#i am prepared for the emotional turmoil it will cause in me

[deelovesbooks]

ko-fi

[soapssuds]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 13 | sukuna and a crush

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Warnings | none

Infinity Masterlist

RYOMEN SUKUNA held her fiercely. His four arms never seemed to let her go. Anywhere he went, he made sure to have her follow. Be it behind him, beside him, or sitting atop his shoulders, or held in his arms.

He was always so cautious even when he was strongest back then.

"Where are you going?"

It was one of his lives where he had her all to himself.

"Nowhere..."

He knew when she was lying, when she was sad, happy, mad. It didn't matter how she hid her emotions. He could tell. He had many of her lives to practice after all.

"Is that so?"

She nodded, but she didn't look up to meet his gaze.

"Maybe i should force it out of you then."

Her eyes widened at that, which was when she decided to turn and run. Poor choice.

"Running away," he caught her easily, "you know you can't get away."

She pushed at his hands, his many many hands, "let go! I have to go somewhere!"

"Where? Why?"

She shook her head, refusing to answer.

"You leave me no choice, brat."

She grabbed one of his wrists, "Please! Anything but tickling! Anything but that!"

"Foolish woman, you resigned to your fate!"

"No! Hahaha! Stop! Stop it! If you tickle me I'm going to pee! Sukunaaaa!"

It wasn't everyday that other curses or servants witness THE King of Curses get into a tickle fight with his wife, and when it does happen? All one can do is look away and never speak of it. Because Sukuna may be soft with her, but with anyone else? It will mean death.

"Al- alright, alright! I'll tell you, just hah no more!"

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as she struggled within his grip. Her body withering as he finally stopped his assault.

He looked at her expectantly, but was obviously prepared to tickle her again if need be.

"That new cursed blade...the- hah- the blacksmith who made it was traveling to the town closest to hear today and tomorrow and I wanted him to make that blade for you."

She was still trying to catch her breath as her lungs finally got the air they needed and she no longer felt that ticklish feeling.

"Foolish woman..., we can just go together."

She pouted at him, arms crossed and everything, "it was supposed to be a surprise."

He rolled both sets of his eyes, spoiled, taken care of, doted on. Y/n was a handful even as his wife. But at least she was here. Alive.

"You'll get over it. Where I go, you go. Where you go, I go. That's the promise we made, and I expect you to keep, brat."

She huffed, "fine... but I still plan to wrap it for you and give it to you as present! And you better act surprised when you receive it!"

"Whatever."

"Hey!"

"Ughhh, what the? A dream?"

Itadori Yuji woke unceremoniously in the dead of night, the dream unfinished and his heart aching uncontrollably.

"Am I sick or something?"

Despite his inner turmoil and the questions that popped up into his mind, Sukuna didn't say anything. The last thing the King of Curses was going to do was explain to the brat was that he was dreaming of Sukuna's past.

Itadori decided to ignore the uneasy feeling in the end, and tried his best to go back to sleep, but he did admit that it was hard to.

I mean, he did dream of you, after all, which felt wrong to him.

[...]

"You're up late."

She felt someone gently flick her forehead, causing her to look up from her paperwork.

"Oh! Gojo! Yeah, I am. I just wanted to get some assignments ready for tomorrow- er," she glanced at the clock her desk, "I mean today," she said while amending her sentence. Her clock read 2:01 a.m. she honestly didn't realize how late she stayed.

"Why don't I take you home?"

She shook her head as she stood up from her desk and neatly stacked the papers before gathering up her belongings, "don't worry, Gojo! You don't have to."

"But I want to."

He gave her the best smile he could muster. Disarming, trustworthy, lighthearted. He didn't want to scare her away, but he also didn't want her to go away too soon. If she was going home, then he obviously wanted to go to.

"Well,... I guess a walking partner wouldn't be so bad," she relented, and he grinned.

"Who said anything about walking?"

"Wha-"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close, "ever tried teleporting before?"

A rhetorical question. Of course she hasn't.

"G- gojo, I heard you could teleport, but I don't think I want to-"

He held her close, gently, "don't you trust me?"

She gave him a look, her mind working fast, "well, yes, but-"

"No buts! You said yes, and that's all I need."

He held her hand with his free one, "tell me where you live and you'll be there in flash."

She couldn't help her nerves, they were going haywire. Though, deep down, she did have to admit that she was curious to see how teleportation worked. She heard the rumors that Gojo could do it, so... maybe she should just give it a try? Once surely won't hurt.

So she gave him her address.

He grinned down at her when she relented, "then hold on tight."

She did as she was told and clung to the front of his uniform, her fingers twisted into the fabric as she screwed her eyes shut. Despite wanting to try, she still couldn't deny the fear that ebbed away at her.

There's a first for everything after all.

"And, we're here."

He was so close. His breath tickled her ear, it made her face feel hot all of a sudden as she let go of him and back away a bit. Though, her legs still felt a little wobbly, but luckily as she fell back, she landed on her couch which cushioned her fall.

"Oh wow."

The feeling was indescribable. It definitely felt weird from shifting from one place and then being in another so quickly.

"Pretty cool, right?"

"Mmm."

She still couldn't form many words even as she sat there.

"Hey, you good?"

She finally focused on Gojo then as he crouched in front of her, his blindfold was off and his bright, blue eyes were filled with concern that she hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm good... just next time... let's just walk together, ok?"

He smiled then and patted her knee, the sensation sending a jolt through her entire leg, "deal!"

He was excited for when next time would come by.

She cleared her throat then as she went to stand up, Gojo immediately helping her as he took her hands and pulled her. Her bag falling to the couch cushions.

"An- anyway, even though it's late, do you want anything? Something to drink or eat?"

He let go of her hands and stuffed them into his pockets, "nah, I'm good. Just wanted to get you home and safe was all."

She couldn’t deny how her face felt hot all of sudden and she wondered if he did this with all his female coworkers, "well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Always."

And even as she bid him goodnight and showed him to her front door of her apartment, she found that she wanted him to stay and talk a little longer.

But she wasn't stupid. He was good-looking, nice, a total catch. She knew he would never see her like that and that he probably has a totally hot and rich girlfriend warming his bed right now.

"Yeah," she said with a chuckle, "I have no chance with him. Best to toss this little crush of mine out the window," her sheepish laugh echoed a little in her empty hallway when she shut and locked the door.

The exhaustion from the days events finally hitting her as she made her way to her room so she could finally crash in her bed.

"Though, crushing on him a little won't hurt, right?"

Infinity taglist, please note that for some it says "no blogs found" so I wasn't able to tag you.

@whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww @kenstarsworld @bubera974 @littleplantofdeath @fangirl-332 @thaliadoesthings @hellsingalucard18 @tamaki-simp @obsessedwithfanfiction @babygivertyrant @carvelcakes @itzmeme @nervouschocolatecat @aspiring-bookworm @babyorphanstastegood @lilacskyly @ilovethegold @mythicalsongbird

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter eleven

Summary: It seems Dr. Barnes is having a hard time without Miss Spector's attention.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s). Infidelity. Explicit Sexual Content. Rough Sex. Emotion Distress. Alcohol Use. Power Dynamics.

Word Count: 1664

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A/N: I couldn't wait for them any longer. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

The Manuscript: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan | @angelbabyyy99 | @kaithesimps-blog | @julvrs | @mrsstuckyboo | @am-3-thyst | @mcira

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

Each hour dragged by with an agonizing slowness as the weekend stretched out before James. He sat in his home office, fingers drumming on the desk as he glanced down at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time– no new messages, no calls, no emails. With a deep sigh, a knot of worry tightened in his chest. 

His mind was clouded by thoughts of you, from the moment, he left Marc’s apartment last night. The way you looked at him with such vulnerability, your troubled expression etched across your features. He hoped you would reach out to him today, even if it was just a brief message to let him know you were okay. Yet, he was deafened by your silence. 

He sent a couple of texts, simple and unobtrusive, but you sent no reply. He tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. He feared drawing unwanted attention if someone else saw the messages causing him to hold off on bombarding you. Sharon hadn’t noticed his distracted state, and even if she did, she would brush off any concern and carry on with her day. 

James stayed home most of Saturday and Sunday, pacing his office and running through scenarios in his mind. Should he drive by the apartment, the frat house? Or, call your brother and check in under some pretense? He was aware he had to be careful. Any overt action could arouse suspicion and lead to questions neither of you was prepared to answer.

The scene from Friday night replayed in his mind. The look in your eyes, the way you trembled with confession. He wanted to comfort you and make things right, but he was powerless in your silence. 

His frustration began bubbling over by Sunday evening. How could you just disappear without a word? He ran a hand through his hair, he tried to shake off the anger and focus on what he would do when he saw you again. Didn’t you realize how much you meant to him? How much he was worried about you?

~

As Monday morning came, James sat at his desk early, staring at the door and waiting. A glass of whiskey nursed in his hand as every tick of the clock intensified his emotions. His mind raced with worry and anger, he was furious with you for making him worry, the emotional turmoil you caused him. 

Just then, a little over 9 AM, you strolled into his office as if nothing had happened. Carrying two takeout cups of coffee, and a beautiful bright smile on your face. “Good morning, James,” you said cheerfully, setting the cups on his desk. “I brought you your favorite.”

James looked up at you, relief and concern flashed over his expression. A loud scrape against the floor rang through the room as he stood abruptly, slamming his glass down on the desk. “Do you have any idea what you put me through this weekend?” he demanded, his voice low but laced with a genuine worry.

You blinked, taken back by his reaction. “I… I just needed some time,” you stammered, your smile faltering. “I thought it would be best to–” 

“To just vanish without a word?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger. “To leave me hanging, not knowing if you were okay?” 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” you said, your voice began to raise in defense. “I just needed to sort out my feelings.” 

“How does the smartest woman in this god-damn building, not think?!” James snapped, his frustration boiling over. “You never think about how your actions affect others!” 

“That’s not fair!” you shot back, your anger beginning to flare. “You paraded Sharon around in my home, but you can’t handle seeing me in a hallway with Peter?” 

His eyes narrowed. “This is different,” he hissed. “Sharon doesn’t mean anything. It’s a facade, and you know that.” 

“A facade that cuts me into pieces every time I think about it,” you retorted in a hard whisper. “You expect me to just accept it, while you lose your mind over Peter?” 

“It’s not the same,” he insisted, his voice low and intense as he stepped closer. “You agreed to this, knowing what it would be like.” 

“And you agreed to care about my feelings,” you whispered furiously. “But, it seems like you only care when it’s convenient for you, Dr. Barnes.” 

The tension between you crackled like white noise. And, without another word, you turned on your heel and started for the door. Your coffee cup is long forgotten. Before you could reach for the handle, James grabbed your arm, pulling you back. The sudden movement brought you face-to-face, inches apart, your breaths mingling. 

“It aches me not knowing the taste of your lips,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. He reached up, his hand enveloping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Then, why don’t you find out?” you urged, your voice betraying both your longing and defiance. 

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke again. “What if I can’t stop myself?”  

You breathed out, your voice tinged with desire and vulnerability. Challenging him to cross the threshold between you. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”  

With your faces mere inches apart in that charged moment, James couldn’t resist the pull any longer. His heart thundered in his chest, his lips crashed down on yours with a hunger as he closed the gap between you.

Stunned, the intensity of his kiss sent a shockwave through you. But then, without hesitation, you responded. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

A fire ignited as the kiss deepened. James pulled you closer and his hands slid down your back, pouring all the pent-up emotions into this singular act of desperation.

His lips moved against yours, an urgency that matched the rapid beating of your heart. You tried to savor the sensation of each other’s lips, the taste of whiskey, the heat that threatened to consume you both. 

“I’m sorry,” James murmured hoarsely against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–”

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered against his mouth, interrupting him.

In one swift motion, he lifted you, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He moved with purpose as he pushed you up against the wall of his office. His body pinned yours in place. The pressure against your back made you gasp, the sound being swallowed by James’ fervent kiss.

His hands roamed, one sliding up to cradle your throat, the other gripping your thigh, holding you securely against him. 

His eyes burned into yours with intensity. “I need you, Baby Girl,” his voice a low growl. 

“Then take me,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with desire.  

A fierce hunger took over him, tearing at your clothes, his movements were rough and urgent. And soon, you were bare against him, with his hand everywhere exploring, and claiming as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. 

You fumbled with his belt, your hands trembling in between you. You felt the heat of him against you when you finally freed him. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, seeking permission and assurance. 

You nodded with a silent plea in your eyes. “Please, Sergeant,” you whispered. 

With a guttural growl, he entered you in one swift, powerful thrust. You gasped with the suddenness, your body arching against his. He set a demanding pace, each thrust rough and deep, pushing you closer to the edge with every movement.

You clung to him, your nails leaving marks as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Pain mingled with the pleasure, intensifying the sensations coursing through you.

“Don’t stop,” you begged him, your voice raw with desperation.

“I won’t,” he growled, his voice shaking. 

He brought his hand up to your mouth, silencing your moans as he thrust deeper and harder into you. His eyes stayed locked onto yours. The room filled with the sounds of your passion, each thrust, each gasp, each moan bringing you closer. 

His other hand gripped onto your hip bruisingly, fingering digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. “You feel so fucking good,” he snarled, breath hot against your ear. 

Your muffled cries only spurred him on, and your every nerve ending, alit with sensations as the roughness of his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure. Your body arched against the wall as the rough texture pressed against your skin. 

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you over the edge. Your body began to convulse against his, the pleasure causing you to cry out his name against his hand. Moments later, he followed with his release echoing in the confines of his office. 

For a moment, he stood there, keeping your bodies entwined as you came down from the heights of your passion. His hands lingered on your skin as he gently set you down. His eyes filled with satisfaction, and a lingering hint of concern as he looked at you.

“Are you okay, Baby?” he softly asked, his voice a tender contrast compared to the roughness of moments before.

A small smile played on your lips as you nodded. “Better than okay,” you replied, your voice still breathless. 

His lips pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. 

“You didn’t,” you reassured him, your fingers tracing gentle patterns against his chest. “I wanted this. I wanted you.” 

His grip tightened around you, and he sighed. “This is going to change everything.” 

“I know,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest. “But, maybe that’s okay.” 

The future of your relationships was uncertain. The road ahead is fraught with complications. Yet, in those moments, with his arms around you, you thought anything was possible.

---

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[inmyfxith]

Finding our way home

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Summary: Neteyam and you, a skilled warrior and hunter, have been together for years and are deeply in love. However, your happiness is threatened when you are chosen to participate in a rite of passage that will take you far away from Neteyam for an extended period of time.

Words: 922

Neteyam and you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From the moment you had laid eyes on each other, you had known that you were meant to be together.

Now, as you sat in your favorite spot by the river, watching the sun set over the majestic trees of Pandora, Neteyam couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

"What's wrong, my love?" you asked, sensing the turmoil in Neteyam's mind.

"I'm just worried about you," Neteyam admitted, taking your hand in his. "You leave for your rite of passage in a week, and I'm not sure I can bear the thought of being away from you for so long."

You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder. "I know it will be hard, but we have been preparing for this moment for years. I will do my best to honor my ancestors and return to you as soon as I can."

Neteyam sighed. He knew that you were right. As the princess of your tribe, you had a duty to fulfill. But that didn't make the thought of being apart any easier to bear.

"I want to go with you," Neteyam blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You can't be serious," you answered. "The rite of passage is a sacred tradition, reserved for members of my tribe."

"I know that," Neteyam said. "But I can't stand the thought of being away from you for so long. I want to be there for you, to support you and help you through whatever challenges you may face."

You looked at him with a mixture of affection and concern. "Neteyam, I appreciate your devotion, but this journey is not for outsiders. It will be difficult enough for me to prove myself to my tribe. If you came with me, it would only make things harder for both of us."

Neteyam had always respected the traditions of your people and didn't want to cause any trouble. But the thought of being apart from you for so long was almost unbearable.

"Please, Y/N," he begged. "I'll do anything to stay by your side. I'll work hard and prove myself to your tribe. I'll show them that I am worthy of your love."

You looked at him with a sad smile. "I know you would do anything for me, Neteyam. And that's why I can't let you come with me. This journey is not about proving ourselves to others. It's about discovering who we are and what we are capable of. I need to do this on my own, without the distractions of someone I love."

Neteyam nodded, his heart heavy with sadness. He knew that you were right, but that didn't make the thought of being apart any easier to bear.

As the days passed, Neteyam did everything he could to prepare you for your journey. He helped you pack your supplies and sharpen your weapons. He listened as you talked about your fears and doubts, and he did his best to reassure you.

And when the day of your departure finally arrived, Neteyam stood by your side, holding your hand as you said goodbye to your family and friends.

"I'll miss you," Neteyam said, his voice choked with emotion.

"And I'll miss you," you answered, tears welling up in your eyes. "But I promise to come back to you as soon as I can. And when I do, I will be stronger and wiser than ever before."

Neteyam nodded, trying to hold back his own tears. "I believe in you," he said. "I know you will do great things."

You leaned your forehead against his, and then you were gone, disappearing into the dense jungle foliage with a group of your tribe's bravest warriors.

Neteyam watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow. He knew that he had to be strong for both of you, to hold down the fort and keep things running smoothly in your absence. But it was hard to do that when he felt like a part of him was missing.

For the next few weeks, Neteyam threw himself into his work, focusing on the tasks at hand and trying not to think about your absence. He worked hard to prove himself to your tribe and to his, showing them that he was a valuable member of the community and worthy of your love.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. It wasn't until you returned, when you came running into his arms, that he realized what it was.

"I'm home," you said, your eyes shining with happiness and pride. "And I couldn't have done it without you, Neteyam. Your love and support gave me the strength to face my fears and overcome them."

Neteyam held you tight, feeling his own strength and determination return. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered. "And I'm so glad you're home."

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Neteyam knew that he had made the right decision. No matter how hard the journey had been, it had brought you closer together than ever before. And as you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that you would face whatever challenges came your way, as long as you had each other by your side.

[desswright29]

Play me like my name is Fur Elise

Why it's gotta be your way? I want it to be mine What you think this is, foreplay? Must be outta your mind They tell me to ignore it Don't you think that I've tried And I've tried, and I've tried, and I've tried

A/N: This had been sitting in my drafts in finished. And honestly it probably won’t be so I figured I’d just post what I got. And maybe if y’all like it I’ll finish the rest.

The rushing water from the shower head cascaded down the length of her body. The events of the night running heavily through her mind. Flashes of their bodies pressed against one another’s in the backseat of her Porsche causing her body to become heated. Her lower lip finds comfort between her teeth as she allows the water to soothe her aching muscles.

She washes away the filth that was created in betrayal, unconcerned, unashamed. Her mind continuously try’s to interject. Try’s to give her some sort of apprehension about her actions. What happened was wrong y/n. But her body, her body felt oh so right. 

Y/n P.O.V.  

My heart rate increased, as I stared into her eyes across the table of the restaurant. My breathing becoming rugged, irratic. “Shuri..” I whisper “Please don’t do this to me right now. I’m trying. I’m trying to accept the fact that I lost you. Now, you’re telling me you still love me while you’re still with her.”

My watery eyes and pleading convey my emotional turmoil, Shuri's expression falters momentarily, her words caught in her throat. Her own emotions simmer beneath the surface, and she recognizes the pain her sudden confession has unleashed.

Her voice carries a heavy weight of sincerity and regret, her words spoken softly, carrying the weight of her conflicted thoughts.

"Y/n, I...I apologize. It wasn't fair of me to drop this on you so abruptly. The last thing I want is to cause you more pain. I was being selfish..." A huffed laugh leaves my lips.

“Are you getting some sort of sick pleasure from this? From watching me hurt? What do you want from me?”

Shuri's voice carries a soft and earnest tone as she reflects on her feelings.

"I can't deny the feelings I still have for you. I get no pleasure from causing you pain. But, the feelings I have for you are a constant presence, tugging at my emotions and reminding me of the love we once shared. But, I also feel something else...there's this pull towards Riri, this undeniable connection that speaks to my soul. It's not always easy reconciling these two truths, but it's the reality of where I stand."

I bite the insides of my cheeks, nodding in indignation, as a tear slides down my cheek. “Well I’ll do the honors of uncomplicating it for you…and remove myself from the situation.” 

As the tear rolls down my face. I stand from the table grabbing my things to prepare to leave. Shuri's heart aches, her expression reflecting her own anguish. She struggles for words, her voice caught in her throat. She reaches out grabbing my wrist lightly.

"Please. Don't leave like this. We can find a way to work through this, to heal together. Riri and I, we have something special, but so do we. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want to cause you more pain. Can't we find a way to navigate this without losing each other completely?" I freeze as I listen to her audacity. My nostrils flaring as I feel anger take over me.  I control it as best I can recognizing that we’re in a very public setting. 

“Shuri..I don’t want to sit here and confuse you any longer. I’m not an option. I don’t want to be some nostalgic after thought. I’m in love with you Shuri! Do you get that? I love you, and I’ve sat and listened to you go on and on about how much you love the woman you broke my heart with. What am I supposed to be flattered that you love me too? That you were willing to put me through the heart ache of being with her, but her heart is just soooo valuable to you that you can’t fathom the thought of hurting her!”

Her head shakes in trepidation. 

"I never meant to hurt you.” Her words prestented themselves passionately, honestly. 

“I never wanted to cause you pain. I'm trying to be honest with my feelings, to be true to myself and to those I care about. Your love means so much to me, and I care deeply about your well-being. But I can't deny the connection I feel with-“ I cut her off yelling before I had to hear that god forsaken name again.

“I’ve never asked you to Shuri!!! Not once have I asked you to!” The other patrons in the restaurant turned to see what the commotion was. I close my eyes taking a deep breath before speaking in a more controlled tone. 

“I told you I accept how you feel about her. Now what the fuck else do you want from me?” 

"I want you not to give up on us so easily. Don't let our history and our connection be overshadowed by something that happened over a year ago! Can't we find a way to move forward, even if it means redefining our friendship?" My hand slams into the table.

“No Shuri! You’re not getting it! I’ve never wanted to be your friend! I just wanted you! To be with you, to be loved. by. you. You were my EVERYTHING!”

Shuri's heart aches at my raw revelation. Hearing the depth of my longing and heartache, her own voice trembling with a mixture of regret and empathy.

"Y/n, I wish I had known how deeply you’d cared, how much you loved me. I wish I could have loved you the same. But, I can't undo the past, and I can't change the choices I've already made."

My heart dropped into my stomach. I stand staring for a moment not believing what I’d just heard. I’d spent 3 years of my life with this woman and she claimed she hadn’t loved me the same. Silently, I step back from the table, wiping away my tears. I straighten myself and hold my head up high. Snatching my wrist away from her, I turn away and walkout of the restaurant.

I step out of the shower wrapping my towel around my body, walking over to the mirror clearing away the condensation staring at my reflection. I sigh. In retrospect, that should’ve been the end of that conversation. In all actuality, when she walked into that restaurant saw me, and thought to approach I should’ve tossed my Pho in her face and stormed out of there. But, that’s not what happened.

I make it outside into the fresh air, making a beeline to my car before the pain hits me like a brick wall, leaving me gasping for air. I clutch my stomach sinking to the ground in tears.

Shuri, rushed outside intent on finding me. She stumbled through the parking lot calling out to me until she found me crouched down beside my car. The sight shattering her heart, she moves quickly towards me, dropping to her knees beside me. Her voice quivers with emotion as she speaks.

"Y/n, please. I can't watch you like this. You don't have to endure this alone. Let me be here for you."

Reaching out, Shuri gently touches my arm, trying to provide comfort and support. I look into her eyes. To weak to reply. The city lights highlighting my tears.

Shuri tightens her embrace, cradling me close to her heart as I bury my head into her neck, the weight of my tears falling freely. She feels her own pain mingle with a fierce protectiveness. She holds me close, her voice a soft whisper of comfort and strength.

"It's okay, let it all out. I'm here. I'll stay with you."

I grip tightly onto her shirt as I allow the tears to flow. Her hands rubbing comforting circles on my back as we sit on the ground. After a while the tears slow down and I pull away from her neck silently looking up into her eyes. My eyes trailing from hers to her lips.

Her gaze locked with mine as we drew nearer. The world around us seeming to fade into the background, our emotions swirling between love and heartbreak. Time comes to a standstill as our eyes meet, our lips dangerously close.

Then, with a gentle tenderness, Shuri closes the remaining distance between us, melting into my embrace. She presses her lips to mine in a sweet, passionate kiss, an act of love and devotion that transcends the complexities of our intertwined hearts.

I run my tongue gently along her bottom lip asking for permission to enter her mouth.

In that fleeting moment, as our kiss deepens, Shuri surrenders to me. She grants my silent request, parting her lips slightly, inviting her tongue to intertwine with mine. The world around us fading, leaving only the intensity of our shared passion.

Shuri's fingers trace a gentle path along my spine, offering both comfort and anticipation. With a soft shift, she draws me closer, allowing me to settle into her lap. Once i’m nestled securely, her hands find their way to the small of my back, pulling me as near to her as possible.

"Baby" she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of tenderness and vulnerability. "I've missed you, missed this...us. I never wanted to lose what we had."

I moan into her mouth as we continue the kiss until I can no longer take it. 

“The car. Let’s get in the car.” I say

That one statement pulled us into an impossible cycle of toxicity and confusion. Before long Shuri was exiting my backseat with my cream on her pants leg, and my essence all over her mouth. Headed back to her devout girlfriend.

I’d given her one last kiss and told her if she needed me she knew where to find me. 

Her reply:

"Y/n...I...I will need you. Soon."

Now here I was, home, fresh out of the shower unable to get her off my mind…My ex. The Queen of Wakanda, who betrayed me. Cheated on me and left me to be with the woman she’d cheated with. I know. Dumb. 

Y/n dried off oiling down her body, and placing a cute short lounge wear set on. In an attempt to wound herself down she went to kitchen to grab some fruit, and pour a glass of wine before cuddling onto her couch, scrolling through her phone. Her mind continued going back to the feel of them in the back of the car. The windows fogging. The sound of the queens voice begging her to let her have a taste. 

She found herself scrolling through her contacts finding her number, nibbling on her bottom lip as she thought about sending her a message. She knew that Shuri was more than likely home with her girl but failed to care. Her mind and body operated in pure selfishness. Her heart began to race as she typed. Looking over the message, her finger hovering over the send button before Tapping.

Y/n Thinking about you..I miss you.

Shuri had arrived home, sliding into the palace unnoticed. Riri was sound asleep in her bed as Shuri slid into the bathroom as quietly as possible. Her mind was also preoccupied with thoughts of y/n, the memories of their passionate encounter still swirling in her mind. 

Her phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, snapping her back to reality. Eyes locking on the message, a soft smile crossing her face.

Shuri I'm thinking about you too. I can't stop thinking about you. Y/n Did you make it in without your girlfriend seeing you?

Shuri leans against the bathroom counter chuckling to herself as she reads the message.

Shuri I made it in just fine. Riri's already asleep by now, thankfully.

She pauses for a moment, considering how to steer the conversation. 

Shuri I was just thinking about how nice it would be to have you here with me, just relaxing and unwinding.

She chews on her lower lip as she sends the text, wondering how y/n will react. As she receives Shuri’s message she mirrored her demeanor. Chewing on her lip seductively as she typed.

Y/n Glad you made it in without an altercation. It would be nice to be with you right now. I’m cuddled up on my couch alone with a glass of wine wishing you were here.

Shuri smiles softly, envisioning her cozy on the couch picturing herself cuddled up with her as she locked the door to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet before sending another message.

Shuri I wish I was there too, I'm just winding down for the night, thinking about you.

She pauses, considering her words before writing the rest. 

Shuri Maybe we can meet up soon? I'd love to see you again.

Y/n’s stomach flutters as a smirk lifts the corners of her mouth.

Y/n I’d love to see you too. You’re not going to get in trouble are you?

Shuri chuckles 

Shuri She won't find out anything. What if we met up tomorrow? We could grab coffee and just enjoy each other's company. What do you think?

She sends anxiously waiting for a response.

Y/n squeals excitedly as she reads her message eager to be in Shuri’s presence again. I take a deep breath to calm myself before sending another message.

Y/n That’s perfect. I’m off tomorrow. How long do you think you can sneak away for?

Shuri I can sneak away for a couple hours. I'll tell Riri I have a few errands to run.

Y/n That sounds good. Where at? I’ll meet you there so no one sees us riding together.

Shuri How about that cute little coffee shop on the corner of Main Street? There are a few shops around, so we can play it off as if we bumped into each other. Y/n Perfect

Shuri I can't wait to see you.

Y/n I can’t wait to see you either. 

Y/n bites her lip sending the message and finishing the last of her wine.

[tamayula-hl]

It's been a long time since I've posted as my daughter and I have both been in bed with the flu and Covid! And once again I apologise for posting an article that is disturbing the atmosphere of HL fandom.

I have discussed the false accusation of trace plagiarism levelled against me with @freewld and have received an apology from her saying that it was a misunderstanding.

Here is a verified image of this case (Twitter/X)

I am now deeply relieved that we were able to end the discussion with a result that convinced her of my innocence. If it was a misunderstanding, I am willing to end it all this time. I would like to end this false accusation racket with a discussion with her. I will refrain from mentioning the matter once and for all (unless another disturbing incident occurs), and I hope that you will refrain from further mention of it too. I also do not want any slanderous behaviour, excessive criticism, speculation or falsehoods towards her, so I strongly urge you all to refrain from doing so. (Just in case , I have compiled screenshots and other evidence regarding the defamation of me that I have received in this row, and submitted and consulted with lawyers and others)

She also requested that I make a correction announcement on four points, which I would like to make here.

She said she conducted the survey with the intention of "using it as one reference for the opinions of her followers".

Tamayula's wish was the reason she decided to make the suspicion of plagiarism public.

She did not vote on the survey from multiple accounts to give herself an advantage.

She only made her Twitter account private after the survey was invalidated.

My verified public article was written in Japanese, which I wrote in a very confused and upset state, and translated into English and published at DeepL. Therefore, it was very difficult to understand and there were many phrases that may have led to your misunderstanding. I would like to apologise deeply for the confusion caused to everyone by my misunderstanding and incomprehensible article, and at the same time, I would like to correct it here. Although it has taken me a long time to respond, I have corrected the English text of the article on Tumblr and made it private, and on Twitter, I have deleted the tweet that referred to the survey.

I was very upset by the false accusations that suddenly fell upon me, and I sincerely regret that I repeatedly exposed myself in an emotional and unsightly manner, and that I failed to respond correctly to the incident. I cannot thank enough those who were kind to me and gave me warm words and those who believed in my innocence. I am sorry, but I will refrain from replying to you now, because if I do so, it is likely to cause an uproar again, but your words of encouragement and support, which I received at a time when I was feeling quite emotionally drained, gave me tremendous emotional support, more than you can imagine. Thank you very much. I am deeply grateful.

As for my future creative activities, I plan to continue with both Tumblr and Twitter as they are now. (However, I intend to move at the end of March in my real life and will be very busy for a few months with preparations and my new life, so my activities will be quite low-key for the time being). My interest in HL, Seb and Omi has not changed, and I am still motivated to paint, but in reflecting on the current turmoil, I now realise that I was very easily influenced by other people's creative styles, and that I had a vague idea of what the boundaries of inspiration were. In the future, I will continue to be self-conscious about my own dangerous values and make every effort to correct them, and if I have used a work as a reference, I will clearly state it and do my utmost not to cause trouble for others as an artist.

Finally, I am very sorry for the trouble I have caused to so many people. And to those of you who have been so warm and thoughtful, once again, thank you very much indeed 🙏 I will continue to do my best in drawing from now on!

[ltash]

Venom

Part 3 "Anastasia Romanov"

Ghost x female OC

Warnings: Very Dark themed, mentions of murder and blood, dark sadist Ghost.

You are taking me to Makarov, Anastasia.

No. I am going to hell Simon Riley and I am taking you with me.

"Don't underestimate her. She may be small, but she's a feisty little thing."

Moscow, Russia

Anastasia sat in her small Moscow apartment, the patter of heavy rain against the window providing a rhythmic backdrop to her thoughts.

At just 21 years old, she had become Vladimir Makarov's right hand, a trusted lieutenant in his shadowy world. Despite Makarov's elusive nature and unknown whereabouts, he maintained contact with Anastasia, serving as a surrogate father figure in her life after she had tragically lost her parents at the tender age of 15.

Makarov had guided her into the Russian Ultranationalist party, where she underwent rigorous training and emerged as one of their top agents.

As she sat in her small apartment, Anastasia couldn't shake the image of Makarov's face, lit by the cold glow of the tunnel's lights, his expression a mix of triumph and menace. He had relayed the news to her with a chilling calmness that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I killed Soap," Makarov had said, his voice resonating with a deadly pride. "One of their finest. A young lad with a bright future, now extinguished."

Anastasia had known of Soap McTavish, a sergeant among the Task Force members, revered for his skills and leadership. His death was not just a tactical victory for Makarov but a symbolic blow to their enemies—a demonstration of power and ruthlessness that defined their brutal conflict.

As she stared out into the rain-soaked streets of Moscow, Anastasia wrestled with conflicting emotions. The thrill of victory mingled with the weight of guilt and remorse. She knew that in their world, there was little room for sentimentality or second-guessing. Survival and success demanded unwavering commitment, even in the face of moral ambiguity.

The rain continued to fall, a relentless drumbeat against the windowpane. In the silence of her apartment, Anastasia prepared herself for the next mission, the next test of her loyalty to Makarov and the Ultranationalist cause.

The buzzing and ringing of her phone jolted Anastasia out of her trance. Her heart raced as she glanced at the screen, recognizing the number immediately. Her hands trembled as she answered the call, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hello, my dear," Makarov's voice came through, speaking in Russian with that familiar mix of authority and charm.

"Hello, Makarov," Anastasia replied, her voice steadying as she took a deep breath. "It's been a while."

"Yes, it has," he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "I hope you're ready for what comes next. We have important work to do."

"Always," she responded, her loyalty clear in her voice. "What do you need?"

Makarov's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "There's a target I need you to eliminate. He's been a thorn in our side for too long."

"Who is it?" Anastasia asked, already mentally preparing herself for the mission.

"Ghost," Makarov said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Simon Riley. He's working as a mercenary now, a ruthless killer. He used to be a soldier, but that part of him is long gone. We can't afford to let him interfere any longer. I want you to find him and finish the job."

Anastasia's heart skipped a beat. She had heard stories of Simon "Ghost" Riley, the infamous operative who had once been a member of Task Force 141. His reputation for ruthlessness preceded him, a far cry from the disciplined soldier he had once been.

"There are no pictures of him," Makarov continued. "But you will recognize him by his skull mask. He's extremely deadly, Anastasia. He could kill you without a second thought, so you must be extremely careful."

"Understood," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I'll take care of it."

"We've arranged an apartment for you in the same building he lives in," Makarov added. "Get close to him, gain his trust, and then execute him swiftly."

"Consider it done," Anastasia replied.

The call ended, leaving Anastasia staring at her phone, her mind racing. She had a mission, a directive from the man who had been her guiding force for years. But now, the lines between loyalty and morality were blurred.

The next day, Anastasia found herself on a flight to Manchester. The dossier Makarov had provided included everything she needed to know about Simon Riley’s current whereabouts. As she arrived at the nondescript apartment building, she noted how perfectly it blended into its surroundings—a fitting place for a man trying to live under the radar.

The apartment she had been provided was modest but functional, directly across the hall from Simon Riley's. She moved in quickly, arranging her belongings and preparing herself for the task ahead. The plan was simple: get close, earn his trust, and then strike when he least expected it.

Anastasia entered the apartment building with her suitcases, taking in her new surroundings. Manchester wasn't cold like Russia, but the air carried a damp chill that clung to her skin. She walked through the lobby, noting the modern decor and the warmth that radiated from the newly built structure. The building was cozy, a stark contrast to the harsh environments she was accustomed to.

She made her way to the hallway where her apartment was located, her steps echoing softly on the polished floor. The air was tinged with the faint smell of fresh paint and new carpets. She reached her door, her mind racing with the details Makarov had provided. She didn’t know exactly which apartment belonged to Simon Riley, but based on her intel, it was adjacent to hers.

Unlocking her door, she stepped inside and took a moment to survey the space. It was modest but comfortable, furnished with all the necessities she would need to blend in and execute her mission. She set her suitcases down and began unpacking, methodically arranging her belongings while her mind stayed focused on the task ahead.

Later that evening, as she finished settling in, she decided to take a walk around the building to familiarize herself with the layout. She left her apartment and turned right, walking past several doors until she reached the one next to hers. She paused for a moment, her heart beating a little faster. This could be it—the apartment of the infamous Ghost, Simon Riley.

She continued down the hallway, noting the emergency exits and the location of the stairs and elevators. The more she knew about her surroundings, the better prepared she would be.

After unpacking and settling in, Anastasia decided to get a view of the city. She needed to clear her head and assess her surroundings further. Manchester was different from the sprawling, frigid expanse of Russia. It was a smaller city, yet bustling with activity. People moved briskly through the streets, a mix of locals and tourists contributing to the vibrant atmosphere.

Stepping out of the building, she felt the wind tug at her long red hair, causing it to wave behind her. She took a deep breath, the damp air filling her lungs as she glanced around, searching for a place to get a drink. While she wasn't an avid drinker, she found herself occasionally enjoying a drink to unwind, especially when she had much on her mind.

Walking down the street, she noticed a quaint pub tucked away on a quieter side street. The warm light spilling out from its windows and the faint sound of laughter and conversation drew her in. She approached the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a stark contrast to the tension she had been feeling.

She made her way to the bar, slipping onto a stool and catching the bartender's eye. "What can I get you?" he asked, his voice friendly.

"A glass of wine, please," she replied, offering a small smile.

As she waited for her drink, she let her gaze wander around the pub. People were gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing. It was a scene of normalcy that felt almost foreign to her after the years of intense training and missions. When the bartender returned with her wine, she took a sip, savoring the moment of tranquility.

Her thoughts drifted back to Simon Riley.

As she sat there, contemplating her next move, she felt a presence beside her. She turned to see a man, perhaps in his late thirties, with a kind smile. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the empty stool next to her.

"Go ahead," she replied, curious about the stranger.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Ghost checked out of his hotel room and made his way back to his apartment after finishing his mission. The execution of the mafia boss had been swift and clean, just as he preferred. His movements were practiced and deliberate, the guitar-shaped sniper case slung over his strong shoulder blending in with the urban landscape.

When he reached his apartment building, he turned the key in the lock but something caught his eye. The light in the apartment across from his was on. It had been empty for quite a while, and he hadn't expected anyone to move in while he was away.

His eyes narrowed, and he cursed under his breath. "Fucking hell." The thought of having a new neighbor, an unexpected visitor, every now and then was unwelcome. He thrived on solitude and the ability to come and go without scrutiny.

Setting his things inside his apartment, he tried to relax. But the familiar tension wouldn't leave him. He felt the need for a drink, something strong to take the edge off. "Hell, I could murder for a whiskey now," he muttered to himself.

Without wasting time, he swapped his skull mask for a more discreet balaclava and threw on his usual attire—hoodie and sweatpants. It was a look that allowed him to blend into the background, just another faceless figure in the night.

He exited the building and headed to the nearest pub. It was a small, unassuming place where he could disappear into the crowd. He entered the dimly lit space, scanning the room out of habit before approaching the bar.

"Kentucky, straight," he ordered, his voice low and gravelly.

The bartender nodded and poured him a generous measure of bourbon. Ghost took the glass, finding a secluded corner where he could sit with his back to the wall, a clear view of the entrance. He took a sip, the fiery liquid burning a path down his throat, grounding him in the moment.

As he drank, his thoughts drifted back to the mission, replaying every detail to ensure there were no loose ends. He was meticulous by nature, every action calculated and deliberate. His mind then wandered to the new neighbor. He hadn't seen who it was yet, but he would soon enough. He needed to be aware of his surroundings, and anyone new was a potential threat until proven otherwise.

His eyes scanned the room absently, noting the faces and the exits. It was a habit ingrained in him from years of living on the edge. He saw a few regulars, but no one paid him any mind, just the way he liked it.

As he nursed his drink, a flash of red hair caught his attention. A woman sat at the bar, talking to a man. She seemed relaxed, her laugh genuine, a stark contrast to his own guarded demeanor. He dismissed her as just another patron until she turned slightly, and he got a better look at her face.

The red-haired girl was beautiful, to say the least. Her big blue eyes shone in the dim light of the dingy pub, and small freckles adorned her face, adding a touch of innocence. She looked very young, possibly in her early twenties. As Ghost observed her, he couldn't help but notice the way her presence lit up the otherwise gloomy room.

The boy who was talking to her was just another bloke, trying to charm her. Ghost recognized the type instantly. "Huh! Fucker," he cursed under his breath, knowing exactly what the guy was after. He had seen it countless times before—guys trying to sweet-talk their way into a woman's bed.

But then, Ghost wasn't much different. One-night stands had always been his go-to, a way to use women and throw them away like tissue paper. He was fond of it, the detachment and simplicity it offered. Emotions were messy and complicated, and he preferred to keep things straightforward.

As he watched the interaction between the red-haired girl and the boy, he felt a strange sense of irritation. He wasn't used to caring about such things, but something about the girl intrigued him. Maybe it was the way she held herself, confident yet approachable, or perhaps it was the hint of mystery she exuded.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"I'm Jack," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

"Anastasia," she responded, shaking his hand.

They struck up a conversation, and Anastasia found herself relaxing a bit more. Jack was a local, and he shared stories about the city and its history, providing her with useful information about her new environment. As they talked, she kept an eye on the time, aware that she needed to stay focused on her mission.

After finishing her drink, she thanked Jack for the company and stood to leave. "It was nice meeting you," she said, offering him a genuine smile.

"Likewise," Jack replied. "If you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me."

As Anastasia stood to leave the pub, she moved towards the door just as it swung open, revealing two imposing figures. They were rough-looking men, their faces hardened by years of disregard for civility.

"Excuse me," Anastasia said calmly, trying to pass between them.

"What's the rush, sweetheart?" one of them leered, reaching out to grab her wrist with a meaty hand.

"Come sit with us," the other sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol and stale cigarettes.

Anastasia felt the grip tighten around her wrist, her heart racing with a mix of anger and caution. These were the kind of men she had dealt with countless times before—brutes who thought they could exert their will on anyone they pleased. In her line of work, she had learned to make people like them taste their own medicine, but creating a scene here could attract unwanted attention and jeopardize her mission.

"Let me go, please," she pleaded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

The man holding her wrist only laughed, a cruel sound that echoed in the dimly lit pub. His companion grinned maliciously, clearly enjoying the situation.

Anastasia's mind raced. She assessed her options quickly, weighing the risks. Fighting back now could escalate things, drawing unwanted scrutiny. She needed a way out without compromising her cover or exposing herself.

With a calm demeanor, she tried reasoning one last time. "I don't want any trouble. Just let me go," she said firmly, locking eyes with the man holding her.

The tension in the air was palpable. Other patrons glanced over curiously, sensing the brewing conflict. Anastasia kept her composure, her mind racing through scenarios and escape routes.

"Leave her the fuck alone. You motherfucker," the voice growled, slicing through the air with a husky, raspy British accent. It was a voice that commanded attention, filled with a raw intensity that made even the rowdiest patrons at the bar pause and turn to see what was happening.

The two men who had accosted Anastasia froze , their eyes widening as they turned to face the figure behind her. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel to see him for herself.

He towered over her, almost a foot and a half taller, his presence imposing and commanding. Piercing brown eyes stared out from behind a skull-printed balaclava, giving him an air of mystery and danger. He was dressed in dark, nondescript clothing that hinted at a life lived on the edge.

"And who the fuck you think you are?" one of the men snarled, his grip tightening painfully around Anastasia's wrist. She winced, feeling the pressure of his fingers digging into her skin.

"Your worst nightmare," the figure replied, his voice low and cold, each word laced with a promise of retribution.

"You know who I am?" the man barked, his bravado faltering slightly in the face of the stranger's imposing demeanor.

Without hesitation, he moved with lightning speed. In one swift motion, he seized the man's head and slammed it down onto the bar with bone-crushing force.

A sickening crack echoed through the pub as his teeth shattered and blood sprayed across the counter. Before the man could react, Ghost struck again, this time driving the man's nose into the hard surface. The counter splattered with blood.

The bar erupted into chaos as screams and shouts filled the air.

Anastasia recoiled in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. She had seen violence before, but the sheer brutality of Ghost's response left her breathless. She watched in a mix of horror and awe as Ghost stood over the subdued man, his chest heaving with controlled rage.

The second man, sensing the danger, released his grip on Anastasia and stumbled back, his hands raised in surrender. He exchanged a fearful glance with his companion before hastily retreating from the scene, disappearing into the crowd of panicked patrons.

Ghost remained unmoved, his gaze sweeping over the bar as silence settled over the chaos he had unleashed. His balaclava obscured his face, masking any emotion that might lie beneath. Slowly, he turned to look at Anastasia, who stood trembling before him.

"Are you alright?" His voice, still raspy but softer now, held a hint of concern.

Anastasia nodded slowly, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

Her gaze locked with Ghost's intense brown eyes, and for a fleeting moment, everything around them seemed to freeze. There was an undeniable pull between them, a magnetic force that drew her in despite the chaos and danger that had just unfolded.

But fear surged through her veins, overpowering any curiosity or attraction she felt. Without a second thought, she turned and ran. Her heart pounded in her chest as she sprinted through the deserted streets, every step echoing the urgency of her escape.

"Was he the one she came after?" Her mind raced.

[ficsbyuzi]

Wait

Part-1

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers (Modern Westeros)

Summary - Amidst family crisis and dissolution of his engagement, Aemond relocates to Harrenhal, a place that stirs an inexplicable sense of belonging in him. As he settles into his new role , he meets the intriguing Alys Rivers.

word count - 2217

warnings - +18, mention of smoking and alcohol

A/N - This part is a set-up. I am reposting this from my previous account. I began writing this in February, and now intend to finish it.

I am writing what I wish to read. I am a hard core Alysmond shipper. If you are not, you may wish to scroll past :) Flashback and internal monologue are in italics.

“I don't understand,” Floris uttered incredulously, her voice wobbling in a whisper. She was pacing back and forth restlessly in front of the fireplace, casting shifting shadows across the walls of Aemond's opulent living room. The sound of her sniffles mingled with the crackling flames in the hearth, as she struggled to contain the tears trickling down her flawless cheeks. 

"Floris, please just hear me out,” Aemond insisted, letting out a deep sigh of exasperation, burying his head in his palms to avoid facing his fiancée. 

“I can't believe you are doing this,” she choked out. “After everything I have planned, all the..all the prepar..” she faltered at the last word, her chest tightening as she began to rub it, breathing unevenly.

“Please, sit,” Aemond’s tone turned concerning.

Floris halted her steps at his request. Taking a seat on the ottoman, she waited for his next words. She stared at the wall with a fierce intensity, gripping the giant sapphire studded in a band of platinum that adorned her ring finger. As if she feared the ring would somehow slip off her finger, carrying with it the promise of a future that now seemed blurred.

“My dad's passing has thrown everything in chaos,“ Aemond said, running a hand across his face, “My mother can't handle everything alone, especially now when Aegon is gravely injured. Nobody suspected the fire at the Rook's rest, it's a disaster at home.”

“So, you're just going to leave me? And move to Harrenhal?” She asked, locking her big, brown eyes with his disparate gaze - one eye, the color of amethyst, the other, a prosthetic, the color of which was of the stone gleaming on her engagement ring.

“Floris, please understand, my uncle is trying to gobble up our business, and ruin everything, I just can't..” he blew out a sharp breath through his nose, pursing his lips and standing up, 

“Right now, I can't give you the attention you deserve. I need to take a step back and reevaluate things..” He walked towards the mini bar to make himself a drink, grimacing in pain as his scar had begun to sting. The pain always resurfaced whenever he was in emotional turmoil, even though years had passed since the unfortunate accident that took his eye. 

“I need to sort out my priorities,” he said, pouring whiskey into the glass.

“What about..what about our wedding?” The crack in her voice on the realisation that his priorities did not include her, mirrored the shattering of her heart. She was dreading his response, almost not wanting to hear it. 

Aemond closed his violet eye, sighing and mustering all his strength to keep his composure. He had already suspected that Floris might not fathom the gravity of the situation. 

“How can you expect me to think of the wedding at such a time? Why don't you understand I need a break!” He struggled to keep his voice from escalating, speaking through gritted teeth, but his frustration inevitably seeped into his tone, causing it to grow louder with each word.

“You don't need a break, you want a break up,” she blurted out, sniveling and trembling at her own audacious, high-pitched response. 

Their gazes remained locked in a tense standoff. Aemond set his whiskey glass down on the table, the sound of which shattered the heavy silence that hung between them..

Floris broke eye contact first, and began picking up her belongings.

 “What will I..tell my father,” she sputtered, “what will my sisters think?” She began to sob uncontrollably.

“Floris!” Aemond clicked her tongue, “Floris, Floris wait!”  

He tried to stop her, but she hurried out of the house, slamming the door behind her with a loud bang. 

The closing of the car door shattered Aemond's reverie, jolting him back to the present. He did not notice that the car had stopped moving and now sat parked on the mouth of a winding path leading to a rustic mansion, nestled on the eastern shore of God's Eye Lake.

"We've arrived, Sir," the driver announced, opening the backseat door with a courteous nod. "I'll take care of the luggage.” 

“Hmm.”

He glanced at the sapphire engagement ring in his palm, enclosing it in his fist, before slipping it into the pocket of his black overcoat, as he came out of the car. 

Aemond stood outside his new dwelling, taking in the serene sight of the countryside. The colors of the autumn landscape appeared to blend into the oranges and pinks of the dusky sky. The crisp autumn breeze stirred his silver hair, as the earthy scents of the God’s Eye lake and pine from the woods caressed his senses. Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, he watched the gigantic Harrenhal Castle that stood across the shimmering expanse of the God's Eye Lake, astride its northern shore. 

Despite having never set foot in that part of the country in the twenty-eight years of his life, he couldn't shake off a strange, overwhelming familiarity suffusing through him. The deafening peace of the countryside was engulfing him, stirring memories he could not possibly possess and an inexplicable longing for something he did not even know. 

Why do I feel as if I have come back home, when I have just driven miles away from it?

He reached for his phone exhaling a plume of smoke in the air and sent a quick text to his mother about his safe arrival, ignoring the unsettling feeling creeping into his heart. 

Perhaps, he reasoned, he was merely moved by his proximity to nature. The last few weeks had been tumultuous and taxing on his physical and mental health. 

As he made his way to enter the house, he reminded himself that he made the right decision in choosing not to stay in one of the suites in the resort. 

—

Vhagar’s ceaseless howling throughout the night, made it clear that she did not approve of her new abode.

A hopeless dream in which he was falling into an endless abyss, haunted the wink of sleep he could get and jolted him awake. After a night of restless, fragmented sleep, a headache had started to set in. Neither the taste nor the strength of the Riverlands’ coffee did much to stave it off. 

The dull ache in his scar had not stopped bothering him too, since the night he met Floris. A nagging twinge of guilt of not feeling remorseful about the dissolution of their engagement, kept gnawing at him, only making it difficult for him to forget about it and move on. 

He could not afford to dwell on the past, distracting himself from the hardships that awaited his family. If the business at Harrenhal resort failed to repay the losses incurred due to his uncle’s recklessness, they would be in huge trouble.

An hour later, clad in black from head to toe, Aemond was sitting in the speedboat to cross the lake en route to his new workplace. 

He found himself oddly apprehensive of the rippling water, as the speedboat sliced through the surface of the God’s Eye lake. The brief journey from his mansion to the castle only took ten minutes, and yet, he couldn't wait to be on land again. His discomfort with water persisted since childhood; he had always detested his swimming lessons and never found enjoyment in any of the beach outings to the Blackwater bay. 

Upon entering the castle, that peculiar sense of belonging tugged at his soul once again. 

He dissociatively heard the welcoming remarks by the staff, as his good eye darted across the massive expanse of the edifice, whose premises rivaled the size of a city itself. 

Its majestic ruins had been restored and transformed into a luxury resort which served as a major revenue source for the Targaryen empire. The responsibility of its smooth operation now lay in Aemond's hands as its new managing director.

The entire place displayed a perfect blend of historical charm and modern comfort. Its once-humongous stretch had been halved, with only the tallest of the five towers- the Kingspyre tower, serving as the main functional building. The remaining four towers now stood as historic spots for tourists to explore. A network of zip lines connected all the towers, offering visitors the thrill of flying fox adventure sports. 

The grand hall, formerly known as the Hall of Hundred Hearths, had been repurposed into a museum housing an art gallery, conference hall, and party venue. The expansive stable, still preserved, housed horses of all breeds and colors for riding training and racing activities. A large patch of woods, once a part of the Godswood, had been cleared to make room for resident quarters for the staff. 

The towering curtain wall that once confined the woods within the castle's boundaries had been dismantled, allowing the vegetation to seamlessly blend with the plains. The middle ward had been transformed into a lush oasis of gardens, courtyards, and winding pathways adorned with water fountains.

Once derelict and desolate, Harrenhal now teemed with life and frolic, and yet, Aemond found it bleak and barren. Perhaps his history books had deeply ingrained a certain image in his mind. He only rejoiced in witnessing the parts of the castle that time had not fully consumed - the charred stones stubbornly clinging to the remnants of walls, defiant against the passage of centuries.

As Aemond and the accompanying staff made their way inside the museum, the last spot in his tour of the entire place, 

The manager informed him enthusiastically, "There is a small get-together organized the day after tomorrow, to celebrate the Festival of Mother, and also to welcome you into your new role here.”

"Who all will attend?" Aemond inquired.

"A select group VIP guests from Dorne and Braavos, heads of the staff team, and some shareholders," the head of the operations beamed at him.

"Hmm, you should have consulted me before finalizing any event," Aemond's disinterested tone dampened the hopeful smiles on the faces around him. "I will consider it. I don’t particularly enjoy such social gatherings," he added.

"Sir," the staff nodded in acknowledgment.

Despite the slight annoyance at the invitation, Aemond found himself invigorated in the museum, feeling more alive than he had in weeks. Even the stubborn headache had begun to mitigate, as he traversed the spacious aisles, admiring the streaks of the past on time, preserved and on display there. He had been anticipating a visit since his arrival.

Halting near an art piece that captured his attention - an oil on canvas depicting Aegon’s conquest of the castle of Harrenhal a millennium ago, he asked his personal assistant, “Arrange a guided tour of the museum for me, sometime in the next week. I would also like to have a meeting with the director of the art gallery and the museum curator. Why aren’t they here already?”

“I will send for them at once, Sir,” the assistant replied, pulling out her phone and leaving hurriedly.

He stood there for a few more minutes, admiring the artist's nuanced brushwork in creating the blast of fire from the mighty Balerion the Black Dread, unleashed upon the very castle where he stood centuries later. As his thoughts drifted back to the historical accounts he had studied, a female voice calling his name interrupted them.

“You asked to see me, Mr. Targaryen,” an ordinary, plain voice broke his concentration. The voice was a stark contrast to the sharpness of the speaker's countenance.

A petite woman, unmistakably in her thirties, but not a day above forty, was standing before him. Her dark hair- swallowing the ambient lighting in which his own silver hair gleamed, was immaculately tied in a sleek bun. Two charcoal gray pearls in her earlobes matched the hue of the well-tailored pantsuit that perfectly fitted her curvaceous form. An elegant, age-defying aura surrounded her. 

Her professional veneer didn't seem seamless to him; he could perceive a few fragile fissures in it, as if her untamed ruggedness threatened to burst forth, tearing the veil of her soignè.

 As if she would unravel her real, unrefined self, with a simple act of loosening her hair. 

Like a glimmer of light reflected off obsidian, momentarily brightening it and revealing its majestic darkness, a welcoming warmth twinkled in her piercing eyes. It lingered for a moment, until her unblinking gaze turned somber.

Perhaps that spark shifted from her kohl-lined eyes to her thin, downward-turned lips painted in nude pink, as they curled up in a knowing smirk. But even that smile didn't go beyond a moment. And in that very moment, an oddly comforting, yet a disconcerting sensation enveloped him.

He felt seen through. Exposed. Stripped bare. And for someone as reticent as himself, he liked what he had just felt. 

She shifted the file folder she was carrying to her left hand and extended her right hand in a casual, confident greeting. Aemond's lips twitched into an enamored half-smile as he took her hand and noticed a tattoo of a miniature dragon inked in black, breathing fire with its wings spanning the back of her hand.

“Alys Rivers, manager and the curator of art. Welcome to Harrenhal.” Her smirk returned.

Part-2

[rysticality]

🔏: Stars, Turmoil, and Confessions

hq x reader. mini scenario.

⇲ in which the two had actually bundled up feelings for a long time. now, they spill out in a cheesy shakespeare-wannabe way. completely aware that they both became out of character.

"If you squint your eyes a little more, you might finally realize that he only sees you like the dust being habitually brushed off his shoulders, while you look at him like he's. . .a star."

"That is so out of character for you to say, Miya."

You shifted, straightening your legs to stand up. You held onto the lockers in front of you, hiding away from the sight of the senior you were contentedly gazing at until a mop with blonde hair interrupted the moment. Your knuckles in contact with the grayish boxes resulted in a metallic sound causing you to look at your peripheral vision. The sigh of relief after seeing the senior leaving was short lived when you heard an unnecessary "ahem" at your side.

You glared at him. Quietly.

Quietly hoping that you would have it in yourself to find patience again for the audacity of the athlete infront of you.

He glared back, but there was a glint of something unfamiliar with it. Quietly.

He's quietly hoping not to accidentally vocalize the turmoil ongoing inside him. The kind that does not pull one into an abyss of doubts. A hole of chaos. A pit of hesitations.

No. This is a kind of turmoil. . .

"Well?" You asked after a three minute staredown with him. "You sure had a lot to say just a few minutes ago—"

"Turmoil." . . .in the shape of butterflies.

"What?" You crossed your arms as he became wide-eyed.

God. I really am not myself today.

"I'm sorry, Miya. But if this is another attempt to convince me in tutoring you for English then it is not working." Unconsciously, you stared at his adam's apple as it moved. His habit whenever he tries to think of wording something better. Your eyes moved upwards, meeting his line of sight. His gaze that could tell so much.

But none of that prepared you into finding out that he mistakenly thought you were in love with someone else. Someone who is not him. The senior. Although, he was not wrong. It was just that — the senior was currently a way for you to try to get over him.

"It's weird that you're now calling me, Miya." Shaking his head to avoid your suspecting stare. Then he pouted, trying to a make the atmosphere playful. You narrowed your eyes even more, he's doing something you've recalled from your past tutoring sessions with him. Topic-shifting.

"What's weirder is you sneaking behind my back as I internally fawn over my new crush. To move on from that previous numb, oblivious, and clearly uninterested one." You retored, noticed how his brows twitch at every emphasis of those words.

"You don't have to do that." You looked at him with questioning eyes as he scratched the back of his head. "Uhm, I might have heard that he; the "numb and oblivious." His ears turned red. "Could also like you—uh, he might also be interested in you. I mean your—"

"My crush?"

"Yes, your crush!" He exclaimed, biting his lip. "He might just be a bit of a coward—"

"A bit?"

"Alright!" He blurted back. "He was really a coward in those moments that just felt right. For those silly back and forths. The times that he took for granted. For ever letting those chances slip becase he's afraid that it's all only in his head." He sighed. You feel your heart crumbling while watching him being teary-eyed.

During the tutoring sessions. The practice matches. The encounters in the corridors. Him in the court. You in the sidelines. The feelings passed around through your intersecting perspectives.

"Call it me being a "fool", but I never thought it could actually be possible."

He looked at you straight in the eyes. You liking me back you know? His golden irises reflected on the mirrors of your soul. Filled with emotions that you've become familiar with because you've already witnessed them a couple of times.

"While you call it that way. All I could describe it is that it's strange too."

You sighed, the long awaited confession at the tip of your tongue. Your arms fell both at your sides as your hands clenched into fists, closing your eyes.

"It's strange that up until now you'd accuse me of gazing at someone like he's a star—"

"Y/N—"

"When all I've ever thought is that you were my entire universe."

Meeting his intense gaze, he closed the distance. The ends of your worn out shoes touching. His index finger trying to meet with yours. Smiles sneaking onto two pairs of lips. No one knows the hazy proximity of the two students at the school grounds. During after class hours. The rays of the setting hitting them as if it is obviously eavesdropping on their conversation.

His eyes finally gleamed in unmasked fascination after hearing your words.

"You're not a fool, Tsumu."

©️ rysticality

[kyberblade]

Bring You Back (Din x Reader) - Back To You Halloween AU

A/N: You all can blame @fordo-kixed-rex for this. She asked me, “What would happen if there was an AU where the reader in BTY went Darkside?” And I said how dare you here’s what would happen and it went from there. I’ve been sitting on this for months. It’s been torture. The name is based off of a song that just clicked for it, Bring You Back by Gold Brother, LIIV and if you want extra emotional damage, put it on repeat while you read. I am not advising this for health and safety reasons. I’m not to be held responsible for any turmoil this may cause. You do so at your own peril.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: The Darkside is always a temptation, even at the best of times…. What would happen if you ended up slipping further and further down a dark path? ….A path they couldn’t follow?

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. I know. I’m confusing. Welcome to my brain. Part of the Back To You Universe, so you’ll be kinda confused if you read it on its own, bc spoilers, but it can be read as a stand alone if you want. (Idk where exactly it takes place, but I know it’s after Part 19, sometime before or during TBoBF timeline that will be coming up in the sequel Close To Home.) Mando’a. Arguing. Mentions of saga typical violence. (See how frustratingly vague I was there?) It ends on a brighter note, don’t worry. It’s not all gloom and doom. I couldn’t do that to them. ……or could I? 😈

Word count: 2,326 (I know. What even is this drivel?)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for the idea and seeing this through from start to finish. And @littlemisspascal and @what-the-heckin-heck for flailing on this with me as it developed. I really appreciate you guys. You make me smile a lot. 😁

Also, stay tuned at the end for some kick ass art by @fordo-kixed-rex. 👀 (You’re not prepared. I’m telling you now. Buckle up, children.)

Xxx

Din POV

It had been little things, at first. Just small things he’d normally not think twice about, but they started to make him take a closer look. 

The way you’d look at an enemy.

At him.

His son.

It was icy, glazed over, and distant, yet fiery and ruthless all at the same time. It painted those under its gaze in shades of fear. 

Of disdain.

With something close to death.

Din hated that last thought, but he’d been around enough of that in his life to know what it looked like. He knew death intimately. It was a close acquaintance. He’d brushed up against it time and time again, and each time it would kiss his cheek with a promised, soon, as he whispered back, not today.

He wouldn’t pretend to know the workings of the Force. It was still a mystery to him. But he knew you.

And this wasn’t it.

This was something else.

You were shadows. Shadows of what you were. Of yourself. A shell. Something wasn’t right. But like always, Din felt like he was looking at a sun when he’d stare at you for too long, so he could never look long enough to tell exactly what was off. He’d only get lingering impressions, spotted vision that left him open and vulnerable.

A rattled crate here. A broken box there.

A common thief just after a few credits left clutching their throat as the life was choked out of them by an unseen hand; their wide eyes peering over your shoulder, pleading with him through his visor for just an ounce of mercy, an ounce of forgiveness from this…. Hell they had found themselves in.

But what could he do?

It had been made clear time and time again you didn’t listen when he told you what to do. In fact, you came to resent it. I am not a tooka, you would say, he remembered fondly, smiling down at the painting in his hands.

He’d bought it for you once upon a time. A token. A promise. Though unspoken, it was his vow at the time to always make it back to you. Then it had been used as a threat against him, against you, that had propelled this whole adventure into motion. Until….

Now….

Now he looked at the painting that once symbolized home, a dream, and he saw…. A void. Nothing.

He sighed.

If this was the path you truly chose, then he had to choose his own. For the good of the child. Himself. And for you.

He’d confront you somewhere private. Some backwater planet. You’d always wanted to see somewhere green…. He just wished he’d gotten around to it sooner. Maybe then…. Maybe then you’d be happy about this visit, instead of what he expected, which was anger at him.

But he couldn’t keep waiting.

Couldn’t keep putting it off.

Din turned toward the ramp with another sigh. He knew this would break your heart.

He knew because his was already breaking.

Xxx

Normal POV

You looked around at the towering trees, smiling. Off in the distance between mighty boughs, a flicker of light…. Then another…. And another…. “Fireflies!” Despite your voice going up several octaves in excitement, you kept it hushed, hoping to not scare off the insects. But it turned out you didn’t need to worry about your voice, because as soon as you started toward them, they scattered, despite being a whole ships distance away from you.

Cocking your head, you tried to move towards another batch, but they too suddenly disappeared, scattering like the sparks of a dying fire.

Your brows narrowed in confusion as you came to a stop. They’d always swarmed to you, swirling around you in a cloud of light and energy, never had they run from you.

“That’s weird.”

“Maybe they sense it, too.”

You whirled around at Din’s low modulated voice. Once again he’d been able to sneak up on you, not a single bootfall down the ramp giving him away.

Smiling bemusedly at him, you settled your weight easily, head tipping back in question. “What do you mean?” You asked after a moment, turning to give him your full attention.

“Your powers, mesh’la. They’ve changed you.” His voice was low, pained. He stayed near the bottom of the ramp, his weight shifting slightly before he planted his feet and stood resolute, a sigh shrugging his shoulders gently before he went on. “At first I thought that was just the Jedi way, what do I know?” You chuckled softly. “But things have gotten worse. You’re…. You’re different.”

You scoffed, arms coming across your chest as your hip cocked out to the side, head tilting slightly with a sarcastic smirk. “You’re right. What do you know?” The words practically sneered from your lips, and you regretted them the moment they spilled, but you didn’t make a move to take them back.

It was like something had taken over your body, your motions…. Nothing felt entirely like your own, but it also felt so right down to your very bones. It made you shudder slightly at the contradiction warring inside your mind. 

Ignoring your slight, Din went on, his weight shifted to one leg. “Fine. Explain it to me.”

Arms going wide, you began to gesture as you spoke, voice raising with each word. “I’m doing this to protect the two of you, Din! I was useless before! Now I’m-“

“Now you’re what?”

“Strong.” Your brow furrowed as you stared up at his visor bravely. Holding his gaze, you never once wavered under its unforgiving stare. “Now I can help.”

“Really?” Din nearly chuckled, gesturing vaguely back toward the ship. “Because Grogu is so scared of you,” he dropped his arm, leaning in closer to you, his voice lowered, “he won’t leave the ship.”

“That’s not-“ you turned around in a circle and realized the kid wasn’t there. “Where is he, Din? You’re hiding him aren’t you? To prove a point.” Looking around once again, you let out an emotionless chuckle. “You stashed him in the bunk, didn’t you?” You started up the ramp. “I told you not to-“

“Don’t.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring blankly ahead toward the opening of the Crest, not really seeing anything in front of you but the white hot anger that began to brew just under your skin. “Excuse me?” If your words were any quieter, you’d not have heard them yourself. Turning to him, you arched a brow.

He stared at you in silence for only a moment before he spoke in a soft, but firm, voice. “Until you sort this out, don’t go back on the ship.”

With a scoff in disbelief, you shifted your weight to your other hip, one hand coming to rest there, and rolled your eyes. “It’s my home, Din.” You chuckled again, your tone still dry and mirthless. “What are you talking about?”

He walked past you up the ramp, turning once he was at the top and hesitantly lifting his hand onto the lever. “Until you sort this out, until you get back to…. You…. It’s not.” His visor fixed squarely on you, Din’s fingers rolled in a procession of indecision along the spine of the metal gripped tightly in his hand, his gloves creaking with the effort in the silence. You stared right back. Met him ounce for ounce. Until…. He pulled down and closed the ramp.

Stumbling backwards as the ship lifted a few feet off the ground, the ramp beginning to close, you fell to the ground with a thump , landing flat on your back. The wind knocked out of you as you stared up at the shrinking form of the Crest, an anger you’d never felt before consumed you, and you reached out one hand, crying out in anguish as you held the ship firmly in place. 

Whether it was a cry of pain, emotional or physical, fear, maybe even frustration, you didn’t know. All you knew was you couldn’t let them leave, and whatever it was boiled up and out of your throat as you watched the ship struggle against your hold. The metal moaned and groaned against your pull, the trees surrounding it bowing and bending in the wind from the engines. Limbs began to catch fire from the flames as Din hit the accelerators to try and break free from the phantom grip, but it was no use. 

Somehow you made it to your feet, one hand extended to keep the ship held still, tree limbs doused in flames falling to the forest floor with loud thuds all around you. With your other hand, you reached for your saber, not really sure why, but suddenly it was in your hand and ignited as you made your way toward the viewport of the ship.

Stalking around the corner, you stopped short when you saw your reflection in the transparisteel - your eyes had gone yellow and your saber - it had started to bleed. Red streaks were oozing down from the tip, tainting the once brilliant purple glow of balance with the bright red of hate. 

Blinking rapidly and shaking your head as you released the ship, you disengaged the blade and threw it to the ground, staring at it as if it had bit you while Din brought the ship back down with a thunk. 

The blaze of the fallen branches painted the reflective hull of the Crest in an eerie glow, shadows dancing all around as you curled in on yourself, staring at your saber where it had landed on the forest floor.

Din lowered the ramp and stomped down to you, getting in your face, but didn’t touch you. A deep enough breath would be all it would take to close the distance. You had to crane your neck back to hold the gaze of his visor, your face about to crumble under its weight this time. It’s the first time he’s seen you flinch in a long while. Looking at your reflection in his visor, you see your eyes are back to normal, but that settled next to nothing in your gut. “Let us go, mesh’la.”

“No. I won’t.” Then quieter. “I can’t.”

Din sighed, and you almost smiled at the borderline normal response from the Mandalorian. “Why not?”

Eyes fluttering shut, you willed yourself not to cry. “Because without the two of you, I’ll completely break. And when that happens….. when that happens, you’ll never get me back.” Making your way the few steps to the bottom of the ramp, you sat on it, still looking up at your warped reflection in his visor. It was fitting. Your eyes may be back to normal, but your face…. Your face looked twisted and broken. Exactly how you felt. “I’ll never get back to you.”

Xxx

Shooting up in the small confines of the bunk space of the Crest, you took a sharp breath. Eyes darting all over, familiar blinking lights winking at you in greeting, the thunk under the cargo hold saying hello, and the soft snores of Grogu sawing steadily away in the background….

You jumped as strong, warm arms wound around your waist, the comforting press of a familiar chest leaning into your spine, the prickle of facial hair tickled your shoulder where it softly came to rest as gentle breaths puffed against your cheek….

“Mesh’la….?” A deep voice hummed in question.

A voice you’d know anywhere.

Vocoder or not.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “Bad dream.” Huffing out a laugh, you shook your head gently. “Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He sounded like he was already halfway back asleep.

Turning your head to look at his profile in the low light of the bunk, you smiled softly as your eyes flicked over his face. “No, cyare.” Reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, you pulled him into you for a soft kiss. “Thank you. I’ll be fine. Nuhoy.” (“Beloved.”) (“Sleep.”)

As he pulled you back down toward the bedroll with him, your face melted into something a bit more contemplative.

It hadn’t been just a dream.

It had been a warning.

Slipping from the bunk once Din’s breaths had evened out, you walked over to where your belt hung by the fresher. Taking the saber from the belt, you glanced over to the open bunk, your expression tight, and closed the door with a wave of your hand.

Dismantling it down to the kyber inside, you breathed a sigh of relief when the crystal winked at you in the low light, unblemished. It’s purple hue completely unmarred from the ugly red it’d had in your dream.

After you reassembled the hilt, you ignited the blade and relaxed your shoulders further when the cargo hold was illuminated in the soft purple glow.

You stared at the blade for a moment, getting lost in the sea of silence hyperspace surrounded you with.

Careful.

Careful. 

Careful.

Be mindful, little one.

I sense much fear in you….

“Not right now, kyber blade,” you mumbled to yourself as you addressed the saber. “Now it’s time for sleep. Not time for voices.” Disengaging the blade, you clipped it back to your belt before making your way back into the bunk. “I couldn’t get a blue crystal. Or green. No. I had to get a wise ass purple one. The universe is testing me. Literally.”

Luke had told you to be careful, as well.

Maybe you needed to listen.

But this was a problem for the morning.

For now, you needed to do nothing but settle into the arms of your Mandalorian and rest.

But come morning…. Come morning, things were going to happen.

And you knew you would do whatever you needed to do to protect your family, your aliit.

Your clan of three.

Whatever it took, no matter how far you had to go….

You would always find a way to bring them back to you.

Xxx

(Click here for just the art in its own post.)

Xxx

Tags To Come!

[a-rat-dressed-like-a-bee]

Space.

He's lying beside me. On his back. Keeping his hands to himself.

Eyes upturned. I've stopped talking about my day. I don't think he has noticed.

Like a listener, he is quiet. Perhaps he is still listening. But not to me.

He is elsewhere. He is in her arms. His eyes gazing into their past. His past with her.

Ears are taking in what she's saying.

I wonder which memory has his attention. The time she kissed him first. His first kiss. The time she danced with him in the rain. The only time he ever danced. The time she took him home. To the silence of her room after the disquiet of forks on plates and small talk with family.

He has never met my mother. Still keeps in touch with hers.

Perhaps it is a different memory I'd never know.

I wish he would come back to me. He's been gone since he heard the news from a friend. She lies in a lonely colourless room. Terminally ill. A part of him lies with her. About to be lost forever.

He hates me now. I think. He doesn't look at me anymore. Perhaps he sees in me the reasons for him not talking to her. Him deleting their chats. Their photos.

I erased her much before the illness got to her. He hates me.

I am the cancer that ate away at a cherished past. He hates me.

I wish he didn't hate me so much. Little does he know that I would swap myself with her. Gladly be the one dying.

It would be quicker than the death he causes me now. Breaking my heart by going away from me. Taking away any love he had for me.

She has all his love again. I have nothing.

Sorry what were you saying? Nothing baby. Nothing important. I was just talking about my day. Boring stuff. You go to sleep now. Go back to your dreams. I feel hot. Do you mind if I sleep on the edge?

Surely not. More space for her.

The one you've never stopped loving.

I wasn't sure what to call it, "More space for her," or just simply "Space." Settled with the latter for now. It's a purely fictional poem I wrote after reading "Revolving Days" by David Malouf, when a wave of sadness had hit me. It is mainly about lovers growing apart because one of them is depressed due to the knowledge of a former partner's deteriorating health. I wanted the speaker of the poem to be the other partner so that I could chiefly explore the emotional turmoil of the present lover in the poem. They can do nothing but try to be understanding of the partner's depression and give them the space they need, while preparing themselves to face a more permanent space (an irreversible damage to their current relationship).

[lnights]

Ok thoughts on the new album.

TLDR: I really like it! I would put it above LOTSAD. I think Phobia is my favorite

Me examining it like a sample in a petri dish below:

There are some similar things between EE and LOTSAD but to me it's almost like two sides of the same coin.

For example Glory for the Greedy and Not Your Bro have the same theme of people trying to act different once they started to get more popular.

While Glory was more about the corporate side, labels and producers and such that had rejected them before and then wanted to get a cut while they gleefully rejected them in turn now.

I have always supported your band" You haven't? Our last chat you were saying "ditch the rapper" "I believed in your vision" Hmm, no you didn't? You told us to lose the guitars and sing in Finnish "You're gonna be a big band, I always knew" Shut the fuck up man, no thanks to you "Prepare getting sued" Well prepare to fucking lose We ain't giving away percentages for work you didn't do

Not Your Bro is more the personal side of things.

When are we gonna hang, bro? It must be crazy touring with the band, bro Let me know if you ever need a hand, bro What can I say I'll return the favor, I'm returning the fear Your apologies only hurting my ears Call me a brother once again And I swear You'll disappear

And that theme stayed in my mind the whole album, where LOTSAD was triumphant to almost an annoying degree (I still liked it tbh) Exit Emotions is showing more of the turmoil that comes from the grind they've been putting themselves through. I think at this point we've all read or heard from them how there's been days they've been up for over 24 hours, that they were literally recording the album in hotel rooms between shows. I personally am a little haunted by the live where Niko explained that they weren't supposed to have such a packed tour schedule last year while recording the album but things just kind of happened, and Joel, Joonas, and Aleksi were just quiet but had this look of defeat on their faces. And one of them saying later that they were scared to listen to the album because they were so sleep deprived when they were recording it... Bros need a fucking break.

But back to the album, I have to admit I expected Wolves in California to be an absolute cringe fest and it was to a degree, but for as much as they've been trying to break into the American market I kind of love that the song was more talking about Finland and how they don't necessarily feel steady in the US.

The night is darkest just before the dawn But where I'm from the sun don't rise at all Damn you, now I need someone to shout at Damn you, now I need someone to shout at Damn you, now I need someone to shout We don't belong here We don't belong here, no Everybody tried to warn ya Now there's wolves in California

Yes it talks about conquering too but I digress.

Where's the Exit

Screaming rap goblin Niko my beloved, keep it up you sad clown. But again, a contrast from LOTSAD:

This life is what you fake it And everybody has a deathwish True tell me where's the exit

Red Tail Lights vs Don't Fix Me

From say Balboa that talked about getting up again and again against the odds and not giving up.

Both songs scream Joel to me, I don't know if it was him turning 30 or what but we went from Don't fix me:

Don't fix me Let me bleed out, leave me open No, don't fix me Maybe I was born to be broken I'm dead inside And it's alright (And it's alright) So don't fix me (Don't fix me) Don't fix me

Saying yeah I'm broken but it's who I am to Red Tail Lights:

I'm rolling rolling rolling rolling with the punches I need the beating 'cause there's nothing under my chest Here's something to digest

And

On the run, on the run, running from my heart Red tail lights is all I've got

I get the impression of yeah this is who I am, but there seems to be regret now, a different tone.

Autopsy and Phobia both funky little songs talking about fears. 10/10 no notes

Keeping it Surreal sounds more inline with Violent Pop or Blood Brothers to me, and that's giving me hope we'll get more songs like that when they inevitably make another album, hopefully in a year and not in like 6 months.

XOXO, I just loved it, I like From Ashes to New and hearing Matti and Danny and Joona on the song? Wonderful.

Of course we have the singles too:

Flatline is catchy and I've always enjoyed, dorky little dance aside.

Happy Doomsday, meh. It's better live but it has started to grow on me.

Deadzone, cringy but their brand of cringy, I do enjoy it.

Die Another Day, somebody correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Feel Nothing and Bad Idea from the same event in Niko's life that inspired Die Another Day? He had a lot of pain from that. Love all three of those songs.

But also fascinating looking at the progression between the three: Feel Nothing, still in the pits of despair and numb to the pain.

Bad Idea, internalizing the fallout and admitting things that went wrong

Die Another Day, trying to pull yourself out of that pit

Then we have our final song, One Last Time... Again.

Holy hell it's a tone shift from Thank You for the Pain, where TYFTP was all about their rise to fame and leaning to deal withit, One Last Time... Again speaks more to accepting things will never be the same and is a lot more driven then TYFTP.

But ffs, they need to stop putting fillers at the end of their albums.

[ashland-frost]

Straightforwardness

Sebastian x Frost

Beginning 6th year @ hogwarts

Sebastian's 5th year proved to be the most challenging one yet. Fueled by an unwavering determination to find a cure for his sister, he found himself caught between the warnings of his best friend about the dangers of dark arts. Amidst all this, a new student managed to find a special place in his heart. It was a year filled with countless events - he even found himself succumbing to anger and fear, leading to the unfortunate demise of his uncle. His best friend struggled to define their friendship, while his sister, after burying their uncle, couldn't look at him the same way anymore. And to add to the turmoil, his newfound friend contemplated sending him to Azkaban, but ultimately decided against it. As the summer before his 6th year approached, tragedy struck again, leaving Sebastian shattered, his sister Anne finally succumbed to the curse and died. However, he resolved to conceal his pain and put on a brave face.

As the new term commences, whispers about Sebastian's sister have already started circulating. People approach him with sympathetic apologies, but he has grown weary of hearing those words. "I'm sorry" seems meaningless now, as the damage has already been done and cannot be undone. Sebastian feels the need to apologize, but those who should hear it are not present. In such a situation, what can he possibly do?

Ominis and Sebastian are seated on the grass in the courtyard, discussing their preparations for the transfiguration class. Suddenly, a group of girls passes by, giggling and spreading rumors about Paris and Garreth going on a date in Hogsmeade. The girls express their surprise, as they believed Paris had feelings for Sebastian. One of them remarks, "I thought she had a crush on Sebastian," while another adds, "Yeah, poor Sebastian. I think he likes her. Just wait until he finds out... oh!" The girls abruptly stop and fall silent as they notice Sebastian's intense gaze fixed upon them.

Sebastian's voice lacked any hint of emotion as he addressed the group of ladies. "Please, don't let me interrupt your captivating conversation. I'm quite intrigued by the way my name seems to be on the tip of your tongues." His eyes, however, betrayed his true feelings. They were filled with a mixture of disappointment and displeasure. The girls, too frightened to respond, hastily made their exit, with Sebastian's gaze following their every move. He reclined back on the wall, shutting his book with a heavy sigh.

Ominis, concerned for his friend, couldn't help but address Sebastian. "Sebastian, I understand that now might not be the best time to ask if you're alright, but I can't help but worry. Are you alright?" Ominis knew that Sebastian had developed a fondness for Paris ever since she joined Hogwarts last year. He hoped that whatever had transpired wouldn't cause too much distress for his friend.

Gazing up at the sky, his expression inscrutable, he murmured, "I'm not sure... I really don't know." His fingers absentmindedly traced over the pages of his textbook, devoid of any motivation to continue studying. "I thought she felt the same way about me."

"I had the same impression, but she's quite impatient by nature. Maybe she's uncertain about your feelings towards her? I'm not exactly the best person to give relationship advice," Ominis admitted, feeling at a loss for words to comfort his friend.

"Well, if that's the case, then maybe she's not willing to wait for someone like me," his friend's voice was tinged with sadness, and Ominis could sense the hurt in his words.

Meanwhile in hogsmeade

"What the fuck am I seeing?" Frost asks, gazing at Garreth and Sebastian in various spots around Paris. "Ain't that bitch with Sebastian?"

"For Merlin's sake, Frost, watch your language!" Constance scolds.

Frost clicks her tongue. "So... are they a couple now?"

"Maybe? It certainly seems that way," Constance replies, glancing at the pair enjoying their date.

"Do you think I have a chance with Sallow now?" Frost inquires.

"You really don't waste any time, do you?" Constance chuckles.

“Nah not about it, Sallow is hot as fuck, did you see how much taller he is, those broad shoulders.. I wanna wrap my legs around them and pull on his hair” Frost bits her lips at the thought

“What is wrong with you…” she looks at her friend with concern

“Ahhh.. he's gonna be so crushed, look at them partially fucking” watching Garreth kiss Paris

“Frost!”

“What?”

“Please tell me your not about to talk to Sebastian that way”

Frost pouts slightly “ you crazy? I might scare him off, but it would be nice if he ends up liking my .. straightforwardness”

“Yeah.. straightforwardness is what we'll call it”

Evening

Sebastian stands solemnly by the weeping lovers statue, gazing at the rippling water.

“Interesting sight, huh?” Frost remarks, observing Sebastian's solitude.

“Do you plan on approaching him?”

“Right this instant?”

“what happened to no time wasted?”

“Alright, give me a moment,” she inhales deeply, then crouches down and stretches.

“What's with the dramatics? This isn't a duel.”

“Easy for you to say!”

Constance chuckles and playfully shoves her friend. “Good luck, and watch your tongue, don't scare the poor guy,” she teases before scampering off.

Frost let out a frustrated sigh and muttered, "Oh, fuck!" She then approached Sebastian, tilting her head up to look at him.

Sebastian's eyes shifted to see who was getting too close to him, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her. Her eyes were so bright and captivating, impossible to miss. "Can I help you?" he asked, curiously

Clearing her throat, Frost replied, "Actually, it is I who is here to help this little snake. He seems quite down, and this birdie wants to lend a hand."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly will this birdie help the snake? Besides, this snake is much bigger than this tiny little birdie."

"You know, birds eat snakes," Frost retorted.

Sebastian smirked. "And snakes eat small birds. So, what's your point?"

Frost's eyes narrowed, and she snapped back, "I'm not that small! You fucking anaconda!"

Sebastian was taken aback by her boldness, and he burst into laughter, clutching his sides. This made Frost pout. "I thought you wanted to help, not insult me, If I'm an anaconda, then I suppose that makes you a snow fairy, those cute little round balls," he teased, leaning down with a mischievous smirk on his face. It seemed their banter had lightened his mood considerably.

“You're lucky I like those birds but don't call me a round ball feels odd, and yes I was trying to make you feel better with all the things you been though and .. umm”

“And Paris going on a date with Garreth as everyone keeps talking about because they thought we were going to date? Is that it? Were you going to tell me sorry for my dead sister as well and the girl you like going out with someone else” he's face bearing a hint of annoyance it was always the same thing these days. Though he wasn't ready for her answer.

“Uhh well yeah sorry about Anne, she was a pretty awesome girl, but fuck Paris, I was gonna tell you, you're hot as fuck, you devilishly handsome fellow and you don't need that heifer” Frost relaized he had been cursing and Constance literally told her not to. Looking up at Sebastian's face she wasn't sure what expression he was making, but the corners of his mouth perked up into a smile.

“You sure curse like a sailor”

“Ah.. yeah sorry bout that”

“It's alright I rather like your … straightforwardness”

“Yeah that what we'll call it”

It was silent between them for a moment as they stared at each other.

“Well.. I was going to be all polite and stuff but that didn't work so, argh I'll just give you some advice.. not that I really want to but I'll say two things”

He raises a brow “ alright let's have it”

“One, don't fancy this option it's not in my best interest but, just confess you like the heifer and don't mind Garreth.. I'm sure she likes you and your far better than him”

“Mmmh you don't like gingers?”

“Oh no,.. your voice is just hundred times more pleasant to my ear”

“I see, and the second bit of advice?” he chuckled and stared at her curiously

“Second.. forget her and find someone that will wait for you”

That was somehow he didn't expect to hear from anyone “ that will wait for me?” He says low

She feels embarrassed her eyes dart around and then go back to him “ yeah wait for you, you just lost your sister over the summer and I could see even before, last year you were a bit of a mess, I feel if she really likes you she'd wait for you or at the very least confirm your feelings for each first before cuddling up to another guy..I don't mean to over step as we don't talk much but those are my thoughts”

Sebastian turns and leans with his back fully on the wall, he's silent with his arms folded lost in thought, Frost waits patiently fiddling with her fingers.

He looks back at her “ thank you”

“You're… welcome” she says softly

The bell rings for signaling time for dinner.

He moves from the wall “guess it's dinner time, and I suppose I'll take your advice, see you around little snow fairy” he walks away

“Wait! One or Two?” She yells

He laughs still walking off “ you'll find out soon enough”

“Soon enough my arse, I have no patience for shit.. fuckk” Frost makes her way to the Great Hall for dinner running into Constance “so how did it go?”

“Well?” she says Reluctantly

“you cursed, didn't you?”

“yup”

“how much are we talking ?”

“I called him a fucking anaconda and called Paris a heifer..”

“... what did he say?”

“he laughed.. he laughed and said he liked my straightforwardness”

“Well fuck”

“language Conny!”

“oh stuff it!” They both laughed.

Sitting at the Ravenclaw table the two girls talked and laughed. Constance felt like someone was looking at them, she saw Sebastian staring at Frost which made her giggle, her friend finally got the attention of her crush and hopes it's not just a one time thing.

“What are you giggling about, Conny?”

“Eat your food and vegetables too”

“Ugh.. seriously what are you? Just look at these green things .. it's too bitter”

“Thought you liked green things” she smirks

“.... no comment”

At the Slytherin table

“Do tell me what has caught your attention so much that you are not listening to my amazing voice, is it still about earlier or is it something else?” askes Ominis

“A bit of both I believe, I had an interesting conversation with a little bird that curses like crazy”

“Ah that would be Ash Frost I take it, she's good for a laugh, did she confess her undying love for you?”

“Her what?”

“Oh.. so no then, though she would, poor girl's been head over heels for you for awhile”

“How do you know that?”

“Sebastian, it's me, I know everything that happens here, Gossip Gaunt hello!”

“You're unbelievable, you sure she likes me?”

“Mm? Did she actually manage to get your attention?”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because Sebastian Sallow, I don't think you really know yourself well, your a friendly guy but you always keep a wall up .. even with me, I was surprised how well you got along with Paris so quickly but now you two barely talk”

“A Lot has happened..”

“I know that, I do. Just be careful getting along too quickly with someone again.. though I'm fine if it's her”

“You're fine with Frost, why?”

“Talk to her more and you'll see, you too are very much alike, she's just very well naughty is probably a nice way to put it”

“She gets in trouble?”

“No her mouth just says whatever she thinks and I'm sure you'd be surprised by what she says about you”

“Oh you mean like.. oh! Yeah I can see that”

“So what did you talk about with her?”

“Well.. she told me to either tell Paris how I feel or in her words fuck that heifer and find someone else”

Ominis spat out his tea “ Bloody hell.. you should marry her”

“Ominis!”

‘What, listen Sallow any person that truly cares for you will tell you want you need to hear and the fact that she likes you but still tells you to confess to another is amazing, I would never”

“Yeah.. she's something”

“Indeed, now eat your chicken you haven't taken one bite”

“you're blind how do you know and I'm not in the mood for it”

“You sure, aren't birds your thing now?”

“Fuck you”

“Oh she's rubbing off on you already”

[turtlebros4u]

TMNT Bayverse Boys x Reader: Hands on their weapons (3\4)

SFW Fluff

TW: Emotional Turmoil/Anxiety?

I'm saving my favorite for last, so here we go it's Leo time. These stories just kinda go wherever they want once I start so it's not exactly where I thought it would be but I still like it a lot.

Prompt: What would each of the brothers do if you picked up their weapons out of curiosity?

Leo

"Splinter?" You ask from the barstool behind the counter, cheek resting against your hand.

"Yes, my child?" He responds without looking up from his tea preparation.

"How-" you trail off not entirely sure how to phrase the question. The words escape you, and your face twists as you reach for the meaning.

You take a breath and try again, "how do you balance between being proud of how you've influenced the boys to be their best self without getting anxious that you might have caused them harm in the process or that you might mess up and hurt them again?"

Splinter gives a thoughtful hum. You watch him pour three mugs of tea.

He is quiet for another minute as he warms his digits on the now full mug. You worry you've asked too difficult of a question and open your mouth to just tell him to forget it, but he answers before you can announce your defeat.

"I worry much about my sons. But when I am in their precense it is easy to feel more pride than worry.....It was not always that way, I worried much when they were younger." He pauses and lifts his eyes from the mug to you. "To prevent them from picking up on my fear of being a poor father, I created a habit of being anxious about them when I am alone. I learned to meditate to bring myself peace from those worries."

He looks back down at his tea, "At times I even worry that in my attempt to protect them from my own insecurities I set a poor example for them. I did not show them how to acknowledge, let alone manage, their insecurities. But," he said with a more positive tone, "that is the weight a father carries. And my meditation does me well."

Your eyes also drop to the two mugs of hot tea in front of you. You feel empathy for the old rat, it was easy to forget that he is not always stoic and full of helpful proverbs. You suppose maybe you'd only seen him at his best, in front of his sons he is respected, prideful, confident as a sensei and reserved, thoughtful and a bit of a jokester as a father.

You wonder how many times you'd seen him meditating or doing chores or just wandering the liar silently and how he might be fighting his own demons even if he didn't look like it.

"I suppose I should focus on my meditation then," you say trying not to sound dissatisfied with his answer, considering how he shared such an honest one.

"And why is that?" the old rat asks.

You glance up at him in confusion. Didn't he just tell you that meditation helps? "Uh...to help with my anxieties about my influence on the boys, I really like being around them but I'm worried I might not always be doing or saying the right things and I-"

Splinter places a hand on your shoulder and chuckles, again your eyes plead for answers. "My child," he says softly, "I have already made my choices. You are not their father and they are not so young anymore. You have an opportunity to choose. Show my sons your anxieties, tell them how they worry you, and perhaps then you may teach my sons something that I cannot."

You consider what he means. You imagine telling the turtles whom you admire so much that sometimes they scare you, or worry you, or that you worry you'll hurt them because you feel you put them in more danger. This gives you more anxiety.

"Do not make decisions over cold tea, " Splinter warns with a gentle smile before shuffling off.

You take a breath and both cups of tea in your hands. Splinter was right, you'll have your tea with Leo and maybe his blue eyes and cool confidence would calm your nerves.

You make your way into the dojo, Leo has his back to you, legs crossed and meditating as you quietly set the tea down at the usual small table in the corner. You don't seem to have made any noise and were glad not to disturb him. At the least this proves he wasn't a mind reader else he would be assaulted by the noise of your anxious thoughts. You sit down gently on the cushion and wait for him to complete his meditation while the tea cools to a drinkable temperature.

You close your eyes and try to calm yourself but you thoughts race. That voice in your head telling you that you aren't good enough pipes up again. Your shoulders droop from the weight you feel on your heart.

You open your eyes and look towards Leo. You felt a twinge of serenity as you did so. He didn't move, but he looked so steady, so peaceful, like an oasis to you. You wonder if he knew you were there. He always knew, you haven't yet been able to fool him. Feeling the trickle of calm from his direction, you stand and walk quietly towards him.

With every step you soak in his perfectly poised figure. You move slowly each step bringing you deeper into the trance he must know he has on you.

You are less than a foot away from him, from the katanas sheathed against his shell.

You look at him. His chest rising slowly and deliberately with each controlled breath. He remains unmoved. There's no way he doesn't know you are there, right?

You can see the knicks in his shell glint in the light. Even some of the subtle scars on his shoulders that you only know are there because he showed you.

You study the knot at the back of his head where his mask ties. It looks so deliberate. He wears it so intentionally.

You come back to your senses, you have been standing behind him for some time now and you feel awkward, standing here silently, watching him. Kind of creepy even for you. You can't just say something now though or he'd know you were there the whole time.

A shimmer catches your eye of the katana in its sheath. You don't realize it but you don't feel anxious anymore. You feel braver and more confident and begin to wonder if you could unsheath one of his swords without him knowing.

Deciding to play your presence off as a prank, you reach to grab the handle, remaining as steady as possible so as not to alert him.

Your heart rate rises, but is not anxiety now, it's adrenaline, it's definitely too late now to say anything. You pause a moment to see if he notices you've grabbed hold of the handle.

He remains still.

You slowly begin to extract the sword. It's heavier than you expected but not unwieldy. It feels like an eternity of slow motion movement. The katana feels like it's never ending.

Halfway through you add a second hand for the weight and keep pulling. You see it begin to sharpen to the point and stifle a sigh of relief.

You were glad for its balanced weight, even with it being made for Leo's larger proportions it was not difficult to handle.

Feeling confident and powerful holding one of the the fearless leader's swords in your hands, you aren't really sure what to do with it now.

You can see your reflection in the blade. This sparks an idea and with both hands grasping tightly to the handle, you lower it over his shoulder and into his view to finally make your presence known.

You lower it until you can see his a sliver of his reflection in the shiny steel. His eyes are closed, he looked so focused you almost felt bad for even considering disturbing him.

But he was so entrancing that you could stand there staring fore-

You can't even finish the thought before you find your feet swept out from under you. You scream and close your eyes reflexively as you feel gravity take hold and you begin to fall.

You don't even make it halfway to the ground before a strong arm catches you behind the shoulders and your thighs come to rest across one of his.

You open your eyes and find yourself staring directly up into Leo's piercing blue ones. You gulp. All your confident resolve has been shattered away.

He has his other hand firmly wrapped around your fists still holding his katana.

"Planning to usurp me, hm?" He says, challenge in his eyes.

"No!" You squeak shrinking back as far as his strong forarm would let you.

"I bet you think you could lead my brothers twice as well as I can." He says playfully.

"No not at all!" You squeak again, feeling guilty and regretful. You look away from him.

"What?" He chuckles. His demeanor softening as sees you aren't playing around and seem genuinely troubled.

"I couldn't lead them half as well as you, even if Splinter trained me. I wouldn't even know where to start." You mumble, your hands shaking against his and your breaths unsteady.

Leo gently takes the katana from your hands and sets it aside. He then stands you up, and on his knees he hugs you. His face nuzzling your collarbone. "Hey, I was only teasing you. I didn't think you were actually trying to usurp me."

Your shakily wrapped around his neck. His strong arms gently pressed your body to his. You held back tears, he was so amazing all the time, and you...well you were just a mess most of the time.

"I don't think it would be so bad if you did usurp me. You were strong and confident when you took my katana. I was amazing that you'd gotten that close without me noticing."

So you did do it? How? Did he really not know? He wouldn't lie, he never lies, right? But would he lie now for you?

"You definitely would deserve to usurp me, because who else would get my baby bro to clean anything more than once a month?"

You giggled remembering how horrible Michaelangelo's room was the first time you'd seen it. And now it's tidy and the liar in general had much fewer pizza boxes and soda cans around.

Leo leaned back and smiled softly.

"Oh your tea!" You croak and look back to the corner where the two mugs have since stopped steaming.

Leo looks over towards the table, "Mmm you always bring me the best tea."

"But Splinter's the one who brewed it." You argue.

Leo let's you go careful to make sure you are steady before he stands to move towards the tea. "Yeah but it's always better when you are here. So it must be somethinng about you."

Your eyes water slightly with those words. There's so many confusing feelings right now, you can't make up from down. You follow him, sitting across from him at the small table on your usual cushion.

You reach for your mug to sip your tea without saying anything else.

It's gone cold.

Ypur heart sinks, Leo's must also be cold.

You glance up expecting him to grimace, but he sips it no differently than he always does every Sunday you hand tea together. The same soft smile coming to his lips after each sip. "What's wrong? You seem off today, surprisingly sneaky, but still off."

You look back down at your tea not finding much appetite for it. You take a breath.

"I'm... I'm afraid."

His head cocks slightly, "is the foot clan bothering you again?" his voice dropping to a serious tone.

"N-no, not that." You correct him frantically, "I'm afraid...that I'm not a great influence on you. Or your brothers. You guys are so skilled, I m an you are a great leader, and Donni is so smart, and Raph is really caring, and everyone lives Mikey, and I feel inadequate beside you guys. I don't feel like I have added much value to your lives, and instead I feel I put you in more danger than I'm worth."

His baby blues widen in surprise. "H-how often do you feel this way?"

"Probably once a week or so, and especially after you guys get hurt and there's nothing I can do."

He leans forward and takes your small hands in his large ones. He looks you in the eyes and says, "Without hesitation, I can tell you that the value that you've brought to my brothers, and especially me, is priceless. We wouldn't trade you for any other human."

Tears well up in your eyes. You pull your hands back to wipe your face. He finishes the last gulp of his tea, whispering "Delicious as usual" and sets the mug down. He stands and picks you up. You wrap your arms around his neck and he holds you close to his chest. You sob gently but you can't tell if you are happy or still upset and scared.

"I'm sorry you've felt this way. I am neglecting my duties as a leader to not realize that you've been going through this." His voice rumbled into your entire body and you felt his sincerity.

"Now let's go talk with my brothers about how we can make sure you know how appreciated you are. I'm sure Mikey will tell you a hundred times a day, but if you need more just tell us."

You open your eyes and see his katana still laying on the ground. "Your...sword..." You meep.

"Of course, my sword," he says gently, turning on his heels to go retrieve it.

Still holding you easily against him with one hand, he squats to grab the sword with his other, lifting it over his head and sheathing it on his back.

You reach your arm, bleary eyed, to just touch the worn cloth on the handle. Lost in your feelings you try to focus on the texture to ground yourself.

He glances over his shoulder to see you reach for it.

"You held it well, like a proud warrior. I'd like to see you so confident more often. Maybe you'd like to join me before our usual tea on Sundays and we can spar together."

You nod your face into his neck with a small hum of agreement. He's warm, his scales thick but not rough against your cheek. You can smell the sweet herbal tea on his breath.

[gortrash]

2, 7, 10 for the asks to spread love <3

Tell us why you love one of your OCs or an obscure canon character (link to any fics/art you have featuring them!) 

Oh my god I have to pick ONE??? This is so unbelievably difficult because my OCs mean so very much to me and have an unreasonable amount of depth that caters to me and my philosophies and beliefs BUT I’m going to tell you why I love my verse’s villain, Ilya. Putting this ask under the cut because I’m about to go off on a tangent and I don’t want to clutter anyone’s dash.

Small recap of her character: She’s my rather scary Thalmor OC with giant mechanical legs. She has the world’s biggest god complex and refuses to give the Divines even an ounce of her belief of their godhood and instead just sees them as powerful spirits. Obsessed with the Dwemer’s work as well and decided fuck it, fuck you all, I’m going to become god. All around issue and she’s proud of it.

And I love her so much because although she is evil, she has the depth to invoke sympathy. She is brilliant, wicked, invincible and vulnerable all at the same time. She’s an amalgamation of hatred and love. She has so many flaws and I love her for it. She has this warped perception of divinity and through her corrupted force she may just actually obtain it against all the odds of fate.

Ilya has no destiny. No real role. She was never meant to be free from the shackles of a meaningless fate. So she took it for herself by brute force and she forced that future for herself.

While brutal and cruel, she is perhaps one of my most helpless characters. I’m unsure who wins the battle of emotional turmoil between her and Eve, my Vestige who has far outlived her life expectancy and purpose but is too afraid to die, but Ilya is, beneath the sturdy carapace of ambition and spite, a victim.

The narrative of her life can be summed up by a quote I heard recently that I absolutely adore, “godhood is a lot like girlhood, begging to be believed”, and it struck me that maybe the heretical tyrant who wants the world only wants this because she was denied everything else in her life; including belief.

Ilya is recognised for her genius in the Thalmor, she’s a superior by every right, but in the grand scheme of things, because of her difficulty to cooperate and stay submissive to a cause that isn’t her own, is likely intended to be cast away as soon as her potential has been used. She knows this, though, and so doesn’t plan on either trusting them nor aligning her beliefs with theirs. She has bigger plans than what they have in store for her.

Why? Why not just submit to the protection of cluster and aid them in their own plans for some kind of mimicry of ascension, would it not be easier?

It’s not about easy. Above all, it’s about being believed.

To put it simply: nobody believes in Ilyavanthra. Nobody holds her with the highest regard. She’s a problem, albeit a very intelligent one and a valuable asset. They do not see her, but her skills to be used as an expendable tool. She wants to be believed so badly, worshipped above everybody else, because she is starved from the lack of attention she grew into the twisted mindset of believing she deserved above all else. She’s gone mad from it.

If Ilya believes that cruelty and suffering is the key to divinity, then it is only because she has the ego to believe that she has suffered the most.

On a lighter note, her goal in the meantime, while she prepares for the first act of her schemes, is to be as much of a problem as possible. For fun. Also because the childlike necessity for attention still lives within her. That’s what makes her so fun to write, honestly.

Also, she’s super gay.

A popular fandom opinion that you agree with

Delphine sucks, sorry, I’m not killing Paarthurnax, BUT I’m going to go into that for a second because I am an advocate for female characters who are generally hated. Delphine is unbearable and I’m glad that she is. She’s stubborn and egotistical and she’s obviously good at what she does (her dossier entails that she took down an entire assassination squad) and I say let her be.

However, what makes her irredeemable is because I think she’s dumb for going against what she preaches in saying that the Blades serve the Dragonborn and then she turns around and says lol no I’m not doing anything for you until you do what I want.

A popular character you actually really like and why

Popular characters in the Elder Scrolls fandom have to be categorised in whether it’s popular by regular internet standards or by tumblr standards. Say, everyone knows Paarthurnax, but for a character like Teldryn it’s more so the tumblr fandom that knows him well. So I guess I’m gonna go by tesblr standards here.

I’m glad I got asked this and especially by you because of your brilliant recent art, but I really adore Fennorian and I really didn’t think I would! I was super late to the ESO train and all I’d see about it was Fenn this, Fenn that, and I couldn’t quite get it at first. Then I played the DLCs he’s a part of and, well… that’s my angel baby. He’s so endearing it hurts. Failure husband.

[one-tends-to-wonder-and-want]

Relizations 09/11/2024

Within the last month I started seeing a psychiatrist. While I haven’t been diagnosed with anything and thus won’t label myself, but I was told it could possibly be suffering from Bipolar disorder, specifically Bipolar I however it could also be some of my other mental mishaps manifesting into something similar. This appointment was scheduled due to my very abnormal sleep schedule and the concerns of my doctor and parents. I was diagnosed with ADHD in elementary school and Anxiety when I was in high school, however even then I couldn’t help but feel something was still wrong. I had the words to describe my problems but some still got caught on the tip of my tongue. Feelings and sensations I couldn’t describe. In preparation for my upcoming psychiatrist follow up to see if the mood stabilizers are helping I began to reflect. The new school year has brought new challenges and new problems to the forefront. I began writing and researching to try and figure out how to describe these problems, trying to dig deep and find the words that make up me inside my mind, heart, using google as a tool. I realized my symptoms could be related more to bpd rather than Bipolar as if one thing goes wrong at the start of my day my entire day could be ruined and one thing will send me spiraling into an emotional spin (however that may present itself) not to mention how my mood swings so quickly. However I've been on anti-anxiety meds and it's not helping with my anxiety. It's still very present and I still swing not to mention the sleep disturbances and the fact I don’t technically have any major trauma, not by law anyway. I did feel like a victim and hurt. I've never felt normal. Looking back I don’t think I ever was a normal kid. I've never thought like other kids, at some point it feels like I started lacking socially unlike other kids. I feel like an alien sometimes. Like were different species. Why can’t I feel things other people feel? Why do I feel things so much sometimes. Why do I go and go and go until I crash like an overused vacuum cleaner. Am I just burnt out? If that's the case then why have I always been so paranoid? Why does it feel like my brain has only deteriorated over time. My comprehension skills are lacking and soon fading, not only not on par with other people my age, but even with myself when I was younger. Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I do anything? Why do I feel stuck. No matter where I go my heart is stuck in a bubble I can’t pop. Sometime I get close, close to breaking the barrier, to letting myself free of the anxiety and whatever prevents me from being my fullest and best self. Sometimes I don’t want to pop it at all, sometimes I wish it were thicker and more opaque. However even then, do I even know what my heart holds? This bubble prevents even me from peaking inside, to feeling myself. I'm overly aware of the fact I am a brain, shielded by a skill, covered in fat and muscle, shielded by a layer of skin and nerves. I want to rip that skin off, to dig deep inside my mind and heart until I find my true self, or at least the reason for all my unexplained inner turmoil. Yet, I am also occultly aware, that if I were to try, I would come out with nothing but bloody hands and a sealed fate. At some point, I have to ask myself, if I even want to know why I am the way I am, or if there’s even an explanation at all. At the end of my contemplation, the result is the same. I am abnormal, overly aware yet blinded to the world, I am covered in skin and meat and bone and I want none-of it. I am confined in a form I do not like, not because of its appearance, but because of the way it feels and hurts, and causes me pain. I wish I could crack my skull open and set my soul free. But my head is not an egg, and I am afraid of the void. I am painfully human, but also something entirely different. A blob, a spark, a girl, a boy, an amalgamation of nerves and synapses and feelings. I am (redacted), and I am afraid, hurt, confused, exhilarated, angry, and everything in between, yet at the same time, I am numb to it all.

-A Stressed out College Student