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meowzfordayz · 2 months ago

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i belong to you

Author’s Note: short ‘n’ fluffy (w/ a hint of bittersweet 😅). 🥰

i belong to you

Hashira x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Tokito Muichiro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,800

CW: death content, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Song Inspo: I Belong to You by Jacob Lee

~faqs~

They’re all here for us, and I feel their aura, but just for a moment, I’ll pretend it’s just you

He’d never thought of himself as the marrying type, and yet, standing before you, he suddenly couldn’t imagine himself any other way. But truly, it wasn’t even sudden, this slow burning, building, consuming love for the feeling of your hand in his. It was inevitable, the revelation of his heart to yours, just as you gradually unveiled your own for his.

“In this existence of hardship and darkness, I can somehow wake every morning to an absolute truth: that you are beside me, and together, we will overcome anything.”

Perhaps this is a tall promise when every morning brings a different absolute truth as well — that death will come. Some day, somewhere, and likely all too soon. But it’s a promise worth fighting for. This much he knows in his chest as he feels your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing gently as if to promise in return Yes, yes we will.

As Gyomei kisses you, soft and certain, he swears that the world falls to pieces leaving only your body pressed into his, an achingly sweet melody ringing in his ears. And when you whisper I love you, he’s confident that you hear it too.

And I will wait to hear you say, as a tear rolls down your face, I belong to you

“Darling,” she whispers, a steady thumb reaching out to smooth your teardrop into your skin, “Are you okay?”

You nod once, a drowsy smile crinkling the corners of your eyes as more tears escape, tongue heavy in your mouth as she continues wiping your cheeks, her brow furrowed with an adoration that’s always been impossible to resist.

“I’m amazing,” you rasp, catching her hand and cradling it to your chest, ears warming as she kneads her fingertips into your sternum, “I belong to you.”

Mitsuri’s nose scrunches, worried expression soon replaced by a beaming grin, the sweetest of giggles filling the room as she maneuvers herself on top of you, hovering with her palms planted on either side of you while her breasts rest plush against your own.

“I am so in love with you,” she gushes, “With my wife.”

Her lips touch your forehead then your chin, careful fingers tilting your head left and then right to kiss your earlobes, goosebumps raising along your forearms and spine.

“We’re married,” you gasp, stopping her ministrations with a gentle squeeze to her hips, “I get to love you for the rest of our lives.”

Shining eyes meet shining eyes as she lets out a happy sob, bodies intertwined as you settle into the perfect quiet of forever.

Tomorrow I’ll open my eyes, and I will whisper to my wife, I belong to you

Loving you hadn’t come easy, but it hadn’t come especially hard either. For all the anger and regret of her past, you had reminded Shinobu that the present and future persisted, irregardless of her willingness to live in or for them. Perhaps this is why she yelled at you so many months ago, and perhaps this is also why she’d cried. You’d accepted her emotion so simply and resolutely, welcoming her frustration and grief with open arms instead of the very spite and scorn she’d always reserved for herself. And she’d heard herself, for the first time in too long of a time, say I’m sorry. Those two words muffled in the armpit of your haori, her face buried in your embrace, had made your devotion clear as day — a devotion she’d found herself happy and happier to reciprocate.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, airy voice tinged with a solemn adoration discernible only to you.

“Mmm,” you mumble, yawning widely as you burrow yourself deeper into her chest, “Hi.”

“Would you like to know something?” she asks, warming her cheek on the top of your sunkissed head.

“Definitely,” you mumble, limbs clinging drowsily to her small frame, “I enjoy knowing things.”

She slips a cool finger beneath your chin, raising your sleepy gaze to meet her determined stare, mouth soft and decisive when she kisses you. You sigh sweetly into her affection, her smile familiar yet delicate against your own, trying her best to tell you I belong to you.

I know they see us but they don’t stand a chance, I have kissed those lips a thousand times before this

The first time he kisses you, you think he’s dying. Of course, all paths lead to death, and being a Hashira tends to make this path even shorter, but expected pain is pain nonetheless. You cradle his head in your lap, his hair sticky with blood, his strength overwhelming you Kyojuro-san, stop moving! despite his wounds as he cranes upward to touch his mouth to yours. Tasting of sweat and ashes, your tears cleanse his cheeks and chest, a silly little grin brightening his face while grief and longing sit deep into your stomach.

The second time he kisses you, you’re pissed he’s alive. Well, not that he’s alive, but that he took so long to tell you. Maybe that isn’t fair of you considering he’s just woken from a coma, and maybe that isn’t fair of you considering he limped literal miles to locate you, and maybe that isn’t fair of you considering you were his sole thought and concern as soon as he regained enough consciousness to process that he was, in fact, conscious. But the brittle dread of He’s unlikely to make it has haunted you for months, and-

“Hey,” he rasps, cupping your jaw with a shy tenderness, “No need to ruminate, I am still here.”

Your gaze flits left and right, blurred as you avoid focusing on the steadfast devotion in his eyes, lips tingling from the surety of his kiss.

“I can see that,” you state dryly, your shaky inhale dissolving into a disbelieving sob, his arms atrophied yet certain as they wrap around you, his weight leaning shaky and perfectly against you.

The third time he kisses you, the fourth, and fifth — they are as precious and known, new and familiar, as the very first time.

And when he kisses you for the nth time, when he kisses you as your newly wedded husband, you realize you have already lived a thousand best moments of your life, and that a thousand and more await you.

If I could be honest, here at the altar, I refuse to grow older unless it’s with you

Age has always been a distant thing to Sanemi. He isn’t oblivious to it — the passing of snow into buds, to blossoms and then to the falling of leaves. But it’s a torturous thing to acknowledge. To remember how many more years he’s gotten to live than his mother. His five siblings. Colleagues and strangers alike. He feels as old as he is still young, steeped in death and dishevelment, sticky with yearning and fear, a projection of surety and arrogance fooling even himself. Strong and foolhardy, the clock ticks as he loses a piece of himself, another piece, another and another, to the illusion of living. And then you come slicing into his horizon.

Everything about you is almost polished. Your form, your strength, your five senses, flexibility and endurance… and somehow, he can’t find it in himself to loath you for being less than. Because you are more. You are more than the endless repetitions completed silently before him; you are more than the scrapes and bruises, stubborn retorts and near misses. You are the plate of ohagi left on his doorstep after a particularly harsh exchange of words. He knows he struck first, and yet, you open yourself to forgiveness. You are the letter received when he’s gone on an especially grueling mission. There’s not much to say, but your consideration of him makes him hesitate. You are the sight for sore eyes when he finally realizes, a year and some months into pondering your existence practically every day, that he wants you to be close. Closer. As close as you’re willing to be.

And if close means noticing when your face begins to wrinkle, your hair starts to grey, and your body learns what it is to ache, then he’s ready to remember. To reclaim. The pieces of himself he’d surrendered to time and space; he wants them back as much as he wants you. All you ask of him is his whole self, and if he is to grant your wish, then he must acknowledge a simple truth: growing old need not be a curse any longer when it could instead be a gift to share with you.

“You’re crying,” you giggle, tears of your own dripping down your cheeks.

“Of course I’m crying,” he scoffs, faint grin softening the edge in his tone, “I get to marry you.”

Yes they can see us but only at a glance, only you know the man that I am beyond the surface

Marriage is hard. Learning someone inside and out is hard. Choosing that same someone day after day is hard. Growing and relapsing, nurturing and surrendering, saying Yes, and. A lifelong commitment of love is hard. And, honestly, Giyuu didn’t think he’d ever get there. He didn’t think he’d be waking up most mornings with your nose nestled in his chest or his arm, your leg stuck between his. He didn’t think he’d be murmuring I love you, a cold and desperate determination I will come home to you flooding his lungs as you do your best to stand strong when he waves. When he leaves. Knowing without a doubt that you’d crumpled as soon as he disappeared from view. He didn’t think he’d be returning to the softest, the greediest, the fondest and proudest, kisses. Kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, ears and chin. Kisses on his lips. Your hands checking his limbs while you listen to his breath; your eyes glistening as he whispers over and over I missed you, I love you, I missed you, I love you. He didn’t think he’d be this intimate, this familiar, this devastatingly and perfectly close to anyone. To you. And yet, here he is.

“Giyuu?”

“My love?”

“I love when you call me that.”

“I know.”

You blush, “Oh,” promptly hiding your face in his armpit.

“And I love getting to love you. I love that you are my love.”

#hashira x reader #preferences #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #kanroji mitsuri #mitsuri x reader #kocho shinobu #shinobu x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #giyuu x reader #giyu x reader

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starryevermore · 6 months ago

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i will go to lunar valleys in my mind ✧ tamlin & azriel

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader; azriel x archeron!sister

summary: to azriel, you are the most brilliant star shining in the night sky.

word count: 7,954

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, pining, not proofread

PART ONE

Azriel stared at the cream invitation. It had landed in front of him just moments earlier, but he had already read it a few dozen times. The words were seared into his mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lord Tamlin and High Lady Y/N. High Lady. You were Spring’s High Lady. There was no way, he knew, that you could, would, ever return to Velaris when you had a court to run. He had been invited to your coronation, too, months ago. But in the year since you left for Spring, he never visited. Despite Feyre and Rhys’s insistence that you missed him, and Lucien’s chastising him for never going, and even Elain’s quiet disapproval, he knew better than to make the journey. He meant what he said to Rhys all that time ago.

If he went to Spring, he would bring you straight back home.

Because he had built you a home. Azriel knew how you never felt truly at home in any of Rhys’s homes—not the Town House, not the House of Wind, and not the River House. The House of Wind was the most comfortable to you, because it offered the most solitary, but it was not your home. One night, you had told him of your dream home. A quaint cottage in the woods, close enough to the city to go when you pleased but far enough to still be calm. A nice personal library, a cozy kitchen. A big fireplace that you could curl up with a nice book. Azriel committed those details to memory and spent many months making your dream home come a reality. He intended for it to be a mating gift, for when the bond finally snapped for you.

It only collected dust.

He sat there now, at the dining table he had spent weeks picking out. His shadows flitted about, hissing at him to go to Spring. To get you before you were tied to Tamlin forever. Azriel would not. He couldn’t force you to sacrifice your happiness for his sake. You had to be happy. That was why you never returned to Velaris. You were happy in perfect Spring with your perfect mate. To bring you back here would only taint you.

“You are not going,” Rhysand said. Azriel didn’t look up from the invitation to know his High Lord had winnowed into the room. Rhys had found out about the house a few weeks after you left, concerned when Azriel hadn’t reported for any missions.

“I haven’t gone there in a year. Why would I go now?”

“I thought the same when I was going to let Feyre live her life with Tamlin. And then she called down the bond, and I was whisking her away without any thought of the consequences.” Rhysand leaned over the table, pushing down on the invitation so that Azriel would look up at him. “She is happy with him. She looks alive when she is with him.”

“And she looked dead with me?”

It was a cheap shot, and Azriel knew it. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he wasn’t right for you. That the Mother had made a mistake. There were so many poorly-matched mates, and he was certain this was the case when the bond snapped for him. If you were content with Tamlin, then that meant you didn’t feel the same hole in your soul that Azriel did.

His High Lord let out a sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, brother. You remember how she looked when we forced them apart. She is finally happy again, and I won’t let anyone jeopardize it. Feyre won’t allow it.”

Azriel shoved Rhysand’s hand off the invitation. He stared at the date. It was six months away. A long time to be sending announcements for a mating ceremony, but it was surely to be a huge event for the High Lord and Lady of Spring. He imagined it would be the biggest event of the year. His teeth ground together. That should be you and him.

He dropped the invitation and rose from his seat. Shadows swirled around him as he stalked out of the house. Ignoring Rhysand’s calls behind him, Azriel took off into the air. He couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They didn’t come,” you whispered, head leaning against Tamlin’s chest. His arms wound around you. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Your face crumpled. Letting out a shuddering breath, you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. They haven’t come here in months, but I thought…I thought they would come.”

A finger tilted your chin up so you would look up at your mate. Tamlin’s eyes were soft. “If they’re the ones who decide to burn bridges, it is not your fault.”

“I know, but…” You sighed. You looked out the large window overlooking the gardens. Despite the blanket of night covering the grounds, you could see the beautiful, blossoming rose bush Tamlin had planted earlier that month. A tradition, he’d said. “I hoped something would have changed.”

Tamlin leaned his cheek on the top of your head. His steady breathing was the only thing keeping your from sinking to the floor. “I know it hurts, but it’s their loss. You are an amazing female, my love. I could never understand why they’d want to throw that all away, but that is their mistake to make.”

You wiggled out of his arms and stepped closer to the window. Your hand pressed against the cold glass. “I don’t understand what changed. I thought things were going well. Feyre stopped glaring at you to your face—”

“What?”

“—she still glared behind your back, but it was an improvement. Rhysand didn’t make comments wishing for your death. Even Nesta held her tongue. The only one who never came around was Azriel, which hurts because I thought him my friend. But for them to all decide I’m not worth the trouble anymore? It feels like they carved out my heart and stomped on it.”

Tamlin was silent for a long moment. You could feel his eyes looking you over, searching for any sign that you were about to waste away like Feyre had. Down the bond, you feel his love and comfort. But…there was something else there. Pain, anguish. Were you hurting Tamlin somehow? Were you making him doubt your love for him by talking about this? You looked over your shoulder at him.

“There is still cake from the celebration. I’ll go get a couple slices from the kitchen, and some wine. Does that sound alright?”

You nodded. Tamlin smiled and left the room. You looked back out the window. Part of you was tempted to push the window open, scale down the wall, and run through the gardens until the pain of the loss of your family was only a dull ache. The other part of you just wanted to be held by your mate.

You loved Tamlin. You really, truly did. But, in recent months, you felt like there was something missing. When the high of getting to know him, accepting the bond, and becoming High Lady of Spring finally died down, you were left with a hole in your chest. Small, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but enough to make you question everything.

Had you been wrong to come here?

Something tugged in your chest. Ordinarily, you would have thought it would be Tamlin. He always was so quick to send you comfort through the bond, but this felt different. Colder, but a comforting sort of cold. The kind of cold of a fan being waved on you during a sweltering summer day. The cold of a drink after hours of laborous work. The cold of a shadow slithering around your hand, pulling you out of harm’s way. The cold of Azriel’s hands on your burning face as you sobbed at being forcibly separated from your mate.

It tugged harder. It felt closer to snapping. But to what? You had a mate. You had Tamlin. What other sort of snapping could there be?

Your hands tugged at your hair. You had been so sure months ago. Why were you spiraling now? What had changed? It was more than your family, your sisters, not showing up to your mating ceremony. No, this was something deeper. Something that you had been ignoring for too long. Something that was starting to boil over. Tears began to streak down your face. A scream of frustration fell out as your hand smacked against the pane.

The temperature in the room dropped.

“Are you hurt?”

Everything went still. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the window. No. He couldn’t be here. Not after all this time. He hadn’t deigned to see you in over a year. You had sent invitations and letters, and they had all gone unanswered. Even when you told Feyre to pass him along the message that you missed him, you never got a response. Yes, you had left without a goodbye. But did that mean you deserved to be ignored?

Perhaps he truly only saw you as the latest object of his affections. Perhaps you never were anything close to a friend of his.

A hand stroked your hair. You sucked in a breath. “I swear, if he’s hurt you, I will snuff out this Cauldron-forsaken court’s light before he can even blink.”

You scoffed. Slowly you turned, your eyes narrowing at him. “That’s rich. If you care so much about my well-being, where were you the last year? Did Feyre send you here to tell me that she’s throwing in the towel? That she’s decided I’m not worth the effort? That she’s forbidden everyone else from coming to Spring, too?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“I mean, it was rich for her to not come today. It would make sense for Rhysand not to come if she didn’t. But for everyone else to not make an appearance? Even Lucien wasn’t here, and he’s Tamlin’s best friend! No one has been here in months! I can only assume the High Lady ordered gave orders to stay away.” You shook your head. “You must only be here to finally clue me in, so I’ll stop littering their desks with silly little invitations.”

He took a step closer to you. You wished you had the space to back away. Shadows wrapped around your ankles. He reached out to hold your face, but you jerked away. It was impossible to miss the hurt in his hazel eyes. And—why did your chest ache? “I’m afraid I’m the reason no one made an appearance.”

Pain struck through you. Azriel? Did he truly think so little of you because you chose your mate? You once overheard a fight he had with Rhysand—heard him say that it was only fair that he had a sister. With Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all happily taken, that had left you. Did he convince them all to hate you because you chose Tamlin over him?

You pushed him away. “How dare you,” you hissed.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s much worse. You couldn’t have Mor, but that was fine because at least it was because she prefers females. You couldn’t have Elain. That was fine, because there was another Archeron sister waiting in the wings, praying to be picked. But then you couldn’t have me, and you had to poison everyone against me.” You gave him your harshest glare. “Why couldn’t you have pined after someone else? I hear Gwyn is single. Why didn’t you go after her? Why did you have to stoop so fucking low?”

“I didn’t!” he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls. You were sure Tamlin could hear him, but you didn’t care. Not when it felt like your chest was caving in.

“I thought you were my friend, Azriel. I may not have always treated you the best, and I apologize for that. But I know when I’m only being picked because I’m the last option available. I deserve better than that, and you know it. Of everyone, you should know that. What did I do to deserve such cruelty?”

“Nothing!” He ran his fingers through his hair. His shadows swirled around in a flurry. Was he about to set them out to attack you? Get rid of you as a final fuck you? “They weren’t here because I am going crazy without you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fucking mate, Y/N!”

Any words you were ready to spit out dried out in your mouth. What? That couldn’t be possible. You had a mate already. You had Tamlin. And yet…There was still that tugging in your chest. Familiar, but not.

“I have known since Nyx’s birth. I wanted to wait until it snapped for you, but it didn’t. It snapped for fucking Tamlin. As cruel as it is, I was grateful that Feyre and Rhys took you from him. At least it gave me a chance to make you see me. But then I came back from that mission and you were gone.” Azriel took a tentative step towards you again. You made no effort, this time, to push him away. “It fucking killed me to know you were gone. No one saw me for a month afterwards. I started to come around, eventually, but it was never the same without you there. I didn’t come here, to Spring, because if I did, I would have stolen you away again, because I cannot live without you. Then, six months ago, I received the invitation to your mating ceremony, and I lost it. Disappeared. Everyone has been on the hunt for me, to make sure I didn’t cause a war between our courts.”

You stared at him, unblinking. The ache in your chest only grew stronger. Could he be right? Could he truly be your mate? But what would that make Tamlin? Was it possible to be mistaken over who your mate was? Was it possible to have two mates? You wanted to cry—for you, and for Azriel.

“I apologize for what my actions have done.”

“Why are you here now?” you asked. He said nothing, so you continued, “You stayed away this long. Why are you here now?”

Azriel let out a breath. “I had to see if you were happy. I…I imagine the mating ceremony has already been consummated, which would complicate things, but…If there was any chance, any at all, that I could be your knight in shining armor, I had to take it. If you were, I would leave you be. Let you live out your life as Spring’s High Lady and never again interfere. So, I have to ask, are you happy?”

That tug in your chest finally snapped. All at once, everything Azriel felt came crashing through. The full extent of his pain, the anguish raging through his body. The glimmer of hope as he stared down at you, waiting for your answer. Your hand reached out without you thinking, touching his chest. You could almost see the golden thread binding you to him.

“Yes,” you said.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gleam of his siphon bouncing off at you. “But?”

“I feel a hole in my soul.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“One, that I’m beginning to realize, is shaped like an Illyrian.”

The smile grew. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hands. Azriel’s thumbs swiped over your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Leaning against his palm, a smile began to cross your face. Azriel leaned in, nose brushing against yours, until his lips connected with yours.

A gasp escaped you at the contact. It was…electric. Unlike anything you experienced with Tamlin, save for the intensity of it all. If Tamlin was the innocent joy, Azriel was the passionate fervor. You had experienced the frenzy with Tamlin, but you were sure it would pale in comparison to Azriel. You could feel the full weight of his emotions through the bond—the lust, the adoration, the desire for more.

A chord struck in you. If you could feel all of this with Azriel, then Tamlin could—

Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the room.

He fought to keep a lid on his barely-constrained anger. Whenever Tamlin felt such explosive anger, he had a tendency to hurt those he cared about. You deserved better than that. And, even if your relationship with Feyre had become strained, he was sure she would make good on her threat anyways. But, Mother, how else was he supposed to react when that Cauldron damned Shadowsinger was kissing his mate?

Tamlin had suspected for a long time that Azriel harbored feelings for you. When you came to the ball, Azriel clung to you like a leech. Always hovering, always watching you. And when Azriel would leave you, those damned shadows of his would always linger. Even when Tamlin finally got a moment alone with you, the Shadowsinger burst in the room as if thought Tamlin was about to hurt you—pulled you out of his arms, tried to keep you from him. He knew there was a reason Azriel hadn’t visited once—hadn’t even sent word to you—in the last year. He just never thought the Illyrian would have the audacity to whisk you away hours after your mating ceremony.

It must be a Night Court tradition.

You pushed Azriel away—too gentle for Tamlin’s liking—and stepped toward him. Your eyes were wide, apologetic. You reached out for him, urged him to wrap his arms around you. He did, but not once did he look away from Azriel. He didn’t trust that the Illyrian brute wouldn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Especially not with Truth-Teller strapped to his waist.

“I can explain, Tam,” you said, cheek pressed against his chest.

Tamlin smoothed a hand over your hair. He tugged on the bond, let you know that he was not upset with you. He could never be upset with you. “You are not to blame, my love.”

“Of course I am. I wanted Az to kiss me.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it. Okay, perhaps he could be upset with you a little. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault you entirely for harboring feelings for the Shadowsinger. You had told Tamlin once that, although you were suspicious about Azriel’s motivations at times, he had been something of a friend. The only one, save for your sisters, that you could call a friend. When you’re that lonely, it’s easy to fall for the one person who’s kind to you. But that didn’t mean Tamlin had to like it.

“He’s my mate, too, Tam.”

He pulled away. He searched your eyes for anything sign of deceit, for any sign of manipulation. Tamlin found none. He looked back at Azriel, who still stood far away, watching you carefully. It looked like he was ready to yank you away from Tamlin at the first sign of distress. Night Court folk always held grudges.

This was…unexpected. If Tamlin didn’t trust you, he might have thought you were trying to deceive him. Triads had existed a long time ago, when Prythian was in its infancy. There was a time where there were more males than females. People believed that the Mother would allow the female multiple mates in an effort to stop the fighting over the few, precious females that existed. Of course, all of this was speculative—a work of fiction. No one had seen a triad in millennia. No one was sure they’d ever existed at all.

Yet, when Tamlin pressed his nose to your hair, he didn’t just smell your scent mixed with his. There was something different, less familiar. It was faint. Barely noticeable unless he searched for it. A mating bond, in its infancy. As he turned his gaze to Azriel, he knew who it belonged to.

“What do you want?” Tamlin near-growled at Azriel, still cradling you against his chest.

“For her to be happy,” Azriel said. “I was going to let her go, never reveal the bond. I was going to let her live a life with you, but I had to make sure she was happy before I gave her up forever.”

Tamlin wanted to say that you were happy. That you had all you needed here. And, yes, you were happy. You loved the Spring Court. If Tamlin thought you beautiful at the ball, it paled in comparison to the way you seemed to come alive in Spring. But he couldn’t deny that, in recent months, as the Inner Circle stopped coming, as it became clear that Azriel would never visit, that something inside of you was dying.

And he had heard the tail end of your conversation with Azriel before he kissed you. You wanted Azriel as a mate. Tamlin knew better than to deny you of that. He never again wanted to see you as lifeless as you had been when he brought you home from the Night Court.

“She’s High Lady,” he said, “she cannot be whisked away from here.”

“I understand,” Azriel said. “Perhaps, though, she could spend a few months with me, in the Night Court? Most of her year will be spent here, ruling by your side. I only ask for some time.”

You turned your head to look at Azriel. Your brows pinched together. “You would do that?”

“I would rather only have a part of you than none at all.”

Tamlin looked down at you. He hated the idea of you being taken away to the Night Court. It reminded him too much of how Rhysand had grabbed you and winnowed you away—of how Night’s High Lord had done the same to Feyre years prior. The nasty, jealous part of him roared at the thought of you going. But when he looked at your hope-filled eyes, he knew he wouldn’t deny you.

To Azriel, he said, “Give us the month to get our affairs in order.”

Azriel nodded. It was done.

“Be careful with her,” Tamlin hissed.

Azriel rolled his eyes as he picked you up. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other hooked under your legs. Your arms looped around his neck. Though winnowing you would be easier, quicker, Azriel dreamed of flying you to the home he built for you.

“She is not a doll so easily broken.”

You scratched at the back of his neck. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Though you intended the action to be a means of chastising him, he only thought about how nice it would feel to have those pretty polished nails of yours rake down his back. “Play nice. Both of you,” you said.

Tamlin stepped over to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If you change your mind,” he said, “let me know. I’ll bring you home.”

Azriel stepped away before you could kiss Tamlin on the mouth. It was petty of him, to be sure. But he didn’t like the implication that you would not feel at home with him. What did Tamlin know? He wasn’t there for you when you came out of the Cauldron. When you were only a shell, sat at a piano all hours of the day, the melody of your pain echoing through Velaris. Tamlin was not there to hold you as you cried, begging for the pain to end. Tamlin never begged Rhysand to go into your mind, to give you pleasant dreams, so that even if you only experienced peace in your sleep, at least you got to feel it.

Tamlin might have taken you from the Night Court. He may have made you his High Lady. And he may love you, but he didn’t know you hurt like Azriel did. He did not make the same promise Azriel did to never let you be hurt again. He did not know that, as Azriel was returning from that mission, he was planning to ask if you wished for him to take you to Spring. He was going to give you the choice that he and the rest of the Inner Circle so terribly deprived you of. Azriel had only been angry when you were gone because he never got to tell you goodbye, never got the chance to see you one last time before sending you off for your fairytale ending. But then, after the Inner Circle’s first visit, Feyre told him you looked like an entirely different person.

Tamlin might love you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his happiness to let you be with another male.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Azriel asked you.

The week before, Tamlin had sent your clothes, some books, and sheet music ahead. Azriel took special care to set up your room. It was the master bedroom, of course. Azriel relegated himself to a smaller guest room. Even if you were going with him to see if you truly wanted the bond with him, he was not going to force you to share a room with him.

“I’m sure,” you said. You turned to Tamlin and nodded your head at him, urging him closer. Reluctantly, Azriel did not step away this time. He could deny Tamlin all he wanted, but he wouldn’t do that to you. The High Lord leaned down and kissed you softly. “I’m write you, Tam.”

Tamlin smiled. “I eagerly await your letters.”

After bidding him another farewell kiss, you let Azriel take to the skies. Although Azriel was not fond of his Illyrian heritage—the culture and its males, save for his brothers, disgusted him—he would never tire of flying. He didn’t think it could ever get any better, but that was before he had you in arms, clinging tightly to him while he flew over all of Prythian.

A laugh, a beautifully loud laugh, escaped you as he pushed himself faster and faster. He shot you a wicked grin and a wink before shooting straight up, turning over backwards, before righting himself on course again. The laugh turned to a scream. Your nails dug into the back of his neck.

“What?” he teased. “Don’t like going upside down?”

“You’re rotten,” you said, but you smiled up at him anyways. He liked your smile. You smiled with your whole face. Pretty dimples, crinkled corners of your eyes. Even your eyes themselves seemed to twinkle.

“Yeah? I think you’ll find I’m the rottenest of the bunch.”

“Not so rotten if you’re my mate, though.”

Azriel prayed you couldn’t see how red his face was turning. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Only further settled in his arms, watching the clouds as you passed them by.

Though Azriel preferred flying fast, loved the thrill of it all, he found himself wishing he had savored this moment a little longer as he landed outside of the home he built for you. He sat you gently on the ground, a hand on the small of your back as you steadied yourself.

“I thought we would go to the River House or the House of Wind,” you said.

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or not. You only stared up at the cobblestoned cottage, the wisteria growing along the walls. You eyed the window boxes filled with your favorite flowers. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to offer to take you elsewhere, when you turned your gaze to him.

“What is this place? How have I never known about it?”

“It was supposed to be a mating gift,” Azriel said. He couldn’t look at you, afraid for how you might react, so he stared up at the cottage. “You told me, once, about your dream home. I can only hope that this compares.”

“When did you build it?”

“I started it the day after I found out we were mates,” Azriel said. And because he knew you were going to ask when that was, he continued, “The day Nyx was born—when you were crying because you were so scared about losing half your family and I just held you. That’s when I knew.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, praying to the Mother he hadn’t scared you away. That you wouldn’t ask to be taken back to Spring, this entire thing be damned. You didn’t do that, though.

No, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. “Thank you, Az.”

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients you wanted and bringing them to you. Azriel often chided you for turning his shadows, the very things he used to spy and torture and kill, into little pets, but he loved it all the same. There was something he liked about you exposing the darkest parts of him to the light. Besides, it was his fault for leaving the shadows behind with you while he went to the market.

You placed the tray in the oven, giggling as the shadows pulled you away to shut the door on their own, another group of shadows fiddling with the knobs so that it was at the right temperature. As the brownies baked, you took to cleaning up the mess you made. Humming a tune, you began to collect the dishes, swaying your hips as you took them over to the sink.

In the month since you had returned to the Night Court, you quite enjoyed spending time with Azriel. His plan to sleep in the guest room did not last long, for you found yourself so enamored with him that you practically dragged him into your bed. That was the first time his shadows allied themselves with you. A part of you, now, dreaded the idea of having to leave him behind when you returned to Spring. Tamlin and Azriel did not get on well, but you were certain they could at least learn to tolerate each other if they spent time with each other.

You dried off your hands, gazing out the window over the sink. Somewhere beyond there were the rest of your family. Though Azriel had reacquainted himself with the Inner Circle, apologized for causing as much trouble as he had, he had not revealed that you were in the Night Court. He glamoured his scent so that they could not pick up on how your own scent mixed in. You wondered how Tamlin might have responded to their inquiries to visit you in Spring, but Azriel didn’t say much besides Feyre worried she had offended you.

Good, you mused. She should be worried. She had made you grieve your relationship with her. She made you sick as you contemplated where you went wrong. She made you feel like you lost your entire family by choosing your mate. If she sat in worry, she deserved it.

A shadow tugged on your wrist, alerting you to the fact that the brownies were finished. The shadows didn’t allow you to take the tray out yourself, but did let you begin to cut them and place one on a plate for Azriel. You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile.

Tomorrow, you were to return to Spring. But tonight, you would accept the bond with Azriel.

You hadn’t said a word to the shadows about your plan, yet they buzzed around the cottage as they readied for the romantic evening to come. Petals littering the floor, candles lit up around the room, a romantic song playing over the symphonium. You almost thought the shadows wished to seduce your mate more than you did.

One tugged on your wrist as the door opened. You did hold back your smile this time as Azriel walked into kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter.

“Welcome home,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

Azriel smiled against your lips. “What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” He pulled away for a moment, sniffing at the air. “Have you been baking?”

“Brownies,” you confirmed. You twisted out of the arms and took the plate that the shadows hovered over to you. “For you.”

He stared down at the plate, then looked up at you. “I couldn’t—” he said.

You picked up the brownie and brought it up to his lips. “I insist. I have been blessed by the Mother with two wonderful mates, and I intend to have you both fully.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky as Azriel sank his teeth into the treat, never taking his eyes off of you. You swiped your thumb at the corner of his mouth, collecting the crumbs, and licked them off. A growl ripped through his chest as Azriel tugged you against him.

“I suppose that’s why the cottage looks like something straight of Nesta’s romance novels?”

“You can thank your shadows for that. They did that all on their own.”

“You truly have reduced them to busybodies like all the rest,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold an ounce of malice. Azriel kissed you softly. “I suppose I should thank them, though, because I fully intend to ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I hope that’s a promise you intend to keep.”

Thunder rumbled again. The scene outside turned darker as storm clouds began to roll in. You were prepared to ignore it all when a flash of lightning made you jump out of your skin. The front door slammed open, the wood hitting the wall so hard you were almost certain it splintered. Azriel’s hold on you tightened.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. You peered over to the foyer, blood running cold as you took in the appearance of Night’s High Lord, your sister just a half step behind him.

“I didn’t think you were so foolish to steal away Spring’s High Lady, brother,” Rhysand said.

“I was not stolen,” you snapped. “I came here willingly. Tamlin knows exactly where I am, and that I shall be returning to Spring by morning.”

Your sister said your name softly, stepping around her mate and toward you. “You’re already leaving?” she asked.

“I have been here a month. That is plenty long to be away from Spring and my other mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then to the tray of brownies abandoned on the counter. “You know.”

“No thanks to you,” you said. “How long were you going to let me cry over Azriel not coming to visit before you told me it wasn’t because he hated me?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. I hated learning about my own mating bond from the Suriel. I didn’t—I couldn’t let you live through that same pain.”

“No, you just let me think my only friend hated me. You let me think you all hated me, because you were too busy trying to find him before my mating ceremony to respond to any of my letters.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at you. “We couldn’t have told you anything. We hardly understand how a triad works. How could we have explained it to you without sounding like we descended into lunacy?”

“You could have said anything!” you protested. “Feyre, you could have told me anything short of the truth. There was a threat to the Night Court, or perhaps that there were some diplomacy issues you needed to tend to. But, no, you rather that I cried to Tamlin every night, prayed that you would send some sort of sign that our relationship was not beyond repair.”

Feyre took a step toward you. Rhysand reached for her wrist, to stop her from nearing you, but she shook him off. “And I will regret that for the rest of my days. You know I have never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you have. You are my sister, Feyre, but you treated me like I was no one to you. Tell me, were my letters to all the others ignored under your orders, too?”

Her glance away from you told you everything you needed to know.

“I spent my mating ceremony, what should have been the happiest day of my life, grieving the loss of my family. I will never get that day back again.” You grabbed for Azriel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect an invitation to the next.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped to yours. Silver lined them. “Please—”

“I would like to return to Spring, now, please,” you said to Azriel. “It seems I have outgrown Night.”

Without a word, Azriel winnowed you away.

Tamlin stared at your back as you slept. You had been quiet ever since you returned from the Night Court. Tamlin understood—Azriel had explained how Feyre and Rhysand came to the cottage as you were accepting the mating bond with Azriel. He recalled the fury in your eyes as you stated that Azriel would remain in the Spring Court until the frenzy subsided. He didn’t see you much over the following weeks, so he couldn’t speak much to your state then. But when Azriel, rather regretfully, announced he would be returning to Night to deal with the fallout, you began to withdraw. Tamlin was left with the aftermath. And like Feyre before you, he wasn’t quite sure how to make things better.

Unlike Feyre, he was going to do whatever he could to help you. He would not let you waste away, fade away into nothing.

Tamlin kissed your bare shoulder then slipped out of the bed. If you noticed, you did not move. He continued on to his study, ignoring the curious looks of the servants still lingering in the halls, and settled at his desk. He procured a sheet of paper and a pen, and began to write.

Azriel, he began, I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you return to Spring expeditiously. While I understand that the Night Court is your home, Y/N has not been faring well without both of her mates. You do not need to forsake your home, but any time that you could spend here would be appreciated. Yours truly, Tamlin.

He sent the letter off. Tamlin remained at his desk, waiting for a reply. But one did not have to wait for long as shadows began to soon flood the room. In the past, the sight of the shadows would have made Tamlin’s skin crawl. It was no secret the depths the Spymaster would go to, to extract information from his targets, and those very shadows were just another in his arsenal. But their arrival was signal enough that Azriel had arrived, and that was enough for the weight on Tamlin’s shoulders to lift ever so slightly.

“Where is she?”

Tamlin rose to his feet. “Sleeping. She doesn’t know I asked for you to come.”

Azriel nodded. A few of the shadows abandoned the study in search of you. The shadows, generally, still disturbed Tamlin. In the month you and Tamlin got your affairs in order, those damned little things scarcely left your side. He was certain they even hissed at him for daring to be near you. Slowly, though, they began to grow on him as they came to the collective understanding that both parties were looking out for your best interests.

“How have things fared in the Night Court?” Tamlin asked.

“Feyre is distraught,” Azriel said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if trying to stop them from rolling right out of his head. “Rhys has been insisting I bring Y/N back so they can talk things through. He does not take kindly to my own insistence that, if Feyre wished for things to get better, she should be the one to make the first move.”

Tamlin snorted. “And here I thought you were just a loyal dog.”

Azriel flashed a smirk. “Oh, I am. Just not to him.”

Good, Tamlin thought. If there was anyone who deserved his loyalty, it would be you. Kind, sweet you. Tamlin once thought your family was loyal—they certainly seemed to think they were looking out for your best interests when they took you from the Spring Court. And they had been so diligent about visiting you before. Every month at the start of the month, he would receive a letter asking permission to visit. The Inner Circle always arrived before he could accept. That was, until the invitation to the mating ceremony was sent out. Despite both you and Tamlin sending inquiries and invitations, not a single one ever responded. When they failed to show up at the mating ceremony, Tamlin decided then that he would never forgive them.

“How long do you intend to stay?” Tamlin said. Azriel brought nothing with him, save for the clothes on his back and the weapons strapped to his waist.

“As long as you’ll allow it. I tendered my resignation this morning,” Azriel said. “I’ll begin the search for a home here in the morning.”

“Don’t bother,” Tamlin said. Azriel looked stricken. His brows pinched together, mouth settling into a frown. Realizing his error, Tamlin corrected, “You can have a home here if you like. Your own room, or you can share ours. We might have to get a bigger bed, given your wingspan, but it would be no trouble.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “You would do that?”

“You are her mate as much as I am. You may be willing to settle for only a piece of her life, but I would be remiss if I stopped you from having all of her.” Tamlin waved his hand, urging Azriel to follow him. “I have some more comfortable clothes you can change into. We should both rest.”

“Tamlin—” Azriel said. Tamlin paused. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Will you need to return to the Night Court for your things, or will you be purchasing replacements?”

As they walked down the hall, the servants even more confused than before, Azriel said, “My shadows will retrieve the necessities. There won’t be much. I intend to have a fresh start here.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing Spring is all about rebirth then.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Tamlin watched as Azriel smiled when they reached the bedroom. He slipped inside, so silent that Tamlin could’ve been convinced that he was alone if he didn’t see the Shadowsinger with his own two eyes. Tamlin lingered in the doorframe as Azriel approached your side of the bed and knelt down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, murmured a quiet I love you.

Your eyes fluttered open. You blinked slowly as you took in Azriel’s appearance. “You’re supposed to be in Night,” you whispered.

“I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

You turned your head slightly, brows pinching together when you didn’t see Tamlin laying beside you. “Does Tam know?”

“Who do you think invited me?”

A sleepy smile twitched on your lips. “When do you leave again?”

“Whenever you decide to push me away.” Azriel kissed you. “And not a second sooner.”

Feyre stared at the cream invitation. It had landed on Rhysand’s desk just moments earlier, but she had already read it a dozen times. The words were seared into her mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lady Y/N and Azriel. But the part she found herself reading over and over again, trying to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination were— P.S. I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You are my sister, and I miss you being a part of my life.

If she went to Spring, she would have her sister again she so terribly pushed away.

Because she had missed you. It had broken her heart to know you had come to Night to be with Azriel yet never came to see them. She couldn’t blame you, of course. You had been right. Feyre should have said something to you. It wasn’t fair for her to keep you completely in the dark. She hated when others had done it to her in the past. Why did she ever think she could do the same to you? Yet, even in the months afterward, she wasn’t sure what to say to you.

She still didn’t.

Feyre sat in the River House, at Rhysand’s desk, glancing between the invitation and the RSVP she was going to send in response. Rhysand stood behind her. When the invitation arrived, he said that the decision was fully hers. That he would support whatever choice to make. To stay in Night and continue to allow the relationship to strain, or to go and begin the mending process. But was there anything left to mend? You were happy in Spring with both of your mates. To go there now would be to ruin the life you’ve built for yourself.

“Do you want to go?” Rhys asked after several moments of Feyre holding the pen in an ironclad grip.

“I haven’t seen her in months. I haven’t been to Spring in over a year. I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Because you miss her, and she misses you. Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of maybes and what ifs. You know Y/N wouldn’t have sent the invitation if she didn’t want you there,” Rhysand said. He pointed to the postscript, tapping his finger on it. “It’s a peace offering.”

“I hurt her.”

For as long as Feyre could remember, she had been trying to protect her family. For a long time, it was all she knew. Things changed, of course, when she came to Prythian and her sisters all became High Fae. But the base desire, to ensure their safety and security, still resided deep inside her. It was why she had been so scared when you said Tamlin was your mate. It was why she panicked when Rhysand said Azriel had disappeared after being invited to your mating ceremony with Tamlin. Yet, in both instances, she had been the one to cause your pain. What if that was all she could do now? Maybe she was better off, maybe you were better off, if she stayed away.

Rhys let out a sigh. “You did, but she’s giving you a chance. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

“It is.”

“Then, I think you already know the answer.”

Feyre pressed the pen to the paper. She slowly wrote her response, worried that if she moved too fast, she would write the wrong thing. But, Cauldron, it didn’t feel write to just write a letter to you. If you were truly inviting her back into your life, if you truly were trying to mend the relationship, you deserved more.

She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. Rhysand followed her and she stalked out of the office. Ignoring her mate’s questions behind her, she went to the living room where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for Feyre and Rhys. Everyone stared at her when she arrived. She couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore.

“Well?” Nesta asked, breaking the silence. “Are we breaking this ridiculous stalemate together, or will I be going to Spring alone?”

“Together,” Feyre said. “We’ll go together, now. I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.”

Nesta flashed a rare smile. “Good, because Elain and I would have dragged you there kicking and screaming.”

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vintagetvstars · 2 months ago

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Alan Alda Vs. Robin Williams

Propaganda

Alan Alda - (M*A*S*H) - He is both the saddest wettest little meow meow and your kindly grandfather and your favourite eccentric uncle (mom's side). Somehow it works. Passionate Democrat, feminist, great writer, he and his books are hilarious. Did a cartwheel when he won an Emmy! How he met his wife is the best meet cute of the last two centuries, and they've now been married over 60 years!!!

Robin Williams - (Mork & Mindy) - Mork & Mindy will forever be iconic. Robin Williams is such a gem on this show! Nanu Nanu <3

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Alan Alda:

he’s just so good in MASH

youtube

he put so much bisexuality into hawkeye i think it fundamentally changed me when i was little and watching mash for the first time. anyway do we all know the story about how he met his wife when they were at a party together and they were the only two people eating the cake that fell on the floor and he fell in love with her over her laugh. i just think hes neat :) i love when theres a strange looking man. also feel it necessary to say that the guy that wrote the book mash was based on wrote himself as hawkeye and HATED alda's hawkeye bc he displayed his morals too much (alda had it in his contract for the show that every episode had to have an operating room scene bc otherwise you arent backdropping the fact that war is Not fun. actually. he almost didnt take the role bc he thought a war comedy would make too much light of the horrors)

please please please use this picture of him, he's so hot in it

His comedic delivery in MASH...

youtube

The story of how he met his wife is charming and sweet, and they've now been married 65 years

Just look at him. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen but also he's completely average. He's got a weak jawlines and a round face and these big soft eyes and he's just so beautiful. He's capable of playing a silly charismatic sitcom protagonist in one scene, and a jaded army surgeon haunted by the deaths he's witnessed in the next. He's so hot that my dad once told me he decided to apply to medical school because of how much he was attracted to Hawkeye Pierce. That's literally how I learned that my father was bisexual.

He's also just a really great dude? He's been outspoken about his political beliefs for a long time, and has always been strongly and vocally anti-war, pro-feminist, and pro lgbt. He served a tour in the Korean war, and his experiences there informed his performance in the show. He (and honestly the entire cast, but especially him) really just soared above and beyond the standard for comedies of the day.

youtube

He's so funny and his eyes are pretty

He loves and is a champion of science (Source).

Robin Williams:

#vintage tv stars poll #tv men 3 #alan alda #robin williams #Youtube

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squeakitties · 6 months ago

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Rubbermon FAQ

*Before I start, I must preface that this FAQ is relevant only to MY personal approach to the ex-human perma-suited rubber pokemon concept I came up with. You don't have to comply with anything if you don't want, only if you wanna be accurate to my approach!*

How do they eat?

They don't! The process makes them basically immortal, removing their need for sustenance!

2. Can they vocalize?

No, they are universally mute. Any mouths are false, sculpted onto the masks.

4. Can rubbermon evolve or change form?

Probably not?

5. Does the process hurt?

Nope! Despite it facilitating pretty nitty-gritty bodily changes, the process is painless and actually feels good! Getting your anatomy rearranged feels like a chiropractic adjustment :)

6. Can they use any moves?

Probably? But not as easily as an actual pokemon.

7. Does the rubber transmit touch?

Yes, and it becomes more touch-sensitive over time!

8. What does the infinity symbol on the collar mean?

It means that the rubbermon is stuck like this forever, it's permanent and irreversible :)

9. Is this an opt-in procedure, and are they informed about its intensity?

100%, this is a fully consent-based fantasy. All rubbermon knew what they were getting into.

10. Are there mental changes?

Slowly, over time! More brought on by living as a rubbermon than anything artificially induced like hypnotism etc

#rubbermon #rubbermon faq

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wisdom-devotee · 10 days ago

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Beginner’s Guide to Hellenic Polytheism

I KNOW this is a really long post but my intention was to just note down everything that I think is important for beginners and that’s A LOT. It took me forever to learn some of these things but they’re so important, so buckle in. I hope this helps some people.

If I’ve missed anything, please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to add. I’ve been working on this for two days, so if there are typos, I’m so sorry.

The sections I cover here are key terms, mythic literalism, deity work vs deity worship, FAQs and General Advice.

Some Key Terms

Hellenic Polytheism: Hellenic means Greek, and Polytheism means worshipping multiple gods. So, Hellenic Polytheism is the worship of the Greek Pantheon which is also referred to as the Theoi. The people who practice could be referred to as Hellenic Polytheists. Some also call themselves Hellenic Pagans, but not all people who practice Hellenic Polytheism consider themselves pagan.

Hellenistic: you may see the term ‘Hellenistic Polytheism’, but this is my PSA to ask people not to use that, as it’s incorrect. Hellenistic refers to a specific period of Andient Greece, from 323-32 BC, and your worship is almost definitely not specifically focused on that period. Additionally, here is a post by a Greek person on why ‘Hellenism’ and ‘hellenismos’ are disrespectful.

Ouranic: this is the term for the heavenly gods. Be aware that there is some overlap between Ouranic and Chthonic deities. Whether a deity is Ouranic or Chthonic will effect things like prayer position (palms up for Ouranic) and whether offerings can be eaten or drank (yes for Ouranic)

Chthonic: this is the term for the underworld gods. Be aware that there is some overlap between Ouranic and Chthonic deities. Whether a deity is Ouranic or Chthonic will effect things like prayer position (palms down for Chthonic) and whether offerings can be eaten or drank (no for Chthonic) side note - when it comes to hero worship, I personally treat them as if they’re chthonic.

Kharis: this means reciprocity, and also refers to the relationship formed between us and the gods. Arguably the most important aspect of Hellenic Polytheism is that when you ask something of a deity, you must give an offering in return. Size of what you’re asking for should correspond to size of the offering, or if you’ve given many little offerings without asking for anything you can use that as why you should be given the Big Thing.

Xenia: guest-friendship, hospitality. The idea that any stranger could be a God in disguise, so treat everyone respectfully. It’s an Ancient Greek social custom that a lot of Hellenic Polytheists see as important today. Simply put, in modern times this most often just means being kind to strangers. There’s a lot more to it than that though, so look here. Know that Xenia is a two-way thing, so you have to be generous to your guests but they must also respect your home.

Eusebeia: basically, piety. Respecting the Gods. This is really the only ‘rule’ of Hellenic polytheism. There’ll be different ideas of what is considered respectful, but as long as you have good intentions and don’t do anything you KNOW would be offensive, you’re okay. Don’t insult the gods (any of them), don’t ask for anything without offering something else, and don’t treat yourself as equal to or higher than the theoi.

Hubris: excessive pride or dangerous overconfidence, often the fatal flaw of a lot of Greek heroes in mythology. Specifically, this is when you act better than or equal to the gods. You are not.

Libations: a type of offering, in the form of a liquid. Usually poured on the ground but can be drank (unless it’s to a chthonic deity) if you’re a closeted Hellenic polytheist who can’t just pour some liquid on the floor every time you want to offer it. My advice for food offerings/libations to chthonic deities if you’re not openly a hellenist is to offer leftovers, rotting food, or something you otherwise know will go to waste.

Altar: traditionally a place used to put physical offerings and food offerings for deities. Some people have an altar to each deity, some people have one altar for all their deities. These can be as big or as small as you want. People may use shelves, drawers, boxes, windowsills, etc, and I don’t even use mine for food offerings, only for physical ones because I usually eat the food offering (I don’t like the idea of wasting food). My altars also just serve as a dedicated space for that deity in my life.

Hero worship: this is the worship of ‘heroes’ in Greek mythology, which includes literally any mortal. For example, I worship Odysseus of Ithaca, Penelope of Ithaca, Helen of Sparta, and Tiresias of Thebes. I’ve been asked a lot about how hero worship differs from deity worship, and you can find that answer here.

Devotee: there is a lot of disagreement on what the difference between a devotee and worshipper is, but for me, I’m devoted to Athena as I feel I have the closest bond with Her of all my deities and I honour Her the most. This partly comes from my feeling that She has been with me for much longer than I’ve been aware of Her presence, and that also so much of who I am and what I value comes under Her domains.

Patron: this basically means that if part of your identity comes under the domain of a deity, then that deity is your patron. There can be occupational patrons (like Hermes is the patron of merchants) or to do with things like gender (Hera is a patron for women. Yes this includes trans women, transphobes are not welcome here.) You can have more than one patron, and you don’t need to worship all of the deities who would be considered your patron.

Epithets: these are titles given to deities. There are two types - cult epithets, which describe the aspect of a deity you’re focusing on (like Athena Ageleia, meaning ‘Protector of the People’) since they have a lot of domains and it’s important in prayers to specify what you want. Then there’s poetic epithets, which are adjectives, often used to compliment a deity. I like using these to make my prayers seem more sophisticated to be honest (example: white-armed Hera)

Unverified Personal Gnosis: gnosis is spiritual knowledge. If it’s unverified, that means that it has no basis in historical sources as far as the person is aware, and they don’t know anybody else who has the same experience. You will often see this abbreviated as UPG. Personally, I think UPG is really valid, considering a lot of things are unknown to us due to the loss of sources overtime.

Shared Personal Gnosis: gnosis is spiritual knowledge. Like UPG, Shared Personal Gnosis (often abbreviated as SPG) doesn’t have any historical backing as far as the people who believe it are aware, but it is shared by multiple different people and therefore seen by some as more valid than UPG (though I’d argue that all SPG is UPG before you know that other people agree)

Verified Personal Gnosis: gnosis is spiritual knowledge. It being verified means that there are historical sources to back up the belief, and this is commonly abbreviated to VPG. You are more likely to come across the terms UPG than SPG or VPG, and most of what Helpol people on tumblr discuss is UPG, even if they don’t state that directly.

Reconstructionist: these are people who try to ‘reconstruct’ the ancient religion, recreating ancient rituals as best they can and doing things as close as they can get to how the ancient Greeks did based on our historical sources. An important note here is that we will never be able to do this perfectly and that’s okay. For example, I would hope none of us are making animal sacrifices.

Revivalist: these are people who try to recreate the ‘spirit’ of the religion, though not with the exact practices that the Ancient Greeks used. Revivalists are more concerned with the values and beliefs of the ancient religion than they necessarily are with how it was practiced. I personally feel like I fall somewhere between the two, but I also think both are really valid!

Mythic Literalism

Mythic Literalism is the idea that the stories we see in any mythology actually occurred. In Hellenic Polytheism, this is not how we tend to look at the Greek myths. And it’s not how the ancients saw them either.

Greek mythology has always been interpreted as symbolic. For example, Hades kidnapping Persephone is mostly accepted to be about mothers in Ancient Greece being separated from their daughters once they marry. It does not mean that Hades, the God, kidnapped Persephone, the Goddess, and that people who worship Hades are evil because Hades is a kidnapper. This myth can also be interpreted through the lens that death separates families.

This is important because the Gods all do things that are, by today’s standards, incredibly immoral - and a lot of them were even immoral in antiquity. It is important to not take the myths literally to avoid feelings of guilt over worshipping something horrific.

And yes, this applies to Zeus. He is not a rapist, He’s a male fertility god. In myths he does bad things because he represents kings and kings can abuse their power. Things like that.

But it’s still good to research the myths! It’s good to learn the ways in which these deities were understood and what their domains can represent. Myths also help us to feel more familiar with our deities. Additionally the myths tell us not to be hubristic, and things like the Iliad tell us about Oaths and Offerings and Xenia. These are important parts of helpol.

Deity Work vs Deity Worship

I’m going to preface this section by saying that I worship deities, I don’t work with them, so even though I’m doing research on this please take everything I say about deity work with a grain of salt and note that the rest of this post might apply more to worship, because that’s what I’m familiar with. Lastly, my intention here is not to place a value judgement on either type, I just want to try and make a full explanation for anyone out there looking for one, since I’ve found it to be kind of difficult to find.

From my understanding, deity work is common among witches, and usually involves asking a deity to help with your spells or other forms of magick. When you work with a deity, you are asking them to mentor you in a sense, and there’s often a specific goal in mind that they’re hoping to achieve with help of the deity. Additionally, because of that goal-oriented relationship, deity work has deadlines(?). Like, once you’ve achieved the goal you had, the deity will stop working with you

There are similarities, as both seem to involve reciprocity and offerings, and both involve cultivating a relationship with deities, even if the nature of that relationship and the reason for offering is different.

Deity worship doesn’t have a set end-goal. You CAN stop actively worshipping a deity, but this doesn’t usually come after a specific goal is achieved because there isn’t a goal in mind. Worship is more about honouring the deity. Khakis is built out of admiration, respect and love for the deity. This is why we pray, make offerings, etc. it’s all to honour the gods. We do ask for things in deity worship, but that’s not the entire point like it is for deity work.

FAQs

Do I need to be called to worship/work with a deity?

Nope! You are 100% allowed to reach out first. You can do that by praying or making an offering. Remember to research the deity first, so you know what epithets to use, know what symbols they’re associated with, have ideas for offerings, etc. Also, if a deity calls to you, you are not obligated to worship them. Acknowledge them and move on if you don’t have time, energy, or interest in worshipping them at that time.

Where can I find information on deities?

The main site that I think everyone uses is theoi.com, which has really in-depth pages on a lot of deities, with their myths, lists of epithets, family trees, etc. it’s a really useful resource!

Do I need an altar?

No. They’re nice to have but you don’t need one straight away. It took me two years of worshipping to get any altars, and even now I don’t really use them how you’re ‘supposed’ to.

Are there any sins in Hellenic Polytheism?

No, just don’t disrespect a god (don’t disrespect any of them, even the ones you don’t worship should be respected). Also don’t show hubris.

Deity X and Deity Y don’t get along, but I want to worship both, what do I do?

Disregard mythic literalism and remember this is a polytheistic religion. The gods know they are not the only god you will be worshipping, and they are chill with that. If you really want, you can separate their altars if you have an altar per deity, but it’s up to you completely.

Other General Advices

This post is a starting point, nothing here is very in-depth. Do more research if anything on here is still confusing to you. Feel free to ask people here on tumblr, I’m sure most of us would be happy to help.

Don’t believe everything you see on tiktok/tumblr. We’re all still learning, a lot of us are wrong about stuff. Do other research and let yourself form your own beliefs. As I’ve said, even parts of this post should be taken with a grain of salt. I’m no expert, I just want to try to help.

If you’re going to make your own posts about helpol stuff, advice I’ve seen before that really stuck with me is ‘keep some things scared’. You don’t have to post everything. I, at the moment, don’t post my prayers or photos of my altars. Those things are what I keep scared, you should have your own things. They don’t have to be the same as mine.

You have nothing to be afraid of. The gods can be intimidating when you’re starting out, but they know we don’t have as much readily available information about this stuff as the ancient greeks did. They also know you’re new, and they will be patient with you. Don’t be scared.

You can offer anything. Digital offerings are as valid as physical offerings. Devotional acts are valid too.

Know that you will never be done learning. Accept this and commit to trying to learn anyway.

Know how to tell signs from the gods apart from just General Happenings of the world. Here is a good post on that. I have a series on my blog tagged #signs from deities, to show the kinds of things I personally recognise to be signs and to show how frequently/infrequently those can occur. I would suggest keeping your own record of those, whether or not you share it is up to you. The reason is to reflect on your journey and, if you ever doubt your gods, you can look at those lists to remind yourself of how they’ve been there for you previously.

Doubt is healthy, it’s okay to doubt things. Don’t feel bad for this, the gods understand. Let yourself question everything you feel the need to question.

Similarly, anger is healthy. It’s okay to be angry at the gods, but don’t disrespect them because you’re upset. Handle your anger well. You won’t get punished for being upset.

The Hellenic Gods aren’t generally believed to be all-knowing, however it is believed that they can hear us when we call their names, which is why prayers start with invocation of a deity’s name and an epithet.

#hellenic polytheism #hellenism #hellenic deity worship #theoi #hero worship #deity work #hellenic paganism #kharis #baby hellenic polytheist #beginner’s guide to helpol #greek polytheism #polytheist #mythic literalism #hellenismos #resources

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months ago

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AITA patch notes: rephrased the submissions I will reject/will probably reject sections of the FAQ

The only kinds of submissions I will 100% reject are as follows:

Posts that are not about an action you have taken, or are planning to take. We judge actions here, not thoughts, not emotions, not opinions. WIBTA (would I be the asshole) posts are fine, but please make sure your thesis question centers on an action.

Posts where the submitter does not think they are the asshole and has no compelling reason someone else thinks they are, and just wants to vent about someone who was an asshole to them

Posts that are unnecessarily graphic about traumatic events

Posts asking “aita for telling on my abuser?” You are not, cannot be, and will not ever be the asshole for telling someone you trust about your abuser. This is an objective and unchanging truth.

Arguments about a post. Take it to the notes! I will not be moderating your bickering through my inbox!

Submissions I will probably reject:

“WIBTA for ghosting/cutting off/ignoring someone for…” This is usually not an “am I the asshole,” but an “is someone else who isn’t me the asshole,” and as such not under the purview of this blog. If you did something that gives a compelling reason you might be the asshole in the situation unrelated to the ghosting, maybe.

“AITA for identifying as [x]?” The position of this blog wrt gender is You Can Do Whatever You Want Forever. Identify however you like, with whatever labels or not-labels or pronouns or descriptors you like, you are not the asshole. I decree this by the authority vested in me by the mandate of Heaven. This includes “WIBTA for transitioning;” I unilaterally declare you NTA.

Stories that happened when you were a small child that still haunt you years later. Before a certain age, you don’t really have life experience or, in the case of very small children, even full sapience. There’s only so much of an asshole you can be, and it kinda sucks to be a bunch of primarily adults passing judgment on a toddler.

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konigbabe · 2 years ago

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Leon S. Kennedy headcanons

Random headcanons of Leon S. Kennedy that's been stuck in my head for what feels like forever. There's a small NSFW section under the divider 18+.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x gn!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags/warnings: fluff; established relationship; smut; oral sex; gender-neutral reader; no y/n

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3

He loves kissing.

This man is so touch-starved that kissing is sacred to him. He loves kissing; lives for it – but only with the right person. Someone who holds his heart in their hand. Soft kisses, unhurried and so indulgent. Leon’s kisses are a devotion of their own; they don’t necessarily lead to something more. He just enjoys the feeling of your lips on his. Knows when to add the right pressure, when and how to use his tongue…

He’s also a really, really good kisser (don’t fight me on this); loves to bite your lip as well.

His love language is physical touch.

(–or acts of service.)

Anyway; Leon adores physical touch whether it's inside or outside the safety of your shared space. If you join him on missions, you’ll always find him close – his hand brushing yours, palm on your back guiding you forward, making sure you're always within his line of sight. And if you ever get hurt, his hands gently grasp your body, checking to make sure you're okay.

At home, he just loves to touch you randomly – kiss on your temple carrying multiple meanings (‘thank you’, ‘you’re welcome’, ‘I love you’, ‘good morning’ and so on), arms sneaking around you to enclose in a bear hug. Or having his exhausted body to just lay on top of you, using you as his own personal pillow…

He struggles with the L word.

The words “I love you” lingered in the back of Leon’s throat for a long time; not because he wasn’t sure of it but because once spoken, they become real and tangible. Acknowledged. Something he can’t take back.

He secretly enjoys cooking and has a few signature dishes that he’s really proud of.

Leon isn’t really a chef. Often opting for rather simple meals but even those bring him joy. Solace lies in the simplicity of it all. As a man who has had little control in his life since childhood, the act of cooking provides a sense of control and satisfaction that he rarely experiences elsewhere; having his own space, doing something so insignificant that it becomes significant in its own way.

He’s definitely someone who would say something along the lines “Made with love, not skill.”

He’s a workaholic.

Leon cares about you; loves you. There’s no lie in the fact that he wants to spend every second possible with you. Every fibre of his being yearns to be close to you, to protect you from harm. However, as a seasoned agent, adrenaline courses through his veins. It’s a part of him, as natural as breathing. He craves the thrill of danger, the rush of a mission, even though it tears him away from you. Leon’s already learned to accept that his calling for epinephrine is as much a part of his as his love for you.

He has a bit of a sweet tooth and loves all kinds of desserts.

Leon's sweet tooth is undeniable. He simply cannot resist the allure of sugary treats, and desserts hold a special place in his heart. From gooey chocolate cakes to creamy fruit tarts, he loves them all. He is not shy about indulging in his favorite treats, often having multiple servings or even ordering dessert before his meal.

He’s a romantic at heart.

Love letters that tug at your heartstrings, make you feel as if he’s by your side instead of fighting the infected and all the bad guys that team up on him. Testaments of his affection towards you. Morning messages a gentle reminder that he’s still here for you, whenever you need him. He believes that every moment in a relationship should be cherished, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, and he relishes in each one spent with you.

He let’s you braid his hair.

(He’s blond; I stand firmly by his game's looks.)

Sitting on the carpet, back comfortably resting against the sofa cushions as you throw your legs over his broad shoulders, feeling the taunt muscle underneath your thighs. Letting out soft sighs of contentment as you gently thread your fingers through the silky hair; braiding the sides or simply brushing it clean. His fingers wrapped around your ankle, drawing lazy shapes over the thin skin there while enjoying the tender scrape of your fingernails against his scalp.

He's socially awkward.

Outside the people that know him or the people he's forced into close proximity with (*cough* Luis *cough*), Leon is not a social butterfly. Not big on conversations, rather short and snappy answers. Oftentimes at a loss for words. Socializing exhausts him. His desire lies to be left alone; or with one person at a time but it has to be someone he's already familiar with.

He loves cuddling more than sex.

Don’t be fooled, Leon’s definitely sex-crazed around you. Loves to be buried deep inside you; feel your warmth, the velvety squeeze when his cock hits that sweet spot inside – but cuddling makes him happier. It’s his way to show you how devoted he is to you. That feeling of emotional security provided by your cuddles gives him pleasure far greater than the way your body responds to his cock.

He’s a switch.

Leon’s a curious creature – relishing in both submission and domination; intrigued by the duality of power exchange. While the daddy/mommy kink doesn't quite capture his attention, that doesn't mean he can't submit to your every whim, yearning to appease your deepest desires. The mood of the moment guides his actions, emotions dictating the course.

Leon’s a foreplay master and a teaser.

Absolutely addicted to the way your body reacts to his touches, to his kisses. Some days, he’s even capable of making the foreplay longer than the actual sex; having you writhing, begging with teary eyes to finally put his cock inside you. Leon’s certainly going to tease every cell in your body, setting it on fire, letting it burn until you’re nothing but a mere ember.

He loves oral.

Receiving or giving — he doesn’t really hold a preference. It’s not important whether he’s the one on his knees or you; Leon is someone who finds his own pleasure deep within yours, just feeling you react to his tongue, to his fingers. This goes the other way around, having your lips around his cock, feeling the tightness of your throat…makes him a mess.

He’s an ass man.

Leon can't help but love ass in every way imaginable. He runs his hands over the supple globes of your flesh, his teeth sinking into the softness. Pressed tightly against him, you can feel his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants, yearning to be set free. He stares at it, touches it, spanks it, and bites it every chance he gets. It's predictable that he'll have you in various positions, pounding away while admiring your delicious curves - doggy, reverse cowgirl, and so much more.

He’s loud.

(– and he moans.)

There’s no denying that Leon will grunt, growl, groan, whimper and moan during the whole night. Very expressive nature. He’s not really extremely loud to the point someone might hear you through the walls; yet the room is always filled with the sounds of his own pleasure, only adding to that fire deep inside you.

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cantstoptheimagines · 1 year ago

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Discovering Their Love Language

Summary — Preferences for Monkey D. Luffy, Nami, Roronoa Zoro, Usopp, and Vinsmoke Sanji from One Piece!

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Fluff because the Straw Hats make my heart race!

Notes ➳ Word Count is 596. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).

monkey d. luffy

luffy is all touch. his hands are big and warm as he presses you into his side. with one on his hip, the other slips beneath your shirt and runs over your lower back. it’s subconscious, the way it splays over your skin, his fingers tracing up and down your spine. he doesn’t even notice the small smile on your face since he’s too busy talking to zoro and sanji. he’s especially soft when it’s late at night. he comes into his room to find you already half-sleep, tangled up in his sheets. he crawls in next you and finds himself tucking his dark curls beneath your chin. he traces your collarbone, muttering sweet nothings and occasionally tilting his head in order to plant open-mouthed kisses against your exposed neck. he nuzzles into you, sighing softly at the feeling of your warm skin against his. he can’t help wanting to be as close to you as possible.

nami

she wants nothing more than words of affirmation. after a life of being held captive by arlong’s crew without an ounce of love, she needs lots of reassurance that you care for her. she especially loves it when you wrap your arms around her from behind as the two of you overlook the bobbing waves. swaying from side to side, you mutter an endless stream of compliments, adorations, and praises. nami tightly grips your hands, which are resting upon her stomach, and closes her eyes in response, content to listen to your voice forever.

roronoa zoro

zoro is incredibly reserved, so he’s all about acts of service. he’ll bring you a plate when it’s time for dinner or make sure your laundry is folded and tucked away before you can worry about it. if it’s your turn to keep watch, he’ll take your place, forcing you to get a good night’s sleep instead. he thinks of nothing of it. each of these little tasks, along with the others he’s constantly doing for you, have merely become another part of his routine. if you decide to be with zoro for the long haul, expect to be taken care of.

usopp

he loves quality time. while the others are busy gathering supplies during a quick stop at a nearby harbor, you and usopp have a tendency to slip away. you’ll spend the day together, exploring every part of the new island. the two of you only return to the ship once night has fallen, narrowly avoiding a proper scolding from nami and zoro for always disappearing. usopp’s favorite moments with you, however, always happen the quiet privacy of your shared room. away from prying eyes, you’re both tucked beneath a blanket, sharing secrets and muffled laughs as you reminisce about your adventures.

vinsmoke sanji

sanji’s prides himself on being a giver. he may be a total flirt, but he’s truly a soft-hearted fool for you deep down. if you’re in a relationship with sanji, prepare to be spoiled. if you see a piece of clothing you like, it’s in your room later that night. he’s constantly bringing you the native flowers of whatever island the crew decided to visit. and don’t even get him started when it comes to your birthday! his favorite thing to give you, however, is food, being the talented chef that he is. after a while, you may gain a bit of weight from all the delicious meals he provides and there’s no hiding the smile that grows on his face whenever you tell him. after all, how could he not be happy about that? he has more of you to love!

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regulusrules · 8 months ago

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MASTERLIST + FAQ

— FICS IN PROGRESS

My breaths are run by your compass [T] [50K+] (bbc merlin) — julius caesar AU. post-dotd, golden age. Merlin stabs Arthur but it’s all Arthur’s fault.

— COMPLETED FICS

I will turn your fear into a handful of dust [G] [1K] (bbc merlin) — Growing old together fic. 5 times Arthur asks Merlin, “Do you fear me?”

My heart is readily yours [T] [11.7K] (bbc merlin) — s05e03 the death song of uther pendragon divergence. Ghost!Uther stabs Merlin in his heart, and Merlin collapses in Arthur’s arms. (my forever favourite creation)

To you I swear my solemn oaths [G] [3.8K] (bbc merlin) — s04e03 the wicked day divergence. magic reveal right before Arthur’s coronation.

In the Air We Breathed [G] [1K] (the last hours) — Will’s POV of James’s wedding while Jem was playing the violin.

Veiled Emotions [T] [50K] (harry potter) — separate one-shots of the marauders era, mainly Sirius and Regulus-centric. You can also find them posted separately here.

— MERLIN FIC RECS

I literally live to recommend the beautiful works of my fellow writers. It’s mostly Merlin fics, but sometimes you will find other fandoms. You can either follow my blog or go directly to this tag → #regulusrules recs

— METAS

If you’re new here, first thing, welcome! You’ll find me rambling 99% of the time about scenes, tropes and general fandom things. You can find all these in this tag → #regulusrules metas

— ASKS

I’m VERY open to asks! I love tumblr moots. Find all rambles, ask games, metas about my fics, or just random asks in this tag → #regulusrules answers

— FAQ

Do you accept fanart for your fics?

Yes! Fanarts are more than welcome. I will even feature them inside my fics. And if you want to create a cover/specific fanart for any fic, you can contact me through asks or messages and I’ll provide you with extra information about my personal reflection on it.

Can I add your fic on another platform?

No. If I wanted to, I would have. Do not add my works to any website. (Wattpad, Goodreads, Storygraph, etc.)

Do you accept translations for your fics?

Yes. Translations are more than welcome, but must remain on AO3. Also, apparently this needs to be said now, but I only accept human-made translations. Do not feed my work into AI machines to translate them. I do not approve of ANY use of AI in connection with my writing.

Can I download/bind your fics?

It’s up to you, but preferably please no. I don’t want these fics to be everywhere, but I can’t totally refuse because I understand the value of these fics to you. However, if you are binding them, 1. let me know and 2. bind them only for yourself. I do not allow any monetary profiting of my work. If you find someone selling my fics, please contact me.

Can I follow you if I’m one or any of the following: antisemitic, islamophobic, zionist, jkr-supporter, genocide-approver, racist, sexist, homophobic, disrespectful-of-any-human-being-for-any-reason?

No.

Can I call you by your name? And what pronouns do I address you with?

Yes, you can call me LJ! My pronouns are she/her. I’m more than happy to get to know my readers and fellow writers, so feel free to swoop in and contact me anytime.

welcome to the wonderworld of regulusrules✨

#masterlist #oh lord FINALLY she did it #regulusrules #fanfics #reblog #fandom #fanfic recs #asks #metas #ao3 #faq post #intro post #get to know me #regulusrules fics #regulusrules recs #pinned post

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fourormore · 1 month ago

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[Image description: A polyam flag with the words “four or more bingo” on it. End description.]

FOUR OR MORE 2024 BINGO

AO3 COLLECTION | SQUIDGEWORLD COLLECTION

You thought I would stop at a ficathon? Hell no, I have a vision: a world where we can read about polycules and complicated relationships with four or more people until our eyes hurt and our hearts can't take it anymore.

Let me introduce to you: the 2024 Four or More Bingo!

This is a low-stakes, personal challenge. There's no penalty for not finishing or running late.

Cards will be given from October 20th to December 31st. Fills can be posted to AO3, SQWA or tumblr forever.

GUIDELINES

Any medium! Any rating! As long as your work focuses on a relationship with 4 or more people, it's allowed!

All works must be your own and not previously posted. AI generated works will be deleted from the collections.

You may combine these with other events, as long as the other event allows it (examples are @polyamships ' polyartober, lyricaltitles ' bingo, etc)

Small fandoms welcome!

Don't forget to comply with the community guidelines.

MEDIUM SPECIFIC GUIDELINES

Minimum wordcount for fics is 100 words. There is no maximum

Minimum for art is a sketch on unlined paper (figure sticks allowed!). There is no limit to the quality or effort you want to put in your fills.

Minimum for moodboards is a 3x3 grid (9 images individually or edited in one image). Maximum is given by the place where you decide to post. On tumblr, the maximum is 20 images, but on AO3, you're free!

Minimum for podfic is a 100-word fic. There is no restriction on maximum length or effects.

Minimum for fanvids is 30 seconds. There is no maximum.

Other mediums don't have a minimum. Do you want to make an in-universe magazine for your ship? A cross stich pattern? A sculpture? Go ahead and do it! I look forward to all the things you can create.

Prompts, FAQ and more below the cut!

PROMPTS

The following are the prompts that the bingo card will be generated from. Send us an ask if you want a card, and if you want any prompts specifically excluded from it (you can exclude up to 5 prompts). Feel free to request a new card at any time through December 2024, even if you've already received one. If these prompts seem familiar, it's because most of them come from the ficathon! I've chosen some of the most frequent prompts + some new prompts for added spice.

Hide and seek

Growing old together

Getting high together

Moving in together

"It's complicated"

Long distance

Going to a music event together

Medical AU

1920s AU

1950s AU

1980s AU

Y2K AU

Apocalypse AU

Cyberpunk AU

Meeting the parents

"Because I'm heartbroken"

Kink negotiation

Didn't know they were dating

Truth or dare

Skinny-dipping

Aromantic character

Coffee date

Pacific Rim AU

Gamer AU

Game night becomes an orgy

Stargazing

Trust issues

"My turn"

Omegaverse AU

Sedoretu

Sharing a bed

Wedding

Introspection

Dirty talk

Birthday sex

Coming home

Case fic

Morning after

"Don't look at me, this wasn't my idea"

Royalty AU

Combat training

Dancing

Confessions

Experimenting

Redemption

"Let me/us help"

Enemies to lovers

Friends to lovers

"Why me?"

Something made them do it (sex pollen, fuck water, in heat, etc)

Outsider POV

Wearing each others' clothes

Collection

A fandom you haven't written before

A fandom with canon set before the 20th century

A fandom that's 10+ years old

A fandom that's 20+ years old

A polycule with 5 people

A polycule with 8 people

A polycule with 10+ people FAQ

Q: So how do I get a card? A: Send us an ask, preferrably off anon, but if you prefer to remain anon, leave an emoji to identify you by.

Q: How many fics do I need to write? A: For a bingo, 5 prompts in a line (horizontal, vertical, or diagonal). You can even go for a blackout (all 25 prompts). Q: Why isn't X allowed? A: Just because.

Q: I don’t have a Dreamwidth account. Can I join? A: Of course! You don’t even need an AO3 account if you wish to post only on tumblr.

Q: My work contains [INSERT WARNING HERE]. Can I still participate? A: Yes. This is a CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) space.

Q: I don’t want to see [X] content, can you please remove it? A: No. The only content that will be removed will be that that does not comply with the rules.

COMPLETION POSTS

So, you have a bingo (or a blackout!), what now? Well, to acknowledge the fact that you spent time and effort on at least 5 fics, we'll be receiving bragging posts (also known as completion posts) where you can link all of your fills at once. Please follow this format. You may post on your own blog and @ us, tag #fourormore or submit it to the blog.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send a message.

Have fun and bon appetit!

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yamujiburo · 9 months ago

Note

Have you done anything with the very arguably cannon fact that Delia dated Giovanni? It's talked about the the live show from 2000 so It's not expressly cannon but its never been directly refuted. Interesting that Jesse would leave team rocket and find the only person to have broken up with her former leader.

It's in my FAQ and the FAQ section of my pinned masterpost

#ask yam

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folliesoftheforest · 3 months ago

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The Follies of the Forest

What is Follies of the Forest?

Follies of the Forest is an original collection of stories and art by your's truly! It's really just alot of self indulgent storytelling that kinda grew into its own beast (pun ENTIRELY intended XD)

I've added some basic info and FAQs below!

Who are the characters in the icon?

Glad you asked! I'll give a basic rundown of the three main players in this little odyssey, as well as basic gist of the story 😌

The King (He/They/It): The King is an old forest fae that had long since died, and was laid to rest in the remains of their forest dwelling, that is, until a certain someone somehow stumbled onto their resting site...

Sebastian Damascus "SD" Braddock (He/Him): A mythology professor and long time friend/housemate to Shop. He stumbles onto an uncanny section of the woods one day while gathering data and samples for class, awakening something that would change his life forever...

Shop (She/Her/They): A freelancer and long time friend/housemate to SD. She's mostly along for the ride, easy going yet brash, she sticks to SD's side like glue as the two try to figure out just what in the world is going on...

Ok, so what's the setting? Why does it feel like there are some details missing?

So that's where things get a little interesting, in my opinion at least. My writing style focuses way more on character interactions, rather than world building, so there are bound to be inconsistencies or plot holes or just, missing pieces in general. That's not to say that there's no world building at all! But there is a level of suspension of disbelief that may be needed to enjoy what I write ^^' I'm always improving, so I hope you can enjoy this all the same!

Are there any content warnings I should be aware of before reading?

Well, as with anything, there will always be something or another that one person might like that another person might not, but I will try to give warnings prior to each story, but overall, there is alot of peril and fear in a bunch of the stories, but nothing too extreme (which again, is a subjective thing)

Can I send in asks/submissions?

Absolutely!! I love getting feedback on my little passion project! If anything, it would only help push me to continue to share more and more!

#pinned post #intro post #introduction #original character #original story #my art #digital art #sd #shop #the king #im excited to start sharing!#ill probably try to add more as time goes on #idk we'll see #guess it depends on what happens lol

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starryevermore · 2 months ago

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my friends call me a loser (dumb love 2) ✧ ruhn danaan

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: ruhn danaan x fem!reader

summary: ruhn wanted forever with you, but he got in his head and fucked it all up.

word count: 1,882

warnings?: angst city bitch, not proofread

PART ONE

Ruhn Danaan was, in a word, a massive fucking idiot, and Bryce had made it her mission to never let him forget it.

“What the hell do you mean that you said it was casual between you two?!” she shouted when she found out. Ruhn had holed himself up in his room, blowing through his supply of mirthroot in a vain attempt to dull the pain. But Bryce wasn’t going to let him be miserable without giving him a piece of her mind. “She fucking adored you, and I thought you did too! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

All Ruhn could manage was another long drag of his joint. Bryce snatched it out of his hands and set it in the ashtray on his nightstand. The most Ruhn could manage for a reaction was a groan and a half-assed attempt to snatch it back from her.

“Seriously Ruhn, what the fuck!?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he did it. All Ruhn had to say was “fuck off” or, even better, that he truly liked you and he was fucking terrified of that, but all he could think to say was that it meant nothing even when it meant everything. Worse, he tried to prove to himself that he wasn’t emotionally attached to you.

It failed miserably, if anyone was wondering. When he sauntered up to the faun across the bar, all of his usual lines lacked any luster. They didn’t feel right when it wasn’t you he was saying them to. And when the faun suggested they go to her place, Ruhn was already searching for any way to get out of it. He was relieved when he saw Bryce and Hunt making their way to the bar, and he excused himself with hardly a word to the faun.

Ruhn had been delighted to hear that Bryce and Hunt had ran into you, and for Declan to confirm he saw you. He was ready to go find you, to finally have a nice evening. When Hunt said that you were actually on your way out, Ruhn couldn’t help but feel disappointed. And then a worse thought struck him—what if you had seen him with the faun? No, surely not. You weren’t the most confrontational person he knew, but you weren’t the type of person to stand for that sort of disrespect. If you had seen him, you would have said something. Besides, Bryce didn’t say anything that would indicate you were upset. Declan was oddly silent, but he also didn’t speak to you. Everything was fine. He hoped.

Yet when he went home, earlier than everyone else because he was most certainly not having a good time, he was surprised to find his room noticeably empty of anything belonging to you. The only thing that remained was your faintly fresh scent—like you had just been there. When he asked Flynn, he wanted to wring his friend’s neck for letting you walk off like that. Yes, you had seemed fine. Yes, you had been joking around with him. But no one, no one, ever just packed up all of their stuff and everything be a-okay.

Ruhn didn’t want to think about how many traffic violations he committed as he sped over to your apartment. All that he could focus on was seeing you, on hearing your voice, on making sure everything was still good. He never felt like a bigger idiot than when you forced him out, told him to lose your number, and cried on the other side of the door. Ruhn wasn’t sure how long he stood there, waiting for you to come out and say this was all a big joke or something, but he was gone before the sun came up.

Bryce’s hand balled up into a fist. “Fucking say something!” she snapped.

He wished she would just hit him and get it over with.

“Told you he’s like a ghost,” Declan said from the door, leaning against the threshold, arms crossed over his chest.

“Let him fucking rot,” Bryce said and stormed out. Declan followed, shutting the door behind him.

Ruhn picked the joint back up, shut his eyes, and pretended that you were lying beside him still.

Ruhn stood outside of the bookstore you worked at. He had no reason to be there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever picked up a book. But you were inside, and he needed to see you just once. Needed to know that you were okay. Or, at least, as okay as you could be. Besides, it was almost the end of your shift, and someone should make sure you got home safe.

He hadn’t been around the store much before. Only really knew where it was because he picked you up there once before taking you to dinner with Bryce and Hunt. A double date, Bryce had insisted on it. She wanted to know what poor sucker had him so smitten. When Ruhn saw how well you meshed in with his life, it made him want to run for the hills and it made him want to ask you to marry him on the spot. You made his head spin. Ruhn was never sure how to make heads or tails of anything when you were involved.

And then you were coming around more often. You met Declan and Flynn. You went to their parties, outdrank all of them with ridiculous ease. It felt like you were always meant to be there. Like there was a hole in his life that he hadn’t realized existed until you were making him feel whole again.

Maybe that was what scared him. Ruhn wasn’t used to this kind of unfiltered, pure love. He never had a real relationship before. Any he had before were for the sole purpose of pissing his father off. He never cared about them, not really. But you? You made him feel the warm fuzzies the people in those shitty romance novels feel. When a person is unused to that sort of thing, it’s easy to feel ill about it. It was even easier to ruin it all before he got hurt.

He watched you through the window, chatting with a customer. You’ve been talking to them a while, actually. They’re a shifter he’s seen around before. Ruhn doesn’t know much, but he doesn’t like the way they’re leaning in across the counter, laughing at everything you say. What do they know about your jokes? They probably don’t even understand the jokes. What a fucking poser.

But then you’re touching their arm as you walk around the counter. They’re helping you with closing the store. Their hand is on the small of your back as you twist the key in the lock. Ruhn felt sick as you climbed in their car and sped down the road.

He vomited in a nearby trash can. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth and stumbled to the White Raven. Ordered shot after shot after shot, trying to burn that image out of his mind.

The bartender had to call Declan and Flynn to get him out.

It was months before Ruhn was able to not drink himself half to death—which, for a fae, is an alarming amount of alcohol. He should count himself lucky that fae have higher healing abilities, or else his poor liver would be wrecked beyond repair. Hel, he would probably still be at home if it weren’t for everyone giving him shit for it. Let him rot, they said, but when he tried, it was suddenly a fucking problem. It was well-meaning, he thinks, but still. It’s the principal of the thing.

Still, he frequented the White Raven somehow more than he ever did before. Sometimes he would catch glimpses of you with that stupid shifter. Sometimes he would drink just enough that he could delude himself into thinking you were sitting beside him, tracing your fingernail along the swirls of his tattoos, head leaned against his shoulder. One of his friends would drag him away before he could fall too deep into the fantasy.

None of them were here tonight, though. So there was no one to stop him from ordering more shots than he should as he watched you dance with that damned shifter.

Ruhn would never wish you unhappiness, but…Was it a bad thing to wish that you didn’t move on so fast? An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut. What right did he have to be upset? The only reason you were with that shifter was because he fucked everything up. If Ruhn had just kept his godsdamned mouth shut, it could have been him you were dancing with right now. But no, he just had to shove his whole foot into his mouth.

The song ended and faded into another. You pulled away from the shifter, heading in the direction of the restrooms. The shifter slid up to the bar, eying Ruhn, before directing his attention to the bartender and ordered a couple drinks. What an idiot. They couldn’t even order your favorite drink. What did you see in them?

He had no right to think little of the shifter, though. He gave that up. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing their attention. “Be good to her,” Ruhn said, nodding in the direction you had gone.

The shifter raised a brow. “You a friend or something?”

“Or something,” Ruhn said. “She has a good heart. Don’t break it.”

They shrugged, taking a long sip of their drink. “Eh, don’t see it getting far enough to break hearts.”

Ruhn’s heart stopped. No. It wasn’t cool when he did it—this asshole was not allowed to do the same thing to you. “Excuse me?”

“It’s nothing serious, you know? Just testing the waters.”

Ruhn’s fist swung before he could stop it. The crack of the shifter’s jaw was satisfying enough that he landed a few more punches in before they started fighting back. Ruhn was knocked into the bar, but he didn’t let that stop him. He charged at the shifter, knocked him to the ground. He blacked out from the rage—only became aware when a couple bouncers pulled him off the shifter and dragged him a few feet away.

He shook them off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” he growled.

The bouncers followed him as he pushed through the crowd that formed. But he couldn’t stop himself from stomping the heel of his boot on the shifter’s nose as he passed. The bouncers yanked him away again.

“Oops, didn’t see him there.”

As the bouncers dragged him out, he caught a familiar eye in the crowd. You stared at him, eyes wide and jaw open, horrified at the display of violence before you. The bouncers dragged him straight passed you, and he could very nearly hear what you were going to say. An admonishment for fighting in public, a good tongue lashing for fighting your…whatever that shifter was.

But he beat you to the punch. “You deserve better than that lowlife,” he said.

You couldn’t let him have the final word.

“What, like you know what’s good for me?”

And somehow that hurt more than any hit that piece of shit shifter could land on him.