#from these chains and become so warm and full of joy and love

[dent-de-leon]

can you imagine being Essek and watching this tiefling on a total power trip turn into a 10 feet tall--incredibly ripped??--god and kill the boy you're catching feelings for?? And brand you with some kind of evil cursed hivemind magic you're worried might corrupt you forever?? This thing that your friends swear was once family, but all you see is something monstrous and otherworldly and tearing himself apart at the seams, screaming when all their loved ones call out to him??

Just. the way it must have felt to see Lucien go from that to. Just the most sweet and affectionate little tiefling. Gentle and curious and so full of joy and wonder. He's got the brightest smile and warm eyes and this mischievous playfulness. He runs off at first--startled, scared. But then once he's calmed, the first real word he says other than Empty is Love. And right after that he calls out for his Magician, for this man who did everything he could to save him, held him close and kissed him so tenderly on the forehead--

And Caleb throws his arms around Essek and Veth and just watches the Nein all descend on Tealeaf and embrace him amidst laughter and tears and Molly's starting to smile again and Caleb's so so happy just to see him finally alive and.

In that moment, Essek understands why they came all this way--

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[touchyluffy]

part one

after your first kiss with luffy, everything becomes much more intense. luffy becomes addicted to you and he has no shame in showing it.

he never leaves your side and is always touching you in some way, whether that be his hand holding yours, his head in your lap as he takes a nap on the sunny, or his feet touching yours under the kitchen table. if you're working around the ship, suddenly it's captains orders that you come cuddle him immediately. whenever you dock on a new island, the captain grasps your hand and pulls you off to explore the lands together, and if you can’t keep up with his fast pace run, he tells you to jump on his back, and then he’s off running again laughing as you cling onto him for dear life.

he will compliment you bluntly and genuinely and whenever it comes to his mind. there are no long monologues of love from him, but there is always honesty. he will just call you beautiful in a way that's just a fact. because it is a fact, he knows you're beautiful just like he knows the sky is blue.

he's constantly asking you 'to do that thing with our mouths' and after the 10th time of getting weird looks from those around you, you have to tell him it's called 'kissing' and then that becomes his new favorite word. he's addicted to the warm tingling feeling of your lips touching his. literally you’re chained up with your other crewmates captured by the foe that luffy decided to fight, and he stretches his head towards you with his lips puckered. in the middle of dinner, while eating his second servings, he kisses you with crumb covered lips. whenever you come up with a solution, he jumps on you and peppers your face with kisses. he can't stop himself.

he's extremely protective over you - physically and mentally. if you two are ever separated by an enemy, you can expect him to raise hell, he quiet literally drives himself and whomever is around him crazy worrying about you (once the enemy pirates reunited you and luffy, albeit in handcuffs, just so he would stop asking about you). it's not that he doesn't believe in your strength, he just knows what it's like to lose someone he loves and he will not lose you. he won't stop until you're safe at his side again. he's also protective of your peace and happiness, so anything that makes you uncomfortable (like perverted jokes from your skeleton crewmate) you can expect him to have an issue and he will swiftly put an end to it. this happy go-lucky captain knows when to lay down the law when need be.

he's your number one supporter. every time your bounty goes up, he folds it up and keeps it in his pocket to show everyone - friend or foe. he's so proud of you. whenever you take out an enemy his eyes light up in stars and he cheers loudly. when you two fight together and you land a punch he'd get so excited that he'd forget about the fight entirely and just wrap his rubbery arm around your waist three times and pull you in for a kiss. whenever you say he will be king of the pirates, his heart swells with joy and pride because he knows you'll be right there by his side. or in his lap. either way.

he loves to see you smile and will do anything to keep you happy. when you're upset, he'll be a clown. if you get sick, he'll search far and wide for a medicine to cure you. when you say you miss him he packs a picnic bag and find a spot on the beach for you two to have a moment alone together, it's a much appreciated gesture even if he eats all the food, he makes it up to you by reaching for a few flowers when you aren't looking and presenting them to you with a big smile. this is when he realizes that you like when he gives you gifts so expect to have a shelf full of things he brought for you - flowers, pretty stones, or other little trinkets from islands.

he's not concerned with labels, he just knows he wants you and only you and he wants you to want only him too. and you do. luffy doesn't keep secrets from you, you know exactly how he feels about you and that he's loyal to you to the end. not even the most beautiful warlord could catch his eye because you're all he sees. there isn't a "what are we" conversation (at least not while you're on your adventures together) because the label doesn't matter, you two just know.

he no longer likes to sleep alone at night, saying he can’t handle not touching you for hours. you don't put up much of a fight when he comes to your bedroom because cuddling with your captain has become your addiction too. plus there’s nothing sexual in his request he just loves to be by your side. you love to fall asleep with him and he loves to wake up with you, it’s a perfect match he says with a grin that makes your heart melt.

so yes, he's addicted to you and truthfully he sees nothing wrong with it.

[shalomniscient]

im feixiao dad brainrotting and methinks modern feixiao would work in the military, maybe she adopts a kid too who like her also grew up in an active warzone and lost their parents. maybe she rescues this kid and the kid is now attached to her and vice versa.

she's definitely making that kid get into boxing when they are old enough

omg this could be an expansion to modern!au feixiao lore… feixiao who goes into the military after college maybe for family reasons to honor yueyu or to become like her. she climbs up the ranks with remarkable speed, known in the barracks for her strength, resilience and courage. she makes a point to always call you when she can, even when she’s on deployment. knowing you’re back home waiting for her is always motivation for her to push through.

borisin territory is always a model of hell, though. she slogs through it, gunblades at the ready, her finger always on the trigger. jets shriek over her head, and in the distance she can hear the xianzhou LUX cannons powering up. it hums in the back of her mind, a low vibration in her ears, and she thinks it’s the worst part about the whole job. but she presses ever onward, like a bullet, cutting down borisin slavers and breaking the chains of any slaves under her heel. each one both breaks her heart and drives her forward, but one particular one has her stilling.

a child, with a shock of pure white hair, kneeling in the bloodstained mud, looking up at her with a look feixiao recognises—a look she remembers.

she swallows, then casts her gaze again back to the battlefield. the borisin are retreating, fleeing with their tails between their legs. the lux arrow sings overhead, then detonates the routing borisin with a dull, distant final note. she moves without thinking, crouching down and shielding the child with her body from the harsh winds produced in the fallout.

she feels tiny hands fist in the front of her uniform, wetness in the crook of her neck, and something in feixiao’s heart breaks.

she takes the child back to the xianzhou base, and they refuse to part from her. even when it came to getting the child a medical check-up, they nearly wept themselves unconscious at having to be separated from feixiao. feixiao had to be the one to bathe them; or at least, pass a wet rag over their skin and face for now since she physically couldn’t get them to let her go to properly bathe them. as the child dozes off in her arms that first night, still clinging tight to her, she leans her head back and sighs softly.

what is she even going to tell you?

she prepares for the worst, but you take it… remarkably in stride. you’re surprised, certainly, but she thinks you can see the bond that’s formed between the two, from the way the child holds onto feixiao when she walks through the airport terminal to you. she told you about it in advance over the phone, of course, she wouldn’t spring something so huge as a child on you out of nowhere. but still, it makes her knees nearly give out in relief when she sees you offer the child a small smile and a gentle greeting. you make a point to not get too close to the child when you give her a quick welcome back kiss, ensuring they get to have their personal space, and it warms her heart.

it takes some time for the kid to open up to you, but it happens faster than feixiao expects. or maybe she does expect it somewhat; you’ve always been good with her. in any case, progress is steady—for the first few months the child only ever speaks to feixiao since she knows firsthand how to handle such a child, but soon they start asking you for little things with one word questions, then full sentences, and then they start really talking to you, pointing out things they notice or asking how things work. her heart feels like it might burst the first time she sees the child take your hand in a crowded mall, and she quickly leans over the tiny tears of joy that gather in your lashes.

sometimes she’s so full of love for the both of you she feels dizzy with it. the first time she comes home to see you snuggled on the couch with the child in your arms, both sleeping soundly, she nearly weeps. instead she grabs a blanket from the wardrobe then cuddles right up next to you both, wrapping you in her arms. this is her family now—hers. and there’s nothing in the world she wouldn’t do for you both.

[vvinirl]

bucky. b

fluff

bucky barnes arrived in wakanda under the cover of night, his mind a chaotic mess of memories and triggers implanted by hydra. the wakandan air felt fresh, a stark contrast to the dark and cold places he had been before. he was here to be freed, to finally break the chains that had bound his mind for so long

bucky was escorted to the research facility where shuri awaited, accompanied by a team of scientists. among them was you, a dedicated scientist specializing in neurological rehabilitation. you had been working with shuri on various advanced technologies, and your expertise was crucial for bucky’s recovery

“welcome, sergeant barnes” you said with a warm smile, trying to put him at ease. “we’re here to help you”

bucky looked at you with wary eyes but nodded, trusting that wakanda, a place of unmatched technological marvel, might finally bring him peace

the first few weeks were intense. shuri led the efforts, using a combination of technology and traditional wakandan methods to deprogram bucky’s mind. you were responsible for the one-on-one sessions, a crucial part of his mental recovery. these sessions involved talking through his past, helping him distinguish his true memories from the ones hydra had implanted

at first, bucky was resistant. his trust in people had been shattered long ago. but your patience and kindness slowly broke down his walls. you listened without judgment, providing a safe space for him to express his fears and frustration

furing one session, bucky looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “why are you doing this for me?” he asked

you smiled softly. “everyone deserves a chance to be free, bucky. and I believe you have the strength to overcome this”

as the weeks passed, the bond between you and bucky grew stronger. you found solace in each other's company, your shared moments becoming the highlight of your days

you discovered that beneath his hardened exterior, bucky was kind, thoughtful, and fiercely protective of those he cared about. he, in turn, admired your intelligence, compassion, and unwavering determination to help him heal

one evening, after a particularly grueling session, you found yourselves sitting under the stars, the serene wakandan night sky providing a moment of respite

"thank you" bucky said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "for everything. i don't think i could have made it this far without you”

you smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, bucky. and i'm honored to be a part of your journey”

the day finally came when the results of your and shuri's efforts bore fruit. the final sequence of codes that held hydra's control over bucky's mind was neutralized, freeing him at last

as the realization dawned on him, bucky turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. "i'm free" he whispered, as if afraid to believe it

you nodded, tears of joy glistening in your eyes. "yes, you are"

without thinking, bucky closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the world seemed to fade away as you held each other, the connection that had been growing between you culminating in this perfect moment

as you pulled back slightly, bucky looked into your eyes, his gaze intense yet tender. "i couldn't have done this without you” he said, his voice filled with emotion. "you mean more to me than you'll ever know”

you smiled, your heart full. "and you mean the world to me, bucky”

with that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. it was a promise of new beginnings, a testament to the love that had blossomed between you during his journey to freedom

in wakanda, under the watchful eyes of the stars, you and bucky found not just healing, but a future filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities

months after bucky’s recovery, you and bucky were living peacefully in wakanda. the serene environment allowed your relationship to flourish, and soon, you discovered you were expecting a child. overjoyed, you planned to share the news with bucky after his mission to help captain america

but then, everything changed. thanos arrived. his forces overwhelmed the avengers, and the snap wiped out half the universe. bucky was gone, disintegrated into nothing right before your eyes. you were left alone, heartbroken, and pregnant

determined to bring bucky back and ensure a future for your unborn child, you joined the Avengers in their fight against thanos. with a fierce resolve, you used your scientific knowledge and wakandan technology to support the team. every battle, every challenge, you faced with the hope that one day, you would see bucky again

years passed and your son james was born. he grew up in a world without his father, but you told him stories of bucky, of his bravery and kindness. the fight to reverse the snap continued, and with each passing day, your determination grew stronger

the day of the final battle arrived. the avengers assembled, ready to face thanos and his army once and for all. the fight was brutal, but you fought with a ferocity fueled by love and the promise of reuniting with bucky. when the moment came, and iron man made the ultimate sacrifice, the snap was undone

and then, there he was. bucky emerged from the chaos, alive and whole. tears streamed down your face as you ran to him, your heart bursting with joy. he saw you, and a smile spread across his face as he opened his arms, pulling you into a tight embrace

“i thought i’d lost you” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion

“i’m here,” you replied, holding him tightly. “and there’s someone else you need to meet”

after a few days with repairing all the damages made by thanos and tony stark’s funeral, you brought bucky back to your home

bucky nervously entered the home and was instantly met with a little boy

“bucky, this is james” you said, your voice trembling with happiness. “our son”

bucky’s eyes filled with tears as he knelt down to embrace the boy. “james” he said softly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry I wasn’t there”

james hugged him tightly. “it’s okay, daddy, mommy told me all about you”

as you watched bucky and james together, your heart swelled with love and relief. the battle was over, and your family was finally reunited

the future was uncertain, but with bucky and james by your side, you knew you could face anything

[alpydk]

Can I request a snippet of Gale around the holidays?

I'm thinking about Archimage Gale wandering about his tower, lingering on memories of Tav who lived a full lifespan as he aged so slowly after going back to being Mystra's Chosen?

There are a lot of happy memories, but also a lot of sad ones, the saddest being that there won't be new ones with Tav, or Tara, or his mother because they all aged normally. Agelessness is so lonely.

Xoxo happy holidays! And sorry!

🐕

Sooooo.... I've not cried since September. Today I have. Good job Anon. This went a little differently to your prompt but will hopefully give you everything you need.

'Tis the Season

Word Count - 900 - CW - Angst, Hurt - Sad Ending

“Is the star meant to be off kilter?” Gale asked, his mage hand attempting to nudge the tacky ornament perched at the top of a tree a little straighter. With each gentle touch, it would simply fall in the opposite direction, always wonky, as if drunk on the festivities.

Tav simply laughed, their idea of the holidays very different from what Gale had experienced during his life. This first year, however, was to be different, with Tav’s own traditions and customs taking over the tower. The tree had been dragged up the stone steps, bristles left in its path, and was now being decorated with the arrangement of invented ornaments: a magic ring glinting under candlelight, a loose strip of purple fabric draping across a branch, paper wizards clipped from now useless scrolls.

One final tap and Gale gave up with a sigh, the star almost mocking him from above. He could conjure perfect auroras, illuminated galaxies to weave themselves through, and yet this piece of tat seemed almost impossible to conquer.

“It’s perfect,” Tav spoke, stepping back to take in the spectacle before them. That little piece of a long distant memory, now before them in a place slowly becoming their own home.

“And the star?”

Gale’s question was ridiculous he realised as soft lips pressed to his own, the tree and its flaws vanishing in the warm sensation of Tav’s body upon his. The fire burnt, the snow fell, and for the first time in years, he felt as if he were truly home.

---

The family sat around the large table, food and drink being shared between them. The decorations hung at the windows; more scrolls lost to paper chains as the years had passed. The Hundur sauce had been enjoyed with the various meats, the tiramisu bowl lay empty. Each one of the participants had had their fill and sat happily sated, taking in the warmth of the festive season.

Morena poured herself another brandy, laughing as the conversation turned to Gale’s childhood. “Oh, he was such a funny young boy. Always had his head in a book. Any mother would be fighting to get their son to read. In our house I was fighting to get him outside! You were so pale!”

“Now, mother. The need for sunlight was not nearly as important as my studies.”

“It was never about sunlight. Think of all those potential partners.”

Gale let out a nervous cough, almost choking on his wine as he peered over the glass to see a smirking Tav.

“Well,” Morena continued, “Maybe it was for the best…” She gazed at the married couple before her, the unspoken love passing between them. “Would be nice to have a grandchild sometime, though.”

It was Tav’s turn to choke this time, Gale stumbling over his words as he dissuaded his mother of any surprises of that nature. Another year passing, one of smiles and joy, of love and merriment, of family.

---

A quiet cough in the early morning hours, silence made heavier by the snow resting on the wooden boards of the balcony. Gale sat by the bed, the navy sheets cold under his arms, the frail hand held in his colder still. Time had been kind to them both, many a holiday spent together in a loving embrace. The years had passed; the decorations placed and removed again and again; the star becoming straighter upon the tree with each delicate attempt to get it right.

Gale had known this day would come eventually after he’d decided to become Mystra’s Chosen, but he’d hoped he would have found a solution, a spell, a ritual, maybe even an adequate prayer to his Goddess to let Tav stay by his side. Nothing had worked, the matters of life and death even too much for him to control.

First, it had been Tara, a devastating blow to the entire family, his mother spending the holiday seasons with them entirely after that dark winter. Morena had passed a few years later, peacefully, during a midsummer night. Gale would imagine her with Tara, the two of them gossiping and complaining about the lack of grandchildren around the dinner table. Soon he would be alone again, the consequences of his actions.

“Gale,” Tav whispered, once soft lips now dry and pale. “Maybe next year, make an Aasimar for the tree.”

“But you love that ridiculous star.”

The tree stood partially decorated, Gale’s own skills not nearly as perfected as Tav’s despite the years of practice. He’d placed things up in the past only to find them moved around the next day, Tav’s little organisation skills adding the finishing touches. This year, though, he’d stopped entirely to be with her. The tree no longer mattered.

Another small cough, a body showing its age. “Hm, but I want to still be with you each year.”

Gale swallowed his words, hiding the pain in his heart and soul. The tears burned behind his eyes. He would not shed them in front of her, not now, not during these final moments as the snowflakes danced outside the window, as the candles flickered with their festive glow. This was never the season for sadness, nor was it the one for loss. As it was, as it had been every year, it was one of warmth, of smiles, of them.

“You will be, my love…every year, you will be with me. Just as I will always be with you.”

[squarebracket-trickster]

Find the Words tag

THANK YOU to the following fantastic humans (and others in human disguises):

@sam-glade, whose words for me are honey, fruit, tea, bread and young, old, new, used.

@tabswrites, whose words for me are find, blink, break, fear.

@writernopal, whose words for me are ache, mortal, ancient, divine.

@captain-kraken, whose words for me are need, lost, soft, bite.

@autumnalwalker, whose words for me are please, space, surprise, melancholy, unassuming.

@gottestod-writes, whose words for me are mother, green, fold.

@sarandipitywrites, whose words for me are warm, need, again, why.

@awleeofficial, whose words for me are shock, love, clock, colorful.

I think I'll tag (no pressure, of course): @forthesanityofstorytellers, @mundanemoongirl, @crowandmoonwriting, @ijustwritehonestly, @aziz-reads, @nacricissa (again hehe), @silverslipstream, @full-on-sam, @sender-paulson, and @starbuds-and-rosedust

I love when the people I tag @ me and/or link back to my post. I love it when you reblog my post with questions, compliments, words of encouragement about my WIP, or even no comment at all. But please make your own post to complete this tag. Please do not turn my post into a reblog chain.

Thy words be: silver, gold, daylight, evening

Actual Find the Words below the cut because... this uhhh... this is going to be loooooong...

Honey and Again

Agnes, is a joy, full of stories and deep laughs, an energy sweeter than the honeyed and white-sugared pears that pulls me every now and again from my musings and drags the slightest of smiles to the corner of my cheek.

Fruit

After our meal a pageboy brings a plate of breney to our table – hard, unleavened bread dipped in a fruit compote of currants, dates, and pine nuts steeped in red wine, vinegar, mace, and sandalwood.

Tea - alas, nothing.

Bread

Is Prince Philip the kind of man who buries his nose inside a loaf of white bread, fresh out of the oven?

Young, Need, and Mother

"[...] Have his son, do away with him while the boy’s still young and needs his mother to manage his inheritance, and… don’t get caught.”

Old

Frail old man is not exactly how I would describe Ieuan. Old, yes. But he has set us a grueling pace.

New

The morning dew begins to collect on the leaves and woodland becomes colder, wetter with each new fall of rain.

Used and Again

“I won’t be used again.”

Blink

If I had blinked I would have missed the flash of silver in the moonlight.

Break

His eyes flick to my face and lock with mine. I break first.

Fear

I can’t keep the fear from my eyes.

Ache

The earth is raised around the tree and remains thankfully dry where I sit and nurse the aches in my legs and feet.

Mortal - alas, nothing.

Ancient - ah, yes! My favourite line in the whole WIP so far!

The land rises and falls like the shoulders of a giant that ripple as he wakes from an ancient slumber; and from deep between the dips in the hills, where the river beds are still dry from a long summer, comes a groan so low and so deep it cannot be heard but felt keenly, a shiver in the bones.

Divine and Find

By some divine grace I find the energy for it all.

Lost

“Perhaps the assassins got lost on the way here? [...]"

Soft

“Afternoon,” I tell him, though by the time he wakes the daylight has gone soft with the early evening glow.

Bite

But I have to bite back the urge to suggest he watch.

Please

“Aldis, lady?” Henry says, “please let me gut them.”

Space

But there is another small room off the hall – the drawing room, a more private space than the parlour, meant for the women of the house and their family to converse.

Surprise

The man grunts in surprise and grabs me by the sleeve.

Melancholy - alas, nothing.

Unassuming - alas, nothing.

Green

The hills flatten, the evergreens give way to deciduous trees, the forest turns from rich green to gold and red, and far ahead the spires of Aubemote Castle pierce the golden sky.

Fold

“Did you get something for yourself?” I ask him as I fold over the hem of the left sleeve of the kirtle.

Warm and Find

The air is warm and windless and smells only of salt if you take the time to find it.

Why

“Luck has gotten me this far. Why not?”

Shock

“So you’ll have to get over the shock of seeing a lady in her kirtle.”

Love

Henry hesitates. An unfortunate thing for a man who refuses to fall in love with me.

Clock - alas, nothing.

Colourful, Again, Old, and Young

The tents thin again, they are smaller now and less colourful, and the men around them are older and younger, thinner and smaller.

Phew! That took a while! 'twas much fun though! I love the way this tag game forces me to pay attention to sentences I otherwise wouldn't notice, and I love what it can reveal about my little idiosyncrasies. Apparently I like the phase, "bite back" a lot. Didn't know that about myself haha.

[fenicenera83]

∞MARIUS & THORNE∞

-Thorne loves stories, especially those of mythology, and of the ancient gods. So a little for fun, at first, he went to Marius with a large book of Nordic myths. Marius and Thorne spent the following nights talking and comparing notes on the collection of that book. Marius read aloud, in his low, warm tone, and Thorne listened, eyes closed, lying with his head resting on Marius' legs, as he imagined the wonders Marius' voice told him. And after those first few nights, whenever Thorne could, he went to find Marius with a new book for him to read. Marius was truly happy, to be able to spend time with what had become his greatest friend, and together, in that stolen time, it became even more clear to both of them, how much that unexpected meeting, so long ago, had been a true blessing.

-Marius had begun to notice that someone was leaving small wood-carved figurines on his desk. Not every day, and not on a regular basis, but the small, delightful figurines always appeared. It could be an eagle or a wolf, a small soldier with a shield, or a maple leaf. Each time it was different, each time more elaborate, as if the hand that created them had begun to relearn a lost art. It may have seemed a strange thing indeed, and even Daniel and Armand had witnessed that incredible little phenomenon, had been intrigued and a little troubled by it. Both were taken aback by the idea that Marius knew who was leaving them. Marius denied it with a smile. Then one summer evening, Thorne appeared at Marius' door with tears of joy in his eyes. A finely wrought chain of silver hung around his neck, two pendants hanging from it. Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens twinkled in the candlelight, thought and memory, that was their meaning. Marius knew it was Thorne who left those delightful wooden figurines, which he had placed in a glass case, on display in his office. Happy and proud to share the beauty and skill of his best friend. The ravens of Odin thought and memory perfectly encapsulated the core of their wonderful friendship, which is why Marius had chosen them for Thorne.

-Marius and Thorne had developed their own unique and special way of greeting each other. Different each time, but full of respect and dedication. Sometimes when Marius passed by engaged in something, and noticed Thorne near the path he was to follow, he would approach and place two gentle taps on his broad chest, Thorne would grin and rest his forehead on Marius'. Sometimes Thorne would notice Marius from afar, engaged in something or with someone, and look at him with a smile, when Marius' eyes then met his, Thorne would wink at him and Marius would laugh and shake his head. Sometimes Marius would stop, while he was engrossed in something, noticing Thorne, and approach to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a smile. Thorne, surprised, would respond by hugging him, and Marius would laugh, and allow himself to be hugged. These small gestures were their language, when they could not talk, or had to go about their respective chores. No matter, they always found a way, and a moment, to tell each other that their friendship was always in their hearts and thoughts.

[enchantress-of-words]

1.

Ara is born. Her mother is crying, her father weeps tears of joy on his knees, and the woman who helped deliver her is smiling in the corner. There's four of them in the small apartment in one of many streets of Kagark. It's warm, and it smells of blood and sweat and joy. The wind howls outside, spreading the news - it preaches the birth of a Symbol. The spirits hold their breath.

Ara is small in a room full of love, and she cries for air and for her mother's arms.

2.

Ara looks at the skies and sees a storm.

She's fourteen, and she doesn't remember her father, nor her mother. She doesn't remember the warm room or midwife's happy smile.

Mother Madeleine barks at her to stop daydreaming. Ara sighs and continues sweeping.

Up in the skies, the spirits watch her every move. The wind-wolves hide in the trees, and the Great One smiles on his throne.

3.

Ara is sixteen. Those who see her think of a fairytale.

Ara is small and fragile and quiet. She knows the woods as a palm of her hand. She loves storms and dreams of skies.

She finds a cave with two statues inside. The statues open their eyes and come alive.

4.

Ara is sixteen, and she finds magic.

The elf-brothers lead her to one of her kind, and she tells Ara to look in the Mirror (the mirror of truth, the mirror of risk, the mirror of change).

The Mirror is surrounded by golden water which rises and swarms around Ara as she looks in her reflection, as she stares in the eyes of Elderfather, as the spirits chant and sing. It hurts, the pain burns her from inside out. Her bones melt, her muscles dissolve. Ara screams and falls into the water.

She wakes up with wings and new fire burning inside her.

5.

Ara is sixteen, and Ara is a dragon.

She roars in the skies, she rises high and falls back down. Her dragon form looks majestic, her human body becomes taller and stronger. She learns how to fight, she studies libraries, he looks as Ramin enchants metals in silence.

Ara is sixteen, and Ara feels more alive than she ever have.

6.

Ara is seventeen, and the School calls her.

She goes on the road. She meets a girl chosen by Wind himself. That girl is bright and loud and annoying, but in a good way. Ara loves her.

They trust eachother. They fell asleep in eachother's arms once - it was cold, and Ara was warm, and Nomi didn't care for personal space.

Ara loves Nomi's hugs. (She was never hugged before.)

7.

The School calls another one, a boy chosen by Water himself. They find him - he is wounded and scared, and he doesn't remember how he got there. They accept him as their own.

They sleep in a pile now, limbs interwoven in a monstrosity of a hug. Ara feels nice.

Ara feels safe.

8.

Ara is seventeen. The School sends them away.

They meet a spirit tired and battle-worn, a spirit who looks like a man, a spirit so dangerous both heaven and hell chase him.

Thuar looks at Ara and he sees a Symbol. Ara makes a choice and lets him lead her.

9.

Ara is seventeen and she is dragged deep below the surface, deep below the core of earth.

She remembers chains and tears and pain.

Ara is seventeen, and Ara is but a shell of what she was.

Thuar manages to escape. He carries her out from Stranger's realms and brings her to dwarf-folk and to elven-king - by chance.

Ara can't remember her name. All she feels is pain and fear and a trembling of her own body.

10.

Ara is eighteen.

She sits at her bed in the dwarven fortress. Ara is eighteen. She looks at her hands, bandaged and scarred.

Ara is eighteen. She grits her teeth.

Ara is a Symbol. Ara has a job to complete.

~§~

taglist: @ink-fireplace-coffee @original-writing (ask to be added/removed)

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Wire - Pink Flag

This one is revolutionary. Wire were doing things in 77 that most bands wouldn't be trying for at least a couple of years. Punk moved so fast I. The 70s that it's a blur to track the evolution of the genre. By the time the first punk albums were being released in 76 the genre had already peaked for many first adopters and by 77 we were already seeing the first wave of post punk. Wire were definitely amongst those bands Ex Lion Tamer, Three Girl Rhumba, are very post punk. But they weren't content with just doing one thing where a lot of the album is very traditionally punk there are also a lot of songs that would hearken towards hardcore punk like Pink Flag and 12XU. 106 Beats That feels like a prototype noise rock song, Strange could easily be mistaken for some sort of British grunge, Fragile is basically the blueprint for alternative rock. I feel like you can divine a person's preferred punk subgenre based on their favorite track from this album.

Joy Division - Closer

Slightly more gothic than Unknown Pleasures and no less bleak. The more obviously personal a project becomes the closer it gets to unreviewable. This is Ian Curtis's suicide note. It sounds like a suicide note. Reading interviews about the recording sessions is harrowing. "We'd go to rehearsals and sit around and talk about really banal things. We'd do that until we couldn't talk about banal things any more, then we'd pick up our instruments and record into a little cassette player. We didn't talk about the music or the lyrics very much. We never analysed it." Bernard Sumner once recalled. This album is amazing but thinking too hard about it kinda terrifies me. I don't want to review Closer.

Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets

After departing from Roxy Music Brian Eno decided to make the weirdest, most unpredictable piece of art glam he could. By far the most theatrical thing in his discography and one of few that is still tethered to the rock idiom, if only barely. Here Comes The Warm Jets is full of off beat vocal delivery and wild guitar tones. It will flit between rock n roll riffs, manic guitar solos courtesy of Robert Fripp, and hazy droning bits that are early predictors of shoegaze. And through it all Eno delivers vocals in the most off kilter cadence possible shifting from Frankie Valli falsetto to warbled crooning. This is kind of the final form of glam rock, you can't come back from it only move forward.

Sam Cooke - Portrait Of A Legend 1951-1964

Okay, I've been pretty hard on greatest hits so far but I'm gonna give this one a pass because most of Cooke's best works were originally released as non album singles. Sam Cooke's ability to absolutely nail the doo wop sound while also amassing a rock and roll fan base is amazing. He may be the crossover artist of all time. Cooke's biggest hits are without a doubt some of the catchiest songs of all time, I don't know whether I'm gonna have Cupid, Chain Gang, (What A) Wonderful World, or Another Saturday Night stuck in my head, but tomorrow morning imma be living with one or more of those on repeat.

Al Green - I'm Still In Love With You

I've talked about Al Green before and things haven't changed. He's one of, if not the, greatest vocalists of all time. Like all of his albums from this era it shows off his incredible range, going from low to falsetto with an ease that baffles me. It's unfortunately sandwiched between my two favorite Al Green albums so I definitely overlook it, but it's definitely worthwhile.

KISS - Alive!

KISS is potato chips. Is it high quality? Is it good for you? Who cares that's not why you eat potato chips. If you want some extremely stupid music about drinking, fucking, and the vague concept of 'rocking out' then this is the best your gonna get. It's high energy fun. It's camp. The best part is that this was released before their smash hit album Destroyer so you get all the early songs with good blues riffs and guitar solos instead of the dreadfully boring Detroit Rock City or, god forbid, Beth. This is so obviously the best KISS album.

Bill Withers - Just As I Am

Withers' debut leans more towards a folksy gospel feel than Still Bill's funk soul flavor. While I think it's less dynamic overall Just As I Am has plenty to offer. The hit, Ain't No Sunshine is a classic, and Withers turns the mediocre Beatles hit Let It Be into an amazing gospel number. But to me the biggest things this album has going for it is Grandma's Hands, a song that is just so beautiful.

ABBA - The Definitive Collection

Oh wow another greatest hits. I don't know if this is a hot take or not but I really like ABBA. I think they have like six albums that would be great choices for this list spot. At the very least ABBA, Arrival, Voulez-Vouz, and The Visitors are all fantastic albums start to finish. No need to pick out the hits and package them all together.

Neil Young - Tonight's The Night

When Young made On The Beach he poured despair into it, but only seemingly as a distraction from the even more profound despair that was Tonight's The Night. While recorded before On The Beach it was not released until after. The album is entirely about the death of two friends of Young's, Crazy Horse member Danny Whitten, and roadie Bruce Berry. The intensely personal nature of this album is apparent from the bleak lyrics, stripped down production, Young's constantly faltering voice, and even the album liner notes which state "I'm sorry. You don't know these people. This means nothing to you." When I was dismissive of On The Beach that was because this album exists. All the melancholy and anguish of On The Beach is just residue from Tonight's The Night. This is one of music most sincere and pure expressions. The fact that the entire rest of Young's discography is not rendered irrelevant by this album is nothing short of a miracle.

New York Dolls - s/t

I am once again positing a potential starting point for punk rock. The combination of glam aesthetics with the 50s rock and roll musicianship is one of the more obvious influences on the evolution of punk. Very extremely silly lyrics are coupled with riffs that are basically all ripped from Chuck Berry songs. The result is an album with a constant manic energy that's as fun as it is infectious.

[foragingstamps]

untitled#31

does the sun ache in its loneliness; does it know the depths its light reaches? can it recognise the specks of planets that orbit it, encircling like sharks, but never nearing its flesh; never knowing its taste? what does it think, in the gallows of space, where all is tightly wound, yet so far away? for what does it meditate? does it know we call it 'sun;' does it know it has a name? does it know how it warms my skin, and thaws bitterness, and melts sorrowful chains?

how can any celestial body, any object that roams the universe, feel—knowing how desperately alone it is? an observer that cannot touch lest it is destroyed; that loves but can never embrace? to touch is to ruin; to let unfold an irrevocable devastation of change. two comets colliding may become something beautiful, or something strange, or ugly; but it will never be the same. though every body that has ever existed has remained in uniform solitude, it knows one day it will become something else. the sun will collapse into its own weight, the earth will become a hellscape, a nebula will take shape. something magnificent will come out of a brutal end, but i wonder if it will grieve its fate. if love is a worthy sacrifice for the soul; to let it be warped and bent and manipulated; to recognise itself in another's frame, and to be brutally torn from its shape. to look at all the yesterdays and see a stranger where they used to be—both themself and a lover, both perception and face. how dangerous it is to submit yourself to the calloused, cruel hands of affection; to assume safety in its soft cradle, only to be hollowed in its absence. it takes, and you take, and you love, and you have fun, and you are grateful, and you are ashamed, and full of hate. the joy means nothing without the pain. maybe that is the point; to know the catharsis and the torture and the fleeting bliss of a mortal love. to look at the stars and know that this is the only time we'll know this place; to recognise how rare and fragile our world is. to risk transformation, and to grow terrified yet unafraid; to search for love again even while facing dismay, because there is a burning passion in our hearts that must be shared and conveyed. we will all be betrayed by endless tomorrow, yet through it, eternally saved.

[theblackphoenixwritings]

∞MARIUS & THORNE∞

-Thorne loves stories, especially those of mythology, and of the ancient gods. So a little for fun, at first, he went to Marius with a large book of Nordic myths. Marius and Thorne spent the following nights talking and comparing notes on the collection of that book. Marius read aloud, in his low, warm tone, and Thorne listened, eyes closed, lying with his head resting on Marius' legs, as he imagined the wonders Marius' voice told him. And after those first few nights, whenever Thorne could, he went to find Marius with a new book for him to read. Marius was truly happy, to be able to spend time with what had become his greatest friend, and together, in that stolen time, it became even more clear to both of them, how much that unexpected meeting, so long ago, had been a true blessing.

-Marius had begun to notice that someone was leaving small wood-carved figurines on his desk. Not every day, and not on a regular basis, but the small, delightful figurines always appeared. It could be an eagle or a wolf, a small soldier with a shield, or a maple leaf. Each time it was different, each time more elaborate, as if the hand that created them had begun to relearn a lost art. It may have seemed a strange thing indeed, and even Daniel and Armand had witnessed that incredible little phenomenon, had been intrigued and a little troubled by it. Both were taken aback by the idea that Marius knew who was leaving them. Marius denied it with a smile. Then one summer evening, Thorne appeared at Marius' door with tears of joy in his eyes. A finely wrought chain of silver hung around his neck, two pendants hanging from it. Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens twinkled in the candlelight, thought and memory, that was their meaning. Marius knew it was Thorne who left those delightful wooden figurines, which he had placed in a glass case, on display in his office. Happy and proud to share the beauty and skill of his best friend. The ravens of Odin thought and memory perfectly encapsulated the core of their wonderful friendship, which is why Marius had chosen them for Thorne.

-Marius and Thorne had developed their own unique and special way of greeting each other. Different each time, but full of respect and dedication. Sometimes when Marius passed by engaged in something, and noticed Thorne near the path he was to follow, he would approach and place two gentle taps on his broad chest, Thorne would grin and rest his forehead on Marius'. Sometimes Thorne would notice Marius from afar, engaged in something or with someone, and look at him with a smile, when Marius' eyes then met his, Thorne would wink at him and Marius would laugh and shake his head. Sometimes Marius would stop, while he was engrossed in something, noticing Thorne, and approach to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a smile. Thorne, surprised, would respond by hugging him, and Marius would laugh, and allow himself to be hugged. These small gestures were their language, when they could not talk, or had to go about their respective chores. No matter, they always found a way, and a moment, to tell each other that their friendship was always in their hearts and thoughts.

[umichenginabroad]

Eating & Drinking my way through Prague

Dobrý den! 

This past weekend, I stayed in Prague and had my friend Morgan come and visit me! As I have been in Prague for 8 weeks and have had many visitors over that time, seeing Prague Castle, although beautiful, has become quite repetitive. I have mastered the art of the 2-day Prague itinerary, but I was itching to show my friend something that was also new for me! 

This is where my love for trying new food comes into play. Over the past few years, I have been running an instagram account @sheeeeats (shameless plug - check it out). This is where I document all of my food experiences and it has helped me figure out that one way I love to explore a new city is through its restaurant scene. Luckily, Morgan was on board with my plan of going on a food-tour of Prague. 

When she first arrived, we headed over to New Town. This part of Prague is the historic center of modern Prague and is filled with cafes and stores, and most importantly, Kantýna. Kantýna is home to one of the best burgers I’ve ever had. On top of that, they had the softest puffy bread in a delectable vanilla cream custard.

After walking up to the top of Prague Castle, walking past Lennon Wall and over the Charles Bridge, it was already time for our next meal! I took Morgan to Lokal, a chain of Czech restaurants that always has the longest line out of the restaurant. Luckily, with a reservation, we got to try the amazing food for an even more amazing price. Beef tartare, Talián sausage, fried cheese, and 2 Pilsners (Czech beers) later, and we were stuffed for a whopping $32 total. 

Traditional Czech food is often bland and boring, but these items were absolutely delicious, and definitely kept us warm on the cold walk home!

The next morning, we started our morning off with brunch in Old Town. The Prague half-marathon was happening that morning, so a lot of the streets were closed to cars which made walking through the streets much more enjoyable. At breakfast, we decided to share pancakes, which is one of the smaller things in life that gies me lots of joy, and get our own egg dishes. The highlight of this meal was my iced dirty chai latte. One thing I’ve learned from being abroad is that iced coffee and drinks often don’t exist. So, whenever I find one, I immediately know that it will be a great day!

After brunch, we walked through the Jewish Quarter and did a tour of the many synagogues that Prague has. There is so much Jewish history in Prague and it's incredibly well preserved, which makes the experience incredibly moving. My favorite part of the tour was the Spanish Synagogue. Not only is it beautiful, but it’s right next to a Cathedral, which highlights the diversity of religion that Prague had before WW2. 

After our tour, we headed to the Prague Beer Fest. Although I’m not a huge fan of beer, the Czechs drink an average of 150 liters of beer per capita annually. This means that they are the biggest beer consumers in the world. Because of that crazy fact, I’ve been trying to dive into the beer culture while being here. This event was so fun as it had different beers from all over the Czech Republic, but also a bunch of countries around the world. 

We were pretty tired and beer-ed out after this day that we went home to hang out before our next meal. Obviously, we still made our way to our sushi dinner in Old Town. This was by far one of the best meals I’ve had since being abroad. We got udon noodles with chicken and a bunch of different sushi rolls, sashimi, and nigiri. 

At the end of this trip, it’s needless to say that I was full and happy. We managed to see a bunch of the highlights in Prague, while also exploring a bunch of new restaurants. All of these restaurants were on streets I had never seen before, so this was a really fun way to explore Prague and try a bunch of different restaurants! 

Emily Walker

Computer Science & Engineering

[imfantasticbelieveme]

I was so glad when I saw that more people make the comparison between Damian and Shaoran.

But that then got me to think on my favorite trop when in comes to my shaosaku ship, now applied to damianya...

And it is that, once Damian gets over his tsudere tendencies or that he wholeheartedly admits he likes Anya, then, it becomes impossible for him to said no to her.

I adore when the sunshine part of my ship is begin spoiled rotten by everyone and the same applies for Anya, after everything that happened to her when she was even younger, she rightfully deserves her papa and mama spoiling her, as well as her best friend and boyfriend.

So yeah, my head is full of scenarios in which people on Eden see Anya ask Damian for something stupid, in the way that she could get it herself like, a bag of peanuts or to simply walk her to the next class, and everyone thinking that cold and reserved Damian is going to tell his girlfriend to just get it herself but, BUT, they could not be more far away from the true. Damian is over the top in his way to meeting Anya's requests.

His girlfriend wants a bag of peanuts? The very least he gets it the most expensive, imported and delicious ones there is. They quickly became Anyas favorites and since then Damian always has lots of bags around just for her.

His girlfriend wants to go to the movies together? He rents the whole damn theater just for them and has a whole marathon of Spy Wars projected.

His girlfriend wants to walk together to the next class? He is always, ALWAYS, already there waiting for her outside her classroom to walk her to the next, handholding and princess carrying at the ready depending on what she would like at the moment. And yes, he is going to princess carry her if she wants to, thank you very much, after the last time that Anya fainted right in front of him (they were in a crown, she was overwhelmed by everyones thoughts) and he was scared out of his mind, he never wanted to see her laying on the ground like that, it killed him, so he damn well will be carrying her around if that was what his peanut wanted.

His girlfriend didn't feel like eating? (her head killed her that day, her powers were growning and she didn't have the energy to eat herself) He would spoonfeed her, in front of the whole cafeteria, he didn't care. He would arrive at the cafeteria with his girlfriend princess carried in his arms, his friends and Blackbell already securing a table and with a cold bottle of water ready for Anya, he would gently deposit her in her seat (the side that has her back resting on the wall, so she can rest there) and ask her, on the softest voice possible, his tone gentle and his eyes concerned and loving, what would his princess like to eat? He would then go and come back in a heartbeat and, without question or hesitations, he would spoonfeed her.

Anya was childish at heart no matter how the years passed and it was one of the things that he loved about her, it just made her more cute. She wanted for both of them to wear matching necklaces? They both now have the others name on gold in a really expensive looking chain. And no, it didn't even was under their uniforms, it was over them, for everyone to see, the gold really brought out the shine on their stellas so it was an even nicer sight and it really filled him with joy wherever he would see his name hanging on her, and it would fill him with warm whenever he would see her name on him.

You cannot talk bad about Anya, you cannot be mean to Anya, you cannot look wrong at Anya, because he would find out, and he would remind you of your place. She is his world, and he has more power than anyone on that stupid school and if anyone tried anything on his girlfriend, on his peanut, on his princess he would make them pay. And the price would be very high.

They were the power couple of the school, the fastest students to ever become imperial scholars, and people were scared shitless of Damian just for the look he would have on his face whenever he would think you were so much as looking wrong to his girlfriend, and besides... They have seen Anya on P.E, she was beautiful, but she was scary strong, her boyfriend was scary protective and her parents were scary in general.

Once, a boy have tried to kiss Anya, she didn't want to of course and she made it very clear, he has been very offensive and inmediatly started to tell her that it was not as if Desmond was going to keep playing with her forever, that she just looked easy and that was it, that it was that why Desmond was around and nothing more. Needless to say, he made her cry, he didn't even finish his next sentence before Damian had him on the ground, appearing out of nowhere, punching the lights out of him, Damian didn't even got in trouble, because not 10 minutes later the Forgers were on Eden scaring the shit out of the school with Becky having everything the idiot that made her dear Anya cry on record, and a treat to the school that no one ever reputed out loud, the students just watched the Forgers get out of the board office with murder in their eyes and a dark aura surrounding them, getting to Anya who was begin hugged by a Damian with the same freaking aura and making everyone sweat, as if waiting for the verdict of God to know if their school was going to be closed or what? At the end, both parents calmed down when they started to talk to their daughter, looking at her softly and telling that she didn't have to worry about that lowlife (their literal words) ever again. Everyone gave a collective breath of relief when Anya gave the smallest of smiles to the her parents in return. Why? Because just then, her parents murder vibes fully disappeared and her boyfriend looked more like he was contemplating how to make her smile become bigger rather than planning to burn the school himself.

So yeah, just, stay out of Anya's bad grace.

[earlgreydream]

lover of mine.

| winter soldier!bucky barnes x reader | angst | fluff |

lover of mine.

/When I take a look at my life/And all of my crimes/You're the only thing that I think I got right//I watched the world fall from your eyes/All my regrets/And things you can't forget/Light them all up/Kiss them goodbye/

“You loved him once. You can love him again.”

“I never stopped loving him. That’s what you don’t understand.” 

The fellow Avengers had watched the world fall from your eyes, the joy draining from you with every headline that involved Bucky. Not only had he changed, but you had too. You became completely enthralled with your missions, pouring every waking second into the Avengers. Because if you thought about anything else, you would break. 

Steve begged you to take breaks, begged you to take time off. You insisted you were fine, never wanting to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want to think about the newsreels of Bucky-- the winter soldier-- wielding machine guns. 

You couldn’t bear to see the love of your life slaughtering people.

“I’m not picking up Parker from school... He’s in high school, he doesn’t need me to pick him up! He can take the subway! Or use his webs!” You snapped at Stark, who stared at you impatiently.

“You need to rest. This is how you’re filling your afternoon.” Stark was insistent, and you shook your head, grabbing the keys to a Tesla. 

“Steve?”

“Go, Y/N.”

You sighed and went down to the garage, driving uptown to get the teenager from school. You parked outside of the high school, leaning against the hood of your car while you waited. 

You never got used to the modernity. You were like Steve and Bucky. You’d been alive in the 40s, and frozen like they were. Luckily, you’d fallen to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of Hydra. You’d managed to stay safe with Steve, and become an Avenger, not suffering Bucky’s fate. 

Before the war, you and Bucky had been married. The memories in your mind of dancing in the kitchen, jazz bars, drive-ins, and reading the Hobbit when it came out, were all raw. Before he was deployed, there was a wedding.

You’d been surrounded by flowers and your friends, celebrating the love of your life. Steve was the best man. You’d left the ceremony with Bucky in his yellow vintage car, going to the coast for your honeymoon. 

You remembered the beach house, and running in the sand with your young husband. It was perfect back then, before Hydra got their hands on him. He was loving and gentle, the kind of man who danced with you in the kitchen and brought you flowers. 

You remembered when he’d gone off to war. You wore his dog tags, and hung a flag in your window. You’d kissed him goodbye, tears blinding you as you tried to focus on the silver eyes that were full of adoration and love. You remembered when Steve came back, and Bucky didn’t. 

There were so many memories of crying in Steve’s arms, and falling asleep with him beside you. Even when you’d moved to Stark Tower with him, even after becoming an avenger decades later, you still slept beside him. He’d listened to you sob for Bucky a million times; Steve had witnessed a lifetime of your heartbreak. 

You remembered waking up from being frozen, and finding out who James Buchanan Barnes had become. 

“Y/N?!” Parker’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he came bounding down the stairs of the high school. 

“Hey kiddo. Stark sent me to get you.” You stood up off the car and hugged him. He waved goodbye to his friends and got in the passenger seat. He immediately started chattering, and you welcomed it, appreciating the distraction from the deafening silence. That was why you were fond of Parker, he was easy to be around, and he was always happy to fill the silence.

“Let’s go to Starbucks!” He announced as the two of you drove back to the tower.

“Are you joking?”

“No! It’s on me.”

“It’s on Stark,” you smirked, and Parker broke out into a wide grin.

You and Peter walked into Stark Tower a half hour later, chattering and laughing. Parker was the only one of the Avengers who cheered you up, and he never made you feel bad for not wanting to talk about Bucky. He was bubbly and warm, and always made you laugh. You were giggling at a story from his school as you went upstairs to the penthouse, unaware of what you were walking1 into.

You nearly crashed into him, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Y/N!” The voice was so familiar, and yet, you thought you’d never hear it again.

You were suffocating. The air was ripped from your lungs, and you couldn’t breathe. It felt like the earth was swaying underneath you, everything shattered. 

Steve ran to you as you passed out, and Parker caught you with a shout before you hit the floor. He knelt on the marble, your head in his lap, and Steve shouted for Banner, who came running to follow you to his medical lab.

“Stevie, what’s wrong with her?!” Bucky demanded, and everyone looked at him. 

“It’s the shock of seeing you.” Steve admitted, and Bucky looked like he was going to break. 

“I’m better now, I’m no longer the...” he couldn’t even say it, his eyes anxious and frightened.

Bucky had spent months trying to free himself of Hydra’s psychological bonds. He was free now, motivated by the thought of coming home to you. Bucky had waited years. Now, he was home, and the second he said your name and laid eyes on him, you’d panicked and blacked out.

Steve attempted to comfort him, and even Parker, the boy he didn’t know. They tried to explain to Bucky that you were just in shock, but his heart broke. 

“I took care of her, Buck. She still loves you, she always has. Just give her some time. Seeing you like that...”

“I know,” Bucky breathed. 

Everyone left Bucky alone with you, giving you privacy. He sat beside the bed where you were asleep, Banner assuring everyone that you were fine, you had only fainted.

He watched you. Bucky hadn’t watched you sleep like this since the 1940s.

He was suddenly back, leaning in the doorway, the soft light pouring behind him as he drank a cup of coffee, taking in the sight of his sweet wife sleeping before he went to work. You’d glow in the golden light of the morning, your face peaceful and serene. It was so intimate back then.

Bucky sat up as you stirred, familiar eyes slowly opening. You didn’t know where you were at first, your mind running through events. You’d picked Parker up from school, stopped for a snack, and came back to the tower. And seen your husband.

You sat up suddenly, and he put his arms out, one made of vibranium. His eyes were soft, full of love, not the empty steel you’d seen on the news. Your name fell from his lips, desperate and anxious.

You jerked away at first, startled by the reality of what was happening. You were frightened, alone in the room with your husband. You scrambled back against the headboard, trying to put distance between you and his outstretched hands.

You were about to scream when you realized he looked just as frightened as you. You slowly sank back against the headboard, slowing your breathing as you stared at him.

“James?”

“It’s me, doll. I’m home.”

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like hours. The two of you stared at each other, and when you finally decided he wasn’t going to hurt you, you gingerly moved toward him.

“I’m free from them. It’s just me, it’s not the winter soldier anymore,” Bucky’s voice was soft, and you blinked back tears.

“It can’t be you. You were gone.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“I’m back now. I came back for you. I’m never going to hurt you, or anyone else again.”

“James-”

“I’m not a killer anymore.”

The plea broke your heart, the shattered boy begging you to believe him, begging you to take him back. Tears slid down his cheeks, terrified of your reaction.

“James, I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Bucky felt like he’d waited a million years to say it, and the words spread through you, filling your empty soul.

You wanted to fall into his arms, to hold him close and feel him again. You wanted all of it to happen instantly, but that’s not how it was. You needed time, time to adjust, and time to trust him again before you returned to your husband fully.

You reached out to touch his arm, and he noticed the wedding ring wasn’t around your finger. His eyes flitted up to yours, and you pulled the chain from around your neck that hid beneath your shirt. It held his dog tags, and your wedding ring. Relief flooded Bucky, and you offered a the slightest hint of a smile.

“What happened?” You asked, cautiously running your fingers along the vibranium.

“I lost my arm when I fell from the train. Steve told you?”

“A bit... you fell, he didn’t know what happened after.”

“Can I touch you?” Bucky spoke gently, understanding your hesitation and being patient.

You nodded, and his hand slowly lifted to your face, fingers brushing over the curves of your skin. You laid your hand over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. He cried softly, a smile crossing his face as he felt you, promising it wasn’t a dream.

“Bucky, we need you for a meeting.” Stark leaned into the bedroom, hours later.

“Stark, now?”

“I’m sorry. Y/N will be here when you get back.”

“I’ll wait for you.” You promised, and he nodded, the words falling heavy between you.

Bucky followed Stark out, and you sat on the bed, processing the day. Bucky had quietly explained the Hydra brainwashing, about how he was held captive in his own mind. You believed him, but it would always be hard to shake those memories of him on the news.

“Hey, we didn’t mean to just drop this on you.” Steve came inside, sitting down on the mattress.

“You couldn’t have kept from me that my husband was suddenly free and home. Is he really, though? It is him? He won’t kill me in my sleep?” You asked, and Steve gave you a sad smile.

“It is. He’s traumatized, he won’t be the same as before the war. But it’s not the winter soldier, it’s Bucky.” 

You knew it was true. You knew the man before you, his heart and his soul, and you were going to grow to know his mind again.

You were curled up in bed, Steve beside you on the other side of the large mattress. 

“Stevie? Y/N?” you heard a soft voice from the doorway, and you sat up in the dark. You had trouble sleeping, and you were awake when he came in during the middle of the night.

“Bucky?” 

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come here,” you whispered, moving over in bed, closer to Steve, who was waking from the disturbance. You didn’t fear Bucky, especially not when he looked so frightened and upset.

You lifted the blanket, and Bucky got in on the other side of the bed. You pulled him to you, silently wrapping your arms around him. You felt Steve against your back, leaning over to place his hand on Bucky’s arm, smoothing over the skin slowly to comfort him. 

“You’re okay now, it’s over, my love,” you whispered, settling between the warm bodies.

Your head rested on Bucky’s chest, and you realized how long you’d spent waiting for it. You felt his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, and Steve bury his face into the back of your neck, needing to be close.

[hercleverboy]

the year of goodbyes

spencer reid x gn!reader

masterlist

summary ↠ over the course of a year, Spencer says goodbye to three people— and hello to one.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ takes place in s11, talk of Alzheimer’s,  

word count ↠ 1.8k

massive shoutout to my beloved @ellesgreenaway for beta reading and encouraging me to finish this piece— india you are my actual saving grace

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” — Paulo Coelho

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

He knew it all too well, the familiar look that was cast over peoples features, how their eyes got glassy and lips twitched as they prepared to tell him that they were yet another person who would leave him behind— like so many had before.

But their choice of words was always different. He noticed a sort of pattern, when it came to people walking out of his life. They tended to dance around the words, never exactly saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

First, it was his father. He’d watched him pack a suitcase full of things, spit angry words at his mother and then turn to him, his son— placing his hand on his shoulder, mumbling a few cowardly words and that was that. Spencer no longer had a father.

(‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to look after you anymore.’)

Second was Gideon, who never actually said goodbye in person (and Spencer couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.) Instead, he left, wrote words down on a page and then addressed it to him.

(‘Spencer, I knew you would be the one to come down here.’)

And again, with Alex. Not a goodbye, not in the formal sense, but Spencer’s heart ached with how he knew what this was— he recognised the look on her face and knew that once again, he would lose someone he loved.

(‘You know, Ethan would’ve been a lot like you.’)

Everyone in Spencer’s life started to feel temporary. There one minute, gone the next. He wished that meant that he cared any less for them, or that it hurt any less when they left.

Of course, that was never the case.

His mother’s mental state had been deteriorating rapidly, and nothing— not anything that Spencer’s big genius brain could think of — was helping her.

When he visited her, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. He recognised the look of confusion on her face when he’d enter the room, ignoring how his heart squeezed painfully upon realising that his own mother no longer remembered him.

It would take her a few minutes, but eventually the confusion would disappear and she would give him a smile, greeting him with open arms and warm words.

It was a different kind of leaving, but she was leaving him all the same. She wasn’t physically going anywhere, but, mentally?

He saw how she was deteriorating, he argued with countless doctors and medical professionals, exhausting every book and resource he could find— just hoping he could come up with something.

But, no.

He found it a little ironic. He was the boy wonder, the resident genius of the Bureau’s elite behavioural analysis unit, a smartass who had endless amounts of knowledge.

He always had the answer, always had the solution.

Ironic— because the man who was supposed to know it all, had no clue how to protect his mother from a disease that would inevitably take her from him.

It wasn’t something he would ever come to terms with, it was never something he would accept. He knew how it was going to go, the doctors told him as much.

The day would come that he would walk into his mother’s room, and those vacant eyes would never gain clarification. Her confusion wouldn’t pass, and she would no longer recognise him.

Spencer dreaded that day.

He feared it, even. 

Because the day he lost his mother would be the day he lost himself. 

*

When Catherine Adams’ file came across Spencer’s desk, he thrusted all of his agony over his mother into the case. It was why he decided that he would be the one to take her down in the restaurant, why he insisted that she wouldn’t perceive him as a threat. 

Oddly enough, Spencer found himself intrigued by her. Perhaps, he simply enjoyed being intellectually challenged in such a way.  Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in the darkest parts of himself, he liked the attention, got off on being able to outsmart her. 

He was smug when he managed to trick her into getting into the back of the police van, under the guise that he’d found her father. (After all, she was ‘just another girl with daddy issues’.) 

It was only when Cat gave him a grin, one that contrasted with the tears that slipped down her cheeks, that Spencer felt uneasy. 

He crouched down in front of her, whispered a small, “Goodbye, Cat,” before getting up and leaving the van, feeling a weight on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe. 

Again, it was a different type of goodbye. One he was of course relieved about, because with it brought the promised safety of Penelope, now that Cat was behind bars. Although, alongside the relief, there was a sour aftertaste. 

It was what led him to take a moment, sitting down on the swings in the park, hands trembling slightly as they grabbed the chains, swinging gently in a slow rhythm that he hoped would calm him down. 

The last words Cat had said to him played over and over in his head. 

“In twenty years, you won’t remember my name. But I’ll remember yours.” 

At first, Spencer assumed she was referring to how after a while, Cat would simply blend into the sea of seemingly never-ending unsubs who all tried, and failed, to outsmart the team.

It was only later that Spencer realised she was instead insinuating that he would succumb to the same disease as his mother— forgetting not only those that he loved, but the ones he hated too.

*

Spencer’s best friend was going to be a father. 

The team were gathered in the waiting room, eagerly awaiting news, when Morgan came out with a smile on his face. “It’s a boy!” 

Pure, unbridled joy burst throughout the room, with Spencer lurching forward to wrap his arms around him, laughing and giving his congratulations. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat and pushed away the thoughts that swirled around his mind. Deep down, he knew what would inevitably happen, but that moment wasn’t the right time to think about it. 

It was late in the evening when Derek Morgan stopped by Spencer’s desk. Before he even looked up from his paperwork, he knew where this conversation was going to go. When he did look up, it all but confirmed it— he saw the sad smile on Morgan’s lips, and watched how his eyes glossed over.

He said nothing though. Instead, he smiled and chuckled as Morgan gushed over his newborn son. His smile got even bigger when Morgan handed over the birth announcement— Hank Spencer Morgan.

Although he knew what was coming, he knew what decision Morgan was going to make, he expected nothing less from his best friend. A man who had grown immensely in the years he’d known him, going from a real ladies man to someone who would give up his job in order to be there for his family.

Morgan placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips. “Kid, listen. Here’s the thing..”

“I know.” Spencer whimpered quietly, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. I know. And I understand.”

He watched Derek Morgan walk away, sniffling as he willed the tears to keep at bay. He watched his best friend, his brother, walk away. And it hurt, God it hurt. But he was so proud of the man that Morgan had become that he pushed aside the hurt, reminding himself of what he knew to be true.

Everyone left eventually. 

Spencer feared that one day, he would look around and find that he was truly and utterly alone.

*

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Spencer was making his way through the FBI Headquarters, up to the BAU floor. He stepped into the elevator, his coffee mug in one hand, and his other resting over his satchel. Just before the door closed, he heard someone call out. 

“Hold the doors!” 

Spencer reached a hand out, pushing the doors back open. 

You scuttled into the elevator, looking over to the male next to you with a smile. “Thank you for holding the doors. I’m already running a little late for my first day.” You explained, reaching to press the button for the fifth floor, watching as the elevator doors closed again. 

“The fifth floor? The Sex Crimes Unit?” Spencer asked curiously. 

You nodded. 

“It’s your first day?” 

“Yeah, I moved here for the job a couple of weeks back. It was an incredible opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.” You expressed, and Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile in return. “I’m presuming you work here as well?” 

He nodded. “I’m in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a floor up from you.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least I have one friend in the building, if it turns out my new team hate me.” You joked, glad when Spencer let out a little laugh. 

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. You seem very likeable.” 

You grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. You looked over at your new friend, flashing him a nervous smile. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave as you left the elevator. 

After a long day of paperwork (and thinking of the pretty person he’d met in the elevator), Spencer gathered together his things before getting into the elevator. It stopped on the floor below, and when the doors opened, he smiled at the sight of you. 

You looked up from where you’d been looking down at your phone, mirroring his grin. “Hey! It’s you.” 

“Yes—yes, It is, me.” Spencer replied, cringing awkwardly at his nonsensical response. 

You only laughed quietly at it, entering the elevator. 

“How was your first day?” He asked, only to be polite. 

You seemed surprised that he’d asked, but answered nonetheless. “It was good! Turns out my team don’t hate me. Or at least, I don’t think they do?” Your voice raised in question, making Spencer laugh a little. 

“See? What did I tell you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

You leaned over, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

“Spencer.” 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer. For the second time today.” 

Spencer smiled shyly, hands delving into his pockets as the elevator dinged. The two of you stepped out, looking at one another with timid expressions. 

“My car, it’s that way.” You pointed to the other end of the car park. 

“I take the subway.” Spencer responded, wishing he could find a way to make you stay a little longer.

“Well, have a good evening, Spencer.” You beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes!” He responded a little eagerly, sighing inwardly before clearing his throat. “I mean yeah, sure that- that’s cool.” 

You giggled quietly, waving goodbye before turning toward your car. 

Spencer blushed the whole way to the subway station, biting back the smile on his lips at the thought of you. 

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer. 

But you? 

He had the feeling that you were going to be a very permanent part of his life, and he didn’t mind that in the slightest. 

*

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