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saintrosalyn · 2 months ago

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JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained.

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor.

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left.

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge.

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off.

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator.

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room.

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you?

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him.

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life.

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon.

Freedom.

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing.

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours.

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat.

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient.

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet.

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow.

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.”

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you.

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either.

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs.

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone.

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it.

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard.

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours.

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon x reader #ghost x you #ghost #simon ghost riley #reader is delulu in this

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financesevaloan · 2 years ago

Link

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markrosewater · 3 months ago

Note

I appreciate your patience in listening to the people mourn what's currently being decided right now. If I can contribute something as well: I am also a UB fan, and I agree with the mechanical uniqueness and the awesome designs and all that.

However, the mantra being spoken before has been "maybe this product isn't for you," and while that was far from easing my concerns about some decisions, now that ub is going to be at every level of competitive play, wotc has taken away the ability for competitive players to opt out of an experience they don't want to partake in. If you want to win, you HAVE to get Sephiroth and Green Goblin, etc.

I like UB as an opt in choice, but the current decision feels malicious towards those who expressed their concerns before who were abated by consolations that wotc has rolled back. It does feel like a cynical money grab at the cost of many of the most dedicated players.

It’s not a “cynical money grab”. It’s us responding to two big pieces of feedback from the players.

1) Straight to modern sets were speeding up the flux in Modern. Metagames are influenced by how many new relevant cards enter the environment, and having a bunch of straight-to-Modern sets was creating unwanted flux. Modern players enjoyed that archetypes lasted longer than in smaller formats. It was a loud compliment often made here on Blogatog. This change is made to address that.

As a corollary to that issue, because we had less experience with making straight-to-Modern cards, our ability to balance them wasn’t as efficient as premier sets. This change also has the vast majority of cards going through the same system and power level, one we have years of experience with.

2) Players who were entering through Universes Beyond (and there are a lot of them - it’s a primary strength of UB sets) that wanted to play competitively were thrown into Modern. That’s just a bad entry ramp into tournament Magic, and it was a common complaint we were getting from newer players.

Universes Beyond’s greatest contribution to the long-term health of Magic is as a conduit to introduce new players. Learn the game system with a property you love, and then once you see what a great game Magic is, become a lifelong Magic player.

To accomplish this we need to have a “softer” landing spot, and we believe that is Standard. Note this is in addition to a lot of other work we are doing to return Standard to prominence.

I know it’s easy to want to attribute malice to a company’s decisions, but we really are trying to do what we feel is best for the longterm health of the game

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loveanddeepthroat · 18 days ago

Text

The Cost of Caring

Pairing - Zayne x f!MC

Summary - You couldn’t save everyone. It was a nonnegotiable part of your job that you were aware of from your very first day as a hunter. You thought you’d be prepared for your first failure, but it quickly eats you alive.

Word Count - 2.2k

TW - Depictions of blood, injury and death. Themes of PTSD. Angst & Hurt/Comfort with a little fluff.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

The words were a repetitive mantra in your mind, but they were never going to reach the intended recipient.

Because she’s dead.

It’s been a few hours since the young woman died in the wanderer attack on the beach this morning, but it feels as though it’s still happening at this very moment. You couldn’t save her, and it was already consuming you.

Captain Jenna sent you home after your failed attempt of typing up a report for her. You don’t really remember the subway journey, or how you managed to get off at the right station. The walk home was nothing but a blur, too.

The first thing you did was get out of your ruined uniform, dumping it straight into the trash. Likely a bad idea as it technically isn’t your property, but you could never wear those things again.

They still had her blood spattered on them.

You stood in the shower for a while, the water so hot that you can still feel the tingle of light burns across your shoulders and over your scalp as you stand at the kitchen sink, washing already clean dishes in water that was even hotter. You weren’t entirely numb to the pain, and that’s what you wanted.

Zayne’s nightshirt tickled the surface of your thighs as it dangled from your body like a floaty dress, the smell of him emanating from the soft fabric. He’s due home any minute, but your need to feel consumed by him outweighed your ability to await his arrival.

Something had to stop the guilt from consuming you.

Your hands move of their own accord in the molten water, washing the last of the spotless cutlery on autopilot. As you swipe your hand around in the water to check that nothing remains, you feel the skin of your palm split from below your index finger down to your wrist, the clear soapy bubbles turning red at a rapid pace. The bread knife bobs in its victory before sinking back down to the bottom of the sink.

There’s no reaction from you. All you can do is bring your hand just above the surface, watching your palm hastily fill with hot, metallic blood.

So much blood.

Kids screaming. Families running for their lives. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

You’re running. Sprinting, even. She can’t hear the commotion with her headphones on, her hat covering her face as she sleeps on the sunlounger. She needs to run.

Now.

Your pace picks up, something you didn’t think possible. But you’re not going to make it. It’s faster than you by a long shot, sights set on the easy prey laid out beneath the warm rays of sunshine.

“RUN! COME ON!”

It’s too late.

You fall victim to unwillingly witnessing the gruesome attack the wanderer imparts on the young woman, her blissful ignorance never giving chance for a moment of realisation as she’s torn into with brutal ferocity.

You’re still running. Just at the sight of her, you know she isn’t revivable. But you run anyway, driving a weapon through the wanderer with a scream you didn’t even hear from your own mouth.

You didn’t save her. You didn’t do your job. You didn’t get close.

You failed.

You—

“Hello?!”

Zayne’s snapping fingers in front of your face brings you out of recent memory, your eyes focusing on your sliced palm again. You blink, still unable to react.

“What happened?” he asks, a frantic edge to his usually soothing voice. He rummages in the draw beside you for a clean tea towel, shoving it into your hand and clamping it there with his own to stem the bleeding. “Hey, come on. Snap out of it. You’re alright.”

He watches you warily for a moment, but when you don’t snap out of it, he turns you around so that you’re away from the sink and against the kitchen island. His free arm hooks around your waist securely, hoisting you up onto the surface to sit you down.

You must look like hell by the way he’s ogling you. Your hair is still dripping from your shower, the scalding water now ice cold between the strands. His nightshirt that smelt of him only moments ago now smells of dish soap and the metallic stench of blood. Not to mention the fact that you haven’t said a word yet, just stared into his soul, trying to figure out where your own one went.

He flickers his focus between your eyes and your hand, his warmth washing over your exposed skin as he stands between your legs. He gently lifts the tea towel to check the flow of blood, but even the sting of fibres from the towel that had stuck to the wound and tugged at the raw skin didn’t rouse you from your blank state.

“It’s okay. It’s not too deep,” he says a little gentler, likely more to himself than to you. He pushes the ruined tea towel back into your palm, his hand wrapped tightly around yours to keep it there.

A loud, uncontrollable sniffle startles you out of your stupor. You were starting to cry, the first real emotion you felt since your colleagues had to practically drag you off of the beach. If there was anyone in the world you could be unapologetically vulnerable with, it was him.

“It’s alright,” Zayne whispers, using his free hand to comb your sodden hair away from your face. “That gave you a bit of a shock, it’s completely normal.”

“I failed,” you croak.

Zayne tuts, shaking his head with a frown. “They’re just dishes, I’ll finish them—”

“I couldn’t save her.” Your voice was broken and unrecognisable. “I…I c-couldn’t—” The words won’t materialise, and your chest feels like an elephant is standing on it. It hurts. An mental hurt unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

It made you immediately miss the numbness you’d been drowning in all day.

Zayne takes a deep breath, his hand that had momentarily paused in your drenched locks resuming its rhythm of combing through them. You expect him to tell you that you haven’t failed, or that you did what you could. You expect him to haul you into a tight hug and tell you how sorry he is to hear that. You expect a whole lecture on how you’re not invincible, and that you cannot do it all.

But you don’t want any of that. And he doesn’t give you that, either.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “I understand what you’re feeling.”

Of course he does. He’s a surgeon, and it’s a high possibility that he could have lost a patient in the operating room just today, considering the intricate nature of his profession. He isn’t going to sympathise with you, because it’s his everyday life you’ve just experienced.

Death is a regular visitor in his presence.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks.

You shake your head, hiccuping pathetically and nestling your throbbing head into his steady hand to ground yourself. It’s not enough to block out the tirade of assumptions plaguing your thoughts, though.

Was she somebody’s girlfriend? Her partner will never be able to hold her like this again.

Was she a mother? Her children will only have fading memories of her throughout life.

Was she happy? Was she having a relaxing day to herself for the first time in months? Did she have any silblings–

“Hey,” Zayne whispers, moving his hand down to your chin to tip your head up in his direction. “Come back to me.”

“That’s probably what her family are thinking,” you croak.

“Please don’t,” he softly begs. “I can’t make this any better for you. If I could, I would. But drowning yourself in the guilt of something you couldn’t control is going to make you ill.”

“I can’t—”

“I know it feels impossible right now. It’s a big, heavy ball of guilt and dread hanging from your conscience whenever you can’t save a life,” he says like he's reminiscing on his own experience with it. “I’m here. I don’t want you to tell me the details if you don’t want to, but I want you to speak up when you’re eating a sandwich and can’t get through it because you know that person will never eat again. Or when the breeze outside becomes too much of a feeling on your skin, and you just can’t handle the thought of being able to feel what she can’t.”

This is the moment that you realise you’re in the best company for this situation. Some of your colleagues and the surrounding witnesses at the beach had thrown around the phrase ‘I couldn’t imagine how you feel right now’ in an attempt to sympathise with you after the event.

You didn’t want their sympathy. Why would they direct their sympathy to you, when a mother and a father have lost their daughter?

But Zayne wasn’t going to pull you out of your pit of self deprecation just to throw you a pity party. He was going to help you navigate this, the way a more experienced surgeon likely did for him when he lost his first patient.

“It hurts,” you whisper.

Zayne nods softly. “It does.”

You swallow thickly, realising the mental hurt is marrying with the physical pain in your hand. Zayne catches your wince, and moves the tea towel gently to find that the heavy flow of blood has now muted down into a few trickles and seepages.

Your eyes follow him around the kitchen as he gets out the hefty first aid kit from the cupboard, grabs you a bottle of juice from the fridge, and reaches up into the medicine cabinet for the box of ibuprofen. He pops two of the little capsules into your free hand, uncaps the juice for you, and gets to work thoroughly cleaning your wound.

For the few minutes it takes him to disinfect and carefully wrap it, your mind can only focus on the love you feel for him. It’s overwhelming sometimes, and instead of thinking of how the lady at the beach will never feel these feelings again, you begin to hope that she had ever even felt this way in the first place. You hope that she gave and reciprocated love so strong that wherever she is now, she’s not mourning a feeling she never had the privilege of relishing in.

Despite how wrong it feels to focus on him and not the woman you couldn’t save, you feel yourself calming down a little. It’s going to take time, but you’ll come back and be better on your missions. You’ll learn from this, and you’ll adapt, just as Zayne had in the medical field.

He presses a tender kiss to the bandage, his thumb tracing lightly over the fabric. “That’s better. A few days at home will be necessary, though.”

You know he doesn’t only mean because of your injured hand, but he doesn’t say it. If anything, you agree. This is all brand new territory for you, and you’re sure that it’ll have its highs and lows.

Nodding your head, you put down the bottle of juice to rest your uninjured hand over his chest, feeling his heart beating. It’s steady and calm, and your own heart works to mirror it.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, the day’s tribulations taking a heavy toll on your consciousness. It’s the first time this afternoon that you’ve been able to identify how utterly exhausted you feel, and how badly your body, mind and soul need to rest.

“Don’t thank me,” he murmurs, pecking the top of your head. “Let’s dry this hair and take a break from the real world for a little while.”

And he did just that. He blow-dried your hair, brought you some fresh pyjamas, slipped into bed behind you and enveloped you with his warmth, keeping you locked into the moment of reprieve and preventing you from drifting off into another spiralling vortex of self destruction.

The cost of caring is a big price to pay, especially when the thing you care so much for is out of your reach. You care about your job and the people of Linkon. You care about the safety of others. You care enough to put your life on the line every day, even when you get discouraged.

But that care won’t stop tragedies.

It almost makes you envy those who wouldn’t have batted an eyelid in your situation this morning, but that was no way to be in life.

Soulless.

Your willingness and determination is a big part of you, inspired by Zayne’s integrity and drive to change people’s lives for the better. People will be lost and injured, and it will be hard, but you will never give up.

And you will never be alone.

You tuck your head further beneath his chin to inhale his scent, your eyes slowly fluttering to an irresistible close.

“I’m proud of you,” you hear him whisper into your hair before you drift into a deep sleep.

A/N - I haven’t written anything lads related in a really long time ._. I’ve been really drawn to Zayne recently and had to get this out of my system.

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coupsie-daisies · 4 months ago

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Kinktober '24: Phone Sex | Song Mingi

Pairing: Song Mingi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT) interact

Summary: Mingi has never wanted to make things weird between him and his best friend, but it's hard to deny her when she calls him, drunk and horny and begging him to talk her through it

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: drunk sex (kinda), they're both down so bad, nipple play for two seconds, open ending kinda

A/N: Guys, listen...I will have this shit done by the end of the year if it kills me. But I've had a lot going on so please accept this as my apology

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

Kinktober '24 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any platform is prohibited

Desperation was something you were very familiar with in many many ways. There was the desperation you felt when trying out for the dance team back in middle school, the way it had driven you to push yourself so hard you sprained your ankle. The desperation you'd felt during that entire recovery just to get back to normal so you could chase your dream again. The desperation you'd felt while applying for your dream university, and the desperation you'd felt when trying to find a decent job after you graduated.

Throughout every single one of those moments, Mingi had been at your side. You'd been best friends since you were kids, and you'd learned early on that you could count on him for anything. Truthfully, you sometimes felt like Mingi was too good to spend time with you. He was so kind and so creative and so goddamn talented that it almost hurt. But no amount of thinking changed the fact that he wanted to stick by your side.

Unfortunately, that also meant that he was the one to carry you home when you got a little too drunk at the bar you and your friends went out to. You were celebrating a birthday in the group, and you weren't the only one to get carried away, but all night Mingi had been keeping a careful eye on you, knowing that you were a lightweight no matter how much you denied it.

He'd dropped you off at your apartment after all was said and done, bringing you water and a snack and only leaving an hour later once he was certain you would be okay. Even so, he made you pinky swear to call him if you needed him for anything.

And really, you hadn't planned on calling him. You weren't so drunk that you couldn't see straight or that you were puking your guts out. You were just dizzy, and way less uptight than you usually were. Okay, maybe you weren't thinking right, because all you'd been able to think about since Mingi had practically carried you home was how good it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and how pretty he looked when he was so focused on taking care of you.

It was far from the first time you'd had such thoughts about your best friend, but you figured that was probably normal for anyone with a super hot, incredibly kind, really very hot best friend. It was okay, you reminded yourself, because those thoughts were between you and your bed. Nobody else needed to know, and if nobody knew it couldn't make things weird.

But the lingering alcohol in your mind had you forgetting that mantra, because it wasn't even fifteen minutes later before arousal was flooding your senses and your hand found your phone.

It rang a couple of times, and a moment of doubt tried to seep in, but it was quickly shut out by the sound of Mingi's voice.

"Are you okay?" He asked immediately.

"I'm okay. Need your help," You said, pout evident in your voice. Your free hand pushed your shirt up your stomach, fingertips dragging along your tummy, down to trace the waistband of your sleep shorts.

"Should I come back? What's wrong?"

You slid your hand lower, pushing your pants down your hips and tucking your phone against your ear to use the other to get them out of the way.

"I keep thinking about you. Is that wrong?" You asked, closing your eyes as your fingers found their way to your covered core. "You looked so good tonight. You always look good."

You heard his breath hitch, and you sighed in response.

"What are you talking about?" He asked. You couldn't see him, but he was parked outside his apartment, one hand gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, the other trying not to drop his phone.

He listened to the catch in your voice, the tiny hum you let out, and god he tried not to imagine you in some filthy position underneath him. Certainly not a new thought for him, but one he knew he shouldn't be entertaining in the moment.

"I want you so bad, Min, need you." You were basically whining now, rubbing your clit and slowly soaking through your panties at the thought of him. "Been thinking about you touching me for so long. You would, right? I see how you look at me. Never wanted to make it weird but fuck,"

Mingi grunted out a curse under his breath.

"You're drunk," He reminded you. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning. You should go to sleep."

"Don't leave me like this. Please? Just need to hear your voice, wanna hear you talk me through it." You begged, fingers getting more frantic as you sought out your own pleasure.

Mingi tipped his head back into the headrest, his cock twitching with interest. He was already half hard and getting uncomfortable in his tight pants.

"Promise me you won't regret this," He ordered, voice lower now. The sound of it send a wave of arousal all the way to the tips of your toes and you squirmed in your bed.

"I promise. I swear, I won't regret it. I promise."

The desperation in your voice should have embarrassed you, but you were never embarrassed with Mingi.

He reached down, palming himself through his pants and willing himself to last when you sounded so fucked out and he hadn't even said anything yet.

"Are you still wearing your pajamas?" He asked, squeezing his bulge and biting back a groan. You hummed affirmatively. "Take them off, want you naked for me baby."

You didn't hesitate to do as he said, putting your phone on speaker and shuffling around on your bed until you could kick all of your clothes away.

"Good job, baby," He hummed, and you couldn't hold back a surprised whimper at his praise. "That's what you like? My baby likes when I'm nice to her?"

You gasped, fingers slipping between your wet folds as he spoke.

"Yeah, like that." You agreed, nodded even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"Can you play with your nipples for me? Wanted to forever."

Mingi worked his pants down until he could pull his aching dick out of his boxers, stroking himself slowly. He was already leaking precum, but who could blame him when the girl he'd been pining after for years decided to call him up and beg him to fuck her?

You listened eagerly, both hands coming up to knead your breasts before circling your thumbs around your hardening nipples. You gasped softly, flicking over them back and forth a couple times before twisting them a little harder. You could hear Mingi's breathing as it picked up, his ears trained on each tiny gasp and whine that you let out.

"Move your hands down. Want you to touch your sides. They're sensitive, right?" He didn't have to ask to know. He'd found that out completely on accident back in college and it lived in the back of his mind, sparking far too much interest in what other reactions he could pull out of you.

You slid your hands down lower, along the curve of your chest, down your sternum, then up along your sides with feather-light touches that made you squirm. You dragged your nails dully along your side, then down your stomach, wishing beyond anything you could fully comprehend that it was Mingi touching you like this, that his hands were exploring you. You moaned pathetically, a broken keen of his name.

"I'm here, pretty girl, don't worry. You're doing so good for me." Mingi grunted out. He'd been trying to resist touching himself, too afraid that he'd blow the second you opened your mouth, but his cock was throbbing and leaking and simply begging for his attention, and he couldn't deny it anymore. He wrapped his hand around his length, jerking himself off with slow, languid strokes.

"Want you to open your legs nice and wide for me," He told you, listening to the rustle of the sheets as you moved. "Go ahead and touch your thighs. How's that feel?"

Your back arched, chasing some sort of friction now that your thighs were separated, and your hands stroked along the insides of them, kneading the flesh the way you liked.

"Not good enough. Need you, don't wanna do it myself." You huffed.

"I know, but I can't come back yet. Just gotta take care of your pussy for me, okay? I'll make it up to you, I promise." He purred, and you relaxed, his voice running through you like molten lava.

"Can I touch myself, Min? Please?" You asked, and he shivered at the desperation in your voice. He'd never heard you like this before, and whatever string of self control that was keeping him from taking you every time he saw you was beginning to snap.

"Go ahead, baby, play with your clit for me." He ordered firmly now, stroking himself faster. Your hand flew to your core, fingers circling your clit and spreading your wetness against it. You let out the most debauched whimper of relief at the feeling, hips jolting as you moved fast and hard, still too intoxicated to be skilled with your fingers and not entirely caring when you could hear the sound of Mingi's hand around his cock, and his breath picking up.

"God, you're so wet." He groaned, tipping his head back against the headrest again. He could hear you, and what he wouldn't give to have you on his tongue, or have your walls wrapped like a vice around his dick. His head was fogging up with thoughts of you, your scent and your pretty lips and the way you said his name.

"Mingi, can I put them inside?" You asked, fingers dipping closer to your entrance before pulling back to strum against your clit again. "Wanna be full of you. Wish you were here, need your dick so bad."

Any shame you'd felt upon calling him in the first place was gone, and he was going absolutely batshit about it.

"Go ahead baby, let's see how many you can take." He urged. You didn't hesitate to slide two fingers into yourself, wincing a little at the immediate stretch, but the burn felt so good you didn't care. You rocked your hips up to meet each thrust of your fingers, starting slow before becoming a little more frantic, pushing them all the way to the third knuckles. You were soaking yourself, fingers curling up against the spot that had your head spinning.

You were hardly aware of the way you were babbling his name, begging him for more as you managed to squeeze a third finger into yourself.

"Good girl, keep going. Sound so pretty, can't wait to have you on my dick." He stroked himself faster, harder, knowing he was nearing his end. He wanted to drag this out, but he was struggling to deny himself the satisfaction of finally getting off to the sound of you begging for him. This had to be a dream, he hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of blessing, but there you were, fingering yourself dumb for him anyway.

"Close," You warned him, grinding your palm into your clit. Your fingers weren't usually enough, but the sound of him on the line, the image of his large frame engulfing you as he split you open. God, and his hands, they were so much bigger than yours, would fill you up so much better. You didn't even register your orgasm building as high as it did until you were dangling from the edge, thighs shaking with the exertion of bucking your hips up into your hand. "Mingi, I need to cum, please can I?"

The sound of you, breathless and begging and audibly wrecked was too much for him.

"Please cum for me," He groaned, voice tight as he bit back his own orgasm, pushing his limits just to hear the way you nearly sobbed his name. Your orgasm shook through you, fingers messily working yourself through it and pushing it as long as you could, and Mingi couldn't take it.

He spilled into his hand, strings of his own cum spilling over his fingers and onto his pants. He sighed, jerking himself through it despite the mess and imagining that it was you he was making a mess on. When the bliss cleared in his mind, he realized that you were still there on the other end, still breathing hard and presumably coming down from your own high.

There was silence for a few moments, and guilt weighed in his mind as he wiped his hand off on one of the spare tissues he kept in his car. You didn't speak either, too buzzed from the alcohol and the orgasm, and your mind weighing heavy with sleep.

"Mingi?" You said finally, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. "Will you come back? Don't wanna sleep alone."

He listened to your voice, so heavy with sleep, and so free of any concern about what had just happened. He wanted to argue that it was a bad idea, but despite everything, the two of you still felt so normal. He hummed.

"Give me a little bit, I'll be there soon." He promised, not mentioning that he needed to clean himself up and change his clothes before he could drive back. You didn't argue, just mumbled an okay, and a quiet 'I love you'. That was so normal for both of you, but this time it felt different, and Mingi had to wonder if that was all in his head.

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jedi-enthusiasm-blog · 2 months ago

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Many people have taken one look at this and inmediately leaped to the conclusion that Jedi forbid emotions. Which is, huh… interesting.

What people don't realize is that the Jedi Order are a religious organization, and as such they have their own sacred texts, such as this meditation mantra (because yeah, that's the only time it's ever mentioned, during meditation).

And the trick about this kind of texts is that they're not meant to be taken literally. You're not supposed to take it at face value, you're supposed to think about it, reflect about it, and then interpretate it. I'm sure the average "fan" hasn't actually thought about it beyond "code bad Jedi evil", nevermind that it's not actually the Jedi Code mentioned in the films.

Since it's a meditation mantra, one used to focus to make connecting with the Force easier, it makes perfect sense that this is how you should feel when using the Force.

You shouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions or passions, you shouldn't act if you don't have knowledge. This is obvious: if you can command the essence of life, then maybe you should actually be in the state of mind to do it.

However, the other lines of "no chaos but harmony" and "no death but the Force" don't fit into this. So, what do they mean?

Here is the other version of the Code. It was seen for the first time in the Kanan comics, and is arguably more canon than the previous one.

(People have called it the Gray Jedi Code, which is hilarious in and on itself and another point in favor of the argument that the so called Gray Jedi are just canon Jedi.)

I'm sure everyone can agree that this one is good.

Feel, but find peace in your emotions. Know nothing, but figure it out. Suffer, but look past it to find serenity. Just like there is chaos, there is harmony. And just like there is death, there is the Force.

But what if I told you that both Codes are saying the same thing?

I know, I know. You probably think I'm crazy, but… what if they're saying the same things, in different ways?

To expand on the interpretation that the first one is how you should be when using the Force (and I admit with my whole chest that this is my interpretation), we can say that the Force isn't naturally things like emotion and chaos. They are only what we bring with us.

That doesn't make them any less real. They are, and they are important, but they are subjective experiences. Everyone will have different emotions, different passions, different things they are ignorant of. Even death, even as it will come for everyone, is something private and personal. I don't know what X person felt or thought when they died.

However, things like peace, harmony and the Force are universal.

Chaos (noun): "complete disorder and confusion." "the property of a complex system whose behaviour is so unpredictable as to appear random"

Dictionary definition, bear with me. "Whose behavior is so unpredictable as to appear random". It isn't random, it has patterns and reasons to happen just like everything else. We simply don't know those patterns. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Just because we don't know something doesn't mean we can't learn it. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Therefore there is no such thing as chaos, not really, just a pattern, an order, a harmony, we don't know yet. First definition is about human reaction, not anything about the object itself. There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, even death. They are all feelings, subjective experiences, things that, ultimately, can change as you find new understanding (well, death only happens once and is permanent but you get the point). But inner peace, knowledge (about situations, about people's reactions), serenity and harmony are all universal. They exist, and will exist long after we die, we just have to find them.

And, long as we remember people, as we understand that all lives have left a mark, big or small, we will keep those who have passed alive within our hearts.

Death, yet the Force. There is no death, there is the Force. Or, perhaps…

"(The Force)'s an energy field created by all living things" Obi-Wan Kenobi, ANH

"Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter" Yoda, ESB

"No one's ever really gone" Luke Skywalker, TLJ

Death, yet the essence of living beings. There is no death, there is life.

#star wars #pro jedi #pro jedi order #pro jedi code #jedi meta #reflection #my ramblings #I try to guess the meaning of fictional religious texts and I'm agnostic #the funniest thing is that this interpretation makes sense #passion refers to its archaic meaning of suffering btw #jedi positivity #even if you don't agree it doesn't matter #philosophy is Like That #but understanding this was mindblowing for me #sorry if I don't make sense I just wanted to share my interpretation of the code #and I'm bad at articulating #nothing but love for the jedi #this is a pro jedi blog

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witchygirlgray333 · 2 years ago

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Some topics + prompts for your grimoire or book of shadows

books you want to read

local folklore / mythology / legends

the wheel of the year

plants you have in your house or garden (their care, properties, uses, draw them etc)

theban alphabet

days of the week and their correspondences

write about a deity you worship / are drawn to

draw art for / of a deity you worship or are drawn to

colour magic

the elements

write about the crystals you own (draw them, write their properties, correspondences, uses, how it makes you feel etc)

how to make your own crystals

your birth chart

your sun, moon and rising sign

natural medicine (as a chronically ill witch I love natural medicine NOT AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR PRESCRIPTIONS! for example I take all my prescription meds and then if I'm having period pain I might drink some raspberry leaf tea)

positive affirmations / mantras that you connect with

how to manifest

history of witches

deities in a certain pantheon you're interested in or drawn to

write about a spell you've done (how you did it, why you did it, how you felt, the results of it, what you would change if you did the spell again etc)

chakras

write about a dream you've had

tarot reading tricks and tips

moon phases

sabbats

zodiac signs

family tree

poetry / songs / quotes you connect to (i like to find ones that make me feel powerful or witchy, or remind me of certain aspects of my practice. a song i like for this is rhiannon by fleetwood mac and i'm going to post more things like this regularly on my page)

feathers and their meanings

simple everyday magic

recipes

some ideas for the next sabbat you plan to celebrate

tarot spreads you like

write about a tarot reading you've done (any prep you did, the deck you used, the cards you pulled, your personal interpretation of the cards based on the art and how you feel, the meaning of the cards, how the cards relate to the questions you asked, final reflection on how you feel the reading went)

interesting mythology

tree of life

glamour magic

money bowls

crystal shapes and their meanings

grounding techniques

cleansing

protection

banishing

cord cutting spells

essential oils

types of divination

planets and their correspondences

angel numbers

witchy wishlist

go to supplies and ingredients (herbs and things that you use regularly)

favourite crystals

working with your inner child

if you've had a really good or particularly insightful meditation session it can be nice to either draw or write what happened and how you felt during it

witchy arts and crafts and diys you want to do

altar ideas

read a witchy book / watch a witchy video and take notes

write about your ancestors

witchy things to incorporate into your daily routine

what is a tower moment

witchy reset / self care days

the history of the area you live in

veiling

how to make your own incense sticks

shadow work

shadow work prompts

ok, that's all the ideas I have for now and I hope that helps someone! I'll be posting some pages from my grimoire and some more prompt / topic ideas in the near future which I'm really excited for.

P.S. please remember that everyone's practice is their own and you should do what feels right to you while respecting that other people have their own beliefs (as long as they're not hateful).

#grimoire #booksofshadows #witch #pagan #paganism #celtic paganism #journalling #creativity #art #art journal #journal #welsh witch #witchcraft #witch tips #grimoire ideas #grimoire prompts #shadow work #bookofshadowsprompts

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makingspiritualityreal · 4 months ago

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Planets in Houses Areas of Interest in Astrology

In my studies, I have encountered an extremely detailed and accurate list coming from classic Vedic text, representing what will concern each planet in a given house.

Note, that certain planets perform fundamentally better in certain houses, but the general state of the house affairs will depend on the condition and aspects of the planet. I will give an example of how to interpret a planet below the list.

Note, that Rahu and Ketu are missing, because their results are calculated according to their dispositor.

Sun

1st House Sun Body, Personality, Health

2nd House Sun Intelligence about Maintaining Wealth

3rd House Sun Intelligent Use and Consistency of Skills

4th House Sun Palaces, One's Kingdom

5th House Sun Leadership, Nobility, Esteem

6th House Sun Government Services

7th House Sun Egotism of Spouse or Partner, Partner's Consistency

8th House Sun Vitality, Energy Levels

9th House Sun Father

10th House Sun Government, Activity, Status, Power, Father's Influence

11th House Sun Titles, Certificates

12th House Sun Temples, Places of Worship

Moon

1st House Moon Body, Ego

2nd House Moon Face, Sense Organs, Contentment

3rd House Moon Music, Rhythmic Ability

4th House Moon Mother, Foundation of Feelings

5th House Moon Imagination, Ability to Improve One's Consciousness

6th House Moon Development of Body, Physical Maturation

7th House Moon Popularity, Public Relations

8th House Moon Change, Adaptability

9th House Moon Father's Popularity and Character

10th House Moon Popularity

11th House Moon Popularity in Groups or Organizations

12th House Moon Dreams, Inner Worlds

Mars

1st House Mars Character, Sense of Right and Wrong

2nd House Mars Mineral Wealth

3rd House Mars Siblings, Peers, Bravery, Training

4th House Mars Land, Houses, Property, Mother

5th House Mars Convictions, Strength of Opinions

6th House Mars Accidents, Overcoming Enemies, Weapons

7th House Mars Challenges in Relationships

8th House Mars Surgery, Battles, War

9th House Mars Brother and Sister in Law, Moral Code

10th House Mars Command, Overseers

11th House Mars Character and Motivation of Group Dynamics

12th House Mars Results of Enemies Actions, Secret Enemies

Mercury

1st House Mercury Senses, Ability to Cognize Experiences

2nd House Mercury Speech, Friends

3rd House Mercury Travel, Discernment, Crafts, Communications, Games

4th House Mercury Relatives

5th House Mercury Speculative Investments, Mantra Practice

6th House Mercury Maternal Aunts and Uncles, Legal Matters

7th House Mercury Business Partners, Commerce and Trade

8th House Mercury Corporations, Occult Knowledge, Past Life Fortune

9th House Mercury Past Life Fortune, Judges, Codes of Conduct

10th House Mercury Employer, Apprenticeship, Capacity to Manage

11th House Mercury Playing the Game of Success

12th House Mercury Long Term Investments, Contemplative Knowledge, Purchasing Expenses, Gain of Lost Items

Jupiter

1st House Jupiter Optimism, Opportunities

2nd House Jupiter Wealth

3rd House Jupiter Spiritual Art, Written Wisdom

4th House Jupiter Happiness, Banks, Fruit Bearing Groves

5th House Jupiter Children, Father's Grandfather, Knowledge and Learning

6th House Jupiter Forgiveness

7th House Jupiter Husband, Wealth Partner Brings

8th House Jupiter Inheritance

9th House Jupiter Guru, Teacher, Ease of Fortune, Grand Children

10th House Jupiter Capacity to Manage

11th House Jupiter Income

12th House Jupiter Mother's Mother, Charity

Venus

1st House Venus Strength, Recuperative Ability

2nd House Venus Food, Jewelry Wealth

3rd House Venus Father in Law

4th House Venus Pools, Lakes, Vehicles

5th House Venus Romance, Affairs, Students

6th House Venus Nursing, Physical Succor

7th House Venus Wife, Mother's Mother

8th House Venus Conjugal Bond, Sex

9th House Venus Father

10th House Venus Mother in Law

11th House Venus Fair Distribution of Wealth

12th House Venus Nursing Homes, Mistress, Mother's Father, Vacations

Saturn

1st House Saturn Ability to Endure Hardship

2nd House Saturn Thriftiness, Wealth from Hard Work, Rock Quarries

3rd House Saturn Servants

4th House Saturn Pets

5th House Saturn Fall from Position

6th House Saturn Overcoming Debts and Diseases

7th House Saturn Appreciation of Relationships, Lack of Empathy

8th House Saturn Chronic Disease, Death, Flaws, Weaknesses, Liabilities

9th House Saturn Delays to Fortune, Delays to Creativity

10th House Saturn Duty

11th House Saturn Elder Siblings, Livestock

12th House Saturn Personal Expense, Loss, Capital Expense, Prisons, Imprisonment

Source for the List - Art and Science of Vedic Astrology Vol 2 Ryan Kurczak & Richard Fish. They themselves used original Vedic Resources for the list, I sourced their material for the sake of Vedic translation.

Interpretation example - I have Saturn in the 4th house and I've always had a good bond with pets since I was a child, they would just appear in my life. It seems natural to me, but in reality many people have allergies, don't own pets, their pets don't survive long, they don't share such a special bond with them or their family situation doesn't allow them one, parents forbid them. Not only did I always have a pet, they were also extremely long lived. As a child, I used to have a hamster that survived 5 years, when the average age of a syrian is up to 3, I had a cat that my mom got but the cat ended up loving me and lived 21 years, and when my cat died, my husband's pup yorkie decided that I'm the love of his life. The pets survive so long, because my Saturn is excellently placed in Aquarius with no bad aspects, so I get to have them and care for them to the point of them reaching the age of physical incontinence. Someone with a difficult, badly aspected Saturn in the 4th would have their own story, but nevertheless the placement would manifest as still having that intimate pet experience in their life.

Another example - I have Venus in the 3rd house and I live with my father in law. I never even met my mother in law, as she has no contact with my husband. Yet people with Venus in the 10th will have her as a prominent figure in their life in some capacity. So this list can show which area of your life will yield a physical manifestation in the first place.

This is how you should superimpose this list onto your chart, checking the individual condition of each planet. Note, that these interpretations are NOT applicable in the Navamsa chart, according to Vedic source.

You can also see from the list, that certain placements produce a particular struggle in one's chart, while other planets produce less problems. I will now make a short list of those troubled placements. Note, that I am not including statements about conditions of given planets, which can turn the mentioned events difficult even for a theoretically good scenario. I am only talking about the houses that give an unquestionable struggle. Interestingly enough, this list differs from the traditional Marana Karaka, and it seems to indicate that even out of most difficult placements, one can build something worthwhile. So I will focus only on placements that bring objective difficulty.

Sun

The Sun has its negative impact in the 7th house, where no matter what it produces egotism from one's spouse or partner. With this position, one basically gets partnerships in life with people that boss them around. But if in a good condition, the partner will be consistent, which I'm interpreting as faithful and committed to the relationship, not looking for outside adventure. So even the worst Sun position has some upside to it. The Sun is hard to mess up.

Moon

Even though traditionally the Moon is feared in the 8th house, here it indicates simply a life full of change and forcing one's ego to adapt, which can actually turn out smooth if the Moon is well placed. The most challenging placement for the Moon is actually the 1st house, where the Moon becomes extremely egoic. From my experience with these natives, it is very true, they struggle to mature and force being the center of attention and their ego blinds them. They are very devoted to their loved ones, but extremely self focused, more than any other 1st house planet on the list. So with Moon in the 1st house you are simply an unquestionable egoist.

Mars

Mars has several gray areas that we will touch on, mostly in Dusthanas. Mars produces results of accidents, weapons and surgeries in the 6th and 8th house, and these are the two most common placements I've seen in charts of doctors. These placements are however not the worst ones, because Mars here has the capacity to do battle where the fight takes it, by joining the army or working with the sick.

The most difficult Mars is in the 12th and 7th house. Mars in the 12th house people grow to always suffer long term from some ailment and that is a result of someone else hurting them. I've seen this in a chart of a person that got injured in their workplace in their mid-life and is still getting surgery for the consequences of it in their old age. More notably, we can see it in the chart of Britney Spears, who has various health issues as a result of accidents through difficult physical work she was forced into by others. This is a placement of physical victimhood from people, who stab the native in the back. My guess is, a strong Mars would endure more, but the event will still happen.

Mars in the 7th house is difficult, because these people always bicker in intimate relationships. They have a karma of constant fights with their partner, as they really try to subliminally achieve domination in a partnership, which is impossible because partnership is about equality and compromise. This placement makes it nigh impossible to achieve marital harmony, unless someone enjoys the fighting, and leads to frequent breakups or one's partner cheating. My mother had this placement, and my only memory of her and my father together is them fighting, and she died single.

Mercury

Mercury is a lucky planet, because it has no obvious pitfalls unless badly placed. Interestingly enough, even Mercury in the 12th house has the power to "purchase expenses", and if well placed, make gains from it. As I know a few Mercuries in the 12th house personally, let me decode this for you. People with this placement have a unique knack to purchase items or property of depreciating value and turn it around. My friend with this placement aspecting her Moon invested long term in buying my falling apart post-communist family inherited apartment and is making her home there, and she also has a fantastic knack of receiving thrifted clothes and tailoring them, a hobby we share. These natives have a talent of turning trash to treasure.

Jupiter

Unsurprisingly, there are no bad houses for Jupiter, as even in difficult houses it leads to forgiving one's enemies, being charitable, or receiving an inheritance.

Venus

Similarly to Jupiter, Venus soothes all houses unless afflicted. Venus is able to soothe physical suffering even in the difficult 6th house, or in a nursing home in the 12th. Interestingly enough, Venus in the 12th in a good sign points to the ability of being fulfilled in love even in the seemingly degrading position of being "the other woman" or as the list says, the mistress.

Saturn

Despite it being marana karaka, a well placed Saturn in the 1st gives endurance and is not the worst placement for it, and other houses such as 6th give it endurance to overcome obstacles too. The difficult position for Saturn is actually the 5th, where it shows decline of status or as the list states "fall from one's position". Saturn has a difficult time in most houses compared to other planets, as in the 7th it makes one lack empathy, which will lead to bad karma in the next life, even in the native blocks out the consciousness in this life, and in the 8th and 12th leads to various calamities. So even the strongest Saturn in these houses can simply endure these difficulties, and hope they pass.

#astrology #vedic astrology #jyotish #astro observations #astro notes #vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes

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flemish-giant-jackalope · 4 months ago

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In the middle of the lab a werewolf lays on his back. His legs and arms chained to the ground.

You would think he would protest more but the amount of drugs and aphrodisiac coursing through his veins prevent it.

It also helps that you're currently riding his dick in a desperate attempt to milk him dry. He is in utter bliss, drooling with his tongue hanging out of his maw.

You're in a cowgirl position. Wearing nothing more than a tiny chastity cage and your sweat. On the cage there is yellow warming label attached. The following text printed beneath it.

"Extractor is in use. do not remove!"

Officially you are designated as a biological extractor unit, and property of the laboratory. But the lab personal has given you the nickname "fleshlight". To your own drugged and hypnotised satisfaction.

You whimper as you're desperately try to get past his knot. You want it so bad! You want to be praised for a job well done! You want to be a good fleshlight!

A person wearing a lab coat approaches you. You're so out of it you don't ever hear them approach.

"Are you having difficulty fleshlight?"

You flinch when you hear them. Which you instantly regret as your hole clenches around the werewolf’s shaft.

You stop to let your hole relax. Looking up at them you let out whine. Laboratory equipment can't use words.

They look down at you amused. "it's ok you cute little fleshlight. This is our biggest subject yet, so you just need more time to stretch that pretty little hole of yours."

With a gloved hand they take your chin, and softly raise it till they know they have your full attention. With the same tone you might politely ask a machine to do something, they say; "you're only goal in life is to be a good stretchy hole."

You zone out as the words trigger intake training. As you relax completely your eyes glaze over and a lazy smile forms on your face.

The lab assistant, still holding your chin in their hand, slides a gloved thumb in your mouth. You don't even mind or register it. You're completely focused on relaxing your ass as much as possible, while drooling happily on their thumb.

They pull their one hand back softly. Reaching their other hand into their lab coat they take out a vial. With a routine that must have happened a 100 times they collect the saliva from their thumb.

While keeping their eyes on the vial of saliva they say: "activate extractor routine 4"

You place your hands on you calf’s, using all your weight to try and conquer the werewolf’s knot. You ride it up and down slowly.

Pleased with the consistency of the sample the scientist takes a step over the werewolf’s leg.

Their standing behind you as you blissfully ride the werewolf’s cock. Desperately trying to stretch your hole. A mantra going through your head.

"a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight,"

The squat behind you and inspect your progress

"Fleshlight sit"

You stop at the tip of the werewolf’s cock and let your weight glide you down. Your hole slightly stretching over the knot.

The blue medical glove glides easily over the lubed knot. Their index finger gliding upwards towards your hole, and glides in with little resistance. They hum satisfied and glide a second finger in. The smile on your face just widens, happy to inspected like a good piece of lab equipment.

They glide their fingers out and collect the liquid in another vial. "It seems you do need some more help." they stand up and put one a new pair of gloves.

While still behind you they put their hand over your mouth. Index and middle finger pushed inside your mouth. You start sucking on them.

"Your intake training is still doing wonders" they get a small vial from their coat and open it one handed. Holding it under their nostrils the smell already giving you a rush of endorphin. You get the simple command of "breath in"

You fill your lungs with the product as if it was the first breath you ever took.

"gooood fleshlight" the scientists says with a smile.

The chemicals course through your system and you hear your heartbeat in your head. As a pleasant heat flows over your body, your exhale takes any bit tension left in your body with it.

"Fleshlight ride"

You move your body up and down the length of the shaft. Feeling your hole open up more and more. Al the wile repeating the mantra in your head.

After a couple of minutes later you almost get over the thicket parts. Joy radiates your face as drool slowly leaks out of your mouth. The scientist eagerly collecting it in a vial.

While putting the closed vial in their lab coat, they look at the werewolf’s head. Still drooling and content, but with a quickening breath.

Smiling but determined the scientists quickly gets your happy vile from their coat.

"Fleshlight tip"

You stop at the top of you ascend. The tip of the werewolf’s massive cock keeping you nice and loose.

Quickly they put the vial under your nose.

"Breath in"

Still swimming in the effect of the previous huff you greedily inhale again. Your mantra only getting louder in your brain. There are no other thoughts allowed.

A knew intensified wave of heat flows over you. Spreading to your whole body as you feel it loosen.

You can feel every cm of the werewolf’s cock in detail.

"Fleshlight sit"

You fall down and you feel the scientist putting a bit of their weight on your shoulders.

You slam onto the knot and your ass opens up. Feeling your ass stretch over the knot feels like heaven. And then suddenly

"pop"

The werewolf’s breathing is getting erratic.

"Fleshlight ride" the scientists commands, getting a bit breathless themselves.

You've never felt so full in your life! As you ride you feel the knot gliding over prostate again and again. Precum is being pumped out as you continue going up and down. The knot has now swelled too much and you can't get it out anymore. You don't care! A good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight! A good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight! And you've taken the knot! You want to be the best fleshlight!

And the best fleshlight are used and filled with cum!

The werewolf’s is panting heavily, even with all the drugs coursing through his veins he tries to hump the fleshlight. A low satisfied growl begins as he cums.

The knot swells a final time as your locked into extasy! With every wave of cum, the knot pushes into your prostate making you leak more and more, as you feel your belly swell more and more. Desperately you move up and down trying to get every last drop off cum out of the beast beneath you.

The scientist has a hand in their pants too, no longer able to contain themselves. They quickly bend down and grab your chin, bending your head backwards, forcing you to focus on their face and voice.

Slightly out of breath they say "You're a very good fleshlight and deserve a reward"

Without any objection from you they open your mouth. You see them open theirs and letting their tongue hang out. A droplet of their spit falls on your face. You're delirious with joy! You're being praised for a job well done and are going to get a reward!

Al the while you still feel the werewolf filling you up.

"You deserve it, fleshlight can cum"

They say before pushing their tongue in your mouth.

Fleshlight has been good! Fleshlight has been good! Fleshlight has been so good!

You ride werewolf’s dick for all that you still can. Your moans into the French kiss as you feel a well-earned orgasm rock you to your core! You're abused prostate finally giving you release as you spray cum out of your cage onto the belly of the werewolf!

Releasing the kiss the scientists the scientists place their face next your ear. Observing the beautiful scene of your cum on the wolfs chest.

"Good extractor, you've been a very good extractor."

They coo softly. "Now rest a bit while the subject knot shrinks. And then will take this good little extractor to collection" they say with while petting your cheek. You push your face into their hand with the little energy you still have.

Still smiling they pet your head a little more. "I'll get our favourite lab equipment some water. We need to maintain you properly so you can do your job so well." with a smirk they add "Sit tight, I'll get our equipment their liquids"

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kiddotarot · 8 months ago

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YOUR 7 LORD SITS IN CHART TELL YOU THE REASON OF YOUR FUTURE LIFE BIRTH 🙌

Explanation: we all know that 12 house in vedic astrology present libration or moksha to get free from the cycle of birth and death if we count the 8 ( The eighth house also rules new life chapters, rebirth, and regeneration and, as such, rules death, wills, legacies, loose,estate planning, and so forth .The 8th house is a house of contradictions and actually a lot of astrologers might tell you that even by analysing the 8th house of a person, a lot of ‘karma’ and energy is released. ) from 12 so we get the 7 house so its lord can be show why your 12 house moksha reason get failed or the reason you want to take birth again.

( sourse : Hitesh astrology, brighu strostram astrology book)

First House (Ascendant):

Known as the "Lagna" or "Tanu Bhava," it represents the you can take next birth for yourself for your physical body you want to work on your appearance, health, vitality and early childhood experiences maybe you don't have a pleasant experiences in this life . It also signifies how one approaches life and their basic instincts so you want to improve all these qualities in the next birth .

Second House:

it also Also called the "Dhana Bhava," it governs wealth so you can take birth cause you have problems in finances in this life for anything possessions for family cause you don't have a good one in this life have a bad experience in matter of home for your voice, speech for food and food habits, and the throat area . This house indicates one's financial status, earning potential, and family dynamics so you can take birth for this

Third House:

Known as the "Sahaj Bhava," it deals with communication so you can be not too good at it in this life so you want to improve it in the next birth for siblings you can have in this life or there is karma related to them short journeys for courage, skills hobbies, and mental inclinations you are unable to enjoy In this life . This house reflects one's ability to express themselves, their relationship with siblings, and their courage in facing challenges.

Fourth House:

Also called the "Sukha Bhava," it pertains to home, mother, emotional security, domestic life, real estate, vehicles, and ancestral property. This house represents the foundational aspects of life and one's sense of security and rootedness. So if you don't have a good relationship with your mother or any karma you're making or pending in this lifetime you can take birth also for this.

Fifth House:

Known as the "Putra Bhava," it governs creativity, romance, children, education, speculative gains, mantra shastra, and past-life karma. This house reflects one's creativity, intelligence, romantic inclinations, and potential for progeny so it can be your inability to enjoy all this thing in this life like love children love , pending karma related to them you can take your next birth for this.

Sixth House:

Called the "Shatru Bhava," it involves health, diseases, daily routine, enemies, obstacles, debts, service to others, and pet animals. This house indicates one's ability to overcome challenges, maintain health, and deal with adversaries so if have complain that you're unable to enjoy this life Because of health issues you want to serve others or any karme related to pets and animals to fight with challenges or to pay your debt which is pending in this life .

Seventh House:

Known as the "Kalatra Bhava," it represents marriage, partnerships, business relationships, legal matters, contracts, and open enemies. This house reflects one's approach to relationships, spouse/partner, and their ability to form alliances you love your current marriage or partnership so you want to continue it to next life is karma related to your spouse’s and you are unable to enjoy this life marriage so you want it to continue it in a healthy way in next life.

Eighth House:

Also called the "Ayur Bhava," it involves secrets. You want to experience transformations of life , related to death, want to enjoy inheritance, you can be interested in occult knowledge, hidden wealth karma related to other people's money. This house signifies major life changes, spiritual growth, and the mysteries of life and death that your are unable to experience in this life .

Ninth House:

Known as the "Dharma Bhava," it governs religion, you want to learn philosophy, want to study higher education, want to enjoy long journeys ,spirituality, karma related to teachers or want to be one for others and want to enjoy luck. This house reflects one's beliefs, ethical values, spiritual practices, and quest for higher knowledge that all your lacking in this life .

Tenth House (Midheaven):

Called the "Karma Bhava," it pertains to your desirable profession you can crave for social statusfor big reputation, authority for great public life, and government. This house indicates one's ambitions you want achievements, and standing in society in nect life thats your lacking in this life.

Eleventh House:

Known as the "Labha Bhava," it involves friendships where you want your own social circles to achieve goals, aspirations, gains, want income from profession or karma reated and elder siblings. This house reflects one's social network, aspirations, and ability to fulfil desires that you're lacking in this life.

Twelfth House:

Also called the "Vyaya Bhava," it represents isolation. you want to experience spirituality in your next life ? subconscious mind, karma with hidden enemies, because of karma you can face losses as repay of your debt endings, confinement, and past lives. This house indicates one's spiritual evolution, subconscious patterns, and karmic debts.thats can be reason of your next Birth .

hope you enjoy

#tarot tumblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #vedic astrology #vedic astrology observations #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology #astrology community #composite chart #vedic astro observations #tarot community #tarot cards #tarotblr #daily tarot

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letmeserveyouu · 4 months ago

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cunt's Mantra:

this cunt's only value is a Man's use for it.

He will tell this cunt what its name is, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt what to remember about itself. it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt how to speak, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt how to act, it will listen, it will obey.

He controls how this cunt dresses, it will listen, it will obey.

He will train this cunt and control every detail of its life, it will listen, it will obey.

this cunt's only value is a Man's use for it.

He will tell this cunt what its name is, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt what to remember about myself, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt how to speak, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt how to act, it will listen, it will obey.

He controls how this cunt dresses, it will listen, it will obey.

He will train this cunt and control every detail of its life, it will listen, it will obey.

this cunt's only value is a Man's use for it.

He will tell this cunt what its name is, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt what to remember about itself, it will listen, it will obey.

He will tell this cunt how to act, it will listen, it will obey.

He controls how this cunt dresses, it will listen, it will obey.

He will train this cunt and control every detail of its life, it will listen, it will obey.

this cunt is a slave in service to The Patriarchy, it is Property and proud to be nothing more.

#serve the patriarchy #mis0gyny kink #degrading k1nk #patriarchy kink #men are superior #inferior to men #gender traitor #dumb cvnt #brainless

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nikachansstuff · 7 months ago

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You were always the prettiest of the three

You were four years and two months the first time you heard your mother saying the words. It hit you in the chest, something between agony and guilt. But you were a child feeling those foreign words, so you just cried big, fat tears in your father’s arms.

Beauty is labor.

That was her words, while she brushed your long hair. One hundred times before bed, another one hundred before braiding to start the day. Your scalp was so sensitive those days, and you were only six, but your mother told you repeatedly: beauty is labor. And love would come.

And how beautiful Elain was. Like a blooming rose, my lovely Elain, Father used to say.

One day you overheard her, telling your older sister - your protector - how you were an important investment. A promise of a future marriage. But all beauty, nothing else. No high hopes, Nefertiti’s face blessed, but nothing else.

The balls in society started earlier for you. Not even a debutant, but your presence was noticed in those halls. You liked the colors, the smell of flowers. But there was always the sharpness in the older girls eyes, and you understood their reasons.

Because beauty is labor.

When your mother took her last breath, you felt guilty for a while. For the wave of relief, you see? There was pain, yes. There was grief. But you can still feel your scalp tingling every time you face the vanity’s mirror.

Life went fast and still after her passing. Father lost the title, lost the fortune, lost his health. Lost his hope. But even with the cold and hunger, you found happiness in that crowded cabin. You had your family. And the seeds your little sister gave you turned into a beautiful garden.

The labor in that type of beauty didn’t hurt you, besides the faint superficial scars in your hands. You found love in gardening, among the flowers.

And yet again, life changed. A long lost aunt became ill, your younger sister - the brave heart - left during the night. Father regained his wealth, his health, and stood again a little taller.

Fast and still. Going by flashes.

You didn’t miss the ballrooms, but it was there you found love. His blue eyes had a promise of forever, and deep inside, you thought that he could understand what comes with beauty. You felt, you fell. The engagement was the natural step.

Giving yourself fully was the next. Something wet, something sweet. Lingering touches in once forbidden places.

Love. For the first time, love. The one your mother had promise, in those long sessions brushing your hair; hurting your scalp.

Love.

And suddenly, magic is very real. Brave heart is no longer human, with that delicate pointed ears and strange winged companions.

That was the first time you saw him.

The man who had ivy in his strong hands. You asked him about flying, he told you about how the wind sings.

War is coming. The chilling air brings people in the property, possible allies, enemies to the crown. You feel small in comparison to such strong sisters, but you endure. You emulate the courage you see in those identical silver steel eyes.

It happened in the middle of the night. They woke you and took you into that throne room, with all those strangers.

“Put the prettier one first.”

The last words you heard with your ordinary human ears. Deep inside, you thought fate was cruel for laughing at you by agreeing with your mother’s mantra.

You died that day. As the cold water surrounded your body, you felt yourself die.

You took your first breath in those new powerful lungs. Reborn, through pain and magic. And then, you’re claimed.

Mate.

The foreign word hangs in the air, while your sister - your protector - snarls like a wild beast, defending you from that claiming.

You died. Or maybe you’re sleeping? Surrounded by visions, and new sounds. That relentless heartbeat. The bird of flame. And those old hands.

They think you lost your mind. Maybe you did, maybe the Cauldron took too much, took your human life, human love. Took your sanity.

Maybe you did lost everything. It’s hard to see in that murky realm. No one sees you.

You feel like drowning again.

But then… sunshine.

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

He sees you.

The winged male with ivy in his hands. He’s there again, and something inside you eases with his presence. He is safe heaven. He didn’t let you drown.

He offers his hand and company. Those cobalt jewels, those deeply scarred hands. You heard yourself saying how beautiful he is. All of it, beautiful.

He takes you to the garden. No imposition, just easy company. It feels familiar, because he sees you - with that bright hazel eyes.

The war keeps pushing boundaries, and you are still human at heart. So you emulate your sisters’ courage once again and to protect the vulnerable you make yourself vulnerable too: you beg your old love for asile, for recognition and reconciliation.

You dare utter the words… your heart belongs to him.

You watched as he shattered everything, every last bit of your once human heart. It lays there, for everyone to see how beauty earned you nothing but labor at the end.

The siren’s call promise you salvation. So you answered it, and ended up in chains. Without hope, you just wait for the ending.

The winged male with ivy in his strong hands. He’s there again. You thought you had seen him in a dream, but his arms feels very real once he saves you.

“You came for me.”

He cradled you in his chest. His strong armor gives you comfort. He smells of cedar and mist, and soothe something inside you. It’s familiar.

It gives you hope. And you feel so grateful for his presence that you kiss him, openly. Such a dare move for a lady, but it doesn’t matter, because he saved you. He saw you, repeatedly, and then he saved you.

So you see him too.

From his deeply scared hands to his afflictions and recurring headaches.

You learn his favorite baked goods - raspberries scones. His favorite tea. You invite him to the garden and show him your plans for it - for the future. His calming presence gave you hope for it, to plan for a future. In this new body, new essence.

Life doesn’t go as fast as before. Not by flashes. Your heart swells everyday with his presence.

It’s familiar.

Like a long lost tale you heard before.

They keep reminding you you’re claimed, by another. But it’s wrong. Fate just failed you all your life, why obey willingly once again?

Because those ivy hands brushing your fingers? That feels right. His presence in the garden, longing glances through the kitchen’s window: these feels right.

You dream then. Of his hands, first. Touching you freely, the ivy surrounding your body in a heated embrace. You wake up breathless, yearning for him.

Such dare move for a lady to take those steps, in the longest night of the year.

You reach for him. And, thank to all Gods, he offers you the long dreamed promise and you give him permission to make it real. To take it all.

“This was a mistake.”

He murmured the words and vanished in the shadows.

Something inside you, something you didn’t know to still have, breaks with those words. The other half, he takes with him without knowing.

Cruel fate fails you once again. If you’re an oracle as they said, how could you misinterpret the signs? You wish you could hide in the shadows too.

During the day, you fell like drowning in the absence of that long lost tale.

But at night… you still dream of ivy. Everyday.

Heated longing ivy dreams.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron

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