#the earth would thrive without us

[bunnihearted]

animals deserve so much fkn better than being cursed to live in a world full of humans who only exploit, abuse, rape and kill them :(

[famewolf]

we have one robin nesting on our backdoor and a family of finches on the roof, right above the window where my desk is. there are flowers everywhere and the air tastes damp like fresh night rain.

there is something about seeing nature grow and claiming every bit of its home that is so relaxing and affirming that things will be ok

[modgod200]

What if Earth’s biomes are considered stupidly diverse by galactic standards?

You often see in science fiction planets having one biome with little to no temperature variation (forest worlds, snow worlds, desert worlds, ect.), so from their perspective Earth is a chaotic clusterfuck of wildly different worlds all stitched together into one planet. You can’t even go 100 miles on the planet without shifting between like 3 different biomes. The desert aliens could live in the Mojave Desert, but would freeze to death the moment they went north, and the ice planet aliens would feel right at home in Siberia, but anything below upper Europe and they die of heat exhaustion. The fact that humans can not only survive these extremes, but thrive in them blows their minds. We would be considered the galaxy’s expert survivalists, able to drop onto any planet with an atmosphere we can breath and dominate it like it was our cradle world. This would also terrify them to no end, because these durable, hyper-intelligent, apex pack predators could invade any one of their worlds if they wanted to. Everyone is super relieved that we pack bond with anything, and try their absolute hardest to elicit that instinct in us.

[geekgirles]

Just Look My Way

Can we please talk about the way the lyrics have changed from the original to showcase Stolas' growth and character development?

I was already surprised that what originally looked like it was just going to be a fan video ended up becoming canon content, but when I heard the different lines my mind exploded, you guys.

Note the difference, the major difference, in treatment!

In the original version, which released back in season 1 but before Ozzie's, Stolas' line was actually:

"Come now, my little impish plaything, we've both made our choice."

Keep in mind the original most likely included this line as a reference to what both Striker and Stolas said in regards to Blitzo's relationship with Stolas. Even our dear owl boy referred to him as just a plaything while saving him from D.O.R.K.S! Which most likely only helped cement Blitzo's internalised belief that Stolas would never see him as anything other than a cheap thrill.

Here, however, Stolas is cementing him as his dearest! A loved one! Someone he values and cares for! That is a huge difference from being just a sexual partner!

And the second line. OMG, THE SECOND LINE.

Unlike the original, where Stolas speaks of a choice that, realistically, was never there (as it usually is the case with relationships where there's a power imbalance and, moreover, were born out of transactional needs), this time he is reaffirming Blitzo's agency and independence. The implied choice is clear: Stolas will present the asmodean crystal to him so he no longer relies on his Grimoire and sleeps with him out of necessity. All that's left for Blitzo now will be to choose if he wants to remain by Stolas' side even then. And the choice is his.

As a quick aside, I also love the constant symbolism between Blitzo and the Moon.

Technically, compared to Stolas and the Earth, both are just satellites, nowhere near as important as a Goetia demon and member of Hell Royalty or a planet brimming with life and where beauty and wonder happen at every corner. And yet, without them neither can thrive. Stolas is as fascinated and dependent of Blitzo as the Earth is with the Moon. Without the Moon, there's no tides; it brings inspiration and romance to countless souls, brightening the night sky, just like Blitzo brightens Stolas' life.

Blitzo is Stolas' moon, and I just think that's beautiful.

Every word in this line in particular just oozes character development, too.

The original was:

"What's left for me in this broken house if I cannot have you?"

This is no longer about Stolas using Blitzo to escape his boring routine and his horrible marriage to Stella, it's about Stolas being deeply and hopelessly in love with Blitzo and not knowing what to do to convey that in a way that will reach him.

Once again, Blitzo has stopped being a mere plaything or boy toy and become so much more. He has become an essential part of Stolas' life he doesn't know what he'll do without but knows he'll have to let go of if that's what Blitzo wants!

Now, I must admit I am not exactly a fan of this change in these particular verses. On the one hand, I understand it's meant to reflect Stolas is trying to understand Blitzo and see things from is point of view, but I also feel it robs the moment of the raw feeling the original conveyed:

"Is this how she'd feel? Abandoned, all alone, left to fend for herself, for a semblance of happiness that doesn't have to end?"

"She" clearly referring to Via.

I just think it would have been more powerful to keep it and allow that juxtaposition between the most important people in his life to help Stolas understand Blitzo better. After all, he loves them both dearly and unconditionally, but his actions have also hurt them both very deeply.

I just think it'd be fitting if one allowed him to understand the other better.

Nevertheless, if there is something this song has taught me, is this: we are so not ready for the next episode.

[reasonsforhope]

"Sunlight dapples the once-denuded forest floor as saplings spread their branches and leaves overhead, slowly forming a lush canopy.

Beside each young tree, a sign notes its species. Lupuna, says one, the colloquial Peruvian term, and below that its scientific name, Ceiba pentandra — in other words, a kapok tree, known for its cotton-like fibers. Huito, says another sign, or Geinpa americana, which produces edible gray berries.

Each sapling is distinct, a reflection of the Amazon's stunning biodiversity, with so many different species that you might go acres without finding a repeat.

Yet this young forest did not spring up naturally. It has been carefully recreated by humans in an area that was, until just three years ago, a heavily contaminated moonscape.

This land was stripped of its dense vegetation by miners scouring the subsoil for tiny specks of gold, using mercury to separate the gold from the sediment. Many thought that a healthy forest would never thrive in impoverished, mercury-laden topsoil and that the piles of sandy tailings, the residue from the gold mining effort, and the pools of wastewater were irremediable...

"It feels good to see the forest grow back," says Pedro Ynfantes, 66, the miner whose legal mining concession of 1,110 acres includes this 10-acre patch of land where this young forest is located. "We don't want to deforest. When we had the opportunity to let the forest grow back, we took it. It's much better this way."

The opportunity he refers to came via U.S. nonprofit Pure Earth, which works with communities across the Global Southto remediate environmental problems left behind by mining, much of it illegal. Their biggest targets are mercury and lead contamination...

Security forces have launched anti-mining operations down the years, even blowing up the miners' equipment deep in the jungle. But most local politicians, including Madre de Dios' members of Peru's national congress, broadly support the miners, who are a powerful constituency in the relatively sparsely populated jungle region.

Restoring the forest

Pictured: France Cabanillas works for the nonprofit group Pure Earth, which is spearheading an effort to plant saplings in areas of the Peruvian Amazon that were devastated by illegal gold mining.

Now there's an effort to address the damage. Initially working with the region's legal miners, most of whom were here before the 2009 gold rush kicked off, the nonprofit group Pure Earth is using this patch of Ynfantes' land as a pilot project to show how the rainforest can be regenerated after the last traces of gold have been plucked from the soil.

It took a sustained outreach effort. Many miners are wary of or even downright hostile to foreign NGOs, which have repeatedly called for gold mining to be banned or severely curbed in the Peruvian Amazon — steps they say would cost them their livelihood.

"I am feeling optimistic," says France Cabanillas, Pure Earth's local coordinator, who has been appealing to the frustration of many miners at the heavy toll they have taken on the jungle and their desire to minimize their environmental footprint for the next generation.

"We still have a lot to do but this pilot is going well. Down the years, the miners have been getting a lot of stick but not much carrot when it comes to their environmental impacts," says Cabanillas. "We are offering them a carrot, allowing them to remediate their own impacts. Many of the miners do not want to be destroying the rainforest."

Before the miners plant the carefully-selected mix of tree species, they had to prepare the earth. Most of the topsoil had been washed away by the miners' heavy use of hoses.

That preparation involved adding biochar (burnt organic material) and even molasses, which contain fixed carbon and minerals, along with various other nutrients. The miners also had to dig tiny moats around the saplings to prevent all of this new planting from being washed away. Now, after three years, the forest is visibly coming back.

The rejuvenated rainforest also mitigates the impact of the mercury used by many of the illegal miners.

Research done by Pure Earth shows that the barren, sandy soil emits mercury. But in a rainforest, the ecosystem actually absorbs some of the metal, boosting public health."

-via NPR, April 2, 2024

[topguncortez]

Sunburn - K. Dutton

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: Heatstroke

synopsis: The Montana summers weren't for the weak. You and Kayce have unspoken history.

warnings: heatstroke, passing out, vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug usage, mentions of running away, Monica and Tate don't exist.

word count: 2.1k

There was something about Montana summers. 

The valley in which the Yellowstone ranch laid, had its fair share of weather changes. The winters were brutal, feet of snow coating the land, the wind bitter against the skin making it hard to want to get up in the morning and do chores. Spring usually brought inches upon inches of rain, damn near flooding the place and making it a muddy mess trying to move cattle in preparation for breeding season. Fall was a vibrant display of changing leaves, and the scent of fields being harvested in time before the first frost. 

But the summers, the summers were something else. Blame global warming, or whatever you wanted, but the summers in Montana were hot and steamy. The sun was unforgiving most days, beating down on you and your horse as you worked from sunup till sundown, training and cleaning horse stalls, helping move cattle from pasture to pasture, and carrying out the daily maintenance of the ranch. Most of the cowboys didn’t have an issue, but you on the other hand, never quite got along with the heat. 

It was supposed to be an “easy day”, Rip had barked at all of you as you shuffled into the barn to get tack up your horses, but the sun was already blaring its god awful rays down on the earth. Your skin felt sticky from the humidity and your hair was already sticking to your forehead underneath your hat. You left your water jug in the bunkhouse, choosing to fuel your body with the dark roast coffee Loyd had made instead. 

“You think the Devil just walked up here and decided to fuck with the temperature,” Ryan said, sitting on top of the fence, watching you and Colby rake it out. 

“Don’t know,” Colby grunted, “Think you could quit fucking complaining and help?” 

“I don’t want to melt,” Ryan chirped back and you rolled your eyes. The two of them fought like an old married couple most days.

Colby and Ryan were the first two to make you feel welcome in the bunkhouse. It was hard walking into a house full of men, no one knowing who you are or what you had shown up at the ranch for. Everyone knew bits and pieces of your story, you had known Kayce when you were younger, highschool sweethearts or something of the sort. He was the one who got away, or so you had said. While he was thriving in the military, you were left behind, struggling and doing anything you could to make a buck. You had shown up on his doorstep, soaking wet in the rain and begging for a job, begging to finally leave behind the life you had created for yourself. Kayce barely gave you the time of day, telling you to walk back down the road, take a left, and keep going until you reach the bunkhouse, that there would be someone there to help you. Since then, you and Kayce had been walking on eggshells around each other. 

“Okay, Princess,” You rolled your eyes, lifting your hat slightly off your head, and wiping away the sweat, “It’s fucking hot.” You stared at the heat waves rippling off of the earth for a moment, as the familiar sound of cowboy boots crunching on the gravel drew close. 

“What up, boss man,” Kolby greeted Kayce with a nod of his head, “Come to sweat with the worst of us?” 

“No, I need the girl,” Kayce said gruffly, and you turned to look at him, “We’re moving cattle. Let’s go,” He turned and walked back the direction he came without another word. You scoffed, throwing the pitchfork down. 

“What a fucking douche,” You grumbled, but went and followed after him to where the horses were enjoying the cool air of the barn. Kayce’s horse, of course, was already saddled up. You weren’t about to ask him for help as you grabbed your saddle from the wall, and walked down to your horse’s stall. You could feel his impatient tension like an extra cloud of heat in the air. 

“Ready?” Kayce asked as you walked your horse down the barn alley, and you nodded, silently following him outside. 

The two of you rode in silence for most of the journey, slowly but surely pushing cattle from one pasture into another. You weren’t sure why you, of all the people on the Yellowstone Ranch, had to be the one out here, sweating with Kayce. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the silent rides through the rolling fields, but it wasn’t just the heat making you not want to be out here. 

Kayce thought that asking you to come out here with him would be the perfect chance to tell you how he felt. He, just as much as you, was tired of the awkward dance that you had been doing since you showed up. He didn’t need to ask too many questions that night when you came knocking on his door, soaked to the bone, nothing more than skin and bones. When he left for the Navy, a mere days after graduation and breaking your heart, he had asked Beth to keep an eye out for you. Begrudgingly, she did so, and told him about the shift in your life. You had always dreamed of getting out of Montana, but you never made it that far. 

Every time Kayce thought of saying something, of apologizing or even just asking how you have been, his mouth went dry and his mind blank. Instead, he thought that maybe even getting you near would break some of the tension, but he was so wrong. It seemed as if the tension had picked up a notch as the two of you rode next to each other. 

“Fuck, is it hotter out here, or is it just me,” You mumbled as you sat on top of your horse. The body heat from the animal was soaking into you, paired with the brutal beatdown from the sun, your skin felt like it was physically burning. 

“Complainin’ ain’t gonna make the sun go away,” Kayce said back and you rolled your eyes. The last thing you needed was the sass from him. Your skin felt dry and your head was pounding. All you wanted was to feel the cold stream of water in the bunkhouse shower. 

— — — 

You had never felt so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Three hours sitting up on a horse in the sun, slowly moving cattle into a new pasture. You knew that your shoulders were horribly sunburnt, and the sweat stains in between your thighs from sitting on the saddle made it look like you wet yourself. 

Kayce felt happy too, to be back on solid ground. He would be lying if he said the heat hadn’t gotten to him either. He was used to being in hot temp areas, but he would take being in full kit in Afghanistan versus sitting on a horse waiting for cattle to hurry up and move. Kayce had taken his horse back to the barn, carefully taking the tack off of him and hanging it up. He told Loyd to give the animal a good wash down, wanting to make sure his horse was cooled down before being put away for the night. 

Kayce slowly made his way down the alley of the barn, stopping just right outside of your horse’s stall. He had been thinking of what he was going to say to you since the moment he got you alone out in the field. The two of you had yet to have ��the talk” since you arrived months ago, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without it. Every time he saw you, the words that he wanted to say were right at the tip of his tongue, but the second you looked at him, they all seemed to go blank. But now, it was as good a time as any. 

“Y/N,” Kayce said, stepping into the horse stall. You stood by your horse, your hand on its belly, back facing Kayce, “We need to talk.” 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the black spots floating in your vision, and trying to keep yourself up right. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment. 

“Y/N?” Kayce called out. He reached out to touch your shoulder, as you doubled over and vomited into the hay sheddings, “Holy shit,” Kayce moved quickly, rushing to you as your legs gave out and you collapsed in his arms. He was alarmed by the flush color of your skin, and your chapped lips. Your eyes looked glossed over as you looked up at Kayce. 

“I-I don’t feel,” Your words were slurred as Kayce hoisted you up in his arms. 

“I know, we gotta cool you down,” Kayce said to you, and you weakly nodded your head. 

Kayce moved you quickly to the bunkhouse, the first flash of cool air made you instantly shiver. He walked you to the bathroom, and you were thankful that the house seemed to be quiet, not wanting any of the other cowboys to see you like this. It was hard enough being one of the only females here, you didn’t need this to be held over your head. Kayce gently sets you down on the shower tile, reaching above you and barely turning the water on. The second the cold water hit your skin, you gasped.

“No! No!” You cried. 

“It’s okay,” Kayce cooed, “I have to cool you down.” 

“Please,” Tears were welling in your vision, and you weren’t really sure why you were crying. You summed it up to your body being in such shock, you didn’t have control over your emotions. 

“It’s okay,” Kayce said again, running a hand up and down your back as you leaned into him, feeling your body grow weak again, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.” You let out a whine as your body had shifted temperature, but welcomed the cool water against your warm skin. 

— — — 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep or maybe you passed out, but you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, with a box fan pointed right at you. It took you a moment, your head pounding as you looked around the room, noticing the various country-esq landscape paintings and the giant deer head on the wall. It was nearing night time, or so you had guessed by the last remnants of the sunset peaking through the wooden blinds. You tried to sit up, but let out a groan instead, your head starting to swim and black spots filling your vision. 

“Y/N?” You froze as you heard Kayce’s voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?” 

‘Holy shit’ You cursed to yourself, ‘I’m in Kayce’s room.’ 

“Yeah,” Your voice was raspy, and you could still feel the sting of bile. 

Ever so gently, Kayce pushed the door to his bedroom open, sticking his head in first before coming all the way in, “Hey,” You nodded your head as he walked towards you, a glass of water in his hand and some tylenol, “Drink this and take these. It’ll help the headache and muscle cramps.” 

“How do you know?” You asked, taking the water and medicine. Now that he mentioned it, your legs felt heavier than normal with a slight ache to them. 

“They train you on the basics of heat stroke in the Navy,” Kayce said, “Seen one too many guys fall over.” You felt your cheeks pink up in embarrassment, “No one saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Am I that transparent?” You said barely above a whisper, “You didn’t have to bring me here. They would’ve taken care of me at the bunkhouse.” 

“I know,” Kayce swallowed thickly. He wasn’t all too sure why he had picked you up and put you in his truck, driving back to his house for you to rest somewhere quiet and comfortable. But he did, and he didn’t regret it. He knew that he would’ve been a nervous wreck leaving you in the bunkhouse, “I needed to make sure you were going to be okay. . . You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked out. 

“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Kayce said, shifting closer to you on the bed, “One of my first summer's running cattle with my dad, I did the same thing. We’d been out all day and came back, and the second I climbed off my hose I hit the ground. Face first in shit shavings,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “At least you picked a clean stall to upchuck and pass out in.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for catching me.” 

“Always,” Kayce said, grabbing your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Kayce, who had a slight blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.

[bones4thecats]

Hello! Thank you for the answering my previous request, it was a lovely read. If you are still open for requests at the time of me sending this, I would like to request some general relationship headcanons for TFP Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave with a Cybertronian S/O. Thank you for your time and I hope you have a good day! - ❤️‍🩹Anon

Relationship Hcs With TFP Decepticons

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave and Shockwave Requester: ❤️‍🩹Anon A/N: It's nice to hear from you again, ❤️‍🩹Anon! Thank you for the compliment on your past request! Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this Transformers Prime request. By the way, be on the lookout for titles that are naturally feminine, I couldn't find many gender-neutral ones. P.S: The character labeled in the last bit of hcs is completely fictional. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Transformers Prime Series and Movie ⚠️

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»»————————————-　Megatron　————————————-««

👑 This guy is known for his tyrannical behavior, but he does tone it down when it comes to you being around him. Megatron does care about his S/O dearly in his spark

👑 Megatron started the war because of the unjust ranking in society, but he also started the war because he did not want you to be shoved around like nothing anymore. He may have been a respected gladiator in the Pits of Kaon, but even that title can only go so far in a corrupt society

👑 Over the course of the war, Megatron appointed many to his side, which was called the Decepticons. And throughout the claiming of titles, he dubbed you his right-hand. After all, a Lord is nothing without a Lady

👑 He may not seem like it, but this ruler is fairly good at treating his lover as an equal. Megatron may be a psychopath during his reign over the Decepticons, but he has morals deep down in his spark

👑 Anyways, when the war did begin to go against both sides and Cybertron fell when it came to life, Megatron was the first mech to realize it. And when he saw how the supposed-quick-war was growing longer with every passing cycle, he rushed you off the planet and onto the Nemesis ship first, with him and his most trusted followers joining

👑 Throughout his time out in space locating the mystical Dark Energon, you attempted to stay in direct contact with him the best. Before he ventured to far away, leaving the Nemesis in control of you and the official second-in-command, Starscream

👑 It was painful ruling alongside the egotistical seeker, but when your sparkmate returned, you lunged at the opportunity to rule alongside him instead

👑 While he was under the influence of the dark energon, he attempted to keep you far away from him, which showed just how much he valued your existence. You may have been an amazing fighter, but he could overpower you with ease

👑 Megatron's death was also the thing that caused many to see just how close you two were. When his limp and sparkless frame fell from the Nemesis, through the atmosphere of Earth, and down into the vast and deep ocean below, you cried in agony while multiple Vehicons carried you away. All Autobots, including ones like Ratchet and Arcee, were shocked to see you crying over his death. They suspected that he was an abuser, when it reality, he was better than that... he was your dream mech...

👑 Before your escaped, you were taken away by the Autobots, locked away in your once thriving ship with your medic Knockout and the many Vehicons who stayed loyal. Though, it seemed that the Autobots, especially Optimus, felt pity for you

👑 And while he laid apparently deceased in everyone else's mind, you felt his spark pulsating through your bond. You were shocked when it was announced that Megatron somehow had come back from the dead, but you knew once you looked at him that he wasn't the Megatron you once knew and loved

👑 During the fight, you were one to fight alongside the Predacons, using your advanced fighting skills when in flight-mode to attack easily. After the actual fighting, Predaking looked at you and nodded, making you fly off and to the surface of the hopefully-near thriving Cybertron

"Megatron...?"

"Y/N."

"Megs!"

👑 You lunged forward in a sprint and allowed the large mech to pick you up, spinning you around and hug you as you wept into his now-spikier armor. You then rose your head and relaid it down on his forehead, only looking away from him when you heard the coughs of a certain scrawny-stiletto wearing seeker

👑 Starscream merely backed away scared as you and Megatron glared and the titular mech yelled at him in anger. And before you flew after your lover, who was exiling himself after saying the Decepticons were no longer working and he was turning his title in as a warlord, you smiled at the Autobots and handed Knockout a small tablet with a photograph of the main 'cons, then it changed to one of you, Knockout and Breakdown

👑 The red mech smiled and gave you a small hug before you heard Megatron yell for you, making you transform after sending your goodbyes and flying away. A new life to start with your lover, away from war and away from the blood-soaked regime of your old lives

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»»——————————-　 Starscream 　———————————-««

💫 He first met you while he was controlling a large armada of fellow seekers in the Cybertronian Air Command. You were a new recruit and gained a close bond with the raspy-Decepticon, quickly rising in the ranks before becoming Lieutenant-General of the Air Command

💫 While under the control of Megatron, he showed quite a favoritism to you. And believe me when I say this; Starscream hated how close he acted towards you

💫 It was when Soundwave revealed you and Starscream's spark-bond that Megatron stiffened slightly around you, but did still act fairly cordial. Until his motives began to worsen over the next few hundred years

💫 Many view Starscream as a very manipulative and fearful being, and they're not wrong there. At first, he tried manipulating you, but you eventually grew onto him like a mold

💫 He also has used you like a Cybertronian-Shield multiple times. But, you always were at the ready with a weapon when against the Autobots and their meddlesome human allies

💫 Speaking of him using you as a shield, while he may use you as one when it comes to some battles when he is obviously at a disadvantage, when it comes to his beatings against your leader, you become his defendant. At least when it gets bad enough to be possibly life-threatening

💫 Starscream puts on a macho-mech persona, which he only lets down when his life in in danger or when you are in a major accident. Like when the Autobots were fighting against you and Shockwave while retrieving a Predacon's fossil. He had immediately noticed you were going to have a small concussion

💫 He was the one who went out with Soundwave to defend you, he could care less about Shockwave's spark. He needed you alive, not him.

💫 You guys are one of the cutest duos on the Nemesis. Whenever a Vehicon walks by you two speaking with a smile lodged on both of your faces, they just look at one another and chuckle

💫 It's your gentle-nature that makes Starscream feel unworthy of having you around. He views himself as inferior, and this only grows when he serves under Megatron. The larger mech makes him feel completely worthless, especially by comparing him to others, specifically Shockwave and Soundwave

💫 Unlike Starscream, you helped fight against Unicron when he possessed Megatron. You helped Shockwave gather his three Predacons to send them off, before going off to use your flight to your advantage before leaving to find Starscream

💫 He angered you slightly when he tried convincing Megatron to take over Cybertron again, and after he flew off, you sent him a comm saying you hoped he lived a fulfilling rest of his life. He just chuckled and wished you and Starscream a good future, making you smile and look at your spark-mate

💫 Smiling at the Autobots nervously, Starscream transformed and yelled for you to follow suit. You sighed and threw a vile of finished synthetic-energon at Ratchet, making him gasp and chuckle as you winked and flew off. What an exit... one worthy of his old lab partner and good friend

💫 As Starscream chanted about being the new leader of the Decepticons, you heard the Predacons approach and stared wide-eyed as they glared at Starscream but not you... damn you were always favored more than him🤣

"Y/N...? Why are they glaring at me so much...?"

"Pretty sure they wanna eat you. You might wanna start running, Hon'."

💫 You just looked at the three mechs and told them to go easy on him, and they just huffed before nodding and chasing him. Leaving a smiling Cybertronian behind

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»»——————————-　 Soundwave 　———————————-««

🔊 Ah, the loving silent mech himself.

🔊 He, unlike others, did not meet you before the war began. Instead, you were assigned to be his fellow third-in-command, except you were more located outside of the ship and leading attacks than him

🔊 Soundwave is fairly difficult to get to know at first, since he doesn't speak and doesn't show any reaction. Y'know- with the visor-face and all...

🔊 But, when you did get closer with the mech, it was known to all on the Nemesis that you were held in high regard not only to Lord Megatron, but to the third-in-command as well. Not even Starscream dared to lay a servo on you, fear of retaliation from both of the powerful mechs overwhelming him

🔊 Now, if you are smaller than him, he does make sure you stay out of others ways or get jobs that fit the way you are built and can handle. Normally, the smaller the Cybertronian, the thinner amount of weight they can handle

🔊 Though, if you are bigger, he trusts you to handle yourself a lot more. He would watch over you in battle, sending you codes that could help you in defeating the Autobots and retrieving whatever Megatron needed

🔊 Soundwave also is a very busy mech, so most of the time he has work to do. So, in those kinds of situations, he sends his precious minicon, Laserbeak, out to observe you. Ordering him to send a distress single if you were in danger and he couldn't do anything to help

🔊 When he was kidnapped by the Autobots, you were beyond unstable. Throwing items back and forth across your shared room, successfully scaring all that passed and heard you mixture of angry screams and cries of agony

🔊 Him coming back made your mood lighten up, and it caused even Megatron to slightly smile seeing you run up to him and hug him tightly, before cringing at the sight of the Autobot medic, and your old friend, Ratchet, being thrown in cuffs and pushed away to a holding cell

🔊 You stayed right beside him as best as you could, helping out with everything until those wretched humans came around and had a second Ground-Bridge opened, wrapping both you and him in the warp. Before carrying your screaming frame as his struggling one inside

🔊 Soundwave slightly strutted before lunging at the three mortals, unsuccessfully ending them. This made you gasp and stutter in realization... you were stuck in the Shadowzone with no way out of it and no-one except those humans to know where you were

🔊 Falling to your knees, you began to weep as Soundwave kneeled in front of you and held you close. A low tune being played over his speakers

"Will we ever get out of here...?"

"I will stop at nothing to get us out of here, Y/N." Soundwave said, his natural voice running through your audials.

"I love you..."

"And I love you as well."

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»——————————-　 Shockwave 　———————————-««

🧪 Shockwave and you met in another fairly odd way

🧪 As a very head-strong member of the Cybertronian Sea Special Ops, and holding the rank of a Major, you always kept your mind right on the target. And when you were sent in by your General, Preon, to observe a supposed operation of a revolution against the Council

🧪 You disguised yourself with a device modeled by one of the engineers, and when you came into contact with the one-eyed mech, you were enamored. And you couldn't lie, hearing Megatron's speech of freedom from the damaging oppression laid stuck in your head

🧪 Over time, you began to use your Black Ops skills to escape detection and help Shockwave gain different objects he needed for his experiments. And when you revealed your treachery to the Cybertronian Council, he felt a pang in his spark that was unfamiliar

🧪 While first deeming it illogical, Shockwave did enjoy being in a close relationship with you. You were highly skilled in battle and in everything scientific

🧪 Shockwave is a very distant mech because of his work. He serves the Decepticon cause very well, to the point where many say he comes in a dual battle against Soundwave's loyalty to the cause

🧪 Despite the complaints of Megatron, you stayed on Cybertron, and got damaged when fighting against Arcee and Cliffjumper. And even he had to admit, you grew on him a lot faster than he initially believed. The cyclopian-mech did also prove to be better at being a doctor than he or you thought

🧪 Shockwave does care about you in a unique way. While he doesn't show it outright like other Cybertronians, he does prove how much he cares about you with simple methods. He does three main things; he is extremely honest, sharing his opinions on all matters, Shockwave also trusts you with tasks he wouldn't trust anyone else with, such as caring for the Predacons while he is outside gathering more fossils, and he loves to show his loyalty. He could care less about everyone else, you are his top-priority when it comes to dangerous situations

🧪 If you ever had doubts of your bond, he immediately addresses it. He may be working while speaking, but he does show his devotion to you first

"Shockwave... do I... mean anything to you...?"

"That's one of the most illogical things I have ever heard." Shockwave replied. "If I saw no use in having a relationship with you, I would never had proposed our spark-bond coming to light. I don't ever want to hear about you doubting yourself, Y/N. Understood?"

🧪 He's not the most ideal mech to be bonded to for life, but he isn't the worst

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXI)

Chapter 21: ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! An interesting chapter… let me tell you ;)

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3273

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

XVII

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,    or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:    I love you as one loves certain obscure things,    secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries    the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,    and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose    from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,    I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,    so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,    so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

Pablo Neruda, One Hundred Love Sonnets, translated by Mark Eisner

Talking with Frank like this felt kind of strange.

You weren’t used to this kind of conversation anymore. The ones where you listened to him babble away, but chose your topics carefully to talk about your own life, knowing he would quickly get bored if you spoke too much of work and literature and art. You weren’t used to this, it felt kind of… wrong. Which was strange because your heart still skipped a beat when you saw him, when he pulled a chair for you, when he gave you that charming smile of his. And yet you found the conversation in itself… unfulfilling. You were kind of bored, as a matter of fact. But it had always been this way, this was not a new dynamic, so what could have changed now?

You pushed the thought away, focused on his voice again as you added a bit of sugar to your coffee. The coffeeshop was busy with life and chatter, you didn’t really like their pastry, but Frank did, so you accepted when he offered to meet you there. It had been two weeks since The Fight, and he wanted to talk about it with you properly. He was buying you coffee and a pastry to thank you, once more, for coming to the rescue and let him sleep on your couch.

What a strange evening this had been. A great opportunity for you to make a point, to show him that Sam wasn’t right for him, and yet… and yet when the time came, you didn’t say much. You let him sleep on the sofa. You remembered a time when you would have spent hours looking at him while he slept, but that night the sight wasn’t as magical as you remembered. You quickly made your way to your own bed, closed the door behind you, and went to sleep without any desire to be near him. What was wrong with you? You were still in love with him… right?

You blinked, realising that your mind had wandered again, focusing on the conversation.

“Anyway, Sam and I talked it through the next morning. It took some flowers and a fair share of apologising, which was normal, it was my fault… but yeah, we talked about it. And we agreed on a solution, and everything is back to normal. I was so dramatic that night, doubting everything… every couple fights.”

You nodded, feeling your heart getting heavier. That fight didn’t bring you any closer to getting him back, after all…

“But enough about me! What about you? Exams season, right? You must be busy?”

You nodded, gathering your thoughts. You had to sum up things, be quick about it, be concise…

“Yeah, it’s really busy… I’m gonna enter the hellscape that grading is. It’ll put me through a few sleepless nights. But I’m excited for the next set of classes in this new semester! I’ve prepared a lot for it, I think I’m ready. Besides, Andy has been helping me a lot. So… I’ll be okay.”

You saw how Frank’s face fell as you mentioned Andrew, you saw how he clenched his jaw, and you wondered why he was reacting like that. Andrew was an absolute sweetheart, if a little shy…

“Andy, huh?”

You frowned at the coldness of his tone, while Frank busied himself with stirring his tea.

“I… You know, I’ve thought for a long time that he still had feelings for Sam,” he confessed, and you tried to hide your reaction.

“I don’t know about that,” you answered, carefully choosing your words. “I mean… the break-up was rough, because it was very sudden for him as well. But he doesn’t tell me about such things.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“I wasn’t saying that thinking you might know something, don’t worry. That’s not what I meant. I just… I’m just pointing that out. I can’t talk about this with Sam, she’s very attached to him. He’s important to her. Just like you’re important to me. Still, I… I don’t like having him around sometimes. Although, things have shifted a lot lately.”

“Really?”

He looked up at you again, nodded as he took a sip of his warm beverage.

“Yeah! It was particularly visible at the party, on New Year’s Eve. I don’t know he… he was talking with Sam, but he wasn’t, like… leaning towards her. Like… I don’t know, he wasn’t seeking her attention that much, wasn’t… I don’t know. It didn’t feel like he wanted her. It felt friendly, this time, truly. Maybe he has his eyes on someone else. Maybe he’s finally moving on. Which is good, for him and for us. It’s unhealthy to hang on like that, holding onto a false hope.”

He heaved a sigh, didn’t notice how his words affected you at all. How they puzzled you at first, how they hurt you later on.

Was Andrew truly moving on? Did he like someone else? Was Frank right or merely misreading your friend’s behaviour?

And what about you? Were you the idiot hanging on a false hope?

“Oh, I wanted to ask for a favour!” Frank blurted out, snapping his fingers as the thought came back to his mind. “We have the dates for the tailor! I’m booked in the morning, Sam is booked later on that day… Could I ask you to come help me choose my suit? I’m so worried about it… I need to look good, obviously. I trust you to give me an honest opinion. Could you come with me?”

You gave him a smile, nodded. You could ruin that. You could make him choose something terrible for the wedding…

“Of course! I’ll come! Send me the details, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re the best. What would I do without you?”

You hated yourself for wondering the same thing as you looked at him.

Andrew’s vision was starting to get blurry, he took off his glasses for a minute and rubbed at his tired eyes. There was no chance that he was finishing grading these essays tonight, he wasn’t sure why he was still here anyway. He checked the time on his computer screen. It was almost 9pm. An ungodly hour to be stuck here in his office. He should have been home, eating some pizza and drinking a beer while watching some stupid tv show or something of the kind. Something that wasn’t requiring as many braincells as this task was, clearly.

But then, he looked up, beyond his computer screen, to see you bent over your stack of essays. You couldn’t help it as you yawned again, covering your mouth in a hurry. It was late, way too late to still be working, but you didn’t have a choice. These essays were not going to grade themselves.

And Andrew could have gone home, but then again, he could also stay a little longer and watch the way a rebellious strand of your hair fell before your face, study the way you blinked to stay awake, how you bit your lower lip as you focused on the words written on the pages before you…

Which was highly irrelevant, as Andrew did not like you this way. Not at all. Nothing. You were still in love with Frank, that was the reason why the two of you were spending so much time together and getting so close… If he was getting over Samantha, he was not ready to sign up for some one-sided crush on his coworker. No, thank you. His life was complicated enough as it was, he didn’t need to get his heart broken again.

Andrew did not like you. Or well, he did like you, as a colleague. As an ally in a crazy scheme. As a friend, even. Yes, a friend. A friend…

You looked up at him, and he blinked as he stared into the colours of your eyes, feeling butterflies erupt in his stomach and his heart jump a few beats.

“Andy… can you help me with something?”

“Hmm? Of course. What is it?”

“Can you help me enter the grades in the software? I can’t make it work… I’m already halfway through the essays I’m grading, I should start entering the grades now into the system.”

“Sure, hang on.”

Andrew put on his glasses again, and he wondered why you were staring as he did so, but he guessed that you were simply tired and longing for help. He stood up to join you, bending his head as he walked under the large lamp hanging from the ceiling.

“This is really a pain, don’t worry… I still struggle with that thing and it’s my second year,” Andrew told you, trying to reassure you.

You had dark circles under your eyes, you seemed exhausted. He wished he could have lifted all your worries from your shoulders, tucked you in to sleep, watched over your night to make sure your rest was undisturbed…

He shook himself, catching himself with these thoughts and pushing them away. Another voice came in, one that he struggled with all the time.

She would reject you, anyway…

“I’m on the right page, I have the name of the students… but then it’s just a whole mess!” you explained, pointing at your computer screen. “I can’t modify the file to implement the grades. I can only see the names of the students. See?”

Andrew bent over, narrowing his eyes.

“Can I?” he asked, pointing at the mouse and you merely nodded, letting him try to fix your file.

He leant closer again, reaching for the mouse and clicking on the document. He blinked a few times while his lungs were being filled with your perfume, and he tried to ignore how close to you he was like this, bent over your shoulder. You moved, and your shoulder touched his chest, making his heart skip a beat.

You were still in love with Frank. You were still in love with Frank. You were still in love with Frank. You were still in love…

“Goddamn it,” he cursed softly under his breath, not managing to modify the document either. “There must be something to unlock the file, but I can’t remember where the bloody thing is…”

“I’ll ask Ronan tomorrow if you want, that’s okay. Thanks for taking a look.”

“No, no, no… wait, I just… I just need to remember it.”

He let out a long exhale through his nose, a sign of annoyance, but he was surprised to find you smiling as he did. You were looking up at him instead of busying yourself with the task at hand, instead of watching the screen too. He wasn’t sure why you were doing such a thing, something as silly as looking at him while he was annoyed at himself. And then, you were even smiling, soft and tender with fondness tugging at the corners of your mouth. What had he done to summon such a reaction?

He didn’t know, he wasn’t even certain that he was the cause for such a dreamy sight. Still, when he looked at you again, he was thankful for your expression, for how beautiful you looked on this tiring night, bathed in the white neon light and the pixels of your computer screen.

“Thank you, Andy,” you whispered, voice fragile, and he knew that you weren’t merely talking about the grades and the computer.

“For what?”

“I don’t know… I just… thank you.”

He tried not to remember how you tasted that night, of whiskey and apples. He tried not to recall how your lips felt against his, or how soft your skin was under his hands… because now, as you turned fully to him, he could feel your breath on his chin, and it would have been so easy… unbearably easy… to simply lean down and kiss you…

He cleared his throat, tried to look away but failed.

“Right… there’s nothing to thank me for, really.”

You reached up to scratch your cheek, chuckling at his answer.

“What are you doing here at this ungodly hour anyway, huh?”

“I’m a night owl,” Andrew answered honestly, even though he was lying.

“Are you grading essays too?”

“Yeah… not getting much done, to be fair.”

“You look tired, you should go home.”

“You should too.”

“I need to grade these.”

“It can wait till tomorrow morning.”

He finally noticed the trace of red ink on your cheek, the one left by your finger a moment ago. A fond smile tugged at his lips.

“You’ve got some red ink on your cheek,” he said plainly, but there was something tender still to his tone.

He pointed at your red cheek, and you rubbed the skin a little too hard, but missed the spot. He chuckled fondly at you.

“Literally rubbed all over your cheek… except where the stain is.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“Never mind, I’m okay with being ridiculous. I always am.”

“Such a liar, you are. Can I help?”

He gave the smallest nod towards your cheek, to make sure you knew what he meant. You nodded, and he didn’t notice the way your breathing caught in your throat as he lifted his hand to your face.

It was an easy fix, that tiny stain across your skin. It was gone after just a few careful rubs. And yet, even after the ink was gone, his thumb didn’t leave your cheek. Instead, he unfolded the rest of his hand, long fingers coming to rest on the side of your face and getting lost in your hair. And then his thumb was grazing your cheekbone, and Andrew shivered at the sensation of your soft skin against his calloused one. As soft as he remembered…

He blinked a couple of times, but instead of looking away, his gaze merely moved from your cheek to your eyes, and he remained trapped there, staring at the colours of your irises and deciding they would become his favourite hues from now on.

The next time he blinked, it was to let his eyes fall to your lips.

And he knew how soft they were, how you tasted like whiskey and apples that night, how good it felt to kiss you, like he was a proper human being all over again instead of the empty shell he had become after Samantha. How it felt like being able to breathe again, how he felt like him after that, how he had written again that night, after months trapped in silence. How he had written about you…

Christ… he would have done anything to feel that way again…

Perhaps that was why he leaned closer, forgot that he was in your shared office, forgot about Samantha and Frank, forgot that there was a world beyond your lips. Just so he could feel alive for a moment.

And perhaps he just didn’t think at all. And perhaps he just wanted to kiss you so badly he couldn’t think about all the reasons that should have held him back and stopped him from leaning closer now.

You didn’t push him away though. His hold on your face was gentle, barely a caress, nothing that would have prevented you from breaking free. And he was moving slowly, a fall in slow-motion towards something as dreadful as doom and as sweet as love. You had plenty of time to stop him. You didn’t. Instead, when his nose brushed against yours as he tilted his head slightly, you merely closed your eyes; your two breaths mingling in the few inches that separated your two mouths.

He let his eyes close as well, let himself live in the feeling of your breath fanning across his lips, of your hair and skin under his fingers. He felt your hand come to rest on his grey waistcoat, your palm on his breast, right over his heart, and he wondered if you could feel how fast the organ was beating, how he couldn’t, for the life of him, slow it down and control it.

And then he was kissing you, lips brushing together at first, but he quickly pressed his mouth to yours. His other hand came to cradle your face too, his hold tightening to become firm but no less tender, as he let himself get lost in you. You tasted of coffee this time, your lips still as soft, and this sensation that was unbelievably you that made his heart do happy jumps against his ribs, and…

… and too soon you were pulling away, out of breath, your hair a little dishevelled by his fingers.

When he opened his eyes, you were looking at him with an unreadable mixture of puzzlement and want, and he didn’t know what to make of it, wasn’t certain whether you wanted him to kiss you again or to disappear from your life forever.

And that’s when the logical part of his brain kicked in again, the self-sabotaging part as well, and he stood in a jolt, took a few steps back as if he were startled by his own behaviour, and in a way he was. He wasn’t supposed to like you, he was supposed to still be sporting a crush on his ex, he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else…

In love?!

A sharp pain crossed his skull all of a sudden while he was still backing away; from the back of his head it rang through his entire skull so vividly that he almost lost his balance and was dizzy for a moment.

“Andy!”

You were on your feet now while he rubbed at his head. He turned to see what he had collided into…

… of course, that bloody lamp hanging from the ceiling…

“You’re okay? God, that must have hurt!”

“Yeah… it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? You’re not bleeding are you?”

“No, no… thick skull anyway,” he joked. “I’m used to it.”

“Right…”

At least, it knocked some sense into him, because Andrew was now blushing, uncomfortable, and avoiding to look at you like his life depended on it.

What the fuck did he do now?

“I… I’m sorry… for kissing you, you… you clearly didn’t want me to do that, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright! We’re colleagues, we’re in our office, this is so fucking inappropriate, and I’m sorry.”

“Andy…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It… it was nice.”

He looked at you then, an eyebrow raised in surprise. You were smiling up at him, although the gesture was still shy.

“It’s just… I… I get it, that our feelings are a little all over the place these days,” you went on. “With the wedding and the stress of our jobs, and just… I get it. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

Slowly, he nodded, but let you speak again.

“We can… we can just forget that this happened. It’s alright.”

Your words tore his heart apart, he refused to acknowledge why.

“Right. Right, yeah… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I… I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m gonna go home,” Andrew’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and he was avoiding your gaze again.

“Sure. Have a nice evening! Or… night rather, given the time…”

“Yeah… yeah, you too.”

Andrew was clumsy as he grabbed his coat and bag, not bothering to turn off his computer, he didn’t have time for that. He was too much in a hurry to flee the scene…

He closed the door of your office behind him, rested his back against it, let out a long exhale.

What the fuck was he doing?

[throwaway-yandere]

And The Sun Is Silent (Yandere!Wriothesley/Reader)

Unreliable Synopsis: You, a former writer, received a fan letter. Truly a curious thing, for the contents appear more personal than what it should be.

A/n: I am not back. I posted this cuz first off, I adore Joe Zieja and all his works and I was so hyped when I saw he voiced Wriothesley and second, mfer gave me C4 qiqi. i love my daughter but cmon wrio, I literally got the same haircut as you do now-

CW: nothing really. Just a lil mind frick ig

“When I saw his hands wrapped around his dearest new spouse, cutting that vile wedding cake together, I wanted nothing more than to take that knife and slit his throat.”

(Y/n) was a serialized author in Fontaine whose works were primarily geared towards detective novels. However, their words were less laced with objectivity and “irrefutable facts” as the heavy pockets do when spinning their tales. Unfortunately, they weren’t meant to fill their coffers with hit-release masterpieces. (Y/n)– pen name “Maestro Justiniano” – was more engrossed in the perpetrators' psychology like the barkeeps and magicians do. They were the main characters– the sung hero of the tale. The glorified violence thrived in each passing page for the only mystery to be solved was “who will they target next?”

If young fans of other authors were seen as aspiring detectives or law enforcers, those who were known as fans of the Maestro were unjustifiably labeled as “future degenerates.” For (Y/n), it was funny. Overhearing grandparents waste their already fleeting energy to scold their grandchild’s love for their sinful work was their source of joy.

But (Y/n) (L/n) was not Maestro Justiano in public.

They were Duke Wriothesley’s spouse. Maestro Justiano is but a shade and (Y/n) is a human. The maestro does not feed on earth nor mora, but (Y/n) is obliged to. He bought his title, and he bought his spouse.

Gone was their free fourth finger. With a golden shackle, they sealed their fate to a wealthy man for table scraps. Perhaps it is fortunate that he is generous with his pockets, but to (Y/n), they would rather starve themselves writing than sit through another seminar about the nation’s ever-changing laws.

The Maestro’s life used to be so full of thrill; the “pelf” they received for each writing commission was a life worth their breaths. 

The Maestro’s life used to be coated in moonlight; sneaking out and running gigs was their bread and butter.

But now the sun is silent, and (Y/n) stands with a tail behind their legs. 

“(Y/n), do you need anything?”

Wriothesley asked even when he could guess the answer. Lazily, (Y/n) shifted from the covers, peering over with half-closed eyes.

“Nothing, Your Grace.” (Y/n) yawned. “Close the door.”

The Duke nods, understanding their fatigue. He silently shuts the door, and nothing of interest is to be noted afterward.

This has been their canned script every Wednesday to Friday without fail for the past 3 years. 

In (Y/n)’s eyes, Wriothesley is a mere animal with whom they mate for survival. Barely any true emotional trysts occurred in their first two years of marriage. They’re a “friend” of fortune. With him always away from home, (Y/n) is left with nothing but their thoughts. 

The nights were warm, but the mornings were cold. 

And the sun is silent.

Their husband has never been quite the same after an incident during their 2nd year of marriage. 

On the night they were attacked in the comfort of their shared home, a gear in his head was stolen.

Wriothesley held them, audibly more alarmed and broken than (Y/n)– the victim– was. He shook, afraid of what you must’ve gone through in his absence. Robbery, that’s what the records say. An armed man entered their home with the intent to steal. Black were his gloves and hair. The perpetrator thought they had been away on a business trip and pulled the trigger by surprise when they emerged from the kitchen. 

That thief had failed to steal material possessions, but their husband had lost his good of intellect. He cannot stand the notion of leaving them alone. What is a collector’s item if it’s not in great condition? Wriothesley has locked the gates and kept (Y/n) in, and he’ll continue to do so to preserve their value.

“I want to meet you somewhere someday, in a place where the sun is no longer silent. I want to crawl and bury myself under your skin where I can read through your mind. The house is too quiet. I want to trace your collarbones. I want to bite into your flesh, and I need you to look into my eyes as I tear myself apart. I am in love with you, (Y/n). It’s unbelievable, but it’s true. I live within these walls. I am what keeps you grounded with a golden ring. But why does the sun hide from me?”

Despite how much closer the couple are now, (Y/n) feels more distant than before. Not that they had the right to say "The duke was not the man I married" when they rarely talked— but it surely felt that way.

And in one Sunday night, the forcibly retired author used their words not to immerse readers, but to intimidate guards to grant entry to their "beloved" husband's office.

"You fucking bitch…"

"Lovely to see you too, honey."

"You made me lose my job!!!"

"Here I thought you refer to it as a side-line."

"Are you fucking for real right now?!" They screamed and slammed a fist down on the table. The pain hasn't hit them yet as their unbridled shock and rage hit overdrive. "Since when did you have the right to just take my–"

"Your hobbies away?" Wriothesley placed down his chamomile tea and shrugged. "Honey, I'm not doing anything like that. No, I'm only protecting you."

"Oh, great!" They waved a hand around dramatically before slapping it back to their thigh, rolling their eyes. "Let me guess, there's a biiiig explanation that fits into one giant puzzle."

"You know me too well for someone who never initiates conversation." He smiled mockingly. 

"You're right. Court Dense Publishing House is being investigated for numerous allegations. Toxic working environment, which included stalking and superiors leveraging pay for sexual favors might I add, and tax fraud. The details of the latter will bore you." Wriothesley continued.

He sighed. "Can't you tell? I'm just being a decent husband. What if you were being harassed and you were afraid to tell me?" 

"Like hell, I was–" They took a sharp deep breath in. "Listen. Let me get back to my work and we won't have any problems, Your Grace."

"No can do. You're an ex-Maestro now."

“And you're an ex-con.” They quickly retorted.

…

…

“... You're calling me an ex-con?" Wriothesley laughed dryly. The lone sound made them inch their heels slightly backward.

His eyelids lowered as his dull gray eyes peeked behind underneath his tilted glare.

They had never seen him this serious.

"Who do you think turned me into one?”

…

…

…

They blinked.

His words– though not making sense without context– carried a heavy weight they had unfortunately missed.

His gaze and words were accusingly pointed.

At them.

…

…

Wriothesley laughed.

"I'm kidding, of course. Don't be so tense."

(Y/n) didn't laugh.

He smiled. They can't tell if it was fake or not. He's been too good at pretending to be nice that they never knew when he genuinely dropped the act.

Like Maestro Justiniano, that argument is history now. 

And maybe that's why (Y/n) first thought it would be a comforting experience to read a story written by an avid fan.

It was a long manuscript. Sigewinne claimed it came from a fellow Melusine who wanted her favorite author's thoughts on how to write a criminal male lead. When asked for the writer's name, she refused to say it. (Y/n) respected it since they too posted anonymously…

But this reading sounds less like a professional job and more like a stalker's confession…

“When I first finished a book of yours in two sittings, I had formed a vague fantasy on how you looked like. You were a tall man, thin, long-necked, sharp-nosed, with a body slightly bent forward. Needless to say, I was stoked to find that description failed to perfectly describe who you were in person. I hope that with my new appearance, my description perfectly describes how your husband used to look as well. These black gloves just don’t fit me right.”

These black gloves…?

"Honey, I'm home!!! Oh, and Sigewinne's here too."

As soon as they heard the door open, (Y/n) shoved the fan's manuscript inside their drawer. Wriothesley hates seeing any semblance of creative writing inside the house.

"Can you brew two cups of tea for us?" Wriothesley asked as he removed his jacket, placing it recklessly on the sofa. "We're exhausted."

(Y/n) nodded. They never tell him how they make his tea. For a bottle weighing 8 fl oz, they'd take a rounded scoop of sunsettia powder to the pitcher and pour steamed 2% milk to whatever was the appropriate line. Once aerated for 3 seconds, they fill it with their macha mix with ¼’’ foam and ¾’’ more below the rim for the aesthetic. 

The process is not as difficult as it sounds, but they like withholding information. Why else won't friends and family know that they're a prolific writer, right?

"Sure. I'll be right back."

They left.

Their “husband” picked up the letter they hastily hid, a faint smile playing on his face.

Were you frightened after reading it? 

How did his favorite author react?

He wished he knew. But he’s no detective– he’s a present “degenerate”. He won’t find clues just by looking at the parchment. "Wriothesley" placed it back to where it was earlier and adjusted his black gloves to fit just right. 

“Wriothesley” glanced at Sigewinne with a giddy smile.

“So, do you think they liked my writing?”

"(P.S: I finally figured out how you make your coffee. It's 3 pumps of Fonta, 1 shot of espresso roast, chilled milk, and stirred with ice. This unique combination would've perplexed me if I didn't find out you made it out of spite. 

But it does taste good. I promise. After all, in the cold solitude of your sunless prison, I'll be the one brewing you coffee. May each sip be a reminder of my affection. The sun may be silent too in the Fortress, but maybe in there, you'll finally appreciate my warmth.")

[cosycafune]

I HATE YOU, IN THE SAME WAY THE SUN CIRCLES THE EARTH!

a summary: grief isn’t linear. mourning a man you love isn’t easy, so how are you to cope with speaking to a false vessel of him? especially when he’s all you’ve known?

synopsis of acts: death, pregnancy, grief, angst, slight fluff, yearning and emptiness. not proofread/ small chapter.

Satoru knows you hate him for following his roots in Jujutsu, abiding by his ropes of the strongest. Even as his ropes tightened around him, hurting him heavily, you knew he refrained from caring. Caring because Jujutsu is him, reforming and moulding the only identity he has even known.

As, who is Satoru Gojo when he isn’t the strongest? That’s what you knew he always thought and built himself upon, but he always refused to recognise the person that makes him him: you.

Flowers, he always bestowed them upon you, kisses, hugs and anything you needed, except from a guaranteed stay. Satoru would always pepper you with mental sincerity, but you always knew from the start that his proposed time was borrowed from the angels of death.

That’s why you hate him, glancing down at his grave, craving to be held and coddled by him once more. Nothing within you could heal the detrimental damage that adorns your heart, leaving you a wasting away wound of nothingness. Nothingness that can’t find purpose without a man who swore his time wasn’t borrowed, but he left you an unburied gift.

Innately, Satoru was supposed to grow old with you, whine and reassure you about the greys that tint your head, whilst an old bench takes the form of the two of you. But, no. You linger here, lonesome, adorned by the worldly chaos that consumed the only man you had even grown to love.

Satoru was your explodes sun, dissolved and reinforced into something that thrives away from you. It hurt that he remains stole from you, his limbs no more than a foreign memory of home, unable to wrap around you. Limbs that etch and write upon your mental notebook, soaking it with unfulfilled ideas and comfort that he is unable to bring you and your unborn child.

Nothing within this would heal the aftermath of his death, completely planned by cruel fate. Cruel fate that revoked your chances of listening to his beating heart, laying upon his chest and humming about nonsense only he ever listened to.

Yet, now you remain basking in your loneliness — laying beside Satoru’s grave with not a lick of devotion within you. Nothing within you held care, distorted and dissected by someone so largely impacted. Impactful through the wildflowers he would bestow upon your kitchen table, on your first date, but now you do so with his grave.

Satoru’s symbol of rebirth to you had now been used to capture second strand of peace he had ever gotten. However, that crowned peace was laid down by you, someone who still stresses about when would he come home.

When would he be the sun to your earth, unwilling to shatter into uncollected pieces that haunt you?

When will he come home, since what is an earth without its sun?

—

do not copy, translate or modify my works. all works are written by me: cosycafune. 2024.

[lineffability]

He grows tomatoes.

Well, he tries to. Crowley does not usually try to grow plants. He decides to grow them, and they obey. It's vengeance, vendetta. But lately, nothing seems to obey his will. It's weak, that will, broken into smithereens just like his heart.

And he can't even take it out on his plants. That's because Crowley has mercy.

So he tries to grow tomatoes.

It's summer (the first summer without him) and he has lodged in an airbnb in the country, and behind an old ramshackle ram-shack he has made himself a little plot of land. Well - it's all God's stupidly green earth, isn't it. But this two by two piece of earth he claims for himself. He could have at least that, right? He looks up at the sky. Frowns.

Let me have at least that.

Aziraphale liked to do things the hard way. (He's still doing that, Crowley supposes, up there. Up there. He's not dead, but it feels like it. He's gone. Gone to Heaven. Not to a better place.) Aziraphale liked to do it properly, the human way, when it pleased him. Which was often, but not always. Think: French. Nom de dieu de merde. Pardon his French.

Pardon his stupid everything.

Crowley inspects his tomato plants. He's trying to grow them the human way. Funny, that. He nurses them like he nurses his heart, and miracles won't do. He's tried.

I think I should not be encouraged to grow tomatoes, he thinks.

Raindrops fall on red and green: the plants and the vines and the tomatoes and his hair. It's August, it shouldn't be raining this much. It's been a shitty August. It's been a shitty year. Thirteen months and two weeks and one day, to be exact. Not like he's keeping count. Why bother?

There's a spot on one of the leaves, and Crowley's heart sinks before it even had the chance to ever rise. It's only one tiny, dark, black spot, but he knows what it means. It means it's too late.

A horrible month. A horrible life. Not the right conditions to thrive. Disease, rearing its ugly head, grinning. It's already too late. It's always too late. It would multiply and spread. It has already spread, underneath. Invisible to visible. It won't take long, now.

His soul is a tomato leaf.

Black as grief.

He's tended these seedlings, he's raised them, and planted them, too, and here they are before him tall and proud and still alive, and Crowley knows they are already dying. He can relate.

The sensible thing to do would be to discard it all, be done with them. It's not worth the effort, technically, to keep them alive. But to Crowley it's worth it. It has to be. They are worth it. He is worth it. Stupid stubborn perseverance, stupid stubborn hopeful heart.

He isn't immune to foreshadowing. He looks up again. Angry, this time, bitter. A bit of surrender, too.

The rain drips and drops on his face.

He looks back down, snaps the sickly leaf off with expert fingers. Continues to tend to the plants, as he will until they inevitably die. He plucks a tiny tomato. It's so small, fragile, one of the first of a doomed harvest: but it tastes sweet.

Determined, Crowley continues his labor of love, patient as with all living things.

He is responsible for these vines.

Maybe, despite everything, just maybe, he can nurture his heart back to health. (And maybe, just maybe, he is not human and does not do things the human way. When it dis/pleases him. He's always been a rebel. Just a little miracle, a little bit of life-giving defiance. So small no one notices, not even us.) Crowley smiles.

He grows tomatoes.

.

This ficlet was inspired by Louise Glück's Vespers. May she rest in peace. "In your extended absence, you permit me use of earth, anticipating some return on investment. I must report failure in my assignment, principally regarding the tomato plants." read the full poem here

[lurkingshan]

Last Twilight Episode 12

A month ago, I never could have predicted that I’d be sitting here trying to assemble some thoughts to explain how on earth this show went so badly off the rails. I am truly taken aback by where this story landed, and I advise anyone who wants to think of it fondly to just pretend it ended at episode 9, and even skip the finale if you haven’t watched yet. Before I get into it, let me just start with a word of praise for the cast, who did a great job with their performances and kept this show afloat when the writing fell apart. And boy, did it fall apart.

In my view, this narrative had three main threads it was addressing: 1) Day’s journey to accepting his disability; 2) unresolved family trauma; and 3) Mhok and Day’s romance. And in the end, it failed on all three of them. I am going to dig into this and I am not feeling particularly nice, so if this is going to hurt your feelings I suggest you stop reading now. 

Day’s Journey

Just…wow. We have been afraid of this turn the entire time and trying to hold out hope that the show would not go there, but here we are. I started laughing out loud when we got to the end of part 3 and Mhon’s phone went off with an alert for a new eye donor, and then just stared incredulously at my screen as we time skipped AGAIN to a Day whose vision had been restored for years (last week I joked to @bengiyo and @waitmyturtles that once a drama starts using time skips it becomes addictive and they never stop, and—welp!). What was this entire show for? Why did we spend twelve episodes with Day grieving his vision loss, learning how to cope, and finally accepting his blindness only to completely undercut it at the end? The first part of the finale was so much about how he was thriving—finding a new career for himself and becoming self-sufficient and growing so much on his own—only to give us an ending that implied he could not actually have his happily ever after without his vision restored. 

And this is in fact the message they sent by coupling the return of his vision with the return of he and Mhok’s relationship, and giving us a happy ending rooted in his contentment at having his sight back. They even went back to the Last Twilight mountain to completely tarnish the thematic resonance of the original scene. Calling back to the beautiful memory of Day “seeing” the sunset and experiencing “a moment so good that you feel like you can live there forever” as he accepted his disability with this scene of him seeing the real sunset with his restored vision was so hurtful to me that I actually got angry. Day didn’t need his vision back to get a happy ending, and I absolutely hate what this communicates about disabled people’s capacity to live happy and fulfilling lives. This show has created many writing sins but this is the most unforgivable to me.

Family Trauma

The show began dropping the ball on this one a few weeks ago, but this finale put the nail in the coffin. We spent most of this episode at Porjai and Night’s wedding, an event that might have felt meaningful if the show had let us see any of their romance. I’m grateful to Mark Pakin and Namtan Tipnaree for their beauty and charisma because it’s the only thing that made me care about those scenes at all. Rather than actually being about them, however, this wedding was used primarily as a clunky vehicle to deliver heavy-handed messages about “second chances” to encourage Day to get back together with Mhok (more on that in the next section). 

I did enjoy the brief nods in this episode to the brothers continuing to have newfound harmony in their relationship, but where the show really lost me was in their attempt to bring Night and Day’s dad back into the mix and imply some sort of resolution between him and Mhon. Mhon, a woman whose perspective on their split we never actually saw, whose motivation for her choices and behavior toward her sons were completely elided by the narrative, who was forgiven and made peace with offscreen during a time skip. I was never given the chance to understand her or what this relationship meant to her in the first place, so why would I care about these scenes with her making her peace with this man? I continue to be so confused about where this show chose to spend its time, and why someone with Aof’s track record on developing strong and narratively important familial relationships dropped the ball so much with her. 

The Romance

Okay, let’s get into it, and remember what I said about not reading if this is going to hurt your feelings! My criteria for considering a romance successful is I have to believe the relationship is mutual, beneficial to both of the pair, and that the couple is prepared to weather future challenges. Last Twilight’s romance fails on all three fronts, and it all comes down to the total imbalance in the relationship that persisted right through the final scenes.

This entire narrative has been Mhok bending to Day’s will, giving Day what he needs, forgiving him for everything, and letting him make all the decisions about the relationship, and the finale was regrettably more of the same. In episode 11, Mhok made a mistake when he lied to Day about turning down the job in Hawaii. But he made that mistake out of grief and fear, and Day didn’t care—he unfeelingly rejected him and his pain and ended their relationship without a second thought. That was potentially forgivable as a momentary lapse borne out of instinctual hurt, and could have been repairable had Day reconsidered soon after and extended Mhok some grace. But in this episode, we find out Day blocked Mhok and refused to communicate with him again after that night, and has left Mhok completely in the cold for three years after he failed to be perfect one (1) time.

And this episode? Was on Day’s side in this conflict. Mhok is the one to return and start pursuing Day again. Mhok is the one to broach the topic of their breakup. Mhok is the one to thank Day for breaking his heart and tell him he did nothing wrong (y’all, I almost threw something at the screen). Mhok’s grief and trauma go completely unaddressed in this finale until they try to play the Rung card for one last moment of sentiment. Day cries to his mother about how he just doesn’t know if he can forgive Mhok. And in the end, Mhok makes the grand gesture, missing his flight to go to Day and stay in Thailand with him despite the successful life he has built in Hawaii.

The cognitive dissonance I felt watching this play out was extreme. I rarely see a writer misunderstand their own characters and relationship conflict so thoroughly. In order to believe in this romance we needed to see Day finally show some empathy for Mhok, take responsibility for his own mistakes, and be the one to make an effort this time. We needed to believe that Day has the capacity to be a supportive partner to Mhok even when he’s struggling. But Day didn’t demonstrate any of that, and so I simply don’t believe in this relationship. I don’t believe Mhok can trust Day not to abandon him again when some other major life event intervenes and Mhok is less than perfect. And that’s a shame, because the show really almost had something here with these two. 

And that’s all I got. What a disappointment this show turned out to be. If you need me, I will just be over here in my little corner imagining the Night and Porjai romcom that we never got and pretending the rest of this show ended several weeks ago.

[babyleostuff]

Can I request a reaction to just kissing them on the nose

this is so cute :((( thank you so much for your request! <3

kissing them on the nose | ot13

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 

𓆩♡𓆪 oh my god, this bitch 

𓆩♡𓆪 he would whine and throw a tantrum, because he’s a man and men do not get kisses on the nose 

𓆩♡𓆪 so you’d be like “fine, no more kisses for you” and walk away nonchalantly 

𓆩♡𓆪 that’s when he’d turn into a big baby, following you around for the rest of the day, arms wrapped around your waist, apologising and trying to kiss you back, so you’d forgive him 

𓆩♡𓆪 you knew very well he enjoyed it the first time you did it, Cheol was just too shy to admit it 

YOON JEONGHAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 oh, he loves them

𓆩♡𓆪 no matter the circumstances, he thrives off of them, whether it’s in the morning, afternoon or when he comes home late after practice 

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s so sweet and cute, and you look so adorable trying to reach his nose (if you’re shorter than him) and he has an urge to pinch your cheeks every time you kiss him on the nose 

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s also his favourite when you cuddle, when he has his head on your chest, and you just need to bend down a little and place a sweet little peck 

𓆩♡𓆪 he really wants to tease you for giving him nose kisses, but you’re just too cute to do that 

HONG JOSHUA 

𓆩♡𓆪 he gets so shy whenever you give him sweet little nose kisses, a blush always present on his cheeks when you pull away 

𓆩♡𓆪 your kisses are just so sweet and they sometimes feel more intimate than the normal ones 

𓆩♡𓆪 Joshua would gladly give them back in return, making you as shy as he is 

𓆩♡𓆪 so before you are able to pull back completely away from him, he grabs the back of your neck and holds it, so he can place a kiss himself 

𓆩♡𓆪 can you just imagine his little ◠‿◠ face, when you give him nose kisses :((((

WEN JUNHUI 

𓆩♡𓆪 nose kisses are a must in the morning, when he’s packing all of his stuff for work - you quietly waddle out of your room and give him his mandatory kiss on the lips and then on his nose 

𓆩♡𓆪 that’s how he knows that it’s going to be a good day, it’s like his heart fills with even more love and happiness 

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s so soft and domestic, and it just makes him crazy how cute you are 

𓆩♡𓆪 and it’s become such a habit for him, that if he’s away he feels like something is missing, and then he realises that you’re not there to give him his nose kiss 

KWON SOONYOUNG 

𓆩♡𓆪 giggles, giggles, giggles 

𓆩♡𓆪 how adorable can a person be? Well, Soonyoung when you give him nose kisses is the most precious being on earth 

𓆩♡𓆪 and they would be so random too, he’d never suspect when you’d surprise him with a nose kiss

𓆩♡𓆪 but like the little smile that he has on his whenever you do it :((( it would be worth every try, because he is a menace, so sometimes when he knows you’re about to kiss him he’d try to dodge you 

𓆩♡𓆪 but it’s okay, in the end he’d kiss you back 

LEE JIHOON

𓆩♡𓆪 this one, he’d get so shy, so he’d try to playfully scold you, because “what was that?”, but the blush on his cheeks would totally give it away that he likes it 

𓆩♡𓆪 it would be the perfect way to get his attention, because he’d be way too flustered to focus on his work after you’d peck his nose 

𓆩♡𓆪 but it would make him feel so so loved and appreciated, he loves small forms of affection, and this has to be one of his favourites 

𓆩♡𓆪 also, I’m a firm believer that he’d kiss you on the nose himself, when you’re about to fall asleep, too tired to actually comprehend what had happened 

JEON WONWOO

𓆩♡𓆪 another one that would get so shy

𓆩♡𓆪 he’s used to your outbursts of affection, but nose kisses are so gentle and soft, and they make him so fuzzy and crazy for you 

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d always kiss his cheek and then his nose before bed, and that was something he misses during tours the most, because how was he supposed to have a good night sleep without your kisses? 

𓆩♡𓆪 so, after coming back, you’d always make up for all those missed kisses, and smother him with a hundred more

XU MINGHAO 

𓆩♡𓆪 tries to act composed, but he meltsssss

𓆩♡𓆪 you know when someone is too adorable for Minghao he just hugs them or pats the back of their head - that is what he would do anytime you’d give him a nose kiss, because you’re so cute :)))

𓆩♡𓆪 oh and he’d giggle so much, completely dropping the cool guy facade, because you’re his sweet little baby and he can’t contain his happiness when he’s around you 

𓆩♡𓆪 wouldn’t really comment on it, but he’d get so happy anytime you’d kiss him on the nose 

KIM MINGYU  

𓆩♡𓆪 this 6’2 giant of a man would turn into mush in your arms, if you’d suddenly press a sweet kiss on his nose 

𓆩♡𓆪 Mingyu is a sucker for these types of affection, and since he’s all about physical touch, he’d crave nose kisses daily 

𓆩♡𓆪 can you imagine him crouching to your height, so you could place a kiss there? 

𓆩♡𓆪 oh and when you’d be cooking, Mingyu would come up behind you, and turn you around, so you could give him his daily nose kiss

LEE SEOKMIN 

𓆩♡𓆪 all smiley and happy and giggly, he loves ittttt

𓆩♡𓆪 and would kiss you in return immediately, there is no way he would let you go without giving you a nose kiss himself 

𓆩♡𓆪 imagine pressing small pecks to his nose to wake him from a nap, because your food arrived 

𓆩♡𓆪 your love is so gentle and pure, and the nose kisses are a bonus to that 

𓆩♡𓆪 and anytime he’d have a bad day, giving him nose kisses (and eskimo kisses, they’re so cute) would make his day so much better 

BOO SEUNGKWAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 the way his nose would scrunch whenever you’d kiss him there

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d look so adorable that you’d want to give him a hundred more and smother his whole face with kisses, just to see him smile 

𓆩♡𓆪 the urge to give him nose kisses while doing the most domestic things, like doing the dishes or laundry - you’d just quickly grab his jaw and peck his nose, and go back to whatever you were doing like nothing happened 

𓆩♡𓆪 but Seungkwan would freeze for a moment, and look at you with this smile soft and love in his eyes 

CHWE VERNON

𓆩♡𓆪 cold as stone on the outside, totally freaking out on the inside

𓆩♡𓆪 like, at first he wouldn’t be able to comprehend what you just did, but then realises that you just kissed his nose, and that’s so adorable, but how is he supposed to act now?

𓆩♡𓆪 there are just some many emotions for him at the same time, so he kind of freezes and takes a second to get back to reality 

𓆩♡𓆪 same as Woozi, nose kisses make him feel so loved 

LEE CHAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 don’t do this to meee, can you picture his bright smile when you pull away, love basically pouring out of his eyes??? 

𓆩♡𓆪 this man is the epitome of love and happiness, and your nose kisses are the best thing ever, like they literally makes his day brighter, even if it’s raining and you cannot see the sun

𓆩♡𓆪 sometimes he’d nudge you with his head, and hope that you’d get what he was trying to do - get some more nose kissessss

𓆩♡𓆪 he is the sweetest little thing, and the nose kisses are just as sweet as him

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1

[thisisawonderfulusername]

it's just us now

crowley x demon!reader x aziraphale

requested by: @cool-iguana

summary: after aziraphale leaves, you and crowley must move on.

warnings: sad :( but also comfort

a/n: i had to jump between writing this and a different fic because this was making me sad and the other was basically me kicking my feet while i giggled. that will be out soon:) for now, enjoy

you stood beside crowley's bentley, staring in silence across the street. crowley stood on the other side of the car, also unable to utter a word.

aziraphale entered the elevator that would bring him back to heaven, and you couldn't do anything but stare. your eyes had been glossed over, as if a painter had brushed on their protective coating on a finished painting. 

the car felt as if it was your grounding object. it was the only physical thing letting you know that you're here- that crowley is here. he's not leaving you too. you'll still have crowley.

part of you was hoping that your angel would change his mind. that as he took a short glance at the two of you that he would come back to you, back to his bookshop.

that you could all be together on earth, on your own side.

but his words repeat in your head, like a broken record.

"nothing lasts forever."

after the doors close, you clear your throat, forcing yourself to keep from crying. 

"well, i suppose it's just us now." you say softly, opening the passenger door and falling into your seat. 

as crowley gets into his own seat, he remains quiet for a moment. when he starts the engine, the radio began to play a nightingale sang in berkeley square.

as he swiftly turns it off, you sniffle. "we should've known being with an angel wouldn't work."

your voice is quiet, but in the silence of the car it seems so loud. 

crowley nods somberly, placing his hand over yours.

"we should've known."

the ride home was spent in silence, the only noise was the humming of the engine.

-

after a while without the angel that completed your relationship, you and crowley were able to move on.

to leave old memories behind, you managed to find a new apartment. you filled it with plants that thrived- whether it be through their fear of crowley or your green thumb. you even opened a plant nursery for something to do.

some nights, the pain would return.

you would wake from a dream of your angel, sharing a dinner or all of you cuddling on the couch with a cup of tea.

tears would be falling from your eyes when they opened, and at the smallest sound of a sniffle, crowley was awake. 

he was there to pull you into his arms and offer to make you a cup of tea in a whisper.

"i just need you," you'd tell him.

that was all he needed to hold you tight and wrap the blanket snugly around the two of you, his thumb carefully rubbing shapes into your skin to lull you to sleep.

on the rarer occasion, you would wake up to find him missing from the bed, a sliver of light filtering in through the bottom of your door.

you would carefully get out of bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and leaving the room to find him sitting on the couch, staring off into nothing in silence.

you would make a cup of tea before sitting down with him, sharing the blanket and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"are you okay?"

"i will be."

you'd nod, wrapping your arms around his waist and dozing off until you wake up in the morning, back in bed with crowley cuddled close. 

eventually, you'll be okay.

the remaining pain will fade away and your life will continue without aziraphale. 

taglists

good omens: none yet

crowley: none yet

aziraphale: none yet

[skyscrapergods]

i'm working on my own concept for my own mlp fanlore/au and i've been inspired by your take on alicorns to make my own more unique as well. my idea is centric around the concept that alicorns are ponies who acended into what's basically pony elves that get worshiped because of the mysterious way they ascended, but idk how to really make a religion set up that works cohesively with it. i am wondering if you possibly might have some tips and tricks for how to go about my alicorn religions.

The most important thing about religion is that it's made up. If it is based in observable fact, then it's not religion; it's just culture.

Paying taxes and bowing to the king is based on observable orders. Believing that the king has a divine right to be king, or that he has powers/blessings granted to him by birth/status is religion.

In skyscraper gods, things are different because believing something about a god actually has the power to make it true, or at least influence the god's form/powers in an abstract way. My gods are influenced/given power by belief and worship.

In the human world, you can believe whatever you want about any person or god, and that doesn't make it real. If there are gods about, they are unlikely to be controlled by human religion, and definitely aren't spawned by such (or we would have a lot more gods than we do)

In a normal world, religion is not based on observable fact, and it is designed and maintained by the people themselves.

So from my limited understanding of world religions, there are four "needs" that religion is designed to fill: Community, Ritual, Meaning, and Ethics.

I went off the deep end and wrote an essay about my philosophy. Whoops, hope you enjoy:

Community

Humans need community, and many religions involve gathering and doing activities together. This makes religion incredibly important to human social health, as we often fail to fill our need for community because we don't immediately die without it. Under capitalism especially, we are incentivized to ignore as many human needs as possible in order to be productive/survive. Religion makes itself more important than simple survival, and ensures we fill certain needs by promising metaphysical rewards.

Ritual

Ritual is also incredibly important to human health. We thrive when we have a consistent schedule to the day, month, season, and year. It helps us save our brain bandwidth if we already know what basic tasks will happen today. Instead of doing math to figure out optimum times to do so, we socialize, come of age, physically touch, meditate, sing, mourn, plant crops, travel, cook, keep records, hunt, celebrate, and more according to a calendar maintained by religion. These are all important aspects of life that we need to remember to fill, either by logic, community, or religion. Science even backs up the need for ritual, with brain pathways growing best in response to consistent habit-keeping. But brains aren't observable for most people, so we have culture and religion to keep time instead.

Meaning

Meaning is a tricky one. We ended up with brains big enough to wonder why we exist; a burden few animals share. Scientifically, we thrive in environments/jobs/roles where we feel that what we are doing has value. I look at every part of my life and see the value of being a person, observing and changing my environment. Many people on earth aren't sure that's enough, so they invent an unobservable force that assigns value to their lives and actions. Meaning is easiest to keep track of and believe if others share your definition. Culturally, you have a lot in common with your neighbors, you both probably work toward similar goals (housing, stability, connection with others, secular holidays) and are satisfied when those goals are met. Religiously, you have a lot in common with others in your religion (charity, proselytizing, meditation, celebration) and are satisfied when those goals are met. Religion also provides goals for your entire life and community which are helpfully defined for you, whereas you have to come up with that on your own outside of religion. Doing so can be frightening, frustrating, and difficult, so religion is very rewarding and calming.

Ethics

Lastly, there's Ethics. Not all religion deals with ethics, but many major earth faiths do. Humans desperately need to have a code of ethics to be healthy, and society works best when we all agree on some basics. That way when someone violates a law, you don't have to convince everyone around you that what they did was wrong; there's already a standing defined agreement. Ethics is about rewards as well as punishment. For example if you're the first one to read this whole thing I'll draw a pony for you just dm me. Community ethics are decided by those in power, and "those in power" can be: the people themselves via majority rule, chosen representatives, rich aristocracy, respected philosophers, religious appointees, kings and conquerors, holy mystics, sacred texts, etc etc.

Religion comes in with a code of ethics (written by the religiously powerful) and imposes it on its followers. This is useful and generally brings community harmony when they all agree on something. Religions based on ancient texts are tricky, because old, outdated ethics have to be reinterpreted to fit modern landscape. These interpretations split churches and create sub-religions, which mutate into cults, peter off into nothing, or go to war with each other. It's great fun. At the end of the day, having a group of people who agree on right and wrong within their community is the goal. We just got lost on the part that said everyone else in the world has to obey our ethics or else we're blowing up the planet.

...

Aaaanyway, this was about.... my little pony?

Does Religion Affect Gods?

The first thing you must choose is how much the religion is based on fact, and how much is made up. In my world, there's a lot of things that are made up by ponies, that either become true or influence the god's form/powers in some way. Luna used to be silver, but now she is dark blue.

You can do that, or you can be normal about things. Typically, religion does not actually do anything. Gods are gods whether or not they have worshipers. People believe things that gods tell them, and they make up their own lore as well.

What about People? What about this and that and everything?

You need to decide if your alicorns are participants in the religion about them, or just subjects. Do all/some/any of them take their place as religious figures and command the masses? Do they speak ethics? Do they inform ponies of the powers they have? Do ponies make up abilities they think alicorns have? Do they like being worshiped, or is it more like stalking?

Some alicorns may embrace godhood, while others flee from it. The ones that get the most involved will have influence over how the other alicorns are treated.

Is there a standard to which alicorns must live, failing which they can't be "real" alicorns in society's eyes and are thus shunned/killed? Do the alicorns ever give an opinion that is taken way out of proportion and suddenly became a major religious movement? Are marshmallows illegal because one alicorn doesn't like them? Do ponies get prosecuted for stepping on "sacred" flowers which are just regular lilies? Is there taxes/tithing to alicorns? Are alicorns promoted to political office for nothing except their nature?

How do ponies construct their sermons/temples/practices to fulfill the four tenants of religion? Does alicorn worship provide them with Community, Meaning, Ritual, and Ethics?

Do alicorns actually earn any of this? Are they regular guys that just look special? Can they abuse their powers? Can ponies abuse others in their name? Do the alicorns speak to the masses or to religious leaders? Do they have any control over their legacy or is it out of their hooves? Are they in danger of their worshipers deciding they need to be freed from their mortal bodies? Do religious leaders go power crazy and use alicorns to further their agenda? Are their schisms and wars over beliefs? do the alicorns command their followers to fight each other? Do they fight with each other? Does each alicorn have a different following or are they all part of a shared pantheon? Do they respect each others' role within that or struggle for change?

And remember, what is true for one alicorn/church/sect/country may not be true for another. Variety is the key.

It's all About the Questions

The trick to worldbuilding is to ask a lot of questions. You can answer them as you go, having the answers lead to more questions, or you can ask a bunch at once and answer them all later.

Every decision you make has consequences. Big social movements affect the environment, the environment affects food supply, food supply affects social movements. Everything is connected, and religion makes those connections more magical, for better or for worse.

[wilted3sunflowers]

Pink Pearl: SOLD

Always thought of as a simple minded pearl who honestly to many outsiders never thought she was that great at being a quiet and follow you from behind type. Yet never seemed to be reprimanded much from Zebra Agate whom she was entrusted to. Currently she's thriving in this new Era 3 and on earth in Empire City. She was the one among this group to actually start the whole animal pattern print...kind of. Though technically it could be argued the pattern started with Zebra Agate but Pink Pearl conciously chose leopard print from seeing them on models in store window advertismenet and could not be more interested. On Homeworld theres very little patterns, only really lattice work or stripes of any kind or diamond checkerboard. No one really thought out- no one thought to look to organic beasts for fashion. Humans are so fascinating. Maybe thats what that Rose Quartz truly saw in them. How creative and vibrant they are. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

Design Notes on Grey and Pink Pearl: Inspired first by Pink pearl's interest in 'animal pattern' which Grey is a pearl who excelled at being 'a pearl' sure she was never the most emotive, sing song-y type of pearl for entertainment yet what Zebra Agate needed was a pearl more of a secretary of keeping things on schedule and taking calls and what not. I also decided for this story a conscious effort that Pearls don't wear patterns. They're not of importance they are here to be simple, more softer colors typically and just to show they're a pearl. not some combination of gem type wearing another gems pattern. Also decided the same of course for Pink pearl for them being simple, run of the mill pearls even if Grey has a bit more to her past design it was only for the more authoritative feel that a pearl might have being under an *Agate* that terrifies Design notes on Pink lace: Due to corruption she is a lot more faded- not just from corruption but because her gem was more like that of the sand gem. Embedded in an object and only ever facing the sun. bleaching her gem of colors with too much exposure. She's a lot more polished in her currently look- i had a design ready for her just out of corruption look but then that would leave Zebra agate without a past form and decided to let the two non pearls without past forms. She of course used to be much more vibrant.

Design Notes on Zebra Agate: purposefully the inverse of typical zebra pattern on her clothes. with white stripes on black you can see that her hair itself is a regular part of black stripes on white like a typical zebra. also her design on her bodysuit is specifically to mimic a ribcage with zebra stripes

Zebra Agate: [Sold] "An Agate Terrifies" That's what Agates do. That's who Agates are. Subjugate those out of line and whip them into shape. They're here to make everyone stay in their proper places and follow rules. However I took her to completely go into the other direction of dealing with rules. The Punk movement appealing to her- if this is Era 3 and there is no need for her job role. Why should she keep trying to force a terrifying agate lifestyle? She may not be the kindest or most sweet Zebra Agate is however sentimental and more thoughtful than many- even pink lace considered her much more cold and rigid to expectations of what used to be common of gem society. While shes not an anarchist she has been delving into punk fashion but also the subculture to help her adjust to her new world and its views. She had always needed to follow rules blind and enforce them but due to the new order change. How else was she to find something that even acknlowedges no structure is perfect and many are flawed- even so her diamonds were flawed. Nothings perfect and nothing is without work to adjust.

Grey Pearl: SOLD A muted personality. What do you do when you used to know everything you were supposed to do? Living not in just a new era but an entire new world where you're allowed a lot more freedom that you never actually craved before. She's known Pink Pearl for thousands upon thousands of years and while there are some feelings of envy she would consider Pink Pearl to be her only friend. It's a complex mix of emotions like anyone would have especially towards Zebra Agate and the peculiar softness she seems to have for Pink Pearl that she has with no one else. Whilst never treated harshless it always was more of a cold wall from Zebra Agate that Grey Pearl felt. That this was strictly business relationship. Agate never even asked her to sing or dance- two components that make a pearl a pearl in many's eyes. Yet she's asked Pink Pearl to sing for her, and never stopped her from dancing without being asked. Grey Pearl may not have much of a relationship with Faded Pink Lace however she almost projects a sense of kinship of feelings left behind with her. In fact it was after Pink Lace Agate came back with those curated corruption spots that she decided to have some own markings herself. Humans have tattoos and while she can't get a traditional tattoo from humans she herself worked to get those marks on herself. She was the last one in the group to reform to this new Human lifestyle. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

(Faded) Pink Lace: SOLD During the gem war she of course fought for homeworld and even was was part of the last charge. Of course, while she is more of the carefree type even she could see the dangers. Zebra was part of the task to pull out more of the aristocrats and Pink Lace part of the ground troops. Anything could happen so just as a precaution she sent her pearl away to Zebra Agate. Honestly, she expected that terrifying Agate to reset Pink Pearl for herself. It was a peculiar feeling for Pink Lace recognizing her pearl- even if it took only a moment before her Pearl recognized her. All so unevenly spotted and with sharp spiked growths coming out of her. She was a mess...Just how Zebra Agate used to scold her about. Her pearl still so lively and a bit oblivious to others feelings but even now so creative- such unique spots on her dress...theyre not even diamond shaped. Pink Lace at least knows to go with the flow of things but a good deal perceptive.