#the knowledge that humans have been humans for so long

[claudiafrankie]

Soul Purpose/Why Are You Here?

Disclaimer: Tarot is not an evidence-based practice. You are in charge of making you're own decisions.

Pile 1: Abundance

Hey pile 1! You picked the Abundance oracle card. Your tarot cards are the 2 of Swords, 3 of Swords, and the King of Cups.

As I was shuffling I was focusing on the imagery of your oracle card. I strongly got the feeling of being kind of put on the spot. You are having to make quick decisions. It's like the shape in the center of the card has so much going on around it. It's chaotic! The figures filling the picture look like sea creatures to me - sea urchins, those glowy jellyfish that live in the bottom of the ocean, sand dollars... All floating around in the current but in this big, condensed cluster. It's kinda dark in there but there's some sun coming through the current above.

Under sea kelp beds, that's the environment. You're here:

You're not quite sure what all you're going to come across. Cute fish... shark... friendly anthropomorphic sea otter wearing a news cap and suspenders... multiple sharks...

It's a little creepy/ominous but more importantly very beautiful and serene and otherworldly.

You're swimming through this kelp garden and you don't know what you're going to find, and all kinds of different things are going to pop out at you, you're going to have a lot of options in a lot of different areas in your life. You are not going to be someone who is stationary for very long. I think if you are stagnant and still (something you may struggle with) you aren't happy. You are bored more easily than others and have a deep craving for knowledge and novelty, absorbing every last drop of life that you can.

I think in human design, generator people's tell-tale sign for being out of alignment is frustration, they thrive off of having choices to pick from. This helps them feel inspired and like they are getting more out of life. Maybe you are a generator in human design, I think that is the most common type. You are a person of the people, you are salt of the earth, you care deeply for humanity and always pull yourself back to center when you catch yourself straying. You don't let things get to your head as much as you could.

It also looks like there's a chromosome in the center shape on the card. You are here unraveling karma from your past lives and for your ancestors. You are probably dealing with karma that you didn't create personally but exists in your bloodline. The bottom of the deck is the ten of swords - there are mostly sword cards here, with the king of cups standing out as the only water card. This is very Ardra energy in vedic astrology - strong, turbulent, powerful and stormy emotions. Ardra's deity is Rudra, a form of Shiva - who rules over storms. You are clearing out ooooold emotions that have been rotting in your family tree for years. You are finally processing some long-neglected baggage and releasing it.

The combination of the progression of the two to the three of swords, ending with the King of Cups suggests to me that you are going to become a true master of your inner world. Your lens you look at the world through will reach a level of clarity previously unknown to you and likely to your family. You are in tune with the environment in an electric way, sensing the humming and buzzing and shifts in the pitch and tone of the current washing around you. You let it all pass through you, understanding the futility in pretending to be unaffected. You let it pass through you, and you let it be there, and you don't let it shake you. For this reason others will cling to you - the RWS King of Cups sits on a throne carved from solid stone. It is anchored in tossing waves with a grey sky suggesting storms ahead. He looks calmly onward. People will view you as a shock-absorber, someone who can weather catastrophe and guide others through difficulty. I think this is where you are headed, but maybe aren't there quite yet.

Other people might get away (or at least seem to) with pushing aside their pain and never really dealing with it. You aren't one of these people. Your path to fulfillment is through making difficult decisions, sometimes ones where there really isn't a good option. Some of these decisions could affect other people as well. I see this as your heart existing in your head. So much compassion in tandem with a razor-sharp mind. Highly analytical, meticulous, maybe even fussy, combined with glowing warmth that can only be achieved by facing hardship.

There could be a significant male figure in your life who guides you, and you may not recognize the significance of his impact on your life until he's no longer in it. This might be someone you only know for a short period of time before parting ways. Maybe at the time of meeting them it's too overwhelming for you and it doesn't end so well, but the more you digest the relationship over time and think about what you learned from them, the deeper you understand the purity of this person, and the reasons why he navigates the world the way that he does. I think, going through hardship yourself and choosing to remain soft and gentle, you recognize this as a lesson you learned from this person. It's brave to continue believing in people. Also, it's possible to do it without being naive.

This pile knows the true meaning of unfairness. You know what it means to be made to feel selfish for taking care of yourself. You know what it means to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, to be going through immense difficulty behind the scenes and still getting through the days treating people with kindness. Yeah you just see and feel the pain in others, you sense their stories even if it's just a stranger. You probably walk away from getting coffee and wondering how the barista is handling their breakup even though that was your first encounter with them.

Pile 2: Phenomenon

So right off the bat, Chappel Roan's song Feminomenon might be of significance lol. Maybe that song you was on repeat for you this summer, or you are LGBTQ+, or in some way don't fit in with the norm. Chappel Roan is famous for her drag outfits and crazy makeup and big hair - you could be into style, fashion, hair/makeup. Or maybe you are wanting to get more into these things but don't know how? Maybe you are struggling with expressing yourself right now, and this is a recurring struggle you deal with. If you are struggling with it, I think it's because it's actually something you're really good at - I think you have a natural eye for fashion and art, it's just that you need to reconnect with this part of yourself, and that re connection process will help you get deeper and better with and at it.

Next to your Phenomenon oracle card I pulled the Nine of Cups, Ace of Cups, and the Page of Cups. So all water, you are definitely here to learn how to express your feelings. I think you often feel like sharing how you feel makes you self-centered or you're "making it all about you," even though it ironically helps your relationships because you connect with people better when you're emotionally honest with them.

I think currently you're at a pretty comfortable spot in life. You've worked really hard and have been very much in your earth energy - taking care of your body, keeping a clean home, focusing on consistency at work and in your self-care and discipline. You've worked really hard to get here, and you're finally learning how to give yourself credit for it.

However, I think it still feels like something is missing for you. Looking at your cards (from right to left), the Page of Cups is offering the Ace of Cups to the Nine of Cups. The cup you're looking for, the special sauce that you are missing right now, is connected with your inner child. I think while working on improving your earth energy has been wildly beneficial for you (maybe you're successful for your age, or just really good at keeping your shit together and running a sane life for yourself) you have lost a little bit of touch with your inner softy.

I think you're probably cringing at that too, a little bit lol. Like "man I don't have time to cry and play in my coloring book I gotta pack lunch for work tomorrow" hahahaha. But honestly, if someone has that mindset or thought process about playfulness and fun, they need that energy the most!! In your list of things to do over the weekend that keep your life tidy and chugging along, you are being called to add something wholesome and fun in there.

It's easy to get in the swing of daily living and going through the motions, and it's not wrong at all to pride yourself on your ability to keep a tidy ship. BUT lol that doesn't mean you have to lose out on some harmless chaos and unstructured fun times. You don't let yourself let your hair down as much as you could be. Obviously don't go out and go crazy and do something dangerous lol and if you're not ready to go clubbing every weekend you can start small! Maybe there's a bakery near you that you haven't tried with kick ass muffins, go try that place out. If you're really particular about cleaning your place, try cleaning it in a more 'chill' way if that makes sense lol. Try out letting go of intensity and a "I just need to get this done" attitude. Maybe that means the floors won't be as spotless after mopping than they usually are but hey, they're still clean right?

Yeah I think what's really coming through for this pile is letting going of perfection and holding yourself to unrealistic standards, so much of your power lies in fun, and not just fun but also facilitating fun. Lifting up the people around you. With the Ace of Cups in the middle of your spread, you guys are here to out pour to those around you. People are enchanted by you and think you live a charmed life, they are envious of your innocence, your lack of care for/about status and authority. It's refreshing (i mean, these are all cups cards lol) on multiple levels! You might not notice how your inner child lifts people up, and how just one conversation you have with someone leaves them feeling nourished after you walk away.

Pile 3: Vulnerability

Hey pile 3 welcome!

You guys picked the vulnerability oracle card and your tarot cards are the four of pentacles, the ace of wands, and the magician. This is the description for your oracle card:

"As the flower opens and offers itself, the butterfly says "yes." Opening and exposing ourselves to new possibility comes with risk, but also holds the potential for great reward. Be willing to share your gifts with the world, allowing the acceptance and recognition vulnerability can bring."

This one feels pretty damn straightforward haha, you guys are here to build literally any life that you want to. I am looking and these cards as a progression - the man in the four of pentacles seizes the ace of wands and becomes the magician. Literally he lets go of these four measly pentacles, grabs the magic wand, and become the magician he was always meant to become.

You guys have sooooo much power within you. Your manifesting skills are truly off the chart and it seems like right now you're not really sure what to do with this gift. I think you could be feeling overwhelmed by all the possibilities. You are probably the kind of person who has a lot of different interests, can feign commonality with just about anyone because you're smart and absorb knowledge like a sponge - so you have tidbits of information on a huge range of topics. Someone will bring up in conversation that their grandparents berry farm is suffering because of a disease or certain kind of pest in the area and you're like "oh yeah I've heard that those types of flies are invasive and it's like becoming a widespread problem" lmao.

You could be a gemini mars or north node - the tarot card associated with mars in gemini is the nine of swords - literally analysis paralysis is your guys' biggest obstacle. You have everything in your head, but you struggle to bring your creations to life. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys are some flavor of neurodivergent, maybe ADHD or on the autism spectrum. You are ahead of the times.

I think this pile is similar to pile one because I'm getting an ancestral element for you guys. I think the women in your family have packed on years of frustration because they were made to believe that they just can't build for themselves. The women in your family line have sat with huge creative potential but the fear they carried prevented them from being able to actually use it to birth their ideas into the real world. They saw their fathers and brothers and husbands go out into the world with so much confidence, maybe with less skill or more boring ideas, and create success for themselves. I think you should know that it was not all sunshine and roses for the men in your family - there was such a huge amount of pressure to achieve and earn and perform that they didn't even really get a chance to really choose what they wanted to do. They just knew that it was expected of them to do well and provide for their families.

But the women, ah there is so much rage honestly. You have the chance in this lifetime to channel not only your own creativity but that of your mother, her mother, her sisters, etc. I think when you create it's a full experience for you. Like it's not that you don't phone it in, it's that you can't. You can't make something and not be fully in it. I think this might be part of your blockage as well - you tell yourself that if something you make isn't perfect or exactly as you envisioned it in your head, then it was a waste of time. It wasn't. I think if you allow yourself to be messy and be a little more process-oriented, you can really get the ball rolling for yourself. And honestly probably process a lot of those packed on emotions from your family.

You are someone who can get quick results in things if you really put your mind to something. Right now it seems like your task is to sift through your daydreams, then after that you can start taking some little steps towards making something happen. Even if it's something tiny you do to get closer to a goal, it's still really important for you guys especially to really celebrate that. And really mean it when you celebrate! If you guys work a job you aren't crazy about to pay the bills like so many of us do, maybe you have been drained or just don't see how you have the time to make one of your interests something more than just an idea in your head.

This is going to be a process of re-parenting yourself in a way. If you belittle your accomplishments and progress towards the things you really want to bring into the world, they will slowly shrivel up. You wouldn't make fun of a kid for trying something new and not being amazing at it, so you can't do that with yourself. You deserve support and love on your journey, not only that but you need it! You have the power to create the space for yourself to thrive in, and then thrive in it! You guys are honestly like buzzing with electricity. I think sometimes you have so many ideas that you get confused and tired just thinking about all of them, and maybe you act out in frustration but your not even sure why your upset. There are parts of yourself that have not been given enough attention, and once you start letting them out in the light they can show you what they can help you do in this life.

I think too that getting more in touch with your sexuality will help with this process, getting more in your body and letting yourself feel sexy and sensual, really being in the moment with your body and then carrying that energy with you in your endeavors. Yeah let yourself be a horndog lol it will help you reach your goals

Best of luck pile 3, not that I think you need it hahaha

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[straynoahide]

I like your explanations of our morally imperfect existence, accepting the need for help or a savior, that Christianity is also a mindful and onerous process, not a side-thought with no burden, that being raised Christian and being Christian are two entirely different things, and the personal relationship with God. I would add, Christian faith is faith in the ultimate goodness and victory, Hope unending, despite the world, despite everything, because of Him.

Everything in this universe is transactional, except God's love, which merely has to be understood, and accepted. God is perfect and needs nothing - he made us because he wants us, because he loves us, because he chooses us.

A "Christian declaring himself to be a Jew" is a schismatic and heretical form of the religion, very atypical, a Messianic Jew, and should not be used to misrepresent Christians in general.

Catechism leading up to confirmation, in many Christian denominations adult confirmation, is also a process of learning, reflection and commitment, although it is not "conversion" itself, it is part of the road towards being a full member of the Church and living in the faith, and it is for example the way i converted / re-connected.

I however, perhaps influenced by having being an atheist until the time of my actual conversion (despite having being raised Christian), have never come to actually believe in punitivistic Hellfire doctrines.

I can get the doctrinal view of the existence of a state of self-imposed separation from divinity, and of the unredeemed, but I believe two fundamental things that modulate how I interpret that: (1) there are kind and good people who are not Christian, (2) Christ helps us willingly and enthusiastically by us accepting his moral message, which is time-sensitive worldly kindness and ultimate goodness, and rejection of cruelty and tyranny when it matters, which is now.

I really don't believe that atheists, Jews, muslims or other 'pagans' are "punished" simply for not professing Christianity, the mere idea is unchristlike. Communication and truth go deeper than that. Christ, who is the Logos, emphasized content and criticized form so many times it can't be a coincidence.

I also don't conflate unredeemed and unredeemable. I think only God knows what the "restoration of all things" is and that attempts by us to see who is in eternal exclusion are meaningless, because we are partial and our view is partial so long as we are here- as Christians I believe we should, for example, reject the death penalty to be truly pro-life, and also reject "capital punishments" of the soul in our utterances of who is condemned, lest we incur in sin, because if we pronounce a soul condemned to hell, and we are wrong, what does that entail for our soul? I believe we should strive for healing, reconciliation and restorative justice on this Earth, for literally everyone. No one harms who has no god-given unmet need and is at ease, no one kills without halving their humanity. There is no other sound view of universal human dignity, to me. You can't dignify through disdain nor exclusion.

On proselytism, my views are not precisely typical or orthodox. I believe there are many ways to evangelize. I personally don't have an individual disposition towards trying to make others hold my beliefs. On the contrary, my tendency is towards compatibilization unless proven wrong. So as for evangelizing, I think there are good ways and bad ways to do it, and I think the Church has sometimes done it poorly, organizations within it often do great work however and I appreciate it, and have been part of some.

As for my personal life, I believe in doing good and in sharing knowledge as the main forms of 'showing not telling' my moral worldview. I feel more like non-proselytes in that regard, because I know I can influence people in a positive way despite them not coming to share my worldview - and that I can learn from the Other and genuinely listen, even if they aren't Christian, without needing to be insecure that it will challenge or oppose my faith.

At the end of the day, these are just my interpretations, and I've shared them with my spiritual father; there is room for discussion and differing views on punitivism and proselytism, but I remain a full member of the Roman Catholic Church and I respect my fellow Christians and those who are not because I believe highlighting the human dignity of everybody, in our work and in our words, is the most christlike thing we can do.

My favorite, and I mean FAVORITE teaching of Judaism is that proselytizing is wrong. It’s the one Christians have the hardest time understanding. That even though Judaism is an incredible part of my life, that it’s an incredible community to be apart of, that I could not care less about wether or not they choose to become apart of it. That conversion is possible, and converts are a welcome part of our community and no less Jewish than anyone else, but at the same time we do not seek out people to convert. In addition, conversion is a very serious decision, and the conversion process is lengthy and difficult.

It’s because while I love being Jewish, and I love my community, I do not think that Jewishness is required to live a happy and productive life. I know that it is not right for everyone. I know that for most, the conversion process is not something they view as worth the time and effort. And that is okay. No one HAS to be Jewish. No one should EVER be coerced, manipulated, or forced into conversion.

If someone chooses to convert, it is because THAT PERSON wanted to. They saw something of value in the teachings and community. I think that means so much more than “convert or you’re going to burn for eternity because you are a bad person.”

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Based on this Mafia/Hitman Au from @novankenn/ Based on this Artwork from @pilot-boi

~~~~~

Menagerie. A rather upstanding Nightclub and Burlesque show, with a rather specific ideal for clientele and workers; that is to say, it's a preferred haunt for Faunus, with what few humans joining usually being just as downtrodden and unfortunate as they are respectful.

Its owner and Manager, Kali Belladonna, was an industrious and respectable woman. she did her best to be, at least; though in these times, in these places, the dirty hands of the criminal underworld still reached out and held tight.

Thanks to her fervor and staunchness she managed to hold Menagerie as a neutral zone. Anyone may come so long as they respect the dancers and they leave their problems at the door, and not drag the 'mud' in.

And in that way it was a perfect meeting place.

The Faunus sat at a table, joined by several others. Roman Torchwick representing Miss Malachite, Someone sent from the Schnee family who gave the name "John Doe," Athena Nikos, leader of her family, and standing at the head of the table was the one that called them all together.

Prismeya Arc.

Her prosthetic whirred with each step as she paced, before she turned to the table, placed the foot of said prosthetic on it, and pulled a silenced pistol out its calf.

She inspected it, sliding it over to Kali.

"Just out of respect; I forgot it when I entered."

Kali Said nothing, sharpening her gaze at the Matri-Arc, her ears flicking in annoyance. She knew Prismeya Didn't forget, but she didn't quite understand what this play was yet.

"Now, as I'm certain you all know, I'm out of this game, out of this world. I dotted my i's, crossed my t's, and payed every debt I owed of both Blood and Money."

She pressed leaned over the table, glowering at the members of it.

"So I wish to know why my dear, Sweet Jaune, my Precious Baby-Boy Has such a Large BOUNTY ON HIS HEAD."

Her teeth were grit, clearly restraining herself from shouting.

Everyone looked to one another, offering no information.

Prismeya glared at each of them individually.

"Prismeya, you know I wouldn't have anyone- I'm in too deep as it is! It's hard enough to stay neutral, I wouldn't go after anyone on my call!" Kali retorted, clearly concerned that she was being threatened.

Prismeya pushed off the table and stood tall, taking a deep breath. "Then pray tell-" she focused on Kali "Why Jaune mentioned making friends with a certain Black-haired cat faunus named Blake?"

Kali's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "SHE'S SAFE? BLake's okay?"

Prismeya was taken aback "You didn't know?"

"No."

"Then take this as a favor; she was last seen at a Department store in a mall in Vale proper, Retrieve her. That being said-" Prismeya ran her eyes across everyone, standing at her full height "Whoever set the Hit can call it off, and I will forgive them. No harm; No foul. But, should the Hit be fulfilled, Whoever Claims it, dies. Whoever set it Dies."

She let the words sink into the four at the.

Athena stared at her, eyes set right upon her.

Roman Put his cigar out, clearly considering her promise behind the otherwise aloof look in on his face.

Kali set her ears flat, grim knowledge sitting uncomfortably in her gut.

The Schnee's pawn had no notion of concern or care, unseen behind his sunglasses.

Athena turned slightly in her seat, her whole body now facing Prismeya.

"I assume one of mine has taken it upon themself?"

"You Daughter, Pyrrha."

Athena went rigid. One of the few things could sent chills down her spine was her daughter being in danger, and to be beholden to the Ire of Prismeya Arc was to be declared dead.

Roman slung his cane over his shoulders, rest his arms on it. "So we're here to deliver a warning, yeah? Good to know. Could've been an email though."

Prismeya walked over to the man. "An email is ephemeral; non existent. An email is not physical; It cannot hold water."

She tore the cane from him, emptying the round out, snapping it over her knee, her non-prosthetic knee.

He seemed truly taken aback by it first angered, but his rage was quickly supplanted by fear.

The Schnee Spokesman drew his own weapon, a silenced 22. pistol, and aimed it at Prismeya

Prismeya cupped Roman's chin, ignoring the burly man in the black suit, and tilted Roman's head up. "This is far more important to me than you could possibly imagine with what little grey matter exists under that mop of red hair~ I needed to have this meeting so people like you could understand that~"

And then she turned to the Schnee Representative, who hadn't lowered his weapon.

"I Suggest you put that down. It was rude enough for Mr. Torchwick to bring his weapon, but at least he had the decency to make it inconspicuous~"

The lilting of her voice was laced with a venom that could curdle the blood of any living being that understood what she was saying.

The Man, John Doe, Set his pistol shakily on the table.

Prismeya returned to her place at the head of it.

"So, I would like you all to spread the word; Should this Hit persist and come to fruition ... The Bloodmoon will rise, Drowning All in its Tide; Painting with Red, with The Blood of the Dead; For each life cut short, an Equal retort."

Prismeya smiled, the corners of her mouth wrinkled with age. In any other context it would have been warm, delightful, outright motherly. To all at the table it was deadly; The Rattle of a Snake, the fin of a circling shark, Click of a Hammer being pulled back.

Everyone there knew her Threat- nay, her promise.

Whether they comprehended the depth of it was a another matter entirely.

[aziraphales-library]

hello!!!! i was wondering if you have any fem-presenting aziraphale recs? :) i adore her very much and would love to read more fics about her!

Hi! We have a #female aziraphale tag, so do check that out. Here are more fics to add...

On Your Doorstep by miss_minnelli (E)

“Don’t you think it would be easier to already have a kid before you fall in love?” Crowley asked. “What?” “If you already had a kid, and then you started dating your ideal person, you wouldn’t have to worry about all the drama and hardship of having a kid together and that relationship wouldn’t be tainted.” Zira raised her eyebrows. “So you’re saying you’d rather have kids with someone that you’re not that romantically interested in and then what, break up with them for your dream person?” ... Zira and Crowley, friends since university, are the last two single people in their group of friends. Neither wants to be part of one of those couples whose kids destroy their relationships, so instead of waiting for their perfect matches, Zira and Crowley decide to platonically have a baby together. 

Honeysuckle & Heat Waves by pilatesandpinot (E)

Ezera Fell has returned to the town where she’d spent her summers growing up – seaside Tadfield, where the slogan is “Everyday is a Holiday” and the perfect escape for a recent divorcee like herself. But she isn’t just here for holiday or to “get her groove back”; she’s inherited her late aunt Agnes Nutter's bed and breakfast and is determined to restore it to its former glory. She’s consulted the help of the best gardener in town, except there’s one issue: he’s Anthony Crowley, the same man she serendipitously had a one-night stand with while on holiday in Paris. Will the sparks fly now that they’ve been reunited, or fizzle out?

Against Expectations by Blue_Sparkle, summerofspock (E)

After being pressured by their families into a marriage neither of them want, Aziraphale and Crowley resign themselves to an unfulfilling life together. For Aziraphale that means trying to be the dutiful wife she was always taught to be and for Crowley it means hiding an important part of who he is.

Star of the Wooded Mountain by jamgrl (T)

Going back to camp shouldn’t have been hard. Yeah, okay, there was the gender-queer thing and the whole, uh, gendered cabin situation. And, yeah, being a counselor wasn’t going to be the same as being a camper. But Tony loved everything else about camp. Tony loved the woods and the creek and the s’mores. Mostly, though, Tony loved Azira. And they were afraid. That they would be a bad counselor, that Azira would stop liking them. Twelve weeks was a long time, and Tony didn’t know if their life was going to fall together or fall apart.

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

Within These Castle Walls by christi_writes (E)

Victorian AU. A celebration at an aristocrat’s castle turns deadly with a murder most foul. Paranormal encounters at every dark turn, humans going carnal left and right, and if that stupid Duke puts his hands on Aziraphale one more bloody time, Crowley was going to lose it. -Or- Circa 1880's Victorian Era. Crowley's just woken up from his century nap and the world has changed, including Aziraphale.

- Mod D

[sopphic27]

Fun Fact: A lot of the Stolas antis compare him to Valentino off all people

H. How. What show are these people watching.

Okay so, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, but let's get down to it. This post got wildly out of hand.

TL;DR: Valentino and Stolas have some superficial similarities, but Valentino is an abusive overlord who gained his power through exploitation and uses it to be abusive, meanwhile Stolas was incidentally born into his power and at worst is ignorant but well-meaning. Their behavior onscreen and interactions with their subordinates and their partners is night and day.

Valentino: a human sinner who is an overlord, so he owns countless souls of other sinners. He "employs" others demons as erotic dancers, adult film actors, and sex workers. I say "employs" in quotes, because I get the feeling that a lot of these people don't necessarily get a choice. He's blatantly manipulative, physically and sexually abusive, and generally just an asshole. For the sake of this comparison, I'm going to focus on his relationship with Angel Dust.

Stolas: a hellborn Goetia prince, he is said to have legions to command and share his knowledge with, and he canonically and on screen has a staff of servants, security, etc made up of (that we've seen) imps and hellhounds. His staff seems to have standard jobs such as serving meals, delivering messages, cleaning up, and whatnot. We don't know much more about them, however. He's socially anxious and awkward, very intelligent, and he behaves publicly in a very regal and reserved manner expected of a prince. In private, however, he seems more friendly and polite to the people he interacts with, with the exception of people he dislikes (e.g. Stella, Striker, Andrealphus). I'll focus on his relationship with Blitz pre-Apology Tour for this comparison, but I'm also going to address his interactions with his staff.

Before anything else, I'm going to call Angel and Blitz their "partners" even though that's not technically accurate. I'm not actually suggesting that Val and Angel are in a relationship or are each other's partners, same for Stolas and Blitz, but I don't have a better word for "the other person in the relationship".

So what are their similarities?

Both Valentino and Stolas are of higher status than their partner.

They are both demons that have magical abilities while their partners do not. (Comparatively. Angel Dust may have some abilities, but we haven't really seen him display them beyond some glowing eyes)

They're both much more powerful than their partners, physically, magically, and socially.

They have some sort of contract with their partner (Pre-Full Moon)

They both have a lot of employees and staff working for them.

They have red eyes.

They're, um. Skinny? I'm running out of similarities.

So I would say that they do have a number of superficial similarities, but I want to dive in to these similarities a little deeper.

Stolas was born into his status as a prince, so was Blitz as an imp. Say what you want about the social hierarchy in Hell, but they do live in a society, and imps are basically the bottom of the pyramid in Hell. The point is, Stolas didn't choose to become a prince, he just is. Valentino, however, had to climb to achieve his status. He died and manifested in Hell same as any other sinner, but he managed to climb the ladder, made deals to own other sinners' souls, amassed power, and after however long, became an overlord. To each their own, but in my opinion, this means that he chose to become an overlord by exploiting other sinners, just like any real life business mogul. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a monarchist, but being born into power and taking it by choice are still very different.

Similarly, their magic is very different. We haven't seen much magic from Val, but we know that he has a certain amount of power over Angel, he produces that pink liquid with unclear properties, and we know from other overlords that he probably has more abilities that we haven't seen. We have seen a few displays of Stolas's power, though. He can use telekinesis, create portals, possess people, turn people into stone with a look, etc, and he can transform into a giant owl monster. So yeah, he's crazy powerful. But again, Stolas was born into his power, he's a Goetia prince, he inherited and honed his magical abilities through study and practice. Overlords seem to gain a lot of their power by owning souls, though this isn't actually totally clear. Regardless, Valentino has power over Angel as a direct result of his contract owning his soul.

So both of them have definite power differences with their partners. The key difference, however, is how they use this power imbalance in their relationships. Valentino literally owns Angel's soul, he uses his power over Angel to control him, manipulate him, force him to do things, abuse him, etc. He is blatantly physically abusive to Angel, we see him hit Angel, drag him around, push him down, grab him by the neck, and yank on his chains. He's also very psychologically abusive, he threatens him and his friends, insults and demeans him, and holds his contract in front of him to remind him of their deal and make Angel feel helpless. He's just awful.

Stolas is very very different in how he treats Blitz and their relationship. I mean there's the obvious, he is never physically abusive toward Blitz. And before any of the Stella sympathizers come at me, he's never been physically abusive toward her either, he just BLOCKED her hand as she attempted to strike him. If you ask me, it seems like she has probably done that before! He never intentionally demeaned Blitz, he never tried to hold their agreement over his head, he doesn't even seem to have forced Blitz to do anything sexually against his will. Plus he's a fucking bottom. He is aware of their difference in power, but he never intentionally abuses it. The only times he's ever insulted Blitz were either teasingly (e.g. "Oh and your memory is so perfect? What's [Moxxie's] phone number? Exactly.") or after he had already ended their arrangement and was upset with him (e.g. during their argument in Apology Tour). Even then, it really comes off as him pointing out Blitz's flaws and his hypocrisies after Blitz broke his heart. If you were to compare the beginning of Apology Tour to any scene between Val and Angel, the difference is crystal fucking clear.

And let's talk about their contracts. Valentino, as previously stated, literally OWNS Angel's SOUL. It's written in ink and legally and magically binding. Literally. Whatever deal Angel made with Valentino is basically irrelevant since at the point in the show that we see, the only thing he really gets from Valentino is a job. He used to get housing, it seems, but he gave that up to live at the hotel. I don't think he gets any kind of protection, but that's just speculation on my part. For Angel, it seems like there is no way out of his deal with Valentino, only Val can release him, and he doesn't want to because Angel makes him money. Stolas and Blitz have basically a verbal agreement, made over the phone. "Favors for favors." Stolas lets Blitz use his grimoire, the spell book given to him to perform his royal duties, something that he's definitely not supposed to be lending out to anyone, let alone an imp. Blitz needs the grimoire to be able to get to Earth, which is the most important aspect of his business in killing living people. Stolas also needs the grimoire for his job, but he lends it to Blitz for all but one day of the month. In return, he asks Blitz to spend the night with him so they can have sex. Blitz agrees to this arrangement, very willingly, and in my opinion, he gets the better end of the deal, especially considering the fact that he seems to like fucking Stolas. Now, by definition, this arrangement lowkey makes Blitz a prostitute. He is exchanging sex for the ability to run his business. But this arrangement is not written down anywhere, it's just an agreement between Blitz and Stolas while they're both happy with their end of the deal. Eventually, however, Stolas doesn't feel happy with it anymore because he's developed genuine feelings for Blitz and is uncomfortable that he feels like he's exploiting Blitz. So he calls off the arrangement in the hopes that they can start a new relationship on equal footing. He gives Blitz the Asmodean Crystal, arguably a better tool for Blitz's business than the grimoire was because it's easier to use, and they no longer have to exchange sex for the grimoire. He gifts the crystal to Blitz, no strings attached, and tells him that he cares for him and wants him to stay. Even when the conversation goes south, Stolas doesn't take back the crystal or even indicate that it's something that he would do. It's Blitz who's then uncomfortable because he feels like he needs to be doing something to "earn" the crystal. But that's his baggage, and not the point right now. The point is that in Val and Angel's contract, Val has the more favorable end of the deal, and he's the only one who can end the contract between them, and he probably won't. In Stolas and Blitz's arrangement, Blitz had the better end of the deal, and either of them could have backed out of the deal, but ultimately Stolas chose to end it, and he made sure that Blitz didn't suffer any consequences to his business as a result of their deal ending.

Now moving away from the relationships with Angel and Blitz, both Val and Stolas have employees, lower status demons working for them. Val's employees are mostly sinners whose souls he (or one of the other Vee's) owns, and then there's Kitty, the off-brand Robo-Fizz. Based on how he treats Angel and the other actors and people around him, I think it's fair to say that he's not a very kind and considerate boss. He's physically and verbally abusive, he's controlling and demanding, he's short-tempered and violent, and he clearly has no respect for scheduled work hours since he calls Angel in whenever he fucking wants. We don't see Stolas interacting with his staff as much, but what we do see is pretty standard for how a royal might treat a servant, with a neutral and stoic attitude. He's not necessarily friendly to his staff from what we see, but at least he's not actively abusive. I mean compare how Stella treats the imp butler and how Stolas does.

She grabs him by the arm and throws him full force at the wall during an argument with Stolas, while also dehumanizing him (de-demonizing?). He shows up again a little later in a state. Poor guy. The worst he ever gets from Stolas is this:

Not great, but definitely not as violent as Stella. My interpretation of Stolas with his imp staff is that he's at worst negligent and careless with them, but he's not nearly as intentionally violent.

And I was joking about the physical similarities, the majority of the cast have red eyes. I'm not even taking shots at Vivzie's character design.

I don't know how this got so long, I just had a lot of thoughts.

[ink-and-dagger]

Hi Legacy, thank you for your comment and for your compliment about my writing. Unfortunately, Tumblr wouldn’t let me leave this response to your comment under the fic, so I am having to add it onto your reblog. Something I really, genuinely, did not want to have to do.

I hear what you are saying, and am in full agreement with you - tags play a vital role in reader protection, and there’s nothing more frustrating (and in some cases dangerous) than people misusing them.

However, a few words now in my own defence.

I am not new here. I have been writing and posting Silco fics since Arcane first aired back in 2021. It seems more likely in this case that you are new if not to the Arcane fandom then to my blog/writing specifically - so allow me to provide a bit of context which may help, because I don’t believe this case is as cut-and-dry as you believe it to be. I began posting my multi-chapter Silco x Reader fic Drink With Me in January 2022, and updated regularly until its completion in July of that same year. I was extremely lucky in that my story gained a lot of traction and interaction within the fandom throughout that time. People became extremely invested in the Reader character, and would ask me all sorts of questions about her. That’s how Astrid was born. She became a point of reference outside the fic for those who wanted someone to visualise, whilst the fic itself remained strictly a Reader Insert. In the few years since this story wrapped up, my followers have remained invested in the ‘Drink With Me’ universe (again, I’m incredibly lucky and thankful for this), and to this day I receive tons of requests for bonus content set within this universe that I try to fulfil whenever I can. Despite these ficlets being connected to a main multi-chapter fic, most of them can easily be read as a standalone and do not require the context or any prior knowledge of the main fic to make sense. Additionally, as I did with the main fic, they are always written in 2nd person, the character is never referred to by name, and I never use any physical descriptors beyond anatomical ones during smut. If you were to take away any and all tags and look purely at the text alone, it reads as a traditional reader insert, which is why I tag it as such. I include the ‘Astrid’ and ‘OC’ tags for those people who are familiar with the DWM fic and universe and who specifically follow me for this reason, so that they know in their minds that the ficlet relates to the world/timeline of Drink With Me in some way shape or form. I think the point I’m trying to make is that those who are familiar with me and my work will see the ‘Astrid/OC’ tag and go “Ah cool it’s this universe”. Whereas for everyone else I add the ‘can be read as gen!reader insert’ note at the top so that they can go “Ah cool, let me just ignore that character tag then” and happily read it as a general reader insert fic perfectly fine. I hope that makes a bit more sense as to why I tag this way, why I’ve always tagged this way, and why I will continue to tag this way for my Drink With Me adjacent works. If I ever were to write something in 1st or 3rd person or that described the MC in a very specific way, then I would of course not tag that as a reader fic.

Now, so long as we’re here discussing fandom etiquette, I’d like to politely point out that adding your grievance onto the reblog of a specific fic is not a ���gentle reminder’ - it’s a full-frontal attack on the author who wrote that fic. It would have been far better for you to create your own, separate post addressing the fandom as a whole, or to send me a quiet, private comment/DM on the side.

As I’ve already said, I empathise with your point of view, and I hope you are able to empathise with mine. If the way I choose to tag my work bothers you, then please feel free to block my account so that I don’t show up whilst you are searching for content. At the end of the day we are all individual humans - you cannot expect everyone to interpret/measure/categorise everything in the same way you would, and it’s imperative to take some measure of responsibility for cultivating your own online space, instead of relying on others to do it for you.

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[k4marina]

— vi. Secrets and the Moon || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: While things settle down secrets are unveiled and you and Daenerys have a conversation about the moon.

warnings: slight mentions of violence/death, grammar most likely, ngl it's a pretty tame chapter.

a/n: all dialouge in italics is Valyrian

series masterlist

5.2k wrd count

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

[gif is mine]

The walls of scrolls and ancient texts nearly reached the top of the ceiling. The smell of wax and parchment lingered in the room. Sunlight poured down from the skylight window. I’d never seen the room before, not on any website or during the tour of the castle. We were practically underground, in a more older portion of Dragonstone that was most likely withered away in the future. Diamond-patterned shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls on each side with a set of ladders and landings for easy access. A row of tables sat in the middle of the room, a large candle lit chandelier hanging down at the center.

I found the room whilst exploring the lower portions of the castle. It seemed that this was where all the old Valyrian texts were stored after the Targaryen’s arrival and before the Doom. When I’d first entered my head started to spin just off of the sheer size of the place. When I opened the first few scrolls and saw the ancient writing I couldn’t help but thank my parents for teaching me Valyrian Glyphs as well as the modern written form. Suddenly all those hours sitting at the dinner table studying with my father after dinner wasn’t so bad. 

So far my search had been fruitless, every lead coming to a dead end. There was practically nothing about either magic being used to bring people back in time or any mythologies relating to my predicament. There were plenty of other scrolls that taught the reader how they can cast various different spells and pyrokinesis. There were even a few that explained how to hatch stone dragon eggs, without human sacrifices. 

I scoffed, pushing that one scroll in particular to the side. I’m sure Dany could have used this while she was in the Dothraki Sea. 

Hours went by while I poured over all sorts of scrolls, but I found nothing that could explain my sudden appearance or a way to go back. The candles were nearly melted by the time I’d stored away the last scroll and shut the door to the reference room. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed. I really thought that if I could find any leads about my situation then it would be on Dragonstone. 

I thought that in all of the texts the Targaryens brought over from Valyria at least one would have the answers I was looking for. But I was wrong. 

The Valyrians were the first to bound themselves with dragons using blood magic. During the Valyrian empire’s height magic was an integral part of their culture and history. There’s no telling what they couldn’t do. If only they were good at spreading their knowledge, just far enough to Volantis at least, then maybe the ancient empire wouldn’t be such a mystery. 

Daenerys sat in a closed off patio, staring off into the distance when I arrived for dinner. She was no longer in her signature dark Targaryen garb, but rather in a more simple and modest gown. Her hair was in her signature braids, but not as dramatic as usual. 

“What’s on your mind?” My question pulled her out of her thoughts, only now realizing that I was here.

“Nothing,” she half-smiles. “Just another long day. Come– sit. The food’s still warm.” She motions for me to sit, which I do. “I heard you were busy in the reference library again.” 

I sat, laying the cloth napkin on my lap. “Another bust,” a servant places a plate of food in front of the two of us before leaving. “Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of information, but none that I needed.” 

“Have you looked into other sources?” 

I sighed, reaching for the wine. “I already have. The Seven don’t really believe in whatever my situation is, and the Old Gods are mostly about nature; forest, rivers, stone.” The knife in my hands easily cut through the piece of meat on my plate. 

“What of the Old Gods of Valyria?” 

“They're just deities.” I placed my elbows on the table. “We still worship them beyond the Black Wall, but they also don’t provide any information. They’re just God’s you pray to, to keep traditions for some.” 

“So that’s it?” 

“I still have one person to ask, but she’s already gone to Volantis.” 

“Melisandre?” Daenerys frowns, “but she’s not coming back.” 

I shake my head. “She is. It’s her fate to die in Westeros. When she returns I’ll have to ask her before she takes the plunge.” 

Daenerys nods, slowly, understanding. There’s a moment of silence, the two of us busy eating before Daenerys asks me the important question that’d been lingering in the air since my arrival. 

“What will you do if you can’t go back?” 

I sit still, but then shrug. “Stay here, I guess. Don’t have any other option, do I?” I look away from her, staring off into the distance, the night sky glimmering. No matter how many times I see the stars, I’m always mesmerized. You can’t get a view like this in the modern world, the light pollution clouding the beautiful night sky. 

“I’ll probably explore around a bit.” 

“You won’t get married?” 

I paused, caught off guard. “I.. I don’t know.” I turned back to her. “I never thought of anything like that.” 

“Did you fancy anyone from your time?” 

“No,” I thought back. “Sure, I had a few crushes here and there, a boyfriend once, but nothing when I entered University, I was too focused on my studies than the opposite sex.” 

“Why? Are you trying to marry me off to some Lord to help your claim?” I teased. 

She playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m only asking. If you do end up staying here then I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“But I’m not alone.” I said. “I have you.” 

She smiled. “I know that. What I mean is that I want you to have someone close to you. Someone to grow old with and perhaps a few children with.” 

I mulled over her words. “We’ll see. But my main goal is to get you on that throne first.” 

“Would that be before or after we join the Army of the Dead?” She jests. 

“Boo, bad joke.” I smiled. 

The rest of our night went smoothly, the two of us opting to not talk about war plans or the futures but rather of our childhoods. She told me stories about growing up in Essos, one that wasn't in any textbook and I told her about the modern world. I still remember telling her about modern transportation and technology, her jaw smacking the ground. 

We dined till the late hours of the night, only calling a night after we’d drank all the wine in the room. My body slightly buzzed, the alcohol flowing through me. Something that I learned when I arrived here was that alcohol was less potent compared to the future. So while everyone else could get drunk with a few glasses, I was just lightly buzzed. 

But that buzz didn’t last long. I was immediately sobered when I saw that the door to my chambers was left open. I stared at the door, silently listening for any movements. I vividly remembered closing my door in the morning. Maybe it was an assassin? But that wouldn’t make any sense. If an assassin was hired he’d go straight for Daenerys, not me.

Carefully, I stepped closer to the door, trying to not make a sound and catch the intruder's attention. I peeked through the gap between the wall and door, but saw nothing. No man dressed in robes waiting for me with a knife in my hand. I slowly pushed the door open, thankful that it didn’t creek. 

The receiving room was empty, nothing out of its place. The bedroom was also, oddly, empty. I scanned the room for anything missing or changed, but the room was just as I had left it this morning. The only room that was left was the study. The door was slightly ajar and a faith wrestling could be heard. I took in a deep breath and pushed it open, expecting to see some man, but instead being met with a child. 

The kid, possibly around ten years old, rummaged through my drawers. She wore a simple, yet tethered, dress, her long hair tied back. Her hands stopped moving and her body stiffened as she’d been caught. I stared in disbelief, what the hell is this kid doing?

“What are you looking for?” My voice came out more rough than it should have, but I couldn’t care. Was this kid really going through my things? 

She didn’t reply, her eyes flickering back to the door behind me. I slammed the door shut, fully blocking any way out and asked again. “What are you doing?” 

She still didn’t reply, shaking in fear as if I’d kill her on the spot. She hid her hands behind her dress. I marched closer to her and she stepped back, her back almost hitting the wall. I reached out, grabbing her hands, surprising her. 

Scrolls that I’d written were clutched in her grasp, and in the small pockets of her dress. They ranged from menial things like day to day updates from either the Unsullied or Dothraki to sensitive subjects like Yara Greyjoy and her fleet's location or warplanes to take King’s Landing. 

I looked back at the child who seemed to be scared out of her mind, tears brimming her eyes. It was clear someone put her up to this. No child in their right mind would travel all the way up into the castle, know where my room and study were, and rummage through my stuff.

“Who set you up to this?” I lowered my tone, trying to seem less frightening. The child's eyes were a light gray with hints of lavender. Her hair was a light blonde and freckles danced around her face. By the looks of it she was either a Dragonseed or the descendant of one. 

“I’m not mad,” this time I tried in Valyrian. “I just want to know who told you to do this.” 

Her exterior flattered for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to calm her nerves. I sighed, crouching down so that I was eye level to her. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. And I won’t let anyone hurt you or your family. All you have to do is tell me who told you to do this.” 

She hesitates, and my grip on her hand loosen. I absentmindedly rubbed small circles around her wrists as a way to calm her. 

“The..” she stopped, scared that someone would hear, but I gave her hand a light squeeze, reassuring her. “The bald man. He said if I found him a special letter then he’ll bring me to my mother and father.” 

The bald man? Does she mean THE bald man?

“Do you mean the bald man that is with Queen Daenerys?” 

She nods. 

Fucking snake. 

She seems to notice that shift in my mood and quivers. I catch myself before I worsen my mood. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Alana.” 

I smiled, “what a beautiful name.” I stood up, reaching into the middle drawer that she didn’t go through and grabbed a tied handkerchief. I knelt down next to her and untied it revealing a few cookies and bit’s of chocolate. Her eyes lit up and she looked between the sweet treats and me.

“Here, you can have all of this, if you promise to not say a word, okay? You can’t tell anyone that I saw you tonight, especially the bald man.” 

She nods her head, eager to eat the cookies. 

“But, you have to do one teeny-tiny thing for me.” She looks up at me with her doe eyes. “You have to tell the Queen what you told me.” 

Panic, once again, sets in and she rapidly shakes her head. “No, she’ll-” 

“She won’t do anything,” I place my hand on her shoulder. “Her Grace doesn’t hurt children. She’ll protect you from the bald man. Both her and her dragons.” 

It took some convincing but she’d finally agreed. I placed her on my bed with the snacks and lit a few candles. I called for an Unsullied guard to go get Daenerys while I waited with her. 

“You said that the bald man would take you to your parents, where did they go?” 

She chews on a piece of chocolate and swallows. “They were taken by the man with the stag. He was bald too. He also had a daughter.” 

Stag, bald, and had a daughter. 

“Stannis.” I hummed. Knowing him, I’m sure that he’d executed them. Most of the villagers on the island are some form of Dragonseeds, bastards of the Targaryens and most definitely still loyal to them. It’s most likely that Alana’s parents had refused to bow to either Robert or to serve Stannis during his stint on Dragonstone and were killed as a result. 

The doors to my room opened and Daenerys, who was dressed in a robe and looked to have been pulled out of bed, walked in. “Did something happen?”  

I nod and stand up. Alana peeks at Daenerys from behind me, but quickly hides when they make eye contact. 

“I found her going through my things. Apparently, a friend of ours sent her to find something.” 

Daenerys looks between me and the little girl. “Who?” 

I turned back to Alana. “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell Her Grace what you told me, don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” 

The little girl holds her hands closer to her. “The bald man. He told me to look through the ladies' things.” 

“The bald man?” Daenerys repeats. She turns back to me. “Varys?” 

I nodded. “Seems like he’s interested in what I’ve been up to.”

Anger quickly takes over Daenerys and she turns to march down to his chambers. I grab her arm, “no wait.” 

“Wait?” She scoffed. “Varys is spying on my own people. He’s using children to do his dirty work and you want me to wait?” 

“Yes, I do. Dany, we can’t nail him yet.” 

She frowned. “Then what? We pretend that nothing’s happened?” 

“That’s exactly what we do. He doesn't know what we know now, we can use that to our advantage.” 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“Let him believe what he wants to. All we have to do is feed him the information that we want and take the information we need from him.” 

“And you are sure this will work?” 

I nodded. “Let the spider think that he’s spun his web, it’s only a matter of time before he gets too confident and makes a mistake.”

––

The next morning, after my morning sparring practice and breakfast with Daenerys, I was called down to the caves by Jon Snow. He and his men had made considerable progress mining the Dragonglass. Crates of the volcanic glass were placed around the path leading to the caves. The sound of pickaxes and chisels hammering against the cave walls echoed out from the cave entrance. 

Jon Snow stood by a few crates of what I assumed was freshly mined Dragonglass. He wore his usual attire; dark tunic underneath his black and brown leather armor, long black leather gloves and matching boots with dark trousers that had some wear and tear. He’d foregone his fur cloak and armored breastplate with House Stark sigil for the sake of practicality. 

Ser Davos, who stood in front of Jon, nodded my ways. He turned as I stepped closer, and their previous conversation came to a halt. 

“My Lady, thank you for coming.” 

I glanced around us. “You and your men seem to be making quite a bit of progress.” 

Jon nods, “we’re grateful that you and Queen Daenerys have allowed us to mine all of the Dragonglass.” 

“That’s not why you called for me is it?” 

“No.” He motions for me to follow him. We walk around a few crates, coming to a stop in front of a covered wagon, hidden from everyone. 

“We found these, deep in the caves. I’ve told my men who first found them to keep quiet about it.” 

Ser Davos opens the wagon’s doors and removes the cloth over the objects revealing a cluster of dulled dragon eggs. My eyes widened and I turned to Jon who also had the same shock written all over his face. 

“Is this all you’ve found?” 

“So far. We found these near the end of the cave before it split off into other directions.” 

I slowly nod, half focused on his words. My eyes ran over the eggs, five to be exact, all of them covered in dirt and stone. There were two lighter colored eggs, a white-gray and a pastel pink-purple. The other three were a dark navy blue, a dark green, and a pure black egg. I reached out and carefully grabbed the green egg, wiping away the dirt and debris the best I could. It left off a gold almost iridescent shimmer in the sun. The eggs themselves were hard, the outside covered in a scaled pattern. I gently turned the egg over in my hands, running my fingers over the surface.

I took in a deep breath, stunned. 

After Daenerys’ death, Dragonstone was handed off to The Crown. Over the decades, the castle had been turned into somewhat of a vacation home for the Royal Family. The Velaryon’s had contested the decision for many years, claiming that the castle was the last remnants of the Targaryen and of Valyria and that it should be preserved and handed to them as they were the closest to the extinct house. But in reality, they were more interested in exploring the castle than honoring it. 

They’d found Dragonegg’s littered all over the island, nestled away in the string of cave networks. Dragon bones and skulls dating back to the dragons the Targaryens first brought to the islands were also found in caves in the island's volcanic mountains. By the time the eggs were found they’d been completely fossilized and turned to stone. Taking inspiration from Daenerys, the Velaryons tried to hatch the dragons in secret, but lacked the (for a lack of better words) magic that the Targaryens held. 

But this, this was something else. 

I turned to Jon, who’d been watching me, “thank you.” He slightly bows his head, surprised by my sincerity. “Did you find anything else?”

“No, My Lady, that’s all we’ve run across.” 

I pressed my lips and nods, looking back down at the eggs. “Alright. Keep mining, but don’t go too deep.” I set the dragon egg back down, “now help me get these to Daenerys.” 

––

The five eggs, now properly cleaned of any dirt, sat in a chest between Daenerys and I. Her eyes stayed glued to the eggs as Jon recounted what he’d told me. But, like me, her focus was entirely on the eggs. She dismisses him, leaving the two of us. Silence hangs in the air for many moments, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Did you know that there were eggs on the island?” She finally asks. 

“I did,” I sat back, eyes flickering between the chest and her. “But I didn’t know where exactly they were. I just never knew that they were just.. right there.”

She hums. “They look like they’re turned to stone.” 

“We can still bring them back.” 

“Where would we keep them?” 

I shrugged. “I’m sure there's a few warming brazier’s laying around. We can chuck them in there while we deal with the Night King.” 

She looks up at me, “are you sure we can hatch them?” 

“Yeah, why not? Just need some good-old fashioned Valyrian blood magic.” 

Daenerys chuckles. “Alright, I’ll tell the servants to light a few warmers.” 

She stands from her seat, walking over and grabbing the dark blue dragon egg, turning it over in her hands. 

“How many of these are there?” She muttered. 

“Plenty,” I replied, standing up myself. “The entire island is littered with them.” 

“What?” 

I pour a glass of wine. “The caves under the island are almost littered with them. Some of them are in the caves up in the mountains.” 

I motioned her towards the window that faced mountains. “Jaehaerys’ dragon, Vermithor, used to dwell in a cave on that mountain. It’s said that he laid a clutch of eggs in there, but by the time we found them they were completely stone.” 

Daenerys steps forwards and peers out the window to the large mountain in the distance. “If the Dragonegg’s were here all along, then why did they die out?” 

I shrugged “Hell if I know.” I take a sip of the wine, leaning on the windowsill. “It’s rumored that after Rhaenyra’s death that the Targaryen's love and bond with the dragons was bruised, I guess you can say. People believe that the closer the dragons are to their riders, the stronger the magic. But after a civil war where the dragons pitted against each other and other riders, I guess the magic fizzled out.” 

“Well, that’s until you came around,” I motioned towards Dany with my glass. 

She stared off to where Vermithor’s cave was. “So many mistakes,” she muttered. “They made so many mistakes and it cost our house everything.”

“But you won’t do the same thing.” I said. 

She turned to me, determined. “No, I won’t.” 

––

The walls are jagged and raw, a clear contrast to the smooth walls of the castle. It’s dim, squinting my eyes to try and adjust to the lack of light. My footsteps echoed off of the walls. 

One, two, three, four… and five.

He lay on the cold ground on top of a sad looking chunk of hay that looked as if it was on its last legs. He’s wearing the same trousers and dirty tunic as he was when he was brought here. His chest has a slight rise and fall indicating he’s alive. His face caked in blood and dirt, making me grimace. 

“Wake up.” 

He doesn’t move, eyes still closed. Annoyed, I reach over to a bucket on the side of the entrance of his cell, grabbing a cup full of water. I splashed it on him through the cell doors. 

“I said, wake up.” 

He gasps, coughing and sits up straight, surprised. His head snaps over in my direction, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t make any effort to move out of the shadows and into the dim light. 

“You bitch!” 

I drag a chair over in front of the cell bars, crossing my legs as I sit. “That’s no way to address a Lady.” 

He scoffs. “Y’er the furthest thing from a Lady,” he licks his chapped lips. “But you’ve got a pretty face like one. Maybe once your Dragon Queen agrees to my offer I’ll fuck you both” 

I narrow my eyes, but bite my tongue. “And you really think that she’ll take you as, what did you say? A King?”

“I am a King!” He growls. 

“Any man who must say ‘I am the King’ is no true King.” I quote Tywin Lannister. 

“I am the King of Salt and Rock.” He brings his face closer to me into the light. 

“Your niece and nephew would argue otherwise.” I glare down at Euron. 

“That bitch and her cock-less brother? They’re nothing. I’ll kill them just like I killed their father.” 

“That ‘bitch’ is on her way to reclaim the Iron Islands, and her ‘cock-less brother’ handed you your own ass, landing you here, in a dungeon.” 

“She won’t make it.” He double downs. “The Ironborn don't follow women.” 

“We’ll see.” I lean in closer, eyeing him through the bars. “It’s a new dawn. Two Queens are fighting for the Iron Throne, most of Westeros’ noble houses are led by women. I think the Iron Islands won’t mind a woman leading them.” 

Euron pushes himself against the wall. “Won’t last long. They’ll get tired of her and crave for their true king.” 

I leaned forwards. “That awfully confident of you considering your predicament. It’s almost like you have something under your sleeve.” His demeanor shifts, a wave of arrogance and cockiness falling over him. 

He smirks. “Y’wanna know? Hm?” He runs his beady eyes down my figure and I tried not to shiver out of disgust. “Why don’t you do me a favor and I’ll tell you.” 

“Really?” I played along. “And why would I do that? Not to be too mean, but you don’t seem to be the type to be strategic, just dumb luck.” 

His eye twitches at my comment. He leans forwards, a crazed look in his eyes, as if he’d just hit the jackpot. “Cause it’s the one thing that will make your dragons mine.” 

Gotcha. 

“Let me guess, a Dragonbinder?” 

His face falls, shocked that I already knew about his “trump card” that not even Cersei knew about. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. 

“What? Cat got your tongue? You were pretty chatty before, what happened?” 

He recovers well, becoming more hostile. “Knowing about it won’t change a thing. I’ll get out of here and when I do, I’ll kill you and everyone in this fucking castle and feed you to your own fucking dragons!” 

I stare at him momentarily before smiling. “I’ll count on it.” I stand, getting ready to leave. “You’ve lost, Euron. I look forward to your coming execution. Sleep well till then.” 

––

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asks, tethering between skepticism and fear.

I nodded. “I didn’t believe it either. From what I had heard it was purely a rumor, but he just confirmed for me.”

“A Dragonbinder?” Missandei raised a brow. “I don’t seem to be familiar with that item.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” I said. “It’s something like an ancient relic of Old Valyria. It’s a horn made of an enormous dragonbone and is six feet long. It’s said that whoever blows into it will have the power to control dragons, but I’ve never seen it before nor have I known anyone to have ever seen it, let alone have it in their possession.”

“And you believe Euron is hiding it somewhere?” Varys asks, hand folded in his lap.

“It’s alleged when he went to claim the Seastone Chair he presented the horn to impress his followers. How much of it is true is beyond me, but I think this is something we should keep a close eye on.”

“Has it ever been used?” Dany asks. 

“I don’t know. I’ve checked the reference library and found nothing.” 

“So the horn’s a sham?” Varys says. 

“We don’t know that,” I frowned. “A threat is a threat, regardless if it’s been documented or not.” I turned back to Dany. “Look, I’m telling you all I know. There’s possibly a Dragonbinder out there and it could turn your children against you.” 

Daenerys sighs, deep in thought. On one hand this could be a plausible threat. History has proven that anything that remains from Valyria could have the power to cause tremendous change while on the other hand, no one really knows if it exists and if it’s an actual threat to anyone. 

“If what you say is the truth then that means Euron and his men have a powerful weapon against me and my children. However, no one, but one man, knows where it is and we don’t know if it’s an actual threat or not. For now, we focus on the task at hand, Euron and the Dragonbinder can wait.” 

I nod, understanding. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.” 

––

The stars shone bright in the night sky, not a cloud in sight. The moon glimmered brightly, a perfect reflection in the deep ocean. It was one of those nights where everything was still, as if time had stopped. There was no sound, no wind, nothing, just pure silence. 

I took in a deep breath, relaxing my shoulders and leaned against the stone railing. My eyes trailed from the sky to the ocean, the beach, and then the cave entrance. Wagons and crates were left around along with what looked to be mining equipment. It wouldn’t be long until all of the Dragonglass would be mined away and then we’ll be marching North to face off against the Night King. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting you,” a voice called from behind. I turned around to see Daenerys walking closer to me. 

“No, you’re not.” I smiled. “It’s pretty late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same.” 

I turned back to stare off in front of me, “couldn’t sleep. Thought I would be able to after some fresh air, but the sleepiness hasn’t kicked in yet.” 

She comes to stand besides me, a comfortable silence falling over us. I looked back down at the cave entrance. 

“Since I’ve came here I've been debating whether the Gods are cruel or kind.” I let out a sigh. “On one hand, they’ve taken me from my friends, family, my home. The other, I’ve been given the opportunity to rewrite history, and right the wrongs of mankind.” I let out a humorless laugh and turned towards Dany. “But regardless of what’s happened, I’m glad I’m here to help you and make sure you don’t go through this alone.” 

She reached over to grasp my hand, reassuringly. I smiled, “whatever happens from here on out, I want you to know that. I love you, sister.”

Tears brimmed her eyes and she smiled. “I love you too. I pray that when this is over you can find a way back to your family.” 

“But you’d be all alone.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She smiled bittersweet. “I’ve lost my family, I know the pain. I can’t have you going through that.” 

I swallowed thickly, looking up and blinked away my tears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the moon, above. 

I cleared my throat, “when I was a child, I visited my Ñāma, um my Grandmother, in Volantis. One night, when the sky was like this she told me a story about two sisters. The younger one was very sick and couldn’t be out during the day so she and her elder sister would go out at night, making sure not to go too far off from home. And every night, under the shade of a large tree, the elder sister would sing a lullaby to her little sister about the moon. And every night, the younger sister would say ‘The sun is for everyone, but we have the moon,’ and she’d fall asleep with a smile. One night, just like any other, the two sisters go out and the eldest sings a lullaby, except this time, the younger one never opens her eyes and passes in her sleep. And for the rest of her life, the eldest sister, before going to bed, would sing a lullaby to the moon, hoping it would reach her sister, because they always had the moon.” 

At this point tears were streaming down both of our faces, and I tried my best not to start crying. “Daenerys, wherever we are, we’ll always have the moon.” 

We both burst into tears, pulling each other into a tight embrace, crying in each other's arms under the glimmering moon.

so i've recently composed a "soundtrack" for this series (i put soundtrack in "" bc it's more like a medley) i'm thinking abt working on it while i work on this series, but lmk if u all want to hear it when it's complete or when i've given up.

ALSO!! since we're approaching the height of series (and the end) what should my next game of thrones/asoiaf series be?

TAGLIST:

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat

[amethystpath-writes]

Could you please write a story where a fae and a human have been friends for about a year. However, the human finds out what the fae is, and freaks out, thinking the fae is toying with him or wanting to make him his servant or something. When in reality, the fae had always watched humanity from afar, and just wanted to play along to see what it was like to have genuine friends?

Always excited to see you in my inbox, love! <3

Listening to Stars

******

"You lied to me?" The human's voice cracked, and the fae felt the emotion like a whip.

"I would never," he responded, void of tone. It took control from the fae, to not respond how he wanted. To cry, or to yell, or to do anything with an overtly amount of emotion. He wanted to say, 'I would never lie to you; I can't,' but that felt like rubbing the fact in his friend's face.

"I never said I was human," he said instead, and instantly came to regret it. Rather than stopping while he was ahead, and possibly keeping his friend, the fae continued. "I wanted a friend! A real one. The fae..." He looked at his feet, not able to look the human in its eyes, then shook his head. "The fae are full of trickery and deceit. I didn't- I can't be friends with them."

The human could only scoff in return, obviously hurt by the fae boy, hurt that the fae would keep this a secret for so long. "You think I don't know your ways? That I haven't been warned all my life of the games you play?" He muttered to himself in the next moment. "A year. A whole year." It was surely meant for the human's ears only, but the fae heard it and wondered if his freind wasn't upset at himself as much as him for being fooled. Not fooled. I wasn't tricking him.

"Of course," the human started again, "a year is just a blink of the eyes to you. How many of you were in on this?"

"In on...this wasn't some elaborate plan!" The fae felt a heat like fire rise to the tips of his ears. "You all think we have the answer to everything, don't you? That our magic makes us so knowledgeable that we're bored and turn to trickery to entertain ourselves."

"Sounds about right."

Heat spread to the fae's hands as he clenched them in tight fists. He wasn't sure exactly what he was mad at. It could have been himself for hiding this secret for so long, ruining any chance of continuing to be friends with the human. If he had been transparent from the start, this moment could have been avoided. Then again, how could he blame himself when it was at the rest of the fae which created this perception of their entire race.

“What will it take?”

“What?”

“What will it take for you to believe me?”

Thinking, the human squinted. “Show me what you really look like.”

What he looked like? “And what would that prove?”

“Nothing, I just want to see.”

He didn’t change his appearance. It would just confirm his likeness to his human friend and push him away even more. “I’m not going to-”

The human shrugged. “I guess I’ll be going then. Have fun tricking the next”- he gasped.

Pale blue skin, freckles like stars, and a wicked point of the ear.

“So, can you really read the stars like they say?”

“Read them?” The fae’s brow lifted, and for two reasons. One, reading the stars? What did that even mean? Two, he expected a larger reaction from his friend, with all his demanding and suggesting there was so much distrust between the two of them.

“Yeah, like a book. They say fae can hear the stars, the stories of their creation and demise.”

A rumour. Humans loved to make those about the fae. Then again, this wasn’t the worst one he’d ever heard them spread.

“I thought you hated my kind. Now all of a sudden you want to know if we can speak to the stars?”

“Listen, not speak. You can hear their stories, but they don’t respond. The fae have their limits,” the human boy explained.

“Fae can’t hear the stars!” What an elaborate lie to create about something the humans know nothing about. “Your kind fears mine and here you are saying we talk- listen- to the stars? What do you even know of fae that’s true?”

A new argument sparked. “And what have you heard of humans?” Or so the human boy thought. He expected his friend to say something about pitchforks and torches or maybe even the fights that break out in pig pins, outside of village inns.

“I heard you make music. That you hold balls just to sway to said music and that there are people who specialise in twirly clothes. There are others that specialise in decor, plates of would coloured with berries or little…what did she call them?”

“She?” the human interrupted.

Memories flitted across the fae’s mind, but he kept his answer simple. “There was a girl, years ago, that ventured to our borders. The others fooled her into walking the way she came, but I followed her to a human town. She was a friend.” He stopped for a moment, looked the human boy in his eyes. “I did trick you, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t deceive you with magic. I knew your kind already. You make better friends than what the fae do.”

The anger from before melted away, and in its place was a melancholic blanket. It shrouded the fae boy’s mind, draped against his shoulders, and stained his teeth as he spoke.

“We can say goodbye now,” the fae said. “I won’t expect to see you again.”

“Your friend from before, do I know her?”

He didn’t expect the human boy’s to ask. In all honestly, he wished he wouldn’t have. “You did.” The pain he felt thinking about her was almost too much. At times, he would remember the human boy’s relation to her. At these times, the fae would make an excuse to go home, then hide somewhere deep in the woods so his own mind wouldn’t find him. They didn’t know about his relationship with the humans, but they knew something was odd.

“As in ‘used to?’ Was she from my village?”

“Your home,” he specified. “Do you remember the kid that visited your home, a friend of your sister’s?”

The human boy’s brows drew together, confused at the change of subject, no doubt. “When she was alive, yes. He was visiting his relative in another nearby village. Did you know them both?”

Nodding, the fae explained, “I knew her. I was him.”

Crickets chimed around the two of them, reminding both of the setting sun.

“It’s getting dark. I should go home before…anything happens.”

“The wolves don’t touch these woods.” But he understood. He hid beneath a guise, then did it all over again. “Take your time. I’ll be listening to the stars in the meanwhile. You can raise your torches and pitchforks.” He smiled as he caught the human’s eyes.

“So you don’t listen to the stars. You listen to my mind.”

“Only the second time I’ve done it, actually, but we’ll talk another time. Go home, friend.”

[svynie]

“ Bound By Time, Separated By Eternity ”

5YN0PSIS: An unlikely bond forms between a god that lives in solitude, and a mortal who somehow entered their abode. For the first time in eternity, Kaveh found themselves longing for the fleeting beauty of the warmth of human connection. Ah, but time never favors you does it..?

WARNING/TAGS: mortal x immortal GOD KAVEH, fluff, angst, Kaveh has no gender and is referred to as they/them, use of Y/N ONCE, reader is referred as a "mortal" throughout, Kaveh's POV written in 3RD POV

WC: 2.5k

A/N: AAH FIRST FIC HERE !! the ending feels rush my apologies :( bot version

In the golden age of gods and mortals, where the boundaries between the divine and the earth blurred, there existed a god who danced between mystery and brilliance—Kaveh, the God of Flourishing Knowledge. 

They were a minor deity under the guidance of Lesser Lord Kusanali, tasked with nurturing intellect and creativity among all of Teyvat.

Kaveh’s appearance was a riddle no mortal could solve. Some swore they were a man of charm; others argued they were a woman of beauty.

In truth, Kaveh seemed to embody both and neither at the same time, transcending the boundaries of mortal understanding...

Yet, Kaveh had not always been divine.

Long ago, they were a mortal—a renowned architect and scholar whose vision transformed Sumeru’s cities into marvels of  beauty. 

Their talent was unmatched, their dedication unwavering, and their heart best with a desire to inspire. 

Their brilliance caught the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali, who saw in Kaveh the light of something extraordinary. 

When their mortal life was cut short—caught in a collapsing temple of their own design while trying to save others—Kaveh’s Vision did not fade. 

Instead, it glowed with light so fierce, raising Kaveh into the celestial ranks as the God of Flourishing Knowledge.

They lived in the Sanctum of Creation, a floating haven above the nation of Sumeru, was both their sanctuary and their workshop, but it often felt like a cage. a marvel of architecture entwined with nature. Golden spires stretched upwards, draped in vines, and waterfalls cascaded into pools that shimmered with sunlight. 

Though artisans, scholars, and dreamers whispered prayers in their name, Kaveh felt a deep, unshakable loneliness. They were a god, revered and unreachable, their existence an endless cycle of creation and isolation.

Their name was whispered by artisans, scholars, and dreamers, all seeking the blessing of their divine insight.

Yet even gods themselves... are not immune to yearning.

Sure, Kaveh had achieved what most humans have dreamed of— boundless knowledge, and a purpose. 

And yet, as the centuries passed, a longing festered within them —a quiet ache to live among mortals once more, to feel the pulse of fleeting lives.

But they buried such thoughts beneath layers of wit and work, crafting temples and designs that would stand the test of time, as though this persistence and stability could distract them from what they lacked.

Then came the day a mortal stumbled into the Sanctum...

They were an ordinary soul by all means, yet they seek neither wisdom nor miracles.

Kaveh, bent over a half-finished model of a city meant to be placed with the surrounding jungle

“Another wanderer?” Kaveh muttered, their voice carrying a mix of curiosity and mischief. 

And so, the mortal stayed. “I swear, I need to put up a sign: ‘Trespassers will be lectured on a detailed lesson of urban planning.’” They turned, their scarlet eyes narrowing as they took in the mortal who had stumbled into the Sanctum. 

“Hmm. You don’t look like a thief—or a scholar, for that matter. So, what are you? A lost farmer? An adventurer who mistook the Sanctum for a ruin?" The mortal said nothing, only kneeling in silence. Kaveh blinked, startled, before recovering with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, great. Another silent one. Let me guess—you’re here to gawk at the ‘mystical god of creation’ or something equally tiresome?”

When the mortal remained silent, Kaveh chuckled softly, their tone dripping with playful nonchalance. The sound echoing through the grand hall. “Well, if you’re going to stay here, at least make yourself useful. I’m running low on ink.”

And so, the mortal stayed.

At first, their role was menial—organizing scrolls, tidying messy tools, and observing Kaveh’s intricate work from a distance. 

But as days turned into weeks, Kaveh began involving them in their projects. Their words a mix of teasing jabs and genuine instructions

“Careful with that!” Kaveh exclaimed, watching the mortal carry a delicate model of a floating garden. “If you drop it, you’ll not only shatter my work but also my faith in humanity!! No pressure, of course..."

The mortal listened, worked, and adapted, their quiet presence becoming a stark contrast to the chaos Kaveh often brought and an unexpected constant in Kaveh’s routine.

“You know…” Kaveh said one late afteroon, sketching the framework for a new building. leaning back in their chair as they continued to sketched the framework for a new shrine "You’re remarkably obedient... It’s almost unsettling. No questions, no complaints—just silent diligence." He said with a teasing tone, a playful chill running through his shoulders

"I might actually start calling you by your name!” he cut his words off with a dramatic gasp "Imagine the scandal!!"

The mortal cracked a small smile which made Kaveh laugh. But beneath the joy, a seed of discomfort had taken root...

As the months passed, Kaveh found themselves watching the mortal more closely than they intended.

They noticed the way the mortal’s hands moved with quiet precision, the way they seemed to anticipate Kaveh’s needs without being asked. It was… unnerving... how much they had come to rely on this mortal’s presence.

“You’re entirely too good at this,” Kaveh remarked one evening, gesturing toward a perfectly arranged set of tools. “Are you trying to impress me, or are you just naturally infuriatingly competent???" Their tone was playful, but their eyes lingered on the mortal for a moment longer than necessary

But during the quiet hours of the Sanctum, when the mortal slept and Kaveh was left alone with their thoughts, doubts crept in...

What was this mortal to them? An assistant? A companion? Kaveh didn’t want to admit it—not even to themselves—but they were growing attached. And that terrified them.

“Ridiculous. they muttered to themselves late one night, pacing the grand hall of the Sanctum.“They’ll grow old. They’ll leave —one way or another.... And I’ll.. still be here, sketching gardens for a future they’ll never see. Why... bother..?"

But Kaveh knew the answer, even as they denied it. 

Kaveh had learned that lesson painfully after centuries of granting their blessings to architects, artisans, and scholars who sought their aid. Those mortals had always left, their lives reduced to faded memories that lingered like smoke  

Even so, mortals brought something to their eternal existence that no amount of knowledge or creation could replace: Warmth. Life in its most fleeting yet precious form.

“Why do you stay?” Kaveh asked one day, not looking up from the delicate framework of a bridge they were assembling. “You don’t ask for blessings, or wisdom, or wealth. You don’t even seem particularly impressed by all this.” They gestured broadly to the Sanctum, their tone mixing between exasperation and curiosity.

The mortal finally spoke, their voice quiet but steady. “Because I want to.”

The simplicity of the answer surprised Kaveh. It lacked the desperation of scholars seeking enlightenment or the arrogance of nobles demanding their favor. 

It was honest, pure, and completely... different

“Mortals,” Kaveh muttered, shaking their head with a faint laugh. “I can never understand you...” But their hands trembled as they returned to their work.

-----------

“Do you know what the worst part of being a god is?” Kaveh asked one day, their voice tinged with melancholy. “It’s not the immortality, nor the responsibility. It’s the distance. You watch mortals live their messy, brilliant lives, but you’re never truly part of it. It’s like being a painter who can never step into their own masterpiece.”

They paused, tapping their quill against the edge of the table. 

“Do you know what I miss most?” Their voice softened, almost wistful. “Eating fruit that’s just a little too sour. Arguing over silly things that don’t matter. Waking up and wondering what the day will bring—not knowing the answer....”

The mortal’s silence, as always, was steady and grounding, and Kaveh shook their head, a faint smile curling on their lips. 

“Listen to me, getting sentimental. Don’t let it go to your head, all right? I’m not about to start writing poetry or anything of sorts..

But as they turned back to their work, a thought lingered, unspoken and heavy. How long would this last? How long before the mortal’s light dimmed..? leaving Kaveh alone again in their eternal Sanctum?  It was a fear they refused to voice, burying it beneath their usual wit and charm.

“You’re lucky, you know,”Kaveh said later, their tone light and teasing once more.* “You get to grow old and move on. I’m stuck with this... cycle of divinity..." They gestured dramatically at themselves. “Tragic, isn’t it? A god, envying a mortal... Ah- ! Don’t let anyone else hear that...! I still have a reputation to maintain.”

But as they laughed, their gaze softened, the glimmer in their eyes betraying a flicker of something deeper—an ache they couldn’t name, a longing they dared not say...

“You’re quiet today,” Kaveh said finally breaking the tension in the silence, their voice unusually soft. “Not that I mind, of course. I’ve grown rather used to it...” Their words trailed off, and they glanced over at the mortal, who was sitting with their back against a pillar, eyes half-closed in exhaustion.

The first sign was always subtle. 

The mortal moved slower, their hands trembling as they worked. 

At first, Kaveh attributed it to fatigue—humans, after all, were not built for endless hours of labor.

Then, a faint cough here and there, easy to dismiss as nothing more than a passing chill. Kaveh noticed it but thought little of it at first.

...Mortals were prone to such things, after all.

The days passed, and the cough lingered, growing more persistent. Each time it escaped the mortal's lips, Kaveh’s sharp eyes would flicker toward them, concern barely veiled beneath their casual tone. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been coughing a lot?"

“It’s just a cold,” they reassure, brushing it off with a smile. And Kaveh, hesitant to press further, accepted the explanation.

But then came the late nights when the coughs grew harsher, echoing through the stillness of the home you shared. Sometimes, they would excuse yourself, retreating to another room to stifle the sound. Other times, Kaveh would hear them muffled behind a door, an attempt to hide the strain obvious. Kaveh began to notice more—the faint pallor of their skin, the tiredness in your steps, the way they avoided meeting his gaze for too long.

Still, Kaveh told themself it wasn’t serious... they were mortal, and they could handle this. But that didn’t stop the unease gnawing.

And then, one quiet evening, it happened.

The mortal had been standing in the workshop, mid-sentence, when their knees buckled. Kaveh barely had time to process the sharp, rattling cough that wracked your body before they crumpled to the floor.

“Hey! Hey!” Kaveh’s voice was frantic as they rushed to their mortal's side, hands trembling as they supported their weight. That’s when Kaveh saw it—blood staining their lips, stark and vivid against your face...

Time seemed to stop. Their mind screamed for him to act, but all they could do was freeze, staring at the crimson streaks that told them.. this was no small illness.

Panic surged in his chest, overtaking the logic he usually clung to. His mind raced, struggling to grasp what was happening.

“You’re sick,” he snapped, though his voice trembled, the irritation unable to hide his fear. “You humans are so fragile. Why didn’t you... say anything...?" His words were sharp, but his touch was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your clammy forehead.

His voice cracked as he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something—found something…” His scarlet eyes burned with helplessness, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the blood on your lips.

The mortal opened their eyes, their gaze soft and resolute. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Kaveh laughed bitterly, tears glistening in their eyes. “Burden me? You think I haven’t already lost enough? You... mortals—always leaving. Always slipping through my fingers…”

But what could a god do against the relentless march of time? No amount of divine knowledge could cure mortality itself.

----

As the mortal’s strength waned, Kaveh found themselves by their side more often than not, abandoning half-finished models and plans. 

They refused to acknowledge the hollow ache growing in their chest, even as they stayed awake through the nights, watching over the mortal as they slept.

“(Y/N..) you're ridiculous, you know,” Kaveh said one night, their voice trembling despite the teasing.

 “I told myself I wouldn’t get attached. And yet, here I am, sitting with you like some foolish mortal clinging to things they can’t keep.”

The mortal smiled faintly, their eyes meeting Kaveh’s. “You’re not as distant as you think you are.”

Kaveh’s breath caught. They wanted to laugh, to deflect, to push away the truth in those words. 

But instead, they stayed silent, their gaze lingering on the mortal’s fragile form.

When the end came, it was quiet. The mortal passed with the same steadfast calm they had shown throughout their life, their hand resting lightly against Kaveh's

Gods didn’t cry. 

Kaveh didn’t cry. 

Kaveh cant cry.

But as they sat alone in the Sanctum, the weight of their immortality pressed down on them like never before.

For the first time in centuries, Kaveh felt the unbearable loneliness of eternity.

Several seasons passed, but the Sanctum of Creation was silent. The tools lay untouched, the scrolls gathering dust. Kaveh couldn’t bring themselves to create—not when every model, every sketch reminded them of the mortal who had once stood by their side.

Then in one particular sunset, Kaveh stood at the edge of the Sanctum, looking down at the world below. “You left too soon,” they murmured, their voice breaking. “And yet… you stayed longer than anyone else ever dared to my dear.."

In their hands, they held a small model—a replica of the mortal’s favorite creation. It was imperfect, flawed in ways Kaveh would normally have despised. But it was beautiful in its imperfection, just like the mortal who had inspired it.

And so, Kaveh placed it on the highest pedestal of the Sanctum, a silent tribute to the fleeting yet precious warmth that had touched their eternal life.

As they turned away, a single tear slipped down their cheek, catching the sunlight before falling into the endless sky below.

dividers belong to @/saradika-graphics

kaveh fanart made by @/danbingzi1 on twt

all writing belongs to me (@svynie). do not repost, translate or plagiarize.

[expectantdaddies]

Father Ioann was a shy, delicate priest who much preferred the quiet solitude of studying ancient books and scrolls in the Great Library of the Church of the Pantheon rather than performing ministry or dealing with the cutthroat affairs of church politics. He would have been content to spend his days growing old in the dusty archives, pouring over esoteric tomes about the giants - a race of men who grew to towering heights of at least seven feet tall and all hailed from the distant continent of Leviathan. However, the outside world had little interest in such niche academic pursuits.

For half a century prior, the continent of Leviathan had been isolated from the rest of humanity due to a terrible war that broke out among its nations. The conflict had unleashed powerful magic that resulted in the land being encased by an impenetrable barrier of ice and storms, with monstrous creatures emerging from the seas to guard it. As such, direct contact or trade with the giants was no longer possible.

However, a miraculous development occurred about a year ago when sailors reported that the mystical barriers surrounding Leviathan had suddenly and inexplicably vanished. The Pantheon Church leadership saw this as a divine sign and an opportunity to spread their faith among the tallfolk.

It so happened that Father Ioann was one of the few scholars in the church hierarchy who possessed knowledge of the languages spoken by the giants, had some familiarity with their customs, and could withstand the arduous weeks-long sea voyage across treacherous waters to reach the continent. With no other suitable candidates willing or available, the Church leadership reluctantly selected Father Ioann as the head of a delegation to be dispatched as an emissary and missionary to the land of the giants.

Father Ioann protested that he was not fit for such a task - his constitution was too frail for long sea voyages, he had no experience performing ministry or diplomacy, and he wished only to continue his scholarly pursuits in peace. But the Church leaders would hear none of it. With great reluctance, Father Ioann was metaphorically dragged away from the comforting familiarity of his dusty archives and sent on a quest to the far reaches of the world.

The journey was long and arduous. Father Ioann struggled mightily with sea sickness aboard the ship, accompanied only by a handful of servants and bodyguards as an escort. After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the Kingdom of Titanos - one of the few nations on Leviathan that possessed accessible ports for trade.

Father Ioann was brought before King Lange, the jovial ruler of the kingdom who stood at an imposing height of over ten feet tall. The priest translated a letter from the leaders of the Pantheon Church into the language of Titanos, which introduced him as their envory to establish diplomatic relations between their realms.

King Lange read through the letter with great enthusiasm. Then, much to Father Ioann's shock and horror, the giant king began tearing off the priest's clothes until he stood completely naked before the assembled court! Father Ioann was certain this was some kind of barbarian ritual he did not understand…

But then King Lange roughly grabbed Father Ioann, yanked him over to the throne, and began passionately making love to him right in front of everyone! Father Ioann let out a startled cry at the sudden violation, but to his surprise found himself quickly melting into the giant's arms. His body responded eagerly as he was thoroughly claimed by the king.

Afterwards, Father Ioann learned the shocking reason behind King Lange's behavior - due to a critical translation error on his part, the letter had been misinterpreted as the Church leaders gifting him as a concubine for the king!

Father Ioann could not bring himself to correct the misunderstanding, nor did he have any desire to return to his former life. He had fallen deeply in love with King Lange after their initial coupling, and wished only to remain by his side. After sending his servants back to the Church with a newly translated dictionary and an apology that he would no longer be able to complete his mission without diplomatic incident, Father Ioann settled into his new role serving the king.

He continued wearing his priestly robes even as they strained to contain his growing belly… for King Lange had sired a child within him. The giant was exceedingly proud of his virility and liked to have his pregnant spouses and concubines sit on his lap while he held court, caressing their bellies.

Nowadays, Father Ioann can be seen by the king's side, one of many wives and concubines at court. His belly is swollen with the enormous child growing inside him. Though he dreams that perhaps after giving birth, he may have time to establish a mission for the Church on Leviathan someday…

For now though, his duties as a royal spouse keep him quite occupied. And Father Ioann has grown to find great joy and fulfillment serving King Lange in this role. He cannot imagine returning to his old life among the dusty archives of the Pantheon Church ever again - his heart belongs to the giants now. As a bonus, he now has free access to the castle library, filled with books that no person below 7 feet has read in almost a century.

If you like my work, Buy Me a Coffee.

Father Ioann, pregnant priest.

If you like my work, Buy Me a Coffee.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Offers Silk Flowers & Osmanthus Tea

Zhongli falling in love deeply with a Human Mortal and has a crisis about it

It's hard to imagine Zhongli having a crisis about anything. He's lived so long that centuries worth of memories are compressed into decades relative to the entirety of his life. A mortal's life will flicker by as quickly as a firefly's brief glow, short-lived but breathtaking. He has witnessed the lives of countless, their meetings, their partings, their laughter, and their tears. Just as he sits in the audience of an opera, captivated by what is happening on the stage, he's always been the bystander. That had always been the case until he met you. With you, he's been finding it increasingly difficult to keep himself seated. You tested his patience and tempted his impulses. Before he could withdraw, you had reached out and dragged him onto the stage with you. How could you twirl around him so carefree, so ignorant to his growing dilemma?

"Is there something on my face?" You paused in your chatter, catching him staring at you mid-conversation.

"No." Zhongli replied, smiling softly at you like he always does.

He just couldn't help but notice how your eyes glimmered when you spoke about things that you were passionate about. The sound of your voice, the tremble from the excitement bubbling inside of you, as well as your slight breathlessness as you spoke in a frenzy of words, it tickled something deep inside of him. He could listen to you speak all day, so there was no need to get it all out in one sitting. It wasn't like he would suddenly get up and leave if you took up too much of his time. All he could do was furrow his brow because he couldn't bear to interrupt you.

"Why the frown then?" You paused again to ask. His intense gaze was causing you to become self-conscious.

Because you're frustrating, he wanted to say.

Zhongli raised his fist to lips and cleared his throat, hoping you'd catch the hint. You didn't, instead reaching for the teapot to refill his cup.

"Drink some tea, dear. Your throat is the one in dire need of moisture."

You flushed. "Now that you remind me, I am a bit thirsty."

"There is no need to rush. I have more than enough time to hear all that you have to say." He reassures you.

Everything about you was endearing to a painful degree. The way you talked, the way you laughed, even the way you're currently gulping down your tea could land him in an abrupt daze and have his heart beating at a slightly faster pace.

He constantly found himself occupied by thoughts of you as of late, even while he was not in your presence. These emotions grated at his mind, carving out a hole that could only be filled by your presence. Your blissful ignorance to the way you affected him was almost cruel, but what was an inexperienced god to do when he had fallen so helplessly for an equally clueless mortal?

A late bloomer, now that's something few would ever dare call the Lord of Geo. This petrified seed took six thousand years to crack, but at least it sprouted, right? Seeing mortals fall in love over and over, one would think it'd be apparent to him if those tender emotions were to one day bloom from the crevices of his own heart, but no, that would be giving him too much credit. He hardly knew what to do with himself in this aspect, much less you.

For all the broad knowledge he had accumulated, nothing could've prepared him for falling in love with you. He was used to taking his time, admiring every detail along his solitary journey. Never did it occur to him that he was not going slow enough, that he could possibly want to slow down even more, to the point of complete standstill. You were the inconspicuous bloom by the road that had managed to convince him to stop in his tracks. Every moment he spends in your presence, he fights the impulse to tear you from your stem. It terrified him to come to terms with what had taken root inside his heart and it would no doubt terrify you as well.

A part of him longed to imbue himself into your every waking second in an absurd attempt to prolong the limited time you had. To a mortal, a few decades was plenty, but to a god, it would never suffice. Even if you were willing to let him, your life was not something for him to wring. The right thing to do would be to leave you be, let you continue thriving undisturbed. Perhaps he should distance himself to preserve what semblance of a platonic friendship he managed to achieve with you. He was not about to let your impression of him sour with these unpredictable complications.

This was truly a dilemma only a lovestruck god could have.

[isawken]

thing that keeps me up at night #44

neanderthals existed from about 130,000 to 40,000 years ago

homo sapiens have existed for 3000,000 years

that's 90k years of potential intermingling

that's almost an entire third of our existence, another species running parallel to us. but what were the differences? how different were their faces? their language? i was reading something that said they had less sophisticated language capabilities than us. when we interacted with them, what was it like? were our languages similar enough to get by? or as foreign as english and sumerian? the first evidence of the written word we have is from 3400 BCE. as we all know, that doesn't mean that's the first time we wrote anything down. it's just the first time we wrote something down on a tablet that survived for 5k years. the same is true for other arts. we have cave paintings as old as 45k years. that doesn't mean that's the first art ever. just the first that lasted so long.

did homo sapiens and neanderthals ever fall in love?

did they ever sit in a cave together, painting bulls and elk on the walls? did they tell each other stories? could they?

did a homo sapien and a human ever hold hands? did a homo sapien ever see a neanderthal from across the river and feel their heart thump in their chest? did a neanderthal ever caress the face of a homo sapien? did they ever look in each other's eyes and smile?

did love exist back then like it does now? when was the first time one human looked at another and thought,

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you."

we'll never know! and it fucking kills me.

we can trace language and history and biology so far back, hundreds of thousands and millions and billions of years. we know what beings 65 millions years ago looked like. we can guess when the fucking universe started.

but we can't know when the first human loved another.

i know this is saccharine and cheesy and corny but it really does keep me up at night. the indefinable aspects that make up the core human experience. how inherently unknowable they are. how inextricable they are. we can never know how our ancestors loved. but, at the end of the day, i also know that doesn't really matter, because we love how we love now, and that's more than enough.

still.

wouldn't it be nice to know where it came from?

[rainy-day-wizard]

so of course none of this is actually like canon, it's more just extrapolating from the little information we have on qroiers past and hm from canon, that being said,

I remember there being theories about like abueloier being a demon or something making roier also a demon, i don't remember what that was based on but i think it could fit very well in this au,

So like hombre misterioso (formerly roier but he hasn't been called that name in a long time) didn't know his past, he's, to his knowledge, a normal guy. But after his Cellbit dies, that façade of normality, unknown to even hm/roier himself, is shattered. he's lost everything, his grief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it awakens that dormant power within him.

with this god-like power and all-encompassing grief he is twisted into something different, he's no longer just a man, no longer exactly a person in the traditional sense.

In the same way gods tend to encompass what they represent, that grief becomes a part of him, something that turns him bitter and obsessed and vengeful, something that, quite literally, twists and transforms him from the inside out.

his emotions are more explosive and intense than any human could ever feel, and these powerful emotions are what drive him and sort of fuel his power and malignant actions.

In my brainstorming of this story the cellbit of hm wasn't like some super powerful being like hm, and hm didn't actually know about or have access to that power until after cellbit died.

in my thinking the cause of cellbit's death was something relatively mundane, nothing super dramatic and meaningful (bc i think it being mundane makes it all the more tragic) He either died of some disease/illness (it could've been from leftover radiation from purgatory or, simply, bad luck) or something else mundane, like a car accident.

(fuck i didn't mean to write this much i really am inspired by this idea shitttt)

Hey do you guys wanna hear my spiderbit fic/au idea using the headcanon that hombre misterioso is an alternate version of qroier who's cellbit died and he became vengeful and decided to ruin the ending of his alternate selves (aka. getting doied to make roier a rat)?

It's sorta devocionduo-ish (c!roier x q!cellbit) because i really like that pairing but its also got classic spiderbit too, it gets a little complicated with the alternative selves thing lol

Idk if i'll actually make it a fic or not bc i haven't written fic since like 2021 but im very inspired rn

[juaneloriginal]

silly thingy

@blackkatdraws's sillies

[lastdivantruther]

impostor syndrome