#i don't think i need to explain this one. you see the vision. i trust you. smiles.

[eyesteeth]

sibling cycles (the drain)

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 4

______________________

"why are they... Bedazzled?" Charles asks, looking at the mass of weapons ranging in designs

Some weapons look like they came straight off Genshin impact, while some look like (Name) just copied off weapon designs from deviant art

One weapon, a claymore, had intricate details on the blade, showing a story, a war, some caves and oceans, and a kingdom

"I got bored so I decided to carve the odyssey on the blade" you smile

They left you alone, in the forgery, for like 12 hours or something, came back to call you for dinner, and they see this

"I have ones, I made for myself, the others we can put in the armory-"

"Ehem, (Name)? May I have a moment with you?" Chiron, is this awesome centaur

When he first saw you he took you to the big house and healed your injuries

"Yes..?" You ask, did you do something wrong? Are unclaimed kids not allowed to stay in the territory of claimed kids? Technically this was a child of Hephaestus thing- but you were brought here? And-

"someone wants to speak with you" Chiron continues and you were snapped out your thoughts

"She is a daughter of Zeus, and I believe you know her already the last time I saw her was when she was a child, still staying on her home island, she is a trust worthy woman" he explained further

This doesn't calm your nerves, cause why, why does a child of Zeus want to see you?

Suddenly a familiar woman walks closer to you "Hey (Name), I was worried sick you know, you could have left a note"

"Diana!" You yell and run up to hug her

You love Diana, back when you were still a robin, and Batman bought you and Damian to meet the justice league

You were left alone in the corner while superman and Batman talked about Jon's and Damian's potential

The other members approached you, one of the reasons you loved being a vigilante was because of them, you had someone to talk to

Flash was like the funny uncle and green arrow was the uncle who tried to one up batman, they were all awesome, but you're favorite was Diana

She had this glow, not glow like green lantern- but this sense that you really mattered to her

____________________

"you're also a demigod?!" You exclaim in surprise, she nods while smiling

She holds your hand "I was thinking you were one too actually, but I didn't have enough proof, Bruce always said you were a target for mutants that's why you had to stop being a vigilante, but it's clear that those were actually monsters"

But then she went quiet "Why don't you come back (Name)? I'll explain everything to Bruce and I'm sure more precautions for your safety would be taken care of"

No it won't.

"D-diana... I don't want to return" you said meekly

"what... Why?"

"I- I'm not welcome back home... See Bruce and his kids- they don't think I'm special enough to stay in their family" you say

"... excuse me?" Diana's demeanor changed, like a cold air blowing over her

You shift and hesitate, but you decide to pull through, it was like a dam burst

Your tears blur your vision, as you go over every general and specific event that you felt unloved and unwanted

You weren't stupid, just because you never received love doesn't mean you don't know what it is, you could tell if someone didn't want you, because you've seen how they love

You've seen how Bruce got protective of his kids, how he cares about them in his own way, how the batsibs have their own dynamics, they claim to dislike each other yet are always by their side when needed

It was just never towards you.

You know what love what, and your relationship with those people, that wasn't love

It was indifference, you remember the first time Barbara talked to you is when you fought with Tim and she yelled at you backing her brother up

It wasn't too late, you could still receive what you've been craving for, but for sure you don't want it from the Wayne's

A few weeks after Damian appeared, his bullying towards you that has gotten worse by the day, you decided to retaliate

_______________________

(Name) Wayne 11 years old

Slap

Ouch, you thought

Jason Todd, the man who claimed Damian was a demon spawn, the man who picked on Damian jokingly

He slapped you for Damian

It was one of those rainy days in Gotham, you're in school, you were having a quiet day till the teacher called out your name

"(Name)! Two days to do the assignment and you passed nothing?! Don't make excuses child, your brother Damian was able to pass it"

You look up confused "But miss I did pass my work"

"where is it!?? Am I a special case of blind that I can see everyone's work but yours?!"

The laughs and Snickers of your classmates echo in the room

Damian had taken your work, and passed it as his

That fucker-

After school back in the mansion you lunge at him

"you spoiled asshole!" Unfortunately Jason was there, and the person who was usually a Damian hater became his apologist cause he went straight to help him

You explained what happened, of course you did, but even after knowing he stood his ground, he even told father and now you're punished

Isolation (as if you weren't isolated enough)

You could live like this, live every day without seeing them

Then it happened, Stephanie was in danger, well both of you were

It was one of Bruce's galas, the Wayne family was staying in a private room, and Harley Quinn broke in, laughing like a maniac, she grabbed the ones near her and which were you and Steph

On hostage both of you, Dick made a move to save Steph, he ran in her direction to try and pry Steph off Quinn's arms

Damian shot the Harley's leg, the one near Steph of course so she had a better chance of getting away

Once Steph was free, Cass hugged her

And then Tim, oh fucking tim

He used his electric staff to electrocute Harley, while she was still holding you

For a great detective he's quite an idiot.

That was it, he didn't even get in trouble with Bruce for that, they tied up Harley quietly and decided to proceed with the gala

Without you of course, come on, you're injured, why would you go with them?

It was like a switch flipped, after that not once have you ever tried to make them love you.

_________________________

"you can't make me go back there- Diana please!" You sob

She hugged you tight "I won't, I won't- I'll find a way to keep Bruce from finding you, I promise"

She kissed your forehead "For now... I want you to keep trying, make friends, if your parent claims you, you'll have new siblings"

"for now, be happy"

__________________________

Ivan Werner sat beside you, he was one of Hephaestus's kids that you made friends with earlier

Diana left a while ago and you were left trying to stop yourself from crying

"the conversation was that intense?" He hands you a handkerchief

You smile and accept "Yeah... It was- about my mortal family, they weren't really the best people"

"I hear that, my mother was a mad inventor who sold inventions that would self destruct to cause harm for the buyers" he says

Your brows furrowed at the implication Ivan's mom might be a villain

"hey- everyone has their past, that's why they end up here, I hope you find your place here in camp (Name), we really like you here"

KEOEOWHFVSBJAIEBD BE AKHRJEO WOSLAKDNDNNSKW

A flash of light appears before the both of you

You take your time trying to adjust your eyes, and you see the campers, Mr.D and Chiron there

"Out of everyone here!?!? You decide to- fraternize with a child of Hephaestus!?! I WONT ALLOW IT, you're too beautiful for him my darling!"

What the fuck?? Who is this extremely rude and gorgeous floating lady?

You haven't even registered the fact that now you're wearing a chitton, your hair has been decorated with pearls and small intricate gold flowers

A pink aura making you glow

"what's going on!?!?" You ask panicked

The beautiful gorgeous, ethereal, pretty, cute, hot, sexy, dashing, charming lady goes to the ground

"Hi dearest!" She smiles

You hear Chiron clear his throat "(Name) Wayne! Child of Aphrodite!"

_______________________

I had the godly parent chosen from the start acc, I wrote this fic with her in mind

A child of love without receiving any

Hope you like the chapter! :3

@nathaly36 @erikasurfer @jisnothere @bat1212 @sweetconnoisseurgardener @vanessa-boo

[just-some-user-hunny]

Yandere vampire hunter D

‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊Yandere D and his obsession ♡...

~✧ Having D as your yandere is a complex experience. He wants to be close, but he stays far away. He needs to make sure you're safe, but please don't see him. He cannot bear the pain of your rejection.

~✧ Unlike his reputable existence- he's not a cruel yandere. he's too gentle for a dhampir, but too unorthodox for a human. He's an entity all of his own- a strange creature that beckons silently and unexpectedly under to your heed and calls for help, without you even knowing it.

~✧ He's a stalking yandere who watches and protects you from far away- he'll always be the eerie extra set of footsteps that follow accompany you home. He's the shadow who occupies the darkness that lingers in doorways- the shape of a foreboding figure leering silently in your home when you think you're all alone... Unaware of the filthy vampires blood that wets his blade, the one that stalked you home that very evening. He took care of it, but you don't need to know that.

~✧ He is always near- as much as he can spare, when he is not hunting the creatures whom he shares blood with. It is not often that he parts from your shadow from afar, and traverses away from the direction of your sweet breath and presence- but when he does, you'll always linger in the back of his mind.

~✧"I mean it D. This is getting dangerous now". The parasite will seeth quietly, only to be wordlessly silenced with a stern commanding grip. This is of no concern to you, stay out of this.

~✧ The parasite will grumble and huff. Of course this is of concern to him. He can see every dark crevice of this dhampires mind- and frankly he's tired of the constant presence of you occupying it. Your name, your face, your hair, your figure, your blood-

~✧ Silence. D will command with a cool, icy tone. Peeved.

~✧ D has vowed to protect you from everything that means harm, and he means everything. Even himself. He can deny all he wants, but he knows his urges will always be lurking within him- no matter how hard he resists. Be assured he's a damn good fighter, but it will urge him to stay away further for the sake of your safety.

He is half human like you, yes- but he also has the blood of vampyre. Dark depraved creatures of the night that desire blood and agony. He cannot deny himself of his own existence, he has tried well and truly- and this obsession of his won't change that.

The parts of him that reveal are always soft and lenient. Subtle and protective. If only you could see the darkness of his desires that twist and coil within him like a nest of asps. Slithering and hissing with poison and desire.

~✧ But believe it when I say this, he is not a sadistic creature. Especially towards you. He may hunger for you, desires of possession and adoration grasping at his cold heart- but trust that no harm will ever come to you. Especially by his own hand or word. Does he frighten you with his daunting height and unnerving presence? Very well. He'll stay out of sight, appearing nothing more than a shadow in your footsteps. Does being followed home scare you? Then he shall take care in not getting too close then- close enough where you are within his sights, but not close enough where you can hear his steady and even footsteps following in your own tracks.

~✧ As time goes on and you inevitably catch onto his presence, things will gradually change. There's only so many times you awake to find yourself properly tucked into bed after collapsing onto your couch after a long day at work, or capture a glimpse of the tall foreboding shadow in your doorway to use the same excuse of exhaustion to explain it. It's not just paranoid fueled visions anymore.

~✧ However, much to your chagrin and determination to expose whoever this mysterious guardian angel of yours is, he'll never expose himself. He can't afford it. You'll often be left feeling like a fool as you call out into the dark street for whoever he is to appear- only to be met with the stillness of the lonely night and sound of cicadas chirping softly in the grass.

~✧ The only scenario in which he would ever approach and expose his identity, is if you were in trouble. Still- once the threat is gone, and you are safe, he's eager to dispel back into the shadows.

~✧ The thing with D as a yandere, is that he's fully lucid about what he's doing is... Wrong. But he can't help himself. Often he is troubled with the morals of his own doing- a neverending internal debate. Thoughts upon thoughts spiral and twist into an endless entangling web, and all he can do is mull over it and helplessly tangle at his own thoughts with a distant stare and tongue held between his sharp teeth. Brooding and mulling.

~✧ He knows this isn't right. His desires to protect you are more than that of a silent saviour- he's not doing this for a reward or thanks- he's not looking for your gratitude or admiration. He's selfish. So selfish. You are something that occupies the loneliness that will forever haunt him- keeping you alive is all he has left to grasp upon to give him hope for a life beyond this bleak ongoing existence of his.

~✧ He's so selfish when he imagines you waiting at home for him. Selfish when he imagines holding you, gazing upon you adoringly because he's missed you after a long day's work.

~✧ He won't admit these little fantasies of his- his yearnings for a life of his own. He doesn't dare say them out loud- like an unspoken dream that'll fade if ever spoken. A silly whimsy of a naive child who doesn't know any better...

~✧ These little thoughts will stay his. Only he can keep these delusional conjured memories- they're the only ones he can keep.

~✧ So please, take no mind of him. Live freely in the light as he guards you in the shadows. Take your fill of life and death sweetly and peacefully, all under the watchful eye and encompassing cloak of night of none other than vampire hunter D

I'm admittedly not quite sure if I like this or not, I feel a little in the dark with his character due to only watching the two movies (?), and knowing there's novels out there that'll explain his lore and character in much more depth.

If there's anyone who knows more about vampire hunter D, I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas!

[disabirbity]

What are some things other psychotics do to differentiate between hallucination and reality? And what are ways some of you hold off symptoms? Looking to get a nice thread for people to help each other going here, this stuff isn't posted about enough.

Ways we prevent symptoms/stop them from progressing:

Make background noise to prevent auditory hallucinations. Most of ours start by hearing something that we can't identify the cause of in the background, and our brain starts the spiral from there. So we listen to music all the time and sleep with a fan on every single night, even in the winter. We just point it away from us if we don't want it making us cold.

Blame the cat (or other pets). Any weird movement, scratching, crunching or thumping? That's just Jerry, don't worry about it. He's a silly cat that does cat things even while we're sleeping. Any noise can be blamed on pets or the wind, which stops the paranoia from setting in and making everything bad.

We also tell ourselves that if there was an actual issue like an intruder or monster, the cat would hiss or scream, and the dog would be barking or making noise. This can be applied to many pets.

Stay busy. Focus on something--art, video games, tv shows and films, craft, gardening, anything that keeps you thinking. Don't let the anxiety get to you, just stay focused on your regular life.

Laugh at it. You're hallucinating a monster in your peripheral vision? Name it Fred and tell him to pay rent. You hear weird noises? Tell them to come back with a warrant. For us, treating symptoms like they're jokes or not serious makes us less anxious and therefore makes it easier to get back to a point where we're okay.

Having a friend or a pet near you can help. We feel safer and less alone when we see another living thing near us that's safe. We don't feel as much like we're trapped in another dimension that way.

How we differentiate between reality and unreality:

Touch it. This one only works for things you're not scared of, and if you don't have tactile hallucinations. It's not foolproof! But when we're seeing things like bugs and stuff, reaching out to touch them causes them to fade away so we know they're fake.

Ask friends and other trusted people if they "heard that" or "saw anything". If they're psychosis friendly, feel free to explain and be specific. If not, be vague and keep it to simple things like "hey did you hear anything? I couldn't tell what it was", if that will be safe enough. Having people to ground you can be great.

Look at how others around you are acting. Are they running or interacting with the thing in question in any way? Do they seem to look at it or no? If no one is noticing, it's less likely to be real.

These won't work for everyone and some of these might be harmful to others, but they're helpful to us. You know best what will help you!

Please feel free to add your own! We need more discussion around psychosis that isn't "scary evil person disorder and how to deal with people who have it".

[peachesofteal]

MELOS (PART TWO)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part One / Melos masterlist 5k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni. Blood, feelings of fear and panic. Reader POV. Trauma. Protective Azriel. Canon-compliant, post ACOSF and HOFAS. "I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness"

The fly amanita has been eluding you.

It’s speckled red cap is usually so easy to spot, but you’ve been trudging through the woods all day, turning over logs and peering around tree trunks to no avail. You’re getting closer and closer to the break in the forest, the one bordering a large meadow rich with wildflowers, the one you hardly venture to unless you’re truly desperate for something specific.

You’re seriously considering it when something dusky red catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot the healthy patch of fungi. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you sink to your knees, digging down to the roots. The soil is wet, freshly damp from a recent rainstorm, and it sticks to your fingertips. “Such a pain in-“

Magic scrapes at your skin. Long gruesome fingers of something unseen try to clutch at you, drag you away, and your power surges to meet it, beating it back to the gloom it calls home. You shudder. The magic from your mother's blood, the gifts the Middle grants you, are enough to keep you safe, protect you from most things in this place, the ones nefarious and full of malice, but that does not mean they do not try. 

You exhale, breathing freely in the crisp winter breeze whispering through the trees, rustling the deadfall into small vortexes that spin across the wood, twisting upward in a delicate dance of changing seasons. You lift your face to the sun just as the wind turns dark, smoky grey, and then explodes in a burst of ink, onyx spilling around the mushrooms, wisps snaking through the stems towards your knees.

You swat them away.

Azriel.

You grit your teeth. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think- 

A shadow brushes against you like a feather, and you hiss. 

Azriel.

The male who tortured you. Used you. Gained your trust to hurt you. Suffocated you until you thought you were going to die, until spots appeared in your vision and your heart slowed. The male that hurt you, in more ways than one. 

Fooled into falling for a ruse, you believed it meant something every time your heart thundered when he was near, how your magic crooned for him, tried to reach for him, touch him. The pain you saw in him, over and over again, a mirror to your own, led you to believe in a fairy tale that never existed, a stupid notion about two halves of a whole, only for it to crumble and reveal manipulation and lies.

And after it all, whatever he gleaned from you he must have determined to be inconsequential, since no one has shown up at your door to haul you away for execution. No one came to imprison you, or banish you, or torture you, again. No one came to take you away from your home, your life, like you were expecting.

He did it for nothing.

The shadows are an ever-present reminder.

Ever. Present.

They collect in the corners at work, they trail along the ground as you run your errands, go to dinner, visit your only friend in the city.

Thankfully, they seem to stay out of your house, though in the middle of the night, it’s not so easy to tell.

You shoot them a glare. “Run back to your master and leave me alone, for the hundredth time.” You have no concept of a Shadowsinger’s magic, or an Illyrian’s, no idea if the shadows see, or hear, or speak. Their presence frustrates you, and his hoarse attempt at an apology that night still haunts you. Why does he not just come to speak with you? Explain himself? Justify his actions?

It’s been weeks, and still nothing. Silence from the Spymaster. Your rage that was once all consuming is starting to cool, leaving a mess of confusion and pain in its place. 

You need to let it go, you must, but the music persists, faintly there in the back of your mind, a melody you can’t forget.

It’s a double-edged sword, one that slices and stings. You see him in your nightmares, and your dreams. In the dark, you hear his voice, cold and calculating, pacing around you in a suffocating circle, and in the sun, you see him in the Middle, ablaze in a mist of brilliant blue, brushing his lips against yours.

You’ve grown familiar with how a room changes when one of the Wraith sisters arrive. Shadow rolls in like a fog, dissipating as they materialize, grey gossamer turning to smoky quartz, taking shape as a beautiful female, her eyes iridescent like black pearls. 

Rarely, do the twins ever come together. 

Today is the exception. 

Cerridwen gives you a half smile, gaze lingering on your clothes. “If I made you a new frock, would you throw this one out? It’s nearly in tatters.” You huff.

“This is my work frock; it’s supposed to be a bit messy.”

“It’s not messy, it’s falling apart.” She raises an eyebrow, and Nuala places a slender hand on the stack of brown paper wrapped packages on the table.

“How are you?” The question is loaded, expectant, and they watch you, analyzing every second of whatever is showing on your face.

“I’m fine.” Are you? The lie is so painfully obvious, and they exchange a look. 

“Azriel,” Nuala begins cautiously, “has asked if you would be open to seeing him.” You freeze.

“I..”

“In a public place of your choosing, in the city.” The very idea tips you off balance, blindsides you. Could you do it? See him? 

“With a third party, if you would like.” Cerridwen adds. Maybe this is your chance at closure, an opportunity to put it to rest. “Take some time to decide, and we’ll-“

“No, no. I’ll do it.” You scramble to think of a place where you’ll feel safe, somewhere you’ll be among many, and not few. “Is… Rose and Thorn okay? It’s in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.” They nod.

“Of course. And a third party?” You shake your head. Something in your soul assures you no chaperone is needed, and you allow it to guide you. “Very well.” Nuala waves her hand, wisps of storm clouds floating around her fingers-

And then Wraith sisters are gone.

He’s there before you.

Seated at a table outside, elegant and sculpted, an exquisite, eldritch beauty accentuated by strong, chiseled lines. His skin glows golden brown in the warm bath of the sun, flecks of caramel and green, honey and oak painted together like a priceless landscape in his irises. His wings are tucked in a tight formation at his back, but even in restraint, they shudder, their membranes more unique than a snowflake, more delicate than a spider’s web.

He’s almost too stunning to look at. The beauty of a god. A prince of shadow, shining in winter’s glow.

Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious, fighting the urge to pick at the frayed threads of your dress, too aware of how faded its once emerald green is, how fast your heart is beating, anxiety and pin pricks of fear cascading up your spine, coupled with an undeniable longing that shakes you to your core.

An ocean tide too strong drags your eyes to his, holding you captive in its current, the two of you suspended, floating, woven together in a melody, same song you’ve been hearing, feeling, all this time, elusive, empyreal notes harmonizing across your soul, your magic. The heat of the patio, magic humming in the air producing the equivalent of a warm spring day, urges you out of the cold and towards the table, meeting him where he stands, so tall he towers over you. 

“Hello.” Your stomach flips. This is suddenly harder than you imagined, and you’re being torn in two, afraid and yearning, two sides of a coin. His eyes gentle, and he moves back a fraction, giving you space. You manage to clear your throat.

“Hi.” You can’t look away, and finally, after a second turned eternity, he motions to the chair.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Sure.” The words are stiff, like your back, and you hold yourself rigid, hands clasped together in your lap.

“Thank you for coming, I… I know this was a lot to ask.” You nod, unable to make your mouth move. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” You’ll need more than one syllable answers to get through this, and you fight against the vice squeezing in around you, trying shake loose the battle raging in your blood. There's a need to protect yourself, fortify yourself... and another, one humming a song of wonder, of desire, a song you don't know the words to. He takes a deep breath.

“There’s nothing I can say to excuse what I did, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I-“

"What you did? You tortured me, you terrorized me. You made me feel like I was dying. and I... why did you… why did you waste your time tricking me into thinking you were… we were… it was all fake.” Your voice breaks, and his eyes flash with despair. “You tricked me into trusting you, letting you get… close,” you study the tabletop, fingertips tracing loops in the woodgrain, trying to maintain your control. You can’t let him see how badly it hurts; how awful it is to know whatever you thought was happening between the two of you wasn’t real, how he's shattered your own trust in yourself. How could you not see the deceit? How could have fallen for such a blatant deception? How could you allow yourself to be hurt like that? These are the questions keeping you from sleep as they toss about in your mind, scolding you, chastising you for allowing yourself to be so weak. Stupid. “Why waste all that time if you were just going to do it? The act itself was... it was terrible but the manipulation, the lie that came with it, feels worse somehow.” Your cheeks heat with shame, mortified at the tears now blurring your vision, and his hand twitches, almost jerks towards yours before sliding away.

“There are no words in any language, anywhere, to tell you how sorry I am. I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness, if you’d let me.” Everything you want to fight back with, the words you wish to bury him with, die on your tongue as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I don’t deserve to see you or ask for a moment of your time. I don’t even deserve this chance you’ve given me today but… nothing was a trick, it was not fake. I was a fool.” You know you should say something, but still nothing comes, and there’s a rising uneasiness emanating from his, shadows shivering around him in a halo. “I would ask you to strike a bargain with me.” What?

“A bargain?” He nods solemnly, face set with resolve, foreign limerence weighed down by sorrow reflecting in his gaze.

“Allow me to spend some time with you, to show you how sorry I am, to prove how real it was, and in return, I will owe you a debt.” You fight to keep your face blank, smothering an outward ripple of shock. Maybe he’s gone insane.

“You… the Spymaster of the Night Court… would owe me a debt.” You chew on it, toss it around between your cheeks, try to digest the enormity of it. A debt could be anything, it’s a favor, a wish, a request that must be granted, no matter what it is. You could ask that he drink a vial of poison, and he’d have to do it. Could ask him to leave Pyrthian, and he’d have no choice. Most importantly, you could ask him to leave you alone. Forever. “And if I asked you to never speak to me again?” He winces.

“That would be your right.” This is a bad idea. Your magic trills, vibrating with a strange yearning, again guiding you away from the rational choice and into an agreement.

“I will see you once a week for a month, and in return, you will owe me a debt,” you extend your hand, “and swear not to harm me.” You add hastily, expecting him to refuse, or attempt to change the terms, but he meets you with zero hesitation.

The magic hits you like a gale force wind, wild and too strong, planting itself in your skin to push ink to the surface.

A tree.

The roots sprawl around your wrist, twisting upward into a trunk and then outward into branches, spreading wide until they’re nearly touching on the inside of your forearm. He snags a finger under the cuff of his shirt to reveal the tattoo’s twin, the concrete vow between the two of you plain as day.

What did you just do? 

You’re taking advantage of the first meeting. Having a second with you, a powerful, formidable second, gives you an opportunity to trek into a more dangerous, more unstable part of the Middle in search of a rare mineral.

You’re also using it as punishment, irritated with the small twinge of guilt growing in your side. He strides along at your side silently, shadows skittering ahead across the forest floor, disappearing and reappearing at will, as if they’re scouting and reporting.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” He finally asks, cocking his head to the side as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. He’s not winded at all, of course, and you’re starting to regret this choice, while also trying to avoid staring at him. Every time he moves into your line of sight, your palms sweat and you remember how his laugh sounded on the steps of your house, how he earnest he was when asking you questions. You remember the kiss, and the way his mouth felt upon yours. You remember it all, and butterflies take flight in your belly. 

But being alone with him in a dangerous place such as this, is also a stark reminder. A reminder of the last time you were alone with the Spymaster, truly alone, and how it ended. 

“There’s a cave a bit from here where a very rare crystal grows. Its mineral compound is a key piece to a specific elixir.” His lips twitch into a small, barely there smile, reading between the lines.

“You’ve brought me along for back up.” You smirk.

“You didn’t say what spending time together had to entail.” You shift your backpack. “It's just past this bog up ahead.” He stops short, eyes sharp, tensing.

“A bog?”

“Yes. You know… like a swamp?”

“Of Oorid?” You blink.

“You know the Bog of Oorid?”

“I’ve been there.” Now it’s your turn to scrutinize him. Could you have underestimated this male, again? 

“Why?” You shiver. You’ve visited the Bog before, twice, and left each time with a new scar, a new nightmare.

“We were looking for something.” We? Questions brew in the back of your mind, so many of them they’re hard to contain, but you’d hate to appear too interested in him and his adventures.

“Did you find it?”  He nods and says nothing. Fine then. “It’s not the Bog of Oorid, just a boring swamp. C’mon.”

You withhold a key piece of information regarding the swamp.

It’s quite hateful, if you’re honest, and a small part of you weeps at your own vindictiveness, but the vengeful side feels too smug, too satisfied.

“It’s this way.” You take the lead, stepping into the ankle-deep muck. “Sorry, you’ll have to get a bit dirty.” The trees here are warped, bent to the undertow of the swamp, stripped of their life, yet still thriving, flourishing in the inert, foul water. Wicked, and greedy, they creak and coo, relishing each cursed step Azriel takes. Your magic crests, drawing up through the Middle, and you smile to yourself as the mud reaches mid-calf. Right about now-

He hisses.

“Are you alright?” You call innocently over your shoulder, now paces away, reveling in the sound of him fighting against the sludge's hold. When he doesn’t answer, your heart quickens, and you turn.

He’s shaking his head, wings flared at his back, muscles flexing beneath his leathers, trying to work himself free, and you bite your tongue to keep from telling him it won't work.

The swamp is a collector, a keeper of things, admirer of the rare and unusual. You’re sure it’s never ensnared an Illyrian before.

“Careful,” you sing, “struggling makes it worse.” He’s knee deep but surprises you when he breaks a leg free and takes another step, cobalt blue siphons beginning to gleam, shining into the dark green stagnant water and pockets of mire. Interesting.

“Clever little witch.” He's amused, reverent, and you're irritated by his reaction. “How does it not trap you?” Keening echoes through your soul, frantic and tortured. It’s reaching for something, crying for something, steeped in a distress you don’t understand. An incessant tugging, the faint sound of a melody. A chiming of bells, ringing, and ringing, and ringing. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I ask it not to. My magic comes from the Middle, like my mother’s. It makes things... more amenable to me.” You make it sound far worse than it is to spook him, but he only watches you with interest, keen eyes dissecting you from the inside out.

“And will you ask it to release me?” 

“Maybe.” You shrug. He sinks farther, now trapped to his mid-thigh, and your pulse races. You had planned to leave him here, trap him here until you came back, but your magic is clawing at you, heart trying to beat out of your chest, fear and panic colliding with an instinct buried so deep, it can’t be cut out or ignored, an instinct trying to push you into his arms, pleading with you to help him. It hurts, trying to fight it is like trying to swim against a current, your muscles screaming at the struggle, your power thrashing in your veins. The music is no longer a delicate, enchanting thing but a symphony flowing into a fortissimo, brass and strings and keys digging into your soul.

It's too much, your heart pounds in your ears, magic shredding your restraint.

It's too much, and you long to go to him. 

Release him, you command the swamp, and it tightens its embrace, a lover clinging to another, refusing to relent.

Is this not for me?  

No. He is mine. Release him. Now. You press onward, urging the swamp to relax, it’s reluctant acquiesce bringing you a relief so strong you have to hold yourself steady. It recedes, and the two of you stand face to face, chests heaving. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, what this war that rages in your magic, your heart, your entire being means.

He closes his eyes, the shadows receding, disappearing entirely as he takes a long, measured breath, his hand pressing against his ribs, still deep in the dredge of the fen. 

"Are you alr-" 

“Is there anything else I should be aware of, before we continue?” He cuts you off, the heat radiating from his body coming in waves, and you push against the pull.

“No.” You croak. He inclines his head.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

“Why don’t you winnow here?” You're seated on a rock outside the mouth of the cave. The trek itself is the most dangerous part of this task, and the crystal retrieval was uneventful. Boring, even, as you walked side by side with Azriel in silence, contemplating the unexpected amount of remorse over the swamp settling in your stomach like lead.

“I don’t winnow to most places in the Middle if I can help it.”

“No?”

“You never what will be waiting for you, or what you will discover, when you arrive.” You take a bite of your apple and sneak a glance at him. “You’re not angry. About the swamp.”

“No.” He’s preternaturally still, but rife with intensity, alight with an ache you can’t describe.

“Why?”

“I deserve far worse from you.” You say nothing, because what can you say? It’s true.

But if it’s true, why does it feel so awful? 

You stand abruptly, eager to separate yourself from this situation, this confusion and confliction. “I should get these back.” Winnowing from the Middle, at least, is a perfectly safe option, and you’re eager for the escape now.

“Next week?” Your head is pounding, limbs twitching like your body has a will of its own, and suddenly you’re drained, magic and will quickly depleting. He steps closer, brows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” No. 

“Y-yeah. I’m going to… I’m going to go.” He frowns.

“You look ill.”

“I’m just tired. The swamp takes it out of me.” You lie weakly with a halfhearted smile that lacks conviction, and before you can do something stupid like reach for him, you draw on your power, giving him one last look. “Next week.”

You’re at the Palace of Bone and Salt when it happens.

The market is packed to the brim, overflowing, most caught up in the approach of Winter Solstice. It’s still weeks out, but all are always eager to celebrate the city’s favorite holiday. Boughs of holly and evergreen, ribbons of red and green decorate the square, twinkling fae lights nestled high and low. You’re looking for bone marrow, but can’t help loitering by the chocolatier’s stall, his perfectly crafted confections artfully arranged in pyramids stretching far past your head. He catches your eye with a smile. “Would you like to try anything?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. They always look so lovely.” He pulls a pink chocolate swirl from the collection that’s caught your eye and holds it out to you.

“On the house then, for Solstice.”

“Thanks so-“ Your gratitude is stolen by a groan, one rattling upward from beneath your feet, the entire market rumbling so violently the stalls creak, their goods tipping to the side.

A quake. 

They’re rare, but not unheard of. The mountains breathe, stretching and straining, the plates they’re built upon occasionally shifting and realigning, all of it causing Velaris’ foundation to shake. These things you know, but you’ve never experienced it firsthand, and you didn’t expect such… force.

The shopkeeper dives beneath his counter, others running in every direction through the market, panic and fear permeating the air. They’re looking for cover, afraid the second and third story buildings may come crashing down on their heads, while others try to outrun it, sprinting away as fast as they can manage.

It’s pandemonium. Everyone is being tossed around, marble and wood falling and rolling, and you’re frozen, rapidly trying to weigh the options, decide what to do when something catches your eye.

A child.

She’s standing in the middle of an aisle, screaming for her mum, and without hesitation, you snag her around the waist to tuck her into your chest, covering the back of her head as you curl into a ball and huddle beneath the counter of the first stall you see.

That’s where you stay, for the next ten minutes. Curved over this little girl who can’t be more than two, holding onto her as tight as you can to quell her screaming, trying to calm her. Things fall on you, something scrapes the side of your face, and it stings, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

You’re somewhere else in your mind. In the Middle as a child, running as fast as you can to the boundary, trying to get to safety as your mother howls. Claws scratch down your back, blackened, putrid magic tries to drag in the bowels of the forest, all while horrid shrieking and crying fills your head. The boundary is too far, and you fold yourself into a hollow, a damp, muddy nest inside the base of a tree where you hold your breath and sit really still, just like you were taught.

The quake ricochets around you, but the screeching in your ears is not from this time, this moment. It’s from then, you and this small child in your arms now the same, scared, alone, and crying for your mothers.

Even once the rumbling stops, you don’t move. Too afraid it will start again and you’ll be caught in the open, you wait. The sticky, festering sap of the memory clings to your synapses, refusing to let you go, embedding itself beneath your skull like it needs to live there, as if you could ever forget. There are moans from the injured, confusion and worry from those who took shelter, but multiple voices rise over the din of everyone else, giving instructions, looking for the wounded and those who need help immediately.

“- was right here, but she let go of my hand… there were too many-“ a frantic female’s voice echoes over through the market, and her terror is met by a kind, reassuring voice.

“We’ll find her.” The girl in your arms makes no attempt to free herself, still shivering in your hold, clinging to you with all her might, and you stay rooted to your spot.

There’s a brush of magic against your mind, a gentle caress that probes the dense sedge wall, and you push it away, opening your eyes to see a beautiful female crouched in front of you. “Hello.” The High Lady. The little girl finally moves, wriggling against you.

“Mara!” Her mother calls, rushing over and scooping her into her arms, sobbing. She looks her daughter over and then holds her tight before trying to approach you. “Thank you, thank you,” she’s reaching for your hand, trying to squeeze it in a manner of gratitude, of love, but you can’t move, still grappling with the noise ringing in your head. There’s more conversation, more of the High Lady’s voice, patient and gentle, and another’s, deeper, heavier.

“-shock, maybe?”

“-go get him,”

“Cassian-“ The second voice is enough to startle you back to yourself somewhat, and you carefully stretch your limbs, crawling out from under the counter and away from them, standing up on your own two feet. The High Lady holds her hand out as if you steady you. “Easy. You’re hurt.” Hurt? You instinctively touch your face, fingers coming back stained crimson. You need to get out of here, need to get as far away from all of this as you can. You’re still trying to right yourself, convince yourself you’re here, not there.

“Maybe you should sit down.” The other one, the big Illyrian who you met in this very place months ago, watches you with concern. You’re shaking, lungs expanding, searching for as much air as they can find, warm trickle of blood falling over your lips and down your chin. Pain registers slowly, no longer isolated to your face, but in your side too, and when you press your hand to your ribs, wet fabric squishes beneath it. More blood.

“Let's get you to a healer,” the High Lady tries, motioning to your head, your side, and when you don’t respond, she frowns, glancing at her companion. The wailing is finally quieting to a point where you can properly think, but words still won’t come, and she’s about to say something else when shadows swirl around the three of you, and Azriel drops from the sky.

Azriel. Your heart sings his name, and the double-edged sword cuts to the quick, opening you up to a strange spark in your chest.

He looks… awful. Insane, even. Wide eyes find you, his wings stretched into a defensive position, shadows spread around him in a dark cloud, and his fear is so palpable you swear you can feel it. All you can do is stare at him as he frantically takes you in, focus never wavering, even as he speaks to those at your side. “What happened?”

“We found her under here,” Cassian points to your hiding spot, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

“She needs a healer.” He grits, hands flexing and relaxing from flat palm into fist, repeatedly.

“We know.” The High Lady angles her body between you and the Shadowsinger. “Az,” her voice is serious, with an undercurrent of authority, “maybe you should back-“

“You need a healer.” He ignores her, and you shake your head. You need to get out of here, to get somewhere safe where you can try to rip out the rot of these memories still nipping at your heels. 

“I need to go. Home, I need to go… home.” I need to go home? That’s the best you can come up with? Cassian snorts, and Azriel says your name, an edge of dominance cutting through the haze of your mind. The blood loss is making you woozy, and the ground is unsteady, continent turning over as you start to feel sluggish. Your vision grows blurry, and then there’s a hand on your cheek.

“Look at me, it's okay.” Azriel murmurs, and you try. You do. There’s something about his touch, the texture of his hands that soothes you, comforts you, but the world is falling away, and darkness is taking you, tugging you into the lull of sleep.

You curl your fingers into his shirt, a last-ditch effort at staying upright, at staying awake, looking up into a never-ending swirl of hazel, green moss and bright umber drenched in panic.

They’re the last thing you see before everything goes black and you slip under.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[za-vandal]

Self indulgent, Pre-release Mr Reca thoughts (and hopefully prayers for me, because this man makes me salivate.)

Nsfw don't like don't read

This is filthy as hell.

Pet play, dacryphilia, and probably a few more I hadn't think of yet, this is a wild ride

I wanna make this man whimper so hard you have no fucking idea, this man makes me feral. I want to see him on the floor like a dog for me just augghhhhhhhhhh

Anyways.

Mr Reca with pet play. You saw the trailer, you will see the vision. Crazy director man who probably has a thing for controlling things because of his personality (maybe) or profession? Sign me the fuck up. I want to see this twink with a collar and leash. I want to fuck him hard and make him whimper and call him a pathetic little puppy. I want to make him wear a tail plug.

Or, alternatively, make him hump my shoe while he wears some fluffy dog ears. I see him as a dog boy, I have no idea why, but he gives possessive dog boy vibes. Bear with me here. Make him a custom collar or thigh straps with your name on it. I mean he already has them in his daily outfit, it would just make sense y'know?

Mr Reca with dacryphilia because I like my men crying and in pain. That thing about men whimpering and whining being hot is my whole personality when I'm reading fics, that is my vanilla, let's go. I want to see this pretty man crying while I suck him dry, I want to kiss his tears away while I prevent him from coming over and over. And by gods above I want to see this man full on bawling after all the overstim. Kiss away the tears because I'm soft like that.

Mr Reca but we tie him up with his straps. Why does one man need that many straps anyways? Or hell, his jacket thing works too, that shit def looks hot if he wore it without a shirt underneath like the back is 80% open, it covers nothing but it's giving everything fr. Y'all think we can hang him up with just his straps? Fuck him hard while he's up?

Mr Reca but we def filming, I shit you not that is the thing that started this post. Use his phone, your phone, do it on a private Livestream for yourself, use his freaking cameras, do it on set let's goooooooooo. I wanna watch him write his scripts as we fuck, let him sit on your dick if you can, if not cockwarm him instead. We winning no matter what. Make that man struggle and whimper, we ✨love✨ whimpering men in this house. If he feels generous maybe he'll let us wrap him up with his film tape of him being fucked and takes pictures with it. He probably won't though, but he'll probably keep them~♡ I wanna see him drool on camera so I can zoom in on his face and take pictures of it.

Mr Reca and a breeding kink???? A height difference and size kink??? I can see this going both ways. I feel like it's less breeding kink, and more he likes the feeling of cum. How to explain this? No clue. But I just think he would. Let him suck you off or eat you out, get his face wet~

For the size/height kink I think it goes both ways. I think he doesn't really care if you're smaller than him or bigger than him, he just likes it y'know? Maybe you're smaller than him but you can fuck his brains out. Maybe you're tall enough you can lift him up and fuck him against the wall without his feet touching the floor. ✨Just difference in general✨ baby. Bonus points too if you're big, I feel like he'll enjoy getting squished. Doesn't matter if you're masc or femme leaning and/or presenting, he likes getting squished.

And I hadn't really started on the real size kink idea yet, damn. Okay, size kink when he sees his stomach having a bulge as you fuck him. We love a skinny twink. I think he would see it and his mind would just go blank, like, "what the fuck, you're that big" kinda thing. Strap on or not, I think the surprise factor of seeing it is something he likes.

Mr Reca with mirrors. Listen. Trust me. Mirrors. I just love watching this unhinged man get his mind fogged by pleasure. This is a thing I love. I wanna see his face and watch him cry and watch him struggle. We've seen how deranged this man is in the trailer, now let's fuck him up literally so we can see his face more. Do it against those big, wall length mirrors you see in dancing studios if he's working on a musical or something. Do it in one of his trailers while he's out filming on set, bonus if it's not even room and we just press him against a random ahh mirror in a random trailer for costume and makeup.

I blame the unhinged energy today on my exams.

Hope you enjoyed? Well, technically I wrote this for myself but, sure. Posting this for funsies.

[captainuranium543]

Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 3

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,8k words | masterlist

"She is waking up."

Someone is talking, but you don’t know who it is, have never heard that voice before. 

"Is she?" But that voice, you have heard before. And it makes your heart race, panic surging through you and gripping your insides with its invisible claws of fire and ice.

"Yes, Cassian," the female voice states. "She is waking. Thank the Mother."

You shudder — both from feeling cold and the mention of his name. 

"Don‘t worry. Nothing will happen to you, you are safe." The female close to you must have felt your slight tremor, trying to soothe you. Under different circumstances you would have been grateful for this act — now, you can’t really accept it. You don’t know what to do with it. Can you trust her? The stranger? She is so close and it scares you, your eyes not yet opening. But you need to see, to know where you are, and what is going on. 

You ponder over her words, the mention of the word safe…

Nowhere is safe, you think. Not while Cassian and Azriel exist. With them in your life you are nowhere safe. And why the hell did you allow yourself to fall asleep?

You can’t allow yourself to let that happen again. You can't allow yourself such reckless mistakes. You always need to be focused, one step ahead of your enemies. 

Ignoring the voices, you struggle to rise, but your throbbing head spins you off balance.

"Where am I?" you breathe, not recognising your own voice. It sounds weaker than usual, hoarse and ragged. "What do you want from me?"

Blinking against harsh light, only shadows greet your blurred vision. You can only make out silhouettes, no faces, no bodies. Some people stand close to you, some a little further away and one lone figure at the door. You don’t have to see them to know who they are. 

You would always recognise him. Azriel. You start to tremble, your knees feeling wobbly despite sitting down. Blinking rapidly, slowly the haze starts to fade, and everything becomes clearer.

"We regret what occurred. Regret the measures we had to take."

The voice, oddly familiar, leaves you unsettled and cold sweat builds up on the back of your neck. 

"You…" Your breath catches as a large, towering figure appears. Imposing, graceful, powerful.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his trousers, his violet eyes trained on you. His features are sharp, but his expression is oddly soft.

"Are you…?" Your voice breaks before you can finish your question. 

"Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." The male's voice is loud and strong. "Lady Y/N, I am sorry for what my father—"

"Gods!"

Rhysand. He looks different. Older. More mature. Like his father. You had only seen him a few times back then, never really talked to him, but you knew what he looked like. Everyone did.

You lift your hand. "Don‘t. Don’t apologise. I don’t want to hear that. It was centuries ago and...I don't want to hear it." You can't hear it. Not some silly apologies for things no apologising would ever be enough for.

You don’t want to talk about it — about what happened to you, about what has been done to you. You don’t want the memories to turn up again. You can't let them reach the surface ever again. And most definitely, not now.

Not with Azriel present.

There is unresolved business with everyone in this room, but in this moment it can’t be dealt with. You are not strong enough, your powers still haven’t returned, and there are too many people protecting each other in this moment. 

Rhysand dips his chin, slowly assessing you. "You may wonder why we freed you?" he changes the topic. 

The High Lord surrounds the couch and claims a seat on the couch table in front of you, but you remain silent.

"We need your help." Again, you offer no response.

"It concerns Koschei, the—"

"Death God." Your lips part, meeting his violet gaze. "Why me?"

And so they explain. Everything and in great detail and you listen. To everything that is said until your head feels heavy and starts to spin. It is too much, too many people, too many noises, too much information. 

Azriel stays at the door, and you fight the urge to look at him, not trusting yourself to not lunge at him again and try to claw his eyes out. Your hands are still shackled and telling by the scent of it, the High Lord of Night definitely put a protective shield around you — not to protect you, but rather the others from you.  

You listen carefully to every word that is said, but sometimes your thoughts stray. To Azriel. To the Prison. To what has been done to you and to the betrayal. And to what you know of Koschei. It is so much, your brain nearly breaks your through skull. 

"The bone carver, his—"

"Brother." Another female appears in your vision, she looks beautiful and young and there is a child on her arm. "He is dead. Gave his life for the sake of Prythian."

You speak a silent prayer to the Mother for another old friend you lost. Whispers of Stryga‘s death reached you some time ago and it sent a pang of hurt to your heart. Slowly, everyone is fading from this world, also Lanthys whose charm and lethality you truly came to love in the Prison and mist desperately when he no longer was.

"Meet my wife, my mate and High Lady of the Night Court." Rhysand’s reaches his arm out, curling it around the young female. "Feyre Archeron and our son, Nyx." Rhysand also introduces all the other people in the room, but your mind catches on the High Lady part and for one moment you can ignore Azriel and what the mention of his name and title does to you. 

You furrow your brows when he is done. "A High Lady?"

There had not once been a High Lady when you— Your thoughts are cut off rapidly…that was centuries ago. Obviously things would change — have changed.

You give your head a little shake, chest heaving with a deep inhale. You've missed so much, it hurts. It is a sharp pain, almost like a dagger cutting into your chest, shredding it apart. You have missed centuries in this world. Only because of him. Because of the male who promised you the world. The male who you gave everything to you. Your soul. Your heart. Your body. You loved him and he broke you. Azriel… Your head whips into his direction, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw starts to ache. He is already looking at you, nothing but pain his eyes, his shadows nervously swirling around him. You don't even want to kill him anymore. In all honesty, you never really wanted to. But you want him to hurt. As much as you hurt. 

Inhaling deeply, you clear your mind, ignore your vendetta for a moment, and blow out a long breath.

"What do you need me for? I can’t fight Koschei. I don’t have my powers back, the amulet—"

"In our possession." He hadn’t got ridden of it. Your head whips to Azriel and then to the short, black-haired female standing next to him. She was the one speaking and now her lips are pursed, eyes narrowed into slits through which she assess you. She takes a few steps forward, gaze not once straying from you. 

"My amulet." You almost want to lunge at her, grasping the family heirloom in your hands, never letting go of it again. "I want it back…"

The amulet of Oorid had once been your most treasured possession, the only thing you could keep of your mother, and it will bring your powers back. It is right there. So close and yet so far away. Never will they give it to you just like this. Your hands lift a little and you are reminded of something else — something else that restricts you from being in full control of powers. 

"And apart from that I still have those. I want them removed." With a frown on your face you lift your hands, making the handcuffs and chains clatter. "Even with the amulet back, I can’t do much if I have to keep wearing those." You avoid Azriel’s gaze, but you give Rhysand a reproachful look. 

They want your help, then they must do something for it.

The High Lord once again shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. "If we have your trust, you will have your freedom back."

This sounds good...and fishy. You can’t trust them. And it won’t be freedom like you are used to. Freedom meant riding with them. Hunting and haunting with them. Travelling from one court to another in the dead of night. Freedom—

"Forever?"

His eyes crinkle, and you feel a talon scratch against your mental shields. Did he truly think you would let him roam around in your mind? You had no idea he was a deamati but your wits made you react within mere seconds when you felt his power. Obviously you won't let him in.

"What do you mean…forever?" Cassian is the one asking and you bristle at him. 

"That I am allowed to be free after he is defeated. That you won’t put me in the Prison or in shackles ever again. That I am allowed to lead a life on my own."

"If you can defeat him." 

A female who resembles the High Lady jabs him in the ribs so quickly the general has no time to react, and you almost want to laugh. Serves him right. 

"Yes." The short-haired female says.

"I once was a Prison inmate as well. If you earn our trust, you shall roam freely."

"And how do I earn your trust?" you spit and each word is punctuated. You rise to your feet, suddenly towering a little over the black-haired female. Your gazes lock, power clashing with power. You flash your teeth, fangs showing. 

She has the audacity to smile. "I like her fire," she says to no one in particular. "When you prove yourself useful in destroying the Death Lord and don't spoil our loyalty towards you, then you shall have our trust."

You nearly grimace at the word loyalty because no one in this place, safe for the people you don't know, has ever been loyal to you. 

"But I can't defeat him if I don't have my powers back."

"A bargain it is then."

The black-haired female reaches out her hand and you raise a brow. You have made many bargains in the past, mostly over not that important things. Never over your freedom. 

"You regain your powers, and have your amulet back and you shall have freedom and for that you will help us with Koschei, starting with one special task now and then aiding us in ultimately defeating him."

The thin, loose nightgown suddenly feels so tight, too tight, making it hard to breathe. This decision is grand and should not be made on a whim, but you haven't got time. 

You hold her gaze…She used to be a Prison inmate too. Why would she lie about it? You think you can trust her…or at least partly. There is no one you can fully trust in this world. 

But this bargain will remove the shackles and give you your powers back. And your freedom. 

And so you accept. There is no other option anyway. You bow your hand and reach out both shackled hands, sliding one cold palm against hers. Lightning zips between your bodies and only mere moments after, a tattoo adorns the marred skin of your upper arm. Your gaze lingers on it for a long moment until—

"So shall be it," Rhysand bows his head and fetches you back to the moment. "Follow me into my office."

"First, I want these removed. We made a bargain!" You bare your teeth, holding his gaze while lifting your arms. 

His answer unsettles you.

"Az, remove them." The High Lord tilts his chin at his shadowsinger. You almost want to tell Rhysand that you are actually quite fine with keeping them only to avoid having Azriel touch you, but it is too late. And you won't ever be weak again. You hate him, and he should have any effect on you. He has touched you before, he can also touch you now. 

With the raise of one brow, you turn to Azriel and wave your handcuffed hands into his direction. "Now?"

He says nothing as he pushes off the wall, and slowly makes his way over to you, nothing but grace in his walk. Once again you clench your jaw, worried you'll grind down your teeth to nothing. 

And it doesn't get better. Not when his scarred hands carefully reach for your arms, broad fingers accidentally brushing your skin. It tingles, little sparks flying from his fingertips to your skin. 

Your breath catches.  

Using his shadowsinger powers or whatever, he opens the shackles, catching them before they fall to the ground. "Y/N—"

You step away from him, not giving him a chance to say anything. "Let's go to the office."

"Y/N, please," he tries again and seemingly he doesn't care that his family hears it.

Do they know?

Rhys and Cass didn't know about your relationship back then. Do they know now.

Slowly, you tip your chin up and meet his gaze. It is all in the look you give him, the hurt, the pain, the anger, the hate. You let him see it all and it is answer enough. You don't need to say anything.

He steps away and bows his head.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

You almost shriek when your sharpened nails brush the onyx box, it’s power strong, electric, radiant, stretching out like a dark force that makes your lungs coil. It feels like death itself. 

Your breath catches in your throat, the power the little box holds so similar to your own. Death. 

You analyse the box, assessing it. How can such a little box, hold so much power? You don't even allow yourself to imagine what could be in it. 

"I think I need some books," you breathe after a moment. "And time. As much as I can have."

"We thought so," Feyre says and in the corner of your eye you see how she curls her hand around Rhysand's elbow, their little babe now peacefully asleep in another room. "Hence why we thought it will be a good idea for you to start looking for all the necessary books in our big library. You can work with all of them, whatever you need shall be yours."

You dip your chin at her, once again focusing on the box. It could be opened with old runes…maybe. Or some spells. Witches spells? You are not really acquainted with them, but maybe you need to have a look into those as well. 

"And speaking of the Library…" You turn to Feyre and Rhysand, an expectant look on your face, waiting for the High Lord to continue. 

"After a conversation with the priestesses living in the Library, you are allowed to have a room there. The Library is beneath the House and can only be accessed through the House of Wind.“

How kind, you think. You are allowed to. You almost bristle at the way the High Lord phrased it, but you veil your face in indifference and merely shrug. 

Freedom…right. Being locked into a Library. Underneath this house. That is what freedom looks like. Not. 

"Am I allowed to roam freely there."

The High Lord bows his head. "You are to stay away from the priestesses living there, but you are allowed to roam freely. The females who live in this place have experienced terrible things, we won't allow anything to happen to them again. As long as you don't cause any trouble, you have all the freedom you want to have in there, but if you do something, consequences will follow." 

You almost want to laugh. Consequences…They need your help. And why the hell should you cause any of the priestesses living there trouble? You are deadly, but you are not heartless. Not cruel in that sense of the word. 

You want to say something, to retort something, but the High Lord beats you to it. 

"I think it is a good idea for us to call it a day. You shall rest, you have been through a lot, and getting you out of the Prison and to Velaris most definitely wasn't easy for you."

Velaris…Velara. The High Lord's daughter. Rhysand's sister. Where is she? Why isn't she present. You haven't known her that well, but…you will ask about her another time. Another day. 

"I assume you want to bath and then sleep?"

You do, you really do. Today has been too much and you only want to fall into a bed, now that there is the possibility of actually having a bed again. And warm water to wash. 

Instead of answering, you only hold Rhysand's gaze and then slowly dip your chin. 

"Alright. Then end it here for today. Nesta will escort you to the Library."

You are so very tired. So exhausted. It is all draining. All too much after the century-long imprisonment. And you want to get away from them. From him. You no longer want to be in a room with Azriel. You can't stand to be near him. You can't stand his closeness.

So you find yourself following after Nesta into the Library without saying another word to anyone. And most definitely without deigning Azriel another look. 

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesss @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinaligh @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood @sirenpearldust @rhysandorian @starcrossedsan @spideytingley @historygeekqueen @starryhiraeth @fasoaurore

[alpoocka]

After roleplaying with different perspectives on the character, I realized I wanted to talk a little about my vision of Vanessa

I think these two were very anxious, but it manifested itself in different ways. They both want to do the best, but if Prince tries to explain everything as specifically as possible, talking a lot and gesturing, to avoid misunderstandings with the interlocutor, Vanessa simply does not start a conversation. She feels that she will ruin everything by her intervention, so she just keeps quiet. Once she was told that she was a bad speaker and she believed it, sat alone and read novels. Because of this, there were times when she enthusiastically began to tell Prince about something, temporarily forgetting about the barrier and opening up to him. He answered something like: wow, it's like you've been replaced. She interpreted this negatively and fell silent again.

Many people portray her as a hot-tempered person, but I think she wasn't, she used the diary to at least express her thoughts, fears, anger somewhere, while remaining outwardly calm. Most likely, she manipulated softly, slowly but surely, but most likely not consciously: "I suffer so much when you are not here, if only you came more often", "I don't like the bacon from the new supplier lately, maybe you shouldn't order it until we find a new, better one? I'll take care about it, really", "you spend too much time studying, I see how tired you are, you need to come to her classes less often, for your own health."

The hair dyeing incident was one of those times when she lost control of herself and brought the obsessive thought to life.

Vanessa is the personification of the phrase "still waters run deep", but she skillfully suppressed this part of herself until she saw the "betrayal". Sometimes she was told that she was naive, she tried not to pay attention to these words, but when she saw "irrefutable evidence", she thought too much without asking for an outside perspective.

Because of loneliness and introversion, as it seems to me, Vanessa tends to wind herself up, come up with hundreds of possible reasons for any actions, but she tried to push the negative ones into the background. Everything accumulated like a snowball in the depths of her mind and exploded that day. Usually a quiet and silent girl exploded.

I think she was absolutely distraught with loneliness when Hat Kid arrived, but she tried to maintain the illusion of normality: "I want a nice bathroom, a fridge and a modern stove" (I'd like to see the faces of the workers who installed all this), she constantly giggles under her breath and talks to herself. She doesn't care about Prince anymore, she won't trust anyone anymore.

[4dbarbie-archive]

4dbarbie interview: All about Desires

4dkelly notes: I had fun making this in an interview style Q&A between 4dbarbie and Vanessa. I thought "how would 4dbarbie answer anon questions if she were still here today?". Spoiler alert, it wouldn't be much different to the questions anons asked her lol. Most answers are just directly extracted from her posts/answered asks but some have been adapted a bit or rearranged to make it flow better. I have added some relevant posts for further reading. I may or may not make more of these. This was mainly just for fun (but then it really evolved into an educational piece lol). My highlight key: key concepts are in pink, action points in purple, really important points in red

Vanessa: I really like this guy and want to manifest him. 😢 How do I do that?

4dbarbie: IMAGINE KNOWING ALL THIS AND STRESSING OVER A GUY?!?!? Unbelievable. Who's holding you at gun point to type this out to me??? 😧😧😧 I refuse to believe this is what this material is getting wasted on. I refuse to believe this is the understanding you guys have after I explained who you are in so many ways. Imagine liking someone who didn't text you back right after to tell you how amazing you are as well 🤮 what do you like about this nobody? You want to give me a heart attack? I tell you there is no one out there but you and instead of being free and loving yourself you... you give a crumb of your precious attention to this? I tell you you are life and you try to make life better through dates?

Vanessa: Okay but what about my other desires? I want them...

4dbarbie: Everything about Vanessa is meaningless. She has a life and if it's boring, who cares? Forget it. What do you need these stories for? Do you not understand they have reality because you give it to them? YOU! They have no standing on their own! The whole world is just your mere thought. The body exists because you are aware of it being! Only you have this power. Only you are. Why are you dreaming like this? Gosh, you break my heart. If Vanessa is hurting you why do you keep on choosing her?

Vanessa: Then what should I do? I still have things I desire despite knowing I cannot desire because I am not a person, ego, mind...

4dbarbie: You know it intellectually, but have you acted on it at all? You know yourself as Vanessa by acting like Vanessa, know yourself as your Self by acting like yourself. Desires and fears dissipate then. You have desires still because you never stopped thinking you're Vanessa. Investigate who Vanessa actually is :) Spoiler alert: it's a thought! Think something else and see what happens.

Vanessa: How long will this take? When will I see a change?

4dbarbie: Now. Who is doing the change in attitude, what are you waiting for to happen for you to change your attitude? It's instant. You see it, you realize you have no reason to worry/doubt/desire/fear anymore, let things happen as they happen while you're undisturbed and they dissolve.

Vanessa: Should I just keep assuming that I don't desire things anymore because I already have it while I'm denying and dismissing my senses? It feels like I'm just waiting and being delusional though

4dbarbie: Your world is right and perfect, what you see is what you are so even if you're seeing what 'you' don't want, the world is not wrong in being what it is. Fearing it, trying to manipulate it, lying to yourself about it being something different - all useless and vain attempts.

Not seeing the world as it is, is an aversion to it. - Lester Levenson

See it as it is and it will fix itself.

And no, being delusional is not good, it leads you not to trust your own judgment or senses. Which is not right, why shouldn't you? What is wrong with your vision? Being delusional from your ego self is really harmful, someone could be abusing you and you would go "i'm sure that's not right he loves me so much in my mind!!!"

You won't be able to get rid of the waiting feeling as long as you're identified with your ego, it can manipulate nothing. And if you weren't your ego -- everything would already be materialized, so there would be nothing to wait for.

Vanessa: Well since I Am and I give life to everything, when Vanessa desires something, I can just "give" her her desires, right?

4dbarbie: The desire that *I*... the desire is of Vanessa, the Self can have that and it's nothing to it. It's just another experience. Those things are in you, not you in them.

You don't have to give her anything... you don't have to fulfill anybody... I Am is already everything... you only don't see you are all and have the all because you won't stop thinking you're the ego. All you're doing all the time is creating lack & limitation, perfection already is. You just add unsatisfying labels constantly with your wrong thinking.

Let go of the thinking, it's instant. No need to fulfill anybody. 1 My tip is to realize your Self, have enough courage to face Vanessa's fears. See how unnecessary is to pay them any mind at all. Let go of thinking you are this little helpless thing already. After you realize yourself, any bold assertion does it. There's no time delay. 2

Vanessa: Now I feel defeated, do I just give up on everything then?

4dbarbie: Feeling defeat is actually good, it prompts you to let go :D You don't need to reach for what is already within you. Give up the idea that you have not found it and just let it come into the focus of direct perception, here and now, by letting go of all that is of the mind.

Abandon all sense of separation, see yourself in all and act accordingly - Nisargadatta Maharaj

You have it, all is well. Just stop believing the illusions born out of thinking you're a person.

Vanessa: So as Awareness, I have to stop desiring?

4dbarbie: If you know yourself to be Awareness, then you know yourself to be the all. There is nothing to desire, because you have no reason to create desire.

That's why it's necessary to realize all that is is awareness and the person comes second. If you think all that is is the person, then the chances of believing you're suddenly a different person are slim, and the persuasion and convincing are nothing but a form of self-instilled mental torture. 1 All you're doing is imagining/thinking you're an ego who has to strive for things, but it is "I AM" imagining itself to be so.

What is beyond is clear of all striving. The cause of suffering is in the identification of the perceiver with the perceived. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

When that identification ceases, so does desire. Then, if you want to express yourself as being a person, nothing is stopping you from doing so, only know yourself first. After that, no matter what you choose to experience the world as, you will know you are not it and it can't hurt you.

Vanessa: What do I do when a desire or fear comes to my mind then? It doesn't feel right to suppress them...

4dbarbie: I am not talking of suppression. Just refuse attention. Nisargadatta has a saying "When you happen to walk in a crowd, you do not fight every man you meet — you just find your way between." Neville has another "Indifference is the knife that severs, feeling is the tie that binds." When you refuse to play the game, you are out of it.

Vanessa: Then how do I stop feeling anxious about trying to change my life?

4dbarbie: You are not the one who is anxious or fearful, the ego is fearful. LOA was wrong about letting go because you can't let go of desires or fears if you don't know who you really are. If you think you are this ego you can't help being anxious. You can't help wanting to get. Real surrendering can only be of the ego. By letting go of who you think you are and seeing you were never it in the first place, that it is because YOU are, you naturally drop all desires and fears because they weren't yours. 1 Get into a habit of watching, letting them be but not identifying with them. If you can observe them, it means you are not them.

Abandon all imaginings and know yourself as you are. All craving is due to a sense of insufficiency. When you know that you lack nothing, that all there is, is you and yours, desire ceases. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

Vanessa: How do I stop feeling doubts then?

4dbarbie: You shut them down. There is no reason to argue with them, contemplate them, or give them any kind of attention at all. See them for what they are, an illusion of the mind. When you catch yourself being aware of something that's undesirable, just go 'What problem?' and know it to be perfect again. Always remember, the real you can't have doubts, only your ego can.

Vanessa: I feel like I'm not doing enough to realize my true Self. How can I be more productive on this journey?

4dbarbie: There's nothing to be productive about. What a silly concept. Don't add another burden or worry onto yourself. Right now you make yourself guilty over not seeking more and doing more to attain realization, but you already have it. You need not take time to meditate or put time aside to contemplate and "apply". All you need to do is detach from this form during the day, let life happen as it happens while reminding yourself it's a dream, a dream that doesn't have to be yours.

The guilt is because you think you're running out of time and you need to change "your" life now. Be patient with yourself because you don't lose any time, just get to that place I'm telling you about and then you can just go back in time if you so wish. All worry is pointless! And there is nothing to fear, things just happen, do not claim them as yours for a while. Unclutter your mind, it becomes your servant after you've freed it enough.

[melissatalks]

Hold me tighter

A/n: For this one, I did two requests (both being about comfort). I know I've been very inactive but I felt like writing :) BYE I STARTED WRITING THIS LIKE A MONTH OR TWO AGO I FINISHED THIS AT 1 AM SO DONT MIND THE SPELLING AND WRITING. PLEASE.

You're burnt out and need comfort :))

Y/n pov:

It was a Thursday night, I was coming back from work with so many emails to read and answer as a former assistant and so many essays to write as a student. Thursday was always the busiest day. The teachers would give more work so that students work hard even on the weekends and for some reason, customers reach out way more at the end of the week. I just wanted one day where I could be free. One day where I could just lay in bed holding my girlfriend all day. I couldn't even remember the last time we shared a meal. We were both very busy but it shouldn't keep us away like this. But truly, I shouldn't complain because it's simply my job.

Unfortunately, this day is only possible once I get my degree and once I can take days off again. I've always had issues with my stomach. Sometimes it would randomly start hurting. I've always been told "It's just stress" but it's still a pain in the ass to feel like you're being stabbed with every move you do and because of that, it leads to me having no more days off. I dreamt of the day I'd finally have an answer to how I can stop these cramps but it never arrived. So I would just miss an average of one day every week because I had difficulties even getting up. After that, there were also my horrible migraines that happened every two days. It was a living hell.

When I finally arrived home, I broke. I didn't think it would happen but it did. I sat in the corner of the kitchen crying for an hour until Billie arrived. I could see the shock on her face when she opened the door that led towards the kitchen and saw me curled up in a corner. I had never broken down in front of her. My immediate reaction was to try to stop crying but I couldn't. My vision was only getting blurrier from the stress of being this vulnerable with someone I love. I tried to explain myself from fear but nothing other than broken sobs came out of my throat.

"No need to talk sweetheart. I know." She whispered as she was kneeling to be at my height.

3rd pov:

Growing up in a place where you would get screamed after if you cried as someone sensitive had negative consequences on how you act and your trust towards the people you loved the most. One of those consequences being to push away some of your loved ones when they are just trying to help. But Billie knew that. She slowly got closer, with no physical touch at all, waiting for a signal that could indicate that you were comfortable with her getting closer. As time went by, she inched closer and closer, taking your hand in hers at a certain point which helped you calm down until you were calm enough and comfortable enough for her to be holding you. You stayed sitting on the floor in each other's arms for a little while just enjoying the comfort.

"Y/n?" Billie said softly, breaking the silence.

You only nodded, not finding the strength to even talk.

"Let's get you in bed okay? You're overworked baby and it kills me that you don't realize it. Gosh, can't stand seeing you this tired..." She said, this time with a more concerned tone in her voice.

She helped you get up, pulling you towards the bed. Once you got in, she joined spooning you.

"Are you comfortable..?" She whispered making sure you felt as good as possible.

"I'm so fucking sorry." You let out. "I feel like a burden Billie! I'm always the one who's late, the one finishing essays at crazy hours, I'm never there!" You exclaim, tears pricking at your eyes again, threatening to fall down on your cheeks.

"I'm holding you back Billie." You said, quietly this time.

"You know that's not true..." She answered. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you closer and tighter. "I love you y/n. More than anything. And if staying with you means waiting for you to finish university and get your degree then I will because I truly do love you. How about we talk about this tomorrow? I know you're tired." All you could do was let out a soft hum before falling asleep in her arms. Your girlfriend's arms. Holding you tighter and tighter than she ever did every single time.

A/n that's fucking crazy it is 12:50 am and I am tired and this ending is probably fucked

[ultramarinaa]

I got inspired to write my own short Champion fanfic, so here you go :) don't mind any typo/spelling/grammar errors, no beta we kayak like Tim

Martin wasn't sure how he ended up here, but he was at Jon's flat. He has been for the last few days, as a matter of fact. Elias had begun to cause a stink about a cat staying in the archives, so Jon simply decided to take Martin–Champion–home.

Not that Martin was complaining. Jon had a nice home, though it seems underprepared for a cat. Jon seemed to be quite the minimalist apart from things he'd like to collect, random little trinkets that took up space on his desk.

Also, not to mention living with his crush that had never dwindled, despite Jon's harshness. Jon treated him like a prince, at least by cat standards, but it's still more attention than he ever gets. He curls up on Jon's lap, on blankets, and Jon's bed had also become his. It was pure bliss (also, Jon's bed head was adorable).

It was also because of this that he'd get quite sad when Jon left for work. He'd meow, rub on his leg, sit in front of the door, but to no avail Jon would leave with a regretful look on his face. This wasn't the biggest of his problems, though.

Alone and nothing to do, Martin decides to take nap on top of the couch. He stretches, extending his claws as he does, and curls up. He dozes off into sleep, but when he opened his eyes, he noticed something was off.

He blinks as his vision clears, and realizes he is laying on the main part of the couch. He shifts, only to look down to see that he is human again–which would be fantastic if Jon wasn't going to be home at any moment. Martin had been missing, though nobody really tried to find him, and he was sure it would be a shock to find someone suddenly in your flat.

Martin gathers himself before sitting up, promptly adjusting to being back in his old and human body. How was he going to explain this? 'Yes, Jon, I was a cat and definitely didn't break into your house'?

Before he had too much time to think he heared a click and then the door knob begin to turn. Ready or not, he thought, and listened to door break as it opened to show Jonathan Sims.

Jon lookes baffled to put it lightly. He stood there, unmoving and unchanging, making long eye contact with Martin. He can feel his face get red as it makes him nervous, and he thinks this is the last thing that should be happening. "Uhm, hi. Jon, I'm so sorry–"

"How did you get here? I–" Jon tosses his bag to the side as he makes his way over to Martin, his voice sharp. Not angry though, which surprises Martin. He sees worry in Jon's eyes as he talks. "Where on earth have you been?"

Martin has to process what is happening, giving a small nod before he starts talking. "Right, I...might have been stuck as a cat?"

"You were Champion?" The tone initally came off as surprised to Martin, but he can see Jon frown slightly. "That's...I'm glad you're okay."

"I touched a Leitner, it was my own fault," Martin says simply. He feels guilty about the situation, but he can't help feeling a sting of hurt knowing nobody actively looked for him.

"If I would have known...I'm sorry." Jon rests his hand on Martin's shoulder, though he has to look up at him. "Elias told us you were taking some sort of break from work. Should have never trusted his word."

"He told you I was taking a break?" He didn't know what else to do other than gesture his hands to emphasize his point. "That bastard knew what happened!"

"Let's give him a taste of his own medicine," Jon said, having a beautiful determined look his his eyes. "Wouldn't hurt to have another cat around the archives."

Martin was certain he was in love with this man.

I fully believe John just wants to have a cat and getting one but also getting rid of Elias at the same time… is a wonderful deal

Also hehehehehee happy ending for cat!Martin, no angst just sillies

Just what I needed, thank you so much!! 💞💞💞💞

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 39

Geralt is standing above the unconscious bloodied body of his beloved, Jaskier. The mage Geralt was tracking down to kill had meant to blast Geralt, but Jaskier had tackled the mage and things got ugly. The mage chuckles, eerily, and prowls closer. "So the mighty witcher has a weakness after all. Perhaps it'd be best if I do let you both live. Eternal sorrow is far more delicious than a passing trifle." And Geralt falls unconscious. He relives his entire life through flashes of memories, though they're all cruel and wrong. Things happen differently, skewed and twisted. The first time he meets Jaskier, he punches him in the stomach. Jaskier is standing beside him, near a body of water, as Geralt insults his voice. His passion, his livelihood, his reason for living. Jaskier standing outside awkwardly as Geralt fucks Yennefer. Geralt can see him in his peripheral, and yet he doesn't stop, nor even have the decency to pull the curtains, he just continues. Soon enough, the blur of colors at the edge of his vision disappears as Jaskier runs into the distance. Geralt however thinks that the worst memories are the quick three-second flashes of him just endlessly needlessly insulting Jaskier throughout their decades of companionship. It's not banter, it's not teasing, it's just abuse. Then Geralt is suddenly on a mountain, and he's yelling at Jaskier. "If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!" ... Nevermind. This is the worst one. Geralt is sick to his stomach. Jaskier's eyes widen, and begin to tear up. His face pales of blood, he looks like he's about to faint. His lip even quivers, the way it does when he's well and truly devastated. And Geralt did that to him. "Right.. Uh.. I'll get the rest of the story from the others. I'll see you around Geralt." But then he wakes up in Yennefer's hut. "Where's Jaskier?" he asks immediately. "That bard you hated? The one that followed you around for a few years? I don't know. It's been years since you've even thought about that wretch." He explains that this is wrong. That he loves Jaskier. He adores him. And she tuts sympathetically before explaining that it was a spell the mage put him under. Fake memories of a life where he paired up with the bard. She mimes gagging at the sentiment and he feels hot with anger. As if Jaskier is such a bad choice of romantic partner. He storms out of her place and races off to find his bard. He needs to know for sure what their standing is, and even if he has been cruel, he can at least apologize to the poor bard. "I don't know what to do, Yenna!" A bandaged Jaskier shrieked as the afformentioned witch examined Geralt for the fourth time that hour. Geralt lay comatose in her guest bed, under some sort of spell. Every once in a while, Geralt frowns or winces in his sleep, but that's all they can get from him. "He hasn't woken up since we were fighting the mage." She has a feeling she knows what sort of spell it is. A very cruel trick to play. The mage was smart enough to trust Geralt's self-flagellation. That upon waking from a fake world he perceived as real where all he did was harm Jaskier, he'd most certainly distance himself from the real Jaskier in fear of becoming the version of him in the curse. The mage was dumb enough however, to not think of how far Jaskier would go to save his beloved.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Mentioned in a Post a while back about a Jttw/LMK AU I had regarding the "Yellow Robed Demon" Arc when Tripitaka got turned into a tiger.

Book Summary;

Tripitaka manages to escape his capture (for once) and passes on a message to the King of Baoxiang from his daughter, Baihuaxiu, explaining that she was kidnapped and made the forced bride of a demon (ironically making it a magical version of what befell Tripitaka's mother when he was a baby).

Kui Mulang rolls in with a human glamour and goes: "Nu-Uh! I'm but a humble human hunter. THIS guy is a tiger demon who attacked a girl some time ago. I save her and we've been living a simple life for the last 13 years!" (Lie)

So the dude pulls an Uno-Reverse and transforms Tripitaka into a tiger (or in some versions, glamours him into one). The King and his subjects believe this 100% since Tripitaka and the Pilgrims don't look so great without Wukong there to act as PR (he was exiled at the time for the White Bone Spirit incident).

Tripitaka is apparently aching-beautiful no matter his form though;

Wukong even feels kinda bad for his Master, since the transformation is so good that he can't even see through it with Gold Vision. Also imagine a sad giant kitty, that would bum anyone out.

Of course things are resolved by the end of the arc; the gang reunite with their monkey, Ao Lie gets his own badass chapter, the Princess is saved, Bajie kills the couple's two half-demon wolf children, the Yellow Robed Demon is revealed to be Revatī - the Wood Wolf of Legs after Wukong catches the demon commenting on his performance during the Havoc (Wukong has a few Columbo moments in the book like this), and Tripitaka is transformed back into his squishy monk self.

Bonus - Tripitaka as a tiger from a book illustration + the 1999 cartoon.

The book illustration + description suggests he's a rare Pseudo-melanistic "Black Tiger" seen in India, possibly an Indo-Chinese Tiger, or a South China Tiger with a darker back.

So here's where the timeline shifts...

The Wood Wolf of Legs ain't happy to be dragged away from (what he believed to be mutual) his true love on earth + his two kids, so he curses the Tang Monk to not only retain part of the glamour he imposed upon him, but to transform him fully into a carnivorous feline demon. Also as an extra "F-k you!" to the Jade Court he and his past love fled from, since the Queen Mother is a celestial tigress herself.

The Pilgrims freak out, obviously.

Guanyin is called up and is like;

Guanyin: "Well, you did unjustly punish and exile your best bodyguard because you didn't trust his judgement, seeing him only as a murderous beast... so *your* punishment is to deal with the rest of your Journey as one of the very same creatures you see as mindlessly bloodthirsty." Tripitaka, now cursed to stay a catboy: "Dang it." (≽^╥⩊╥^≼)

He still gets to wear the robes and walk upright -think Master Tigress from Kung Fu Panda but as a wimpy, twink-shaped, monk.

Tripitaka aint' having fun. He's a life-long vegetarian who's suddenly an apex hypercarnivore. He tries his best for the longest time to stay on the veggies (and durian weirdly enough since tigers like those), but eventually he will need to chow down on some bleeding protein.

And his team literally consists of the main diet of a tiger...

Wukong, a monkey: "Master isn't looking too good." Zhu Bajie, a pig: "I don't like the way he's been looking at us. I burnt my finger making the campfire and he looked ready to pounce!" Sha Wujing, a fish: "I'm not surprised. Cats are of few beasts that absolutely require meat protein to survive." Ao Lie, currently a horse: "If he goes feral, I vote we sacrifice the pig first." Wujing & Wukong: "Agreed." Zhu Bajie: "HEY!!" (₍•̀ ⚇•́ ₎) Tripitaka, meditating hard: "Perhaps if I eat a watermelon, it would sustain my desire for flesh?"

What worse?

Tripitaka is still considered smoking hot. Now by demon standards too!

The Trio of Lion Camel Ridge prepare to attack the Pilgrims when;

Azure Lion: (*sees that the Great Monk is actually a beautiful tiger.*) Azure Lion, lowering his sword: "Guys, do not mess this up for me." Peng & Yellow Tusk: (*annoyed groans!*)

[highfantasy-soul]

omg this tension with Evan and his character arc this season is sooo juicy!!!!

spoilers for episode 9 of mismag season 2

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

At some point, the tension is going to break and I really really hope the entire pilot program sits Evan on his ass and, since he's so concerned about people being plain with their speech, gives it to him like it is. How he's being so SHIT to his friends and at every opportunity spitting in their faces and calling them liars.

My jaw was on the GROUND when they went back to piss-berg and he accused the Quoli (spelling - who knows spelling??) of being purposefully obtuse about why he gave Evan the book and what his sad expression meant. Evan took it as "Evan's life will permanently be so sad and pathetic" and when confronted, the Quoli explained that wasn't the reason, Evan wanted answers and the book has what Evan had wanted when last he came to the island - but the whole reason the Quoli looked sad was inappropriate to tell Evan.

Like, the Quoli straight up said 'Evan, your emotional healing and self-realization has got to come from you - you can't get that shit handed to you by an outside force' and Evan threw a little tantrum.

What really made my jaw drop was when in response to Evan claiming the Quoli thought his life was all super sad and pathetic, the Quoli LOOKED TO THE OTHERS to ask if they thought Evan's depiction of his life was accurate. The others staunchly and firmly said 'no, we don't see Evan's life as just a sad, pathetic never ending cycle of depression - that's not who he is' - the Quoli looked to Evan and asked 'Do you really need ME to explain to you what your friends already know? (and just told you) or do you trust that with more time, you'll understand it for yourself?' (again, telling him - yo, you can't fast track emotional healing, but you got a whole ass support system here for you. To quote Bo Burnham: the love has got to come from YOU)

And EVAN'S RESPONSE WAS: "I don't like you. There could be clarity here and there's not. I'm not sure if that's your fault or just the nature of the world but either way, I don't have to be in a good mood about the imposition of mystery on someone who's just looking for answers."

My jaw DROPPED

Evan just heard his friends give clear and direct answers to the question he was asking and he TOLD THEM TO SHUT THE FUCK UP - THEIR THOUGHTS MEAN NOTHING, THEY DON'T KNOW SHIT AND HE WANTS A GOAT TO TELL HIM WHAT TO FEEL!!!!!!

He's claiming there's mystery and a lack of clarity but EVAN IS THE ONLY ONE OBSCURING HIS VISION!!!!

You can bring a horse to water but you for sure can't make him listen to his friends when they tell him point blank the answer to his question!

If I was Jammer, I wouldn't have just asked Evan if he was ready to go, I would have grabbed that motherfucker by the collar and drug his ass out of there and he'd be getting the cold shoulder for A WHILE

I really hope that's where his character arc is going because I get heated every time Evan insists his friends are shit and liars and 'no, no, they don't understand, I'm the most specialist boy in the whole wide world and my sadness is everything that defines and and I'm going to pretend to hate it, but every time my friends counter it, I'll ignore them and tell them they're stupid liars and retreat back into my comfortable sad boi aura that makes me feel special.'

Like, at some point, something's gotta break, right? I know K has the most to lay out for Evan in that department, but I kinda hope Jammer is right there with them because I don't think Evan will listen to K at all - he'll dismiss her as just a jilted lover who's opinion is the least among the group.

I know it's an improv show and there's no guarantee everything will pay off, but I think it'll be really good if they're able to fit it in.

---

Obviously, this isn't me dogging on Brennan and his choices while playing the game - it's a very VERY compelling and realistic look at the difficult healing journey that people who have gone through (or gone through similar) what Evan has might take.

What I will say though, on a serious note, is that if you find yourself in a relationship with someone who behaves the way Evan does, take care of yourself. Just because they've suffered unimaginable trauma doesn't mean it's ok for them to abuse you. Even if that abuse stems from their trauma, you do not have to accept being treated like that.

You cannot help someone who doesn't want to be helped. You cannot force them to drink the tonic you offer them, accept the help you give, or believe what reassurances you give them.

You cannot tell them how to view themselves - even if you think it's helping them see themselves how you believe they truly are. The belief HAS to come from them, you can't do their emotional labor for them (though many will try to make you and then have you blame yourself when it doesn't work).

Of course leave room for love and meeting people where they are, but trauma does not excuse abuse - you are not a bad person for stepping away from someone who is hurting you even if they're hurting, too.