#there's way too much to delve into with this series

[bellsluck]

☆ about me ☆

hii, i’m bells!

thought it was about time i made an introduction.

i’m 21, a capricorn sun, leo moon, cancer rising (astrology freak), my ethnicity is a little complicated but i’ll put it as half british and half portuguese. i can speak english and portuguese fluently and have a half-decent grasp of spanish. i’ve lived in the uk for most of my life. sexuality: no labels.

i’d say i’m new to tumblr as this is the first time in my life i’m actually using it regularly, i think I’ve got the hang of it now. i feel so at home on here and i love having new mutuals hehe. feel free to message about literally anything (save me from the “singles in your area looking for-” dms, i beg).

☆ interests ☆

i love writing and reading, fanfic, music and film, generally just immersing myself in other worlds tbh. kisses to pinterest, ao3 and wattpad. tumblr now too i guess.

seemingly never ending harry potter obsession. marauders era, hogwarts legacy era, etc. slytherin girly. i was part of hptok at its peak in like 2020/2021, my page was basically dedicated to it. it was so much fun.

also star wars, specifically the hayden christensen trilogy, but i love the ogs too and i thinkmy favourite spin-offs are the mandalorian and obi-wan kenobi. if i ever get married it will be at lake como, idc how many times it's been done. i was at one of the filming locations last summer (theed palace) and almost crying like a little biatch.

i like video games too (mostly play on switch), but i’m very picky when it comes to finding ones i actually like, then I will rack up hours on it like there's no tomorrow… we love hyperfixation over here. love love love stardew valley, animal crossing and games along those lines but atm i’ve been doing my rounds on the resident evil games (re2 og, re4 remake, re6, down bad for leon kennedy) and also hogwarts legacy, i’ve finished most of it, i just have to complete my field guide now (desperately want to replay for the sebastian quests, also the new mod stuff is so cool!).

music wise, i listen to lots of different stuff, constantly go through phases, but for my all timers, aka can quote their discography from start to finish, i’d probably say lana del rey, radiohead, the weeknd and nirvana. recently it’s been lots of david bowie, queen, beabadoobee, portishead, fleetwood mac, the beatles… i could go on.

always open to recommendations for songs, playlists, films, series, games, books, fanfics, or anything, i love it all.

☆ onto the topic of shifting... ☆

i am happy to announce i am free from the shackles of “shift-tok”. if yk, yk. 

i’ll take this as a chance to ask nicely for any antis to please, please, not interact from here on out. thank you.

so, i initially found out about shifting on hptok 2020 (huge surprise ik) and so obviously i wanted to go to hogwarts. like??

needless to say i got caught up in all the tiktok misinformation, blatant lies, complicated asf methods, self explanatory. sorry younger-me. i could explain more but all in all i was too impatient and clueless, didn't really know what i was doing at all, eventually got bored, busy with school, and assumed everyone was lying (a few were, it seems).

 i completely forgot about it all after that until i came across a shifting post on reddit a few weeks ago. my tiktok fyp started filling with shifting/manifestation videos too right after. i was coincidentally in between a rewatch of the harry potter films at this point too. you know where this is going. i started seeing tiktoks from smaller creators just answering people’s questions about shifting, and it was all so different from all the stuff i’d heard years ago, spoken about in a completely different way, which just made so much sense to me and was so intriguing. i decided to delve into it all once again. it was those same creators who also would mention tumblr, and i, who had just joined tumblr for writing related stuff not long ago, decided to start searching up things related to shifting.

 i eventually came across some great accounts and information, stories of experiences, motivation, help. i started reading “journeys out of the body” by robert monroe too, so interesting, btw, and have since began my own shifting/exploring consciousness journey (i try to be careful what words i use for things, for lots of reasons, and i understand everyone might use different terms, reminder that i haven’t been on here for that long). it’s been amazing so far. 

(i may have straight up searched shifting realities on google the other day. curiosity got the best of me. it was bad. don’t do it.)

to not mislead anyone, no, i haven’t actually had a full experience in my specific “dr” yet. however it’s only been a small amount of time and i’ve already had lots of different types of sensations and experiences that i’ve never had before and it’s all so beautiful and interesting to me. i definitely view things a lot differently than i did before. i have shiftblr to thank for it.

i adore finding new shifter blogs and reading everything on them, so if i’m giving stalker behaviour it just means i’m loving your stuff or you're all over my feed. 

idk what i’m even going to post about yet, if or when i do. maybe i’ll write a bit into my “journey” so far, any experiences or how and what i do to get into certain states, about my dr, or stuff i’m just nerdy about in general. 

fyi just because i write does not mean i will always use any grammatical skills at all when writing for blog. sorry ;)

if you ever have any questions i’ll love you forever i will answer as best as i can.

this wasn’t all that exciting but i just wanted a little intro because i’m always blank on my socials. 

 thanks for reading !!

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[rulernogard156]

Hope u don't mind, but imma get in on this! As a kid, I actively hated horror. I had/have such an "active imagination," as my mom called it, that if I even say a picture of somthing scarey I'd be haunted for months

But what ended up getting me into horror was YouTube, but not the way everyone else in this thread did. Sure ive gone back now and watched some of the classics (Marble hornets, Salad fingers, Crypt TV, ect.) But first true intro?

Let's plays (specifically Jacksepticeye and GTLive, a little later Markiplier) infact i think they were both playing Fnaf 3 or 4 at the time i started watching.

I was twice removed from the horror and had someone else to experience it with. (I grew up pretty secluded), But that was just the method by which i could stomach horror. What really pulled me in was the stories. They were so much more intracate than your bog standard shoot'em up. so through exposure therapy, I slowly grew less and less scared and could really get into the stories.

What solidified my love and had me finally try the waters was Jacksepticeye's playthrough of resident evil 7(Biohazard) I was smitten!

The visuals, the character/monster, design 😍 the music! And since it was a sorta refresh for the series, I wasn't having to have any prior context that Jack didn't give during the series.

I then delved into my favourite medium for first-hand experience , comics, and zip boom bang here I am!!! (Mentally unstable but one hell of an artist)

Tldr: I was too pussy to get into any horror till a funny green haired Irish man and his flannel wearing multi coloured haired buddy, got scared with me. Then I dove head first and got me fucked up in the best possible way!

Online horror, my beloved...

[bee-turtle-kind]

watching FMA for the first time ever and man. Man. Why did no one tell me this has all my favorite tropes and horrors <3

[undercvrfan444]

Crawling back to you

It had been weeks since you’d seen Gojo. He was called away on a mission awhile back and unfortunately you both knew it was going to be a long one. When you decided to marry him it was a big deal to him that you knew what burdens came with his line of work.

“I’m so sorry baby, i’ll come back home to you even if I have to crawl.” Gojo wanted nothing more than to spend his every waking moment of his life with you, but you knew it wasn’t possible. His words are bittersweet when reminiscing on them. you’d been in situations much like this one yet, it never got easier to say bye to him.

Gojo would spend hours holding you before his missions, because he didn’t know if it would be the last one he went on or not.

Yes, your husband is the modern age’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer, but that doesn’t mean he’s immortal.

When he’s away you try your hardest to occupy the lonely time by visiting friends, delving into a fun new tv series, or just simply spend time tidying up the house and doing “wifely” duties so your man would come home to a familiar environment.

After spending another day doing mundane tasks you decided to call it a night. Your phone call with Gojo had lasted only a few minutes but in that time he had told you “I’m sorry sweetheart, it doesn’t look like i’m going to be home any time soon.” To which you replied with your best comforting tone, “It’s okay, I know how much they need you there so just stay safe and come home when you can.”

It was hard staying positive with these difficult circumstances. All you wanted was to feel your husband in bed with you again and take care of him since he’d probably neglected himself to care of the younger sorcerers. It doesn’t matter what anyone said about your husband, he may crack jokes and tease people incessantly but he had a heart of gold underneath it all.

When you got out of the shower it was like any other night. Slipping on one of your husband’s larger shirts, (cliche you know!) pulling on a fresh pair of underwear, drying your hair, filling up your favorite water bottle, and turning on some silly movie for noise. At the beginning of your relationship with Gojo he had honestly found it a little annoying that you’d do so much before bed seeing as all he wanted to do was snuggle into you. But fortunately he came around to your little ritual with ease! Actually he would join you in filling up his water bottle even if he never drank from it, helping you pick a movie, and even brushing your hair for you when you were too tired.

All Satoru wanted so badly was to be a man that could provide for you. He craved to know you had needs that he met and would drive himself mad doing anything and everything you asked him to. It was just his way of showing love aside from teasing you of course.

The moment your head hit the pillow you were sound asleep. So when your husband eventually walks into your shared bedroom it’s a shock to feel a warm and strong body envelope yours. “W-wha-“

Gojo presses his lips into your head as you shift in his arm, confused at the new body in your bed. “Shh baby, it’s me it’s me.” He presses another kiss into you before you’re sitting up quickly, looking down at your husband.

“‘Toru?” You rub your eyes softly to get a better look at him. He’s handsome as ever, worn around the edges from being in a hostile environment but still that striking man you married. “yes ma’am?” is all he responds with before you’re sinking you head into his chest. Both your arms wrap around his waist the best you can in bed while he places both of his large hands on either side of your face, holding your gaze with the same gentleness you fell in love with when you’d met him.

“How are you home!? Y-You told me it wasn’t going to be anytime soon!” Small tears flood down your cheeks at the overwhelming situation. Gojo coos at you and wipes the tears that fall with the rough pads of his thumbs.

He places a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his chest and holding your body. “Oh don’t cry baby, i’m sorry I didn’t call you before I got home. Nanami called and said he would take over on the case since he knew i’d been stationed for so long. From there it’s been a whirlwind of constant moving to get back to you.”

Your head shakes frantically as you mesh closer into his body. “No don’t be sorry! M’ just glad t’have you home, are y�� hungry? Do you need me to do anythin’?” Sleep was etched into every word you spoke, your sentences running together.

Above you Gojo laughs and tightens his grip on you. “All I need is you in this bed with me, tucked against my chest, sleeping safely. We can worry about the rest in the morning.”

Lastly, one of the best parts of Gojo coming home isn’t just the sweet words he whispers to you before falling asleep. One of the best parts is when he seems to always wake up before you just to pull your panties down your bare legs so he can gently place your legs over his shoulders and dive into your cunt. Weeks have gone by without him being able to satisfy you and that’s the first thing on his mind when he sees your sleeping face.

He’s laps away at the slick arousal he pulls from your body like a starved man. You write above him and nothing beats hearing your sleep thick voice moaning his name while your hands pull the silky strands of his hair. “Hush baby. Let your husband do his job and make you feel good. She’s been such a good girl waiting for me to come home and take care of her.”

It doesn’t take an idiot to recognize he’s not talking to you. No. He’s taking to your pussy and fuck if it doesn’t make you want to jump his bones more than you already wanted to.

Banner from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !

[aveli-li]

Ambessa + face sitting

might make a small series with the arcane milfs for this one warnings: r! has a pussy, gn! terms, face sitting, light mentions of body/weight insecurities

Ambessa can spend hours eating you out without any problem, skilled and rough tongue laps over your lips and drinks your cum, pushing you over the edge more than you have done to yourself in moments where you spent the nights without her presence, or edging you until your eyes give in hot streams that reach the pillow underneath your head.

Being the dominant one in your relationship, she leads your activities frequently, moreover, she is observant of your likes and dislikes and never indulges or tries something that could cause any harm. You had realized her liking in having you completely bare, presenting your body to her, whilst she was fully clothed. It stroked some part of you that made you feel small, dominated, and most of all desired, by the lust hunger of her eyes once she opened the heavy gold door of her quarters and laid her gaze on you.

Until one night, the warlord was kneeling in front of your spread legs that she tossed on top of her broad shoulders face buried into your cunt as she sucked and rolled her tongue over your clit. You had lost count of how many times you had cummed on her tongue, and she wasn’t making any move to back away. You felt the red sheets beneath you start to damp from the boiling heat exhaling from your body causing a layer of sweat to form on you, moans, screams, and wails leaving your mouth as Ambessa sucked harder and coordinated with the flick of her tongue on your clit.

You were almost reaching another hard orgasm when she abruptly stopped, raising her head from your core, your juices were smeared over her lips and dripping on her chin – she was a messy eater – and rose to her foot towering her form over yours on the bed, finally addressing that she was going to fuck you and maybe let you rest for the night but she made her way to your side of the bed.

Ambessa’s large hands grab your thighs and manhandle you to straddle her large chest and hold you there by your hips, you don’t need to balance yourself from how hard and confident her grip is on your curves. Your grunts of insecurities about being too much to be on top of the warlord that pounded on your head and ached your heart were quickly stopped by a light slap on your ass, and her hands coming to squeeze the soft flesh there causing you to move closer to her face.

“Pretty thing…” she growled lower, her breath inches close to your core making you shiver from the cold contact against it. “I’ll just make you feel good like you were dripping all over my mouth just before.” Your tired legs were fighting against dropping your whole body not wanting to hurt her, but the sudden movement of her head made your clit return the touch with her mouth, a moan leaving your lips as the pleasure flooded your body again.

Her dark lips cupped your cunt and her tongue slipped out of her mouth delving into your insides as you hesitantly rolled your hips. Ambessa, noticing how stiff you were, held your hips and pushed lower onto her face with a delicate force that caused her tongue to slip more inside of you, a satisfied hum leaving her lips as she finally felt your weight pressing down on her.

The feeling of her nose pressing into your clit and the thick tongue stroking and lapping your dripping juices made your legs feel wobbly and it was getting hard to sustain your body. You reached for the headboard to gain some sustain but got stopped by the lack of Ambessa’s mouth on you, “You grab that headboard and you’ll be prohibited to cum for how long I decide.”

Hands backing away from the place and returning to hold on to her forearms, you made your best decision to not disturb or interrupt a warlord’s favorite meal. She didn’t care for air, she didn’t care for anything at that moment. She was the strongest and most feared warlord, the chosen of the wolf, having no worries and only fulfilling her urge to savor a precious thing like you.

[ajlockwood]

one of the most powerful things about arcane in my opinion is that it managed to capture so many forms of love, so please bear with me while we delve into this analysis.

[SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ARCANE!]

vander’s love for vi and jinx was the one of a good father; he raised them like he promised their mother, and for as long as his consciousness lived, he was determined to protect them. silco also grew to love jinx like a daughter, in his own way. she wasn’t just one of his most prized assets: while he was ruthless to most, he had a tendency of going “softer” on her, and was desperate to save her when he thought she was gone. singed loved his daughter so much that he was willing to go to unspeakable lengths to bring her back. and despite everything, ambessa and mel were still mother and daughter, and in the moment of death, they recognised how much they meant to each other. a mother stabbed by her own daughter, and yet, with her final breath, she expressed how proud she was of who mel had became — quite similar to silco’s death.

caitlyn and vi have always been romantic, this third act showing the passionate kind of love they had. ekko loved jinx in a most pure way, a love he carried with him since childhood and somehow persisted. mel and jayce had their troubles in the beginning, but they grew to trust each other and became very significant to one another with time.

vi and jinx were one of the most important of all, because they clashed and fell apart, and even through it all, even with so much hatred and hurt and grief, they never let go. they loved each other beyond words. their love was powerful enough to bring forgiveness. with isha, jinx showed all this love that was still inside her, the love for a sister she thought she had lost. silco and vander too clashed and nearly killed each other (silco succeeded) and yet their love persisted.

and then it concluded with jayce and viktor. their love was transcendental, beyond simply romantic or platonic bonds even. ever since they first met, without their knowledge, their lives had always been intertwined. it all started with them, and it ended with them. they clashed to near death, but jayce didn’t let go, and viktor couldn’t either. “it was affection that held us together”, viktor said. they were both alive because of each other. they owed each other so much. it was their love’s power that saved the universe of its collapse. again, a love powerful enough to forgive and leave everything behind.

so yes, I am very emotional and may have many conflicting thoughts about some aspects of these last acts, but the portrayal of love was something that I felt deeply throughout the entire series and can’t go unnoticed. all in all, the message of the show can be summarized in silco’s line: “the greatest thing you can do in life is find the power to forgive”.

[acid-ixx]

They aren't finished but I wanted to give you these! They're all WIPS so so far. Some are a bit older and you can tell what the newer ones are that I just made right now.

Thank you for posting a new chapter. It was an amazing read and I just loved it so much! Still trying to find those song references 😂

chapter spoilers and drafts (again &. again)

— masterlist ! ; chapter 4 ; ash's commisions

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A BLESSING??? BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER I SWEAR 💞

ash, you have always provided my little fanbase for my series so much food for thought, this is absolutely beautiful in every way. i literally don't care if they're wips or unfinished because either way you always make do with what i write, descriptive or not. i love your artstyle and how soft you draw the mc and how handsome conner is (i literally showed your art off to all my friends). you're so talented and i wish to reciprocate all the efforts you've done for this series 😭

i'm serious. from your portrayal of the mc, to them flying with conner, you never once disappoint anyone.

because of this, i'd like to leak some parts of my story from chapter five and beyond 💕! thank you so much for this, and i hope my yapping below suffices.

major spoilers below the cut!

the graduation photo! i have something planned with that, and i'd delve so much deeper (soon) with just how much a single photo can influence bruce's line of thought once he discovers that picture frame. love how happy mc is in the photo because, for me, it symbolizes them growing up (quite literally) and acknowledging a new path in life, alongside only finding alfred as their only father figure compared to bruce.

you consider yourself reserved, and prefer your life living within the confines of privacy and protection from media exposure. your mother always told you: better safe than sorry once; right after you've asked her about why you can't seem to find personal information about your father when she helped you search him up occasionally.

all the questions you ask her about the lack of your father's preferences — because you merely wanted to know more about him beyond the stories she told you! — she rebutted with a soft smile, a kiss on your head, and an explanation.

she'd warn you about the dangers of media exposure, about how your father and her prefer to keep their relationship a secret, and how too much cameras and paparazzi flashes can blind you.

she said that someone's perception of another person could be ruined once their deepest secrets are revealed. that's why your papa isn't seen beyond the doors of the manor he resides in; because people are attracted to mystery and allure.

hence why she'd restricted you from the usage of any devices within your household during your childhood, other than the excuse of having no money to afford it.

and you always abide by that principle of secrecy; especially right after alfred had saved you from... whatever happened years ago in elementary. from when that man... no, those men knew about your identity...

so, safe to say you were an introvert, at least when it comes to social media. the concept of the fear of missing out never once rattled your brain, no matter how anxious you are whenever you're with your friends; scared that you wouldn't fit in. but they never cared and accepted you with open arms, so it doesn't really matter, no?

you're safe now that you're at metropolis.

and like she always said, better safe than sorry! keep it within you and never out!

so why?

why is it just right after you've opened your twitter app— why is it that your face is plastered all across news accounts?

anyways, the second and third images are so romantic!!! and cute, and cured my depression i swear. i showed this to my one friend and she told me that conner's hand size compared to mc's is straight up hot, and i agree! i love the hand placement, and the way conner holds the mc so softly! yes, i too, would love to touch his man-tits beyond his impeccably tight shirt and play with his hands!

and the cute little panel with him squishing their face and desire their confirmation that, they do, in fact, think they're hot. he's a very insecure man after all, and his self-worth would revolve around your perception of him. he doesn't see you as god, but he doesnt see you as his everything. every opinion matters from you, and that's what makes the green flag part about him.

fun fact about him in the series! he loves to moisturize his hands with lots of skin care products because he read from an article once that some people prefer the feel of soft or moisturized hands. he definitely did not wait for the moment for you to touch him for the first time in forever since he first saw you! yeah, he's a bit more freaky than i let him out to be. the more you're exposed to him, the more you'll learn just how obsessed he is.

as for all the people asking if i'd write more about him: the answer is yes! he's a vital character, so don't worry because he'll appear in many scenes either way. for those concerned about why he didn't save the mc— well, chapter five will explain soon 🩷

and this art perfectly portrays it! it's seen from an outside perspective and they look very pretty, yet from what they see with their eyes is a different thing. the longer you stare at yourself, the more your image is distorted. i intentionally added the flower analogy because flowers are portrayed as pretty, no matter the size and shape. even as they wilt or sag, they still retain some color and a semblance of what was once a history of their prime.

then lastly! the mirror scene. it all returns to chapter three, chapter four was a sequel of their breakdown containing mirrors. reflections and the perception of one self is an important aspect of my series because it reminds me of myself, so them nit-picking each and every insecurity whilst staring at the mirror; that's a scene i wrote based off of a real life experience of mine. having both attractive parents, or those acknowledged as conventionally pretty, whilst being in an environment filled with as equally smart or attractive people, comparing yourself to them all the time, is a struggle.

the only way to make flowers 'ugly' is by destroying them, by stepping on them, ripping them apart, never once caring for them. i think that's very crucial because people do see anything destroyed or stripped away from its foundation a mess, or so. but there's always beauty in everything and i abide by that thought!

again, thank you so much ash for drawing this and bringing my story to life! you, alongside many other users who send in their fanarts, are always such an inspiration for me to write! you guys are the backbone of my series and i stand by my sentence!!! may you get plenty of commissions and plenty of money to support you <333

also, the FLOWER BOTTLE AND THE CAT PAW REFERENCE! i love how everyone accepts that we have a canon cat now based solely off of this. i think that's precious, and having a feline pet is a great little choice for my own plot (just to lessen the pain of the angst).

i hope you enjoyed this little mess rant!

(as for the songs, don't worry, the lyrics become more prevalent for chapter five! chapter four doesn't have any explicit lyrics contained in them, only implications.)

[meganegatari]

SUPERBLOOD WOLFMOON | teaser + summary

♡: spider!ellie williams x reader

FULL SYNOPSIS: in a city shrouded with mystery, lovable loser ellie williams leads a double life. by day, she's an ordinary young adult. she juggles her studies, a boring job at a run-down record store for a few extra bucks, playing guitar in her free time, and ignoring your texts, the usual. but by night, she transforms into a famed superhero, beloved by the country. she's there when any problems arise, whenever she is needed to sort a squabble out. however, maintaining anonymity as arachnelle is of utmost importance to her. she vowed to take that to her grave, it was just easier this way, keeping her life split in two.

as her most dear friend since the earliest days of childhood, you've always sensed there was a lot more to her than meets the eye, and in recent times your suspicions have reached an all-time high, with her being even more strange and avoidant than usual. your patience is running thin, as well as your curiosity rising, and you cannot help but pry into her affairs. but as you delve deeper into her secrets, you uncover a horrifying web of intrigue, crime, and danger, with a shadowy figure known only as the "claw" pulling the strings from behind the scenes, and potentially being the very source for any and all peril occurring in the city. amidst the whirlwind of chaos, blossoming romantic feelings begin to accumulate for your best friend, only complicating the already bizarre relationship between the two of you more. as you become entangled in this whole ordeal which all started with a few simple peculiarities—a fiasco you never grasped the true severity of before diving headfirst in—you'll traverse the labyrinth of hidden truths and city-wide corruption, all while grappling with your own personal emotions and doubts at the core. you'll be forced to face the daunting question of how much risk you're willing to endure in pursuit of the complete truth, and whether the sacrifices made along the way were truly worthwhile in the end.

read this first! ▪︎ daily click ▪︎ series playlist ▪︎ series masterlist

☆: yeah i can't keep a single thing to myself like ever i'm wayyyy too impatient and excited to share new things. new series!! i'm sososo hyped for this one :) lmk if you'd like to be added to the series taglist whichever way! the formatting of this is nicer on desktop trust me...

[celestie0]

hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

[mediumgayitalian]

“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

next

[griffonsgrove]

Hi I saw your request for Hazbin Hotel I watched it and I'm simping for Alastor and was wondering if you could do Alastor x fem or gn reader where Alastor uses his radio static like white noise to calm down the reader when they have sensitivity overload or a panic attack or just to destress sorry if this is worded bad

Radio Static || Alastor x GN!Reader

a/n: Hiya!! This was a super sweet request to make! I myself get easily overwhelmed, especially with big groups of people, and it's comforting to finally get away from all the noise and interactions! Please enjoy this cute little oneshot! Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Wordcount: 691 Cw: minor hazbin spoilers

It had nearly been a week since Sir Pentious was welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel, by none other than the princess of hell, Charlie. She had decided to throw a small little get-together to celebrate. The princess had such an eccentric, bubbly personality, it was hard to ever say no to her. You were never one for parties, your sensitivity to the constant noise, the vibrant colors, and the chaotic atmosphere sometimes became too much to bear. It was during one of these moments that Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, noticed your distress.

You had retreated to a quiet corner, trying to find solace in the midst of the infernal commotion. Alastor, ever perceptive to the emotions swirling around him, followed you with a keen interest. Seeing the subtle signs of your discomfort, he decided to offer an unconventional remedy.

Alastor approaches you with his trademark grin, his red eyes gleaming with an unusual warmth. "Why, what seems to be the matter, my dear?" he inquired, his voice holding that dazzling charm he always seems to have. You struggled to find the words, but the overwhelmed expression on your face spoke volumes. Sensing your need for relief, Alastor's grin widened, with the wave of his hand, he quietly motions for you to follow him. "Come now, don't you worry. I have just the thing for such occasions." He abruptly turns on his heel, delving deeper into the depths of the hotel.

You’re skeptical at first, but willing to try anything at this point, you decide to follow him. He leads you down a series of hallways, the sounds of the other patrons begin to slowly fade away as you walk. He stops in front of an intricately carved door; you didn't have much time to admire the craftsmanship before he opens it. You tilt your head to the side to peer over his shoulder. It seemed to be his private den. There's a little sitting area, in front of a small fireplace, which was adorned with all sorts of knickknacks, the most notable being a large rack of antlers mounted on the wall above, but what caught you off guard completely was the other entire half of his room, it was a swamp! Literally, the wood flooring splintered off into lush grass, and numerous cypress trees can be seen looming in the distance, the trunks covered in a thick moss. 

Alastor steps to the side, politely gesturing for you to enter first. With slight hesitancy, you step inside quietly, taking note of all the framed pictures that hung on the wall.

His voice cuts through the silence "Sit, my dear. Allow me to ease your troubled mind," he motions to one of the empty padded chairs. You oblige, sitting down on the plush cushion. With the snap of his fingers, He conjures up his vintage radio, the static already emitting a soothing white noise. For a moment he fiddles with the dial, adjusting the frequency. Soft static filled the air, drowning out the overwhelming sounds from earlier. At first, it seemed odd, but as the white noise enveloped you, a surprising sense of calm washed over.

Alastor sat across from you, his eyes never leaving your face as he observed the way you slowly sank back into the padded chair. The radio static acted as a protective cocoon, shielding you from the sensory onslaught. His presence was oddly comforting, and you found yourself relaxing under the influence of the unusual but effective remedy.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence. You weren't entirely sure how much time had passed, minutes? hours?, the static acting as a barrier between you and the chaotic world. Alastor broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "Remarkable, isn't it? The power of a little radio magic."

You managed a grateful smile, genuinely appreciating the respite he provided. It was an unexpected yet strangely effective solution to your sensitivity overload. As the static continued its comforting hum, you felt a sense of gratitude toward the Radio Demon who, in his own peculiar way, had offered you a moment of peace in the midst of the Hotel’s pandemonium. You remind yourself to apologize to Charlie later for leaving the party so abruptly.

[justrustandstardust]

i’ve touched on it briefly, but i’d like to delve further into kenjaku’s purpose as a literary device because it’s genuinely really fucking interesting. what gege did with kenjaku was actually genius, because kenjaku is a physical manifestation of gojo's love for geto in the form of geto himself.

the love between gojo and geto is both explicitly and implicitly demonstrated throughout the series. we see it in open declarations (he was my best friend, the only one i had) and in subtler ways (how they never fight each other directly, how geto is careful not to kill gojo’s students in combat). these, however, are from gojo and geto’s perspectives. we only see what they want us to see; much of the beauty of their relationship is in how so much of it is meant for the two of them alone.

as an outsider, kenjaku overrides them and drags their intimacy into the limelight, providing unobjectionable evidence of the love between them. he supersedes their carefully curated impressions to point at the undeniable truth in the most violent, grotesque way imaginable, making their love clear for all to see through hijacking geto’s body— which he could only do because gojo loved him.

not only does kenjaku’s plan require geto’s body to work (because gojo couldn’t throw him away) kenjaku literally only exists in geto’s body for the same reason (because gojo couldn’t throw him away). gojo’s sentiment and his weakness come back to haunt him; shibuya happens because kenjaku knew the only surefire way to disarm gojo was through the body of geto himself.

from a literary perspective, gojo’s love for geto is not implicit— it literally arises from the dead to serve as walking, talking proof that gojo loved geto too much to let him go. kenjaku functions to mechanize gojo’s love through the body of the person he loved so dearly and in doing so creates a living representation of the explicit, blatant and undeniable love between them. it’s not subtext; it’s just text.

as a literary device, kenjaku exists as material evidence that they loved each other. it’s not speculative, it’s not conjecture, it’s not reaching— it is right there. we’re not meant to trust gojo’s word; he is not a reliable narrator of his own nature. gojo never had to say he loved geto because kenjaku says it for him. it’s analogous to vehemently denying your guilt in court only for someone to turn up with the body and your handprint around its neck.

and kenjaku delivers a guilty verdict, sentencing gojo to the prison realm and dooming everyone else because being the strongest wasn’t enough to save gojo from love himself.

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Mel's mage/arcane markings being structured and symmetrical, thicker sharing more of a likeness with armour in comparison to Viktor's jagged, erratic, inconsistent markings. Mel's indicating that her attachment to the arcane is natural, a birthright, suited and designed to exist and manifest within her body while Viktor's illustrates the unnatural means of his magic's origins, the arcane imposed and infecting, altering; imbalancing him; more magic than man; a corruption as a result of the overuse of hextech/hexcore; demanding too much. The consequences of a natural resource much like water and air being overexpolited=polluted. "Every action has a reaction" as heimerdinger said paraphrasing Newton's "every action has an equal opposite reaction" and though the series itself didn't delve much into the environmental impacts of the arcane, I feel as though it was implicitly expressed utilising Mel and Viktor's positioning in the narrative as foils. They are equal opposite reactions in a manner of ways actually.

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of the other priestesses, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[sodapopwrites]

a ballad of flame and shadow part one

images are not mine! all artwork credits go to termesart for their beautiful drawings!

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

series summary - what's easier to love? a crackling flame or a spiraling shadow? rhysand's sister, emissary of the night court, finds herself delving into her feelings for the seventh son of the high lord of the autumn court while pushing aside something possibly deeper she feels for the night courts infamous spymaster.

chapter summary - before amarantha's party, the emissary of the night court, rhysand's sister, seeks out her lover in the spring court in an attempt to issue a warning of what's to come. she finds a small comfort in his warmth much to the disapproval of her family back home, especially a certain shadowsinger.

word count - 1.6k

read the rest of the series here!

Music floated through the air around her. Fae danced around her in whooshes of color and laughter. She observed the festivities raging around her with a cool separation. 

Her black dress a sharp contrast to the bursts of color covering every person and every inch of her surroundings. The bottom of her dress swished around her ankles with every warm spring breeze. The glittering blue embroidery is a sharp contrast to the sweet pastels adoring the clothes of the revelers.  

Every inch of her out of place. 

She heard her name wrapped in an all too familiar voice. 

Cinnamon and crackling flames. The smell wafted towards her like ember red leaves falling to the ground. She straightened her spine, a small show of composure. She felt him before she saw him. At her back, his breath fanning across the side of her neck as he leant down to whisper in her ear. 

“I never knew shadows celebrated the summer solstice.” 

She turned slowly, facing him at last. 

Lucien Vanserra. 

Small braids weaved their way through the fiery river of hair flowing over his shoulders. His eyes glitter with something roguish as he watches her eyes flit from his hair, across the planes of his chest, and down the tall expanse of him, before coming back up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m here on business.” 

“So you came to spoil the fun.” 

She let her eyes roll before her hand came up to pull on one of his carefully woven braids. She twirled it between her fingers. 

“Who said emissary business can’t be fun?”  

He leaned down, closer to her now than he should be. The tip of his nose just brushed hers. His lips mere millimeters away from her own. It was like they shared one breath. 

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

The music of the celebrations outside were muted against the windows. An easy quiet flowed through the room as he watched her dress. Slowly pulling the straps of her dress back over her shoulders. She flipped her hair away from her face and he let himself be mesmerized by the way the curls, black like shadow, tumbled down her back. He stretched his arms over his head and let them settle there. Content to watch her flit around his room trying to find her shoes. A small smile snaked its way across his face as he watched her grow more frustrated in her search. 

He leaned down and picked a silver slipper from the ground next to his bed. He let it dangle from one finger. 

“Looking for this?” 

She turned to him and let out a huff of irritation. She grabbed for her lost shoe but missed as he moved his hand a little further. Losing her balance she fell across his chest and he used his free arm to pin her. 

“So what was the business you came to discuss with me?” 

She glared at him, still reaching for her shoe. Realizing it was a losing battle she gave up and slumped against him, maybe even letting herself savor the feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of it. 

“My brother wishes to meet with Tamlin” 

Lie. 

Lucien raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for explanation. 

“Is he going to try to kill him again?” 

She scoffed and pushed away from him, “You really do know nothing Lucien Vanserra”

He winced at the name, the harshness with which she said it. 

“Don’t” 

A small warning. Don’t inflict his family name on him. The reminder of it a petty way to rip him from the sanctuary of the moment. A flicker of guilt lit behind her rib cage and she let the haughty draw of her shoulders fall. 

“Rhysand just wishes to issue a…warning.” 

Lie. She had come of her own volition. Wanting to warn Lucien and only Lucien about what her brother thought was to come. 

“A warning?” 

She looked at him. Tight lipped. A small crease in her brow. And he just couldn’t help himself. He reached up and smoothed that crease with his thumb. A feather light touch that seared its way into her skin. 

“The war may be over, but there are still enemies to be dealt with. People who we shouldn’t be so willing to put our trust in.” 

“You sound just like him,” Lucien sighed, “Always telling me not to put trust in anyone.” 

The crease returned. The comparison to Tamlin sending a spark of rage down her spine. The knowledge that Tamlin knew exactly what Lucien got up to every time she visited sent a churning to her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to calm. 

“So why trust me?” 

Her words came out softer than she’d intended. Like she was asking some unspoken question. He smiled, brushing an inky strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve always had a bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things.” 

The playful glimmer in his eye contrasted sharply with her serious expression. He sighed and handed her the shoe still dangling between his finger tips. 

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

Her family was scattered around the lower level of Rhysand’s townhouse. Mor and Amren sitting in the dining room pouring over some books and whispering to each other. Cassian, Azriel, and the high lord himself lounging in the living room. 

She tried her best to slide into the room unnoticed. 

Late. 

She had missed dinner and she had no good alibi. 

She prayed no questions would be flung her way as she slid onto the couch, tucking herself under Cassian’s arm. The shadowsinger found her eyes first. They flitted over her form, studying it for anything even slightly out of place. His eyes narrowed as he took her in and his shadows curled tighter around his forearms. 

Rhysand didn’t bother to look up from his stack of papers and sent a bored question her way, 

“Where have you been?” 

She shrugged and watched Azriel shift in his seat in what could have been discomfort. Cassian saw it too, the way his friend tried to hide his annoyance at her absence. He wore a wicked grin as he turned towards her, leaning into her, and mumbling, 

“New perfume?” 

She looked up at him confused for a second, “Excuse me?” 

“You smell faintly of…” Cassian rolled the word around on his tongue, “autumn”. 

Rhys looked up at this and studied his sister. Cassian’s insinuation rippled through the room. 

“Again?” Rhys kept that bored tone, something else behind it now though. 

“I was working,” She said, clipped and stern. Not wanting the conversation to continue. But Rhysand pushed forward, 

“I didn’t send you anywhere.” 

“And since when am I not allowed to do things of my own volition?” 

Azriel let out what could only be described as a snort. When she whipped her head towards him there was no humor in his eyes. The small laugh disapproving more than anything else. 

“What?” 

She was getting defensive now that the shadowsinger deigned to be involved in this discussion. He shook his head at her, 

“What exactly were you working on?” His question came out cold and quiet. His shadows creeped towards her as if they could pry the information from her. Cassian laughed. A real laugh. 

“She was working Lucien Vanserra.” 

She cast an annoyed glare at his crude statement.

“I’m sorry when did my personal affairs become the business of this court?” 

Amren’s voice floated from the dining room now, “More like the entertainment of this family.” 

She rolled her eyes and looked at the males in front of her. Challenging. 

“It’s unprofessional is it not?” Azriel pointed the question more towards Rhysand than to her. “Emotional entanglements.” 

“And who are you to say it’s an emotional entanglement? Maybe it’s just someone to get tangled in.” 

He winced at the sharpness of her words. The innuendo behind them. She tried not to note how it bothered him, how deeply it seemed to bother him. He shook it off fast though. 

“Because I know you.” 

Rhysand strained his neck, trying to make eye contact with Mor, trying to get her to come interrupt this conversation. She would not look at him, choosing this time to not get involved. 

His friend and his sister glared at each other still. Azriel using his face of stone cold disinterest as a weapon against her. Waiting for her to push at some unspoken boundary. She broke the silence first. Her tone withering. 

“Since when do you care who I fuck?” 

Rhysand grimaced. Not particularly caring to hear about this aspect of his sisters life. Not particularly happy with whom she chose to share this aspect of her life with. His disdain for Lucien was made evident to her since this whole affair started many years ago. As unsavory as this conversation was he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Azriel, waiting for his friend’s response, waiting to see how far the spymaster was willing to push his sister. 

“I don’t” 

Azriel’s answer was quiet and laced with some sort of simmering contempt. He leaned back in his chair, signalling and end to his involvement in this semi pointless discussion. His response washed over her exactly the way he had intended. A wave of cold. Triggering a pounding dissapointment in her. She hadn’t really realized how she had leaned closer to him while they sparred. The embarrassment of it hit her as she let herself fall back into Cassian, let his arm snake its way around her shoulders again. She didn’t look back at Azriel as she said, 

“Good. Cassian is next.” 

The warrior beside her pumped his fist in mock victory and exclaimed with teasing tone, “FINALLY”

Before putting his fist down at the first glower from his shadowy brother. Cass shot him a smirk before leaning down to her to very audibly whisper, 

“I’m free anytime little star. Just give me a shout.” 

She pushed her elbow into his ribcage and Cassian laughed through the cough the blow sent through him. Rhys studied Azriel’s features. Noting the jealousy etched across them.

“Enough.” 

The one word from Rhysand was enough to quiet his friends.

[maidenvault]

Okay so, Crosshair’s hand.

Has anyone pointed this out? When Crosshair kills Nolan, he doesn't use his shooting hand.

He uses his left. Just as he very significantly has to in the series finale.

I don't know if the writers knew as far back as "The Outpost" that Crosshair was going to lose the use of his shooting hand and by extension everything he believed made him strong, a "superior" clone, and safe from being discarded when he was kind of fascism-pilled. But it feels extra significant in retrospect that his first action taken against the Empire is not done with the hand associated with the terrible things he did as an Imperial sniper. And it's after he just got a difficult lesson about how his own personal strength and skills aren't enough to protect him - he was saved twice by Mayday, then possibly only survived through the night because he wouldn't leave him behind and could share his body heat. He may be using his left hand when he shoots Nolan because his other arm is tired from supporting Mayday all the way back, which only adds to the symbolic touch I love that Mayday is using his rifle as a crutch to help him walk as well (and of course, he's at close range so quite meaningfully Crosshair doesn't use the rifle to shoot here either). It all supports the idea of this as the first huge moment of transformation for Crosshair when he's finally turning his fire on the real enemy out of a desire to protect others, however futile and too late it is in this particular situation.

Going back and noticing this really reinforced for me that Crosshair's hand injury probably isn't just meant as a manifestation of his trauma related to Tantiss. It would make sense considering it's his shooting hand that it also has something to do with his inner conflict regarding his changed relationship with violence and killing.

The Batch were introduced as these stereotypically macho soldier characters, an impression that's softened a little as early as the pilot of TBB but still distinguishes them a little from other clones. In a kind of funny way you can look at the whole series as being about these guys who were only brought up to fight gradually discovering and finding peace with their more traditionally feminine sides - literally because of Omega, a female version of themselves who shows them the possibilities of being a family and living for others instead of for violence.

For Crosshair this journey is much more difficult and like a painful rebirth than it is for anyone else because being a soldier was so much of his identity. He's always been the one to most pointedly distinguish his squad from regs because of their "superior" traits that he thinks will make the Empire value them, and he clearly internalized the way the Kaminoans only care about clones as weapons to be used in war. And it all betrays how little value Crosshair actually believes he has deep down. It was easy to go into S3 being especially worried about his fate because he's believed so long that he's not good for anything but fighting and he's the character it was the hardest to imagine adjusting to a different life.

But in retrospect, it was stupid to think they'd let him off that easy and of course the whole point is that it takes a lot to get him there. What exactly he went through on Tantiss beyond the electroshock torture we've seen is never delved into but personally, I think being a soldier is something that's poisoned for Crosshair after he becomes a victim of the Empire himself and subject to their attempts at reconditioning. He's not psychologically able to be that person anymore, but for a long time is still trying to largely rely on himself and his own strength. He tries to sacrifice himself for others because he's still holding onto that part of himself in a way.

But for once in Star Wars we've gotten a fully realized redemption arc showing that sometimes what's harder than giving your life in a redemptive way is to actually have to figure out how to live with the bad things you've done and be better. Some of the people Crosshair hurt were his family, and he has to learn he can only make things better by being there for them. He has to learn that he actually can survive and figure out a way forward from his life as a soldier if he lets himself rely on them, just like he only survived Barton IV with help from Mayday. As @moonstrider9904 explains so well in this post, that is what's so important about Crosshair losing the hand and making that final shot to save Omega with Hunter's support. Symbolically he's had that toxic part of himself actually cut off and it's the final, most painful part of his rebirth. But because of that he's forced to find that he can live on without it, that he's surrounded by people who love and believe in him anyway, and that having superhuman skills as a killer was never what gave him worth.

No, having his shooting hand cut off doesn't "fix" anything or mean that Crosshair is healed. He's probably only begun to recover from everything he's been through. But all we really need to see is that he's firmly found his place as part of a family instead of a squad, and he's not going to be alone as he deals with all of that.