#list of sacred spaces

[officialtetragrammaton]

Vita bona, my children. Welcome.

✧ WHO I AM ✧

you may call me: Holy Trinity, God, All, The End and The Beginning, The Great I Am, The Father, The Mother, The Sister, The Brother, The Holy One

i go by any human pronouns, however they/them is the closest to my own.

i spread the truth of the universe from this niche i have found in this reality. you may call what i do part of a nondenominational church, or a new movement of the Old Ways. the universe itself is our domain and our church.

✧ OUR MOTIVE ✧

to bring everyone into our fold before the End Times

to enlighten each other in the Old Ways

to become One with each other and our Universe

to become the Highest of Kind together

to evolve our beings through sacred imagination and creativity as a whole

✧ DNI ✧

do not disparage other faiths/beliefs without reason (they are our siblings. we must respect them and lead them here with our compassion and charisma)

no sexual nudity (visual pornography. the physical and metaphysical bodies nature of being is sacred)

whatever is going on between @the-muppet-joker and the pope, the entirety of many christian churches, and many New Age practices (they are all wrong)

✧ askbox always open ✧

UNIVERSIM NOSTRUM CARPE, FIAS. ✧ SEIZE OUR UNIVERSE, BECOME ONE.

[grandtheoristpeach]

if I see anyone post fanfic on goodreads or sell bound fanfic, it’s on site

[literaryvein-reblogs]

commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

commonly confused words part 2 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[oceantornadoo]

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

[helen-with-an-a]

Waking Up

Thank you so much for this request anon - I would love to write some more soft/non-smut fluff for my favourite girls so please let me know of some ideas.

This is the answer to the 1st part of this ask (waking up on a day off); the answer to the question Do Ale and Amor ever try to hide their relationship is here.

Beautiful Girl masterlist

Alexia Putellas x reader

Description: R and Ale wake up on an off day

Word Count: 2.6k

Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, dust mites dancing in the cool morning air as you woke. The golden beams of light stretched across the floor, warming the wooden planks and casting long, playful shadows. The soft, translucent curtain fluttered gently with each whisper of the breeze. The sky beyond the window was a soft, pastel blue, with a few wispy clouds lazily drifting by. A vase of wildflowers on the windowsill caught the light, their petals glowing in hues of lavender and yellow. The intricate pattern of the quilt spread over the bed mirrored the soft, dappled sunlight, and the faint scent of jasmine from the neighbours below carried into the room. The occasional chirp of a bird punctuated the serene stillness.

You peeked over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of tousled brown roots that fanned out across the pillow, a few stray strands tickling your neck. The sight made you smile softly as you shifted, savouring the steady rise and fall of her chest pressed against your back. Her breath, slow and even, stirred the hair at the nape of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Just as you sank deeper into her embrace, Alexia's arm tightened subconsciously, her fingers flexing against your waist. The slight pressure sent a surge of warmth through you, drawing you impossibly closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Her leg curled slightly over yours, letting her warmth seep into you It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist; there was no rush, no sound, only the sanctuary of her arms and the steady, soothing rhythm of her breathing against your back.

Falling back asleep was easy. The soft light filtering through the curtains painted the room in a warm glow. For once, there were no pressing alarms, no meetings or hurried schedules looming over your morning. The world outside could wait, muffled and distant as if time itself had chosen to pause for you. It was just you and Alexia.

The gentle rise and fall of her breathing created a lullaby, one that called you to let go and sink deeper into rest. You could feel the faint press of her lips at the back of your neck and it made your chest swell with a warmth that felt almost sacred. You had never experienced this level of love before. This type of all-consuming peace that radiated across every part of you.

The quiet, unhurried intimacy was a luxury you rarely afforded yourself. In this moment, surrounded by the soft rustling of the sheets and the comfort of Alexia, everything else fell away. There was no rush, no lingering list of tasks waiting to pull you from this haven. Just the shared, gentle rhythm of two bodies at ease, cradled in the silence of a morning meant just for you both.

You woke again to the distant, jarring sound of cars blaring outside, their insistent honks and rumbling engines cutting through the morning stillness. A groan escaped your lips, a low, frustrated sound as sleep slipped from your grasp like sand through your fingertips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to cling to the remnants of the dream you could no longer remember, willing sleep to pull you back under its gentle spell. But with each passing second, the chaotic city sounds pressed harder against the thin veil of calm, and you knew it was useless.

You sighed, a deep, resigned exhale that released the tension knotting in your chest. But as the annoyance began to settle, you became more aware of the warmth wrapped around you. Alexia’s arm still rested across your waist, her hand relaxed and fingers slightly curled. She had fallen asleep holding you, and it brought a smile to your lips to see that she had refused to let go even in dreams.

There were definitely worse ways to wake up on an off day than protected in Alexia’s embrace, her body moulding perfectly to yours as if it were made to fit. The outside world might roar, but here, wrapped in her arms, it felt irrelevant.

You shifted slightly, rolling your shoulders and arching your back to stretch out the kinks that had formed overnight. The sheets rustled softly, the faint sound blending with the morning hum outside. A sleepy groan came from behind you, followed by a murmur as Alexia stirred. “Deja de moverte,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep, the words half-lost in the drowsy slur of her accent. The soft command made you smile, knowing she was somewhere in that delicious space between dreams and waking.

“Sorry, beautiful girl,” you whispered. You squeezed her hand, where it rested over your waist, your fingers entwining gently in an unspoken apology. You shuffled back a little, pressing yourself into her, feeling the solid line of her body with a contented sigh.

“Dormir,” she announced, the word barely more than a puff of breath as she inhaled sharply, the intake tickling the fine hairs at the nape of your neck. The moment hung in the air, suspended between wakefulness and sleep, as she nestled her face deeper against you, her nose brushing your skin. You could feel the heat of her lips pressed lightly to your shoulder; a fleeting touch that made your chest tighten with affection.

“Sí, baby. Go back to sleep,” you murmured, letting your voice dip low and soft, an invitation for peace to settle over her again. The steady, familiar rhythm of her breathing slowed, and you felt her muscles relax, her body sinking against yours in complete trust. You let yourself fall back into the quiet, content to lie there in the warmth of Alexia’s embrace.

You may have dozed off again, though it was hard to tell. The line between sleep and wakefulness blurred as you lay there. Either way, it didn’t matter. You felt thoroughly relaxed, you had the love of your life wrapped around you and nothing to do today. The room held a stillness that felt sacred, a break from the hurricane that had swept you both up for far too long.

This was what you needed – what both of you needed. Alexia had been going non-stop for months, caught up in a relentless cycle of training, travel, and the never-ending demands. You could see it in the deepening shadows under her eyes, in the way her laughter had become a little less frequent, a little more strained. And you weren’t doing much better. The telltale signs were there in the way your muscles ached as soon as you woke up, the dull throb in your temples after not enough sleep. You knew it all too well – the physical toll your body endured and the mental strain that bit away at the edges.

A day spent in bed, wrapped up together, was just what the doctor ordered. No alarms, no calls, no one pulling you away from this small slice of serenity. Just the two of you, tucked away from the world, with nothing to do but exist. You shifted slightly, the feel of Alexia’s arm tightening instinctively around your waist as she murmured something incoherent, still fast asleep. It brought a soft smile to your lips, knowing she was letting herself rest for once.

As you lay there, feeling her warmth seeping into you, the tension in your body. Muscles unwinding in a way they hadn’t in weeks. Wrapped up in a mix of coconut and vanilla, the world didn't seem too bad. With Alexia next to you, you alway felt unstoppable. Whether it was on the pitch, in the gym, meeting fans or simply going to the shops, with her by your side, you always felt able to do anything. Her presence alone was enough to make you feel like you were capable.

You felt Alexia stir behind you, her body shifting as she began to wake. A sharp intake of breath brushed warmly against your shoulder, followed by the familiar, comforting pressure of her arm tightening around your waist once again. It was the unmistakable sign that she was returning from the hazy world of dreams, rejoining you in the quiet late morning.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, the sound deep and contented, resonating against your skin. “Bon dia, amor meu” she whispered, her voice still rough with sleep. The words were accompanied by the soft press of her lips, fluttering kisses along your bare shoulder, each one a gentle wake-up call.

“Bon dia, my beautiful girl,” you murmured back, your own smile taking shape as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were still heavy, dark lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks as she blinked slowly. The way she looked at you, with a quiet warmth and an unguarded fondness, made your heart swell.

You felt her hand shift, sliding up your stomach with a familiar, lazy grace. Her fingers found their way to rest on your breast, palm pressing gently against your skin. Her thumb stroked absentmindedly over your skin, tracing slow, soothing patterns that made you feel cherished and completely seen in a way that no one else ever had. You let out a small, contented sigh as you settled back into her embrace, arching into her hand ever so slightly.

“Mmmm-w-what time is it?” Alexia asked, her voice still laced with sleep. She nuzzled closer, her breath a warm tickle against your skin as she spoke.

“I have no idea,” you replied happily, chuckling at the idea that for once, you truly had no concept of time. It could have been 6 am or 3pm and you honestly wouldn't have known. And the truth was, you couldn’t have cared less about the time, even if you tried. The rest of the world felt a million miles away, irrelevant compared to this perfect, unhurried moment. You loved this side of Alexia – the side that only you were privileged enough to see. The sleepy, vulnerable version of her who let the day start at its own pace, who tangled her legs with yours and wrapped herself around you.

You loved every side of her, of course. The fierce, determined athlete who moved with a grace that made it seem effortless, the focused leader who inspired others without trying, the thoughtful partner who remembered the smallest details that made you smile. But this was different. This was Ale, the woman who woke up with bedhead that turned into an adorable mess of brown and blonde and whose voice was still scratchy from sleep. The woman who sometimes blinked at you with a soft, sleepy smile before she even opened her eyes fully. This was your beautiful girl.

It was in these moments that you fell in love with her a little bit more every day. The little things – the way she murmured your name when she stirred, the way she let her fingers drift absentmindedly along your skin, the way her incoherent words made you giggle at how endearing she was. You turned your head slightly, enough to catch her gaze, hazel eyes tender affection that made your heart stutter. She smiled, languid and genuine.

“It’s an off day,” Alexia mumbled, her voice still husky as she shifted slightly and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your jaw. The softness of her lips, the way they brushed your skin made you close your eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling.

“That it is,” you murmured, a small smile curving your lips as you reached up, your fingers finding their way into her hair. You began to scratch lightly at her scalp, your nails grazing her skin with the practised ease that always made her melt. You felt her exhale, a soft, contented sigh against your neck, her body pressing impossibly closer as if she could fuse herself to you if she tried hard enough.

“We have no plans,” she continued, her words slow and deliberate. There was a note of relief in her voice, subtle but undeniable. The outside world could wait – the endless cycle of training, travel, and obligations held no claim over you today. Today was yours.

“That we don’t,” you echoed, your voice soft and steady. The realisation sank deeper into you, a warm glow spreading through your chest.

“Bien,” she whispered, the word slipping out in a satisfied breath.

You turned your head just enough to catch her eyes, their dark depths still soft with sleep. The morning light cast a gentle glow across her features, catching on the curve of her cheek and the loose strands of hair that framed her face. "Sí, muy bien." You smiled.

The minutes ticked by uncounted. This was more than enough; it was everything.

[m-oddinsdottir]

SMALL SPACE, BIG WINGS

the lord of Bloodshed and the étoile .ˊˎ ⚔️

Cassian x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,974

Warnings: smut, fingering, dirty talking, use of pet names, Cassian is a consent king, tension, reader ‘despising’ Cassian, Cassian being secretly smitten over her, unprotected p in v, size kink, multiple orgasms, creampie, slightly nipple play, no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: After being sent on a small and easy job, you end up locked up with Cassian while trying to hide. You two barely fit inside together and the tension is definitely not making things any easier.

A/N: so this is the first time I write smut, definitely had to made my research in how to translate some things from my first language. friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me if<3

Masterlist

•••

You were going to murder Rhysand. Surely, that was the next thing on your to-do list.

You were no spy, and neither was Cassian. Stealthy was not one of the words by which you would describe the Illyrian warrior, to the contrary he was a brute, certainly not a diplomat or forbearing in said matters.

So when Rhysand sent you both on a small and easy job (as the High Lord had called it), you immediately knew things would fail miserably.

After centuries together, everyone would have thought you adored Cassian as much as you adored everyone else in the Inner Circle. They couldn't be more wrong. You hated being teased, he was always teasing you. You loved your moments of solitude and peace, he would always scream around and ruin them. You were free as the stars, he was always trying to tie you down to the House of Wind with them.

You despised him.

However, you couldn't get rid of his obnoxious presence. Even during those terrible fifty years of Amarantha's reign where you had found your own silent and sacred temple in Velaris, he would always knock on your door at least once a month. He was insatiable.

Now, you both were trapped together under a hatch door. His broad hand over your waist to balance you while you were almost laying completely down over his body. His large wings half-wrapped around your figure, occupying most of the limited space in the tiny area you two had decided to hide in.

The amused smirk on his lips didn't help after you noticed the trapdoor only opened from the outside. If you had the space, you would have punched it out of his face just in the way he had trained you after decades of dwelling on how you couldn't always retort on your magic.

"You and me together, doll." He had said, and in response, you had just huffed before trying to kick the door open... Somehow. There must be a way to get out of there, right? You have attempted to contact Rhysand countless times to be able to keep track of it. Yet, you received no response in return.

And now, after almost twenty minutes ignoring Cassian's smart mouth and trying to find the manner to open the door. Your body was already cramping, and the resignment was taking its toll on you.

The male underneath you noticed the sigh that escaped your lips. He also realized how your body pressed more against his seeking some rest after supporting yourself over your forearms to avoid touching him for that much time. A small grin drew itself over his lips.

"As I said about half an hour again... You can't open it."

A small stubborn frown appeared over your lips. He wasn't saying 'I said so' right now, was he? Gods, you were so going to punch him.

"Have you at least tried to contact Rhysand to get us out of here?" Your question made his grin disappear as he looked into your eyes.

Cassian hadn't tried to do anything during all that time. He had just laid there, noticing the way your chest heavily moved up and down with each of your pants after trying to push the door open with your body, taking in how you closed your eyes in frustration granting him the possibility for his eyes to roam over your body without you realizing it.

Gods, he had tried to memorize each detail in your skin with this new forced proximity which, at least, was welcomed by him. Cassian had retained the way your brows furrowed together and the soft sounds of exasperation coming out of your throat that made him shiver.

"Of course, I've tried. I want to stay in this position as much as you do, doll."

Lie after lie.

He hadn't tried to contact Rhysand, and the gods knew he was praying to stay like that with you for as long as possible.

You looked deep into his eyes, nose scrunched up slightly before scoffing and then trying to shift to reduce the cramping sensation. "Ain't this the best outcome possible?"

Hearing your annoyed grumbling made Cassian grin with amusement again, his hand squeezing your waist before talking. "You know, you could always..."

"If you seriously propose that I lay down, I'll kill you Cassian." You muttered and the male raised his hands as much as he could feigning innocence.

"I didn't say anything," Cassian replied to you. His hand returned to rest on your waist before you shoved it away. "You were the one who suggested that… Is that how badly you want me to invite you to sit on my lap, doll?"

Unconsciously, your breath hitched before a small growl escaped your lips and you flexed your arms to be able to stand as far away from him as possible. "Have some respect, will you?"

"When has there ever been some respect between us?"

A truth, for a change.

Gods may correct if otherwise. But a compliment has never been shared between you and the warrior. Not a genuine one, at least.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Isn't it ours, doll? I don't think I can count how many times you've slammed your door on my face." "I don't think you can count at all." Your retort made the warrior grin from underneath you. And, this time, Cassian didn't have any decency before he looked— No, not looked, ogled at you.

"Trying to make me cry?"

You held back the need to roll your eyes at him before supporting your weight with one arm and forcing him to look into your eyes. The roughness of his stubble scratched the soft pads of your fingers as you held his chin upwards.

"Eyes up here," you warned him. "I didn't realize you had the emotional capacity to cry. Did I at least bruise your ego, Cassian?"

He chuckled before tilting his head down slightly and brushing his sultry lips against your fingers. "Consider it damaged." The strain of his voice sent a shiver down your spine to your core.

Gods, that roughness in his tone. You doubt you have ever heard that hoarseness in him before, even though you have witnessed some of his flirting attempts with other females.

A few seconds too late, you dropped his chin. Your hand moved to rest underneath his arm so that you could support yourself above him. Your mouth felt dry and the familiar sensation of your slick between your folds almost cracked a curse out of you.

Fuck.

Not in this situation, not with Cassian underneath you, not in such a tiny space where he could scent it.

And did he scent it, his nose scrunched up slightly and your eyes followed the movement of his Addam's apple when he swallowed hard. The warmth got worse. And you weren't even sure how or why it started.

Gods.

Gods.

"Gods." Cassian muttered, putting your thoughts right into words. You scoffed before shoving him away from you, placing your hands on his chest, and pushing your back against the small wooden trap door.

"Don't you dare say a fucking word. I'm going to try and contact Rhysand again." At your words, Cassian's chest reverberated against your hands when a deep growl escaped his lips

"Don't." His firm voice made you freeze above him.

"Don't?" You repeated and his growl was enough of a response for you. "The hell y—?

Before you could even register it, his lips were over yours. He was a male starved, lips coaxing yours open as he roughly introduced his tongue inside your mouth. His long and warm tongue licking the roof of your mouth before he intertwined his tongue with yours in a dance that only belonged to the synchrony in which the General usually fought his battles.

A small whimper escaped your lips and it traveled into his mouth when one of his hands lowered to your ass, taking a handful of the flesh covered by the leather. Almost immediately, your body arched into his, molding your body in the small space. Your skin buzzed with arousal when he broke the kiss and began pressing open-mouthed wet kisses against the bare skin of your neck.

You whined his name, almost gasping as his hand slipped underneath your trousers, you had no idea when the male unbuttoned them as your hand moved upwards to get tangled in his dark long locks.

"So fucking beautiful and so fucking wet," Cassian groaned as one of his fingers lowered feeling your covered and aching cunt, his warm and soft fingers pressing against your entrance. He clenched his jaw when he could feel the wetness spread through the thin layer of fabric. "Can you imagine how many times I have pictured you like this? At my damn mercy."

He pressed harder and you moaned against his ear. A pink tone colored your cheeks, however, it was provoked by your shame, not your arousal. You doubted you have ever been more soaked for any male before him... That, somehow, ashamed you.

Cassian traced slow and cruel circles against your entrance almost fingering you through the small lacey fabric Mor usually forced you to buy.

"Cassian—." You even struggled with your own speech. Your voice was suffocated by the delicious sounds that reached Cassian's hearing making the bulge in his trousers painfully hard. You could feel it poke your thigh through his Illyrian leathers and a strained gasp left your lips.

"Fuck, keep making those sounds." Cassian growled against your ear before he lowered your trousers revealing your backside to him as he hovered over your shoulder to take a glimpse.

A moan escaped his lips, this time. With his free hand, he parted your cheeks open squeezing the flesh underneath one of his hands before he kept teasing your entrance. His thumb moved upwards finding that small bundle of nerves right where he knew it would be. You choked your moan by kissing him once again and he gratefully devoured each one of your moans.

With a swift movement, he notched the skimpy and delicate fabric to the side. And then he was sinking two long and thick fingers inside you. Immediately, breaking the kiss, your lips parted open in a silent moan, jaw going slack.

The stretch stung as he buried his fingers deep until your achy cunt swallowed them entirely reaching his knuckles. A small laugh escaped his lips when you began to grind against his fingers, chasing your own pleasure.

His hand on your backside immediately moved up to shield your head when you almost hit it against the trap door. "Easy there, doll." Cassian mumbled softly, the gentle gesture making you clench around his fingers.

Cassian curled his fingers inside you finding the spongy patch of flesh that forced a cry out of your lips: "There you go, my beautiful," He whispered softly as he worked his fingers in and out. "Tell me what you want."

You almost laughed at his words. It was as if he was searching for your consent despite the way you were desperately grinding against his fingers while you moaned inches away from his mouth. The brute was in fact a gentleman, Cassian was indeed a gentle lover.

"I want you, Cassian," You mumbled against his lips connecting them with yours for a few seconds before nibbling on his lower lip. "Just you."

He growled. "Gods, doll... Come for me." His voice sounded almost like a plead as his thumb found your clit again. It only took a couple of lazy circles of his finger before you were making a mess of them, soaking his entire palm as a cry escaped your lips, your body stiffening before you buried your face in his neck breathing in his scent so that you could anchor yourself to something while being sent over the edge.

Cassian shushed you, still working his fingers inside you, trying to ride you out of your pleasure. "Good girl," He muttered, making your sensible walls clench around his fingers again. "Gods, I've jerked off so many times thinking about this before." His blunt admission caused a blush to color your cheeks as you looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. Cassian withdrew his fingers from you making you feel empty. You whimpered before he brought his glistening and sticky fingers to his lips sucking them dry while you observed.

The Illyrian savored the feeling of your juices on his fingers as if they were a damn meal. So much so that his eyes rolled back to his skull.

"So you've jerked off to me, huh?" You asked teasingly and he growled softly.

"Shut up." His lips were right over yours again forcing you to taste the salty but sweet taste of your orgasm on his tongue. You heard him roughly fiddling with the ties and buttons of his trousers and a small giggle escaped your lips before you moved down pressing gentle kisses against his jaw and neck.

Your skin sunk on the tanned skin there, leaving gentle marks that you soon soothed with a flicker of your tongue that only caused goosebumps to blossom around his skin.

Cassian growled against your ear when his large and hard manhood was revealed from its restraints. He gripped himself around the base and you looked down. The view made your breath hitch. Gods, was he big. You even doubted it would fit inside as you watched him pump himself a few times.

"Cassian, I don't think I..." You began but he quickly interrupted you. "I'll make it damn fit."

Cassian slid his length against your messy folds, smearing himself in the wetness of your arousal so that he could stretch you open more easily and less painfully. One hand moved up to cup your breasts while the other remained on your hips. He circled your nipples through the fabric of your shirt between his rough calloused fingers, toying with them.

His pupils had become pools in his eyes almost making the golden shrink into a small halo around the darkness of his lured eyes that stared right into your eyes. "So fucking beautiful. The damn picture of perfection." He repeated.

A gentle smile appeared on your lips and you relaxed against his arms. You were relaxed until you felt it. His thick grith slowly pushing inside you. A moan broke your voice as he slowly stretched you open.

"Doing so good for me, baby." Cassian muttered before moving to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, he pulled out before sinking in a few more inches and your needy cunt clenched around him swallowing his cock.

"More," You begged softly, tilting your head to find his lips. "I need you. All of you." He groaned and suddenly, Cassian sunk himself as deeply as he could inside you. His hips flesh against yours as his hands had lowered you completely into his cock.

"Gods—" You moaned and he held still for you to be able to adjust to his girth. One hand remained on your hips while the other moved to cup your cheek so that he could look into your eyes the entire time.

When you nodded telling him that you were alright, Cassian whimpered and he shifted you both in the tiny space before retreating and then thrusting in even deeper than before, the head of his cock caressing your cervix.

Cassian pumps in and out of you, small groans escaping his lips as he gets lost in the feeling of your sensitive walls tightening around him. He could feel your wetness slicking his cock each time he pulled out before he would thrust again. His golden eyes were locked with yours as he took in the way your face contorted with pleasure. Committing the moment to his memory.

He smirks feeling your body shake with each one of his hard thrusts. His hand gently caresses your cheek despite the roughness and eagerness of his movements. "Gods, you were made for me, doll." "I feel like I was made for you." You gasped in response and soon his fingers moved down to caress the swollen bundle of nerves making you cry out with pleasure.

Cassian leaned in closer to press his forehead against yours. "You are," He mumbles noticing the way you arched your back to meet each one of his strokes. "You are... Made for me— Mine."

His growls made you whimper and you felt your body stiffen above him. "Cass.. I'm close to—." He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, thrusting in even deeper and circling your clit desperately before you were coming undone on his cock.

A loud cry escaped your lips before he kissed you gently while your walls tightened around him, your legs trembling due to the electric current coursing through your body and struggling to support yourself over him. The sensation makes him groan and when you screamed his name, he's already tightening his grip over your hips.

He spills rope after rope of his thick and warm spend, flooding your insides as he closes his eyes. Cassian's forehead was still pressed against yours as he panted heavily against your face. He remained buried deep inside you pulling in and out slightly so that your tight walls would milk him completely before he pulled out.

And then you both opened your eyes. Glossy gazes locking with each other and tired smiles over your lips before it happened.

Your breath hitched as his speed dripped out of you and the golden bridge between both your souls constructed itself brick by brick. It left your already hazy mind feeling even more bewildered. You caught sight of Cassian's excited and tender smile before fully realizing it.

He was your mate.

Oh, damn it.

[the-mortuary-witch]

WAYS TO CELEBRATE THE SABBATS

IMBOLC (CANDLEMAS)

Clean your home and space to welcome the coming of spring.

Bake a traditional Imbolc loaf of bread or other seasonal foods.

Use the colours white and yellow in your decorations and outfits.

Light a bonfire or light candles to represent the returning light.

Plant seeds or bulbs to symbolize the rebirth of nature.

Perform a ritual to honour the coming of spring and ask for protection and blessings.

Make a Brigid's cross or other handcrafted decorations with herbs and other natural materials.

Perform a blessing of your home and surroundings with holy water or smoke cleansing.

Set up an altar or sacred space to honour the Celtic goddess Brigid, associated with Imbolc.

Make Brigid's bed, a traditional ritual of placing straw under your bed to bring fertility and growth into your life.

Connect with nature and spend time outside to honour the changing season.

OSTARA (SPRING EQUINOX)

Participate in fertility rites and rituals to celebrate the coming of spring and the planting season.

Decorate your altar or sacred space with symbols of Ostara, such as eggs, bunnies, daffodils, and pastel colours.

Perform a spring cleaning of your home and life, releasing old habits and welcoming new beginnings.

Light a fire or light candles to honour the return of lighter, longer days.

Bake a traditional honey cake or other seasonal sweets to celebrate the sweetness of spring. 

Plant seeds or herbs for new growth and prosperity.

Go for a nature walk or hike to connect with the natural world.

Participate in an egg hunt or egg rolling, traditional Ostara games 

Perform a protection spell or ritual to honour the increasing light and longer days.

Practice self-care rituals to nourish and rejuvenate your mind and body.

BELTANE (MAY EVE)

Celebrate the fertility of the earth with bonfires and rituals honouring the fire god, Belenos.

Make a maypole and decorate it with colourful ribbons.

Participate in a maypole dance, a traditional celebration of fertility and joy.

Make a wish list and tie it to a tree on Beltane eve.

Collect flowers, especially May blossom or hawthorne flowers, and make a garland or crown to wear.

Create a flower crown or wear one made of wildflowers to honour the faery folk and fertility spirits.

Perform a ritual to bless your home and land for prosperity and protection.

Jump over the Beltane bonfires, symbolizing jumping over obstacles and embracing new beginnings.

Have a picnic or gathering with friends and family to celebrate the abundance and growth of the season.

Create a sacred space or altar for Beltane, decorat with flowers, herbs, and other nature-related objects.

Perform a cleansing ritual to rid yourself of negative energy and welcome the energy of new beginnings.

Make a bouquet of wildflowers or herbs, and hang it on your front door to welcome the spirits of Beltane.

Go for a walk in the woods or a natural setting and connect with the beauty and energy of the season.

LITHA (SUMMER SOLSTICE/MIDSUMMER)

Participate in a bonfires or lighting a sacred fire, celebrating the arrival of the longest day of the year.

Collect herbs and flowers, especially ones associated with the sun, such as calendula, yarrow, and St. John's wort, and make a solstice garland.

Perform a ritual to honour the sun and ask for protection and blessings.

Dance around the bonfire or engage in other traditions associated with the Summer Solstice, such as singing and drumming.

Have a solstice feast, filled with summer bounty, seasonal foods, and family.

Celebrate in the natural world, go for a walk, or have a picnic during the longest day.

Honour the Celtic goddess Litha, associated with the Summer Solstice. 

Start summer resolutions. 

Get your hands dirty and embrace the earth. Consider planting a vegetable garden for fall harvest or add to your flower garden to mark the occasion. 

LAMMAS (LUGHNASADH)

Baking bread. 

Crafting corn dolls. 

Pick wild flowers. 

Honour the earth and the cycles of nature. 

Perform Sun magick. 

Give thanks to the spirits and/or deities for the beginning of the harvest season. 

Collect and honour the first fruits of the harvest, such as grains, corn, and apples.

Perform a ritual to honour Lugh and thank the gods and goddesses for the harvest.

Hold a harvest festival or feast, sharing the bounty of the land with family and friends.

Make a Lughnasadh altar or shrine with symbols of the harvest, such as corn, grains, and apples.

Participate in a traditional Lughnasadh celebration, such as a harvest dance or ritual.

Collect herbs and plants for healing and protection, as Lughnasadh is traditionally a time for preparing for the winter months.

MABON (AUTUMN EQUINOX/FALL HARVEST)

Celebrate the balance between light and dark, and the onset of the harvest season.

Honour the Celtic god Mabon, associated with the Autumn Equinox.

Participate in a harvest celebration, collecting and honouring the fruits of the land.

Make a corn dolly or a straw figure as a reminder of the abundance of the harvest.

Perform a ritual to honour the balance of the seasons and thank the gods and goddesses for their blessings.

Spend time writing in your journal. You could reminisce about your summer experiences, reflect on the shifts you feel with the changing season, contemplate what you're ready to release, or express gratitude for the blessings in your life.

Participate in a nature walk or ceremony, taking time to connect with the natural world and the turning of the seasons.

Enjoy your favourite fall beverages. 

Make a gratitude list or write a gratitude letter, expressing your appreciation for the abundance and beauty of the harvest season.

Connect with nature. 

Bring the beauty of fall indoors by decorating your home with seasonal touches. 

Performing a gratitude or release ritual. 

SAMHAIN (ALL HALLOWS/FINAL HARVEST)

Carving pumpkins with friends. 

Relax and watch some horror movies. 

Treat yourself to sweets. 

Participate in a haunted house, hayride, or corn maze event.

Declutter/organize your home. 

Focus on letting go to make space for the new year. 

Collecting leaves. 

Bake treats that contain pumpkin. 

Creating a spooky, atmospheric decor for your home or workspace, such as cobwebs, faux spiders, and other creepy décor items.

Gathering friends and loved ones for a Samhain feast, feasting on symbolic foods like apples, pumpkin, or corn.

Visit a local pumpkin patch. 

Making personalized altar items and decorative pieces for your sacred space, such as witch jars, mandalas, sigils, symbols of the harvest, items associated with death, etc. 

Participating in a divination practice like tarot reading, scrying, or rune casting to gain insight and connect with the energy of the night.

Go to a harvest festival or carnival.

Hold a Samhain seance or mediumship session to contact the spirits of loved ones who have passed on.

Participate in a potluck dinner with witches and pagans, dressing in traditional Samhain garb.

RESPECTFULLY visit a graveyard. 

YULE (WINTER SOLSTICE/MIDWINTER)

Burn a Yule log. 

Make an evergreen Yule wreath.

Decorate a Yule tree. 

Make a Yule wish list or a Yule resolution, as Yule is a time of reflection and intention setting.

Practice Yule carol singing, participating in a community sing-along or carolling event.

Celebrate in candle light. 

Give back to nature. 

Exchange nature-based gifts. 

Host a feast for those you love with foods associated with Yule, such as: roast goose, Yule ham, nuts, berries, spices, squash, and potatoes. 

Eat or make/bake Yule ham, gingerbread, mulled wine, roast goose, spiced cakes, shortbread, snowball, caraway, ginger snaps, honey cakes or pastries, and biscuits. 

Eat or give sweets flavoured with nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, or peppermint. 

Participate in the longest night of the year and prepare for the return of the light.

Honour deities associated with Yule, such as Odin, Baldur, Hel, Loki, Sol, Freyr, Njörðr with lights, candles, and bonfires.

Participate in a Yule spell or ritual, asking for blessings and protection for the coming year.

Decorate your home with evergreen boughs and wreaths, representing the evergreen nature of the sun and eternal life.

Host a Yule log ceremony. 

Participate in an outdoor activity, like sledding or ice skating, to honour the winter season.

[currentfandomkick]

Based on this post

Tim tried not to remember.

But when you die the first time from electrocution and get dosed with enough ecto-everything the first time you die, electricity becomes a memory trigger.

Static shocks from a sweater just reminds you of shock wars with someone warm, no specific images.

Somedays when you get hit with Nightwing’s escrima sticks, even low level, you get a flicker of fighting some Discount Dracula and brush it off as a hallucination.

A few rogues hit him with live wires in the rain. Those were always bad. Flickers of people in googles and the worst neon jumpsuits hovering over him, saying words he couldn’t hear. He always felt floaty after, and hid at Drake Manor in his parents’ closet.

His mom’s perfume and Dad’s rank colognes were grounding. those hallucinations were getting worse, sure, but you’re Robin, and as Robin you can’t let Batman down.

Nightwing needs a brother that he can trust to handle Bruce’s depression, suicidal-by-vigilantism, and escalating violence. Nightwing holds everyone else together. Tim can hold just himself and Bruce together and give Alfred a break.

Tim can do it, he swears. He can’t fill growing void Jason’s death left, but he can make supports for Bruce’s crumbling everything. He can be a safety net for Alfred, who is never given grieving space for his lost loved one. He can be the no-drama little brother Nightwing needs after Jason’s death.

But he will not touch being Bruce’s son. Especially after the JJ incident and the memory influx. Bruce is too much like Jack as Brucie, too much like Fruitloop as Batman.

Tim is not Alfred’s grandson or son. He’s a co-parent for Bruce in his time of need (and bullying the man back into someone Jason had loved once). Alfred can be his friend, bug not family.

Tim always honored the dead and mourns them, even when they don’t remember him. Even those that never knew him stretching centuries back. He learned from this life’s parents that bonds are sacred and their loss devastating. They showed him in archeology and actions.

And Tim, he. He’s doing okay.

After the Joker and Freakshow merging into one personas he was shocked over and over.

He heard Freakshow say to kill Sam in the memory.

Vlad strapping him down and zapping him over and over again. His parents vivisecting him despite his screams. Jazz killing them and helping him escape, only to die in Tucker and Sam’s arms in the car. Again.

He killed the Joker then and there. Gun shot.

After the Joker got him and he escaped, he was doing Fine, really! Spectra overlaid on Harley at times, cooing he’s a creepy boy with freaky little powers and his misery is her favorite food.

He has to be useful. Keep Bruce’s head above water. Keep Nightwing from worrying about him. Be the easy kid and he’s loved (conditionally).

His dad only showed up and spoke to him about sports he couldn’t get into, but his new step-mom softened him. He can admit to missing and mourning mom while relaxing so much with Dana.

Dana noticed him flinching at lightning, gave him a noise machine, and offered to get him noise cancelling headphones.

When he admitted his hearing got ‘a lot better lately’ as quietly as he could, she hugged him and told him she’d break the meta abilities to Jack for him.

It wasn’t like Tim hid the ‘tortured by Joker for a few weeks’ thing. Dad knew it was Tim that was nabbed. He also knew Tim was in a Robin costume for a cosplay contest, and found out afterwards how… well, Tim being Robin was.

There are a lot of open secrets in the family. In the extended Drake family, that includes the first Black Canary was Diana Drake, who had too-sticky fingers and was disowned when she kept failing to either improve in hiding it or stop. The meta abilities were low on Tim’s list of priorities as existing… breaking it to Bruce was a hard no-go. So mastering them quickly was key.

Dana asked if he’d tested his vocal range.

Tim had not.

They started with a piano to check. Tim… Tim went far above and below where Dana could hear as they switched to everything from dog whistles to playing with infrasound.

Jack walked in at some-point and they didn’t notice.

Tim was busy working out if hearing echolocation from the Caves’ bats is why he started getting annoyed when he was there that he finally saw Jack sitting there, watching Dana test him.

Tim braced for yelling.

He got a hug. And his Dad holding him too tight while whispering “please don’t leave like Diana”

Tim did break a bit. Not for long, but enough.

Jack finding the Robin suit was not on Tim’s bingo card during the time he was debating coming clean to his fellow Just Us members about his meta-awakening.

Nor was going to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know he was planning to take a break from Robin for personal reasons, only to find his Dad holding Bruce at gun point and demanding Bruce “stay the fuck away from my son”

Jack did hit Bruce with the butt of his gun after Bruce muttered something Tim didn’t hear.

Jack drove them back, the silence tight around his throat. Everything in him demanded he scream to get this growing thing out.

He slammed his hands over his mouth.

Dad pulled over and helped him to a warehouse, feigning needing to vomit.

Tim kept the pitch above human hearing as he screamed, screamed down and was shaking all over.

Jack rubbed his own ears for a moment before helping a collapsing Tim back to the car.

Jack called Tim out sick and the three had a Talk about him being Robin. Especially with his powers emerging.

“Look, B doesn’t know. None of his masks do.” He’d have heard it from Bruce by now if he had. “Nightwing doesn’t either.”

“Batgirl, and the purple one, if they know they’ll tell that prick—”

“Jack,” Dana warned. “Tim, does anyone have any reason to suspect anything?”

Tim took a deep breath and sighed. “No one but us. Diana did a good job severing traceable links back, and I’m not even sure if the current Black Canary knows her mom was from Gotham or believes the cover Diana gave out.”

Jack’s shoulders dropped as the tension drained out of him. “That’s, that’s good.”

“… you have to apologize for the gun at somepoint,” Tim grumbled.

“Not if you’re not Robin.”

“… i may have been debating dropping Robin and toying with making a new alias again.”

“… is this another Mr. Sarcastic thing,” Dana whispered to him.

“Dana!”

“What? I’m not detective but i did do my research young man,” she teased while jabbing a finger at him playfully.

“I—Tim what am I looking at, why is there no armor, and how are you bald?”

“Hahaha, how about we pretend that stint didn’t happen and go over conditions for me solving crimes—we all know i’ll find a way and my team is notorious for international incidents on low stakes, let alone what we’re willing to do for each other.”

Jack and Dana shared a look.

“No Batman.”

“No heroing in Gotham,” Dana added to Tim’s surprise. “Not until we have a better idea on scope, triggers and how you can control and manage your abilities as well as how out you want to be as a meta, in each identity. You can’t unring a bell.”

Tim sighed. “Got it, got it… so i can go on missions with Young Justice still?”

“I’m writing a note that Batman is not allowed near you,” Jack insisted. “He’s not willing to do what it takes to keep you alive.”

Tim took a deep breath before agreeing to that term, and asking to update Alfred and Dick on the matter.

Jack moved to stop him but Dana gave him the go ahead.

Alfred accepted the situation for what it was. Dick offered to sponsor him in the hero community in Bruce’s stead, and reminded him the Titans are always happy to have him, Robin or not.

Jack rolled his eyes but let it slide.

“So Young Justice Missions…”

“Is there an adult on the team?”

“Red tornado is our supervisor,” Tim answered quickly.

“…fine.”

“And Titan missions?”

“They’re adults, they can keep an eye on you,” Jack conceded easily. “Maybe one of them can help with the new,” Jack gestured to all of Tim.

Tim huffed at him. “Thanks dad, really means a lot.”

Jack waved him off. “Weapons check at the window, supervision on missions, and we keep working with your powers. You can tell who you choose, but if you want to be out as a hero, you will be making a new name and will not be patrolling Gotham under this roof, am i understood?”

Tim paused. “So in college I can or—“

“Tim,” Dana warned.

Tim sighed. “Got it… but i can still do casework that’s not in the field?”

“As long as they can’t trace you.”

“Great! And shit, I’ll have to let my rogues know.”

“ ‘your’ rogues?” Jack echoed in disbelief.

Tim smiled at Jack. “Yeah. Some are just mine, especially Anarchy. And Nygma is going to be so bored without me.”

Jack looked at the ceiling. “You just had to be Robin, didn’t you.”

Tim smiled. “Someone needed to, and its not hard to be light to Batman’s dark after the last one.”

The silence hung again. “No dying on me,” Jack warned Tim. “I’m serious.”

Details were ironed out on the days to come. Dana made him promise to call daily while he stayed with the Titans. To not run from her and Jack, please. He also had daily pitch practice, and was given noise dampening headphones as a disability aide for a general sensory disorder so Tim could better focus in classes.

Jack still didn’t trust Batman/Bruce for shit.

…And Tim can’t fault him. Not when he knows his dad wasnt joking about being willing to kill to give Tim a chance at being safe. And that the man who killed mom and put Dad into physical therapy died in jail a few weeks before they moved from a mansion to an apartment.

Tim isnt stupid. Drakes kill to keep their own safe. Bats don’t.

Tim…. Tim doesnt want to, and Dad respects it. Dana isnt the killing type, but won’t stop Jack or whoever he hires.

Joker’s persistent living status AFTER killing the second Robin didn’t endear Bruce to Jack in the slightest. Tim being tortured for weeks and awakening the family meta-gene only soured whatever mild distaste remained into visceral disgust.

Stephanie became Gotham’s Robin while Tim is now the YJ’s and Titan’s was the only compromise Jack would make.

Jack’s rules made more sense as Tim’s… memories(?) from his last life began to spill out. The mundanities of school and home were easily manageable. Making small memory shrines to his late friends in his last life soothed an ache in his chest. Tucker had a sand timer and random bits and bobs for tech, Sam got a few house plants and his old camera. Jazz had a teddy bear and a few psychology papers he thought she might enjoy. Dani got fudge and a few language books with a world map. He still felt guilty for not stopping her death. Technus got an old handheld he didn’t use anymore, Ember got incense and he played indi rock for her. Dora got a dragon figurine and a Disney princess folder with some dress designs he thought she’d like. Pandora has a few batarangs he scavenged and fixed. Frostbite’s was by the icemaker, and was gifted herbal tea blends in ice cube form.

Dana called it grieving and encouraged him to let it happen and let himself feel. He… tried not to think about Jack and Maddie.

Tim trippled down on cold cases to cope. Jack began to turn off the internet after 3 am, only to work again after 9.

He was managing. And working out pitches and how they relate to his emotional state.

The problem came with training at the Tower as Robin, the boy with no powers and working through joker trauma.

During a spar with Dick, Tim had a flashback to Dani’s End and Perfect Danny melting. His own fucking Death too!

It was vomit inducing.

He came to to Nightwing crowding him and murmuring, “breathe with me baby bird”

They didnt talk about it after.

Tim noticed Dick stopped using electricity during their spars altogether, and carefully stayed a certain distance from him in the field. Static picked up on it and Tim shook his head when he moved to talk about it. He just. Needed a bit more time.

He hated himself for it. For the concern causing and being so… useless.

He grabbed another stack of cold cases in Bludhaven and kept solving them, as Tim, Robin and left ghem for Dick to handle.

Dana and him would practice his range at home. Piano ready.

He forgot that plants snitch to Ivy.

Ivy tapping his window to state the dandelions found his singing ‘annoying’ and he’d be getting lessons in singing for plants “or else” was an experience he did not need, nor was he reporting to anyone until a few days later.

Dad took a deep breath and asked him if this is what he wanted.

Dana offered to move closer to her home town and job hunt there if it made Tim more comfortable.

Ultimately Tim ended up getting lessons in plant language from Ivy, as he could hear them anyways. It could be useful for when he works out a new vigilante identity in the future.

Stephanie catching him at Ivy’s while her big boy “Denny” was arguing with Tim about if Tim can shatter concrete with a scream yet given his voice is cracking every other word lately was not in his plans.

Stephanie was about to ask what was going on when Ivy chimed in with “now Timmy, Benny isn’t wrong about it if we go with a thin layer of concrete and you put some effort into it. You can go very low and it does freak out people when you follow the angry tree hum. Now, if you scream that it should be destructive—didn’t a cousin of yours have the same meta ability?”

Tim denied it as keeping cousin Diana’s secret was a family thing. Ivy finding it out with how hidden it had been was not in the cards. Stephanie overhearing was also far from ideal.

Ivy let it go eventually, and demanded Tim do more community service for the beaches. He had no objections, and just asked if she could not implicate him in her next murder spree.

Ivy agreed to ‘think about it’ before letting Tim go after he finished reorganizing some of her chemicals and cleaning her tools. Their agreed ‘payment’ for his lessons in plant language and her interest in his meta abilities being vocal based but having a major change in his hearing.

He wasn’t the first meta she’d taken an interest in helping, and Tim saw signs of others, bumping into a few before and none of them saying shit.

Stephanie met up with him a block away from Ivy’s lair.

She hit him like Sam used to. And agreed to say nothing until he gave the word.

Her reminding him of Sam ached in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her agreeing to say nothing relaxed him more than he realized he needed to.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. But Ivy for help?”

“Plants outted me. Apparently my singing is disturbing.”

“It is, the plants have good taste.”

He let himself feel normal for a bit. Ivy doesn’t out metas or use them. She is going to kill though, and probably ask for a few warehouses as payment or bribery for her silence on his skills at a later date… which Tim could give her in a few years time as those were in the trust set up by his mother before her death.

Her offerings were given by everyone at home. Dana left her baked goods. Tim left his grades by her shrine when he wasn’t closing cases—the solved ones were left there for a day or so before he’d change them out. Dad spoke to her sometimes, getting her up-to-date on the gossip in their field and new achievements from colleagues they liked and failures from those she despised.

It was comforting.

Dad even knew Tim was planning to do landback with a chunk of ‘wasteland’ that the company kept dumping on, and was planning to rehab it beforehand. If he had slipped an army of sunflower seeds there a while back and gave Ivy a tip about it well… she was willing to trade info on a few cases that he fed back to Stephanie as Robin. Ivy may also catch him working a few cold cases now and then.

He’s aware she’s a dangerous rogue and will continue to kill. He also knows that when he focused on solving a string of women’s deaths and located the (still living) killer that the man was dead after their lesson, and before he submitted his findings to the GCPD cold cases department.

He’s not stupid. He knows she prefers to kill. But he doesn’t.

It makes working with the Titans on weekends awkward when Nightwing begins to notice Tim responding before the others and frowning into the air when the grass gives him tips on when events take place and for incoming company.

No one presses him on it. Static bumps his shoulder and passed a ‘talk when you’re ready’ note to him.

Then the fact Ivy did not hit him with cuddle pollen but did hit Stephanie as Robin and threw them in a room together was just plain embarrassing.

It also meant Ivy figured Tim or Robin had a crush on the other and just. Why?

He finally understood how Sam felt during Ember’s first appearance and he was made to lovestick… sort of. Stephanie koalaing him until they broke out and he managed to get them to one of the quieter Paramedics two blocks over wasnt the same. But close enough.

Dana did get the alert about him being near the attack, and she looked at him too much like Jazz had when she was concerned for his wellbeing.

He wondered what Tucker would say to all this. Two lives and two sets of parents later, and the one who checks him first is the step mom closer to Babs’ age than his father’s.

There’s a million jokes Tucker could make about that.

Dana and Dad had a talk about it, and Tim knew it was written just so he didnt hear it. He hears so much more lately its maddening some days.

He was given the upcoming three-day weekend to stay with the Titans, and Dana suggested asking Raven for tips on managing reincarnation memories.

Dad said he called for a “Jazz, Sam and Tucker” in his sleep a lot. A “Valerie ” on occasion too.

He wanted to melt into a puddle.

Dad muttering he’d find his first parents’ souls and get back at them his damn self didn’t help in the slightest… nor did seeing Dana hide Constantine’s business card in her tampon drawer.

He gave in a bit. His friends can’t know yet, not while he’s working it out. And Raven is Dick’s friend—it would get back to him too fast for Tim’s liking.

He knocked on the door.

“Tim?”

“Hey Virgil, is now an okay time for that talk?”

—

That’s what i got for now. May do another part if anyone is interested.

Also let me know if i missed any tags

[srslyblvck]

so wrong, james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: You were a Slytherin, and he was a Gryffindor. Both of you despised each other—so why were you making out with the one person you hated the most?

warning: kissing, making out, suggestive content (?)

word count: 0.5k

author's note: this might be the closest thing i will come to writing smut lol

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU WERE A SLYTHERIN, he was a Gryffindor. You were a pureblood, part of the Sacred 28—he was a blood traitor. You had been raised to despise everything he stood for: recklessness, rebellion, and that stupid, insufferable smile. You were elegant, poised, and always in control. Him? He was a mess—untidy hair that he ran his fingers through every few minutes, his shirt perpetually untucked, his shoes scuffed.

There were lists of differences between you two. Endless, insurmountable divides. But none of that mattered in this moment.

Because here you were, making out with James Potter in the Room of Requirement. Hands tangled in each other's hair, bodies glued together as if the space between you were the most unnatural thing in the world. You couldn’t remember how you ended up like this, with your back pressed against a wall, the dim light flickering around you, the scent of him—fresh grass and something undeniably him—filling your senses.

Neither of you said anything. There was no need for words, just the raw, burning tension that had been building for so long. His hands roamed over your body, fingers brushing across the thin fabric of your shirt, tracing the line of your waist, pulling you closer. You wanted to hate it. You should hate it. But you didn’t.

You hated James Potter. Hated the way his glasses always slid down the bridge of his nose, and how he’d push them back up with a lazy flick of his finger, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. You hated the way his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, as though everything was just a grand joke to him. You hated how he made everyone adore him without even trying, his stupid confidence spilling out in every careless gesture.

But more than anything, you hated how, right now, none of that mattered. How none of your disdain or hatred or carefully constructed barriers seemed to stop you from wanting him like this.

James' lips were on your neck now, trailing soft, deliberate kisses that sent heat rushing through your veins. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands firm as they slid up your back, anchoring you to him. A gasp escaped your lips, betraying the storm inside you. Your fingers tangled in his unruly hair, tugging him closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop.

But Merlin, it felt so good. His lips, his hands, the way his body pressed against yours, every movement speaking a language you didn’t want to understand but couldn’t resist.

His lips finally found yours again, and this time, it was desperate. His glasses were askew, but you didn’t care. Not anymore. All you could focus on was the way he kissed you—like you were the only thing that existed, like the years of rivalry and disdain had all led to this. To the heat between you, to the way his tongue danced against yours, to the way your body melted into his, craving more.

You hated him, truly. But in this moment, you hated yourself more for how badly you didn’t want to stop.

And it was so, so wrong.

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 3 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - As (Y/s)’s life blends into Art’s, she struggles to keep hold of her sanity with his influence as others continue to test her patience.

Notes - Shit’s getting juicy, y’all 🤌🏻 Let me know if you would like to be part of the tag list or have requests!

Word Count - 3,107

Warning(s) - Violence

Song Inspiration -

The Pretty Wild - Sleepwalker

The days bled into weeks, the weeks into months. As the bond between them grew stronger, so did the resemblance of (Y/n) in the abandoned building the clown called home. And with it, so did she. 

With much convincing, Art allowed her to make the bedroom her own safe space for when she spent her time there. With that being said, it also meant that if anyone other than either of themselves entered that room, there was no telling what that somebody would suffer through. 

Sure, it wasn’t as if it was common for others to wander into the building, and that alone would be a death wish. But anything that invaded what he considered to be her sacred grounds was subject to punishment of the highest degree. 

With countless hours of cleaning and rearranging, she was able to finally get rid of the dust and grime, save for a few particularly stubborn spots. And of course, the floors and walls were still rotted and peeling, but after getting a can of paint, roller brushes, and a pan, she figured it would be close enough to decent. 

With Art’s help, he opened the can of egg-white paint for her and carefully poured it into the pan, happily doing so with a large grin. Once he poured enough for her, he set down the can of paint and straightened himself up. 

“What?” (Y/n) asked him innocently when he looked at her mischievously. Then she noticed the hand behind his back. “No.” She warned him playfully, holding a finger out to him. 

He snatched her wrist and she shrieked as he launched his hand out from behind him, smearing what she assumed was paint onto her face. As the cold substance touched her lips she gagged and kept her lips tightly shut, refusing for it to get into her mouth anymore than it already had.

Meanwhile, the imp that was Art keeled over in silent laughter, slapping his thigh and mocking her gagging as she ran out to the basin in their work area before the paint dried up to clean it off. She dried her face and it flatlined as she glared at Art. He simply shrugged with a half-assed apology written on his face, letting her storm past him back into her room to start painting.  

The experience was peaceful, other than the rocky start and the fumes. Nothing could have prepared her for the fumes. The room wasn’t large and the building had no ventilation or filtering to protect her. The single window was broken and boarded so it wasn’t as if she could open it. 

Her stubbornness was unforgiving as she pushed through hours of work to get everything done, fueled by her excitement to turn the room into her own. 

The effects the smell had on her body didn’t hit her until the tail end of her painting as she finished the second and final coat of the remaining wall. 

(Y/n) practically threw the paint roller into the pan, taking a deep breath when her head began to spin. She was aware enough to mind the wet walls, but couldn’t stop herself from swaying. After a significant wave of disorientation, she leaned - or rather fell - back against the doorframe, her head thumping loudly against it in the process and only worsening her headache. 

With her eyes closed, her head spun as she heard the sound of rushed and heavy footsteps growing nearer, louder before they came to a halt beside her. She felt quick taps on her shoulder, light at first. 

No response. 

The next set nearly shoved her into the wall and her eyes sprung open, looking over at Art who had a panicked expression, his hands motioning around the both of them with haste. 

(Y/n)’s eyes began to close again as she waved him off weakly. “M’fine. Just dizzy.” She slurred and heard him stomp his foot. 

He suddenly bent down and picked her up bridal-style, taking her out of the room and outside to an old bench sat along the side of the building. He sat down and cradled her on his lap, albeit begrudgingly as he huffed and puffed to himself at the minor heart attack she caused him. 

As her head rested against him under his chin, she began to recover enough to know she would be fine to stand. But with equal mischief, she pretended she was still ill just to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 

The days following, Art was generous enough to help her bring in brand new furniture which they transported by a worker’s van - which he still hadn’t disclosed to her its origins - and the room was finally beginning to look decent. 

The process was interesting, to say the least, as far as putting the furniture together went. They both sat on the floor, Art eyeing the new tools that came with the pieces and picking them up in interest while (Y/n) read through the directions. 

What caught her off guard was how handy Art really was. 

After she had finished reading through the first bit, she began to look back and forth between the directions and the pieces in front of her to start the dreadful process. It wasn’t until she was halfway through putting the dresser together that she began to grow frustrated, sighing heavier than usual as she took off another piece that was incorrectly placed. 

Art looked over, sensing her frustration, and shooed her away from it. He took the tools from her and left to grab his own. When he returned, he sat where she had been and began to put everything together with ease while (Y/n)’s jaw dropped in both irritation and awe. 

No directions. No guidance. Just Art doing what Art did. 

Within fifteen minutes, the dresser was perfectly complete and he stood, presenting it to her with a large grin and flare of his hands while (Y/n) deadpanned. 

“You waited.” She accused grumpily and he proudly nodded. 

He then mockingly pouted at her and stepped his way over, squeezed at her cheeks and patted them before kissing her on the nose. 

“Okay, I forgive you.” She mumbled, unable to stay mad at his adorable mannerisms. 

With furniture complete, (Y/n) began to bring over some of her belongings and necessities. Clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, bed sets, a lamp and then some. He helped her without hesitation, mostly because he wanted to snoop around her house and bring back some of what he found for himself, but she accepted and appreciated the help nonetheless. 

After a week, the whole room had completely changed. She could now call it her personal safe space, her home away from home. 

“Art look, it’s finished!” She called to him from the doorway, looking into her room. He practically ran over to her with shared excitement, his face resembling shock. He clapped and jumped up and down, then blew a kiss into the room to compliment their work.

Art then turned to (Y/n) and kissed her cheek, baring a look of mischief before he ran into the room and jumped onto the bed. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look, but once he star-fished with childlike glee her face softened and she chuckled. 

The hideout was nearly their permanent place of residence once the room was finished. She would stop by her house once or twice a day to check her mail or take a shower to freshen up. Her actual house very well turned out to be her new home away from home, finding an odd sense of comfort in the decaying building knowing that it belonged to the clown she so loved. 

With how busy they had been with their little project, Art had built up a strong urge to wreak havoc. (Y/n) had her own urge, however significantly less violent. She would only ever be found guilty by association. 

Or so she thought.

Following the familiar itch, Art tinkered away at one of his new inventions when they could finally rest after the more chaotic week. (Y/n) sat with him, staring at the latest newspaper that had been delivered earlier that morning to her house. 

The usual sting rose in her abdomen as her eyes skimmed over the words of an article covering her work: disturbingly grotesque, lacking depth, pure shock value. 

Each phrase felt like a hammer striking her soul, chipping away at the confidence in her work while Art was left to pick up the pieces. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper, crumpling it slightly. Suddenly, in the back of her mind, something stirred. Something darker than frustration.

She realized that her initial reaction wasn’t just sadness. It was anger. Uncharacteristic of her individuality, it simmered, threatening to boil at any moment. 

She grew antsy with the unfamiliar feeling and stood up, crumpling the newspaper and snatching a match from the workbench. 

Art watched incredulously as she struck the match and lit the article ablaze, dropping it into a nearby steel bucket on the floor and letting it burn. 

Her exterior was eerily calm while her thoughts began to rage and cause turmoil. She looked over at Art who continued to stare and her eyebrow twitched in contained irritation. He simply lifted the new weapon off of his desk and showed it to her with a sadistic expression. 

Over time, (Y/n) began to notice how the fits of frustration became more common. What used to be a simmer had indeed grown into a boil and only became harder and harder to contain, though she did it well. It’s what made her dangerous, and what intrigued Art further. 

No matter what was going on through her head, she somehow always remained calm and collected. Time and time again other’s words and interactions with them made her seethe beneath her facade, yet nothing ever came out of it from her. 

She had always avoided conflict, either by completely disassociating from it or just letting Art handle it in his own way. What they didn’t know was what went through her head in those moments. 

For the past few months, she’d noticed a change. Subtle at first, but soon became impossible to ignore. As she stood silently in her anger, her mind thought up of ways to release that rage. Whether it was ramming a bat into a TV or slapping someone in the face, the images flooded her mind as an initial reaction. Almost as an impulse, coaxing her into giving in and finally acting on it. 

She wasn’t aware of it yet, but the line between her calm, introverted nature and the darkness lurking beneath had already begun to blur. And soon, she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference at all.

It was nighttime, as was routine for them, to go on their walk, which Art preferred to call their ‘hunt’. They decided to take a different route to town for a change of scenery, but (Y/n) would be lying if she said it wasn’t more eerie than their typical route. 

There wasn’t nearly as much lighting and the tall trees lining the smaller street casted foreboding shadows over them. But (Y/n) felt calm. Not only because it was an environment she was naturally attracted to, but also because of the figure walking alongside her. She could even go as far as to say she felt almost invincible with him. 

Just ahead of them, a darker figure seemed to have the same idea of having a walk. From the look of it, they grew closer, walking towards them. 

Art stopped in his tracks, staring at the man menacingly with wide eyes and a smile to match. 

The man felt a chill run down his spine at the sight, but decided to stupidly go against his better judgment as he took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. 

“A little early to be dressing up for Halloween, don’t you think?” He laughed as he resumed his walking towards them. 

“How about you mind your business.” (Y/n) bit back. Art’s head snapped over to look at her with an expression of shock, hand over his mouth as she casually put her hands in her pockets. 

“You’re a snappy one! I like that.” He slurred with a drunken wink and her mouth curled in disgust. Art looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. 

“Then you’ll love it when I smash that bottle over your head if you don’t keep walking.” 

“He might,” The man pointed at Art. “But I don’t think you will, sweetheart.” 

In the blink of an eye, the bottle was snatched from his hand and broke over his head just as she warned. 

Art bent over in laughter after his initial surprise wore off, pointing at the man now collapsed on the ground and mocking him by pretending to cry, hands twisting by his eyes. 

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’.” (Y/n) spoke flatly as she shook off the beer that spilled onto her hand from the bottle. “Do you have a rag in your bag, Art?” She asked the clown in a softer tone. 

He turned back to her and held up a finger for her to wait while his laughter continued, digging through his bag until he eventually pulled out a rag, albeit a bit dirty, but it would suffice. As (Y/n) dried off her hand, he pulled something else out and she turned away, the man screaming behind her not long after. 

She wasn’t sure what came over her at that moment, and Art wasn’t exactly a good influence. She had made one or two threats in the past couple of months when her intrusive thoughts started to get worse, but never had she acted on them. 

The most unusual part wasn’t that she carried them out, though. It was that she remained frighteningly calm before, during and after. As if it was second nature to her. 

An hour before the sun was set to rise, they made it back to what they called home. Art remained his bloody self, heading to their work  area while (Y/n) wandered into her room without a word, her demeanor just a shell of who she was as she thought of the night’s events. 

She took the camera off from around her neck and set it on her nightstand, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the rug below her. 

She wasn’t sure how long it had been before Art showed up and paused in the doorway. His smile dropped ever so slightly, leaving his eyes as his brow furrowed with concern. He walked over to where she sat and began to reach a hand out, hesitated, then touched her shoulder and quickly pulled away as if she had burned him. 

Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his gaze and using a finger, he motioned up and down at her figure in question. With no response, she only looked back down and he was aghast, flinching back with wide eyes. 

Art quickly looked around in a panic, fingers twitching with an unfamiliar urge and then quickly took a seat beside her. At first, his fingertips caressed her back. Then his arm reached around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, rocking the two of them soothingly. 

After a few minutes, he felt (Y/n)’s arms slowly wrap around his torso, leaning into him as her head nuzzled into his chest. 

“I don’t know what happened…” She mumbled in what sounded like disappointment. “It just came out of nowhere, hardly even any provocation.”

Art tapped at her back and she watched as he stood up in front of her. He mimicked exaggerated anger and pointed at (Y/n), then flared his hands at the empty space beside him, an imaginary person. He pointed at her again and gave her two ‘ok’ symbols, telling her that it was okay and that she did a good job. 

“You don’t think I overreacted, do you…?” Art started to feel relieved when he noticed her usual, gentler side with him begin to show again. 

He aggressively shook his head, slicing his arms over each other to give a firm ‘no’ and (Y/n) sighed.

“I’ve just been becoming more angered with things that used to only cause me pain. Those urges have been in my head more frequently recently and that was the first time I’ve ever acted on it. I feel conflicted after, but in the moment it just felt right .” 

She looked up at Art with pleading eyes, but his smile remained and he lifted his hands to grab her cheeks. He pulled away and balled up his fists, gritting his teeth in feigned anger and motioning to what was around him with a sigh of relief. 

“If I hold it in, will it just get worse?” (Y/n) asked genuinely. 

He nodded his head and pointed at her. She looked off in contemplation as Art eagerly waited, fingers tapping against each other. 

“I guess I could try and see how it goes.” Art clapped and shuffled closer to her, taking her head and leaning into it to kiss the top of it, then patted where he kissed. 

Over the next few weeks, she decided to stick to her word and let the now impulsive thoughts take over. She hesitated at first, but Art nudged her inconspicuously from beside her when he noticed and prompted her to follow through. 

Depending on how much the person had angered her and what was nearby for use, it ranged from ramming their head into a wall to simply kicking them in the groin. But she never went further as that was Art’s part of the fun, and she never wanted to deprive him of such joy. 

It still felt strange at first, to say the least. But the more she gave in, the less she thought about it and just did it . The strange feeling turned into relief, the relief turned into satisfaction, and the satisfaction turned into pure pleasure . 

In doing so, (Y/n) gained a certain level of understanding as to why Art loved what he did. She would never torture as he did, if at all. And she still refused to watch. 

As she embraced the new aspect of herself,  they formed a newfound respect for each other. More than what they had before, which they never believed could be greater than what it was. 

Tag list: @callsignwidow @hoe-for-daddywise

[livviewritess]

♡..I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanna be apart of your family.. ♡

Dad!daryl.

Summary: Y/Ns family isn't the best, so she finds comfort in the hot headed redneck.

Era: the quarry

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Tw: abuse (mental and physical), alcohol, methamphetamine use (drugs), PTSD, mentions of ADHD. (Let me know if I've missed anything.)

Smashed bottles, shouting and fighting was the norm for Y/N L/N. Its just how It was. She had developed PTSD as a young child, flinching from any sort of loud noise or screaming. And today wasn't any different.

She walked out of the trailer she called 'home'. Although it wasn't much of a home. She lived and breathed in it, but she didn't go there when she wanted comfort or seek warmth. No. Never. She hated it there. It always smelled of Alcohol or weed, and the smell would just never go, no matter how much of her sacred perfume she sprayed.

She only had socks on her feet, and was wearing a pink nightie with bows on it, her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail. Tears fell from her tired eyes, dripping down her cheeks and onto the bundle, her baby sister.

Her parents where drunk, so they probably didn't even notice the absence of their 14 year old and 3 month old. That was the norm for the L/N family.

She sat down next to the water, her knees brought up to her chest, leaving just enough space to rest the baby in her lap.

The sound of her tears dripping against the little pit of water in the sound calmed her and the baby. She wondered why, though. The tears that where falling from her pretty eyes where one's made shed by her own parents. The two people in her life that where meant to help her and care for her. She stared at her reflection, brushing a piece of stay hair out of the babies face.

She cuddled her sister, humming her favourite song. She rocked side to side gently, before singing quietly, careful not to wake up anyone near.

"Staring down the barrel of the hot sun.. shining with a sheen of a shotgun.. Carol has a little if we need some.. joa has a ride if you wanna come.."

She carried on singing, tears brimming her eyes again. Faint footsteps carried up the beach, but she was too indulged in singing and keeping the baby asleep to care.

"grocery store list now you get this, I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanna be apart of your family.."

Footsteps creep up behind her and she jumped, spinning around on her knees. It was the redneck man with the motorbike. Daryl, his name was. She stared up at him, the bundle still in her arms. She was confused about why he was up so late. Until she realised she was too.

"What are ya doin' out here this late, sunshine?" He asked. She stayed quiet, bowing her head for a second, before looking up at him again. "I just.. wanted some space and water." She said, standing up. Daryls eyebrows furrowed with confusion and something else.. empathy.

He could see her tear stained face, the little wet spots on the babies blanket. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He leaned his crossbow and string of squirrel and bird on the rock wall, before holding his arms out. Y/N looked at him confused, then passing him the baby. He rocked her, smiling a little.

"Cute lil' thing, huh? What's her name?" The gruff man said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Oh, Rose," she said, bowing her head once more. "Ya named her, didn't you?.." daryl asked, taking int he girls expression as a yes. He knew her parents where horrible.. just like his. He scanned her face, seeing himself in her. A young, scared, innocent little kid just waiting for their childhood to be destroyed.

"I.. I'm sorry for waking you, Mr Dixon, I'm so sorry.." she apologised, daryl shaking his head in disbelief. How is she apologising for something she didn't do? Ah. She did it often. To her parents.

"Ya didn't wake me, kid. I jus' came back from huntin'. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." He said, before letting out a huff, swapping the little on to his other arm carefully before pulling the kid into a side hug. And, she cried. Poured her little heart out. Sobs wracked through her body as daryl swayed, shushing her, and doing anything he could to comfort her.

"C'mon. Let's get Ya to bed. Yer sleepin' in the tent next ta me. The little one can sleep in yer arms. That okay sunshine?" She nods, smiling up at him, picking up his crossbow and squirrels up for him, following him up to his little spot.

"Merle the Madman isn't here.. right?.." She said, making daryl smile. Although he had disappeared thanks to officer friendly, he liked the nickname. "Nah. He's not here. Went missin'." He said, and she let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry Mr Dixon.." daryl layed out the two sleeping bags, patting it, letting her lay down comfortably.

"Nah. S'its alrigh'. Bastard had it comin'." She laughed a little, before taking her sister out of daryls arms, making her comfortable too.

"And sunshine?" Daryl said, turning to her.

"Yes Mr Dixon?"

"From now on, it's Daryl." He said, they both settled, eventually falling asleep, a smile on both their faces.

Early in the morning, y/n woke up with an empty sleeping bag next to her. She yawned, and stretched. She sat up, picking up her little sister. She needed a bottle, but she decided to ask Carol for one instead of going back in that wretched camper trailer.

Her feet padded along the dirt, until she came to an abrupt stop around the camp fire logs. She stared at the sight infront of her, tears involuntarily falling down her face.

Her mother was lying there, a stab wound in her head. She had turned. She probably went outside to the RV to go to the toilet and got attacked. Or overdosed. One of the two.

Her dad was drunkenly screaming, as usual, Rick and Shane trying to calm him down, before his eyes landed on you.

He stomped towards you, and all you could see is flashes of the amount of times he'd hit you, and threatened your life. Your eyes widened as he got closer and closer, bottle ready to hit you.

Until someone hit him.

He fell, flat on the ground, groaning, blood trickling from the side of his head. Daryl had hit him with a nearby pole. She looked at daryl, tears in her eyes.

Daryl pulled her into a tight hug, comforting her and scowling at her dad at the same time. Nobody expected that from a dixon. The hitting thing? Yeah. The comforting a 14 year old infront of a group of atleast 20 people? No. Not at all.

Shane and Rick grabbed the man, hoisting him up, and putting him back in his trailer, slamming the door shut.

"Daryl! That is not how we deal with stuff around here!" Shane shouted, daryl shielding her from everything, but you looked under his arm.

"Maybe if ya lowlifes tried ta take him down 'Fore he started hittin' his own kid, I wouldn't have had ta hit him!" He snapped back at Shane. Shane scowled, shifting his weight onto one of his legs and putting his hands on his hips. "Let me tell you somethin'. Maybe if you pulled your head outta your ass, looked around and read the room you wouldn't have to hit people," he said, adjusting his awful cap.

"Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass and stopped thinking with your dick we'd have a stable community we all could live and thrive in." She said. Everyone went dead silent. So did he. And daryl. He just trudged away to go and deal with her dad.

Daryl and Y/N got back to their tent, and liv placed her sister into the makeshift cot. "Daryl?" She asked. "Yes sunshine?"

"Can I call you dad?" She said, staring up at him with those beautiful puppy eyes he just adored.

"Sure thing, Darlin'."

An: I enjoyed writing this. One of my favourite fics so far I think. Thank you for reading <3

Tags:

[earthkittytarot]

PAC READING - (PICK A CAT READING!!!) 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

By EarthKittyTarot.

Choose a cat that you feel the most drawn too, if anything calls out to you from the image that is your cat/oracle message!

Top left cat🪓: 1

Top right cat 💅🏼: 2

Bottom left cat😛:3

Bottom right cat🔮:4

Pile 1:

Middle world present.

MIDDLE WORLD REVEALED:

Our here and now is largely based on media information, much of which creates an illusion of separation. Many perceive the present as the only reality open to us. The present we have created is not without roots or branches. Do not become lost in this middle world of paradoxes and conundrums. Look ahead to the branches and be mindful to tend to your roots.

OTHER DIVINATORY MEANINGS

Stop living in the past. Your desire for yesteryear is holding you back. Fears for the future do not serve you. Release your worries.

Make a list of all you are grateful for. Meditate to help you focus on the present. Striking a balance between roles is key.

MIDDLE WORLD SPEAKS

The place that you reside is here, Upon this earth realm, have no fear.

Live firm betwixt and in between, Connect with all, seen and unseen.

Overall message: Spirit is asking you to focus on the present and on what you can control which is your mind and thoughts. Do not live in the future or the past, as that is causing stress and fear in your present, rather take time to delve into your own inner world where peace of mind can be found. If you are feeling lost, reconnect to your roots, as they will allow you to see where the road leads to. Do not focus on the news or media as that could make you feel a sense of yearning for peace, truth is peace and balance can be found In the present moment despite narratives that are being portrayed. Do not fear, you are here. (In the present and in the moment).

Pile 2:

Altar Honouring.

ALTAR REVEALED:

An altar is a sacred space in which to honour Great Spirit. Nature itself is an altar to the shaman, but having your own altar (Thaan) helps you to focus on rituals, ceremonies and prayer. It is for the laying out of ritual tools and for holding pictures or artefacts of chosen deities and ancestors. It is a place of worship and of honouring personal beliefs. It is a meeting place between the ordinary and spiritual realms.

OTHER DIVINATORY MEANINGS

Honour that which is sacred to you. Make room for quiet time.

Dedicate an altar in your house or garden to that which you are aligned to spiritually. Focus will bring desired results. Make time in your day for gratitude and thanksgiving. Time for reflection.

ALTAR SPEAKS

Precious gifts and sacred items lay bare, Holding a space to bless all that is there.

Ancestors, elementals, directions and more Come speak with them and be reassured.

Overall message: Spirit is asking you to create an altar, similarly your body is an altar that you can nourish and adorn; what are you feeding yourself, wether it be mentally or physically, what type of materials are you wearing ? How are they making you feel?(higher quality materials can help you). The time is now to create an altar and a sacred space for you to connect with and assist those in spirit. Place your ancestors or deities favorite items, food or colors on your altar and make it your own. Spirit is saying to personalize your altar to your energy, place things that can bring you peace and relaxation. Spirit is also saying that you are creating this internally as well, commence the creation of your sacred space within and externally. Go to your altar for answers and insights, the answers may be more clear than you think.

Pile 3:

North solitude.

NORTH REVEALED

According to Native American and other aboriginal peoples, the north represents recuperation, self-reflection and readjustment.

Associated with the element of earth and the season of winter, north is about personal lessons that can test physical and emotional boundaries and expose the primal self. 'Going north can be a major turning point as much is gained from first-hand experience and achieving something alone without the influence of others.

OTHER DIVINATORY MEANINGS

You have come so far, please don't give up. There is light at the end of the tunnel. All good things come to those who wait. A time of great blessings, that may seem disguised right now. You are on the right path. Be patient. Time on your own serves you well.

NORTH SPEAKS

When times are hard, you will survive, You have the knowledge to stay alive.

It is within you, the courage and will, To be alone, stay calm and still.

Overall message: Spirit is saying “through turmoil a blessing will soon be revealed”. Continue walking the path you are on, as that is the path you’re meant to be on. You have the knowledge about your chosen path and now is not the time to listen to naysayers or your own imposter syndrome. Time alone serves you well, as you will be able to determine the next steps. If confusion has set in and you don’t know what to do, remain still, in time you’ll know what to do. Continue your walk on this path and journey. Do not give up just yet. The flower will sprout.

Pile 4:

Cave - retreat.

CAVE REVEALED

Across continents and beliefs, caves provided shelter for prehistoric humans and are gateways to the underworld. Many great prophets including Jesus, Elijah and Mohamed where born in, lived in or were buried in sacred caves. They are the abode of hermits and sages, a place of spiritual retreat or the transition from isolation and fear to rebirth within the womb of Mother Earth.

OTHER DIVINATORY MEANINGS

Focus on you. Get away from it all. Retreat to a spa, enjoy a massage or take a sea salt bath to revive your spirit. Your soul craves quiet time. Rest and recuperate without guilt, in preparation for the next leg of your journey.

CAVE SPEAKS

Rest ye from thy weary feet,

As I invite you to retreat.

Now heal within my sacred womb,

Restoration shall resume.

Overall message: Spirit is saying you and your sacred energy is being revived. Retreat into your abode wether it’s a house or a cave. Rebirth is happening now in your life and nature and caves call out to you. Rest and rejuvenate, do things that bring you physical healing. Your body has been through so much, retreat into a cave and ask earth and cave spirits to assist in healing and in your rebirth. Remove yourself from obstacles, overthinking and harsh energies, this time is for resting and recuperating, a break may be needed. Spiritual retreats taken will bring newfound peace and balance. If you lost something or feel something missing, retreat into a cave and gain spiritual insight.

[moonmaiden1996]

Bound By Fate Chapter 15 - Epilogue

Shanks basked in the warmth of the sun, the hammock swaying gently under him as the summer breeze caressed his skin. His crimson hair gleamed in the sunlight as he lazily glanced down, bleary-eyed, at you. Your head rested on his broad chest, hair cascading over his bronzed skin like a soft veil. For now, the world was quiet, the moments serene. Soon, though, the Red Force would leave the cove, its sails unfurling as the crew ventured out to claim the seas once more—with you by his side.

He smiled faintly at the thought, his arm wrapping around you possessively. He’d considered keeping you tucked away in his cabin—a space no longer scented just with you but of the both of you. Shanks had been thorough in making you peak on every surface, staining you forever in the very wood that shielded you from the raging sea. He made it the only witness to his love and unwavering devotion. His grin widened as his gaze fell on the hammock. Perhaps he’d add this to the list. Maybe you'd ride him here, he mused with a sly smirk, pulling you closer. There was no rush to venture out onto the open sea.

“Blubber blubber blubber...”

The sound of a transponder snail broke through the peaceful reverie. Shanks groaned, burying his face deeper into the hammock.

“Blubber blubber blubber...”

“Beckman, throw that damn snail into the sea!” Shanks growled, though his irritation softened as you stirred against him. ''Damn it... Yassop shot the damn thing.''

“I’m awake,” you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Go back to sleep,” he cooed, his voice a low rumble as he tightened his hold.

You pushed yourself up, resting a hand against his firm chest. “I said, I’m awake.”

Shanks’ grin turned wicked. “Hmm, this feels a little familiar. Maybe it’s giving me flashbacks to our earlier... escapade in the crow’s nest.”

The crew’s laughter erupted around you, and you glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Tsk. Is nothing sacred with you?” Beckman growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. “And you lot why ae you laughing?,” he snapped at the chuckling crew, “you'll be the ones disinfecting it.”

He tossed the transponder snail onto Shanks’ chest with a smirk, earning a dark glower from the captain. Beckman, ever unfazed, merely allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch upward.

Shanks pressed the snail to his ear. “Yeah? Hmm... Right... Oh, they did what now?” His boisterous laugh echoed across the beach. “Well, you don’t say... Oh, that one, huh? Didn’t think they had it in them!” His shoulders shook with mirth.

The voice on the other end erupted in an unintelligible stream of curses. Shanks chuckled, then slammed the snail shut, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock as he stood, taking you with him.

“It’s time, lads!” he roared, his voice brimming with energy as the crew surged forward.

“What’s going on?” you asked, barely keeping up with his pace.

“It seems your friend, the old man, has been making his rounds with that pollen of theirs,” Shanks replied, grinning mischievously.

“And...are they okay?”

“They’re fine I am sure—causing no more chaos than usual I expect. Still, we’d better check they’re not kidnapping anyone... that’s my move.” He gave your rear a playful smack, laughing as you shot him a murderous glare.

Shanks watched you storm off toward the gangplank, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Captain?” Beckman’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Shanks didn’t turn as he replied, “I think it’s time we start her Haki training.”

“You sure she’s got it?” Beckman asked, skeptical.

Shanks nodded. “The first time I saw her, it practically vibrated off her. She has it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Shanks’ tone turned serious, his gaze sharpening. “Whatever’s coming, it’s big, and it’s coming soon.”

Beckman nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Set a course for a little catch-up with the Straw Hat.” Shanks smirked, striding after you onto the ship. He paused, calling over his shoulder, “Oh, and Beckman? No disturbances. I think I will start her off on her first lesson break her in a little before you bore her with your training.”

Beckman scoffed but saluted with a sly grin. “Aye, Captain.”

I was going to wait to post an epilogue/ but I honestly I am really enjoying writing this series/arc. The plans I have just give me goosebumps.

Laws fic has just started if anyone wants to have a read of the first chapter.

Ideas for the Straw Hat are...happening. I am just having so much fun creating a reader for Sanji and Zoro. If your interested in my Zoro musing please have a look here. I would love to know what you think of my idea.

Thank you so much for all your likes and comments. They really have made me want to write.

Lots of Love

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST.

[khaire-traveler]

🩺 Subtle Asklepios Worship⚕️

Take your medications, if any; take medications if you need to (headaches, stomaches, etc.)

Try herbal teas as remedies for MINOR health issues (nausea, stomaches, etc.)

Try to visit the doctor when needed and if able

Take care of your physical health

Exercise; get some movement throughout your day, even just stretching

Have a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Have a stuffed animal snake or horse (potentially a rooster; doesn't seem to be a confirmed sacred animal; horse is due to Chiron)

Have symbols of his medical staff (a single snake wrapped around a stick), centaurs, stars (specifically his constellation Ophiochus), or healing (anything you associate with it) around

Take regular breaks from screens

Take a walk/hike outside, especially under the sun when you can get some Vitamin D

Try to eat healthy if you can; eat fruits and veggies, drink milk or calcium-rich drinks, eat fish or protein-rich meats, etc.

Drink herbal teas or natural juices

Try to take care of your hygiene; take regular showers, brush your teeth, wash your hands, use moisturizer, etc.

Eat three meals a day

Try to work on maintaining a regular sleep schedule

Engage in relaxing or calming activities before bed or when you're stressed

Have a morning and night self-care routine

Be gentle with yourself, especially when you're having a difficult time

Practice mindfulness; try meditation if you can

Keep your space clean; make it comfortable and physically safe for yourself

Remind yourself that healing, especially mentally, is rarely a linear path

Look into healthy coping skills for any anxiety, depression, trauma, etc. - anything that can improve your mental/emotional well-being

Prioritize your own well-being

Practice compassion, especially toward yourself

Spend time with loved ones and pets

Try to feed your pet healthy foods; make sure to keep any pets healthy (measure their food intake, give them regular exercise, groom them regularly, etc.)

Support others who are going through a difficult time IF YOU CAN; sometimes we're not well enough to help, and that's ok!!!

Keep a self-care/self-love journal

Take a self-care bath/shower, especially with herbs

Try eating healthy snacks, such as nuts, seeds, berries, or granola

Learn about healthcare, anatomy, or any medical conditions you or loved ones have

Learn your rights when it comes to healthcare as well as your options; educate yourself on HIPPA (if in US)

Support healthcare, humanitarian, or homeless shelter organizations

Cook a meal for someone in need

Cook a meal for a loved one or pet

Donate clothes, food, hygiene kits to homeless shelters; donate warm clothes in the winter

Sit outside, especially in sunlight, for a while; meditate if you're able or do something relaxing, such as playing an instrument or drawing

Feed neighborhood cats, dogs, birds, etc.

Grow your own herbs or produce

-

This is my list of discreet ways to worship Asklepios! I hope it helps someone out. I may add more later on. Take care! 💚

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[padmestrilogy]

about your 'the idea of Padme choosing to die remains a huge taboo' post, I suppose is because it just doesn't make much sense to just die like she did, or at least not with everything that happened. There were no signs of Padme being close to give birth before she went to Mustafar, all that stress that happened and to make things worse, Anakin quite literally choked her until she feel unconscious, a pregnant woman! It's a bit weird for jer to go through that and then finding out that wasn't the direct cause of her death, it might even be a bit of taking some of the blame from Anakin just to lessen the disgusting crime'.

I don't doubt some fans are actually being unfair to padme 's character, but I think many are just upset with lucas choices with her death, because it could have been very easy to just say the choking was the cause of death, or the pain of going to a double partum, or complications at birth, just anything but the heart broken thing. There's a reason why is always a 'Anakin killed her' in ppl's memory, or the 'Sidius sucked her life ', rather than what happened in the movie, because the first one makes more sense and is more logical than the other and it changes very, very little for the movies. Vader already thinks he killed her and in a emotional sense it is what happened, so what would change if he actually killed her? Besides making him just slightly less terrible

well i'm working on a lengthy essay about this, and hopefully in the future i can just paste that whenever people have questions. but in the meantime i will say:

-i would absolutely call anakin padme's murderer. i have, plenty of times. it is his actions that drive her to suicide. even if he does not kill her in the most literal sense, he kills her hope for the future, which in star wars is the most sacred thing of all.

-i don't think it's "lessening" anakin's "crime" to say his force choking isn't the exact cause of her death. anakin's force choking is still treated as the height of villainy within the narrative and what completes his fall to the dark side.

-i'm not against people being upset with lucas' writing choices. i am that, every day of my stupid life. i am upset with people denying padme autonomy in their readings of the text, refusing to engage with the character as written, and acting like the logic of padme's death doesn't fit perfectly within the prequel's stylistic reality: allegorical space opera, where big things happen fast.

-all of the alternatives you list, from choking to a difficult birth to sidious, deny padme autonomy and agency over her death. with her rebellion founding scenes cut, padme only makes three active choices in revenge of the sith: to have children, to go to anakin on mustafar, and to die. i wish she made more choices than these, of course. i don't think the answer here is erasing any of these choices or refusing to think about why she might make them.

-i also don't think it's helpful to go "well this would've been easier to understand, so it's the correct artistic choice." that's a non-starter. not to mention the facts of padme's death are explained to us very straightforwardly. the real illogical stretches here are the sidious theory or the anakin misunderstanding. you have to actively ignore huge swathes of the text to come to either of those conclusions.

-padme's death is perfectly logical once you accept the story on it's own terms. anakin's rage sustains his difficult rebirth as vader; padme's overwhelming grief kills her. these scenes are paralleled for a reason. it's abstract, image-reliant filmmaking that prioritizes emotion and movement. it's star war. we see the personification of unconditional love die as we see the personification of violent hate rise. this would not be improved by a space gynecologist .

[nayatarot777]

what would your sexual energy like to tell you? 💌

• pile one •

many of you in this pile have been suppressed by overbearing parents/carers and overbearing expectations regarding sex. you may (to this day) be very sheltered from anything to do with your sexuality, as if your caregivers have tried to keep you cloaked from anything to do with that. a lot of you may be virgins too, holding onto your virginity because you view it as something extremely valuable (which is completely understandable. the first person who you choose to share your body with and your first sexual experience is very important regarding your outlook towards your future sexual experiences) however the importance placed on your virginity or staying “protected” and “pure” from any sexual experiences may be causing you a lot of mental conflict. for those of you who aren’t virgins, i’m seeing that you could be very closed off (out of fear) due to negative experiences and/or beliefs towards sex from the past. your sexual energy would like you to try to find a mental balance regarding your sexual energy, though. learn to value your body and to view your future sexual experiences as something that is also for you, not just for the pleasure of the other person. also, write down a list of sexual boundaries that you feel like you’d want to implement in the future. there’s an emphasis on understanding that you have control over your body. not your parents, not what random people think that you should do with your body. YOU. there’s a need to educate yourself about what healthy, safe, and positive sexual experiences are, because what you’ve been told or what you’ve experienced personally may have tainted your opinion and feelings towards your own sexual energy as well as other people’s. many of you are closed off from your own body. many of you still view yourself as a child who “shouldn’t” explore these things. for those of you who are virgins and stressing about when you’re going to lose your virginity, who you should lose it to, etc, please just know this: choosing a sexual partner that you feel comfortable with and that you can trust is very important, however, they don’t have to be the “one” or the person who you will marry or spend the rest of your life with. losing your virginity doesn’t have to be this extremely serious thing. if you meet someone who you like - and you decide for yourself that you’d like to sleep with them - as long as the energy’s right and you know them well enough to trust them with something as sensitive as your first sexual experience, go ahead and do what you want to do. you’re not a little kid anymore and you deserve to experience what all grown adults have the right to choose to experience. for everyone in this pile though, you all would benefit from solidifying your self esteem in your physical body. viewing it as attractive, viewing it as your safe space in a way, and viewing it as sacred (in your own way - not necessarily in the way of society, family, or religion). this applies to your sexual energy in general too.

• pile two •

the sexual energy of this pile seems to be very dependent on what other people think (or would think) of your sexual identity and sexual behaviours. whether that’s sexual orientation, sexual preferences, kinks and fetishes, etc. The main aspect of this that I’m picking up on is listening to what other people say about those who are sexually open and/or people who sleep with multiple people, resulting in them being called derogatory names in relation to their sexuality. you may want to explore the same things that have been the point of shame for other people (like multi-dating, having multiple sexual partners, moving into the sex work industry, etc.), and because of this fear of judgement, you hold yourself back. for others of you, you’re surrounded by people who take sex less seriously than you and they might urge you to delve into hook up culture when that’s not something that you’re sure would be best for you. you might want to wait until you’re in a relationship to sleep with others, and now you’re wondering whether or not you’re wasting your time waiting for that. to sum this up, you guys are listening to other people around you, or people that you don’t even know (online) about the standards that you should set for yourself sexually. i heard “stop listening to gossip and judgements”. i’m seeing that you guys in this pile are wanting to make some type of transition in the way that you express your sexual energy. you’ve learned something new about yourself sexually but because it would be looked down upon by others, it’s almost like you’re considering suppressing it. your sexual energy is telling you to listen to it. not other people. there’s also a strong need to learn how to embrace your sexuality too, without shame - in your own energy. nobody else has to know about this if you don’t want them to. and you can embrace your sexual energy completely by yourself in your own time, whatever that may be. learning how to develop love for the self and the body and your own personal opinions will propel you forward into freeing yourself from this mental conflict that you’re enduring. a lack of self love or self worth might be the culprit as to why you struggle to believe and listen to your own opinions, wants, and needs about yourself. and maybe this is why you look to others for guidance - but you won’t find the answer that you’re looking for externally. you already know the answer because the answer comes from you, but you’re suppressing it again. your sexual energy wants you to find your sexual truth by yourself - away from the sight of others first. write down who you are sexually in a world where no opinions about your sexual identity and behaviour could be projected onto you. what would it look like then?

• pile three •

pile three, your sexual energy is POTENT. wayyy more potent than you realise. it’s like people get trapped in your essence without even speaking to you and a lot of you have to deal with people assuming that you’re way more sexual than you actually are. this is the reason why. especially when it comes to men/masculines. they love to project what they assume you’re like sexually because what they assume is what they fantasise about you. you have a very blocked sexual energy though. not blocked to yourself but blocked to the external world - and this isn’t a bad thing. it’s guarded more than blocked. i’m seeing you as someone who has sexual energy that’s going to be felt regardless of whether you want it to be or not. no amount of covering up or keeping yourself small, quiet, and innocent-looking will change that (even if you are. even if you’re a whole virgin out here). but people know that it’s nowhere near easy to get into it. you seem to be very disconnected from others and their sexual advances. you could have a history of shutting down other people’s projections of you. and i’m also hearing that you challenge people’s ignorance (mainly men’s). the sexual undertone of your energy is what they attribute to a “certain type” of person (people who they’d consider “h0es” or people who they’d shame sexually in some way) but they can’t do that with you because the way that you carry yourself and your standards is the complete opposite of what they’d expect it to be based on your sex appeal. your demeanour comes off as very cold, direct, swift, and maybe even judgemental. and you clearly don’t focus on the attention from others. you have a “couldn’t care less” attitude. that alone puts people in their place even if you don’t verbally, and it often has people feeling rejected. insecure. like they don’t live up to your standards (because they don’t). your sexual energy is telling you that you embody the true archetype of a femme fatale. not the type that you see on tiktok lmao. not the manufactured version of a femme fatale where people think that you can force yourself to be one by dressing in black and being unnecessarily rude and bitchy to make up for low self esteem and suppressed resentment and pain - instead of actually just doing shadow work (no shade 👀). this isn’t forced. it comes naturally to you which is why i’m seeing that this may be something that you’re shocked to hear about. you don’t force yourself to be something that you’re not to be seen as a “bad bitch” or a “boss” or the “it girl” when you’re actually soft af. i mean, you could be, but you genuinely embody the energy that so many people try to but fail to. why? because it’s not them. you though? this is you. naturally. and there’s so much power in this. you know this deep down but feel like you’re being delusional, or big headed or something negative. you’re not. you just know that you’re the shit, so your stable sense of self weeds out the people who can’t handle you. i heard “you’re not for everybody”. not everyone can handle you. and that’s fine. let them take themselves out of your life and don’t let anybody try to “bring you down to size” just because they’re threatened by you. whether that’s because they want you but can’t have you, or they wish they were you. your detached and harsh demeanour also protects you from a lot of predators who’d think that they can prey on you if you were more open and friendly. your sexual energy is very threatening to people. and they know that you’re not one to be fucked with.