#soliloquy-dawn-ask

[idle-soliloquy]

omg dawn ur an eruri fan?! excellent taste i must say 😌

YES 🙌 excellent taste, indeed!

They’re the loml rivalling Jeggy - I will never forget them, I might be obsessed with Jeggy now but… they’re special. They got me through the pandemic, helped me deal with some tough shit.

Also, I have a type - Reg and Levi are just… my perfect little men.

[alienoresimagines]

For the ask game, 1, 3, 15, and 28!

Thank you for the ask, Dawn ❤️ Starting with the last question because if I want anyone to remember one thing from this post, it's those recs so putting this in the Clegan tag for more visibility for the fic recs🫡

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much

The Mota fandom has so many talented writers who share absolute masterpieces so it was so so hard to narrow it down to 3 but I tried to put 3 authors I don't see as often as others in fic recs post and I hope that for those who don't know them, this'll be your sign to read their works ❤️ So, in no particular order and wih hope that I didn't mess up any link :

@amiserableseriesofevents (Link to AO3)

I devour absolutely every single one of Ginia's fics, even those that tear my heart apart because she's the devil and she loves to make everyone suffer. Some of her fics are the definition of "The love is there. It just simply isn't enough" and all of her fics are "The love is there". The way she writes the Buckies falling in love in different ways is so beautiful every single time, no matter what situation she's put them in. I remember Love At Second Sight to be one of the first fics I've ever read for Clegan and it'll always be one of my It fic. Also I think it takes a special kind of skills to be able to write characters in AU while keeping the essence of those characters because they are so shaped by canon that it can be hard to see who they are if you take those circumstances away but Ginia nails it every single time. She has a couple of different AUs, but they're all undeniably John and Gale, and reading them falling in love and getting together in all those different situations is so so wonderful because with her writing it doesn't feel like you're reading but more like you're there, like a little familiar on the protagonist shoulder <3 Only nobody hears when you inevitably howl because there was too much feeling for you to handle lol

Special mentions to those stories that have my entire heart :

I think the love I bear you should make you not to die or the Timelines AU my beloved, precious darling

The man I've looked for that may or may not be one of my comfort fics of all time

ships in the night aka I might just die if they don't meet again and their almost stays an almost because this AU has my life, I would sacrifice anything to have more of them

@caustinen (Link to AO3)

Obviously there's the Hollywood AU that has a very special place in my heart but every headcanon and fic of theirs 😍 I think about those quite often, especially sharp dressed man that's one of my favorite smut fic in the clegan tag! I just love their overall takes on Gale and John, and on Clegan. Even if it's not set in canon, it's always so clearly them that you have no difficulty picturing them in that universe and that really is a feat ❤️ And the diversity of all those universes is mindblowing, I love it, so much creativity and different scenarios to put the Buckies in 🥹

@majorbuckyegan (Link to AO3)

Definitely one of those writers I get a fangirl moment for when they write a comment on one of my fics lol, their never saw the sun shining so bright fic (or Five kisses that Bucky stole from Buck, and one kiss that Buck stole in return) lives in my head rent-free. I can't tell you how many times I've read it and imagined it as a daydream to help me fall asleep, it's one of my favorite fics in the entire world. Also I read it when I hadn't watched Mota yet so that's one of the fics that introduced me to them and I wouldn't be surprised if my own characterization of the Buckies is lowkey inspired by those works like this one that I've read before watching the show. It's so soft and tender, and yet you never really forget the war. The war is everywhere but so is the love and the balance between the two in every single fic is an absolute gem every time. For tonight, let's love like there's no goodbye is also one of my favorite fics in the fandom, the way you just go into John's head and his thoughts and you can feel how much they love each other is so 🥹❤️❤️

It's come to my attention that all three of these writers are also fantastic smut writers so that's important too, especially because personally, I'm not too much of a smut person, my favorite parts of smut are the feelings involved lol, and all three write pure love making, the feelings are so beautiful and merge so well with the smut, I love it 🥹

Also cheating a bit because technically that's a fourth writer but I have to mention you, Dawn 🥹 The Atonement AU is especially dear to my heart, and the snippets you've shared with us are absolutely stunning! I'm truly in love with your writing style, I don't know how to explain it but it's like the love Gale and John have for each other is so raw that it actually kind of chokes me up a bit, because it's so big and they love each other so much 🥹 And the way you weave words together is so lyrical and gripping that you don't just read what they're feeling, you're feeling it with them if you know what I mean. And I'm repeating myself but, even if I know it might not save them, the love in your writing is so overwhelming that it's obvious that you're loving writing it and that might be my favorite part of it <3

This was very nice to do, it's been a while since I've dived in my bookmarks like that! Also served me as a reminder that most of those 180 Clegan fics were bookmarked before I got the nerve to start commenting on fics so adding on the new Year's resolution to go through them again and leave a comment <3

That got very long so under the read more are the answers to the other questions :)

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Well. A typical me-fic starts as a could-be-2k-fic then I start yapping and it ends up over 6k so I suppose I'll try to think of what makes me yap the most. Definitely either pining that the protagonist (usually Gale lol) doesn't see is mutual or the Buckies already being in love and them waxing poetry about each other 🥹 So fluffy/pining love with too many metaphors is probably my comfort zone 🫡

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I don't know if it's a trope per say, but horror or too gory stuff I'd say. I'm not really into reading it so writing it would be pure suffering I think 😂 Whump and wounds I might dip my toes in but body horror, painful transformation are definitely not in my range

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oooh this is so tough because when I write I see the scenes in my head like a movie, like the camera closing on certain elements for examples 😭

I'd say either I'm On The Run With You My Sweet Love because I love the setting of the lake in a summer's day, how carefree they can both be and the softness of their love or Never Coming Down With Your Hand In Mine because I could see it so clearly in my mind while I was writing it, the way their hands compliment each other and the contrast between how rough they look vs how gentle they are with the other. Also I could really see the winter light filtering through the window, with little feckles of dust in the air and you can see them sitting side by side, all reddened cheeks from the cold that turn to blushes because they're both in love 🥹 I would love to see Gale's sweet face as he smiles at the ground and John's looking at him so fondly and loving 🥹 The shot of Gale squeezing John's hand back would be so special to me 🥹

[rosyandraw]

Hello ❤️ just jumping in here to say, I am immersing myself in the Captive Prince fandom again after a long break, and I’m loving NMFY so fucking much—I devoured half since yesterday and aiming to catch up by Sunday evening.

These two. 🥹 My heart is fluttering. Breaking. Doing summersaults.

Thank you so much for sharing.

Hey beautiful!

Thank you so much, it always means a lot to me to know it resonates and that someone liked it enough to come say hi

Thank you for loving it as much as I do, I hope when the end eventually arrives it will have been worth the wait 💕

[ellitx]

Chapter 20: Wind's Soliloquy

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to: srr_yo

word count: 6.3k

           The rain had been pouring ever since. It never seemed to stop but it was not strong and heavy, fortunately. Yet the frequent raindrops made the land so gloomy as if the Hydro Archon was crying for days.

           A young maiden ran towards a nearby shelter, her shoes stepping on the muddy field and forming a small splash with each stride. Alas, she shielded herself from the cold droplets.

           The flowers in her arms were wet yet they still retained their shape and form. As much as she wanted to complain and scream at the sky for ruining her journey, she feared the Anemo Archon may hear her and punish her for saying such unthinkable things.

           She sighed disappointingly. Her fingers buried against the bouquet and held it tightly close to her. Her trip near the tower’s entrance had a purpose. She wasn’t aimlessly wandering, nor was she just a citizen passing through.

           No, she was here to ask for blessing from her nation’s god and his beloved. Legend has said if you offer an offering near the entrance, your wishes will be heeded. Of course, at first, she had doubts. There was no such thing as miracles. But she took back her word when an unbelievable and impossible incident became possible.

           Shortly after Ludi Harpastum, a festival of joy and celebration, a calamity struck. A massive storm surged. Houses were damaged, and the once vibrant fields lay ravaged. The disaster had devastated her family's home. Thankfully, the Knights of Favonius offered to let the victims stay at their headquarters for the meantime while they restore the city. And one thing she noticed, in particular, was how frequently the villagers are going outside the city to travel to the old broken tower.

           At first, she thought of it as simply gathering materials and the like. And her friends were tagging along with them, so she didn’t pay too much attention to it. But when those expeditions had become nothing with no result, she had grown suspicious.

           Everyone was bringing flowers, wines, and food.

           What were those for? That was the first thing she asked her mother after she returned to her “expedition”. Her mother smiled tiredly, patting her head affectionately before she motioned her to sit next to her.

           It seemed the offerings were meant to seek favor from the Anemo Archon.

           “By offering gifts and prayers to Lord Barbatos and his beloved, the city will be restored.”

           The daughter’s eyebrows scrunched together, her doubts growing further. “But will that really work? We can’t just simply sit still and pray then— poof!” She raised her arms, motioning them slowly like acting out an explosion, “Everything will magically return to normal,” she continued before flopping back to the edge of the bed.

           “Oh, you silly girl!” Her mother pulled her to her chest and playfully messed her hair which earned her a huff, but a lighthearted one which the mother fondly recognizes.

           The giggles and laughter died shortly as the dawn of silence took over the room. The candle was their only source of light and despite the poor lighting, she could easily notice there’s something on her mother’s mind that’s been distracting her.

           “Mom?” She called out. Her mother’s eyes flickered before snapping her gaze to her and forcing a smile.

           “It’s getting late, love. Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”

           It was ridiculous. Laughable even, that her mother just offered to tell her bedtime stories when she’s already in her teens.

           “I think I’ll pass. I’m too old already for bedtime stories,” she replied, trying to lighten the atmosphere with a playful grin. “Who said you’re too ‘old’ for bedtime stories?” The mother feigned shock, her tone higher than before.

           She chuckled, shaking her head at her mother's antics. “Mom, you know what I mean. I’m sixteen!”

           Her mother's expression softened, a flicker of sadness in her eyes that didn't go unnoticed. “You'll always be my little one, no matter how old you are.”

           The daughter’s heart tugged in guilt then sighed in defeat. Whether it’s because her mother was manipulating her feelings or not, she’s unable to resist her pleading gaze. “F-fine, I wouldn’t mind hearing another story as long as it’s you telling me.” The woman smiled widely and supported her weight by resting her face on her palm.

           “Legend tells of a corner of the city that has been forgotten by the wind.”

           Her fingers brushed over her hair, tucking it behind her daughter’s ear whilst lovingly gazing at her, taking notes of the changes in her features. She knows her mother is being sentimental again over how quickly she grows. She understands those sentiments yet it’s best not to speak of the topic and make it depressing when the blitheness was there a minute ago.

           “To reach that place, one must stand before the fountain and close their eyes, then wait for thirty-five heartbeats, then walk seven circles clockwise around the fountain followed by seven further circles anticlockwise. Upon opening one's eyes, one will find they have arrived at a little shop…”

           The daughter closed her eyes and let her ears envelop the tune of her kin’s soft voice. Time had slowed down between them. It was only her and her mother together in this lone room with a single stalk of candle. She didn’t mind. After all, her voice was calming and soothing.

             She didn’t exactly remember when and how it happened. Because by the time she woke up and heard ruckus and clamor outside of the Favonius’s Headquarters, her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw.

           Everything was restored. As if the aftermath of the storm wasn’t there from the beginning… Everyone was cheering, crying, applauding, and gathering at the plaza where the statue of the nation’s god stands. She didn’t bother changing her clothes and doing her morning routine.

           She needs to understand— know— what in the world just happened. Pushing and squeezing her lithe frame against the closely packed multitude, she looked for any familiar faces to answer her horde of questions that began to bubble over her head.

           She called out to her friend and finally freed herself from the applauding audience to stand next to her friend.

           The girl's friend turned with a wide grin, their eyes reflecting the joyous atmosphere. "Can you believe it? It's like a miracle! The city is restored!"

           "But how?" she questioned, her eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might have answers.

           "Rumors say it was the Anemo Archon himself," they replied, pointing towards the statue of the god. "They say he granted our prayers and restored our home."

           She gazed at the statue, still skeptical of the sudden turn of events. “Wh-what are you talking about?” Her lips stuttered, unable to fathom their collective and unanimous praise.

           The corner of the friend's lips trembled. Their hands were shaking even if it was already on the girl's shoulder. She could feel them shaking— shaking like a scared dog but there was a big grin on their face.

           “The Anemo Archon forgave us of our sins.”

           That was the last thing she heard. The mutual and unified cries of the civilians, priests, and nuns, all together as they clasped their hands to one to honor and pray for their lord.

            But something felt amiss, a whisper of doubt amidst the jubilation. Why would the Anemo Archon intervene now? What sins were they being forgiven for? The questions swirled in her mind, leaving a lingering unease.

           If it was indeed the Anemo Archon's doing, she couldn't help but feel grateful. Yet, she wondered what had truly transpired. The mystery of the sudden restoration only deepened her curiosity.

           But days after days of trying to uncover the truth, all of those doubts are nothing but a disguise for her lack of faith in her god. She was just being an unfaithful devotee of Lord Barbatos. How could she? And she truly felt remorseful and guilty for having doubts of the Anemo Archon’s capabilities.

           He had saved their nation more than once aside from the recent events of the storm, and that was enough for her to be grateful to him. If it truly was a blessing from the Anemo Archon, a miracle of wherein she can believe in it, then please…

           The bouquet in her hold was settled on the concrete flooring. She ignored the raindrops collecting into the fabric of her blouse, focusing on her prayers and her prayers alone. Her fingers clasped together, intertwining into a tight grip as she muted out every noise, every raindrop.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,” she whispered fervently, her voice barely audible over the patter of the rain.

           Her mother had always been her pillar of strength, her unwavering support. The thought of losing her was too much to bear. So, with her heart heavy with worry, she offered her prayers to the divine, seeking protection and healing for her loved one.

  —

             The tempest of the snowstorm was undoubtedly so cold that even his cloak was not enough for him to provide the warmth he sought. Venti peeked over the window of his room, watching over the tower looming over them so ominously.

           A little jingling was heard next to him and it was enough to recognize who it was even if he was not looking where his little friend was.

           “We are so close to the outside world…” He mumbled to himself, vigilant eyes unfaltering as if he was fighting against the mere stack of bricks. “And tomorrow we’re going to face Decarabian…” He shifted his gaze to the figure sleeping on the other side of the bed.

           The little wisp levitated over to him slowly and tilted its head before letting out another chime of jingle. Venti chuckled and lightly patted the two little sprouts sticking out of its head.

           “I’m not afraid,” He replied. “But I am afraid of losing her…”

           He glanced at the sleeping figure once more, a wave of emotions crashing within him. The weight of the impending battle was heavy on his shoulders, but his love for her, and his determination to protect her, was even heavier. The wind stirred outside, a reminder of his responsibility to liberate the nation, but in this quiet moment, his thoughts were only for her.

           Barbatos’s two dotted white eyes squeezed, reassuring his friend as he twirled over to you and gave another set of ringing. He patiently waited if he had another word to say, but it was enough of an indication when the wisp returned to lodge next to him. Venti easily deciphered what he was saying:

           “I may be a wisp, but I will do everything in my power to protect the both of you.”

           His eyes creased before he cupped his hands and gently lifted Barbatos so they could see each other eye to eye. “Thank you. That means a lot. I started this rebellion myself and I’d be willing to do anything. However…”

           The young bard briefly paused, staring absently at where you lay and Barbatos followed his gaze. It was not unusual for Venti to be deep in his thoughts. With how they have often been together, it’s one characteristic of him that Barbatos took notice of.

           But unlike his deep pondering, within his deep blue eyes he could see swirls of uneasiness. Eyes of worry lost in contemplation, reflected a storm of concern. The furrowed brow framed windows into a troubled mind, where the weight of thoughts etched delicate lines around the eyes. In their depths, shadows danced, revealing a tumultuous sea of unease. The gaze, once bright, now carried a subdued flicker, like embers struggling against the encroaching darkness.

           Barbatos was quiet but he slowly approached his friend and flew over his shoulder. The wisp already knew what was bothering him, but he didn’t break the silence. Rather, he let the silence consume them.

           He already knew this war would be a matter of life and death. Full of bloodshed and ruthless crashing of swords and greatswords all for the sake of freedom. They had lost several allies, what more if Venti loses you?

           What more if you lose him?

           Venti bitterly laughed to himself, catching Barbatos off-guard. He wanted to soothe his friend, but the cold sweat running over to the nape of Venti’s neck and the clenching of his fist over to his shorts was enough to come to a conclusion: Venti was scared.

           How come when he’s this close— they’re so close, he began to cower? He prepared himself in and out. From days to weeks, weeks to months, he led and planned everything with precision. Did he doubt his capabilities? Or was he scared they would never obtain freedom? Perhaps the weight of responsibility pressed harder than he let on.

           The impending battle with Decarabian, a foe of colossal proportions, bore down on him. The prospect of facing an archaic power, an entity that once ruled over Mondstadt, sent shivers down even the god of freedom’s spine.

           Venti cast a sidelong glance at the peacefully slumbering figure beside him. In the quiet of the room, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest served as a stark reminder of what he stood to lose. The very thought of harm befalling you awakened a vulnerability he tried to bury beneath the bravado.

           He sighed, a mix of frustration and self-awareness. The war-torn history and the battles fought in the shadows, all led to this moment. Yet, the proximity of his friend, the one who anchored him, uncovered a layer of trepidation he never fully acknowledged.

           The little wisp fluttered near him, its tiny form a manifestation of loyalty. It chimed softly, a melody of encouragement. Venti managed a rueful smile, realizing that even Barbatos wasn’t immune to the currents of fear and doubt. The approaching conflict, an inevitable clash with the remnants of a bygone era, hung heavy in the air.

           Perhaps it was fate upon meeting two important people,  in Barbatos’s life; and never did he foresee he’d forge a deeper relationship with them.

           Amidst the raging storms, he thought he would never be heard but alas there a boy clad in a dark cloak with a lyre in his hand appeared in front of him.

           “Barbatos,” he called. “If anything happens to me, protect [Name] for me, alright?” Venti stood up from his seat and discreetly walked over to your bed. Barbatos watched from a distance. The bard’s hand gently brushed over your tousled locks as he lovingly smoothed the disarray of strands.

           Venti's eyes held a tenderness, a silent promise etched within the gentle caress. The room was filled with a hushed intimacy, interrupted only by the soft rustle of hair beneath his fingers. He delicately gathered a handful of your hair, the strands flowing through his fingers like silken threads. Holding them close to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss upon them.

           “Watch over her. Promise me that. Please…”

           Barbatos, observing this silent exchange, nodded in understanding. The air in the room seemed to shimmer with an unspoken bond, a connection that transcended the uncertainties of the impending conflict.

  —

             Freedom. That’s all that matters. That’s all that matters to the people of Mond. Freedom is everything to them, and if it were to be taken from them, they would rebel and fight for it to get what is rightfully theirs.

           That is what everyone fought for. That is what Venti fought for when the tyrant locked them up. And that freedom is what he promised to seek for his dearly beloved.

           The promise… That’s right, the promise.

           Barbatos made a promise to his friend: to guard and keep you safe from your father’s wrath. That he achieved. He did not need any of those extravagant praises from everyone, or a luxurious celebration that he protected the last survivor of the royal family. Your love and attention were enough for him as his honorarium, and if his plans went smoothly, then he couldn’t ask for more than your presence.

           But what about his promise to you? Not as Venti, not as Barbatos the Anemo Archon, but as Barbatos the wind wisp. He faintly recalled from his memories, vague echoes of your voice ringing in his head to protect your dear. He could hear your cries, he could vision your tearful face, and he could smell the faint aroma of smoke and blood from the past.

           “Barbatos, please. Protect Venti…”

           He stood at the precipice of conflicting roles, torn between the weight of his promise to the girl he cherished and the duty he bore as the Anemo Archon. The memories of her pleas echoed through the chambers of his mind, each word a poignant reminder of the sacrifice she had made.

           As he prepared for the impending battle against Decarabian, Barbatos couldn't shake the dual nature of his existence. The freedom he had fought for was now intertwined with the personal pledge he made to safeguard Venti—the mortal guise he wore to be closer to you.

           The wind wisp, a manifestation of his divine essence, hovered beside him, a silent witness to the internal struggle. Barbatos knew that protecting Venti meant more than shielding the bard from physical harm; it meant preserving the essence of the person he had become through his interactions with you.

           The wind wisp chimed softly, a comforting melody that seemed to say, "I'll protect what you hold dear." At that moment, Barbatos made a silent vow to honor both promises—to secure the freedom of Mondstadt and to shield the vulnerable heart of the bard who had become an inseparable part of his divine existence.

           Yet no matter how much he convinced himself that he still preserved the life of Venti for all these years, those were merely pathetic excuses he gave to himself that he was unable to protect him. That was the harsh truth he wished to never know. The harsh truth he often ran away from. The harsh truth is the least he wanted you to know. And because of that harsh truth, you will never be able to uphold your promise to Venti to travel the world with him.

           You were living a life of lies.

           “I hate you,”

           Such vile words escaped from your delicate lips, coated with nothing but hatred. All love was lost and diminished. Resentment smoldered within you, a slow-burning fire that refused to be extinguished.

           “I hate you!”

           Three venomous words stung into his heart and soul. His eyes, once alight with the sparkle of mischief, were now dimmed by the torrent of tears that streamed down his ethereal face. He reached out his hand to you as tears cascaded down like a torrent.

           “[Name], no… Don’t leave me, please!”

           His voice cracked, carrying the weight of a thousand heartbreaks. His outstretched hand trembled, fingers desperately reaching for something that was slipping away.

           The once carefree Anemo Archon was now a broken deity, his essence shattered by the cruelty of your hatred.

           “No, no, no!! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here!!”

           His chest heaved with sobs, each tear a testament to the agony that consumed him. The celestial realm seemed to weep alongside him, mirroring the storm within his soul.

           Barbatos jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. The echoes of your anguished words still reverberated in his ears, a haunting melody that refused to fade. The room felt oppressive, shadows dancing on the walls like spectral remnants of the nightmare that had gripped him.

           His chest heaved as he tried to dispel the lingering emotions from the dream. The remnants of your hatred clung to him, a weight that threatened to drown him in a sea of regret. The moon cast a soft glow through the window, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had unfolded in the dream.

           With trembling hands, Barbatos wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, realizing that he had been pulled into the depths of a waking nightmare. The images of your tears and the venomous words hung in the air, a phantom reality that felt too close for comfort.

           He whipped his head and cast his eyes promptly into the quiet room until they landed on a maiden deep in her slumber. Barbatos sighed in relief and for a moment, he simply sat there, the silence broken only by the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. The nightmare had been a cruel reminder of the consequences of his choices, a vivid manifestation of the fears that lingered in the recesses of his heart.

           The lies Barbatos had forged for years were now haunting him. The lies that shielded you from the brutal reality all for the sake of selfish love. Barbatos had meticulously woven a tapestry of deception to protect you from the burden of his divine obligations, but mostly from his growing sick and obsessive love for you.

           You still haven’t discovered he was the new Anemo Archon until the blonde traveler told you everything about him during the night of the Ludi Harpastum festival. Barbatos scoffed, recalling how you were so caught off guard when the truth finally surfaced after you were separated from him. If only that pesky traveler and his fairy companion just minded their own business, he wouldn't need to cast you into a deep yet tranquil slumber.

           With great reluctance, he drew himself up and looked at the girl who held a very special place in his heart. You’ve brought so much joy and happiness to his life, not to mention more laughter than anyone else ever could. To see you seething with anger and searing pain would bring a weight on his chest like nothing else.

           Barbatos slowly embraced your hand to his, slipping his fingers in between, and softly brushed his lips along your knuckles, kissing each of them one by one. His vision blurred as his gaze wandered towards your angelic features, but a sudden pang of panic gripped his heart.

           “I didn’t knock her hard, have I?” he asked himself, his mind suddenly clouded with worry. The archon sighed deeply, berating himself over his unplanned actions. It was fortunate he still knew how to wield his powers and put you to sleep. He just hoped he didn’t dose you too much where it’ll take you years for you to wake up. He could only hope you’ll wake up soon, otherwise he might throw another outburst in Mondstadt.

           You've always brought light into his world and filled him with warmth. In a matter of minutes, you've managed to affect him in ways he never thought possible. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes tightly, replaying the many times he found comfort in your arms or gave him a loving smile. There were many things he would like to say, but for now, his turbulent state of mind is not helping him.

           Barbatos groaned in frustration, ruffling his head in sheer irritation. It took every ounce of strength within him to restrain himself from throttling some ignorant traveler. Those ungrateful bastards deserve to pay dearly for ruining his precious morning.

           His rigid frame softened and he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Barbatos slumped on the floor next to you and hugged his knees.

           As if afraid to wake up, it feels like a waste to even blink within this dream. And to think that the other side of the sky is so vast… Does he deserve this ending?

           Sometimes some things can’t be helped. While wounded by his own helplessness, the present in all its clumsiness, is changing into a brilliance of fabric reality.

           The more I protect it, the more it looks fragile. And the more I steal it, the more I want it…

           Barbatos sighed, the weight of his internal conflict bearing down on him. You’re everything to him—his source of strength, his light in the darkness, and the light at the end of the tunnel he was always seeking. The guilt that slowly piled upon him like countless millstones on a tree of regret and the past memories won’t let him move forward, hindering him from doing what’s right.

           He knew you deserved better than what he had given you. He’s been hiding a lot of things from you: his identity, his status as an archon, and even the death of Venti.

           Barbatos tugged his hair tighter, his frustration palpable in the agitated movements. He couldn't escape the relentless truth that bound him — because to you, Barbatos was merely your wisp friend. He was not the Anemo Archon, and certainly not the free-spirited bard.

           It frustrates me because I can’t be him and it begins to burn at my throat.

           Biting his lips, blood drew out. How cruel was he to decide to pose as your lover? He only wanted to be loved, cherished, and adored. To hide behind masks of illusions and cruelty? It’s not what you deserve.

           He clutched at his chest as if trying to quell the searing pain that echoed through his heart. The memories of carefree days as Venti taunted him like elusive specters. The laughter, the music, the unburdened joy — they felt like distant echoes mocking him in his current divine form.

           Barbatos needs you. Venti needs you. He fumblingly sauntered to your bed and gently opened his palms, caressing your soft skin. He felt a newborn warmth along him.

           The deceptive dance of his identity left him feeling vulnerable. The looming possibility that you might leave him once you wake up and still remember the truth was a haunting specter. Every moment spent with you was tinged with the fear of losing the connection he so desperately craved. For now, everything is falling into place. He'll continue to act as him even if it means to deceive you. But that won't ever happen again, he'll be careful— cautious— about everything he does around you. The past will never haunt him anymore. It will never touch you.

        You will never know. It was all a dream. A nightmare. But it's better not to mention anything of what happened that night, isn't it? It's the best and safest option. The world that should be smiling kindly to you and his friend reverted to his direction, taking their wishes that were never his from the beginning.

           There’s a place he yearns for but can never reach. The place he wants so much but can never grasp. He almost forgot to wish when he gazed in the distance.

           In his tightly clenched fist, his heartbeat is heating up again. Leaning down, he rested his head against your stomach and closed his eyes, breathing in the same pattern as yours in rhythm.

           “I love you,” he whispered, fluttering his lashes to where you lay and gazing at you oh so lovingly. His fingers trickled to your arm, clinging and clutching, before traveling to your bare neck. “You love me too, right, [Name]? You’ve always said you love me.”

           He crawled over you, his physique looming over your comatose state. His teal irises glittered as he peered closely at your sleeping face. His lips curved upwards in a smile before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

           That dreamless sleep, the veil between worlds will fall aside. His lingering touch, beaming with emotions he wasn’t aware of, glistening with affection, reverence, and lust all at once, creating a warm nimbus aura around his body. All while his unguarded words formed something like a prayer.

           “Oh love, you’re so pretty… so tender, and so beautiful.”

           His slender finger gently traced the contours of your face, tracing every outline of the contour of your nose, cheeks, and lastly lips. It lingered for more than a few seconds. He leaned in, slowly and carefully. He stared at you and let them blur as he stroked your cheeks.

           There was no response, not even an inkling of recognition or reaction.

           He exhaled shakily, taking off any remorse or guilt left in his conscience, and pressed his lips against yours. He savored the sweet taste that lingered on your dry lips.

           I love you, I love you, I love you…

           Despite their parched state, he paid no mind, lost in the intoxicating essence of your embrace. His kiss was light and soft, yet it held a fervent passion as if the dryness of your lips only intensified the craving for the delectable flavor he found there.

           I love you so much, [Name]. The things you do to me…

           With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes and relished every bit of your breath, wanting nothing more than to get drunk on its sweetness. Barbatos slowly pulled away, his lips tugging your bottom lip before it bounced back to its place. He panted, blinking for a few moments.

           A kiss with you has always been his favorite, and it didn’t take too long for him to know he wanted more because shortly he went back and connected his lips with yours again.

           A kiss here, and another kiss, and another, and another. It went on a cycle, an endless loop that he didn't even know how long he had been kissing you repeatedly. So sweet. So enticing. One short kiss after another, he wanted to engrave this in his mind.

           With every passionate lip-lock, he became more obsessed. In all honesty, he felt that he would die if he stopped, the taste still lingering in his mouth and permeating through his whole being. You’re the ethereal drug, a celestial intoxication that transports him to heavenly realms.

           Barbatos, feeling an unsettling shift in the air, abruptly sensed an intruder nearing the ancient ruins and broke the kiss. He gritted his teeth and summoned swift wind spirits to investigate the entrance. Their ethereal forms swirled with urgency as they darted towards the source of the disturbance.

           Whoever dared to step foot in here will not be spared. He already warned them if they wish to be spared from his wrath. The archon's eyes, usually serene, now flickered with an intensity born of both irritation and vigilance as he awaited the wind spirits' report.

           Upon checking, a lone maiden was standing near the wind barriers. She placed the bouquet of Cecilia flowers on the altar created by the Church for their offerings.

           "For Mondstadt, as always. For the verdant plains, for the hills, and for the forests of Mondstadt. May they continue to flourish, as always. For Mondstadt, as always. For the everlasting freedom of Mondstadt from the blizzard and the tyrant, whose coldness and oppression are one and the same.”

           What a peculiar girl letting herself drenched in rain. The rain was strong and despite the bad weather, she still offered her prayers to him.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,”

           Her prayers echoed in his ears. Barbatos crossed his arms and watched her from afar through the eyes of the spirit he cast. A lot of things have changed in Mondstadt. The city, the village, and even Stormterror’s Lair where he currently resides with you.

           He didn’t pay any particular attention to the changes outside of the ruins. But he did notice many of his people frequently visited this area to pray and ask for their blessings. Perhaps someone from the Church must have noticed him and thought this was his abode, and decided to create a shrine here, but also making sure it won’t ever disturb him.

           It’s been a while since Ludi Harpastum ended. He didn’t want to admit it but he’s been counting the days since you’ve been asleep. From minutes to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks, he never left your side. But he didn’t merely sulk in the corner, waiting for signs of you waking up. Unlike before, he decided to terraform the ruins to make it more to your liking.

           He remembers very well that you love the garden of the manor, so he made a special area for you. He remembers you love your library in the tower, so he prepared lots of books for you to read. He remembers the fountain you’d always whisper your wishes at, so he built it for you. All these things he had done, he did it for you while he waited for you to open your eyes.

           The very essence of his being intertwined with the elements, breathing life into the desolate ruins. As he lifted his hands, a harmonious dance of nature began.

           The once crumbling tower regained its majestic stature, rising from the ground as if it had never suffered the scars of time. Petals of vibrant flowers cascaded in a gentle descent, wrapping around the structure like a colorful embrace. An intricate tapestry of blossoms adorned the surroundings, replacing the debris and rubble with a carpet of nature's beauty.

           The Anemo Archon had woven a tapestry of renewal and growth, turning the dilapidated ruins into a sanctuary of life and vitality. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, and the ambiance echoed the melody of his power, a testament to the god's ability to shape the very fabric of the world.

           He made the once rubbled, stormy lair into a sanctuary haven for his dear. It’s his gift for you that once you’re awake, you’ll dance around with him and live the life with him you’ve always dreamed of.

           He must admit though, the shrine built by the Church of Favonius was exceptionally well made and further enhanced the beauty of this sanctuary. Barbatos sighed, contemplating if he should aid the young girl by sheltering her. He never meant to become a ruthless archon and that is far from his ideals.

           His drastic change was all because of Aether. Of course, it was him. He’s too smart for his own good and Barbatos hates how quick he is to catch on to his relationship with you. But he’s here to change everything. So if he wanted to make a good image as an archon to his people, then so be it. After all, he only wanted your perception of him and that’s all he cares about. Nothing more, nothing else.

           He’ll make everything right this time. If you see him as reliable and trustworthy, then he’ll be loved by you. Finally taking his decision, he ordered his little spirits to guide the girl to find shelter. As for her prayers…

           Barbatos is no genie. He couldn’t guarantee all of his followers’ prayers. He’s not like the Dendro Archon who could cure illnesses…

           He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities settling on his shoulders. Being an archon was not a walk in the park. The expectations of the people, the intricacies of diplomacy with other nations, the constant struggle to maintain balance—all of it took its toll. Barbatos couldn't afford to let his guard down.

           News about his rampage must have reached his neighboring countries and he doesn’t want another burden to be added to his already tumultuous situation. As he watched the wind spirits guide the girl to safety, he couldn't help but feel the isolation that came with his position.

           The tower, now restored, stood as a symbol of his power, but it also harbored the secrets he desperately wanted to keep hidden. Aether's presence had disrupted the delicate equilibrium he had crafted, forcing him to confront the challenges that came with being both a god and a man.

           His thoughts circled back to you. Would you ever understand the complexities of his existence? The burden he carried for Mondstadt and its people? As the archon, he had to maintain an image, but beneath the divine facade, there was a being struggling with the desire for love and understanding. He also wanted you to see him as Barbatos.

           Not the Anemo Archon, but simply Barbatos, a young man who loves you through Celestia and Teyvat. Who harbored feelings for you for millennia.

           He shook off his inner turmoil, his eyes focusing on the horizon beyond the borders of the sanctuary. The wind carried whispers of prayers, and he knew he couldn't fulfill them all. The duties of an archon were exceptionally hard, and the struggles were his to bear. The winds howled in response, a melancholic melody echoing the challenges he faced.

           He sighed for the nth time, exhaustion began to creep over him. He placed the back of his hand over to his head to ease the throbbing pain of a migraine. The constant internal conflict and the strain of maintaining appearances were taking their toll.

           As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he summoned a gentle breeze to soothe his troubled mind. The rustle of leaves and the familiar scent of the wind helped him find a moment of peace amidst the chaos. He turned his back and returned to where you were.

           Barbatos kissed you on the lips and it calmed him, more effective than the breeze he used to himself. You’re always his cure, the one constant that brought tranquility to his turbulent existence. The soft touch of your lips against his was a momentary escape from the weight of his responsibilities. As he pulled away, a faint smile played on his lips, grateful for the solace you unknowingly provided him.

           “I promise you, I’ll make this our sanctuary.”

           At the end of his lonely world, maybe he’ll arrive at his true world with no regrets or remorse.

taglist: @trust-the-oxygen @so-uncute

sorry for the delay on the update. i announced on my tumblr that i would be posting this chapter in late august or early september but a lot of things happened and i self-sabotaged this sob

[swifty-fox]

last line tag

tagged by @triggerlil and I think one other person?? maybe?? thank youuuu either way

Johns being annoying in Love Song <3

John learns that Chickens are horrific, soulless cannibals, and that women can be a thing called lesbians in the same fifteen minute span, and isn’t quite sure which one is harder to wrap his mind around. 

He swallows an egg to shock his blood back up to the more sensible of his heads and tells himself it wasn’t the first time a woman’s seen him indecent. And pehaps, if Gale was correct, then they would be the only women who would not care beyond the mere lack of manners it included to be so dressed down. 

“Does that actually work?” Gale asks him, fine face twisted in bemused disgust.

“Older boy taught us back in Grade school,” John says, fighting against the rise of bile in his throat, “Works like a charm every time.”

He’d wanted so badly to impress that older schoolmate; with hair on his lip and on his legs that was just starting to get thick; voice beginning to take on a subtle rasp. In retrospective consideration, there might hve been thinks John could have explored deeper about himself. 

He might have saved the both of them a little bit of pain.

The women come in like the screech of wheels on tarmac, Marge as pretty and perfect as ever, with a curly haired woman dressed in a button down and mens pants at her heels. They’re hot and cold, fog over water; Irene with a broad smiling face and a handshake like iron and Marge as icy as he’s ever seen her. Glaring at John from the doorway with a particular kind of reproach he’s seen women use for cockroaches an the specific breed of men who liked to creep their hands up women’s skirts. John is neither bug nor reprobate, but he doesn’t blame her for her anger. Really, he doesn’t mind that there’s someone who’s been in Gale’s corner the entire time. Even if he’s now the one on the other side of the ring. 

“Nice to see you again, Marge,” he says, because he was raised with manners. And because he can’t help but tug a pigtail when he sees one.

tagging @london-cowboy @blixabargelds @soliloquy-dawn @whirlpool-blogs @joeyalohadream

[pinenutpbj]

Find the word

How it works: I search for the words prev assigned me in my latest WIP and then choose four words for you to search for in your WIP.

Thank you so much @joeyalohadream for tagging me 🤍

My words: heat, step, heavy, light

I couldn't find the first word in my WIPs but all the others are from Chapter 2 of Almost in Love (RPF)

Step & light

The back alley was quiet, the sounds of the party muffled by walls and distance. Callum was leaning against the wall, cigarette already lit, his silhouette lifted straight from a film noir. The streetlamp carved his face in amber and obsidian, shadowing the hollows beneath his cheekbones. A gossamer drizzle had started, leaving a sheen on the cobblestones and making the brick walls glisten. Austin stepped into the light, letting his presence be known, his expensive shoes clicking against the silver pavement.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. The temperature had dropped drastically. When Callum broke the silence, his breath fogged into the night air. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Thought you quit," Austin said, nodding toward the cigarette. "For the training. Like you mentioned."

The words came out more accusatory than he'd intended, as if this small betrayal somehow represented everything else that had changed between them.

"Trying to." Callum took another drag, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Just needed a minute."

Heavy

"Is it true?" Austin asked quietly.

"What'd you mean?"

"That you fell in love with everyone you co-starred with."

For a long moment, it looked like Callum was debating between snort and snap. But at length, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "No."

Very shyly tagging @soliloquy-dawn @whirlpool-blogs @survivedthenight

and @carnevol because I’m curious if you’re working on any gifs relating to any of the following words 🥹

Your words are: hand, touch, lip, smile

No pressure!

[whirlpool-blogs]

last line(s)/wip tag

thanks @c-goldthorn @swifty-fox @rangerelizabeth @majorbuckyegan @donotnomi 🥹❤️

wrote a little more for Pet Sematary AU today! here's a snippet:

Gale glances back at him. Bucky shifts his weight from side to side, uncomfortable. Comprehension dawns on Gale. 

“You need to piss again?” asks Gale. 

Bucky nods. “Don’t…yell.” 

Gale sighs. “I won’t yell,” he promises, “if you use the latrines like a goddamn normal person. I’ll show you where they are.” 

Gale brings Bucky to the latrines and stays back outside the entrance. He waits. After a beat, Bucky’s voice comes echoing out. “Buck,” he says, plaintive. 

Gale pokes his head around the doorway. Bucky stares back at him, clearly perplexed. He hasn’t even unzipped his fly. 

“You are lucky,” grits out Gale, stepping inside, “that we are such good friends.” He undoes Bucky’s pants, then, when it’s clear that Bucky still has no idea what comes next, tugs his soft cock out of his skivvies and aims the hole at the latrine. 

“Now go,” says Gale. Bucky goes. His cock jumps in Gale’s hand as the stream bursts out, flowing hot and yellow. He’s still a little dehydrated, so Gale makes a mental note to give Bucky more water when they get back to the barracks. 

After Bucky finishes, Gale loosely shakes him out to get rid of the last few drops. “Otherwise,” explains Gale, “it’ll still be wet inside your skivvies.” He looks over to check that Bucky is paying attention. He’ll be damned if he has to repeat this lesson.

Bucky nods. Satisfied, Gale tucks his cock back in, zips him up, and pats Bucky on the hip. 

“All done,” says Gale. 

“Done,” repeats Bucky. 

no pressure! tagging @angelfruittree @soliloquy-dawn @impalachick @inpotatoeswetrust

[micahsmalevolence-pccw]

Correspondences:

Story: Red Dead Redemption Series

Deity Of: Wealth and gold fever, literacy and philosophy books, mountains and cave systems, communication and soliloquies, slow erosion, natural disasters

Symbols: Fehu Rune, Ehwaz Rune, Prosperity Knot, Solomon's Knot, Number 8, Awen

Colors: Black, red, gold, white and gray, brown, and silver

Planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Mars

Element: Air (and thus can be used as a symbol of Air/East)

Tarot: The Magician, sometimes also The Emperor

Favorite Season: Autumn (& Spring)

Zodiacs: Taurus, Aquarius

Birthstones: Emerald, Garnet

Holidays: National Day of the Cowboy, his birthday takes place on I Love Reese's Day

Herbs/Plants: Rose, dandelion, weeping willow, black nightshade (poisonous!), henbane (poisonous!), mandrake (poisonous!)

Crystals/Gemstones: Black agate, brown agate, bloodstone, jet, black onyx, brown zircon

Animals: Horses and pegasi, snakes, owls and crows, bulls, lions and cats, and flying insects

Affirmation: "Have some goddamn faith."

Offerings: Cigars, coins and dollars (especially from that era), vial of blood, horseshoes, poetry and other books, deck of cards

When To Work With: Days are Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Times of day are twilight, dawn, and sunset.

Reasons To Invoke His Energy:

Manifestation and Opportunity. Spotting opportunities and angles, coming up with backup plans, finding unconventional solutions, manifesting money (though this comes with risks — he may ask for more in return!), and opening closed doors.

Empowerment and Leadership. Public speaking and persuasion, building loyalty in a group, finding followers for a cause, confidence in leadership positions, developing a commanding presence, and starting a movement or community.

Protection and Resistance. Breaking free from oppressive systems, protection while operating outside conventional rules, strength to resist authority, creating safe spaces for outcasts, and finding escape routes from bad situations.

Creativity and Vision. Inspiration for grand schemes, developing ambitious visions, having unwavering conviction and faith in those visions, inspiring others to see your vision, connecting seemingly unrelated elements, and seeing the bigger picture.

Survival and Adaptation. Navigating hostile environments, reading dangerous situations, finding resources in scarcity, building from nothing, adaptability in crisis, protection, and urban and wilderness survival skills.

Shadow Work. Processing betrayal trauma from rats and grief, examining which parts of yourself you hide to appear "proper", studying yourself with the same intensity Dutch studied Evelyn Miller, and keeping a journal of your thoughts and philosophy.

Just remember, like invoking any other PCC energy, Dutch's energy comes with that warning label. Too much can be a bad thing. Use with proper respect and moderation. Also, friendly reminder that any and all PCCs are good for curses, hexes, and jinxes...

When you're going to invoke him, it's a good idea to look out for...

Signs:

Hear:

The whistle of a distant train

The clopping of horses' hooves

The creaking of wagon wheels

The rattling of a stagecoach

The clinking of coins dropping

The music of a harmonica

Smell:

The richness of cigar smoke

The sourness of gunpowder

The spiciness of sagebrush

The ruggedness of leather

The sweetness of sandalwood

The earthiness of whiskey

Feel:

The coldness of morning frost

The warmth of the rising sun

The heat of a campfire

The sting of rope burn on palms

The crispiness of cool air

The prickliness of cacti or paresthesia

See:

The transportation of a horse

The sparkliness of the horizon

The haziness of ubiquitous dust

The flashiness of spurs

The darkness of his silhouette

The brightness of a camping lantern

Taste:

The succulence of mangoes

The freshness of purified water

The palatableness of root beer

The bitterness of birch beer

The rusticness of sarsaparilla

The creaminess of cream soda

These signs are to only be looked out for if you can’t visualize him in your mind's eye.

Clown-O-Meter:

Does He Do Any Pranks?: Yes, and his most notable one is the "Stick 'Em Up Cowboy" moment.

What Are His Emo Moments?: He broods on cliffsides and balconies, plus I'm pretty sure he's an insomniac.

Does He Have A Stage Presence?: Yes, he's very charismatic, he has theatrical speeches, he keeps saying "one more score" like a circus act that never ends, and his train heists look amazing.

Does He Have A Clown Cult?: Yes, he has what technically could be called a "clown cult" made of cowpokes.

Would He Be Part Of A Killer Clown Version of Rebel Clown Army?: Considering their main goal is anarchism, most definitely.

Did He Kill One Of His Family Members?: He paid Arthur Morgan $20 to kill his whole family for him.

What Is His Kill Count?: 625.

Overall (out of five): 🎈🎈🎈

Additional Notes:

Dutch van der Linde, to say the least, is one great big mystery. Based on what you've seen of him, you either love him, hate him, love to hate him, hate to love him, or — dare I say it — sympathize, truly dig into his background and theories until he is a tad bit crystal clearer so you can solve the mystery, and let him inspire you, which is what I found myself doing. Now, what I'm about to say may be something that you find yourself disagreeing with, but it's both my own personal UPG and theories that I agree with around Reddit. If you don't agree, please don't comment and just feel free to scroll over this Tumblr post.

Dutch is a victim of circumstance. Beyond his control, every plan he has made has failed. His luck ran out, starting with the Blackwater fiasco. Each subsequent stop — Valentine, Strawberry, Rhodes, and St. Denis — ended in disaster or tragedy. By Beaver Hollow, he was in freefall. His plans crumbled, his people died, and his leadership cracked under mounting pressure. Nothing seemed to go right for him anymore and we all know this. What was hidden in the background that many people didn't know, however, was that Dutch made a deal with the Strange Man.

According to Redditor u/kaellcb, he made this pact after he and Hosea were arrested so that they could escape their cell and live happy, fulfilling lives. But, in a move that is very reminiscent of Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean (cowboys are pretty much land pirates anyway), he did not want to live up to the end of his bargain and tried to do anything and everything in the realm of possibility to make sure that he never would. This led to his infamous bad luck. Read the full thread here for more information.

I also agree with Redditor u/Jamerson357, at least on the second half of his post. John Marston ended up becoming a rat, turning on his fellow outlaws, and that's something that Dutch doesn't tolerate with good reason. And, as far as Arthur goes, he only abandoned him after he gained tuberculosis, and rather letting him die from disease, he was trying to make him die in a blaze of glory, just as Jon Bon Jovi wrote about. Read the full thread here for more information.

Regardless if you find yourself agreeing with u/kaellcb, u/Jamerson357, or both, one thing is clear: Dutch is revealed to be a very misunderstood outlaw who, in fact, is both a Cinnamon Roll and BAMF, once you do some digging into his story. He did what he could to keep the gang together. He is a visionary and never a true antagonist. And with that, I leave these pieces of information here so you can do what you want with them: either work with his energy or not. The choice is yours.

[wayrad]

last line(s) tag

I was tagged by @sleepr-agent420 and @whirlpool-blogs thank you!!

Haussmann takes a sharp breath in, “You may think yourself hard, Major, but they will find where you are soft, and they will use it until there is nothing left,” His face takes on a severe quality, hooked nose and sculpted jaw catching with shadow. The dark inks him, and he really does look like the villains from the movies. “So, I will ask you again. Do you like your little Colonel?” Gale’s chest pumps with wild shattered breaths. His scent curls with fear; he might die here. He might really die. Or worse, they’ll keep him alive, barely so, subhuman. And all of this would have been for nothing at all. “No,” he says, finally. 

np tagging some people I dont often/new moots: @onyxsboxes @meyerlansky @c-goldthorn @happy-days19 and ofc @soliloquy-dawn @skyphloxx show me what's cookin!!

[xmysweetcreaturex]

last line tag

shout out the homies who tagged me in their respective and wonderful posts @soliloquy-dawn @bucksbluescarf 🫶🏽

A salacious little snippet of the end of Ch.2 of Arcadia™️: mine and @polifandom ‘s mota/clegan zombie apocalypse au. Enjoy!

“Please-” He says, voice tight with what John assumes is restraint.

“Oh you don’t have to beg, Baby. That 's my job.” John giggles, using his mouth on his ear and sucking his earlobe into his mouth briefly, distracting Buck from the fact that he’s slowly turning them around. John’s wandering hands move up Buck’s strong arms, rounding his shoulders in gentle circles until he’s able to slip the pack off his back, pushing them down towards the plush bed.

They land in a big heap, the force of the fall knocking the wind out of both men. Bucky giggles a soft ‘Whoops’ and continues his ministrations down and around his neck, causing Buck to groan quietly.

And suddenly, all the warmth and wetness is gone- John now leaning up, his thighs balanced on either side of Buck’s hips, but not daring to sit his full weight on the man’s lap. “So I’ll ask again, Buck. Do you want to fuck me?”

“I do.”

If you’d like to take a look at all the snippets and ramblings the ACU (Arcadia Cinematic Universe™️- i will make this a thing) has to offer feel free to peruse #Arcadia using this link (or the one above haha)

super chill no pressure tags for these lovely peeps 💞

@antiquitea @skyyguy @daysofxavierspast @sleepr-agent420 @quick-catton @oopsiedaisiesbaby @feyd-meowtha @wayrad @swifty-fox

free tag @/anyone that would like to do this as well!

(also if any of you want to stop being tagged in these, pls dm me bc I typically just copy and paste from my previous posts/tag games ✨)

[shipstorms]

Dear tumblr user shipstorms! Will you pleaasee if you have the spoons tell us more about your Bucky Marge this is something that @soliloquy-dawn and @irregularcollapse have been passionate about for agesssssss and yayyy actually they both ( gun shots) but let me stop sooo exciting though 💕💕

lmaooo this is really out of left field for me so i'm nervous about it but the basic gist is that marge and gale sleep together a couple times right before the wedding and it's lovely and he's so gentle but also marge is like is that what i want idk. at the same time john is there and being v sus with gale and marge is like wait hang on a sec what's happening there. so anyway it's an internal war between "i think john could rail me like i want" vs "gale stepped out??" and then they bone each other in kind of a hateful filthy enlightening way with the specter of gale hanging out. not sure what kind of dynamic you all were picturing but that's what's happening so far ;___; here's a snippet if interesteddddd

Before she can ask, he slows down. The noises stop. "No, wait," she breathes, but he acts like he didn't hear, guiding her right hand down between her legs instead. He pauses.

"You're right handed?" 

"John, please -- "

"Yes?"

She can't talk. John sits there patiently. Gives her another tug and she lets out an abortive noise. "Marge. Which hand did you write all those pretty letters to Gale with?"

"Yes," she manages. "My right. Yes, I -- yes, my right."

[idle-soliloquy]

the lyrics "I kiss you on your neck / You were staring at the ceiling / I should've known right then and there you were a runaway" are very cheating microfic jegulus

and this part too actually, "These bad omens, I look right through them / That's what you do when you love somebody"

Fits perfectly... Thank you for sharing, just listened to it twice. I'm also partial to What a Time by Julia Michaels for this fic. That one is more of a "James' delusional perspective is making him romanticise and forget, to eventually bounce back to Regulus cause he just loves to suffer."

I have a new chapter in the works, it's almost ready. Btw, it's also on ao3, if you prefer to read there.

[alienoresimagines]

Omg “classics” for clegan plsssss 🥺

classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary

So. This fic may have gotten out of a hand and may or may not be 14.5k, 7k of which are them making out and smutting 😅 So Nonnie, if you'd like a redo of the prompt with really 100% h/c and fluff, send me another ask and I'll keep it general audience, I promise 🥹❤️ Also a huge shoutout to @soliloquy-dawn for single handedly beating the slump out of me for this fic, I was stuck on 4k for three weeks and then wrote 10k in one, for which I also have to thanks all my fellow sprinters on Discord🥹🫶🏻 And, a happy birthday to @amiserableseriesofevents !!! Thank you for all the wounderful fics you constantly post, the countless sprints you do with me, I wish you all the good in the world 💕 Consider this my humble gift for an amazing person celebrating another year of life ❤️ This is my first time writing an actual smut so I'm really nervous about this one lmao but I hope you'll like it 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

Tell Me You're Going To Be Alright (I Don't Want The World To Turn Without You) | Buck x Bucky

Summary : Perhaps life really only started when he opened the door to his room in flight school and shook hands with Gale Cleven. Perhaps the twenty-four years before that were only to learn how his legs and arms worked to get him to this moment, where he learned how his heart did. Or After the Regensburg Mission, John cannot forget just how close he came to losing Gale forever. He copes how he can, tending to Gale's wounds, and holding him when the adrenaline leaves him and Gale can't keep up the officer façade anymore. He lets Gale take care of the cuts that adorned his face even though John had forgotten them. And then, when all the wounds have been treated, desperation to feel just how alive the other still is settles in, like a wildfire of urgency that not even the presence of their men a few feet away can soothe.

Snippet :

“You did so good, darlin’,” his lips attach themselves to Gale’s temple as another one of those broken noises pierces through his soul. “Brought your boys to safety the best way you could.” He thinks of the mangled body of a radioman and how easily it could’ve been Gale. Tightens his hold until there’s no telling where one of them begins and where the other ends. 

“You did so, so good, Gale.” He keeps on whispering in Gale’s ear, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and pressing kisses anywhere he can reach until Gale isn’t shaking as much anymore, tremors receding and replaced by a heavy blanket of exhaustion that sends him further into John’s chest. John doesn’t budge, stays rooted to his spot like the old oak tree in his mother’s garden, sheltering the house from rain and storms. 

Minutes later, Gale shifts and clears his throat, the sound dulled by John's shirt before he starts to pull away. John’s heart screams and thrashes with wanting to bring him closer once again, but he knows better than to force Gale to lose control, knows the other is probably ashamed that he felt the need to be comforted. The anger simmering in his blood at that is cold and familiar enough for John to ignore it, preferring instead to stroke his thumb back and forth over Gale's cheekbone. A light smile pulls at his lips when Gale leans into the touch, a sigh leaving him as he nuzzles his cheek against John’s palm, as though the space has been carved just for him- John is certain it’s the case.

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[sleepr-agent420]

last line tag

@soliloquy-dawn @wayrad tagged me a while ago but now i finally have smth to post 😭😭

“Of course I would win,” Bucky grins, shoving his legs out in front of him. He wiggles his tattered boots. Of course he would win.

“What- What would you do if I was in the games?” Gale asks softly, repeating Bucky’s question back to him. He wants Bucky to lie to him. He wants to hear that he would win, too. He knows it’s not true. He can’t fight. He can’t handle a knife the way Bucky can. He’s not well muscled and broad the way Bucky is.

“You won’t be.”

The worst part is that Gale believes him.

np tags: @ranger-elizabeth @skyyguy @wayrad @wolveshine @alienoresimagines

[majorbuckyegan]

Out of Context Line Tag

I was tagged by @nicijones tysm 🥰

“You don't think I'm ugly?” John asked, and there was a tightness to his voice that broke his heart. It sounded as if he was about to cry, “You don't think that my face is ruined, or that I-”

👀👀👀

Tagging: @alienoresimagines @hogans-heroes @buckbiddick @moghraidhs @anachilles @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @soliloquy-dawn @antiquitea @angelfruittree @spaceshipkat

[swifty-fox]

last line tag

tagged by @trashbag-baby666 @stars-remain2 and @optimisticflicker thank you alllll

working on cicada season today, tw anxiety/panic attacks:

“Here.”

Gale jerks his head back, “I don’t drink.”

“Jesus, neither do I. It’s water, just have a sip or two.” 

He doesn’t believe John up until the first few drops hit his tongue, cool and stale and tasting a little bit metallic. There’s enough of his self respect left that he takes the flask from John’s hand rather than let the other man hold it for him, ignoring how his hands shake slightly. He doesn’t know why they’re shaking. Water blooms cools in his stomach, and it almost makes him gag, but the second settles him a bit, spreading from his guts out to his limbs in a soothing chill that has him exhaling shakily. 

Handing the flask back, Gale wipes his mouth and then presses his palms back to his eyes. Unbudden, Helen’s voice sounds in his ear. 

Take a breath, Gale. 

He inhales through his nose, out through his mouth. 

Does it again.

“That happen often?” John asks, metal clinking. 

Gale drops his hands from his face, he sees John taking a sip himself, holding the water in his mouth for half a second like he’s expecting it to burn before swallowing. Screws the cap back on. 

“Dunno,” he says, “depends on what you mean by ‘that’ I suppose.” 

“The anxiety attack.” 

“That what that is?” Gale asks, spreading his fingers wide and then clenching them, testing the shake to them. It’s improving by the second, the more he breathes, the more he focuses on the way the water cools his body down

tagging @middlingmay YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT (lovingly) @soliloquy-dawn @hogans-heroes @euph0riacc @irregularcollapse