#shelter indigo

[teathattast]

my heart the red sun your heart the moon clouded

i could go crazy on a night like tonight

when summer's beginning to give up her fight

and every thought's a possibility and voices are heard

but nothing is seen

why do you spend this time with me?

may be an equal mystery

[yuripoll]

S3 LOSERS ROUND 2

NOTE: Handsome Girl & Sheltered Girl contains suggestive scenes, as well as some light mistaken-identity consent(?) issues and cisnormative ideas. Indigo Blue is about infidelity, and additionally contains explicit sexual content.

[deakyjoe]

Absolution

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader (afab, fem)

Category: smut, sex pollen

Summary: Obi-Wan really should have let his curiosity go and avoided that flower.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), sex pollen, slight dubcon (because of sex pollen but all consensual), unprotected p in v sex, master kink, slight sub!obi-wan, slight dom!reader, reader talks obi-wan through it basically, suggestions of inappropriate use of a lightsaber, virgin!obi-wan, religious guilt, hints of reader’s past feelings, reader kind of ignores some Jedi rules, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a lot of talks of fluids I feel, slight angst I guess, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Happy May the Fourth! Happy Star Wars Day! Wrote an Obi-Wan fic last year so thought I’d keep up the tradition this year as well. It’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, certainly not the best smut, but I did end up rushing it a little to get it posted today so… sorry! This is for @lightwxlker who I told about this over lunch at uni <3 (feel free to read but please never look me in the eye again if you do). Can’t wait to see you later to see The Phantom Menace!!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Absolution:

(Noun)

Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.

Declaration that a person’s sins have been forgiven.

It felt like you'd been trekking through the dense forest for days. Really, it had only been a few hours. But with no end in sight, and Obi-Wan's continuous promise of almost there, you were convinced that the two of you had been lost for about a week.

The Jedi had told you that you were in search of a hidden community that had answers to some questions that the Council had about... something. You didn't know. You rarely paid attention when Obi-Wan explained these things. As much as you respected him, these briefings started to sound the same after a while. It was the thing he reprimanded you for most often.

"Can we-" You wheezed. "Can we stop for just a minute?"

"Soon." He called over his shoulder simply, pushing aside a leafy branch for the both of you to pass through.

You considered pushing him over, tripping him up maybe, and even just stabbing him with your lightsaber. Just to have a break for a moment. It was unclear how he managed to walk through dense forest for hours on end without even a hint of fatigue peeking through. You envied him for it.

Luckily, your prayers were answered when a clearing appeared. It was small, sheltered by the canopy of trees above you, but it was a good place to stop. You didn't even have to say the word, Obi-Wan already knew what you wanted.

"Fine, rest here for a moment." He sighed, pointing at a rock.

You collapsed quickly, thankful for the brief reprieve, and watched as the Jedi made a slow circle around the clearing. He was inspecting every little thing there was to see. If there was one thing you had in common with the man, it was your curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

"Rather fascinating." He mumbled to himself, ignoring the burning of your stare on his back as he moved, poking at a fungus of some kind with the tip of his finger.

"Be careful. It might be poisonous." You warned, stretching out your legs in front of you.

"I know my living organisms." He replied steadily, pulling up and moving on to the next one.

It was a flower. Rather large, with pinkish petals and an indigo centre extending on from a bright green stem. It looked vaguely familiar to you. You racked your brain, thinking about the botany books you'd spent your spare time reading when Obi-Wan had insisted that you should know more about the planets you were constantly visiting.

Nothing was coming to you. Maybe you hadn't seen it in one of those books. Your head tilted as you watched the Jedi stroke gently at the petals with the backs of his fingers, mumbling about how it felt soft, and something came back to you when the flower seemed to move of its own accord.

"Get back." You shot up from the rock you were previously sitting on and took a quick step towards him.

"It's fine." He insisted, not looking at you - too entranced by the flower as he continued to caress the petals. He didn't know this one. He found it intriguing.

You remembered where you'd seen the flower before. A book hidden deep in the archives, where you ventured when you knew no one was looking, part of a collection of things that the Jedi were not supposed to have interest in.

Your pace picked up as the flower curled in on itself, the fleeting look of disappoint clear on Obi-Wan's face, reaching for his shoulder to wrench him back.

"No! Obi-Wan, stop!"

But it was too late.

As you made contact with his robes to pull him away, the flower blossomed open. A bright cloud of purple pollen burst out and coated the two of you, settling itself over your skin and infiltrating your lungs, and therefore your blood stream, as you breathed it in.

You coughed, scrubbing at yourself to try and get it off. But you knew you were past that.

The Jedi turned to you, surprised to see the panic in your eyes. "It's just flower pollen, nothing a little water won't wash away."

Your voice was shaky as you spoke. "What have you done?"

He frowned and glanced back at the plant. It wasn't one he recognised, granted, but he also hadn't been warned of anything dangerous in this area. So he really wasn't concerned. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"It's a flos venerem." You whispered. "We need to find shelter."

As you turned around in a slow circle, trying to decide which way you were more likely to find somewhere to figure everything out, Obi-Wan watched you with a curious gaze.

"And what is a flos venerem?"

You scoffed over your shoulder at him. "Do you ever read?"

You knew it was an unfair question considering the place you'd read about the flower wasn't one he, or any other Jedi, frequented but you were angry and frightened. Angry at him for not listening to your warnings. And frightened for yourself since you knew what the flower was going to do to you.

He looked on as you closed your eyes, feeling out with the Force. "Now is not the time to insult me. Tell me."

You whirled on him. "It's an aphrodisiac. A powerful one. And if we don't find shelter soon then you're going to be doing some strange things to these trees."

Obi-Wan frowned, puzzled by what you were saying. "Is there a cure?"

You laughed humourlessly, turning away from him again. "Is there a cure? Is there a cure, he asks. Ha!"

"An antidote?"

"No, there's no antidote." You hissed.

The effects of the pollen were already weighing on you. You imagined Obi-Wan was also feeling something as well, just unaware of it. At least you knew what you were supposed to be feeling. The Jedi Knight had no idea.

Your mouth felt dry, like sand on your tongue, and your skin was hot to the touch. A dull headache was forming at the base of your skull too and you knew these sensations would only get worse if you didn't do what the flower wanted you to. There really was only one way to fix it. But you couldn't find it in yourself to tell your companion the solution. You were ignoring the heavy feeling in the base of your abdomen.

Sensing your apprehension wasn't overstated, Obi-Wan pointed back in the direction you'd come from. "There was a cave a little while ago. We can go there and you can tell me more about this... aphrodisiac flower."

You only nodded, lacking the strength to tell him that you wouldn't be able to listen to his voice out of fear of what bodily responses that would cause in you. Your existing attraction to Obi-Wan would only be increased by the influence of the plant. And you were scared what you'd do, or what you'd suggest, to ease the feelings.

You started marching in the direction the two of you had come from, jumping away from Obi-Wan as he fell into step beside you and his shoulder brushed yours.

"Keep- keep your distance for a while." You muttered, pushing away the lick of heat that had shot through you at his proximity.

He frowned back at you, feeling bad for making you so clearly uncomfortable. "My apologies."

"It's okay. I'm just-" You cut yourself off with a groan.

Obi-Wan's stomach lurched at the sound. "You're just what?"

"The flower is making it difficult to be next to you." You turned your head away from him, desperately trying to breathe in the clean forest air and nothing else. But all you could smell was him. The scent was so strong that you could practically taste him, his skin, and it was making your mouth water.

"You're already feeling the effects of the flower?" He hummed, pondering. "I feel nothing so far."

It wasn't true. But he was completely unaware of what he was feeling. He put the dry mouth and headache down to minor exhaustion, the hike through the forest finally catching up with him. And the stirring he was feeling... down below was foreign. The Jedi secretly believed that maybe he was immune to the flower's influence.

He was severely wrong.

You glanced back at him, instantly looking away when you caught his wide-eyed gaze. His eyes were so blue, so familiar.

You marched ahead of him, ignoring his quiet protests as you urgently sought out the cave. It came into sights quickly and your pace picked up, practically running towards it now. When you reached it, you discarded your top layer of robes, the heat your body was producing making it feel as if you were melting, and left your lightsaber by the entrance to the stone shelter. You feared what you may do with it when the flower's effects got even worse.

Obi-Wan followed closely behind you and watched with curious attention at your actions, slightly puzzled when you made your way towards the back of the cave and sat down facing the wall.

"Sit over there." You pointed over your shoulder to a spot far away from yourself. "I need to think."

"Trying to remember an antidote?" He asked, wondering what there possibly was to think about right now. And without his help as well.

"Sure." You sighed, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You weren't thinking about an antidote since you knew there wasn't one. You were considering your options. Even though you knew they were limited. Very limited.

He trusted your word however, which was mildly foolish of him, and took a seat where you'd instructed him to do so. He kept his gaze on you, fixated on the back of your head, as he observed your breathing pick up and then slow back down several times of the course of a few minutes.

What Obi-Wan failed to notice was how his breathing was in tune with yours, increasing when yours did and lowering when yours did.

It didn't escape him though when the flower's influence started to manipulate his body even more. The dry mouth, dull headache, rapid heartbeat, and hardened dick were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And Obi-Wan couldn't stay in denial for much longer.

So he called out your name.

Big mistake.

You jumped at the sound, having to bite your tongue to prevent noise slipping from your lips, and glanced at him over your shoulder."Yes?"

"I believe the flower is finally setting in." He decided that was the best way to put it and not that the sight of you was making him think things he hadn't even considered since he was a lot younger.

You looked at him silently for a second too long, eyes flicking downwards before moving back up to meet his again. "Meaning?"

His brows creased for a moment. "You know."

You did. So you turned back towards the wall and stared at it. "I'm thinking really hard about it, okay? I'll work something out."

Lies.

Time progressed slowly, moving at a sluggish pace that had you wanting to claw your way out of the cave in temporary insanity, and you could hear Obi-Wan's condition growing steadily worse by the minute.

You were finding it a lot easier than him to control yourself, probably due to your more extensive knowledge on the subject of simple carnal pleasure. But Obi-Wan was losing it.

You kept your eyes focused on the stone in front of you, desperately trying to ignore the sounds that Obi-Wan was making behind you. The breathless whimpers that were leaving his mouth were heavenly to your ears, creating a pulse that shook through your body regularly. Despite the sounds making you feel good, it was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from giving in and crawling over to him. Especially since you could hear him tearing off at least one layer of his clothing.

"Obi-Wan, please be quiet." You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

To the Jedi your voice sounded husky, tempting almost. "I cannot help it. Please help me."

His voice was desperate, almost whiny, as he begged you for some sort of assistance. If only he knew what that assistance was.

You squeezed your eyes closed, resting your face in your hands. "I'm trying."

It was a lie. You knew that nothing could be done. The passage from the book you'd read about the flower had been very clear. Death was inevitable. Unless you engaged with someone... intimately.

It was the only method that would get your bodily reactions to calm down. If not, the next few days would be painful for the both of you. You'd be extremely aroused the whole time, heart racing at a million beats per minute, sweat would pour out of you and cause severe dehydration that would be impossible to remedy, and finally your body would give up from the sheer exhaustion of trying to handle it all. Then, you'd drop dead.

Just how exactly were you supposed to voice that to Obi-Wan, the man who'd boasted about his ability to follow the Order's rules for years, that the only way for the both of you to survive this was to sleep together? And how were you supposed to recover from possibly finally having the man you'd wanted for so long for just one night and then never again?

"I can sense that you're keeping something from me."

Your head snapped up at his statement. He was correct, sure, but you hadn't expected him to pick up on it in his state.

So you turned around to look at him, legs crossed in front of you and back against the wall to keep yourself as far from him as possible.

"There is one solution that I know of." You confessed, still thinking of a way to tell him.

"Just tell me. I know it's troubling you. It's okay." Obi-Wan's tone was soft and comforting.

You took a deep breath in. "You won't like it."

"Do we have a choice?"

You let the breath out again. "Death."

He released a tired and humourless chuckle. "I can assure you that I'll prefer whatever solution you have to death. So tell me."

You debated what words would spook the Jedi less. Were you clinical and informative? Or soft and subtle? The sweat dripping from his temple, begging to be licked away by the tip of your tongue, was telling you to be harsh and raw with him.

Your gaze fixed on his mouth. "We have to have sex, Obi-Wan. Multiple times probably." The last part was added on for emphasis, meant to draw a reaction out of him.

He gave it to you. His already flushed cheeks reddened some more, eyes darting away from yours momentarily. It's not that the antidote was unexpected, he figured that it would lead somewhere like this considering the two of you had been contaminated by an aphrodisiac, but he thought maybe that there would be another solution. Or that you'd at least beat around the bush a little more.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to tell you that he'd never done something like that before so wouldn't even know where to start.

Little did he know that you were already well aware of that fact.

"I'll guide you through it." You paused. "But once we get started I don't think you'll need much guidance. The effects of the pollen will probably lead you."

His eyes snapped back to you, a frown pinching between them. "And what do you know of it?"

"Obi-Wan..." You mumbled, tilting your head down slightly to give him a meaningful look.

He didn't look thrilled at the notion.

You scoffed, annoyance bubbling at his obvious judgement. "We all have a past."

He knew what you meant. Sure, everyone had a past. He just didn't realise you had that sort of past. Still, he realised he had no place to pass judgement against you.

Heat pulsed between your thighs at the sudden wide-eyed apologetic look he was giving you. A groan rumbled in your chest and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I see that this is hard for you." He whispered and you attempted to hold back a laugh thinking that this probably wasn't the only thing that was hard. "So, how about you come over here and... show me what we have to do."

You looked back at him, surprised by the boldness he was showing. Yes, he wasn't a shy man by any means but you thought he'd have been a bit less confident in this situation. Or maybe the whole thing would just be so meaningless to him that he thought it'd be easy.

Obi-Wan could feel random muscles in his body clenching as you stared at him. He'd never felt like this before. He'd always known that you were beautiful, it was impossible to ignore, but he'd never thought much else of it. But now? He couldn't do anything else apart from think about it.

You slowly pushed yourself up from your seated position and fell onto your hands and knees, too tense to stand up, and made your way towards him steadily. He was surprised to find himself practically buzzing at the sight of you crawling towards him, a ravenous look on your face. You stopped about a foot in front of him, looking up into his eyes through your eyelashes.

A hand reached out for you.

You took it.

With his help, you settled yourself over Obi-Wan's lap, a leg either side of his thighs so you straddled him. You didn't let your weight rest on him just yet, wanting to check in quickly to make sure he was okay. It was taking everything in your power not to start touching him all over despite your overactive brain basically screaming at you to do so.

His eyes moved rapidly, taking you in as he searched across your body. A hand landed on either of your hips, encouraging you to move closer to him. So you did, chest pushing slightly against his and weight pressing into his lap as you sat down. The both of you let out a sigh at the contact, pain eased for just a few moments.

It was then that you noticed you'd sat on something extremely hard.

"Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" You chuckled, about to reach down to remove the weapon from the inside of his robes.

But Obi-Wan's eyes flickered over your shoulder to somewhere behind you. Slowly, you turned to see what he was looking out, a small pinch between your eyebrows, and saw where you'd discarded your own lightsaber earlier. What you were surprised to find was his lightsaber resting up against a rock beside yours.

"Oh." You croaked and looked back at him, eyes shooting to his crotch for a brief moment. "You are just happy to see me."

"The flower." He grumbled lowly.

Your heart fell momentarily, your face along with it, before you recovered and looked downwards towards his chest. "Right, of course."

Realising he'd made a fatal mistake, Obi-Wan placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to make eye contact again. "A combined effect of the flower and... you."

Your mouth dropped open for a second, dazed by his statement, before a smile blossomed along your face. "There was one thing I forgot to mention."

"And what was that?" His eyes were fixed on your mouth now.

"The flower's effects are stronger and fast acting if you are already attracted to the person you're with at the time of exposure." You leaned towards him closer, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. "I expected to feel the influence at least an hour or two before you did, Master."

A soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine, escaped his lips at the use of the title. It surprised you, you hadn't thought he'd be into that kind of thing. You didn't give him a chance to give you a real response though, the noise he'd just made finally pushing you over the edge.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, thumbs swiping over his cheeks to wipe the purple pollen away. He let out another sound at that, this one more shocked, but equally as unrestrained. Your mouth opened just in time to catch it and swallow it against your own moan at finally feeling his lips melding with yours.

Usually, in the past, you’d have some sense of patience in this situation. But it’s like the feeling of his skin under your palms and his lips against yours, your tongue in his mouth, sent the pollen vibrating in your bloodstream. And before you knew it, your hands were tearing at his clothes, absolutely desperate to get them off.

And while Obi-Wan was a little more hesitant than you, inexperience slowing him down, once he felt how eager you were he could only join in on the action. His hands were soft, almost silky, like they hadn’t ever seen a day of hard labour in his life, and they sent warm bursts of electricity through you as they slid against your skin.

All barriers between you were removed in less than a minute, although time seemed to be flying now that you’d actually gotten beyond just staring at each other and ignoring all feelings your body had been screaming at you to address.

“Do you know what comes next, Master?” You questioned, wondering how out of practice he really was.

Obi-Wan seemed to pause, taking a long thought, before saying anything. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know.” You said and he seemed both embarrassed and surprised. “That’s not what I was asking. Do you know what happens?”

“I’ve heard things.” He admitted slowly.

Up until this point you’d been trying to avoid looking down at his naked body. Sure, the two of you had been pretty enthusiastic in taking the other’s clothes off but neither of you had verbally stated what you were comfortable with actually doing. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel every inch of him pressing against you though. Somehow in the tumble of robe removal, you’d slid forward on his lap which had caused your torsos to connect. And you hadn’t bothered to move back again.

You searched his face for any sign of discomfort, finding none. “Can I touch you?”

He sputtered. “You already are.”

“No-“ You took a deep breath. “Can I touch you… down there?”

You were hesitant to say certain words to him, cringing at just the thought of them coming out of your mouth and entering his ears. You shouldn’t be shy about this, having done this countless times before. But now you were doing it with Obi-Wan, someone you admired with the deepest affection, it felt different. A good different but different nonetheless.

“Oh.” The flush he’d been sporting across his face stretched to meet the tip of his ears and you reached up to tuck some hair back away from them. “Yes, you can.”

You could see that the lust the flower caused had taken over all rational thought as his irises, usually so blue and bright, had been consumed by his pupils dilating. Was this a good idea, you silently wondered? Did he truly want this? Or was the flos venerem speaking for him?

Before you had the chance to ponder over that even more, the animal instincts in your brain took over and your hand was wrapping around his, pretty sizeable, cock.

He hissed at the sensation of your warm palm touching him and you observed his reaction with hungry curiosity. You liked the way his eyes fluttered closed and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, the way his head snapped back against the cave wall and he didn’t even seem to notice that it should’ve hurt. He was too absorbed in the pleasurable way that you were touching him.

You were touching him.

Obi-Wan felt as if he were flying amongst the stars.

Your hand slid up and down his length, taking in every minor reaction he gave you to see what he liked. The answer was: he liked all of it. No matter the pace of your strokes, the pressure of your squeeze, or the angle of the twist, Obi-Wan revelled in it all.

Every sound he made caused what felt like a flood to pour from between your thighs, skin prickling with flames of desire. You increased the speed of the pumps against his shaft, feeling him twitch in your hand. Obi-Wan started babbling to himself, something you couldn’t quite understand but realised were certainly happy mumblings. It didn’t take much more until he was orgasming, cum spurting out of him in hot ropes and coating both of your stomachs.

You weren’t surprised to see that he remained hard. At least the botany books hadn’t lied to you about the multiple times thing.

“Need you inside me now, Obi-Wan.” You whispered, pleased when his eyes seemed to spark with something akin to excitement. Pushing yourself up slightly, you took him in your hand again and aligned him with your entrance. Notching him against you, you inched down onto him slowly, feeling your hips stutter willing you to go faster, and watched his face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You just wanted to hear him say something, even a noise of approval would work for you.

He nodded rapidly and whined. “Yes, yes.”

Pleasure rocketed up your spine, walls clenching around him and he whimpered again. His hips bucked up underneath you and your eyes rolled back in your head.

He did it again.

You came.

A shocked laugh escaped your throat as the orgasm rippled through. You hadn’t realised it would be that easy but given that you’d denied yourself any friction and stimulation for way too long considering the situation you were in, it only made sense.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Did you just-?”

“Yes.” You sighed and rocked your hips against his, thighs still trembling with the aftershock.

“Stars-“ He gasped, head falling forward to bury his face in your neck. You smiled at the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin and moved faster.

Time became a haze, multiple orgasms rolled into a blur, and before you know it you felt like you couldn’t move anymore. Your legs ached, your body dripped with sweat and your breathing was shaky and uneven.

But you were determined for one more.

Obi-Wan gasped about it being too much but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to thrust up underneath you. Which you were thankful for considering you could feel your thighs cramping up and barely managing to support your weight. His arms locked around you, trapping you against him, as he pounded into you urgently like he was chasing something. He was really. And you could understand.

“Come on, Master, just one more.” You murmured against his temple.

It took only those words of encouragement for Obi-Wan to spill inside you once again, the feeling of that setting you off as well. And finally the two of you relaxed, the pollen’s effects wearing away.

The two of you sat against each other breathless for a moment before you eased up off of him and settled beside him. He immediately collapsed against you, sliding down until his head met your lap. You placed a hand in his hair as his breathing slowed down to a normal pace.

Now that the high had passed, guilt was setting in.

“What have I done?” Obi-Wan croaked, burying his face against your thighs.

You froze, knowing you should be feeling this same shame but not finding it in yourself to care. At least not right now. “It’s okay.”

“No!” He almost wailed. “I broke- I broke rules. Sacred Jedi code.”

“You had no choice. It was either that or death.” Tears stung at the backs of your eyeballs, willing yourself not to crack and break down. He needed you to be strong. “There was no other way.”

He knew you were right, a small seed of relief buried deep in his chest. He didn’t have another choice. But then there was another matter…

You continued to try to make him feel better. "The council will forgive you, Obi-Wan. It couldn't have been helped."

The Jedi could only nod in reply. That wasn't what worried him anymore, your logical argument had been enough to reassure him of that. What did worry him is how much he wanted it to happen again.

He glanced up at you. "What about you? Can you forgive me?"

You paused, hand stilling against the side of his head. "There's nothing to be forgiven."

"Please." He whispered against your skin. "Please just-"

It hurt you to hear the break in his voice. A man, usually so confident, reduced to this. All because of something out of his control.

You took a deep breath, stared straight ahead at the cave wall opposite you, tears in your eyes and a hand combing through his hair. "I forgive you, Obi-Wan."

A/N: I listened to Star Wars ambience on YouTube as I wrote most of this. Hope you enjoyed!

[bokonowriter]

Crimson & Curls - Part 1

Remmick x Fem! Reader Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 Description: That night in the rain with Remmick… it was more than chance; a raw vulnerability laid bare between you and him. A mutual curiosity thrummed, a silent question about the power leashed beneath his elegant coat. And behind that devilish smile, a promise of shadowed pleasures, a darkness that whispered a dangerous invitation to your very soul. Find out, what is that devil hiding? ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ "Tell me, honey… what else are you hiding? What desires do you keep locked away? Perhaps… I can help you unleash them."

A/n: The reader in this is mixed ethnicity, and thus light skinned. She is white passing due to her lightly tanned skin tone.

Warnings: This story contains explicit content (DO NOT INTERACT UNLESS 18+) including: oral smut, public smut, explicit language, fingering, intense sensual detail, moaning/whimpering, female orgasms, and squirting, mentions of supernatural. (more will be added as the story continues).

Seeking Shelter in the Shadows

WHEN THE cicadas fell silent before dusk – a hush thicker than the kudzu that strangled the abandoned  plantation – the old folks in Delta understood. It wasn't just the coming darkness; it was the whisper of what lay restless in the woods, a hunger older than the moss-draped oaks and twice as unforgiving.

You should’ve known. Mama's words, thick with the swamp-born wisdom of generations, should have echoed louder: "Never trust a sunset that bleeds like a stuck hog."

Yet you found yourself gazing mindlessly towards the streaks of angry crimson that slashed across the darkening horizon. 

Tonight it wasn't the peaceful blush of a typical sunset, but a violent, almost desperate flare, as if the very heavens were weeping blood. The light that did breakthrough was sharp and fractured, casting long, distorted shadows that writhed like restless spirits on the moss-draped ground.

But below, the clouds were boiling masses of charcoal and deep indigo, their undersides rimmed with a fierce, almost electric gold – the devil's own furnace, Mama would have hissed. 

These weren't soft, pillowy formations; they were jagged and turbulent, like the tormented souls Silas Crowder swore he saw clawing their way out of the earth after the great flood.

You needed to get to town, past the whispering pines that seemed to watch you, and quickly. Smoke & Stack, their eyes already glinting like hungry possums in the twilight, were tethered to your return, knowing a light-skinned girl like you could grease the wheels of a deal they couldn't manage on their own. 

Fool's errand, venturing out before the moon bled its sickly light across the marshy flats, but the juke joint's resurrection loomed, and the strain had those boys knotted tighter than a hangman's noose – a familiar dance with the demons of their own making, a twisted echo of your daddy's losing battle with the bottle.

Annie's pronouncements, heavy with the swamp's ancient wisdom, clung to you like grave dust. "It’s the ole serpent’s harvest rotting on good soil…" A shiver traced the length of your spine; that kind of talk burrowed deep, hinting at a darkness that clung to the very land. But Annie... She was rooted here, her soul intertwined with the rustling secrets of the pines and the sorrowful sigh of the willows. 

If she saw the serpent's mark on Smoke & Stack's trembling hands, then that was her truth, a truth etched in generations of backwoods lore. And you, a fragile bloom in this thorny landscape, wouldn't dare cross the only kin who even acknowledged you, wouldn't risk severing the tenuous thread that bound you to this harsh, unforgiving world.

Adjusting the straps on your satchel, you rounded a bend in the road, when the low rumble of a car approached. Little whirlwinds of baked clay and grit, like the land itself was sighing with unease, twisted across the asphalt as two trucks, rough and menacing, crawled into view, filled with men in white hoods.

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a trapped bird desperate for flight, as you sank low into the sawgrass, praying its brittle blades offered enough sanctuary. The trucks crawled past, iron beasts exhaling fumes and ill-will, as the men within their white shrouds turned their faces, their gazes like chips of ice laced with venom. A guttural cry, foul and demeaning, ripped through the stagnant air, leaving you to wonder if those words of poison were meant for you alone or if it was simply the bile these creatures carried within them. 

Then, a shadow detached itself from the deeper shadows of the woods. It was as if he materialized in the center of the road, a stark and unexpected sentinel. The trucks, lumbering behemoths brought to a sudden halt, their white-clad occupants momentarily stunned by his abrupt appearance.

“Move along,” Remmick’s voice, a low drawl that belied the steel beneath, sliced through the suffocating tension. “You’re fouling the quiet of this stretch.”

"This ain't your concern, night rider," one of the shrouded figures spat, the word "night rider" laced with a venom that clung to the humid air.

Before the ugliness could bloom further, the sky, moments before a deceptive expanse of pale evening, tore open. Not a gentle rain, but a furious deluge, as if the heavens themselves had finally wept for the sins below. The dust of the road turned to a thick, sucking mud in the blink of an eye, each drop a violent lash against the parched earth.

The trucks, those iron steeds of hate, choked and sputtered in the sudden downpour, their engines wheezing like dying beasts. A chorus of curses, muffled by the sodden white hoods now plastered to their wearers' faces like grotesque shrouds, rose in the storm's fury.

Remmick turned his gaze to you, who stood drenched, the rain beading on your skin, transforming the careful lines of your straight hair into tight, dark curls that frame your face like a storm-wrought halo.

“Are you alright?” Remmick’s voice was surprisingly gentle amidst the downpour. 

A tremor ran through you, not entirely from the damp, and you managed a nod. Your gaze lifted to his, and in the shadowed depths of his eyes, something flickered – a stillness, a regard that lingered on the sudden bloom of your dark curls, a silent acknowledgment of something revealed, something…unfurling.

A slow, knowing smile, filled with warmth in the storm's sudden chill, touched the corners of Remmick's lips. His eyes, usually guarded, held a flicker of something akin to shared amusement. 

"This deluge," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the rain, "has taken a rather…unforeseen turn, wouldn't you say? Perhaps fate, in its soggy wisdom, suggests a more…private communion, somewhere dry?"

Before the unexpected lightness of his words could fully settle in your heart, a brutal cough of metal ripped through the downpour's symphony – another backfire, followed instantly by the vicious crack of a gunshot that sent a fresh wave of terror through you.

Instinct flared in Remmick's eyes, a raw protectiveness that tightened his jaw. Without a word, his hand, calloused but surprisingly tender, closed around yours. His grip was firm, a silent promise of safety as he urged you towards the dark sanctuary of the trees. They stumbled blindly through the grasping undergrowth, the rain a cold, relentless assault, your breaths catching in shared gasps of exertion and lingering fear.

Finally, deep within the ancient woods, the torrential downpour eased to a heavy sigh. You leaned against the rough embrace of an oak, your body trembling, your lungs burning with each ragged breath. The rain had plastered your hair to your scalp, a dark, clinging veil that starkly revealed the delicate curve of your trembling lips and the intricate beauty of your now-soaked curls, a vulnerability laid bare by the storm's harsh hand.

Remmick watched you, his gaze no longer guarded but filled with a quiet intensity. His eyes traced the delicate lines of your face, each feature softened and made luminous by the rain. It was more than observation; it was a silent acknowledgment of your resilience, the unexpected beauty revealed in this shared moment of fear and raw exposure, a connection forged in the heart of the storm.

"Remarkable," he breathed, the word a near-silent reverence lost in the rain's steady rhythm. His gaze, still softened from its earlier intensity, lingered on the way the water clung to your dark curls, each coil a testament to a beauty the storm had unveiled. A beat passed, and he almost didn't dare break the quiet intimacy. "The change… it's quite striking," he finally whispered, as if speaking a secret to the rain-soaked air. He cleared his throat, a touch of awkwardness coloring his tone. "The name's Remmick."

"Thank you, Remmick," you replied, his name feeling substantial and unfamiliar yet pleasant on your tongue.

A hesitant curiosity flickered in his eyes. "So… what brings a girl….like you out to this stretch of road?"

"A girl like me?" A wry smile touched your lips, a hint of the defensiveness you'd learned to carry always near the surface.

"Uh–no, not like that," he stammered, a flush creeping up his neck. "I just meant… someone… out here."

A soft giggle escaped you, a nervous lightness in the tense aftermath. "I know what you meant." You offered a small, self-deprecating shrug. "Helping a friend. Getting the new juke joint ready."

Remmick's interest seemed to ignite, his questions tumbling out in quick succession, his earlier reserve melting away. "It opens soon? What sort of music will fill its walls? Will it be a place… a gathering for the community here? And you… what part do you play in all of this? You seem… different." His gaze flickered back to your hair, a genuine, almost tender smile gracing his lips this time, a silent acknowledgment of the beauty he'd witnessed in the storm's unveiling.

Despite the lingering tremor of fear and the clammy discomfort of your soaked clothes, you found yourself drawn into the orbit of Remmick's intense scrutiny. His curiosity wasn't casual; it felt like a probing touch.

"Next week," you replied, your voice a little breathy. "Mostly blues. Somewhere folks can let loose the day's burdens. I…" you hesitated, a flicker of your usual guardedness returning, "I'm just a friend lending a hand."

Remmick's eyes, dark and unwavering, held yours with an unnerving focus, as if trying to decipher a hidden language etched on your skin. "A friend," he repeated, the word lingering in the damp air. "With such… singular features. You possess a… certain… dissonance with the expected fabric of this place, wouldn't you agree?"

A subtle stiffness entered your posture, a familiar prickle of defensiveness rising like hackles. "I belong wherever I damn well choose to belong."

A shadow of apology softened the sharp edges of Remmick's gaze. "Forgive my bluntness. My curiosity often outstrips my social graces. It's merely… you possess an… intriguing dichotomy." His gaze drifted downwards, a slow, almost possessive slide along your neck, a subtle pulse in his own throat betraying a deeper fascination.

"Those… men in the trucks," he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur, the earlier levity vanished. "They exuded a… particular brand of ugliness. You were fortunate my path intersected with yours."

A genuine shiver traced your spine, a coldness that went beyond the rain's chill, a visceral echo of the hatred you had witnessed. "I… thank you  again," you managed, your voice barely a whisper. "You stepped in when you had no reason to."

His gaze met yours once more, the intensity now laced with something heavier, a nascent possessiveness that sent a strange flutter through your chest. "Consider it… a strategic investment. In the future vibrancy of this establishment… and its… unique inhabitants. Perhaps," a slow, deliberate smile touched his lips, a mirror of the one before but now carrying a different weight, "in return for my timely… assistance, you might find yourself indebted to me for a small favor? Something well within your… capabilities, of course."

A peculiar sensation washed over you– a disquieting blend of unease and a surprising, almost illicit spark of something akin to… anticipation. The unwavering intensity of his gaze, the pointed nature of his questions, the subtle claim in his words… it was unsettling, a tremor of danger beneath a veneer of politeness, yet it held an undeniable, magnetic pull that you liked.

“What kind of favor?”

Remmick's smile broadened, revealing a flash of teeth that held both a disarming charm and an undercurrent of something sharp, something predatory. "Patience, little bird. Opportunities, like shadows in the moonlight, have a way of revealing themselves in due time. But until then…" Remmick's gaze lingered on you, a protective instinct softening the sharp edges of his features. "The rain's easing, but the night's still young, and those… individuals might still be lurking. Perhaps… as a temporary measure of repayment for my unsolicited heroism, I could ensure your safe passage home? A small stroll, under a less… hostile sky."

A small, polite smile, a brief flicker of warmth in a cooling world, touched your lips. Even without Annie's watchful gaze, her shop stood as a silent sentinel, imbued with the protective essence of her craft – a whispered promise of sanctuary in this shadowed land.

"I would be grateful for that," you finally murmured. He offered his elbow, a stark white against the deepening gloom, and you accepted, your hand finding a hesitant purchase. He moved with a careful grace, navigating the mud-slicked path like a shadow avoiding consecrated ground, until your feet found the familiar, rutted dirt that had been your lonely guide before. 

Remmick steered you with a silent grace, his presence a dark shadow against the fading light. The air hung heavy, thick with the musk of damp earth and something else, something ancient that seemed to emanate from the very soil. He stopped at the edge of Annie's porch, the scent of dried herbs and something vaguely metallic clinging to the air around the shop. A subtle unease tightened the lines around his mouth.

"This dwelling…" His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the hand-painted sigils above the door, symbols that seemed to writhe in the dim light. "It hums with a… peculiar energy. You wouldn't happen to traffic in the shadowed arts yourself, would you, child?" His eyes, pools of fathomless night, held a hunger for something beyond the mundane.

You shook your head, a wry twist to your lips. "Not I. But a dear friend… she's got her fingers deep in that spiritual muck. Annie's shop is her refuge, same as it is mine."

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the drip of water from the eaves. "And you? You linger in a place steeped in such… fancies. Yet you remain untouched by belief?"

Your gaze drifted to the lamplit windows, a flicker of something akin to weariness in your eyes. "I reckon there's things out there we ain't meant to understand. Maybe the spooks and spirits are real enough. But maybe they're just as lost and lonesome as the rest of us, searchin' for a patch of ground that feels like home."

A slow smile, like moonlight on a tombstone, touched Remmick's lips. He lifted her hand, his skin cool as river stone, but instead of a simple farewell, he drew you a step closer. His other hand, swift and deliberate, cupped the underside of your chin, tilting your face up towards his. For a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to your lips, a silent question hanging in the damp air. Then, a slow, knowing wink flickered in his dark eyes before he released you. "I find myself… unexpectedly… invested in your safe return to this haven, little wren. Until the shadows beckon us together again."

The feeling of his warmth leaving you there, made you feel naked. Then with a final, lingering gaze that seemed to promise more than his words conveyed, he dissolved into the deepening gloom, leaving you on Annie's porch, the scent of protective charms and the unsettling warmth of a vampire's near-kiss clinging to the damp night air. NEXT CHAPTER >

[the-starry-seas]

It's Gopher Tortoise Day!

April 10th was officially adopted by the Gopher Tortoise Council as Gopher Tortoise Day! In Florida, gopher tortoises are found in parts of all 67 counties and are frequently encountered in neighborhoods, along roadways, and in many of Florida’s public parks and forests. The goal of Gopher Tortoise Day is to increase awareness and appreciation for these long lived, gentle reptiles. Gopher tortoises are considered a keystone species because they dig burrows that provide shelter for 360 other species of wildlife, called "commensals." These commensal species include the gopher frog, Florida mouse, eastern indigo snake, and hundreds of invertebrates like beetles and crickets. Without the gopher tortoise, many of these species would not exist.

- gophertortoisedayfl.com

[dobbie-doo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰THAT BEAUTIFUL NIGHT꒱ ˎˊ˗ wanderer

✧ warnings — MDNI !! smut , fem !! reader , gentle sex/sex with feelings, a bit dirty at the end a/n — I'm so sorry I was absent for so long.. School is killing me. And what about my fanfic with yandere scaramouche.. The next chapter will probably come out after the session ? Before I warn you that there may be translation errors...enjoy ✧ minors do not interact. !!

They say that it is partners who truly love: a mother loves you because it is her duty as a parent; a son will love you because you are a mother; your pet loves you because you feed it and shelter it in your home…

And only your partner loves you despite all the shortcomings and imperfections. Simply because he chose you.

But why did he choose you? Why did he open up his feelings again, which he once buried inside himself, to some mortal lady like you?.. Apparently the Archons decided to play a cruel joke on him again.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by a hoarse, familiar voice, which flows as calmly as a summer rain outside the window. He plops you down on the bed and lies down next to you on one side.

"Now relax."

You feel the cold lips of the wanderer when he leaves a timid kiss on your cheek.

—"let me caress you a little…"

— "Wanderer… enough…"

"hmh.…" - Wanderer slides a cold indigo gaze over you as he begins to unbutton your blouse. You watch the shine of his blue hair that shimmers aesthetically under the moonlight in the room. The Wanderer tenderly begins to cover your hot chest with gently kisses: from the collarbone, right along the solar plexus, then begins to cover your stomach with cold kisses, slowly, timidly even, until he descends to your groin…he painfully slowly kisses your clitoris, through the thin fabric of your panties making you let out a quiet squeal, he circles it with his tongue and kisses, he twisted these actions until he felt your wet crotch.

Puppet notices how you are shaking, he rises to you,smiles slightly at the weakness of the human body and at the same moment helplessly presses himself against you to share the warmth of his own body, but you do not feel the warmth. His skin is cold, smooth, as if not alive… When your skin is warm, human like , elastic.

"Mine, mine…" - The Wanderer whispers to himself, as if he is convincing himself. So quietly that even if he were saying it into a microphone, no one would hear him anyway. But you heard what he said only because you know all his habits.

We have no one else except each other to know someone else's habits.

You know that every morning he drinks bitter tea on the balcony, watching the passers-by in Sumeru, drowning in his thoughts about the past, which is stained with black spots and mysteries. You know that all his sharp as a knife words are in no way compatible with his true feelings for you, a love that is deeper than the roots of any tree, even deeper than the roots of Irminsul…

You know that he never takes his eyes off you, always staying close like a calming shadow, he is always close, protecting, defending. He has survived three betrayals, and if you leave him, he will definitely turn the whole of Teyvat inside out, even though he promised you that he left his cruel past behind.

…

The puppet fiddles with the clothes on your body that are bothering him, when you turn your head to the window: evening, rain, slush, the thirties of August.

What could be worse than the end of summer and warm days? Probably only the end of the deepest feelings.

Wanderer frantically strokes your waist, hips, lower back, but he himself has not undressed, firmly intending to please only you. You close your eyes when he carefully directs his thin gloved hand down, under the blanket, this prankster knows that you are ashamed to do such things without a blanket..

The former harbinger leans his forehead to yours and tenderly kisses your lips, gradually picks up the pace with his hands, involuntarily causing you to gasp, bordering on pleasure. your beloved, does not allow himself to be rude, only softly but assertively moves one hand inside you, with the other he gently caresses your cheek, your head is spinning from the contrast of the cold of his skin, and at the same time the passion that you rarely get to see. What a romantic wanderer can be..

He presses himself close to you, too close, his hand cupping your cheek. The puppet whispers caresses in your ear, admiring you and your body, not missing the slightest tremor of yours. He always paid special attention to your "luxurious hair" - You can't even find an explanation for this. He always said that your hair is his weakness. The wanderer deftly bends his fingers inside you, when you barely squeal from the pressure. He smiles contentedly.

And here is another kiss, demanding, dominant but soft, like a light breeze. He pulls away and chuckles.

"Spread." - The wanderer says briefly and sternly when he notices how you try to bring your trembling legs together and run away from the pleasure that he generously gives you.

You shudder slightly from his abrupt change in tone, he seems to notice your surprise and squints his eyes, quietly chuckling with satisfaction when you, without thinking twice, slightly spread your legs, he ran a gentle glance at the exposed flesh between your legs and you again bury your face in his shoulder when his fingers again continued their rhythm, bringing you to the edge again and again.

"Stop being so reserved.My job is to satisfy you, yours - is to get pleasure. So be a good girl and keep moaning for me like that. More, love? "

"Mhm..Yes please.. "

His hands tightly squeezed your hair, while you buried your face in his shoulder in an attempt to muffle a moan. Over time, his fingers began to move more intensely and deeper, until a third finger was added, forcing you to scream and whine with satisfaction, while his hand still tightly squeezed your head, holding you in place.

Finally, you moan indecently loudly, the pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your young body trembles with pleasure. You lick your plump, bite-filled lips, squeezing your eyes tightly. Your thighs tremble as you release your pleasure right onto the puppet's fingers. He hums softly but contentedly, letting go of your hair and pressing his lips to your hot forehead before his fingers slowly slip out of you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Of Monsters and Men

A List of Beautiful Words in Song Lyrics by Of Monsters and Men

Amends - compensation for a loss or injury

Creature - something created either animate or inanimate; such as: a lower animal, a human being, or a being of anomalous or uncertain aspect or nature

Crook - a person who engages in fraudulent or criminal practices

Discolor - to alter or change the hue or color of

Evaporate - to pass off in vapor or in minute particles; to pass off or away; disappear

Feral - of, relating to, or suggestive of a wild beast

Fractions - pieces broken off; fragments

Furrows - marked narrow depressions; grooves

Hummingbird - any of a family (Trochilidae) of tiny brightly colored nonpasserine American birds related to the swifts that have a very slender bill and an extensible tongue for sipping nectar and that usually hover rather than perch when feeding

Illuminate - to make luminous or shining

Indigo - a deep reddish blue

Lionheart - a lionhearted person (i.e., courageous, brave)

Odyssey - a long wandering or voyage usually marked by many changes of fortune

Pillars - supporting, integral, or upstanding members or parts

Puncture - a hole, wound, or perforation made by puncturing

Sheltered - to constitute or provide a shelter for; protected

Silhouettes - a likeness cut from dark material and mounted on a light ground or one sketched in outline and solidly colored in

Sleepers - one that sleeps; someone or something unpromising or unnoticed that suddenly attains prominence or value

Sloom - a light sleep; doze, slumber

Somber - so shaded as to be dark and gloomy; conveying gloomy suggestions or ideas

Soothsayer - a person who predicts the future by magical, intuitive, or more rational means; prognosticator

Temple - a building for religious practice

Uninviting - not appealing or attractive; not inviting

Vessel - a container for holding something; a person into whom some quality (such as grace) is infused

Wild-eyed - having a wild expression in the eyes; consisting of or favoring extreme or visionary ideas

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[drewswife]

title — washed at sea series intro | 1 | 2|

pairings — mermaid!reader x sea!captain!rafe

a/n — first part will be in 3rd then the second 1st i think your pov i'm so excited for this hope yall like it :)

The salt spray stung Rafe’s face, a cold kiss against the exhilaration coursing through him. The Sea Serpent sliced through the turquoise water, her sails billowing like proud chests. The sun, a molten coin in the vast blue expanse, warmed his back. This was it. This was living. Away from the stifling expectations, the endless demands. Just him and the sea, a boundless realm of freedom.

He gripped the helm, his knuckles white, a grin stretching across his face. The familiar creak of the timbers, the rhythmic slap of waves against the hull it was a symphony he never tired of. He’d been sailing these waters since he was a boy, the ocean an extension of his own restless spirit. Today felt different, though. A lightness he hadn’t experienced in years buoyed his mood.

Then, the sky began to bruise. The vibrant blue deepened to a menacing indigo, the cheerful sun swallowed by thick, angry clouds that rolled in with surprising speed. The wind, which had been a playful companion, turned into a furious assailant, tearing at the sails with violent intent.

The Sea Serpent bucked and groaned, tossed about like a child’s toy. Rafe fought the helm, his muscles screaming in protest. He reefed the sails, battling the snapping canvas, his heart pounding in sync with the crashing waves. He’d weathered storms before, squalls that had tested his mettle, but this… this felt different. Malevolent.

The rain began, a stinging deluge that blurred his vision. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the churning water in stark, terrifying flashes. The roar of the thunder was deafening, and the waves grew into monstrous peaks, threatening to swallow the small vessel whole.

He clung to the helm, his hope dwindling with each violent lurch of the boat. He shouted into the wind, a desperate cry lost in the tempest’s fury. He was losing the fight. The sea, which had always felt like a friend, had turned into an implacable enemy.

Suddenly, a rogue wave, larger than any before, slammed into the Sea Serpent broadside. The mast cracked with a sickening groan, and the boat capsized, throwing Rafe into the icy, churning water.

Exhausted and disoriented, Rafe lay on the sand, the rain washing over him. The storm began to subside, its fury spent. The clouds gradually parted, revealing a sliver of moon, casting a pale, ethereal glow on the deserted beach.

He shivered, not just from the cold, but from the sheer improbability of what had just happened. He had been drowning, certain of his demise, and then a mermaid.

Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself up. His head throbbed, his limbs ached, but he was alive. He scanned the empty expanse of the ocean, the waves now gentler, lapping softly at the shore. There was no sign of her.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, Rafe found the strength to stand. He recognized the island. It was a small, uninhabited speck of land a few days’ sail from his home port. He had sought shelter here once before during a storm, years ago.

Years ago a memory flickered at the edge of his consciousness. A younger version of himself, exploring the shallow waters near this very island. And then a glimpse. A flash of blue scales with a dash of pink, a swirl of long, wavy dark hair. He had dismissed it as a trick of the light, a figment of his youthful imagination.

But now, now he knew it wasn’t. He had seen her before. Years ago. And she had saved him again.

A profound sense of longing washed over him. He had to find her. He had to understand. This wasn’t just about gratitude. It was something deeper, a connection he couldn’t explain.

He spent the next few days on the island, salvaging what he could from the wreckage of the Sea Serpent. He built a makeshift shelter, his mind constantly replaying the events of the storm, the image of the mermaid burned into his memory.

When a passing fishing vessel finally spotted his signal fire and took him back to port, the first thing he did was begin his search. He scoured old maps, spoke to grizzled fishermen, anyone who might have tales or knowledge of merfolk in these waters. He was met with skepticism, with amused smiles and knowing glances. But he persisted.

He bought a new, smaller vessel, christening her the Siren’s Call. He spent weeks at sea, retracing his route, anchoring near the island, his eyes constantly scanning the waves. He learned to listen to the whispers of the ocean, to watch for any unusual movement, any hint of the creature who had saved his life.

He told himself it was about gratitude, about needing to thank her. But deep down, he knew it was more. It was the memory of her luminous eyes, the feel of her strong hand pulling him from the depths, the undeniable sense of wonder she had awakened within him.

Years passed. The search became his life’s pursuit. He became known as the “mermaid chaser,” a figure of both ridicule and fascination in the port towns. Some pitied him, some mocked him, but he didn’t care. The image of the mermaid, the echo of her silent grace, kept him going.

He learned the currents, the tides, the migratory patterns of the sea creatures. He became an even more skilled sailor, his connection to the ocean deepening with each passing year. He felt her presence in the rhythm of the waves, in the cries of the seabirds.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, he anchored the Siren’s Call near the familiar island. He sat on the deck, the gentle rocking of the boat a soothing lullaby. He closed his eyes, the memories flooding back the storm, the cold water, the blue tail.

Then, he heard it. A song. Faint at first, carried on the evening breeze, but growing clearer, more melodic with each passing moment. It was unlike any sound he had ever heard, a hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed to rise from the depths of the ocean itself.

He stood up, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned over the railing, peering into the darkening water. And then, he saw her.

She emerged slowly from the depths, the moonlight catching the iridescent scales of her tail. Her long, dark hair flowed around her like seaweed in a gentle current. Her eyes, the same luminous eyes he remembered, met his.

"you" he said shocked walking closer.

"me" she said.

🏷, @spencerreid66 @zenithsturniolo @starrii-sturns @sevslover @daddyrafeslittleslut

[pineconepie]

These posts got me feeling whimsy!!!

Now I gotta ask, how would your ocs react/handle a crybaby reader? (I ask since I am sensitive and cry a lot💀)

Hope u have a great day/night!!!!

Sorry I'm replying to some of these so late, but tysm!! <3

Octavian would worry profusely, gently asking if there's anything wrong and getting you tissues, tea, or blankets, or perhaps taking you into his arms to cuddle.

Octavian is always patient and sweet, but this would bring out a whole new level of softness in him. He wouldn't ever complain or feel put off by this, it just makes him want to protect and shield you even more than he did before.

.

Vincent would coo at you and pepper your face in kisses, scooping you up bridal style and twirling you around in his arms. Vincent adores that his little prince/princess/royal needs extra affectionate love to get back onto their feet again!!

And he'll be ready to provide all the hugs, kisses, and tender words a sweetheart like you needs <3 and on top of that, would be extra silly to cheer you up, even if he needs to every minute of the day.

.

Indigo would burst into tears along with you, scooping you up and squeezing you tight against him, sobbing "It's okay, shhhh.... Papa is here" even though he's blubbering harder than anyone.

He's a bit of a crybaby himself, and cries often when you do, even if there isn't a real issue and you were just crying because you pricked your finger.

.

Magnus thinks you're just constantly cold, tired, hungry, or sick. Every time you cry, he assumes it is a medical emergency or that he's doing something wrong and he needs to improve.

Magnus would try to shush you with snuggles, food, or warmer furs. Each time it doesn't work, he grows more distressed, but will never get angry with you about it, just frustrated with himself.

.

Seradiel would know there's nothing seriously wrong, since he has witnessed your crying spells multiple times, but that doesn't make him less doting toward you.

He's ready with some water and a fluffy blanket, ready to cuddle and remind you that Papa loves you more than anything in the world and he's there to protect you. His presence alone calms you down rather quickly, just because he has that effect as an angel.

.

Warren, unshockingly being the bastard he is, just uses this as further proof you need to be here with him, where he can keep you safe and sheltered.

As a method of calming you down, he uses soft, sweet words, or distracts you with a game or snack. He'll be quick to hold you as soon as he notices tears or the signs of distress, and reminds you he'll always be there for you forever and ever and ever and ever and ev

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝒲𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃’𝓉 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝐼𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒜𝒰: 𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝑅𝑒𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹

potential spoiler warning for @cosmiiwrites’ eden au fanfic

𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶

First and foremost, Sera is not a villain in this AU. Briefly a benign antagonist, sure, but not a villain.

Secondly, most of heaven knows about the exterminations, it’s just not very widely discussed (just like many topics involving Lucifer and his kingdom.)

She is very much an eldest daughter/sister, carrying a lot of responsibility on her shoulders.

And she cares so much more than most tend to realize… which is why sending Lucifer away and confining Sophia to heaven very nearly killed her.

If there were another way, she would have done it. She would have done anything… but sometimes fate brings you to a crossroads and both options have bad consequences.

Sera is normally a very poised and composed person, but after Sophia ran off to their own corner of Heaven to be alone, she just couldn’t keep it together that day. But after a couple hundred years, upon their return, they slowly but surely began to mend their relationship.

Sera also has a silly playful side to her, sometimes likes to mess with people. Makes her more approachable.

The exterminations weren’t a very difficult decision, it just to keep heaven safe, but to keep Earth safe as well.

Scented Candle Mom vibes

Now regarding the design itself

My first goal with this design was to change her hair. I know they were aiming for great long curls/locks in the canon show, kinda like rose quarts, but they just felt kind of lacking in volume and fluidity, so I replaced them with something a little more defined.

I actually looked at photos of Mel from Arcane for reference when drawing her hair, which is why I decided to add the golden accents.

And her outfit, like many of the characters in this AU, I wanted to give her a formal and casual, and for both, I wanted to give her something more breathable in comparison to her canon outfit. And the floral patterns felt becoming of the High Elf Vibes I was going for.

I also found it kind of odd how she seemed to have two halos in the show so I brought it back down to just one.

𝐸𝓂𝓂𝒶

The reason I renamed her is simply because she seems a little more like an Emma. Plus, if they were going for their names being two halves of the word Seraphim, Emma just makes more sense to me.

Emma is a bit sheltered, but not oblivious to the ways of the world around her.

She’s very tender hearted and has a knack for understanding people and their emotions, meaning she’s good at knowing how to provide comfort, especially for souls in heaven who passed away young or suddenly in a bad way.

In fact, she’s met so many souls who were personally victimized by the kinds of people who land in Hell, she’s actually totally fine with the exterminations.

Sensitive Girl™️ cries when she’s sad, happy, angry, etc.

Really liked fantasy and DnD related stuff.

Strange fascination with fire. It’s just pretty to her.

Shares her big sister’s love for candles, and learned to make them herself.

Now regarding the design itself

Like with Sera’s outfit, I really wanted to live them something more light and flowy, making them seem a bit more down to Earth (ironically.)

Diamond shapes seemed to be such a reoccurring theme in their designs that I wanted to try something softer, like flowers.

As much as I like her canon design, the long sleeves and high neck just felt like a bit much to me. I did like her puffy sleeves though, so I just made ethem short bishops.

For her hair, I wanted it to seem more like fluffy clouds to represent her kind and welcoming personality. Plus, her hair in the show just seemed kinda heavy, I guess.

And finally the eyes; I was about to give her indigo eyes before realizing that her color pallet mainly consisted of cool colors, so I tried orange to compliment it, and they stood out beautifully.

[herstoryheaven]

Lando Norris x Reader: Compliments In The Rain

Prompt: Lando catches you off guard with a series of sweet and genuine compliments about your appearance and personality. Your blush and flustered reactions make him smile, and he ends up reassuring you of how much he loves and appreciates you.

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word count: 830

Average reading time: 3 min

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

The evening in Monaco was wrapped in a gentle hush, the weekend off giving way to a serene calm. As you and Lando wandered along the waterfront, the sky transitioned from a warm amber to a deep indigo, punctuated by distant flashes of lightning that hinted at a summer rain. The crisp air carried the faint scent of sea salt and blooming flowers, and the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore created a soothing backdrop.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The rain began to fall softly, a delicate drizzle that quickly grew into a more persistent shower. Laughing at the sudden downpour, you and Lando sought shelter under a nearby roof. Your fingers intertwined and your shoulders pressed close together, the warmth of his body against yours felt comforting. You nestled into him, feeling a mix of contentment and affection that seemed to amplify with each passing second.

Lando's gaze was soft as he looked at you, his usual playful smirk replaced by something more tender. He gently brushed a stray lock of wet hair from your face, his touch light and loving. "You know," he began, his voice a soothing murmur as he leaned in closer, "I've been meaning to tell you something."

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes. "What is it?"

Lando’s fingertips traced a gentle path along your jawline, sending a shiver of delight through you. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," he said softly. "The way the rain makes your eyes sparkle... it’s like you’re glowing."

A deep blush spread across your cheeks, and you looked down, flustered by his words. "Lando, you’re making me blush."

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich with affection. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your flushed cheeks. "It’s true. But it’s not just your appearance that takes my breath away. It’s your heart, the way you bring so much kindness and joy to everyone around you. I admire how you always find the strength to be positive, even when things are tough."

You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, his compliments sinking deep into your heart. "You always know just what to say," you murmured, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Lando’s eyes searched yours with a loving intensity. He gently tilted your chin up, his lips finding a sweet spot just below your ear. He pressed a tender kiss to your neck, the touch so soft it felt like a whisper. "I don’t just say things to make you feel good," he said against your skin. "I say them because they’re true. And I want you to know how much I appreciate everything about you, your strength, your humor, even the way you laugh at my worst jokes."

Your heart fluttered as his kisses continued to trail along your neck, each touch a gentle caress that made your skin tingle. You closed your eyes, savoring the intimate moment. "I never know how to respond to this," you admitted softly, your voice a breathless whisper.

"Love," Lando said, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, "you don’t need to respond. Just know that I mean every word. You’re incredible, and I feel so lucky to have you by my side."

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace. His embrace was more than just physical; it was a cocoon of warmth and safety. His hands traced soothing patterns on your back, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest. "I love you so much, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

"I love you too," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. He pressed a series of soft, lingering kisses to your neck and shoulders, each touch a testament to his affection. The gentle rain outside seemed to echo the rhythm of his tender caresses. "I promise to always remind you of how amazing you are. You deserve to hear it, and I’ll never tire of telling you."

As the rain continued to fall around you, its gentle patter blending with the rhythm of your heartbeats, you felt completely enveloped in love. Lando’s tender touches and heartfelt words created a cocoon of intimacy that made the world outside seem distant and unimportant.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His fingers traced a loving path from your collarbone up to your jaw, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "There’s something magical about moments like this," he said, his eyes sparkling with an affection that felt both timeless and precious. "Just us, the rain, and the way I get to show you how much I care."

You smiled, feeling a profound sense of contentment. The simplicity of his love, expressed through soft kisses and gentle caresses, was a reminder of how deeply he cared for you. And in that moment, with the rain washing away all worries, you knew that you were cherished beyond measure.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

[dizzyjaden]

❝ WHY ARE YOU SO COLD? ❞

Scaramouche x Gn! Reader

♤ Summary: You get injured on a fatui mission in Inazuma with Scaramouche <3

♤ Warnings: Head injury from blunt force (not severe) that makes you woozy

♤ A/N: Thanks for the attention on the genshin men hcs post! So many new bunnies here. Sorry if this is a little rushed </3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A sharp ring pierces through your ears as you slowly rise from the sudden slumber that had been forced upon you, confusion settling in when you open your eyes to see a blurry hand repeatedly snapping its fingers in front of your face.

"Oh. They aren't dead after all. Go on and thank your luck, boys." A familiar voice speaks. Your vision of blurred shapes and colors slowly adjusts back to normal and finally manages to delineate the image of Scaramouche kneeling down in front of you. Taking in your surroundings, you realize you're on the ground, propped up against a tree, barely sheltered from the downpour of rain, and entirely drenched.

You begin to recall the events that led you here. You can remember that you and the four men that accompanied you were approached by a rather threatening lawachurl that you ended up stuck fighting as they retreated. These men now stood closely together, quivering behind the harbinger examining you. You can't seem to pinpoint the injury you took that caused you to go unconscious, but the dull throbbing in your head wasn't much comfort.

You open your mouth to speak.

"I-"

Scaramouche holds up his index finger directly in front of your face. "Follow my finger please..." He directs your gaze while he carefully moves his hand to the right, and then the left.

"Hm... You might have gotten off easy..." Scaramouche says. "But had I arrived at the scene of your little ruckus a moment later... You have me to thank for your life now, that's for sure."

Your embarrassment visualizes itself by staining your cheeks a bright shade of red. This is your first fatui assignment in Inazuma enacted alongside an actual harbinger, and here you are against a tree with a throb in your head that has certainly become a less-than-admirable sight at this point. On that thought, you brush your hand against your head, it is tender to the touch, but not excruciating.

"Hm... What exactly happened?" Scaramouche asks while standing up straight. "The five of you were supposed to defend the camping grounds."

You are barely acquainted with the four men you were assigned to work with, they do not seem keen on explaining the details of how they abandoned the campground entirely and left you to fight alone. You can not really blame them.

Scaramouche fixates on you instead, awaiting your own explanation rather than hearing it collectively from all of you.

You sigh.

"I recall my four comrades retreating a short while after the battle with the beast began."

Your comrades seem unsure of what to do as Scaramouche turns to face them.

"Is this true? As much as I hate to admit it I wouldn't even be surprised. Fairly new recruits, the lot of you. None of you have been... Broken in just yet." He murmured, a whisk of malice floating in his tone.

Finally, one of your colleagues steps forward and clears his throat.

"It's truly a miracle you arrived when you did, my lord. We retreated because we saw the fight fruitless. There was no way even the five of us could've taken it on."

Scaramouche scoffs at his explanation.

"What a sorry excuse. We are discussing a lawachurl... Yes? There are five of you."

The indigo-haired male sighs heavily and shakes his head. "It only makes sense that the most useless quartet of whiners in Snezhnaya gets thrown at me." He mutters. "I would be less angry, as I am perfectly aware of how unnecessary your company on this mission is. However, your combined incompetence has left someone of potential value injured. That is rather irritating."

The silence is heavy aside from the thundering rain that slaps violently against the terrain. With each moment of quiet that passes, Scaramouche seems to grow more irritable.

"You have nothing more to say?"

The soldiers do not respond. Scaramouche sighs, then lightly claps his hands together and smiles at the group.

"Since you four are clearly out of practice and in desperate need of a little exposure therapy, find me a lawachurl, defeat it, bring me back its horn. Don't come back until you do. You should be thanking me for this opportunity to grow." He orders. "If that doesn't suit your tastes, we can do this... Another way. But it won't be nearly as amusing to you."

"Y-Yes lord harbinger!" The one who spoke before bows swiftly, and practically drags his fearful team off.

Scaramouche glances at you from over his shoulder as you were left alone with him.

"Can you stand?"

Coming from him, any questions feel more akin to orders. Therefore, you begin to shift your weight entirely on the tree behind you, grabbing the trunk with a hand before Scaramouche rushes forward to support you instead. This comes as a surprise to you, but you are in no position to deny his assistance.

"I sincerely apologize... I feel lightheaded, still." You utter, as he pulls you up and allows you to put your weight on his side. His hat instantly protects you from the rain, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. "This normally would not happen... I'm not used to defending others in battle."

"Well... If those bumbling idiots made the cut into the Fatui, I advise you to get used to it, quickly." Scaramouche said cunningly, beginning to walk you back to the campground. "I absolutely despise when they hand easy assignments to new recruits. They are not required to be here, and it always leads to me babysitting."

You can't help but smile slightly, it's not an everyday occurrence you casually converse with harbingers. Sensing the humor in his tone of voice, you just have to engage a bit.

"Ah, is that what you call sending a group of incompetent cowards off to fight large monsters? Babysitting?"

Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

"Trust me when I say that was the kindest I've ever been in this sort of situation."

As he guides you back to the campsite, your mind trails to various thoughts about how stiff and cold he is against your side. You didn't want to make too big of a deal out of the proximity with him, but it was so unexpected. It feels as though every muscle in his body is firmly tense, and his skin is noticeably cooler than the rain that you had just been nearly submerged in moments ago.

Curiously, you steal a side glance at his face as quickly as you can. It was already obvious to you that he is beautiful, but his features are so picturesque and devoid of flaws that they almost look unreal. Doll-like and hand-crafted. Something about him feels uncanny to you.

"Something on your mind?"

You're snapped out of your trance at his words, you swiftly shake your head and remain quiet the rest of the way.

When the two of you arrive at the campsite, he's quick to help you into a tent.

"Alright, rest well-"

"You're leaving again?" You instinctively cut him off.

He raises an eyebrow at your intervention.

"No, I already completed the mission while the rest of you were here." He stated. "But you should sleep, if you're going to be worth anything tomorrow."

You stare at him wordlessly for a few moments. He doesn't seem bothered by the unoccupied silence for whatever reason, but he does eventually speak up once more.

"What is it?"

You smile. "You are a rather interesting individual. I've worked for you a while, but have never gotten to speak to you one one-on-one before."

Scaramouche seems surprised at this, processing your words for a few short seconds.

"Hm? So, that's what you've been thinking of. I thought you were behaving overly placid for someone who just sustained a head injury... Alright then, I'll give you a bit of my time in compensation for working alongside amateurs today." Scaramouche nodded, joining you in the tent. He sat on his knees in front of you.

"You've got my attention. What do you wish to speak to me about?" He asks

A slight hum leaves your lips as you contemplate the confusion you felt before.

"Why are you so... Cold?"

Scaramouche almost seems amused at your words, choking back a snicker by clearing his throat.

"Well... It is raining-"

"You are much colder than the rain." You chime.

This time, he seems at a loss for words. He takes your hands in his own and brushes his chilled fingers over them.

"Why are you so warm?" He asks, an honest demeanour flickered through his eyes.

You shrug slightly.

"Metabolism? Body heat generates in organs... Like your heart."

He nods knowingly, as if you somehow managed to find the answer to the question you'd asked him with that response alone.

"Sleep well tonight, okay?" Scaramouche patted your shoulder. "I will need to make preparations for travel. Let me know if you need anything."

And just like that, he left the tent as you struggled to think of something else to say to him.

"Oh... Goodnight."

[fandomofhappiness]

Shinsou Hitoshi's Parents (fandomofhappiness' headcanon)

So, I've been preparing this material and fanart for the last two months and I'm finally happy to share it with you. I've long dreamed of creating a family for Hitoshi (that weren't complete scumbags, but the most ordinary parents, like most MHA students have). So let's begin! (next part is here)

"They look like the most ordinary family, one of dozens that I've met before. And yet… There is something distinctly off about them. Perhaps, it's a tired hollow smile of a mother or a father's sickly features that indicate eternal weariness. There is something tragic that explains their son's continuous hostility to the world around him" (Aizawa Shouta, "Not Real Parent-Teacher Meeting").

"Your parents have been struggling all their lives trying to prove to the society that they deserve to be a part of it, Hitoshi. Give them a break sometimes, bitter kitten" (Shinsou Mikuru, "Meet My Aunt, Shinsou Mikuru")

Shinsou Utami

Shinsou Utami (Miryoku Utami before marriage) is Shinsou Hitoshi's mother and Shinsou Kazuro's wife. Utami is a woman with wild indigo-colored hair that flutters in the air, mimicking the underwater movements whenever she turns her head, and bright yellow eyes. She has pale pink skin and pointed ears. Utami enjoys wearing various jewelry, most often seen wearing nautical-themed earrings. When her Quirk, the Siren Call, activates, the whites of her eyes darken and her pupils lose their normal human shape and glow brightly.

Shinsou Utami is a peculiar and charming woman. At work, she is extremely focused and still very compassionate. Despite her not very happy childhood, she hasn't lost her slightly childish naivety, so sometimes during conversation, she can seem a little dreamy and light-hearted. One of the side effects of her quirk is External Charm. Even without using the quirk, people are drawn to her unusual and beautiful appearance, but this effect is short-lived.

Utami works at her mother's private vet clinic and also helps at animal shelter, providing free medical care for strays. Since she was little girl, she loved to sing, that is why Shinsous' house is always filled with quiet melodies when Utami cooks, takes care of animals or does paperwork. Moreover, she oftenly performs for public and charitable organizations. She doesn't like to talk about her Quirk and never uses it outside. However, she is fine to use it on her eternally sleepless husband, Kazuro.

Utami loves her only son, Hitoshi, with all her heart. She always tried to give him a better childhood, allowing him to participate in any hobbies and after-school activities despite all the complications that came with their Quirks. From her son's earliest years, she knew he wanted to be a hero. Although she and her husband had never forbidden him to dream about it or talk about it, she held out hope that he'd outgrow this desire and follow either hers steps, with his love of animals, or his father's because of his mathematical mindset. She wasn't afraid that he wouldn't be able to find a use for his Quirk, but the fact that there were many bright and attacking Quirks in the world that her son couldn't escape. Therefore, when Aizawa Shouta came to Shinsous for a parent-teacher meeting, she was curious to find out about the underground hero, even though she couldn't fully believe that someone really wanted to help her family.

Utami's Quirk, Siren Call, allows her to take control of men's minds the moment they hear her singing. To give an order, Utami must sing continuously, while putting her instructions into the song. The Quirk wears off when she stops singing.

Shinsou Kazuro

Shinsou Kazuro is Shinsou Hitoshi's father and Shinsou Utami's husband.

Kazuro is a tall and skinny man with dirty-blond unruly and spiky hair. He has deep blue eyes with white pupils. His whole face looks haggard and sickly, which sometimes makes him look older than his years. His cheekbones are prominent and there are large dark bags under his eyes. He prefers to wear baggy or oversized clothes to hide his thinness. He also constantly wears tinted glasses for vision, in which one of the lenses is cracked. When he uses his Quirk his pupils start to glow.

Kazuro is a reserved and quiet person. Straightforward and honest, but don't speaks much out loud. He's not a very sociable person, and rarely lets anyone touch him. This is partly due to his hypersensitive skin that remains as symptom of taking medications. He is prone to a infrequent depressive episodes. At the age of nineteen, he was diagnosed with clinical depression, which he struggles with for most of his life with medication and doctor visits. He works as a professor of mathematical statistics and probability theory at the university. He also provides private consultations for various enterprises, including military, rocket and architectural. At the same time, he secretly despises any economic calculations. He doesn't really like his job, as he has to deal with a lot of young people every day. Due to his Quirk and poor eyesight, he has headaches that lead to partial or complete loss of sleep. He often askes his wife to use her Siren Call to fall asleep.

With the birth of Hitoshi, Kazuro's life has changed a lot for the better. The birth of his son seemed to have awakened him, there were fewer severe depressive episodes, he plunged headlong into caring for his wife and son, taking a family leave at the university. He quit smoking and fiercely followed the doctor's instructions.

He is ashamed of his illness, which, as he thinks, hinders his family. Despite all his efforts, during Hitoshi's growing up, episodes happened, and he was physically unable to help his wife with care of his child. He supported his son when he failed the Hero Course exam. And although neither he nor Utami knew what Hitoshi had planned with the Sports Festival, he was proud to see his son on television.

Kazuro's Quirk, Optimal Output, helps him calculate the most optimal solution to any mathematical, logical, probabilistic problem. He needs to receive the input data, then he processes it using his Quirk, and identifies the best result from several options.

This is it for now. I have more information and art on them, and I prepare the next post soon. Hope you like them as much as I already love this family. If you have any questions you are very welcome to ask! :)

[yourlittlegoblin]

{A Story in the Stars} Wanderer x Reader

Felt a bit nostalgic because I was thinking a lot about... well everything that recently happened in the past 5 years. Its kinda crazy that its 2025 and I should be sleeping now but um... just had to kinda write this because I'm in that semi-gloomy nostalgic feeling right now... So anyways as per usual I hope you enjoy and its gn!reader and fem!reader today/tonight

The sun hangs mercilessly overhead, casting ripples of heat over the sand as your boots sink with every step. The dry air burns your throat, but you push on, determined. This commission wasn’t supposed to be this grueling, just a simple escort mission through the Sumeru desert. Yet here you are—parched, weary, and regretting every choice that led to this moment.

Beside you, Wanderer walks with infuriating ease, his feet hovering just above the sand as if mocking your struggle. His arms are crossed, and his expression—per usual—is a mixture of disinterest and thinly veiled irritation.

"You’re slowing down," he remarks, his voice cool as a desert night.

"Thanks for the observation," you huff, wiping sweat from your brow. "Want to make yourself useful and carry the supplies?"

He scoffs, a sharp sound that barely disguises the smirk tugging at his lips. "And let you trip over yourself without me watching? I’d miss all the entertainment."

You glare at him, half tempted to throw the heavy pack in his direction. "I’m beginning to regret asking you to come."

"No, you’re not," he counters smoothly. "If I wasn’t here, some incompetent idiot from the guild would’ve taken this job. And you? You’d probably be halfway buried in sand by now."

You roll your eyes but can’t entirely argue. "So you admit you’re here because you don’t trust anyone else to keep me safe?"

He’s silent for a moment, the only sound between you the crunch of shifting sand. Then, with a sigh, he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"At least one of us has to be sensible," he mutters. "Two fools wandering a desert wouldn’t end well."

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it—warm and bright despite the heat. His words may be sharp, but there’s no mistaking the edge of care beneath them.

"Thank you," you say softly.

His eyes narrow as if trying to brush off your gratitude, but a flicker of something gentler softens his gaze. He looks forward again, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Don’t make me regret this," he grumbles, but the fondness lingers long after the words have faded into the desert air.

{A few long hours later}

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in hues of purple and indigo. Stars blinked to life as a cool breeze whispered through the desert’s edge, where sand met dry, twisted trees and sparse greenery. You push past a low branch, balancing the bundle of firewood in your arms, as the soft glow of your makeshift camp comes into view.

"Finally," you sigh, stepping into the clearing. "I was starting to think the trees had some personal vendetta against me."

Wanderer doesn’t look up from his work. He’s crouched by a crude structure of overlapping branches and cloth he’d managed to fashion into a respectable shelter. His hands move deftly as he secures the last knot with a precise pull.

"Maybe they do," he says flatly. "It would explain how long you were gone."

"Ha-ha," you deadpan, dumping the wood near the fire pit. "How’s the shelter coming along?"

"Finished." He stands, brushing the dust from his hands with a look of casual superiority. "Of course, since I’m the one who built it."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. The shelter is… impressive. Sturdy, well-positioned to block the wind, and, dare you say, cozy. You tilt your head, watching as he kneels by the fire pit to spark a flame. His movements are measured, precise—controlled in a way that speaks of experience.

"Where’d you learn all this?" you ask, settling beside him.

He pauses, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he replies, "I’ve been around."

"You mean you’ve had to camp a lot," you guess, eyes never leaving him as he strikes the flint again. Sparks dance in the air, catching the kindling with a soft crackle. The glow of the fire reflects in his eyes, sharp and clear.

He doesn’t answer directly, but the silence feels telling. "Knowing how to survive isn’t exactly something to admire," he murmurs.

"But I do admire it," you say quietly. "It’s not just about surviving. It’s about being prepared, staying calm—knowing what to do when others wouldn’t."

He glances at you then, the firelight casting shadows along his sharp features. For a moment, something unspoken lingers between you—an understanding that needs no words.

Finally, he turns away, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Well, it’s a good thing I’m here to keep you from wandering off into a desert abyss."

"And it’s a good thing I’m here to remind you to eat and be a decent human being," you retort, grinning.

"Fair trade," he mutters, shaking his head as the flames grow steady and warm.

The fire crackled between you both, the silence stretching out as you poked at the mushrooms with your stick, trying to keep them from burning. The heat from the fire seeped through your clothes, a comfort after the biting chill of the desert night. You couldn’t help but glance over at Wanderer every now and then, noticing how the glow from the flames highlighted the sharp features of his face.

"Do you think we’ll find the way back tomorrow?" you asked, trying to break the tension that had settled between you both. His eyes flickered for a moment before he gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug.

"Eventually," he replied, his tone flat but with a hint of something unspoken.

You caught his gaze for a brief second, but he turned away quickly, refocusing on the fire. It was odd, this quiet between you. Despite the lack of words, there was a certain unspoken understanding in the air, something that neither of you were quite ready to address.

You sighed, poking at the mushrooms again, unsure whether to say anything more. The fire crackled, the only sound breaking the silence.

The scent of roasting mushrooms filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest floor and the crackling warmth of the fire. You sat cross-legged, the simple meal skewered on a stick held above the flames. Across from you, Wanderer remained silent, his gaze distant as the flickering light danced shadows over his face.

The quiet stretched, heavy and strange. You sneak a glance at him, as you had been doing for the past several minutes, eyes tracing the delicate lines of his profile. His expression was composed—impassive, even—but you could sense the restless tension coiled beneath his surface, a storm held tightly in check.

The mushrooms browned and sizzled. You shifted your grip, watching as Wanderer’s eyes flicked momentarily toward you, then away just as quickly. When you finally took a bite, the flavor was… unimpressive. Bland, slightly earthy, with no real seasoning or flair.

You chew thoughtfully before offering him a piece. "Want some?"

He eyes it, his lip curling slightly before he takes the food with a measured movement. A small, quiet bite follows.

"It’s bland," he remarks, voice flat. "But it’s a roasted mushroom. What else would it be?"

You fight back a grin at his predictably underwhelmed reaction. "Better than starving," you point out, turning your skewer over to finish the rest.

He hums, noncommittal, and the silence returns. But it feels different now—less uncomfortable, more familiar. You keep glancing at him, the warmth of the fire not quite matching the flicker of heat in your chest.

Finally, his eyes meet yours again, sharp and knowing. "You’ve been staring."

"Have I?" you ask, feigning innocence.

He tilts his head, gaze never wavering. "Why?"

"Maybe I just find you interesting," you say lightly, but your heart quickens.

"Interesting," he repeats, the word hanging in the air between you. A smirk, subtle but unmistakable, tugs at the corner of his lips. "You should be more careful. Staring too long at dangerous things tends to have consequences."

"And yet, here I am," you counter softly, the fire crackling between you both, "still staring."

His eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no sharpness in them now—only something softer, something almost amused, as he looks back at you.

.

.

.

.

The fire had long since dwindled to embers, casting only a faint, warm glow that barely pushed back the shadows of the forest. You lay cocooned in your sleeping bag, the fabric warm and soft against your skin, but your mind wouldn’t rest. Every rustling leaf, every distant call of the desert’s nocturnal creatures kept you awake. You sighed quietly, shifting for what felt like the hundredth time.

Beside you, Wanderer lay still, his hands folded behind his head, eyes half-lidded and focused on the endless sprawl of stars above. The silver moonlight kissed his features, sharp and serene, while his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. He looked peaceful—almost—but the subtle tension in his frame betrayed him.

“You’re awake too,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t turn to look at you. “Obviously.”

A small silence lingers before you speak again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.” His tone is as cool and detached as ever, but there’s a weight beneath it, something distant and unreachable.

You roll onto your side, the fabric of your sleeping bag crinkling softly. “You know,” you say, watching him, “the stars are said to carry stories. Every one of them is a memory or a legend.”

His eyes flick toward you, a faint scoff escaping his lips. “Sentimental nonsense. Stars are just burning gas, light that reaches us from countless miles away. Stories are things people make up to feel less alone.”

You pause, searching his expression. “And what’s wrong with that? Feeling less alone?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. The silence stretches between you like a thread pulled taut. Then, his voice softens—barely. “Nothing, I suppose. If it works.”

The ground is cool beneath you as you shift upright, the stars above twinkling like promises waiting to be kept. Without a word, you shuffle closer, dragging your sleeping bag until it’s right beside his. Wanderer glances at you, the arch of his brow a silent question, but he says nothing when you settle next to him, your warmth brushing his side.

"You’re taking up all the space," he grumbles.

"There’s plenty of space," you counter, resting your head on your folded arms. "Besides, I’m comfortable now."

He rolls his eyes but makes no move to push you away. Instead, he lets out a breath that’s half a sigh, half reluctant amusement.

For a moment, the silence returns, companionable this time. The stars twinkle on, indifferent to the two of you beneath them. Then, a thought strikes you, and you turn your gaze toward him with a soft smile.

"Hey… could you tell me a story?"

He narrows his eyes. "A story? You expect me to entertain you now?"

"Not just any story," you clarify, grinning. "Something from when you were younger. Something you wouldn’t tell anyone else."

The request makes him pause. His eyes grow sharp, thoughtful, and something wary flickers across his face. His lips press into a thin line. "You’re really testing your luck."

"Please? I’ll keep it a secret." You hold out your hand, your pinky extended. "Pinky promise."

For a long moment, he stares at your hand as if considering all the ways he could make you regret asking. His voice, low and deliberate, murmurs, "If I catch you telling anyone, I’ll make you wish you never learned how to talk."

"I won’t," you vow, eyes wide and earnest. "I promise."

He sighs again, muttering something about foolish trust and human sentimentality before finally, hesitantly, hooking his pinky with yours. His grip is light, careful, but it lingers longer than you expect.

With a faint, resigned hum, he lays back down, folding his hands beneath his head once more.

"There was a time," he begins, voice softer now, words woven with distant memories, "when I thought I could outrun the world." A small, almost bitter smile curves his lips. "I was wrong."

He lets the words hang between you, his voice trailing off as if caught in the gravity of a memory too vivid to forget.

"I was alone then," he continues after a moment, his tone edged with a mixture of wistfulness and resentment. "I didn’t need anyone, or at least, I convinced myself of that. I traveled far from where I was made, through forests, mountains, and deserts. Everywhere I went, I thought if I just kept moving, the past would stop chasing me. I’d be free."

You don’t interrupt, even as your curiosity prickles at the weight behind each word. His voice is steady, but his eyes remain fixed on the stars as though seeing something far beyond them.

"There was a village," he says, his brows knitting together. "A small, forgettable place filled with forgettable people. I had no reason to stop there, but I did. Just for a moment." He breathes out slowly, as though releasing a piece of himself he rarely shares. "There was a boy—barely more than a child—who thought I was some kind of spirit. He wasn’t afraid of me. Most people would have been."

The corner of his mouth lifts, but it isn’t quite a smile. "He followed me everywhere, asking questions. What I was doing. Where I was going. If I could show him how to fly." His eyes glimmer with a fleeting softness. "I told him I had no wings to teach him with, but he didn’t care. He said, ‘If you walk on air, then so can I.’"

"Did he follow you for long?" you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For too long," Wanderer mutters, his expression darkening. "He was persistent, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him to go away. He said I reminded him of someone—an old story about a guardian who watched over the desert winds." He shakes his head as if the memory leaves a bitter taste. "I was no guardian."

"But you didn’t leave right away, did you?"

A pause stretches between you before he answers, voice quiet. "No. He asked me to stay until he could learn to ‘walk on air.’ I didn’t think he’d manage it, but… he was clever. He built a kite with his own hands. It wasn’t perfect, but the wind carried it." He sighs. "It carried him, too, for a moment. And he laughed—like he had conquered the sky."

The silence that follows is heavy, laced with something unsaid.

"What happened to him?" you ask, dreading the answer but unable to stop yourself.

"He grew up." Wanderer’s voice is flat, devoid of the warmth that had briefly flickered. "He forgot about flying. People always do."

You watch him closely, sensing the ache buried deep beneath his words. Slowly, you reach out and rest your hand lightly against his, offering nothing more than your quiet presence.

"I won’t forget," you say softly.

His eyes shift toward you, unreadable but heavy with something raw and real. He doesn’t pull away. "You better not," he murmurs. "Otherwise, you’ll owe me more than a story."

I nod, offering him a small, tired smile. "I promise, I won’t forget." And then, almost without thinking, I lean over and loop my pinky around his again, a small gesture to seal my promise. This moment feels so right that a tale of my own feels right.

"Okay," I continue, shifting slightly, my words starting to tumble out in a soft, rambling stream. "When I was little, I used to—well, I was always the kind of kid who loved to explore. I’d run off into the woods behind my house, pretending to be some sort of adventurer. I’d climb trees and make forts out of old blankets and sticks, even though my parents told me not to. They were so worried about me getting hurt, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to find something—anything—that would make sense of everything around me, you know?"

I chuckle softly to myself, the words coming easier now. "One day, I found a secret spot, hidden by vines and rocks. It was this little clearing, like it was made just for me. I’d go there almost every day, and sometimes I’d bring snacks and sit there for hours just… watching the world go by. It was peaceful. And I used to pretend I was a princess or something—surrounded by magic and adventure."

The weight of sleep starts pulling at me as I continue speaking, my voice growing softer and slower. I feel the warmth of Wanderer's presence beside me, his quiet attention making me feel safe. My eyes flutter closed, my mind slowly slipping into the soft embrace of sleep, but I can still feel the connection between our pinkies.

"And, uh, there was this one time," I mumble, my voice barely audible now, "I… I pretended the wind was telling me a secret. I told it everything, hoping it would carry my words somewhere special. To someone who would understand."

The soft rustle of his breathing next to me is the last thing I hear before my body finally gives way to sleep, the weight of exhaustion pulling me into a deep slumber.

.....

Wanderer watches me for a long moment, his gaze softening at the sound of my steady breathing. He hesitates, just for a moment, before carefully pulling the edge of my sleeping bag up a little more to keep me warm. His fingers brush lightly against mine as he does so, and for a moment, he simply hovers there, as if unsure of what to do.

He sighs softly, barely above a whisper, "You’re... such an idiot." His words are a strange mix of fondness and frustration, but there's something deeper there, something he’s not ready to acknowledge.

Then, after another long, unsure moment, he reaches over and laces his fingers gently with mine, as if he’s afraid you’ll wake up if he does it too fast. He shifts to lie on his side, facing me, his movements slow and deliberate. The moonlight catches his expression, making his gaze seem distant yet tender all at once.

And there, in the quiet of the desert night, surrounded by the warmth of shared silence, Wanderer finally lets himself fall asleep, his hand still firmly holding yours.

[pokemonblack3white3]

Since you so kindly drew my ocs (thank you so much btw)

Got any rambling about Movrim and its lore? Typing, legendary/mythical status I assume, etc. I’d love to hear about the silly little guy

YES I HAVE SO MUCH RAMBLINGS OKAY OKAY. OKAY

This is Movrim! He's a fakemon I designed and the partner pokemon of my OC, Lloyd.

Their story takes place in Unova about 5 years post Indigo Disk and 15 years post B2W2. At this point, Hugh is running a pokemon shelter. This strange pokemon, unlike any known species, is brought in injured. Even after he heals he is still incredibly weak, unable to hold his own in a battle. Professor Bianca comes around to try and help figure out his deal. Around the same time, Lloyd comes in with their mom to adopt their first pokemon.

Lloyd is a bit of a problem child. They have trouble communicating with people, only partially due to the fact that they're nonverbal, and is prone to emotional outbursts since they have issues with regulating their emotions, as well. They especially don't do well with strangers and can be incredibly rude, even if they really have a big heart and are endlessly kind and faithful to those they care about. Their mom thought a pokemon partner might help Lloyd out since they don't have much in the way of friends because of this.

When they meet, Lloyd and Movrim become fast friends. Bianca and Hugh aren't super comfortable with letting a little kid and an unknown pokemon hit the gym circuit together, but Llyod could clearly use a friend and is already helping the shy Movrim come out of his shell, so they let it slide- as long as they're checking in periodically with Bianca.

Movrim is a legendary, yes! He's a dragon-ghost type, and the fourth piece of Unova's original legendary dragon, its heart. Movrim is a bit like the counterpart to Kyurem, like Reshiram and Zekrom if they didn't completely hate each other.

This also means that when Team Plasma rolls back around for round three, they need Movrim for their biggest scheme yet: to bring together the original dragon and use its power to take over Unova. If they keep on combining dragons, eventually they'll have to make something strong enough that a teenager won't be able to destroy their entire organization. Even though Lloyd is quickly becoming a powerful trainer, they're still ten. The only reason Team Plasma doesn't initially just take Movrim from Lloyd from force is because Lloyd has an older brother, Darrion, who's pretty high up in Team Plasma and refuses to give out the order to harm his younger sibling, as estranged as they may be.

This turns into a bit of an issue for Team Plasma because while Movrim may have not been able to take on a sewaddle at first, his strength honest to god scales off the power of friendship. The closer he and Lloyd become, the more Movrim starts looking like an actual legendary dragon.

[moronkyne]

So. Take my Angel design!

hes a big boi! i really love him and my chubby angel supremacy ugh. his scars are from dog attacks from when he was a kid tho 😅 his parents ran an animal shelter and he had a few close encounters…

taglist below :3 let me know if you wanna be added!

@simplynims @dawnofiight @oriarmor39 @chlorine3 @h0ney-dames @kasperbasper @galaxyg1204 @soap-is-an-artist @vcassinova @nevaroonie @vind3miat0r @wilted-rose-posts @indigo-greer-collins @kat-back-at-ya