#but i actually write so rarely about my life even though i sometimes began to write those posts in my head

[machidielontheway]

my biggest "what would fix you right now" is sleep schedule. i love sleeping, i love being in my bed, love the feeling of blorbo rotating while comfy in my pillow. i don't mind doing the nightly routine : pee time, brushing teeth [altho this is a recent change !], filling water bottle.

what i don't like and don't manage to do is the Break : stopping the enjoyment - or the avid, compulsory search for enjoyment - and actually closing my laptop. Closing the laptop is cutting up the connection and the safety, comfort of it. connection is : i am not alone. there is people there and i can hear them, listen to them, my room is filled with the sound of people living. i am not lonely. safety is : i am finding joy and am entertained - i am not wasting my life. i do not think of things i yearn to do but lack the energy and courage for. i am fulfilled.

Closing the door and getting out of my own laid spell and having to face reality again is very hard. I do not like it and i avoid it for as long as i can sometimes, even if i am tired and would love to be sleeping. (the reality is : sometimes i am lonely and unfulfilled ; the reality is i haven't been sleeping enough for years to have the emotional energy enough to be able to make concrete steps to change this)

i could say a lot more because this subject branches out back to itself but let's just keep what was the original goal.

i wanted to speak about it to the therapist i saw for the first time a week ago, because as of now sleep is Obstacle n°1 to be resolved in my life. but i didn't really connect with her, and it was a first session so a bit hard to go directly into one specific subject. However i spoke about it to a friend the next day, and she told me how she does it and we did a little brainstorming / our discussion was such to me.

one thing i discovered about myself in the last year is that i have very little perseverance, and if there is - or if i see something as such - an obstacle i will mostly not do the thing blocked by the obstacle. The ideal solution for this is : if you can't make yourself go past the obstacle, either 1) remove the obstacle or 2) change your course. When i was in my last flat the bathroom was some way away from my room and it was old and i didn't like it. I had a hard time brushing my teeth at night and mostly never did it. a temporary solution became "i go to pee super often, let's just brush my teeth each time with water for a few seconds" and that worked quite a bit. the obstacle was going to a place i didn't like with little reward ; the solution was do the thing when you're already in there, when you didn't have a problem to go because you actually wanted to". The problem literally disappeared when i moved flats and 1) had the bathroom directly against my room again and 2) i like the bathroom and don't feel uncomfortable spending time in it. It's a great things to know this kind of things about you, because it's easier to see how to go about solving a problem.

So with my friend as we spoke about it and it finally took a shape, i thought : clearly knowing and agreeing with all those things about "capitalism doesn't give you time so you spite it with a fucked up sleep schedule to get time for you" is not helping you : it's true but you can't change that rn. But the shape of "i don't like when i close the laptop and suddenly i'm back in real life with all my doubts and feelings", that i can manage. i can make the Break less of a break. With my friend i planned two things : 1) my laptop does not go in to the bedroom, and 2) i will put on sound on my phone until i shut off the lights (i dislike going on internet on my phone so no loophole here).

It did work in parts, which is actually great. I DID feel frustrated about not having the laptop, like a real feeling of "something missing / something not in its place", but it was not big enough that i couldn't go through it, which means that i can acclimate myself to it in time ; and it was enough that i didn't feel the break too keenly. Once i was done with my nightly ablutions, i kept listening to the video (music is Not Enough so i listen to Defunctland Fastpass vid) and felt myself falling asleep after ten minutes, which is also good : it's not enough to keep me awake through my tiredness the way i can power through for hours with the laptop (yes i have f.lux), and it's easier to stop and put down because my phone doesn't represent a Door to me the way my laptop does.

Now the thing to work on is that i need to actually do this where i do get in my room at an interesting hour and not just at two am, or it makes me as sleepy but less comfortable. So while a part of a solution is present the big boss is still there : the drive and motivation to do the first step which is "now we will begin". i once thought 'when i will have my new fancy phone where i can put on more than one alarm clock, i'll put some in the evening to create Doors for me to come back to reality and make a choice - i can stay where i am, or i can decide to go to bed". This increase the chance that i manage to go to bed earlier, instead of being kept in the waters of the spell until i see the clock hitting the magic hour where somehow i will accept going to sleep (which in these days is 1:30 AM). However i did NOT put on those alarms even though i've had my new fancy phone since january. which is another mystery to think about : what makes me 'not want' to put them on ? what do i fear ? i was excited about it once, what has changed ? is there another way i can make 'coming back to it' doors that would not be from alarm clock ?

I do like having my struggles put in this form because 1) i like feeling like i'm taking concrete steps toward something, because for so so so long i've been Waiting. besides the "fight or flight" reaction there is the freeze and i'm very good at it. and action is what makes you brain calm down from Fight or Flight. 2) i love analysis (recent discovery through work) ! it's like a treasure map with little adventures you have to follow until you find the treasure. But this also means knowing / searching for how things works, so you can understand why they're not working and find a satisfactory solution or a workaround.

anyway. yeah.

[the-s1lly-corner]

So… how do I word this uh what if the reader breaks up with one of tadc characters? Or vise versa?

Break up! (TADC cast x reader)!

YAHOO still trying to figure out who gets broken up with and who breaks up with you, guess we'll see when I write the actual post down!! Ueueue

Admittedly this post is more of a "how they are like" instead of "actual event of the breakup"

CAINE:

POMNI:

You break up with him...

Caine would never ever ever think of breaking it off with you... unless you find an exit and decide to stay with him. I wrote a post with that idea, and to make it short the guilt would eat him alive, making every day a living hell

But how would he be when you break up with him?

I think he would be all over the place. I mean you're his first romance, and you're his first heartbreak. Hes a mess. Hes crying, hes trying to bargain, and to fix what was broken

But then suddenly hes just

There

Neutral, as if understanding everything.. it's a little terrifying, and for a minute you think his coding is acting up. And maybe it is...

He isnt cold, he isnt holding a grudge, he just treats you like he treats the other circus members. Its actually a little... weird

Do I think his coming got messed up?

No, actually I think in secret hes grieving the relationship. But he now understands that this is just how things work out sometimes

Hes hurting but hes learning

She breaks up with you...

RAGATHA:

Its not that she fell out of love with you, quite the opposite actually. But the more she thought about it, the more.... difficult it would be for both of you. I mean shes tryimg to find the exit, and what are the odds both of you will be able to find each other in the real world? Would you guys even remember the events of the digital world when you escape...? Would...

Theres just so much, but even if it hurts her so so much she doesnt want to hold you down.. she tries to remain friends with you, but the hurt feelings make things hard for both parties

JAX:

You both mutually break up...

You guys probably break up after not coming to an agreement on life goals and big life decisions... I mean, as big of life decisions as you can in the digital world... now obviously you guys tried to find compromises and talk things through, but you guys just couldnt find any solutions where both sides are happy

Remember, resentment is a ugly thing that can ruin even the greatest things one can have. And this is especially true for relationships, romantic or otherwise

So in order to prevent that, you guys agree that you srent compatible with one another.. and thats okay

You guys are still friends, though!

KINGER:

You break up with him...

And he does not take it well at all. I think he would feel angry and betrayed. He wouldn't beg for you back, though. No he views that to be way too humiliating and he refuses to stoop that low. Actually I think if anything he would pretend you dont exist. And I think that's worse than just saying "he ramps up the pranks and targets you"

No, jax is emotionally immature imo, at least that's how I personally write him given we only have the pilot so far..

Very rarely does he actually acknowledge you, and even then it's cold and distant. Probably the least likely to get back with you

ZOOBLE:

You break up with him...

Theres probably a few factors that go into it. The general burn out that comes with a partner that struggles with mental health (because as horrible as it sounds, that is a valid reason. Coming from someone who is mentally ill and diagnosed with stuff, I would not blame my partner for leaving me if my symptoms began to wear down their mental health. It does not make someone a burden. Ones mental health is ultimately theres to deal with, and protect, but I'm not about to go on a tangent I'm just gonna say its valid), feeling that you can't compete with queenie, as well as a few other things

After the break up kinger seems

Lost

Like hes wandering around, and perhaps sometimes he even forgets that you guys broke up. It's sad. No one wants to see an old man cry..

But I dont think the grief will make him abstract. Actually, I dont think he would be nasty to you. Actually if you give him some time, hes actually still quite friendly with you, as well as understanding. You guys still remain friends

GANGLE:

They break up with you...

Likely, it could be that you overwhelmed zooble or made them feel like they werent good enough for you. Zooble themselves is very distant and checked out, and even more so given the current situation. But even then I dont think that there would be an event that would lead to the breakup; because otherwise I feel they would try to make it work

Or maybe, they have been and you guys just werent compatible..

It takes them a while to adapt to being single again, but they will get over it eventually. That being said they give me the vibe that they rend to avoid their exes

You both mutually break up..

Theres just so much going on, and given gangles very sensitive and shy nature and whatever issues you have going on, you both agree to take a break to try to better yourselves.. for yourselves..

I think out of all the characters, you guys have the most potential of getting back together

Gangle tries not to let herself get down in the dumps, but she still will miss you lots the first few weeks..

Even if you guys dont get back together, at least you both become better and more confident in yourselves for yourselves and any future partners

Of course this isnt to say that being sensitive or shy is a red flag or "ick", coming from someone who is those things. But sometimes it truly can become draining for a partner who has to be constantly be built back up. For the sake of both sides there needs to be space, or resentment can build and ruin everything. Is that mean and terrible? Yes. But its human

Add in whatever issues you have going on, you both agree it's better to split

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 14

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1672

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 14

It surprised not only Dean but also Sam when she took their plates to the kitchen, and with the time she spent there, they could only assume she’d done the dishes, too. 

“So, what the hell is a soulmate?” Dean asked the moment she had disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen.

“I found a little bit about soulmates. I’m glad Charlie put the lore from the bunker computer on an accessible network. This would have taken days to find,” Sam began, keeping his voice down. “So, Pari need to find their soulmate. It has to do with not feeling whole if they don’t. Sometimes, it can take decades or centuries. If you’re feeling anything toward her, even with that sigil on, it’s a high possibility that you are her soulmate.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “How come she doesn’t seem like she feels the same, though?” he found himself asking, then rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated.

Sam chuckled a little, finding the situation slightly amusing, “Maybe she doesn’t believe in soulmates,” he suggested, doing his best to keep from smiling.

“I don’t even know how I’d ask her about it without it sounding creepy,” Dean groaned, leaning back in his chair and glancing toward the hallway she’d gone down.

Sam sighed, although he was still amused. He knew how talented and suave his brother was with women, and now, he almost seemed nervous. Sam understood that, yeah, Maria was their case, and Dean was attempting to remain professional about it, but it was amusing nonetheless. Before he could respond, though, Maria made her way out and told them she was hitting the sack. They bid her goodnight, and Sam watched his brother watch her as she went down the hallway to her room.

“You’re hopeless,” Sam chuckled, looking back down at his laptop.

“Shut up,” Dean told him, shooting him a glare, which only made Sam chuckle again.

“Okay, so, soulmates. Humans can have soulmates with each other, although it’s rare. Pari, on the other hand, always have a soulmate. It doesn’t even have to be another Pari. It can be any human-like creature,” Sam explained as he was reading things from his screen.

“What do you mean, human-like?” Dean asked, curious but also worried.

“A Pari’s soulmate can be anything from a human to an angel, demon, werewolf. Literally, anything human-like, even another Pari,” Sam answered him.

“I need a drink,” Dean mumbled, getting up and retrieving a bottle of whiskey and a glass. That was when he noticed the kitchen.

Not only were the dishes done, but the whole kitchen seemed to be cleaned up. The layer of dust on the shelves around things they barely used was gone. He glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in, and then hollered for his brother, who came running.

“What?” he asked, worried for a moment.

“Dude, she cleaned. Like, clean cleaned,” Dean said in a slight state of awe.

Sam looked around, noticing all the same things Dean had, along with the drawers and how all the dings, marks, and chipped paint were gone, making them look brand new. He also noticed how the pots that were hanging looked brand new.

“She’s trying to exhaust herself,” Sam sighed.

That was when it hit Dean. She didn’t believe in the whole soulmate thing, and it made his heart sink, which annoyed him. They both knew there were only two ways for her to fully awaken her powers, and it looked as though she was going the hard route.

“So, she doesn’t believe then,” Dean sighed, grabbing a glass and going back out to the library. He barely knew her, but he almost felt heartbroken. He knew that feeling, as he’d experienced something similar before with Lisa.

Sam opened the fridge to grab a beer and noticed that it too, had been cleaned. He pursed his lips as he grabbed a beer and rejoined his brother in the library. Dean looked heartbroken, and Sam began thinking of how he could help.

“We could always talk to her tomorrow, Dean. Maybe tell her that she’s more than just a case,” he suggested.

“You know, that’s not what I wanted to tell her, that she was just a case,” Dean began as he stared down at his drink. Sam could even hear the pain in his tone. “I wanted to tell her that she was more than that, that I wanted to get to know her.”

“So, talk to her tomorrow. She has been acting distant ever since you said that, and neither of us gave her that tour of the place today,” Sam suggested and reminded him.

Dean sighed, still frustrated. He was frustrated at himself for how he felt that he apparently had no control over. Then, he was frustrated because he had no control over it. He downed his drink, hoping it would help, and poured himself another.

“Drinking won’t solve your problem,” Sam sighed.

“No, but it’ll help me sleep tonight and not think harder than I already am,” he mumbled.

Dean didn’t want to tell his brother that for the first time in a long time, he was afraid to lose someone again, a stranger he barely knew. He also didn’t want to admit that it was worse than he ever felt with Lisa, and he had loved her, a long time ago.

Sam wasn’t sure if he should keep going with what he’d found about soulmates, not with how his brother looked, “Let’s just talk to her tomorrow and not jump to any conclusions tonight.”

He sighed, sipping his drink, “What else did you find on soulmates?”

“Well, according to this, a kiss can make a non-believer, believe. Have you ever touched her?” Sam asked, glancing over at his brother.

He had to think about that one, replaying every interaction he had with her in his mind, “Yeah, at the bar. I set my hand on her arm, but it was over her flannel.”

“Damn. and she was sleeping when you put her in bed last night. It takes skin-to-skin contact to get a non-believer to even start thinking about it,” Sam replied, feeling bad for his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes, although he had several very intimate things go through his mind when Sam mentioned skin-to-skin contact. He couldn’t control the slight smirk that played at his lips.

“Dean, that is so not what I mean,” Sam groaned, seeing the look in his brother’s eyes.

He couldn’t help the chuckle or the smile, “Can’t help it,” he chuckled again, shaking his head a bit.

They didn’t even bother cleaning up that night. Dean had had several drinks, and they talked a bit more about soulmates and Pari. Surprisingly, they didn’t have a ton of lore on either. They didn’t even know what dimension Pari were from or how long they lived for.

As Dean lay in bed, attempting to find sleep, a whole new slew of worries and questions running through his mind, even with the alcohol he’d consumed.

What if she didn’t want to believe? Would she look at him like he was a creep or a pervert? Would she want to go live in her own dimension, alone? Hell, would she want him to go with him, and how would that even work? Would he have to give up hunting? Could he give up hunting? What if she didn’t even find him attractive?

He groaned, rolled over, and sometime an hour later, sleep finally found him.

Morning came, and he made his way sleepily to the kitchen for coffee, where his brother was already sitting. He’d had bizarre dreams, but that was nothing new for him. 

“She still sleeping? “Dean asked, sitting across from his brother.

“I haven’t seen her yet, and her door is still closed,” Sam replied, “Feeling any better?”

“Not really,” he answered, a mild groan to his words.

“We can talk to her after she wakes up,” Sam tried to reassure him.

The two returned to the library with their second cup of coffee, digging back into the lore books on the table from the previous day. Dean would glance at the hallway from time to time as he tried to concentrate on reading. Something just didn’t feel right to him. 

After they ate, an hour later, she still hadn’t emerged from her room. Dean turned in his chair, his arm on the table, “I can’t believe she’s still asleep.”

“I’m sure she just wore herself out last night, cleaning the kitchen,” Sam stated, not looking up from his laptop.

Dean sighed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong but somehow forced himself to turn back to the table and look back down at his book. Several times, he had to go back and reread things, as his mind had wandered, concerned for her and the fact that she hadn’t woken up.

Lunch came and went, and Dean was getting antsy. Even Sam was beginning to worry a little. It wasn’t like any of the books had explained how long she’d be out for having exhausted herself the night before. Dean got up and went to her room, knocking. When she didn’t respond, he opened the door. She was there, lying on her bed on her side, above the blankets, seeming to be sound asleep.

He signed and went back out to the library, making sure to close her door behind him, “She’s sleeping.”

“She’ll wake up when she wakes up,” Sam again tried to reassure him, even if he too was getting a little worried.

“I’m still worried. This can’t be normal,” Dean grumbled, again attempting to focus on the book in front of him.

When dinner rolled around, though, he had had enough. With the way he walked to her room, Sam followed close behind him. She was still sleeping, now lying on her back. She even looked comfortable. Dean went over to her side, shaking her gently and calling her name.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

Tag List: @djs8891

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

[crossovernonshipstournament]

Propaganda

Nightcrawler and Nightwing:

I'm not saying all circus kids know each other, but these two do. Dick's circus was doing a tour of Europe and met Kurt's circus and they traveled together for a while. Dick and Kurt bonded and became pen pals. Kurt's circus was in America when the Grayson's took their infamous dive and he comforted Dick afterward. He also teleported Dick into the trunk of the Batmobile and Bruce didn't find out until he got to the Cave. That's the real reason Dick became Robin. Batman and Robin were in Europe for a mission and Dick went to see Kurt's circus. He saw his friend was all drugged up and staged a rescue. Thus began the long standing tradition of Batman dropping mutant's off at Xavier's. Dick and Kurt still write. Two blue boys who spread happiness and joy and are freaking terrified when ticked.

Matsuri and Ainosuke:

So they're both /very/ closeted flamboyant gay men in powerful houses that could make them disappear any day if they ever found that out. Both were/are being set up for arranged political marriage. Ainosuke is a politician, very into infrastructure for the youth and the environment. His father was also a very renowned politician and he basically took his place in the party after his death. Said father was a piece of shit. Ainosuke appears very clean on himself, the perfect boy. However, hidden from everyone, he's a skating god, dressing as a matador named "Adam" and skating down mountains, with a cigarette in his mouth (it cannot be made public he smokes). In Tokyo Ghoul, Matsuri is the heir to the CCG, basically cops that fight against ghouls. However, the family leading it, the Washuu, are actually ghouls! Matsuri is very emotionally restrained, and despite his actual personality being more extravagant, he always only show other his cold, ruthless, exterior when there is anyone around. His true self only comes out when he's alone. Unlike Ainosuke, Matsuri really loved his father. Said father's murder destroyed him thoroughly, making it the first time we readers saw Matsuri's emotions. Now another funny more common point the two have: they both have someone considered to be their human dog. Their closest subordinate, Tadashi for Ainosuke, which fully assumes his position as dog and even seeks it out - and Urie Kuki for Matsuri, who only proclaimed to be his dog in order to be closer to power. Fun fact, both Tadashi and Urie have a mole under their eyes, never express what they actually feel, and rarely ever talk. Ainosuke is def a Dom, it's actual canon. Matsuri is very much coded so. (Matsuri's in love with Urie btw bc he craves actual loyalty and friendship. He sees himself in Urie, too (who's also in an unrequited love with his colleague and very much gay and closeted)) Now my crossover started as a joke. Despite Ainosuke being from Okinawa and Matsuri from Tokyo, I definitely thought they would could have met in Tokyo given Ainosuke's profession. I thought "oh wouldn't it be fun if they meet at an event and their gaydars go absolutely bonkers" and off my brain went. Meeting at an event in Tokyo, they recognize themselves in the other. For the first time in the evening, Ainosuke's smile is true. Matsuri's hands shake slightly but no one takes notice of it. They meet again few times. With time, they grow closer and as they know each other better, both on a personal level and political one (but especially that one), they decide to ally politically, as they both long for a life that's more free, where they can be who they actually are (both in the sexuality aspect and the ghoul aspect for Matsuri - though Ainosuke wouldn't know about that as it's very much illegal to be a ghoul) I've also entertained the idea of making them meet sometime in a dungeon or a gay bar or club but I ultimately never did anything with it as Ainosuke wouldn't go to bars or clubs and Matsuri can't eat human food in the first place. I kinda want to do something with the BDSM dungeon but I haven't researched that enough yet haha There's also the fact that Ainosuke has red eyes which is a features ghouls have in TG. Now Matsuri would know right off that he's human as ghouls can recognize themselves by smell, but I love the thought of Ainosuke being suspected of being a ghoul and investigated for it. Ainosuke would be very supportive of ghouls as he'd see their struggles as an oppressed minority that have to suppress their true selves in order not to be killed. Yeah. They are my favorite guys. I relate a lot to them as I also grew up in a strict family not accepting of queerness and well. If I don't get to meet them well at least they both can have each other as friends!

[superman--yoosung]

hi hello! (◍ ´꒳` ◍) i happened to stumble upon your Genshin matchup event so i was wondering if i could participate?

— pronoun preference(s): she/they

— gender preference: male

— ballpark age preference: adult, but not Diluc please

— personality + morals/beliefs: i'm generally easygoing and patient, and often mistaken for an extrovert because of how friendly i can be. i've been told i'm very easy and calming to be around, however, i love my alone time more than socialising. i also have a bad habit of nagging people when i'm worried about them but can rarely spare a thought for myself ^^; i believe in what goes around comes around, both in its negative and positive meaning, so i try to do what i think is right while not wasting energy on stupid/mean people (sometimes it's hard though sigh)

— likes + dislikes: i love languages, and folktales (especially those that have eerie or unsettling undertones to it, same goes for books). i'm majoring in english right now as well! i also love, writing, dogs, flowers and stargazing.

as for dislikes, i don't like cold weather, extremely loud places like large concerts, and being stuck in someone else's rythm (them deciding on everything, listening to only them talk etc.)

— what vision you think you would have and why: perhaps electro because i feel like i'm often in my own dream world that i'm trying to lightly assimilate into my life.

— embarrassing moment from your life: as a kid i used to think you can actually fly with your umbrella like Mary Poppins if you jumped from a high enough place (places i jumped from include: a big oak, a greenhouse roof and a piano)

— additional info: i can speak four languages (three fluently, one is still under work xD), think i'm good at singing although i'm actually not but sing aloud anyway, and really want to visit a big desert or a tundra and just look at a humongous sea of stars!

that's all, thank you so much! hopefully this wasn't too much info, i apologise if it was ^^; and naturally, no need to do this if you don't feel like it. take care and have a lovely day <3

Hello! Thank you for sending in your ask!! This was really fun to do since you have so many interesting small details!!

Your matchup is.................................................

Alhaitham !!

Your interests and expertise just align so well. It was inevitable that you eventually crossed paths, and the rest was history!

..... Sort of. Your personalities don't seem similar at first - others outside of your friend groups expect you to be far too extroverted for Alhaitham, who would much rather spend his time quietly on the things that interest him. But unbeknownst to them, that's exactly how you feel, too - why spend energy and time on folks and topics whose presence and example fail to bring positive influence into your sphere?

Perhaps that's what kept Alhaitham coming back to you - that kindred spirit, that appreciation for simpler joys in life, that depthless yearning to learn about what you love.

Either way, what began as a shared love of languages and academic pursuits eventually morphed into something more between the two of you.

Fun details:

Electro + Dendro on the field means you two create some powerful reactions in battle!

When the weather gets cold, he'll always have your favorite warm drink ready and waiting by the time you get home. He won't let you wear his cape to stay cozy, though, so if you want it you'll have to steal it!

You probably get along with Alhaitham's friends better than he does!

Your evenings are usually spent quietly pursuing your interests in each other's presence; Alhaitham on one end of the couch reading a book, and you on the other finishing a paper or reciting new vocab for a language you're learning (and by the way, he'll chime in with a correction or critique now and then, too, because - of course he would)

You may nag him from time to time, and he'll usually follow your advice without question, as long as it's reasonable - but he'll always use that rational mind of his to point out when you've done so to your own detriment!

If you've forgotten to take care of yourself, he'll remind you to do so - he'll ask if you've eaten your meals, if you're sleeping well, whether you need to blow off some steam, etc. He tends to do so without a filter, though, so he tends to be blunt about it.

You, and only you, are allowed to regularly use his spare pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

If you suggest a visit to the desert or tundra or even just to go stargazing, he'll be happy to plan the entire trip with you - it gives him a reason to use his vacation days, and more importantly, it'll put a smile on your face for a week.

Your wild imagination is something that amuses him. Though he'll always logically point out the flaws in your daydreams, it's partly just to see your reaction. If you met as children, he definitely tagged along in your jumping shenanigans, but only to say "I told you so" when they inevitably didn't go how you hoped.

He doesn't make it a secret that he values your opinions, both academically and personally. He values your input and always takes it into account.

And what does he loves about you most? A simple question with a simpler answer: Your mind, which is both capable of highly logical thought as well as the most unrealistic of dreams. A juxtaposition he finds enthralling. He does also like to admire your frame in the moonlight, too, underneath all of those stars you so love - how the shadows cast along your shoulders, how your hair reflects the night's light.

~~I hope this is to your liking. I was very close to picking Zhongli for you because I thought he would be able to tell you the best folktales, but in the end I went with Alhaitham because I thought you shared some important views/interests. Have a good day~!

[evelhak]

30 Days of Autism Acceptance 2023

April 26

If you're interested in other people/want contact, how do you normally make contact with others? Do you stay where you are and hope that they approach you, or do you approach them?

If you're not interested in other people, do others respect and understand that? Were you negatively affected by the "autistics are very social actually and want friends, they just don't know how to do that!" mentality (for example that everyone tries to force social interactions because they think you secretly want social contacts)?

I need connection with others deeply and am very social, however, also very introverted so I need a lot of alone time, and I assume autism makes it even more so for me.

My natural way of making friends is going to someone and stating why I want to be friends with them. That tends to put people off, so I don't really do it in real life anymore. Online it seems to work a lot better, actually!

Another way for me to make friends is through a shared, predictable activity where I know my role. That way I always know what to talk to people about. Hobby groups have always been my number one environment for contact with other people, however, I still rarely make the kind of friends who I would see outside of that activity. It has happened a few times, but more often than not, people will create subgroups I'm not a part of, and I don't know how you get into those. Mostly I don't mind though, since the demands would exceed my social capacity.

If there is no shared activity, I don't know how to make friends. I don't know what to say, or how they expect the relationship to progress, if they do. I can't do casual hanging out in groups very well unless there's a clear topic of discussion, and even then I usually don't get a word in because people don't notice I'm speaking. I have no clue how most people seem to be able to get their turn to speak so intuitively. Generally speaking I'm not socially anxious though, so I don't fear parties or gatherings or anything, I just don't know how to really be a part of the crowd, so usually I end up sitting with someone's cat or finding their bookshelf instead of talking to people much.

Sometimes an extrovert/ambivert notices me for something, after being around the same circles for a while and ending up in situations with me. Usually it's something like, that I'm a good listener or empathetic, or they like my peaceful nature, or something like that, and that person takes it upon themselves to become friends with me, which is how I've made most of my real life friends. It happened enough times that I began to trust it will always happen at some point, so I'm not in a hurry to make friends in a new place. Even if most people find me too odd, or don't even notice me, there's always going to be that one person who was looking for someone exactly like me.

I'm a quality over quantity person, so having too many people to keep up with regularly distresses me a lot. Until university I was pretty used to having only one or two friends who would expect me to talk to them most days. It's important to me to be a part of a group but it suited me very well that most people in them never expected me to be reachable outside of the hobby/activity, because it's through a shared interests that I feel the most connected to people anyway, and I need most of my free time for decompressing from social interaction and sensory overload.

However, in university I somehow managed to have four people who constantly competed over my time and they all happened to be prone to jealousy too. That was probably the only time I consistently had too much attention to cope with it. I was studying full time, writing my novels, taking five ballet classes a week, helping an elderly lady with her grocery shopping regularly, and on top of that I had friends who each expected to hang out with me at least twice a week? My tolerance was more like I could see one of them each week and only once. So their expectations were completely overwhelming to me, and I couldn't explain why, because I didn't know I was autistic. And it was a new situation: during my first year in uni I had grown accustomed to sometimes having no contact with anyone for a week or two, not even talking to anyone in class. But then I suddenly had too many close friends for my brain capacity. I remember it culminated in me having a total meltdown (both in autistic and general sense) which shocked everyone because they had never seen me get angry before. I wasn't even really angry, I was just overwhelmed. I tried to explain how I need time for writing, since that was the only thing I could think of that could excuse my inability to cope with the demands of friendships, but they didn't really understand it, because for them seeing me twice a week was almost too little, and they interpreted my behaviour as not really caring about them as much as I said I did. Somehow we worked on communication over time, and began to understand each other though, and everyone was able to make compromises. Most of them are still my friends.

These days I'm in a pretty comfortable place. Most of my friends are long distance but it's alright because interacting with someone's mind is the most meaningful aspect of friendship, and it's easier for me to sustain a bigger number of long distance friends because I can easily control when I interact with them. I still have my activity groups for in person interaction, and I live with family members who are completely used to and not threatened by me spending the majority of time in my room. Despite of needing so much time alone it's really important to me to have people around and to do things together and be actively involved in each other's lives. There are also a few people who don't overwhelm me at all, and I could talk to them for hours without needing a break.

Hmm, this post is kind of a mess. To conclude, I need deep interaction but not necessarily a lot of it. I need a lot of alone time, but I'm the most comfortable having someone in the next room and knowing each one of us can disturb each other if we need anything. The loneliest I have ever been in my life was when I didn't have a group. I'm the most fulfilled when I have a group and "my person" within that group. Even if I have friends, I don't feel fulfilled unless we share an intense interest. I'm very comfortable listening to people and some are drawn to me because I have a special interest in people and can analyse their behaviour and feelings in a way that helps them, but I don't necessarily need the same kind of interaction, I'm not very interested in talking about my feelings, I want to share interests above all else. Because of that I'm more active in friendships with a shared interest, and I'm more passive and more likely to wait for the other person's initative in friendships that are based on hanging out and talking. But all my friends are still important to me. ❤️

[thedawningofthehour]

Do you have an entire plot for the story written out already? Because you update quite frequently but I can’t bring myself to continue some stories. Any tips?

It's not written out, but yes I know roughly what's going to happen and have the major climaxes plotted out. Though I'm sure more stuff will occur to me as I write and the whole thing will grow-that's how it always is.

So part of the reason the update 'schedule' for Book 1 was so insane was because I legit had like a third of the story written out before I even thought about posting it. I had almost all of Donnie's Table Content done and I had written up through the point where the fam finds Donnie's battle shell. (there will forever be a stutter in my mind at the beginning of ch 8 because that's where I stopped writing for a while to polish up the first few chapters and post) And I kept writing on even as I had several chapters ready to be posted because my brain was still thinking of stuff. I did run out of this buffer eventually-I'm trying to build it back up because I liked having several chapters written out at a time and able to move stuff around as needed. But those times where there were literally three or four days between chapters? Those chapters were already done. I was just trying to space them out.

Also, keep something in mind. I am a childless adult who is currently unemployed. I'm not in school. I'm not dating. I'm actually kind of agoraphobic and rarely leave my house. I really don't have much else to do. A lot of you seem to be high school or college students, and I'd wager that many of you have part-time jobs as well. You guys are busy. You do not have the time to write this much. That's not a moral failing, that's just life.

So I'm probably not the person to ask about powering through writing when you're not feeling it. I'm awful at that. I mean, you do have to do it to some extent when you're a writer, but I drag my feet so much. One thing I'd do though, is ask yourself where your problem is. Are you just getting bored after a certain amount of time? It's possible long-form just isn't your thing.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Some authors write twenty book series and keep revisiting their universe throughout their entire career. Some of them think up a story idea, bang out a novella or short story, and move onto the next one. If you find yourself dropping stories a lot, you might just be the latter. That's fine! Just know your limits. If you know the story will only hold your interest for a few chapters, maybe try limiting yourself to shorter fics or oneshots. Or if you have an idea that would work way better long-form, maybe collab with another author or get a beta reader? I've never done either, but they seem to help a lot of authors get their wheel unstuck when it's down in a hole.

Another thing that I do-I don't post every story idea I have. I have many, many fragments of stories in my Google Docs that I began, wrote a few thousand words, and got bored with. That is how doth started. I had the idea of Donnie being a little shit to Draxum while in a very obvious "I'm fucked" position and just started writing that for fun. I was not planning on posting it. It was only after I kept writing and more and more ideas occurred to me that I realized I was onto something. This has generally been what's happened for most of my fics. Not every idea you have needs to be a full-fledged story. It is absolutely fine to get bored with a concept and leave it in your Docs folder. It's like pruning a tree-sometimes you need to cut away the unhealthy, broken branches in order for the good stuff to grow.

[witchybitchybisexual]

1. ‘Dorothy Zbornak sighed as she walked out of the lift with her Ma.’

2. I tend to write in third person, but generally Blanche comes the most naturally to me.

3. Which one? I have 8 unpublished, unfinished haha.

4. Blanche and Dorothy raising a daughter and dealing with the consequences of a child having Sophia as a grandmother and Rose an honorary aunt.

5. ‘When Rose passed Blanche in the hallway, she began to smile, “Hi Blanche, are you excited about doing the documentary?” ‘

6. ‘Blanche’ appears 22 times so far (still in the early ish stages) followed by ‘Dorothy’ at 19.

7. I think simple is always a guaranteed, but I do love italics if that counts?

8. This Little Lie of Mine By GrandSailorMiniMoon is a gorgeous story that captured my heart with its complexities from the first read! So I’d have to say that, just so that I could write the happy ending I so wished Blanche and Dorothy could’ve gotten in that - though I did love the angsty ending too. I’d definitely give it a read if you haven’t already!

9. On AO3 and finished? A rare occurrence for me haha! I think it was a schitts creek one that only took a couple of days because I didn’t have much on in my life back then and got myself into a bit of a writing frenzy.

10. A year and a half? Maybe even a bit longer.

11. My golden girls crossover with Philomena Cunk, or the crossover with absolutely fabulous.

12. Smart and serious x giggly and thoughtless has always been a big one for me, but I have to say you can never go wrong with the secret admirer trope!

13. A Series Of Unfortunate Events or Law And Order SUV is a very small possibility in the future, but I prefer focusing on one fandom at

a time to be honest.

14. Watching the media surrounding it, reading other stories and seeing old interviews about the characters helps a little, but to be honest ideas just pop into my head randomly throughout the day and I just role with it, it’s not a case of me really needing to do anything!

15. I don’t really have a favourite weather to write in, but I dislike doing it when it’s very sunny! A thunderstorm is always quite relaxing (typical, I know)

16. My bed, usually at 2 in the morning. I tend to find it the most peaceful time where I can work on a story. This is also why I tend to respond to messages at all hours of the day/night.

17. I either write it directly onto AO3 and paste the copies into notes or vice versa. I try to really get into the mind of the character and think about their speech patterns or mannerisms in order to feel like the reader can picture this actually being the characters reactions themselves etc, rather than just my interpretation of said character! I’ll usually have a film/tv show on the devices I have in the background so that I don’t get too bored, sometimes this is the golden girls, sometimes not. Occasionally if it’s a really long day I’ll save my work and just watch it fully, but I try to write for as long as possible as I find it a wonderful de-stressing technique for me. I’ll either edit paragraphs by paragraph or just edit the whole thing once it’s done, if not I publish first and this reread the next day to iron the mistakes out and edit.

18. N/A - sorry. Unless I really like the line, I delete it completely.

19. The unification of Italy was certainly the most unusual I can remember happening recently!

20. …2020-2021?… maybe? That’s a big maybe because I deleted a lot of my work a couple of months ago.

21. An actual fic? 13th of May (yes, I know I’m embarrassingly slow at doing chaptered fics)

22. Not really, only when I start out in a new fandom. Once I get the feel of the people then I’m fine! I write more for myself and my ideas rather than the public, they’re just a lovely little perk! I suppose because I don’t write for absolutely huge fandoms, that might take the pressure off. My advice is, remember you’re doing this for yourself, not other people, it’s an act of service rather than an expectation, and to not back down from worthy ideas!

23. Empathetic, imaginative and unpredictable. (It’s bloody hard to think about this from a perspective that isn’t self critical)

24. Rewatching the media I’m writing for, give myself a break and read fanfic or a classic book! That or listening to music.

25. Reading, horse riding, singing, piano, meditation, going to the gym, drawing and anything to do with theatre! I like to be kept busy whenever I can.

26. Depends on what I’m writing and how focused I want to be, I can, but I prefer to when I’m alone.

27. Definitely both writing dialogue and really getting to delve into a character’s emotions!

28. Either the editing, the tedious bit where you’re almost at the end but not quite, and trying to find lots of different ways to distinguish lots of main characters of the same gender!

29. Yes and no, I sometimes use song titles or little pieces of dialogue in the canon and/ or the fanfic itself - really varied story to story in my experience. Some are just more difficult than others, and go through various titles before settling on one.

30. ‘My Maude, My Viv.’

Thanks again, @hecatesbroom !

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

[angelbluediary]

Red Flags I Hadn't Seen

June 30, 2020: "But it does hurt when it feels like I can’t do enough, can’t do anything right, even on days I actively try. I’d been so proud of feeling genuinely happy and creative this past week. I vacuumed today and then got absorbed into Youtube videos and online shopping and all of a sudden Rob is upset because it’s past the time he likes to eat and I’m at my computer. And then when I went downstairs to make it and he suggests an alternative, and I ask if he’d still like my food tomorrow, and his reply is “Will you actually make it?” effectively tugging on all my exposed insecurities and guilt. It’s moments like that, that make all the other little accomplishments fly right out the door because clearly I’m not doing something right, which means everything else is wrong. I love him so much but sometimes I think about how maybe if I were alone i wouldn’t feel so guilty and bad about myself all the time. Because if I didn’t cook and ate shitty little throw-together meals instead from the pantry or whatever, it would only reflect on me, it wouldn’t influence anyone else." This entry was prefaced with "Wakeup calls never come gently." I was scolding myself in this writing.

Aug. 30, 2020: "[Rob's dad] wants to sell this place by the end of the year, apparently. That gives me a matter of months. To figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. And all Rob really says is, “I can’t help you because I can’t sign any leases until I get a job.” And then goes to play video games with his friends. I mean, he seems almost completely unconcerned, to the point that I feel strange for freaking out about this. What the hell? You’re… going to tell me I’m basically being kicked out, with no specified date just SOON, look for other housing even though that’s probably impossible, days before you move away and leave me alone here? I never want to feel this fucking way again. I never want my life to be in someone else’s hands. I should never feel scared of losing my home and not having a place to live."

May 27: In all those years, he never once bought me flowers. And on one rare day I decided to treat myself to a bouquet of roses, he’d asked critically, “Do you really need those?”

May 27: Throughout all those years, he liked to invade my personal space in ways that made me very uncomfortable. Ways I described as making me uncomfortable. Boundaries I tried to set, but perhaps not well at first because I’d never had cause (or permission) to do so. He would loom over me with his body until I cowered, then laugh. He would intentionally ruin my masturbation sessions; he found it funny to frustrate me when I was finally on the verge of release. He would use my body for pleasure and then leave me, but only after listening to me beg for anything, any help in getting there (the lightest touch of fingertips on my nipples or even my hip–truly, anything), and refuse. 

He would make comments. About how the thing I’d set my sights on, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. That my feelings about a certain matter were wrong. He would argue with me about women’s experiences. He’d laugh at rape jokes in movies while my body seized up and my mind began a shrieking alarm. He would purposefully scare me while I listened to music and believed myself alone. He’d report on the noises I wasn’t aware I was making under my breath. If I was in the midst of stretching my body, he’d come up from behind, push my face into the floor, and mime fucking into me.

[uncertainwalls]

6

We didn't exchange letters all that often. Roughly once every two weeks, I'd say. But each one of them turned out to be quite lengthy. And on the whole, I think your letters were a bit longer than mine. Of course, the length of the letters didn't hold any significant meaning in our correspondence, but that's how it seemed.

I still have every letter you wrote, but I never bothered to make copies of mine, so I can't quite recall the exact contents of what I wrote. It couldn't have been anything too remarkable. I mainly jotted down the daily events and small occurrences around me. I wrote about the books I read, the music I listened to, the movies I watched. I wrote about things that happened at school too. Being on the swim team (though I only joined due to unavoidable circumstances and couldn't be called a dedicated athlete), I probably wrote about the practices. With you as the recipient, I could naturally put my thoughts and feelings into words. I could express what was on my mind as I wished. It was an unprecedented ability for me, as I had always believed I was bad at writing. As I mentioned before, you probably drew out that ability from me. You always appreciated the subtle humor in my writing. "That's what my life lacks the most," you said.

"Like some kind of vitamin?" I asked.

"Yes. Exactly like a kind of vitamin," you replied with a strong nod.

I was captivated by you, and when awake, I was probably always thinking about you. Most likely even in my dreams. Yet in the letters, I refrained from directly confessing such emotions and attempted to restrain myself. I decided to stick to the practical and concrete aspects as much as possible. At that time, I wanted to cling to the tangible world I could physically touch, preferably with a touch of humor. Because, if I began writing openly about the inner workings of love and emotions, I felt I would be led down a dead-end path.

In your letters, unlike mine, there were fewer concrete details about the external world and more about internal feelings. Sometimes you wrote about dreams or short fictional stories. Several dream stories remain etched in my memory. You frequently had long and vivid dreams, recalling every detail. It was incredible how you could remember those dreams, almost as if you were recalling actual events. That was something hard for me to believe. I rarely dreamed, and even when I did, I couldn't recall their content. Upon waking up, those dreams would disintegrate and vanish into thin air. Even if I woke up in the middle of the night from a vivid dream (which was rare), I would quickly fall back asleep, and by the next morning, I'd remember nothing.

When I mentioned this, you said, "In my case, I keep a notebook and a pencil by my bedside, and as soon as I wake up, I jot down the dream from the previous night. I do it even when I'm busy and pressed for time. Especially when I wake up in the middle of the night after a vivid dream, I write down as much detail as possible. Those are usually important dreams and teach me a lot."

"Important things?" I asked.

"Things about the me I don't know," you replied.

For you, dreams were almost on par with events that took place in the real world. They weren't easily forgotten or lost. Dreams were like precious sources of insight for your mind.

"That's the result of practice. If you put in the effort, I'm sure you can learn to remember your dreams in detail too. So, give it a try. I'm really curious about the dreams you have," you urged.

Sure, I'll give it a shot, I said.

However, despite some effort (though I didn't go as far as placing a notebook and pencil by my bedside), I couldn't bring myself to take an interest in my own dreams. My dreams were too scattered and lacked coherence, generally being incomprehensible. The words spoken in those dreams were unclear, and scenes were hard to pinpoint. Sometimes, they contained disturbing elements that I couldn't discuss with anyone, dreams that would soil my underwear without my intention. Instead of those, I preferred to listen to your stories of long, colorful dreams.

Occasionally, I appeared in your dreams. Hearing about that always made me happy. In whatever form, I could participate in your imaginative world. And you seemed pleased when I appeared in your dreams too. In most cases, my role in your dreams wasn't that significant; I was more like a supporting character in a drama.

I wondered if you ever had explicit dreams—dreams that were sometimes too embarrassing to talk about openly in front of me. Were you genuinely telling me all about your dreams? That's what crossed my mind as I listened to your dream stories.

You appeared to be candidly disclosing various things, but in reality, no one could know for sure. I thought, in this world, everyone holds secrets in their hearts. That's essential for survival in this world, isn't it?

Don't you think so?

[mali121216]

Saturday 7th January 2023 @ 0212h

Hey Babu,

I’m not sure why I still write to you to be honest, you and I are in a good place in real life at the moment, there’s no awkwardness or uncomfortable silences, you actually text me unprompted to update me on things in your life now, but I guess we still only really talk at surface level.

So much happened in 2022, it feels like it simultaneously flew by and also stretched on forever, I suppose it depended on what was happening at the time, but that was a whole year we’ve been apart, well almost 13 months now.

13 months feels like it should be enough time for me to have entirely moved on and left our relationship in the past, and to an extent I have, I almost fell for 2 people last year, Cal and Josh, both of whom were so different to you, and both of whom I could actually see a future with. Circumstantially I didn’t get a chance to properly explore a relationship with either of them, however, I’m still on goof friendship terms with both... very true to my style. Sometimes I can go a whole day without thinking about you, without anything triggering a memory of us, it’s rare but it surprised me that it was possible. Thankfully now when I do think of you and us, it’s no longer painful (with the exception of major dates like birthdays/holidays/anniversaries), most of the time it is a positive thought or memory that arises, sometimes neutral, but more like remembering times with a best friend that moved away and your lives grew apart. If I stop to properly analyze my feelings for you, I don’t think it would be accurate to say I’m still actively in love with you, I definitely still love you with all my heart, and I still believe you to be the love of my life, and I think were I to go back to spending time with you frequently; I would easily fall back in love with you... I don’t know if there is a word or phrase to describe this stage, maybe in some dead or foreign language, but it is strange, and I wish I knew how long it would last, because despite the time, despite the distance, despite the clear separation of how my feelings are now to how they were 13 months ago, deep down it still feels like I’m waiting, like I know we’re destined to get back together eventually even though I know that rationally it will never be the case. I don’t have the experience or understanding to distinguish whether this is just longing for your comfort and familiarity or a cosmic sensation, I would give anything to have the answers... instead I wait; wait for things to fall into place while I work my ass off to make myself the best version of who I am. 

I kind of wish I could brag to you about how far I’ve come in 2022... I left you and 5 years of what I built my life towards behind and moved over 1000kms away across a border, I moved back to a hometown that no longer felt like home and rebuilt myself in your absence. I got my own house and started living entirely independently, I even became a mother/protector figure to the girls I live with, I began a career in medical admin and worked in both a psychology clinic and a general practice - I helped a lot of patients, I rejoined the AAFC and put my all into 335SQN - getting back into teaching and admino work, I bartended LGBTQIA+ events and emo raves, at one point I was consistently working 3 different jobs every week. I made new friends and reconnected with old, I got a loan and booked a trip to Europe where I’m going to travel through 17 different countries, I went to music festivals and house parties, I sat my GAMSAT twice, had my graduation, and was the subject of a boudoir photoshoot. I went museums and galleries, stand-up comedy, musical theatre, and the ballet. I ticked actual items off my bucket list... 

I’ve come so far, and I’ve done it completely alone, financially and emotionally, I’ve done this entirely myself. It’s empowering and invigorating and I’m proud of myself, but there is still that voice in my head that yearns for you to be a part of it, to be in it with me... we always did do a good job of taking on each other’s battles and supporting one another through our accomplishments... I loved that about us. 

I miss you Ali and my mind goes crazy thinking about what could have been if I’d never left, where would we be now... would you have fallen out of love with me regardless, would your mind have changed about marriage and children if we managed to get our own place and independence, would I have still broken up with you because of the problems we face with your lack of emotional awareness and communication skills. I’ll never know but at this point I don’t think I’ll ever stop waiting to find out. 

[thenexusofsouls]

Thor opened her eyes, any sign of emotion gone. “Aye, Mother, I understand perfectly.” As the princess, she needed to be strong emotionally. “Mother… why is love forbidden? I love you, Mother. Does that make me weak? If so, I am sorry, for I loved once and still do.” Thor winced, preparing for the worst. Would she be exiled? If so, Thor wanted to admit everything now. “The soldier, Basch… I love him.” ~ Thor

{ {i am the caretaker of souls} Wait... WAIT... Did you MEAN to create a crossover with two of my muses, or did you mean to write somebody else’s name there? Because... I know I always say that Basch is pretty married to his canon world and background, but... now I’m imagining Basch and Noah in Freya’s world, and I’m honestly here for it? Like... Take Landis and plop it into the world of Snow White / Winter’s War, and then have Freya conquer it when Basch and Noah are just boys. They start being trained as Huntsmen but maybe this time instead of Basch being the one to leave, Noah decides to leave. Maybe he doesn’t like Freya or he doesn’t see a future working for her. So Noah leaves and becomes part of Ravenna’s whole deal, maybe replacing Finn. Basch stays with Freya and replaces Eric (which is funny since I use CH as Basch’s live action FC anyway, haha). I’m just not sure why Basch would choose to stay with Freya. maybe he feels some kind of strange sense of loyalty to her? Maybe he senses some kind of fragility in her and feels hopeful that she’ll change someday? Or maybe he thinks that being forced to conquer other lands for her is a punishment for not being able to protect his parents and his own homeland? I can make this work, though, omg. But okay, like... is this a mutual thing between Thor and Basch, or does Thor only have a crush on him and hasn’t told him? Because I thought Thor was younger in this AU but I might be getting things mixed up. Not having actual threads I can refer back to and see what’s what really messes with my memory sometimes, haha. }

Freya couldn’t believe her ears, or maybe she just didn’t want to. “It is forbidden, because-!” she began, a rare instance in which she raised her voice, but she stopped short when Thor said she loved her... called her Mother again. Freya turned away, her back to Thor as she was stunned beyond words for a short while. She could not stay to Thor that she wished her to stop loving her, for that was not true. Likewise, she could not say that she loved Thor, even though that was true, because it broke the one law of her kingdom. A law punishable by death. But she could not impose that sentence upon Thor. Never.

But Thor didn’t stop there. She admitted to loving Basch, and the temperature of the room suddenly dropped another ten degrees. He was one of her best Huntsmen, if not the best. Freya had trusted him... but apparently she had been wrong. That explains it. I should have known that a man was behind her corruption. Men... are always the ruin of women. “It is... forbidden...” Freya started again, her voice now soft and gentle yet cold, “because it is dangerous. Love is a plague, a sickness which can take us all if we do not remain vigilant.” She turned to look at Thor, now fully in control of her emotions. “You must banish these thoughts of love, Thor. I’ll not tolerate them. I have done... too much for you to... see you ruin your life with love.”

With that, she spoke slowly and with icy precision. “Now... about Basch. What has he said to you? What has he done?” It was clear from her tone that she was furious with him already.

[handpickedberry]

return for holidays 🎉

back in this account after more than a year, i think!!

for quite a long time, i’ve been wanting to start a blog of my own at substacks but i guess regularly writing a full blog is too energy-consuming for someone who easily gets tired like me so i decided to just use my tumblr acc for my life sharings.

what prompted this was this: i just had the happiest holiday i have ever had my whole life! even though i don’t celebrate christmas, i did share this day with my girlfriend who filled my heart with so much love and joy. i have always had my family to celebrate holidays with; sometimes i also visit my cousins. but it never made me feel this happy because all my life, i never really got to have a genuine connection with them. i’m not a family person and i know i’m not to blame because my family’s not a family person with each other, either. we weren’t really that affectionate and open towards one another. i guess we could even be considered as “housemates who happen to have blood relation” because that’s us! we’re not like other families who tell each other about their personal lives and problems and other stuff like that. there has always been a wall among all of us and though i grew used to that and eventually learned to accept it, there are still times that i wish i could have a happy kind of family. a loving kind. the type that knows each other, not just on a surface level. the type that you could genuinely, happily celebrate special moments with not because you have to for the sake of them being your family, but because you truly want to and they’re the best people in your lives. we still do regular family things like making sure there’s food for the others to eat, showing up and gathering for important events, yada yada yada, stuff like that. but the genuine enjoyment & contentment was rarely there because they didn’t know me and i didn’t know them the way we should have as a family.

because of this, my holidays has always been pretty lonely. there’s food, there’s them, there’s fireworks and noise all around, but no happiness shared with each other. no love tying all of us together. no special memories made with one another that we could look back on. being a big love person, it’s certainly not how i want my holidays to go but i’ve gotten used to it and i didn’t even wish to have something different. i guess, holidays just began to mean less to me. just another vacation, another season, another night, another socially constructed expectation.

until i met my girlfriend! in total contrast to me, my girlfriend truly LOOOVES holidays and is actually the most excited person i know when holiday season hits. it’s endearing and it’s lovely, to see someone glowing with thrill and excitement, and becoming one with the happiness around them.

today is december 25, their christmas day and i have just gotten home from our date. i left the house early (at 10am) to come over to theirs and we spent the whole day together. doing the things we love the most, having quality time together, watching, eating, napping, laughing, kissing, and other -ing things 😁 today, we reminded each other of how much we love each other. today, we shared assurances, sweetness, gentleness, and every kind thing that we could share together. all in their bedroom. after that, we went to the mall and ate dinner together then watched a yuletide show which was followed by a short fireworks display.

the thing is, today was simple. there wasn’t much of a grand event or a big celebration, but it was still so so special and the happiest because i shared it with my girlfriend. the whole day, the weather was so nice and the atmosphere was just… light. to quote david levithan’s Every Day, we were in the “temperature of happiness”. everything felt right. warm. safe. i was home with them and i have never felt this contented with anyone else before. we never stopped holding each other, taking good care of each other, saying “i love you” to each other. we fed each other, laughed together, acted like kids and found joy in little things, made really simple & special memories together, and just had an absolutely wonderful time together. there wasn’t a single dull moment.

i’ve never had that during holidays. and now that i did, it just filled me with so much love and joy because i never thought i could have it. all these good feelings inside me made me want to share it with the world, so i could capture this day into words, and remember that today, december 25 2022, i had my first happy holiday. i even reactivated my private twitter account for this but i decided to just do it here because i knew it would be long and i wanted it to be somewhere open but also at the same time, just mine.

i’m truly grateful for my girlfriend. what makes this happiness more special is that we have just gotten through a rough patch in our relationship which hindered us from feeling this kind of happiness for a while. having this again, sharing this again with them, i could cry from utter joy. all the emotions i have right now, they are bigger than me and they are surrounding me with so much warmth and security. i’m so relieved and i’m so glad to be alive with them. i don’t celebrate christmas but this kind of love, the one that we have, is truly something to celebrate. my heart is overjoyed because it is able to beat with someone else’s, with just the right rhythm for the perfect song. and me? i’m just genuinely beyond elated that i’m part of something bigger than me.

i don’t believe that today is really Jesus’s birthday. but if somehow most christians are right, then i’m glad i got to celebrate it with the most precious and amazing gift that He and God have ever given me.

happiest holidays, everyone! i wish all would always get a day just like mine 💜

🍓

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 13

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1430

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 13

When Dean put that sandwich down in front of you, you weren't entirely sure what to think, as it almost sounded like he demanded you eat. So, you only mumbled a thank you, not even looking up at him. You were only a case, after all, you reminded yourself.

As you ate the sandwich, which wasn’t bad, you continued reading the book in front of you. You mostly knew about demons, as you had had to ward your property from them and your truck. The book in front of you only had minor information on Pari. You weren’t entirely sure how it was helpful, either. It talked more about soulmates, and it was hard to get through since it was something you didn’t believe in.

To you, soulmates was something from a fairy tale. The things in the book in front of you only made you roll your eyes. It explained that Pari needed to find their soulmate, and sometimes it took lifetimes before they found them. The book also states that a Pari’s soulmate wasn’t always human. Sometimes, it was a vampire, demon, ghoul, even angels weren’t immune to this sort of thing. Then, there were the rare instances where a Pari’s soulmate was another Pari. 

When Dean spoke, you glanced up and watched the two of them, although barely, and neither of them noticed. You knew what parts they were reading and were confident they would figure out what you were attempting to find information on.

You quietly groaned at the information you’d read as you closed the book and got up, heading to the bookshelves. Since the whole soulmate thing was stupid and implausible, you went to find out what powers angels and demons had. They had to have several books on both creatures with the vast library available to them.

When Sam offered his help, it surprised you a little, but you didn’t show it. You were casual and nonchalant with your answers to his questions, even friendly with your smile and expression. After Sam had pulled the stack of books he had, you returned to your seat, just grabbing the one off the top.

The explanations he gave you while you read were helpful and reminded you of demon powers you’d seen them use over the years. The tidbit Dean gave you was something interesting, though, and you debated attempting that one that night.

You soon realized the current book had nothing useful, so you closed it and moved it to the side. Looking at the stack, you concentrated on the information you were after, angel powers, and a book near the center caught your eye. You then carefully pulled it out and began reading it.

When you took a sip of the soda after closing the first book, you were surprised at how close it resembled store-bought soda. You knew you’d have to work on that one, perfecting the flavor of something you created.

Every time they spoke to you, you didn’t look up at them. After all, you were just their case, and you kept reminding yourself of that. You did stay cordial with your tone and your responses, though.

The more you read and learned about the powers that you possessed, the more you began figuring out how to exhaust yourself like the very first book had explained to do. The part that bothered you is it didn’t say how long it would take to do that before your powers would fully awaken. 

You had no intentions of helping the King of Hell with anything. You just wanted to figure out how to keep yourself safe without having to constantly relocate. As you read the book about angel powers, it was more detailed, giving you powers based on the rank of the angel. That helped, but you weren’t sure what powers you were capable of using or having. Too bad the first book hadn’t been more specific.

As Dean got up and headed to the kitchen, you barely looked out of the corner of your eye to watch him. Then your eyes shifted to Sam, who was reading another book, although different from the one with the information on soulmates. When he, too, got up and went to the kitchen, you finally looked up from your book and sighed.

You knew you’d have to find a way to get outside to practice some of the more intense powers the first book had mentioned. Although, now was not the time for that. Perhaps after the two went to bed. You also took a moment to stretch, as you had been sitting there for several hours. Hell, most of the day. 

That was when an idea came to you. Could you learn the information the books held without reading them? You glanced at the stack of books that Sam had set near you. Gingerly, you reached out, setting your hand on one of the bindings, and closed your eyes. 

I want to know the information in this book, you thought to yourself, then took a deep breath.

Your thoughts are filled with information, and you sift through it like tabs on a computer. This was far more useful than reading the books, being able to scan them quickly mentally. You didn’t have the information memorized, but it was easier than reading each one. 

You did this with two more books before Sam made his way back into the library. To keep that particular power under wraps, you had grabbed another book and were reading it. However, you did notice how Sam got on his laptop and didn’t return to his book. The impulse to attempt to read his mind wandered across yours, but you stopped that thought quickly. You weren’t the kind to trespass on someone’s privacy like that.

Dean brought dinner to the library, and you wondered if they used the kitchen for anything other than just cooking. The way the burger tasted, though, surprised you. His smartass remark to your compliment made you roll your eyes and focus on your dinner and your book. The beer went well with the burger.

When everyone was done eating, you had had enough reading for the night. Your eyes felt as though they were a bit strained. So, you gathered the dishes and headed into the kitchen, both brothers watching you, a bit puzzled. This would give you another opportunity to use your powers, attempt to exhaust yourself.

The kitchen wasn’t dirty, per se. For them being bachelors, it was fairly well-kept. You set the dishes on the counter, then with just a thought, they were not only clean but also put away, along with what he’d used to cook with. There was a very light layer of dust on some things, so, with another thought, that too was cleaned up. 

You sighed, wondering what else you could do to expend more energy. Some of the cookware looked well used, so, with a thought, it looked brand new. You fixed the ware and tare on the drawers with a thought, making them look as if they, too, were brand new. You even went as far as doing the same with the fridge and replenishing a few of their supplies.

When you went back out into the library, you realized you had interrupted a conversation the two were having, as they quickly got quiet and looked at you. 

I’m just a case…

“I’m gonna head to bed,” you told the two of them, giving them a friendly smile.

“Alright. Good night,” Sam replied, and you couldn’t quite make out what the partial smile he gave you meant.

“Good night, Sweetheart,” Dean told you. The smirk he featured, you guessed, was just the way he smiled.

You headed down the hallway to the room you’d slept in the night before, closing the door behind you. Neither of them had given you the tour they had mentioned, which bothered you a bit. With a thought, your clothes changed, and you were now in a pair of sweats and a night-tank top. Then, you got a little dizzy, quickly but wobbly, making it to your bed and sitting down. That had been the most you’d ever used your powers.

The room spun a bit, but you were still able to mostly think, even through the fog of being dizzy.

Is this what the book meant…

As soon as that thought played through your mind, you fell over, your head missing the pillow, and passed out. At least you were on the bed all the way.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

Tag List: @djs8891

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

[tiannasfanfic]

Weekend Moments

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: With your busy schedules, any weekend where you and your boyfriend get to spend time together is a good one.

Rating: General Auidences

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, no pronouns used. I finally felt like writing again last night, which is a first for me in weeks. Hopefully this means my brain is clearing, but I'm not going to make any promises, just in case.

CW: Implied sex (no details); marijuana and tobacco use.

Word Count: 1,103

It was set to be a fun and relaxing weekend over at the Munson trailer.

Granted, every weekend over at Eddie’s was a relaxing one, but weekends together happened rarely now thanks to your schedules. After Eddie finally graduated, he went right into the work force, which was the same thing you had done two years prior.

Neither of you ever had plans for college. Neither of you had grades to go, plus you were too broke. While the local community college had financial aid programs, you weren't broke enough to qualify for any of them. Since you would rather sell your souls directly to Satan rather than take out student loans, the blue-collar life it was. You both came by it honestly though. You came from a long line of blue-collar workers, as did Eddie, and you both had accepted that as your lots in life.

For Eddie, he began working as an independent mechanic. He was very talented at it and, most of the time, charged his customers very little outside of recouping his cost for parts. Sometimes, for the truly broke, like single mothers or the elderly, he didn’t charge anything at all. He knew what it was like to not be able to afford to fix his van and helped people out as much as he could. It only took a few months before his good workmanship and affordable prices quickly made him a favorite in town.

That whole thing really struck you as ironic though. Most of his customers still thought Eddie actually DID sell his soul directly to Satan. But if he could save them money? Suddenly they had no problem treating him like an old friend, Satan worshiping be damned.

It irritated you in a way. They still didn’t treat him as well as they treated others, but at least they didn’t cross the street anymore when they saw him coming, and he would get polite words of greeting when he was out and about rather than outright ignored. You had to keep reminding yourself that at least he was finally being treated better. The reasons why didn’t really matter in the long run. Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons is still doing the right thing, and Eddie was much happier as a result. Ultimately, that’s all that really mattered to you.

And it worked out in everyone’s favor. Even without making much profit per job, Eddie stayed busy enough that he made a decent living. This was great since the two of you were saving up for your own place together.

As for you, you didn’t have nearly the technical skills that Eddie did, so your options were more limited. The local grocery store hired you right after graduation and that’s where you’ve been ever since. You started out as a cashier, but now really didn’t have an official position since you knew how to do everything. You might not have a lot of technical know-how, but you learned fast and did whatever job they gave you well, so they used you all over the store. This allowed you to pick up quite a few extra shifts, which you did as often as you could to save up money.

The downside to you both working so much was that you didn’t see each other that much as a result. While it was for the good reason of preparing for your future together, it didn’t make you miss each other any less. That was why you had both arranged your schedules this weekend so that he had no cars to look at and you had no extra shifts to cover.

And you both told exactly no one so it wouldn’t be interrupted.

Well. Less likely to be interrupted, that is. If anyone saw both Eddie’s van and your car outside of the trailer, the jig would be up. It wouldn’t take long for word to reach Dustin and your weekend alone would turn into an impromptu game night with the whole crew.

While neither of you minded when this happened, there was something that needed doing before that had the chance to happen.

As soon as Wayne left for work and the sound of his truck had faded off into the distance, Eddie wasted no time in whisking you off to the bedroom. Thanks to just normal life stuff, it had been over two weeks since you’d had any alone time. You were desperately ravenous for each other and, by the time you were on the bed, all of the clothing you both had been wearing was laid in a trail behind you to the living room.

Like all passionate displays of being ravenously desperate, neither of you lasted long. That was okay though. You and Eddie had been lovers for a long time now and knew each other’s bodies as well as you did your own. All of your escapades, no matter how short, were always intensely satisfying.

After some catching up during your post sex cigarettes, you headed for the shower and Eddie to the living room.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Eddie had found a movie to watch while he was rolling the joints you two would be having that evening. It was one of those old Hammer films with Christopher Lee that stations liked to show when they had nothing else to play. That was always to your benefit though since you both absolutely loved those movies.

As you headed across the living room to the kitchen to see what you could put together for dinner, your focus was on the television rather than on where you were walking. This resulted in your knee having an intimate encounter with the corner of the coffee table.

“Yee ouch!” you exclaimed, slightly staggering at the impact but you caught your balance quickly.

Eddie’s head snapped up with a look of concern.

“You okay, babe?” he asked.

You grumbled a confirmation as you started to continue on, but then you stopped and turned around. You looked at the coffee table thoughtfully for a second before shifting your gaze to Eddie, who was still watching you.

“You know, I can’t help but wonder sometimes why they always seem to make coffee tables kneecap height,” you said very seriously, and then went on to the kitchen.

It took Eddie a second, but soon you heard him burst into a fit of wild laughter.

“Like that one?” you called, grinning as you opened the refrigerator door.

“Oh yeah! That was great!” came Eddie’s voice, still in mid laughter.

It was definitely going to be a good weekend.

[iiraven]

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear. 

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.