#even though i almost found comfort in it! the idea of prayer was very much that for me the way it is for many ppl

[meme-loving-stuck]

i remember being brought up christian like, almost concerned that i never felt a connection to any of the shit they were talkin about,

and when i was younger i was like "oh no! am i bad for not feeling connected to god?? is it bad i feel like my dead mom doesnt talk to me or watch over me?? am i horrible for pretending?????"

but turns out i just had Autism Powers that made me immune to it and i was able to completely sever myself from the idea of being Christian at the ripe old age of like 13. and it was such a HUGE comfort to see that there were all these other beliefs and spiritual sort of things that other people chose to believe in and didnt necessarily treat their beliefs as COLD HARD UNDENIABLE FACT the way christians treat the existence of god & heaven & hell

like now that i am older i know i was in fact traumatized by the culturally catholic beliefs my family held & forced on us all, but i am really immensely grateful that my child self looked at all the other aspects of christianity that would horrify most other children into behaving/conforming, and basically just went, "okay, source?"

and that was the end of that

[shinynewboots]

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 7

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Hi all! Very excited about this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it (I essentially had big word vomit today lol it's crazy how motivated I am to write when I am well-rested). I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny, alcohol use

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Lute had awoken only once during her shared nap with Adam (due to Keekee snuggling up beside her with no idea how the cat had gotten into the room since the door was closed). She had been so warm and just so relaxed that she chose to lull herself back into sleep, snuggled against Adam's chest. 

Lute had chosen not to bring up the circumstances surrounding the nap and Adam had offered no explanations. It hadn’t changed their dynamic much.

Except for the fact that now when it was time for bed, Adam would scoot to the side and hold the blanket open and his wings unfurled for Lute to snuggle into.

 The first few times he had done this, it had been accompanied by the words “You coming or not?” and a large yawn from Adam. Now, however, they had found themselves in a very comfortable routine of sleeping together with no argument and very little acknowledgement.

Lute wouldn't deny that it was the best sleep she could ever remember having. Adam was almost like a furnace with heat radiating off of his body, and Lute couldn't help but move in closer. Sometimes he would throw an arm around her and pull her close. There was even the one time he had done so while still asleep (which she knew he had been because of his soft snores) and had whispered her name as he burrowed close to her body. She had stilled and her eyes widened until she realized he was only dreaming. 

Maybe she had even imagined her name being whispered like a prayer from his lips.

No matter. No use in dwelling on such things anyway. She did not want to destroy this fragile, new territory she found herself in with Adam. It was the closest she could remember her body ever being to someone else’s in a soft way. Of course, she had fought and trained and wrestled her entire life and so the feel of another body was not completely foreign. But this softness…this softness and comfort and gentleness was completely foreign. 

Lute was not soft. She was hard. She was steel. She was unbent. She did not give into the softness. And yet…She found herself craving it. She had started to live for the moments when she had snuggled close to Adam right before he succumbed to sleep. When he would snuggle closer to her and breath softly in her ear. 

She had also never seen Adam in such a soft light either. She knew he had fucked several angels, mortals, and likely sinners but never in the details of his sexual escapades did he mention the quiet moments when the act was done. When she imagined he might simply hold his partner the way he held her. 

Fucking shit. She was dwelling.

Lute shook her head and tried to bring her focus back to the activity in front of her. Charlie had chosen a very calm “paint by numbers” activity that Lute had barely started. She looked down at her almost blank canvas and sighed. With a glance she looked at Adam’s painting. It was halfway completed but he did a terrible job of staying in the lines and so his picture revealed some cursed version of da Vinci’s The Last Supper. 

 It had been a few weeks since the Combat Training mishap, and in that time Charlie had been a bit more careful about the group activities she chose for the hotel. Lute’s jaw (and Vaggie’s nose) had healed from their fight; even Adam’s original injuries from the extermination were almost completely healed and he was almost back to his old self. 

She and Adam had been planning to make their trek to the embassy in the next day or two. Not that anyone else in the hotel knew that (though Lute could swear that fucking Radio Demon shadow was keeping a close eye on them). 

Speaking of keeping a close eye on them, Lute had also gained shadows of her own since her fight with Vaggie. Shadows in the form of little egg creatures that seemed hellbent on annoying her to no end. They had approached her one afternoon with no warning and followed her like baby ducklings whenever she had let her guard down and didn’t make a fast get away. 

The 4 eggs had approached her while she had been contemplating in the hotel garden. She had found a bench that she liked to spend a few quiet moments after her morning runs before having to face the reality of the hellish day. It had been getting harder and harder to force herself awake in the mornings and leaving Adam’s warm embrace. 

She sat, her guard down, and her head bent backwards at the hellish sun shined its almost overbearing rays on her face. She breathed in deep and took in the stillness of the garden. 

Her peace was disturbed when she felt something poke her leg. Her eyes shot open and was met with 8 pairs eyes looking at her with stupid devotion. 

“What do you want, egg creatures?” She asked in annoyance.  They grinned up at her.

“We want you to be our new boss.” One of them, the leader of the eggs, said stepping ahead in front of the other three eggs. 

“No.” 

The eggs frowned and began to protest, following along with their tiny legs as Lute tried to escape the garden as quick as she could. Something told her the Radio Demon had set them up to this. 

The eggs were quiet now, all four preoccupied with the painting task at hand. Adam had thought the entire situation was fucking hilarious. “ You’re like a fucking mother duck or something.”

“Lieutenant, look at my painting!” One of the eggs exclaimed, walking towards her with a very crude rendition of American Gothic . The paint by numbers had been completely forgotten and the egg had chosen instead to draw childish stick figures. 

“Which one is that one?” Adam whispered to her. Lute shrugged and shook her head. 

“Kind of shitty no one ever gave them names. You should name them.” Angel said, watching the scene unfold in front of them as he painted a pretty impressive rendition of the Birth of Venus, though instead of Venus he had chosen to paint himself as the main focus instead.

“And how would be able to tell them apart?”

“I don’t know toots, paint?”

“I was able to always tell my girls apart,” Adam said, taking a sip of the cocktail in front of him. Lute rolled her eyes. 

“Fucking save it, you couldn’t tell Lyre and Pandore apart to save your life.” Lute fired back, discarding her painting and turning her attention towards the eggs. “Eggs, at attention!”

The four eggs wobbled towards her and stood in a line, just as she had taught them. Beginning from left to right Lute began to paint their new names on their heads (remniscent of a human celebration of painting easter eggs). Now before her stood newly named Egg Bois: Blue, Orange, Yellow, and Red.

“Um, Lieutenant, I already have a name,” Red said, his eggbrow furrowed. Lute frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a name?”

“You never asked.” Lute wanted to slap her forehead in frustration. Instead she took a deep breath and sighed. 

“Okay, what’s your name?”

“Frank.” Lute sighed and grabbed the red paint and added and ‘F’ in front of the still wet ‘R-E-D’.

“Not anymore, your new name is Fred.” 

“Fred!” Fred yelled, chattering with his newly named comrades. 

“Yes, now go and finish your paintings and leave me alone.”

“You got it Lieutenant!” The eggs wobbled away, more excited than she had ever seen them in her short time as their declared boss. 

“That was nice thing you did there,” Angel offered, a tentative smile on his features. Lute nodded in acknowledgement and went back to trying to focus on her canvas. The activity was in the foyer, as most activities were, but Lute had been surprised at how quiet almost everyone was during this activity. The Radio Demon was nowhere to be seen, as per usual, but everyone was present and focused on their art. Even the sudden knock at the door did not startle the hotel guests.

Charlie ran to the door, excitedly as always, and pulled it open. “Uncle Ozzie!!”

The serenity of the activity was long lost as all eyes in the room turned toward the scene of Charlie hugging a vibrant, rooster-esque demon that stood at an even taller stature than herself.

“Candy Apple! It’s so good to see you!” The blue demon exclaimed. Lute looked over Adam, who’s face had suddenly darkened. Lute reached out her hand and squeezed his thigh under the table. Behind the blue demon, an imp appeared with jester-like clothing. 

“Uncle Fizz!” Charlie exclaimed, leaping from the blue demon to engulf the clown imp into a hug. 

“She knows Asmodeus and Fizzarolli?” Angel whispered sharply, looking starstruck at the pair in front of him. As Sinners were stuck in the Pride ring, there was very little chance if any for sinners to meet any other members of the various rings. The only Sin who regularly traveled between rings was Mammon, always in search of a quick buck or scam.

“That’s Asmodeus, the sin?” Lute whispered to Adam, who nodded slowly. “Adam, what’s wrong?”

“He’s fallen, all Sins are.”

“Wait, are you fucking serious?” Husk asked, himself and Angel scooting closer to Adam and Lute. “Even that fucking creep Mammon was an angel?”

Adam nodded once more, his face aging a thousand years in a single moment and he seemed to be taken back in a memory. “You think Lucifer was the only angel who fell when Eve at the apple?”

Adam’s face had contorted into a wry smile. He looked back over at the scene of Charlie and her uncles. Charlie had grabbed Vaggie and was introducing her. Vaggie seemed uncomfortable with attention and appeared to be stumbling over her words. 

“Candy Apple, I didn’t know you were running an Angel Sanctuary.” Asmodeus said, his gaze making path past Charlie and Vaggie to Adam and Lute. “Not counting your little girlfriend, who cute as pie by the way.”

“I mean not really, it just kind of turned out that way.” Charlie laughed awkwardly, her eyes darting between the angels and sin. 

“I’m surprised Luci isn’t here. I called him to let him know I was coming but didn’t get an answer.”

Charlie scratched her head awkwardly and lowered her voice. “That’s been pretty standard since Mom left. He was at the Extermination, I’m sure that aired all over Hell.”

“It did. Which was why I was little surprised to get your call.” Asmodeus said, bending down to Charlie’s level to look at her head on. “You’ve always been better than any of us, Charlie but even I thought you’d have your limits.”

Charlie looked over at Lute and Adam and whispered in Asmodeus’ ear. Asmodeus sighed, squeezed Charlie’s shoulder, and nodded. Charlie grinned at her uncle and began to guide him towards Lute and Adam. 

“Adam,” Asmodeus said, walking up the group. Husk and Angel took that as their sign to back away but to continue to watch the show unfold. Angel grabbed Niffty, who had ignored the scene in front of her and continued her painting.  Husk walked behind the bar, eyes never leaving the scene, and began to make himself and Angel a drink.

“Asmodeus. You’ve changed a little since Eden. Looking a little more 'cocky’ nowadays.” Adam’s face was unreadable, almost as if he was looking at a ghost. Lute scrunched her eyes and glanced between the Sin and Imp that had bounced up beside him. The Imp, Fizzarolli as she had heard Angel refer to him as, looked at her curiously before grinning and flashing an extenadable, metal arm her way. 

Lute suddenly understood the picture and without thinking, lifted her right arm to the remains of her left, as if to shield her from the attention she knew she was about to receive. 

“The same could be said for you, Adam. The wings are new…to me at least.”

“No thanks to you,” Adam shot back. Asmodeous held up his hand, signaling a truce. 

“Listen, your grievances are not with me. And if you want to make it my problem, I can just pack back up the prosthetics Charlie asked me to bring for your girlfriend.” Fizzarolli pulled out a case from god knows where and opened it to reveal what appeared to be a metallic arm similar to the ones on his body. As if to make a show of Asmodeous’ seriousness, he shut the case almost as quickly as he had opened it.  

“Ugh, fuck, don’t, don’t do that. I’ll be on my best behavior.” Adam said, sighing before sitting back down. He turned to Lute, who was staring at the scene like watching a trainwreck. Her right palm began to sweat and she felt overexposed without her Exorcist mask, despite having not worn it in months. 

“Lute, was it?” Asmodeus asked, sitting down beside her. Lute nodded. 

“I’m Asmodeus, one of Charlie’s uncles.This is my partner, Fizzarolli.” Asmodeus said, gesturing the imp beside him who was opening the case on the table. 

“I specialize in various types of prosthetics and Charlie asked me to come by and fit you for one. May I?” He asked, gesturing to her damaged arm. She looked between him, Fizzarolli, and Adam and suddenly felt like a child in toy store asking their parent if a stranger was safe to talk to. But she was Lute and she was stronger than that, so she offered him her mangled arm.

Asmodeus grabbed her arm more gently than she could have imagined. His hand was practiced, as though he had done this a thousand times before. And after a glance at Fizzarolli, who Lute noticed had not only one prosthetic arm but one for each limb, she realized he probably had. 

He examined the area around the stump that had been pulled over in a crude scar. Asmoedus turned to Fizzarolli as they both reached into the case and spoke in hushed whispers over the case. She felt shaky, overexposed. Utterly unlike herself. A hand reached under the table and grabbed her right one. It was Adam.

“You know you’re gonna look like even more of a badass, right? Especially with a terminator arm.”

“Awe, big boy, do you think I’m a bad ass too?” Fizzarolli interrupted before Lute could answer,  flashing his prosthetic bicep guns and winking at Adam in a flirtatious fashion. 

“Eh, as badass as a clown can be. You sound really familiar by the way.”

Fizz shrugged. “You’ve probably seen me on tv or radio or any other scammy source of entertainment Mammon is renting out.”

“Nah, doesn’t ring a bell.” Adam said before shrugging it off. 

After some digging around for the right parts, Asmodeus held out the prosthetic arm for Lute. It was similar to Fizzarolli’s and had a dark gray color but didn’t have the retractable aspect his did, for which Lute was grateful. It might serve a clown greatly but even she didn’t think she had hte flexibility to be able to control those limbs. 

“Alright, this is gonna pinch.” Asmodeus said, bringing the arm close to her scarred flesh. Lute grit her teeth as Asmodeus began to attach it using a mixture of technology and magic. A blue light lit out and Lute wanted to scream from the pain, but resisted. She was strong. She was capable. She could do this. 

She wasn’t going to lie to herself and say the idea of a Sin using magic on her body was something she was thrilled about. However, she wasn’t the same person she had been prior to the Extermination. She knew now that there were some lines she would cross if it meant being able to strong for Adam. And this arm would help her be strong for him and herself. 

Asmodeus released her arm. Lute stared down at the foreign limb. “Give it a try.”

Without even the thinking, the arm moved just as fluidly and naturally as her native right arm. She flexed her new fingers and curled them into a fist. It fit like a new pair of shoes just itching to be broken in. She pulled her right arm from Adam’s comforting grip and glanced between her two hands, comparing them.

“What do you think?” Asmodeus asked, all three of his heads smirking. 

“Fits like a glove,” She whispered, in awe that something as vile a sin could create something so awe-inspiring. 

“Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” Adam exclaimed, smiling at her as he reached out to touch her new arm. Lute smiled softly back at him. “Listen I’m gonna get you a fucking shot to celebrate.” 

Adam stood from his chair, leaving Lute alone with Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. “Your boyfriend seems excited. I know you’re an angel and everything but if ever need tips on how to use it in bed…” Fizzarolli offered, wiggling his eyebrows at her. 

“Oh, no, we’re not, um that.” Lute could feel the blood rising to her cheeks. Fuck these fuckers from Lust and their crude accusations.  Asmodeus and Fizzarolli exchanged glances but decided to let it go. 

“Thank you, Asmodeus.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Charlie.” He replied, glancing over at his niece who was talking excitedly with the other hotel patrons. “I only did it for her.”

Lute nodded, understanding the sentiment. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli rose from the table to give their goodbyes to Charlie. 

“Awe Uncle Ozzie, I really appreciate it. You have no idea what this means to me!” Charlie gushed, looking over at Lute with a big smile.

“Anything for my little Candy Apple,” Ozzie said, booping Charlie’s nose in a way that implied he had done it a hundred times over. “I do think we’re about to head back though. I am gonna stop and see your daddy on our way out of town. To not even get a callback? Downright despicable.”

Charlie hugged her Uncles once more before they left the hotel (but not before Angel managed to get an autograph from Fizzaroli “It’s the real-life Fizzarolli, not a Robofizz! Do you know how big of a deal this is?”). 

Charlie walked over to Lute, a sheepish look on her face. 

“I’m really sorry for springing this on you.  I didn’t even really ask if this was something you wanted, I just kind of assumed. But I wanted to surprise you because you and Adam have done a really great job of blending in with the other guests and the Egg Bois have really bonded with you and I just wanted to help,” Charlie word vomited out. Lute opened her mouth but then abruptly closed it, choosing her words carefully. 

“I appreciate it…Charlie. It was very thoughtful and Adam and I have been very, um grateful for your hospitality. In the future, I would like to be asked about major things or gestures like that in perhaps a less public setting.” Lute almost choked out the words. For good measure, she decided to grin at Charlie, who looked at her as though she had seen a monster. Hopefully, the smile made Charlie feel as uncomfortable on the outside as Lute felt on the inside. 

“Oh Lute thank you! I’m so sorry, I have such trouble with boundaries sometimes, I just want everyone to be happy,” Charlie exclaimed, tears in her eyes. Lute suddenly found herself engulfed in a Charlie-sized hug. For such a small woman, she sure hugged hard. Charlie did not let go until Lute gave her a pity pat on the back, which was the closest thing she was going to get to reciprocation. 

Charlie untangled herself from Lute and pushed her towards the bar and the other guests. Lute found her place by Adam and whispered, “I think I need that shot now.”

Adam flashed her a grin and held out a shot glass with mysterious blue liquid. Lute grabbed the shot glass with her new arm and clinked her glass with Adam’s. 

“Bottoms Up Bitch!”

-

That night, when the impromptu celebration at the hotel bar had calmed down and most patrons had retired for bed, Lute found herself snuggled in Adam’s embrace like she had every night. She could hear his breathing begin to slow and she knew if she wanted to speak to him, to digest the events of the day she had to do it now.

“Adam,” She whispered. 

“Hm?” His sleepy reply. 

“How did you know Asmodeus?” 

The room was quiet. She worried he had fallen asleep. 

“Lucifer wasn’t the only angel in the garden.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Oh?”

“There were others that had their own, shall we say curiosities or hyperfixations that they wanted to introduce to humanity. Vices, I guess. When the archangels shunned us from the Garden and damned Lucifer and Lilith to Hell, they also decided to shun those angels as well. And they became the sins. So Asmodeus the sin of Lust, Beelzebub the sin of gluttony, and so on.”

It was moments like these that Adam became the mythic legend he always touted himself as being. He had the air of someone who had seen the rise and fall of humanity from the very beginning, which, she supposed, he had. 

“What was it like, the garden?”

He was quiet for a moment and stillness took over the dark room. “It was perfect. I think it was more perfect than Heaven sometimes.”

Lute didn’t reply and instead chose to digest his answers. She didn’t know a greater perfection than Heaven. She couldn’t conceive of it her mind. It was impossible. Yet, Adam had lived it all. Would he not know better than she, a Heavenborn? 

She snuggled in closer, her new arm a tad uncomfortable but just another learning curve she would conquer. 

“In what way?” She wanted to ask. But she was not given the opportunity as the soft snores she heard coming from Adam shut down any further chance for questions tonight at least. 

[dutybcrne]

@strdstd said :🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?, 😉 What are my muse’s fetishes/kinks?, 🏩 What was my muse’s first time like?, 🌼 Would my muse prefer a big wedding or a small wedding? {For Halfdan- 👀} 『Meme || Accepting』

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

Bit of a switch but leaning more sub. Mans for the most part is a pretty subby service top ( though this is absolutely flexible ), whose sole aim would be pleasing his partner and happily following any and all orders to the letter. He absolutely more than willing to be the one to take the reigns and call the shots if his partner wants the control taken out of their hands, but at his core, he is at their every whim, and happily so.

😉 What are my muse’s fetishes/kinks?

-Praise. Praising him is a big one. He’s already a sucker for praise outside of intimacy, but in the moment, he will straight up MELT. That's all he wants, to know that he's doing a good job for his partner. And for a fact, he will spill plenty of praises for his own partner as well.

-Likes biting and scratching, though is more of a biter himself. Likes to bite his partner’s thighs, shoulders and chest the most. Would be their neck, but he’s terrified of hurting them, esp post-ascension. Being marked up by his partner like that is something he adores. Makes him feel owned by them in one more, very much tangible way. He especially likes it when he can still feel the dull sensation thrumming as he goes about his day to day.

-Is into body worship, loves in particular to kiss his lover's scars and especially any other things they might have mentioned they think imperfect of themselves. Definitely pays special attention to those places, and would strive to show how much he loves that part of them too.

-Likes the idea of hair pulling, esp if his partner does so to move him how they like or to grab his attention. Likewise likes the idea of doing it to his partner if they like it, to prompt a kiss or bare their neck for him, always being very gentle about it unless they voice otherwise.

-For a Fact, has a HUGE thing for initiating things while in uniform. Both bc he loves how it looks and bc of the risk factor.

🏩 What was my muse’s first time like?

A bit fumbled, a bit flustering, but definitely a moment he looks back on fondly, even with how embarrassed he was throughout.

He hadn’t anticipated how awkward he himself would be in the moment, having thought being with someone who knew him so intimately as it was would make things more comfortable and far easier. Instead, he found himself tripping up and stumbling damn near all the way through, same as them. Both due to lack of experience and just how in awe he was of them. Of having the chance to be and share this with them.

What he remembers most fondly is laughter spilling from their lips as their noses smushed together in clumsy kisses, head bumping together, teeth clacking a slight in their eagerness. Wandering hands and playful little prods and teasing pinches, because they couldn’t help their usual banter coming to the forefront, even now.

He remembers endlessly fretting over them, almost feeling his heart stop at their first wince, frantic apologies flooding from his lips even as the cupped his face and told him it was alright.

He remembers soon breathlessly speaking their name like a mantra once they grasped a decent rhythm at last, voicing it again and again, the only prayer that would ever leave his lips in his life, just as he would come to think of their body as the only temple he would ever find wherein to worship.

He remembers their voice as a hymn, a sweet melody to fill his heart and quell the ebbing tides of his thoughts the more he'd draw it from their lips, his own but a simple harmony to theirs in turn.

Above all, he remembers laying together afterwards, foreheads pressed together and legs entangled. Remembers sleepy, teasing little kisses pressed to his lips along with rasped I love you’s and fond reassurances, as he'd held them close and wished they could simply remain in that very moment, for all time.

The memory never fails to bring a smile to his face.

🌼 Would my muse prefer a big wedding or a small wedding?

Would absolutely prefer a small wedding, something nice and intimate with only family and their closest friends involved ( they ARE pretty much family after all ). Would be open to discussing a bigger event if his partner is set on it, but for himself, he really would like a nice, small ceremony.

[edennill]

Yes! — I've also thought a lot about just how important the Lay of Leithian must have been to them in those last years — the great defeats of Sauron and Morgoth, sure, but also Finrod's Ten, "but none would yield and none would tell", et cetera. Probably treated almost like a prayer at times, even — I've written upon this here and here, I think. I've never considered the lesser known stories in that context though, and the bit about the Third Kinslaying is fascinating to think about. Venerating Bor out of spite at the racism of the ruling class... wow.

The reason I'm wondering about martyrological traditions is that, well, I'm hard-pressed to imagine that a people (and religious tradition!) who experienced such persecution could not have one... except that what happened in Númenor, with that entire "human sacrifice to the embodiment of evil" facet is, I think, slightly more awful than anything that happened — on a similar scale — in real life history (and the things that did were already... bad). And I don't know if they'd be able to look at it with anything but horror, even knowing these were heroes, these were people who conquered in death — and to be honest, the idea that they wouldn't even be able to draw comfort from the bravery of others, would make that completely terrifying situation even worse. I don't know if I want that, from a "narrative satisfaction" POV, but I keep debating this with myself.

I'm also wondering in how much did they take the whole idea to be a parody of their own religious traditions — how much Sauron intended it to be in fact — as the kings did make bloodless offerings (i.e. fruit and grain probably) upon Meneltarma. The kings of Gondor are still high priests, but they fulfill any rites alone (anyone have that letter in which Tolkien expounds on this?) — and I feel like what prompted the change had to have been either a sense of collective guilt, or lingering horror at the once-committed desecration.

You're probably right that any martyrological tradition would swiftly decline in popularity during the Third Age; I don't think that if one existed it could be utterly forgotten, but it wouldn't be something an average citizen thinks about too often (or at all), and the númenórean co-responsibility for it might be downplayed too (although I do have this particular headcanon about the Gondorian psyche that might preclude this somewhat, but I believe "they didn't want to think about it too much" is more or less canon...) I do imagine that there is, for example, a symbolic grave someone had raised in Pelargir to a kinsman who was slain in the temple, and that centuries later, there is still a tradition of leaving flowers upon it, but these are local things and need not be accompanied by too much reflection over what they really mean.

(Tbh, I wonder what it looks like in Gondor vs. Arnor, because the latter strikes me as both less connected to that Númenórean heritage, for very understandable reasons — Gondor was always nearer and is partially founded upon the colonies — and more... I don't know how to describe it, ascetic maybe — especially after its might is dissolved? rational? likelier to focus on tragedies?)

The questions of morality when living at the heart of a tyrannical empire are also an interesting subject, since you cannot really avoid being partially complicit. The Lords of Andunië canonically have ships and riches, so I think it's likely the Faithful in the Westlands/Romenna (I have no idea where they were living at this point and the text itself isn't helpful) were almost self-sufficient as a whole — but not all of them were part of this community. At the same time, I also think there was a lot of internal debate on whether the colonialism is justified — I really don't imagine Elendil & co supporting slavery, but there has to have been someone who used the very beliefs of the Faithful to justify it ("We were given this island and power by the Valar, so what follows is that they want us to rule the world et cetera"). Which conflict probably also boils over into how the kingdoms-in-exile approached the "middle men" later on.

Do you maybe have any thoughts about the Faithful in Númenór, esp. in the last, darkest years... their motivations and ways of going about the hellish reality they found themselves in? Do you think the later remnant that formed the kingdoms in exile has a martyrological tradition?

(feel absolutely free to ignore this if I'm being presumptuous by asking — I don't think Númenor is your "specialty" as far as I'm aware, but I really like your philosophical approach to the Silm in general and I kind of yearn to hear the opinions of other religious people on the Akallabeth... since I think one cannot ignore that facet of the story, as interwined with the subject as it is)

I love these kinds of asks and I’m delighted you sent it! I hadn’t comsidered it before – thank you for setting me off thinking about it, because it is fascinating!

I think you’re right, that the Faithful would certainly have matrys and hold strongly to the memory of them as inspiration to hold fast in dark times. It must have bern horrific to them, seeing their entiee culture that they loved twisted and turned to the service of evil, and their friends dragged off as human sacrifices on Sauron’s altars. Remembering borth their own martyrs, and heroes of the First Age who defied the darkness, like Beren and Lúthien and Finrod and Húrin, could be inspiration in that time. I can even see them developing traditions around parts of the First Age they hadn’t thought much about until that time; for example, Fëanoreans followers who turned against the Fëanoreans during Sirion could be an image of rejecting allegiance to your nation-state when it has turned to evil. Or around Bór and his people, who fought against Morgoth; which could also become a symbol of solidarity with the Men of Middle-earth whom Númenor was victimizing. You would see Faithful risking their lives to save Men of Middle-earth from being made sacrifices, and being killed themselves (which would probably also draw parallels with Finrod in Tol-in-Gaurhoth), and memorialized by the Faithful. Martyrdom would be further elevated by being a symbolic contrast to the obsessions of Ar-Pharazôn and his followers: willingly giving up your life in service of what is right, set against the all-consuming obsession with avoiding death.

I think one thing that would become pressing to the Faithful in the time of Ar-Pharazôn and Sauron (and even well before that) would be the question of how to avoid being complicit in an empire that is bring your country such wealth and power. Because of this, I could see a strong ascetic tradition developing among some of the Faithful, living with minimal possessions and on simple food to avoid partaking of the spoils of empire; the love of craft and beauty is rooted to deeply to disappear, I think, but for some it would change to a determination that the only objects of art/beauty you would have would be ones made by yourself and your loved ones – a sort of return to the roots of what makes art meaningful, in human connection not vain display.

In times of such despair, I can also see these things taking a darker turn in some cases. People deliberately seeking out a martyr’s death for its own sake, seeing it again as a defiance of the King’s Men’s obsession with extending life, and because they had lost hope of things ever being better. Ascetics deliberately starving themselves to death.

In the kingdoms in exile, Arnor and Gondor, it becomes complicated in a different way. When the Faithful left Númenor, I think they knew in their hearts something dreadful was going to happen; but I don’t think they necessarily expected it to encompass the destruction of the entire island and everyone on it. While the martyriologucal tradition may have endured until the end of the Second Age, while they were fighting Sauron, as a memorial of what he had done to them and why it was necessary to fight, I think that things would have changed fairly rapidly in the Third Age. When we look at how Gondor remembers Númenor – the ritual of looking west before dinner as an equivalent to saying grace, and the way it’s talked about throughout The Lord of the Rings – it feels remembered primarily as a glorious lost past, not as a cautionary tale. I think the memory of Ar-Pharazôn’s era would have faded quickly, and the earlier history of Númenor would have been valorized – at first the time of Elros and the years when things were uncomplicatedly good, but after a while even the pre-Sauron time of empire and the years of Tar-Ciryatan and Tar-Atanamir might also be remembered as glory days, and the Downfall seen as the tragic consequence of corruption brought about by Sauron, rather than a progressive moral decline that long preceded Sauron and of which he was only the culmination. I think that it’s natural to idealize a thing once you’ve lost it; even a political refugee who left their country because it was tyrannical and oppressive – even one who had vigorously opposed their country’s actions as immoral – would feel grief, nostalgia, sentiment, if while in exile they saw that country destroyed. So I think that in the Third Age, Gondorian memory of Númenor as a whole becomes rather hagiographic, and the period under Ar-Pharazôn and Sauron is sidelined as an anomaly.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

This wasn’t an official request but after @yacrimago​ did this wonderful wolf pic for my Reverse Werewolf AU, I couldn’t resist! 😍 So here’s a little drabble for what happens to werewolves during the Blood Moon!

Fic Universe: Cursed

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1390

By the Light of the Blood Moon

Bilbo had never hunted with another being before. However, he found running with Beorn to be exhilarating. Whether the massive bear asked him to because he did not trust the wolf around his animal companions or because he too sought the camaraderie of a fellow shifter, it did not matter to Bilbo. The foreign concept of “pack” was one he was trying to form with the dwarves, but definitely felt within reach patrolling the valley with Beorn. For once, Bilbo was truly enjoying his time as a wolf. 

Beorn finally came to a stop atop a boulder where he could see far and wide. Bilbo fell to his side, tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting hard as he let the cool rock help bring his heart rate back down. Beorn made a snuffling noise as he cocked his head at Bilbo. His body froze, alert and quiet as he tried to assess what Beorn wanted him to see. When he repeated the motion, Bilbo got up to stand next to him. Beorn’s eyes went up, and when Bilbo’s followed he finally realized what had caught Beorn’s attention.

The moon. A full moon was due within the next couple of days.

***

Bilbo was lapping at the milk presented to him in a bowl trying to maintain his dignity even as his hackles raised at the ‘house pet’ treatment. Almost as if sensing Bilbo’s anxiety, Thorin reached over to pet him behind the ears. While it didn’t ease his feelings of being treated like an animal, he did find comfort in the gesture. More and more he found comfort anytime the dwarf king was near. 

Beorn was explaining to the dwarves why Bilbo would not be joining him on tonight’s patrol. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw Thorin’s shoulders relax. It gave him pause. He knew Thorin had bristled at the idea when Beorn had first suggested it, but he had no idea that the dwarf had been that bothered by his late night explorations.

“It’s not just a full moon, but a blood moon, I fear.” Gandalf huffed around his pipe.

“What does that mean?” Fili was the first to ask.

“Will Mr. Boggins not turn back now?” Kili added with concern.

“His body will turn, his mind not so much.” Gandalf warned. “With normal werewolves they still have the killer instinct making them a danger to everyone.”

Fifteen sets of eyes landed on Bilbo making the wolf shrink and whine, his tail tucked between his legs. Gandalf’s face lit up with a smile, his eyes twinkling bright. 

“With our dear Mr. Baggins though, I see very little reason to worry.”

The subject was dropped at that point and conversation resumed, but Bilbo still felt just a touch of dread as the shadows began to lengthen. What if he really did turn into a monster? A monster in hobbit form. He’d never had to consider his behavior as different in his wolf form before. It has always felt like himself. Just with different…instincts. 

Bilbo smelt the familiar and welcome scent of the forge and mountains, alerting him to Thorin’s presence far before he heard him. It wasn’t enough to get him to move from his spot in front of the window. Fingers curled in his fur, touching on that hard to reach spot just at the back of his head.

“It will be okay.” Thorin promised. “No one is worried you’ll suddenly have a desire to kill us all.”

Bilbo flicked an ear.

“Maybe eat anything you can get your hands on…”

Bilbo grumbled at Thorin’s jest as he sunk down on his paws to glare up at him. His tail slowly moved back and forth at the dwarf’s bright smile. 

“In all seriousness though, I trust you.”

It was words that Bilbo held close to his heart almost like a prayer as the sun finished its cycle and the large, burning red moon took its place. Bilbo flinched as he felt his skin tighten around him. He hunched in on himself as forepaws were replaced with hands, and a lone howl was pulled from him which turned into a shout. He shook off the last of the tingling sensation, moving to stand on his own hobbit feet again. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin asked hesitantly.

Bilbo felt his ear cock before turning to look at him. Every feature of the dwarf he was able to make out even in the low interior light, including his incredulous expression. Bilbo felt his tail begin to wag as he approached the dwarf. Wait. His ears, his tail…

“Uh…I’m guessing this doesn’t usually happen then?”

Bilbo gave a cry of alarm as he reached back to feel his wolf tail still attached. Same as his ears. Footsteps came running at the sound, and Bilbo quickly started backing up, his tail between his legs, and his ears flat against his skull as he gave a low sound of distress.

“What’s going on?”

“Is Mr. Baggins okay?”

Pretty soon, Bilbo had an audience before him, and it did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves. 

“Is that…is that what the blood moon does?” Kili choked out.

“He’s downright adorable.” Nori smirked.

“Stop it.” Bilbo demanded, snapping his teeth for emphasis.

“Give him some space.” Thorin demanded. “Dori, do you have Mr. Baggins’ clothing?”

“Uhh, I do. But I’m not sure about the pants now…may have to cut a hole…”

“No.” Bilbo mourned, approaching Dori who managed to stand stockstill in response. “Don’t do that.”

He started pawing at the material until it finally occurred to him that he could just take it. Fighting a blush, he reached for the shirt at least, buttoning quickly under the gaze of so many. He reached for his pants next, but stopped short, uncertain of what to do.

“You know…the shirt is long enough that you probably don’t need the pants.” Fili offered.

Bilbo’s tail wagged just slightly, and that was when he found himself enveloped in a large hug.

“He’s so cute like this!” Kili marveled.

Bilbo gave the dwarf a play growl as he pushed against his iron grip.

“Does he even realize he’s not a wolf right now?” Bilbo heard Dwalin ask.

“I’m not sure.” Thorin admitted.

“I…realize…” He huffed before finally breaking out of Kili’s grip.

He turned to face the young dwarf, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes as he growled. Kili took a slow step forward, and Bilbo immediately ran and jumped on the nearby chair, his tail wagging excitedly. Kili gave Fili a sly look before they both came charging at him. Bilbo took off like a shot, his pursuers right behind him.

“Well.” Bofur commented cheerfully. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to kill any of us at least.”

Thorin found himself disappointed. He had been looking forward to finally having a real conversation with the hobbit-wolf, and now it was looking like he would have to wait until the next full moon. Mahal only knows where they would be by then. Bilbo came running back into the room, and Thorin tried to appeal to the hobbit in him.

“Mr. Baggins? Bilbo, can you come here?”

Bilbo perked his ears as he spun around to face Thorin. His tail gave a small wag before he ran full tilt at Thorin.

“Wait. Wait!”

At the last moment, Bilbo launched himself up at Thorin, and the dwarf naturally caught him only to freeze at the hobbit’s next action. A soft kiss was placed just on the underside of the dwarf’s jaw before another joined it on his cheek. Heat blazed to life on Thorin’s cheeks at the same time he realized he was holding the hobbit’s naked bottom. 

“T-Thorin?” Bilbo came back to himself aghast. “I…”

“There he is!” Kili proclaimed.

With his playmates returned, any semblance of coherent thought was lost again as the hobbit-wolf hybrid tore his way out of Thorin’s arms, running from the boys once more. Thorin just stood there, frozen in place, immune to the jeers and snickers of his fellow dwarves. 

“No, Dwalin. I don’t think he fully realizes he’s not a wolf.” Thorin finally remarked.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He couldn’t even begin to let himself dwell on Bilbo’s actions otherwise.

[bloodpenned]

I saw this scene where Kylar and Sydney compete for the PC and writing on them and that made me think....

Corrupt Sydney and Kylar sharing a s/o?

Sydney doesn't exactly mind sharing with the little heathen because they always spice it up.

Kylar will comply to share you because it's better than not being able to touch your body at all.

The scariest part is having the teacher's kid and the loner teaming up....they're almost unstoppable once they find something or someone they can agree on

If you want any chance of this working, you're going to need a lot of communication. Out of all the LIs, I'd say Sydney is the person Kylar who would most likely share with, though they'd prefer to not at all. They've always been nice to them despite their status, tutored them for a while even, so Kylar dislikes them less than others. But Sydney is also possessive to an extent: They don't want any sinners touching you. Though they also wouldn't be entirely against the idea, they honestly think Kylar is kind of cute.

But by communication I mean things like: Letting Kylar know if you and Sydney go somewhere without them. Especially in the beginning parts of your new relationship, they will be very hesitant to let this happen, being even clingier than usual and more passive aggressive to Sydney. When they're more comfortable, they'll just... Feel left out if you don't tell them, and would get jealous if they found out on your own. Kylar's biggest worry is that you will pick each other over them, and leave them alone in the end. If they think that's starting to happen, they'll lash out. In general, they will warm up to Sydney quicker if they're affectionate to them as well, not just you. They'll freeze up at being touched by them at first, though they definitely don't mind it as much as it seems.

In regards to Sydney, Kylar will need to be clear to them that they're willing to try, that they don't hate their guts. Sydney tolerates a lot more of Kylar's quirks than most people would. Because of their religious upbringing, they're very forgiving and they can also recognise how troubled they are. A part of them kind of gets it. Before you, no one tried to actually get to know them either. You're one of the first people they'd consider a friend. It has to be worse for Kylar, so no wonder they latched onto you so strongly. (Those are their honest thoughts, but Sydney has no clue how far they are truly willing to go.) But they're no pushover, and if Kylar refuses to be honest when they're bothered by something or keeps being cold without any hint of improving, they're not going to stand and take it.

Once you get past the first period, though... They get along very well! Since they originally got together to share you, you're most often in the middle of everything. Having both of your hands held, cuddled up between the two of them, having the two of them touch you... You never have to ask for attention ever again!! They regularly band together to surprise you. Because of their busy schedule, you'll most likely end up spending more time with Kylar than Sydney. Though they don't mind moving to the library after school instead of the park. Still, Sydney gets pouty they're around less often, so they get to choose date activities most of the time. (The prayer room is a popular choice. Having Kylar and Sydney together in the prayer room... Is an experience, to say the least.)

Sydney is rather fond of teasing Kylar. You corrupted them, they already know you can take their flirting. But Kylar? Kylar can't!! They're such a cute little thing, aren't they? Please help them. Their teasing is never meanspirited and nothing close to bullying, purely set out to get Kylar to blush and squirm as much as possible. They get why you enjoyed turning them into a sinner now! Through their efforts, Sydney's going to get Kylar quite a bit more comfortable with fooling around in public and wear different types of clothes, to name a few. Though they never get past their shyness: It simply is their nature.

You're right, if they ever find someone who hurt you and they decide to take action, they're a terrifying pair. Sydney actually knows how to defend themselves and Kylar fights like a rabid dog. Their combined blackmail gathering abilities are unparalleled. Kylar ends up being a bit of a bad influence on Sydney, teaching them how to sneak behind people without being heard and to get in people's homes without being noticed.

Extra bit;

Groupchat!!! You three definitely have a groupchat. Kylar is always up at ungodly hours, while Sydney never fails to conk out before 11. All kinds of things are shared in there. Homework answers, daily complaints, date pictures... Horny ramblings and lewds. Sydney will try to get you two to read their favourite books and talk about them together. Have a little book club!! Kylar shares a lot of their drawings, and they've begun to sketch Sydney as well! (Though they aren't as detailed as yours. Blame it on the fact they haven't stared at them as much yet.) Kylar gives Sydney hentai recommendations and they're honestly intrigued... They never knew something like that existed! They might try and show them visual novels as well, since Sydney enjoys reading so much! It's a whole new medium for that! Sydney sends a bunch of sneaky pics of them making silly faces while doing boring temple work.

[aphrostarot]

The Chariot Pick a Pile

How can you know if this pick a pile is for you?

If you know what your goals are but don't understand how to reach them.

If you need help creating a path from where you are to where you want to be.

Please remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Don't force it to fit. I offer paid readings on my page if you would like a personal reading. Prices are listed there. Please message me if you are interested!

Pile One (Amethyst):

Charioteer:

What is the current state of your journey?

The Wheel of Fortune:

In your journey so far, you have experienced many ups and downs. Currently, it appears you are at a low point. You have been struggling lately, and you feel like you will never reach the end of the road.

Two of Swords:

The Two of Swords confirms to me that you have been struggling lately. Nothing seems to be coming your way anymore. As of recently, you are at a standstill on this journey, after previously moving extremely fast. Nothing is coming and nothing is going, making you feel as though you will never reach your destination.

Dark Horse:

What is distracting you?

The Chariot:

The idea that you need to constantly be moving forward without any breaks on this journey is distracting you, according to your guides. As your guides tell you, this mindset is keeping you in the stalemate you are currently experiencing. Breaks are necessary from time to time, and after the run you have been on, it is a good idea to take a break.

Ten of Cups:

There is a part of you that thinks this journey will lead to your fairytale ending, but your guides are telling you here that the destination may not be everything you expected. Whether it's a different person or a different job, your guides are telling you with this card what they have in store for you is in your best interest, so you need to release your control issues and trust them.

Light Horse:

What leads you to your desired goal?

The Tower:

Your guides will help you reach your desired goal if you lose your mindset from above. You must let go of the idea that you know exactly where things are going, since not everything you are desiring is in your best interest according to your guides. Additionally, you need to let go of your impatience and the notion that you must not take breaks, that this destination must be reached as quickly as possible.

Page of Swords:

You have been led towards your destination by your cleverness and intelligence, according to your guides. They are saying that you can remain sharp no matter what the Universe throws at you. They want you to use this part of you to further yourself on this journey from now on.

Channeled compliments from your guides on what is helping you in this journey:

“You are so trustworthy! Anyone knows they can count on you.”

“You are so smart and witty, always knowing what to say.”

Next Step:

What is the next thing you should work on?

Knight of Pentacles:

The next step on your journey is to develop patience, according to your guides. Since you have started your journey, you have been fairly impatient and anxious for things to come your way as soon as possible. This mindset only hinders your progress, as it was mentioned above. The key to escaping your current impasse is patience.

Obstacle:

What challenges will you face on this journey?

Three of Cups:

Your inability to slow down has prevented you from celebrating how far you have come on your journey. As your guides point out, if you don't celebrate yourself, you are not truly experiencing this journey.

Destination:

What will your destination look like?

Three of Wands:

At the end of this journey, you will have a large community around you. You may soon take up a hobby that allows you to work in a team. You will be very successful in this hobby and feel very happy with the people in your life. In this group, you'll be very social. You'll constantly go out and do things with them.

Page of Cups:

The end of this journey will bring you a highly sensitive person. They might be younger than you or just a young soul. This person will become an extremely important part of your life, allowing you to express yourself more sensitively without fear of judgment.

Channeled Messages:

“Move beyond ancestral patterns”

“Magic exists in the form of energy. What is your energy creating today? How does it make you feel?”

Pile Two (Amazonite):

Charioteer:

What is the current state of your journey?

The Fool:

You may be in the beginning stages of your journey. You have just found something that you are willing to put a lot of effort into. Having a strong passion for this journey, you are eager to dive in headfirst, without looking back.

Ace of Pentacles:

By embarking on this journey, you are laying the foundation in your life. As a result, you will start to feel comfortable in every aspect of your life. I feel that you are embarking on a new hobby or career, something that will earn you money. The income has not started to flow yet, but you're just beginning your journey. You hope that more money will be forthcoming soon.

Dark Horse:

What is distracting you?

Eight of Pentacles:

You are very sure of where you want to go in life and how you want this journey to play out. Making you unwilling to accept anything that is even remotely different from what you desire. This mindset is preventing you from making progress on your journey, according to your guides. In order to make progress, you must recognize that not everything you desire is good for you.

Six of Wands:

When it comes to your career or hobbies, you may think you're more talented than others. Your guides are warning you that your arrogance is only hindering your progress on this journey.

Light Horse:

What leads you to your desired goal?

Knight of Wands:

You have great enthusiasm when it comes to things that you are passionate about, and you are very passionate about this journey. Your guides are saying that your ability to move quickly and successfully through all that life offers you is what will bring this outcome to you much quicker.

Page of Wands:

Your guides say you are very friendly and full of amazing ideas, both of which are helping you on this journey. They encourage you to keep your friendly side because it will benefit you in the long run.

Channeled compliments from your guides on what is helping you in this journey:

“You are so magnetic and attractive! Everyone is turning heads after you!

“You are fierce like a lion! Everybody knows not to mess with you!”

“You have such great intuition, detecting the unseen truths.”

“You are so cute and bubbly, you make others feel like home.”

Next Step:

What is the next thing you should work on?

Seven of Pentacles:

When it comes to this journey, you have been pushing forward, channeling fool's energy for some time now and that has served you well for the time being. However, your guides are telling you that the next steps are for you to begin to plan how you want to execute this journey instead of leaping headfirst into everything.

Obstacle:

What challenges will you face on this journey?

Eight of Cups:

In most of your life, you have been too quick to give up at the first sign of difficulty. Throughout this journey, you will struggle with this. The world doesn't always work out how we planned, and that's a bummer, but we are meant to get back up and keep going, utilizing what we learned from the past. It is their desire that you do this instead of giving up when things get tough.

Destination:

What will your destination look like?

The Artist:

You may be an extremely creative person and this journey's outcome will allow you to use your creativity almost continuously. You are working towards a career and/or hobby that is highly creative and your guides are saying that once you get there it will allow you to utilize all of your creativity.

The Hierophant:

This is oddly specific but for some, I feel like you are working towards becoming a party planner of some sort, particularly at weddings. This is a sign that you will get there and be excellent at using your creativity when it comes to weddings.

For others, this may be a sign that the outcome of this journey may result in you getting married to either your current partner or someone else.

Channeled Messages:

“Unlock the magick within”

“You are our answered prayer.”

Pile Three (Sodalite):

Charioteer:

What is the current state of your journey?

Four of Pentacles:

Currently, you are feeling very possessive over certain things in your life. It feels to me like you think people in your life constantly take from you without giving any thought to the pain it causes you. You have a history of being very generous, but you are now becoming tired of making others happy all the time.

King of Cups:

Your emotions are what you are feeling pretty possessive about. You have been a doormat in the past, allowing others to walk all over you and take from you. Especially when it comes to your emotions and energy. But now you've realized it and you are no longer allowing others to take from you.

Dark Horse:

What is distracting you?

Eight of Pentacles:

You are pretty set in stone about how you want to embark on this journey. You believe your way is the only way, and you do not take advice from anyone, including your guides. It seems to me that you hear what your guides say, but if it interferes with your plans you ignore the message saying to yourself, "That wasn't meant for me." or, "they're wrong.". According to your guides, the way you think is holding you back from moving forward.

Seven of Wands:

With the people in your life, you have reached a boiling point. You've allowed them to walk all over you for too long and now you're fighting back. Your guides are telling you that being extremely negative to your family and friends will not help you on this journey. Yes, you should set boundaries, but you do not have to continue to punish them for what you have allowed in the past. The treatment you received in the past is partly your fault, and you need to take responsibility for it. Give the people in your life a chance to follow your boundaries. Stop punishing them.

Light Horse:

What leads you to your desired goal?

Queen of Cups:

Despite the negative points listed above, you are still a very loyal person. You do not give up on the people in your life, continuing to stick by them even though they have hurt you in the past. This is an aspect that has been helpful to you and will continue to be helpful to you on this journey.

Channeled compliments from your guides on what is helping you in this journey:

“Yes, you are different. But that’s what makes you special!”

“Your eyes are beautiful. You can see the universe in them.”

Next Step:

What is the next thing you should work on?

Five of Swords:

Perhaps you recently lost out to one of your competitors. If that's the case, then your guides are telling you that your next step is to get back on your feet and start fresh. Taking the loss in stride. If that has not yet happened to you, this card indicates that it will soon. The next step for you is to prepare for the loss you will soon be suffering and not let it completely defeat you.

Obstacle:

What challenges will you face on this journey?

Two of Cups:

An obstacle you have been facing on this journey is your willingness to stay in toxic relationships. In the past, people have not treated you right and stayed in those relationships because you feared making the other person upset. This has recently been changing for you, however.

Destination:

What will your destination look like?

The Hierophant:

With this journey, you will learn from your past mistakes and grow from the pain that you have endured, resulting in a better understanding of what a good relationship is. This will result in you marrying someone good for you and to you.

Ten of Cups:

A fairytale ending awaits you at the end of this journey. At the end of this journey, all the things you wanted as a child but as you grew thought were unreasonable will be available to you.

Channeled Messages:

“Meditate more, ground yourself.”

“Times of heightened emotions and sensitivity call for extra self-care and gentleness.”

Pile Four (Rose Quartz):

Charioteer:

What is the current state of your journey?

Page of Pentacles:

Lately, you have been pretty sensitive. Feeling more in touch with your emotions, which may have been neglected for some time now. You have been getting more comfortable showing and expressing your emotions with the people around you.

The Hierophant:

Additionally, you have been more traditional in your life, adhering to the expectations of society rather than going against them. While you may have spent most of your life rebelling against what others want from you, you have recently begun to accept what others want from you.

Dark Horse:

What is distracting you?

Eight of Cups:

Your recent behavior of adhering to the expectations of others has made you feel guilty. You feel as if you are leaving the people you met on the way behind, and you feel as if they are disappointed in you. Your guides are telling you that this guilt is preventing you from excelling on your journey. There are times when you have to leave people and things behind in order to excel yourself, and feeling guilty won't help you do so.

Nine of Wands:

You feel as if this journey has been going on forever, with no stop in sight. You feel as if you are being faced with obstacle after obstacle, and things are never going your way. This mindset is hindering you, your guides are saying. You must remember that not every journey is linear. There will be bumps in the road, but that doesn't mean that you will never reach your goal.

Light Horse:

What leads you to your desired goal?

The Fool:

In a way, you embody the Fool's passion, which is to dive headfirst into their passions and not think twice before jumping. You're always starting new projects and have a never-ending passion for new beginnings. This is what has been leading you towards your desired goal.

Ace of Swords:

You have very strong emotions especially when it comes to love and hate. When you love something or hate something, it encompasses your whole being. It is the love you have for your passions that helps you along this journey.

Channeled compliments from your guides on what is helping you in this journey:

“You are hilarious and have an amazing sense of humor!”

“You are such an inspiration! Everything you do is magical.”

“You are so trustworthy! Anyone knows they can count on you.”

Next Step:

What is the next thing you should work on?

Queen of Cups:

The next step in your journey is to strengthen your loyalty. As you go through life, you constantly change your mind about things and move on to new adventures. You get bored very easily. This pile is giving me strong Gemini energy. Because of your constant boredom, you struggle in the loyalty department, and your guides recommend you tackle this next. Whenever you become bored with one of your passions, try finding new things in that passion to keep yourself engaged.

Obstacle:

What challenges will you face on this journey?

Three of Cups:

In your journey, you tend to ignore red flags, thinking that they are only there to add flavor. You may also be afraid to rock the boat, which leads you to ignore warning signs. According to your guides, this mindset has hindered your progress.

Six of Cups:

It's not uncommon for toxic people from your past to try and get back in touch with you. When these people come back into your life, your guides are telling you not to accept them. They are not meant to be in your life. I am also getting strong Pisces and Cancer energy.

Destination:

What will your destination look like?

Ace of Cups:

If you are currently single, your guides are telling you that you will find new love at the end of this journey. If you are not single, this may be a sign that in the future you will be pregnant. In the event that this is not possible, then this new baby could be from a friend or family member. It is likely you will be extremely close to this baby, thinking of them as your own.

Four of Wands:

You will end up purchasing a new home with this person. Your new home will allow the two of you to live happily and healthily together. Your dream of a happy family life awaits you when you reach the end of this journey.

Channeled Messages:

“Get out of your own way! It’s upsetting me and your ancestors.”

“Follow the voice of your soul.”

Though tips are not required, they are very much appreciated. Thank you!

Venmo: @ aphrostarot

Paypal: paypal/aphrostarot

[keigelsss]

Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face. 

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.” 

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for. 

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow. 

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together. 

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge. 

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape. 

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief. 

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day. 

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier. 

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.” 

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss. 

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.” 

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful. 

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead. 

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible. 

“I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls. 

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.” 

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s. 

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter. 

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever. 

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.” 

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy. 

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity. 

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy. 

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave. 

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well. 

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too. 

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs. 

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you. 

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk. 

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck. 

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

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something. 

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him. 

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion. 

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked. 

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time. 

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[eirikaanemo]

Venti falls in love with an Inazuman rebel. The rebel has no vision, but what they do have is a belief that everyone has an inherent right to live freely. How does Venti know about this rebel in the first place? I honestly have no idea...

Visionless Visionary

Venti x GN!Reader

1.8k Words

Warning: Minor character death mentioned, prayer (if that bothers you)

Disclaimer: I knew next to nothing about Baal when I wrote this, so it may not be an accurate representation of her character.

Inazuma is a mess. That is just a fact now. Baal has suddenly become violent and a danger to her people. So many had done nothing but hold a vision she had bestowed upon them in the first place. And because of that, she struck your cousin down. You can still remember the thump of his lifeless body hitting the ground and the steady tap, tap, tap of Baal’s shoes as she walked away.

She seemed completely unaffected by her actions. You were anything but. The scene played over and over in your nightmares for weeks, and continues to haunt you. So when the rebellion reached out to you for support you were happy to assist. You found out he had just joined their ranks and that’s why he had been targeted.

However, you don’t have a vision so there’s only so much you can do. Of course they always welcome financial support and you gave it to the best of your ability. But you knew there had to be more you could do. So you spoke to some people and it was agreed that you would go to Mondstadt and position Barbatos for his support for your cause.

He hadn’t been seen in centuries, but he was the god of freedom, right? If anyone could help them, it would be him. So with the rebellion’s blessing you took your savings and made the long journey to Mondstadt.

Finding lodging was fairly easy. The people of Mondstadt were more than willing to help you. Especially once they found out what you were there to do. ‘Such a great and admirable cause,’ they said. ‘May Barbatos bless you!’ And all you could do was hope he did.

You prayed every morning and every night for help for your people. The heavens seemed quiet, but you didn’t let that dissuade you. Surely your sheer persistence would make a difference, you reasoned. And so you kept on.

One night, rather early on, you ran into a bard not long after your evening prayer. He had been not too far from the statue and you were captivated by the beauty of the song he played. It was ancient Inazuman and for just a moment you were able to forget and be caught up in the memories of better days.

When the song ended you were disappointed and tried not to pout. Judging from the laugh the bard let out when he saw you, it must have still shown on your face. “Did you like the song?” He asks. “I know I didn’t play for long. Would you like to hear another?”

“I would love to,” you admit. He smiles and simply starts on another song, this one also of Inazuma origin. From there he transitions into a more Mondstadtian style, singing The Ballad of Freedom. You know it well, as it’s a favorite of many of the rebels. As the last note fades he turns back to you.

“What brings you here, I wonder. Has it to do with your country being torn asunder?” He inquires.

“Yes,” you reply. “I’ve come to ask Lord Barbatos for his assistance in our cause. We fight for freedom from Baal, who has become nothing but a tyrant. As for me personally, well, she killed my cousin right in front of me. Her only reasons being the vision she bestowed upon him herself not many years ago and his belief that what she was doing was wrong. No one should have to suffer that.”

“Indeed, it seems you have a need. Your cause is just and swords you thrust. But the archons don’t just help everyone, so prove to him you’re worthy of some.”

“But how do I do that?” You question the cryptic bard.

“You’ll see in time, dear friend of mine!” He winks and you find your face warming. “Though I have a question if you don’t mind. Is the assistance you’re seeking a vision like mine?” He taps the glowing turquoise vision sitting on his belt by his hip.

“No,” you shake your head. “After what happened to my cousin, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with a vision. For me they’ve been nothing but trouble.” He nods in understanding.

“I see how that would be. I must take my leave for now, we’ll see each other later anyhow.” And he’s off into the night.

He’s right that this is far from the last time you see him. And he’s right that you start noticing the tests that Barbatos has set before you. More and more people seek your help in one thing or another, especially since the one they call “honorary knight” left to Liyue. There’s much to do, but you’re happy to help them.

Eventually you stop helping them because it’s a test and start helping them because you want to; because it’s the right thing to do. You help Lisa organize the library. You help Barbara clean the cathedral. You help Amber keep watch. You help Venti with his performances from time to time. You stand in for Diluc’s barkeep while he recovers from an illness.

Days and days have passed and your relationship with Venti grows and grows. You notice more and more things about him that you rather like. His laugh. His eyes. His hands. His music. His sense of humor. His optimism.

Really, everything about him is amazing. You try to deny it at first. But you know deep down that you’re falling in love. And you’re seeing some hints that he might be too. Lots of them, because he’s started flirting with you almost constantly.

However, as your relationship grows, your hope dwindles. It’s been weeks! You’ve helped so many people and have prayed so many times. And yet you have not received an answer. Not even an acknowledgement that he has heard.

When you express your concern and discouragement to Venti, he is very concerned. “I’m just not sure how much longer I can stay,” you explain. “While I would hate to return empty handed, I can’t stay here forever.”

“Try just one more time, for me?” he asked you, looking a little guilty despite not having reason to be. It’s not like he was keeping Barbatos from speaking with you. As if he could sense your hesitance he sweetened the deal. “If you do, I’ll give you a kiss!” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and flashed you a mischievous smile and you felt a warm blush bloom on your face.

“Alright,” you grumble good-naturedly. “I’ll try one more time.” His resulting cheer and more cheery smile were nearly enough to have made you do it by themselves.

That night you approached his statue, feeling unreasonably nervous compared to the nights before. “Lord Barbatos,” you prayed. “I seek thy assistance for my people’s cause. We seek the freedom thou dost represent. Someday may we all be free to live our lives reasonably, but as we please. This is my vision, my hope. Please, if it be thy will, let thy winds be not still. Guide us to better days, for this is what I pray.”

You stay there for a long moment, waiting. Then, the wind picks up and you hear a voice from it. It seems vaguely familiar but you can’t quite figure out why.

“Your diligence and passion for your cause has secured my blessing,” the winds whispered. “My winds will be at your back and support your cause. However, if you accept a vision despite your fears, you will be able to do far more. The wind will whisper secrets to your ears. All plans spoken will be carried to your ears.

“You need not fight with it. Trust in me, that I will not strike you down for accepting this gift. In your time here in my home I have found you to be a friend to us so I will be a friend to you.”

You feel tears come to your eyes. “I accept,” you whisper. This will be incredibly valuable.There’s no way you could turn it down. And this is the kind of god you can trust and accept a vision from. He is as kind, generous, and benevolent as his people.

After a moment of silence, the winds calm and a gleaming turquoise vision lies before you, dangling from a necklace like a pendant. It’s smaller than some others you’ve seen and is hidden easily when you slide it over your head and under your shirt. That will be invaluable when you return to Inazuma. It would be most suspicious for you to return with one after everything that’s happened.

You take another moment to catch your breath and wipe the tears from your eyes. Then you take a particularly deep breath to steady yourself and make your way back to Venti. “How did it go?” He asks, and you smile in response.

“It went very well,” you said, pulling the pendant out to show him your new vision. “Now we match! Now… I believe I was promised a kiss?”

The smile on his face at your teasing words could have lit up a room, if you were in one. He took your hands in his and tugged you closer gently before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It was a pleasant kiss, chaste but lingering and sweet.

He giggled at the face you made when he pulled away. You joined it, adding your laughter to his. Between the blessing and his kiss you felt like you were on top of the world. Then you remembered something that brought you down from your high.

“Venti, you know this means I have to leave now, right?” You inquire.

His face fell to a serious and thoughtful expression before it softened and he sent you a small smile. “Yeah, I know. You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” you respond softly. “I love you too.”

He nods. “Then I’ll wait for you. So don’t take too long, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll do what I can,” you reply.

Your parting is sad, but hopeful as he waves you goodbye until you’re so far away that he can’t see you. He sings nearly nothing but sappy love songs for the next week. He misses you, but knows you’ll be back. His winds won’t let anything happen to you after all.

When you return to Inazuma you find that all the rebels with anemo visions had their power boosted, the ships sailed swifter with the wind behind them, and the information the wind brought you gave you many victories. The struggle was still difficult, but the help you had obtained made a serious difference and soon enough you were headed back to Mondstadt.

You are headed home. After all, home is where the heart is.

tag list: @clouds-rambles

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Princess and the Miller

A/N: In honor of @monsieurbruhl​ reaching 1,000 followers as well because I can’t stop thinking about her post, I decided to make a Tonda one-shot. It deviates a little from the original post, but I hope you all still like it. BTW I haven’t read the book or seen the movie, but after reading up on it, I am going to go with an alternate version of this world. Hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Tonda x Fem!Reader. No use of Y/N.

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluffy Smut, Happy Ending.

You had always been told that when you turned 21, you’d marry a prince. It was a marriage arranged since your infancy, you hadn’t met your betrothed and yet you were in a carriage on your way to his kingdom to marry him. You tried your best to find the best in the situation, tried to get some semblance of an idea of who the man you’d soon call husband, but all you got were very generic answers. He’s speaks several languages, plays many instruments, charming, handsome. But no one told you whether he was kind, generous, or good. Your eyes fell on the greenery whirling past your carriage as you felt your nerves grow.

Silently, you prayed that the prince you’d soon be married to would be kind, that you could learn to love the man and try to have a happy life. Your prayers quickly stopped as suddenly, the carriage had rocked and jumped wildly and then before you knew it, the carriage tipped over and things went black. A pounding in your head was the first thing you clearly knew before your eyes managed to open and focus enough to see the destruction before you. The coachman that was riding with you was trapped beneath the carriage and you could hear the soft whimpering of pain. You stand, though your leg was in great pain, and despite your own weaken state, you tried to help by pushing against the carriage, but to no avail. You looked around and noticed smoke in the sky. Someone lived by, they will help.

Running towards the direction, you press on, despite your own body aching, your head swimming with light headedness, because you had to help. Tired, but you managed to reach a mill, and saw a figure whose back was turned from you. “Excuse me,” your voice low and hoarse. The figure doesn’t hear at first and continues with his work, so you move forward, your body leaning against a pile of wood, which you knock down on accident.

The figure whipped his head around and at first seemed ready to fight but seeing you, blood dripping from your head, your weaken state, made him soften. “Please help,” you manage before passing out.

The next thing you knew, you wake up in a bed, your head bandaged, your leg in a splint and the pain subsided a bit and everything started to slowly come back to you. You try to get up from bed only to be hushed and pushed back gently. “No, don’t get up.”

It’s then do you take a look at your rescuer. He was older than you, can’t be no more than ten years older, but his wavy brown hair which he tied back, to his warm brown eyes and friendly smile made him seem boyish. “The coachman,” you say suddenly, “My carriage had crashed, he needs help,” you say, trying once again to get up.

“Alright,” he says, once again gently, pushing you back down, “I’ll go and see. In which direction did you come from?” You tell him to the best of your knowledge, but your head hurts so much, and you feel as if you want to cry. He offers you a small wooden bowl and brings it to your lips. “Drink. It’ll help with the pain.”

You do as your told, what else did you have to lose? Once he makes sure you drank all of it, he settles you back down and goes to find the carriage. Laying there, you wait and the pain in your head fades, allowing you the chance to wonder what will happen now; will your betrothed start to get worried if you are not there by tomorrow and have a search party sent for you? Will your father when he doesn’t receive word from you? Quite a bit of time goes by before you realize that the man returns, and his face is grave.

“I am sorry miss, but the coachman is dead. He died before I found the carriage.” His brown eyes grow tender with remorse and silently offers sympathy.

You cry, not only because the coachman was a good man you knew growing up, but because you felt completely and utterly alone. How you wished you were home now, wished you never left to be engaged, wished you were with your family now. The man does not say anything to you for a long time, leaves the cottage with a shovel in hand, and you knew what he was going to do. His absence allows you time to grieve, time to accept the situation, and when he returns, he still gives you space, waiting for you to speak first. He tells you he had buried the coachman, but you don’t feel like you could respond without crying, so you remain silent. When you do speak first, it is late in the night before he decides to retire to sleep. 

“What is your name?”

“Tonda.”

“Thank you, Tonda.”

Crying yourself to sleep, you wake and it takes you some time to realize where you are but are quickly comforted by the sight of those same soft brown eyes, sitting by the fire, stirring the pot. “Good morning, did you sleep well?”

“Well enough, I suppose.” He gets up to bring you some porridge, gesturing for you to eat. “Where am I?”

“In my mill, just on the outskirts of Schwarzkollm, a small village, simple, but good. Where were you heading off to, maybe I know a way to get there.” You thought to not tell him the whole truth, withhold your being a princess, but looking into his eyes, you feel as if you can utterly trust him with anything. So, you explain that you were on your way to be married, that your betrothed was expecting you any day and must be worried. He took your being a princess well and instead of acting like everyone else who fell to their knees and dare not look at you, he continued to look at you, like you were an actual human being, not a symbol as your father once described you. “I know the kingdom, it’s a half a day’s ride from here. I’ll take you there as soon as I am sure you are feeling better.”

“Oh, thank you, Tonda! Thank you!” You clasp his hands into yours, a gesture of gratefulness, but somehow the touch made your cheeks grow warm. Perhaps it was because you realized that this was the first time you had been alone with a man that was not your father, perhaps it was because of how close both of your bodies were, or perhaps it was the look in Tonda’s eyes that made your stomach flutter like a million butterflies.

Word quickly spread that Tonda had a visitor in his mill, a young and pretty woman at it too, and people came to know the story, though you asked Tonda to not revel your true identity. Tonda was polite and kind enough to try to hold many of them back, certain it would overwhelm you, especially from the trauma you suffered the day before. But a few older women get by, offering food, clothing, and remedies to help you feel better, and you thank them graciously, knowing they mean well. You become grateful to be alone once again with Tonda, so you could have some peace.

He is gentle when he checks your bandages, cleans the wounds, and reapplies fresh wrappings. “You have only a small cut on your forehead, that’ll heal soon, but your ankle looks very bad,” he observes and you have to agree with him, what with it’s dark purple bruises and deep cuts that even grazing it caused great pains. “Stay off it for as long as you can; the longer you stay still, the quicker it’ll heal.”

You stay in bed, applying ointments and herbs that Tonda and the older women bring to you, while Tonda does his chores as well as trying to care for you. Feeling guilty, you offer to do little things to help, such as peel potatoes and mend clothes, little things you didn’t think mattered, but did mean so much to Tonda.

You wondered how you’d pay him back, especially since he was good enough to grab your trunk from the wreck and brought it to the mill. It wasn’t the clothes or the trinkets you cared about, but your books. Your father took great care to have you educated, to read and write, know your math and history. One day, Tonda noticed you reading and asked about it. “Oh it’s one of my favorites, but then again, I am partial to love stories. I’m almost done with it, you can read it after if you like.”

His cheeks grew red. “Oh, that’s kind of you, but-”

“But what?”

He looks down then admits, “I can’t read.”

You look at him surprised, such a capable and bright man stood before you, and he didn’t know how to read! “Well, how about this? As a way to repay you, I can teach you to read and write in the evenings, and whatever else you’d like to learn. What do you say?”

At first, Tonda tried to refuse, saying that there was no need to repay him, but after arguing that it would be good for him when he does business in the village, he at last accepts.  And so went your life for the next month. During the day, Tonda worked on the mill while you tried your best to help in bed, then in the evenings, you taught Tonda how to read and write. He was a quick learner and so proud of himself that you couldn’t help but to be proud as well.

In the time between, you both came to understand each other. Tonda proved to be a kind, gentle soul who loved animals and children, with a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor. His father taught him to fight, which you were grateful to hear that he had little cause to use his skills, his mother taught him how to cook, which is why you were always asking for second helpings of his food. He told you how he was orphaned when he was quite young, and had lived on his own since, how while there were times he didn’t mind the peaceful quiet, he struggled with the solitude.

You told him how you understood what he meant, often feeling all alone in the big castle, how your being a middle child and not a boy, your worth was measured in how good of a wife you could one day be. You tell him of your apprehensions of your upcoming marriage, how small and insignificant you feel in this world, especially since there had not been any word on anyone trying to find you.

“No one is insignificant. We all have a reason, a purpose. Even a blade of grass has a purpose, for that blade of grass may very well be shelter to an ant, the nourishment an animal needs to live. You have your purpose, you may not yet know it now, but you will. You’ll mean something great to someone, and they’ll find they can’t live without you.”

Your heart thumps harshly against your chest, the look in his eyes, the tenderness in his voice all touched you so deeply, that you almost forgot to breathe. He turns away from you, looking as if he spoke something he shouldn’t.

The next day, you try to walk. The bruises have gone and the cuts have turned to faint scars, but it is still a little sore. Tonda stands by your side as you attempt to walk and with each attempt, you get further and further. While the sight of you getting better should have been a moment to celebrate, neither of you say the words, but both remember his promise. “I don’t think I am quite healed yet,” you speak before he does, “I think we ought to wait until I am able to walk completely, perhaps another week, just to be sure.” You are grateful when Tonda happily agrees and lets you remain with him.

A week turns to two, and those two turns to four. You learn from him how to work the mill, helping him more and more, going into the village with him, meeting the people properly. You don’t hear the whispers of the villagers, certain that you and Tonda were courting, but it’s perhaps better that you didn’t it would only make things complicated. And still, two months and no word, no sign of either kingdoms looking for you.

Eventually, you dare ask Tonda to take you to your betrothed kingdom. You just have to know what happened, why no one came for you, to let them know you were safe. A flash of pain shoot across his eyes, but being the honorable man he was, he hitched his horse and the two of you rode on. When you did reach the kingdom, you were surprised to see celebrating going on, ribbons everywhere, flower petals falling from the sky, cheers from the crowd.

“Excuse me, what is happening?” Tonda asked a passing villager.

“The prince is married!” said the villager, running off towards the castle.

You and Tonda stare at each other bewildered. Trumpets sound and you see, standing on the balcony is the prince you were to marry, and beside him, your sister, as his bride. The sight is like a stab in the heart, not because you had wanted to marry the prince, but because you knew the truth now. No one came for you because in their eyes, you were dispensable, if not you, another will easily take your place. 

The realization made you break down, sobbing as Tonda took you away, carried you even as you were so overcome with despair. He helps you back on the horse and together, he brings you back to his mill. The entire ride, you are sobbing into his back, holding on to him for dear life, your heart utterly broken. It’s dusk when you return to the mill, and ever the gentleman, Tonda helps you down from the horse and escorts you back in, making a fire when he sees you shiver. “I am so sorry, my princess,” he says at last softly, “They do not deserve you if they think you can be easily replaced like that.”

“I’m just,” you say low and brokenly, as you sit in the closest chair, “Not the blade of grass they needed it seems.”

He quickly kneels before you, taking your hands into his and makes you look into his eyes. “You are more than a blade of grass; you are the sky, the earth and the oceans. You are everything that makes life worth living for, and that prince and your father are fools to not realize that. You mean something great to me, always.”

You stare deep into his soft brown eyes and it hits you. Tonda, the man who rescued you, who cared for you, listened and taught you, you were in love with him. Yes, it was clear now, and the revelation helped to ease the heartbreak. Taking his face into your hands, you reached forward and kissed him. It was gentle at first, beautiful, something you had always read about in the romance stories and it made you both gasp when you parted.

You don’t know who prompted it, you feel as if it was you, but you can't be certain, but what you do know is that Tonda carried you to the bed, clothes stripped from the both of you and for the first time for either for you, you laid down together and carefully learned together these first throes of passion and love. His coarse hands were gentle on your skin, his lips everywhere as if he couldn’t dare part with you, his movements gentle and slow, not wanting to rush this breathtaking moment. He sighs and moans at the feeling of your soft hands running down the planes of his back, combing through his long wavy hair, the soft whimpering of your voice in his ear. 

“I love you,” his speaks desperately, lovingly, hopelessly, “I love you, love you, always.”

Hours later and you stare into the small fire as it slowly diminishes and Tonda curled behind you, sleeping. Today was a whirlwind of emotions, and yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to feel guilty for how it ended. It stung to think your own father didn’t care, that to the world you were dead. In his sleep, Tonda pulled you closer and nuzzled himself closer to you, making you smile.

Well, you think, perhaps it’s better that the world thinks me dead, to earn this second chance to truly live. And live you did with your sweet miller, happily ever after, in fact.

Tagging those who I think would be interested: @monsieurbruhl​, @creme-bruhlee​, @bruehl​, @neonheart1244​, @justfangirlthingies​, @git-it-got-it-good​, @daniel-bruhhl​, @cazzyimagines​ 

[holden-caulfield]

s...ongbird (any songs a person sings will get stuck in their soulmate’s head for the duration they decide to sing it). Hii! Hope you're doing well! If it's ok can I get a S with Draco Malfoy? If not, its ok! Thanks anyways!

Hi lovely, thank you so much for your request, really hope you like it!!🥰

(I did write this with the song 'Love Of My Life' by Queen in mind but i think it can work with any sad song really, just ignore the three verses i put at some point!)

Just A Song Away

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: soulmate au in which one can hear the song the other is singing in their head.

Prompt from this list.

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1711

//

It was strange, really. Draco never heard that song before. It was a rather sorrowful melody and he was sure he had never heard it if not in his head, in that precise moment.

It was melancholic at most, the notes alternating slowly in his mind but he didn't know how they did, the melody completely new to him and nevertheless it was as if he had heard it a thousand times already. Fragile words resounded softly as he desperately tried to think of the origin of the song.

His efforts were all in vain because the song ended just as quickly as it started in his head. The words were always the same, repeating like a tedious lullaby, but never boring.

Oh how he longed to know to whom those words, or better those thoughts, belonged to. He knew that the one singing those doleful verses was his soulmate, that one person that should have been his true love, that one individual that could have accepted him without any judgement, the one that should have loved him unconditionally.

He didn't actually believe in that, he believed those were all lies. At least, that's what he told his friends whenever the topic was brought up: simple disgust evident on his face when dreamy looks were exchanged about soulmates.

He was skeptical and he had his reasons. Who would have loved Draco Malfoy if they knew who he was? The terrible things he had done in the past? And the terrible things he would have done in the future?

No, a soulmate was not possible for someone like him. But he liked to believe. He liked to believe in the eventuality of it, when no one was looking, hope only existing in his deepest thoughts.

The scorn he exhibited towards those who actually, fervently believed in the romantic concept might have been the reason why he didn't even look for his one and only.

The real reason, however, was that he was content this way. Hearing the delicate words in his head was enough for him, the impending prospect of his soulmate actually discovering him was enough to keep him from searching his person.

What made him change his mind, what made him think that maybe, just maybe, he should have begun his research was the sudden change in the periodical words that invaded his head. There were no longer cheerful tunes, instead desolate lines that repeated themselves almost obsessively.

He was worried, worried for someone with no name and no face, only a few sentences that somehow meant more to Draco than anything else. He was worried and he reckoned he could have ended the suffering that was weighing down on his unknown soulmate, but he always chased away those thoughts.

Unlike Draco Malfoy, you very much wanted to find your soulmate and everyone in the whole school had your same idea in mind.

Many tried singing out loud throughout the corridors, hoping that that certain special someone would notice them and finally stop the frantic search.

Others were too shy to actually do that and instead sang to themselves when alone and hoped their soulmate would have been smart enough to figure out who they were.

You weren't so hopeful. No song had been stuck in your head, no melodies, no silly tunes, not even a curt note. The upsetting suspicion you didn't have a soulmate often made his way in your mind, a mind that should have been occupied by songs and not by forlorn ideas.

It was perhaps the growing frequency of those thoughts that made you change musical tastes or maybe your break up. Maybe the latter had lead to the former and, together, they had made you feel undeserving of love.

You knew the guy you were dating wasn't your soulmate, you didn't hear his songs and he didn't hear yours, but a tiny part of you still hoped it was just a mistake, a stupid, silly, sad mistake.

It wasn't. It was inevitable and yet your heart was broken. The only solace you deemed possible was found in music, a new-found low-spirited music.

Wretched, you started listening and frequently humming to your new consolation. No one would have heard it either way.

Your sadness was only amplified by the constant reminder that other students were finding their true love, in the hallways, in classes, even in your dorm since two of your best friends eventually realized they were made for each other.

You felt alone, alone like you never felt before. Your new favourite place quickly became the astronomy tower: it was quiet and reserved, no one actually went there if not for classes since it was the highest place in all hogwarts and no one had the will to go all the way up.

Anyone but you because you had a lot of free time, not having yet found your soulmate to spend some moments with. You often sang in the tower, leaning against the railing with the gentle breeze surrounding you and providing some kind of much needed comfort.

The words you sang were becoming repetitive, particular verses stuck in your head that flowed freely from your lips, coated in honey and tears as they lost themselves in the wind.

Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart and now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see?

Only those words reverberated in your head because your soulmate's surely didn't. If you even had one. Maybe you really didn't, it wasn't as unusual as many thought. However this didn't soothe you in the slightest bit.

How heartbreaking, to know that a person that could love you so deeply, so genuinely didn't exist. For you.

Draco Malfoy felt like you, possibly even worse. He knew this person existed but he knew this person couldn't have loved him for who he was. He was so sure of it and yet he loved this person, whoever it was.

He, too, found solace in the astronomy tower, one of his ever favourite places in all hogwarts. From there, he felt insignificant but it was weirdly comforting to him, knowing that he wasn't that important, no one was in such a vast world.

He liked to sit under the light of the moon and of the starts, listening to the tunes that played in his head. He sometimes thought of repeating them himself, of singing them along with his soulmate, pretending they were together, but always stopped himself before he could.

You were beginning to lose hope, completely. You were resigning yourself to the ineluctable truth. Your heart felt at the same time heavy and light as a feather at the sudden realization, but the desolation that pervaded it never faded.

You strolled along the corridors, it was late and you could have been caught but you couldn't care less at the moment. You began singing, not caring about who might have heard you, maybe the paintings or maybe Filch, earning yourself a detention.

Slowly making your way to the beloved tower, you kept on repeating the same verses of your favourite song of the past few weeks, as if it was a prayer, a tender message you were sure no one would have ever duly appreciated.

Draco was perched on the railing of the tower, head on his arms that were crossed on the cold metal. His gaze lost in the depths of the sky, his head full of the lovely yet dejected sound that he had learned to love and despise.

You kept on making your way towards the stairs of the tower, your steps slow and steady just like your voice, and started ascending them.

Draco listened intently to the tune even though he was very much acquainted with it, the desire to feel close to the person singing it almost unbearable.

You were now halfway up the long flight of stairs and the softest of sounds became audible, a sob perhaps, you couldn't be sure, you had to get closer.

You stopped your singing, climbing the steps so carefully you unconsciously held your breath, but the voice stopped and, with it, you.

You began singing again tentatively, keeping your voice low as you kept climbing the stairs, getting closer and closer to the top. And now you heard something new, something unexpected.

A voice, low, grave and incredibly gentle filled your ears and your head. It was your tune but it was so different. The words were the same, but they sounded so much unalike. They were new just like the sensation you were currently experiencing.

You climbed, ran up the last steps, your singing stopping abruptly and the figure that was once slouched onto the railing turning around alarmed.

Silence filled the space, no words, no songs, no tunes, not even the wind was daring to make a sound, afraid to break the tension that had created.

You didn't dare say a word. What if it wasn't him? But he had to be.

Draco didn't speak, petrified under your gaze. What if it was her? But she couldn't be.

Whispers made their way out of your mouth, delicate, almost inaudible whispers in the form of music.

But Draco heard them. Not with his ears, despite the silence it would have been impossible to hear you, but in his head.

He repeated them louder, but with that gentleness that characterized the voice you had heard moments ago.

Your ears catching the sound that was already playing in your head, sweet and slightly more cheerful than it had ever been.

You could have sworn he had the voice of an angel, that kind of voice that makes you fall in love at the first syllable. His eyes were piercing right through you, showing you that love did in fact exist and that it could be found in those silvery blue orbs.

He could have sworn you were an angel, standing in front of him was the girl he had only imagined for all of this time, your eyes staring at him and burning inside of him, making him forget all of the reasons why he didn't look for you in the first place.

"It's you."

And it was indeed him.

//

This came out slightly longer than i expected and I'll admit I initially planned a rather angsty final, but in the end i went with the fluffy one because who am i to deny draco his true love?

Taglist <3

@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @eunoniaa @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise @90smalfoy @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @dracoswhore007 @macheregrace @paulina1998 @bungunz @malfoysbiitch @dreamy-clousds @malfoyxxdraco23

[if your name is crossed out, check your privacy settings!]

[bruhlsbees]

paradox burning ; 1/5 || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

summary: after the fight between volkov and schmidt, you comfort schmidt in his quarters

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: over the clothes touching

word count: 4,666

taglist: @itsametaphorbriansblog

a/n: if you haven't read the preview i would suggest reading that first to understand the vibe of their relationship better!! chapter two will be up tonight!! just wanted to get this out as i've been lacking content these past few days since i've been celebrating my birthday. hope you enjoy and as always if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

“TAD throttle control, 8636. Line secure.”

Mother Mary be with us...be with Mama and Papa and sissy and Joe.

“Accelerator system status?”

Father give us the strength today, for we have dove into the depths of space to restore humanity as we know it.

“It’s holding for pre-ignition.”

Look after everyone down below on Earth - for times are dark and the sun does not appear to be rising anymore.

“Shepard team, you are go for countdown.”

I pray that you forgive all of our sins, Father, as we have learned our lessons and strive to move forward in honoring thy.

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed here at Mission Control. Let’s make this first one count.”

And help guide us through these troubling times and help everyone remember why we are up here.

“Status boosters?”

Is this Hell, Father?

“Go.”

Have you damned us all to Hell?

“The GNC?”

To pay for our sins?

“Go.”

Tell me, Father...

“Power up.”

Are we damned?

“Commander, Shepard team standing by for your go.”

Perhaps we are and this is where are days will end.

“On my count…”

Among strangers and empty.

“Three…”

Away from family...

“Two…”

Away from friends…

“One…”

Alone in our own thoughts.

“Mark.”

God, help us all.

TWO YEARS LATER

You awoke with a start. Gasping for air as you tugged at your tank top, as if the thin material was suffocating you. Not giving yourself time to process what had happened, you threw your legs out from under the warm covers and let the cool air hit your bare legs, your elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands, catching your breath.

This was the second week in a row now that you’ve woken up from a nightmare. Drenched in sweat and tears spilling from your eyes. It was always a reimagine of the previous one. If you dreamt of your father dying one night, the next it would be your mother. This night, it was your own life that you dreamt slipping away. Your finger pads swiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks before sliding onto the cool flooring, clasping your hands together to begin and pray.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” You began, crossing yourself as you settled on your knees, eyes closed and hands squeezed together tight. “Heavenly Father I ask that you watch over Mama and Papa...sissy and Joesph, and all those back home,” You cleared your throat, choking down the tears as you continued on once more. “We have been onboard for over two years and I miss everyone dearly. I hope to speak with them soon as Joesph is teaching Mama and Papa how to use video call.”

Even with all the photos that you had around your room, all the videos that you had programmed in to watch whenever you pleased, you were beginning to forget simple things - like how they smelled, the warmth of their hugs, and how they always tried to pawn your younger siblings onto you. You were always so mad babysitting them, losing out on time with your friends, but now...now you wished that you had the chance to babysit them, to be with them once again.

“Father, I ask that you forgive me for my sins, guide us through this mission, and take us home. All of us. Let this mission go well, and we can save Earth. Amen.”

You crossed yourself a final time, bringing your cross necklace from your chest where it sat and to your lips, kissing the gold piece of jewelry before standing up from the floor.

This was an everyday routine for you. Waking up, saying your morning prayer, taking a shower, and being down for breakfast by 08:00. It was early, you knew that, but you enjoyed having the calmer moments before everyone else woke up.

When you entered the bathroom, you went straight to the shower, turning the handle to let the warm water spute out. You were tired, swaying gently in your stance as your eyes grew heavy. The sudden spitting of water struggling to get out woke up, making you jump as you watched the water pressure went from weak to strong.

You pushed down your shorts from that night, pulling your tank top above you, and stepped out of your shorts, dropping the tank top on the floor before stepping into the shower. You were pleasantly greeted by the hot water, sighing as it hit your back and began easing the tension in your muscles.

Morning showers for you were always dangerous - either it could go very well and you’d be out in minutes, or it could go bad and you’d end up falling asleep leaning against the wall. On this particular morning, after dreaming of your own death, you did not wish to fall asleep again, scared of what could come from your slumber. You quickly washed yourself off, massaging your scalp as you washed your hair before taking the toothbrush you kept in the shower, opening up the tube of toothpaste, and began brushing your teeth.

It was such a mundane routine - almost finding it boring the longer you were onboard. Perhaps it was your schedule that was down to the second of when you did things. You never were one to be so particular about your schedule, having one so precise, but after a year of pure chaos on board, a mundane routine is what kept your little sanity still hanging.

When you were finally ready for the day and changed into your suit, you slid on your shoes and pulled your hair back into a low bun, tucking some of the loose pieces of hair behind your ear before heading out of your room and down the hall, going towards the common room to join the others for breakfast.

By the time you made it down to the common room, you were only the third to arrive - Mundy and Acosta beating you to it.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up!”

From your spot at the bagel machine, you looked over into the game room where Mundy and Acosta stood playing foosball, Mundy looking all too proud - indicating that he perhaps was winning. On the other hand, Acosta looked tired, almost too tired to be playing a game of foosball so early with Mundy.

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and turned your attention back to the bagel, sighing once it finished before pulling it out from the machine and placing it on your plate. You truly didn’t understand how half the stuff you consumed was edible, but you supposed it beat other things you’ve seen those in space eat.

Taking a seat in your spot at the table, your back facing Mundy and Acosta, you brought the bagel to your mouth and took a bite, maybe a little bigger than what was more polite, but you didn’t care, you were starving.

It was the Commander who came in next, greeting everyone with a morning as he got his own breakfast before sitting across from you at the other end of the table. When the two of you locked eyes, you nodded, continuing to chew your bagel before looking down, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that you had a shit night.

You were pleased when Commander didn’t seem to notice, glancing occasionally into the lounge room where Mundy and Acosta continued to play foosball, Acosta finally gaining the upper hand on Mundy for once.

One by one the rest of the crew began to show: Volkov, Tam, Schmidt, before eventually Hamilton joined as well. When Schmidt came in, walking beside Tam speaking in Mandarian about what you assumed to be something related to the Shepard power accelerator. As the two sat down with their breakfast, Schmidt looked over your way, his mouth twitching into a smile before his attention fell back to the screen pad in front of him that Tam was holding.

You listened in on their conversation, picking out what you could understand through the technical language the two spoke on. As a medical crewman, you weren’t familiar with all of the technology onboard, only the ones related to the medbay that you primarily worked in. You went to school for medicine, exceeding expectations in your classes, and found yourself working for military hospitals since. It came as a surprise to you when they asked if you’d like to be a part of the Cloverfield station. What business did you have going up in space?

When you told your family about the news, they were proud, no doubt, that their eldest child would be going into space to directly help with the ongoing energy crisis. It was evident how proud they were of you, but also how worried with you going into space. You lived with your parents and younger siblings your entire life, leading up until your departure for the Cloverfield station. Separating from your family was hard, and having them not understand how to work even something as simple as a video call hurt more.

Your sister, Mila, would be sixteen now - learning how to drive and preparing for her final days in school before going into higher education, if that’s what she wanted. Your brother, Joseph, would be twenty-three now, doing who knows what with his young man mind. You hoped he wasn’t getting into trouble, or knocking some girl up...although the idea of having a little niece or nephew to come home to didn’t sound all that bad.

But your parents, how were they doing? They were older, growing slower as the days went on. Were they still making it through all of this? You assumed Papa was still running the family shop downstairs, selling candies to the little children of Lapovo - whatever children were left in Lapovo that is.

Mama though, how was she doing? You couldn’t imagine how worried she was, probably baking her troubles away in the kitchen. You missed waking up to her cooking, smelling the sweetness of baklava and sarma. She always wrote you letters while you were away either at school or on the military base that was outside of Lapovo where you worked. Now that you were in space though, sending letters just didn’t happen.

Perhaps tonight you’d try and see if Joseph was online and able to chat.

Everything had been going peaceful that morning, which you enjoyed after the sleep you poorly had. That is until Volkov finally spoke up.

“Six hundred and ninety-four.”

Looking up from your bagel and to your left where he was at, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Volkov screwed the water bottle back closed, making his way over to the table to join the rest of you.

“Six hundred and ninety-four days I’ve kept our O2, CO2, N2, hydrogen, water vapor and methane at optimal levels.”

Congrats, what did he want, a fucking cookie?

You watched as Volkov stood on the other side of the table in front of Schmidt, almost directly talking to him. There was always something going on between the two of them, and quite frankly it annoyed the living shit out of you. You felt like a mother some days, scolding Schmidt for clearly egging Volkov on - him and his damn anger issues.

It was no different today, as Volkov began his tangent on whatever it was he was about to lay into you all, Schmidt was sitting across from him, a smirk on his face.

“You know how many pressure leaks we’ve had? Not one. No microbe overgrowth, nothing. You know why?”

“This is a long speech, Volkov.” Schmidt quipped, reacting in you rolling your eyes and pushing your plate forward, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, wondering where this would be leading to next.

“Because I disinfect the decks every seventy-two hours.” It was Acosta to interrupt Volkov this time, stating that he was actually the ones to disinfect the decks. He was right, you couldn’t remember how many days you spent helping him, on your knees scrubbing at the decks.

It seemed finally everyone was growing annoyed with whatever Volkov was getting at, Commander Kiel finally stepping in and stating that if he had a point he wanted to make, he should make it now.

“There’s one part of this station. One part that is not working. This is interesting, do you know what part that is? The Sheppard Accelerator.” Volkov continued, not seeming to be in any rush to get out what he wanted to say.

In Mandarian, Tam finally intervened, claiming that eight billion were counting on us and asked what his point was. You could agree, what was this all about?

It was then that Volkov stated that he didn’t have a problem with Tam, but with Schmidt - ‘her German boyfriend’. You couldn’t help but snicker at the comment, clearing your throat just as quick, hoping nobody heard. But someone did, and it was Schmidt, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re not gonna find that as funny later’.

Everything began to really go downhill from there, nobody seemed to be able to get to Volkov and stop him before he said even more that he would regret. Hamilton directed him to go back to his quarters only for him to snap back that she wasn’t his mother. Commander and Mundy even jumped in, trying to calm him down, but nothing worked.

“Two years on this ship, and this man has delivered nothing,” Volkov pushed on. You hadn’t noticed it until then, but Schmidt had moved from the table and was now standing only feet away from Volkov. You felt your heart begin to pound as you watched the two men. Two men with strong anger issues at only breakfast time, something more than just a disagreement on the way to erupt.

“Volkov, enough!” Schmidt snapped, glaring forward at him. “You need to think very carefully about what you’re saying.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you thought maybe, just maybe Volkov actually shut up for once. But that brief moment of silence was just that, and he was back to speaking, this time more quiet than before.

“We’ve both heard the reports,” Making his way closer to Schmidt, “Germany is preparing for war, Serbia taking alliances with Germany, and everyday that goes by more and more Russians are starving.” The comment made your heart stop for a moment. That was just a rumor, in all of your messages with Joseph, not once had he mentioned going to war alongside Germany to be true.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to cry, but you did. Bringing your fingers to your mouth, you began to bite down at the skin around your nails, chewing away at the flesh until you tasted the iron of your blood. Nobody outwardly spoke badly to you, besides the occasional poorly landed joke from Volkov, but you couldn’t help but feel like an outcast, wondering if people really thought you were what Volkov said you to be.

By now Volkov was in Schmidt’s face, the two men radiating their own heated anger off one another, tension filling the room, making you feel like you did in your nightmare, suffocating. You pulled at the collar of your suit, taking the zipper and unzipping the front enough to get yourself feeling less trapped.

“Maybe you’re not in a hurry to get the Shepard working. Is that it? Are you stalling us to help Germany get the upper hand? What about you? What are you doing in the med bay alone, mixing something up for us to take? To slowly kill us?”

He laughed, he actually laughed when he looked at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. When Volkov turned back towards Schmidt, it was only half a second before Schmidt’s hand wrapped around Volkov’s throat, pushing him back before sending a punch across his face. Volkov was quick to regain his posture, grabbing at Schmidt’s own throat and shoved him back towards the corner, both men trying to pin one another against the wall.

When the scene unfolded, you stood up in shock, mouth gaped and you took a step to the side to try and do whatever you could to help, but felt someone grab your wrist. Turning, you looked down to see Tam’s hand before looking up at her, watching her shake her head ‘no’ and to just wait. And you did, it took everything in you to stick by her side, but you did wait.

Commander was the one to grab Schmidt, pinning him onto the table with his face squished onto the glass. Mundy, on the other hand, held Volkov in a choke hold, keeping him restrained while the Commander lectured the two men - one of which was still trying to get the last word in.

“Keep your mouth shut, Volkov!” The Commander finally boomed, causing the room to come to a standstill. “We have a job to do.”

The room finally fell silent, both men seeming to be relaxed enough for the Commander to think they were free to be broken from their restraints.

“Now, can you two get along for just one day without us having to pull you off of one another?” Moving back, you watched as Schmidt laid on the table for a moment, almost debating on if he wanted to go at it with Volkov again. He decided against it and finally stood up, fixing his shirt before shooting a glare towards Volkov, knocking past him and out of the common room.

You gave it a moment, smiling over at Tam when you felt her squeeze your hand. You nodded her way, squeezing her hand back before you quietly slipped away, moving down the hall quick to go and find Schmidt.

It took a while for Schmidt to really calm down, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Commander didn’t rush the test that you were all supposed to conduct that day. It was bad enough everyone was stressed, but having someone be stressed and pissed off just wouldn’t work. You could almost bet that the reason the outburst that morning even happened in the first place was because of the high tensions on board, especially leading up to the next test.

If this test failed, they only would have enough for three more tests. After that... well, they could kiss humanity goodbye.

It didn’t take long for you to find Schmidt, in his quarters struggling to get his suit on as the zipper seemed to be stuck. He was mumbling something in German and you couldn’t piece together what he was saying other than the occasional ‘fuck him’.

When you stepped inside his quarters, the door shutting behind you, he paused his moments, his hands on his zipper, not wanting to look at you. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to be on the other hand of his outburst, before stopping once you were only a foot away from him.

“If you’re here to tell me that I was an idiot, don’t bo-”

“I’m not here to call you anything, Ernst,” His cheeks grew red at the sound of his first name, his gaze glancing up at you, watching as you stared back - only instead of something angry, like he expected, your gaze was more somber, worried even, “I just came to make sure you were okay. Here, let me.”

You gently moved his hands away from the zipper of his suit, taking another step forward to pinch at his suit, tugging the fabric down to help the zipper not get bunched in the fabric. You could feel his ragged breath hit your forehead, his chest heaving as the zipper moved higher until your hand stopped above his heart.

His mouth twitched into a smile, feeling your head fall forward to rest against his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you in tighter for a hug, as if you could get any closer to him. His lips sat on your hairline above your temple, kissing you sweetly.

“You trust me, right?” Schmidt suddenly asked. He could feel you tense up in his arms and he pulled back, his hands resting on your arms, squeezing them, “I just, don’t want you to be wrapped up in the middle of whatever feud Volkov has with me. Tam already gets it enough and I just don’t want you to have that on yo-”

You stopped him with a kiss, smiling into it before pulling away, seeing his own smile on his face.

“I can handle myself, Schmidt...I’m not worried with what Volkov has to say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him wrap his arms around your waist, “Volkov likes to get a rise out of anyone who gives him the time of day. It’s how he keeps himself busy on board.”

The joke seemed to land well with Schmidt, earning a laugh before you felt him begin to rock you both side to side. “But what’s this about Tam being your girlfriend?” You teased.

You grinned at the sight of him rolling his eyes at you, “You don’t have to be jealous about Tam, you know that she’s-”

“Who said I was jealous?” You asked, a smirk toying on your mouth. The two of you often were fond of teasing one another, poking at one another until the other grew red - then you’d smother the other in kisses to make up for the relentless teasing. “Do I need to be jealous of her? Is that why it takes you so long to come to my room at night, are you seeing her before you see me?”

You had pulled away from him midway, now seated on his cot. He was red in the face and gaping as he tried to intervene, but you kept talking.

“I mean, wow, Tam? I didn’t realize you were the type that liked to be dominated-”

It was your turn to be cut off, giggling when he moved across the room, pinning you down against his bed. You felt your heart begin to race, your own cheeks turning red as his face sat merely inches away from you, his large hand squeezing your wrist down beside your head onto his bed.

“You really like to get under my skin, don’t you?” He asked, squeezing your waist. Behind his glasses, you noticed his pupils were blown, his eyes dark. “Do you like seeing me mad, liebling? Does it get you hot and bothered when you see me wrapping my hand around Volkov’s throat? Do you wish that was you?” You felt his hand moving up your side, groping at you until his hand wrapped lightly around your throat.

His thick German accent, mixed with the sultry tone that was dripping from his tongue, made your stomach flip, the heat between your thighs pulsating. Biting down on your lip, your free hand moved up to grip at the collar of his suit, panting slightly.

“Maybe it does.”

Your simple quip seemed to do it for him. Feeling his body shift slightly, Schmidt hummed in though, his hand moving from your neck and down, pressing into your lower stomach, pawing almost at your body before squeezing his way down to your thighs, pulling one up so he laid in between your legs.

By now you were hot and bothered. Feeling him grab at you, call you the sweet German pet name adored to call you. You felt his breath against your neck, shivering slightly before letting out a sweet moan when his lips pressed against the side of your neck, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive spot he knew of.

But you knew now wasn’t the time. Right now you two needed to be with the other crew members to initiate the next jump. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and catch you and Schmidt doing, well - that.

“Schmidt...моја љубав...my love, we need to get back.” You withered your hand from his wrist and to his chest, pushing him back until he was staring down at you, a disappointed frown on his face. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how childish he was acting.

“Oh, Ernst - come now, I’ll make it up to you later.” You leaned forward and pecked the corner of his mouth, rolling out from under him before standing up, smoothing down your suit as you walked to the mirror by his closet, looking at yourself in the mirror as you began fixing your appearance.

It wasn’t that you two were embarrassed of each other, no you two were smitten for one another and it was truly sick. You just knew that given the dire of your work, what everyone expected out of the two of you, flaunting your attraction could be seen as distracting.

But that was just it, you two weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure how it all started, but one day the constant pinning became more - and now a year later you were where you were now. Sneaking off at night to see each other, to lay in bed and hold one another. Once this was all over, you knew that you’d return home, would Schmidt go with you?

By now Schmidt was standing behind you, obviously aware of your state of mind, deep in whatever thoughts you were having. When you caught glances with him through the mirror, you blushed and looked away. At that point, you heard him laugh and move forward to help you fix your hair, smoothing the parts that stuck up and tucking the longer pieces behind your ear.

“You look beautiful as always,” He pecked your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace, “Do you want to go out first, or me?” He asked against your ear, letting the silence sink in between you two.

You wanted to suggest why not the both of you just leave together, but you knew now wasn’t the time to let a potential argument break out, especially given how sour his mood already was - and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Why not you?” You finally said, reaching your hands up to squeeze his, “After all, you need to be down there more than me. Acosta and I are just there for moral support.”

Turning in his embrace, you looked up at him and smiled, leaning into his touch when he held your face, “Yes, well, I’d like to think of you as my good luck charm.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his comment, “If that were true, we’d be off this ship by now.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Schmidt leaned forward and kissed your temple, “Maybe,” He mumbled against you, kissing you once more before pulling back, beginning to make his way towards the door, “Maybe you’re my good luck charm in the sense of keeping me from really doing something stupid.”

Your mouth twitched at the comment, not into a smile, nor a frown, almost like you winced. Besides Tam, you were probably one of the only people on board that completely trusted Schmidt. His temper left him to be rather difficult to be around at times, but perhaps he was right - maybe you were his soft spot, his good luck charm as he liked to say, because never has his temper ever gotten to you.

But there was still that sinking feeling in your stomach, as he headed out of his room and down the hall to meet with the others, leaving you standing alone in his quarters.

If this test were to fail - would Schmidt truly snap? Would you finally feel his wrath?

[scarofthewind]

Too Far || Slashers x Reader

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A/N: I had two requests that were kind of the same, which I will have below. Warnings, there is angst! Enjoy! 

Request 1 by @brideofcthulhu10 : Hey! First of all I wanna say I absolutely love your slasher fics, very detailed, you have a lot of talent! (I mostly dabble with Lost Boys on my blog!) Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I sent this yet, but I was wondering if you could do Brahms reacting to an S/O who's usually very patient with him crying because of an outburst? Like she's his caretaker who usually can handle his fits, but one day he goes too far screaming in her face, breaking things, and she just falls apart?

Request 2 by anon:  Hi!I was thinking of a request if you wanna do it ofc, with Michael Myers when he is stressed out about something and maybe neglects or takes it out on s/o and she gets reallyy sad and goes for a walk at 3am and he Wakes up and not seeing her makes him feel guilty and sad and starts getting a panick attack just when she is returning and comforts him,im sorry if I’m being so specific I just wanted super angst with fluffy ending with Michael being super needy 🥺 sorry if i bother you

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Brahms Heelshire:

You had never seen him so angry over something so small in the time that you’ve been with Brahms. Not even being able to recall what the fight was about, you stood there in the center of the room that had been utterly destroyed. The lamps that were on either side of the couch were beyond repair, the book case was tipped and all it’s remains were scattered on the floor and the glass topped coffee table had long been broken. Brahms circled you like a feral animal, the glare in his eyes made you look to the floor in fear. You jumped when you heard another object being broken behind you and a coaster went flying by your head from behind you, hitting the wall in front. The small dent in the wall from the coasters collision, reminded you just how strong Brahms was. 

“You can’t do anything right!” He shouted; the sound of glass crashing followed his words. “Why do I even bother keeping you’re pathetic ass around?!” He shoved past you, moving down the hall to grab the coatrack and throw it to the floor. One of the ends broke off and rolled towards you but you didn’t dare move, or even breathe. Your heart pounded ferociously against your chest and you wondered how you hadn’t had heart failures yet from all the stress he puts you through.

“Honestly, I should just get rid of you.” Brahms continued his rampage, breaking things and ripping paintings off the walls. You had become so numb to his usual rampages, that you were surprised when you found tears pooling out from your eyes at his words. Suddenly turning around, he walked over to you and you did your best to tune him out. His words cut like a knife and all you could do was stare forward and pray that this would all blow over. 

But even then, prayers have their limits. “Why can’t you understand that I can’t stand you? You’re nothing but a good fuck and that’s all you will ever be!” That was the icing on the cake. A gasp so silent, it cut through the quiet air, left your lips and that’s when Brahms realized exactly what he’d done. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and the anger was gone, replaced with a guilt and fear of abandonment. His hands moved to cup your face but you almost tripped moving back, his eyes widening at your actions. 

Everything he said was a lie; you both knew it, but he still thought them up somehow and felt like unloading them onto you in that moment. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Brahms felt sick watching as you backed away from him into the nearest corner he managed to maneuver you in. All the thoughts in his head came to one conclusion: There was nothing he could do or say in that given time that would make you want to stay. 

“Please, listen to me.” He begged, his eyes holding so much fear you almost didn’t recognize the man before you. Brahms reached out to you gently, touching your shoulders and then your neck and then your face. “I didn’t mean any of that. Please forgive me; don’t leave me.” 

Your throat was dry and you had nothing to say, all you could do was stare. “I love you, baby, please talk to me.” You felt his thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks and his lips pressed kisses to your forehead. Brahms knew exactly how much he had fucked up and the guilt and shame were eating him alive. “My god, what have I done?” You tensed as he pulled you into a tight and possessive hug. Your arms stayed by your sides, not moving an inch as the words and his face full of anger, kept replaying in your head. “Don’t leave me okay? I can fix this; I’ll fix it, I swear, my love.”

Meaningless. Everything felt meaningless.

But you had nowhere to go and you loved this man, even with all his issues. So, you swallowed any pride you had left and hugged him back, hearing him sob just a bit as he swore up and down that you wouldn’t regret it. 

Michael Myers:

You couldn’t remember how you managed to get out of Michael’s grip while he was sleeping, but somehow you ended up outside in the freezing cold of night, walking down the sidewalk. You had managed to snag one of Michael’s jackets on your way out the door and thanked god it covered you well enough. 

It wasn’t like you and Michael didn’t fight; you did, a lot. Tonight’s was just different and hurt you in more ways than you thought possible. 

“Can’t you fucking leave me alone for once?” Michael’s voice was harsh as he moved away from your hands that were on his back. You realized he’d been under a lot of stress lately and he hadn’t really been himself; you were only trying to help ease the tension.

“Sometimes I really hate you and I think ‘why in the world, did I end up with her?’.” You remember that being the moment your heart sank to your stomach. The cold glare in his eyes was real, not like all the other times he’s done it. 

The moon made your shadow look odd as you watched the pavement before you, every now and then glancing around to see if anyone else was up. Your already puffy eyes burned with the feeling of tears again and you managed to choke them down. “I should’ve let your father kill you. I would be a free man right now.” 

You made your way around the block, making your way back home. “The only time you’re worth it is when your warming my cock.” You stopped, having arrived back at the front door. Your fingers twitched at the doorknob and you wondered if it was really a good idea to go back in. Michael had apologized after the fight and resulted in him not letting you out of an arm’s reach. But still. Was it worth it?

The second you opened the door, the air felt wrong. Shutting it behind you and taking your coat off, you realized why. Everything was torn apart. The furniture was all over the place and some pieces were broken, the TV was shattered and various pictures on the walls were on the ground. Loud sounds of footsteps came from upstairs when you shut the door and Michael practically tackled you. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The man who put on a ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act was now trembling in your arms, pulling you closer to him with each passing second. “Michael.” You said calmly, gently stroking his back with your hands. You heard him sniffle and your made a mental note to remember this moment. 

“Look at me.” Your voice was calming and you were there. You didn’t leave him like he thought. His eyes met yours and you reached up and brushed his tears away, moving his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He shook his head, his mouth too dry to speak from all the yelling he did while you were out on a walk. He’d woken up to your side of the bed cold as ice and all he could think was that you finally left him. He tore the house apart looking for you and when he couldn’t find you, he broke. This mountain of a man who hates showing one ounce of actual emotion, broke. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me why the house looks like this?” You asked him, being very careful with your words as his hands once again pulled you against him. 

“I-I was looking for you. I thought you left me.” His body shook as though the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. “You aren’t leaving me right?” His voice was so weak it was hard to remember what this man was actual capable of. 

“Of course not, Michael. I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.” You cooed, peppering kisses along his jaw and chin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, nuzzling your face under his chin and letting him hold you close. 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean any-” You shushed him, wrapping our arms around his back. 

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Your words were music to his ears and he pulled back enough to bend down and press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can clean this up in the morning.” You told him as your lips parted; you led him upstairs and to your bedroom, not leaving his arms for the rest of the night. 

[straighttohellbuddy]

is it too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?

A/N: 1151 words. No Love Interest specified, but he/him pronouns for the L/I. No pronouns specified for the reader. This came to me very suddenly and I’m not quite sure what it is. Part imagine, part meta, part think piece about the nature of rpf x reader imagines. It’s a love letter to the genre, it’s a love letter to the poet Richard Siken, who’s quotes I’ve taken and sprinkled throughout, it’s love letter to you. I don’t remember when I started writing x reader fics, all I remember was that I needed to feel loved, and I put out my work in case someone else needed to feel loved too. (also this was definitely written and posted within a single hour)

----

You find him in a coffee shop.

You find him through your screen.

You find he’s been your best friend this whole time.

You find him through a series of crazy random happenstances.

Over and over again you find him, and you love him. You learn to love him each time, from friendship, from hatred, maybe you’ve loved him all along, maybe in this new world, all you focus on is a moment, is a feeling, is the undeniable truth that is your love for each other. 

Sometimes he breaks your heart. Sometimes he can’t say the words you want to hear until the very last minute. Sometimes you spend so long denying your feelings that the words feel alien on your tongue.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.

But you’ll find him again, and love him again, and suspend your disbelief, mould your self perception to fit this universe, to fit this character that he loves back, because they’re almost you, or similar enough that it’s not jarring, and you let yourself be taken along for the ride. 

You know that he loves you like he loves everyone who needs to feel it enough to be reading it, to be sharing it; a piece of understanding and comfort that you know is both yours and the world’s, but it’s okay. Loving them doesn’t mean he loves you any less, so you come back, time and again, and can hear him say it every time; I love you. 

You love him, yes, though in each universe you love the idea of him that’s been so lovingly handcrafted by the writers who love him too. This love is a shared experience; this love is something you need or want in the moment you’re searching for it. It’s not wrong to need love. It’s not wrong to want love. 

The enormity of my desire disgusts me. 

Because this world isn’t built from an authority, this world is built from love, from passion, from people just like you, and people are so self critical, so worried that people like them will not do the things they love justice. But you trust the writer. You let yourself fall in love, you let yourself be loved. Maybe you keep your mouth shut about it, maybe they won’t understand the rush of suspending your disbelief, believing, if only for a moment, that the people you look up to might see you as an equal, might see you as a something they could love too. 

Wish fullfilment comes in all forms; don’t be afraid to wish to be in love. I’ll tell you a secret; I wish it too.

I made this place for you. A place for to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.

I’m overwhelmed with love, with desire, with the need to script a world in which the person who gives me comfort will comfort me specifically; will comfort you specifically. Worlds of words sprawl in my mind, over and over I see new ways to hear the words I need to hear; more than anything I want to share those worlds with you. What good is understanding that in another universe, he’ll love me, if I can’t show you that in that universe, and so many more, he’ll love you too. We are pack animals, scrambling and searching for love, for a safe place to store our heart, our feelings, so I will write worlds where you can feel human, and feel loved, and feel powerful in equal measure.

I will write worlds where you are the star, where you are the object of desire, where he loves you, because each universe comes with an understanding, comes with a tweaked version of you, dear reader, so that you may find new things to relate to, new ways to fall in love, with him, with yourself. That rush of first love over and over again; that safety of a secure kind of love that comes from years of hard work, because sometimes you need that warmth without the build up, so I’ll give it to you for free. Here, I hand craft these worlds for you, so I suppose in my own way, I love you too.

Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all               forgiven -

And you’ll fall in love with more than just him, because these worlds are populated by friends and found family who you will grow to love too, because your life does not depend on romantic love, because you are worthy of more than just romantic love, you are worthy of a circle of people who understand you. Find allies in your idols time and time again, each universe has a new way to connect to them.

The worlds I write may not always be kind, for the world itself is not always kind, but the people who matter will love you, will understand you, and you’ll hold your own against the world because you are strong. 

You deserve love. You deserve a world where you can see as the object of desire by those you find desirable. I’ll write them for you; I’ll write my fantasies, let them become my legacy, and hope you understand the love I’m trying to put into words.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.

But please be kind to him, to the real him, be respectful; he has given comfort and given love, and given inspiration for all these worlds in which I can envision a version of him loving me, of loving you. 

Be kind to him, because I cannot imagine how terrifying, how overwhelming it would be to have a world that loves you, but that doesn’t respect, at least in part, that you are not the version that can love them all in return, in the way they deserve. He can appreciate us, so please, let’s appreciate him for who he is, and love the versions of him, the whole universes writers have been inspired to create just so he can love us in the way we deserve.

In the mean time, here; I know it’s not a lot, but I think it’s what you deserve. It’s the world. It’s his love. I made it just for you.

Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future.

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Would Never Hurt You

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning/s: injury, violence, blood

Word Count: 2,169

Request:  Can I just send this as a fic request....? Perhaps with a request for a little angst...? 🥺

You were surprised to see Dean when you poked your head into the weapons room, the loud noises waking you much earlier than you would have liked, but still, you weren’t complaining that he was back early.

He didn’t notice you at first as you stood leaning against the door frame. “Knock knock,” you said, rapping your knuckles on the door a couple of times to get his attention, smiling as he paused and turned to face you, a gun in either hand from the box he had been rifling through.

“Hey,” he blinked, clearly not expecting you to be there, “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“I wasn’t,” you laughed softly as he looked around at the mess he’d made, realising that he’d woken you up with all his moving around.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, putting the guns in his hands down. He looked awkward, like he was unsure what to do with himself as he stood in the room, looking almost out of place.

“What are you doing?” You asked curiously, glancing around at the sheer amount of opened box and weapons strewn about in the room. “What do you need all those for? And at this hour? Why didn’t you come to bed?”

Annoyance seemed to flash across his face, “you’re asking a lot of questions,” he commented, not answering any of them.

“I’m just curious,” you replied, feeling the need to get a little defensive at his unnecessarily snappy attitude, “weren’t you on a hunt with Sam? What happened with the shifted?”

“Oh, yeah, killed it,” he answered, clearing his throat as his eyes darted away from you slightly. Okay, what was going on? You were the one who’d been woken up early, and you hadn’t had any coffee yet, so why was he the one in a mood?

“Yeah?” You tried, hoping he’d elaborate a bit. He still hadn’t told you why he needed more weapons if they’d killed the shifter, and where was Sam? There was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Yeah, that’s what I just said,” he snapped, practically growling at you as you straightened up, shocked at the tone he was taking with you. He didn’t seem to notice, or care, turning back to the box he’d been going through.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” You asked again after a moment, DDean slamming the box lid down as soon as you’d asked it, looking back at you in frustration. 

“I-” he began, the force of the slam not only making you jump, but making what looked like a knuckle duster fall down from the shelf nearby as it rattled. 

Instinctively, Dean caught it, realising his mistake a second later as he gasped in pain, letting it go as it clattered to the ground. 

“Dean-” You went to check if he was okay, taking one step forward and then freezing in your tracks. That’s when you saw it, the burn marks on his hand where the knuckle duster had just been. The silver knuckle duster. 

“You’re not Dean,” you realised with a gasp.

 Your instincts kicked in quickly as Dean, or rather, the shifter, grabbed the nearest weapon to him, any pretence of pretending to be the man you loved gone as he snarled at you. 

You were already turning on your heels as he lunged for you, pulling the door shut behind you with a slam and running as quickly as you could, very much defenseless right now. 

You needed a weapon, and you’d just locked him in there with an arsenal.

Turning sharply into the nearest corridor you collided with the wall, kicking off your slippers so you could move quicker just as you heard a door behind you slam open and fast footsteps begin to approach. 

Where could you go? You could try to get to the kitchen, but you had no idea what weapons the shifter had taken with him when he started chasing after you, you’d probably be bringing a knife to a gun fight. 

Dean’s room was the closest now, you barefeet slapping against the cold floor as you kept your pace, the sound of the shifters echoing footsteps sounding through the empty bunker. 

“Y/N!” He yelled in Dean’s voice, so very much not Dean as you stumbled slightly. You knew the bunker like the back of your hand, but so did Dean, which meant so did the shifter. 

This fact became all too apparent as the sound of his footsteps began to recede, lulling you into a bit of a false sense of security as you slowed your own pace, still moving but a little breathless as you turned another corner, only to find yourself face to face with the monster. 

He grinned when you stumbled to a hault, realisation dawning on you that he’d gone another way around, kicking yourself for not considering the possibility. He did have Dean’s mind afterall.

You were so close to Dean’s room, if you could just make it... He’d have taken his gun, obviously, but you knew where he kept his backup knife, his silver knife. 

There was a moment where you both stood still, neither of you moving before a spell seemed to break and he charged at you, barely managing to turn on your heels and make it a few steps away before you felt a hand unceremoniously grab the back of your night gown, tugging you back harshly and sending you crashing to the floor.

He all but pounced on you as you kicked up, winding him slightly as you rolled over and tried to stand. He was only slightly inconvenienced though, a rough hand grabbing you leg and pulling you back to the ground towards him as you tried and failed to claw at the ground for something to hold on to.

A predator and its prey.

He flipped you back over and pulled a knife out from his belt, the look in his eyes and his weapon of choice telling you that he had every intention to take his time killing you.

You barely had time to react as he began to bring the knife down, the look of enjoyment on his face made a million times more haunting by the fact that it was painted onto your boyfriend’s face. 

A knee to the groin was always the best bet, whatever the species, followed by a well aimed strike to the face and knife missed it’s mark, barely. The pain as it sliced through your side was excruciating, and deep, but it wasn’t life-threatening, yet. 

Another shove and he stumbled back, clearly not expecting you to put up this much of a fight, a fact which you probably blamed on the fluffy bunny slippers he’d seen you sporting earlier. 

Step one was to get up.

You shuffled back on your butt and hands a little before turning and pushing yourself to you feet, meeting the hand that grabbed your wrist with a quick punch to the face, feeling bone crunch beneath your fist. 

Step two was run.

You certainly didn’t need any incentive, using whatever strength you had left to propel yourself forward, somehow surprising steady given the gash in your side. It was going to be hell once the adreneline wore off.

Step three was hide.

Dean’s door was just there, you could make it... And you did, pushing the door shut with a slam and locking it with slippy, blood covered fingers. It wouldn’t hold on its own though, so you shoved a unit in front of it with all your might.

“Bitch!” You heard the shifter snarl as it tried the handle, shoving the door with all its might as the unit shook. Mercifully, it held. This was the Men of Letters’ bunker afterall.

Step four was call Dean and Sam.

You made your way to the other side of Dean’s bed, shaky fingers tearing open his draw and pulling out one of his many phones, dialing the number you knew by heart and sending up a silent prayer that someone picked up.

They didn’t.

It went straight to voice mail. “Dean- Dean, it’s me, you need to get back, the shifter-” you looked down at the blood soaking your night gown and dripping down your leg, “-please hurry.”

Step five, most importantly, was survive.

You put the phone back and went to his bed, pulling the silver knife out from under his mattress along with one of his shirts, getting as comfortable as you could on the floor against the unit and applying as much pressure you could to your wound, other hand wrapped tightly around the knife as the banging continued. 

Right now, there was nothing else you could do. You just hoped Sam and Dean got back before the shifter found a way in, or you bled out.

-

You didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since the banging had subsided, but now you could hear yelling, faint at first but getting louder as more footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door, tensing in anticipation and wincing at the pain that flared again in your side. 

It was Sam and Dean, you realised, or at least, their voices, was it actually them? Or just more shifters? 

If it was them, they must have just gotten back, they’d probably seen the blood on the floor...

“Y/N?!” Dean’s voice boomed, angry and concerned as he banged on the door, “Y/N, oh god baby are you in there?!” 

“Dean-” You heard Sam try to console his brother, “maybe we have the wrong room, maybe-”

“Y/N!” Dean yelled again with strained despiration, ignoring Sam as he pounded harder. 

You gripped the knife in your hand tighter, pulling yourself shakily to your feet. The shifter hadn’t sounded like this, he’d been cold, cruel, there was emotion in Dean’s voice you didn’t think even it could mimick. Maybe it was a trap, you doubted it, but even if it was, you wouldn’t last forever in that room.

So slowly but surely, you shoved the unit to one side, hearing Dean pause on the other side as the boys waited to see who emerged from behind the door. It opened slowly, and nervously, taking a big step back and raising your knife when you felt hands push it from the other side.

“Y/N,” Dean sighed with relief. He tried to rush to you but you leveled your knife, not wanting him to take another step closer. Not until you were sure. 

His face when from one of joy and relief, to one of confusion, to finally one of concern as he caught sight of the blood, and the way you were clutching your side, fire flashing in his eyes. 

“Are you, you?” You asked him, wanting desperately to fall into his arms but still being too scared of what would happen if you were wrong, if this wasn’t Dean. 

“What?” He replied, not really listening as he took in your wound and pale complexion.

“Are, you, you?” You repeated, slower this time as he took in the silver blade you were wielding with an iron grip. It all clicked then.

“I- yes, Y/N it’s me, it’s me and Sam,” his eyes were soft, raising his hands to show you he didn’t mean any harm as he glanced back at his brother, who kept his distance to give you some space but put his gun away to show you the same. “The shifter, he was here?”

You swallowed tightly and nodded. “He looked like you- he-” you looked down at your injury subconsciously.

Dean clenched his jaw, “he hurt you, that son of a bitch-” he practically growled, “when I get my hands on him-” 

“Dean,” Sam warned, noticing how you flinched at the way his voice rose.

He focused his attention back on you immediately. “Y/N, look at me Y/N” he said softly, his voice catching a little as he made you meet his eyes, “I would never hurt you, you have to know that.”

It was all too much for you now, the knife feel like a tonne weight in your hand as you arm began to shake, letting it go as it clattered to the ground and collapsing with a sob. 

Dean caught you instantly, you arms instinctively wrapping around him as he held you, one hand gripping you tightly as the other stroked your hair. “It’s okay, shh, it’s okay, I got you, I got you...”

Dean looked to his younger brother, “I’ll go get the med kit,” Sam said knowingly, turning on his heals and hurrying. 

“Come on,” Dean muttered gently, moving one hand under your legs and picking you up with ease, “let’s go make sure you’re alright.”

“The shifter-” you began but he shook his head.

“-can wait, you’re more important right now,” he told you lovingly. 

“But we’ll get him?” You double-checked, feeling Dean’s muscles tense at the question.

“We’ll get him,” he promised, and a little part of you almost felt sorry for him.