#that's the first thing I thought when I heard that line

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[pricesprincess]

part two to this | angst | part three coming soon...

later that evening dinner was served and simone was bathed with her pjs on as she settled into the couch under a mountain of blankets holding her tablet while face timing simon who answered on the first ring with a smile that was reserved just for his little girl.

"hello, princess. i miss you already, are you all for bed?"

it hurt hearing simon talk so quietly like that and seeing him so torn up made your heart sink to your stomach and all the way down to your toes like a weight on fishing line. "i am! do you think you can you come over for dinner? mom made your favorite!" simone asked.

from where you stood in the kitchen you heard the silence fill the video call as you glanced down and sure enough you were making what you were so used too, even after months of the separation you were still doing things for him to make his life easier.

simon mulled the question over his head, and while he does respect you, his daughter wanted to see him and that came before anything.

"tell your mum i'll be there soon, i love you."

simone hung up her tablet and put it in her cubby before running to the kitchen, her lips tugged into a bright smile as she clapped her little hands together. "daddy is coming for dinner!" she announced.

when you and simon had separated she had asked if you still loved her daddy and without a second of hesitation you told her you always would no matter what but she was too young for the rest of it.

she came closer to stand by you, her arms wrapping around your legs as you bent down to kiss the top of her head earning a glare so similar to simon's. "my hair mommy! i want to look pretty for daddy!"

you couldn't help but chuckle a little and crouch down to her height as you took hold of her hands. "baby girl, you are the prettiest already to him, why don't you put on a dress then?" you suggested softly.

simone skipped off to her bedroom down the hallway as you finished up dinner feeling a soft flutter in your belly, like butterflies while you waited for your date to show up, but in this case it was your husband.

when he had flat out refused to sign the papers you thought about using one of the fighting moves on him that he showed you but instead you left your shared home with your daughter.

simon truly never felt like his nickname until the first night being alone without his girls giggling and doing each other's makeup, now it's just silence that keeps him awake, it was all overwhelming.

ten minutes later simone came strutting from her room complete in the princess attire, the glittering crown she wore matched the array of purples in the dress and the plastic shoes as well. "is he here yet?"

"not yet baby, i'm sure he will be soon though. do you still have that card for him?" you asked while setting the small dining room table up for three, the image was enough to make your heart flutter.

perhaps you and simon could work this out.

the card simone bought in the store as you shopped for dinner was something she hasn't been able to stop talking about since then nor could she stop bragging to everyone at the store about her dad.

she zoomed to her room then back to the kitchen holding the white envelope with a grin as she bounced back and forth unable to hide the excitement even though she just got done spending a weekend with simon, he truly was her hero and number one, same for you.

to pass time you cleaned up while simone got on her tablet to watch an episode of her show before asking you were simon was.

an hour passed and no calls or texts, dinner was now cold and you were irritated and disappointed. heating the food up you ate in silence with simone who kept glancing at the door with sad eyes.

you wanted to punch simon in the throat for getting her hopes up and you wondered what it was that kept him from coming over because you knew that him seeing simone was the most important thing to him.

another phone call and more unread texts later you finally helped simone out of her dress and into some pjs before tucking her into bed and reading a story. "why didn't daddy come? does he love us?"

her question made you tense as you perched on the side of her bed, simon and love could be like oil and water sometimes, his version of love was never something like this so he tried his best.

"of course, he does honey bug. i think he got caught up into something which happens, he loves you so very much sweet girl."

her blue eyes watered before flowing over down her cheeks as she clutched the rainbow teddybear simon gave her a few months ago.

even at her tender young age simone was beyond smart.

"why can't daddy live with us?" her question wasn't aimed to hurt but you could feel the physical pain bloom in your chest then your throat formed a lump as you fought back the tears as well.

you cleared your throat and brushed her hair back. "it's a lot baby, ok? just get some rest and tomorrow is a new day." you told her and kissed the top of her head before standing up.

making sure her nightlight was turned on you had to fight off the torrent of tears that threatened to break like a dam as you listened to simone sniffle and bury herself deeper under her blankets.

once the door shut with a soft click you quickly made it to the living room and tapped at the screen, each one a flame adding to the raging fire building inside you from simone being stood up.

as much as you hated to say it you were used to it, from the beginning of the relationship there were enough missed dates and anniversaries to fill years old calendar you were sure but you love simon enough to over look all of that, none of it mattered.

that is until you had simone and while it was just you at first you couldn't stand to see your daughter go through the same feelings or have consuming thoughts of whether he'll come or not.

voicemail. again.

you dropped on the couch and rubbed your face before dialing john's number.

voicemail.

soap, same thing.

taking a steadying breath you pushed aside the what-ifs that you've battled for years and tried to keep calm. why the hell isn't he answering his phone? you kept repeating over and over again.

then finally, kyle answered.

"kyle...hi, do you know where simon is?" you asked immediately, not even giving the man to say hello or anything, suddenly your mouth went dry waiting for his answer. "kyle? hello?" you pressed again.

[galedekarios]

full credit for the video of this conversation goes to @/imgoinmental on x

if you turn emmrich into a lich, he cries alone in his room because he misses manfred:

davrin: emmrich. i think assan misses manfred i caught him in your room sniffing around, looking for him. emmrich: he's always in there searching for crumbs. davrin: no, he was whimpering. sad. emmrich: poor thing. davrin: when i was there looking for him... thought i heard someone else crying, too. emmrich: ah. davrin: i miss him, too. don't know what i'd do if i lost assan.

i want to gather my own thoughts here, too, a bit because this made me think more about The Decision(tm) and it's a heavy one: emmrich's entire life's work and his own fear of dying being put behind him (although not ever acknowledged or dealt with in a healthy manner) vs bringing back a companion, whom he had loved as a son and who gave his life for him.

personally, i think this, coupled with the reaction to rook's possible death in the final fight or even in the far away future as evidenced by the argument they have prior (both on the human and on the lich path, though i am only showing the lich path here as it is relevant to the discussion):

emmrich: i can see the life course through you, my love. like a thread of diamond flame. yet... emmrich: i will lose you to time, rook. what if i can't bear that for eternity? rook: that's the most romantic thing i've ever heard. emmrich: what? rook: remembering me forever? emmrich: i'm afraid i'll mourn you forever. rook: that's ridiculous. emmrich: do you think so little of what i feel for you? rook: no! emmrich: then you could act accordingly.

i also always think about this line by emmrich's parents' graves:

emmrich: lately, i've wondered what they'd think of our current course. the choices ahead. rook: your lichdom? emmrich: what would they have wanted me to be? rook: [option: never lonely/locks in romance]: happy with someone that cares for you.

the very first condition is that he must be able to let others go. he’s not nonchalant about his own death, not about manfred's, and not about rook's. he doesn't want to be alone.

i think in conclusion for myself, i came away from all of this very much believing that emmrich is not built for what lichdom requires of him and entails over the many, many centuries to come.

i wish the game offered more romance / character scenes to actually meaningfully address and discuss not only the argument with emmrich, but also his fear of dying.

(disclaimer: i want to clarify that these are just my own personaly thoughts. choosing lichdom is a valid path, depending on how you rp your rook, your backbackground and how you engage with emmrich. i am only looking at this through the lens of myself experiencing the game and emmrich's character.)

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (23/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, nightmares, speaking about trauma ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he slept vigilantly – he was awakened by her every movement, her uneven breath, the creak of the bed beneath her body. He held her close and did not let her out of his embrace fearing that again, led by some dark, cruel dream, she would try to do what he had witnessed.

It was only when he saw her standing over the edge of the precipice that he understood what her disappearance would mean: that with her he would lose the part of himself that she had managed to reawaken.

He tried, he made an effort, he changed for her, because he knew that she would see it, that she would appreciate it, that she would tell him, as she always did, that she understood him.

She was the first person to praise him out loud – there was something humbling about how much he craved it, whether from his mother's, his father's, Aegon's, Sylvi's or Criston's lips.

Everyone he had somehow allowed to cross the line and know some part of himself.

However, it was only she who was able to do it in the way he needed – not pitying him, not treating him like a child, but simply trying to comprehend what he was facing, why some things were difficult for him while others were groundbreaking.

He realised that she never demanded anything of him: she never asked him to marry her, she never asked him to send her home, she never asked him to become more open.

She always waited patiently, with a strange, partly incomprehensible understanding, showing him that it was simply his nature.

With her, he stopped being ashamed of himself: of who he was and who he wasn't, what he lacked, what he had lost, what mistakes he had made.

Because of her, he forgave himself.

He had found peace.

And now, that peace was about to disappear with her.

He swallowed hard at the mere memory and snuggled her tighter into him, embracing her more firmly in his arms. He heard her quiet mutter, her fingers tightening on the material of his shirt, her cheek pressed against his chest.

His thoughts fled to what she had said, to what she had seen in her dream – him with another woman, his betrayal, the greatest humiliation she could have experienced on his part as his wife.

He could not comprehend why she thought he could fail her trust in this way, break the oath he had taken before the gods themselves, hurt her while she was helping him heal his wounds.

Even if she were only his lover, he wouldn't want another – he would not be able to open himself up again, to allow someone into his heart and mind, much less at the cost of losing her.

You are my only friend.

And you are mine, he thought, stroking her hair slowly, exactly as she had asked him to do.

She combined everything he wanted, allowing him to take care of herself so that he could feel like a man, while at the same time caring for him, giving him space, so that sometimes, but only sometimes, when he felt weak, he could become a little boy in her arms.

There was something liberating in that thought – in the conviction that his grandfather was right, and that his affection for her could slowly blossom, giving him more strength every day.

He wanted her to be sure of his fidelity and devotion, just as he was sure of hers.

He knew that this alone would give her peace of mind.

To his satisfaction, she stopped pretending not to see him – when she asked him early in the morning if he would help her with her bath and be by her side, he immediately agreed.

He would never have thought he would so willingly step into the role of a servant of sorts – while she sat in the bath in her nightgown, sunk up to her chin in warm water full of fragrant oils, he gently rubbed her arms and hands with a damp cloth.

There was something intimate about this moment, some attempt of reconciliation, of staying together despite all that had happened.

He didn't tell her about what went on behind closed doors – he didn't tell her that his grandfather was delighted with what she had accomplished, that he, Criston and Gwayne were planning to conquer the Eyrie before Rhaenyra could recover from another loss and move on them.

Deprived of Daemon and Rhaenys, she was like a lion without fangs and claws – even new dragon riders could not replace the experience and bond they had with Caraxes and Meleys.

Otto felt, and he agreed, that the kingdom should hear that it was he, not his wife, who had killed Daemon – this was not to give him credit for it, although it certainly helped him as Prince Regent, but above all – in his eyes – it was to protect her from accusations that would be damaging to her.

Namely, that she was a kinslayer.

Word that she had killed her father, committing, like him, a sin unkind to the gods would spread like the wind, preventing her from getting rid of the remorse that was already overwhelming her.

He preferred everyone to think it was he who had killed his uncle.

He was already cursed in the eyes of others anyway, so what he had done would no longer matter.

Daemon's death raised the morale of the army: his soldiers celebrated all the next day after he announced the news. He guessed that his wife heard them, grieving, but he could not forbid them from doing so; he stood between the hammer and the anvil.

To his satisfaction, it turned out that both Cole and Gwayne were men showing enough sensitivity to understand his wife's condition: her help was still needed by them, but it was clear that forcing her to do anything would turn against them.

They had to wait patiently for her to return to balance, in the meantime planning every next step.

The fact that she was carrying his child pleased him, but it also made things even more complicated.

No one but him, Maester and her knew about it.

"I remember more and more. From the time I was a child." Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He looked at her, her face flushed from the warm steam that floated around them, her long, dark hair tied back to keep it from getting wet.

He sighed quietly, his thumb running over the moist skin of her wrist.

"And what do you see?" He asked, though he guessed what her answer would be.

"My father. The way my mother spoke to him and about him. She told me once…" she muttered and fell silent, lowering her gaze as if ashamed and heartbroken, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"… she said something that I think was the source of my age-old resentment towards your lineage. She said that the Targaryens have strange customs. That fathers take their daughters to their bed. I think that's why I repressed all my memories of my father embracing me, touching me, kissing me on the forehead. The thought that he wasn't doing it out of fatherly love, but out of sick, disgusting lust, terrified me. She destroyed his image in my eyes because she hated him herself. But now that I think about it, he never touched me in a wrong way. He never even tried."

She whispered, finally looking up at him, as if begging him to confirm her words, to tell her that she was right even though he had not witnessed the events.

He swallowed hard, realising that he often forgot that what his family had been doing for generations was ordinary only for them, but not for people from the outside.

"Marriages in our family happen between relatives, but never between parents and children or grandparents and grandchildren. That would be unacceptable." He replied calmly.

Her fingers clenched on his hand, as if she was wordlessly trying to convey to him that she needed him now more than ever.

"But after all, there were rumours of my father taking Rhaenyra, his niece, to a brothel long before she became his wife. She was still a little girl then." She muttered in a breaking voice.

He lowered his gaze, not knowing what he should reply to these words.

"I've heard about it too, but as you say, it's gossip. I didn't hold any love for him, but I can't say with certainty if or what he did to her at the time. I'm no saint myself." He confessed, finally looking up at her.

She blinked, staring at him with surprise bordering on horror, as if his confession frightened her.

"What do you mean?"

He felt his jaw clench in an unpleasant shudder of discomfort at the thought of what he had done to her.

"I have used you. I did it deliberately for months."

He fell silent, unable to look into her eyes – it was only when he said the words aloud that it occurred to him what he had actually done to her.

"You didn't force me. I agreed to it." She whispered.

"Did you?" He asked, looking at her finally. "Do you think my pride would have endured your refusal, your rejection? That I wouldn't do anything to you?"

She swallowed loudly, looking at him with some kind of worry – her lips pursed into a thin line as she took his hand in hers.

"And you? Do you think I really had any desire to lose my maidenhood with some servant? That I didn't want you to take his place? I didn't know you, nor did you know me. For a long time it was a game, yours and mine. But at some point I no longer knew what was a lie and what was the truth. I began to miss you by day and looked forward to falling asleep in your arms at night. The more I got to know you, the more I longed to stay by your side."

He didn't know why his lower lip was quivering, why he felt a burning wetness under his eyelid, why his throat was squeezed with emotion.

What he couldn't comprehend was the ease with which she was able to understand him and his decisions, as if it didn't require any effort on her part – the knowledge that she never resented him, that she was partially aware of what he was doing and consented to it made him think that perhaps it had to be that way.

That it was somehow their joint decision.

A shared effort to understand who they were, what they craved and why they kept returning to each other.

"I ask you to forgive me." He whispered, clasping his fingers over hers, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Forgive me for who I was when you met me.

Who I still am when you are not by my side.

"I too ask for your forgiveness." She replied softly, making him feel a pleasant warmth spread across his chest.

The reciprocation.

"I forgive you." He said.

"I forgive you too." She replied and smiled lightly, sincerely, for the first time since those events.

She shifted towards him with a quiet splash of water, and he did the same – he sighed with some kind of relief when her face pressed against his cheek, when her scent filled his lungs, when her full lips placed a warm, wet, tender kiss on his hot skin.

He closed his eye, focusing on that pleasurable touch, his fingers involuntarily stroking her hair, her neck, her jaw, his words against her ear like a whisper.

"I regret that I didn't meet you sooner. That it wasn't the warmth of your body, the moisture of your lips that I experienced for the first time as a young boy. That our fathers did not betroth us the day you came into this world." He spoke quietly, tracing the tip of his nose over the soft, smooth structure of her plump, pink cheek.

He felt her hands tighten on his tunic, her breath caught in her throat as her thighs involuntarily clenched under the water.

His erection pulsed hard in his breeches.

It seemed to him that ages passed before her face slowly turned towards him, before her lips found his, teasing him merely, not giving him full kisses, but only a foreshadowing, an encouragement, a promise of what he wanted so badly.

He pressed her against his body, unable to contain himself, sinking greedily into her soft, wet flesh – his hand clenched in her hair, preventing her from escaping his slick tongue as it burst deep into her throat.

She moaned into his mouth and it was one of the sweetest sounds she'd ever made – he involuntarily smiled, feeling lighter as her arms embraced his neck, as her lips parted, allowing him to continue.

They had never kissed like this before – so slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. They concentrated on making their lips unite completely, the quiet clicks of their saliva accompanying their every flick. His fingers stroked the skin of her face, her neck and her hair more gently than ever before, as if any sudden movement on his part might suddenly startle her.

"– I miss you – in every way –" He breathed out between one kiss and the next, embarrassed by his desperate confession, which he would not have dared to make in the presence of any other woman.

He knew, however, that she would not mock him.

That she would understand him.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, her knuckles running over the line of his jaw.

"– I miss you too –"

Her body beneath him was wet and warm. It seemed to him that they were two parts of one whole – before he did what he so desperately craved, he simply admired the way she looked.

He marvelled at how her breasts had begun to change – through the baby in her womb they had become fuller, plumper, like a ripe fruit.

He leaned over her bare skin, placing wet, lazy kisses around her nipple, finally closing his lips around it. She moaned as he began to tease it with the tip of his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive spot – he knew she loved it when he did that – her hands always pressed him closer to her chest, exactly like now, asking for more.

His hand slid slowly down her waist, to her hip, finally finding its way between her thighs. The tips of his fingers ran over her silky womanhood, collecting the moisture that had managed to leak out of her, merely brushing her hot skin. He felt her body shudder as her legs involuntarily spread wider, consenting to whatever he wanted to give her.

For some reason, he felt as if this was their first time – perhaps because they were completely different people than when he had taken her to his bed.

She remained his prisoner, and he had complete power over her, treating her body as something that belonged to him for the sake of a strict, eternal law, the essence of a woman as one who could not oppose a man.

This time, however, feeling the skin of her soft breasts melt under his lips, sinking his fingers into her sticky, fleshy folds, running them around her little bud, he felt like a young boy exploring a woman's body for the first time.

There was something reassuring about the way she just let him do it, combing through his long, white hair with her fingers, breathing softly, clearly taking pleasure in how slow and precise his caresses were.

Now, lying beneath him, she was truly his little sister, his future wife, betrothed to him from the day she was born, created to be only his.

There was something beautiful about this vision, he thought as his middle finger pushed against her tight, throbbing entrance – she gasped, clenching her fingers against his naked back, but neither she nor her body offered him any resistance.

"– lēkia – I want you inside me –" She mumbled with difficulty, as if ashamed and bitter that she wanted this so badly, that, although she wanted to prolong this state of sweet tension, she was unable to hold out any longer.

His long-fully hard manhood twitched and pressed against her thigh, expressing his irresistible desire to do exactly what she asked.

He released her nipple from between his lips with a quiet click, lifting his face higher, placing a warm, loud kiss on her cheek – he felt her fingers run over his jaw, neck and chest as he grasped his erection in his palm and directed it to her slit. They both sighed when they felt the closeness of their bodies as, with a slow, patient movement of his hips, he opened her for himself and froze in this position.

Her insides were moist and warm, exactly as he remembered – his forehead pressed against hers as they embraced each other tightly, her breasts clinging to his torso in sudden need of closeness.

For a moment he simply looked at her, breathing loudly along with her.

They both sighed with a low, surprised moan as he involuntarily stretched her fleshy walls wider on his erection, sinking deeper into her – her hands slid down from his bare back to his buttocks, stroking them in some comforting, tender gesture.

I love you, he thought, placing a hot, moist kisses on her plump lips, letting his entire manhood deep inside her body – the experience was a kind of epiphany, something from which there was no turning back.

She sighed softly into his throat, reciprocating the lazy, sweet caresses of his lips as he began to sink into her with tentative, light thrusts, again and again disappearing into the familiar, the good, the safe.

They embraced tighter, looking directly into each other's eyes and it was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced – he usually avoided a woman's gaze, even hers, afraid of what he would see in it.

Sadness as in his mother's eyes, compassion as in Sylvi's, sorrow as in Helaena's.

However, his hāedar's eyes told him something different – in her gaze he saw pain, loss, longing, pleading, all that he felt deep inside himself.

They both moaned, panting louder and louder as her hips began to sway to the rhythm of his thrusts, reaching out to join him again.

"– you're so warm –" He exhaled wearily, ashamed to hear his voice break.

He wasn't sure why he'd said it – he wanted to say so many other things right now, but he couldn't.

These words seemed natural to him, sincere, coming from the depths of his heart – the outside world was cruel, vicious, cold, and her body was full of warmth, softness, smooth as silk.

They embraced closer and snuggled into each other, stroking each other's hair and faces, kissing slowly and unhurriedly, deeply, tenderly, in a way that deep down he had dreamed of.

He wasn't sure if he was usually a rough, sometimes even harsh lover because he wanted to, or because it gave him confidence, allowing him to keep his face and dignity.

There's more dignity in this, he thought, speeding up his movements, letting their bodies slam against each other loud and fast with sticky splats of their naked skin, listening to their grunts and sighs filled with pleasure.

For some reason he felt more like a human, more like a man, more like himself than he ever had, with his long hair loose falling over her face, without an eye patch covering his eye, completely bare not only with his body, but also with his mind.

He showed her what he hadn't even shown Sylvi.

He showed her that he was capable of affection, capable of longing, capable of suffering because of another person.

He was weak.

But by her side it didn't matter.

Her nails dug into the skin of his back as she inevitably neared her peak, tears of relief ran down her face, a quiet, girlish cry of delight broke from her lips as the sweet convulsion of fulfilment shook her body.

She was beautiful in her vulnerability.

"– hāedar –" He gasped out – his fingers clamped down on the sheet as he groaned low, clenching his eyelids, finally coming inside her, feeling the sudden, wonderful shivers surging through his body, the sweet pulsing in his erection, which at last experienced release.

He sighed loudly as he simply lay on top of her, careful, however, not to crush her with the weight of his body – they embraced with their arms and continued like this, breathing heavily in the silence of the chamber.

He closed his eyes when he felt her lips place a warm, tender kiss on the top of his head and involuntarily smiled, feeling like a little boy again.

At last, after so many years of anguish, he was truly loved by someone.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[thatfrailsoul]

– If you love me, then love me from the heart

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

pictures from pinterest → one, two, three

Slow down for a moment. Give your conscious mind a moment of rest, allow it to step back. Instead, listen to your subconscious mind, to that inner voice, to the intuition that is guiding you to the pile in which your message hides. A message about the love that your heart is longing for. The one that you are hoping to find…

This is our third reading from our divination jukebox, inspired by possibly one of the most beautiful songs that I've ever heard - "Yağmur Yağar Taş Üstüne" by Mustafa Güzel and Batuhan Fırat (feat. Belkıs Güzel). I'm so deeply grateful for the person that suggested this song and gave us the possibility not only to discover it, but also to have such a deep and tender message through this reading. It is difficult to find the correct translation for this song, but I strongly encourage you to listen and read it, as it is simply magical in the softest way. I will leave you the links that were recommended to me here, in case you would like to listen to it. And if you would like to see a pick a pile reading inspired by your favourite song, you can discover more about how to participate here↓♡!

♪♡♪ Divination Jukebox ♪♡♪

P.s. This is my first attempt at a longer reading, so if you feel comfortable please let me know in the comments what you think of it! If you prefer the shorter ones, if there is any aspect of the reading that makes it difficult for you to read it, or in case you will take a look at the extended version of this reading, if you would prefer to have something more specific in the additional messages of our readings - I will cherish your opinion and use it to get better with each post!♡

– Pile One,

{ The love that you are longing for }

the magician, the seven of swords, the page of coins

Love… you so often consider it just a feeling. A feeling that after all these years alive you still can really connect only to your own self. To you who seems to be the only one to feel it. To give it. While all that others do is receive it from you. Giving you back some gratitude perhaps, but never something that feels like what you gave them. Nothing that really fills in that part of you that was emptied for them… Making you really wonder if perhaps you got it wrong for all this time, if what you considered love never was it. If you imagined and expected it to be more, made it be more. Giving others much more than any person could ever give you in return, more than you ever should've done…

All that attention, that care, that genuine dedication that you put in, time after time, for every soul that was close, going out of your way to be there, right by their side for whatever might come… But still standing alone when facing your hardships, your difficult moments. Only you on the first line, out there in the cold, just you against this world… You genuinely never thought that this is what love would be. You expected something different from what you always received from others before. A complete opposite of having to do everything on your own, of that fear of what will happen to you if one day things in your life won't work anymore. You thought that it should be different from that because you know for sure that all those years of struggle alone never had even a bit of love in them, not from the people that were all that time around and close to you, but never did anything to help you, apart from telling you that this is how it works and that you should grow and take care of yourself on your own.

You alway imagined it, in those dark and painful nights, a hug, a caressing hand, a soft voice that assures you that everything will be okay, that it won't be forever this way, that you are not alone but you will always have them… So you did your best to be deserving, manifesting those tender and loving ways through your own self. Through the way you looked after others, the way you cared for them. Not only knowing that this is the right way to treat others, the way you genuinely want to be, but that it will be also worth it, that you will one day feel the love you gave, through others that will do the same… But it never came. You never saw your reflection in them, you never saw that part of your heart that you gave away being nourished and taken care of… it was always mostly just appreciated in the moment. And forgotten. Or worst, taken advantage of by expecting or asking more. So after all these tears, all the days dedicated to others instead of yourself, all your prayers for help and support, just a little comfort, that you never received because they are too busy to take a moment to give you back that love that you never declined them…. You started to think that you are in the wrong. That the love you always waited for is just a dream that the real concept of love can’t live up to. No matter how much you can look for it or want it. It is simply not something possible. And you are asking for too much.

{ What this is all for }

the judgement, the ace of swords, the lovers

This world, this life in general… has a really unique way of helping us to learn, of guiding us in or through the right direction and path, of letting us know that everything will be alright… Their language is so different from ours that we really struggle to understand it, those words that come in the form of pure feelings directly from within us. The ones that we should trust the most but never do so. Especially when it comes to love, something that we so much idealise, something that we have so much desire for.

Your heart is so sincerely tired, it went through so many betrayals and wounds inflicted by those that you tried to love. To the point that it simply feels that heaviness, that weight of this experience that you never really wanted to begin with. So you feel like you are ready for something else, for that love that you did all of this for, if it even exists at all. But are you really sure of it..? Of knowing so well the person that you would like to have by your side each day, their character, their behaviour, their values? Are you sure that you really did look for them and not just anyone who seemed to be able to love? Are you sure that you really know your worth and the one of your love, how one must love you in order to really give you all that your heart needs and wants? Or did you think that you knew it before, and now you are settling for much less than you are deserving of, because of the overwhelming loneliness and fear that it will be this way for the rest of your days unless you accept whatever one gives you in return? Are you sure that you are remaining loyal to your own self and your soul, instead of trying to “sell” it to whoever is close and good enough?

Because, even though perhaps you are not doing it consciously, but you are changing. Little by little. Not in terms of who you are, but in the ones of who you allow others to consider you. Leaving it up to them to decide how much you deserve, what is the worth of your love and care that you give them after letting them in, where only the most sincere, genuine and trustworthy should belong. You just give them your all. Every single time. Without any limit or hesitation. Not even when all that you receive is another rude phrase, some judgement, coldness and distance once they got up and healed thanks to your love. You just do it. For everyone. Not choosing carefully, but treating every soul as the right one. And not in a good sense. Instead, you are not listening anymore to your own intuition or feelings, not trusting your own mind that recognises the things that are too off. You are just rushing in this hunt for “the one” as the time passes and you feel more and more scared and alone. You are throwing yourself at every possible connection, all in, wandering each time that it goes wrong what you did too little or too much of. And not realising anymore that it is not about how you love, if it is in the right way or the wrong one… But rather who you choose, even force yourself, to love. And how they are simply not the right one, no matter how much you sacrifice of your own values and preferences, just to make them fit in the place that it is not theirs to hold.

All these bad endings, failures, mistakes that you consider yours to be responsible for… Are just a natural consequence of you settling for less than you really desire and need in order to feel loved. All that sadness, that loneliness… are only your subconscious, your own heart that you willingly ignored at first, but that after some time managed to be heard by you, letting you know that the way you are treated, the crumbs that you accept, will never truly be enough.

Those endings, those coincidences that are never in your favour, those interferences in your connections from the outside world… are just its efforts to protect you and communicate with you, trying to show you that refusing your own standards is not what can help you find them, that right person that you can truly feel safe and understood with… Adapting to another person and changing, it is not what will make them love you like you want. It will only keep you stuck in a play pretend. Put you in situations and relationships that you won’t feel appreciated and cherished in. It will consume you from inside out, slowly but surely, just because that one time you believed more others, than your own self that always knew what was best and right for you, what you really wanted to feel and who you wanted to have with you…

The time already passed, you already got through so much. You can’t do anything about it, and it is alright. But you can do yourself a favour and listen again to your own heart, before following that overwhelming fear and anxiety of being left alone in the cold and the dark. Your heart, your love, they are unique. But not at all the only ones. There is a soul, out there, that is your perfect reflection, someone who resonates so much with your ways of feeling love. And you can and will find them. The moment you stop seeing all that happened and you went through as the mistakes you made, ways that you can be better by being more or less… And start to see them as simply were and when the things didn't feel right for your heart, for who you are. Because those things that you felt the lack of, or perhaps as though it is just too much, are the ones that you need to hold onto, to look for in others. Instead of ignoring them, just so you can fit in the perfect version of love of someone and they can accept you, even though you are not theirs to love…

Although it seems so easy to do through words… We know too well that sometimes it is not enough to just choose to listen to our heart more. It is not always enough when we, in a certain way, forget its language, when we are not able anymore to comprehend it and separate it from the voice of our mind that we learned to follow… For this reason, there is an additional message for you, if you want to, in our extended version of this reading. What you need to know and remember as you continue on this journey, in this search of the right person for you, but also of the confidence and trust in your own heart, that will be the things that will change everything about the situation in which you are now.♡↓

{ a little message for you }

—

– Pile Two,

{ The love that you are longing for }

the wheel of fortune, the sun, the devil

It happened so many times… So often you felt overwhelmed, completely overtaken, by the life of someone you loved… Their problems, their difficulties, their fears that became yours. Yours to resolve, yours to take care of, yours to endure, even though you never could really influence them, not the things that depended on their actions, their decisions. Not when it was something that was purely theirs to create, destroy and live… It happened so many times, truly. You felt so often the urge to be there for someone, just because you knew them, just because you saw their struggle and couldn't help but to try to save them. Because this is what everyone deserves, yes… But with those that had a special place in your heart, those that you felt so close to you, so needed as the air you breathe, there never was a chance for you to say no. Not when your heart so ardently fought for them each day, no matter if it was your battle, your victory to take or not.

One by one they took a part of your life from you, gladly accepting your love, your support and help. And leaving it all to you, to your heart and mind that never were supposed to live so many lives, go through so many situations and emotions, bear so many consequences that were coming from actions that simply weren't yours. And they took it from you. That time and energy, the courage and strength that otherwise would have gone to you, to your own healing, growth and protection. They took it all from you and, worst of all, they were able to do so thanks to you. You who gave it to them, all that you had, in the name of the love that you felt. You that not even once regretted it. Not in the moment at least…

They took so much from you, making you get used to it, to have so little, to give away so much… That now, for once, you want to find someone different. Someone who will not take advantage of your heart. Someone who will understand that, no matter how much you want and try, it is not the right thing to leave it all up to you, to handle their life… Someone who, for once, just knows more, knows better. Someone who can teach you, gently, softly, as they protect you from your own self, from your own urge to disintegrate yourself for the happiness and safety of someone else.

For once… you want to be overwhelmed by someone's joy, their hope, their desire to be here and to live this life. Their strength to choose to see the best aspects of the things. Their strength to be patient, to have faith, to believe that everything will work out in the end. For once you want to receive that strength, not to give it away. For once you want to be protected, guided, as you trust someone who doesn't expect you to lead the way out of the darkness of their days…

It might sound selfish to some, so entitled to look for someone who has it all figured out, who has better and more control of their life… But you are simply tired. And a little lost, if one can say the truth. Tired of figuring everything out constantly, keeping others above the water, as they push you down, never thinking of the air they are taking away from you. It’s not about an easier life, about receiving constant help or guidance, leaving it up to others to make the choice for you… It is about just wanting to have something that is left for your own self too. A little time, a little love, that you can give yourself without being afraid that in the meantime someone would get upset or hurt. You just want to be able to take care of yourself too, not only of those that you love, of your connections, of your situations, that seem to be destroyed each moment you are not looking after them. You just want to have someone that is by your side, living their life, instead of living yours that becomes so scarily about them, their necessities, their dreams, their worry and losses. You just want someone to learn from, or together, how to live this life in the most right and healthy, loving way. Not to teach it. While you yourself don't have any idea of how you are still here, how you made it until now every day.

{ Will you ever find someone like them }

the justice, the eight of wands, the queen of wands

This new and almost desperate desire in your heart now, might feel a lot like frustration, the last realisation of how things should've been when everything already happened, when it is too late to change them… But instead of a tragic end, it is more of a hopeful and promising beginning. The one that you are creating with your each thought, with each moment of understanding of what it is that you really want to feel, when sharing your love. The taste of it, the feeling, the emotions it can give you. With each found answer in your heart you are changing your life, much more than you expect now. Because it really is all about your choices. Your decision of who you will be accepting into your life from now on.

There is a part of you that is growing, getting stronger, preparing to be vigilant and serious about its duty: the one to protect your heart. One little thought created by the tiredness, the sadness of all that you endured… was enough to move the waves of the whole world, of the reality around you. Of who will be brought right to you, and who will be pulled back, not being the right ones. Changing your connections one step, one person at a time. Giving you back the right to decide for yourself, making you remember that you can in fact do it, you can choose the ones dear to your heart.

And it won’t be delusion, entitlement, selfishness, or any sort of limit that you will put on your heart… It will be just you, all grown up, who will now know that it is okay to not take it all on yourself, whatever and whoever comes, because of the fear of what not doing it will cause. It will be your understanding that people can and will make it through on their own, even if they are so afraid or feel incapable of facing their life right now. And it will be also your acceptance that not every story you hear is yours to live, to feel, to make sure it has a good ending. Not everyone is yours to protect and help. Not everyone has the right to come before your own self.

It might be a change that will take its time to settle in, especially in your heart that is just so full of love. Love that you didn't give yourself for so long, pouring it all in the needing hands of those by your side. But it will happen. It will feel safe and right, to allow yourself to choose how much the realities of others influence your life. And as you will go through it, as you will seek that courage and strength… It will be enough to remember that everything will be okay. Even in those moments of uncertainty, it will be enough to hold on tight to the message that we will receive, if you want to, in the extended version of this reading. A message about how you can and will change your life.♡↓

{ a little message for you }

—

– Pile Three,

{ The love that you are longing for }

the ten of wands, the star, the death

It is so difficult to need to explain yourself, your actions, your urges, your reactions. It is tiring to open up your mind and your heart sharing them with others, again and again. Just for them to not understand it, to not pay the slightest of attention, to not take it seriously, all those things that are still consuming your soul… It just feels so useless to go through it, to come out of your comfort zone so hopeful that they would be that right person… only to see them walk away, who scared, who uncomfortable, who deluded or bored. Leaving you feeling like a poor seller who is unable to demonstrate the worth of your broken, lived, soul. When you don't even want to do it in the first place. When it is so ridiculous that you need constantly and so fiercely to defend or explain your wounds, as if they didn't already hurt enough.

It just consumes you. Consumes your every desire to go out there, interact and try to connect with people, creating with such dedication a relationship that - you know it too well - will just be destroyed. By your own past, your own frail soul that is too difficult for others to manage, to use or control. Too delicate to do anything with it without hurting it more.

Deep down you know that not every single person you met was truly so evil at their core. But it still hurts you like hell, being rejected, just put aside, simply because of the way you feel so strongly and deeply every detail about this world. Just because you have more depth to your feelings, more power to the emotions that simply overwhelm you, good or bad, every single bit of them that fills you whole. And that you welcome and feel completely, still remembering how cold and dark it was when there weren't any emotions in you at all.

It just would've been much easier, for once, to not have the need to defend yourself, the way you became. If for once the one in front of you focused on who you are now, and not on who you were or who you could become if only you suppress your soul. Because you changed, yes, and it might be sad to not have that spark that others adored so much about you anymore. But the you who survived still and always deserves the same admiration and love, perhaps even more, after all that you were able to endure. This you who is so different is still you. The you who gave you the strength and courage to face it all. The you who shouldn't at all be forced to explain yourself to those that can't even do one thing: just listen to you, hear you truly, at least for once.

Because it is not so difficult, in the end, to just accept someone and love them for the way they are, without any if or but. You know it well, because you always did it and always do with everyone that is close to you. But while they can be themselves, knowing that they will be truly safe with you, their every wound that will be taken care of without any judgement or expectation to receive something in return… You are always asked to be less or more. To hide your pain, to be more joyful. To not react too much to the things that hurt you. To, instead, be more understanding and patient, accepting, of the ways of others. Even though they never tolerate yours.

So you remain here, among so many of them but still feeling so lonely, so trapped, exactly like it used to feel before. You still are being hurt, even though you had so much courage in not hiding yourself, your scars. Even though you learned to have the needed strength to stand your ground when others didn't see that they were stepping on your heart… And you still hope. That one day, somewhere and someone, for once will just feel drawn to you. Not a memory of you or your potential change. Just someone who, for once, is gentle and kind in their ways. Not because you asked them to, not because they were forced by your tears… But just because they are connected enough to their own heart. Enough to recognise the painfully familiar stories behind your tired and scared eyes. Just one person, just one single time would be enough. Just one single moment in which you would feel loved and cherished the way you are, even with all those fears and doubts that everyone has always something to say about. Just one true and genuine connection. One single chance for your heart to find again the hope that you, exactly the way you are now after all your battles, not less not more, will be enough.

{ You are not in the wrong }

the page of coins, the strength, the six of cups

Finally standing up for yourself, taking your defence, pushing back those that don't make you anymore feel safe… it took a lot of courage, especially when every decision that was already hard enough was also met with judgement, with pure rage, just because for once you weren't ready to be there for someone else. But while you thought that the worst part will be this, finding the strength to prioritise yourself, the most difficult part revealed itself to be resisting the urge to take all your words back, bowing your head, surrendering to discourses of others about how you shouldn't ever do that again, and coming back to your old and consumed self, asking it to endure it once again. But this time with the full awareness of how it is wrong, to give away so much of you, remaining with so little that it is never enough to take care of your own heart and mind…

You are resisting it now with all your strength, but the single thought that they might be right, that you are indeed acting too selfishly, is already enough to shake you to your core, to fill you with the pure terror that you might be becoming one of those that hurt you, coming down to their level without realising what you've done.

But you are not. I promise you. There is nothing wrong in putting yourself first for once. There are no mistakes when you are acting from your heart, from the pure desire to protect yourself now that you are realising that it all just has been too much. You are not the villain here, even if perhaps there isn't one among them either. There is no evil in knowing what you deserve and want, and not accepting nothing less from others, even if they so perfectly mask it with words like “It is the way I love”, “This is the best for you, the best you can ever find or hope for”...

You’ve endured a lot, so much that it is truly non conceivable and admissible that someone belittles it. That someone doesn't give it the importance and incredibly powerful and heart wrenching meaning that you surviving all of that holds. Don't stop for them, for their fears that you will change. Because it has already happened, in the good and in the bad. And if someone can't accept and respect the new you, if they, even in the name of their love, can't accept you… then it is okay. There will be someone else. Someone else who will meet you, get to know you, and learn to appreciate and cherish you for the way you are now, not a memory of who you were.

It might be sad to let go of some people, to lose some connections. It might be frustrating to see their absolute conviction that you are the one in the wrong… But you are tired now, you feel weak after needing to fight against them again and again just to protect yourself… so don't waste your last remaining energy on them, on proving them wrong when they already ended this story as it is more convenient for them in their head. Let them go. Let them be. Not to allow them to think that they are right. But for your own self and to give you that space and time to rest and recover, to take care of yourself.

This world is vast, there are so many of us. Remaining now for a moment alone… doesn't at all condemn you to have all the days of your life lonely and cold. It is just a phase, just a precious moment that will sign a new step in your growth, in how much you consider your own worth and protect yourself at all costs. People come and go. Some are good and some are not. But you are unique, you are the only one you have, the most important person that you need to love and take care of. Even if it means to not accept the love of others, simply because it is so different from what you are longing for. Even if it means to reject the company that you so much want, because they never offer it genuinely but only when it is so convenient and needed for them.

Times will change, you'll start new journeys, go through different paths that will align with others, new and completely different persons. And you'll create new connections, better ones. Better because of the ways and motives of those that will come closer. Better because you will be much more rested, healed and confident after this focus on yourself and this pause. Better because there won't be any play pretend, endurance or feelings that will be ignored. It will be better. Simply because you will learn from your mistakes, you will grow. And so will those that you will let go of, but not at your own expense and endurance of the way your heart hurts for them. Because they might not realise it now, they might be so convinced that you are the one hurting them… but you are making the best decision not only for your own self, but even for them. You are giving all of you a new chance. A chance that you for sure will take and use it to nourish a new beginning in your life, new connections that will love you, cherish you, protect you at all costs. Exactly like it should be between truly loving souls.

And if it feels still a little too overwhelming, a little too scary and unsure, the decision to put yourself first… There is a little message about the future, at what it holds, in our extended version of this reading, right here, if you want or feel the need to hear more.♡↓

{ a little message for you }

—

_

[tmntxthings]

一∑From the Start・゜・。

author’s notes: scurries in from the darkness, throws this > 💣 < out into the light, and runs back for cover 💥

warnings: unedited, angst, drabble, unrequited love, pining, daydreams, cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

When Leo invited you down to the lair to hang out, you had thought maybe it would be a movie thing. Or perhaps even going to the ramp room, chatting while he practiced skateboarding tricks that almost always ended badly with bruises. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dragged you into the kitchen to whip up something to eat or just snack on whatever the two of you could find.

But no, instead, he led you to his room, with a skip in his step. When you questioned why it had to be just the two of you. Why all of his brothers were rolling their eyes in Leo’s direction. He just shook his head, “I can’t tell anyone else! You’re the only one I can trust!” It was then, that you had a sinking feeling.

This scenario had happened before. Many times actually. You glanced back at the bros, exasperated already and you hadn’t even heard anything yet. But you knew.

Once in his room, Leo let go of you, and jumped face first into his bed. He let out a dramatic screech, kicking to boot before he turned to the ceiling and announced, “I’ve got a crush,”

You held back a sigh as you walked over to the only chair in his room. Pulled it out from under the desk, and sat, getting ready for the long haul. “Who and how?”

He really hadn’t even needed the question. He was off to the races explaining exactly how he had met ~them~ and all the moments after, from whence his heart first skipped a beat, the beauty that they hold, how they laugh at all his jokes. Your eyes clouded over.

This was pure torture. As your eyes unfocused, you let your train of thought wander away from Leo’s babbling fancies. Truly you’d lost count of how many times this had happened before. It was always the same things that made his heart flutter. That made him go crazy, so much so, that he’d tire out his brothers from all the lovesick shenanigans and bring you into the mix.

Which was like listening to chalk squeak against a chalkboard. Shrill and grating. If you didn’t tune it out, you’d go crazy yourself. Because it was despicable to listen to your own crush, talk about how much they wanted someone else.

For a second, you could just blink, look over at him, and pretend he wasn’t saying anything of consequence. “Blah blah blah,” his mouth moved, but you weren’t listening. That was better. It was unfair how pretty he could be. Especially when he was happy, especially when he was falling hard. The way he smiled, how his eyes shined. His hands couldn’t stop moving, he just had to animate with his whole body about how he felt. Your knee started to bounce. He was being cruel and he didn’t even realize it.

It wasn’t fair. But then again, how would he ever know unless you told him? You imagined what it would be like. To interrupt him. To confess your love. He’d probably laugh in your face. Ha what a great joke Y/n, now get real and back to my love crisis. That’s what he’d say. Or something along the lines of it.

But sometimes you could imagine him pausing completely. Getting taken so off guard that he no longer had the words to respond. That maybe he’d look at you with a different light. So maybe that was why you did it. On the off chance that, maybe, Leo had always harbored something for you too. Just deep down! So deep that he felt the need to hide it with all of these other so called crushes.

“Leo!”

He blinked and sat up from where he had been laying, interrupting his tangent.

“What?!”

Straightforward. That would be the best route.

“I like you.” Your eyes were steady, yet your heart raced. It was thundering in your chest as you watched one of his brow bones raise.

“I like you too Y/n” he said so as if it was obvious. Which meant he was misunderstanding.

“No no, not like that. I like you.” You strained with the emphasis as you willed his thick skull to understand. And it must’ve gotten through because his eyes widened just a bit.

“You like me?” He questioned, sitting up even straighter than before. Now you had his attention. And you could feel sweat building up in your palms as you nodded seriously.

“But, we’re best friends..” and you could’ve let that shoot you down. But you continued on. Getting up from your spot, from the single chair, and making your way over to him. Despite how every step made you second guess yourself. Despite thinking maybe it was a better idea to just run out of his room. Or to just settle for the friendship you thought you had wanted.

But you pushed through it all as you sat down next to him. “We are. You’re my best friend Leo. And I, maybe I’m greedy, but I can’t help it. I’ve liked you for so long now. And I don’t think I can just sit idly by anymore.”

You took a breath, palms closing into fists. Eyes closing because if he was going to reject you, it’d be better to not see the pity on his face. You piped up once more before he could say anything, “Every time you talk about your crushes, I can’t help but think, but wish, that it were me! And every time you get over one, I get ahead of myself, I hope that maybe, one day, you’ll look at me differently!”

There was so much you could say. So many different ways to say it. But that was the gist. “That… you’ll like me like that. That you’ll return the feelings I’ve felt for you,” you blew out a breath. Then looked into his eyes.

Leo was rarely ever serious but he was now. “I never knew…” he said softly after a moment of silence. Of taking in all that you had revealed. You nodded not knowing what that meant for your relationship with him now. And the fear of losing him forever leaked onto your face. His eyes softened, a green hand going out to cup your cheek.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” and with that he brushed a finger against your skin. He looked down at your lips as they parted with a shocked breath. He smirked, as only Leo could, and leaned down with a silent question that had you tilting your head to give him better access to your lips.

“Y/n are you even listening to me?”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

You were in the single chair.

“Hello! Earth to Y/n, this is like the biggest moment of my life, I’m telling you I think they may be the one!! Come on focus!!”

Right. You straightened up, crossing a leg over the knee that wouldn’t stop bouncing.

“Sorry, go on,”

And he blinded you with that smile as he retold all of the sickening things that made him so endeared to his crush. If only it wasn’t so endearing to you.

—————————————————————————

This ↓ is why this ↑ came about :D

[whatifitis]

♡ All The Stars Aligned - EO 31 ♡

Summary: Esteban is a huge fan of yours, so when he finds out he's going to a premiere for your new movie, he nearly shits himself.

Author's note: This was based on this request and I won't lie, I had quite a bit of fun writing this. I hope y'all like it! <3

WC: 2k+ some insta posts

CW: fangirl esteban, fluff, masterminding, pierre slapping the back of estebans head :)

The planets and the stars aligned, allowing Esteban to be in the same room, at the same time as you. 

It was no secret that Esteban has had a massive crush on you, having watched everything you’ve ever been in and gone through every piece of media you’ve ever participated in - even voicing his crush for you on several occasions. Practically everyone knew of his crush on you, you’d even seen some of the things he’d say about you, flattering you and making your cheeks flush. 

When his colleague, and friend, Charles Leclerc found out he was invited to the premiere, Charles knew he had to invite Esteban, and Pierre could come along as well. 

Esteban's reaction was priceless when he found out he was going to be in the same room as you. His scream could be heard from across the paddock. Charles made sure to record his reaction to show you at some point, if he is able to make a move or two on you at the premiere. 

Esteban knew he had to make a good first impression and come up with a plan on how he would make his move. Most people played checkers, but he was playing chess. He’s gonna lay all the groundwork and then just like clockwork, the dominos will cascade in a line. 

Now, Esteban had a few ideas on how he could impress you, but which one will be the best route? He could either pretend he doesn’t know you and play it cool, but that would be impossible considering the whole world knows about his crush on you. 

After some deliberation with Pierre and Charles, Esteban settles on what he calls “The plan of all plans that will put all the other plans to shame”, it’s a long title and he is well aware but who cares, he’s gonna be in the same room as his celebrity crush, no one would be chill if they were in his shoes right now. 

The plan is simple really, in one of the films you starred in, you and your love interest communicated via handwritten signs on paper. Kind of like the ‘You Belong With Me’ music video by Taylor Swift. Esteban came up with the idea because it is his favorite film ever and he thought it’d be a cute way to get your attention. Now, as for what he was gonna write on said piece of paper? He had no clue. He knew he was gonna carry at least two pieces of paper, one with an initial message and another with his phone number. 

After much deliberation with himself, Esteban decided on a quote from a book he had read a long time ago. He wasn’t sure if you would understand the reference but he thought it would be cute regardless. 

Now, the amount of paper he went through, trying to make the sign look as perfect as he can, is not important information. Just know he went through hell trying to make everything perfect. 

Esteban stood back for a moment to admire his work. A white piece of paper with the words ‘No matter the weather, I want to be with you’. If this fails, Esteban will never face the world again. Ok, that’s a bit of a stretch but he would be very devastated. 

The day of the premiere, the boys were in their hotel room getting ready, watching as Esteban nearly had a mental breakdown. 

“Non, non, non, non.” Pierre and Charles hear coming from the restroom. They watch as Esteban comes racing out in only a pair of underwear, holding his dress shirt on a hanger. “I’ve steamed AND ironed this shirt and there’s still a fucking wrinkle on this fucking FUCK.” Esteban just screams. 

Sharing a look of concern with each other, Pierre and Charles walk up to their friend to see if they can get rid of the wrinkle that he supposedly can’t get rid of on his shirt. 

There’s no wrinkle, “Mate,” Pierre begins, putting a hand on Esteban’s shoulder, “There is no wrinkle. The shirt has no wrinkles.”

“Yes, it does! It’s right there.” Esteban exclaims, pointing at a wrinkle free spot on the shirt.

With a sigh, Charles takes the shirt from Esteban’s hand and tells him, “I’ll take care of the shirt, you finish getting ready. We need to be out the door in an hour.” “An hour?! Oh mon dieu. I still need to iron my pants and don’t even get me started on my hair.” Esteban says, rummaging through his suitcase, looking for god knows what. 

Charles grabs Esteban’s pants and shirt with him into the restroom to iron and/or steam them. Meanwhile Pierre did the best he could in aiding Esteban whilst having a drink or two. 

After a very chaotic hour of Hurricane Esteban, the boys were already walking out the door, making their way to the theater for the premiere. Of course, Esteban was still losing his head, asking the boys a million questions such as, “Did I bring the papers?” Oui, “Do I have my watch on?” Oui, “Do we have the correct location for the theater?” Oui, “Do we-”

“Esteban!” Pierre shouts, “Shut up before I knock you out so hard, you won’t make it to the premiere.” giving the fakest smile known to man. This very quickly got Esteban to keep quiet. 

By the time the boys arrive at the red carpet, Esteban is practically shaking in his boots. He’s scanning the crowd over and over again, listening to everything and anything to get a sign as to where you are. 

“Mate, I think we’ll know when she arrives. I think we will go deaf.” Charles reassures Esteban. 

Esteban looks at his friend and realizes, maybe he can take a breather for now. He can try and calm his nerves before your arrival. 

The boys felt so out of place and lost, they decided to stay in one spot until they found you. That plan didn’t work in their favor though, after about 5 minutes, a crew member for the premiere came up and told the boys to move so that the photographers didn’t have any obstructions in the photos. So they moved to another section of the red carpet, standing in place until they were told once again to move because some dancers would be coming by to do a performance. After being told to move about 8 times, the boys finally found a spot to settle into. 

Esteban took this as a sign that he could finally begin to calm down and relax. They have a nice, safe spot now, one where it would be easy to spot you upon your arrival. Of course, this moment of calming didn’t last long. 

As soon as the crowd of fans started screaming their lungs out, Esteban joined in as well, even though he still hadn’t caught sight of you yet. Charles and Pierre had to cover their ears, hoping they wouldn’t lose their hearing at this moment. 

Esteban had still been screaming for a minute straight before Pierre wrapped his hand around Esteban’s mouth, trying to calm him down, and keep him from embarrassing Charles and himself. Once Esteban had calmed down, he licked Pierres hand. 

“Putain de salope.” Pierre grimaced, shaking his hand as if trying to flick off the spit, “Pourquoi?”

“You were gonna embarrass me! If Y/n saw you covering my mouth with your hand, who knows what she would’ve thought?!” Esteban said, throwing his hands in the air. 

Pierre just stared blankly at Esteban, “I would’ve embarrassed you? Okay, mister. You were screaming your head off like a fucking goat. I just saved your ass.”

“Whatever, now, where is she?” Esteban stands on his toes, as if he isn’t the tallest fucker there. 

In the midst of forcing and faking smiles, your eyes met his through the crowd. 

Putain de merde, thought Esteban. You looked absolutely ethereal in person. You were adorned in a pastel, tulle dress. Pink, green, and blue layers of fabric flow down your body, your torso wrapped by a corset of lace.

He could not stop staring at you, completely enamored by you. 

In the blink of an eye, your silhouette started to make its way to him. 

Remember that plan Esteban had? The one with the pieces of paper with a quote and his phone number? Yeah, he didn’t remember. He was too starstruck to even remember his own name. 

“Hi, you’re Esteban, right? I’m Y/n.” you state. 

“I-, ye- eug- I-” is all Esteban could get out, that is until Pierre smacked the back of his head and ran off into the crowd, followed by Charles as he did not want to be left standing next to a stuttering Esteban. “Hi, yeah. My name is Esteban. How are you?”. There was no hiding his heart eyes from you. It was so painfully obvious, written all over his face. 

“I’m okay, kind of nervous, I’ll be honest. How about you? How are you finding this chaos?”

“It’s really interesting, actually. This is my first time doing something like this so I’m enjoying the show.” he says, giving you the cheesiest smile ever. It was quite cute actually. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Just before you go to continue the conversation with Esteban, you get called away by your manager, needing you to complete some interviews before heading into the theater for the screening of your new movie.

“Shit, I’m sorry but I have to go. I’ll see you later though?” you ask, watching as Esteban nods his head in approval. As you pick up the skirt of your dress, turning to walk away, Esteban asks “How did you know who I was? How did you know my name?” 

Without a word, you simply wink at him and make your way to your manager across the carpet. 

Absolutely stunned, Esteban turns around to ask his friends if he just imagined that whole interaction, only to find no one around him. Where the fuck did they go?

-=+=-

Liked by estebanocon, francisca.gomez, and 50,823 others

entertainmenttonight Y/n L/n stuns in new (i have no clue who created this dress, couldn’t find the creator)’s dress, as she is welcomed by a warm crowd upon her arrival at the premiere of her new movie.

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User98 Did yall see y/n and esteban ocon together? 👀

↳User04 My worlds are colliding if that’s true

↳User77 who’s esteban ocon?

↳User32 he’s a f1 driver and he currently drives for the team Alpine!

User47 Y/n could hit me with her car and i’d say thank you

-=+=-

It was nearing time for the boys to head into their assigned room in the theater to watch the film and Esteban was growing anxious by the minute. He really wanted to be seated soon so he didn’t miss a moment of the film, but he couldn’t find his dumbass friends. 

After a few minutes of calling and texting them, receiving no reply, Esteban decided to just leave the boys wherever they were and he made his way inside the theater. 

On his walk to the correct theater room, Esteban couldn’t believe his eyes. The whole time he was freaking out about finding his friends, they were by the food tables the whole time?! Eating chocolate from a fountain?!

“Hey! Where the fuck did you guys go? And why are you eating chocolate without me?” Esteban questioned, mainly upset about the chocolate. 

With a mouth full of chocolate covered snacks, Charles explained “We didn’t want to be caught in the whirlwind of awkwardness that you were exhibiting. And then we found the fountain.”

Esteban just shook his head in disbelief, the utter betrayal he was feeling at the moment. He just took one last look at them before telling them to clean up so they could go sit in their seats. 

When the boys made it to their seats, the screening was about to begin. They watched as the director of the film walked before the screen, only to realize which room they were in. They were gonna be watching the film with the cast and crew?! They all exchanged some looks of disbelief and wondered if perhaps they had walked into the wrong room. Upon inspection of their tickets, they were indeed in the correct room. But how?

After a quick Q&A with the cast and the director, the film began and through the entirety of it, Esteban was captivated. He couldn’t even pay attention to the plot and the story running in front of him. Instead, he was captivated by you, the way your features would illuminate the entire room. His eyes were glued to your figure, always waiting for the next scene that would solely focus on you - you being the only thing that he wants to see for the rest of the night. 

As soon as the film ended, the room erupted in applause and cheers for you and the cast. You and your colleagues stand and bow, thanking the audience for everything and applauding the crew members who helped the film become what it was. 

As the applause and cheers continue, you turn, scanning the room for Esteban. Once you’ve spotted him, you watch as he claps and shouts loudly with a smile plastered across his face. You take it as a chance to blow him a kiss. He all but falls to the floor, needing Pierre and Charles to catch him and hold him up. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene. This man is the funniest and sweetest person you’ve known, and you can’t wait to see him afterwards. 

As everyone leaves the theater, the boys slowly walk about, listening to Esteban rave about the film and how you were so beautiful and talented and smart. He was even gushing about the moment you blew him a kiss. 

“To me! She blew a kiss to me! Can you believe that?” he asks, pointing to himself and squealing like a kid in a candy shop. 

Just as they're about to leave. Esteban feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and is surprised to find you standing there. 

“Hey, how’d you find the film?” you ask.

“I really enjoyed it. You were amazing, of course. Probably the best part of the film in my opinion. 

You softly laugh, “Quite the flatterer you are.”

“I try” Esteban shrugs, “ehm, I won’t lie. When I found out I was going to be here and that I might get a chance to meet you, I sort of came up with a plan on how I was going to impress you and such. It didn’t really go to plan, “ you both laugh, “I had this plan where I was going to hold up a piece of paper, like as a reference to one of your movies, and then I had another paper with my phone number on it, where I asked you on a date.”

“Can I see the paper?” you ask, genuinely curious as to what it says. 

You watch as Esteban reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and hands it to you. As you unfold the paper, your eyes widen when you read the words. 

“Oh my god! This is a quote from my favorite book, how did you know?” you look up at him, shock and surprise drawn all over your face. 

“What? It is? I genuinely didn’t know. I wrote it cause it’s from a book I read and I thought it was cute.”

You smile at his words, pocketing the paper for yourself. 

“Well, I guess I have to be honest too. I was the one who orchestrated our first meeting.”

“Huh?” Esteban lets out, jaw dropped. 

“I’ve seen the edits and such that fans tag me in, of you talking about me. I then went down a rabbit hole of videos and stalking your instagram. I thought you were cute and funny and I really wanted to meet you. So, when I found out Charles was already invited to the premiere, I messaged him on instagram, asking if he could bring you with him. He agreed and then I had to make sure you were in the right spot for our meeting, a spot that was the most secluded on the carpet, so we could have an actual conversation. I had my team and some of the crew members keep pushing you boys to different spots of the carpet until you went to where I wanted you guys. I also had them place you in the same theater room as me for the actual preview of the movie.” you confess, feeling your face heat at the confession. What if he thought you were a freak?

“You masterminded me.” was all he said. 

“What?” you question. 

“You masterminded me. You were the one playing chess while I was playing checkers. I was supposed to be the one to mastermind you!”

The both of you stand there in silence before absolutely cackling over the fact that you both tried so hard to get the others' attention. 

The chain reaction of countermoves assessed the equation of the two of you, so you couldn't lose. 

-=+=-

Liked by estebanocon, charlesleclerc, and 439,568 others

y/n such an enchanting night under the twinkling stars 🩷

Just wanted to say a quick thank you to the cast and crew who helped make all of this possible and to the fans for showing up and showing out! It was amazing meeting every single one of you and I can’t wait for you all to see the film 

You and I ended up in the same room, at the same time, because I’m a mastermind 😉

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User99 ehm, wtf is up with that last sentence?

Estebanocon was an amazing night and I’m very thankful for our meeting 😌

Charlesleclerc thank you y/n for inviting us, the film was wonderful (sorry about esteban btw)

↳User44 now charles… wdym when you apologize for esteban 🤨

Pierregasly how he pulled you, i have no clue

↳User01 WHAT?!

↳Pierregasly what 🧑‍🦯

[curtins]

GOO GOO MUCK #3 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.

you've turned the page to: CHAPTER III. RYŌMEN SUKUNA go back to the table of contents.

as if he heard me, he smiled. and his face was like the sun. (the song of achilles / madeline miller)

prologue. → at first, a humble servant, now capturing the attention of the king of curses. suddenly, you're caught between fear, desire, and a really irritating demon with a bad attitude.

excerpt.. one of the guards’ brows lifted, as if you’d said something unexpected. the other, still doubtful, scowled. "and what would you know of sukuna's laws?" you privately thought sukuna's laws would be quite simple. if it moves, beat it with a stick. if it moves again, let's grab a sword and hit it twice as hard.

pairing. demon king!ryomen sukuna x villager!reader (sfw but suggestive!)

song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / i can see you — taylor swift

warnings. sukuna is very much himself, rude and dubious and evil. kissing, making out, mentions of blood and injuries and war. word count. 4.6k!

a/n. im actually so happy w this one lol i was having a bit of a giggle writing it. consistent plot? what is that?

ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵

mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!

they had bound your wrists with iron chains, biting into your skin and doing little to still the tremor of fear that seized you. the villagers around, or at least what remained of them after sukuna's merciless invasion, shuffled forward in exhausted silence, carrying that eerie pall of defeat. you dared not look at the faces of your people around you, sensing that each set of eyes held the same mute dread that coursed through your veins.

and sukuna's fortress was an ugly, wicked thing. no doubt a testament to his dominion and dark prowess. but one could only avert their gaze from the jagged black stone that tore through the depths of the earth, and iron maw of a gate that glistened with dark stains that you dare not name.

a tall and severe figure stood waiting beyond the threshold, tall and severe, draped in robes of silky onyx that swept against dead leaves. a member of sukuna's household, no doubt, and he had eyes of dying embers.

it seemed that everything in this estate was dead, or dying. you could only hope that you would not join the pile of skulls that clattered in rough-strewn piles on the pavement.

"you all belong to the king of curses now," he intoned in a voice of polished steel, "you will serve him with unwavering obedience, and if you do not..." the man trailed off, splayed his fingers against his neck — and he suddenly bared his jugular upwards and your stomach lurched at the sight. lines and rows of stitches, sickly healed, where one's throat might have been cut. a walking corpse.

"act rightly, or lose your head. he has little patience for insolence or error."

and so, you were led through winding halls, walls of dark stone and low-hanging torches. the air was thick with a strange, almost metallic scent of thick blood and burning coals.

at length, you passed a vast and open chamber, a throne room that was unlike any you could have ever imagined. granted, you came from a small village, and thus, had not seen a throne room before so the bar was already quite low.

massive pillars framed the space, rising up like trees, branching and curling towards a ceiling lost in shadows. gathered around the centre was a council of some sort, hulking and dark curses of varying forms, from towering demons with sharp, ridged spines — to giant warriors with dented armour, from the scourge of warfare.

and at the heart of them, seated upon an iron throne wreathed in dark filigree, and dazzling red stones, was sukuna himself. the king of curses. he was massive, even in respose, broad shoulders and four thick arms that were drapes across the arms of the throne. you weren't quite sure where to rest your eyes, on his shock of dusty-rose hair, or the sharp set of eyes that were the colour of dried, old blood.

you felt a shiver of terror crawl down your spine, before curling at the base in loving tendrils, freezing your limbs in place. and then, with a heart-stopping clarity (though none would believe you), his gaze seemed to fall upon you. for a single, unbearable moment, you were certain he was looking directly inti your soul, with a gaze as sharp as a blade and as hot as a forge. you felt every muscle in your body clench, a sharp ache spreading through you.

but just as quickly, you were shoved forward, and his gaze fell elsewhere — almost bored. the rest of the newly enslaved muttered and murmured nervously as they led you onwards, down yet another corridor.

devilry and villainy aside, sukuna needed to hire a new interior design team. because this many corridors and needless, steep stairs were just unacceptable.

still, you felt those eyes burning in your memory, like four brands seared into your mind and the hollow of your chest.

they finally ushered you into a small chamber, little more than an alcove carved out of stone and lined with rows of rough, wooden pallets and blankets as coarse as burlap. here, you were instructed to remain until summoned to serve, the harsh whispers of the overseers reminding you to act “rightly, obediently, silently,” words that had already begun to feel like a new set of shackles.

and so, life in the palace of the king of curses was like treading on eggshells, and you had learned early on (after losing the contents of your stomach several times, watching brutal executions) that to speak out, or draw attention was a risk. one that could end with chains, or worse.

yet today, as you walked the winding corridors, a commotion caught your ear, and you had slung your basket on one hip — peering around the corner. you had turned to see katsuro, gentle and quiet, being held roughly by two guards, his slight frame no match for the iron grip of their clawed hands. one of the guards was sneering down at him, his expression gleefully cruel. poor katsuro was only two winters younger than you, and hardly built for the life of a warrior, rather a sweet and shy scholar.

"you made a mistake, little human," one guard hissed, his fangs bared in a twisted grin that would do his reflection in the mirror no favours at all, "sukuna demands perfection, and you will learn the price of failure."

katsuro's face had gone pale, his dark eyes wide with fear and you could see his hands trembling, most likely mirroring your own at the moment. it was not fair, the 'mistake' had been minor, a missed steps in the protocol for cleaning the great hall for the evening's feast. you were certain that sukuna was too busy terrorising the weak and bathing in blood to notice that the wrong number of lanterns had been strung up.

driven by something reckless within you, you stepped forward before you could think better of it.

"wait!" your voice rang out, catching the guard’s attention. their eyes fixed on you, surprised at the audacity, and your heart pounded in your chest.

they were probably excited that instead of one human to torture, they would get two.

but you stood firm, lifting your chin to meet their gaze, ignoring how your gut was working overtime to make you nauseous. "punishing him so harshly for a minor mistake — would that truly serve sukuna's purpose?"

the first guard narrowed his eyes at you. "and who are you to question his purpose?"

"i am not questioning it,” you tried to reply smoothly, carefully choosing your words like your life depended on it (because it did), “but rather, i’m considering it from his perspective. the king of curses values loyalty and productivity in his subjects, doesn’t he?"

you didn't quite appreciate how the guards were rolling their eyes in your one moment of courage, you just couldn't have anything around here.

"if the servants are in constant terror of the slightest mistake, they won’t be able to perform their duties effectively. fear is powerful, yes — but so is loyalty. if they feel a measure of mercy, they may serve him more willingly, rather than cowering with each step."

one of the guards’ brows lifted, as if you’d said something unexpected. the other, still doubtful, scowled. "and what would you know of sukuna's laws?"

you privately thought sukuna's laws would be quite simple. if it moves, beat it with a stick. if it moves again, let's grab a sword and hit it twice as hard.

"a great deal, actually,” you replied with a steady gaze, but with a lie basically dancing on your tongue. "every decision is weighed, every outcome calculated. a punishment too severe for a minor fault? it's…," you tried not to say stupid, "...wasteful. if katsuro is punished to the point of uselessness, that is one less pair of hands, and the workload falls heavier on the rest of us." you dared a glance around, noting a few other servants lingering, listening with furtive, hopeful expressions. "wouldn’t it be better to maintain strength among his servants? for his grander plans?"

frankly, you were just pulling words out of thin air. making things up and lying to such an extent that your mother would grab a bar of bitter soap and wash your mouth out. still, one had to be an opportunist to survive.

the guard holding katsuro faltered slightly, glancing at his companion. It was clear they weren’t accustomed to reasoning, and though they looked unimpressed, they were not entirely unmoved.

"fine," the taller guard growled, loosening his grip on katsuro with a snarl. "this one’s lucky you spoke for him. but if he slips up again, no clever words will save him."

with a final warning glare, the guards stalked off, leaving katsuro visibly shaken but unharmed. relief flooded you, and you could suddenly breathe again, and you moved to steady him, as his eyes glistening with gratitude.

"thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

had you turned around and paid more attention to the shadows, you may have noticed the king of curses standing with all four arms crossed, biting the inside of his cheek. he never liked those guards anyway.

the morning air had been crisp, a rare light filtering through the stone walls of the estate as you were woken by unexpected news. you were...summoned? not to some distant hall or remote chamber of, but to the throne room — sukuna's command. the message itself was terse, and impossible to interpret, but you had been wrapped in a cloak and ushered out the door.

and there you stood, among three other summoned servants. each one pale and quiet with apprehensions as you gathered at the base of the throne's towering dias.

sukuna sat sprawled across his throne, two arms flat and still against the arms of the throne, and the other two holding his head up — as if this was the most boring task in the world. but his eyes, all four of them, scanned you and the others with a look of dull interest, and he almost seemed to sigh, rolling his eyes in open exasperation.

"so," he began, and his voice was a low and raspy tone, "you four are my new...personal attendants?" the king of curses leaned back, half-amused and half-irritated.

you felt a prickle of irritation beneath your skin at his obvious disdain, it was not like any of you had been gunning for the job anyway. but you held your tongue, reminding yourself that it was better to stay silent than risk having your sliced and pickled head served on a bloody platter for sukuna's morning snack. still, he noticed your reaction, his lips quirking into a slight smirk as he arched a brow.

"something to say, little servant?" and sukuna's tone dripped with mockery, as though he were daring you to speak.

"not at all, my lord," you replied, managing to keep your voice steady. "merely… adjusting to the honour of being here."

sukuna snorted, barely containing his amusement. "honour," he repeated, as if the word were a joke. "tell me, did they threaten you to get you here on time, or did you simply decide to be obedient today?"

you did not like this bad attitude, but frankly, you lacked three major things when it came to battling sukuna. an immortal soul, an array of weapons, and a spine. so you tamped it down, a faint, thin smile tugging at your lips. "i would have come either way, my lord. threats or no threats."

you would swear that his eyes glinted with a mix of surprise and interest, though he rolled his eyes again as if unimpressed. "spare me the heroics," he muttered. "i need obedience, not gallantry." he looked you over with a critical eye, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. "and i have no use for someone who can’t keep up."

"what a shame that would be for me," you replied, the retort was sharp on your tongue before you could stop yourself. and you felt your heart coil up in fear once more, while you were certain your brain was chasing your tongue around with hammers.

sukuna's gaze narrowed, and a faint, fanged smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "careful, servant. i don’t particularly like attitude from those under me."

you dipped your head, averting your gaze just enough to keep from meeting his eyes directly, you didn't want to lose your lunch. "noted, my lord. i’ll be sure to remember that…if it pleases you."

for a moment, he merely looked at you, his expression inscrutable. then he let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver through you, something dangerous and thrilling laced in its depths. "very well, then,” he said at last, sounding almost amused. "if you’re so eager to please, you’ll start by attending me closely — very closely. i do like being pleased."

how crass.

you swallowed, catching his faint smirk as he dismissed you all with with a lazy wave of one lower hand, but not before he smiled at you. a cruel and wicked curve of his mouth, but it felt like the heat of a thousand suns. whatever game this was, he intended to play it with you — on his terms.

over the next following weeks, sukuna's summons became frequent and baffling, his demands were a tangle of trivial tasks and strange whims. he seemed to relish keeping you guessing, testing the limits of both your patience and your compliance.

he would call for you in the mornings to help arrange his robes — an affair in which you found yourself having to climb onto a small wooden box to even reach his shoulders, carefully smoothing the crimson and black fabric over the width of his frame. with his arms stretching out from every side, you had to manoeuvre and balance each fold with precise care. and sukuna just watched you intently, an amused smirk tugging at his red-wine lips as you struggled, muttering instructions that barely felt necessary.

yes, you knew how to tie a simple knot.

in the evenings, he’d request you make him tea — a task simple enough, but then he’d take his time to drink it. each sip was drawn out, his gaze occasionally sliding over to meet yours, one brow arched ever so slightly, a smug satisfaction radiating from his silence. he would take another long, slow sip, before turning back to the window, as you shifted your weight from foot to foot, wondering if it was acceptable to launch boiling water at the king of curses. just as a treat.

and then you had been summoned to his chambers to polish a set of blades that had seen their fair share of battles, surely the one that took the lives of your own village, and you shuddered. the blades were heavy, each one forged with a dark, tempered steel that seemed to drink in the dim candlelight. as you worked, your hand slipped, and the edge of one blade sliced through your skin, leaving a sharp, stinging pain and a line of red across your palm. you hissed under your breath, pressing the wound to your tunic as the blood quickly seeped through your fingers.

"stupid," came his voice from behind you, sharp and cold as steel itself. you turned to see sukuna watching, leaning against the doorway with an expression hovering between annoyance and satisfaction, as though your injury were just another way you’d managed to disappoint him, and now he could unleash his tongue upon you. "are you intent on making a mess of my things, or are you simply that clumsy?"

you opened your mouth to retort, a spark of irritation flaring, but bit it back, too exhausted to argue. "it’s just a scratch, my lord," you replied, though the blood was beginning to drip onto the rich furs sprawled across the floor. you quickly wrapped your hand in your sleeve to hide it, hoping to avoid further scorn.

but sukuna must have seen. he let out a low sigh, crossing the room in a few slow strides, and took hold of your wrist, and surprisingly, without a grip that would snap your bones. for a moment, he simply stared down at the cut, his four eyes narrowing with something that looked suspiciously like...regret.

"how ridiculous," he muttered, more to himself than to you, and with a curt wave, he pulled out a cloth from under the blades. but his hands were large, and searing with heat, as they held yours with a shocking deftness as he bandaged the cut.

you dared a glance up at sukuna, only to find his expression unreadable, his gaze focused intently on the task at hand. when he finally spoke, his voice had lost its usual harshness, his tone quiet, almost distant.

"try not to stain the rest of my furs with your carelessness next time," he said, though the words lacked their usual bite.

you wondered if it had finally happened, he'd really lost his mind. there had been no threats of disemboweling, no burning, no being trampled under horses while he ate peaches in the shade of his favourite tree (yes, his threats were that specific).

you murmured a huffed response, more of a mumble, suddenly feeling quite stifled. but sukuna's hands lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary, his gaze distant yet searching, as though seeing something he hadn’t expected. then the king of curses drew back, the walls you’d glimpsed in that moment quickly slamming back into place as he straightened, stepping away with a curt nod.

“just go, get some rest before you inconvenience me more," he muttered, barely looking at you now, his tone cool and dismissive. but for the first time, it seemed as though he were hiding something, something even he didn’t quite know how to name.

the air in sukuna's quarters was thick with the scent of burnt incense and faintly lingering smoke, a reminder of the battles he waged just hours ago. as you moved quietly about the room, collecting and folding the strewn garments, you glanced at him, sullen and seated on the edge of his bed. a dark, odious blood was seeping through the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, three jagged wounds crossing his chest and back where the arrows had pierced. though the arrows were long removed, the gashes looked raw and angry, staining the linen with every breath he took.

sukuna noticed your stare, and with a small, reluctant grunt, he beckoned you over. "the bandages…" he muttered, voice heavy with fatigue but his tone demanding. "fix them, redress them. i don't need another healer bumbling over it."

you swallowed, nerves prickling as you gathered fresh cloth and approached him. you so hated wounds, and the sight of blood but it was better than seeing your own spilled for defying him. sukuna remained still, watching you through half-lidded red eyes, his body larger than life, his skin faintly gleaming in the dim light. but he leaned forward slightly, allowing you to reach the wound. with slow, careful hands, you unwrapped the old bandage, then pressed the clean cloth to his skin, feeling the solid warmth radiate from his chest, searing your fingertips with its intensity.

as you worked, wrapping the bandage around his vast, muscular torso, you did your best not to breathe, not with each breath of his matching the rise and fall of your own. and you tried to ignore how his eyes were flickering over you with an intensity that made your heart stammer.

when you finished, the king of curses didn’t move. instead, he brought his hand up, fingers grazing your chin as he tilted your face to meet his. and the pads of his fingers dug into the skin of your jaw.

"tell me…" he began, his voice low, each word a slow murmur. "do you see me as a monster?"

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the words were lost to you. his hand remained firm on your chin, holding you in place as you searched his face — the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, each line and scar a mark of the warrior he was, of the warlord who had taken everything from you. you closed your eyes briefly, feeling the ghosts of flames from your village flicker in your memory.

"it’s… hard to forget what you did," you replied, your voice a whisper, yet steady. "it’s hard to forget that you burned down my village."

a flicker of something — anger, resignation — crossed his face. sukuna let out a long, quiet exhale, a shadow of bitterness touching his voice as he said, "a tiger cannot change its stripes. being a beast is in my nature. i am what i was made to be. you cannot expect elsewise from me, nor would i try to promise it to you."

you held his gaze, your heart beating harder. "i know that now."

his thumb brushed softly against your jaw, lingering. there was something dark and magnetic in his gaze, a glint of restrained hunger that sent a thrill through you, a pulse of awareness that you were crossing an invisible line. maybe someone had hit you on the head, messing with your cognitive awareness. he leaned forward, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin as his two sets eyes dipped to your lips.

for one heart-stopping moment, you felt his mouth ghost near yours, a feather-light touch as though testing, hesitating. the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only him, and his dangerous restraint.

but then, he drew back, jaw set as he tore his gaze away, his hand dropping from your face as though burned. he said nothing, his expression now closed, guarded, as if he, too, was reeling from whatever had just passed between you. you took a shaky step back, pulse racing, not daring to break the silence as you quickly left the room, with some false excuse of disposing of the old bandages (you were going to ask someone else to do it for you).

sukuna's attention had grown increasingly overt, his dark gaze trailing you with a possessive weight whenever you entered the throne room or crossed his path in the vast, torch-lit corridors of his palace. whispers fluttered among the other servants, the concubines, and the court. it was impossible (and almost embarrassing) to ignore the quiet looks and questioning glances they cast your way.

still, a demon could never be expected to be patient forever, and he had sought you out, appearing in the corridor as you were preparing to leave his chambers. his large hand moved to your waist in a firm, claiming gesture, pulling you to him without hesitation, as though he was unbothered by the curious stares around him. you briefly wondered at how just one arm could snap your spine in half, but his touch was almost...fragile.

"you’ve intrigued me," he murmured, his eyes blood-red, glinting as they locked onto yours. "in a way no other has. why do you deny this?" his tone was brusque, but you would have lied if you had said you did not find satisfaction in the way his voice had a snapping plea buried in it.

but sukuna's cruelty was an undeniable part of him; every scar he bore and every command he uttered reminded you of the power he wielded and the danger that simmered just beneath his surface, one that could ravish nations and empire-states. anger, fear, attraction — they were tangled so tightly together you could scarcely tell them apart.

"am i meant to be flattered?"

sukuna chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that resonated through you. "so i am a monster, am i not?" he murmured, his tone almost teasing, yet a sharp intensity flared in his eyes. he leaned close, his face inches from yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. "a monster who could crush you, break you, make you kneel if i so desired…"

you swallowed, fighting the quickening of your breath, but held his gaze, your words biting. "then why don’t you?"

for a moment, he seemed almost stunned, his eyes searching your face. slowly, sukuna reached out, and with an uncharacteristic tenderness, the king of curses had tentatively placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw, just as it had done all those weeks ago. "because," he murmured, "you’re the only one i’m compelled to protect."

your heart slammed in your chest, every part of you at war, caught between terror and something far more dangerous, a yearning that he, and only he, seemed able to awaken. he drew you closer, his lips brushing over your temple, voice barely a whisper, rough and unguarded.

"don’t you see?” he continued, his tone softer, aching, and you wondered if the king of curses would ever deign to beg. "it’s you i crave, you who won’t bow so easily. and i…” he exhaled, as though he had to fight against his very being to snap out the words, "find myself undone."

the intensity in his gaze was pulling you in, daring you to come closer, to test the fire you’d spent so long resisting, the fire that you had long been ghosting your fingers over, letting it lick your fingers. you could feel your pulse thrumming as sukuna drew nearer, his towering form casting a shadow that made you feel both caged and protected.

"you do realise," he murmured, voice a deep rumble, "that i’ve thought of this — of you — every night."

your breath hitched as his words sank in, and you attempted a weak laugh, faint in the air, "your enemies would kill to see you so undone."

one of his hands brushed up your back, pulling you closer, aligning your body with his in a way that left no space between you. with another arm, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his red eyes dark, "i would kill my enemies if they ever laid their eyes on you, in a way that i did not decree."

sukuna's breath was warm against your lips as he leaned down, inch by torturous inch, his mouth hovering just above yours, and you could see the light refract from his pearly fangs, "you have no idea the restraint it’s taken to hold back from this."

and his lips brushed against yours, just a whisper of contact, but enough to ignite something within you. and then, as if some unspoken barrier shattered, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was searing and fierce, pouring all his pent-up longing into that single moment. he moved with raw intensity, his mouth firm, demanding, yet achingly tender as he explored every inch of your lips, making you gasp with the force of it, stoking a heat lower within you.

you felt his two remaining arms circle you, anchoring you securely against his chest as he deepened the kiss, pressing you firmly to him. his fingers splayed across your back, drawing you impossibly closer, and you realised with a shiver that you liked the way he held you — possessive, unrelenting, as if he’d never let go.

and so, though you'd never admit it, you melted into him, your hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath his robes. his lips moved with a rhythm that left you breathless, his kiss filled with a heat that left you weak, pliant in his arms. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and half-lidded, a soft, dangerous smile curving his mouth.

"you’re mine," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with an almost reverent awe. and this time, you leaned up to catch his mouth, enjoying that for the first time in written history, the king of curses had purred.

[keeira2]

OFF LIMITS

part 1 >> part2

s2 rafe cameron x barryslittlesister!reader

summary: barry never mentioned he had a sister, he didn’t want you involved in his business whatsoever. that is until you answer the door and you’re left to greet a pretty kook.

warnings: drugs mentioned, snorting, smutty discriptive language??? no smut (yet), MDNI!! if i forget any pls lmk

a/n: i will be making a part 2 to this, pls lmk if u like it also dm me for requests!! DO NOT HOLD BACK!! i’m not 100% sure how tumblr works with posting but any tips appreciated this is my first fic :3

he’d been gone for a few hours now, y/n comfortably sprawled out in bed, twirling her hair in one hand, scrolling mindlessly thru tumblr on the other. she was getting rlly bored all by herself. she eagerly got up off her twin sized mattress and grabbed her stash out of her bed side table. (that she got for free bc barry loves her :3)

she poured a little out, grabbed a fiver from her lacy pink pushup, while moving the powdery substance into a very generous line before leaning down nd snorting it. the effects taking effect immediately she shook her head and winced at the tickling feeling in her nose.

she hid her stash away and right as she was about to collapse back on her bed a loud banging on the door awakened her senses. she knew it couldn’t have been her brother, he had a key, and barry always warned her to NEVER open the door.

“HEY BARRY, YOU HOME?” yelled a manly frustrated voice, followed by much more pounding on the door. u were never gonna open it, but you were just a little curious and u peaked thru the curtain above ur bed to see a kook. a rich.. snobby.. handsome, sexy kook? he was all kinds of fine, u immediately thought of all the things you’d let him do to you, if only you were allowed to let him even look at you.

ur closing the curtains and hear a loud ringing from your phone, lunging over to your bed to catch it you accept and put it up to your ear.

“yo is there a guy outside?” barry questions with a rushed tone.

“yeah, a kook,” you roll your eyes letting out a chuckle, “he’s banging on the door for you it’s getting kinda annoying” you complain.

“look, i want you to let him in.. only long enough for him to grab his shit and go. i don’t want him staying around you. open the door nd tell him i’ve gone out for a bit and give him the stash in the bottom drawer in the kitchen. then let him leave, alright?” barry explains sternly, almost scolding you.

more loud knocks are heard from all throughout the room as you stand up “yeah no worries barry, i gotchu.” you say before hanging up the call and throwing ur phone back into your bed.

quickly checking in the mirror for any flaws, matching thong peaking out of ur minishorts, the cutest garter tights underneath them, and a long trashy tank top, the collar dipping right inbetween ur perked tits.

you giggly skip over to the door, and open it see him in full view, when suddenly he’s pushing past you and searching throughout the trailer, probs looking for barry.

“yeah, come on in i guess.” you mutter, rolling your eyes at his abrupt ignorance.

you hear a loud sigh from in the living room, “hey is barry ho-“ he pauses, finally looks over to you. fully taking you in now, his jaw dropping slightly but not enough to really notice.

“no, but he told me to let you in he won’t be home for a while, you need coke?” you say with no hesitation, strutting over to the kitchen and bending down to take out the stash, ur thong and plushy ass now in full view as he stands there like a statue still in a state of shock. (or admiration >:))

“um, yeah thanks..” he pauses again, scratching the back of his head, “barry never said he had a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes letting out an audible gag.

“that makes sense considering he’s my BROTHER.” you scoff before getting up, grabbing his arm you lead him to sit down on the chair across from you. placing the massive bag of coke on the table inbetween.

“yeah i mean i js didn’t expect a girl here, barry never mentioned he had a hot sister.” oh but how he wish he had, you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.

you scoff, again, clearly annoyed, “yeah he’s rllyyyy protective so, you can get on with it” you say while impatiently tapping ur finger against the arm rest.

he knew he had to have you. he was gonna fuck that attitude out of you, but unfortunately that had to wait. he had a massive party he needed to show up for to sell his, yk merchandise, and he’s already running late. lots of angry feining kooks waiting for him on the other side of the island.

he bends down with a smirk, placing his large hand onto the bag of coke, picking it up and standing.

“i’ll see you again soon princess” and just like that he winks and walks out, locking the door on his way out too, ‘sure you will’ you say sarcastically to yourself once he’s gone.

[querkynchaotic]

Obliviate

mary macdonald microfic - canon compliant

(quoted choices by messermoon for dumbledore's first line)

The first time she thought about it was when Marlene died.

It had been months since she had used magic and years since she had stepped foot into Diagon Alley. Actually, after Hogwarts ended, the only time she had seen a wizard or a witch who wasn't one of her friends was in St Mungo's, when Lily had given birth to Harry.

The problem is, once you think about something, there is no unthinking it. The more she tried to get that idea out of her head, the more she thought about it. And as things got worse, that little voice in the back of her mind became more and more oppressive.

"What if you just forgot about it all ?"

Forget about the bullying in school, the glares, the insults, the double standards, the spells behind her back. The death eaters who had already killed so many of her friends. The attacks on Muggles she felt were directed against her. Knowing who had done it, knowing why, and having to hear the explanations the muggle news gave. Knowing the truth.

Knowing became too much. And she understood why they all wanted to fight -- James Potter wouldn't be James Potter if he wasn't risking his life to make the world a better place -- but she just. Didn't have anything to fight for. The wizarding world didn't mean as much to her as it did to them, and she didn't see why she would fight for a place where she was so unwelcome.

So she thought about it. Forgetting everything. But there was too much to forget. And Lily was still here, Sirius was still here, and they needed her. She couldn't be that selfish and let them down.

So, she only thought about it. As something to calm herself in the middle of the night, the kind of horrible thought that weirdly brings you comfort, thinking "if everything goes to shit, I'll just forget about it."

She just never imagined it would get that bad.

Because after Marlene died, Dorcas went a bit crazy. And then she died. And then Lily disappeared. When Harry was 6 months old, her and James went MIA. Sirius wouldn't tell her anything, they mostly talked about Remus, and the more they did, the more Mary wondered how they would ever come back from that. But she never wondered if they would come back from that. I mean, they were Sirius and Remus, for goodness' sake.

And then.

And then.

And then Lily died. And James. And Sirius had betrayed them. And he had killed Peter. And the world fell apart.

She's in Dumbledore's office with Petunia Dursley, ready to leave, when Dumbledore says :

“You will leave Harry Potter where he is. You will not speak to him, you will not write to him, you will have no contact with him at all.”

She feels like she's in a dream. She's outside of her own body, watching herself in that office, with that man. Right now, she doesn't see a war hero, or a rebel, or a headmaster : she sees the reason why so many of her friends are dead. No, not "so many" : all of them. Because the two who are left might as well be.

"He can't..." Her voice sounds weird, like she's hearing it on tape. Like it's someone else speaking. It's completely void of emotion, as well. It catches her off guard. But maybe she doesn't have anything left to feel. "He can't know I exist ?"

The old man smiles, all trace of coldness gone. "I'm glad we understand each other."

"Then I want you to obliviate me".

The voice in her head isn't a voice in her head anymore. It's not an intruder telling her "you could forget about it" ; it's her thinking "I'm going to forget everything". It's her saying it out loud.

"I beg your pardon ?"

"You heard me. You want me to leave Harry alone ? That's the thing I ask in return." Her voice is mechanic, daring, like her emotions are turned off. Usually, that's not a good thing, because it's even more of a mess when you turn them back on. Hopefully, this time, she won't have to go through that.

"I don't understand. What are you asking ?"

God, she had forgotten Petunia was here.

"Obliviate. It's a spell that erases your memory." She doesn't bother waiting for Petunia's reaction, turning her attention back to Dumbledore. "You said I'm reluctant to being involved, right ? Well, this is me not getting involved. With any of it, actually. I don't want to remember the war, I don't want to remember how it ended, or why it started, I don't... I don't even want to remember your stupid school. I want to forget that magic exists."

A surprised gasp comes out of Petunia's mouth, and then the mask is back on, and she looks full of disdain once again. "I understand that. I always told Lily it was better to be normal than a freak."

Mary wants to tell her she's wrong. She wants to tell her that magic can be beautiful. But right now she doesn't remember why. Magic is beautiful when it's someone's magic, and everyone magical Mary loved is dead.

For Lily's sake, for all the times Mary held her while she cried missing her sister, she wants to tell Petunia she's wrong. That she loves being a witch. But she's so tired. And right now, she really doesn't.

She wishes she had someone on her side, to argue with Petunia so she doesn't have to. To jump into the fight for her.

But isn't that what they did ? Jump into the fight for people like you ? And where did that get them ?

Absolutely fucking nowhere.

"How far back are we talking about ?" Dumbledore's voice snaps her back into reality. He's looking at her with piercing blue eyes. God how she hates him. But she's also relieved, like this man is finally gonna take away some of the pain he caused her.

"Everything. Just erase everything from when I was eleven years old."

"I would not recommend that. You would wake up with ten years of your life missing, and you would start asking questions. Trying to fill the gaps."

"Can't you..." She sighs. She's so fucking tired. And more than anything, she wants to go to sleep. Physically and metaphorically.

"Can't you leave some stuff then ? So I don't wonder and get nosy about my own life ?"

"One simple way to do that would be for you to extract your memories from your brain. That way we could choose which ones..."

"For you to have them ?" She cuts him sharply. "And keep them in little bottles and look through them whenever you like ?" She scoffs "That's not bloody likely. Aren't you supposed to be a good wizard ? Like, really talented ? Can't you manage to... I don't know, make your obliviate a little selective ?"

"I could leave some memories of school, the ones that don't imply magic, but it would be very blurry. You wouldn't have much. And I can't let you keep any memories that date from after school. That would leave too many blanks you would want to fill."

She sighs. Closes her eyes. Lets that sink in.

He's going to do it. He's actually going to do it. This is it. This is where her pain stops.

What a bastard though, she thinks with a chuckle. She opens her eyes.

"It's fine. Just... Imply that we fell out of touch after school. I have a lot of memories that don't include them. I'll be fine."

"Very well. Mrs Dursley, if you would like to step back."

And suddenly, she sees everything. Like she's going to die and her whole life flashes before her eyes. All her magical life, anyways. It's like her brain knows what to focus on, in a last desperate attempt to keep it.

She's going to forget Lily's wedding. She's going to forget Harry. She's going to forget Sirius' and Remus' flat. She's going to forget Marlene's 19th birthday party. She's going to forget the trip they all made to France.

She's going to forget about Quidditch. James flying on his broom, Marlene and Sirius throwing bludgers at each other, Lily cheering them on, Remus reading in the stands, Peter with a red and gold scarf and pink cheeks.

She's going to forget how it feels to fly.

She's going to forget about potions. Lily giggling when they made Amortentia. Marlene mortified when hers smelled like Dorcas, Sirius and Remus thinking theirs didn't work because they were brewing it together.

The classes. The spells. Peter's magical chessboard, the owls, running in the Forbidden Forest, enchanting objects so they would dance, getting back at the boys and pranking them, getting drunk with Firewhiskey in the Leaky Cauldron, ...

She's going to forget Hogsmeade.

Trying to do magical make up. Sirius' magical moon phase tattoo. The first time she saw a unicorn. James' elf Minnie. The magical fireworks on New Year's Eve.

She's going to forget how it feels to cast a Patronus.

All there, in a second, she sees Lily smiling and Marls dancing and Remus...

"Obliviate"

When she comes home from university, she finds pictures of her school friends on the floor. She doesn't remember taking them out of the boxes, but she's feeling a bit light headed and really, really tired, so that must be it.

She picks up a picture of her and the girls. God, she hasn't seen them in ages. She smiles. She wonders what they're up to now. Mentally tells herself off for not having made the effort to stay in touch. It wouldn't make much sense to seek them out now, four years later.

Isn't it crazy, how you can spend your entire time with people, live with them, and then... They all went to different universities and fell out of touch, or at least that's what she assumes because right now she can't remember discussing their future, or what Lily wanted to study.

Oh well. She's ready to bet one day she'll turn on the sports channel and see Marls on TV, though she can't remember which sport it was she was really into. Or she'll stumble across a book written by Remus at the library, though she thinks she would remember if he had gone on to study Literature just like she did ?

"I really need to sleep" she mumbles to herself.

She picks up the photos, puts them back in their box, and goes to bed.

[filmsmakkari]

Eywa's Sign

lo'ak x metkayina reader

Summary: The Great Mother shows two young na'vi how connected they truly are

CW- None!

Author's Note- Not proofread! I am so so in love with Lo'ak Sully it's bad for me!

From the moment that the Sully family relocated to Awa’Atlu, the heart of the ocean clans, Lo’ak had been entranced. He found beauty in every corner. From the way the orange sunrise reflected over the crystal blue sea to the mighty tulkun songs that pierced the waves through to the surface. But most of all, he found beauty in her.

Lo’ak first laid eyes on (Y/N) on his second day in the village. Olo’eyktan Tonowari had mentioned a niece who would help train him and his siblings during their introduction to the clan, but she had been off on a swim then. Tsireya assured Lo’ak and his siblings that they’d love her, behind her quiet disposition, she was a good and kind soul, deeply empathetic and caring. 

And so when he saw her for the first time, waiting on the pier with Tsireya, Aonung, and Roxto, his breath caught in his throat.

There she stood, her long black hair flowing down her back like the waves she was raised in, a mixture of curls and braids similar to his own, with a band of shells holding it out of her face. Her skin was a crystal shade of light teal, with dark wavy stripes along her arms and legs. Her eyes were narrow, green like the jungles of his homeland, and the kelp forests of hers. She was the embodiment of the ocean’s beauty. And when she smiled at him? He got so nervous he nearly threw himself off the deep end.

After that first swim lesson, (Y/N) had taken it upon herself to show him the way of water. She made him feel more seen and understood in the few days they’d spent together than anyone had in his life. Going for late night swims with her, having private sign language lessons with her, and walking down the beach with her after being rejected by his father.

This was one of those moments.

“This storm will pass,” (Y/N) said as she lightly jogged behind Lo’ak, trying to keep up with him as they walked through the tree lined lagoon. 

Lo’ak had just gotten an earful from his father ab0ut bonding with the outcast Tulkun, Payakan. (Y/N) hadn’t heard much better from her father, but for Lo’ak, this was the most recent in a long line of strikes with his father. It seemed like no matter what he did, he could never get it right. He had hoped that with their relocation to the sea, he would have a chance to regain his father’s praise, but since their arrival he’d earned nothing but more of his father’s ire. 

(Y/N) was beginning to think she should just leave the forest boy alone to gather his thoughts, but just when she was about to turn around, he stuck out his arm, holding back a large leaf for her so that it wouldn’t smack her in the face. She took the gesture as an invitation, and so she sped up until she was right behind him. 

‘Lo’ak!” she said loudly, grabbing his hand. 

Lo’ak stopped in his tracks, turning to face her but still not looking directly at her. 

“I know your father is angry at you, and I know you’re disappointed in yourself, but I am so so proud of you.”

Lo’ak scoffed. “What’s there to be proud of?”

“Lo’ak, I saw something today, out there on the reef. I saw a forest boy chosen by tulkun. Lo’ak,” she gently cupped his cheek and forced him to look her in her eyes. “ This is no small thing.”

“You’re right,” Lo’ak said with disdain. “It’s not. I just bonded with the only tulkun in the ocean I was supposed to stay far away from. Of course it’d be me. Of course I’d find the only outcast tulkun and claim him as a brother.”

He shook his head, looking out at the island, watching the Metkayina do their daily tasks. “Maybe your clan is right. I’ll never be anything but an outcast! Demon blood!” He held up his five fingered hand.  “Alien, that’s all they’ll ever see!”

Without hesitation, (Y/N) grasped his extra finger, both of her hands curling around it tightly. Lo’ak’s eyes fluttered half closed as he took in the sensation. 

“I see you,” (Y/N) said gently.

Lo’ak looked up at that, orange eyes deeply searching hers. 

“I see you,” she reiterated. “You are brother of tulkun. No one and nothing can take away what that means from you. You are one of us now. This place is your home now, just as much as it’s mine.”

Lo’ak smiled at her. There were no words for how beautiful he found her in that moment. He felt the urge to do something. Cup her face, touch her lips, maybe even kiss her. He looked down shyly at the thought. 

Suddenly, (Y/N) grabbed his other hand and began to pull him in the opposite direction. 

“Come. Come!” she said with a giggle at his confused face. “There’s somewhere I’d like to show you.”

°‧🌊⋆.ೃ🪸࿔*:･

Lo’ak’s eyes widened with awe and wonder as his ilu surfaced alongside (Y/N)’s. The girl had refused to tell him where on Pandora she was dragging him off to- something about the element of surprise. 

She turned and smiled at him as she saw the look on his face. “This is the Cove of the Ancestors. Our most sacred place.”

They guided their ilus to the center of the cove, the floating rocks directly above them, and a large plant glowing in shades of purple and blue beneath them.

“This is the spirit tree,” (Y/N) said.

Lo’ak sighed in awe. “It’s just like the tree of voices in the forest.”

(Y/N) smiled. “See? We’re more alike than you thought.”

Lo’ak smiled back at that. 

They sat in a peaceful silence for a beat, just looking at each other, before (Y/N) nodded her head towards the spirit tree. “Come.” She slid off her ilu, Lo’ak following after her, and together they dove down to the tree.

Once they were directly in front of it, (Y/N) gestured with her hands, which Lo’ak understood to be Metkayina sign language for “we can breathe if we connect.”

She attached her kuru to one of the vibrant purple leaves, Lo’ak following suit. 

His pupils dilated as he heard the voices of those who came before him. Eytukan, his grandfather, the warrior Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan, and so many more, their wisdom being whispered to him like sage in his ear.

He turned and looked at (Y/N), watching as she shut her eyes at her ancestor’s council. She looked so beautiful like that. Eyes shut, in her natural state of being under the sea, her curly hair floating around her face.

A few minutes passed before they both disconnected, and (Y/N) swam directly in front of him, a warm smile on her face. 

Thank you for bringing me here, Lo’ak signed to her. 

(Y/N) signed back, My home is now yours. It was about time you saw this place. 

(Y/N) took both of Lo’ak’s large hands in hers, looking up at him with bright, admiring eyes. 

She was the only one who ever looked at him like that. Like he was worth something- like she believed in him. His heart swelled at the idea that she trusted and cared about him enough to bring him to the most sacred place of her people- that she saw him as one of the people. 

Suddenly, a glowing pink light caught his eye. (Y/N) and Lo’ak looked down to see a group of vibrantly glowing pink fish swimming in a ring around their joined hands. (Y/N)’s looked up at Lo’ak, her eyes wide. Lo’ak’s widened too, though he wasn’t sure why. (Y/N) had never shown him any fish like this, and he didn’t understand their behavior, just swimming around his and (Y/N)’s wrists. And yet, swim on they did. Around and around in circles around the two young na’vi’s hands, creating a sacred union between them. 

Finally, one by one, the fish swam off in a line towards the spirit tree, their soft glow creating an air of love.

°‧🌊⋆.ೃ🪸࿔*:･

Lo’ak and (Y/N)  made their way back to the main village, walking along the beach together in a surprisingly intimate moment. 

Finally,  Lo’ak asked, “What were those things?”

 A smile graced  (Y/N)’s face. “They are aungia, Lo’ak,” she said softly. “Messengers of Eywa. When the time is right, come from the spirit tree to give us signs from our great mother.”

Lo’ak’s breath hitched in his throat. “So the message for us…” 

(Y/N) chuckled shyly. “Yes, Lo’ak. Us being together is… right. We’re meant to be connected, in some way or other. Eywa has blessed our union.”

Lo’ak could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He cupped her face gently with his hand, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes closed in comfort.  “Well, in that case, there’s something I’d like to do, if you’ll allow.”

(Y/N) opened her eyes to see Lo’ak look down at her lips, and then back up at her. Before she could allow herself to shy away from the moment, she leaned forward and softly placed her lips on his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Lo’ak responded in kind, placing his hands gently, yet firmly around her waist, pulling her closer.

There, with his lips touching her’s, the eclipsing sky shining above them, the sound of the sea all around them, everything felt entirely right. 

And somewhere, Eywa looked down upon her children, bound together by love and spirit, and smiled.

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

A Chance Encounter~Jude Bellingham

The sun reflected on the wet streets of Madrid, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. You were waiting your turn in a small café, lost in your thoughts, when you heard a deep, familiar voice behind you.

“Excuse me, is the line always this long?”

You turned around and saw him: Jude Bellingham, with his disarming smile and curious gaze. At first, you thought you were imagining things, but he was really looking at you.

“Well… yeah, it usually is,” you replied, trying to mask your nervousness.

Jude chuckled, a warm and contagious sound. “Well, I guess that’s a good sign. Any chance you can recommend something? I’m new here.”

Your heart began to race. “It depends… Do you like something sweet or more of a classic coffee?”

“Sweet,” he said with a grin, “but not too much. Got the perfect suggestion?”

You pointed to the menu, explaining the best options. When it was his turn, Jude ordered exactly what you recommended. Then, to your surprise, he turned back to you.

“Want to sit with me? It’d be boring drinking alone.”

You weren’t sure if he was joking, but you agreed. The two of you sat at a small table by the window, and from that moment, time seemed to fly. You talked about everything: his experiences in Madrid, your dreams, the little coincidences of life. Jude kept looking at you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

“It’s rare to find someone I can talk to like this,” he admitted at one point. “You know, football can make you feel a bit isolated. But with you, it’s… different.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Maybe it’s because I don’t only talk about football.”

He laughed. “Yeah, and that’s what I like about it.”

Hours passed, and when it was finally time to leave, Jude seemed reluctant to let you go.

“Before you leave… would you like to meet again? Maybe not at a café next time.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Sure, why not?”

Jude smiled, pulling out his phone to exchange numbers. “Perfect. This has been the best part of my day. And I hope it’s just the beginning.”

In that moment, you realized that maybe, in the chaotic city of Madrid, fate had decided to gift you something special.

---

What do you think? Would you like to expand on this story?

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Pretty in pink

Another reason why I always knew Clairmy was never gonna be endgame.

This piece of meta has been sitting in my drafts for months. Since I watched S2 for the first time, back in January. After yesterday's teaser, I thought I just might dust it off and hang it out to dry in the sun, so here it is and actually, this is much better timing because I get to supplement it with more and newer meta I came up with later on.

So, the second I heard the first few tunes of the soundtrack I just knew.

The Bear | Pop | 02x05

Storer wasn't subtle.

I just knew that C was gonna end up with someone else, or just letting him go, and when I heard Carmy saying these words:

and they rang soooo untrue and unhinged and even forced or coaxed coming from him and in that context, so OOC, etc... I took it as all the confirmation I needed to firmly stand my anti-clairmy ground even before I got to know her.

It was obvious to me that that was not Carmen Berzatto talking, but The Bear Jr., the kid in HS who grew up isolated and under Michael's shadow.

He was coming from a place of complete and utter stuckness, a stagnant position he regressed to, the second his frustrated HS sweetheart won this battle:

He wasn't necessarily lying when he said he liked her, at least not consciously:

But the TENSE was the problem. He said "I like you so much" when it was the HS stuttery kid the one talking, the one who wished SHE talked to him more, so he didn't have to because he was too shy. He should have said liked if he was being honest with himself and her.

He should have told her something along the lines of: "I had a crush on you in HS, and when you came onto me, I choked. This is so not the right timing for me to do this because I'm tied up with the restaurant, and I just... instead of telling you all of that, I took the easy and cowardly way out and gave you the wrong number. Sorry."

BTW, that's a pattern he will have to outgrow because of Syd if he doesn't wanna lose her. He will have to start telling the woman he loves in proper timing how he feels and why and do the chasing if he must because Syd, unlike C, is NOT A CHASER, she's a walker (pattern she will have to outgrow herself too, as I mentioned → here). No more room for the shy kid, he's gonna have to man up in S4.

After delivering those lines that to me were OOC and plain blatant, he turned into Logan to fit in the party and in C's life (or make her fit into his, whatever).

So, my point is that when I heard the Pretty in Pink soundtrack I immediately drew these parallels:

Duckie is Carmy and Andy is the C person. IDGAF who was gonna play Blane, I assumed that character was gonna be introduced to us later in the series, or not at all. But Andie and Duckie do not end up together because they are not right for each other even though they grew up together. They are just not right for each other because coming from the same place doesn't determine shit in life, the choices you make do. In the movie, they didn't choose each other. PerioT. That was a hell of a musical foreshadowing and I thank the sadist for it because the second I associated that musical piece of data with ep 01x03 I was like: “OK, how much more obvious can you be, Storer? Really? Try harder, please.”

Because why would he give Molly Ringwald such important lines in S1 if Pretty in Pink was not a huge lead we needed to follow in S2 when the same plot of one of her biggest hits made a cameo on the show, right?

So, anyway... I always knew these 2 were endgame:

Waayyyy before Syd said it. Actually, Syd didn't say it bc we don't know who she was talking about, it was STORER who did that in the teaser, HE IS THE ONE WHO SYNCS UP THE MUSIC WITH THE FRAMES OR SIGNS OFF ON WHAT THE EDITORS SYNC UP AS PER HIS REQUEST AND HE'S THE ONE WHO DECIDES WHO ARE ENDGAME ON HIS SHOW. So it's Storer who yesterday told us Pretty in Pink doesn't get the guy, which was pretty obvious, if you ask me :)

Bonus track: Syd is his redemption plot. Syd is his endgame, sure, but first, he has to grow up to be the man he can be as opposed to the bear he is. I always said his whole redemption arc is Kierkegaardian:

And he even looks like him, c'mon!

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[cryptid-killjoy]

Only Figaro could pull off a quip like that. Hook's hair indeed. But they weren't wrong. Willem thought to himself he did have good hair, didn't he? He ran his hands through it as he thought about it. Maybe he'd thank the ol' man for this hair someday.

"I do have pretty good hair, don't I?"

But the world got away from him too fast before he could think on it long. The ice and snow were melting from everywhere. Before they knew it, they were sloshing down a pixie white water river. This was so not the plan, not the plan at all.

If this adventure had been fun at all this part wasn't. Drudging through the blizzard was one thing, but getting submerged in ice water was not it. So not it. Maybe he managed to get to shore after all that, but now they were chattering and as they looked at poor Figaro Willem felt guilty for the first time for bringing them along. The suffer together motto was really pushing them to the test now.

"I'm sorry Smalls. But don't worry. You may be Leo, but I'm not Rose. I'm your DaFriend." He growled. "I'll never let go." He pulled as hard as he could flittering his slopped over wings that were drenched.

Luckily, Nelly could fly in the wet cold like a boss bitch. Her wings weren't real being a doll. She flew on happy thoughts and pixie dust alone. Nelly grabbed the back of Willem and they both pulled. Three big heave hoes later and Figaro was pulled to land.

Willem quickly helped them take more steps back from the water line before it gave way again. He wanted to make sure they were all on stable land.

He didn't know what to do or how to even dry off. Everything was wet from his whole body, his clothes, his pack, to all of the surrounding forest as snow kept melting around them.

He hugged onto Smalls just thankful to be alive at first. Then it dawned on him he didn't know where Periwinkle was. He started to look around and call out.

"Peri! Aunt Peri!"

His teeth and lips were chattering as he called out with a frantic look on his face afraid, she'd gone under.

Nelly would point way down the now raging river. Willem was holding Figaro and himself as he squinted as hard as he could.

"It's her. Way down there. She made it. She's climbing out of the river."

Relief washed over him, but they were still stuck with the pressing problem of hypothermia like this.

"Come on Smalls. We gotta, I don't know. Get out where the sun is blazing down on us."

That was all he could manage to think of at first.

"Build a fire if we can find anything dry. Nelly, go look. And-and... and check on Peri."

Nelly buzzed off like a little bee on a mission for something dry to help while Willem looked up tried to help figure out the best place for them to dry out themselves in the sun.

"It is pretty bright. It's weird how I can feel the heat of it and still feel this cold at the same time."

The ground where there was snow would look like puddles of muck like swamp the ground was so wet. It would look like a flood was draining. He pulled his cold soppy shirt off in some attempt to warm up not having it against his skin as they waited for Nelly when things started to keep changing rapidly.

"Uh... Sm-m-malls?"

The snow wasn't just melting. The flowers were growing. It was like spring was springing. It was more than just the sun was shining.

The Nevers were coming back to life.

He started to smile despite everything. "Maybe we should do jumping jacks? Keep moving?" No matter how much it hurt. No matter how fast the sun or Pan's wake up was making things happen.

"Or maybe a polar bear plunge never hurt anybody?" He was trying to look at it from a different angle. "What would Iorek say?" His shoulders were still shivering though.

Back in Pixie Hollow all the pixies were getting excited. They hadn't been informed yet of Willem's plan. All they knew was Wild Will and those traitors stole Pan right from the Hollow, their blue dust, and even heard Hook was back which made Will seem all the guiltier. They were all in a terrible depression over it deciding how to proceed when out of nowhere here they were all out dancing in the middle celebrating the weather. Could it be? Oh! Could it be?

Rumors were flying that Pan somehow escaped and was coming to save them all. There never seemed to be a proper rumor for how he awoke when after all this time no one could figure out how to wake him from his endless sleep. Like the dwarves with the Snow White the pixies dwelled on the site of the missing glass coffin like a memorial to the worst tragedy ever to befall Pixie Hollow. Wild Will's face, the son of Captain Hook and even Figaro's was in the mind everyone as enemy number one.

What was happening with Pan and Hook? Battling their way out of the labyrinth. The moment he awoke he was up to his old tricks and calling Hook a codfish. Hook was no lost boy. He'd have made his way out and the pair were swashbuckling sword fighting... er hook and wooden knife fighting their way through the Nevers. Pan was trying to get back to his boys and Hook was trying to kill Pan while signaling to the crew back on the Jolly Roger.

While the pixies were celebrating the weather and Willem was just thankful, he and Smalls were alive and that his plan was working, he'd saved the Hollow, Hook was getting word to Pirate Cove that Wild Will was a traitor. Everything he'd worked for in the magic door at Funky Town was being torn apart for the Nevers, the pixie's safety, his mother's home that Tink abandoned herself, and for Delta's alliance with the pixies in Feral. As Willem watched the flowers grow and even though he was smiling that this phase of the plan had really worked, the chill that was down to his bones felt more real than ever as the reality of what this was going to damage crept up in his heart.

Where were his happy thoughts going to be now?

It was the first time in all this that pirate admitted to Smalls, "I'm a little scar- worried." He'd been terrified of his father all his life all while he was his right hand, but he knew he might have just crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed again.

"We can fix this. There's always a next plan." He nodded as if to reassure himself of being able to handle whatever came after this. "We did the right thing. You okay?" He asked as he kept watching for Nelly to come back.

Figaro was always in awe of the wings. Like who didn’t ever dream about having wings when they were a kid? They were fucking cool. And Willem’s were particularly good with that hypnotizing gold color. Adding in Periwinkle’s to the mix and Figaro was feeling that envy hardcore. Wing-envy. That was a thing now. When Willem looked to them, they nodded despite that feeling. “You’re looking extra fly, dude,” Figaro said, making a clicking noise with their tongue and then some finger guns.

They’d definitely have to find a bird or a butterfly or - oh shit a dragonfly would be really cool - to fly on before they got big again. They’d even settle for a mosquito.

“Hey, you got the hair, that’s all you really need from him,” Figaro shrugged. Say what you want about Hook - he wasn’t modern, he wasn’t respectful, he wasn’t very charming - but he did have a great head of hair.

Figaro looked up as well at the water, ready to go all old man shaking fist at the sky. But then they realized there was no fairy above spilling over pails like a good joke. And there was no rubber on the ground that was indicative of a water balloon so -

“This totally means that we’re hot enough to bring on the heatwave, baby!” They said, throwing their arms up into the air. “Or totally the Pan thing but I’m taking credit anyway!”

That jumping reallllllyyyy didn’t help the slush that was quickly turning to water beneath their boots. It was worse than the snow by far, soaking down to the core, making their sock wet, making their toes feel cold. They swallowed roughly and looked from up to down to Willem again, realization really forming.

“Oh botheration,” They said, watching Willem take a spill. They waded through, already not able to feel their feet to try to help him, but Figaro wasn’t the most steady either. Nonetheless, she managed to kick their damn feet well enough to stay above the water, even when it felt like they couldn’t find the ground beneath them.

They did get washed away a couple of feet but was fighting back, shedding the Halloween mask, which drifted away like some sort of weird duck down the water. Cold hand reached cold hand and they managed to get a hold of their slippery footing for just a second.

“Damn, I can’t believe I’m Leonardo DiCaprio right now,” They gasped, the cold water shooting pain throughout their body. The freezing water was numbing but it wasn’t a comfortable type of numb. It was growing more painful by the second. It felt like they weren’t in control of their face anymore.

[ladyzirkonia]

Lucanis just looking completely bewildered at my Mage Rook.

''What kind of sorcery is that?!''