up in orbit with a monster a hundred times her size.

And after that, Shadowsight has to go home and live with this.

He gave up the very connection that made him so special, and now he has to go back to being a Cleric without StarClan.

but the other Clerics accept this. They have to. They were all complicit in the choices that allowed the Impostor to rise.

What Shadowsight learns is... everyone was part of this. From those who made the follies with him, to the supporters and rebels against the impostor, to those who helped him realize his worth, to Bristlefrost who ultimately killed Ashfur.

He is valuable because living is valuable.

Everyone, and everything, matters. All cats have a role to play, and he was never alone.

I want to close him out in BB!TBC on a tea scene that parallels the various points in his life. Others used to prepare his chamomile treatments FOR him, in careful doses, because it is a very serious medicine. Now, at the end, he's the one brewing it.

A fully fledged Cleric, who realizes he's never been alone. Cats who love him were around him the whole time, making his medicine, and they'll love him even after he's given up his powerful gift. So now he's at the stage in his life where HE can make that medicine, share his wisdom with others, and find fulfillment in the skills he's acquired over a hard life brightening.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Across Time (11)

A/N: This chapter is almost 7K words!!! I really wanted to keep the momentum going so I decided to do a longer chapter. Let me know what you think!

Pairing: Adar x Moriondor!Reader

Warnings: nightmare/memory of torture

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The firelight cast long shadows across the camp as Adar guided you toward his tent. Your steps were steady, but your heart beat faster, each pulse reminding you that you were walking into a tense, uncertain situation. You had already made your feelings clear about Galadriel, but you had little choice now but to face her.

The flap of the tent lifted as you entered, and you saw Galadriel sitting across from Adar, her sharp gaze lingering on you as you stepped inside. There was no warmth in her expression, no acknowledgment of any common ground. She regarded you as a foe, the tension between you palpable. You, too, did not trust her—her lofty, unyielding stance against Adar, her quiet pride, and the fire in her eyes made it clear that the alliance between you and her was one forged in necessity, not mutual respect.

“Sit,” Adar said, his voice firm yet tempered with patience. He motioned to a seat at the low table where Galadriel sat, her long golden hair almost glowing in the firelight, the same regal poise she had always carried.

You did not sit immediately. Instead, you stood with your arms crossed, your gaze steady on Galadriel, refusing to offer even the smallest semblance of deference. Galadriel, however, offered no immediate reaction, simply continuing her observation with those unnervingly sharp eyes of hers.

“This is no time for grudges,” Adar said, breaking the silence. “We have more pressing matters at hand.”

Your lips tightened. You were not here to make friends, nor were you here to forgive. The very thought of sharing a tent with her sent a flicker of defiance through your chest. “I don’t trust her,” you said, voice low but clear, a statement more than a question.

Adar’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained controlled. “You do not have to. But if we are to succeed against Sauron, we must consider all possible avenues. Galadriel’s hatred of Sauron runs as deep as mine, if not deeper. That is a bond we cannot ignore.”

Galadriel’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little warmth behind it. “I do not need your trust, Uruk,” she said, her voice as cold as a winter’s night. “Only your cooperation.”

You did not flinch at her words, but instead, you stood taller, the urge to respond rising. Adar’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Enough,” he said. “Galadriel, despite her pride, has valuable insight into Sauron’s workings. Her knowledge is not to be dismissed. We need her… even if it is only for a time.”

For a moment, there was silence in the tent, the weight of your unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. The tension between you and Galadriel remained thick, the distance between your ideologies unspoken but undeniable.

“I know you have seen Sauron’s tricks,” Galadriel said, her voice quieter now, though still filled with the weight of a thousand years of knowledge. “And you know the danger he poses. We must stop him before his power reaches its full height.”

You could not argue with that, but you refused to lower your guard. "I know more about Sauron than you could imagine. He is the greatest deceiver of all. We must act quickly. If he’s allowed to succeed with his rings, it will be too late for any of us."

Adar glanced at you, his gaze sharp but understanding. "That is why we will work together, however uneasy the alliance might be. The greater enemy is always the one we cannot see. And Sauron is already within the walls, disguised as a friend."

The words left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you had no choice but to listen. Your distrust of Galadriel would not vanish in an instant, nor would hers of you, but for now, the enemy of your enemy was the only ally you could afford.

Adar leaned forward, his tone shifting to something more serious. “The rings are Sauron’s means of domination. We must ensure that no elf or man falls prey to his scheme. If we are to stop him, we must first understand how he plans to use them. Galadriel, your knowledge will be crucial.”

The elf’s eyes softened slightly at the mention of Sauron, though the anger still simmered beneath. She nodded once, her lips pressed tightly together. “You will have my help, for now. But do not think this makes us allies in all things.”

“I would never assume such a thing,” Adar replied, his voice unyielding.

You remained silent, the weight of the conversation settling around you like a thick cloak. There was no going back from here. Whether you liked it or not, the battle against Sauron would require the strangest of alliances.

As the fire flickered and cast its shadows around the tent, you understood that you had little choice but to trust this fragile, temporary union. But the treacherous thoughts of Sauron’s plans and Galadriel’s motives twisted in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that even in your darkest hours, this alliance would be tested—perhaps beyond its breaking point.

The conversation had moved to one of dire importance—what must be done to thwart Sauron before he could fully execute his plans with the rings. And each of you had a different idea on how to go about it.

“I still say we sack Eregion,” you said bluntly, breaking the silence. “They’re already in league with Sauron, whether they know it or not. They are too far gone to be trusted.”

Adar gave you a sharp glance, though there was no surprise in his eyes. You had been consistent in your distrust of the Elves, and especially Galadriel. He didn’t argue the point, but his attention was focused on Galadriel. “Eregion may be useful yet. If we move quickly, we may still turn it into a fortress against Sauron.”

“Against Sauron?” you scoffed, leaning forward, your fists clenched. “The Elves there are already his pawns. Celebrimbor is as much a victim as he is a creator in this. They’re already blind to the truth, and no amount of protection will keep Sauron from using the rings to bind them.”

Galadriel’s voice cut through your anger, cool and measured. “Eregion’s fate is not for you to decide, Uruk. We do not need to destroy the city to save it.” Her gaze turned toward Adar, a glint of conviction in her eyes. “We need to draw Sauron out. We must make him confront us directly, not bury the city under a sea of blood.”

“Make him confront us?” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. “Galadriel, he will be too preoccupied with forging the rings to care about your little games. He won’t be distracted by anything we throw at him.”

Adar nodded, adding, “The ring’s creation is Sauron’s ultimate goal. Anything else—any war we start, any battle we fight—will mean nothing to him while that task is unfinished. We will be ignored while his focus is on the rings.”

A flicker of something like uncertainty passed through Galadriel’s eyes, but she remained unyielding. “And that is why we must make him act. We cannot simply wait for him to finish his work. The city of Eregion is key to everything. It is not just a city; it is a symbol of what the Elves once believed. It is something Sauron will want to preserve, to claim fully. By drawing him out, we make him reveal his true face.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’re asking for Eregion to become a battlefield, Galadriel. You’re willing to sacrifice more lives, to let the city burn just so you can pull a puppet’s strings and make him dance for you? You’re playing into his hands.”

Galadriel’s gaze hardened. “I will not let a city fall to Sauron’s evil, not while I have the strength to prevent it. We must strike at him before he becomes too powerful to stop. If you cannot see the need to protect the people who still have a chance, then I fear you are as blind as those you condemn.”

Her words stung, but you were not willing to back down. “You cannot save them, Galadriel. Eregion is already lost. The rings will be forged, and Sauron will control them. No one—no one—will be able to stand against him once he wears the One Ring.”

Adar’s deep voice rumbled between you, quiet but with undeniable force. “Enough. The path forward is unclear, but Eregion does not have to fall as easily as you think, nor does it need to become a sacrifice to save the rest of Middle-earth.” He looked between the two of you, the firelight casting strange shadows on his face. “The point is, we must act. We can’t simply wait for Sauron’s power to grow while we bicker.”

The three of you were locked in a tense silence, each contemplating the words spoken. The arguments, the division, and the possible destruction of Eregion weighed heavily on your heart. Yet, you knew that the decision could not be delayed any longer.

At last, Galadriel broke the silence. “If we cannot stop him, then all will fall. But I will not sit idle while Eregion burns. You must understand—this city, this place, holds meaning to the Elves, and if we destroy it without a second thought, we risk losing not just a city but a crucial part of our will to fight.”

You scoffed under your breath, “Meaning? You want to preserve Eregion for your vanity, your pride, your nostalgia for a time when the Elves thought they could save Middle-earth. But Sauron has already won. You know it as well as I do.”

The fire crackled between you, but Adar, ever the mediator, held up a hand, stilling both of your hearts. “The city of Eregion stands as a piece of the puzzle. If it must burn for us to defeat Sauron, then it will. But, for now, we hold our actions with care. We shall wait, watch, and move when the time is right.” He paused, his gaze lingering on each of you. “Eregion’s fate will be decided in the heat of battle, not in the shadow of hesitation.”

For a moment, none of you spoke, each caught in the tumultuous thoughts that now filled the tent. The future of Eregion, the rings, and Sauron himself seemed impossibly tangled, and you knew, as the embers faded low, that the choices you made in the coming days would determine much more than just the fate of one city.

Adar turned to her fully, his expression unreadable. “You will be allowed to leave your chains, Galadriel. If you swear your allegiance to me.”

Her response was swift and scathing. “Allegiance to an ork?” She laughed bitterly, though there was a hardness in her gaze. “I will never bow to you.”

Adar’s gaze turned cold, his posture stiffening, but he did not raise his voice. “Then you will remain bound.”

Galadriel’s eyes flared with anger, but she did not back down. “I will not swear allegiance to you, but I can offer something else—my word. I will not harm you or your people while Sauron remains free. Once he is dealt with, then we will see what comes next.”

Adar studied her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Slowly, he nodded. “Then we have an understanding.”

He turned his gaze toward the camp, where the Uruks were already beginning to pack their things, their movements swift and efficient. "We will continue on to Eregion," he declared, his voice ringing with authority. "Our goal is clear—Sauron must be stopped, and we will not waste any more time."

Galadriel gave him a look, but there was nothing but resolve in his eyes. She could see the weight of his words, the conviction behind them. She could see that Adar would not be swayed, and for now, she could do little more than accept the uneasy truce.

The command to break camp had come swiftly from Adar, cutting through the morning mist like a blade. The Uruks, ever loyal and quick to respond, were already packing up, preparing for the long trek to Eregion. The air was heavy with urgency, and beneath the usual grim faces, there was a shared understanding that time was pressing.

You watched, your thoughts racing, as Adar gave one last glance at the camp—his eyes narrowing as they swept across the tents. His command was final, and you could see the mix of resolve and reluctance in his posture. His eyes briefly found yours, but you avoided his gaze. Instead, you focused on the group of Uruk families breaking their tents, gathering their children, and saying goodbye to the ones who would stay behind. It was a rare sight—this moment of vulnerability in their hard, jagged lives.

The families of the Uruks who had fought beside Adar were leaving, returning to Mordor. This was the hard part: the uncertainty. Some of them would never see their loved ones again. Others would depart in search of some shred of safety they could find in the shadow of Sauron’s ever-expanding empire.

As you watched the scenes unfold, Galadriel’s presence beside you went almost unnoticed at first. When you did register it, her sharp gaze seemed to linger on the departing families, the same keen eyes she had used on you in their earlier meetings. She watched them, her face unreadable, but there was a strange flicker of something unfamiliar in her features—almost awe. It wasn’t until one of the young Uruks said a quiet farewell to their mother, kissing her cheek and promising to return, that she spoke.

“I never imagined…” Galadriel trailed off, glancing at you, then back at the Uruks. “I never imagined they would show such… affection for one another.”

The tone in her voice was not one of simple observation—it was shock. You turned sharply to face her, your eyes hard. You had never asked her to understand, and in truth, you weren’t sure you wanted her to.

“What is so surprising about that?” you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. “These are living beings, with hearts, souls, and lives of their own. They are not your enemies simply because of their birth or the way they were shaped in the world.” You glared at her now, your frustration rising. “Perhaps if you weren’t so blinded by hate, ‘Lady of Light,’ you could see the potential within these souls.”

Galadriel’s brows furrowed, and for a moment, her face tightened in that same old pride, but her lips pressed together in silence. You could tell she wanted to argue, to respond with all the weight of centuries of experience, but instead, she simply stood there, as if the weight of your words had struck her harder than she’d expected. You didn’t wait for her to reply. You turned back toward the camp, feeling the rising tension in the air, and watched as Adar addressed the soldiers, his voice low but commanding.

“We continue to Eregion,” Adar’s voice rang out across the field, firm and clear. “Those not fit for battle will return to Mordor. Gather your families. Gather your belongings. We march at first light.”

A murmur rippled through the camp. You could see the weariness in their eyes, but you also saw the unshakable loyalty to Adar—the same loyalty that kept them bound to him, that kept them moving forward despite everything. Some of them—those without a direct battle ahead—would return to Mordor, uncertain of what awaited them.

But this was the cost of loyalty, the price of following a leader, even into the fires of conflict. You could hear children’s voices asking where their parents were going, watch as hands clutched tightly to bags and bundled-up belongings. You saw an Uruk father kneel beside his young daughter, pressing her into his chest before whispering some quiet reassurance in her ear. It was an unexpected tenderness in the chaos of war. You hated the wars, but you couldn’t ignore the depth of connection here.

Galadriel, standing beside you, finally spoke again, this time quieter. “What do you think will come of this? Do you believe this alliance will last?”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you glanced at her and then back at the departing Uruks. “It doesn’t matter,” you said, your voice low. “We’re all just trying to survive.”

And for the first time in what felt like ages, you almost believed that. That no matter how the world twisted and turned, it was survival that mattered most.

++++++++++

The army moved like a dark tide, slow yet relentless, each Uruk steady in their formation, their grim faces set with the knowledge of their purpose. The sun hung low, casting a pale golden light over the land as the march toward Eregion began in earnest. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, the sky pregnant with the promise of rain. A cold wind swept through the ranks, stirring the banners that fluttered like dark birds overhead.

Adar, riding at the front, his cloak billowing behind him, set the pace with a steady confidence. He did not look back, his mind already focused on what lay ahead. Beside him, Galadriel remained silent, her hands still bound, but her eyes never ceased their watch over him and the army. The forces moved swiftly, a well-oiled machine with but one goal in mind: Eregion.

The Uruks did not speak much. There was little need for words as they marched, their focus sharpened by the heavy burden of purpose. They had followed Adar from the dark lands of Mordor to this moment, and now, with the enemy at their doorstep, they were ready. Each one felt the weight of their lord’s ambition, the burning desire for victory that had been etched into their very bones.

Behind them, you followed, your thoughts clouded with the path that lay before you. The tension between Adar and Galadriel simmered, but you knew that for now, the army’s unity was paramount. The road to Eregion was fraught with danger, and even the smallest misstep could bring ruin to their cause.

Yet, even as you marched alongside the Uruks, a sense of unease lingered. There was something too quiet about the land, as if the very earth knew that something dark was coming. The nearer they drew to Eregion, the heavier the weight on your shoulders became. There was no turning back now.

And so, the army marched forward, under the shadow of the mountains and the darkening sky, toward a city that would soon feel the crushing weight of Sauron’s ambition, whether it knew it or not.

++++++++++

After days of relentless marching, the army finally came to a halt, the tension in the air palpable as the Uruks began to set up camp. But this time, it was different. The camp was smaller—more practical. There were fewer tents, fewer luxuries, and the Uruks made do by crowding together in large groups. The usual sounds of hammers and anvil quieted as they settled down for the night, their voices hushed in the growing darkness.

You stood near the edge of the camp, watching as Adar made his way towards you, his tall figure cutting through the dimming light. The weariness in his movements was unmistakable, yet there was still a sharpness to his gaze, a sense of purpose that hadn't faltered since you first joined his army.

"You’ll have to share a tent with the others tonight," he said, his voice steady despite the long days behind him. "There are no extra tents for you. However, if you wish, I’ll take the floor and you may have a cot. It’ll be more comfortable than the ground."

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a faint smile as you met his gaze. “Comfortable? I’m not a soft elven princess who needs to be coddled, Adar. I can find a place in a tree to rest for the night. I’m used to it.”

Adar’s eyes softened for a moment, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I was merely offering,” he replied, voice low but with a touch of amusement. "You are far more... resilient than most."

“Resilient or foolish,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no malice in your tone. "But I’m fine."

As you prepared to leave for the trees, the camp settled into its quieter rhythm. The Uruks were grouped together, some huddled in their tents, others gathered around small fires. You slipped away from the murmurs, heading towards the shadows where the trees loomed, but you didn’t expect her to speak up.

Galadriel’s voice rang out, cutting through the air, sharp and cold. “Of course, you would go off alone,” she said with a mocking smile. “Too similar to Morgoth to tolerate the presence of others, isn’t that right?”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, the sting of past wounds threatening to rise to the surface. You paused for a moment, fingers tightening around the strap of your pack. You had no intention of rising to her bait, but before you could take another step, you heard Adar’s voice, firm and commanding.

“Enough, Galadriel,” he said, his tone colder than the night air around them. “Even though we are currently allies, I will not tolerate insults toward her.” His voice was low, but his words carried the weight of authority, silencing her immediately. “She has suffered more than you can ever know. You have no right to speak to her as you just did.”

The tension in the air was palpable. Galadriel’s gaze flickered to Adar, but she remained silent, clearly not accustomed to being confronted in such a way.

You turned to face them both, surprised at the heat in Adar’s voice, and even more surprised by the quiet defiance in his stance. Galadriel’s expression shifted, but she didn’t say a word. Adar’s eyes, however, remained fixed on her, unwavering, and something in his posture told you he wouldn’t tolerate further argument.

As you made your way through the trees, your mind churned with Galadriel’s words. Too close to Morgoth to tolerate the presence of others. You couldn’t deny the sting of truth in her words, though you hated it. You had become isolated over the years, drawing further away from the very people you fought alongside. The Uruks saw it, too, didn’t they? They needed to trust you, to fight beside you. And yet, how could you expect them to when you remained an outsider, too removed from them to be anything more than a silent, enigmatic figure?

Your hand instinctively tightened around your pack, the weight of it grounding you in your thoughts. The question, as it often did, hovered in the back of your mind: how much of your own suffering should you show? You had never been one to wear your wounds on your sleeve, and the nightmares that haunted you at night were only for you to endure. The fear of weakness, of being vulnerable, was a constant companion. Sometimes, they were so vivid that you could still hear the screams, the overwhelming terror. The worst of them were those where the very nature of your power—your healing, your past—turned against you, transforming into a poison you couldn’t control.

You stopped and leaned against the trunk of a tree, closing your eyes for a moment. Perhaps Galadriel had a point. If you truly meant to stand with the Uruks, to fight alongside them and win their trust, you couldn’t remain hidden in the trees like a ghost. But every part of you screamed against it. What if I fall apart? What if they see me like this?

In the end, you knew it was a decision you couldn’t avoid forever. The journey, the battle, the survival of your people—everything depended on unity. And if that meant stepping out of the shadows, at least for a time, you would have to do it.

With a deep breath, you turned and made your way back toward the camp, your thoughts heavy with the weight of the decision. You didn’t want to sleep in one of their tents—not yet. There was still too much distance between you and them for that kind of closeness. But you couldn’t hide in the trees forever. You needed to prove yourself, even if it meant letting your guard down just a little.

You approached the nearest fire, where a few Uruks were seated around it, eating and speaking in low tones. They didn’t look up at first, but you could feel their eyes on you when you laid your pack down next to the fire, sitting cross-legged and quietly watching the flames. You kept your gaze away from them, letting the heat of the fire warm you, but not quite letting yourself engage. It was a small step—perhaps not as open as they might have hoped—but it was something. And for now, that would have to be enough.

+++++++++++

The sharp smell of sulfur and burnt flesh fills your nostrils as you are pulled through the dark, your limbs too weak to resist, but too full of pain to care. You know where this path leads. It always leads to him. The agony is a familiar presence, gnawing, relentless.

Morgoth’s form looms above you, monstrous in his power and cruelty. His eyes burn like the dark heart of Angband itself, and his laughter, low and cruel, echoes in your mind as you are thrown into the cold, damp stone chamber.

"Still so defiant," his voice rumbles, sending shivers of fear through your very bones. "I will break you, as I have broken so many before you."

The shackles on your wrists feel like they could tear your flesh, pulling your arms high above your head, suspended by a chain that rattles against the stone like a warning. Please, no more...

But it doesn’t stop. It never stops.

You can feel the weight of his presence as he stands before you, the oppressive shadow of his malice suffocating your breath. His gauntlet-clad hand brushes across your face, and you can’t help but flinch. The touch is cold, like ice on your skin, and a twisted thrill courses through his veins at the sight of your discomfort.

"Begging? Or do you wish to pretend you have any strength left?" he taunts, his voice thick with malice.

You stare back at him through clenched teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. But the pain in your limbs—an ache that goes deeper than flesh—makes your resolve tremble. The horror of what lies ahead is not physical pain alone, but the fear of what he might take from you next.

"Look at you, so proud," Morgoth mocks, his breath like molten metal against your ear. "Do you think your pride will save you? Or your people?"

His words twist, wrapping around your mind like a suffocating vine. Your people... The ones you had failed. The ones who had died because of you. The ones who had believed in you, only to fall in agony as you had. He knows this. Morgoth knows your deepest guilt, and he uses it to wound you.

With a motion too fast to track, he strikes you, his hand coming down with the force of a thousand stones. Your head snaps back, and for a brief, fleeting moment, the world tilts.

It’s only a moment. But it is long enough for him to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Those eyes. They burn through your soul.

"You will beg for death by the time I am through with you," he whispers, the words more of a promise than a threat.

The pain surges once more, as if his words themselves are weapons, digging into your mind, your heart. Your body trembles under the weight of it, as if your very soul is being peeled away by the fingers of darkness.

And you can do nothing.

Suddenly, the world shifts. His cruel, mocking face blurs into the blackness, and the edges of your vision fade in and out. 

You feel the cold touch of hands on your shoulders, pulling you from the depths of your own mind.

You react without thinking. In a swift, instinctive movement, your body springs to action. Your hand shoots out, grasping a knife by your side, and with a speed born of terror, you press the blade to a throat that isn’t Morgoth’s.

A voice, calm and commanding, cuts through the haze of your terror.

“Breathe,” Adar’s voice is low, steady, as if he knows exactly what has happened. His voice does not waver, despite the blade now pressing against his skin. “You’re here, in the camp, not in those caves.”

For a moment, you don’t register his words. The memories from your nightmare still claw at you, the agony of Morgoth’s touch clouding your vision. You’re trembling, breath shallow, your pulse hammering. The urge to lash out again is strong, but something in Adar’s tone catches your attention. He’s not struggling, not panicking—there’s no anger, no fear in his voice. Just an unsettling calm.

“Look up,” Adar urges, his words soft but unyielding. He doesn’t move his hand, just holds still beneath the cold edge of your blade. “Look up and see the stars. You’re free of him now.”

The mention of the stars—so distant, so precious—pierces through the fog of your terror. Slowly, carefully, you raise your eyes from the blade pressed against Adar’s throat, lifting your gaze to the dark sky above. The stars are scattered across the night like shards of light, cold and distant, but they are there.

The present. The now.

Adar’s eyes meet yours, dark and unblinking. “You’re safe here,” he murmurs again, as if saying it enough might make the words true.

For a long moment, you don’t speak, your breath still ragged in your chest. Slowly, reluctantly, you lower the knife, its cold steel scraping against his skin before it drops to your side. Adar doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, as though he’s seen this before. He stays completely still, waiting for you to come back to the reality around you.

You blink up at the stars once more, letting the distant light anchor you back in the present. And for a fleeting moment, as the adrenaline fades, you wonder just how much of this—this darkness, this war—is something you’ll ever truly escape.

The remnants of the nightmare cling to you as you stagger away from Adar, your body still trembling, your mind racing. You want to retreat back to the silence of the trees, away from the camp, away from the reminder that you’re not alone. That your suffering is not yours alone to bear.

"I—I’m sorry," you stammer, voice barely a whisper as you stumble backward. The words feel hollow, inadequate in the face of what just transpired. It’s not just the nightmare, but the rawness of your vulnerability that makes you want to flee. To hide from everything.

But before you can take another step, Adar’s hand catches your arm gently, but with an unyielding grip. His touch is firm yet patient, grounding you, even as the tension in your body makes you want to jerk away.

"Don't turn away from me," Adar says quietly, his voice soft, but the command is there, buried deep within the words. "You don’t need to hide from me. Not now."

You swallow, the weight of his words sinking into you. You don’t know what you expect, but it's not this—this insistence that he’s here for you, despite the darkness that surrounds him, despite the brutality that he represents to others.

His hand on your arm is steady, and you find yourself resisting the urge to pull away. Your mind is still reeling from the nightmare, and the terror lingers in your chest, but the steadiness in his touch, the quiet confidence, keeps you in place. His eyes meet yours, dark and unwavering, waiting for you to make the choice.

"Come with me," he says, his tone gentle, as if trying to coax you through the storm in your mind. "You need rest. And you need not be alone."

You don’t answer immediately. A part of you wants to protest, to retreat back into your solitude. But as you stand there, his hand warm on your arm, the sound of the camp stirring around you, the promise of safety, of not being alone for once, feels like a balm to the frayed edges of your spirit.

With a hesitant breath, you let Adar guide you forward, your steps slow but steady. Your mind is still clouded, but the reassurance of his presence eases some of the weight pressing on your chest. When you reach his tent, Adar steps aside to allow you in, his demeanor still patient, as though he’s waiting for you to make the final decision.

You don't say anything as you step inside, letting the familiar warmth of the canvas shelter envelop you, and for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to not be alone.

Adar leads you into the small, dimly lit tent. The air is thick with the smell of earth and the remnants of the fire from outside, but it feels like a temporary refuge. As you step in, your limbs are heavy, your mind still clouded by the remnants of the nightmare, but there’s a strange sense of safety in his presence.

He gestures toward the bedding, the fur and blankets spread out on the floor. "Lie down," he says softly. "Rest. I’ll stand guard."

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the space before you. It feels strange to trust someone, especially him, of all people. But the pull of exhaustion is overwhelming. Your body is tired, the weight of the night’s fear settling in your bones. You finally obey, easing yourself onto the bedding, and try to make yourself comfortable, but the idea of sleep still looms over you like a shadow.

Adar stands near the entrance, his posture tall, vigilant. You open your mouth before you can stop yourself. “And how will you fight off the nightmares?” you ask, half-joking, your voice carrying a slight edge of sarcasm. It’s easier to tease him than face the fear you’re feeling.

He turns toward you, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable in the dim light, but there’s a quiet humor in his response. “With my bare hands, if need be,” he says, a small smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

It’s an odd response—one you don’t quite know how to handle—but it works to break the tension between you, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the nightmare seems less oppressive.

Adar starts to move toward the other side of the tent, where his own bedding is laid out. It’s clear that he intends to give you space, to remain distant, as if maintaining his usual wariness even here, even now. But before he can take another step, you find yourself speaking without thinking.

“Stay close,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The vulnerability is sharp, biting, and you almost regret it as soon as the request leaves your lips.

Adar pauses, looking at you over his shoulder. For a moment, there’s silence. Then, with a single nod, he turns and sits beside you, lowering himself to the floor near your head. His presence is a quiet weight, comforting in its stillness.

The air between you feels thick, but not with tension. Rather, it’s a shared understanding—a silent agreement. His form is just there, beside you, and though neither of you speak of it, the proximity is grounding.

His voice breaks the silence, low and steady. "When I was young," he begins, his tone almost distant as though he's recalling something long buried, "I used to sit by the banks of Beleriand, watching the stars. They were like beacons, calling to me, lighting the way through all the darkness."

You remain still, listening. His words are soft, and though they carry a weight of history, there’s something oddly soothing about them. "The stars," he continues, his voice almost a whisper now, "they reminded me that even the darkest nights would end. That there’s always light somewhere, even if we can’t see it."

There’s a quiet reverence in his voice, and you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his words wash over you. His hand brushes against the edge of your blanket, but he doesn’t touch you. Still, it’s enough. His words are enough.

The faintest smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you try to drift off, and for once, the fear of what lingers in the dark seems just a little bit further away.

[wenumsmol]

0ut 0f Ctrl

Alpha!Choso x Omega!Fem!Reader. A/B/O AU. No Jujutsu Sorcery. No cursed energy. TW: Depression, PTSD, Agoraphobia, Panic Attack, Drug use (reader), reader has a drug dependency, implied past abuse, stalking(?). 4.9k wc. Minors do not interact.

00C Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Data Drop: Unanticipated

You sit in the corner of the dimly lit internet cafe, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the worn-out keyboard. The soft glow of the monitor casts a faint light on your face, highlighting the heavy eyeliner and dark lipstick that have become your armor against the world. Oversized flannel drapes over your frame, offering a semblance of comfort. The cafe is buzzing with low conversations and the hum of computers, a backdrop to your spiraling thoughts. The air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and the faint whiff of something burnt—an unmistakable aroma that clings to the cracked vinyl seats and sticky tables.

Today is one of those days when just getting out of bed felt like a monumental effort. Depression is a bitch with the way it’s got your mind in a constant fog, making it so much harder to function on the most basic of levels. Being an omega without a pack has been taking its toll on you for quite some time. Posing as a beta is even harder since you’re more sensitive to pheromones than other omegas you’ve met. It makes it harder to get an ordinary job, and blending in is a nightmare. Working from home is the only option for you if you want to stay out of sight and out of mind. So you stay holed up in your apartment doing freelance work online and staying away from people as much as possible. And for the most part, it works.

In your mind, being alone gives you more freedom. No one to tell you what to do, no one to answer to. But it’s lonely, too. The ache in your chest never quite goes away, and you’re constantly on edge, hyper aware of your vulnerability as a single omega. Add that to the shitty self esteem issues and general feelings of worthlessness that come along with having been rejected by your previous pack, and you’ve got yourself quite a combination.

You’re used to it, though, and you’ve got your coping mechanisms. Whether they’re healthy or not is beside the point because surviving is surviving. ‘This is the way,’ you think, mocking the Mandalorian mantra as you sift through your emails. It’s a mundane task but it helps keep the worst of your thoughts at bay, among all the other shit you get up to on the internet. When a message from Naoya catches your eye—a reminder of the package that should have been delivered today, your eyes temporarily widen. It’s about fucking time you heard something from the bastard. You click open the message:

Naoya: got a present on the way. keep ur eyes peeled.

Your fingers hover over the keys before you reply:

You: ain't home right now.

Naoya: what u mean? where r u?

You: out.

Naoya: get your ass home then. this shits important

Naoya is a drug dealer. Yes... your drug dealer to be exact. You’ve been getting your supply from him for a few months now. Something to keep the edge off when your anxiety attacks become too much of a problem. It’s not like you can go to a doctor for it obviously. They’d sus out your omega status instantly, then you’d get an ankle monitor and regular visits from government employees who would dictate your lifestyle down to the most minute detail until an alpha selects you from a registry. Something you’ve been trying to avoid because you had enough of being someone’s property.

The whole process is gross and incredibly outdated, treating omegas as if they’re children needing guidance and protection. You’ve had firsthand experience with the kind of arrangement that could go horribly wrong, thanks to your parents — the very source of your traumatic past. Being in a pack is supposed to be a positive experience, but you couldn’t be more disgusted with the way Alphas take advantage of their authority over omegas, using them for sex, breeding, and other vile acts. You refuse to be trapped in a hell like that.

Out of desperation, you turned to the dark web and found an information broker, Dakusuta. They were a useful contact as they had connected you with a drug dealer who delivered with minimal social interaction. You preferred it that way–no reason to leave the comfort of your home. You paid, they provided. It had been going on for months, with you gradually stockpiling your supply and taking doses as needed. It was a convenient service, albeit morally questionable. But hey, what else would you do without it?

Naoya’s insistence strikes you as odd, though. What is he? Your fucking parole officer? If you miss a delivery, it’s usually no skin off his nose. You’ll get it when you get it. But today, he’s adamant. ‘Something’s up his ass.’ The thought nags at you, but you push it aside, focusing instead on the flickering screen in front of you. 

This internet cafe is a couple blocks from home and it took you a lot of mental prep to step outside your door earlier. It took almost two hours of pacing in your genkan and staring at the doorknob before you could actually make it outside. It’s a necessity really. The social media brain rot helps to fight the parasites in you that tell you to do a cartwheel off a tall ledge every moment free of stimulation. Your dumpster posting combined with your regular work is the perfect distraction to keep your nerves in check while you tolerate being in a public space for as long as you can. Thanks to your WiFi being out, you didn’t have the option to stay inside your depression cave if you wanted access to the internet. Coping… All there is is coping. 

Music thrums through your cheap noise-canceling headphones that help drown out any chatter of your public surroundings. The soundwaves of Twilight by bôa keep you calm, the soft tunes filling your ears and seeping out at a quiet volume beyond your personal session. “Your word and my word and her word is...Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.” You sing under your breath, nodding your head and bobbing it back and forth to the beat of the music.

As you open a new browser window to visit a message board and skim through recent posts you miss the way the guy sitting a distance away from you looks in your direction. He stares for minutes on end before he stands up, stretching his arms lazily, and he makes his way over to your table. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, tapping out your feelings in a new post. Your only method of purging rather than confiding in someone who truly knows you. ‘Everyone’s fake anyway. It doesn’t matter,’ you always think, continuing to type away.

He’s a blur in your peripheral vision as he casually invades your carefully constructed bubble, taking a seat right next to you. The only way you sense his presence is a subtle shift in the air around you from his movements, the noise canceling on your headphones doing its job a little too well right now. Awareness makes your fingers fumble over the keys, a momentary pause in your activities.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register the movement in your peripheral vision, and the sudden intrusion startles you. Your eyes flicker towards the stranger, brows pinched. You don’t remember seeing him sit down and you didn’t smell him coming, so he must be wearing scent blockers because he’s definitely not a beta. He’s far too big for that.

As much as you want to ignore him and stick to your decision to not interact with anyone on your outing, it’s not looking like a possibility. He’s an alpha after all and your damn omega instincts won’t just allow you to disobey any command for attention. Be it intentional or not, you can feel the pull of his alpha telling you “Look at me, Omega.” 

‘Did he sniff me out?’ 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off but you can only see negative outcomes from that path of action; for one, any pushback could trigger him to assert dominance over you. It might not necessarily be the most likely thing to happen because you don’t know him or what kind of alpha he is but the truth remains that you know alphas well enough. Your best bet is to play it safe and not cause a scene.

 You glance up at him, a non-committal question mark on your face, and he’s looking over at you expectantly. His lips are pursed like he’s waiting for some response from you, and you realize a little belatedly he said something to you. Your brow furrows ever-so-slightly in confusion while you hesitate for a second or two. When you finally pull your headphones off, he repeats his question.

“bôa, huh? Not bad…” He leans back in his chair, fingers twiddling the metal piece on his hoodie string. His eyes are trained on yours, noting the subtle tension in your body, the hesitation in your movements. He speaks slowly, words deliberate, giving you time to process them and respond. There is no aggression in his tone, and yet your defenses go up automatically.

“You like that kind of music?” he asks, gesturing towards the earphones now hanging around your neck.

“What?” you ask, dumbly, eyes blinking rapidly. Your heart rate picks up speed and you’re not sure if he’s too close or if it’s just your anxiety fucking with your depth perception. Heat rushes your skin and you feel the need to push back your chair to gain a little personal space. It screeches across the floor, and you wonder how long he’s been sitting there. How long has he been staring at you? ‘Is he…stalking…’ Your thoughts fragment, once focused and now reduced to a lag with jitters that feel like a thousand needles pricking your skin everywhere, all at once.

“Twilight, right? ‘Your feelings and mine are all holy and you give me an inner sanctity,’” he quotes the song playing faintly from your headphones,  “My brother used to play that one a lot when we were kids.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he breaks eye contact to glance around the cafe. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts with the obvious tension radiating from you. You don’t like his confidence. It makes you feel that much more unsure of your next moves.

Despite the noise around you, it feels like you and the alpha are in your own domain, the other patrons fading into the background. “I don’t know many people who listen to that kind of stuff these days,” he continues, looking at you once more. “It’s good, though. Nostalgic, even.”  It’s a beat before he speaks again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on you, assessing, measuring your reaction. “You seem a bit tense…”

You swallow thickly, trying to fight the rising panic in your chest. “Sorry, I just...I’m—” 

“Waitin’ for a package?” He cuts you off, glancing down at your phone that lies face up on the table between you. The screen still shows the DM chain you had been looking at. His tone is casual, almost friendly with a hint of amusement in his voice when he adds, “Must be somethin’ real important if you’re checkin’ your messages every five minutes, huh?”

Your eyes follow his line of sight, your anxiety momentarily forgotten. “How’d you...?” You sputter out a few half-formed sentences before trailing off. The ‘who, what, when, where and how’ of the matter are a whirlwind of thoughts assaulting your brain as you shake your head slightly. Your palms sweat at the idea that he might be a cop. ‘This… is bad.’

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your eyes dart around the cafe, trying to see if anyone else is watching you. No one seems to be paying any attention to you two, but you can’t be too careful. ‘If he’s a cop then he’s probably not alone.’ No one seems to stand out but what the fuck do you know? This isn’t your area of expertise. If anything, nevermind not being the big fish to catch in any drug operation or whatever shady people call it. You’re a tadpole in the mix. No, you’re algae. It’s not your world and you’re just on the outside looking in. You’re just self medicating, not involved in the business.

For the first time since he sat down next to you, you take a good look at him. Eyes scanning over his black acid wash jeans and a black hoodie with the words ‘Truth. In. Every. Byte.’ written in bold green lettering across the front. A black leather jacket and a crossbody messenger bag complete his attire. He doesn’t look like what you assume a narc would fucking look like. Nothing like an undercover cop you’d seen on TV. Your eyes find their way back up to his face, taking in a stunning combination of soft and angular features: a strong jawline, defined cheekbones, and a striking black line slashing across his nose which could either be makeup or a tattoo. His lengthy black hair is gathered into two messy buns, with unruly strands spiking out every which way and middle parted bangs tucked behind his ears. The sight of his sly smile on his lips steals your attention, the hint of a canine pricking their plushness.

‘Oh, that’s dangerous.’ You think, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The alpha is attractive. That much you can tell. It’s not like you to get caught up in the attractiveness of random strangers, but then again, you’re not usually subjected to such intense scrutiny. Let alone an alpha aura like his. Encounters aren’t that common an occurrence either and for good reason. 

He notices the way your eyes rake over him, his smile widening faintly at the attention. Most omegas don’t pay him a second look—the piercings, the tattoos, the unconventional fashion sense—but you’re different. Your gaze is different. There’s curiosity there, a flicker of attraction in your eyes, but also something else. Fear. It’s subtle, but he catches it all the same. He likes that a little bit. It makes for a good chase.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I ain’t here to cause you any trouble,” the alpha says, noticing the way you tense up even further when he calls you that pet name. 

Your reaction to his endearment doesn’t surprise him. He can see the way your body stiffens, your muscles bunching up under your oversized clothes. He takes it all in, filing it away for later. “Relax,” he tells you, his expression a picture of calm. “I’m not gonna bite.” His eyes then roll to the side as he scoffs at his own choice of words and you don’t know if it’s self depreciation or arrogance at play.

‘Like hell he’s not gonna bite,’ you panic internally at the notion. Time dilates, each moment stretching out like taffy letting your anxiety build. Tremors rush through your body, graduating from a subtle shake to an intense quaking. The world around you blurs with a suffocating weight bearing down—

He watches you as you spiral internally. It’s like watching a trainwreck in motion, unable to look away. Despite your trembling frame, you’re holding yourself together surprisingly well. Your teeth beginning to chatter is the only giveaway of the turmoil going on inside your head. Anxiety, he guesses, recognizing the symptoms. He’s seen it before, in himself even. And he only waits, hoping that just like you seemed to contain yourself for as long as you could, you’d recover the same way.

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” he tries, his voice just above a whisper. He notices that you're bordering on a panicked state, and he’s quick to try and ease you out of it, not wanting you to suddenly drop on him.. He extends a hand towards you, slowly and carefully, intending to touch your shoulder but stopping just short of actually making contact.

He lets out a soft sigh. “You need to calm down.” He says, his voice firm and authoritative as he leans in close, his eyes locking on yours. “Breathe.”

And you feel the gentle alpha command deep within your chest, right next to what always feels like a bundle of bees wreaking havoc on your nervous system. His proximity to you is overwhelming, the smell of Oakmoss and violet from his leather jacket filling your nostrils. His eyes bore into yours, demanding your attention. ‘Breathe,’ he said, and you try to, you really do.

You desperately try to inhale, needing more of his alpha scent, but your breath keeps catching in your throat because of how faint it is. The rising panic overwhelms its effects, making you exhale raggedly while your lungs work overtime. A numbness spreads through your lips and you wish he would remove the scent blocking patches from his neck.

After a moment of no change, he swiftly retrieves a small tin from your bag and gives it a shake, confirming the sound of pills clinking inside. Then, he grabs a water bottle from his own bag to set on the table before popping open the tin. With gentle precision, he carefully fingers a small tablet and brings it to your lips. “Open,” another command, his voice soft but firm.

You blink, too focused on your labored breathing to register what he’s doing until you feel the cool surface of the pill against your lips. Confusion and a hint of fear flash through your eyes as you stare at him, but he doesn’t look away. ‘Open,’ he said, and your mouth parts almost involuntarily, the pill sliding in. Your throat feels dry as sandpaper, and swallowing is difficult. He notices that too, and within seconds, a water bottle is uncapped.

With a steady grip, he holds the water bottle against your parted lips. His eyes dart from your face to the bottle, watching you take small sips. “Now, swallow,” he says, a hint of approval seeping through his voice. “Good girl.” 

The cool and soothing water slides down your parched throat, but it does little to ease the tightness in your chest. He’s still there, still hovering close to you, his dark gaze never wavering. The whole thing feels oddly intimate, his presence fighting against the wave of anxiety threatening to drown you. It’s a support that you’ve never had before and you cling to it.

The alpha lowers the water bottle, his hand resting firmly against your trembling arm. His thumb brushes gentle reassuring circles against your skin with unexpected tenderness. “Better?” he asks, his voice still quiet and smooth. Soothing.

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. You’re acutely aware of his touch, of the way his fingers feel against your skin. You reflexively swallow, trying to clear the lump that’s lodged in your throat. As your mind clears you consider the variables. This alpha approached you knowing things about you that he shouldn’t; The package arriving at your place soon and the tin of pills stashed in your bag. He’s not a cop because if he was then why would he give you a dose and not arrest you? 

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice barely above a raspy whisper. Your dilated eyes bore into his. Curiosity fights with caution in your expression as you wait for his answer. 

He smiles faintly, responding slowly. “Names are just words,” he murmurs, his low voice deep and resonant. Delivering his words with a sense of resignation, as if he's simply stating facts rather than engaging with the conversation.

‘Fuck you.’

“Don’t Bullshit me,” you reply immediately, your voice stronger than before. Starting to feel better after his intervention has  some of your usual confidence—long absent due to your depressive state— returning. “I want to know who you are and what you want from me.” The drug is kicking in, making your mind move slowly but it’s helping you focus your faster than usual thought process to a decipherable speed. Yeah this fucker’s stalking you for sure. And it could be paranoia. It very well could be, but nobody knows about your little habit. There’s no one that could know..

He looks at you with a playful smirk and says, “Careful now. That’s not how you say ‘thank you,’ is it?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s a hint of a warning in there too. He lifts one of his pierced brows, giving you a sarcastic look.

You falter slightly at his comment, realizing he’s right. You do owe him a thank you, but you’re not in a place to offer it, so you keep your mouth shut. 

He shakes his head with a low chuckle, sensing your turmoil. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” He releases the grip on your arm and leans back, the chair creaking under his weight.

“I’m just someone who’s lookin’ out for you. Whether you realize it or not, I’m not here to hurt you,” he continues. “There is someone closer to you that does want to hurt you though. Your fairy godfather Naoya’s got you tangled up in some shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But…” he pauses, his thumb worrying his lower lip. “I’m here to offer you a little help…if you want it. You’ll have to follow my lead, though. Do exactly as I say, when I say it. Got it?”

Some goddamn nerve. “What the fuck are you talking about? What’s this about Naoya?” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady. You’re aware that you’re pushing your luck with the way you’re speaking to him but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t like being kept in the dark.

He shrugs, unphased by your hostility. If anything, he finds it amusing. He doesn’t mind that you seem to be a bit of a spitfire. In fact, he finds it kind of cute. Even more so because it reminds him of himself. He sighs softly, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion.

Your eyes narrow as you observe him. ‘I set aside being a chickenshit to come out here. I came out of hiding for some fucking WiFi of all things.’ You’re berating yourself internally.  You glance toward the tin of magic in your bag, fingers itching to reach for it. The cafe’s din recedes into the background, and all you hear is the echo of your own ragged breathing. ‘One more… Maybe one more.’

He notices your eyes flick toward your stash and snatches it from your bag, moving it out of your reach. His movements are so quick that they're almost a blur, and the tin disappears into his pocket before you can even protest.

“Oh, none of that shit, focus,” he warns, his voice low and sharp as he snaps his dexterous fingers twice for your attention. The daring look on his face, a silent reprimand for your attempt to seek solace in a pill. He knows that look you give him in return. He’s seen it before. The temptation to bury reality in a haze of oblivion. He knows how easy it is to slip down that rabbit hole and how treacherous the climb back up is.

His face darkens, slight frustration carving deep lines into his features. His words are an insistent prod reminding you that you’re not sitting here alone. “Anyway, Naoya’s pure shit up an infant’s back on a hot day, if you know what I mean. Been keeping tabs on him, and guess what? He’s been skimming off the top of his family’s shipments and using your address for his little drop-offs—not that you’d notice. He’s slick about it, too—someone else picks up his shit and leaves yours outside for you to find, so you’re none the wiser. Delivery confirmed. And now, he’s cooking up a scheme to throw you under the bus, while he waltzes away scot-free. That Xanax order you placed? Forget about it, it’s not happenin’—Don’t look so fuckin’ sad about it. He’s swapped it for a heap of something stronger, alright? It’s about to land on your doorstep with someone else’s name slapped on it. When Zenin’s men come knocking about their missing product, you'll be the one they find. Not Naoya. You’re just a pawn in this, sweetie. Sorry to tell ya.” He punctuates his revelation with a bitter laugh.

Your breath hitches, taking everything in and feeling sick to your stomach. You don’t even have a personal relationship with this man. It was all business and nothing more than that yet he chose to set you up. ‘Does he know I’m an omega—that I can’t do anything to stop this?’ The Zenins are a widely known criminal Organization here in Japan. You’ve seen them on the news time and time again with headlines and coverage about drug trafficking, omega trafficking, gambling, extortion, loan-sharking, and protection rackets. You name it and they’ve done it. These people are the real deal and if they get their hands on you, it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out which of those crimes will be applied. That’s if they don’t kill you. But who’d let an untouched omega go to waste? It’s like your life turned into a True Crime podcast overnight and you’re being forced to listen on the sidelines. “No… No I—”  

The alpha’s eyes widen briefly when he sees the color drain from your face.

 “I think I’m... gonna go home now.” If he couldn’t read lips he’d have no fucking idea what you just said because although your lips were moving, no sound was coming out. Not a peep.

His gaze sharpens as he sizes you up, clocking the tremors racking your body and the panic returning to your voice. “Nah, you’re not going anywhere,” he declares with finality, shaking his head.

“What’s the point?” you mumble.

“Not happenin’,” he snaps, his voice slicing through your haze of despair. “You’re in no state to handle this alone.” He breathes out through his nose, gaze softening slightly. A flicker of genuine concern breaks through his tough exterior. It’s clear that you’re overwhelmed and on the verge of shutting down. Having you out in the fray on your own is a no-go. His alpha won’t have it.

“Why do you even care?” 

“Because from the looks of it, someone needs to care,” he retorts, his irritation tinged with a hint of desperation. “You’re not thinking straight, and you’re as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. Trust me, going home isn’t gonna fix shit. Haven’t you been listenin’ baby girl?”

“Then what’s the alternative?” you ask, a touch of defiance sparking in your eyes.

His pupils constrict as he leans in close, his hand cupping your face with a grip that borders on possessive. His fingers splay wide, holding you in place as if he’s determined to imprint his words. “You’re not giving up,” his voice low, urgent. “And you’re damn sure not going anywhere alone. You’re coming with me.”

Your breathing picks up, a warmth swirling in your chest again from the magnetism of his alpha aura. Your omega whines at the back of your conscience, wanting, needing to go with him. You feel a flash of vulnerability that you've been keeping tightly locked away these past few years come to the surface. Your heart threatens to beat in a forbidden rhythm over this interaction and you hate it. You hate that you left your home. You hate Naoya and the info broker that set you up with that bastard in the first place. You hate that you like how his hand feels against your touch starved skin and his intense words you can’t make sense of. That barely there Oakmoss and violet blended scent hanging in the air between you.He’s being tender with you. Why? What is the actual fucking reason? It’s burning you up on the inside. You hate it and you love it and you want to go home.

“You stick with me. You do what I say. And, ideally, you stop popping pills like they’re goddamn breath mints,” he smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something else there instead… longing? No, that’s bullshit.

“Why?” you challenge, meeting his gaze with fire in your eyes.

“Because I said so, Y/n,” he replies, his tone authoritative, concern etched into every line of his face. 

You want to question the tone he’s taking with you further but all that is pushed aside at the mention of your name. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sound of it. “Who the FUCK are you?” you blurt out, voice cracking with disbelief. You’ve never seen this guy a day in your life and somehow he knows your name, your extracurriculars and the true crime clusterfuck you’re caught in. 

His smirk fades into a serious expression, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says, his voice low and steady, trying to bridge the gap between the unknown and your growing panic. “But you need to trust me right now. There’s no time for any more explanations. We gotta get a move on.” His eyes dart around the cafe in quick assessment. “For the sake of your comfort, my name is Choso. But you might know me better as 'Dakusuta’.”

00C Masterlist

[calmcoldevening]

Reader persuade slashers to go to sleep

Michael Myers

• This person is devilishly stingy with actions and emotions when it comes to his human needs. Have you seen this car? He can easily wander for several days without food and water, until his stomach starts eating itself from the inside or something. Michael will hunt without sleep until he simply passes out due to lack of sleep.

• But here you are in his life! That's... Good.

• At first, this would not have been particularly reflected in his lifestyle, but now he would have somewhere to return to.

• When he really got used to you, his human side came out. Damn, did he really fall asleep on your couch?

• Living with you, he will basically stop ignoring his needs, it just won't work.

• Are you asking him to go to bed? But... Okay, good. But on the condition that you sleep next to him. Michael may not admit his weakness in front of you, but he values you. It will be much easier for a man to fall asleep knowing that you are near and safe.

• Sleeps in a corpse pose or on his side, throwing his arm around your waist and squeezing your soft flesh with his iron grip to guarantee your position next to him.

• This is probably the first time when, instead of terrible nightmares, he will see a melancholic dream about a quiet life with you.

Vincent Sinclair

• Vince spends all his time in his basement behind paintings or sculptures. Honey, you really need to show him what a daily routine and a normal full-fledged sleep are.

• Of course, he is not Michael and will not bring himself to unconsciousness, but he can also neglect sleep for the sake of the "mom's museum".

• Go up to him and gently hug his shoulders. His tense flesh will instinctively cling to your cool skin, given the heat from boiling cauldrons in the basement.

• "Will Vinnie go to bed? I miss you."

• God, your needy voice and the tenderness and awe with which you pronounce his name, this is all that Vincent needs to feel all the accumulated fatigue and stress over the past hours.

• He may hesitate slightly, but the man will immediately get up, pick up your hands in a wedding style and lead you towards the exit from the basement. It will be a long walk through the museum, the night air is useful before going to bed, right?

• Vincent will sleep snuggled up to your chest like a lost kitten. The man will enjoy purring while you caress his long hair. Your presence is all that is needed for a sound and long sleep.

John Kramer

• John is too devoted to his desire to teach people to value their lives. And yet he often forgets about his own, completely giving himself up to the process of creating new traps.

• In addition, his health leaves much to be desired. Against the background of such a downed regime and short sleep, cancer is progressing significantly, you can see it by its even more painful condition. Red eyes, pale skin and more frequent coughing attacks.

• You find John in the workshop. He was completely alone. Apparently, today he decided to give the guys a day off, which can not be said about himself. If Amanda had been here, she would certainly have quarreled with John. The man was hunched over the table and collecting some details. You didn't betray much importance to this and just came closer. Now your hands gently massaged his tense shoulders, and after a moment a sigh of relief escapes from John's chest. He was really tired.

• "John, it's late."

• "Go to bed. I'll join you soon."

• His words are cut short by another bout of severe coughing. Your face visibly darkens, and you lightly put your arm around the man's back.

• "I can't without you."

• John thinks for just a moment before returning to his work. Did your words sound so unconvincing?

• "Lawrence told you to take better care of yourself, John. You will only get worse if you continue in the same spirit."

• Your voice goes almost to a whisper. Finally, John sighs in defeat, pushing his chair away from the table and grabbing your hand with his palm, stroking the skin with his thumb.

• "It's only for an hour."

• You're visibly cheering up, your face is shining. Helping John to get up from his chair, you gently grab him and lead him towards the bedroom. God, your smile is the only thing that makes him really happy.

Brahms Heelshire

• This is a big baby.

• It's really hard to persuade him to go to bed.

• First, you will make a few laps around the house during the catch-up, after which Brahms will hide in some closet and sit there with his hand over his mouth until you give up and ask him to come out.

• Maybe then he will listen.

• You'd better start from afar. For example, with a warm relaxing bath. Brahms will melt under your touch while you lovingly wash his curly hair. He's literally like plasticine.

• Then you can offer him warm milk or herbal tea to calm his raging energy.

• Read him a book. God, Brahms loves your sweet angelic voice so much. This is already one of the ways to make him fall asleep.

• And, of course, your hugs. Lie down next to him, hugging him to yourself. A man will purr contentedly, rubbing against your chest. You're so sweet, warm and pleasant. He'll fall asleep right away.

• Don't forget about the night kiss.

[blueorchid-95]

So I’ve been thinking about book IV lately. I have a bit of a theory about how the dream situation works, especially in the context of the Summoner’s apparent power… and its implications.

When Kiran summons a Hero, they form a “contract” together. Lore-wise, this contract is primarily used to better coordinate combat and expand the summoner’s tactical options. However, it does NOT cause a shift in the Hero’s personality. That’s how we end up with Grima and Chrom staring each other down on either side of the home menu while Robin stands awkwardly just above them.

So, through these contracts, Kiran connects with their summoned Heroes. Which would mean, naturally, that the Hero is connected to Kiran as well.

Freyja’s position as a goddess of dreams provides her with the perfect position to take advantage of this. By sneaking into Kiran’s dreams, she can trick them into forming a contract with her, which enables her even greater influence over their mind. From there, she imprisons them in slumber so that she can use the necklace to take Freyr’s power from him, so that they may be together forever.

However, the Summoner unconsciously senses Freyja mucking around in their mind through the contract, and therefore fights back in the only way they can: calling for help. Through this, Kiran draws his three closest friends—Anna, Sharena, and Alfonse—into the dream realm with him. Freyja realizes the threat they could pose, even if they’re unaware of the dream—when she takes Freyr’s power, nightmares will run amok on Askr, and the four of them will no doubt start finding answers to questions she doesn’t want answered.

To remedy this potential issue, Freyja draws them into the Dream Realm and messes with their dreams: she causes the Summoner to dream that they’re Alfonse, and separates the REAL Alfonse from the group and subjects him to the control of nightmares. This ends up directly leading to her brother’s sacrifice.

Now that her brother is dead, Freyja needs the dream to stay together, so that she may recreate her brother in the way that she sees fit. She’s the goddess of nightmares—any version of Freyr she creates for herself beyond the dream will be her worst nightmare. But according to the law of the dream, she can bring her brother back just how she wants him without facing that consequence. All she has to do is prevent the Summoner from awakening. So, she lies: she tells them that Alfonse is dead and that they took on his identity out of grief.

Right now, her only goal is to manipulate the summoner into wanting to remain within the dream. So she presents herself as a reasonable figure, carrying only their best interests in mind.

And as the summoner resists her, she gets more and more aggressive and dangerous.

Freyja’s attempts to bend Kiran to her ultimately fail, and they do awaken—but it’s worth noting that she managed to get into their head in the first place. She used the summoner’s power against them, and the only reason she failed to keep them under control was because they became aware of it. Now that the summoner has supposedly lost their memories of the incident, they have no way of realizing the issue with their power, which leaves them open to being attacked through a false contract again. And to make matters worse, if Freyja rises, she can 100% drag the summoner back into dreams… and this time, she knows to prevent them from reaching out.

Now, which gods just might have the power to reach into Kiran’s mind…?

TLDR: the summoner’s contracts allow them to be manipulated against their will, which caused Book IV and could cause more problems in the future

[puffcap-factory]

Unspoken Whispers of the Heart 

(Yone x reader)

Yone x reader; angst, a bit of fluff if you squint but it’s mostly angst.

Yone is just a perfect angst material

The scene took place years after the invasion of Noxus in Ionia. You were close to Yone (and Yasuo, I guess) during their sword training period, as one of the members who also worked closely at the dojo. But all relationships pretty much fell apart after you all got separated from the war, until one fateful day you stumbled upon a figure that reminded you of the past.

Words: 1.6k

(( Part 2 here ))

Notes: 

The story will follow along the canon lore of league of legends, as I prefer to stay close to the original storyline.

This is my first fic so please excuse my grammar mistakes if you happen to found some, I read it a few times before posting but just in case. I hope you enjoy! :D

•~•~•~•

You steadied your breath as you held your wound on your abdomen. You stepped back to lean your body on a tree trunk behind you for support, hiding yourself right below the shadows. Slowly, you took a piece of cloth to and wrapped it around your wound, and looked to the front.

A man stood ahead of you by few metres, his back turned towards you. The demon - the azakana, that had attacked you earlier had dissipated into the air, leaving trails of glowing dust from the place it had just been defeated with a single blow of a blade that belonged to the person in front of you.

This long-haired man wielded two blades; one seemingly glowing in red, the very one that had served the killing blow. The other was a regular katana, already sheathed back into his right hip. His gaze remained fixated to the place where the monster had vanished, before he finally shifted his body to the right. 

You flinched slightly as he turned his face slightly to the right, revealing a crimson mask covering his upper face. Two sharp points adorned its edges, his eyes glowing blue as they seemed to be looking at you. That gaze on his eyes — You felt your stomach churn as something, something terribly familiar of whatever this figure had posed reminded you a certain memory from the past. One that you were almost certain you had buried deep enough, untouched. 

•~•~•~•

“Yone—!”

You found yourself in his room, about to wake him up from what seemed to be his recurring nightmare. The room was still dark, the only light source was lit by a small lantern you had brought from your own room. You kneeled on the side of his futon, trying to wake him up when he suddenly rose and grabbed your wrist, preventing it to go any further as if it was any sort of prying hands from his dreams. His breath was ragged, unsteady.

“Yone, it’s alright… it’s me, y/n,” you whispered softly, trying to keep yourself calm at his sudden reaction. 

He released his grip on your wrist almost immediately after laying his eyes on you, realizing he was indeed back to the reality. 

“Forgive me,” he said, as he glanced at his hand, sighing. He kept his gaze low on the ground, focused on his blanket, his eyes seemingly tired as the night sleep could not offer him the proper rest he deserved.

“It’s alright, Yone. Do you want to talk about it?” You asked gently, keeping your gaze at him.

“…It’s that same crimson-masked creature again and again…” 

You went silent, concern filling your eyes as you were not sure how you would comfort him. It was the third time you had heard about this kind of dream from him by now.

You moved closer to him as you placed your hands on top of his, which had been cold to the touch. He looked up at you, meeting your gaze as the warmth from your palm seemed to seep into him, keeping his eyes at you so intently that you could sense the fear and desperation residing deeply within his eyes. He smiled wryly, more directed towards himself, then slowly leaned his body forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, closing his eyes.

“Please, stay- stay just like this for a while,” he pleaded as you felt his warm breath trickled at the side of your neck. His voice sounded tired, desperate. You felt a twinge of pain in your heart to see him at this state.

You normally would not see this vulnerable side of the man before you during the day, as he always kept his troubles deep inside - a private man by nature, or so you initially thought. But as the time passed, you realized that this responsible man was being too harsh on himself. You had been trying to get him to open up more, to share even the smallest bit of the burdens he was carrying.

However, on this particular night, it seemed he had utterly drained himself – weighed down by the troubles he was carrying, but you were always ready to welcome him at any time.

You brought one of your hand to the back of his head and embraced him fully, closing your eyes in the process. 

“I’m here, Yone. I’m always right here.”

•~•~•~•

The mask of the figure in front of you was eerily similar to the one Yone had described to you from his dreams, and now, whoever - or whatever - was standing in front of you were clearly as dangerous as the one you had imagined, although he did not seem to show any sort of threat towards you, as for now.

You watched him carefully as he put aside his magic-attuned katana, which had seemingly disappeared into the thin air after a quick swing to the side. Your adrenaline kept you cautious of his movements as he slowly approached you, eyes focused on your wound. 

“The village’s nearby, you’ll need to heal that s-“ 

His sentence was abruptly cut short as he stopped midway, his face now looking at you, seemingly frozen in shock. You gazed up to meet his glowing blue eyes, realizing that he was able to see your face in this distance as you tried to figure out whatever had stopped him in his track. It was hard to tell with the mask covering his face in the shadows, and you were sure enough you were backed up against a tree - unless, it had been alive and was trying to eat you ….

You brushed off the crazy thought as you put one hand behind to feel the tree bark, just to make sure.

You kept your gaze at him, scanning his features, unsure what to do. He kept his ground just right in front of you, also seemingly hesitant on doing whatever was on his mind, but he finally backed away and took a step behind. 

“Thank you,” you said, realizing that you had been silent for a while. He nodded in response, preparing to leave as he shifted his body to the left.

“W-wait!” You exclaimed, causing him to stop on his track in response. 

You felt that you just had to ask, as your thoughts wondered on his mysterious resemblance of his appearance, his origin, and most notably, his uncanny familiarity on his voice, to someone’s voice that you had last heard years ago. It had to be a coincidence… right? 

“What - who are you...?” You asked carefully as you leaned slightly forward, scanning his features on his face, realizing that it was actually his left eye - not of the mask, but a human eye - that had glowed blue, slowly dimming unlike his right one. You also noticed a scar on his left cheek, trailing down to his lips.

“What I am - is not your concern,” he replied, voice low and unwavering, standing still on his ground.

You pondered for a moment.

“…Somehow, you remind me of someone I knew.” You began, taking a deep breath as you continued, your eyes glued to the ground. “Someone I cared for … deeply.”

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes piercing into yours. His human eye had softened, now filled with emotions as he felt a trickle of warmth and sorrow residing deep inside him. Feelings that had been lost,forgotten. His right hand, which had been resting casually on top of his sword hilt, gripped the handle tight enough it rattled just a bit, as if he was trying to suppress the flood of emotions rising within him. All you needed to notice, was a glance back up at him, just to see. But you did not, as you remained fixed on the ground. You struggled to find the right words to say, fidgeting by yourself as thousands of thoughts and emotions were rushing through you, but somehow was stuck right at your throat. 

“I… see,” he replied. He was desperate enough to keep his emotions in check, his tone flat.

You shook your head lightly and managed a small smile, mostly to yourself. 

“But, that might just be me,” you said, deciding not to pry on further, with your wound still untreated. You stood yourself up and readied yourself to go. “Thank you again, stranger.” 

You nodded at him politely, expressing your gratitude, and made your way to the open trails, leading to a village nearby. 

“Oh, and,” you stopped midways, your back now facing him. “If you happen to see him, please tell him that… I miss him.”

For a moment, you stood there, calming your shaking hands, before continuing forward.

Yone watched your figure disappear further and deeper into the path, until you were no longer in sight. There, he stood, seemingly lost in thought under the night sky.

How he had stopped himself for not rushing to your aid when you were wounded;

How he had been restraining the urge not to put his hand on your face to feel your warm cheeks as you were facing the ground, unsure of what to do; 

How he had been holding himself back, not to embrace you from behind, to calm your trembles;

He wondered how he had managed to keep these thoughts to himself, as he knew for a fact that letting you live freely would be much wiser. Nothing would go well tampering with the spirit worlds – much alone a demon hunter.

Lifting his face up to the sky, as if surrendering himself to the cold embrace of the starry night, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I miss you too.”

[plantyberry]

Cloudcuckoolander Tally Part 2: Chapter 1-2 and 1-2-2: The Polo Club, or, 'Carrots save lives, but have you tried the apples yet?'

Coming in hot with the second part of my.. Thing (I'm not sure it can be called a guide), here are the many CuckooPoint-granting options there, although with some caveats. Some fears will lock you out of some picks, and so will your relationship with Adrian (As I mentionned in the previous part)

Therefore, for the sake of maximum point granting, please take care to keep those in mind:

-Friends or more with Adrian -Gadgetry as a hobby -NOT have the following fears: Blood, Fear -Greed will help

And now, let us move on for The Points!

Adrian and your past relationship: (Already mentionned last segment, but a reminder doesn't hurt)

If friends (or more) with Adrian + Gadgetry as a hobby: -I just did what the Magic 8-Ball told me to do. +1 Cuckoo

After that, check your MAGICAL GRIMOIRE (You phone) and you will see a message from Adrian (need friends or more) about the horses being spooked. -Do you think its the werewolves? Its always the werewolves. I'll bring the wolfsbane. +1 Cuckoo

Adrian reacting to your clothes: (Already mentionned last segment, but a reminder doesn't hurt)

Red Cape + Frame = 3 or height = tall: -"Little?" I wonder if Adrian has suddenly gone blind. --"Aye, Aye, fairy godmother." +1 Cuckoo

Vampire Cape: +1 Cuckoo -Strike a stereorypical vampire pose. +1 Cuckoo --"No promises" +1 Cuckoo

Tuxedo: -"Actually, I was planning to wear these clothes during practice." --"It will totally be worth it to see everyone's reaction to me riding around in a tux." +1 Cuckoo

Spandex Tracksuit: -"It's a tracksuit, Adrian. Why would I change my clothes again?" I ask 'innocently'. -- I say nothing, I merely start dancing the Tango de la Muerte. +1 Cuckoo (and the Keikaku achievement)

And now, for the conversation topics…

I make some light chitchat to break the ice.

-"So, how has your day been?" I ask Foreshadow. +1 Cuckoo

I ask about something that's been bothering me.

None! It is woefully bereft of cloudcuckoolander points and therefore may as well not exist.

I launch right into the meat of the matter.

-"There was a murder during my last work shift…" --(if police)I begin to describe my brilliant werewolf culprit theory. +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo --(if reporter, paramedic)"All I have to say is… zombies." +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo --(if lab technician) In the end, this is the work of werewolves… +1 Cuckoo --(if wildlife biologist) I elucidate in great detail upon the nitty-gritty details regarding my genius mutant bear theory. +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo (Whenever applicable) I'm not joking but I pretend that I am in a brilliant double-blind maneuver. +2 Cuckoo

-"So I was recently mauled by an invisible poltergeist…" -- Show your bruised arm to Adrian ---"What? I find this situation perfectly normal." ----I'm not being sarcastic. +1 Cuckoo (Note: If your cuckoo score is under 5, you gain +1 Denial instead)

-"It seems that my apartment may be a little bit haunted…" --"I don't know, man, that bedroom ghost sounded pretty sexy." ---Obviously, I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo

I launch into a long involved story regarding my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. -(follow the 'recently mauled by an invisible poltergeist' answer line) --"I blame the poltergeist. Also the werewolves, potential zombies, and I've got a sneaking suspicion that mutant fairies may be involved," you ramble. +1 Cuckoo

I believe actions speak louder than words

-I silently whip out my thirteen-page description of my past day including all details regarding my past work shift, my nightmare and strange injury, as well as the current haunted atmosphere of my apartment. --I wave my arms around in my best impression of a haunting ghost. +1 Cuckoo ---I reenact a scene from an earlier Knights of Our Lives episode that just so happened to appear in my dreams before. +1 Cuckoo (MC needs to know who Caleb is) ----I spin in a circle while twirling my arms. Surely Adrian will understand my meaning. +1 Cuckoo

Outside / Event prompts:

For a moment you think you see something dark and hulking lumbering behind the nearby red trailer, but the image vanishes within a single blink of your eyes. -Perhaps it was the werewolf that ate Caleb Degaré? +1 Cuckoo (You need to know who Caleb is)

If you deny foreshadow some treats twice (No treats for Foreshadow, those are meant for my own horse.), he will start chewing on your duffel bag. -I chew on the duffel bag myself. +1 Cuckoo

Not to mention part owner of the entire stable of polo ponies

-But the more rodeo clowns, the better. +1 Cuckoo

Post-Adrian Greetings

Talking about Arthur: "I just want to know if he's secretly a zombie/werewolf/mutant. He is, isn't he?" +1 Cuckoo I wonder if I accidentally left my apartment on fire this morning. +1 Cuckoo I wonder if an African swallow could really carry a coconut? +1 Cuckoo I hold up my phone with a Monty Python and the Holy Grail meme about coconuts on its screen. +1 Cuckoo I wonder if one of those sword swallower people could gulp down Excalibur? It'd be handy to be your own sheath. +1 Cuckoo (Requires Arthuriana fanatic)

Asking about the Apocalypse: "Pure unfiltered meta knowledge." +1 Cuckoo (Note: This one also gives +1 Corruption, be careful if you play some specific combos)

Ask how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. +1 Cuckoo

Approaching the trailer

-"You ever wonder what the color red would taste like if you could eat things with your eyes?" +1 Cuckoo

After the trailer

-I tell everyone who'll listen about the strange sounds in the trailer. --(If vice = Greed) I wonder if I could learn to juggle the polo balls? +1 Cuckoo

The Polo Match begins

-I wonder if a polo mallet could be used to eat crabs? +1 Cuckoo

The runaway horse

Most of the options here are tied to having a good end to the incident (which relies on having a non-possessed MC), make of that what you will~

If you didn't try to rescue Pippa, but you fed a treat to Foreshadowing (Adrian does the rescue)

-"WHOOO!" I loudly cheer the arrival of the other riders. --(If cuckoo and silent > 7) At least I don't have a gaping maw. +1 Cuckoo

If you didn't try to rescue Pippa, but didn't feed a treat to Foreshadowing (Adrien gets injured)

-I hurriedly trot over to where Adrian lies prone in the middle of the polo field. --If we'd been riding Velociraptors, I bet this never would've happened. +1 Cuckoo

If you go Rescue Pippa (Need Greed or Fear level < 10, and fear must not be 'fear') -I start humming the theme song from the original Batman TV series. +1 Cuckoo

If you are unwillingly rescuing Pippa -I'm not screaming, I'm yodeling! +1 Cuckoo

To avoid faling off the saddle during the attempt if you ride Knight Rider or Midsummer Knight Dream, after the creature attacked the trailer, wait a few times until the narration says the poney exhales.

If you slip from the saddle (Knight Rider or Midsummer Knight Dream): -I wonder what I should have for dinner tonight? +1 Cuckoo

If you fail the second stat check to rescue Pippa: -GERONIMO! +1 Cuckoo

If you ride Knight Rider/Midsummer Knight Dream or (Queen of Knight/Fly by Knight fed at least once), and (Body>=30 / Charm + body >=50) and unlock the following option:

Once more… -"I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!" +1 Cuckoo

If you ride Queen of Knight/Fly by Knight or (Knight Rider/Midsummer Knight Dream fed at least once), and (Body>=20 / Charm + body >=40) and unlock the following option:

Whatever happens, don't let go. -Da da da da da… Batmaaaaaaan! +1 Cuckoo

If you successfully rescued Pippa: -Rodeo rider, hmm… I see the possibilities. +1 Cuckoo

Post Rescue:

(If not mindcontrolled) "Did anyone else see that strange thing on the hill?" --"…a zombie wolf?" +1 Cuckoo --"…a werewolf in wolf form." +1 Cuckoo --"…a mutant wolf-bear-shark hybrid?" +1 Cuckoo

If you slipped off the saddle with either Knight Rider or Midsummer Knight Dream: -"Come on! I believe in you, Willy! You can do it! You could be free! Come on! You can jump it!" +1 Cuckoo Negligence in equipment maintenance? Manufacturing error? Or… -Or the perfidious work of trailer gremlins? +1 Cuckoo

If helping Ash with the cleanup: -I wonder if we could train dung beetles to do this work instead? +1 Cuckoo

Going back to the trailer:

-I wonder if this horse ramp's good for skateboarding? +1 Cuckoo -If the trailer turned into gingerbread, would we still need to give hay to the horses? +1 Cuckoo (also gives you +1 Magic, the cloudcuckoolander MC does synergize well with magical shenanigans in general)

Go check with Amnay -"All I can say is…" (+Crazy theory) (You need to have thought about the same crazy theory at least 2 times) +1 Cuckoo --The proof is in the pudding! Which is wobbly and very delicious. +1 Cuckoo ---I know the truth. I know that I know the truth. And one day, I'll show them all! MuahahahahaHAHAHAâ-ahem. +1 Cuckoo

[lovebirdgames]

Progress Update - October, 2024

It is time…the first Quarterly Progress Update for our next game starts now! And we're kicking it off with a title drop!!! Drum roll, please! Tom, if you will help me out...

That's right! Heartbreaker joins the fray!

For the record that’s not the real logo, just a temporary one that I slapped together.

Before we get into it I would actually like to glance back at the past and detail what our development timeline looked like for Band Camp Boyfriend. It's possible this one might look somewhat similar.

2015-2017 - Writing 2017 - Commissioned art, created social media presence 2018 - Demo released on Itch.io in August Programming hell 2022 - Demo released on Steam 2023 - Full game released

The good news is this isn’t our first rodeo and I’m hopeful there won’t be so many growing pains this time.  We're also doing 4 routes and a shorter common route so that means less suffering for us. The bad news is I worked part-time 2015-2017 so I blazed through writing and now I work full-time…and I’m old…and my memory is failing me…but it’s okay, I’ve forgotten all the pain.

This time around we want to be sure we get all the writing down before we start commissioning art.  We had the tendency to keep going back and asking for more because the game kept getting bigger (saving up money was also a factor). We’re gonna make sure we know exactly what we want this time. We’d also like to save casting voice actors for much later in the process so they aren’t waiting around for years on end. So the demo for this game will not have voice acting. I believe I wrote about this a little before in our post-mortem. We’re learning from our mistakes, woohoo!

That said, this is what we’re hopefully visualizing for Heartbreaker.

2024-2025 - Writing 2026 - Big art commissioning year, a more exciting project reveal, hopefully demo release later in the year! 2027 and on - Programming hell! Casting! Soundtrack fun!

…If this was to line up with BCB that would mean 2031 release. Oh God. No, I wanna release it in this decade, thanks. This is very tentative and we’re determined to not take 7 years this time.

Enough about that! Here is what we’ve worked on this year!

Concept art: Lite was absolutely awesome (as always) and let us have sessions with her in which we worked on concept art of the main cast together. It was super helpful in bringing our visualizations to life and it will definitely aid in writing the story. I can't go on enough about how wonderful Lite is to work with, and it was amazing to watch her go. She would whip up a number of poses, face types, or hairstyles for us to choose from. It was really fun and we're very grateful for the time she spent with us.

The demo: That's right, the demo is written! Woohoo! Unlike Band Camp Boyfriend with its twisting, long-winded common route, Heartbreaker’s common route is a single day! Alex can sigh in relief because that’s one less nightmare in programming for her.

The demo will contain the one-day common route and the first two chapters of two different love interests’ routes (the other two are locked at the start of the game so you’ll just have to admire them from a distance). 

Brainstorming: Ahh my favorite part…talking long walks or going for coffee and coming up with ideas. Brainstorming is ongoing and includes character profiles, world-building, and route outlines. This game has a lot more lore and world-building than BCB, so it’s more of a challenge, but we’re here for it. I've already done a badly-drawn map of the setting. Just need to finish up some profiles for minor characters and do some of my own badly-drawn concept art. Then we move on to fleshing out the route outlines.

The first route: One goal I have is to try and finish writing the first draft of the first route by the end of the year! Which is insane because October is super busy for me, but I'm sure I can buckle down when it gets colder. It's a bit ambitious, but aim high, right?

That's all I got for now! Hope you're all feeling hyped and uh, patient, because we won't be able to show you any cool art for a while. ;v; Thank you so much for sticking by us and we appreciate every single comment that has mentioned looking forward to our next game! Enjoy the rest of 2024!!!

P.S. Today is my mom's birthday and yesterday was my sister's birthday, and also my best friend's birthday, HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAYYYY to these very important people. <3

[bonefanatic]

saw @llamagoddessofficial 's fae au and got inspired. i hope this is okay-

(not proofread) ((btw I changed the names bc im not calling them nightmare and horror))

The wind howls around you, biting at the exposed flesh of your face and hands. It reminds you, however, that you have hands and they ache as you flex them. Snow sticks to your lashes and melts, you can't tell if freezes to your numb skin but it doesn't do much to soothe your fears of freezing to death.

You pause, gaze wandering over the expanse of snow and trees. It takes a moment for your thoughts to thaw.

The wings trapped under your coat are a dreadful reminder as to why you are braving the cold. You were desperate, desperate to remove the curse that had been given to you.

The curse of being half monster, half fae.

This was your last chance and, truly, it wouldn't matter if you survived the cold. Human or dead, that's what you should be.

Your body started moving again, dragging through the snow. Maybe you should stop now. Just lay down and die.

Don't stop.

Something called out but you couldn't hear the words. You felt them, they felt warm and familiar.

Keep going.

And you did. You couldn't run, not with the snow this deep but you suddenly felt motivated to hurry.

I'm here.

"Thank you...", the whisper was lost to the wind and you forced yourself to project the words. To share them with the voice.

Find me.

You spotted a color among the greys and white of the snow, barely visible through the trees. Part of you thought, for a moment, that it was Eos. He had always been depicted with a single, bright eyelight.

But his was supposed to be the turquoise wasn't it?

You must be fading into delusions. There was no guarantee that there was even a person there.

But the light was, and it was blood red.

Panic shot trhough you, but even the adrenaline that made your body want to move did little to battle the cold that has settled in your bones.

In the few moments you had stopped in a panic, the light had disappeared along with the voice.

A thud came from behind you and you whirled around, almost stumbling.

A large being stood before you, towering over your frozen frame and grinning. It's red eyelight focused on you, washing over the snow surrounding you. The light glinted off metal and your eyes flicked to a large axe with intricate runes etched into the blade.

The monster made a low cooing sound, seeming to lower itself to your level.

"fairy..", It spoke, smiling still. The word put dread in your gut and you stumbled back.

"Don't- I don't want to die-" It's first time in a long time you had thought that.

The skeletal being tilted it's head, bringing a hand and tapping an odd rhythm on its cheek...well, bone.

"i...would never..", it lowered itself further and leaned a little closer, "hurt you..little fairy..."

It spoke slowly you noticed, as though considering and tasting every word.

Unsure if you could trust it, you shifted on your feet.

"I...need to get to Lord Eos." You forced courage into the words. "Do you know how much longer it will take...?"

The being, you should really learn his name, shifted again. His eyelight darted away and he opted for scratching instead of tapping now.

"too long..", he decided. (You were fairly sure it was masculine and just saying 'it' felt rude.) "the storm will slow you down...'nd kill you before you can..get close...and you'd need..a guide, if you..if you made it..."

He one eyelight settled on you again.

"i could....guide you...and help with the...storm..." He peers down at you, waiting for an answer.

You consider for a moment. You don't know if you can trust him. You have no way of nothing whether or not you're in fae territory and whether or not he is fae. On top of that, he's armed and, while he hasn't posed himself as a threat, he could probably be a very large one if he wanted.

But you're cold, cursed and desperate.

"You swear you know the way?" You're pretty sure this works on full fae.

He nods slowly.

"Give me your name and swear to guide me."

He pauses, eyes focusing solely on you like he can see your very soul. Slowly, he rises and you tense, taking a step back. He reaches out, taking your hand in a way so gentle you don't expect it from him. He sets it on his chest, about where his soul his.

"jupiter...swears to you, little fairy...i will guide...protect you...and guide...". His eyelights are all large and fuzzy.

"Jupiter...is your name?"

He nods.

You don't offer him your own, and he doesn't ask. It comforts you slightly to withhold it from him.

The two of you walk another hour or so, mostly in silence. Jupiter rumbles occasionally or makes a whistling sound and pauses momentarily.

You don't ask.

It gets dark and even colder. The wind has died down substantially, thankfully.

You reminsesce over the constant armth of the village you once knew and mourn the loss.

But, you persist.

You swear you see the warm light of a fire, burning not too far away and it makes you want to hurry. Your eyelids feel heavy and you try to brush it off, but eventually....

The ground draws closer as you fall and before you give in to sleep, you feel Jupiter snag the hood of your coat and grumble.

"silly fairy.."

It strikes an awful feeling in your soul and as you pass out you feel like a silly, scared, tired, little fairy.